“Another present?” Morgan weakly teased. “You really are one of Santa’s elves.”
“Minus the mistletoe,” Riley said, unthinking.
Morgan’s lips curled into a playful grin; it was a sight Riley had almost forgotten. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Riley recoiled with suspicion.
Morgan looked toward the ceiling, and Riley’s gaze followed, settling on the green-leafed plant. “I taught you too well,” Riley muttered.
Morgan hummed and rocked back on her heels. “So what’s my second present?”
“It’s less of a present,” Riley admitted. She awkwardly pressed the paper stock into Morgan’s palm.
Morgan’s eyebrows lifted as she inspected the careful font on the front of the business card.
“If this doesn’t work, call me,” Riley explained.
“So this is really it then?” Morgan’s eyes couldn’t stray from the floor. “I think I can say, with finality, that I officially hate Christmas now.”
“Hey.” Riley guided Morgan’s chin up to meet her gaze. “I’ll see you again. I promise.” It was her word, and she planned to keep true to it. “Now, wake up.” With one last kiss to the corner of Morgan’s mouth, she urged the girl to go.
Morgan stood rigid after the too chaste kiss. “I don’t know if I can.”
Riley took Morgan’s hands in her own. The action was difficult because she didn’t want to let go of the woman. But for now, for her safety, it had to happen. “All you need to do is focus.” An endearing pet name danced on the tip of her tongue, but she bit it back. “Focus on what’s in your hands and the safety of your bed. Before you know it, you’ll wake up.”
“And all I have to do is hang these in the room and try to go back to sleep.”
Riley nodded her head. She watched Morgan close her eyes and breathe out through her mouth.
In a few moments, Riley woke up in her own bed, jolted from the realm. Morgan had made herself wake up. A part of her was proud of how quickly her pupil had learned to manipulate the realm, but being kicked out of a dream was still unsettling and unnatural.
She looked over at her nightstand and stared at the digital clock. Minutes took forever to pass by, and it made her anxious. When enough time had passed, Riley closed her eyes to focus on the yellow kitchen she had come to adore. “Morgan Ambre Sullivan.” She muttered the words out loud, but the familiar pull of the realm never came. Disappointment washed over her when her eyes opened to the familiar sight of an apartment bedroom. If Morgan had fallen asleep again, it meant that the amulets had worked as promised. Riley would continue to try to access her throughout the night in case the human with an overactive brain had trouble falling back asleep. To be certain that the amulets continued to work, she would test every night forward, but until what end, she wasn’t sure.
She blinked back the excess moisture that had begun to well, determined not to let it get the best of her. If she had felt less, she could have immediately looked for a new mark on the database to replace Morgan—a new mark that would give her the life source she needed and push her toward her work goals. But until the whirlwind of emotions inside her chest decided to settle, she would lie in bed and try to forget what the last six months had done to her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
For over six hours Riley stayed in bed and watched as night turned into the first glimmer of a dawning day. It was a new start, and the world outside seemed determined to move forward at a pace that her own body did not agree with. From the moment she had phased back from Morgan’s dream, the will to move from beyond the confines of her mattress was nonexistent.
Although much her body had ceased to function, her mind, on the other hand, was running on all cylinders. The amulets had worked and she could no longer access Morgan’s dreams. But more importantly, so could no one else. She replayed their last moments together countless times and entertained hundreds of scenarios where things could have resulted differently. But it was the regret of all the questions that were never asked that spun in her head like a chaotic whirlwind.
The largest of her regrets was not being able to ask, Is there even an us? For a seventy-year-old succubus, what had transpired with Morgan was making Riley feel unsure of herself.
It wasn’t long ago that Morgan had given her a name. It was a moment that Riley knew she’d remember for the rest of her days. Hearing the words come from Morgan’s panting mouth was intimacy in a way she wasn’t aware existed, and she wanted to experience it again. But to hear consent from Morgan, to know that she wanted her in the same ways, merely confirmed that their physical attraction was mutual. Physical attraction wasn’t the part of the equation that Riley needed to know. She had lust and physical connection in her life—ample amounts. What the succubus wanted was more in a relationship, and she realized she wanted that more with Morgan.
She ruminated over their final moments one last time. Before she had made Morgan wake up, she had slipped her a card along with the amulets. It had been her Trusics business card that listed her name, personal phone number, and work e-mail. She had boxes of them gathering dust in a closet in her apartment. She rarely gave them out, and she had most certainly never given one to a mark. By giving Morgan that rectangle of paper stock, Riley was letting her hold all the power. It was a complete role reversal, and she hoped that detail didn’t go unnoticed. Previously, Riley controlled when and how often they would see each other in the realm. The only way Morgan could deny her was by staying awake. Now, however, the business card left Riley vulnerable to whatever Morgan would or wouldn’t do with the information. She had given Morgan a way to solidify an intangible connection. It would be up to the other woman to take their relationship out of the realm and into the waking world.
Riley blinked. The simple act made her painfully aware at how much it stung. Her eyes were dry from staring at the ceiling.
She glanced over to the phone on the nightstand. Her sanity would unravel if she continued to dwell over what Morgan was thinking. She knew it was unlikely that Morgan would call or text this soon, if at all. But all Riley wanted was to hear her playful, taunting voice to help her forget her problems, if only momentarily. Morgan was her drug, and she needed a fix.
The phone sounded a single chime, and it broke the silence of the home. Riley shot up in bed and fumbled at grabbing the device. The tightness in her throat relaxed. Been worried about you, stranger. Meet for brunch? It was Heather.
Disappointment weighed heavy on her chest, but brunch wasn’t an entirely bad idea. She had to do something with herself, and seeing friendly faces would help her get back to a normal routine.
Brunch would be great, she wrote Heather back. Tell James he can order for me if I’m late.
Sitting on the edge of her bed, Riley began to check her e-mails from her phone. The screen was much easier to read than the face of her watch. There were a few new messages, although most went into the electronic trash bin without being read. The most important e-mail of the bunch was Madison. Its subject line read “I so so so incredibly want. <3!” Riley opened the message to watch a video of a puppy that her jubilant friend wanted to adopt. Madison had already made a list of twenty-seven names. According to her friend, the shelter-given name didn’t match the puppy’s personality. Riley laughed at some of the random choices, but they were all so fitting for a pet Madison would have: Blimpie Junior, Trousers, Santa Paws, Chew Barka, Rolls Royce, and Cinnafun. After some thought, she mused if maybe someone in their group could raise the puppy with Madison. A wicked smile crossed her lips and Riley decided to forward the message to Seven, along with her idea that he should coparent with Madison.
As she began to type out Seven’s e-mail in the contact field, the auto-fill selections came up with a list of her saved contacts. One address stood out among the suggestions.
“Sean,” Riley whispered into the empty room.
He was the catalyst for her world being turned upside down—the root cause for Morgan’s mind having be
en turned into a prison all those years ago. He was Morgan’s permanent emotional scar, and if not for his break-in, Riley would still have access to her lucid dreamer. Because she had Morgan’s name and her consent, Riley would have been able to visit her off the clock. It would have been perfect—or as close to perfection as Riley was allowed to have. At the very least, it would have given her more time to figure out what they were to each other and why everything was so complicated between them.
Riley furrowed her brow in thought. She lacked the evidence to connect Sean to all the unusual incidents of the past few months, but she knew he had some connection, some answers to the questions she had. And she was going to find out.
Riley typed his name into the search field of her e-mail client and a few junked messages popped up on her screen. Clicking on the latest e-mail which she had received a few weeks ago, she hoped to find his updated contact information. She went backward through all the unopened messages that she had routinely marked as spam until she found one with a phone number. The e-mail was dated from a couple months back, but it was worth a try. Unless she wanted to roam the streets of Los Angeles in hopes of bumping into the elusive incubus, this was all she had. If it came to it, she’d involve Seven’s web of gossip queens to track him down.
Her thumbs tapped out a brief text message: Hope this is still your number. Let’s meet up. Riles.
With a new goal to distract and propel her through the day, Riley dragged herself out of bed and went about the task of making herself presentable. If she wanted to avoid Heather’s overly critical eye at brunch, she’d need to at least shower.
It wasn’t even an hour after her initial text that Riley heard the ring of her phone. She grabbed the device and noticed the number on the screen instead of a contact name. It wasn’t one she recognized, and it wasn’t the number she had sent Sean’s text message to. Riley paced a few steps as her phone continued to vibrate in her hands. Maybe it was Sean on a different number, maybe it was a recorded telemarketing message telling her she’d been approved for a car loan, or maybe … just maybe …
With one last calming breath, Riley answered. “Hello?” She stilled her legs and wrapped an arm around her midsection.
“Hey, missy.” Hearing Sean’s voice sent a chill down her spine. It was like speaking to a ghost. “I’m glad to hear from you. I’d knew you’d come around one day.”
“Yeah.” Afraid that the anger would seep into her voice, Riley kept her words to a minimum. “What happened to the number I texted?”
“Oh, I have multiple cells. You should keep this number though.” He took a noticeable breath over the phone. “The other one changes when it’s necessary. But enough about my phone habits, what’s going on with my favorite succubus?”
“I—” Riley had shake off the edging anger in her voice. “Are you free any time soon?”
“Tomorrow night.”
“But that’s Christmas Eve.”
She could hear the sound of paper rustling before he spoke. “Yeah. I’m heading out of town on Christmas.” He sighed into the receiver. “I know you’re a busy girl. So if that doesn’t work for you …” The sound of rustling paper returned. “I’ll be in town again in another month or—”
“No,” she interrupted. “Tomorrow works.”
“Oh? No family function this year?” Sean inquired with a soft laugh. “Would hate for Heather to be mad at you.”
Hearing him refer to Heather in a casual manner brought her back to a time when they were all friends. Those were the memories she’d desperately clung to while the other members hung him out to dry. But in light of the new information on his past, Riley felt her skin crawl at the sound of his voice. She didn’t know who he was anymore—Jekyll or Hyde.
“I’ll be fine.” Riley looked at her watch; brunch would be soon. “So, what time works for you? And where?”
“I think six will do well. But I’ll let you pick the place.”
She wasn’t prepared to name a place. In truth, to be having this phone conversation at all was still a bit of a shock. “How about the Red Sea Tavern?”
“The indie cubare place?” He sounded surprised.
“Yes. Is there a problem with that?”
“No,” he admitted. “It’s … time really does change things.”
• • •
The Red Sea Tavern was busy even though it was Christmas Eve. The neon lights on the outside cast hues of pinks, reds, and purples to indicate that the establishment was open. Aside from a couple random strands of icicle-shaped lights, tinsel, and a bare garland, there was no visible evidence of the holiday season. The music selection similarly failed to reflect the festive time, and a flat-screen TV played a program about the greatest moments in sports, not A Miracle on 34th Street.
This was not how Christmas time was supposed to be, not for Riley at least. She and her friends routinely celebrated the Christian holiday, as they were relatively young within the cubare community, but others she knew observed the more ancient holiday of Yule. Even then, the weeks of December were supposed to be the most joyous time of the year. It was thirty-one days that represented peace, happiness, the guise of little stress, and for a lot of people, it meant presents under a decorated tree. As for the eve of Christmas, this was a night to be spent with loved ones around a plentiful dinner; what it wasn’t was a time to meet up with the one person that Riley wanted to set on fire like a yule log.
Riley scanned the dimly lit bar. Sean had yet to arrive, so she walked the expanse of the stale bar and claimed an empty table. The seating was a small table, off toward the back wall, that could comfortably fit two or cram three. The wobbly thing was dusted with crumbs, and the surface was stained with water rings, but she could at least be thankful that it was the table that was missing a rubber leveler and not her chair.
While she settled herself in, a cocktail waitress approached and asked for her order. At first, Riley thought better of plying herself with alcohol, but since it was Sean upon whom she was waiting, she settled for a gin on the rocks. The drink was going to be necessary to calm her nerves. The blonde waitress smiled and pulled a dirty rag from her apron. She haphazardly swiped at the table, dislodging a few of the larger crumbs, before taking off to fill Riley’s order.
Riley tugged at the hem of her coat. Although this wasn’t her first visit, she still felt out of place at the tavern. Her last experience had quite literally left a bad taste in her mouth. She glanced at the watch strapped to her wrist. She’d left the Trusics-issued timepiece at home the first time, but purposely wore it now. It would serve as a reminder to Sean of who she was and what she represented, but more importantly, it would remind herself.
Time was never on her side. With it being Christmas Eve, she was supposed to be at Heather and James’s home, not the Red Sea Tavern, meeting up with someone from a former life. Her friends were hosting dinner again, and she had to be there. If pressed, Riley had no good excuse not to attend; she couldn’t blame her absence on family, a fake emergency, or even use Amber as an excuse. She was out of town visiting her parents until the next day. If Sean was late, she was going to end up with a call from at least Heather, and being bombarded with questions as to her whereabouts was not high on her list of very-Christmas things in which to participate.
“You look good,” a familiar voice greeted. Riley’s head snapped up in surprise. Sean had not come from the direction of the front door, or she would have noticed. If not for his voice, she might not have recognized him. He had buzzed off his once scruffy hair, and the formerly jet-black mane was now dyed light brown. The navy blue peacoat obscured the broad, muscled body she remembered.
With drink in hand, he grinned down at her. “Not a day older than when I last saw you.”
The smile slipped from his face when Riley didn’t return the friendly gesture, but he went about making himself comfortable without much hesitation. He removed his heavy peacoat and tossed it on the back of his chair.
Riley’s drink
was slipped onto the table. Normally, she would have thanked the waitress and started a conversation, but Sean’s presence had monopolized her attention, and she couldn’t find her voice. When Riley didn’t acknowledge the drink or the tavern staff, Sean politely thanked the young woman for her service, and she retreated from their table.
The man who sat a table length away didn’t match the stories she’d heard or the notes made in his employee files. There was a calmness to the way he presented himself while he picked off the lint on his shirt.
Aside from the visibly faint circles under his eyes, he looked healthier than the last time they had seen each other. It had been years since the day he’d gone off the grid without so much as a farewell. So much time had passed, but ultimately within their lifespan, it was really no time at all.
Seeing Sean again made Riley feel anxious, and at the same time, her blood boiled. This was the incubus responsible for Morgan’s emotional damage, but he was also responsible for Riley’s existence. Her eyes locked on his features. She couldn’t find the strength to pull her gaze away. It was as if she was afraid to blink from her stare, if she looked away for a moment, Sean would disappear again.
“C’mon, say something,” he coaxed. A crooked smirk slid across his rugged features. “I know you didn’t meet me on Christmas Eve to give me the silent treatment.”
Riley stared at that damning smile; she couldn’t dismiss the disturbing visual of him and Morgan. Conjured thoughts conflicted with what she knew of him. There had been a period in time when she had trusted Sean with her life, when she considered him her closest friend and greatest ally. But circumstances had changed, and Riley had to remind herself that people also changed.
She picked up her drink and tossed back the burning liquid. She only needed a bit of liquid courage if she wanted to get through this meeting. “You look better than when I saw you last.”
“Thanks.” He nodded his head before leaning back in his chair. “It took a while, but I worked on myself, and I got better.” He cleared his throat and readjusted in his seat. “You know, I’m sorry about what happened. How I treated you.”
Drained: The Lucid Page 30