Richelle Mead - Succubus Blues

"I can't tell you." My voice shook.

His mouth opened to protest, but he reconsidered. "Okay. Let's take this slow. You're pale. Let's go get something to eat. You can explain all this then."

Yeah, that would be a fun conversation. "No. We can't do that..."

"Come on. There's no way you can leave me all those desperate messages and then start playing the 'we need space' game. Seriously, Georgina. You're a wreck. You're shaking. I wouldn't want you to be by yourself anyway if I'd found you like this, let alone after those calls."

"No. No. No going out." I sat down on the couch, needing to let him go, reluctant to do so. "Let's stay here."

Still looking distressed, Roman fetched me a glass of water, then sat down by me, holding my hand. As time passed, I calmed down, listening as Roman talked about inconsequential things in an effort to make me feel better.

For his part, he was quite nice about my psycho phone calls. He continued trying to tease out an explanation, but when I remained evasive, only saying I had cause to worry about him, he stopped pushing—for now. He continued cheering me up, telling me funny things as well as his usual political soliloquies, complaining about the irrational rules and hypocrisy of the powers that be.

By late in the evening, I was relaxed again, left only with embarrassment for the way I'd behaved. Damn, I hated that nephilim.

"It's getting late. You going to be okay if I go?" he asked, standing with me near my living room window, overlooking Queen Anne Avenue.

"Probably better than if you stay."

"Well, that's a matter of opinion," he chuckled, running a hand over my hair.

"Thanks for coming by. I know... I know... it seems crazy, but you've just got to trust me on this one."

He shrugged. "I don't really have a choice. Besides... it's kind of nice to know you were worried about me."

"Of course I was. How could I not be?"

"I don't know. You aren't easy to read. I couldn't figure out if you really liked me... or if I was just something to pass the time. A diversion."

Something in his words rang a bell in my head, something I should have paid attention to. Instead I was more caught up in how close he suddenly stood to me, how his hand ran down my cheek to my neck and to my shoulder. He had long, sensuous fingers. Fingers that could do a lot of good in a lot of good places.

"I do like you, Roman. If you don't believe anything else I tell you, believe that."

He smiled then, a smile so full and beautiful, it made my heart melt. God, I had missed that smile and his funny, breezy charm. Moving his hand back up to my neck, he pulled me toward him, and I realized he was going to kiss me again.

"No... no... don't," I murmured, squirming out of his grasp.

He backed off from the kiss, still holding on to me as he exhaled, disappointment all over his face. "Still worried about that?"

"You can't understand. I'm sorry. I just can't..."

"Georgina, nothing traumatic happened the last time we kissed. Short of your reaction, I mean."

"I know, but it's not that simple."

"Nothing happened," he repeated, an unfamiliar hardness in his voice.

"I know, but—"

My mouth hung there mid-sentence as I replayed his words. Nothing happened. No, something had happened that night at the concert, kissing in the back hallway. I'd seen Roman stagger from the kiss. But me... what had happened to me? What had I felt? Nothing. A kiss that intense, a kiss with someone strong, a kiss with someone I wanted so badly should have triggered something. Even with a low energy yield like Warren, a deep kiss would wake up my succubus instinct, start to connect us, even if no significant transfer took place. Kissing Roman like that—especially when he ostensibly had a reaction—should have resulted in some kind of feeling on my end. Some sensation. Yet, there had been nothing. Nothing at all.

I had written it off to too much alcohol at the time. But that was ridiculous. I drank all the time before getting a fix. Alcohol could muddle my senses—as it obviously had that night—but no amount of intoxication could completely negate the sensation of anima transfer. Nothing could. I had been too trashed to realize the truth. Alcohol or no, I would always feel something from sexual or intimate physical contact unless...

Unless I was with another immortal.

I jerked away from Roman, breaking his hold on me. His expression registered surprise, immediately replaced by sudden understanding. Those beautiful eyes sparkling dangerously, he laughed.

"Took you long enough."

"You faked it... faked being affected by me," I realized, shock making my words come out thick and faltering.

Still chuckling, he took a step toward me, and I cringed, frantically trying to find a way to run, to get out of my own apartment. What had moments ago seemed safe and inviting now became close and stifling. My apartment was too small, the door too far away. I couldn't breathe. The amusement on Roman's face shifted to astonishment.

"What's the matter? What are you afraid of?"

"What do you think I'm afraid of?"

He blinked. "Me?"

"Yes, you. You kill immortals."

"Well, yeah," he admitted, "but I'd never hurt you. Never. You know that, don't you?" I didn't answer. "Don't you?"

I backed up farther, not that I had anywhere to go. I was faced in such a way as to only keep moving toward my bedroom, not toward the front door. That wasn't likely to do any good.

Roman still seemed floored at my reaction. "Come on, I can't believe this. I would never do anything to you. I'm half in love with you. Hell, do you know what a wrench you've already thrown into this operation?"

"Me? What have I done?"

"What have you done? You've wrapped my heart around your little finger, that's what you've done. That day... when you solicited me at the bookstore? I couldn't believe my luck. I'd been watching you all week, you know, trying to learn your habits. Christ, I'll never forget the first day I saw you. How feisty you where. How beautiful. I would have gone to the ends of the earth for you right then and there. And later... when you wouldn't go out with me after the signing? I couldn't believe it. You were originally going to be my first target, you know. But I couldn't do it. Not after I'd talked to you. Not after I'd realized what you are."

I swallowed, curious in spite of myself. "What—what am I?"

He took a step toward me, a rueful half-smile on his handsome face. "A succubus who doesn't want to be a succubus. A succubus who wants to be human."

"No, that's not true..."

"Of course it is. You're like me. You don't play by the rules. You're tired of the system. You don't let them push you into the role they've dictated for you. God, I couldn't believe it, watching you. The more you seemed interested in me, the more you tried to back off. You think that's normal for a succubus? It was the most amazing thing I'd ever seen—not to mention the most frustrating. That's why I finally decided to call you out today. I couldn't decide if you'd really cut me off for my own good or were just interested in someone else now—like Mortensen."

"Wait—that's why you arranged that stupid little game today? For your own fucking ego gratification?"

Roman shrugged haplessly, still looking self-satisfied. "It sounds so shallow when you put it like that. I mean, okay, it was pretty stupid. And maybe a little childish. But I had to know where your affection stood. You can't imagine how touching it was to see you so worried about me—not to mention the fact that you checked on me first. That was the real kicker: I got priority over the others."

I almost protested that I'd actually worried about Seth first, having only called Roman beforehand because I thought Seth was already accounted for. Fortunately, I had enough sense to keep my mouth shut on that issue. Better to let Roman think he'd proven his point.