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Authors: Richelle Mead

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“And most don't?” I had run into countless immortals over the years, from all sorts of cultures and powers, but I had not paid much attention to how they operated with each other in a political sense. I had always been content to worry about my job and my job alone, safe in the knowledge that the authorities I answered to wielded enough power to deal with anyone else.
“Most don't,” the demonesses agreed in unison.
The poker players regarded me curiously when I hung up.
“Who was that?” asked Peter.
“Grace and Mei.”
Hugh made a face. “Ack. The crazy-bitch-dyke twins.”
“Hey, that's uncalled for. They've been very helpful.”
“Yeah? Well, just wait,” he warned. “Next thing you know, they'll be wanting to cut your hair and dress you in black too.”
Cody smiled at my outrage. “Why do I get the feeling there's another illicit Georgina investigation afoot?”
“It's not so illicit.”
“Illicit enough,” remarked Bastien with a yawn. “You and your mortals.”
He pocketed the money he had left, downed his bourbon, and thanked Peter again for another fabulous evening.
“Leaving so soon?” I asked.
“Off to find fairer company. No offense to you, Fleur.” He leaned down to me and brushed a kiss over my lips that lingered a breath too long for friendship. “Good night.”
His departure spurred a new round of the Bastien Fan Club as they all speculated what sexual escapade he was about to embark on now.
“How does he do it?” asked Peter.
“I wish I was that good,” added Cody.
“Hey,” I complained, “pursuing women isn't any harder than men. Sometimes it's easier.”
“That guy's amazing.” Hugh acted like I hadn't even spoken. “Going after a new one tonight when he's still sporting a glow that can't even be a day old. I wish I got lucky that often.”
Seth didn't like to speak much with this group—or any group for that matter—but like my other friends, he was in awe of the incubus. Hugh's comment especially piqued his interest.
“What do you mean by ‘glow?' Like an afterglow?”
Hugh grinned at him. “Sort of . . . you must know what I'm talking about. The post-sex thing? The glamour?”
“Whose deal is it?” I asked sharply, not liking the conversation's new direction.
Seth turned thoughtful. “Well, then it is like an afterglow. I mean, everyone sort of has something like that after sex.”
“Yes, but it's different for an incubus or a succubus,” explained Peter professorially. Unless I was mistaken, he was starting to pick up a British accent. Too much exposure to Bastien. “In their case, it's more of a literal glow—to other immortals at least. When they've had sex, they take that person's life. Life force is alluring. To an immortal, a just-laid incubus or succubus will almost—”
“Glitter,” suggested Cody. “Or sparkle. And yet . . . not. It's kind of hard to explain. Hasn't Georgina told you all this?”
“Not
this
,” said Seth. “So I . . . er, mortals don't see it?”
“Are we playing or not?” I asked impatiently, raising my voice. Carter caught my eye.
“Not like we do,” continued Peter. “But they—you—feel it. Or maybe ‘sense' is a better word. It pulls you in. It's very attractive.”
I sank lower into my seat, trying to decide if anyone would notice if I suddenly turned invisible. I might as well have been since no one was listening to my protests anyway.
“You must have noticed it,” pointed out Hugh, taking a swig of whiskey. “There must be days when you see Georgina and practically can't control yourself because of how hot she is. You can only stare. Of course, it's probably hard to tell the difference since she's always so hot, huh?”
Everyone except Carter, Seth, and I laughed. I knew the imp had meant that last part as a compliment, but I wanted to throw my gimlet glass at him nonetheless. The hilarity soon died down, and we returned to cards. But the damage was done. Seth and I hardly spoke for the rest of the night, not that anyone—save Carter, I suspected—even noticed.
When Seth and I left, I knew something bad was coming. I dropped him off at his place, and he invited me inside to eat Rocky Road ice cream. He was a big ice cream fan. I should have just turned around and left, but Rocky Road has supernatural powers. Plus, I remembered what Seth and I had discussed after the recent make-out session in bed—how we had to communicate about issues, rather than ignore them. I still believed that to be true, but theory and practice were two completely different things.
He made up two bowls for us, and we ate the ice cream in silence for a while. When he finished, Seth played with his spoon, not looking at me.
“So,” he asked, “is it true?”
“Is what true?” Like I didn't know.
“Come on, don't make me spell it out,” he said gently. “I just want to hear your version, that's all.”
I opened my mouth to speak, to find some way to neutralize all this, but my tongue felt thick and useless. No coherent words formed.
“Is it true?” repeated Seth. When I still didn't answer, he continued, “When I see you sometimes . . . when I see you—like that one night—and can barely even breathe because you are so beautiful . . . so beautiful that I can do nothing but act like an idiot, does that mean that you've just . . . slept with someone? But, of course, I don't actually mean, um, ‘sleep' . . .”
Damn, this communication thing really did suck.
Chapter 12
“
T
hetis,” 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 fucking 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.
“I want you to stay here,” I finally said, standing up and straightening the kinks out of my legs. “I've got to get back out there, but I'm going to check on you later, okay? Promise you'll find me if you need me. We'll eat lunch later on. I'll get us some falafels from that place you like.”
He only gave me a twisted half-smile, face stormy and mocking. I left, taking the letter opener with me.
His mood didn't change as the day wore on; even the falafels did no good. Once more, I wondered desperately what I should do. He had no family in the city I could call. I knew the hospitals had psych emergency services; should I contact one of them?
Shortly after lunch, Alec showed up. He avoided Casey's pleading eyes and gave me a smile that tried too hard. “Hey Georgina, is Doug around?”
I hesitated. I didn't like Alec, but he was sort of Doug's friend. Maybe that would help. I led the drummer to the back. When Doug saw him, he leapt up with an astounding burst of energy, his face both desperate and rapt.
“Jesus Christ, man! Where have you been?”
“Sorry,” said Alec. “I got held up.”
They huddled together, then looked uneasily over at me. Sensing I was unwanted, I backed out of the office but not before I saw Alec reaching into his coat and Doug looking very eager.
It was Alec, I realized. Alec was feeding Doug whatever drug he was addicted to. The realization made me want to go in there and throttle him, wipe that stupid grin off his face. Yet, when the two emerged a half hour later, the change in Doug was so marked that I couldn't bring myself to act.
A swagger had returned to his step, the normal cheery grin back on his face. Janice passed by, and he made some playful remark that caused her to laugh. Seeing me, he pranced up and saluted.
“Ready for duty, boss. What do you have for me?”
“I . . .” I stared stupidly, which only made him smile more.
“Rein it in, Kincaid,” he said with mock severity. “I know that as a good groupie, you're ready to take me anytime, anywhere. But, as literary professionals, we've got to control our passion until after hours.”
I was still staring. “Um . . . why don't you, uh, grab a register?”
He saluted again and clicked his heels together, military style. “Can do.” He turned to Alec. “I'll see you at the rehearsal tonight?”
“Yup.”
Doug flashed both of us a grin, then sauntered off.
I stood there alone with Alec. He waited expectantly, like I was supposed to say something. The words “fuck off” seemed appropriate, but I changed my mind. I smiled at him. It was a slow, sweeping smile that started with my lips and then shone in my eyes, the kind of smile that said I'd just noticed something I'd never seen before. Something I suddenly liked—and wanted.
Alec's own smile faltered. I think hitting on me had become so automatic, he didn't expect a response anymore. He swallowed and then turned his own grin back on.
“A rehearsal, huh?” I said. “You guys got another show coming up?”
“Next weekend. You going to come?”
“I'll try. Are you going to have another party after?”
“Probably. Wyatt's having one tomorrow if you wanna go to that.”
“Are you going to be there?” I asked silkily, catching his eye meaningfully.
“You bet.”
“Then I'll be there.” I turned to go, still giving him the hypnotic smile. “See you then.”
As soon I was out of his sight, my smile lapsed into a grimace. Ack. I hadn't thought it was possible to loathe that guy any more, but I'd been proven wrong once again. Still, flirting with him, I'd realized, might be the best way to figure out what was going on with Doug. I felt pretty sure Alec had tried to push whatever he had on Casey. If I appeared to fall prey to his so-called charm too, he might let me share in the goods.

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