How to Kill an Incubus: A Rae Erickson Story (11 page)

“She’s not my mother.”

It was getting cold, people were trickling out of the club, and I felt a little too “cheerful” with several martinis in me—so arguing with a sarcastic half-demon was the last thing I wanted to do.

“This is actually really important, Temp,” I said earnestly, giving him my best puppy-dog eyes. “I know I’ve been… a ‘female canine’ but I wouldn’t ask for your help if it wasn’t important.”

Temp’s eyes glared at me for a long time before his head jerked in Red’s direction.

“Go home, Nicole,” he muttered, and she gave him a panicked look.

“Temp?” Her voice was barely a whimper.

“Tomorrow,” Temp said gruffly, not even looking at her. “Do what I say and go home, babe.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I groaned, staring at the girl. Now that I looked at her properly, she couldn’t have been no more than seventeen with her face caked with make-up and her stick-thin, girly body squeezed into an obscenely revealing LBD. “You want to give it up to him? Do you know what he is? Do you know what havoc he’ll wreak in your life?” I asked her in an annoyingly high-pitched voice.

“Shut up, Baby Phat,” Temp said sharply, giving me a stern look. “She knows what she’s doing. Besides, her English is basic. So keep up with the ‘wreaking’ and ‘havoc’. See how far they get you.”

But Nicole surprised even him. “Fuck off! My soul is a small price to pay for my first time to be incredible,” she said fiercely, her green eyes narrowing at me. “Mind your own business, American slut.”

“Now, now, Nicole,” Temp said mockingly soothing. “The last part was uncalled for.” He glanced at me, grinning. “She called you a…”

“I heard what she called me,” I snapped, “and if you give me two seconds, I’ll slap the ‘Joker’ off her face.”

Temp caught me before I pounced on her, putting himself in between the teenager and the unreasonable typhoon that was me. “I take it you’ve been drinking?” he asked.

“Pfft. So what? No child calls me names and gets away with it!”

“Behave, Baby Phat.” Temp shook me, his eyes imploring me not to cause a scene in front of innocent bystanders. “OK? Behave. I’ll deal with her.”

But when he turned around, he found that she was gone.

“I never pegged you for boho chic,” Temp remarked, flopping onto my floral-print couch and grabbing the remote off one armrest. He then surveyed my living room from his vantage point. “I could totally see myself kicking it here.”

“Don’t get too comfy,” I muttered, kicking my pumps off and wincing as the TV came on. My head was already pounding. “You just have some information I need.”

“So, in essence, you’re using me?” His voice was casual but I sensed something there, controlled resentment.

I folded my arms across the chest, weirdly feeling like a visitor in my own home. “Is this about my not wanting to hang out with you? For Pete’s sake, Temp, how do you expect me to when you’re a…”

“You don’t have to keep reminding me, Rae,” he said in a snarky manner, flicking the TV off and getting up. “This might come as a shock to you but I know exactly
what
I am. And obviously, you do, too. It’s just a pity you don’t know
who
I am.”

“You steal people’s souls. That’s who you are.”

He let out a loud, cheerful laugh. “I give women the best sexual experiences they’ve ever had in their miserable lives. I give girls the opportunity to pop their cherry with a guy who knows his dick from his middle finger. But that’s not who I am, Miss I-Hate-the-Supernatural.” He flicked at an imaginary piece of lint on the front of his shirt. “I guess sleeping with one hasn’t made you any less discriminating.”

I opened my mouth to say something but he surged forward, his eyes fixed on me.

“I warned you about being with Andrei, Rae.” Temp’s voice sounded terribly big-brotherly. “You have no idea what kind of Pandora’s Box you’ve opened.”

I flushed. “Right. Am I supposed to be wary of him? You don’t seem to show him the same level of respect the succubus I met tonight did.”

He snorted. “I’m a cambion, a halfling. Not even fit to lick his big toe, let alone talk to him. I’m cool with that. My human side keeps me earthbound, so forgive me if I don’t think of him as my king.” He paused, brow creasing. “What succubus?”

“Selene. Next time I see her, she won’t be so lucky.”

Temp laughed. “Selene’s about a billion years old. What the hell are you gonna do, mace her?”

I laughed, despite myself. “You don’t think I could take her?”

“Unless you have a death wish. That woman will rip you apart before you can say ‘catfight’.”

“Your faith in me is overwhelming. Want something to drink?” I was already shuffling to my kitchen, running my hands through my hair to push it back out of my face.

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to get too comfy.” Temp’s laughing voice came from right behind me as he followed me to the kitchen.

I turned to look at him. “Yeah, well, I’m offering you a drink, not making you a bed in the spare room.”

His eyes lit up. “Is that deal on the table? I’m tired of hotels. They lose their appeal after a while.”

I rolled my eyes, pulling the refrigerator door open. “Coke, Sprite, OJ, or water? Those are your choices.”

“Coke would be cool.”

When I handed him the can, he was already perched on a stool at the island, surveying the room with sparkling eyes. “Nice kitchen.”

I didn’t say anything because it was true. It had actually been what had pushed me to buy the damn townhouse in the first place. Cherry cupboards, granite countertops, and the same wooden flooring that ran throughout the entire house made—all of those made it easy for me to vividly imagine cooking for a husband and a few kids on lazy Sunday afternoons after trips to the Eiffel Tower. Not that I was looking to settle down any time soon. Not that I was that corny.

“You okay?” Temp waved a hand in my face.

I nodded, pushing that image out of my head and settling onto the stool opposite him. “So tell me about JP Fontaine.”

To his credit, he didn’t look one bit surprised. “I saw you staring at the club,” he stated matter-of-factly, taking a tiny sip of the cola. “You wanna hit that? You do realize that Andrei is not into sharing his spoils, right?”

A wave of heat washed over me as I glared at Temp. “Why the hell does everyone keep making out like I have an ‘I Belong to King Andrei’ sticker on my forehead?”

Temp chuckled, eyes dancing. “That’s priceless. You should do that.”

I flipped him the bird. “For the record, I don’t want to… hit JP. This is business.” I leaned forward. “And let’s get one thing straight: If I did want to sleep with him, I could. Because I’m a grown-ass woman and Andrei does not own the gold between my legs.”

“Gold between your legs?” he repeated, grinning. “Is that a Maya Angelou line or something?”

I rolled my eyes. If I kept doing that, my eyeballs would probably get stuck that way. “Can we get serious for one moment?”

He downed the rest of his drink, setting the empty can on the counter. “OK, OK,” he muttered, regarding me. “What do you want to know? I’m not his confidant, by the way, so I can’t tell you how long it is.”

At the mention of JP’s manhood, I had to physically resist the urge to maim Temp with a kitchen knife. “What does he do? I mean, is he really a DJ?” I asked through clenched teeth.

Temp shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“He does a lot of things, Baby Phat. But I don’t have his résumé.”

“What does he do for Damien Ivanov?”

He arched a brow. “Now I’m curious.”

So I had to tell him what Ana Fontaine had told me, and at the end, he looked thoughtful.

“Damien’s a bad guy but JP’s cool. He has a temper, fine. But he wouldn’t prostitute girls. Maybe Ana walked in on an orgy.”

I wrinkled my nose. “You’re disgusting.”

He laughed. “Come on, Baby Phat. Don’t act coy with me. Think about three guys pounding into you, ripping you inside out and giving you multiple orgasms. Disgusting?”

I swallowed, the mental image coming in clear and HD. “Not my thing. And not JP’s thing either, I’m sure. So no, Ana did not walk in on an orgy. What does her brother do for Ivanov?”

“He DJs sometimes. Handles liquor orders whenever Ralf isn’t around. Makes sure the VIPs are happy. That’s about it.”

I sighed. “Ana gave me a lot of money for me to tell her that her brother plays music and orders booze.”

“That’s all I know.”

“Well, you’re a fountain of knowledge,” I commented dryly, tapping my fingertips on the countertop. “Thanks. Guess I’ll just have to follow him.”

“You really want to get mixed up with Damien?”

“You really want to act all brotherly here?”

He raised his palms in mock-surrender. “Relax, Rae. Just a question.” He paused, giving me a sly wink. “Hello, Andrei,” he said serenely, not even bothering to turn around. Show-off.

I glanced at the doorway, mentally cursing at the sight of Andrei leaning in the doorjamb, as imposing as ever. “Hey, you!” I said brightly, still feeling the effects of the alcohol. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show up.” I hopped off the stool, teetering slightly. “Martinis. Powerful things.”

“Am I interrupting?” Andrei asked, his voice quiet.

“I’m sure you know that I recently found my long-lost, half-demon baby brother, right?” I stopped in front of him, drinking in the sight of his brick wall of a body, now that I was so close. As usual, he wore jeans and a T-shirt that fit him like second skin. “Well, we’re bonding,” I said with a smile.

“You went to Ivanov’s club when I specifically told you to stay away from him,” Andrei growled. It wasn’t a question.

“I’ll be in the spare room,” Temp said brightly, suddenly appearing at my side.

Andrei’s head jerked in his direction, eyes glacial. “No. You’ll be leaving.”

Palms up, Temp stepped back. “Of course. She totally deserves a spanking.”

“Hey,” I protested, scowling at him before turning back to Andrei. “What am I, five?”

“No, you’re stubborn!” Andrei snarled, now that Temp had evaporated. He grabbed my upper arm in a vise grip and dragged me behind him, leading me to my bedroom. “So fucking stubborn, Rae. Did he see you? Did Ivanov see you?”

“I went out for a few drinks! And no, I didn’t have the pleasure of making his acquaintance!” I tried to free myself from Andrei’s grip. “Andrei, I swear I’ll beat the crap out of you if you don’t let me go!”

He did, shoving me onto my bed. Anger swelled up inside me, threatening to turn me inside out as I sat up, attempting to crawl off the bed—which was hard work considering how I had been one drink away from getting totally plastered.

“Who the hell do you think you are?”

The cold look he sent me kept me from continuing. “Maybe I’ve been too indulgent,” he said, his voice soft. “Perhaps you feel that I’m a feeble mortal you can fuck around with. Was it so wrong of me to treat you as my equal? Probably.”

The gentle resonance of his voice chilled me more than the usual roar he'd have made if he just outright scolded me. I refused to show my fear as I got off the bed and stood. Then I folded my arms across my chest, silently daring him to continue.

“When you promised me you wouldn’t go near that man, I believed you.”

I didn’t get why he had such a stick up his ass about this. “I’m not the type of woman that gets bossed around. Go find someone else if you want a doormat.”

He stayed silent for a long time. The only sound I heard was the frantic tattoo of my heart against my chest.

Until… “Rae, come here.”

“No.”

His eyes flashed a brilliant red. “I don’t repeat myself. Ever.”

“Kill me, then. In fact,…” I said, “… rip me apart, Andrei. Because if you think for one second that I’m your bitch, someone you can order around on a whim, just kill me already. You don’t own me.” I paused, meeting his glare with one of my own. “I’m not afraid of you,” I lied. “Kindly go back to hell. I’m tired.”

He stared at me for a long time before he shook his head. “I don’t understand. You are scared, yet you’re mouthing off at me.” He folded his arms across his broad chest, muscles bunching with the movement. “Such a mystery. Such a turn-on.”