Aidan lay flat on his bed, unmoving, his eyes locked onto the ceiling as thoughts swirled chaotically in his mind. He replayed everything Penn had said—about him, about the evil spirit, about Mr. Albu's brother. And most of all, about Damon.
Damon.
The name alone sent a strange sensation down Aidan's spine, a mixture of unease and something he refused to name. It was bizarre, the things he felt for the demon—the creature who wasn't even human. Was it even possible to like a demon? And not just any demon—a sex demon, no less. An Incubus, built for seduction, for temptation.
What if his feelings weren't even real? What if they were just the lingering effect of Damon's power, his magic seeping into Aidan's mind, twisting his emotions into something unnatural?
But... wouldn't magic make it feel more carnal? More physical?
This wasn't just physical. This felt rooted, deep—like genuinely liking someone.
Aidan exhaled heavily, turning to his side—only to sit up in sheer horror.
A shadow stood in the dark corner of his room.
For a brief, heart-stopping moment, his mind screamed, Evil spirit! His pulse spiked, terror locking him in place. But no—Mrs. Barik wasn't this tall. She wasn't this broad, this—
The figure moved, stepping out from the shadows.
Aidan sucked in a sharp breath, his body frozen as his mind struggled to process the sight before him.
Huge, bat-like wings draped behind the towering form, their dark expanse shifting ever so slightly, sending eerie ripples through the air. A thick, sinuous tail curled and uncurled on the hardwood floor, its tip flicking lazily like a predator waiting to pounce. Curved horns jutted from a head of dark, tousled hair, catching the dim light as if drinking it in.
And then there was his body—
Aidan's face burned.
Damon stood there, completely bare, every inch of his powerful physique exposed, muscles carved like a god's sculpture, the sharp lines of his abs casting deep valleys of shadow across his stomach. There was something unreal about the way the darkness clung to him, accentuating the sharp ridges of his form, making his presence feel... wrong. Wrong in the way a lion inside a bedroom would feel wrong.
Predatory.
Dangerous.
And yet, Aidan's gaze was drawn to his face—his piercing grey eyes, glowing with a strange, hypnotic light, holding Aidan captive.
Aidan's breath hitched in his throat.
"D-Damon?" he squeaked, barely recognizing his own voice.
The air in the room seemed to thicken, shrinking the space, making it harder to breathe. Damon's presence was all-consuming, suffocating in its intensity.
And despite his complete nudity, there was nothing remotely vulnerable about it. If anything, it suited him—like this was how he was meant to be.
Aidan swallowed hard. A violent shiver crawled up his spine, a reaction he couldn't control. The sheer allure Damon radiated was suffocating, intoxicating.
Wait.
Wait a damn minute.
What the fuck was he doing in his room?!
Aidan straightened, panic overriding his haze of attraction. "What the hell are you doing here?!" he yelled, his voice cracking embarrassingly.
"I didn't expect you to be awake." His voice was rich and deep—dark caramel poured over fire. The sound of it slithered over Aidan's skin, leaving tingling trails of heat in its wake.
Aidan clenched his jaw. "Are you using your Incubus powers again?"
Damon exhaled through his nose, something almost sheepish flickering in his expression. "I'm sorry," he admitted, his wings rustling. "The night makes it harder to control my instincts."
He walked lazily to Aidan's bed and then sat—right beside Aidan on it.
Aidan stiffened.
He didn't even see how it happened, but the moment Damon sat down, his horns, wings, and tail disappeared in an instant, vanishing as if they had never been there. His eyes, once gleaming with an unnatural glow, softened into something more human—stormy grey, yet still holding that unreadable depth. Damon grabbed one edge of the blanket and put it on his lap to hide his nakedness.
Aidan let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, his heart slowly coming down from its erratic drumming.
But then—
Damon inhaled deeply.
And suddenly, Aidan was too aware of everything.
The warmth of Damon's body so close. The way the bed slightly dipped under his weight. And—dear God—the scent.
That scent.
It was the most unique thing Aidan had ever smelled—musky in a way that made his skin heat, laced with the spicy richness of an Arabian perfume shop. It was masculine, deep, and utterly, dangerously addictive.
Aidan's mouth went dry.
He needed to not focus on this.
He needed to—
"Aidan?"
Damon's voice was softer now, quieter. Almost hesitant.
As if he knew.
As if he knew the effect he had on Aidan.
And judging by the ghost of a smirk on his lips—
He definitely did.
"What are you doing in my room?!" Aidan demanded again, his voice sharp with disbelief. "What if Jared saw you coming in?"
Damon's expression remained unbothered, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "I didn't exactly take the front door."
Aidan's stomach twisted. He wanted to ask how exactly Damon had managed to get inside his locked room, but a sinking feeling told him he wouldn't like the answer.
Damon must have sensed his unease because his voice softened. "I wanted to check up on you."
Aidan blinked.
"You had a lot to take in today," Damon continued. "And Penn... well, she doesn't have the same patience as the old man when it comes to making you feel at ease."
Aidan scoffed, letting out a humorless chuckle. "This generation isn't exactly known for being considerate of other people's feelings."
Damon chuckled along with him, the sound warm and rich. "You are this generation, but you're not like that."
Aidan shook his head. "Neither are you."
Something shifted in Damon's expression. His smirk faded, replaced by something softer, something more human.
"I might look young, but my mind is much older," he admitted. "It carries the memories of every Incubus that has ever existed before me."
Aidan shuddered at the reminder of what exactly Damon was.
A creature with centuries of knowledge, of seduction, of experiences Aidan couldn't begin to fathom.
"How did you make your wings and horns disappear?" he asked, grasping onto the question to steady himself.
Damon leaned back slightly, propping his weight on his hands. "I can hide my true self from normal people," he explained. "But certain things make it harder."
"What things?" Aidan asked, curiosity slipping into his voice.
Damon tilted his head, considering him. "Extreme emotions," he said finally. "Anger, for example."
Aidan frowned. "Fear?"
Damon let out a short breath through his nose. "I don't know what that feels like."
Aidan blinked. "You've never felt fear?"
Damon's lips twitched, but there was no amusement in his expression. "Not once in my life."
The words shouldn't have unsettled Aidan as much as they did.
"What about joy?" he asked, feeling almost desperate to find something human in Damon.
"I've felt joy," Damon admitted. "But joy isn't an extreme emotion." He paused, then added, "Lust, however... that's different."
Aidan's cheeks burned. "Do you even feel lust?" he blurted out. Then, in an attempt to lighten the tension, he added with a chuckle, "Aren't you, like, always horny? I mean... you are a sex demon."
Damon's laughter filled the room, deep and unrestrained, and Aidan felt it like a ripple through his entire body.
God.
His stomach fluttered in ways it should not.
"I'm not always horny," Damon said, amusement glinting in his silver eyes. "In fact, I'm rarely horny. I can count on one hand the number of times I've actually felt it."
Aidan's brow furrowed. "How is that even possible?"
"I extract sexual energy," Damon explained, "but that doesn't mean I feel the same way my subjects do. If I did, it would be counterproductive. I need to be in complete control when I seduce someone."
"Oh..." Aidan cleared his throat, suddenly feeling a little too warm. "Okay. That makes sense."
Silence settled between them, thick but not uncomfortable.
Then—
Damon's hand brushed against Aidan's cheek, his fingers caressing just beneath his eyes.
Aidan stiffened.
"You haven't been sleeping well, have you?"
Aidan looked up, locking eyes with him.
His throat tightened.
When was the last time someone had noticed?
When was the last time anyone cared enough to ask what was going on in his life?
The realization stung more than it should have.
Aidan swallowed hard. His voice was barely a whisper when he finally spoke.
"I've never been this scared before," he admitted, his words fragile, raw. "The evil spirit... it's like it's always around me. Waiting. Watching. Ready to pounce the moment I let my guard down." His breath hitched, his shoulders shaking slightly. "I've been so anxious all this time, it's taken over my life."
Damon's throat bobbed as he swallowed. His fingers twitched against Aidan's skin, as if restraining himself from holding him closer.
"I'm sorry you had to go through this," he murmured. "You don't have to live in fear anymore, Aidan."
Aidan felt something deep in his chest crack open.
"You can relax," Damon promised. "I'm here. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."
The sincerity in his voice was unwavering.
All Aidan wanted was to lean into his touch, to sink into the warmth of his palm and chase the fleeting comfort it offered. A desperate, insistent need to be closer to him coiled deep in his gut. A tingling sensation spread from his cheek, racing down his spine, curling low in his stomach. Heat swirled in his core, his nipples tightening under the ghost of Damon's touch. The sensation was overwhelming, intoxicating—so much so that a soft, helpless moan slipped past his lips before he could stop it.
Damon jerked his hand away as if Aidan's skin had burned him. His expression shifted instantly—guilt flickering behind his stormy eyes. He looked away, biting his bottom lip, his fangs barely grazing the soft flesh.
"I should leave," Damon said, his voice rougher than before. He stood abruptly, like if he lingered a second longer, he might do something reckless. "You should go to sleep. Your room is protected. Penn made sure the evil stays away—at least for the next forty-eight hours."
He turned to go, but Aidan's fingers wrapped around his wrist.
"Wait," Aidan whispered.
Damon froze.
Aidan swallowed, feeling utterly exposed, vulnerable in a way that terrified him. But he still said it anyway.
"Don't be indifferent to me in college," he murmured, his voice small. Weak. Like a pathetic puppy begging for its owner's affection.
Damon's shoulders stiffened. He turned back, his face contorted with something Aidan couldn't quite name—pain, longing, regret.
"I shouldn't be near you, Aidan," Damon said, his voice heavy with conviction. "It's not safe. Not because it will attract the evil entity—but because I am an Incubus. I destroy everything in my wake."
His gaze softened, but there was caution in the way he looked at Aidan. Like he wanted to reach for him but knew he shouldn't.
"Also..." Damon hesitated, then let out a slow breath, "I don't want Vittal to know how much you mean to me."
The words knocked the air from Aidan's lungs.
Damon leaned down, pressing his palm over Aidan's hand—the same one gripping his wrist. For a moment, Aidan thought he was going to let him hold on, to let him have this moment.
But then—
Damon's body trembled.
Dark energy rippled through the room, the air growing thick with something ancient, something otherworldly.
Aidan's breath caught in his throat as Damon's horns reappeared, curling like obsidian blades from his dark hair. His leathery wings unfurled behind him, stretching wide, casting shadows over the room. His tail—long and sinuous—coiled around Aidan's ankle as if it had a will of its own.
His demonic aura returned in full force, suffocating and intoxicating all at once.
"It's time for me to leave," Damon said, but it sounded more like he was convincing himself rather than simply informing Aidan.
Aidan's fingers twitched around his wrist.
His heart pounded.
"Do I mean anything to you?" Aidan blurted out. His lips parted slightly in shock at his own question, but it was too late to take it back. The words hung between them, raw and desperate.
Damon inhaled sharply.
Aidan braced himself for laughter, for mockery, for anything that would remind him that he was just another foolish human, enchanted by something he couldn't understand.
But none of that came.
Instead, Damon stared at him. Really stared at him. His expression unreadable, his silver eyes catching the faint moonlight.
"I have met many women and men in the short time I've been free," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But the only person I have ever truly felt connected to is you."
Aidan's chest clenched.
"But I can't make you go through this," Damon continued, shaking his head. "It's not fair. You think you want me, but you don't. It's the Incubus power—it's seeping into your mind, making you crave something that isn't real."
Aidan flinched, his pulse quickening. "No, it's not," he snapped. "I don't think it's just that."
Damon leaned in, so close Aidan could feel his breath against his lips, warm and slightly sweet. His silver eyes darkened, gaze locking onto Aidan's like he was peeling him apart layer by layer.
"How would you even know?" Damon murmured. "How can you be sure what's real and what I'm making you feel?"
Aidan's throat tightened.
He didn't know.
He had no proof.
He just had a feeling—one so deep, so instinctual, that it consumed him. But how could he make Damon believe that?
How could he even convince himself?
Damon pulled away first, and just like that, the moment shattered.
"Sleep peacefully, Aidan," Damon said, his voice back to its careful restraint. "No one is going to hurt you anymore."
Then he turned and disappeared into the shadows.
Aidan slumped back onto his bed, exhaling a shaky breath as the tension drained from his body.
Maybe Damon was right.
Maybe he was nothing more than a human with a fragile, foolish heart—one that an Incubus could toy with, use, and discard like a popsicle stick when he was done.
And maybe... just maybe... he needed to protect himself before it was too late.