The Incubus's Heart Ch. 02

Seneca wasn't going to meet Godwin at the park by her work at 8 pm for dinner, and that was that. So, obviously, it didn't matter that there was a 20 minute bus ride each way, and a ten minute walk from the stop to plan for if she was going to be on time. And she most definitely didn't need to stress about what to wear, since she was going to stay home tonight. She wasn't going, so obviously she put on the pleated black skirt that cut away just below her knees and her favorite heather gray top that teased her cleavage.

Nope, she wasn't going, because that would be weird, and it would be cheating, and she wasn't either of those. Except, somehow she found herself back in her little city sanctuary at a quarter to eight, making a bee-line to their bench, so excited she could barely contain herself.

Not their bench, her bench. This was not their bench, because they were two strangers, and co-claiming a bench with him probably crossed some grey line in the cheating book, and obviously she couldn't cheat with Godwin because she already had a fiance.

The thought of being Chip's fiance made her want to throw up. Why'd she let Godwin talk her into going there tomorrow? He was bad for her, she should leave. She shouldn't have come. She sat down, then stood up, then sat down again, smoothing her skirt over her legs.

Her heart disagreed with her head, as it often did. She sighed. What was she doing here? This was a bad idea. What was it about Godwin that eroded her defenses? How did he make her heart beat so strong?

All that, and she couldn't stop obsessing about what he would taste like.

She shook her head, dismissing the thought. Struggling with her emotions, she stood up, and she was definitely going to leave this time.

"Good evening, my lady," Godwin said from behind her. She turned and Godwin appeared out of nowhere. Her heart climbed into her throat and stayed there for a few seconds. "My apologies," he said with a chuckle and a slight bow, "It was not my intention to startle you."

"You didn't," she lied automatically. "I was just..."

He smiled and she relaxed despite herself. "Of course not," he said, accepting her lie just as easily. "You honor me tonight. I am truly grateful to see you again."

He reached for her hand and she was too stunned to react. His touch was electric, and the kiss he laid on the back of her hand made her knees weak. "It's nothing," she dismissed. He still held her hand, she realized, but she couldn't seem to pull away. "I was going out anyway."

Godwin smiled again, covering her hand with his other one. His hands were really warm. "Of course. It is a beautiful night, and you are stunning in your element."

She blushed hard, looking away, her hand still clasped between his. "I don't know what you're talking about," she replied.

The park was a horse of a different color at night, she'd never been here in the dark before since she stick around after work. Her little oasis was stunning at night, filled with small solar lights along the path she'd never noticed in the daylight. Tiny solar LED lights weaved through the limbs of the maple tree like a hundred white fireflies. A pleasant breeze brought her Godwin's vanilla scent, which completed the perfection of the moment.

"I never knew..." she whispered, trying hard to memorize the scene.

At some point, Godwin had moved closer to her, and he now stood less than an arm's length away. "What did you never know?" he asked, his voice soft, as if he were trying not to break the magic.

She turned away from the garden to look at him. The soft lights caught his eyes in a way that seemed to make them glow. "I never it was so beautiful at night. I absolutely love it, I really do. This place... It's special to me. It's my secret garden, even though it's not mine, and it's not really a secret."

He chuckled. A wave of peacefulness passed through her, rooting her to the ground, enmeshing her with the garden. This was where she was supposed to be, she realized, relaxing into the moment.

"I know," he said, close to her. She wanted him closer, but also appreciated him respecting her personal space. They stood together, just watching the garden for a time. The peace she felt allowed her to just be, to just exist in the moment, something her adopted mother Kennedy had always tried to teach her, but she'd failed to understand. Until now. The world was right, just for now, as she stood in her garden with Godwin.

Eventually she turned away, having imprinted it in time into her mind for future reference. "Thank you, Godwin. This," she motioned around the park, "I needed this."

His smile radiated his joy, and she wondered if he'd planned this all. "You are quite welcome," he replied, bowing a little. She couldn't help herself as she laughed, he was just so old fashioned. She didn't know how to handle it, but she quite liked it.

Godwin had on a suit, because of course he did. Tonight's suit was pale, indistinguishable color in the dim lighting, and it accented his body in all the right ways. They had to be tailored. He had a trilby again, too, the same shade as his suit. A dark scarf, perhaps black, was tucked into his jacket, and the ribbon around the trilby matched it.

He leaned heavily on his cane, his left hand wrapped around it firmly. She couldn't help her gaze as it lingered on the three scars that furrowed the back of his hand. They were less visible under the dim lighting, but her eyes were drawn to them. "We should sit down," she said.

He shifted to his other foot, following her gaze, then sighed. "This?" he asked, looking down at his hand. He ran his fingers over the scars. "You did ask before. I received these as a warning. They are one reason why I no longer reside in my homelands. These scars, they remind me of what I have lost, mistakes I have made."

"Was it an accident?" she asked. She took a step forward and her hand moved on its own. Before she could touch him he pulled back, his good hand closed over the scarred one.

"No, it was no accident," he growled. He was suddenly angry, and perhaps with anyone else she would have backed off. She knew she was safe with him, so she didn't. Her lack of caution around him was ridiculous, she knew it was, but it didn't matter.

So stupid. She was an idiot, allowing herself to be swayed by Godwin.

She moved his hand, the unscarred one, and he didn't fight her. The thrill that raced through her had her realizing that this was the first time she'd intentionally touched him. His skin was warm under her fingers, like hot desert sand, pleasant and smooth. She could feel his quicksilver eyes on her, watching her as she inspected his scars.

The scars ran in parallel tracks across the back of his hand. She'd been wrong earlier in the day when she thought there were only three. There were four, running from his thumb to the other side of the back of his hand. He shuddered slightly as she traced them with her fingers. His gaze set her heart racing.

"What did this to you?" she asked, running her fingers over the raised scar tissue again. The scars felt nice under her fingertips, and that he shivered each time she traced them made it that much better. After a few seconds he placed his hand over hers, stopping her.

"Not what. Who. It was... It was someone I once considered a friend." He shook his head, squeezing her hand under his. "It matters not, Seneca Mahon. We are not here to talk of the past. I wish to sup with you, if it pleases you, so that we may begin to know one another." His voice was soft, but firm. He didn't want to talk about it.

She thought about rebutting him, pointing out that if he wanted them to get to know each other, talking about the past was exactly what they should be doing. She let it drop, though, feeling the tension in his hand.

Her guilt took the time to remind her that shouldn't be holding hands with him, touching him so intimately when she had a fiance. She jerked her hand away, then clasped them together behind her back where they could cause no more trouble.

The smallest look of displeasure crossed his face before he hid it, and she wasn't sure if she'd imagined it or not. It bothered her, that she might be the cause of it, that she'd disappointed him somehow.

Godwin's eyes went distant as he traced his scars."Godwin?" she asked, tapping him lightly on his forearm. His suit was possibly the softest material she'd ever felt made into a suit, and her fingers lingered breath longer than they should've.

He shook his head as if he were waking from a dream. "My apologies. It is so very rude of me, to be lost in my memories. Please forgive me?"

"Does it bother you?"

He nodded. A moment passed between them.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, for no other reason than she didn't know what else to say.

He glanced at her, half a smile on his lips. "Were you hungry?" he asked, turning away.

"Um, I could eat. Where did you wanna go? To eat, I mean?" she asked, following his gaze.

"If it was not too forward, I thought perhaps we could picnic here. I brought provisions." His breath caught, and she could tell he cared about her answer.

"That sounds perfect!" she said, excited about the prospect. "Absolutely perfect."

His smile sent a thrill of pleasure to her belly. He gestured regally to their bench, but led her past it to a lush grassy spot just behind it. He lit with electric Coleman lanterns on either side, revealing a deep red blanket with a small tray in the center. There were two white boxes, a bottle of red wine and two wine glasses on the tray.

"Did I say it sounded perfect? Godwin, this is so perfect!" She couldn't help the happy butterflies dancing in her stomach, and she found that she didn't want to.

"I am glad you find it acceptable. I-"

She cut him off, turning back to grab his hand. She pulled him towards the picnic he had set up for them, unable to hide her excitement. "Acceptable? Not even close! This is... I mean, this is the absolute best, Godwin. No one has never, ever, ever, ever, ever done anything like this for me. No one has ever done anything this nice for me," she said. She stopped talking, growing overly emotional.

She forced the tears down, placing them in that blackness deep inside of her. She wasn't sure if the tears were from happiness or regret, but she wasn't weak, and she sure as hell wouldn't cry in front of him. There was no way she'd let him see how pathetic she really was.

He motioned for her to sit, waiting until she was sitting before settling down across from her. He struggled for a moment with his stiff left leg, making her wonder if this injury was related to the scars on his hand. She wouldn't ruin the evening by asking, though, he was obviously sensitive about it.

"Why do you do that, Seneca?" he asked as he passed a box over to her, then took the other one for himself.

She took the box and opened it. Inside was half of a wrap sealed in plastic, either chicken or turkey with large, leafy lettuce and a bright red tomato. Underneath that was a bag of chips and a pear. She pulled the sandwich out, suddenly very hungry. "Do what?" she asked as she unwrapped her meal.

"You repress your emotions. Your face, you are very expressive, but when you realize you are feeling something, you hide it away," he explained, opening his own meal. He took a bite of his wrap and chewed it slowly, his mercury eyes looking inside of her.

She turned away from him, taking a bite of her wrap to avoid having to answer him. "Why did you ask me to dinner?" she changed the subject after she chewed and swallowed.

"Does a man need an excuse to ask a beautiful woman to dinner?" he countered.

Snorting, she rolled her eyes with a little shake of her head. "Beautiful?" She snorted again, then regretted it. "Whatever, Godwin. And, yes, most people don't ask out someone they met only five minutes before. It's definitely weird."

"And yet," he replied with a tilt of his head, "here you sit, on a date with a man you met only today. It seems we are both a bit unconventional."

"This isn't a date," she said, and she wasn't sure if she was saying it to him, or to herself. "This is just two people, getting to know each other. Not a date."

It was most definitely a date. It was the most romantic date she had ever been on. Guilt and joy flip-flopped around her stomach as she battled with being on this wonderful date with Godwin while also being engaged to Chip, even if she didn't want to be. She swallowed both emotions simultaneously, drowning them deep inside herself.

Godwin scratched his chin. "Let us imagine that this was a date, if you will."

"It's not a date," she insisted, shaking her head. "I can't go on a date with you, Godwin. I'm engaged. I thought you knew. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to mislead you. I..." She struggled to find the words. She instantly regretted not being upfront with Godwin. What was she doing here?

"He is not your fiance," Godwin remarked, casually taking a bite of his pear. He reached over and poured a glass of wine for each of them, the bottle already open and waiting.

"He is. Chip proposed to me the other day and... And then somehow we were engaged," she said, feeling miserable as she accepted the glass. His finger brushed over hers and her loins clenched. Stupid loins, just making it worse.

She meant to sip it, but she tilted the glass too far and it coated her mouth with a thick, heady flavor, full bodied and slightly sweet. Would Godwin's blood taste like this, coating her mouth with richness?

Godwin leaned across their picnic and ran his finger across her bottom lip, wiping away a stray drop of wine. She froze as his finger slowly trailed along her lips, lingering. He waited until she was looking at him before he licked the smear of wine from his finger, which did nothing to quell her desire for his blood.

"You are not engaged to Chester Gibson," he said, so sure he was right.

"Chester? You mean Chip? How do you know his name? And, I am, unfortunately. It was the worst, too, just saying," she argued, resting the wine glass between her knees as she ripped open the bag of chips. "It all happened so fast, and everyone expected me to say yes, and all of those eyes on me, and his big, stupid idiot grin and..." She trailed off, realizing she'd said too much.

He looked up at her, then slowly sipped his own wine, and she'd never wanted to sink her fangs into anyone so strongly. "Ironically, I was there, three nights hence. At Bellissimo's, correct? Chester Gibson stood up and asked for your hand in marriage. I witnessed that event. But, Seneca, you are not engaged to him."

His tone was so confident, so sure of himself. It made her angry. "Yeah?" she snapped. "How'dja figure that?"

He smiled that smile, the one she either wanted to slap or kiss. Or slap, then kiss. "You didn't say yes." The wind shifted and his vanilla scent teased her, mixing well with her wine. She wondered what his mouth would taste like, his flavor and the heady wine together.

"I'm sorry, Godwin. I'm so stupid. I shouldn't be here," she said, trying to hand him back the wine glass, still half full of the delicious red. She had to leave, but she didn't want to leave.

"Seneca, be calm," he replied, his hand wrapping over hers as he refused her wine. Her heart pitter-pattered in her chest at the warmth of his touch. "You belong here. If there is anywhere you should be right now, it is here. This night is perfect for a picnic under the stars, and I am fortunate to have found such a delightful companion to share it with. Please, Seneca, stay with me a bit longer."

"But...I'm engaged. This is cheating!" she whined, her guilt finding a foothold.

"You are not," he reiterated. He tilted his head to the side. "Did you say yes?"

"Umm... Not...exactly..." she hedged.

He narrowed his stunning eyes at her. "Did you say yes, Seneca? Did you say any words that could be construed as an affirmation?"

She squirmed, not wanting to answer him, seeing where this line of questioning was headed.

"In, ah what? Affirmation? I, ah..."

"Seneca," he chided, his tone twisting her stomach into pleasurable knots.

"Fine, you're right. I didn't! I didn't agree!" she snapped. "Of course I wouldn't agree! I don't want to marry that idiot meathead. I can't..." She stopped herself, her hand over her mouth to keep from saying anything else.

That smile again, and her traitorous heart sang. "You did not acquiesce," he agreed. "You did not accept. Both parties, and you may correct me here, if I am wrong, but I was under the belief that both parties must agree to a matrimonial agreement. You are not engaged, his belief that it is so does not bind you."

"It all happened so fast. Why were you there?" she demanded, trying to still her beating heart.

"Perhaps it was coincidence?"

She frowned and he chuckled, looking out over the park. His answer was frustrating. "If you were there, you should know that I'm engaged. The whole freaking restaurant saw it."

"You did not say yes, Seneca. In your stunned state, you asked if he meant at that moment, which to him was enough of an affirmation to make his own assumptions. You did not say yes, thus you are not engaged." Godwin took a sip of his wine, watching her closely.

She pouted, unable to argue with his logic, despite how she felt. She took a sip of her wine to stop herself from saying something stupid.

She sulked and he frowned slightly. "I have a proposition for you. A business proposal, if you will."

"Business?" she parroted. "What business? I thought you asked me here on a date. Do you have ulterior motives?" She narrowed her eyes, trying to give him her best 'don't mess with me' look.

If she couldn't control her heart over his wicked smile it was going to be her downfall. "Oh, so now it is a date?" he chuckled, smiling slyly. "Ulterior motives? Seneca, you wound me, though I suppose I did have two reasons to request your presence tonight. I promise, it is not as sinister as you believe. Maybe business was the wrong term. I wish to make a proposal to you, but I thought that term might be sensitive, all things considering."

She opened her mouth, but closed it again, then laughed. "You're right," she admitted. "Proposal... It's too soon." She couldn't stop from laughing.

Godwin smiled. "We do not have to call it anything, but, if you would, I wish to propose a... mutually beneficial arrangement." He cocked his head, perhaps considering his next statement.

"You're strange, you know that?" she said. She sighed, looking up at the tree leaves shifting subtly above them in the breeze. "I don't know why I feel so relaxed with you."

"I am pleased that you feel comfortable in my company," Godwin noted. "How do you consider me strange?"

Her bag of chips was empty, she didn't even remember eating them. She shrugged. "I dunno, like, your suit, for example. This is the second suit today, and it's a million degrees outside. Aren't you hot?"

He shook his head. "I find I am much more comfortable in my suits, and I like my visage in them. Do you dislike them?"

She blushed hard. "I, ah... You look really good. I think anyone else might look silly, but your suits are, you're a very handsome man, but you know that. The suits are nice, on you. Um, yeah." She had to stop talking now.

"Then how is it weird?"

"Do you see anyone else wearing full suits in the middle of summer?"

Godwin shrugged. "Business people."

She frowned, he was right. It was different, but he was right. "The way you speak, it feels old fashioned. I can't place your accent. Where're you from? Shouldn't we talk about you before we become business partners?"

That kissable, slappable smile again. "Of course, little puppy."

"Puppy?!" she squeaked. "Who's a puppy?"