Page 12 of Obsession

“Sure thing. You just holler at me.” She gives Damion a sultry look, then shakes her hips as she walks to the back.

“Do you have this effect on all women?” I try to ask calmly and coolly—pretty sure I failed, based on his cocky smile.

“I don’t know all women, so I can’t answer that,” he says, stirring his Bloody Mary with the celery stalk garnish. “My only concern is whether I’m having this effect on you.” A phantom touch runs up and down my spine, and my skin breaks out in goose bumps. “Am I having this effect on you?” he asks seductively.

Before I can lie and tell him he’s having no effect on me whatsoever, a piece of paper with Grandma’s handwriting on it appears in his hands. “Are you seriously following Vivian’s romantic weekend itinerary?”

“What’s next on the itinerary? Ah, here it is. After brunch we’ll walk over to the arts district. You’re very artistic and into that sort of thing. I’m not sure if we’ll have time for a couples massage on this romantic weekend. Or a B&B with a heart-shaped tub. We’ll save those for the next trip,” he announces. I try to snatch the paper, but it disappears. “How are things at the shop? Gone to hell without me, I’m sure.”

“Believe it or not, it’s much easier to run a business without a bossy Cambion inside my head.”

But not as much fun, admit it.

I admit nothing. Of course he’s right, it’s not as much fun. If I’m being honest, it’s lonely in my head. I missed our silent fussing and flirting something awful, and I’m so happy we can still speak to each other mentally. Stockholm syndrome, the demonic possession version? Not sure, but I do need to get the ball rolling on that survivors of demonic possession support group. How is work?

Brutal. Because of my wanton witch, I’m still playing catch-up.

I refuse to admit responsibility for our binding.

But you admit you’re my wanton witch. Tricky devil.

Our food is brought out by a male runner, and I’m thankfully saved from having to watch our female server give it another go. “Tabasco sauce, please,” Damion asks him and the guy quickly returns with the little bottle.

“That makes me feel so much better about dating a Yankee. Tabasco sauce is a must for shrimp and grits,” I inform Damion.

He laughs. So being a Yankee is a greater sin than being a demon? Damion’s not exactly a Yankee; he moved down south when he was a child, but that little fact isn’t going to stop me from busting his balls.

Absolutely.

We finish our meal, and he hands his credit card to our overly eager server, who looks like she touched up her red lipstick since we last saw her. She quickly returns and Damion signs the top copy. I can’t help but notice she’s left her number on a piece of paper beneath the receipt. “You come back any time and see me, you hear?” she says, tossing her hair and popping her hip to the side.

“Thanks, we’ll be sure to do that,” I answer sweetly.

Ignoring me, she shakes it to the back as Damion picks up her number. Suddenly, it’s engulfed in flames, and he drops it in an ashtray that wasn’t there just a moment ago. “I like that magic trick,” I tell him with a fiery kiss, pun intended.

Damion drapes his arm around my shoulder as we stroll to the arts district, checking out a few funky shops and galleries. A moonscape oil painting catches my eye, and he insists on buying it for me. Our next stop is a farmers’ market, and we pick up a few things to cook this evening. I stop at a vendor and buy a piece of devil’s food cake, which makes Damion smile. Returning to his house, I think this day could not get any better. And then I see Sonia standing by Damion’s front door.

“Damion,” she purrs. “I was just about to knock. I’m having an issue with the living room television. I’m wondering if you could take a look?” Sonia’s wearing a slouchy cardigan with a white tank underneath without a bra, showing off the clear outline of her voluptuous breasts, and black leggings that cling to her curvy hips like a second skin. Guess this is her “relaxed weekend seduction” look.

“Damion, why don’t you carry in our things.” I turn to Sonia and smile. “I’ll be happy to help.” I don’t give her a choice as I spin around and march to the house next door. She leads me inside to the television and I spot three remotes. It takes me a minute, but I figure it out. “Sonia, you turn on the TV with this remote, then you have to push input 1 on this large remote, and finally the cable input on the smaller remote.” I demonstrate. “Hit guide and then the arrows to scroll the channels either up or down.”

Suddenly, she’s standing in front of me. “Have you bewitched him, little witch?” She eyes me suspiciously.

“You’d have to ask him that question, not that it’s any of your business.”

She leans in to issue another threat, even though we’ve already been there and done that at the Ole Miss fundraiser dinner. But she surprises the shit out of me—not by threatening me, but by kissing me.

“Sonia, what the hell?” I jerk back.

“I wanted to see what all the fuss is about,” she says matter-of-factly.

“And?” I ask, not sure whether to be offended or flattered.

“I still don’t get it.”

Offended it is. “Sonia, Damion and I are in a committed relationship. Yes, we’re in the early stages, but it’s still a committed relationship based on genuine feeling and respect. And you are going to have to respect that.”

She shrugs. “I’m a succubus. I don’t take rejection well. In fact, no human male has ever turned me down when I use my seduction powers.”

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