Richelle Mead - Succubus Blues

"What... what do you mean?" A strange feeling crawled down my spine.

"Nothing. Forget it. Look, I'm sorry about that. I should have taken precautions beforehand to protect you. I knew too... the next day? When I came by and you cut things off between us? I could tell you had been hurt, even through your shape-shifting. I could tell it was supernaturally inflicted too, but I never suspected... I thought it was some other immortal—one of your own circle—you'd tangled with. You had sort of a residual effect on you... the faint traces of someone else's power... like a demon's..."

"But that's not—oh. You mean Jerome."

"Daddy dearest again? Don't tell me... don't tell me he did something to you too." Roman's brief lapse into mildness faded, replaced by something more sinister.

"No, no," I said hastily, recalling Jerome's psychic slap, pinning me to the couch. "It wasn't like that. It was more of a show of power that I caught the edge of. He wasn't the one who hurt me. He'd never hurt me."

"Good. I'm still not happy about what happened in the alley, mind you, but I'll have a little chat with the guilty party and make sure it never happens again. When I saw you that day, I had half a mind to take out all the immortals in the area. The thought of someone hurting you..." Closer and closer he came to me. Hesitantly, he squeezed my arm. I didn't know whether to recoil or reach out to him. I didn't know how to reconcile my old attraction with this new terror. "You have no idea how much I care about you, Georgina."

"Then how... in the alley—"

Before I could follow that thought to completion, another suddenly poked its head up at Roman's words. When I saw you that day. He had visited me the day after the attack, coming over while Carter investigated a nephilim signature. But that was impossible. I couldn't remember where that particular signature had occurred, but it had not been close by. Roman could not have flashed Carter and then made it over to my apartment so quickly.

I knew noninterference was too much to ask for. I'll have a little chat with the guilty party.

I understood then why Roman felt he could take on Carter, why having less power than the angel would pose no concern. The realization sank into me like lead, heavy and cold. I'm not sure what look crossed my face, but Roman's suddenly softened with compassion.

"What's the matter?"

"How many?" I whispered to him.

"How many what?"

"How many nephilim are in the city?"

"Two," he said after a moment's hesitation. "Just two."

"Just two," I repeated flatly, thinking oh shit. "Is that including you?"

"Yes."

I rubbed my temples, wondering how I could warn Jerome and Carter that we had two nephilim to deal with now. No one had mentioned that possibility.

"Someone should have known that," I muttered, more to myself than to Roman. "Someone should have sensed it... there would have been two different nephilim signatures. That's how Jerome knew it was you. You have a unique signature—no one else has it."

"No one else," Roman agreed with a smirk, "except my sister."

Oh shit.

"Jerome didn't mention more than one—ah." I blinked in sudden understanding. Jerome, by his own admission, hadn't actually been around for the birth. "Twins? Or... more?" The archdemon could have fathered quintuplets for all I knew.

Roman shook his head, still highly amused at my deductions. "Only twins. Just the two of us."

"So this is a family act then? You two hit the road together, going from town to town, wreaking havoc..."

"Nothing so glamorous, love. Usually it's just me. My sister tries to keep a low profile—spends more time on her job and living her life. She doesn't really get caught up in grand machinations."

"Then how'd you rope her into this one?" Again, I thought about Erik's words, how most nephilim simply wished to be left alone.

"She lives here. In Seattle. We're on her turf, so I talked her into going in on the final kill with me. She wasn't really into any of the stuff with the lesser immortals."

"Except beating on me," I pointed out.

"I am sorry about that. I think you pissed her off."

"I don't even know her," I exclaimed, wondering which was worse: a nephilim in love with me or a nephilim holding a grudge.

He just smiled. "I wouldn't be so sure of that." He reached out to touch me, almost casually, and I backed away, making his smile slip. "Now what's wrong?"

"What do you mean? You think you can just dump this on me and then expect things to be all peachy between us?"

"Well, why not? Honestly, what have you got left to worry about?" I opened my mouth to protest, but he continued before I could speak: "I've already told you, I'm not going to hurt you or any of your friends. The only person left on my list is someone you don't even know or care about. That's it. End of story."

"Oh yeah? What'll happen then? After you kill Carter?"

He shrugged. "Then I leave. I'll find someplace to hang out for a while. Probably teach again." He leaned toward me, holding my gaze. "You could come with me, you know."

"What?"

"Think about it." He spoke eagerly, excitement growing with each word. "You and me. You could settle down and do all the things you like to do—your books, your dancing— without any immortal politics to muck your life up."

I scoffed. "Hardly. It's not like I can stop being a succubus. I still need sex to survive."

"Yes, yes, I know you'd still have to tag the occasional victim, but think about the times in between. You and me. Together. Being with someone you don't have to worry about hurting. Being with someone simply for the pleasure of it, not for survival. No superiors to harass you about meeting your quotas."

Seth came to mind just then, part of me idly wondering what it'd be like to be with him "just for pleasure."

Shifting back to my harsh reality, I told Roman, "I can't just run off. Seattle is my post. I have people to answer to; they wouldn't let me leave."

Cupping my face in his hands, he whispered, "Georgina, Georgina. I can protect you from them. I have the power to hide you. You can live your own life. No more answering to the bureaucracy above. We can be free."

Those hypnotic eyes hooked me like a fish on a line. For centuries, I had lived out immortality achingly alone, bouncing from one short-term relationship to another, ending any connection that got too deep. Now, Roman was here. I was attracted to him, and I didn't have to push him away. I couldn't hurt him through physical contact. We could be together. We could wake up together. We could live out eternity together. I would never have to be lonely again.

Longing surged up within me. I wanted it. Oh God, I wanted it. I didn't want to hear Jerome chastise me for my "all lowlifes, all the time" seduction policy. I wanted to come home and tell someone about my day. I wanted to go out dancing on the weekends. I wanted to take vacations together. I wanted someone to hold me when I was upset, when the ups and downs of the world pushed me too far.

I wanted someone to love.

His words blazed through me, piercing my heart. I knew, however, they were only that: words. Eternity is a long time; we couldn't hide forever. Eventually we'd be found, or when Roman finally got destroyed on one of his "protest" missions, I'd be exposed and have a lot of angry demons to answer to. He was offering me a child's dream, an impractical fantasy with a short-lived, doomed run.

Furthermore, running off with Roman meant complying with the outcome of this insane plot of his. Logically, I could understand his angst and desire to lash back. I felt for his sister—even if she inexplicably hated me—who simply wanted to live an ordinary life. I had seen slaughter and bloodshed over the years, the extinction of entire populations of people whose names and cultures no one remembered today. To live with that over and over throughout these long millennia, to always be on the run, hiding simply because of an accident of birth... yes, perhaps I would be pissed off too.