Authors: Jennifer Quintenz
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Genre Fiction, #Coming of Age, #Romance, #Paranormal, #Teen & Young Adult
He stepped onto the porch and closed the door behind him. He stood there in silence, staring out at
the dark night.
“I’m angry,” Lucas said finally.
I nodded, dropping my eyes to the porch’s rough wooden planks. What could I say?
“What you did to me...” He stopped.
“It was unforgivable,” I said, tired. I felt another sting behind my eyes, but this time it wasn’t from
the cold. “I get it. I’d hate me, too.”
“I’m
really
angry,” Lucas said again. “But the fact that I can be this mad at you,” he glanced at
me, “it tells me you left my free will alone.”
I met his eyes, and we just looked at one another for a long moment. Then Lucas sighed.
“The truth is, I’ve been running through everything in my head, and if it had been me in your
place, I’m not sure I would have done anything differently,” he said. “You fought to do what you
thought was right. I mean, you should have listened to your dad and Hale. But Seth screwed with your
head.” Lucas shrugged. “I guess what I’m trying to say is—I can’t say I don’t understand why you did
it.” Lucas let his eyes drop to look at his hands. “Plus—I miss you.”
My breath caught in my throat, but Lucas stopped there. “What does that mean?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Does that mean you might be able to forgive me someday?” I asked. My voice cracked, raw with
emotion.
Lucas looked up into my eyes. In answer, he held his arms open. I reached for him, and his arms
circled around me, pulling me close. I lay my head on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I just wanted—I wanted to become human.” Tears traced a warm path down
my cheek. “And now I don’t know if it will ever happen.”
I felt Lucas’s arms tighten around me. “I’ve been thinking about something for a long time,” he
murmured into my ear. “Even if you never become human, we can still have one night together.”
I jerked back, shocked.
Lucas met my eyes with a steady gaze. “Just once,” he repeated. “So we have to make it perfect.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.” I shook my head, overcome.
“Like I said,” he whispered. “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. I can recover from one
night.”
“Lucas.” I breathed. “Should we even be—? The final battle is coming.”
“I don’t want to die with this regret,” he breathed. “Can you honestly tell me you don’t want this,
too?”
“I—” But I couldn’t deny it. I swallowed. “We have a duty to the Guard,” I said. “What we want is
secondary.”
“Maybe. It doesn’t make me want it any less. You?”
I opened my mouth to answer, but I didn’t need to. Lucas could see the desire in my eyes.
“One night.” Lucas pulled me close again. “When we’re both ready.”
I clung to Lucas, conflicting desires roiling within me. All I knew for certain was I was the reason
the final battle was beginning, and I would do whatever was required of me in the coming fight.
It was the only way I’d have any hope of making up for my mistakes.
About The Author
Jennifer Quintenz is a film and television writer, author, and graphic novelist. She has written for
Twentieth Television, Intrepid Pictures, and Archaia Studios Press. She currently lives in California
with her husband and son.
Books by Jennifer Quintenz:
Thrall (The Daughters Of Lilith: Book 1)
Incubus (The Daughters Of Lilith: Book 2)
Find out more about the author and upcoming books online at
JenniferQuintenz.com.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
12
Chapter 2
22
Chapter 3
31
Chapter 4
41
Chapter 5
51
Chapter 6
61
Chapter 7
69
Chapter 8
78
Chapter 9
88
Chapter 10
98
Chapter 11
106
Chapter 12
115
Chapter 13
127
Chapter 14
138
Chapter 15
154
Chapter 16
164
Chapter 17
172
Chapter 18
179
Chapter 19
185
Chapter 20
189
Chapter 21
199
Epilogue
204
Incubus
The Daughters Of Lilith:
Book 2
by Jennifer Quintenz
Copyright © 2013 by Jennifer Quintenz.
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner
whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief
quotations in a book review.
Published in the United States of America.
First Printing, June 2013.
Secret Tree Press
www.SecretTreePress.com
PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, and events are
either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner, and any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage piracy of
copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
Find out more about the author and upcoming books online at
JenniferQuintenz.com.
To my sister, Manda.
Chance. Choice. Love you.
Table of Contents
Acknowledgments
Book two, and my list of acknowledgements continues to grow. I’m seriously indebted to a supportive
network of family, friends, and fellow story-tellers.
To my parents, who nurtured my sister’s and my interest in writing from the beginning. Dad, who
hinged our allowance payments on creative writing tasks—not just chores. Mom, who journeyed with
us to bookstores at least once a month to load up on new stories. Dot, who subscribed us to the
magical TLB Enchanted World Series. Clyde, who never tired of my questions on religion and
philosophy.
To some truly excellent friends. Bethany Lopez, whose support and sense of story was invaluable.
Josh Feinstein, who volunteered his mad-ninja editorial skills. Marc Manus (both manager and
friend), who gave excellent and thorough story notes from outline through drafts.
And finally, to Asher and James, who sacrificed in little and not-so-little ways to give me the
precious gift of time to write.
He has inscribed a circle
on the face of the waters
at the boundary between
light and darkness.
- Job 26:10
Chapter 1
The late September sunlight had its own kind of magic.
Spears of mid-morning light broke through a heavy bank of clouds to strike the leaves of an
expansive aspen tree, setting each one aglow with an emerald fire. I tilted my head up, eyes closed,
letting the warmth seep in, welcoming it beyond my skin, through sinew and muscle, into my bones.
Some hidden part of me had been cold since last December. I lived with this fist of ice around my
heart, unable to pry free from its hold.
Winter solstice.
My eyelids snapped open. I felt the muscles of my back knot up. With effort, I forced myself to
pull in a long breath. As I let it out, I willed my body to relax.
In answer, I felt his warm fingers lacing through mine. Lucas stood next to me, distracted by the
stream of kids pouring out of the newly arrived school bus behind us. I don’t think he even realized
he’d taken my hand. It was an unconscious gesture, but it did more to warm me than the sun. I leaned
closer, breathing in the subtle spice of his scent. He sensed the motion and turned to look at me. I
smiled but he read something in my face. Concern clouded his eyes.
“It’s nothing,” I said, then, tasting the lie, I shrugged. “It’s nothing new.”
Lucas nodded. There was nothing else to say. The only reason he wasn’t having sheet-twisting,
sweat-drenched nightmares every night was that I policed his dreams. Even then, more than a handful
of times the Lilitu demon Ais had risen up before us, conjured by Lucas’s sleeping mind. In many
dreams we’d battled her together, fighting teeth and nails that glinted like steel, staring into glassy
black eyes. These fights were always epic and acrobatic—loosed from the laws of physics that dictate
everything in the real world, Lucas and I could run faster, leap farther, and fight tirelessly. Our dream
fights were much more glamorous than the actual night we had faced Ais. The night we had nearly
died.
Fragmented memories of that night rose up, knife-sharp and aching to shred my forced calm. I
turned my attention back to the reason we were all here.
The Mission of Puerto Escondido sat perched in the foothills, about 15 miles away from the center
of Old Town. The monks who’d settled here hundreds of years before had picked a beautiful vantage
point. Piñon and juniper trees dotted the mountains that enclosed our little valley. Most of the town
was nestled comfortably in the lowest dip between the peaks. Standing in front of the mission, I could
see across the bowl of our valley, from the glimmering stand of old oaks that edged my neighborhood
to the wealthy foothill community on the other side of town.
As if glancing at his neighborhood was some kind of summons, Royal’s brand new, platinum two-
seater cut across the unpaved parking lot, kicking up a dusty plume in its wake. The kids nearest the
parking lot coughed and waved dust away from their faces, irritated. Irritation changed to interest as
they got a good look at the car. The Corvette Stingray convertible had been a present from Royal’s
father. If you asked Royal, he’d say it was an attempt to compensate for being chronically absent—but
that didn’t mean it wasn’t fun to drive.