I blinked, confused. Then: "You mean Roman?"
"You've come a long way from refusing to date to practically making out in public."
"So?" I countered hotly. "Can't I be with someone? Aren't I entitled to do something for a change that's actually something I want to do, not something I have to do?" My words came out with more bitter truth—and volume—than I intended.
"Of course," he soothed, "but you aren't yourself tonight. You're going to do something stupid if you're not careful. Something you'll regret later. You should ask Casey or Beth to take you home—"
"Oh, you're a piece of work," I exclaimed. I knew I was being irrational, that I'd never have turned on Doug sober, but I couldn't stop. "Just because I won't go out with you, just because I choose to fuck Warren or someone else, then you have to step in and try to keep me pure and untouched. If you can't have me, then no one can, is that it?"
Doug blanched, and a few passersby stared at us. "Christ, Georgina, no—"
"You're such a fucking hypocrite," I yelled at him. "You have no right to tell me what to do! No fucking right."
"I'm not, I—"
I didn't listen to what else he had to say. Turning, I stormed into the ladies' restroom, the only place I could go to escape these men. When I'd finished and gone to wash my hands, I looked up in the mirror. Did I look trashed? My cheeks were pink, some of the waves in my hair a little limper than when I'd started the evening. And I was sweating. Not too trashed, I decided. I could be a lot worse.
I felt hesitant to leave the restroom, fearing Doug waited for me. I didn't want to talk to him. Another woman came in with a lit cigarette, and I bummed one off her, smoking it in its entirety while I crouched in a corner to kill time. When I heard the band kick up again, I knew it was safe.
I walked out of the restroom and ran straight into Roman.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his hands catching me around the waist to steady me. "I was worried when you didn't come back."
"Yeah... I'm fine... er, no, I don't know," I admitted, leaning into him, wrapping my arms around him. "I don't know what's going on. I feel so strange."
"It's all right," he told me, patting my back. "Everything's going to be all right. Do you need to leave? Is there anything I can do?"
"I... don't know..." I pulled away slightly, looking up into his eyes. Those blue-green depths were drowning me, and suddenly, I didn't care.
I don't know who started it—it could have been either of us—but suddenly we were kissing, there in the middle of the hallway, arms pulling each other tighter, lips and tongues working furiously. The alcohol enhanced my base physical response yet numbed my awareness of succubus energy absorption. It must have still been working in spite of my inability to sense it, however, because Roman abruptly pulled away from me, looking aghast.
"Weird..." He put a hand to his forehead. "I feel... dizzy all of a sudden." He hesitated a moment then shook it off, pulling me toward him again. Just like all the others. They never caught on that it was me doing it, me hurting them, so they still came back for more.
His pause had been what I needed to gain some tiny sense of clarity in my drunken cloud. What had I done? What had I let myself become tonight? Every interaction with Roman had pushed me past another boundary. First I'd said we wouldn't date. Then I'd confined us to limited dates. Tonight I'd sworn I wouldn't drink, and now I could barely stand up from all the booze. Kissing was another taboo I had just broken. And it would only lead to the inevitable...
In my mind's eye, I could see us after sex. Roman would sprawl, pale and exhausted, drained of his life. That energy would crackle through me like an electric current, and he would stare at me, weak and confused, unable to comprehend what he no longer had. Depending on how much I stole from him, he would lose years off his life. Some sloppy succubi had even been known to kill victims by drinking too much life too fast.
"No... no... don't."
I pushed him away, unwilling to see that future realized, but his arm still held me. Looking beyond him, I suddenly caught sight of Seth coming down the hallway. He froze when he saw us, but I was too preoccupied to pay any attention to the writer.
I was a hair's breath away from kissing Roman again, from taking him somewhere—anywhere—where we could be alone and naked, where I could do all the things I'd fantasized doing with him. Another kiss... another kiss, and I would not be able to stop. I wanted it too much. I wanted to be with someone I wanted. Just once after all these years.
And that was exactly why I couldn't do it.
"Georgina..." began Roman confusedly, hands still on me.
"Please," I begged, my voice a whisper, "let me go. Please let me go. You have to let me go."
"What's wrong? I don't understand."
"Please let me go," I repeated. "Let me go!" The sudden volume of my own voice startled me, giving me a small boost of will to break from his grasp. He reached toward me, saying my name, but I stepped back. I sounded hysterical, like a crazy woman, and Roman was looking at me rightfully so. "Don't touch me. Don't. Touch. Me!"
My anger was more at myself, at my life, than it was at him. A terrible rage and frustration, amplified by alcohol, coursed through me at the universe. The world wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that some people had perfect lives. That beautiful civilizations should fall to dust. That babies should be born with only a handful of breaths. That I should be trapped in this cruel joke of an existence. An eternity of making love without love.
"Georgina..."
"Don't touch me. Ever again. Please," I whispered hoarsely, and then, I did the only thing left to me. Escape. I ran. I turned from him and ran down the hall, away from Roman, away from Seth, away from the main seating area. I didn't know where I was going, but it would keep me safe. Would keep Roman safe. I might not be able to heal my own pain, but I could prevent any more from coming to him.
My poor coordination and desperation made me run into people who responded with varying degrees of politeness to my mania. Was Roman behind me? I didn't know. He'd drunk at least as much as I had; his coordination couldn't be any better. If I could just be alone, I could shape-shift or go invisible and get out of here...
I burst through a door, and a wave of cool night air suddenly engulfed me. Gasping, I looked around. I stood in the back parking lot. It was packed with cars, and a few people smoking pot lingered around, most not paying attention to me. The door I'd come through opened, and I turned, expecting Roman. Instead, I saw Seth, looking anxious.
"Stay away from me," I warned.
He held up his hands, palms forward in an appeasing gesture as he approached me slowly. "Are you okay?"
I took two steps back, fumbling for my purse. "I'm fine. I just have to... have to get away from here... get away from him." I pulled out my cell phone, intending to call one of the vampires. It slipped from my hands, dodged my attempts to catch it, and hit the asphalt with a sickening crack. "Oh shit."
Kneeling down, I picked up the phone, looking with dismay at the gibberish on the display. "Shit," I repeated.
Seth knelt by me. "What can I do?"
I looked up at him, his face swimming in my blurred vision. "I have to get out of here. I have to get away from him."
"Okay. Come on. I'll take you home."
Seth took my arm, and I had a faint recollection of being led a few blocks to some dark-colored car. He helped me inside and drove away. Leaning back, I sank into the motion of the drive, letting it pull me under, the backward and forward of inertia, backward and forward, backward and forward...