Drained: The Lucid (15 page)

“Can incubi visit other incubi in their dreams?”

“You can call us cubare. Incubi only refers to the men.”

“Sorry.” Morgan bit her lip. “Can cubare visit other cubare in their dreams?” she corrected.

“We don’t really dream,” Riley admitted wistfully. “If I wanted to meet up with another of my kind in the realm, we’d need a human mind to host us.”

“You don’t dream, or you can’t?”

“It’s rare. I could probably count on two hands how many dreams I’ve had since becoming cubare.”

Morgan flipped onto her stomach and examined the woman lying in her bed. “Why are you here?”  

It was a question she seemed to ask every visit, without fail. And every time, Riley offered her a different answer.

Riley wiggled her bare feet back and forth. “Because I’m a succubus and I have the unfortunate luck of being stuck with you, night after night.” She was anxious to lighten the mood. Conversations with Morgan were too heavy and made her feel acutely guilty about her very existence.

Morgan lightly shoved Riley, but not so hard to knock her against the wall. “Seriously. Aren’t you wasting your time? You could be sucking on some other girl rather than laying here with me.”

Riley laughed. “You don’t even realize how wrong that last sentence was,” she said after her breathing steadied.

Morgan blinked a few times, recalling her previous statement. “Oh, God. No.” Her face flushed. “You know what I meant.”

“Right. I guess the good girl
is
capable of bad thoughts.”

Morgan’s brow furrowed and she propped herself up on her elbows to look down at the succubus beside her. “What makes you say that? That I’m a good girl?”

“I think it’s a safe assumption,” Riley ventured.

“Well, you’re wrong.”

“Oh yeah?” Riley tested her. “Prove me wrong. Kiss me.”

“Nice try, Succubus,” Morgan scoffed. “I’m not falling for that ploy. But I have plenty of childhood stories that would prove you wrong.”

Riley resumed wiggling her feet back and forth. “Actions speak louder than words,” she said in a sing-song tone.

A change overcame Morgan’s features as a look of determination settled in. She grabbed Riley’s wrists and pinned her against the mattress. Pale green eyes widened, startled by Morgan’s aggression and their sudden closeness.

“Just so there’s no misunderstandings,” Morgan began, “I’m only doing this to prove a point.” She leaned closer and brushed her lips against Riley’s slightly parted mouth. The gentle timidity of the kiss contrasted dramatically with the tight grip at Riley’s wrists. “Still think I’m a good girl?” Morgan whispered against her. She pulled away just enough so their lips no longer touched, but their closeness remained.

Despite her brief surprise, Riley was able to recover. “If I say ‘yes,’ will you continue to prove yourself to me?”

Before Morgan could respond, Riley’s vision clouded and she eliminated the space between them. Instead of reciprocating the gentle brushing of lips, Riley crushed her mouth against Morgan’s. A quiet groan of approval was all the encouragement she needed. She pulled Morgan fully on top of her with an uncanny amount of strength and wasted no time in dipping her hand past the waistline of Morgan’s pajama bottoms.

A buzzing went off in Morgan’s head. Her eyes snapped open, and she realized the noise wasn’t just her imagination; it was the alarm clock on her bedside table.

Morgan sat up in bed, drenched in sweat, bed sheets twisted near her legs. Her heart raced inside her chest, and her breath came in ragged gasps. She furiously swatted at the alarm clock, silencing the too-early buzzer. Shaking hands grabbed the clock and brought it close to her face; without her glasses or contacts she was practically blind.  

“Six in the morning?” she read out loud. There was no reason to be up that early. Morgan returned the alarm to its place on her bedside table, with more calm than she’d felt before. She couldn’t recall having set the clock, but she should have felt gratitude towards the mechanized alarm. She should have, but she didn’t.

Fingers mindlessly traced over parts of her own goosebumped skin. She could practically feel the aftershocks of Riley’s touch. “Fuck.”

Riley sat up in bed, fisting handfuls of sheets. Her heart raced in her chest, and she gasped for air, filling her lungs with oxygen. And she was wet. So damnably wet. She pressed her thighs together and felt the telling, slick arousal. There were two problems with this scenario. First, she had been launched out of the dream without her consent. Second, and far more unsettling, her arousal had transferred into the waking world. Neither of those things should have happened if Morgan had been a typical mark. Riley flopped back onto her pillows. It was another thing to add to the ever-growing list of what made Morgan anything but conventional.

Beside her, on the nightstand, a light on her cell phone pulsed in notification of a new e-mail from Trusics. An uncomfortable feeling settled into her stomach when she read the subject line:
Truthseekers.  

Riley opened the e-mail in her phone and read on. A new wave of articles about Trusics’s websites—courtesy of the watchdog group calling themselves the Truthseekers—had flooded the Internet. Accusations like “User information not safe,” and “Company is selling off information,” and even “People stalked from the company” jumped off the e-mail. Riley ran her fingers through her tangled hair. This wasn’t good. First had been the ridiculous charge that Trusics was a front for a sex-trafficking operation, and now this. Even more so than the idea of anonymous women being held and sold like human chattel, the idea that personal information had been sold or shared would infect her company like a festering virus. The latest set of rumors weren’t absurd; they just were believable enough for people to take interest.

Riley checked the time on her phone. It was after 4 a.m. There were still a few hours to sleep. She could try to go back into Morgan’s dream, but having been interrupted, she suspected the mood had been ruined. The act of phasing back would expend energy she couldn’t really afford to waste so close to the end of the month. She didn’t anticipate being able to return to sleep, however. Every time she closed her eyes she was treated with a graphic replay of the last few moments with Morgan.  

She threw the blankets off with a disgruntled huff. A cold shower would have to suffice—a very cold fucking shower.

• • •

The e-mail they’d all received earlier that morning was the elephant in the room—or rather the elephant in the mall.

“So are we going to talk about it?” Riley announced as she, James, Seven, and Madison walked two by two along the sidewalk of the upscale, open-air shopping mall. “Or are we going to pretend we’re not all freaking out?”

“That explains why I lost access to a mark this week,” Madison said with unusual sobriety. “And his abs were glorious.” She paused in front of a bath-and-beauty storefront. “I think I need a giant cinnamon roll. I could go for something with a nice coat of frosting on it to lick off.”

Riley didn’t know if Madison had switched back to the topic of her mark’s perfect abs, but she grabbed her friend’s hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze. It was hard to keep up with Madison’s train of thought sometimes. “Anything you want, sweetness.”

Madison’s features lit up. “Can I get one of those ice cream coffee drinks, too?”

Riley nodded indulgently. “All the yummy calories you want.”

“You know that’s about two thousand calories for a snack.” Seven frowned critically at the food selection.

Madison’s laughter was like tiny bells. “Thank God I don’t have to work out.”

Seven’s razor-sharp features pinched in thought. “Do you think this new cyber-attack is going to affect us?”

“Membership will be dropping, no doubt,” James said with a wistful nod. “But it’ll be fine. There’s plenty of marks in the database for everyone.”

“How can those bloggers get away with these lies?” Madison asked, concern lacing her words. She hesitated before speaking again. “They
are
lies, right?”

“Of course,” James said with a conviction Riley wished she shared.

“Fancy running into you here.” A man holding a number of shopping bags in both hands blocked the sidewalk.

“Sayer.” James was the first to acknowledge him.

Sayer Huntington, a fellow Trusics incubus, struck an imposing figure. Tall, athletic, and impressively shouldered, he looked as though he’d played tight end for an Ivy League football team in a past life. His blue polo shirt matched the hue of his eyes. The cotton material stretched tightly across a broad chest. He was meticulously manicured from his stubble-free jawline to the tidy lines of his cropped sideburns. His bronze skin looked like he’d just stepped off a yacht.

“James. You’re looking well.” Sayer’s lingering gaze did not go unnoticed by anyone.

“I, uh.” James let out an uncharacteristic stutter.

Sayer’s gaze never unlocked from James. “Where’s the lovely Heather today? I hope you two aren’t fighting.”

Riley narrowed her eyes at the unsubtle mentioning of her friend.
He looks like a plastic Ken doll,
she decided, feeling angry in Heather’s absence. 
Waxed and molded to annoying perfection.

“Fuck off, Sayer,” Seven cut in.

“Charming as always,” Sayer acknowledged Seven directly. If he was offended by the outburst, his classically chiseled features didn’t give him away. “It warms my heart to know you haven’t been changed by the passage of time.”  

Seven growled under his breath in response, but for the moment, he kept his emotions in check.

Sayer’s steady gaze returned to James, who continued to look frozen simply from the man’s unexpected appearance. “Give me a call sometime, Jimmy. We could play a few rounds of golf like old times. Or perhaps try a steam shower to relax the muscles after,” he suggested with a broad smile. “You still have my number, right?”

James blinked and nodded.

“Excellent. I’ll bring the towels.”

Madison’s gaze followed Sayer’s retreating figure. “Such a waste,” she murmured.

“Why do I have this uncontrollable urge to strangle that Old Money asshole with his collection of ascots?” Seven spewed.

“So, I had lunch with Aaron yesterday,” James announced in a desperate attempt to change the subject. The group resumed walking to the next store.

“Oh? How’s my favorite Roman?” Riley asked. She realized Aaron had been conspicuously absent from their group outings as of late.

“He told me he’s applying for a desk job,” James revealed. “He wants to get out of the realm business.”

“It’s the beginning of the end.” Seven groaned and hung his head. “Well everybody, we had a nice ride. But I suppose all good things must come to an end.”

“Dramatic much, Sev?” Riley chuckled.

“Does he plan on aging?” Madison asked. Her bright blue eyes were wide with concern.

“I don’t know.” James shrugged and frowned in thought. Riley imagined it bothered him to not be as involved in their friend’s life. Things had changed ever since Aaron had pursued a serious relationship with a human.

“It’s because of that mortal wife of his, isn’t it?” Seven frowned. “This really is the end.”

Before the group could dig too deeply into Seven’s recent observation, everyone’s phone vibrated, buzzed, or chirped simultaneously with an incoming message. Riley flipped her phone over to investigate; it was a text message from corporate with a simple, but ominous message:
A mandatory seminar will be held within the next few days. We will update everyone when a date and time has been scheduled.

A nervous, perplexed murmur rose as collectively they read over the vague information.  

Madison erupted in a fit of giggles.

“What’s your deal?” Seven asked, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

“Our phones.” Madison wiped at eyes damp from inappropriately-timed amusement. “It’s like we’re on one of those teenage shows. You know, the one where they’re being stalked by a psycho killer.”

“You’re losing it, Mad Hatter.” Riley shook her head affectionately.

“More than usual,” James teased.

“You all laugh, but it’s always someone they know, but someone not directly in the group. Oh!” Madison perked up and briefly held her hand in the air. “My vote is on Amber.”

Riley rolled her eyes and threaded their fingers together. “You’re terrible, Maddie.”

“We should get Aaron something for his new desk job life,” Madison proposed with renewed cheerfulness. There was a skip to her step as her wedge heels clicked against the concrete.

Seven pointed out a novelty gag-gift store. “How about a red stapler or a mug that tells people to go away?”

• • •

The twenty-fifth floor was closed off to the majority of Trusics’s employees. Except for the occasional company event, the entire level was dedicated to the dining and hosting experiences of managers and the higher ups. The level, unlike most of the glass offices, didn’t have glass walls aside from the floor to wall window paneling. The building’s architecture was made with a view in mind. The majority of the room was a giant empty space with the exception of a back kitchen. Marble tiles spanned the floor and thick and wide deep mahogany panels covered the walls. It was like walking into a five-star restaurant.

A stage had been built and placed against the farthest wall. A podium loomed tall, front and center. At either side of the stage were two cameras broadcast the seminar throughout the building, since it wasn’t ideal to cram every employee into the same floor.

Riley, with friends in tow, had been invited to the twenty-fifth floor to watch the seminar in person. Niall, the Branch Director, was scheduled to speak, along with a member from PR, HR, and their tech team. She scanned the rows of seats, trying to find a vacant area large enough to seat them all together. Riley hadn’t seen so many cubare gathered in one place in a very time a long time. In the end they had to settle for splitting into two rows off to one side. Heather, James, and Aaron grabbed three seats in the row in front of Riley, Seven, and Madison.