Incubo

Smoke floated around the room as the men and women spoke gaily, some stumbling, using each other for balance, while others sit, passed out, face down at the bar. The scent of sensuality lingered heavily as one man, sitting at the end of the bar, furthest from the door inhaled deeply, his eyes flashing silver and glowing momentarily before returning to their chosen spring leaf green.

The bar tender stood next to him, his eyes flashing gold at the man as he noticed the change in his demeanor. Continuing to clean the ale glass, he let his eyes scan the room, noticing a woman enter the room in a simple dress. It clung to her body loosely, touching her in all the right places. He let his eyes go back to the man next to him.

“She what you smell?” he asked, placing the dry mug on the counter and filling it with draft. He looked up at the man, watching him nod.

“She smells like anger and revenge,” the man said deep in his chest, his nostrils flaring at the scent of sin.

“Easy there, mate. You don’t know her intentions,” he slid the draft down the counter to another man that had too much to drink. The man gave a quick “thanks” before he began chugging the drink, tipping it back before the bartender could say “you’re welcome.”

Shaking his head, the bartenders gaze went back to the man sitting next to him, only to notice the man had left to go place himself next to the woman who had walked in moments ago.

The man signaled the bartender to bring over two rounds of whiskey. As he dropped them to the two, he pointed out, “that’s an awful strong drink for such a small lass.”

She glared at him, her cold gray eyes piercing his soul, daring him to stop her when her voice, soft as a hatchlings down, poured from her lips, “indeed it is, but I have reason to drink away my betrayal.” She took the glass in her left hand, tilting it back.

The bartender noticed the band on her marriage finger and cast a glance at the accompanying man, who noticed as well. The man’s tongue slid from between his lips to trace his lower one. The man looked back at the bartender and winked as he asked for a couple more rounds. The bartender shook his head as he went to get more liquid fire for them.



About twenty shots later, the bartender noticed his bar-mate growing more and more affectionate, no doubt coaxing the woman’s story out of her while imprinting himself onto her heart.

The woman draped herself into the man, craving his touch as the man placed his hands on her waist. She lifted her head from his neck kissed him. Even at this distance, the bartender could see it light a fire in the woman’s belly.

When she broke the kiss for air, his bar-mate turned and made eye contact with him, his eyes burning silver as his nature took over. The bartender nodded towards the back room, signaling the mate to use it.

The two rose from the booth, with the woman leaning heavily against the man as he led her past the bartender. The bartender shook his head again as the man made eye-contact, his silver orbs almost burning holes into his golden ones.



Once the woman left, about two hours later, the man returned to his seat furthest from the door, next to the bartender who was wiping down the counter. He lit a cigarette and put it to his lips, inhaling deeply as he could, clearing about half of the stick in one drag.

“I take it you took a lot of her soul?” the bartender asked nonchalantly.

The man took another drag, this one not so long before he answered, “yeah. She’s got a lot of purity,” at this he chuckled, “well,” he flicked the ashes into an ashtray the bartender placed in front of him, “she used to.”

The bartender smiled, “what of her husband?” he asked, pouring a shot of whiskey for himself.

The man laughed a deep in-his-chest kind of laugh and took a drag that finished the cigarette.

Grinding the remainder of the stick and filter into the bottom of the tray, he let the rest of the smoke pour from his lips and said, “that’s between him and his woman.”