Page 60 of The Succubi's Choice

He’s wearing gloves, even, so he doesn’t touch her with bare skin. It’s a small protection, but they were expecting her to charm them.

“What the fuck?” She grabs onto the arm chair, pushing down her charm and absolutely not feeling it spark beneath the surface of her skin in response. In some sort of natural defense mechanism or something or some way to keep herself safe or —

Vincente exchanges a glance with the goon, and they both look unconcerned. “Like I said, come with me.”

“Can I have my phone back?” She blurts out, because if she’s going somewhere without any way of defending herself she’s gonna want to at least let someone know. “Katya’s worried about me.”

She doesn’t miss the sneer that flickers over Vincente’s face at Katya’s name, which...isn’t great.

“If I disappear, she’ll come looking for me,” she says.

“You’ll make your meet up with her, don’t worry,” Vincente says, and the goon grabs her by her upper arm again. Like he thinks she can’t break that grasp and like that would keep her captive forever. Like she’s utterly helpless in every way. Like he thinks that she will just cave and be dragged around like a pawn, like someone who can’t do anything.

She looks up at the goon and locks eyes, but she can’t charm him through the glove. “Don’t touch me,” she says, prim, masking how her heart is pounding and how her stomach is dropping. “I’ll come with, but don’t drag me.”

Vincente gestures for her to follow him, and she does, across the shining marble tile and to the glossy bank of elevators, where he swipes his card, and the goon follows behind them, studiously not touching her at all.

The elevator opens, and there’s clearly two other Organization officials in there, waiting. They don’t exit, instead riding back up with them to the ear popping fifteenth floor.

And with each floor that passes, the worse it feels. Something’s gone...off. Obviously so. Lundy brought her here, and now…

“So what do you guys all expect me to do here?” She asks to the painfully quiet elevator. “I said I would give a full report, why the subterfuge?”

Vincente glances at her, idly, but doesn’t say anything. And the goons certainly don’t speak.

She shifts, and the goons all flinch back, as if they’re the ones scared of her, and it gives her a moment of thrill, a moment of power, before she squashes that down.

“I’m going to tell people about this,” she says, because her voice is better than the foreboding silence and the soft beeping of the elevator moving upwards. “It’s not okay.”

The doors open, and Vincente steps out, never glancing back and, her heart pounding even harder, she follows him out and to a generic hotel room, one he opens with a swipe of his card.

It’s dangerous, she knows, to follow someone into a closed room without any way of getting out, but she’s been doing it a lot lately, and the danger feels like just a ripple. Like, she’s done so many ill-advised things lately, that the idea of going into a room with a few humans just seems laughable.

There are runes along the door jamb, runes for silence and one for keeping the room chilled, because of course they don’t want her comfortable.

“I still need to hunt today,” she says, loudly, as she steps inside. “I’m pretty sure you’re recording this, so I’m saying this so it’s on the record.” One of the goons snorts, like he wasn’t expecting her to be funny. An ally in this would be nice. “And if you could state, clearly, what this is about it would be great.”

Cause she knows procedures and everything just as well as they do.

The bed has been shoved over to one side, and the space is full of a large table, with various electronic equipment piled high on it, equipment that doesn’t look friendly to her.

She looks up at Vincente, locking eyes with him out of some courage she doesn’t know where she dug up. “If I think I’m in danger, I’m going to charm my way out of this.” Her voice warbles, finally. “I’m not just going to sit here.”

“You’re not in danger,” he says, sitting on one side of the table like it’s a normal meal, or a normal meeting. “We’re not in the business of putting succubi in danger, especially not one as...connected...as you are.”

So, formally, she takes a seat, sitting as far back as she can, the equipment whirring in front of her.

Vincente observes her, as if seeing right through the nerves and the bravado.

A goon, almost without her seeing, does a skin swab on the back of her hand, and feeds the cotton pad into the machine. It beeps, but their expressions don’t change at whatever results it gives them.

There’s a long moment, where they’re reading results of...something, before Vincente looks up again at her. “He touched you?” He says, but it's still a question.

“Yeah, he put his arm around me. And I helped him tie a tie, cause he couldn’t.” She says, and the goon behind her snorts again.

“Did you feel anything change in your charm when he did?” Vincente asks, like that makes sense. At her head shake—“Did you try to directly charm him?”

“Not last night.” She shifts, tucking her hands underneath her thighs, wanting to keep them outside of any range of the strange equipment. “I did before, and while the demon is in control, it doesn’t work. Just when Thomas is.”

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