“If we do this,” I said, “how will you convince him to come watch you in the first place, if he’s so shy?”
She shrugged. “I’m friends with his friends. I’ll have them drag him along, and shove him forward to stand at the front of the crowd.”
I snickered, feeling more genuine amusement than I had in some time. “It’ll either work, or you’ll make his head explode,” I told her. “Okay, if you’re good with this, then let’s do it. Now that we’re done talking about seducing people, want to come in for a drink?”
She laughed, too. “Sure thing, hon. It’s hot as Hell out here, ya know?”
We went inside, and an interesting thing happened when I introduced her to my dad. His eyes focused on her face, rather than looking through her.
“Sasha?” he asked, and I nearly dropped the cups I was holding in my haste to get to him.
Sharalynn shook her head. “Fraid not. I’m Sharalynn—it’s nice to meet you, Darryl.”
Dad continued to scrutinize her for a long moment before disappointment crossed his pale features. “Oh. You look like her.”
Sharalynn crouched in front of his chair, holding eye contact. “Really? So who’s Sasha, then? Tell me about her.”
My father blinked. “My wife.” I held my breath, but his gaze started to grow far away. “Miss her...”
I swallowed against the thickness in my throat when Sharalynn looked up at me questioningly.
“Mom was a cambion,” I explained. “She died when I was a little girl.”
She nodded, pursing her lips in sympathy.
My eyes cut to Dad, who was once more in his own little world, though there was a furrow in his brow that hadn’t been there before.
“That’s the longest exchange he’s had with anyone since the Fae took him,” I said. “I think it’s also the first time he’s answered a question.”
Sharalynn looked interested. “Oh? Hey, would you like me to stop by when I’m in the area and chat more with him? Maybe it would help draw him out. Darryl? What do you think—would you like that?”
Dad didn’t reply, but I knew my answer without having to think. “That would be amazing, if you don’t mind doing it.”
She shot me her dazzling smile. “I wouldn’t have offered if I did, hon. Tell you what, Darryl, I’ll swing by whenever I can, and you can tell me more about Sasha. In the meantime, though, your daughter and I need to have a final word about doing something you wouldn’t approve of. Okay?”
I held my breath, but my father didn’t react.
“Maybe I’ll tell you the details after the fact,” I muttered. “Because if that doesn’t shock you out of your shell, I don’t know what will.”
Sharalynn snorted.
TWENTY
AND SO I FOUND myself in the center of a circle of torches the following evening, with a crowd of perhaps two dozen interested men and a handful of curious women gathered around. Sharalynn and I had staked out space in the village square, dragging a narrow wooden table out and surrounding it with half a dozen pitch-soaked torches to provide atmospheric lighting.
She’d told her friends what was going to go down, and they’d told their friends, and so on. She assured me that everyone knew they’d be playing succubus snack bar if they came, and that they should speak up if I accidentally started drawing too heavily on anyone in the group.
I was wearing a narrow band of linen cloth wrapped around my breasts and tied in back, along with another length of linen worn loincloth style, draped through a thong tied around my hips so a skirt-like length of fabric covered my ass, and another length fell down the front of my thighs. It was sexy without being blatantly immodest, and I hoped it would reinforce my look-but-don’t-touch vibe.
Sharalynn was holding a sheet of linen around herself like a toga, but when everyone was settled, she dropped it to reveal naked flesh beneath. There were a few whistles and catcalls from the crowd. Sharalynn winked and blew a kiss, but then her eyes settled on a guy in the front row who looked like his cheeks were about to go up in flames, he was blushing so hard.
This, I assumed, must be the man in Sharalynn’s crosshairs. He was cute, despite the large port-wine birthmark covering his left temple and part of his forehead. I was guessing that accounted for a big part of his lack of confidence, and I hoped Sharalynn’s devious plan tonight ended up going well for both of them.
My partner in crime lay down on her front, cushioned by a thick blanket we’d thrown over the table. She rested her chin on her laced fingers, and I stepped up to play my role in the proceedings. I’d acquired a clay vial of some kind of fruity-smelling oil, vaguely reminiscent of olive oil.
Without ceremony, I dribbled a line of oil down Sharalynn’s spine and set the vial aside, then started a slow massage. She hummed in approval as my hands spread the oil over her back and shoulders, pressing into the muscles.
It took almost no time at all before teasing hints of excitement from the crowd began to brush against my awareness. As I’d expected, a lot of the male response was focused more on Sharalynn than me, but there were still several animus trails wafting in my direction, growing in strength as my movements became bolder and more confident.
My attention fell on Fatima and another person who’d been introduced as one of the elders. They were keeping a watchful eye on the proceedings, though I wasn’t sure if they were more worried about me draining someone too much, or about potential misbehavior from the spectators.
The crowd seemed content to watch, aside from the occasional murmured ribald comment. I returned my focus to the interweaving trails of animus, letting everything directed at me soak
