Succubus on Top (Georgina Kincaid 2)

Damn, this communication thing really did suck.

CHAPTER 12

"Thetis," he said after several more moments of silence, "talk to me here."

I looked up sharply. "What do you want me to say? You already know the answer. They wouldn't lie. Well, actually, they lie all the time but not about something like that."

He nodded and set the bowl and spoon on the coffee table. Slouching back on the couch, he didn't look at me, instead staring off across the room in thought. I could guess what was going through his mind. He knew what I was and what I did. But it was one thing to have a superficial knowledge of it and another to suddenly know there was tangible evidence each time I had sex. He would recognize the glow now and know that I had just come from someone else's bed, that not so long ago I'd been in someone else's arms doing the most intimate things two people could do. Things I couldn't do with him.

"I'm sorry," I said, not knowing what else I could say.

"For what?"

"For...this. For doing what I do."

"Why? It is what you do. It's what you have to do, right? There's no need to apologize for your own...uh, nature."

"So...what? You're okay with that? Knowing what I'm doing with other guys? Or rather, when I'm doing it?"

"'Okay' is a funny word, but yeah, I guess. What I'm not okay with is..." He paused, as always considering his words before speaking. "What I'm not okay with is you being afraid to tell me about this. You must have seen how...entranced...I was. But you never brought it up or explained it to me."

"What was I supposed to say? 'Thanks for noticing how pretty I am. It's because I just went down on some stranger in a sleazy club.'"

Seth flinched, and I immediately regretted my example.

"Maybe...maybe it could be phrased a bit more, uh, tactfully than that, but yeah. I guess essentially that's what you could tell me."

I poked at the melted remains of my ice cream. "It's not that easy, and you know it. It's got to be hard enough for you to accept that I'm sleeping around on you, so to speak, without real evidence to confirm each time it happens."

"Why don't you let me decide what I can or can't accept."

He didn't sound angry exactly, but I'd never heard him so sharp and assertive. The arrogant part of me didn't like being spoken to like that, but I knew he was justified in the comment. And, I had to admit, that confidence was kind of a turn-on. Alpha males. Yum.

"I know what you are," he continued, "and I know what you do. I had to acknowledge that from the beginning of the relationship. It bothers me, yeah, but that doesn't mean I can't go on with the knowledge." He laid his hand over mine, his fingertips absentmindedly stroking my skin. "But you can't be afraid to tell me the truth. Not ever. Even if it's ugly. What we have isn't about sex - like that wasn't already perfectly obvious. But if we don't have honesty either, then there's nothing left."

I forced my eyes up to him and smiled. "How can you be so young and so wise at the same time?"

"I'm not that wise," he said, pulling me to him so I leaned against his shoulder. He didn't challenge the "young" comment. Looking at our ages objectively, one could practically accuse me of cradle robbing.

I sighed and snuggled into him. "It means nothing, you know. All that stuff I do. I don't even remember their names."

"I know. You've told me. Although..."

"What?"

"Sometimes that's not exactly comforting. Sex isn't supposed to be about 'nothing.' I don't really like the idea of you being with guys you don't want to be with. Even if you're technically my girlfriend...I'd rather you at least liked what was going on. "

"Well...in the ultimate heat of it, I sort of do like it. The energy I get from sex...well, you can't really understand it. But it...it's literally what I live for. So even if I don't want to be with someone before and after the deed, there's still that one moment, no matter how brief, when I want them." I tried to give him a reassuring smile. "Besides, don't feel too bad for me. Things are a lot better than they used to be. I have more of a choice about who I'm with now, which makes a big difference. It's not like I just take whoever comes along."

"What do you mean you have a choice now} Haven't you always?"

I laughed uneasily. "Oh, come on, Seth. You know women didn't start getting any real rights until about a century ago. Men haven't always been kind or considerate in their relations with the fair sex - especially those in the lower classes."

He stared at me, shocked, and pulled back a little. I loved how expressive those eyes were, even if their current emotion wasn't exactly positive. "You're talking about...it...it sounds an awful lot like rape."

I shrugged, immediately realizing we needed to steer out of these waters. "It's hard to rape a succubus. In the ultimate climax, the succubus is the conqueror - especially if the guy ends up blacking out."

"You aren't really answering my question."

"And you aren't really asking it."

We lapsed into silence. A moment later Seth took me back into a tight embrace, burying his face in my shoulder this time.

"Hey, now. Don't let it bother you. Don't judge the past by the standards of today. It won't work. They're incompatible."

"I don't like the idea of you doing things you don't want to do," he said gruffly. "I wish I could do something...wish I could, I don't know, protect you."

"You can't," I whispered, kissing the crown of his head. "You can't, and you have to accept that."

We went to bed together after that, the first time since the kissing incident. Seth held me tightly all night, even in his sleep, clinging as though I might slip away if he let go.

Again, I marveled at his understanding. And again, I questioned whether I was in love yet. How would I know? What was love anyway? I ticked off a list as my hands held tightly to his back. Affection. Connection. Understanding. Acceptance. All these things he gave me. Those were parts of love. All these things he offered freely, no matter how terrible each new discovery about me was. I wondered whether I returned as much as I received. Did I have any right to be in this relationship? Somehow I doubted it, yet it made me want him all the more.

When we drove to the bookstore the next morning, he held my hand with a thrilling possessiveness. He didn't let go until we actually cleared the bookstore's door.

"Did Doug come in today?" I asked Beth after I'd made a sweep of the store.

"Yeah. He was here earlier. I think he's in your office."

I walked to the back. The office was dark. When I turned on the light, I found him hunched in a corner, his body curled up in a tight ball. I immediately dropped down beside him.

"What's wrong?"

After several seconds, he lifted his eyes up to mine. They were dark and troubled. "Nothing."

To contradict him seemed both obvious and pointless. "What can I do to help?"

He laughed bitterly, a terrible sound. "Don't you get it, Kincaid? Nothing helps, that's the problem. There's no point to any of this. You know that as well as I do."

"Do I?"

He gave me a cynical smile. "You're one of the most depressed people I know. Even when you're smiling and flirting and all of that. I know you hate this life. This world. I know you think it's all stupid. "

"Not true. There's good in the bad. There's always hope. What's gotten into you?"

"Just reality, that's all. Just woke up and realized how stupid it all is. Dunno why I even bother."

I touched his arm. "Hey, you're kind of freaking me out here. Did you get any sleep? Do you need something to eat?"

He leaned back against the wall, face still bleak and full of snide humor. "Kincaid, I need so many f**king things, it's not even funny. But you know what? We don't get them. That's how it is. What's that saying? Life is brutish and short?"

"Er...close enough."

I sat there with him for a long time, listening to him go on. His words were an outpouring of bitter anger and black despair. A frightening combination. I'd never heard him like this. Not upbeat Doug, always ready with a joke. Doug, the guy who never took anything seriously. His bleak face reminded me of Casey's when I'd found her in the café, but she hadn't been this down.

As the clock ticked, I wondered what I should do. He certainly couldn't work today, yet I feared sending him home. Who knew what he might do in this mood? Previously, I would never have worried about him hurting himself, but all bets seemed to be off now.