Succubus Shadows gk-5

by Richelle Mead

  I backed up to a wall near me, staying out of the way of patrons and simply keeping an eye on Seth, wondering if Simone would show her traitorous face. After a half-hour went by, my impatience grew. It was stupid, I knew. Seth would likely be here all afternoon, and she might arrive later. But…suddenly, talking to him seemed more important. I knew it was foolish, knew it was wrong…but, well, I’d done more idiotic things in the past.

  I stepped out of the gallery and into a stairwell that was momentarily empty. It only took a second to go visible again. In my ear, I heard Roman’s voice hiss, “Are you crazy?”

  “Keep my signature hidden,” I snapped back. “If she shows, we’ll sense her before she sees me.”

  An elderly couple came down the stairs just as I finished my words, giving me an odd look. I smiled winningly and held the door open for them. They scurried through.

  Seth was at a display of Byzantine diadems when I touched his arm. He flinched and turned around, though his shock immediately turned to pleasure when he saw me. Shit, I thought again. Far better if he’d looked dismayed.

  “Let me guess,” I said. “You’re planning the perfect heist for Cady and O’Neill.”

  He smiled. “They’re the good guys.”

  “They’ve been known to break the law,” I pointed out.

  “I like to think of it as bending the law. What are you doing here?”

  I gestured around. “Revisiting my youth—or what’s left of it. The sands of time bury most things, but a few remain.”

  “I never thought of that,” said Seth, clearly intrigued. “This is your era. I should have been coming to you for research.”

  A vision of us having private study sessions came to mind. I immediately squashed it. “Better visual aids here. Anything catch your eye?”

  He pointed at the case of diadems beside him. “I like these. It’s a shame we don’t wear stuff like this anymore.”

  I followed his gaze. “Not enough bling in the hair nowadays?”

  He gave me one of those half-smiles. “No. There’s just…I don’t know. There’s a beauty and skill we don’t use. Look at that.” He gestured toward one diadem, meant to resemble a crown of gold coins. Little strings of small gold circles hung down, draping through the hair. “Look at the imperfections. That was handmade, each one of those.”

  “Some would call that flawed.” I loved it when Seth got caught up in these philosophical musings.

  “That’s what makes it great. And anyway, I kind of like the idea of adorning women in crowns and jewels. Call me sexist, but I think the fair sex should be worshipped.” He paused. “And perfectly entitled to all the rights and opportunities of men.”

  I laughed and stepped away so that others could approach the case. “I think you’re romantic, not sexist.” A troubling thought came to me, recalling how Maddie had admired pearl tiaras and headbands at the bridal stores yesterday. Modern-day diadems. Would Seth like that?

  “Call it what you want,” he said, “but I just think our civilization has declined when scrunchies have become the prevalent form of hair ornamentation.”

  We wandered around the exhibits after that, commenting on and analyzing them. I tried not to overthink the situation. I didn’t delude myself about whether we could be friends. I didn’t wallow in guilt over carrying a torch. I just tried to enjoy the moment. During none of our time together did I feel Simone. Since Roman’s senses were stronger, I had to assume he hadn’t either. I also suspected he was rolling his eyes over my time with Seth.

  Seth and I finally reached the last of the exhibit: Byzantine wedding rings. When I saw them, the warm, comfortable feelings that had wrapped around me suddenly turned to ice. I felt the change in Seth too. Most of the rings were of similar design, with a flat circle lying on top of the ring, the circle surface then engraved with some image. My troubled feelings had nothing to do with weddings or any other associations with Maddie.

  Last Christmas, Seth had had a ring made for me in this style. He hadn’t intended it as a wedding or engagement ring. He’d just done it as a gift, knowing the style was part of my past. It was beautiful, and I still had it. It was locked away in a box of treasures I’d kept over the centuries—items too precious to throw out and too painful to look at.

  Neither of us said anything, and I wondered what he thought about. Was it just the awkward discomfort from memories of an ex-girlfriend? Was it stirring bittersweet feelings similar to the ones churning in me? When he and Maddie had gotten involved, I’d been convinced he’d moved on. Then, after our brief affair in the spring, I’d reconsidered. There were too many times now that he looked at me strangely, too many times that reminded me of when I was his girlfriend and the times he told me he loved me. But his wedding was still moving forward, with no sign of doubt on his part. I didn’t know what to think.

  I’m not sure how long we stood in silence, but Seth broke it. “Well…I guess that’s it for the exhibit, huh?”

  I glanced around as though attempting to determine if we’d seen it all. I already knew we had. “Yeah, I guess that’s it.”

  He wouldn’t meet my eyes, and his whole body radiated nervousness. “Thanks for the research help. I should get back to the store and put this to good use.”

  “Good luck.”

  His eyes lifted, and I offered a small smile that he returned. “Thanks.”

  We parted, and I left the museum, not sure where I was going—only that I had to go someplace where he wasn’t. For an hour or so, I’d played make-believe with him, keeping that familiar depression away and allowing myself a small joy. Now, that darkness descended on me…and uneasily, I recalled how that mystery force always showed up when I was troubled. That was its lure: comfort when I felt desperate and alone.

  Roman might be my offense, but I decided then to go for a good defense. I needed distraction. “You aren’t going to like this,” I murmured, assuming Roman was close enough to hear.

  Distraction wasn’t the only thing I needed. I needed a good energy fix. I was sleeping with enough men regularly that I had a pretty consistent supply of energy. Still, being at full power, so to speak, would keep my strength up—which hopefully would increase my mental resolve.

  Not that sleeping with random men was always cheering. I was in no mood to go hunting for victims in a bar. I needed something slightly easier, something a little less sleazy. Normally those two were mutually exclusive, but I’d come up with an idea while driving home that might accomplish both.

  There was a twenty-something guy named Gavin who lived in a condo down the hall from me. He was nice enough and had a serious crush on me. He never said or did anything overtly, but it was obvious. He alternated between nervousness and poorly done jokes whenever I was around. He always seemed unwilling to part when we ran into each other in the garage or lobby or whatever. His gaze also spent more time on my cleavage than my eyes.

  The beauty of it all was that he also had a girlfriend. I didn’t know if he’d cheated on her before or just wanted to. That wasn’t important at the moment. What was important was that when I showed up at his door after the museum, his girlfriend wasn’t around.

  “Georgina,” he said, taken aback. “How…how’s it going?”

  “Not great,” I said, forcing distress into my voice. “I got locked out of my place and have to wait for my friend to show up with a spare set of keys. Can I wait here for her? I’m afraid if I go outside, it’ll rain again.”

  It was then that Gavin seemed to notice my drenched state, particularly the now transparent white sundress I’d shape-shifted into without a bra.

  His eyes bugged out, and then he glanced quickly behind him before turning back to the wet, clinging fabric encasing my breasts and their hardened nipples. “It…it rained? But it’s so nice out.” That brisk fall sunshine was pouring in through his windows.

  “I know,” I said glibly. “I was kind of surprised too. It was this really fast freak thing that came out of nowhere.”

&nbs
p; This was apparently so unbelievable that Gavin actually managed to tear himself away from me to once more scrutinize the brilliantly blue sky outside. Finally, deciding not to fight this, he beckoned for me to come in.

  “Do you have a T-shirt or anything I can wear?” I asked sweetly. “I’m freezing in this.”

  His scrutiny had shifted from my breasts to the very noticeable black thong underneath the dress. I think changing out of the dress was a huge disappointment for him, but he wasn’t so socially inept as to refuse me.

  “Sure, come on.”

  I followed him to his bedroom where he dug out an oversized Seattle Mariners T-shirt and a pair of green flannel boxers. He handed them over.

  “See if these work,” he said, backing out of the room to give me privacy.

  “Thanks,” I said, giving him a winning smile.

  He managed a nervous one in return just before shutting the door. I crossed my arms and waited a minute, during which an invisible Roman said: “This is ridiculous. You should have just shown up as a pizza delivery girl.”

  “Hey, the wet dress technique is tried and true. Works every time.”

  Roman sighed.

  “Wait in the other room then,” I said. “This shouldn’t take long.”

  I opened the door and shouted down the hall, “Hey, Gavin? Can you come help me?”

  He popped back in, and I couldn’t help but notice his dark brown hair was a lot neater than it had been earlier. He’d probably dashed off to the bathroom in a quick grooming attempt to impress me.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  I turned around and pushed my hair over one shoulder, showing where the straps of my dress’s halter top were tied behind my neck. “There’s a knot here I can’t get undone. Can you give it a shot?”

  He hesitated for only a moment before moving forward to assist. I’d shape-shifted a pretty good knot, and it took him some time to work through it, during which I backed up against him as close as I could. At last, he managed to undo it, pulling the straps apart and releasing them so that I could grab them. I missed, of course, and as the straps fell, so did most of the dress. It went against the laws of physics, seeing as how clingy that wet fabric had been.

  I caught the dress in a weak attempt at modesty, but not before it almost entirely fell off. Nearby, I heard another exasperated sigh from Roman.

  I turned to face Gavin, holding the dress against me in a way that completely exposed my chest. His eyes were naturally fixed on it, and I glanced down too, as though trying to figure out what he was looking at.

  “Oh, man. I’m wet all over. Do you have a towel? I don’t want to get the shirt wet.”

  “Uh…what? Yeah…”

  In record speed, he raced to the bathroom and returned with a small hand towel. I decided then not to bother with any more convenient excuses and simply stepped forward, hoping he was smart enough to accept the invitation.

  He was. Hesitant at first, he slowly ran the towel over my breasts, lingering when it was obvious they were dry. He moved down to my stomach—which he dried pretty quickly—and then to my hips and thighs. I’d long since let my soggy dress fall to the floor and helpfully pulled off my thong so that he could reach every part. He had to kneel to do my inner thighs, and I heard him mutter, “Oh my God.” I wasn’t sure if that was simply because of the situation he was in or because his girlfriend hadn’t gone Brazilian.

  “You have great hands,” I purred.

  “Th-thanks,” he said inanely. He’d just finished my legs and stood up. I took the towel and tossed it on the bed. Catching hold of his hand, I gently stroked it and brought it between my thighs.

  “Really great,” I said in an even lower voice. “Long fingers…”

  I guided a couple of those fingers into me, and I swear, he gasped louder than I did. After a little more urging, he no longer needed my assistance and began rapidly thrusting his fingers on his own. I pressed to him, moaning as though it were the most amazing experience of my life. I was wetter on the inside than out, and the only resistance he encountered was in how tight I’d made myself.

  Reaching around his arm, I unfastened his pants and pulled them off in one motion. His erection pointed out at me long and hard and ready. It had probably been that way the moment I showed up at the door. Gripping his shirt I pulled him toward the bed.

  “The rest,” I gasped, spreading myself in front of him. “Let me see how the rest feels.”

  The hand that had been in me left as he laid himself on top of me. He pushed my thighs apart and thrust in with a force that contradicted his earlier shyness. In fact, his face showed no nervousness whatsoever anymore. He was all eagerness and desire, emitting small grunts each time he shoved himself into me.

  “Harder,” I told him, giving him big, passionate eyes. “I want it harder.”

  He obliged, increasing the speed and force. After about a minute of this, he shifted up so that he was kneeling. Holding my thighs just below my knees, he spread my legs far apart and leaned in. The new position allowed him to get deeper, and I exclaimed my approval, urging him again to do it harder and harder.

  Steadily, I felt his life energy begin to flow into me. It was a decent amount, and it felt glorious, spreading through my being and reinvigorating me. With it came his thoughts and feelings, at which point I learned he never had actually cheated on his girlfriend before—but, oh, he’d wanted to plenty of times. She barely crossed his mind at the moment. He was too consumed by me to feel much guilt. The only brief concern he had was that he should have used a condom. That was a regret, but it wasn’t strong enough for him to stop, not when I felt this good.

  I let my cries escalate into small screams and felt him grow closer and closer to coming. My head was getting dangerously close to the headboard, but the roughness of it all was really turning him on. He’d never had the opportunity to just go so wild. Harder and harder he went, thrusting himself in all the way each time. The energy increased by leaps and bounds, and just before the big moment came, I decided to drive home the guilt a little. It made me feel some guilt in return, but at the end of the day, guilt marked the soul, and that was what Hell employed me for.

  “Can she do this?” I panted. He was half a second from coming. “Can your girlfriend take it like this?”

  The orgasm exploded—and so did he. He pulled out at the last second, not because of what I’d said but because this was his solution to the condom problem. Withdrawal was a horrible safe sex method, but whatever. His body spasmed and he came on my stomach. It was warm against my flesh, and he watched with a perverse fascination.

  Yet, just before it had happened, I’d felt my dagger hit. He’d been so consumed by lust that he’d been able to block his girlfriend out earlier. My comment had pushed her to the fore-front, but there had been no way he could stop what he was doing by that point. I’d felt the spike of guilt, just as the last burst of life energy sparkled through me.

  He fell back against the covers, gasping and exhausted. Losing some of your life will do that to you. Whatever thoughts of guilt or satisfaction he felt now were his alone. The towel was still conveniently on the bed, and I used it to clean myself up. I stood up and walked over to the window while he still tried to catch his breath. He’d probably fall asleep in a few minutes.

  “Oh, hey,” I said cheerfully. “My friend’s out there with the key.” I picked up the sodden dress and headed for the door. “Thanks for letting me hang out.”

  Chapter 7

  “You’re right,” said Roman the next morning, ruminating over what had happened with Gavin. “I didn’t like that.”

  I was standing in the bathroom, going over my hair with a flat iron. It was a pain in the ass compared to shape-shifting, but I liked the challenge. Plus, I could always fine-tune the frizziness away afterward.

  “Not like it’s the first time it’s happened,” I pointed out, my eyes on the mirror rather than where he leaned in the doorway. “You used to never mind.”
r />   “Didn’t I?” he asked dryly.

  “Well, being with him distracted me from wallowing in self-pity. Not that it made me feel that great either,” I admitted. “But it kept my…whatever…away. And hey, it couldn’t have been as nasty as what you saw Simone do.”

  “True, but now that guy’s just going to come trolling around all the time. He’ll be showing up to borrow cups of sugar in the hopes he can score some more action.”

  “I’ll deal with him. I’ve got a little practice in pushing guys away.”

  “Don’t I know it.”

  I paused to shoot him a glare. “Will you lay off the attitude this morning? You’re starting to sound like you’re jealous or something.”

  Roman snorted. “Hardly. Why in God’s name would I be jealous over the woman who got my sister killed and tried to unleash the forces of Heaven and Hell to destroy me?”

  Fair point. “It’s a little more complicated than that.”

  “Oh, yes, I’m sure.” He crossed his arms and stared down at the floor. “But maybe the next time you’re looking for distraction, we could rent a movie and microwave some popcorn instead of fucking the neighbors.”

  “You have horrible taste in movies,” I mumbled. But that closed the conversation, and Roman wandered off. A few moments later, I heard the TV turn on.

  I had to work today, but it was an afternoon shift. I was up and ready to go early because I wanted to visit Erik. I should have felt secure in Jerome’s ability to figure out what was going on, as well as Roman’s protection. But I’d had too much shit happen to me in the past to ever fully trust anyone. Erik had always proven a valuable resource.

  Roman went with me, covertly, but it took a while for me to actually get some quality time with Erik. He had customers in the store—which was great for him, but I could hardly discuss immortal affairs with others around. When the people finally thinned out, Erik turned his attention to me, ready with his typical friendly smile. His color looked better, and his movements weren’t as jerky. He was still weak, just not as weak.