Succubus On Top (25 page)

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Authors: Richelle Mead

BOOK: Succubus On Top
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I turned away, staring out the window without seeing. “
I
don't need it.”
“Don't you?”
Only the voice that asked me that wasn't Bastien's. It was Seth's.
I spun around, eyes wide. “Stop that! Change back right now!”
Bastien—as Seth—lay back easily against the pillows. He wore jeans and a Whitesnake T-shirt, just as Seth might have. His hair was unkempt. He'd even perfected that cute, distracted smile.
“What's the problem, Thetis?”
I stormed up to the bed, wanting to give him the full force of my fury even as I longed to run away. “This isn't funny!
Change back now
.”
Sitting up again, he slid to the edge of the bed. “Come on, how have you not seen this coming? This is the perfect solution to all your problems.”
“No, it's not. It's really not.”
He stood up and walked toward me, not touching me but coming close enough to make my heart race. I stood rooted, unable to move.
“Of course it is. If you ever want to get Seth out of your system, this is the way to do it. You spend all this time pining for him, wondering what it'd be like to touch him and be with him. Well, this is your chance. This is the only safe way, your chance to do everything you want without hurting him. Do this now, and you could save yourself a lot of grief in the future.”
I shook my head, as my mouth apparently couldn't move now either. Too many conflicting feelings. The entire scene was unreal. Mindblowing. I was still shocked by Bastien's audacity in doing it in the first place. I knew he was rash and bold, but this was crossing the line, even for him. On the other hand, Bastien had mimicked Seth down to the last detail, and seeing him had the effect it always did on me. Everything was the same. Cute and flawless. More intoxicating still was the truth of Bastien's offer. I really could do what I wanted here. It was wrong on so many levels, but I couldn't deny the pull. The perfect temptation.
“I won't cheat on Seth.”
“What's cheating between you guys? You do it all the time.”
“Then I'm not going to be one of your conquests,” I snapped.
“Fine.” He shape-shifted the shirt away so I saw only lovely, bare chest now. He drew my hands forward, resting them on his skin. I discovered it was almost entirely smooth; there were just a few soft and silky golden hairs. “You do the conquering.”
“I'm not doing any conquering.”
“All right. Then take your hands away.”
I stared at where my hands lay on his chest. On Seth's chest. He was warm. My hands matched him almost perfectly. We both had light, barely tanned, golden skin.
Take your hands away
. That's all I had to do. I just had to move my hands, step away, and leave this ridiculous game behind. I was only a hair's breadth from normality . . . yet I couldn't seem to move away. I knew it wasn't Seth, but the illusion was so powerful, I could easily imagine that this was exactly how it would feel to touch him.
Without thinking, I ran my fingers down his chest, down to his stomach. Seth was no bodybuilder, but he was lean and trim from swimming and running. I had seen him in boxers before; the strong muscles were firm and exactly where they should be. Again, a perfect illusion. My hands had brushed this same part of Seth in bed before, but I never allowed myself to sensually explore him, the way I could now. I moved my fingers farther, tracing the lines and contours.
For his part, he didn't say or do anything. But whenever I looked up, those brown eyes were on me, brimming with heat. They made my body respond with a heat of its own. Would Seth look at me the same way if we were together like this? Somehow, I expected the answer would be yes. I knew Seth viewed sex as a serious matter, despite his characters' casual attitudes. He would treat such an encounter seriously. Also—although I had no proof—I thought Seth would be just as cautious as Bastien was being now, letting me take the lead. Nothing aggressive.
My hands slid farther, down to the edge of his jeans where blue flannel boxers barely peeped out. I ran my fingers under the edge, arousing myself further with this dangerous game. Being this close to hitherto forbidden territory was heady. My scouting fingers started to tremble. Never, never would I have let things reach this point with Seth. Not with both of us pressed together. Not with both of us in so little clothing. My common sense would have long since kicked in before something dangerous might happen. But Bastien was right: nothing dangerous could happen tonight.
At least not physically.
I looked back up. His own breath had quickened. The space between us sizzled. He was so like Seth, I realized. So very much like him. It would be so easy. Easy to pretend.
I leaned up and kissed him, again tasting those soft lips, pushing my tongue past them so I could fully savor him. His hands moved around my back, touching silk and bare skin. I was in the same outfit I wore for the last picture: another chemise, this time with a revealing top of ivory lace and a rose-pink silk skirt. I pushed into that kiss, letting it burn me. He kept his hands carefully neutral the whole time, not taking liberties, instead letting me dictate the terms.
Reaching around, I grabbed ahold of his hands and moved them over me. I wanted to know what it was like to have him—Seth—touching me. I moved them down to my backside, then over to the sides of my thighs, urging him to push the chemise up. He did, letting silk gather up in his fingers as it slid up, up over my breasts and then over my head. I exhaled as those hands traveled up my body, every part of my skin electric and alive as I stood completely naked now.
“Lay down,” I said, surprised at the rough note in my voice.
He obliged, and I crawled onto the bed after him, straddling his hips with my legs so I leaned over him, letting my hair brush his chest as it had that night at Terry and Andrea's.
Seth. I had Seth. And I could do anything I wanted.
I kissed him again, harder than I had before, as if my mouth realized this could stop at any moment and had to get as much as it could right now. Pulling back slightly, I placed his hands back on me. “Don't stop touching me.”
I returned to his lips, crushing his in return, letting my teeth nibble that soft flesh. All the while his hands roved over me as I'd commanded, coming to rest under my breasts so that he could cup them and stroke them. His fingers trailed to the nipples, which were already standing erect, brushing them lightly at first and then squeezing with greater intensity. I cried out, my own savage urges stoked, and I moved my lips to his neck. My mouth worked fiercely against that tender skin, pressing and biting, as though by leaving a mark I could somehow brand Seth as mine forever.
Breaking away at last, I raised myself up slightly on my knees and moved his hand between my legs. He stroked me without being told to, letting his fingers slide over my clitoris, building up the mounting, scorching sensation in my lower body. His fingers moved easily, aided by my own wetness. Greater and greater that swelling ecstasy grew until it was almost agony, but I stopped him before I peaked and could find release.
Frantically, I tore at his jeans and boxers, getting them off as fast as I could. I sighed shakily, looking at that long, perfect hardness as though it could keep me alive when nothing else could. I moved myself back down and ground myself against him, rubbing myself against that hardness, letting it finish the job his fingers had started. I came almost instantly, having been already on the edge, and before those spasms could even begin fading, I slid him inside of me, letting him fill me up entirely until it seemed there was nothing left of me in my own body, only him.
He was still letting me take charge here, but he wasn't unaffected. His breath came heavy and hard now, his own lips parting slightly with desire, eyes begging me to do more.
As for me . . . I was losing myself. I didn't care about anything else but him inside me, as close as I'd ever been able to get to Seth. It still seemed like something had to give, something had to stop us. But it didn't. I became more than a conqueror. I was a ravager, taking what I wanted with no thought of the consequences.
I rode on top of him, bringing myself down hard each time, willing him to pierce right through me. My hands held him down as I thrust, not that he was trying to get away. My breasts shook as our bodies moved together, the nipples still hard and sensitive. I heard the slap of skin on skin each time I moved down, forming a rhythm with our ragged breathing.
I was drowning in Seth, in his sweat and in his touch. I was liquid and golden, merged into him. My body ached, unable to get enough of him, and I moved harder still. I knew exactly which angle I needed to make myself come, and I didn't even try to hold back the waves and waves of pulsing bliss that racked my body. Small crackles of energy passed between us occasionally—not the usual absorption that occurred with a victim, but the inevitable sharing that happened between an incubus and succubus, two creatures whose bodies were made to collect the power of life.
I needed to consume Seth, take as much of him as I could. I had no other purpose. Time passed. My body took its pleasure greedily and often. I said his name over and over, sometimes whispering it, sometimes screaming it, until finally exhausted, I couldn't move anymore. I stopped, nearly collapsing against him.
Barely able to work my lungs anymore, I struggled to get the air I needed. He was still inside me, still ready, but I had nearly rubbed myself raw. My throat was dry and painful. Sweat formed a slick coating on me, and I hung over him panting and desperate, an animal who had just sated her hunger with no concern for who lay beneath.
He watched me intently, running a careful hand over my damp cheek. Then, at some unspoken signal between us, he flipped me over onto my back to at last finish himself off. Gripping my ankles and putting them over his shoulders, he knelt before me and pushed back inside. A soft whimper passed over my lips. I was jelly now, unable to do anything but lay there and let him have his way with me. My arms spread out carelessly over my head, fingers brushing the black headboard, and I closed my eyes, just letting myself feel Seth taking me now. I was weak and spent, but it still felt wonderful. I opened my eyes and watched him working hard against my body, at last able to give in to his own pleasure. He'd held back for so long for my benefit, waiting until I had satiated my lust. Now he was the greedy one, ravaging me in the way he wanted. At last, he climaxed with a small groan, closing his eyes briefly, holding himself against me as he came into me. When he finished, he slumped forward and pulled out, lying beside me.
We stayed like that for several moments, and then he pulled me roughly to him so we spooned, the back of my body pressed against the front of him. Both of us still breathed in heavy, torn gasps as our hearts gradually slowed. I let my cheek rest against his arm. I still shook all over from sex with Seth, with the feel of Seth inside of me and the way he had broken my body with that devastating ecstasy.
Then, as one hand tightened on me and his other ran gently over my hair, I noticed something. He didn't smell right.
I don't mean to imply that he smelled bad. He didn't. He just didn't smell like Seth. The sweat wasn't the same. There was no fleeting smell of apple, leather, and musk, no unique Seth scent. He smelled like Bastien. He
was
Bastien, I reminded myself sternly, and with that, the illusion shattered, the spell broke. I wasn't with Seth, no matter how perfect the shape. I was with my friend the incubus.
“Change back,” I whispered.
“What?”
“Change back to yourself.”
He didn't ask why, and a moment later, I rested in Bastien's arms. It wasn't Seth, I realized with a dull and terrible emptiness, but it was the truth. We said no more after that, staying in bed together for the rest of the night. Sleep never came for me, however. I lay awake the whole time, staring off into the shadows.
Chapter 17
“
S
hould I put up Lorelei Biljan's posters now? Or wait until after E. J. Putnam's gone?”
I looked up from the invoices on my desk. I'd just reread the same line of numbers about five times without comprehending any of it, and I was having only a little better luck parsing Tammi's question.
I rubbed my eyes. “Why . . . would we wait?”
She shrugged. “Dunno. Just seems kind of rude to be advertising one author during another one's signing.”
My mind moved slowly, probably because only 5 percent of it was actually here at the bookstore. The rest of my brainpower attempted to muddle through the disaster that was my life.
“Um . . . no, it doesn't matter. Put them both up. They're only a week apart, and we want Biljan to get a fair shot at publicity too. Besides, I don't think authors really get worked up over competition like that. They're pretty low-key.”
Tammi ran a hand through her short red hair. “I don't know. They're famous
and
artistic. Seems like that's a bad combination. Temperamental and stuff. Not all writers can be like Seth. In fact, I bet when he gets angry enough about something, he could really let someone have it.”
“Anything else?” I asked, a sharp note of dismissal in my voice. “Otherwise, just put up all the posters, okay?”
She gave me a startled look and left the office. When the door closed, I put my head down on the desk and groaned. Tammi, in her blissful adolescent naiveté, had no idea how close to home she had hit. Like her, I too believed Seth could display a lot of anger if given enough cause.
Like, say, his girlfriend cheating on him.
True, Bastien had been right in saying Seth and I had loose definitions of “cheating,” but even I knew what did and did not qualify. There was no gray area here. No mutability. I had fucked up hard-core.
I'd known it too, lying there in that unholy union with Bastien. After my sleepless night, I'd left him around dawn and taken a cab back to Queen Anne, my body still aching. I hadn't wanted to talk to him. He'd slept so heavily, he hadn't heard me leave. No guilt weighed him down.
But me? My cup of guilt was runnething over. Not only that, I still had to make the next decision in this mess: to tell or not to tell? That was what had really bothered me all day at work. The past was over; I could only worry about it for so long. My attention now focused on how to proceed with the future.
Fortunately, Seth had worked from home today, which helped a little. He and I eventually had plans to meet up in the evening, but until that happened, I still had time to come up with something. Anything. Yet when I walked home at the end of my shift, I was no closer to an answer than I had been at the beginning of the day.
Miserable, I pulled up a chair at my kitchen table and sat down with pen and paper. Aubrey jumped up on the table's flat surface and lay down to watch me, half of her sprawling on the page. I slid her off and made the following list:
DON'T TELL SETH
Pros: status quo resumes, he won't be upset
Cons: my own gnawing guilt, totally blowing the honesty thing
I considered the list for a moment, surprised that neither the pro nor con side had more items. It was just that simple. Moving farther down the paper, I wrote up the reciprocal list.
TELL SETH
Pros: right thing to do
Cons: admitting I'm an idiot, painfully emotional blowout, inevitable breakup, a literal eternity of heartwrenching sorrow and regret
I held the pen and looked back and forth between both lists.
“This isn't really clearing things up, Aubrey.” In an effort to relieve my frustration, I hurled the pen somewhere into my living room. She watched it sail off with interest and then darted off to confirm the kill.
“What do you need to tell Seth?”
“Jesus!” I yelled, practically jumping ten feet in the air. Carter had appeared out of nowhere and now stood beside the table, looking casual and laconic. He wore a black T-shirt over a gray thermal shirt and the same jeans I swear he'd had on for the last couple decades. “Don't do that, okay? Knocking isn't a lost art.”
“Sorry.” He pulled a chair out and straddled it, so his long arms draped lazily over the back. Flipping his stringy blond hair out of the way, he gestured toward my list. “Didn't mean to interrupt.”
“You're not,” I muttered, crumpling up the paper. I tossed that into the living room too, so Aubrey could have more to hunt.
“Anything you want to talk about?” he offered.
I hesitated. Of all the people I knew, only Carter had been a steadfast believer in Seth and me having a serious relationship. He was the only one who hadn't treated it as a joke. In some ways, that might have made him a good confidante, yet it also disqualified him. I could not confess to the one person who had believed in me just how seriously I had messed things up in a weak moment.
“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're 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 breasts. 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.

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