MacRieve

TWENTY-SEVEN

It’s just like reps, Chlo.

She figured there were about a dozen bites of sandwich that she had to get down. Then she could reward herself with whiskey, possibly getting drunk like last night and passing out.

Anything to end this day.

First bite. She used to love burned grilled cheeses. Second bite. Tastes like cardboard. Third. She could do this!

It wasn’t just her utter lack of appetite that was freaking her out. If MacRieve hated her so much—and he’d just made that clear yet again—then why keep her here? This compound was huge, but he’d ordered her to stay here with one wall between them. She’d locked the adjoining door, for all the good that would do.

He should’ve let her go with those two succubae at the wall. How badly Chloe wanted to talk to someone of her own . . . species. To discover how to control her powers and her new strength. To determine a way around having to feed.

To find out about her mother and ancestors.

Until Chloe was able to escape this place, she’d have no answers. She set her plate aside and tilted her head at her room’s TV. If it was connected to the internet, could she get a message out?

To who? Her friends on the team? She’d never involve them in this. With a start, she realized she might never see them again—

The adjoining door to MacRieve’s room burst open, the lock broken. “You doona ever lock a door against me.” His expression was enraged. “Understand me? And why the hell would you take my whiskey?”

She was presently experiencing the worst day of her life; she didn’t need any more of his shit! “Because I want to get drunk and act like the last two days never happened.”

He seemed confused that she was glaring at him. “What reason do you have to look at me like that? You’re the one who hid what you were!”

“I didn’t know what I was!”

“How could you no’ sense something was wrong?”

“I believed there was a chance I was becoming immortal, but I didn’t know what kind. Yet you knew you had a freaking monster in you just waiting to surface.”

“I told you that.”

“You said you might get a wee bit bigger, or some bullshit. Everything you say is bullshit!” And she’d bought his every line—believing herself halfway in love with him. “I might be a succubus, but at least I’m not a liar.”

MacRieve was bristling. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You told me I was part of the clan, that I was one of you. You told me you’d protect me, treasure me, and that no one would ever hurt me again. You told me we’d have eternity together, like a freaking Hallmark card! And at the first opportunity you were hauling my ass to the wall, threatening to cut off my head.”

“I would have kept those promises—if you had no’ transformed.”

“That’s why promises are made, asshole! To be kept no matter the situation.”

“No’ to your kind,” he said simply, as if explaining a new truth to her.

“No, you usually kill my kind. Just like you kill all Pravus creatures you come across,” she said, her voice rising with each word. “Oh, and vampires too! Exactly how is this different from what you’re accusing my dad of?”

“You dare compare me to him?”

“Yeah, I just did. After the way you’ve treated me, I’m beginning to see his side of things. You’re teaching me to see things his way!” She was one decibel shy of screeching.

“I war with evil creatures. Those that like to murder, rape, and torment—”

“I’m a succubus, and I’m not evil!”

“Mayhap no’ yet. You’re still playing at being human.” He cast a cruel smirk at her half-eaten sandwich. “Trying to choke it down?”

“I don’t have a choice—because I refuse to feed off another. The idea is horrifying to me.”

She thought she saw a flash of surprise on his face before he disguised it. “You’ll come to crave it soon enough. Your kind enjoys nothing more than feeding. Parasites, every one of you. And doona forget that your eyes were rolling back in your head this morning when you drank me down.”

She shuddered. “That’s all in the past. Now that I know what I’m up against, I’ll prevail.”

“You canna change what you are. As young as you are, you’ll start strewing soon, emitting your chemicals. You’re a ticking time bomb.”

“I won’t. I’ll figure out a way to control it.”

“You get hungry enough, there will no’ be control. You’ll get so aroused, reason will leave your brain. Your claws will flare, and you’ll want to sink them into whatever luckless bastard happens to be close by. This is your life now; best accept the realities.”

A life without soccer or friends or a dad.

MacRieve seemed to take great relish in reminding her, “There’ll be no Olympics for you. Doubt you’d pass a piss test. Since you canna piss.”

Her lips parted.

“Aye, that’s right. Like the vampires, you’ve no bodily functions. Just another example of how wrong you are. No wonder your father abandoned you.”

MacRieve was enjoying this, tearing her down little by little. Like he was getting revenge against her—when she’d never done anything to him. Enough. “Good to know, Head Case.” How apropos of Rónan. “Now, as much as you’re clearly getting off on dishing out pain to me, I’m done accepting it. Find someone else to spank, because the only thing I’ve done wrong with you is to trust all your mate bullshit.” She reached for the TV remote, ignoring MacRieve as she might an aggressive fanboy.

“You doona seek to curry favor with me? Your life is in my hands, and yet you are defiant?”

Get used to it, dickwad.

But MacRieve was not to be ignored. “Look at me.” Before she could blink, he’d leapt atop her, pinning her arms over her head. “I said to look at me.”

The weight of his body was crushing, his erection like a steel beam pressing against her. Despite her hatred of him, she felt herself responding.

Why couldn’t she turn off this arousal? Was it a succubus thing? Or a MacRieve thing? After all, the traits that had attracted her before remained unchanged—his sigh-worthy body, his golden eyes, his firm lips . . . his talented tongue.

A flash memory of his mouth between her legs made her heart thud and her nipples go hard. Don’t think about that!

“When you get hungry enough, you’ll come crawling to me.”

She refused to look away. “Never. You disgust me.” His treatment of her did.

He inhaled deeply. “Nay, disgust is no’ what you’re feeling. I can scent how much you want me inside you.”

Her cheeks flamed, because it was true. She was aching for something to fill her. “What’s the difference between that scent and strew?”

He seemed surprised by her question. “A mate’s arousal would make a Lykae desperate to get her somewhere alone to tup. Strew would make a male rip off a succubus’s clothes to rut her on the spot. Would no’ matter if the entire clan was watching.”

Would he do that if she strewed? “Like I said, I’ll eat regular food. Then there’ll be no need for any strew. We don’t ever have to touch again.”

With an angry shove, he thrust his erection over her again. “You think you’ll be able to keep your hands off me?”

She couldn’t deny her physical reaction to him. But she would make sure he understood exactly what was going on. “Say I do get turned on by you—even though I despise you. What’s the difference between what you’re doing to me, and what you think I’ll do to you?”

He scowled. “What are you talking about?”

“If you make me want you against my will, then who’s the succubus? Your looks are your strew. Explain to me the difference.”

A troubled expression flashed over his face before his hatred blazed through once more. “I would never use my looks to rape others.”

She shoved at him. Even with her new strength, she couldn’t budge him. “You don’t have to fear that from me, MacRieve. I’d rather starve to death. I’d look forward to it, before I ever fed from you.”

He released her and rose, gave her a withering look. “I’ll remember that when you’re pleading with me to fuck you. And when I deny you again and again. . . .”