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Copyright Tabitha Bishop 2015

Copyright Tabitha Bishop 2015

Milicente McTernan had lived on the edge of the supernatural world as a lifelong resident of  a small, strange town named Leesbourough, Louisiana. The veil there between real and supernatural worlds was insubstantial and permeable. When her husband, Terry, died after a long and agonizing illness, Mili clung to the familiar while she rebuilt her life.

Into her dreams slipped a beautiful demon, an incubus, whose nocturnal visits were erotic, terrifyingly intense, satisfying, and addictive. She was never allowed to see her demon lover, but by chance one night she glimpsed a man fleeing from her room: Anthony McAllen. The parish coroner, funeral home director, and the undertaker who’d been in her home once, just once before, to collect Terry’s body.

Anthony had some explaining to do, and Mili would not relent until he did, or she died.

My NaNoWriMo Project, Incubus Kiss.

“In our tiny city, the local funeral home undertaker doubled as the parish coroner. Anthony McAllen was summoned by the hospice nurse and had arrived not long after my husband drew his very last gasp of air. Someone had met McAllen at the door, brought him through my house to the master bedroom. The Undertaker was tall and muscular, coal black hair, ivory skin unmottled by sun or age, and his eyes were an unnatural color blue. The palest blue I ever saw in humans.

His voice was a rich baritone and hushed. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Mrs. McTernan.” He held my hand lightly, and it was pleasantly warm, a comforting warm, unlike my husband’s skin.

I looked into his eyes, which were seemingly the height of compassion and consideration and was struck dumb for words. We’d never crossed paths other than a nod or two at wakes or funerals. I was just enough superstitious Irish to avoid people in the funeral trade like Mr. McAllen. He was beyond the word handsome, which was a generic  adjective, so overused and abused. No, there was something almost unhuman-like beautiful about his eyes, his face.

A momentary pause. He waited patiently, still holding my hand, and I slowly withdrew it, suddenly aware of how much time had passed.