Page 44 of Wicked Succubus

I got a taste of Rhett’s power, and that half a second made me fear his abilities. And Killian, the way he snuck into my dream and changed it . . . My whole body shivers just thinking about it. I came too close. I need to make sure I’m fed at all times. I can’t allow a slipup, especially with the men I’m currently living with.

I’m at my vanity applying my dark purple lipstick when my phone dings. I walk to my dresser and pick it up. It’s a text from Easton, telling me he’s outside to pick me up for our date tonight. Perfect.

Easton: I’m outside. Ready when you are.

Me: Be right there.

I walk downstairs and stop in front of the huge mirror hanging in the entryway, and I take a moment to admire my clothing. I’m wearing a leather skirt with a black corset that ties up in the front, with some very comfortable black heeled boots. When I get to the front door, my skin prickles. I turn around, but there’s no one there. It’s like someone is calling me back from leaving tonight, and my body wants to answer the call, but instead, I unlock the door and swing it open. Easton’s huge, cheeky grin is the first thing I see as he stands leaning against the exterior wall with his hands in his pockets. I can’t help but smile back.

“Ready to go?” he asks cheerfully as he comes in for a hug.

“Absolutely,” I reply.

He takes a step back so that I can close and lock the door. We walk to his SUV, and he opens the door for me.

“I figured we could eat before we hit the club.”

Dread hits me full force, but I try to keep my calm composure and feign excitement. “Good. I’m starving.” I’m definitely hungry but not for what he thinks.

He gets in, puts the keys into the ignition, and says, “I’m really excited you decided to come tonight.”

“Me, too,” I respond automatically. There’s tension in my neck. I don’t know how I’m going to get through this dinner without having to feed my inner Succubus.

The drive to the restaurant is filled with small talk, mostly about his job, and I give him information about my abuelita. I tell him she and my mom were both born and raised in Mexico and came to the US when my mom was eighteen. Then I change the focus back to my abuelita and what an amazing cook she was. I make sure to withhold specific details, or when things get too personal, I shift the conversation to focus on him.

When we arrive at the restaurant, people are lined up waiting to get in. There are lots of humans outside laughing and having a good time.

“I hope you like seafood.” He sounds hopeful and a little nervous.

“My favorite.” It really is, but I still wish we’d skip this part.

Easton finds a parking spot, and we make our way through the throng of people hanging outside of the door. The host looks bored until he sees me, and his eyes widen. Since I need to feed, my body makes me sexier to others in hopes of luring in my next victim, and the host is no doubt feeling it.

“How many?” he asks as his full attention is on me.

“Two,” Easton responds. I detect a slight hint of annoyance in his voice, and he stands closer to me as if he’s staking his claim. Poor guy doesn’t know nothing will ever happen between us but dinner and dancing. “I made reservations,” Easton continues.

The host grabs his pen and glances down at the list. “Name, please?”

“Easton Barlowe.”

This place is really fancy, and I immediately feel underdressed. The restaurant is dark, with candles on each table. The men are dressed in crisp button-down shirts under slim fitted sports jackets, and designer jeans or slacks. The women wear luxury brand cocktail dresses that cling to their fit figures with Gucci and Prada bags draped over their chairs. As we walk through the crowd, I can feel their lingering gazes. I want to take my fill from these people. It would be so easy, but then I’m reminded that my species is all but extinct, and I’m supposed to be killed on the spot if I’m ever discovered. So instead, I try to make chitchat and hope to make it out of here without my horns and wings popping out.

“I love this place. I think you’re going to like it, too.” I don’t know how he would know that when he never asked me, but he’s actually right about this one. I love me some seafood. It just sucks I’m here on a night that I have to feed.

“I’m sorry about this, but I have to keep my phone on me at all times just in case they need me tonight.”

That brings me back to reality. It’s Saturday evening, so that means there’ll be another killing. That’s why I didn’t see Agent Cooper when I was getting ready. He’s probably trying to figure out who the killer is. I don’t want more innocent supernaturals dying, so this means that after I feed, I’m going in hard and finding out who’s taking out these women.

“Yeah, of course.”

He lays the phone on the table cautiously as if willing it to not ring, and I feel the same way, but not because of our date being interrupted. I don’t want to see any more women hurt.

“I’m so happy you decided to hang out tonight,” he says as we both grab our menus. A waitress sets bread and butter on the table between us.

“Are you ready to order?” the waitress asks. She’s short with shoulder-length brown hair.

“Yeah,” I say, not even thinking about it. We need to keep this moving. Thankfully for me, Easton puts his menu down like he already knows what he wants. I wish I had the time to really sit and enjoy the meal. I’ve never been to a fancy restaurant like this one before, but I have to carry on unless I want my horns to start showing.

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