Succubus on Top (Georgina Kincaid 2)
"No," I said brusquely. "But I assume you have something to talk about."
He eyed me a moment, like he might push me on what I clearly held back, but then he let the matter go. "I have something for you."
He extended a balled fist. When he opened it, I found a small pouch lying on his palm. I picked it up and stroked the material. I had no idea what it was, but the cloth's smooth texture felt like a flower petal. I started to open it.
"Don't," he warned. His commanding tone instantly made me stop. "You'll break the spell."
"What spell?"
"The one that masks what's inside the pouch. And the one that masks your immortal signature. "
I nodded with understanding. I might not know what to do with my own love life, but immortal conspiracies I could follow. "To hide me and this from Alec's supplier."
The angel nodded in return.
I held up the pouch and waggled it at him. "So do I get to know what's in there?"
"It's a..." He paused, not from a reluctance to tell me but to search for the right word. "It's a dart, I guess. Or maybe...like, an arrowhead. But that sounds weird. Nah, let's call it a dart. It's only about an inch long. A dart that looks like a small wooden arrowhead."
"Um. Okay. Got it. And what do I do with this darting arrowhead thing?"
"You pierce the other immortal's heart with it."
"Whoa. Like...staking a vampire?"
"Uh, not entirely. You'll sort of have to see when the time comes. The key is to move fast. As soon as you open the pouch, he'll know what you are and what's in there. You don't want to give him time to react because it won't be pretty if he does. Act fast, and don't second-guess yourself."
"How is a small piece of wood going to solve all our problems?"
"It's special wood," he replied with a grin.
"Oh, yeah, that explains everything."
"Are you close to meeting him?"
"Terribly close, actually. I probably could have met him yesterday if I'd wanted. Alec was very keen on introducing us."
Carter frowned, turning this over in his mind. "Hmm. Odd."
"Should I be worried?"
"No more worried than you already should be at the thought of attacking an immortal."
"But I'll be fine if I just act fast and don't overthink it, huh?"
"Right. I imagine that's pretty common for you anyway."
"Anything else I should know?"
"Well...let's see. Yeah. One thing. Don't actually do it until there's provocation."
"What?" I stared. "Being a bastard who pushes addictive substances that destroy mortals isn't provocation enough?"
"Oddly, no. You have to be threatened in some way."
Annoyed, I tossed the pouch onto the table. This was so typical of Carter and Jerome. A bizarrely complex scheme with ridiculous nuances and loopholes. "Threatened? How can he threaten me? He can't unless...wait, he's not an immortal who could kill me, is he?"
"No, of course not. But he could make things very...uncomfortable for you. Anyway, there's a lot of ways to threaten a person. If he hurts you...or you feel vulnerable...like he could abuse his power over you, then that'll work. He's a stronger immortal than you. Preying on you - especially when you belong to Jerome, so to speak - is a big no-no. You would be justified in protecting yourself. But, if you attack wantonly, you'll get in trouble from the powers that be for targeting other immortals. You'll also get us in trouble for arming you."
"This sounds kind of like entrapment."
"That's an ugly word. Let's just keep it in terms of self-defense."
"So, you think things are going to get rough enough that I'll actually need self-defense?"
He hesitated. "I don't know. I just don't know."
"Yeah, but then, if this guy's perfectly nice and just sells me a stash of ambrosia, I can't do anything? We've wasted the trip?"
"Like I said, I don't know. Really. But honestly...if they're making it this easy to find him, I have to think something weird is going on. Just be careful, okay?" His face was all seriousness now. "You're smart. You can pull this off."
"And I don't suppose, at any point in this, you're going to tell me who this guy actually is?"
"I believe ignorance is bliss."
I threw my hands up, not knowing what else to say. Carter traded a few more jokes with me and then rose to go. Hesitating, he gave me a curious look.
"You sure you don't want to talk? You've obviously got something bugging you. "
"I do. But I've got to deal with it on my own."
"Fair enough. See ya." An eyeblink later, the angel disappeared.
Seth showed up about an hour later, a little blue paint smudged on his face. "Terry and Andrea are painting the kitchen now."
I smiled at him, swallowing all the churning emotions within me. "How can you get so messy when you don't even do the painting?"
I found a washcloth and dabbed at his face in a fruitless effort to clean him up. Standing so close, I suddenly had a flashback to last night. His hands stroking my br**sts. Feeling him inside of me, filling me up. Our bodies moving together. His lips parting slightly when he came.
"It won't come off," I said abruptly, jerking away.
"Oh. Okay."
I stayed moody and silent for the rest of the night, stiff and distant at any sort of touching. Seth picked up on the vibe right away and let me have my space. We walked a few blocks down the street to a theater that only showed Oscar nominees and artsy, independent films. We saw one of the latter, and I have to admit, it did take my mind off my love life, if only for two hours.
Sitting at an Italian restaurant afterward, I let him draw me into a discussion of the film's merits. It amazed me that my mouth could keep up with the conversation while the rest of me was in an entirely different world.
Over and over, I replayed what had happened last night - and not just the sex part. I analyzed everything, the events that had led up to it. Why had I done it? What had made me give in? Had it really been an altruistic attempt to fix Seth and me by removing the temptation? Had it been an aching desire to take comfort in Bastien? Or, most likely, had it been something selfish on my part? A burning desire to touch what I wasn't supposed to have - not because it might help our relationship, but because I just wanted to do it. I had wanted that pleasure. I had craved his body and simply gave in to the hedonism I longed for. I was a creature of hell, after all. I had observed before that we weren't exactly known for our self-control.
Yet none of that changed the fact that it had happened. It had happened, and I had to do something about it. Or...did I?
Seth sat across from me, looking happy and content as we talked. Ignorance really is bliss sometimes. I thought back to the lists. If he never found out, the truth couldn't hurt him. We could go on as we had. The only problem would be that I knew the truth. I had to live with this betrayal, not only of our physical relationship but also of our attempts at honesty and openness. One more entry on the list of dark and nasty secrets I already kept.
"You with me, Thetis?" he asked suddenly.
"Huh?"
He gave me a small, sweet smile and moved his hand over to hold mine. I squeezed it back. "You look like you're miles away. "
I gave him a half-smile in return. Apparently I wasn't as subtle as I thought. I looked at him, studying those beloved features, and shook my head. I couldn't do it. I couldn't tell him. Not yet.
"Just tired," I lied.
We shared a dish of gelato and then returned to my apartment. We had just set up the Scrabble board when I felt immortal signatures approaching.
I groaned, not wanting to deal with this. "Hail, hail, the gang's all here."
Seth looked puzzled until we heard the knock at the door. I opened it, letting in Hugh, Peter, Cody, and Bastien.
"You are alive," said Peter cheerfully, smothering me in a hug. "We tried calling you tonight."
"And I've been trying to get a hold of you all day," added Bastien pointedly.
I was perfectly aware that he had called me many times. I had purposely not answered my phone.
"Sorry," I said to all of them.
"Hey, Seth," said Cody, clapping the writer on the back. The vampire and the rest of the immortals spread themselves out around my living room like they lived there. I gave their giggling and careless behavior a withering glance.