Drained: The Lucid (33 page)

“I didn’t say I wasn’t interested. I want you, Morgan. Trust me when I say that,” Riley emphasized. “But you know that things are different between us.”

Morgan’s cheeks visibly flushed. “And you have a girlfriend.”

This had nothing to do with Amber, but Riley didn’t need to voice that. She knew that Morgan believed her refusal was wrapped in a fidelity to a relationship she no longer had. It was easier to let her continue to believe that than admit the truth.

“Couldn’t you act like I’m one of your other nightly stops?” Morgan reasoned.

Riley’s mouth drooped at its edges. “You know it’s not the same. You’re not just anyone.”

“Can’t you try?” Morgan’s voice sounded desperate.

“I can’t pretend that you’re not you. You’re not just another mark. And if we did anything, it would mean something.” Riley hesitated. “At least it would for me. And
that
makes it wrong.”

She couldn’t pursue that level of intimacy. Lucid or not, Morgan’s intentions were not something she knew how to read. Fleeting moments she’d witnessed could have been nothing more than her own imagination, wishful thinking that would deflate her if they were one-sided. Morgan had tentatively pushed their limits physically, but Riley could have merely been her test subject.

Morgan nodded, looking glum. The floor had become very interesting.

Riley grabbed Morgan’s slender biceps and pulled her closer. “Don’t be sad, okay?” she whispered. “I don’t want our last days to be like this.”

Hazel-green eyes refused to look up. “You make it sound permanent.”

“It’s not. Only a year.” Riley forced what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

“You’re right,” Morgan agreed. “The end of days shouldn’t be like this.”

“And the way
I
stated it sounded too ‘permanent?’” Riley teased but Morgan refused to acknowledge the joke. She cupped Morgan’s face and gently forced her chin up until they made eye contact. “Don’t be sad. Please.” With reluctance she pulled away from the contact and dropped both hands at her sides.

Morgan reached out to fiddle with the succubus’s wristwatch. The timepiece countdown was closing in on zero. “You’re going to have to leave soon,” she stated dully.

Riley fell silent at the words. She continued to stare at Morgan, who was still avoiding eye contact. She could try to reason with herself and provide a multitude of reasons why this was a bad idea, but to make Morgan happy, she would ignore both her heart and her head.

Finally, deciding, Riley took hold of Morgan’s face once again. “No. I don’t.”

She stroked her thumbs across Morgan’s cheekbones and fell into a watery hazel-green stare.
Sorry, Riley.
She was immortal; if she was lucky, the beating organ in her chest would eventually forgive her.

Entangling her fingers within Morgan’s long hair, Riley pulled her into a crushing, desperate kiss. It was eager, lustful, and long overdue.

And then she saw it—the beginning glow of yellow energy flowing through Morgan’s body.

“What’s wrong?” Morgan panted, brow furrowed and annoyed that Riley had once again stopped.

“Are you sure about this?” Riley tested, pulling back even further.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You understand that if I don’t drain your energy, I’ll get ejected from the dream.” She no longer had a private reserve on which to rely. “It won’t hurt you. But …”

“You don’t want me to feel like you’re using me,” Morgan finished for her.

Riley nodded.

“How badly do you want this, Riley?”

“I think you know.” Riley’s voice was hoarse.

“I know the rules.” Morgan took the succubus’s hands in her own and brushed her lips against her knuckles. “And I want you. I know you won’t hurt me.”

“You know, I wouldn’t have to drain you if this was out of the realm.”

Morgan smiled coyly. “I know, but I want you
right now.
So …”

“I guess I’ll have to make that Christmas wish come true.” Riley smirked, starting to feel like herself again.

“Well, I have been good all year,” Morgan teased.

“A little
too
good for my liking,” Riley returned.

“Let’s change that.” Morgan touched the side of Riley’s face.

Her eyes fluttered shut at the warm touch, and she leaned into Morgan’s hand. She felt Morgan’s mouth brush against her lips again and a soft sigh escaped into the space between their parted mouths.

Morgan placed more pressure against her mouth as if challenging Riley to deny her for a second time that night. This time, however, as Riley’s hands came to firmly rest on Morgan’s hips, she wouldn’t be turned away.

It had been up to Morgan to push the succubus beyond her unfathomable self-control, but now that she had Morgan’s repeated consent, Riley took back the reins and the pacing of their encounter. Riley pushed Morgan back onto the couch with her fingertips against her collarbone and straddled her lap. Morgan’s hands roamed over Riley’s body, exploring her contours, but still mildly hesitant.

Riley pushed the grey cardigan down Morgan’s shoulders; the garment bunched at her elbows, restricting her arm movements. She cared less about her own pleasure that night and more about Morgan’s. She peppered wet kisses down the expanse of her throat.

Riley ground against the woman straddled between her thighs, eliciting tortured moans from them both. The fire in the mantle sparked, blazing hotter. The temperature in the room perceptibly spiked with each feverish touch, each fervent kiss. Riley wanted to slip her hand beneath the waistband of those damn yoga pants and slide her fingers through the arousal that she knew was waiting for her. Instead, she kept her fists balled in the material of Morgan’s sweater, not wanting to go too fast for either of them.

The strap of Morgan’s lilac camisole slid off her shoulder, and Riley greedily pounced on the newly exposed skin. She kissed her way down Morgan’s neck, rotating between light pressure and playful nips. Riley usually talked through her seduction, murmuring encouraging words and promises of what was to come, but she partly feared that anything more substantial than a groan or sigh would have them watching Christmas movies instead of following through with this. There would be time for movies later. Much, much later.

The yellow energy glow was like a halo enveloping Morgan’s body. She needed to feed before her watch reached zero.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. You’re beautiful.” Riley held Morgan lightly at the elbows. “Are you sure about this?” she asked again. She’d never asked for permission before.

“Stop being so noble.”

Riley wet her lips and parted her mouth. She watched as the yellow vapor whirled before it inched into her parted lips. The taste was crisp, and there was a subtle sweetness. But the feeling was fleeting as the yellow haze that passed through Riley overwhelmed her senses. Her eyes widened as the energy passed her and settled into her watch. “Holy sh …”

“Are you okay?”

Riley blinked a few times and shook her head. “Yeah. Head rush.”

Morgan worried her bottom lip. “Is that a good thing?”

Riley’s nostrils flared and she felt herself slipping into her primordial senses. She licked her lips. Morgan was a gold star.

“A very good thing,” she purred. Riley slid off the couch and onto her knees. The throw rug was thin, and she could feel the bite of solid ground, but she wasn’t about to waste time over comfort. She pulled Morgan’s top up, revealing the flat abdomen that had been hidden beneath. Pressing eager kisses against Morgan’s stomach, Riley smiled as she felt the skin twitch and flex beneath her attentions.

“I want this in the waking world,” Riley murmured against the taut skin. Outside of dreams, she wouldn’t need to wait on a full name for consent. She wouldn’t have to work around sleep schedules or alarms on watches. But mostly, in the waking world, she could make whatever they had real. It would be more than a fantasy, more than a dream for Morgan to dismiss. And because of that, just maybe she’d be brave enough to pursue it.

“You will,” Morgan panted aloud. “One day.” She arched into Riley’s worshiping mouth. “Ambre.”

Riley’s head snapped up. “Are you
trying
to ruin this?” she scowled.

“No! I don’t mean
her.
I mean …” Morgan gathered a deep breath. “Morgan Ambre Sullivan. And it’s spelt a-m-b-r-e, thank you very much.”

Riley’s mouth gaped. “Your name … How do you know about cubare consent?”

Morgan smirked down at the kneeling woman. “You forget this isn’t my first rodeo, Succubus.”

Before Riley could fully appreciate what Morgan had declared, there was a sound at the front of the house, like the doorknob rattling.

“What’s wrong?” Morgan looked concerned.

Riley covered Morgan’s mouth. She brought her lips to Morgan’s ear. “Shh.”

The warm breath against the shell of her ear caused Morgan to involuntarily shudder. Riley pulled Morgan from the couch. “You need to wake up.”

Morgan’s eyes were wide with fright and confusion. “I don’t know how. I usually wait around until I’m sent back.”

Riley jerked open a door and mentally cursed when she saw the jackets hanging from the straight bar and the rain galoshes that lined the floor. “In there,” she urged.

Morgan willingly went inside the closet.

From the corridor, Riley eyeballed the confined space. Another sound rang, this time from the kitchen. The sound of breaking glass was distinct. Someone was breaking in. More than one cubare could access a mark at the same time, but only with the main contracting agent’s permission. She had not, however, given anyone permission to access Morgan’s dream realm. And Trusics had made it nearly impossible for independent cubare to access database clients by way of binding user agreements.

Riley weighed her options. She could risk a fight with the unwelcome guest, or she could hide, but Morgan decided for her, grabbing her wrist and dragging her inside the closet. Riley squeezed her eyes shut as the walls of the closet immediately crushed in on her. Morgan tugged on her arm, pulling her down, and her knees struck hard against the closet floor. She bit back a pained cry; beyond the closed closet door were the unmistakable sounds of an intruder rummaging.

She breathed out harshly through her nose, convinced she was going to suffocate. She could hear glass shattering and loud, stomping boots coming from the rest of the house, but facing whomever was out there had to be better than drowning in a closet.

A calm voice met her ear. “I’m right here.” Morgan’s fingers tightened around her shoulder.

Riley’s breathing shallowed. Her eyes fluttered open and she took purchase of an umbrella. She pulled herself into a defensive stance, ready to strike. If the intruder opened the closet door, she refused to cower in a corner, leaving Morgan vulnerable to another cubare.

As abrupt as the intrusion had been, the noise settled just as quickly. Morgan met Riley’s eyes as they waited in silence. Riley took another breath and reached for the door handle to let them out of the closet. She slowly twisted the handle, grimacing at the metallic click that, to her ears, sounded louder than a gunshot. Gingerly, she pushed the door open, only sticking her head out of the closet when she was more confident they were alone once again.

Riley’s brain couldn’t compute the scene before her. Morgan’s home had been torn apart, drawers pulled open and their contents scattered on the ground. Framed photographs had been knocked from their shelves, the glass panels cracked and spiderwebbed.

Morgan carefully tiptoed through the debris to avoid injury from the broken glass. “Riley?” Her voice was littered with confusion. “What happened out here?”

Riley leaned against the hallway wall and hugged herself. “Someone broke into your house.”

Morgan bent at the waist and retrieved a stack of strewn papers. “How?”

“Did you … so I would stop?” Riley’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Morgan regarded her with disbelief. “You seriously believe my subconscious conjured a burglar so we’d be forced to stop having sex?”

Riley folded her arms across her chest. “Believe it? No. But would it surprise me? Also, no. Your dreams have been anything but traditional from the beginning.”

Morgan’s features crumbled. “It wasn’t me,” she quietly asserted. “At least … I don’t think I’d sabotage myself like that. Is there any other explanation for all of this?” she asked, opening her arms to gesture to the chaos around them. She scooped a handful of scattered papers off the floor. “Were they looking for something?”

“Besides you?” Riley pointed out.

“I don’t think I’m small enough to hide in a desk drawer.” Morgan scanned over the sea of broken dishes, displaced drawers, and paper that littered the floor. Even the vase from the hallway hadn’t survived the break in. Its broken pieces and the bouquet of yellow weeds was lying in the long corridor in a puddle of water. “Was this a warning? Intimidation? Are there creatures beyond incubi and succubi that can come into my dreams?” The questions rattled off her tongue as quickly as they came to her mind.

Riley crouched and began picking up the debris. As she retrieved a blank envelope, something clicked. “I think they were looking for your name,” she said. “They were looking for your full name or an address—any kind of information that could bring them closer to you. Why else look in a desk?”

“This is beyond creepy.” Morgan shuddered. “Oh God, this explains the other night.”

“What are you talking about?”

The human’s arms wrapped snugly around herself. “A week ago I thought I heard a noise out in the yard.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well, you know firsthand how weird my dreams are.” Morgan gestured to their surroundings and thunder rumbled in the background. “The noise stopped, and I woke up. If I had thought it was serious I would have told you, but I honestly thought it was the weather acting up.”

Riley bit at her thumbnail as her attention went back to the chaotic state of the home. “They can already access your dreams,” she said, thinking aloud. “They’re trying to find you in the waking world.”

Morgan quietly gasped. “They can do that?”