'No,' I declared icily. 'I do not. You're on your own with that. And if you get sent to Guam, then it's your own fucking fault. Maybe it'll give you some time to think about your relations with women outside of business.'
'Damn it—'
'Georgina?'
We both turned and saw Seth standing in the hallway. Bastien and I were close—too close—but not romantically close. Anyone with half a brain could tell we were locked in a dispute. Our postures radiated it, as did our expressions. The grip Bastien held on my arm was not friendly.
'Are you okay?' Seth asked carefully. His words came out low and measured, but I saw something unfamiliar in his expression. Not anger, but something else kindling in his eyes. He had told me once he chose his battles carefully, and I wondered then what he would do if he thought the incubus was a real threat to me.
'We're fine,' I said. I broke from Bastien's grasp, and he didn't fight it.
'Yes,' he agreed with a cold smile. 'We're fine.'
He walked past me but stopped when he was even with Seth.
'You should be flattered,' Bastien told him. 'Most women invoke God during sex, but Fleur yells your name. One would have thought you were a deity, considering how many times she paid homage to you last night.'
He continued on to the living room, and I didn't even stick around to see Seth's reaction. I stormed after Bastien.
'Get out,' I told him. I looked over at the other immortals. 'All of you,
Peter, Cody, and Hugh stared at me in astonishment. I'd kicked them out a number of times, but none of them had ever heard me use this voice on them. Consequently, they heeded it. They scrambled out the door in under a minute, Bastien shooting me a dark glance as he left.
When they were gone, I took a deep breath and turned to Seth. Anger and despair boiled inside of me.
'Let me guess. You want to know what he meant.'
His face was unreadable. 'Honestly, I don't know.' He suddenly sounded tired. 'I don't know if I want to.'
'Yeah, well, I'll tell you anyway.'
The words tore at me while coming out, but I really didn't want to hold onto the secret anymore. Not only because Bastien had given it away but also because I knew I wasn't going to be able to stand having it fester inside of me. It hurt too much. Talking to the incubus had made me realize that.
So while I didn't mention the pictures, I told Seth everything else. Everything.
When I finished, he didn't say anything. He stared at some nonexistent spot in the air, face blank once more. After a couple of minutes of aching silence, he finally turned back to me.
'So. How was I?'
CHAPTER 18
'That's not funny,' I said.
'Seems like a reasonable question.'
I looked at him and then wrapped my arms around myself. 'Is that all you're going to say?'
'I…I don't really know what else to say.'
'This is the part where you yell at me.'
His eyebrows rose. 'Oh, I see. I didn't know this was already scripted out. '
'That's not what…look. I slept with someone else. And not just slept. I didn't have to do it…not the way I have to with humans. You get that, right?'
'Yes,' he said, still dead calm.
'And I wasn't drunk or anything. Tipsy maybe, but still in control of my senses.'
'Yes.'
'So aren't you mad?'
'Stunned is the dominant emotion at the moment. Finding out someone impersonated you is almost more troubling than the sex part.'
'He didn't impersonate you, perse…I mean, I knew it was him.'
'I know. But it's still weird.'
When he fell silent again, I could only stare with incredulity. He caught my look and retuned it.
'What do you want?' This time he did sound annoyed, almost angry. 'Do you want me to be mad? Will that like…punish you or something? Is that what you want?'
I said nothing and realized that was exactly what I wanted. I had read a book once where a guy accidentally killed a girl while driving drunk. His powerful family had managed to keep him out of jail, and he'd hated it. He'd wanted the cleansing catharsis of real punishment, of paying for his crimes. Right now, I needed the same thing.
'I deserve it,' I told Seth.
His voice was cold. 'Well, I'm not going to give it to you right now. You can't dictate what I feel. Sorry.'
My mouth started to drop open, unsure what to do with this turn of events. The ringing of my cell phone interrupted my rumination. I glanced at my purse, then let the phone go to voice mail. A moment later, it rang again.
'You should answer it,' Seth told me.
I didn't want to talk to anyone. I wanted to crawl into a hole. But I got the phone and read the display. No one I recognized. Sometimes that was Jerome. If I didn't answer, the demon was likely to teleport on over, and that was quite possibly the only thing that could make this scenario worse.
'I'm sorry,' I said softly to Seth, just before I answered. I didn't know if I was apologizing for the interruption or what I'd done with Bastien. 'Hello?'
'Hey, Georgina. This is Wyatt.'
It took me a moment. From Doug's band. 'Hey, how's it going?'
'Bad. I didn't know who else to call. I'm at the hospital with Doug. '
My heart stopped. 'Oh my God. What happened?'
'He, uh, took some pills.'
'What kind of pills?'
'Not sure. But he took a whole bottle of them.'
Wyatt's news spurred Seth and me to action. It was funny how tragedy could override anger. Whatever unresolved issues ensnared us, we put them on hold as I drove us downtown.
Wyatt had briefly told the rest of the story as I'd left my apartment at a run. Alec hadn't come through with his latest shipment. Doug had crashed again, plunging into that frightening darkness I'd observed before. Wyatt didn't entirely know what had triggered the overdose. He blamed everything from a suicidal urge to a desperate attempt at recapturing the high through other means. The emergency room had pumped his stomach, and the doctor said he was okay for now, but he hadn't yet regained consciousness. Wyatt had called me because Doug had no family here, and no one knew how to contact the ones who lived out of town.
Corey and Min were there when we arrived. They elaborated a bit more for us and said there was no change in Doug's condition. Seth stayed silent, but I could tell he was as concerned as I was.
I asked if I could see Doug, and a nurse told me I could. I entered the room alone and found him asleep, hooked up to tubes and a bleeping machine. I had watched medical technology change over the years, from leeches to defibrillators, but that didn't mean I felt comfortable with any of it. Machines that kept people alive rubbed me the wrong way. They weren't natural, even if they did good.
'Oh, Doug,' I murmured, sitting at his bedside. His skin was pale, his hand cold and clammy. The bleeping machine registered a steady heartbeat, so that was something. None of the other readouts meant anything to me.
I watched him, feeling helpless. Mortals, I thought, were fragile things, and there was nothing I could do about that.
