about what just happened in there?”
The incubus paused, and I knew immediately that it had been the wrong thing to say. His face shuttered, those dangerous eyes becoming blank and careful. “No.”
“What’s the matter? Afraid to admit you might actually be attracted to me?”
“Purely business,” he said shortly.
“Ah, and what a wondrous job you’re doing of that,” I said. “My dreams haven’t been this full of overblown flesh and angst since I was a teenager.” I tapped my fingers on my forehead. “It’s been like a brothel of the damned in there, but without the payoff. Or is that the general idea? Get me all hot and bothered and then just walk away? Hope I’ll beg you for a magical orgasm in return for some information?”
He sneered, but I still caught the flicker of chagrin that chased its way across his face. I chuckled softly when he stiffened. “You don’t have to do that, you know.” I rubbed my hands up and down my elbows to ward off the chill tingling its way across my skin.
“Do what? Ask you for help?” He snorted, but there was a hint of despair in it. “That’s a laugh, isn’t it? You can barely help yourself. How the hell do you think you’d be able to help me do
anything
?”
“Well, for starters, if you actually considered just treating me like a person, I tend to respond to that pretty well.” I hunched my shoulders as the breeze picked up. “You caneven drop the walking sex-god act. You don’t need to impress me. And to be honest, it’s getting rather irritating.”
“It’s not an act.” He turned away for a moment and then abruptly took off his coat. “Here.” He thrust it at me.
“What?”
“You’re cold,” he growled.
“Good observation skills too, I see.”
“Just. Take. The. Fucking. Thing.” Brystion fixed his eyes on me, the pupils flaring gold, staring me down until I finally conceded. I draped it around my shoulders. It was heavy and warm and smelled of old leather and something else. Like cinnamon and honey, but darker. More primitive.
“Thank you,” I murmured, nestling into it. The tension drained away from his shoulders. “So are you planning on telling me what this is really all about? I mean, I’d hate to think I just stood up to Robert for nothing.”
“Why?”
“Why what? Seems pretty straightforward to me. I don’t know about you, but I don’t particularly care for having my ass beat down.”
“Not you.” His hand waved dismissively at me. “I meant why did you stand up to him for me?”
It was a good question. I didn’t know. I said as much, shrugging beneath the leather.
He closed his eyes. “You’re a liar, just like me. Just like the rest of them.”
I stared at him. Whatever this was, it was about more than just me. It had to be. Charlie’s words came back to me.
“. . . ran off with the drummer . . .”
Someone had hurt him, badly. I reached out and gripped his wrist. His skin was warm, almost burning, but I didn’t know if that was an incubus trait or just because my hands were cold.
“Sometimes,” I agreed. “But usually only to myself.”
His eyes snapped open. “Why?”
I retreated, wrapping the coat around me a little tighter. The irony of that little move struck me as funny, but I couldn’t laugh. Instead, I started to walk, indicating he should follow me with a tilt of my head. The story never got any easier to tell, but I found it somewhat bearable if I was pacing. “I used to be a dancer.” I started slowly, my feet marching in time to my words. I focused on the cadence, my voice mechanical. “I danced all through elementary school, high school. I did plays, musicals, fine art workshops, you name it. I was good. Damn good,” I amended. “I won scholarships, awards, whatever. I even made it to Juilliard for a few semesters.” My stride quickened. “I actually met Melanie there, but she didn’t stay long. It wasn’t really her style.”
“No,” he agreed. “She plays the Wild
The incubus paused, and I knew immediately that it had been the wrong thing to say. His face shuttered, those dangerous eyes becoming blank and careful. “No.”
“What’s the matter? Afraid to admit you might actually be attracted to me?”
“Purely business,” he said shortly.
“Ah, and what a wondrous job you’re doing of that,” I said. “My dreams haven’t been this full of overblown flesh and angst since I was a teenager.” I tapped my fingers on my forehead. “It’s been like a brothel of the damned in there, but without the payoff. Or is that the general idea? Get me all hot and bothered and then just walk away? Hope I’ll beg you for a magical orgasm in return for some information?”
He sneered, but I still caught the flicker of chagrin that chased its way across his face. I chuckled softly when he stiffened. “You don’t have to do that, you know.” I rubbed my hands up and down my elbows to ward off the chill tingling its way across my skin.
“Do what? Ask you for help?” He snorted, but there was a hint of despair in it. “That’s a laugh, isn’t it? You can barely help yourself. How the hell do you think you’d be able to help me do
anything
?”
“Well, for starters, if you actually considered just treating me like a person, I tend to respond to that pretty well.” I hunched my shoulders as the breeze picked up. “You caneven drop the walking sex-god act. You don’t need to impress me. And to be honest, it’s getting rather irritating.”
“It’s not an act.” He turned away for a moment and then abruptly took off his coat. “Here.” He thrust it at me.
“What?”
“You’re cold,” he growled.
“Good observation skills too, I see.”
“Just. Take. The. Fucking. Thing.” Brystion fixed his eyes on me, the pupils flaring gold, staring me down until I finally conceded. I draped it around my shoulders. It was heavy and warm and smelled of old leather and something else. Like cinnamon and honey, but darker. More primitive.
“Thank you,” I murmured, nestling into it. The tension drained away from his shoulders. “So are you planning on telling me what this is really all about? I mean, I’d hate to think I just stood up to Robert for nothing.”
“Why?”
“Why what? Seems pretty straightforward to me. I don’t know about you, but I don’t particularly care for having my ass beat down.”
“Not you.” His hand waved dismissively at me. “I meant why did you stand up to him for me?”
It was a good question. I didn’t know. I said as much, shrugging beneath the leather.
He closed his eyes. “You’re a liar, just like me. Just like the rest of them.”
I stared at him. Whatever this was, it was about more than just me. It had to be. Charlie’s words came back to me.
“. . . ran off with the drummer . . .”
Someone had hurt him, badly. I reached out and gripped his wrist. His skin was warm, almost burning, but I didn’t know if that was an incubus trait or just because my hands were cold.
“Sometimes,” I agreed. “But usually only to myself.”
His eyes snapped open. “Why?”
I retreated, wrapping the coat around me a little tighter. The irony of that little move struck me as funny, but I couldn’t laugh. Instead, I started to walk, indicating he should follow me with a tilt of my head. The story never got any easier to tell, but I found it somewhat bearable if I was pacing. “I used to be a dancer.” I started slowly, my feet marching in time to my words. I focused on the cadence, my voice mechanical. “I danced all through elementary school, high school. I did plays, musicals, fine art workshops, you name it. I was good. Damn good,” I amended. “I won scholarships, awards, whatever. I even made it to Juilliard for a few semesters.” My stride quickened. “I actually met Melanie there, but she didn’t stay long. It wasn’t really her style.”
“No,” he agreed. “She plays the Wild
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