Page 18 of Moonlit Alexandrite

“Dion! What the hell are you doing here, child?” Madam Folayan herself broke me from my reverie, and I realized I had sat astride my bike staring at the front doors for several minutes. Swinging my leg over and dismounting, I headed toward her, surrendering to the expectant arms that wrapped around me in maternal affection. How many times had I wished she was my mother when I was growing up? Not that my birth family were bad per se, but when you are legally obliged to report any time your family gathers in groups larger than a home unit, you can imagine how the experience could impact someone already prone to anxiety.

“It’s been a while, Mama Fo,” I said, a small, genuine smile playing over my face.

“I would say too long, but seeing as I only have the pleasure of your company when you are struggling with something, I will say we need longer between visits. What’s going on?”

My skin was crawling with the urge to move. A quick glance must have told her this, because the next minute I found myself ushered into the nearest studio.

“You need music?” she asked, all business once the door was closed.

“Anything. Yeah, anything will do. Just make it loud.”

She nodded once and set the stereo to a deafening level, then left. I knew she wouldn’t be far, and once the dance was done, it would be time for a different kind of purging. For now, I let the music take over. Though I had trained in most of the mainstream varieties, there was something about the expression of emotion through the hard and soft lines of the body in contemporary that had always spoken to me. Alone in that hall, with music fit to tear down the academy, I danced the story of the folly of six years ago. The one that almost decimated our family. The unexpected gift of Newt and the rebuilding that happened after.

I lost track of time in the dance, but when I finally stopped the music, sweat stinging my eyes, and heart thumping fit to crack my still aching chest, I found Mama Fo standing in the doorway waiting for me.

“What’s her name, child?”

“Tammilyn,” I grunted, resentment oozing from every syllable.

“Not that good-for-nothing. I meant the new one. The one that has you so twisted up you can’t see straight.”

Admitting it would make it real.

She waited patiently, her kind eyes the same as they had been through a million childhood worries, teenage dramas, and first heartbreaks. The air rushed out of me as I resigned myself to telling this story.

“Alexandrite... Lex. I think she’s my mate, and that fucking terrifies me.”

Chapter Eleven

Lex

At the word ‘mate’, a tingling anxiety crawled its way up my spine. I expected my succubus to be screaming with joy since she had been focused on these two from the moment she met them. Instead, I was filled with the irrepressible need to get away.

Sensing my shift in mood, Tase backed off with an assessing look.

“What’s wrong?” Ren asked, glancing between us.

Tase gave me a sad smile. “She’s going to bolt. It’s okay, babe, you’re safe here.”

His voice was deliberately soothing, and the logical part of my brain wanted to listen, but the blood was starting to rush in my ears. Mental alarms screaming that danger was near.

I ran.

Out of the gallery and down the street, heedless of the buildings I passed. Panic had given my feet wings, and I flew far and fast.

A block from the gallery I slowed to a walk, then to a stop outside the sports center. What was I doing? What would running get me except sore feet and boob sweat? Ugh. The sundress I had worn to meet up with Dion was now pasted to my back, drenched in perspiration, thanks to my unfit ass deciding to go Usain Bolt on a situation that should have been a blessing.

Mates are a good thing, I tried to reason with my succubus.Sex feeds you, so it’s really great that we get two, right?

She was suspiciously quiet, curled in the back of my mind, as though debating whether to high tail it again.

Skittish.

I’d heard the word used to refer to horses when they were nervous or flighty. I had never heard of it being used to describe a succubus and intimacy. We were literal sex demons. I quietly wished that I had been raised by one of my own kind. Maybe I would understand why she panicked when things got real. I had a feeling it was my adoptive parents’ influence, but I was no psychologist.

It occurred to me, I had been standing outside the sports center for a long while. Passers-by were starting to side-eye the clearly unfit, red-faced girl, loitering in front of the stadium in which their children were playing little league or football or whatever the hell kids did in there.

With no other destination in mind, I turned south and headed toward the loch.

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