“Why did you go to work as an escort if you can’t stand men’s touch?” the stranger circles around me—movements graceful, smooth.
“It’s none of your business!” I snap.
“If I leave, dozens of others will come,” a purple flame flickers in those crystal-gray eyes. “And I can buy you out from the owner.”
“What’s your benefit?”
“You’re cold—burnt out inside, indifferent to carnal pleasures. An ideal companion for an incubus.”