The Incubus System Chapter 1318. Matured Too Fast
The Incubus System Chapter 1318. Matured Too Fast
The warmth in my gut twisted. Not the sexual kind. Not hunger.
Guilt.
Grief.
A slow ache.
I wanted to joke. I wanted to flirt. I wanted to lean back and smirk and be him—be Damian. The confident, suave, dark prince of lust.
But my lips didn’t move.
The weight on my chest? Yeah, it stayed. Heavy. Raw.
And I didn’t reply.
Because sometimes even demons… even princes... even predators…
Just needed to breathe.
They saw it.
No one pushed me to answer. Not even Ruby. Not even Yuffy. The room fell into a quiet kind of hush.
Unspoken.
Supportive.
A pulse of comfort in the air.
Foxy padded over, barefoot, tails flicking lightly behind her. She knelt beside me on the couch and rested her head against my shoulder.
“Master,” she whispered. “You don’t need to carry everything today, okay?”
My throat tightened.
I nodded, barely. “Yeah.”
Luna appeared next, curling beside my other leg like a cat. Her body warm. Solid.
Eventually, Pearl cleared her throat. “Five minutes,” she said, smirking again, but with that careful edge.
I raised an eyebrow. “You keeping time now?”
Tiffany snorted. “I bet Camila’s already stressed in the room.”
I pushed myself up slowly.
Stretched.
And the moment my body rose, that same Incubus aura rolled out again—smoke and heat, honey and power. Like instinct waking up.
The girls felt it. Some squirmed. Some sighed.
I cracked my neck and pulled my shirt slowly over my head.
“I guess I should get going.”
Pearl smirked. “Tell me what you think after this. I want to know.”
“Okay,” I said, my smirk returning. “But I might break her… and then come back for one of you next.”
I let my gaze sweep across the room—slow, possessive, hungry.
“I’m not done eating tonight.”
They all shivered. A few bit their lips. Some squirmed.
But deep down?
I knew they weren’t just playing games with me.
They were holding me. In their own weird, teasing, chaotic way.
They saw the cracks.
And instead of fixing me with force, they made space.
Space for me to breathe.
To laugh.
To need.
To want.
To be… a boy. A man. A prince. A monster. A lover.
Whatever I needed.
That was love, wasn’t it?
It wasn’t just sex and chaos.
It was showing up when no one asked you to.
It was staying even when the masks slipped. Even when I wasn’t charming. Or clever. Or strong.
Even when I wasn’t Damian. Or Ethan.
Just… me. In between.
I let that thought settle into my ribs as I left the lounge.
The hallway outside felt quieter. Warmer. The laughter and teasing hum faded behind me like a memory, but the echoes still tingled across my skin.
I walked slowly at first, barefoot against polished tile, my aura still trailing behind like velvet smoke. The resort’s inner halls were dimly lit with golden sconces that pulsed softly like breath—enough to see, but still shadowed just right. Someone designed this place to feel expensive and intimate.
And damn… this place was huge.
“I should’ve mapped this,” I muttered under my breath, scratching the back of my head.
I mean, really. When I first arrived, I made a beeline to the beach because I missed the beach so much. I went straight from there to the living room to grab my bag. From there? My room. My bathroom. My bed.
That’s all I saw. That’s all I knew.
Now I was in what looked like some kind of west wing corridor with more doors than a dungeon boss fight.
For a moment, I debated it. The easy way.
Just teleport.
But…
My skills only worked efficiently on places I’d memorized.
Besides…
I exhaled, running a hand through my dark blue hair.
There was something about walking.
Feeling each step. Letting the tension build.
I turned a corner and finally spotted them—two shadows leaning against the wall near a carved wooden door. Maria and Ivy.
Oh boy.
Maria had her arms crossed like a bored queen, while Ivy looked like she’d stepped out of a fetish cathedral. High slit dress, velvet gloves, and that signature succubus smirk that promised danger and orgasms in equal measure.
When they saw me, they both grinned like I was dessert delivered late.
“Good luck,” Maria said, pushing off the wall and brushing past me like she didn’t just plot something wicked.
Ivy followed, her finger tapping the underside of my jaw. “Don’t forget to use your Charm skill, Your Highness. It’ll maximize the effect.”
I blinked. “Wait. What does that mean?”
Maria didn’t stop. She just threw a glance over her shoulder.
“Just enjoy yourself.”
Then they disappeared around the corner.
I stood there for a moment.
Processing.
“…Right. Sure. Totally normal. Nothing suspicious about that.”
I turned toward the door. Polished mahogany. Brass handle. The number “1” was carved in an elegant script near the top.
I let out a slow breath.
West Wing. Room 1.
Camila.
I reached up, adjusted the collar of my silk shirt, then smoothed a hand down the front of my slacks.
“Alright,” I murmured to myself. “Let’s see what they planned.”
And then—
I opened the door.
And froze.
Stunned.
Because holy shit.
The room looked like it had been designed straight out of a high-end BDSM catalog. Red and black walls, velvet drapes, gold-trimmed mirrors reflecting candlelight that flickered in every corner. The air was thick with perfume and heat, a sweet-sin scent that clung to my lungs. Chains hung from the ceiling—decorative but sturdy. A padded cross stood by the far wall, next to an open chest overflowing with leather restraints, collars, cuffs, and toys that glistened faintly under the soft amber light.
And there—at the center of it all—was Camila.
She was tied up on the massive four-poster bed, wrists above her head, silky black rope looped artfully around her body. Her clothes were a mess—half undone, one strap hanging low off her shoulder, skirt twisted high on her thigh. Her hair was wild, tousled, like someone had dragged a hand through it too many times.
The sight hit me like a spell.
Her eyes fluttered open when she sensed me. Lips parted.
The sight hit me… half shock, half hunger, half what‑the‑hell‑is‑this.