Page 97 of The Biting Bargain

It isn't until he disappears from the store that my cousin clears his throat again.

"Nice young man."

Johnathan saunters toward my counter, hands in his pockets, grinning at me like a content cat. I meet my cousin with what I hope is a casual and nondescript expression. One that rather saysGo away and leave me alone.

"What do you want?" I ask.

"And the two of you were just having such a promising conversation." He ignores my question as he so often does, leaning his hip against the counter, crossing his arms and gazing at the open door where seconds before Captain Crasher and his purchase and charmingly crooked smile have disappeared.

Johnathan is always in a good mood. It is nerve wrecking

"Tell me what you want, please," I grit out.

Johnathan pouts. "Oh, my dear Mae, you do know that. I'm here in my official capacity."

He languidly pulls his SILVANUS-ID from the inside pocket of his suit jacket, holding it up.Jonathan Pentangeli, it reads.First class surveillance superintendent at SILVANUS, sub department B2 of P.A.S.H., New Hamburg City.

Even on a plastic card my cousin looks outrageously handsome. The curse of our kind.

Jonathan sighs. "You're running out of time, Mae. Did you really think this wouldn't show up in our stats?"

I swallow. Of course I haven’t. But I did hope that maybe the Bureau of Regulation for Human and Paranormal Affairs would overlook me somehow. They have done so for years. By now, I have elevated being overlooked to an art form.

But of course, I have no such luck. Of course, SILVANUS, the official regulations board of P.A.S.H. ("Protect And Serve Humankind", that is,) is involved when one of our kind steps out of line. After all, Succubi, and Incubi, have a certain reputation.

"Your Anima is running out." Jonathan props his hands on the counter, leaning forward. I take a half step back.

"Do we have to discuss this here?" I hiss. "There could be customers coming in any moment."

The corners of Jonathan's mouth twitch up. He makes a slight, almost throwaway motion with his right hand. The front door slams shut, the little bells above it tinkling animatedly. He jerks his hand around. I hear the metallic click of the lock.

"Sorry, we’re closed," he says.

A chill runs down my spine.

"Mrs. Sorensen is in the back office," I press out.

Jonathan smiles. "Don’t you worry, your boss is dealing with a particularly stubborn tax spreadsheet right now."

I frown, pressing my mouth into a line. Mrs. Sorensen is totally in the zone whenever she does accounting — which she always does on Saturday afternoons. She wouldn’t even notice a direct meteor hit. Meaning, I am on my own.

Jonathan takes a look around, beaming. "Looks like we'll be undisturbed for the next ten minutes."

I glare at him.

Actually — and thank God! — we are only distantly related. Jonathan is a seventh degree cousin or some such. Our family is huge, as is intrinsic to our species. A nasty saying about Succubi and Incubi goes that we are just like rabbits — very good at multiplying.

Mum has kept us away from the Pentangeli side of the family whenever possible. But whenever I have run into Jonathan at the few family gatherings that couldn't be avoided, I’ve always felt uncomfortable. Granted, I feel uncomfortable in the presence of most men. But one who has a reputation like my cousin's...

Now he is grinning, showing his fangs.

"Tell me, Mae, when is the last time you had sex?"

I actually gasp, heat shooting back into my face. "That’s none of your business."

Jonathan pulls a shiny black smartphone out of his pocket and starts swiping.

"Lets see… ah, here. Exactly... seven years, seven days, five hours, and twenty-six minutes ago."

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