by Jill Myles
I rolled my eyes. “Will the two of you leave it be? I’m nobody’s girl.”
But both men had gotten their hackles in a rise.
“I think you should decide who you want to be with, Jackie,” Noah said. “Decide which one you want to choose.”
“Yeah, Jackie. Put this loser in his place and let me get to sleep.” Zane got up from the couch and stood next to Noah, glaring at him. His towel threatened to fall from his waist, if not for the hand holding it there.
My hand.
“Choose, Jackie,” they both said.
Good lord—that was like asking someone to pick which hand or leg they liked better.
“I can’t choose. You both annoy me in completely different ways.”
Two sets of astonished eyes focused on me.
“Noah, you’re a bit too stuffy and set in your ways,” I began. “You want me to be obedient, proper, and ladylike.”
“That’s not true,” he began, a scowl darkening his face.
I raised my hand. “I’m not finished. You’re a bit stuffy, but I like you. You’re always there for me when I need you. You’re my rock, and you’re practical and reasonable even when I’m not. I need you in my life.”
Zane’s face had taken on a shuttered look, and he grabbed a cigarette from the nearby table and lit it. “So this is it for us?”
“No. I like you, too, Zane. You’re impetuous and slick, and you make me do crazy things—things that I like doing. You take my breath away.” He smiled. “But I don’t know you, and I can’t trust you.
“Hence, my problem,” I told them. “I simply can’t choose.”
“Well, you have to,” Noah said, his voice unyielding.
“Pick one,” Zane agreed.
Annoyed, I snapped, “Fine! I pick neither of you.”
“What?” they said jointly.
I shrugged. “If I can’t have both of you, I’ll just have to go with option C: none of the above.”
Two scowls focused on me and I raised my hand, stopping their arguments before they could start. “I’ve actually given this a lot of thought. My new life flows between both of your worlds, so it only makes sense to have both of you in my life, helping me where you can. Your paths will only intersect for a few hours each day, and if you can manage to avoid each other, so much the better. I can’t pick a favorite, and I don’t think you should try to make me choose. We have unusual circumstances, and I believe they call for an unusual solution. So what’s it going to be?”
Zane grinned and winked at me. “You know my answer.”
Noah was silent, then grudgingly said, “I can share.”
“Ditto,” said Zane. “Just not at the same time.”
My eyes glazed over at the thought of being sandwiched between two delicious men. Hmm—if they could come around to the relationship I was proposing, maybe I could get them to come around to that, as well.
A girl’s got to have a goal, right?
AFTERWORD
I’ve always been a bit of an armchair Egyptologist, and a lot of scattershot, offhand research went into some of the historical elements of this book. The Temple of the Aten is generally believed to be one of the first—if not the first—monotheistic temples known in history. I thought this might be a pretty perfect setting for the back story of my fallen angels and Queen Nitocris. Not much of current-day Amarna is left standing, and no stonework, as it was likely cannibalized for other projects during later reigns.
The passage about Herodotus’s The Histories that Jackie and Remy read off the internet is more or less paraphrased from the original. It was too awesome and bizarre not to use.
To make my story flow, I also adjusted a few other bits. The most famous bust of Nefertiti is actually in a museum in Berlin. That didn’t suit my story, so Jackie viewed a similar one in the Cairo Museum. The wings/black cloaks mentioned on the wall paintings are as completely imaginary as my Serim and vampires are. The real Nitocris and real Nefertiti existed over 800 years apart—impossible if you’re a mortal, but not such a stretch if you’re immortal.
Also, visitors to the Amarna site today must ferry in across the Nile, but I’ve no idea if you can actually take a speedboat from Cairo to the site. In all my research, this was the most difficult piece to find out. I found nothing that said you could, but nothing that said you could not, either. Given that and the distance between the two cities (about 200 miles), I made the artistic decision to make such travel possible in the boundaries of the story.
Turn the page
for a sneak peek
at the next fun and sexy novel in
the Succubus Diaries series
Succubi Like It Hot
by Jill Myles
Coming soon from Pocket Star Books
Since turning succubi a short few weeks ago, my Saturday nights were never dull. When I wasn’t having sex with a vampire or a fallen angel, I was trotting after the only other succubus in town on yet another of her harebrained schemes.
As I watched, one of her tall red heels sank into the moist earth of the graveyard. She flung her hands up in the air with a horrified look. “Oh ew! I think I just stabbed someone in the forehead.”
I flipped on my flashlight, watching Remy as she struggled to shake the mud off her expensive shoe. “I sincerely doubt that they’re burying people two inches deep nowadays.”
She gave me a wary look and shook her pump again to dislodge the dirt.
“Speaking of, why couldn’t you wear normal shoes?” I was wearing a pair of grubby sneakers myself.
“I didn’t bring any other shoes with me. When you called me, I didn’t think we’d be spending Saturday night in a graveyard.” Remy eyed our surroundings with distaste.
That made two of us. “You could have borrowed a pair of mine,” I argued, following behind her as she wobbled through the grassy turf.
She gave a haughty sniff. “Yours are ugly.”
I shone my flashlight around, ignoring the prickle on the back of my neck when an owl hooted nearby. The full moon was out and shining high, and the squeamish girl in me was screaming in terror inside my head, even though I knew full well that there was nothing to be scared of. I mean, I regularly slept with the things that go bump in the night. I was immortal unless both of my sires were destroyed. Nothing could harm me in the middle of a creepy graveyard in the dead of night. Right?
“Now where do we want to do this?” Remy put her hands on her hips and surveyed the quiet graveyard.
It looked very well-kept. This was the nice part of town; I’d absolutely refused to go to the other side. If we rose from the dead, I’d rather have little old rich ladies than dead junkies and street rats. The tombstones here were pale white marble, with small bouquets of flowers placed on each marker. Some didn’t even have gravestones, heading for the more fashionable “plaque in the grass” look. In the distance, there was a row of mausoleums for the truly rich.
Directly to our right? A nice, freshly dug open grave. No one was in it, but the sight of it still made me clutch Remy’s arm and stand a little closer to her. “Let’s go wherever this will be done the quickest.”
I let her drag me after her, my sneakers squeaking on the wet grass. “I’m not sure—”
My voice died when a horrible, smoky smell touched my nostrils. I pinched my nose and looked around, my insides quivering uncomfortably.
A woman with red eyes leaned against a nearby tombstone, her tweed suit shadowed by the marble angel that looked ready to attack her from overhead. The suit looked like something more appropriate for an office than a graveyard in the middle of the night. Her long, lean frame shifted. “Hello, ladies,” she said in a cool tone, tilting her head to look at us over the rims of her glasses. “Enjoying the night?”
Remy swore. “Of all the luck. A friggin’ demon.”
I stared at the woman, unable to take my eyes off her. “How do you know she’s a demon?” I whispered.
“She’s female. Other than demons, succ
ubi are the only female immortals.”
Oh. Another tidbit of knowledge no one had bothered to share with me. I’d only seen males so far (other than Remy), but I hadn’t realized that was a hard and fast rule.
The woman smiled, revealing a set of razor-sharp teeth beneath the demure exterior. “Hello, darling. So nice to see you again.”
Remy snorted and took a step backward. “Which one are you?”
The woman waved her hand in an airy gesture. “Very small-time demon, I assure you. The big leaguers are too busy to hang out in graveyards tonight, no matter who may show.” Her red eyes flashed in the darkness. “You may call me Mae.”
I leaned over to Remy to whisper in her ear. “I thought we were here looking for an angel?”
“Not all the ground in a graveyard is consecrated by above,” Mae said, arching an eyebrow at me. “And I can hear everything you say.” The unnerving flash of teeth closed and she gave me a tight, close-lipped smile, seemingly human again. “So what brings you ladies in search of angels tonight?”
“None of your damn business,” Remy said, squeezing my hand to keep me silent.
“Damned business is my specialty,” Mae purred. “I can offer the same kind of assistance as any angel, and I assure you that I won’t cloak my meanings with fake platitudes and prayers.” She leaned back against the marble angel perched on the head of the tombstone, and touched the cheek of the cherub in an almost obscene fashion. “So how about it, ladies?”
I looked over at Remy. “What do you think?”
She turned to me, then glanced back at Mae, hesitating. “It’s not ideal. Not ideal at all.” Before I could ask her what that meant, she gave a small sigh. “I think it’s just as safe as making a deal with an angel, provided you’re extremely specific about everything.”
There’s a ringing endorsement.
“Should we wait for an angel to show?” I asked. If angels showed up, would it be some sort of celestial showdown? An immortal duke-out?
Remy shook her head, disappointed. “Won’t happen now. Not with a demon so close nearby.”
Over against the gravestone, Mae smiled at that. “I’m afraid it’s me or nothing, sweetcakes. Make up your mind.”
I mulled that over, looking at Mae’s attempting-to-be-harmless-and-failing form. I could decline Mae’s offer of help and leave the graveyard, and try another night. Or I could try a church and take my licks with Uriel, such as they were.
One of the demon’s hands reached up to caress the marble cheek of the angel again, and my body throbbed in response at the sight, reminding me that I didn’t have a lot of time if I was truly cursed.
“I need your help,” I blurted. Remy patted me on the shoulder, as if approving my decision, or sympathizing that I had to make one. “I might be cursed and I need to know for sure.”
“You’ve come to the right demoness,” Mae purred, taking a step forward, her red eyes lighting with interest. “I can help you with that.”
“You can remove it?”
She shook her head. “Removing the curse is an entirely different matter. But I can help you identify it.” She smiled again, the demure, close-mouthed smile. “For a small favor, of course.”
My spirits plummeted. “Of course,” I replied. I hated favors, especially favors for the Infernal Host.
“Name your favor first,” Remy said. “Then she can opt whether or not she will do business with you.”
Smart Remy. I could have kissed her in that moment.
Mae’s tiny smile remained undimmed. “I just need you to carry a message for me.”
I eyed the demoness. “What sort of message?”
“A simple greeting, that’s all. A tiny reminder for an old friend to invite me over sometime.” Mae took another step forward, and the air around her flashed, and the smell of sulfur rode thick in the air again. Mae froze in place. “As you can see, I am bound to this small piece of earth.” She gestured to the edges of the particular grave she was standing on. “I can’t leave these boundaries except to return to Hell itself.”
Thank goodness for that. “A message? And that’s it?”
She spread her hands. “That’s all. I assure you that you will not be in the slightest bit of danger.”
Yeah, sure. I gave her a skeptical look. “Who is this message going to?”
“A woman who resides in New Orleans.” Again that tiny smile, hiding the wicked dagger-teeth. “Just tell her that Mae can come over. She’ll know what that means.”
Some sort of unholy RSVP? I tried to puzzle it out, knowing that she was trying to catch me. There had to be a secret meaning to the message—I just couldn’t figure out what it was. Sure that I was missing something obvious, I glanced over at Remy, who shrugged.
“All right,” I said, even though it felt like a bad idea. “I accept the offer. I’ll go to New Orleans and tell this woman that you’re coming to her party, and you’ll help me out?”
Mae inclined her head in a gesture of acquiescence. The smell of sulfur grew thicker. “That is correct. But you must deliver the message in person.”
“All right,” I said grudgingly. I was sure I was going to regret the agreement later. “Now, can you help me with my curse?”
“The agreement,” Mae said, her voice suddenly all business, “was for me to tell you if you were, in fact, cursed.”
Touchy, touchy. I crossed my arms over my chest. “So, can you tell me if I’m cursed or not?” My heart began to pound in my breast.
“Come forward,” she said, beckoning me with her hand. “I have to touch your skin to be able to tell if you are or not.”
Ugh. I hated the thought of that. Swallowing, I took a few steps forward, standing just outside of Mae’s reach.
“Just a bit closer,” Mae said, the smile still in her voice. “I assure you that I don’t bite.”
Mae reminded me a little too much of the vampire queen for me to take that comment at face value. But I stepped forward again. The desire to know if I was cursed or not overrode common sense.
She placed her hands on my arms, her flesh scalding hot. Then she leaned in and brushed her mouth against mine.
An instant tingle shot through my body, and the Itch exploded in my head. My body felt like it was on fire, a volcano of intense longing and desire coursing through me. My hands wrapped around Mae’s head of their own accord, and I pulled her mouth to mine again, seeking that warm tongue and the lick of heat that it brought. I needed more of her, more of that delicious burning flame deep down inside of me—
Remy’s hands jerked me backward, and I slammed into the wet, cold earth, and back to reality.
My head spun for a minute, the air sucked back into my lungs, and I panted, coughing brimstone. I struggled to refocus on the too-sharp world around me, the Itch blazing through my body. My face scalded, and I touched it, feeling the blisters on my skin where I’d made contact with Mae’s flesh. I glanced back up at her with shock.
The demon stood there, her red eyes burning bright as she looked down at me. Longing filled my body at the sight of her—a deep, desperate reminder of the Itch. I needed sex. Had to have sex. Would not be able to function until I had sex. I wanted to be back in Mae’s arms caressing that living inferno. I whimpered.
“Snap out of it!” Remy’s hard voice broke through my daze, and her hand cracked across my face.
“Ow!” I shook awake, then stared in horror at Mae. “That wasn’t part of our agreement.” I rubbed my face again, feeling the blisters. Already they disappeared under my fingertips—Sucks heal fast—but the memory of it still repelled me as much as it made the Itch run wild under my skin.
“I don’t know why you’re so upset.” The demoness gave me an innocent look. “You did agree to let me touch you.”
“I thought you meant on the arm!”
Mae’s lips curled into a smug smile. “You know what they say about ‘assuming.’”
The more time I spent around Mae, the less I liked her. “So just
tell me, am I cursed or not?”
Her coy, teasing look slid away, and she was all business once more. “It’s interesting,” she said. “When you entered the graveyard, the power signatures that the pair of you were throwing off were off the charts. Much stronger than any normal succubus. It’s what drew me here tonight.” She glanced over at Remy, who still hovered protectively over me. “But after kissing the red-haired one, I’ve determined that the power isn’t coming from her body after all.” Blatant interest showed in Mae’s face as she watched my dark-haired companion. “Care to tell me your little secret?”
A month or so ago—in my first disastrous run-in with the Infernal Host—Remy had become possessed by the spirit of Joachim, one of the first and strongest Serim to fall from the Heavens. I thought she was overcoming her problem, but when her eyes flashed bright red to match Mae’s at the question, I knew that wasn’t the case.
Remy looked furious. Mae simply looked fascinated.
I cleared my throat before things got out of hand. “Hello? Remember me? The girl with the curse?”
“What? Oh, yes.” Mae turned back to me, reluctantly drawing her gaze away from Remy. “You asked if you were cursed. My answer is ‘not directly.’”
I pulled myself to my feet with Remy’s help, making sure to keep away from the edges of Mae’s circle of unhallowed ground. “What do you mean, ‘not directly’?”
“Curses can work in many different ways,” she said. “You can force someone to ingest a cursed item, or trick them into accepting the curse. Or you can imbue an object that the owner will use on a regular basis. Another way is to curse someone else directly, and they in turn pass it on to the true recipient.”
I frowned. “So which one is it?”
Mae grinned. “That would be another question, and that would require another deal. I’m game if you are.” She pursed her lips in a mockery of a kiss and winked at me.
“No thanks,” I blurted, taking an involuntary step backward. “So you can’t tell me anything more than that?”
Remy shook her head and pulled at my arm. “Forget it. She’s not going to play fair.” Her eyes had returned to their normal blueish-gray hue, no traces of red remaining. Remy was back in control. “This was a bad idea, and I’m sorry I suggested it. But the good news is that I have a new idea.”