Succubus Dreams

CHAPTER 6

I hadn't realized how late it was until I showed up at Seth's around two. He actually wasn't writing for a change, and I found him sprawled on the couch, flipping through late night television programming.

"Hey," I said, dropping my coat and purse near the door. He glanced up from the TV. Its light cast ghostly shadows on his face in the darkness. "Sorry it's so late. Something came up."

"Yeah," he said, voice still flat. "I can tell."

Immediately, I caught his meaning. It was a sign of how well he'd come to know me and recognize subtle succubus signals. I was wreathed in Jude's life energy. Immortals would actually perceive it as a literal glow. Mortals couldn't see it, but they could sense something insanely alluring and attractive about me. Usually, they just wrote it off as a sign of my beauty. Seth knew better. When he sensed it around me, he knew what I'd been doing.

I hated for him to see me like this, but it was inevitable. "Sorry. It's what I do. You know that."

"Yeah," he agreed, sounding tired—mentally tired, not physically tired. He straightened up. "But did you have to do it tonight? You trying to punish me for standing you up?"

I sat down in the armchair across from him. The energy from Jude burned through me and made me feel alive. I didn't want a fight with Seth to ruin my good mood, particularly after I'd been so annoyed for most of the evening.

"I did it to survive. I wasn't trying to get back at you."

He sighed and stared off into a dark corner. "It's so hard sometimes."

I moved over to the couch, scooting up beside him. "I know."

He slid his arm around my shoulders and regarded me with a look both tender and exasperated. Leaning down, he brushed his lips against my neck. The small touch made my blood burn.

"God, you're beautiful. I just wish it wasn't the result of some other guy."

"Yeah," I said. "Me too."

"Sorry I blew up."

"You call that blowing up?" I asked. "That was nothing."

"And I'm sorry I stood you up. That wasn't right."

Seth had moved up my neck and now nibbled my ear. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back.

"It's okay," I assured him. "Really."

"You're awfully forgiving."

"Hey, what can I say? Christmas love and kindness, right?"

He laughed and ran his fingers through my hair. "For someone allegedly so evil, you sure are good."

"Well," I said, pressing into him. "I'm not that good. I'm thinking some very bad thoughts right now."

"Yeah. Me too. If our thoughts condemn us, I think I'm headed straight for Hell."

"No, you aren't. Hugh says your soul's like a supernova. You're going straight to the pearly gates."

Warm love and desire enfolded us, supplanting the cold tension. Yet as we curled up and chatted about light topics, I couldn't help but morosely think this was a common scene between us. Fight. Brood. Apologize. Snuggle. In all the fantasies of a stable relationship that I'd harbored over the last millennium, this pattern had never been a part of them.

After a while, we sort of surpassed snuggling and moved onto something of a more adult nature. At least I did. Sometimes Seth could be coaxed into sating his lust, though it always made him incredibly self-conscious. Me, I loved watching him come. He was always so damnably blasé that seeing him lose control in an orgasm almost did more for me than my own climax.

He apparently had the same feelings toward me and was content to simply watch me touch myself tonight. After not getting off with Jude, I was more than happy to take things into my own hands. When I finished, languid and content afterward, he lay down on the couch beside me, lacing his fingers with mine.

"I don't think I'll ever get tired of that," he sighed.

"You should finish yourself off."

"I'm okay."

"You sure?"

He smiled. "Self-control, Thetis. Self-control. Besides, I have a good imagination. Sometimes it's enough to pretend I'm the one doing that to you."

I shivered as an image of Seth played in my mind, his body inside of me while I came, muscles clenching around him as I cried out his name and dug my nails into his back.

"Jesus," I said softly, closing my eyes.

"Yeah."

We realized then that it was really late and started getting ready for bed. When I emerged from the bathroom after brushing my teeth, I found him waiting for me in the bedroom with a small box. He handed it over.

"I told you I had an early present."

I turned the package over in my hands, running my fingertips over the edges. It had been wrapped in gold paper and had a red bow. Judging from the sloppy wrapping and misaligned ribbon, I was willing to bet he'd wrapped it himself. I offered up a small grin.

"It's way too early. Presents before Christmas? That's not right. I mean, I'm not that evil."

He sat back on the bed, leaning against the headboard, looking supremely pleased with himself. "Well, I am. I guess my soul just dimmed a little. Open it."

Sitting down as well, I hesitantly tore the paper. There was no question in my mind that this was a jewelry box. The question was: What kind? Seth occasionally showed a romantic spirit, but he wasn't the type to do anything crazy like propose. At least I didn't think so.

Hoping for a tennis bracelet, I instead found a ring. But it wasn't an engagement ring, not in the current way of thinking. It was one of the modern recreations of the Byzantine rings. Only this wasn't one of the ones we'd seen at Erik's, not exactly. It was platinum for one thing, glowing soft and silvery in the dim lighting. The smooth disc on top had a dolphin engraved in it, decorated with a few tiny, embedded sapphires.

I stared at it, unsure what to say.

"Do you like it?" Seth asked, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

"I…yeah. Yes, I do. Very much." My words came out haltingly.

"You seemed so sad about losing the other one that I thought maybe this would be a nice substitute."

He looked so rapt and excited that I couldn't bear to tell him that not only had I not lost the original ring, I'd actually hidden it away in the closet so as never to see it again. This one was very different, true, but the similarities were strong enough to dredge up all the dark feelings I tried to keep buried, memories of a sunny day long ago when my husband—the husband I'd eventually betrayed—had slipped the other one onto my finger at our wedding.

"It's beautiful," I said after a long stretch of silence, needing to reassure him. It had been very kind, after all. Seth didn't know my history or the pain intertwined with it. "Why a dolphin?"

"Yeah…it's kind of cutesy and trendy, but…well, none of those Greek letters meant much to me. But I read something about dolphins being important in old religions on Cyprus, so…"

That brought a true smile to my face. "Yeah. They were. Messengers from the sea gods. Good fortune and all that." Something occurred to me. "We saw these at Erik's, like, a couple days ago—but not this one. How'd you get it? Did he have more in stock? Or did you go somewhere else?"

His eyes crinkled with amusement. "Hey, I'm learning your powers of persuasion. I got in contact with the artist and commissioned it."

Good lord. Seth had had a custom ring—a platinum custom ring—made right before Christmas. And he'd had it done in a matter of days. The cost must have been through the roof. The queasy feeling in my stomach intensified. Observing my silence, his smile faltered.

"You sure you like it?"

"Yeah, yeah…of course. I just…I'm sorry, I don't know what to say. It's great." I slipped it onto my right ring finger. It fit perfectly. Hesitantly, I met his eyes. "This is a, uh, friendship ring right?"

"Yeah, don't worry. If I propose, you'll know it. For one thing, I'll be hyperventilating." A sly smile—surprisingly sexy—turned up his lips. "And it'll be a ruby."

"Rubies? No diamonds? Too expensive for the old writer's salary, huh?"

He made a disparaging grunt at that. "No, I just think diamonds are common, that's all. If I get married, it'll be because something uncommon is occurring. Besides, you wear a lot of red, right? I know how important it is for your accessories to match."

I snorted at that and let him draw me into the bed. He fell asleep quickly, as always, but I lay there, touching the ring. Its metal had warmed to my skin, and I could trace the dolphin and sapphires with my fingertip. The unpleasant memories the ring stirred up hadn't abated, but somehow, lying in his embrace, they seemed a little less painful.

Sleep finally came to me, and I immediately started dreaming—the dream.

I was back in the kitchen, surrounded by all the same vivid sights, smells, and sounds as before. My hands in the water. The scent of orange soap. "Sweet Home Alabama."

It was a repeat of what I'd seen before, my dream-self washing dishes and humming along to the music. She glanced behind her into the other room. This was where the dream had ended last time. Now it kept going.

A little girl sat in the living room, about two years old. She was on a blanket on the floor, surrounded by stuffed animals and other toys. She clutched a plush giraffe in her hands. It rattled when she shook it. As though sensing my dream-self's gaze, the little girl looked up.

She had plump cheeks that hadn't quite lost their baby fat. Wispy, light brown curls covered her head, and her hazel eyes were large and framed with dark lashes. She was adorable. Behind her on the couch, Aubrey lay curled up in a tight little ball. Another cat—covered in orange-and-brown patches—sprawled nearby. I'd never seen it before.

A delighted smile spread over the little girl's face, creating a dimple in one check. A powerful wave of love and joy spread through my dream-self, emotions that my watching self felt. I knew then—knew in a way I couldn't explain but knew with absolute certainty—that this girl was my daughter.

I woke up.

Just like last time, morning had arrived with almost no passage of time for me. Sunlight again poured through the windows, and beside me, Seth still slept. Also like last time, my energy was gone. I was drained.

But the ache of that missing energy was nothing compared to the ache I felt from being ripped out of the dream, of being stripped of the powerful emotions my dream-self had felt for that little girl. Her daughter. My daughter.

No, that was impossible, I scolded myself. Succubi could have no children. I'd left that path behind when I sold my soul.

It had felt so real, though. So intense. It was impossible for me to have a child, but in that dream, she had been mine. No doubts. Even now, I felt that maternal tug, and not having her here right now tore at my heart.

And again, I told myself that was stupid. Dreams weren't real. That's why they were…well, dreams. And I had bigger problems to deal with. Like the missing energy.

Beside me, Seth stirred and unconsciously pulled the covers around him, leaving me uncovered. I yanked them back, and he turned toward me, opening sleepy eyes.

"Hey," he said. "What gives?"

"Not you, apparently."

"Not you either, apparently."

"Hey, I'm the evil one, remember?"

We bantered a bit more and continued playing tug-of-war with the covers. I put on a smiling face so I wouldn't have to explain my problems to him. Finally, I slipped away, though part of me wished I could stay in bed for the rest of the day. Dreaming. But Seth had writing to do, and I had an afternoon shift to work.

Back home, I found Vincent up and around, making breakfast in the kitchen with Yasmine. They greeted me boisterously, giggling over some conversation that had occurred before my entrance.

"You want some eggs?" he asked me, catching a stick of butter tossed over by Yasmine. Presumably they'd gone grocery shopping since I hadn't had any butter in my kitchen before this. Or any food, really.

"No thanks," I said, settling myself on a stool. "I already ate."

"You're missing out," she said. "Vincent makes eggs that are so decadent, they're totally sending him straight to Hell."

Setting a skillet on the stove, he turned on the burner, listening to the clicking sound made while the gas took a moment to ignite. "Oh, it's the eggs that are going to do it, huh? Last time you told me it was going to be my parking."

The angel's eyes sparkled with mischief. She'd pulled her sleek black hair up into a ponytail, making her look very young. Ironic, considering her age was beyond human or succubus comprehension.

"Oh, geez. Yeah. I forgot about that. Huh. Now there's a toss-up. I'm not sure which is going to send you down below faster. Needing a stick of butter to cook two eggs or parallel parking three feet from the curb."

He jabbed her arm with a wooden spoon. "Three feet? You know, I've never even seen you drive a car. The only thing you drive is me—crazy."

"Oh yeah, whatever. You were crazy before I ever came along."

Glancing back and forth between them as they bickered further, I realized they'd forgotten my presence. Feeling intrusive, I discretely backed away, down the hall and to my bedroom. Closing the door, I glanced in astonishment at Aubrey. She sprawled on my bed, warmed by a patch of sunshine.

"Has that been going on all morning, Aub?"

Yawning, she blinked at me with green eyes and then curled into a perfect white ball—similar to the position I'd seen her in in the dream. She covered her face with one paw.

Um, okay. This was unexpected. I mean, was I crazy? Or had they…had Yasmine and Vincent been flirting? I mean, sure she was a friendly angel and everything, but that…yes, the more I thought about it, the more I believed they had been flirting. More than flirting. Weirder still, it hadn't been the kind of banter two people toss back and forth during the courtship phase either. It was the familiar teasing of two people who had been together for a long time, two people so utterly comfortable in each other's presence that they could almost finish each other's sentences. It was like the phenomenon Erik had described with Seth and me.

"They're in love," I told Aubrey disbelievingly. She continued to ignore me.

How did that even work? They couldn't be sleeping together. I'd learned a while back that doing that would make an angel fall, and Yasmine was still clearly on the side of truth and justice. So what did that mean? Was it okay if an angel loved a human so long as they stayed physically apart? Something inside of me didn't think so. After seeing how prudish Joel had been, I felt pretty confident even a chaste love affair wouldn't fly with him or the others. So none of them probably knew, not even Carter. And honestly, I didn't know if I wanted to know. I was a sucker for star-crossed lovers, but those relationships never actually ended well.

Grabbing some clothes and heading for the shower, I realized I might be witnessing a romance even more fucked up than my own. Who'd have thought that could happen? I guessed with angels, miracles really were possible.

I finished showering and drying my hair, still pondering the puzzle of this love affair. I headed back out to the living room, wondering if I'd find more flirtatious behavior. Instead, what I found was a familiar and unwelcome immortal signature. Slimy and musky.

Niphon was sitting on my couch.