“So now I’m a stranger?”
“No. But there are other things I’d rather be doing with you on a couch.”
Morgan loudly cleared her throat. “You’re doing it again.”
“Sorry. Old habits.” Riley remarked with a forced smile.
“Everyone should have someone they can vent their problems to, even if they’re not a trained professional.”
“I usually talk to my best friend about these things. But, there’s some stuff I can’t talk to even her about.”
“Such as?”
“You.”
Morgan looked a little flustered by the admission, but she quickly recovered. “Tell me about it then; I can be objective.”
“Are you serious?”
“Sure. Why not? And if it’ll make you feel more comfortable, think of it as role-playing. You be you and I’ll be your therapist.”
Riley couldn’t help the wolfish grin. “You don’t want to know how those scenarios usually end up.”
“I’m sure I have a pretty good idea.”
Morgan had been right; she wasn’t on top of her game today and she kept reverting back to her default dream realm personality. She rearranged herself on the couch so her head was cradled at one end on a stiff throw pillow. The couch wasn’t long enough for her to really recline unless she wanted her feet on Morgan’s lap. She bent her knees so her kneecaps were pointed at the ceiling and her feet were flat against the middle couch cushion. Above her, the seams of the drywall ceiling were visible.
“I’ve got this mark,” she started. “She’s not like any other mark I’ve ever contacted, and it’s not just that she’s lucid. There’s things she can do that I didn’t know were possible.”
Morgan looked down at her lap and smiled. “Sounds like she’d be good in bed.”
Riley smirked at the space above her head. “I wouldn’t know.”
Morgan sat up straighter on the couch. “So why continue to visit her if you get no sexual energy?”
“I get other things from her.”
“Like what?”
“I like talking to her. She’s smart. She challenges me.” Riley’s face became pensive. “I’ve become too much of a follower, but her existence has made me question everything I am or who I thought I was. She makes me ask questions and seek out their answers. And, I think that’s healthy, right?”
“It could be.”
Riley sat up again on the couch and straightened her hair. “Sorry. Therapy time’s over.” She didn’t like the vulnerable feeling their short conversation had produced. It made her feel more naked than even her sheer negligee.
“You have to go soon?” Morgan asked, misinterpreting Riley’s words.
Riley glanced down at her watch. Their hour together was nearly up. “I’ll be right back.”
Riley hurried her stride down the hallway, wanting to take the energy before Morgan could wander into the kitchen and find her. She felt on edge, and every noise coming from the front of the house alerted her.
She pulled the small glass bottle from her bag and set it on the kitchen table. With another furtive glance in the direction of where Morgan sat, she pulled the cork from the bottle.
The blue energy floated out of the vial and hovered over the bottle’s lipped opening. Riley breathed the vapor in and let it fill her senses. She watched the faint blue glow travel from her chest and down her arms, to settle on her watch. A satisfied grin crossed her lips as her watch reset, extending her time in the realm.
After putting the bottle back in her bag, she returned to the living room and flopped down on the couch beside Morgan. The force with which she sat caused the cushions to pop up, and her shoulder collided with Morgan’s. The other woman sat quietly reflective.
Morgan twisted on the couch to face the succubus. “Were those more lines?”
“Which ones?”
“What you said about why you still visit me even though we don’t have sex.”
Riley instantly sobered. “No. Not a line.”
The couch cushions sank beneath Riley as Morgan leaned forward to eliminate the distance between them. Tentative fingers brushed against Riley’s cheekbone until they traced the path of her jaw and tilted her chin. Bare, soft lips pressed against her waiting mouth.
The chaste contact made her heart thud, and her eyes fluttered shut. It took every ounce of willpower, but Riley drew back from the delicate kiss. “You’ll regret this.” She curled her fingers around Morgan’s wrists and pulled her hands away from her face so that they rested in Morgan’s lap. “We can’t.”
Morgan’s features pinched, looking concerned and injured by the rejection. “Why not?”
The truth was too complicated.
“Because you still don’t trust me.”
“I’m getting close.” Morgan stuck out her lower lip in an uncharacteristic pout. “Like seventy-five percent.”
Riley kept her fingers curled around Morgan’s wrists. “Tell me when you’re at one hundred.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Riley watched from the unmade bed as her girlfriend went about the task of cleaning up after a midday shift at the café. In the rental home, Riley was able to shut out the rest of the world and exist for this mundane, everyday moment. All complications faded to the background as though she and Amber were the only two people who existed. Amber was uncomplicated—she lived her life one day at a time. To someone like Riley who could choose to be immortal, it was a refreshing vacation from everything else going on in her life.
She didn’t think about Trusics and meeting her monthly energy quota. She didn’t think about the public relations nightmare the Truthseekers had caused. She didn’t think about the recklessness of C&D or who had attacked Liam. And she most definitely didn’t think about Morgan. At the mere thought of the lucid dreamer, Riley felt a phantom pressure over her right eyebrow. As a succubus, she was impervious to most illness, but she was still vulnerable to headaches, and Morgan was certainly that.
Amber pulled at the back zipper of her dress. “Babe, can you help me with this?” She approached the bed and turned her back to Riley. “I can’t get the zipper the rest of the way.”
Riley pulled herself up to her knees, fingers dutifully going to the zipper. She tugged it the rest of the way down to the small of Amber’s back, exposing her pale, smooth skin. A black bra strap bifurcated her back. Riley couldn’t resist a few delicate kisses to Amber’s shoulder blade as she parted the dress material.
Amber hummed her approval. “You’re good at that.”
“Zippers?” Riley guessed. She smiled into another soft kiss aimed where neck met shoulder.
“No,” Amber contentedly sighed. “At distracting me. Okay, stop. I smell like deep fryer.”
“I thought there was something different about you today,” Riley teased.
Amber turned, her hands pressing the front of her unfastened dress to her breastplate. “I need a shower. You should pick out a movie or something on my computer.”
“I don’t mind that you smell like fried chicken.”
Amber’s eyes widened and she made such a horrified face that Riley had to bite back her laughter. “Now I’m definitely showering,” she choked out. Her features flushed with embarrassment.
Not giving Riley the chance to distract her further, Amber marched away in the direction of the bathroom.
Riley scanned over the new releases available for streaming on her girlfriend’s laptop. She took pride in the fact that she had been able to keep up with changing trends over the years, but especially technology. Other incubi weren’t so lucky; Madison, for one, came to mind. As a human Madison had enjoyed the 1960s a little too much, and the clarity of her mind as a succubus now suffered the consequences.
Riley looked through the older movies, searching for something that had been made when she was still human. She was feeling nostalgic for her own humanity, a time when life hadn’t been simpler but just a different kind of complication. She pulled up t
he filmography of Audrey Hepburn and wondered if Amber had seen any of her movies besides the gratuitous Breakfast at Tiffany’s. She was in the mood for something carefree—Roman Holiday, perhaps.
While she continued to debate with herself over movie choices, a pop-up from Amber’s open e-mail program flashed across the screen. Riley was never one to snoop—she of all people valued privacy—but the subject line had given her pause. RE: Trusics Internal Pictures. Riley brought the e-mail to the forefront. The message itself was blank and the return address was an undisclosed recipient, but there were a number of photo attachments. Riley clicked the first thumbnail image and it expanded on the screen to show the outside of the Trusics skyscraper. She clicked on the next. It was the inner lobby where she worked. Each subsequent photo took Riley up the building’s floors. She gaped in horror as the layout of the entire building, even some floors that should have been restricted to any human, let alone someone not employed by the company, were revealed in photographic evidence. There was nothing incriminating for the company in the photos; they were simply images of Trusics’s campus. But the implication of these photographs reaching Amber’s inbox was damning.
The shower turned off in the next room and moments later Amber returned from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her torso and another around her hair. “Find anything?” She bent at the waist and toweled off her dark red hair with a vigorous rub.
Riley turned the laptop so the screen faced Amber. “Yeah, I found something.”
Amber stopped drying her hair long enough to look at her girlfriend. She looked first to the unreadable expression on Riley’s face and then to the computer screen. Her eyes narrowed, and her eyebrows knit together before she realized what she was looking at. The towel fell from her hands and hit the hardwood floor with a damp muffled noise. “It’s not … That’s not …” she stammered.
“Please don’t insult my intelligence by telling me it’s not what it looks like.” Riley’s voice sounded detached.
Amber straightened and clutched at the towel knotted at her breasts. “It was just supposed to be a job. You know my tips at the café suck,” she weakly reasoned.
“A job?”
“Someone approached me at work, calling himself a Truthseeker. He said the group knew that you guys went to brunch there every week. I was supposed to seduce Seven and get information from him. But then you seemed to like me, so I went for you instead.”
Riley clenched her jaw. “Is this supposed to make me feel better?”
“I told them I wasn’t going to do it anymore.”
“That e-mail suggests otherwise.”
“I can’t control who e-mails me.” Amber’s breath caught in her throat like a strangled sob. “I … I never expected to fall for you.”
“How can I believe anything you say?” Riley’s voice rose in volume and pitch. “It’s been nothing but lies since day one.” She stood from the bed in a single, fluid motion. “I can’t deal with this right now. I can’t even look at you.”
“Riley.” Amber choked on the name. “Can’t we talk about this?” Tears fell freely down her freshly showered face.
Riley held up her hands. “Don’t, Amber. Just … I need you to give me some space.” Grabbing her jacket off the back of a chair, she strode out of the apartment without looking back.
Riley pulled out her phone as she walked away from the small home. Her loyalty to Trusics told her to report Amber to Hyrum, but she didn’t know what kind of trouble the woman would get into. She thumbed down her contacts, finger hovering over Heather’s cell number, but she didn’t want to cry on her friend’s shoulder over this. It wasn’t productive; it would accomplish nothing except making her eyes puffy and red. With a frustrated noise, she shoved her phone back into her jacket pocket.
She yanked open the driver’s side door and slid into her car. Once inside, she rested her forehead against the steering wheel, swallowing down unwanted emotions. When Riley collected herself, she looked back up, a determined glint in her eyes. Work—that’s what she needed right now.
• • •
November
Riley sat by herself at their usual table in the front patio of the café. Her friends, unaccustomed to seeing her actually early for a meal, paused when they saw her.
Heather touched Amber’s forearm, stopping the waitress at work. “Is she okay?”
“I don’t know. She still won’t talk to me.” Amber frowned. “She’s been like that since she got here.”
“Spaced out and deep in thought?” Heather clarified.
Amber nodded. “I know she probably still hates me, but she hasn’t said a word or even looked in my direction.”
“I wouldn’t take that to heart. I don’t think even she realizes there’s a cup of coffee in front of her … that’s untouched,” James added.
“Well that part doesn’t worry me. She hates the coffee here,” Amber said with a sad kind of smile.
“Thanks for the update.” Heather let out a small sigh.
“It’s been weeks.” Amber bit her lower lip. “I know I messed up, but I thought she’d at least be talking to me by now.” Her grip tightened around the empty tray in her hand.
“You should get back to work,” Heather said. “Don’t worry about Riley.”
James patted the waitress’s shoulder, his demeanor less abrasive than his partner’s. “We’ll take good care of her and make sure she’s in good health,” he assured her.
Amber allowed herself a small smile. “Thank you.”
Heather and James walked over to Riley, who still stared purposefully ahead. Heather nudged the woman, but their presence didn’t seem to faze her. “You turn into a zombie or something?”
Riley blinked once and her eyes came back into focus. “No. But if y’all feel like talking about me, don’t do it like I’m not sitting right here.”
“You saw all that, huh?” Heather wrinkled her nose.
“I’m wearing sunglasses. I’m not blind.” Riley pushed her silver aviators up to rest on her head. “And my listening skills are impeccable.”
James leaned forward and placed his hand over Riley’s. “What’s wrong, lovely?”
“Nothing.”
He picked up Riley’s coffee cup and found it black and cold. “You’re not fooling us, young lady. Give it up.”
Riley shook her head, still refusing to share.
A few moments later, Seven showed up tableside with a tray full of breakfast food.
“When did you start waitressing?” Heather joked when the incubus set a plate of eggs benedict in front of her.
“Oh, I have many hidden talents, love.” Seven rounded part of their table and winked. He slid a mountain of scrambled eggs and toast in front of Riley.
“What is all this?” James asked. The entirety of the circular table was covered in steaming plates of food that no one had ordered.
Seven emptied the tray and sat down in his usual seat. “A little birdy asked me to deliver this. It’s on the house,” he said, whitened teeth flashing proudly.
“Might that ‘birdy’ be named Amber?” James guessed.
Seven grabbed an English muffin and spooned a generous helping of strawberry jam onto its surface. “A gentleman never tells.”
“You know I love watching humans work hard for it. It’s the dom in me, I guess,” Heather started, “but when are you going to forgive that girl for whatever she did?”
“I told you it was a bad idea to start dating that waitress.” Seven picked at his food critically. “Although now that I think about it, she probably spit in our food. Or worse.”
“What did she do, Riley? Did she cheat on you?” Heather prodded.
“She’s sorry. That’s clear enough,” James agreed. He pointed to a stack of pancakes with a sad face drawn in chocolate syrup on the top layer.
“Leave it alone.” Riley pushed the food around on her plate. “I’m fine, she’s fine. Things didn’t work out. No one cheated on anyone.”
“Well, I don’t control anything she does,” James commented before Heather could say a word. “And quite frankly, you deserved that. If you can’t be nice to your friends, why even be around?”
With his attention fixed on Riley, Seven frowned. His eyes were unreadable, but when he spoke, there was genuine remorse present. “I’m sorry. I talk before I think. I didn’t mean it like that, Riles.”
Riley nodded and smiled weakly before her attention went back down to her plate. She didn’t expect it, but Seven stood from his seat and wrapped her into a hug; albeit awkward, it was still comforting.
An embrace from Seven was a rare occurrence.
Heather’s stare shot between them. “So,” she voiced, “how about we make plans for one of Riley’s favorite holidays?” She looked around the table. “James and I are hosting at our place if everyone is fine with that.”
“I promise no flaming turkey this year.” James held his hand up in oath. “How does that sound, Riles?”
“Yeah, it all sounds good to me.” She shoved a bite of cooled scrambled eggs into her mouth and chewed the bland food.
“Hey, sweetie, mind if I pour syrup over your eggs?” Heather asked. “How does that sound?”
“Wonderful.”
“That’s it. Snap out of it.” Heather grunted in frustration. “You’re not sad, but you’re not you. You’re like this functional zombie.”
“I’m sorry, I’m just thinking.” It was the truth. She was lost in thought. Amber’s betrayal was at the least eye opening. It had hurt, but like a broken arm, Riley knew that in time and with care, it would heal. She didn’t doubt that Amber had true affection for her. That level of emotion was impossible to fake. What she didn’t know, however, is if she should give the woman another chance. It would have been easier if Amber had cheated on her.
“Well, stop thinking about girl issues and start thinking about the upcoming dinner.” Heather pulled out her phone and opened up a list of dishes she had in mind. “You don’t want a repeat of last year do you?”
Drained: The Lucid Page 20