Lovelocked (Elysian Heights Book 1) Page 2

  Anything to get his mind off of his ineptitude. God, now that was a buzzkill. He should have done what his parents said, and just went into escorting, or something.

  Get it together. You’re a goddamned incubus, and you’re going to go out there and bang some guy’s brains out and he’s going to remember it for the rest of his life because this is who you are. Do what you were born to do!

  Madison was psyching himself out right in front of his doorway, hand on his knob. His doorknob, of course. When he was done and all the dirty puns Lily had subtly incepted into his brain—that was his excuse, anyway—he shook his head, took a deep breath, locked his door, and headed out for the evening.

  At least, until he was stopped on the way by his landlady.

  Debra Pfister-Chang, the Elysian Heights landlady, was a woman whose brusqueness, honesty, and usage of the English language could make sailors pee themselves in laughter. She pulled no punches and, according to the woman herself, gave “absolutely no fucks.”

  Honestly, she was the woman Madison wanted to be when he turned fifty. Or, well, when his age started catching up to him, anyway. Lust demons lived a fairly long time.

  She stood there in the building lobby dressed as though she had just come home from a cocktail party. Her long brown hair was done up in a chignon bun that really made her face look much tauter than it actually was. In a long, plunging royal blue sequined gown and a martini glass in one hand, Mrs. Pfister-Chang was laughing as she waved off another tenant in the building, arms crossed underneath her rather ample bosoms that looked like they were about to burst out of her dress. Although she was swaying to some silent beat in her head, she was standing upright and looking alert. Madison gave the stranger a little nod just as he ascended the elevator. The landlady took a sip of her drink and beckoned for him over by the couches at the lobby.

  “5A! Look at you all dressed up!”

  Debra sipped on her martini and grinned at Madison. “You look just like my son’s type, too. But I know guys in clothes like that aren’t looking for anything serious, and I can’t have that for my precious baby. No, you look like you’re ready to get absolutely plowed, aren’t you?”

  “What is up with all the ladies in my life being so casual about all this sex talk?” Madison muttered, thinking out loud. First there was Lily, and now there was his landlady. And while he couldn’t fault them for being the way that they were, he was a little exasperated at the fact that everyone around him seemed so much more…practiced, one might say, about going out and having fun.

  Am I actually a prude?

  “Can’t a guy just dress nice to go out to drink with friends?” Madison groused. He then looked at his landlady, who had a single eyebrow quirked upward in question.

  “Not like that you aren’t,” Debra deadpanned, gesturing her martini glass all over Madison. “Honey, you’re wearing a shirt sheer enough that I can see how pink your nips are from here. Your pants are so tight you might as well have a sign leading to your crotch and your butthole. You’re not looking to spend time with friends. No, in that outfit, you’re looking to get plowed like some farmland, possibly by a big guy in denim overalls. In a barn.”

  Madison looked down. He was wearing a rather threadbare black shirt. It was tight on his body, showing off the color of his skin underneath. His jeans were snug on his form too, perfectly contoured to his thighs and legs. And Madison knew for a fact that, since he spent more than thirty minutes on it, his thick, long hair looked perfectly tousled without him looking too bedraggled. With his casual-but-sexy ensemble, Madison did look ready for a bout of fun rather than going out with friends. It was as if every inch of him was perfectly, meticulously tailored for a raunchy, sexual encounter.

  Debra sipped her drink. “In summation, you’re looking to get lucky tonight, is what you’re looking for.”

  Madison looked up at his landlady and smiled sheepishly. “Well, when you’re right, you’re right,” he acquiesced.

  Debra nodded, and a wide smile slowly spread across her face. “I know all about the dating world, darling. I wouldn’t have bagged myself the men of my dreams if I didn’t!”

  Madison blinked. “I’m sorry, the men of your dreams?”

  Debra tilted her head, finishing her martini. “Why, yes,” she said after that long, last sip. “The men of my dreams. Two guys. Mr. Pfister and Mr. Chang. They live right in the building with me, at 32B. Visit anytime you like! Just don’t do it when they’re in rut. Minotaur men can get oh-so-zesty.”

  Recognition clicked in Madison’s brain. “Right,” he said a little dumbly. Mr. Pfister and Mr. Chang were supernatural creatures, just like he was. Not everyone was just a normal human nowadays. Well, not in Elysian Heights, anyway. The building was a hotbed for supernatural creatures. One of the witch tenants said it was because the building was built right on the intersection of a couple of different ley lines, and another said it was just because Mrs. Pfister-Chang liked supernatural creatures and preferred them as tenants. The entire city was chock-full of supes of all kinds.

  “You have a son?” Madison asked, trying to make more small talk. He thought it was the polite thing to do, and besides, it’s not like he was in a hurry or anything.

  His landlady smirked. “Ah, yes. My beautiful son is studying right here in the city. He got into university on a scholarship, you know,” she said proudly. “He’s a big, meaty jock. It surprises me that he even managed to get into college, but he’s a good kid. Horny, just like his fathers. Guys and gals must be lining down the block to catch a glimpse of him!”

  She sighed and stared wistfully off into the distance.

  Madison blinked. “You don’t see him very often, do you?” he said softly.

  “No, he studies right in the city but he decided to take a dorm instead of live in a unit I would have given to him, that damn ingrate,” Debra muttered, but then she let loose a heavy little sob, rubbing a finger gently under one eye as if rubbing away a tear. “God, I love him!”

  The incubus grinned. She was such a drama queen, and Madison absolutely loved it.

  Debra turned to look at him, chuckled and took a little step back, making a show of wiping the corners of her eyes once more, even though Madison knew for a fact that she hadn’t cried. “Well, 5A, I’m sure you’re going to have an absolutely fun time. Stay safe, okay? You seem like a sweet kid. I’m sure you know all about the birds and the bees.” Debra then slowly moved her gaze all along his body, from top to bottom. “And if you don’t now, well, you definitely will later.”

  Madison chuckled. “It’s Madison, by the way,” he replied. “Not 5A.”

  Debra snorted. “Right. Madison,” she said between snickers, and when Madison tilted his head to look at her, she raised an eyebrow. “You’re serious?”

  Madison nodded.

  The landlady gave a little shrug and a smirk. She placed one hand on her hip as she sauntered over to the elevators, her other hand still wrapped around the stem of her martini glass. “Yeah, I think for the continued survival of our relationship, I’ll still call you 5A.You’re a real pretty one, but I’m not gonna remember. There’s just so many of you tenants! The boys are gonna love you and your girly little butt, though. Have fun out there!”

  As she made her big exit, swishing her hips side to side, she turned back to look at Madison and gave him a little wink.

  “I didn’t tell you I was gay,” Madison said. He raised an eyebrow at his landlady. “How did you know I was gonna go out to try and flirt with guys?”

  “Honey, you didn’t have to,” Debra answered back. “With how you look right now, you’re destined for the dick tonight.” The elevator bells gave a little ring, and she finally left Madison to his own devices.

  Madison shook his head. Well, he always knew she was a character, his landlord. But was her appearance in the lobby tonight a sign of good luck, or was it an ill omen of things to come?

  He didn’t really have time to think about the portents and signs of D
ebra Pfister-Chang, because almost as soon as he’d gone out the doors of his apartment did he find his way to the sports bar. It was that close—and there really wasn’t any time to ruminate or think back on his landlady’s words in between weaving past people who were eyeing him like a steak and trying not to get hit by a car. Madison did appreciate all the support he was getting, though. Between Lily, Debra, and Madison’s powers as an incubus, picking a guy up tonight was foolproof.

  Madison smirked, trying to put his game face on. It was a practiced, easygoing smile, and any eye contact he made was bound to leave an impression. He took a deep breath, placing a hand on the doorway, readying himself to enter.

  There’s no reason to be stressed. You’ve done this plenty of times before.

  And then, he pushed past the doorway, finally ready to face the night ahead. It’s showtime.

  O’Shaughnessy’s, in spite of the fact that it was a sports bar, felt a little cozy to Madison at this point. Sure, he stuck out like a sore thumb between the simple, classical décor where everything seemed to be some kind of neutral shade of brown, with simple leather chairs and an inviting atmosphere just to relax and hang out, but he’d been here plenty of times before. Sticking out when he was a lust demon was a good thing.

  The best thing about the bar, though, was that it was basically a total sausage-fest, which was exactly how Madison wanted it. Lots of men, not a lot of competition. That way, the attention would be on him and only him. He felt like a big fish in a small pond. As an incubus, he could even attract the attention of guys who might not usually be curious about a little experimentation if he concentrated on his aura hard enough.

  As soon as he walked past the threshold, all eyes were on him, and Madison knew exactly what was on each and every one of these possibly-not-quite-so-straight boys’ heads at that moment in time.

  This was why he realized he wasn’t in any position to be giving any sort of advice to people. He entered a room, and the pheromones wafted off of him as if he was some kind of cat in heat, yowling at every male within a hundred-yard radius. All the guys immediately took notice.

  Madison strode into the bar, and it seemed like he had full and total command of every person in there, regardless of the fact that it looked like a football game was playing on the big screens all around him.

  And he loved it. There was a little part of him that basked in all the attention, that reveled in the stares and the gawking. The incubus part of him, ever the demon of lust, felt excited at the knowledge that he was the object of affection and attention. It was like he was the main event for a concert, and all eyes were on him. He was in his element—not in front of a computer, ministering to total strangers—but in the eyes of an adoring public who wanted to get in his pants.

  It was intoxicating. He walked straight towards the bartender with the slightest smile on his face. The man looked flustered for a moment—he was new, it seemed—before clearing his throat and leaning forward.

  The bartender straightened his back, and offered Madison a lopsided smile. “What can I get you?”

  Cute. It looks like he’s trying to act manlier to get my attention.

  “Hey. One vodka on the rocks, please? Thank you,” Madison said in a voice as calm and sweet as he could muster.

  Madison scanned the room, watching as the men around him seemed to be torn between staring at him, trying to vie for his attention, or go back to the game they were watching. There were even one or two guys who waved at him, and nodded at him—old flings who he’d had a little fun with, who might have been hoping for a repeat performance.

  Not tonight.

  Perhaps the most interesting thing tonight, however, was that even though Madison looked around and made eye contact with almost every man around him, there was one just to the side that had his eyes averted from the incubus.

  Hell, he wasn’t even paying attention.

  This strange, blond-haired man looked as though he was contemplating his drink. His eyes were glazed over and his expression downcast, and all Madison could think about was how surprised he was that there was a person out there who could resist the pull of a lust demon like him. In all his years of life, he knew the pull of lust demons—whether succubus or incubus—had an effect on everyone in some way, shape, or form.

  It was like the force of gravity. It just was, and yet here this strange man sat, completely oblivious to Madison.

  It was strange.

  It was like a challenge—one that excited him.

  And Madison knew he wanted to win.

  Chapter Three

  Dear Fellator,

  You say that you’re having a difficult time on dating sites and dating apps because you still haven’t met a good man. My advice is to throw the idea of a “good man” out the window and just get down on your knees for any guy throwing you a bone, here! Sex is fun. You’re not getting any younger, you’ll have a lot more fun, and you’ll never have to see him again if you don’t want to.

  Sincerely,

  Maddie

  Nolan Cook was a mess, and it wasn’t just because this was his fifth tequila on the rocks of the evening. He wasn’t even pacing himself. He was just there to get fucking wasted.

  True, his entire world had been thrown off-kilter. It was also true that it probably wasn’t a very good idea to have not eaten at all before drinking, but he just couldn’t eat. Hell, he hadn’t been able to for a little bit now. He’d take a bite here and there, but food didn’t hold the same appeal it used to, not since his fiancée broke the engagement off with him.

  Ex-fiancée.

  Otherwise, five tequila shots would have been nothing to him. He’d had a couple of fun nights in his close-to-thirty years of life, and a handful of tequila shots in the span of an hour could be shaken off with a little dancing and hanging with friends.

  He hadn’t felt like eating, showering, or even existing since the empty, hollow feeling crept into his chest and stayed there, making a place for itself, languishing in his agony and torment.

  Okay, maybe that was a little dramatic. But the hollow feeling was definitely real.

  Nolan just felt…empty. The spark in his life had died out, snuffed, and was now just smoke in the wind. Granted, Nolan knew that he didn’t really have that much of a spark before, considering he’d always been more cool-headed anyway, but he’d felt happy enough to realize that things could finally be different. Life was finally beginning to look up for him. For the first time in forever, he didn’t feel lonely. He felt complete.

  He felt…normal.

  Nolan could push through the troubles in his life and finally feel comfortable in his own skin. Iris made him feel that way. They’d been together for five years…and all at once, everything changed.

  All because of advice Iris took from some terrible advice guru on some stupid e-magazine. Nolan couldn’t believe someone could throw away all those years of their life just because some douchebag who knew absolutely nothing about their situation told her she might be happier with someone else.

  Honestly, it sounded more like an excuse than anything. Hell, it probably was. But at the moment, Nolan was just happy to find someone—something—to blame for his situation. A random writer from the internet seemed like the perfect target of his frustrations.

  Nolan looked down at his shot glass and closed his eyes, relishing in the ache behind them. That meant the pain was almost over, and that was a good thing. The tears would no longer come. He’d been all cried out. And he couldn’t tell his friends yet, either. He just couldn’t bear the thought of having them flock to him right now offering their condolences and their kind, but ultimately empty words of “you’ll find someone better,” or “what can I do for you” when he barely knew what he wanted except to get absolutely trashed.

  He just couldn’t do it.

  There was movement in his periphery. He turned his head just to see a thin, black blur settle into something vaguely resembling a person right beside him and turn to face him. br />
  Well, he knew it was definitely a person, and that they were wearing some kind of sleek, all black, fashion-y ensemble. Definitely not appropriate sports bar attire, but who was he to judge?

  “I’m not interested,” Nolan muttered, his voice slightly slurred.

  O’Shaughnessy’s was just an easy choice for a bar. It was comfortable. It was casual. He didn’t think he would get picked up in a sports bar, really, judging from what body language Nolan could understand in his blur. Besides, he didn’t look his best tonight, anyway.

  “Oh, I know.” The voice beside him was…vaguely feminine. Definitely androgynous. Whoever it was, it was borderline female. It sounded soft, sweet, and flowed melodically. But it definitely could have come from a particularly soft-spoken guy…maybe.

  Nolan turned to look up, and in his drunken stupor, he felt his heart actually skip a beat.

  Truth be told, he was never one to look at a person’s gender. He had no real preference—he preferred who they were as people rather than what they looked like on the outside. He’d had relationships with men, women, and people who oscillated in the spectrum in-between. In spite of his not-quite-so-picky nature, he could still definitely appreciate a pretty face.

  And in the history of pretty faces to remember, this guy was pretty up there. He had long, thick auburn red hair that ended in wavy little rivulets on his shoulders. His eyes were a deep hazel that perfectly complemented the paleness of his skin. His shirt was just sheer enough that, underneath the light of the bar, Nolan could actually see the barest hint of what lay just beneath. No matter how sad Nolan was right now, that actually looked…enticing.