Succubs on Top

uncomfortable. Like nails raking down a chalkboard. Nothing I could identify or had even ever felt before. I looked around the room, half-expecting to find another immortal lurking, even though that strange sensation didn't quite touch me like the signature I'd usually feel off of an individual.

Doug drank from the cup and then set it down, watching me with bemused calmness. 'Something I can help you with, Kincaid?'

Blinking, I gave the office another once-over and then shook my head. The feeling disappeared. What the hell? I could have blamed it on stress-induced imagination, but after over a millennium of succubus life, I doubted my immortal senses would start falling prey to hallucinations now. And yet the only thing in here that could possibly be construed as supernatural or divine was Doug's Tetris mastery. That, I thought wryly, had more to do with hours of skirting work than any sort of magic.

Remembering my righteous fury, I pushed aside that momentary weirdness and ratcheted my anger back up to the other weirdness in my life.

'What the fuck is going on?' I exclaimed, slamming the door.

'My sweet Tetriss kills?'

'No! With everyone! Why is everyone treating me so strangely today? They keep staring at me like I'm a freak or something.'

Doug's expression stayed baffled, and then I saw understanding flood his face. 'Ah. That. You really don't know?'

I could have grabbed his neck and shook him. 'Of course I don't know! What's going on?'

Casually, he moved some papers around on the desk and lifted up a copy of American Mystery. 'You read Seth's story yet?'

'I haven't had time.'

He tossed me the magazine. 'Do it. Go take your dinner break somewhere—not here—and read. I won't leave until you get back.'

Looking at the time, I realized his shift was nearly over. 'But what's that got to do with—'

He held up a hand to silence me. 'Just read it. Now.'

Scowling, I took the magazine and left the store, settling myself at one of my favoritecafesdown the street. With clam chowder secured, I turned to the first page, wondering what in the world Doug expected me to find.

As Seth had explained a few weeks ago, the story was more of a self-contained mystery, dealing little with the overarching psychology and development of his characters. Cady and O'Neill worked for a fictitious institute based out of Washington, D.C., one that researched and secured archaeological and artistic relics. Thus, the two often found themselves liberating art from international thieves or uncovering mysterious code on a piece of pottery. In traditionally gendered styles, Bryant O'Neill worked as a sort of field agent, doing most of the physical work, getting into a lot of fist-fights and whatnot. Demure Nina Cady focused on the research, often staying up late to unravel some key piece of evidence in an ancient text.

This particular story contained a lot of those same elements, but like always, Seth's beautiful writing and quick, witty dialogue kept the material captivating. In another trend consistent with his characters' behavior, O'Neill almost always got involved with some beautiful woman, though Seth's last book had turned this pattern on its head, letting Cady finally see some action. The story I read today fell into old ways, and O'Neill, in his ever suave manner, made the moves on a stunning museum curator:

Genevieve sauntered through the halls, a queen among subjects, surveying people and displays with both calculation and command. With those green-flecked hazel eyes, she put him in mind of a cat sizing up its next meal. He felt exactly like prey as she paused in front of him, favoring him with a languid look that oozed over his body, her tongue lightly moistening bee-stung lips.

Oh God, to be a mouse, he thought.

'Mr. O'Neill,' she purred, brushing a lock of that shining hair away from her face. Faint streaks of honey laced those pale brown strands, like gold veins in ore. He wanted to bury his face in it. He wanted to taste it. 'You're late.'

Despite nearly a foot separating their heights, he felt like the underling here, like he should do penance for his tardiness and kneel in her presence. Not that he would mind that so much, he decided, trying not to stare at the way her dress's thin material molded itself to her hips and full breasts. Those breasts, he decided, were perfect. Definitely impressive in size, but not grotesquely out of control. And their shape…ah, even a master sculptor could never have duplicated those exquisite curves…

Realizing she expected a response, he filed his base thoughts away under L for Later and gave her an unruffled smile.

'My apologies.' Now probably wasn't the time to mention the attack back at his hotel. 'But I never rush anything. At least not when a woman's involved. '

With that being only the mildest of the suggestive dialogue, I wasn't surprised when things escalated between them near the end of the story. After all, I thought dryly, it wouldn't be a true Cady and O'Neill experience if someone didn't score. And man, did he score. The feline comparisons were right on because Genevieve was a cat in heat. She ended up tying O'Neill up in an elevator, performing an array of kinky acts on him that made even me raise an eyebrow. I was surprised American Mystery hadn't edited them out, though I'd be lying if I said it wasn't sort of a turn-on to realize such sordidness had come from mild, complacent—

Elevator?

We do have an elevator, you know, Warren had told me.

Light brown hair. Hazel-green eyes. Petite. Nice breasts.

'Ahh!' I cried, dropping the magazine as if it might bite me. It landed next to my now-empty bowl, and a passing waitress gave me a startled look. Hastily leaving a wad of cash on the table, I grabbed my coat and purse and sprinted back to the bookstore. Doug was still playing Tetris in our office, but I was too upset to speculate much on what was again an amazing performance.

All those looks. The whispers and smirks. It all made sense now.

'They think it's me!' I told him, making him jump for the second time that day.' Genevieve. They all think I'm some sort of horny, rope-wielding, elevator-fetish dominatrix!'

Doug raised an eyebrow. 'You mean you aren't?'

CHAPTER 4

'Doug!'

He shrugged. 'It's not a big deal. I mean, it's pretty hot, really.'

'But I didn't do those things. It's not really me.'

'She sounds just like you. Her name begins with a Gtoo.'

'But it's not…' I swallowed, noting the similarities as well.

Doug watched me appraisingly. 'You can't really blame them. Description-wise, you two match, and everyone knows you and Mortensen are chummy—not to mention what a zealous fan you are and all. After they read the story, Casey even made the brilliant observation that you guys came in together yesterday. You should have seen the speculation that started.'

'But…that was nothing.' No one at work even knew Seth and I were dating. I hadn't wanted that widely known. 'We hadn't done anything.'

Doug shrugged again, rising from the computer. 'Too bad. I wouldn't have thought less of you if you had, you know. It's your business anyway.' I groaned. 'Not when it's in print for everyone to see.'

'I thought it was all fictitious,' he reminded me with a sly grin, putting on his coat.

'It is! Doug, what am I going to do?'

'Don't know, Kincaid. I'm sure you'll figure something out. Maybe start with asking Mortensen why he's putting his fantasies on display for everyone to see.' He tweaked my cheek, and I squirmed out of his reach. 'As for me, I've got a rehearsal to get to. Big night tomorrow. Later.'

My shift proceeded miserably after that. Now that I knew what the looks were for, the experience moved into a whole new realm of humiliation. I hated idle speculation, hated people thinking terrible things about me. I mean,