Richelle Mead - Succubus Shadows

An elderly couple came down the stairs just as I finished my words, giving me an odd look. I smiled winningly and held the door open for them. They scurried through.

Seth was at a display of Byzantine diadems when I touched his arm. He flinched and turned around, though his shock immediately turned to pleasure when he saw me. Shit, I thought again. Far better if he’d looked dismayed.

“Let me guess,” I said. “You’re planning the perfect heist for Cady and O’Neill.”

He smiled. “They’re the good guys.”

“They’ve been known to break the law,” I pointed out.

“I like to think of it as bending the law. What are you doing here?”

I gestured around. “Revisiting my youth—or what’s left of it. The sands of time bury most things, but a few remain.”

“I never thought of that,” said Seth, clearly intrigued. “This is your era. I should have been coming to you for research.”

A vision of us having private study sessions came to mind. I immediately squashed it. “Better visual aids here. Anything catch your eye?”

He pointed at the case of diadems beside him. “I like these. It’s a shame we don’t wear stuff like this anymore.”

I followed his gaze. “Not enough bling in the hair nowadays?”

He gave me one of those half-smiles. “No. There’s just…I don’t know. There’s a beauty and skill we don’t use. Look at that.” He gestured toward one diadem, meant to resemble a crown of gold coins. Little strings of small gold circles hung down, draping through the hair. “Look at the imperfections. That was handmade, each one of those.”

“Some would call that flawed.” I loved it when Seth got caught up in these philosophical musings.

“That’s what makes it great. And anyway, I kind of like the idea of adorning women in crowns and jewels. Call me sexist, but I think the fair sex should be worshipped.” He paused. “And perfectly entitled to all the rights and opportunities of men.”

I laughed and stepped away so that others could approach the case. “I think you’re romantic, not sexist.” A troubling thought came to me, recalling how Maddie had admired pearl tiaras and headbands at the bridal stores yesterday. Modern-day diadems. Would Seth like that?

“Call it what you want,” he said, “but I just think our civilization has declined when scrunchies have become the prevalent form of hair ornamentation.”

We wandered around the exhibits after that, commenting on and analyzing them. I tried not to overthink the situation. I didn’t delude myself about whether we could be friends. I didn’t wallow in guilt over carrying a torch. I just tried to enjoy the moment. During none of our time together did I feel Simone. Since Roman’s senses were stronger, I had to assume he hadn’t either. I also suspected he was rolling his eyes over my time with Seth.

Seth and I finally reached the last of the exhibit: Byzantine wedding rings. When I saw them, the warm, comfortable feelings that had wrapped around me suddenly turned to ice. I felt the change in Seth too. Most of the rings were of similar design, with a flat circle lying on top of the ring, the circle surface then engraved with some image. My troubled feelings had nothing to do with weddings or any other associations with Maddie.

Last Christmas, Seth had had a ring made for me in this style. He hadn’t intended it as a wedding or engagement ring. He’d just done it as a gift, knowing the style was part of my past. It was beautiful, and I still had it. It was locked away in a box of treasures I’d kept over the centuries—items too precious to throw out and too painful to look at.

Neither of us said anything, and I wondered what he thought about. Was it just the awkward discomfort from memories of an ex-girlfriend? Was it stirring bittersweet feelings similar to the ones churning in me? When he and Maddie had gotten involved, I’d been convinced he’d moved on. Then, after our brief affair in the spring, I’d reconsidered. There were too many times now that he looked at me strangely, too many times that reminded me of when I was his girlfriend and the times he told me he loved me. But his wedding was still moving forward, with no sign of doubt on his part. I didn’t know what to think.

I’m not sure how long we stood in silence, but Seth broke it. “Well…I guess that’s it for the exhibit, huh?”

I glanced around as though attempting to determine if we’d seen it all. I already knew we had. “Yeah, I guess that’s it.”

He wouldn’t meet my eyes, and his whole body radiated nervousness. “Thanks for the research help. I should get back to the store and put this to good use.”

“Good luck.”

His eyes lifted, and I offered a small smile that he returned. “Thanks.”

We parted, and I left the museum, not sure where I was going—only that I had to go someplace where he wasn’t. For an hour or so, I’d played make-believe with him, keeping that familiar depression away and allowing myself a small joy. Now, that darkness descended on me…and uneasily, I recalled how that mystery force always showed up when I was troubled. That was its lure: comfort when I felt desperate and alone.

Roman might be my offense, but I decided then to go for a good defense. I needed distraction. “You aren’t going to like this,” I murmured, assuming Roman was close enough to hear.

Distraction wasn’t the only thing I needed. I needed a good energy fix. I was sleeping with enough men regularly that I had a pretty consistent supply of energy. Still, being at full power, so to speak, would keep my strength up—which hopefully would increase my mental resolve.

Not that sleeping with random men was always cheering. I was in no mood to go hunting for victims in a bar. I needed something slightly easier, something a little less sleazy. Normally those two were mutually exclusive, but I’d come up with an idea while driving home that might accomplish both.

There was a twenty-something guy named Gavin who lived in a condo down the hall from me. He was nice enough and had a serious crush on me. He never said or did anything overtly, but it was obvious. He alternated between nervousness and poorly done jokes whenever I was around. He always seemed unwilling to part when we ran into each other in the garage or lobby or whatever. His gaze also spent more time on my cleavage than my eyes.

The beauty of it all was that he also had a girlfriend. I didn’t know if he’d cheated on her before or just wanted to. That wasn’t important at the moment. What was important was that when I showed up at his door after the museum, his girlfriend wasn’t around.

“Georgina,” he said, taken aback. “How…how’s it going?”

“Not great,” I said, forcing distress into my voice. “I got locked out of my place and have to wait for my friend to show up with a spare set of keys. Can I wait here for her? I’m afraid if I go outside, it’ll rain again.”

It was then that Gavin seemed to notice my drenched state, particularly the now transparent white sundress I’d shape-shifted into without a bra.

His eyes bugged out, and then he glanced quickly behind him before turning back to the wet, clinging fabric encasing my breasts and their hardened nipples. “It…it rained? But it’s so nice out.” That brisk fall sunshine was pouring in through his windows.

“I know,” I said glibly. “I was kind of surprised too. It was this really fast freak thing that came out of nowhere.”

This was apparently so unbelievable that Gavin actually managed to tear himself away from me to once more scrutinize the brilliantly blue sky outside. Finally, deciding not to fight this, he beckoned for me to come in.

“Do you have a T-shirt or anything I can wear?” I asked sweetly. “I’m freezing in this.”