Succubus On Top

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Authors: Richelle Mead

BOOK: Succubus On Top
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SUCCUBUS IN HIDING
“Put them back,” Bastien said. “We've got to—”
Click.
We'd both heard. I shot Bastien a panicked look. “I thought you said—”
His tone was grim. “I know, I know.”
Someone had just entered the house.
We stood rooted in the bedroom, frozen, both of us too terrified to blink. Downstairs, the door shut and footsteps could clearly be heard on the hardwood floor. A low murmur of voices drifted up, the words inaudible.
“What are we going to do?” I whispered. Invisible we might be, but I still didn't want to slink through the house with others around. It would also make leaving inconspicuously a problem.
Bastien frowned, apparently trying to discern the words below. “Those are all male voices. Not Dana. Come on.”
He grabbed my arms and we crept out into the hallway . . .
Books by Richelle Mead
The Georgina Kincaid Series
 
SUCCUBUS BLUES
 
SUCCUBUS ON TOP
 
SUCCUBUS DREAMS
 
SUCCUBUS HEAT
 
SUCCUBUS SHADOWS
 
SUCCUBUS REVEALED
 
 
The Eugenie Markham/Dark Swan Series
 
STORM BORN
 
THORN QUEEN
 
IRON CROWNED
 
 
 
Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation
SUCCUBUS ON TOP
RICHELLE MEAD
ZEBRA BOOKS
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
To Heidi and John, for your unfailing friendship,
generosity, and internet access.
You are quite possibly the finest people I know.
Acknowledgments
As always, no book could be written without the consistent love of my family and friends. Many thanks go out to my awesome beta readers: Michael, David, and Christina. Your patience and enthusiasm have kept me going through the Valley of the Shadow of Writer's Block, and no words I write can express what your support has meant to me.
 
Thanks also to my publishing team, agent Jim McCarthy and editor John Scognamiglio, who excel at (good) reality checks and flexible deadlines. You guys keep me on the straight and narrow, despite my best efforts.
 
Finally, I'll always be grateful to my darling eighth graders who were so generous about letting me retire from teaching in order to finish this book. I wish you all the best and can't wait until you're old enough to actually read the stuff I write.
Chapter 1
D
emons are scary.
No matter what religion or walk of life you come from, this remains pretty constant. Oh sure, they have their absurd moments—especially in the circles I run with—but all in all, people have good reason to fear and avoid hell's diabolical servants. They're cruel and merciless, delight in pain and suffering, and torture souls in their free time. They lie. They steal. They cheat on their taxes.
Yet, in spite of all that, I couldn't help but think I was about to witness the most terrifying demonic act yet.
An awards ceremony. For me.
Horatio, vice demon of such-and-such division of Infernal Affairs, stood before me, trying to impart an air of solemnity to the moment and failing miserably. I suspected his sky blue polyester suit and matching paisley bow tie were largely to blame. The sideburns didn't help either. He probably hadn't left the inner circles of hell in about six centuries, back around the last time sky blue polyester was in style.
With a too-long clearing of his throat, he glanced back and forth between those gathered, verifying we were all paying attention. My supervisor Jerome stood nearby, looking utterly bored, occasionally glancing at his watch. Beside him, Horatio's impish assistant Kasper grinned from ear to ear. A briefcase sat on the floor near him, and he clutched an assortment of papers. The eager, suck-up, lapdog look on his face indicated a burning desire for promotion.
As for me . . . well, I was fighting a hard battle to look excited too—and failing. Which was unacceptable, of course. I'm a succubus. My entire existence relies on making people—men in particular—believe and see what they want to in me. I can switch from simpering virgin to sultry dominatrix in a heartbeat. All it takes is a bit of shape-shifting and a dash of playacting. I'd picked up the former ability when I traded away my human soul; I'd acquired the latter over time. After all, you can't spend centuries telling every guy, “Yeah baby, you were the best I've ever had” and not learn a little something about schmoozing. Myths may paint us as ethereal, demonic creatures of pleasure, but honestly, being a succubus just comes down to a convincing poker face and a good sales pitch.
So, really, this awards thing shouldn't have been a problem for me. But Horatio wasn't making it easy to keep a straight face.
“Verily, it gives me great honor to be here today,” he intoned in a nasal, baritone voice.
Verily?
“Hard work is what makes us great, and we gather here now to recognize one who has shown dedication and given her all to the Greater Evil. Such individuals are what make us strong, what will allow us to win in this immense battle when all tallies are counted at the end of time. Such individuals are worthy of our esteem, and we strive to reward their commitment, letting all know just how important it is to push hard against the odds and fight for our objectives in these difficult times.”
He then added: “Whereas those who do not work hard are cast into the fiery pits of despair, to burn for all eternity and be ripped asunder by the hounds of hell.”
I opened my mouth, on the verge of noting how that would be more cost effective than severance pay, but Jerome caught my eye and shook his head.
Meanwhile, Horatio had nudged Kasper, and the imp hastily handed over a gold embossed certificate. “It is therefore with great pleasure that I present unto you this Award of Achievement for Excellently Exceeding and Surpassing Requisite Succubus Quotas in this Most Recent Quarter. Congratulations.”
Horatio shook my hand and handed me the certificate, which had been signed by about fifty different people.
This Certifies that:
LETHA (alias Georgina Kincaid), Succubus in the Archdiocese of Seattle, Washington, United States of America, North America, Earth, has hereby Excellently Exceeded and Surpassed Requisite Succubus Quotas in this Most Recent Quarter, demonstrating outstanding performance in seduction, damnation, and corruption of human souls.
Everyone looked at me when I finished reading, so I supposed they expected some kind of speech or something. Mostly I was wondering if I'd get in trouble for trimming this down to fit an eight-by-ten frame.
“Um, thanks. This is . . . cool.”
That seemed to satisfy Horatio. He nodded smartly, then shot a glance to Jerome.
“You must be so proud.”
“Exceptionally,” murmured the archdemon, stifling a yawn.
Horatio turned back to me. “Keep up the good work. You might find yourself in line for promotion to the corporate level.”
As if giving my soul away wasn't already bad enough. I forced a smile.
“Well. There's still so much to do here.”
“Excellent attitude. Most excellent. You've done well with her.” He gave Jerome a chummy pat on the back, something my boss did not look happy about at all. He didn't really like friendly pats. Or being touched, period. “Well, if there's nothing more, I should probably—oh, I nearly forgot.”
Horatio turned to Kasper. The imp handed over something else to his master.
“These are for you. As a token of our appreciation.”
He gave me a gift card for Applebee's, as well as some Blockbuster free-rental coupons. Jerome and I both stared for a moment, dumbstruck.
“Wow,” I finally said. The runner-up for this award probably got a gift card for Sizzler. Never doubt that second place really is the first loser.
Horatio and Kasper vanished. Jerome and I stood in silence for a few moments.
“You like riblets, Jerome?”
“Droll, very droll, Georgie.” He strolled around my living room, pretending to study my books and artwork. “Nice job with the quota thing. Of course, it's easy to excel when you're starting at zero, huh?”
I shrugged and tossed the certificate on my kitchen counter. “Does it really matter? Still gets you the laurels. I figured you'd like that.”
“Of course I do. In fact, I've been rather pleasantly surprised at just how well you've kept your promise.”
“I always keep my promises.”
“Not
all
of your promises.”
My silence made him smile. “So what now? Going out to celebrate?”
“You know where I'm going. I'm going to Peter's. Aren't you?”
He avoided the question; demons excelled at that. “I thought perhaps other plans had arisen. Plans with a certain mortal. You do seem to be doing that an awful lot lately.”
“It's none of your business what I do.”
“All of your business is my business.”
Again, I didn't answer. The demon stepped closer, dark eyes boring into me. For inexplicable reasons, he chose to look like John Cusack while walking the human world. That might seem like it would reduce his power to intimidate, but I swear, it only made things worse.
“How long are you going to keep up this farce, Georgie?” His words were a challenge, trying to draw me out. “You can't honestly think you have a future with him. Or that you two can stay chaste forever. For Christ's sake, even if you can keep your hands off him, no human male's going to stay celibate for long. Especially one with a large fan base.”
“Did you miss the part where I said it's my business?”
Heat rose to my cheeks. Despite knowing better, I'd recently gotten myself involved with a human. I wasn't even entirely sure how it had happened since I've always gone out of my way to avoid that kind of thing. I guess you could say he sort of snuck up on me. One moment he was simply a warm and comforting presence at my side; the next I realized how intensely he loved me. That love had blindsided me. I hadn't been able to resist it and had decided to see where it might take me.
As a result, Jerome never failed to remind me of the potential disaster I courted daily in this romance. His opinion wasn't entirely unfounded. A small part of this was because I didn't have a good track record with serious relationships. The larger part was that doing much more than hand-holding with a human would inevitably lead to me sucking away some of his life. But hey, all couples have their stumbling blocks, right?
The demon smoothed down the jacket of his perfectly tailored black suit. “Just friendly advice. It makes no difference. I don't mind if you keep playing house with him—denying him a future, a family, a healthy sex life. Whatever. So long as you keep up the good work, it's all the same to me.”
“Are you done with the pep talk? I'm late.”
“One more thing. I thought you might like to know I just made some arrangements for a pleasant surprise. One you'll like.”
“What kind of surprise?” Jerome didn't really do surprises. Not good ones, at least.
“Wouldn't be a surprise if I told you, now would it?”
Typical. I scoffed and turned away. “I don't have time for your games. Either tell me what's going on or leave.”
“I think I'll leave. But, before I do, just remember something.” He put his hand on my shoulder and turned me around to face him again. I flinched at his touch and his proximity. The demon and I were not as buddy-buddy as we had once been. “You only have one man who's a constant in your life, only one man you will always answer to. A hundred years from now,
he
will be dust in the earth, and
I
will be the one you keep coming back to.”
It sounded romantic or sexual, but it wasn't. Not in the least. My tie to Jerome ran deeper than that. A binding and loyalty that literally went straight to my soul. A connection I was bound to for all eternity, at least until the powers of hell decided to assign me to a different archdemon.
“Your pimp routine is getting old.”
He stepped back, undisturbed by my rancor. His eyes danced.
“If I'm a pimp, Georgina, what's that make you?”
There was an ostentatious poof of smoke, and Jerome disappeared before I could reply.
Fucking demons.
I stood alone in my apartment, turning over his words in my mind. Finally, remembering the time, I headed for the bedroom to change clothes. As I did, I passed Horatio's certificate. Its gold seal winked up at me. I flipped it over, face down, suddenly feeling queasy. I might be good at what I did, but that didn't mean I was proud of it.
I ended up only being about fifteen minutes late for my friend Peter's shindig. He answered his door before I could even knock. Taking in his billowing white hat and
KISS THE COOK
apron, I said, “I'm sorry. No one told me
Iron Chef
was being filmed here tonight.”
“You're late,” he chided, waving a wooden spoon in the air. “So what, you win an award and think you can forget all about propriety now?”
I ignored his disapproval and swept inside. It was the only thing you could do with an obsessive-compulsive vampire.
In the living room, I found our other friends Cody and Hugh sorting large piles of cash.
“Did you guys rob a bank?”
“Nope,” said Hugh. “Since Peter's trying to provide us with a civilized meal tonight, we decided a civilized pastime was required.”
“Money laundering?”
“Poker.”
From the kitchen, I could hear Peter muttering to himself about a soufflé. It sort of diminished my image of a bunch of shady characters huddled around a backroom card table. “I think bridge would be more appropriate.”
Hugh looked doubtful. “That's an old-person's game, sweetie.”
I had to smile at that. “Old” was kind of a relative term when most of us could boast centuries. I had long suspected that among my circle of lesser immortals—those who were not true angels or demons—I had more years than any of them, never mind the optimistic claim of being twenty-eight on my driver's license.
“Since when do we even play games?” I wondered aloud. Our last attempt had involved a game of Monopoly with Jerome. Competing with a demon in a struggle for property and ultimate control is kind of futile.
“Since when don't we play games? Games of life, games of death. Games of love, of hope, of chance, of despair, and of all the myriad wonders in between.”
I rolled my eyes at the newcomer. “Hello, Carter.” I'd known the angel was lurking in the kitchen, just as Peter had felt me coming down the hall. “Where's your better half tonight? I just saw him. I thought he was coming too.”
Carter strolled in and gave me one of his mocking smiles, gray eyes alight with secrets and mirth. He wore his usual transient ware, ripped jeans and a faded T-shirt. When it came to age, the rest of us couldn't even compare to him. We had all once been mortal; we measured our lives in centuries or millennia. Angels and demons . . . well, they measured their lives in eternity. “‘Am I my brother's keeper?'”

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