Page 76 of The Succubi's Choice

“Yeah, he’s my friend.”

There’s silence, for a long moment. “I’m not sure I’ve had much in the way of that,” he says, weighing his words carefully, judging them by whether or not he should actually say them. “Maybe some of my hosts.”

“That’s sad,” she says, caught in the strange whirlpool of honesty. “If you’re centuries old, surely someone has tried to befriend you.”

He resumes the small, soothing circles on her arm. “For power, certainly. For influence.”

“Well, I’d like to think that I’m your friend,” she says, as she is all but draped over him in a mini dress at an orgy. “And I’d really like to not have all this attention, so it’s not for influence.”

“That’s truly puzzling,” he says, but she can hear the smile in his voice, and he pulls away from her, so she can see his face, and his eyes are creased. “Do you need anything more?”

Her head swims at that, because between the conversation and the rampant sex and everything all around them, she no longer knows which thread of the conversation he’s referring to. “I’m not starving anymore.”

He pulls her up with him, and, arm still around her shoulders, he leads her up a set of stairs, to a much quieter hall, to an unmarked door that he unlocks with a touch from his finger.

Inside, there’s a comfy, worn overstuffed couch, and a normal queen-sized bed, with many pillows and a soft looking blanket over the feet. The air is still, and the lights are diffused, casting a warm glow over the room.

She steps inside, and when she crosses the door frame, a thrill goes up her spine, like her body isn’t fully willing to accept what she sees. It’s not that it’s wrong, per se, but it’s strange.

She twists and looks up at him, but his face hasn’t changed in expression. “Corset lady has a fully functional hotel in here?” She asks, because it would certainly be to type. “That you have some fingerprinted access to?”

“Not exactly,” he says, drawing the word out and shedding his jacket. Underneath, his crisp white shirt is rumpled, like he’s worn it twice recently, and he sighs in a bit of relief when he pops the top button off.

She’s seen so much nudity today, so many glorious bodies on display, but her heart pounds when he shakes off his cufflinks and rolls up his sleeves, displaying his forearms. “You don’t really answer questions directly too much, do you?”

He raises his eyebrow at her, like he knows what she’s doing. “We are still technically within the physical barriers of her house.”

Which wasn’t exactly the question, and that isn’t the part she thought needed answering. “Well yeah, I thought I’d be able to figure it out if you teleported but...” She blinks at him, then squints, before sitting down on the bed. Of course it’s comfortable, like sitting on a cloud. “So does this room...exist?”

“Technically.”

“That’s...strange.” She flops over, staring up to the ceiling, which is stuccoed exactly like her apartment at home and unlike every other room so far in this house, her mind swimming.

“If someone else was to open that door, they’d see a closet. The security camera would see a closet. The floor plan is, technically, a closet. I find this infinitely more comfortable than another closet.”

She eyes him, and he’s straight faced enough that he may be joking, but it’s difficult to tell.

“The bed exists, too,” he says, helpfully. “Just not in the space you’d think it was.”

“Is that why Thomas’s apartment is such a mess?” She asks, with the first question on her mind. “Because you can literally...” She waves her hand at the room.

He shrugs, sitting down on the bed as well and all but flopping over on it. “Do you need to sleep?” He sweeps his hand over the bed, like he’s somehow waiting for her approval for this room he’s created and brought her to. “It seems like you have had perilously little.”

Katya’s words, from the night before, pop into her head. That the Archdemon has put himself in a place to manipulate her emotions.

And, well, taking her to an orgy and then putting her in a comfortable warm room is certainly a way to do it.

“Your face just changed,” he comments, and he’s staring up at the same ceiling she is, not at her at all. “Why did your face change, what did I forget?”

“What do you mean, what did you forget?” She rolls over, propping herself up on her elbows and looking at him...and he looks directly down her cleavage before looking back at the ceiling.

“I forget something, in making it seem real,” he says, up to the ceiling. “Thomas can pick it out immediately, always. He always knows what’s wrong.”

“I got this weird little chill when I came inside, thought it was runes,” she says, that familiar rattled edge of nerves coming back. “So I guess maybe that?”

His eyes narrow up at the ceiling. “Succubi can sense runes,” he says, flat, matter of fact. “That’s definitely something Grant didn’t tell me.”

“His house is covered in them, all over the place.” It’s strange, to lay in a bed with a man, and not be actively trying to seduce him. “Everywhere. Ones that control the temperature to ones that make the room a bit quieter.”

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