Succubus Blues (29 page)

“What's the matter?”

“How many?” I whispered to him.

“How many what?”

“How many nephilim are in the city?”

“T
wo,” he said after a moment's hesitation. “Just two.” “Just two,” I repeated flatly, thinking
oh shit
. “Is that including you?”

“Yes.”

I rubbed my temples, wondering how I could warn Jerome and Carter that we had two nephilim to deal with now. No one had mentioned that possibility.

“Someone should have known that,” I muttered, more to myself than to Roman. “Someone should have sensed it…there would have been two different nephilim signatures. That's how Jerome knew it was you. You have a unique signature—no one else has it.”

“No one else,” Roman agreed with a smirk, “except my sister.”

Oh shit.

“Jerome didn't mention more than one—ah.” I blinked in sudden understanding. Jerome, by his own admission, hadn't actually been around for the birth. “Twins? Or…more?” The archdemon could have fathered quintuplets for all I knew.

Roman shook his head, still highly amused at my deductions. “Only twins. Just the two of us.”

“So this is a family act then? You two hit the road together, going from town to town, wreaking havoc…”

“Nothing so glamorous, love. Usually it's just me. My sister tries to keep a low profile—spends more time on her job and living her life. She doesn't really get caught up in grand machinations.”

“Then how'd you rope her into this one?” Again, I thought about Erik's words, how most nephilim simply wished to be left alone.

“She lives here. In Seattle. We're on her turf, so I talked her into going in on the final kill with me. She wasn't really into any of the stuff with the lesser immortals.”

“Except beating on me,” I pointed out.

“I am sorry about that. I think you pissed her off.”

“I don't even know her,” I exclaimed, wondering which was worse: a nephilim in love with me or a nephilim holding a grudge.

He just smiled. “I wouldn't be so sure of that.” He reached out to touch me, almost casually, and I backed away, making his smile slip. “Now what's wrong?”

“What do you mean? You think you can just dump this on me and then expect things to be all peachy between us?”

“Well, why not? Honestly, what have you got left to worry about?” I opened my mouth to protest, but he continued before I could speak: “I've already told you, I'm not going to hurt you or any of your friends. The only person left on my list is someone you don't even know or care about. That's it. End of story.”

“Oh yeah? What'll happen then? After you kill Carter?”

He shrugged. “Then I leave. I'll find someplace to hang out for a while. Probably teach again.” He leaned toward me, holding my gaze. “You could come with me, you know.”

“What?”

“Think about it.” He spoke eagerly, excitement growing with each word. “You and me. You could settle down and do all the things you like to do—your books, your dancing—without any immortal politics to muck your life up.”

I scoffed. “Hardly. It's not like I can stop being a succubus. I still need sex to survive.”

“Yes, yes, I know you'd still have to tag the occasional victim, but think about the times in between. You and me. Together. Being with someone you don't have to worry about hurting. Being with someone simply for the pleasure of it, not for survival. No superiors to harass you about meeting your quotas.”

Seth came to mind just then, part of me idly wondering what it'd be like to be with him “just for pleasure.”

Shifting back to my harsh reality, I told Roman, “I can't just run off. Seattle is my post. I have people to answer to; they wouldn't let me leave.”

Cupping my face in his hands, he whispered, “Georgina, Georgina. I can protect you from them. I have the power to hide you. You can live your own life. No more answering to the bureaucracy above. We can be free.”

Those hypnotic eyes hooked me like a fish on a line. For centuries, I had lived out immortality achingly alone, bouncing from one short-term relationship to another, ending any connection that got too deep. Now, Roman was here. I was attracted to him, and I didn't have to push him away. I couldn't hurt him through physical contact. We could be together. We could wake up together. We could live out eternity together. I would never have to be lonely again.

Longing surged up within me. I wanted it. Oh God, I wanted it. I didn't want to hear Jerome chastise me for my “all lowlifes, all the time” seduction policy. I wanted to come home and tell someone about my day. I wanted to go out dancing on the weekends. I wanted to take vacations together. I wanted someone to hold me when I was upset, when the ups and downs of the world pushed me too far.

I wanted someone to love.

His words blazed through me, piercing my heart. I knew, however, they were only that: words. Eternity is a long time; we couldn't hide forever. Eventually we'd be found, or when Roman finally got destroyed on one of his “protest” missions, I'd be exposed and have a lot of angry demons to answer to. He was offering me a child's dream, an impractical fantasy with a short-lived, doomed run.

Furthermore, running off with Roman meant complying with the outcome of this insane plot of his. Logically, I could understand his angst and desire to lash back. I felt for his sister—even if she inexplicably hated me—who simply wanted to live an ordinary life. I had seen slaughter and bloodshed over the years, the extinction of entire populations of people whose names and cultures no one remembered today. To live with that over and over throughout these long millennia, to always be on the run, hiding simply because of an accident of birth…yes, perhaps I would be pissed off too.

Yet, I still could not see that as sufficient reason for the random killing of immortals, simply to “prove a point.” The fact that I knew these immortals personally made it worse. Carter's attitude still unnerved me, yes, but he had saved my life, and my days with him hadn't been unbearable. If anything, Roman should laud the angel. The nephilim's biggest complaint was that immortals stayed locked into archaic sets of rules and roles, but Carter had broken the mold: an angel who chose friendship with his hypothetical enemies. He and Jerome typified the kind of rebellious, nonconforming lifestyle so advocated by Roman.

Too bad that didn't seem to be enough to dissuade the nephilim. I wondered if I could.

“No,” I told him. “I can't do it. And you don't have to do it either.”

“Do what?”

“This plot. Killing Carter. Just let him go. Let it all go. Violence only begets more violence, not peace.”

“I'm sorry, love. I can't. There's no peace for my kind.”

I reached out and touched his face. “You call me that, but do you really mean it? Do you love me?”

He caught his breath, and I suddenly realized he could be just as hypnotized by my eyes as I was by his. “Yes. I do.”

“Then do this for me if you love me. Walk away. Walk away from Seattle. I…I'll go with you if you do.”

I hadn't realized I'd meant it until the words escaped my lips. Running off was a child's fantasy, true, but it would be worth it if I could avert what was to come.

“You mean it?”

“Yes. As long as you can keep me safe.”

“I can keep you safe, but…”

He stepped away from me and paced around, running a hand through his hair in consternation.

“I can't walk away,” he finally told me. “Almost anything in the world I would do for you, but not this. You can't imagine what it's been like. You think immortality's been cruel to you? Imagine what it's like always running, always watching your back. I have just as much trouble settling down as you. Thank God for my sister. She's the only one I have, the only mainstay in my life. The only one I loved—until you, at least.”

“She can come with us…”

He closed his eyes. “Georgina, when my mother was still alive—millennia ago—we lived in a camp with some of the other nephilim and their mothers. We were always running, always trying to stay ahead of those pursuing us. One night…I'll never forget it. They found us, and I swear, Armageddon itself could never be so terrible. I don't even know who did it—angels, demons, or whatever. I mean, when it comes down to it, they're all the same really. Beautiful and terrible.”

“Yes,” I whispered. “I've seen them.”

“Then you know what they can do. They swept in and just destroyed everyone. It didn't matter who. Nephilim children. Humans. Everyone was considered a liability.”

“But you escaped?”

“Yes. We were lucky. Most weren't.” He turned back to look at me. His heartache made my eyes burn. “Do you see now? Do you see now why I have to do this?”

“You only further the bloodshed.”

“I know, Georgina. For Christ's sake, I know. But I have no choice.”

I saw in his face then that he hated being a part of that bloodshed, part of the same destructive behavior that had haunted his childhood. But I also saw that he was inextricably tied to that. He could not escape it. He had lived too long, so much longer than me. The years of fear and anger and blood had twisted him. He had to see this game played out.

I fight every day to not let the past overtake me. Sometimes I win, sometimes it does.

“I have no choice,” he repeated, face desperate. “But you do. I still want you to come with me when I'm done.”

A choice. Yes, I did have a choice. A choice between him and Carter. Or did I? Was there anything I could do to save Carter at this point? Did I want to save Carter? For all I knew, Carter had slaughtered countless nephilim children over the years in the name of good. Maybe he deserved the punishment Roman wanted to mete out. What were good and evil, really, but stupid categories? Stupid categories that restricted people and punished or rewarded them based on how they responded to their own natures, natures they really didn't have any way to control.

Roman was right. The system was flawed. I just didn't know what to do about it.

What I needed was time. Time to think about all of this, time to figure out a way that would save angel and nephilim both, if such a feat were possible. I didn't know how to buy that time, though, not with Roman standing there staring at me, aflame with his romantic notion of running off together.

Time. I needed time and had no idea how to get it. I had no powers to help in a situation like this. If Roman decided I was a threat, I would be unable to fight against him.
A nephilim could easily blow one of you out of the water.
I could not pull divine strings and contracts like Hugh, had no superhuman reflexes and strength like Cody and Peter. I was a succubus. I changed shape and had sex with men. That was it.

That was it…

“W
ell?” Roman asked softly. “What do you think? Will you go with me?”

“I don't know,” I replied, looking down. “I'm afraid.” A tremulous note hung in my voice.

He turned my face toward his, obviously concerned. “Afraid of what?”

I looked at him through my lashes. It was a demure action. Vulnerable, even. Hard to resist. I hoped.

“Of…of them. I want to…but I don't think…I don't think we could ever be free. You can't hide from them, Roman. Not forever.”

“We can,” he breathed, putting his arms around me, his heart swelling at my fear. I didn't resist at all, letting him press his body up against mine. “I told you. I can protect you. I'll find the angel tomorrow, and we'll leave the next day. It's that easy.”

“Roman…” I stared up at him, my eyes wide, the look of one overcome with some emotion. Hope, maybe. Passion. Wonder. I saw my expression mirrored in his own, and when he leaned down to kiss me, I didn't stop him this time. I even kissed him back. It had been a long time since I'd kissed simply for the sake of kissing, for the feel of his tongue gently pushing into my mouth, lips caressing mine as his hands held me tightly to him.

I could have kissed like that forever, just enjoying the physical sensation, devoid of any succubus feeding. It was magnificent. Intoxicating, even. There was no fear. Roman wanted more than kissing, however, and when he pulled me down, right onto my living room carpet, I didn't stop him then either.

Obvious heat and yearning filled his body. Yet, he moved carefully and slowly over me, showing a restraint that surprised and impressed me. I slept with so many guys that yielded right away to their own needs that it was downright astonishing to have someone apparently concerned with my fulfillment.

No way was I complaining.

He kept his body against mine, so there was no space between us as he continued kissing me. Eventually he moved from my mouth to my ear, tracing it with his tongue and lips before shifting to my neck. My neck has always been one of my more erogenous places, and I exhaled a trembling breath as that clever tongue slowly stroked the sensitive skin, making gooseflesh rise. I arched my body into his, letting him know he could have expedited things if he wanted, but he seemed to be in no hurry.

Down, down he moved, kissing my breasts through the delicate charmeuse of my shirt until the fabric was wet and clung to my nipples. I sat up so he could pull the shirt off me entirely. While he was at it, he slid off the skirt too, so I was left only in panties. Still focused on my breasts, however, he continued kissing and touching them, varying between soft, feathery kisses and hard, biting ones that threatened to leave flowering purple bruises. At last he slid down, trailing his tongue along the smooth skin of my stomach, pausing when he finally reached my thighs.

Meanwhile, I was a wreck, aching and desperate to touch his body in return. But when I reached for him, he gently pushed my wrists to the floor. “Not yet,” he admonished.

I guess that was just as well since I was supposed to be doing something with time here. Buying it, right? Yeah, that was it. I was delaying so I could figure out a plan. A plan that I'd get to…later.

“Magenta,” he observed, running his fingers along the panties. They were flimsy, barely a collection of scraps of lace and sheer material. “Who'd have guessed?”

“I almost never wear any clothes in the pink and magenta family,” I admitted, “but for some reason I love lingerie in those colors. And black, of course.”

“It suits you. You can shape-shift these on anytime, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

He reached out and, with one deft motion, ripped them off. “Because they're in my way.”

Bending down, he pushed my thighs apart and buried his face between them. His tongue moved slowly over the edges of my lips and then darted forward to stroke my burning, swollen clit. Moaning, I lifted and ground my hips into him, trying to get more of my aching need fulfilled. Once again, he pushed me back to the floor, taking his time, letting his tongue circle and tease me, driving me into higher and higher pleasure. Every time I seemed about to peak, he would pull back and move his tongue down, letting it actually probe inside me where I was growing wetter.

When he finally let me come, I did so loudly and wildly, my body practically thrashing as he held me down and continued sucking and tasting through my spasms. By then, I was so sensitive and dizzy that his touch was almost too much. I heard myself begging him to stop, even as he made me come again.

Easing up, he released me and backed off, watching as the blissful spasms in my body slowed down. Between us, we had his clothes off in about two seconds, and he laid his body over mine, pressing bare skin against bare skin. When my hands slid down, grasping and stroking his erection, he sighed with palpable bliss.

“Oh God, Georgina,” he breathed, eyes on mine. “Oh God. You have no idea how much I want you.”

Didn't I?

I guided him toward me, sliding him inside. My body opened to him, welcoming him like a piece of myself I'd been missing, and he moved in and out of me with long, controlled strokes, watching my face and gauging how each angle and motion affected me.

I'm buying time,
I thought sagely, but as he pinned my wrists to the floor, claiming ownership of my body with each thrust, I knew I lied to myself. This was about more than just buying time to warn Jerome and Carter. This was about me. It was selfish. I had continuously craved Roman over the last few weeks, and now I had him. Not only that, but it was exactly as he had said: there was no survival here, only pleasure. I had had sex with other immortals before but not in some time. I had forgotten what it was like to not have someone else's thoughts in my head, to simply luxuriate in my own sensations.

We moved with a practiced rhythm, like our bodies did this together all the time. Those controlled strokes grew more savage, less precise. Harder and fiercer he brought himself into me, like he was going to go through the floor. Someone was making a lot of noise, and I realized distantly that it was me. I was sort of losing track of what was around me, of coherent thought. There was only my body's response, the building force that consumed me and set me on fire and still made me demand more. I longed for completion and urged him on, bringing my body up to meet his and clenching the muscles around him.

He gasped as he felt me grow tighter. His eyes burned with a near-primitive passion. “I want to see you come again,” he gasped out. “Come for me.”

For whatever reason, it only took that command to finish me off, to plunge me over the edge of that dizzying ecstasy. I cried out more loudly, my throat long since gone hoarse. Whatever expression I wore, it was enough to drive him into his own finish. No sound came out as his lips parted, but he closed his eyes and held himself inside me after a final hard thrust, shaking with pleasure.

When he had finished, his body still trembling with the force of his orgasm, he rolled off me onto his back, sweaty and satisfied. I turned toward him, splaying my fingers on his chest, admiring the lean muscles and tanned flesh of his body.

“You're beautiful,” I told him, taking a nipple into my mouth.

“You aren't so bad yourself,” he murmured, stroking my hair. Perspiration rolled off my body too, making some of the strands damp and curl up more than usual. “Is this you? Your real shape?”

I shook my head, surprised by the question. I trailed my lips up to his neck. “I've only worn that body once since becoming a succubus. A long time ago.” Pausing mid-kiss, I asked, “You want something different? I can be anything you want me to be, you know.”

He grinned, flashing those white teeth. “One of the perks of loving a succubus, no doubt.” Sitting up, he scooped me into his arms and then rose, slightly wobbly with the added weight. “But no. Ask me in another century, maybe, and I might have a different answer. For now, I've got a lot more to learn about this body.”

He carried me off to my bedroom, where we made love in a slower, slightly more civilized manner, our bodies twining together like ribbons of liquid fire. With that initial animalism somewhat satisfied, we lingered longer now, exploring the different ways each person's body responded. We spent most of the night cycling through a pattern: slow and loving, fast and furious, rest, repeat. I grew exhausted somewhere around three and finally gave in to sleep, resting my head against his chest, ignoring the nagging worries in the back of my mind.

I woke up a few hours later, sitting bolt upright as the previous night's events came slamming back into me with sharper clarity. I'd gone to sleep in a nephilim's arms. Talk about vulnerability. Yet…here I was, still alive. Roman lay beside me, snug and warm, Aubrey at his feet. Both of them regarded me with tired, squinty eyes, wondering at my sudden motion.

“What's the matter?” he asked, stifling a yawn.

“N-nothing,” I assured him. Removed from passion, I found myself able to think a bit more clearly. What had I done? Sleeping with Roman might have bought me time, but I was no closer to finding some way out of this crazy situation.

Lying there, I caught sight of Carter's daffodils, and they jolted me into a decision. The flowers themselves had only been part of a small act, but something about them made me realize I could not sit passively by and let Roman kill Carter. I had to act, no matter the risk, no matter the likelihood of failure.
We all have moments of weakness. It's how we recover from them that really counts.

It didn't matter if I loved the nephilim and hated the angel, neither of which was entirely true. This was more about me, about the kind of person I was. I had spent centuries hurting men for my own survival, often devastatingly so, but I could not be a part of premeditated murder, no matter how noble the cause. I hadn't reached that stage of life. Not yet.

I blinked back sudden tears, overwhelmed by what I had to do. What I had to do to Roman.

“Then go back to sleep,” he murmured, running a hand along my body, from waist to thigh.

Yes, I knew what I had to do. It was a long shot, hardly a solid plan, but I couldn't think of anything else to take advantage of Roman's current, off-guard mood.

“I can't,” I explained, starting to get out of bed. “I have to work.”

His eyes opened wider. “What? When?”

“I open. I need to be there in a half hour.”

He sat up, dismayed. “You work all day?”

“Yup.”

“I still had a few more things I wanted to do to you,” he mumbled, sliding an arm around my waist to pull me back, cupping a breast in his hand.

I leaned back into him, feigning being caught up in passion. All right, I wasn't exactly feigning.

“Mmm…” I turned my face toward his, brushing our lips together. “I could call in sick maybe…not that they'd believe it. I'm never sick, and they know it.”

“Fuck them,” he mumbled, pushing me back down into the bed, his hands growing bolder. “Fuck them so I can fuck you again.”

“Then let me up,” I laughed. “I can't call in like this.”

Reluctantly he released me, and I slid out of the bed, grinning back at him as I went. He watched me hungrily, like a cat sizing up prey. Honestly, I liked it.

That desire quickly melted into apprehension as I walked into the living room and picked up my portable phone. I had left all the room doors open, acting as casual and relaxed as possible, giving Roman no cause for alarm. Knowing he could probably hear me in the living room, I mentally rehearsed my words as I dialed Jerome's cell phone number.

Not surprisingly, however, the demon did not answer. Damn him. What good was our bond if I couldn't use it at will? Having anticipated this, I tried my next option: Hugh. If I got his cell's voice mail, I would be out of luck. I could not pull off my plan if I had to call his office number and wade through his arsenal of secretaries.

“Hugh Mitchell speaking.”

“Hey, Doug, it's Georgina.”

A pause. “Did you just call me Doug?”

“Look, I can't come in today. I think I've caught that bug that's been going around.”

Roman wandered out of my bedroom, and I smiled at him as he made his way to my refrigerator. Meanwhile, Hugh tried to make sense of my nonsense.

“Uh, Georgina…I think you dialed the wrong number.”

“No, I'm serious, Doug, so don't get smart with me. I can't come in, okay?”

Dead silence. Finally Hugh asked, “Georgina, are you all right?”

“No. I already told you that. Look, will you just pass it on?”

“Georgina, what's going on—”

“Well, I'm sure you'll figure out something,” I continued, “but it'll have to be without me. I'll try to be in tomorrow.”

I disconnected and looked up at Roman, shaking my head. “It would figure Doug was there. He definitely didn't believe me.”

“Knows you too well, huh?” he asked, drinking a glass of orange juice.

“Yeah, but he'll cover for me, despite his complaining. He's good like that.”

I tossed the phone onto the couch and approached Roman. Time for more distraction. I doubted Hugh would fully grasp the situation, but he would at least assume something wasn't right. As I had noted in the past, one couldn't live as long as an immortal did and be stupid. He would suspect something and hopefully hunt down Jerome. My job now was to keep the nephilim busy until the cavalry came.

“So what exactly was it you wanted to do to me?” I purred.

A number of things, as it turned out. We wound up back in my bedroom, and I discovered waiting out the time until Hugh could take action wasn't nearly as difficult as I had feared. Slight twinges of guilt tugged at me over enjoying Roman so much, especially now that I'd made my decision and called for help. He had murdered untold numbers of immortals and had designs on a near-friend. Still, I couldn't help my feelings. I was attracted to him—had been for a long time, even—and he was really, really good in bed.