How to Kill an Incubus: A Rae Erickson Story (29 page)

It took a long stretch of silence for me to clear my head of all things sexual and ask him.

“What happened to you?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No, you don’t need to know.”

“So it wasn’t… Damien?”

“Don’t insult me.”

“And don’t insult me by… Oh, fuck this, now you’ve made me cry.” I wrenched myself away from him and sat up, wiping at my eyes. Andrei likewise sat up beside me, hoisting me on his lap so that I was facing him. “I thought you were hurt, Andrei,” I mumbled, refusing to look at him. “I’m such a wimp because I was ready to fall apart in the blink of an eye. And now you won’t even tell me what the hell happened?”

He cupped my chin, making me look at him. “Does it matter, Rae? Nothing I tell you will change what has happened today.”

I stared at him for a minute. “You’re such a dick.”

His eyes burned with an intensity akin to anger, but not quite so. “Name-calling. Cute,” he remarked in a low voice.

“If I hadn’t been here, would you have screwed someone else?”

Andrei’s eyes were dark pits of something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. “No matter where you go, I will find you, remember?”

I resisted the urge to sigh like a lovesick teenager. “What if I were… in an accident and unable to… see to your needs? Would you go somewhere else?”

“What do you want me to say?” he growled, glaring at me.

“What if I were in a deep sleep, a coma, for instance? If you were injured like you were injured tonight, would you…?”

“No, I wouldn’t fuck someone else,” he snapped, his voice bouncing off the walls in my room. He pushed me onto my back, looming over me with murder in his eyes. “I would fuck your comatose body and you would be wet. Because even then, you’d still want me.”

My breathing hitched and I forced myself to be afraid of him at that moment… but failed miserably.

“I was at Nicolette earlier tonight,” I whispered.

Andrei heaved himself off me and rose to his feet, his naked body glistening with sweat. “I know.”

Two words, two syllables and they filled me with a boatload of dread.

“You know?”

“Was the girl your first mortal death?” he asked quietly.

I stood up, slightly wobbly on my feet. I didn’t bother asking him how he knew. The violent barrage of mental pictures that popped in my head was enough to make his gentle questioning a salve. “Yes,” I answered.

“Come here.”

So I went to him, releasing a sigh when he wrapped me in his arms. He felt hard and unyielding around me, but he also felt like the softest cashmere blanket I could ever imagine.

“I know why you went there,” he said into my ear, his hands tangling my hair between his fingers. “You continue to defy me at every turn, Rainelle. Why?”

The cashmere blanket became barbed wire. I carefully disengaged myself from it.

“Are you going to chastise me like a child?”

“Are you going to continue to act like one?”

“And what do you know about children?” I let out a snort before regret seeped into my mind. “I mean, maybe you have some kids somewhere in the…”

“I don’t have any children,” he curtly interjected. “Stop changing the subject.”

Well, at least now I know for sure.

“Ivanov would like nothing better than to kill you,” he went on, hands on my shoulders to make me look at him. “I don’t know how many times you want me to stress this fucking point, Rae.”

The memory of what he did to Sarah was one that I was fighting to forget but needed to remember. “I know how stupid it was of me to go back there. I’m sorry.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Right. Anyway, what I’m saying is that you need a… minder.”

“A babysitter?” I choked out, slapping his hands away. “Excuse me?”

Andrei only pulled me to him, his hands roaming down my sides. “Fine. A babysitter.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. And who is it? My brother?” That actually didn’t sound all that bad. Temp and I could even…

“Selene,” said Andrei, and he silenced my protest with a rough kiss.

Chapter 20

It took a few more weeks to arrange it, but I was finally able to leave Paris. There was nothing for me to do there anymore. And on top of that, for the very first time, I had failed a client. Did it matter that JP wasn’t cheating on Ana? Wasn’t dating her even, or married to her? No. What mattered was that I had failed her, and failed her brother. Never in my life would I have imagined that sleuthing would lead to demons, fallen angels, and succubi hell-bent on getting into my Agent Provocateur thongs.

So after refunding Ana Fontaine every cent she paid me, I hurriedly got the hell out of dodge… with a little baggage, of course.

“It’s quite small, don’t you think?” Selene pouted, eyes scanning the only guest room in my house, the one I grew up in and the place I would never have guessed would become the temporary home to a billion-year-old succubus.

She appraised the queen-sized bed as if it were a matchbox, wrinkled her nose at the awesome antique vanity table I’d gotten just last year, and swiveled around to glance at the partially open door of the en suite bathroom.

“I think,” I began, leveling her with a withering look, “you’d better be fucking grateful I’m not shoving you into the basement like fucking Clementine.”

We glared at each other for what felt like hours, until Selene looked away and glided over to the window, barely wobbling in her mile-high stilettos. “So what is there to do in this one-horse town?”

I rubbed at my temples, feeling the onset of a colossal headache. The fact that I had survived multiple plane rides with Selene to get back home—away from Daniel, away from Damien, and even away from Andrei—was almost hard to believe. The only light at the end of this dismal tunnel was the fact that I would see Renée again after months of distance. My best friend wasn’t too happy about being ignored and I knew that I would probably have to do major groveling to get back into her good graces.

It just didn’t feel right for Selene to be here with me when all I wanted to do was escape the supernatural and pretend that I was normal. Even for just one precious second, I would have liked to pretend that everything in my life was sane again. Then there was the fact that there were too many memories in this house—both the bad and the good. Memories that  seemed tainted by Selene’s presence. My father was probably rolling in his grave now.

“I’m sure Andrei told you that killing anyone while you’re here is unacceptable,” I muttered, digging the frayed toe of my pink Converse into the thick carpet. The thought of Selene hunting in my hometown filled me with dread. I knew almost everyone in Sallow Bay. Guilt would slay me if my neighbors disappeared one by one—death by climax.

She jerked around to look at me. “Since you can’t be killed during feeding, are you offering me your body,
ma petite
?”

I felt heat crawl up my neck at the blatant come-on. “Yeah, you wish.”

Laughing loudly, she waved a dismissive hand at me. “If I were to touch you, my lord would have my head on a platter. I am many things but
une idiote
[3]
is not one of them.”

“Just don’t hurt anyone,” I muttered, yawning. I turned on my heel to leave, intent on locking my bedroom door and crashing.

“Rainelle?”

I hated hearing my name on the succubus’ tongue but there was nothing I could do.

“What?” I spat.

“Your derrière fills those jeans very nicely.”

Renée stood on her doorstep, sniffing at the bottle of Chianti I brought her. Folding her arms across her chest, she narrowed her jade green eyes at me. It was ridiculous to feel three feet tall in front of someone shorter than you but that was what Renée Marino’s evil eye did to people.

“When’d you come in?” she demanded.

“Yesterday,” I replied, holding the bottle up. “I come bearing alcohol.”

“Yeah, I can see that, bitch.”

“Oh, come on, Ren. I’m sorry for hanging up on you,” I griped, uncomfortably shifting from one foot to the other. “Could you at least let me in so I can pee?”

“It’s not about the hanging up.” She let out a heavy sigh, stepping aside to let me in and accepting my peace offering. She examined the bottle as I strode past her. “It’s the fact that you don’t seem to give a damn that my husband and I worry about you… a lot. The least you can do is email us so we know some billionaire hasn’t murdered your snitching ass and thrown your body over the River Seine.”

I let out a laugh on my way to the bathroom, ignoring the way my heart swelled at the thought of her obvious concern. “Is Lorenzo home?”

“There was a fire at Quincy’s,” Renée called out. “You know, the burger place on Brooke?”

Only once I was done in the bathroom did I respond.

“How could I forget?” I said incredulously, following her voice into the pristine kitchen. “Best Texan-style burgers ever. Was it burnt to the ground?” My stomach grumbled at the thought of sinking my teeth into the juicy beef patties and melted cheese. What I wouldn’t do to get my hands on one at the moment?

Renée shook her head, sighing with relief. “Fortunately, no. Would’ve been a shame to have to stoop to Mickey D’s.”

It didn’t take long for Renée and me to get back to normal. Well, as normal as it was possible to be, without telling her that I just snuck out of my house for the afternoon, successfully tiptoeing past my succubus babysitter, who just discovered my
True Blood
box-set.

Renée poured us each a glass of wine, reheated a plate of Lorenzo’s spicy lamb cutlets, and brought everything to the living room. She set them on the coffee table before me.

“The best fucking wine on the planet,” she remarked after taking a huge gulp from her glass and plopping down beside me. “Thanks, babe.”

I decided to skip the liquor for now and dig into the food. One thing Lorenzo definitely knew how to do was cook. The man was a firefighter, knew his way around a kitchen, and spoke fluent Italian. Renée lucked the fuck out when she got him to put a ring on it.

“Jesus, you’d think you were starving in France,” she said, watching me unabashedly lick the sauce off my fingers.

“Shut up,” I said, letting out a moan. “So good. You know I’d steal your husband the second I get the chance, ungrateful wench.”

She laughed. We both knew that Lorenzo Marino was madly, deeply in love with her and would only leave her if he went to the grave.

“I’ve missed you, Rae,” she said, her voice somber.

“Uh-oh. What’s up? You’re getting sappy on me.” I brought the glass of wine to my lips, inhaling the fruity scent of plums Ren and I both liked. I sipped… and was surprised to realize that I hated it! So much so that I heaved, spraying crimson liquid all over my white cargo pants. “Shit,” I spat, standing.

“What the hell, Rae? You OK?”

“Too strong,” I murmured, my stomach turning. I was beginning to regret stuffing my face like a greedy six-year-old at a friend’s birthday party.

“Are you sick?” Renée was standing now, as well, gently patting my back.

I took a deep breath. “Nah. Don’t think so. Guess I should take it easy, huh?”

Ren gave me a doubtful look. “You’re positive it’s the food?”

I gave the meat a wistful look as I sat back down. “Yeah. Loan me some pants?”

After we went upstairs to get me some pants, Ren and I continued talking about anything and nothing in particular. We were so engrossed that before I knew it the moon was out and I started wondering if Selene would call Andrei to let him know I disappeared for the entire day. The idea made me laugh out loud that Renée paused in the middle of a story about something that had happened at her office.

“Is there something hilarious about my colleague Frank getting fired when he has four kids to feed?” she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“What? Of course not,” I said quickly, stifling a yawn. We were sitting on her bed and the mattress suddenly felt so comfy beneath me. In fact, so comfy that I could probably just close my…

“What’s up with you?” snapped Ren. “For real now, Rainelle Erickson.”

I rubbed the sleep out my eyes. “Just tired. Might be jetlag.”

She glared at me. “That’s not what I mean and you know it. You’re keeping something from me. What is it?”

There were a lot of things I was keeping from her that I didn’t even know where to begin. The only thing I did know was that I didn’t want to ruin her perfect life by unloading the supernatural on her.

“I’m dating someone.”

Ren clapped her hands so hard her fingers turned bright crimson. “Are you kidding me? Who is he? Some French businessman? A sexy Parisian artist? Lord, how good is the sex?” she fired at me, eyes glistening with excitement.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Um, I know for a fact that your sex life’s on point. You don’t have to live vicariously through me.”

She rolled her eyes at me. “I know that. Doesn’t change the fact that I’m interested in hearing about yours.”

“Pervert.”

“Prude,” she countered.

“If only you knew…”

She playfully slapped my arm. “I do want to know! I feel like we don’t talk as much anymore.” She gave me a pointed look. “First, who’s the guy?”

I sighed heavily. “Andrei.”

“Who?” she asked with a blank look.

I watched her rewind through the film of her memory before she let out a whoop of laughter when the name finally clicked.

“That fucking friendly giant? My God, Rae. He must be playing in the big-dick sandpit!” she screeched, bouncing excitedly in her cross-legged position. “You lucky beast.”

Lucky? Was I? Lucky to be in love—because, God help me, that was the only way to describe this overwhelming feeling—with a demon king? Lucky to be caught in some crazy revenge plot on said demon king by a sadistic fallen angel? Yeah, I was rolling in four-leaf clovers, all right.

“Well?” Renée prodded my arm. “Is it serious? Because, honey, the look you just got on your face says a million words.”

My face heated up. “It isn’t serious. He’s… not the type of guy to… settle down,” I said vaguely.
That’s certainly putting it mildly.
“Besides, you know me. I’m all about the orgasms.” Twisting Andrei’s ring on my finger, I thought about how the last part was a bald-faced lie.

Ren, however, cackled with laughter and went on about how lucky I was. But I was too distracted to make any kind of response beyond the occasional affirmative or negative. My best friend’s line of questioning had brought up an unwelcome feeling: longing.

I had been quite content to be my own person, have my own homes, go wherever I wanted, do whatever I wanted, and fuck whomever I wanted.

But now
, I thought,
I want more
.

And that was the pathetic part, wasn’t it? I couldn’t have more because the person I wanted to have it with couldn’t give it to me. He wasn’t even a person.