Page 86 of The Succubi's Choice

“Hmm,” he says, and she can hear his heartbeat. It’s fast, for a human, but she can’t know if that’s a part of the possession or not. “My ally there says you somehow cut off surveillance with them, that they can’t track your movements as cleanly.”

And it’s nice to know that it’s that effective, but a bit disorienting that she’s finding it out through him.

“My handler was unhappy that he was lied to,” she says, her eyes slipping shut as she leans against him. “He was told they were dropping me off for some blood tests.”

He takes a deep breath at her words, like the reminder of the night of torture pains him in the back of his throat.

“It’s nice that there are honorable members of the Organization,” he says, his voice carefully neutral, and his spare hand reaches up and rubs her shoulder, soothing. “You shouldn’t have been tracked in the first place.”

“I mean, I get why, technically a predator,” she says looking up at him from leaning against his chest. “I get why they wouldn’t want me running around all free.”

“I don’t,” he says, soft but declarative. “I very much doubt you would willingly hurt someone.” He shifts, but it's only bringing her closer. “I’m not sure if I have ever met a succubi who didn’t instinctively avoid someone who had already been preyed on.”

“Well except Grant, right?” She says, marveling at the sheer amount of comfort. “You knew about his husband, right?”

He hums an affirmative. “They have a very strange arrangement.” He leans his cheek against the top of her head, and it’s a little bit of glorious contact that she didn’t know she wanted at that exact moment. “But the husband is exactly as willing as Grant is, with no charm. I did my investigating.”

“And yet, you still thought the woman was in the mob,” she says, and again, he twitches, a scowl appearing over his face.

“I’m working on her,” he says,. “I don’t know what can happen to her without direct ramifications, but something will.”

And that’s foreboding, but Miri can’t draw it in herself to feel bad for the woman. “Can’t you just...wave your hand and make her forget about the existence of me?”

“Not even remotely that simple,” he says, and she wants to just stay like this for forever. “Beatriz—that’s her name—keeps detailed written logs of everything that happens to her and backs them up at all times, keeping them in several locations. In order to do so I would have to pull off a data heist that would be foolish and very destructive.”

And that would be a weakness of someone who could alter memories, wouldn’t it, detailed backup of information. His world must’ve become so much inherently more difficult with the advent of technology.

Gabriel’s door clicks open, and Miri watches as Jacqueline all but tip-toes out, towards the shared bathroom, before stopping in her tracks and giving Miri a wide-eyed look.

They lock eyes, half in panic and half in trying really hard to not have something be said. Jacqueline’s obviously half dressed, with just a single shirt over her underwear, and obviously coming from Gabriel’s room.

“It’s okay,” Miri whisper-calls out, and that breaks Jacqueline’s startle and she steps into the bathroom, quick as a flash, and Miri has to resist the urge to giggle.

“Is that a new development?” The Archdemon asks, and his voice sounds so obviously bewildered. “I didn’t catch that when I saw them last and —"

“I’m fairly certain that’s new,” she interrupts, still smiling. “They’ve been crushing for forever, it’s been hilarious.”

There’s a long pause from him, like the presence of Jacqueline completely derailed his thoughts, before he carefully—obviously carefully—places a kiss on the top of her head.

“Humans confuse me,” he all but mumbles into her hair. “I possess one, and they confuse me. Living among them is one confusing emotional trap to another.”

“Do you see Thomas’s thoughts?” She asks, because there’s really no way to follow up such a statement. “Cause he seems remarkably normal.”

“Not really, not in any way that gives them any sort of clarity,” he says, and, slow, he pulls away from her, giving her ample time to adjust to the loss of contact. “I can understand the power struggles, I can understand the rush to get money and wealth and comfort, but all that...” he waves his hand, nebulous, “it just doesn’t make sense.”

His voice is as if this is a huge confession, as if this is a glaring hole in his personality and he’s aware of it and ashamed of it, instead of sounding like a pretty run of the mill description of social anxiety and awkwardness. It’s endearing, coming from an all-powerful demon.

“Well, it’s a different form of comfort,” she says, and even without the weird hug cuddle, their legs are still pressed together, twin points of contact. “It’s the wanting of another person to be safe, to keep them near.” She points at the pile of post-it runes on the coffee table. “It’s like those. You don’t have to do them, you’d lose very little actual power and control if something happened to me, but you’re still showing up at a ridiculously early time in the morning—"

“It’s ten thirty —"

“In order to put them on my door. It’s like that.”

His face twists, sudden, before smoothing out again, and it feels like the most honest bit of emotion she’s ever seen from him. “You were supposed to be someone useful, someone to show that I wasn’t the same as the demigod,” he says, as if he’s gravely ashamed, as if this is a big mistake, as if she isn’t already aware of this. As if this isn’t something he all but explained the first time he invited her. “It makes sense that I want to protect the investment of time.”

Someone with a bit less skill at reading people might be offended, but Miri smirks a bit at that. It’s like he’s completely confused, like he’s unaware of the ridiculousness, as if all his behaviors are completely logical.

Jacqueline exits the bathroom and, not even looking at the living room, all but dashes back into Gabriel’s bedroom, and again, Miri has to repress a smile.

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