Richelle Mead - Succubus Dreams

"Hey," I said, careful to keep a safe space between us.

He glanced down at me. "Hey. How is he?"

"Fine—considering everything. The doctors are amazed the bullet ‘missed.'"

Vincent turned away and gazed blankly down the hall. He stayed silent.

I didn't know what to say. So…you're a nephilim. How's that working out?

Frankly, I could guess how that was working out. Horribly. Nephilim were the offspring of angels and humans. Those angels were now demons, of course. You couldn't sleep around with hot humans and still play for heaven's team—as I'd noted with Yasmine. It was why Jerome had fallen. In what had to be the most unfair deal in the world, many nephilim had been hunted and killed by angels and demons—even their own parents. Heaven and Hell viewed nephilim as dangerous abominations. The fact that nephilim tended to have unruly natures and poor impulse control didn't really help their reputation.

As a result of their persecution, nephilim usually walked the earth disguised, hiding the full brunt of their power—which rivaled their parents'—as well as the immortal signatures that could give them away. And while I felt bad for them, they nonetheless scared the hell out of me. Many of them held grudges against angels, demons, and anyone else immortal. Jerome's son Roman was like that. He had come to Seattle a few months ago and embarked on a revenge killing spree. Looking at Vincent now, I wondered if I was dealing with the same sort of thing.

"Does…Yasmine know?" I asked after several more awkward moments.

His eyes flicked back to me. "Of course." He said it with the same matter-of-fact tone he'd used when we'd talked about their relationship. It was a tone that implied how could she not know? Like it was absurd that he would keep anything from the woman he loved.

"It kills her," he said with a sigh. "It's eating her up inside."

"Because…of…what you are…?"

"No." His eyes were so sad that I almost forgot he came from a race of uber-powerful psychopaths. "She doesn't care about that part. What she can't stand is that it's a secret. That she has to hide everything. You know they can't lie…but she's not exactly telling the truth either. It's deceitful, and she hates that. And I hate that she hates it. I've tried to end our…thing a couple of times, but she won't do it because…"

"Because she loves you," I finished.

Vincent shrugged and looked away from me again.

"I'm sorry," I told him at last. And I was. How horrible. Yasmine loving anyone was dangerous enough, but for her to love one of the most despised creatures in our world…well, yeah. That took it to an entirely different level. An angel should have been reporting Vincent's existence, not hiding it.

Vincent turned his attention back to me. "Who will you tell? Carter? Jerome?"

I stared into those dark, dark eyes, those eyes filled with so much sorrow and so much love. I stopped being afraid of him. He wasn't Roman.

"No one," I said quietly. "I'm not going to tell anyone."

He turned incredulous. "Why? You know what I am. You know you could get in trouble for hiding me. Why wouldn't you tell?"

I thought about it. "Because the system is fucked up."

I went back to Seth's room after that, and when I stepped out into the hall later, Vincent was gone. He wasn't at my apartment when I returned home that night.

Seth was released the following morning, and I stayed home from work with him.

"I don't need to be coddled, Thetis," he told me gently—though I could swear there was the tiniest hint of annoyance in his voice. "I'm fine. I won't break."

We were sitting in his living room, side by side on the couch. He had his laptop, and I had a novel. I folded a corner of the page I was on and shut the book.

I wanted to tell Seth that he would break, that that's what it meant to be mortal. I wanted to tell him a thousand things, just like I'd wanted to in the hospital, but once more I swallowed my feelings.

"You just need to take it easy," I said. "And I want to make sure you don't do anything too crazy."

"Right. Because my usual lifestyle is so physically vigorous."

He had a point. Most of his days were spent sitting and writing. He wasn't too likely to burst another artery that way.

"I just want you to be careful," I said obstinately. "You were shot last night, remember? That's not the same as falling on the ice."

"You overreacted to that too."

"Is it so wrong to care about you?"

He sighed and returned to his work. I had a feeling I wasn't the only one biting back angry words. We spent most of the day like that, talking little. Whenever he expressed any interest in something—food, drink, etc.—I was quick to jump up and get it for him. I was the perfect nurse/servant. Finally, around dinnertime, he looked like he was nearing a breaking point.

"Arent your friends doing something tonight?" he asked stiffly.

"Are you trying to get rid of me?"

"Just asking."

"They're having a card game."

"You aren't going?"

"No, I'll stay here with you."

"You should go."

"I don't want to leave you. In case you need something."

"Then take me with you."

"What?" I exclaimed. "But you need to—"

"—take it easy, rest, not strain myself. I know, I know. But look, I'm kind of getting cabin fever here, and honestly, I think you'd benefit from a little distraction."

"Seth—"

"Georgina," he interrupted. "It won't be much different than this. More sitting around, except with—"

"Better company?"

"That's not what I mean," he said.

We went back and forth, and as we did, I wondered when we'd reached this point in our relationship. Hitherto everything had been giddy and sentimental with us. How had we crossed the line into nagging? When had we started getting on each other's nerves? In movies, life-threatening experiences are supposed to bring people together.

I finally relented, and we went over to Peter and Cody's place. The gang—consisting of Hugh, Peter, Cody, and Carter tonight—was surprised to see us since Seth often avoided immortal social events. But socially inept or no, Seth liked playing cards. It was the kind of analytical activity he enjoyed, and he could often get by without talking very much.

Just before the game started, Niphon showed up. He and I exchanged brief glares and then proceeded to ignore each other.

Inevitably, Seth getting shot came up in conversation.

"You threw yourself in front of a gun for her?" asked Peter, clearly impressed.

"Well," said Seth, a little uncomfortable at all those eyes on him. "Mostly I tried to jostle it away."

"You mean, disarm him?"

"Well…no. More like…jostle. I don't really know how to ‘disarm' anyone."

"I figured maybe you took combat classes in order to write those fight scenes in your books," explained Peter.

Seth shook his head. "Never been in a fight in my life. Until last night."

"That's awesome," said Cody. "Risking your life in the name of love."

I stared at the vampires disbelievingly while they babbled on about how amazing Seth's feat had been. They peppered him with more questions about the attack, and the anger I'd been trying to squelch since last night kept building and building. Across the table, Niphon listened with a smirk. Carter, in his usual way, concealed his feelings. I wanted to know why he wasn't out with the other angels, but the Seth thing was taking precedence over my curiosity.

One thing struck me as odd. Hugh, listening quietly, seemed as angry as I did. I would have expected him to jump right in with the vampires, blithely pestering Seth for action-packed details and waxing on about how cool Seth's heroics had been. But the imp's face looked dark and stony, his eyes fixed pointedly on his cards.