Richelle Mead: Succubs on Top

He winked at me. "Mitch Hunter," he explained in a suave, movie-star voice. No accent now.

"You got an equally cheesy title to go with that? 'Mitch Hunter, MD' or 'Mitch Hunter, Private Investigator?' Seems appropriate."

"Nah. I'm a consultant, of course. Everyone's favorite nondescript yet well-paid white-collar job."

"You look like you need a golf club in one hand and a burger flipper in the other."

"Tease all you want, but Dana won't be able to resist this. Now"—he gestured for me to stand up—"let's see what you can do."

"Are you joking?"

"Do I look like I'm joking? If you're going to come visit me, you've got to put on some family resemblance."

I rolled my eyes and stood up. After a moment's study of his features, I shape-shifted my petite body into a taller, more athletic one with long blond hair.

He scrutinized me, then shook his head. "Too pretty."

"What? This is perfect."

"That body's unreal. No one looks that good. My God woman, that ass."

"Oh, come on. You don't think Special Agent Mitch Hunter's sister isn't the type to spend two hours a day on a stair-climber?"

Bastien grunted. "You've got a point there. At least lose some of the hair. These suburban types go for boring and practical."

"Yeah, but I'm not suburban. I'm your hipper, more stylish—"

Someone knocked at my door. He glanced at me questioningly.

"Oh! It's Seth."

I changed back to my normal body, and Bastien did the same. I opened the door.

Seth Mortensen, best-selling author and professional introvert, stood outside my apartment. Clad in a Frogger T-shirt and corduroy jacket, he seemed to have forgotten to brush his hair again. It was messy and brown with a faint coppery cast, mirrored in the perpetual five o'clock shadow across his lower face. His lips turned up in a smile upon seeing me, and I couldn't help but briefly ponder how soft and kissable they looked.

"Hey," I said.

"Hey."

Despite whatever attraction burned between us, the engine of our conversation always took a little while to turn over. I led him inside, and his expression faltered a bit when he saw Bastien.

"Oh. Hi."

"Hello," boomed Bastien, extending his hand. "Bastien Moreau."

"Seth Mortensen."

"A pleasure. I've heard all about you. Your books are fabulous. I mean, I've never read any of them—just don't have the time for that anymore—but I'm sure they're magnifique."

"Um, thanks."

"Bastien is an old friend," I explained. "He's going to be in town for a while on…business."

Seth nodded, and silence dropped in between all of us like a fourth companion. Finally, Bastien cleared his throat. I could see from his face that he was already losing interest, dismissing Seth as too quiet and unexciting. The incubus craved action.

"Well, I should take off. I don't want to interrupt your plans."

"What are you going to do?" I asked. "You can't have any plans of your own yet. "

He winked. "I'll improvise."

I gave him a knowing look.

Ruffling my hair again, he embraced me and kissed each of my cheeks. "I'll be in touch, Fleur . Make sure you keep an eye on the news."

"I'll never leave my television."

Bastien gave Seth a friendly nod. "Nice meeting you."

When the incubus was gone, Seth asked, "When you say 'old friend,' are we talking, like…since the Ice Age?"

"No. Of course not."

"Oh."

"It's only been about four hundred years."

"Ah. Yes. Only four hundred." A wry expression spread over his face. "Being with you is a continual experiment in perspective. Among other things." He considered. "So what is he? Werewolf? Demigod?"

"Nothing so exciting. He's an incubus. You must have heard of those."

Seth nodded, frowning. "Sure. Like a succubus only…he has to go after women to survive?"

I nodded.

"Wow. For all eternity. Wow." His eyebrows shot up as true wonder played over his face. "That's got to be…wow. That's really rough."

My eyes narrowed. "Don't even start down that road."

Bastien had said he didn't want to interrupt our plans, but we didn't really have any, short of spending the evening together. I suppose most couples, running out of options, could have resorted to sex or at least making out, but the nature of our relationship required a full itinerary. We mustered some ideas.

"You want to rent a movie?" I offered. "I've got some coupons."

We ended up renting Gladiator, at which time I discovered Horatio's free rental coupons had expired long ago.

"That son of a bitch!"

"Who?" asked Seth.

But of course I couldn't explain. Fucking demons.

Back home, Seth and I snuggled on my couch as we watched, warm and close yet still safe from any detrimental succubus effects. He listened with bemusement as I pointed out historical inaccuracies, most of which involved how much dirtier and smellier the Roman Empire had been.

When it finished, we turned off the television and sat together in the dark. Seth stroked the side of my face, sifting through the strands of my hair and occasionally brushing my cheek with his fingers. A small gesture, yet when that was all you could do with another person, it became startlingly erotic.

I looked up at him. I knew what I saw when I studied him. He was everything I could want and everything I couldn't have. The steady, loving companion I'd pined for all these years. I wondered what he saw with me. The expression he wore now seemed fond. Admiring. And a little sad.

"But thy eternal summer shall not fade

Nor lose possession of that fair ow’st;

Nor shall Death brag thou wand’rest in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st;

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. "

"Sonnet Eighteen," I murmured, thinking he recited beautifully. Hell, forget his recitation skills. How many guys in this age of instant messaging even knew Shakespeare anymore? His amused little half-smile played over his face.

"Clever and beautiful. How could any man settle for a mortal woman?"

"Easily," I returned. My friends' misgivings suddenly loomed up in me. "You could, you know."

He blinked, and his rapt look faded, giving way to exasperation. "Oh. Not this discussion again."

"I'm serious—"

"And so am I. I don't want to be with anyone else right now. I've told you that a hundred times. Why do we keep talking about this?"

"Because you know we can't—"

"Nobuts.Give me some credit for being able to control myself. Besides, I'm not with you for sex. You know that. I'm with you to be with you."

"How can that be enough?" It never had been for any other man I'd known.

"Because…because…" He tipped my chin up with his hand, the emotion in those eyes making my insides melt. "Because being with you feels so right…like it's always been meant to be. You make me believe in a higher power for once in my life."

I closed my eyes and put my head on his chest. I could hear his heart beating. He wrapped me to him, his embrace warm and solid, and I felt like I couldn't get close enough to him. Probably I should have let the discussion go then, but one more thing was still on my mind tonight. After all, I had a gold-embossed certificate sitting on my counter.

"Even if you can control yourself…even if you can stay celibate, you know I won't be."

The words hurt coming out, but my mouth's control switch didn't always function so well. Besides, I didn't want anything standing between us.

"I don't care." But I felt his hold on me stiffen a little.

"Seth, you will—"

"Thetis, I don't care. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters except what happens between you and me."

The fierceness in his voice—a contrast to his normal placidity—thrilled me, but it was not that that made me give up the argument. It was the word "Thetis." Thetis. Thetis the shape-shifting goddess. The shape-shifter wooed and won by a steadfast mortal. Seth had coined the name for me when he learned I was a succubus, when he'd first insinuated that my infernal standing was not a deterrent.