My second part-time job is at Fox Deliveries, and I arrive just in time to avoid getting scolded, it seems to be a trend today. I park my bike and check in with Aunty Fai, retrieving the keys to the delivery bike assigned to me, alongside my delivery panel where I can see orders and take payments. 

My shift lasts from 5 pm to 10 pm, zapping across the city from one district to another. The orders pour in relentlessly, and in two hours I’ve hardly taken a break. The fog worsened the traffic and those at home have turned to us for food deliveries and package pick-up. This is my favorite part-time job. The five hours I spend speeding on my bike are freeing, I think of nothing except the best ways to maneuver traffic so I’d arrive at my destination faster. It elevates my spirit. The cold breeze against my skin, the road rage, meeting different people, some unpleasant, some gracious. Discovering new parts of the metropolis that is home to four million people. I feel invincible, vanishing slowly below the multitude of neon lights and skyscrapers. A jungle made of concrete and iron and glass. I love the craziness and loudness of the city, it makes going back to my suburban home at the end of the day a lot more sweeter.

I arrive back at the delivery company after my shift ends to return the bike and collect my paycheck. Everything hurts like it always does, sitting on a worn-out delivery bike for five hours will do that to anyone. Holding my waist like a pregnant omega, I make my way indoors.

“Aunty Fai! I think I’m going to die.” I slump into the waiting room sofa, groaning. “My waist, it hurts! My ass, too. I need a new bike! That seat is all iron.”

“Heiiiiiiiiii,” the chubby woman behind the counter sneers at me, her tongue clicking. “This is why I don’t hire your kind, always tired, eh?”

“Hessh!” I spring from the sofa. “I have been on the road for five hours! Seventy orders! Which other delivery person is that fast? Zimdili!” Show me! My eyes flash wide at her.

Not looking at me as she types on the holographic desktop, flicking blue lights across her face, she waves a hand, “Alright… alright, no need to get all worked up. Anyway, up for one last run?”

I slump back into the sofa, spreading my leg wide as I slide down, sitting on my ass hurts so bad. “I can’t even feel my face, I think it’s made of ice.” I groan.

“Just one more run, the client is paying extra for priority delivery.”

“No! If I get up from here, I’ll just break.” I begin to lie down, curling myself into a fetal position.

“If you make this last delivery, I'll give you a twenty percent bump in your paycheck.”

All of a sudden a surge of energy bursts through me and I spring up from the sofa and race to the counter. “Where! Give me!”

Shaking her head, she types on the computer and the order arrives on my delivery panel. Recognizing the address, I hurry out and remount my personal bike with a bit more cushion. My ass can’t take another iron today, besides, it’s an upscale club in the pink zone. I can drop it off and head home from there.

In less than twenty minutes, I arrive at the club with six boxes of pizza. I show the order request to security as well as my ID, and they usher me in after directing me to the second floor. I have driven past this club several times but have never been inside. Supremes hardly allow inferiors in clubs like this, it’s very private, elite, and classist. You can easily tell from the clientele. I don't hesitate to feed my eyes, glancing about in every direction, taking in the luxurious display of half-naked bodies grinding over each other as the music thumps. I lick my lips. 

I hurry up the stairs to the second floor, another slew of security awaits. I show the order request and my ID before one of them frisks me. “This way,” she says, leading me inside. I can barely hear her over the loud music.

As I enter, it's difficult to see, it's all darkness, smoke, and laser lights, though I suppose vampires and werewolves have no problem seeing in here. The furry scent of werewolves attack my nostril in harsh waves and I wriggle my nose, squinting harder to see. The glow of the silver hairpin behind the security guard's head is what I follow. 

I hear the noises, lips smacking, soft moans. As my vision adjusts I begin to catch a glimpse of the strippers dancing over the bodies of several men and women. I swallow. It’s a vivid scene from my fantasies.

“Mr. Macron, your delivery is here,” the guard says and I turn to find a plump red-eyed vampire, hungrily making out with a small figure.

“Wonderful! Pizza is here!” he sings and a soft cheer grows in the darkness.

I offer him the delivery paddle to swipe his card for payment then keep my eyes on the man beside him. He stares back at me with a knowing smile, it’s little, but I can see it in the dimness. He is an incubus. I cringe because I know why he’s here.

It isn’t uncommon for inferiors to whore themselves to supremes when they’re desperate for energy, it’s why they think we’re so easy. I loathe that stereotype, but at the same time, I understand. He has to do what he has to do to survive, who am I to judge? 

I lower packs of pizza on the table and collect the paddle from the vampire whose hands are already reaching for his other dinner tonight. Passing one last glance at the kissing incubus I turn to follow the security guard back out when my careless gaze catches two men accosting a man in all black close to the bar, pulling him up by the collar, before shoving him against the wall. The man in black attempts to put on a face mask and they pull it away.

“Keep up,” the security guard says.

“Sorry.” I nod and follow.

My legs are stopped by a sharp shattering sound and I turn swiftly in its direction. They’ve thrown the man in black into a glass table and as he struggles, everyone pulls out their phone to record or take pictures. I'm a bit confused, is this entertainment of some sort?

They pick him up from the shattered table and throw him against a sofa, kicking him relentlessly. The man in black is still fighting to cover his face with his jacket, and no one steps in to stop his abusers. What the hell is wrong with people? My brows pull together.

I shouldn’t interfere, I shouldn't interfere, I shouldn’t interfere.

One of the men lifts a bottle to smash against the man in black as he crawls away on his back and something takes over me. Before I know it, I jump between them, sheltering him with my body. The bottle shatters all over my back and I groan, protecting the large body beneath me with my arms. I have no goddamn clue what I'm doing, why the hell am I getting involved!

My eyes drift to the face half-covered beneath me and my breath hitches. Such beautiful eyes. Whoa. Dark and scared, but still so beautiful. He raises the jacket covering his face a bit higher, but it doesn’t stop the curves of his face from making me making me swallow.

His full thick brows, shaped to perfection shoot up from fear, but mine do the same from awe. Golden laser lights travel over his eyes and he blinks, flashing long unreal lashes over glowing bronze skin. Another gulp. For a second or two, the world around me disappears and it’s just me and the magnetic glow of those pitch-dark eyes, inviting, welcoming, but also… familiar. Do I know him?

A hand pulls me up by the arm, forcing me out of his magnetic hold, and a punch slams into my cheek, swaying me backward. I raise my hand up, waving at them. “I don’t want to hurt you, stay back,” I warn.

The two men come on me harder. These aren't university boys, they are professionally trained, their kicks and punches aim for the most brutal assaults. I sigh amidst the pain. Why am I getting into a lot of fights today? Protecting my face with my hands I take in their assaults, giving me enough time to strengthen my core. This should be fun, haven’t trained in a while. 

The great thing about being an incubus in a kingdom like Hazalu is how much everyone underestimates me, especially when it comes to fights, and I adore the surprise on their face when they finally get what they deserve. It is why I trained so hard, why I want to work in security. It validates me, makes me feel above every stereotype, every box the world tries to shove me into. Knowing I am better than them, knowing I am the best despite them makes me wet and hard in all the right places.

Finding my balance, I retaliate, catching the fists of two of the men and twisting their wrists before them backward. They grunt, picking themselves back up with ease.

We lock into fierce hand-to-hand combat, and my skills in martial arts prevail. They had me in the first half, I was still recovering from having a bottle smashed on my back, but now, it’s my turn and I relish in the sight of them flying across the room. One crashes into the bar behind him, bringing down with him numerous bottles of wine I assume are quite expensive, and this is when armed security decides to burst in. Stupid. 

“This way!” Someone grabs my arm. 

I don’t need rescuing, but I follow the man in black, my eyes traveling from behind his head to behind me as the shouting guards chase after us. We run down steep stairs and escape through a steel back door into the street. His moves are swift, as though he knows these corners. He turns into a dark alley and pulls me into it, placing his hands over my mouth as his large leather jacket covers me. Both of us panting heavily from the run. 

It's a few moments before I recognize the smell of coconut hand cream on his hand and my stomach twists. I almost take a deep inhale of it but instead, I bite my tongue. Another few seconds before I realize though I’m so close to him, my forehead is brushing against his chest, I can’t hear a single heartbeat, just his heavy breathing traveling through his lungs. He’s a vampire? Fuck. 

Wait! Wow! Awesome! 

Oh, dear heavens I have never been this close to a vampire before, there is zero space between us! 

Do I like this? 

Stop it, Luke! 

I wish I could see his face. Timi is going to lose his mind when I tell him I was this close to a vampire!

Though his hands smell like coconut, his body has a tantalizing rich scent that is woody and sweet and… whoa! I lean in. Is this what it feels like to be entirely mesmerized? Everything they say about vampires being overwhelming is true. Against him, I feel so small, like a pet. I smile and force it back when I remember he might feel it.

Oh fuck! I think his energy is just messing with my head.

My eyes travel up to his neck glistening with sweat and for a second I imagine what it’d feel like to lick it. They say vampire’s sweat tastes sweet instead of salty for some reason. His palms are sweaty, too. Would he notice if I licked it a little? Just a little?

Stop it, Luke!

Wait. I wonder if he sensed that I’m an incubus. I frown at that thought, certain he’ll push me away once he smells me. 

The security team runs past us and he exhales heavily, his warm bubblegum breath washing over me. I close my eyes and soak it all in, my body shivering, nipples tingling, and I’m certain it is not from the cold because I am warm everywhere, his nearness feels like a blanket. He slowly begins to move away, his hands leaving my lips, and a part of me wants to stop him and hold onto him. He’s so comforting and I have no clue why.

I feel him take a few more steps backward and I slowly begin to open my eyes. First, my gaze meets his broad chest, rising and falling, then continues upward, slowly traveling up his neckline, sharp jawline, red lips smirking. I swallow, dizzy from how stunning he is. My gaze continues up to his flat small nose and then our eyes meet. I suck in a breath, a chill traveling down my spine as goosebumps infect my skin at an alarming rate. I squeeze myself into the wall, my toes curling in my shoes.

Pete?