Morgan pulled back. “I, uh …”
Riley’s eyes narrowed. “Didn’t mean it? It’s too late now. We’re going to your room. I’m doing you for free.” She stood up and pulled at Morgan’s arms, hefting her from her seat. “I’m gonna do you like you’ve never been done before.”
Morgan held her position despite Riley’s urging. “Uh, um. No. No bedroom.”
Riley stopped pulling and dropped her grip on Morgan’s wrists. Her smile widened, turning into a leer. “You’re right. Let’s rock your norm a little. How about right here?”
Within a single stride, Riley crossed the distance between them to stand a breath’s length away. Morgan stumbled back a few steps, surprised at the succubus’s sudden proximity. She caught herself against the edge of the kitchen table. Riley leaned in, causing Morgan to fall backwards to keep the same distance between them. Her elbows practically rested on top of the table.
Riley smiled predatorily. “So … you ready?” she asked in a heavy, breathless whisper.
If Morgan’s only hang-up was the loss of sexual energy, Riley had no problem with bedding an attractive mark for free. She could work on the energy details in later visits. If Morgan wasn’t serious and Riley was right about the bluff, her only motivation was to make the woman squirm.
Morgan hesitated and shook her head. “You’ve got it all wrong.”
“No, I’m sure I can read you like an open book.” Riley’s hands fell to Morgan’s narrow hips.
“I wasn’t serious,” the pinned woman choked out.
Riley tilted her head and exhaled a long breath. “Neither was I.” Her hands dropped, and she pushed herself off the table to readjust her sheer outfit.
Morgan attempted to steady her breathing. “I’ve never played chicken with a demon before,” she remarked shakily. “I definitely lost.”
“Still not a demon,” Riley remarked. “But yeah, you definitely lost.”
A sound chattered from Riley’s watch. Both women’s attention went to the timepiece.
“Alarm clock?” Morgan asked.
“Something like that. I wish the work day was over, but sadly it’s not.” Riley made a face. “I now have the pleasure of waiting for Mr. Ten.”
Morgan’s eyes flipped wide. “Oh, whoa. Ew.”
Riley blinked a few times before recognition set on her features. “No! Mr. Ten O’Clock. Time, not length.” She shook her head in disgust. “You’re gross.”
Morgan cleared her throat. “So how do you take off?” she asked, quickly changing the subject. “How do you go to a different dream?”
“I go as quickly as I arrive. Sort of like flashing or phasing out?” Her watch clanged louder and more insistently. “Crap. I have to go now. Thanks for the tea and the interesting conversation.”
“Oh, okay.”
Riley couldn’t decipher the expression or emotion on Morgan’s face, but at least the violence had stopped. It was progress.
Morgan’s features squished together. “I guess it was nice meeting you then. Officially.”
Riley’s grin broadened. “Hey, this isn’t the last time you’ll see me. Trust me.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Riley shoved her car keys into her purse as she hustled to the patio table. She was late for brunch. Again. Mr. Ten had wasted time as was his tradition, but since it had been her last official visit, she’d wanted to leave him with one last lingering memory.
She found her friends, Heather, James, and their human-friend, Wyatt, already seated. Others were noticeably absent as well, which lessened Riley’s guilt about her own tardiness.
Heather waved her over. “James ordered you a coffee and breakfast. He couldn’t be stopped. I hope you’re in the mood for waffles.”
Riley smiled at her friend as she took a vacant seat. James’s chivalry was a relic from earlier times. “For once I’m thankful that you like ordering for me.”
“Excellent.” James chuckled, blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “My efforts are not without appreciation.”
Riley scanned the café, looking for Amber. “Is my girlfriend working today?”
Heather shrugged. “Not a clue. You should keep better tabs on your woman.”
Riley pulled her phone out of her bag and texted Amber. Hey, stranger, she wrote. I miss your face.
Amber’s response was immediate. Are you sure that’s my only body part you’re missing?
“No phones at the table,” James joked.
Riley snapped her eyes up from her phone’s screen. “Sorry, Dad,” she teased, but promptly shoved her phone back into her bag.
Heather pushed her eggs around on her plate. “I wonder what happened to Seven today? He’s rarely late.”
“Probably defiling someone on his free time,” James guessed. “I don’t know how he doesn’t get tired of that.”
“He always was a more promiscuous fellow.” Wyatt shook his head. Everyone in the group could recall his first encounter with the incubus. It had been rather awkward walking in on Seven in the middle of a ménage à trois. For the group of friends it was a sight to be shrugged off; for Wyatt, he had turned as bright as a tomato before scampering away.
Across the café, Riley could hear Madison’s distinct drawl as she approached their table. The sound of her unmistakable laugh floated to the front patio area.
Wyatt, the only true human in the group, looked over his shoulder. “You guys didn’t tell me Madison was coming to breakfast,” he lamented with a pained face.
“That’s because we love to watch a custos squirm,” Heather joked, dark eyes flashing in amusement.
“It would be too obvious if you left right now,” James noted. “You better stay and suffer through the embarrassment.”
Wyatt grumbled under his breath, but remained glued to his seat.
As Custodes went, Wyatt was harmless. The fact that he associated with cubare made him a bit of an outsider to fellow members though, especially the venators who only sought to destroy them. Wyatt was part of the excubitor faction, the side that tolerated their kind so long as humanity continued to thrive.
“Actually, you may have lucked out. It looks like she’s got her hands full today,” James said. It was his attempt to relieve some of Wyatt’s discomfort.
Madison, with a new admirer in tow, made her way to the table. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite goody two-shoes.”
“Hello, Madison,” Wyatt said with a sigh.
Madison returned her attention to her latest conquest. “You have my card …” She trailed off purposefully.
“Justin,” the stranger promptly offered.
“Right. Call me later, Justin.” She emphasized his name. For a moment the man looked lost. His eyes searched hers, and he stood, silent, as if waiting for further instructions. Either he’d lost consciousness, or Madison had him under her thrall.
“You can go, sweetie,” Madison instructed as her hand traced over his bicep. He beamed at her choice of affectionate word and walked off with a grin plastered to his face.
“Look at you controlling that situation,” Heather purred. A wicked grin crossed her lips. “If I wasn’t me, I’d say you were me.”
Madison playfully bowed. “I’ll close the deal on him later,” she said, taking an empty seat. “I’m a full name away from some amazing sex, I can feel it. Justin seems like a pleaser.”
Wyatt cleared his throat and straightened in his chair. “You don’t feel bad?”
“For having sex?” Madison giggled. “Nope. Not one bit.”
“I meant for enticing him.” Wyatt lowered his voice to avoid the risk of being overhead. “Through your touch.”
“Handsome, you should know that physical contact doesn’t charm everyone.” To reiterate her point, Madison ran the tip of her index finger across his exposed forearm. “There has to be an underlying attraction. If we could have anyone with little more than a touch, don’t you think I would have taken you for a ride a few times by now?”
Wyatt’
s face turned five shades redder and he stood from his seat. “I believe that’s my cue to bid you all farewell for the day.” He pulled a few bills from his wallet and tossed them on the table. “It was good seeing you all,” he said, eyes skimming the group. His gaze fell short of the flirtatious source of his scarlet hue. “Even you, Madison.”
“Nice work, Mad Hatter,” Heather teased. “Scaring off the custos again.”
Madison turned her head and watched Wyatt try to escape the café. He was continually cut off by people darting in front of him, but the man was too polite to simply shove people out of the way. “I’ll get him one of these days,” she noted wistfully. “I bet he’s a gold star.”
Riley stirred a spoon in her coffee cup, feeling unusually disconnected from her friends’ banter. She didn’t even look up to acknowledge the waitress who set her order near her elbow.
“Enjoy your food,” the waitress said, lingering near Riley. She was their usual waitress, not Amber, but Riley had never taken the time to learn her name. Names were the gateway to the dream realm, they were the verbal consent that allowed cubare to access a person’s dreams. It was better for her attempts to stay monogamous in the waking world if she didn’t have that key.
“Thank you,” James said, the only one to acknowledge her presence.
Riley could feel the waitress’s eyes on her, but she continued to stare at her food.
Heather, noticing her friend’s distraction, leaned forward, and pushed Riley’s plate of food to the side. “What’s wrong with you today?”
Riley’s eyes snapped back into focus. “Nothing. Why?”
“You … you look distracted this morning.”
Riley frowned. “Just some stuff on my mind.”
“Amber?” Heather speculated.
“No. Work stuff, I guess. Our work. How it all works …”
Heather’s dark features pinched together. “Elaborate please.”
Riley bit her bottom lip. “Well, like—”
“What are you two lovely ladies whispering about?” Madison interrupted. Her tone was like elbows, barging in without apology.
“Nothing,” Riley said through a sigh. She brushed some hair that had worked its way from her ponytail off her forehead. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Oh my God!” Madison practically squealed. She leaned in conspiratorially. “Did you sleep with our cute waitress, and now you’re ignoring her? Is that why she keeps making eyes at you?”
Riley jerked to attention. “What? No. I have Amber.”
Madison made a face. “What’s your point?”
“Amber’s my girlfriend,” Riley emphasized with a growl. “I wouldn’t cheat on her. Especially not with one of her co-workers.”
Madison shrugged her shoulders. She played with the straw of her iced coffee, which was sweating all over the plastic tablecloth. “I’ll never understand you. What’s the point of being who we are if you’re going to live outside the realm like some kind of cloistered nun?”
Riley rolled her eyes. “You don’t ever wish you had someone to come home to at the end of the day?”
“But it’s a doomed relationship, Riley,” Madison tried to reason. “I mean, I can kind of understand why these two hooked up,” she said, gesturing in Heather and James’s direction. “But it’s not like you’re going to give all of this up for some human. And we only have a few more years in Los Angeles before we have to move,” she reminded her. “What are you going to do then?”
Riley exhaled sharply. “I’ll figure that out when it happens.”
Having the ability to live forever was a gift that many people wanted. Having the ability to be young forever was an even grander prize. But life could become repetitive, especially because Trusics required their employees to move every six years. It had been Barcelona before Los Angeles, and London and Sydney before then. Roots—that was something their lifestyle could not abide. But as long as Riley had this life, she needed to find a reason to live. A reason to keep breathing.
All the talk about her girlfriend had put Riley on the defense and wanting to hear Amber’s voice. Knowing James’s annoyance about phones at the table, she found Amber’s number in her contact list and stood from her seat. As the phone rang, she walked out to the sidewalk in front of the café’s patio.
“Good morning,” Amber’s cheerful voice greeted.
“Hey, beautiful,” Riley returned. She felt the corners of her mouth tugging into a smile hearing Amber’s throaty tone. “Where are you this morning? I’m at the café, and it’s not the same without you here.”
“I have second shift today, so I won’t be in for a couple hours. But if you’re going to be there for a while, I could come in a little earlier?” Amber offered.
“No, no. I don’t want to mess up your schedule. No one should have to be at work longer than they need to be.”
“Speaking of which, when do I get you to myself?” Amber prodded. “You’ve been so busy with work lately.”
Riley rubbed at her forehead with her free hand. “I know. And I’m sorry. Things have been unusually chaotic.”
“Well as long as we get some one-on-one time soon,” Amber said. “I’m starting to forget what you look like.”
“Soon. I promise.”
They exchanged their goodbyes with more murmurs of longing and missing before Riley hung up and returned to the table. She’d thought she’d been absent long enough that the conversation at the table would have changed, but Madison’s attention was still on the waitress with an apparent crush. Out of everyone at the table, she didn’t know why their waitress would be pining over her. Her companions were just as attractive, if not more. Cubare were generally confident in their appearance, but Riley wasn’t narcissistic enough to believe that her beauty was universal; if that were the case, picking marks wouldn’t have been a skill to be honed.
Madison stared forlornly at the dismissed waitress. “It’s like looking at a sad puppy. Poor thing. Such a puppy,” she murmured. “I want one now.”
“A sad waitress girl?” James interjected.
“No. A puppy,” Madison corrected.
Heather shook her head. “You’re not getting a puppy, Maddie. Remember what happened last time?”
Madison pouted. “That was like decades ago when I was brand new. I can do it now.”
“You lost it the first day,” James said, amusement in his words.
“Mr. Blimpie didn’t want to stay inside.” Madison huffed. “He was claustrophobic.”
“He was a puppy that wanted to play outside,” Heather deadpanned.
• • •
Riley stood in the backyard of the ranch-style home. The sky was overcast and rain fell down in a fine mist, dusting the hair and outfit that had taken her some time to perfect. Just beyond the kitchen window, she watched Morgan seated at the table, unaware of her presence outside. The woman’s thin shoulders rose and fell with a deep sigh. The ceramic mug cupped between her hands seemed to provide comfort, but not enough to consider abandoning the long cardigan she wore in these dreams. It was as if Morgan believed that no harm would come to her as long as she wore the sweater, her subconscious version of a security blanket.
Riley observed the woman for a moment longer even though she was getting damp from the gloomy weather. She needed to know more about this mark. She needed to know how and why she was lucid. Why did Morgan’s dream default to the same dreary settings and why could she never phase directly into the home?
The succubus walked around to the front of the house and entered through the door there using the spare key under the welcome mat. Not wanting to startle the lucid dreamer, she made no attempt to sneak inside and closed the door solidly behind her. The sound of Riley’s heels on hardwood clicked down the hallway as she made her way to the kitchen. Besides the rhythmic ticking of a grandfather clock, the house was silent.
“Why do you use the door?” Morgan asked, not turning her eyes from the back window. “I know it’s not necess
ary.”
“I don’t want to be rude.”
Morgan made an amused sound. “That’s funny, coming from one of you.”
Riley stood close to Morgan, nearly hovering over the seated woman. She placed her palm against the cool glass. “Why is it always so dreary here?” she asked, staring out at the same scene. The outside gardens were cluttered with bright, vibrant flowers and lush green grass, but the constant rain made the view anything but inviting.
Morgan turned her head and looked up at Riley. “You tell me,” she said. Tired, hazel eyes inspected the succubus.
Riley quirked an eyebrow. “Is there extra water?” she asked, choosing to ignore the way Morgan continually deflected her questions and attempts to dig below her surface.
Morgan nodded and turned her attention back to the window. “Help yourself,” she said, her voice quiet. “You know where everything is.”
Riley walked to the stovetop and lifted the stainless steel teapot. Her lips pulled into a soft smile when she realized there was enough water left for one more cup. She opened a side cabinet and pulled out a mug before pouring the rest of the hot water into the container. She rummaged around the top cabinets for a moment in search of the tea bags. As she moved around the kitchen like she belonged there, she was acutely aware of Morgan’s quiet gaze.
Riley sat down across the table from Morgan, still silent. She dipped her tea bag a few times in and out of her mug and watched as the herbs slowly seeped into the clouded water. “Rough day at school?” she asked, not looking up from her tea.
Morgan cocked her head and considered Riley. “Why are you doing this?”
Riley brought the steaming mug to her lips and blew across the water, watching the slight ripples her breath caused. “Doing what?”
Morgan rolled her eyes. “Uh huh,” she deadpanned. “I’m on to you. You’re about as subtle as a water buffalo.”
Riley smiled over the rim of her cup. “Are you calling me fat?” she complained in mock horror. “Have we regressed to juvenile insults?”
Drained: The Lucid Page 8