Richelle Mead - Succubus Dreams

"The guy was probably high," remarked Peter. "Never know what that might bring out. You jumping in like that was pretty ballsy when you think about it."

I couldn't take it anymore.

"It was stupid!" I cried. Everyone's heads jerked in my direction. I ignored them, my eyes on Seth. "It was foolish and idiotic and, and—" I couldn't think of any more synonyms, so I let it go. "You shouldn't have done it. He couldn't have hurt me. He couldn't have killed me. You should have let me handle it!"

I knew that Seth despised being the center of a commotion like this, but he returned my gaze with a surprisingly fierce one.

"Georgina, there was a man with a gun in a dark alley. You were in front of him. Do you really think I was running through all sorts of logical scenarios at the time? ‘Oh, let's see. She's immortal, so even if she gets shot, there's nothing to worry about.'"

"Yes," I growled. "That is what you should have been thinking."

"What I was thinking was ‘The woman I love is in danger, and I would rather die myself than see anything happen to her.'"

"But nothing would have happened to me!"

"It's a basic human instinct to protect the ones you love. Even if they're immortal."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"That's because it's been too long since you were human," he snapped.

It was like being hit. I shot up from my chair and stalked off to the bathroom. Angry tears were welling up in my eyes, and I refused to let them show in front of my friends. Leaning my forehead against the mirror, I tried to do all the standard tricks for calming down. Deep breathing. Counting to ten. None of it worked.

I didn't get it. I just didn't get it. And apparently, Seth didn't either. Why couldn't he understand? Getting shot—in my head, in my heart, whatever—would fucking hurt. The pain would be excruciating. But in a day or so, I'd recover. I'd go on.

But Seth wouldn't. Why did he not see how serious this was? Death was forever. Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to block out the image of Seth dead. Cold. Still. No more spark in those brown eyes. No more warm hand to hold mine. A sob built up in me, and I forced it away.

After more deep breathing, I finally felt like I could return to the others. But as I stepped out of the bathroom and started to round the corner back to the kitchen, I heard more shouting. Hugh.

"It was brave, okay? Noble. Gallant. Worthy of a gold star. But she's right. It was stupid. It was so fucking stupid, and you're even more fucking stupid for not realizing it."

"I get it," said Seth. I could hear the weariness and exasperation in his voice. "I could have died. I know, okay? But I wasn't thinking about the larger workings of the universe. I was thinking about her."

"No," said Hugh. "You weren't. I am so goddamned tired of hearing everyone talk about how hard it is to be you. They all go on and on about how amazing it is that you can handle this relationship with her. But, Christ. Really, what's hard about it? You have this beautiful, brilliant girlfriend who doesn't fucking age. She loves you. I know you can't have sex, and everyone acts like that's the end of the world, but come on. She's given you the green light to go get it somewhere else. I don't really see you suffering that much."

"What's your point?" asked Seth.

"My point is that she's the one who suffers. She knows your life is a ticking time bomb. What have you got, another fifty years maybe? And that's if disease or an accident doesn't take you first. Fifty years, and you're gone. She has to live with that every day, knowing that in one breath, your life could be snuffed out like that." I heard Hugh's fingers snap. "Not hurt. Not injured. Gone. She is going to watch you age, watch you gray and wither away, and when you do finally die, it's going to destroy her."

There was a moment's silence, then I heard Seth say uncertainly, "Fifty years isn't anything compared to the scope of her life. She'll get over me. As everyone keeps reminding me, she's immortal."

"All that means is that she has more time to mourn. If you had any fucking regard for her, you would have ended this stupid romance a long time ago. You would have never gotten involved. She was uncertain at first, but now she's in. She isn't going to give you up. You could turn into the world's biggest asshole, and she still wouldn't do it—not with all these romantic ideals she has now. She loves too easily—and gets hurt too easily."

I finally forced myself to move in the ensuing silence. Everyone looked away from me, except Niphon. He was obviously enjoying all of this. I sat back down, and the card game commenced. None of us were really into it, though. The atmosphere was stiff, the conversation forced and halting. It was the proverbial elephant in the room situation. When Peter awkwardly said he was getting tired, the rest of us practically flew out of our seats to leave.

As I was putting on my coat, Carter strolled over to me.

"Seth makes his own choices, as is his right," Carter said softly. The angel was regarding me in that way that always sent chills down my spine. Someone wearing such an ugly baseball cap really shouldn't have that kind of ability. Honestly, how did his hats always get so dirty? "You can rage all you want, but in the end, mortals live their lives the way they decide to. It's not our place to interfere with that."

"Of course it is," I said. "It's what you guys do. It's what we all do. That's the whole point of the Heaven and Hell battle—we purposely interfere with people's lives."

"Yes, but this is different."

"No, it's not." Beyond him, I saw Niphon saying something to Seth. Great. The imp was probably trying to buy his soul. That was so not what I needed right now. I turned back to Carter. "Look, I've got to go. Say hi to the Get Along Gang when you see them."

I dragged Seth away from Niphon, and we headed home. I hadn't thought things between us could be any more uncomfortable than they had been at Peter's, but the car ride proved me wrong. Earlier, Seth and I had discussed him staying over at my place, but as I merged onto I-5, he asked, "I'd kind of like to get some more work done. Do you mind if I just go home?"

The elephant had apparently joined us in the car now. I smiled tightly and kept my eyes on the road. "Sure. No problem."

As I walked into my building after dropping Seth off, I was surprised to see the guy who staffed the front desk still working. He usually went home at dinnertime. A sheaf of papers in his hands indicated some sort of mandatory overtime. He brightened when he saw me.

"Miss Kincaid! I have something for you."

I blanked for a moment, then remembered the daily Post-it reminders on my door. There'd been a total of three now. "Oh, yeah," I said. "Sorry I haven't had a chance to pick it up yet. I keep forgetting."

He was already rustling around for something behind him on the other side of the window. I strolled over, just as he heaved a huge box up onto the counter. The printing on the side was upside down, but I could still make it out: Christmas Tree—Austrian Fir.

"Oh, man," I grumbled. "This is somebody's idea of a—"

But the guy was busy hauling another box up to the counter, a smaller one with pictures on the side depicting the ‘pre-decorated fiber optic tree' inside. It was followed by another box, a bit smaller than the Austrian Fir, and a smaller one still that was about two-by-two feet. These last two boxes were wrapped in glittery green paper, with a wrapping job so perfect that only one being on earth could have managed it: Peter.

The desk guy surveyed the boxes. "You must really like Christmas."

"I thought each of those notes was a reminder for the same package."

"Nope. New one each day. Want some help?"