A lot of immortals don't understand the way incubi and succubi relate to each other. We tend to touch a lot, in ways that are small but still intimate by most standards. I'd been accused many times of being sexually involved with Bastien— or someone else—over the years. Yet the truth was that in all of our time together, he and I had never actually had anything romantic happen. We were close, physically and emotionally, but that came from friendship, nothing more.
Because honestly, when you spent most of your existence giving complete strangers access to your body, it seemed stupid not to enjoy physical bonding with those you actually cared about. And again, by physical bonding, I just meant small things, not even those that resulted in orgasm or a PG rating. Petting. Stroking. Massaging. Kissing here and there. They were all signs of closeness. We needed them, I think, to keep ourselves sane with the way we lived. And there was a certain comfort to knowing that in doing this, the other person got exactly the same thing in return. I could not have had such an equitable emotional relationship if I'd sought a similar physical exchange with, say, Hugh or the vampires. It would have meant something different to them.
Which was why I could lay there in Bastien's bed, half naked, with my body twisted around his. We laughed under the blankets, reminiscing about past times when we had to sleep in similar—but less comfortable—ways. Ship cabins. Narrow boardinghouse beds. Campsites along country roads. Then too, we'd huddled together for warmth and security.
I ended up spending the whole night with him. He held me the entire time in as gentlemanly a way as Seth might have. But with Bastien, I didn't toss and turn with worry all night over what damage one careless touch might do. It was the best night of sleep I'd had in weeks.
When I returned home the next day, I called Seth and asked him if he'd been at the bookstore yesterday. He verified that he had and that Doug had behaved himself.
"He was kind of goofy and chipper but nothing like that day."
"Good. I hope that's the end of it."
There was an awkward pause, and then Seth asked, too casually: "Were you out again last night? I called you pretty late and didn't get an answer. "
"Oh, yeah. I stayed at Bastien's all night."
"Oh."
Silence.
"It's not what you think," I hastily assured him. "We just slept. Perfectly platonic. Just like…"
"You and me?"
Silence.
"Nothing happened. He's like a brother to me. Honest. He's the last person you should be jealous of."
"I'm not jealous. Not exactly. But if you say it's nothing, then it's nothing. I didn't mean to sound like I was accusing you of lying. I know you wouldn't do that."
I thought about oral sex at the dance club and my bare skin pressed against Bastien's. I might not lie, but I didn't always tell Seth the whole truth either.
A few days later, Seth and I went to another Nocturnal Admission concert. Doug and I had worked together all week in a civil manner, if not exactly a friendly one. Seth picked me up at my place and again could only stare in wonder at my appearance. I'd gone out hunting with Bastien last night— against my better judgment—and had taken another victim. The glamour hadn't quite diminished yet, and I would have looked hot even in a burlap bag. So, I suppose wearing the kind of dress I did was just outright mean. It was a little slip of a dress in gray cotton jersey, with a ribbon threaded around it that tied just under my breasts. The thin-strapped, V-necked top showed lots of cleavage; the skirt hung soft and drapey to just above my knee. It was like a winter sundress.
Seth put his arms around me and nuzzled my neck. "You never fail to surprise me. I always think I know what to expect with you. Then I actually see you, and…"
He couldn't finish, but his eyes did it for him. They slid up and down my body, making my insides melt. Throw me on the bed and take me, I begged silently. Out loud I said, "We should get going."
At the concert, Nocturnal Admission performed as spectacularly as last time. Their following had increased, and people packed every square inch of the place. I had trouble seeing the stage but could hear every golden note.
Fortunately, I got to see plenty of Doug later. The venue had let him use the place for another wild, post-concert party. Adoring women—and several men—clung flirtatiously to him and the other band members. Doug hugged me when he saw me, arranged for someone to make me a decent drink, and acted as though nothing had happened between us. I guessed I was glad to set aside the hard feelings, but now that I knew what to blame his behavior on, his bright and wild demeanor unnerved me.
Casey showed up at one point, still looking a bit gaunt, but obviously on the mend. From across the room, I watched her tentatively approach Alec. He'd been talking to Wyatt the guitar player and turned to give her an obviously forced and fake smile. I couldn't hear the conversation, but the message came through loud and clear. She wanted to talk to him, to get his attention in some way, and he was blatantly snubbing her. I could see him shaking his head as she spoke, an almost desperate look on her face. Finally, he simply walked away, leaving her staring and upset.
"I want to go over there and punch him," I told Seth.
"No, you don't. It's their business, not yours."
I turned on him. "Damn it, Seth! How can you always be so placid and nonconfrontational? Don't you stand up for anything?"
He regarded me coolly. If he was surprised or offended by my outburst, he didn't show it. "I stand up for plenty of things. I just know when to pick my battles, that's all. So should you."
"You realize he slept with her and then turned around and dropped her cold. He may have even used sinister ways to do it."
"Believe me, I'm not condoning that, but Casey's got to be the one to say something. Otherwise, it's just you making accusations and starting a scene."
I scowled, half agreeing with him but still wishing I could help. Looking around, I couldn't see her anymore, which was probably just as well. With any luck, she'd gone home and would swear off the company of men for a while. Seth left for the bathroom, and almost the moment he was gone, Alec sidled up.
"Hey, Georgina. You look hot."
"Thanks," I said. I angled my body away, hoping he'd get the signal I wasn't interested. He was lucky I didn't just turn around and deck him.
"You're, like, the best-looking woman in here tonight."
Whether that was actually true or not, I knew the life-force surplus made me the most attractive. There was a difference. Eyeing Alec, I suddenly toyed with the idea of returning his flirtation and sleeping with him. I rather liked the idea of seeing him sprawled out unconscious and sick somewhere. Nah. On second thought, considering he was such a sleazebag, I probably wouldn't steal enough energy to do much more than wind him.
"You drinking those vodka gambits again?" he asked, still pushing the act.
"Gimlets," I corrected.
"Well, the bar can make anything if you want something different. And there's weed everywhere. I think I saw Corey with acid too."
This guy just couldn't stop trying to fuck women over. He didn't care how he did it. Seth showed up just then, and I turned to him with a dazzling smile.
"Nice talking to you Alec," I said breezily, taking Seth's arm. "See you around."
"What was that about?" asked Seth, once we were out of earshot.
"That asshole was trying to pick me up again. Right after turning away Casey. God, I hate him. He was trying the usual stuff too. Trying to push more drinks on me. Telling me how hot I was."
Seth leaned his face toward mine. "You are hot."