Page 8 of The Succubus's Song

The incessant desire to feed flooded her senses, pounding behind her eyelids and settling into her head like a migraine. She winced, blinking to lessen the effects of the lights.

“Fuck, Mara,” Emmett muttered, “your eyes.”

“Falbh dairich fhein,” Mara cursed as the realization of her situation washed over her. She knew what Emmett was reacting to—she was still hungry and becoming more desperate, which meant her red eyes must be piercing through her glamour.

She never pushed herself past her limits when it came to her…appetites, as she referred to them, refusing to put anyone she loved in harm’s way. The surprise of seeing Alice in Edinburgh and her need to warn Emmett pushed feeding from her mind.

“Language, Mara! You’ve never been a morning person, but I don’t think you’ve ever subjected me to your morning tirades by sleeping in my office.” Emmett’s tone softened, and his friendly brogue finally broke through Mara’s thoughts, and her vision focused.

Emmett was standing over her with a wide smile, holding a to-go cup of coffee and scolding her for cursing like a church nun. There was a mischievous look on his face, and Mara saw why. Finley McEwan was standing in the doorway, looking sheepish and holding an identical to-go mug.

Damn it to hell. This is not what my morning needed, Mara hissed inwardly and moved supernaturally fast to straighten up. It had been a few months since Mara turned down Finley, but she hadn’t turned him down because she wasn’t interested.

The tension in the room became nearly tangible. Mara stared at Finley, and he pointed behind him.

“I can go.” Finley coughed awkwardly, looking between Mara and Emmett. As soon as he moved, Mara flinched as a delectable wave of his scent washed over her. She let out a sound that was a cross between a hiss and a whimper, and she fought against her body’s instincts, her glamour choked her as the temptation grew.

“Mara,” Emmett snapped, recognizing the signs and moving to block Finley with his body. “Is this an issue?”

Mara buried her face in her hands for a moment, forcing herself to take deep breaths. She inhaled her own neutral scent, trying to clear Finley from her mind.

To a baobhan sith, every person had a unique smell. Sometimes the way a person smelled could be different depending on the baobhan sith. A person who was intoxicating to Mara might have been abhorrent to her sister.

Finley smelled like pine trees and honey—and it was the most delectable scent Mara had ever come across. She’d been avoiding him for weeks to try and get the scent out of her mind.

This is the worst possible timing to be reminded of how good Finley fuckin’ McEwan smells. Focus, Mara!

“It’s not an issue,” Mara finally pushed the words out and forced herself to sit back down. Finley stepped inside the office slowly, shutting the door behind him.

Mara could see he was keeping one eye on her as he moved. To her surprise, he didn’t seem horrified by her unkempt, nearly wild appearance and the sight of her baobhan sith features so close to the surface.

He doesn’t seem disgusted by you, a hopeful part of Mara’s heart chirped up, but she squashed those thoughts rather quickly. Well, of course not. All of us are attractive; that’s the whole fucking point. He wouldn’t be as thrilled if he knew how badly you want to devour him right now. Stop being an eejit.

“We were just headed to the gym,” Emmett informed her, sitting down at his desk, “but this seems rather urgent.” Mara refocused her attention on her co-worker.

“My sister found me last night,” Mara blurted unceremoniously. She crossed her legs and leaned back in her chair, smoothing out her hair absentmindedly with one hand. If there was one thing Mara despised, it was feeling like an animal, which was exactly how her baser instincts made her feel.

Emmett growled, his lip curling. For a brief second, Mara got a glimpse of the general she remembered. Mara could see the shock on Finley’s face, but to his credit, he didn’t react further.

“Do they want you back?” Emmett quickly regained his composure, but Mara could see how tense he was. He knew Mara’s history with her family.

“Yes,” Mara’s tone was clipped, “but that’s not all. They want to come here.”

“To Scotland?” Emmett snapped.

Mara nodded. “Alice told me that she was the messenger. My family wants to use Edinburgh as a hunting ground. They want me to soften Calum up to the idea.”

“Impossible.” Emmett was gripping the edge of his desk so hard that his knuckles were white. “That can never happen, Mara.”

“I know that,” Mara snapped, her eyes lighting up in frustration, “but I don’t exactly control them, do I? It wasn’t you that Alice threatened last night.”

“She threatened you?” Finley perked up, leaning forward as his gaze raked over Mara as if he was scanning for injuries. He sounded as offended as Emmett, even though he knew practically nothing about Mara’s life before the Battle of Culloden.

Mara froze for a second, taking in the outrage etched into Finley’s features as he turned to Emmett. “What are we going to do about it?”

Fuck, my heart. Mara sighed, shifting uncomfortably in her seat as a fresh wave of Finley’s scent rolled off him every time he moved.

“You aren’t going to do anything about it,” Mara clarified, pushing her feelings down further and ignoring the ache in her chest. “You’re mortal, Finley. This isn’t something for you to get involved in.”

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