Page 22 of Succubus Shadows (Georgina Kincaid 5)

"I'm guessing he didn't look like John Cusack though."

"No." This made Roman laugh again. "Probably not. My mother took on mundane jobs whenever we moved villages - washing woman, field worker. But at least she was free. And she still danced sometimes. I saw her once, when I was really young...just before she was killed. There was a festival, and I remember her dancing in front of the fire, wearing this red dress." All mirth disappeared from him. "That image is burned into my mind. I can see how an angel would have fallen for her."

I didn't ask any questions about how she was killed. In those days, it could have been as simple as a raid or attack. They were commonplace. Or, more likely, she'd been killed in an attempt on Roman and his sister. He'd once mentioned that they were always on the run from angels and demons.

"So maybe you learned to dance as a subconscious tribute to her," I said, shifting to something lighter.

That half-smile returned. "Or maybe I just inherited my father's attraction to graceful, sensual women."

The song ended, and we stood there, frozen in time with our hands still entwined. Foxtrot was hardly the bumping and grinding seen in modern clubs, but our bodies were close, and I felt like I could sense the heat from his. Whether it was real or imagined, I couldn't say. But I did know there was something very seductive about dancing, about mirroring another's body, and somehow, I wasn't surprised when he leaned down and kissed me.

I was a little surprised that I kissed him back. But not for long. Because as our lips met, I realized how much I'd come to regard Roman as a comforting fixture in my life. We'd grown from adversaries to friends to...what? I didn't entirely know. I did know that I liked having him around and that I'd never really shaken the attraction that had drawn me to him long ago. I also knew that I was lonely for the touch of someone I liked and that I had an automatic instinct to respond to this sort of thing.

His mouth pressed harder against mine, as hot and demanding as I recalled. His hands quickly moved from the formal orientation of foxtrot to something more intimate and eager, sliding down to my hips and somehow managing to push me against the wall while also shoving my shirt up. My own hands were around his neck, my lower body pressing against his as I felt all my nerves set on fire and lust coursing through me.

He managed to break away enough to pull my shirt off, and then his hands moved to my br**sts, which were wrapped in a white lace bra. He glanced down and made a face as he pulled from our kiss. "Can't you make it a front hook?"

A small bit of shape-shifting made the bra disappear altogether. "Don't trouble yourself," I said.

He smiled and moved his lips to my neck while his hands cupped the curves of my br**sts. It made it impossible for me to take his shirt off, but I slid my hands under it, loving the feel of his warm skin and taut muscles. I tipped my head back, letting him taste me and increase the intensity of his kissing.

And through it all, there were no voices in my head. I heard none of his thoughts, sensed none of his feelings. I was alone - alone with my own reactions, simply enjoying the way my body felt with no other interruptions. It was glorious.

I at last managed a break that let me pull his shirt off, and then my hands moved to his pants, putting us in a brief deadlock as he tried to move his lips to my ni**les. I won and watched his pants fall to the floor. With that concession, he pulled me down as well and continued his efforts to kiss my br**sts, almost kneeling before me as he did so. I ran my hands through his hair, gripping his head while his mouth sucked and teased. As he did, his eyes glanced up and met mine. I saw the desire in them and - something more.

Something I hadn't expected to see. There was...what? Love? Adoration? Affection? I couldn't quite pin it down, but I recognized the general category. It was a slap to the face. I hadn't anticipated it. Lust, I'd expected. A primitive instinct to throw me down and f**k me, in order to relieve his body's need. For so long, I'd operated on the assumption that he kind of liked me and kind of wanted to hate me. Yet, now, I realized those nice moments we'd had recently weren't coincidence. His sharp attitude had been a facade, meant to hide his feelings.

Roman still loved me.

I identified it for what it was. He wasn't doing this just because he wanted my body. He wanted me. This was more than just fulfilling a physical instinct for him, and suddenly...suddenly, I didn't know what to do. Because I realized then, I didn't know why I was doing this. There was a fair amount of lust on my part, and I'd grown closer to him since his return to Seattle. But the rest...? I wasn't sure. There was so much going on right now: Maddie, Simone, Seth...Always Seth. Seth, who even now made my heart ache while I was wrapped in the arms of another man. My emotions were a tangle of confusion and hurt and desperation. I was with Roman as some sort of reaction, some attempt to fill the hole in my heart and seek false comfort. My feelings didn't match his. I couldn't do this with him. I didn't deserve to do this with him.

I pushed him away and jumped to my feet, backing off toward the hallway.

"No..." I said. "I can't...I can't. I'm sorry."

He stared up at me, understandably confused and a little hurt after the ardor I'd displayed seconds ago. "What are you talking about? What's wrong?"

I didn't know how to explain it, didn't know how I could even begin to articulate what I felt inside of me. I just shook my head and continued backing. "I'm sorry...I'm so sorry...I'm just not ready."

Roman sprang to his feet in one graceful motion. He took a step toward me. "Georgina..."

But I was already moving away, off to the safety of my bedroom. I slammed the door behind me - not from anger, but from a desperate need to stay away from him. From the hall, I heard him call my name and feared he'd come in anyway, despite my refusal to answer. I had no lock, and even if I did, it wouldn't stop him. He said my name a few more times, and then silence fell. I think he returned to the living room, backing off and giving me my space.

I flung myself onto the bed, gripping the sheets tightly and trying not to cry. That horrible despair that plagued me so often filled me now. It was an old friend, one that I would never be able to leave. All my relationships - friends and lovers - were a mess. I was either hurting them, or they were hurting me. There was no peace for me. There never would be, not for this servant of Hell.

And then, through that horrible, clenching pain inside me, I felt the lightest of touches. A whisper. A breath of music, of color, of light. I lifted my head up from where I'd buried it in my pillow and stared around. There was nothing tangible, not exactly, but I could sense it all around me: that warm, comforting siren song. It had no words, yet in my despair, I could hear it perfectly. It was telling me I was wrong, that I could have peace. And not just that - I could have comfort and love and so much more. It was like arms beckoning to me, a mother welcoming home a long-lost child.

I slowly rose from my bed, moving toward that which had no form. Come, come.

Outside my door, I heard Roman shout my name, but the tone was different from before. This wasn't confusion or pleading. It was frantic and concerned. The sound was grating to my ears as I stepped closer to that beautiful warmth. It was home. It was an invitation. All I had to do was accept.

"Georgina!" The door blew apart, and Roman stood there, blazing with power. "Georgina, stop - "

But it was too late. I had accepted.

All that joy and protection wrapped around me, taking me into its arms.

The world dissolved.

Chapter 10

I woke to blackness. Blackness and suffocation.

I was in a small room, a box really, crammed in so tightly that my arms wrapped around me and my knees were drawn to my chest. Weirdly, my limbs seemed too long. My whole body did, actually. My body changed all the time with shape-shifting, but this wasn't what I'd been wearing with Roman. This was different. For a moment, that horrible space seemed to close in around me. I couldn't breathe. With great effort, I tried to calm myself down. There was enough air. I could breathe. And even if I couldn't have, it wouldn't have mattered. The fear of suffocation was a human instinct.

Where was I? I didn't remember anything after the bedroom. I recalled the light and the music and Roman bursting in too late. I'd felt his power build up, like he was about to take action, but I hadn't seen the conclusion. And now, here I was.

Before my eyes, two identical luminescent forms suddenly appeared, like torches being lit in the darkness. They were tall and thin, with willowy, androgynous features. Black cloth wrapped around their bodies, seeming to glow with a light of its own, and long black hair flowed from their heads, blending in and losing itself in the cloth. Their eyes were a startling radioactive blue, too blue for any human, and seemed to bug out of those long, pale faces that were neither male nor female.

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