“Okay,” Isabel said. She licked her lips and combed her fingers through her hair. “So, explain this to me.”
“Vampires and angels, we don’t get along,” Oz said. “Not really, anyway. It’s not exactly a good versus evil thing, though you can think of it that way. It’s more a question of factions. Vampires are creatures of night; they can go out during the day, at least after their first hundred years, but they have to be careful.”
“This isn’t exactly explaining the awkwardness,” Isabel told him.
“Listen to me,” Oz said. Isabel subsided, taking a deep breath.
“Explain that, too; the way you can make me do whatever you want, whether I want to or not,” she demanded.
“It’s because I helped create you,” Oz said. “Your body obeys my commands.” Isabel raised an eyebrow at that but decided to let it pass; there were more important things to find out. “Vampires and angels, we both have a vested interest in keeping succubi contained. However, we have different opinions about how to accomplish that.”
“How so?” Oz sat down on the edge of her bed.
“Angels ... we mostly try to help succubi by setting them up with a host. Someone who can satisfy their needs. Or we steer them into providing sex therapy, or other things like that.”
“Okay, and the vampires don’t do that?”
Oz shook his head.
“The vampires are big in sex work: prostitution, porn, BDSM clubs and so on,” he said. “They’re also invested in some unsavory practices that they use succubi in: blackmail, slave trading, things like that.”
“So, apparently, it’s a good thing you found me,” Isabel said, feeling a trickle of fear down her spine.
“The bigger issue is that the vampires are amassing an army,” Oz explained. “There are all kinds of paranormal and supernatural creatures on this planet, and the vampires are trying to get as many of them as possible on their side.”
“And the angels aren’t?”
Oz half-shrugged.
“We’re a bit more passive in our recruitment,” he said. “We don’t feed on humans, vampires do.”
“And feeding on humans is relevant because?”
“Because the ultimate goal that the vampires have is war,” Oz said. “They want to essentially bring the non-supernatural community under the collective rule of themselves and a few other creatures that exist.”
“And succubi are part of that?”
Oz nodded.
“They play an instrumental role,” he said. “After all, the ability to control men’s minds comes in pretty handy for waging war against them, doesn’t it?” Isabel shuddered. She hadn’t fully enjoyed even the little taste of mind control she’d had earlier in the day. The thought of that ability being used as a weapon gave her chills. “There’s basically been a cold war between angels and vampires for centuries. Angels want the supernatural world to stay quiet and hidden. Vampires want to come out and have the right to feed on whomever they want to, whenever they want to.”
“And because of that, I’m in danger,” Isabel said, making it not quite a question.
“They’ll want to recruit you,” Oz said. “If not willingly, then by force. From what we’ve been able to determine, they starve succubi to make them compliant, and then only give them the opportunity to feed if they agree to do what they’re told.”
“So, my mind control doesn’t work on vampires, I take it,” Isabel said grimly.
“It’s not as strong, because they have similar abilities,” Oz said. “Angels are also partially immune. And if they starve you, your ability to control minds will weaken.”
“Clearly, I need to avoid vampires,” Isabel said.
“To that point, I want you to stay in my house,” Oz told her. “I’ll support you financially – there’s no need for you to keep your current job, or even find a new one.”
“You must be pretty well off to just suggest taking me in like that,” Isabel said, looking at him skeptically.
“I have about ten billion dollars,” Oz said smiling. “It’s not difficult to accumulate wealth when you’re immortal.”
“That makes sense,” Isabel said. She fidgeted, looking at the man she had first considered a one-night stand. He was an angel. And now I can’t tell anyone the story about that night, Isabel thought, almost bitterly. I’ll be off the grid until ... well … “How long would I have to stay with you?”
“Until this matter is resolved,” Oz said firmly. “Until you’re not in danger anymore.”
Chapter Seven
The house that Oz brought Isabel to looked – at first – like a standard mini-mansion, with a landscaped yard, and a modestly sizeable home on it behind wrought iron fencing. But as Oz pulled up onto the circular driveway, Isabel realized that it was something like an illusion; the house was grander, larger, more ornate than she had thought from the street. “How did you pull that off?”
“A little this, a little that,” Oz said, matter-of-factly. “There’s some illusion magic along the perimeter of the grounds to keep people who haven’t been brought here directly from even knowing it’s here.”
“Magic is real?” Oz smiled.
“Magic is real, vampires are real, angels are real,” he said. “There’s a whole wide supernatural world out there, Isabel.”
“And now I’m a member of it,” she said wryly.
“Yes, you are,” Oz told her. He parked the car and shut the engine off, and Isabel thought that if she had to be on veritable house arrest for the foreseeable future, she at least had a big, expansive house to be confined to.
She climbed out of the car and followed Oz towards the front door. It was painted red, a deep, bold shade that seemed almost to glow, and the frame was coated in something that Isabel couldn’t quite identify, that gave it a slightly shiny finish. The front yard, hemmed in by the wrought-iron fence, was perfectly manicured, with lushly growing garden beds.
Oz unlocked and opened the door as Isabel followed him into the house, blinking in amazement. She had been torn between belief and disbelief when Oz had told her that he was a billionaire; but the marble floors, vaulted ceilings, and the subtle gleam of gold leaf along the molding above set her firmly in the “belief” camp. “Come on, Isabel, let me show you your room,” he said.
The whole situation was bizarre; Isabel looked around as she followed Oz through the house, thinking to herself that if anyone ever told her that it had happened to them, she would think they were not just lying, but insane. I’m a succubus, she thought. I’m going to have to make sure I have sex with someone every night or I’ll ‘starve’…. no matter how much food I eat. Vampires exist…. Angels exist, but they’re not like angels from the bible. Her mind spun in circles, trying to make sense of the situation.
“Here,” Oz said. He opened a door to a room that was almost half the size of Isabel’s entire home. Looking in, she could see doorways leading into a bathroom and presumably a closet, along with a big, wide bed that dominated the room, a dresser and a vanity with a low bench in front of it. She spotted a flat screen TV, and some kind of terminal – it was turned off at the moment – that had the Wi-Fi symbol on it.
“Not a bad prison, all things considered,” Isabel said, stepping through the door. Oz had given her enough time to grab a small suitcase of clothes, and when she had started to pack makeup in her luggage, he’d snorted and pointed out that as a succubus, there would be no —need for makeup ever again.
“It’s not a prison,” Oz said, his voice firm. “I don’t think you understand the urgency in this, Isabel.”
“I would be able to understand the urgency in this if I could believe half of what happened,” Isabel said. “I’m still trying to figure out how to make sense of becoming a succubus, and you being a literal, real angel, and the fact that I apparently had sex with a vampire. Oh, and that’s just the beginning of the bombs you dropped on me today.”
“If nothing else,” Oz said, starting to lighten a bit, “you
know that while you’re here, you’ll be able to keep yourself from starving.”
“I guess,” Isabel said. “I’m assuming this isn’t just going to be a few days.”
“Until further notice,” Oz told her. Isabel sat down on the edge of the bed and looked around her room.
“You do realize that I have friends and people in my life, right?” she said as she met Oz’s gaze. “People who will miss me if I just disappear.”
“I would recommend that if you’re going to meet with any of your friends and family, you keep it to the women,” Oz told her. “I can’t guarantee if you meet with any males who know you – even if they’re family – that they won’t be sexually interested in you.” Isabel stared at Oz.
“If I meet with my Dad …?”
“He will react the same way your boss did, in all likelihood.” Isabel shuddered, involuntarily imagining it. It’s not fair! What did I do to deserve this? She took a slow, deep breath.
“So only women,” she said.
“Until you’re better able to control your output, yes,” Oz said, nodding. “Once you’re fully adapted to being a succubus, you might be able to go around male friends and family without having to beat them off of you with a baseball bat.”
“But if I have control over their minds, I can just tell them to stop it.” Oz smiled.
“Just trust me on this one,” he said. “Men will continue to have a difficult time controlling their impulse to hit on you. All men.”
“Can you do me a favor?” Isabel looked at Oz.
“Depends on the favor,” he said.
“I’d really like some space,” Isabel told him. “I need to kind of ... figure things out.”
“Of course,” Oz said. He smiled slightly. “If you get lonely, or hungry …” his smile deepened, and Isabel looked away, feeling embarrassed at the knowing look in his eyes.
He left the room, and Isabel let herself fall back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Nothing at all in my entire life is normal anymore, she thought bitterly. Her body was changing; she had caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror on the way to the bedroom she would be staying in at Oz’s house, and could have sworn that she was slimmer, more svelte. Even though she didn’t have the burning, stomach-churning need for sex that she had felt earlier, she could still sense the pulse of her new appetite deep down in her brain.
Oz had said that because he was part of what had turned her into a succubus, he was able to command her. But the vampire and Isabel’s brain balked at the idea that had also taken part in her strange conversion: would he have the same ability? With any luck, I’ll never know. Isabel shuddered, thinking of what Oz had told her about how the vampires treated the succubi; they wanted to recruit.
“I wanted to change my life but this is ridiculous,” Isabel said, shaking her head against the mattress. She had wanted to get a different job, or find someone she could maybe consider dating in the long term – not to turn into a supernatural creature that fed off of sexual energy, never slept, and had to be careful around the men in her life she wasn’t interested in sexually.
“It’s not fair,” she murmured, turning over onto her side and curling up into a G shape, her knees almost to her stomach, her flatter stomach. The fact that she was losing weight without doing anything different in her life, so much so that her clothes were starting to not fit in a matter of only two days since she’d had her one-night stand with Oz, truly unsettled her.
She didn’t feel physically tired, but as Isabel kept her eyes closed, trying to think, to wrap her mind around everything that had happened to her in such a short time she found herself drifting off. Absently, she thought she might as well appreciate the ability to sleep while she still had it, just before her thinking slowed with her breaths, and she slipped into a deeper doze.
Chapter Eight
“I feel ridiculous,” Isabel told Oz as they strode through the mall, in the direction of Nordstrom. He’d insisted that she wear sunglasses and a hat, that she pull her hair back under the cap he had given her and wear the most shapeless dress that she had brought to his mansion. It was nearly dusk, and she felt more conspicuous in the “disguise”.
“The sunglasses keep you from eye contact with people,” Oz explained. “The hat shields your hair. The clothes cover up your body. It was either this or try and order everything online without knowing what your new size is.” Isabel pressed her lips together and took a deep breath, following him still.
Two days since she had agreed to stay at his house, under his protection, Isabel had realized that none of her clothes – not even her underwear – fit. She had slimmed down at the waist, thighs, hips, and paradoxically had gone up at least one cup size in her breasts, almost overnight. If it weren’t for Oz’s patient explanations, she would have already rushed herself to the doctor.
Her irritation at the confused and frankly wondering looks she caught other mall patrons giving her was compounded by the fact that she could feel her hunger rising. Isabel had tried to eat two huge meals already: a big breakfast of eggs, pancakes, bacon, oatmeal, and yogurt, and then a lunch of pasta, steak, salad, and wine. But no matter how much she ate, it seemed, the hunger kept gnawing at her. Isabel glanced at Oz, a few steps ahead of her. She would have to “feed” again soon, and the fact filled her with resentment.
Of all the things that Isabel had tried to adjust to since she had started the transformation, the fact that she had to have sex regularly, that it was like eating instead of something she could enjoy whenever she could get it, was the most unfair. Isabel stared at Oz’s back, knowing that she was going to end up in his bed that night – and that she would enjoy it, that she would be a fully willing participant – and almost, but not quite, hating him for that fact. It wasn’t his fault, strictly speaking; Isabel knew that. But she knew she should be more grateful to him; that he was willing to take care of her, to finance her life and even provide her with the regular sex she needed to stay healthy.
They stepped into Nordstrom and Oz made a beeline for the service counter, reaching back without looking for Isabel’s hand. She put her hand in his, and felt a little tingle from her fingers to her shoulder, all the way through her spine. She had begun to suspect that things were different with Oz – not just because he was an angel instead of a regular human, but something more. But as quickly as things had changed, it was too much to try and evaluate.
“We need all female assistance,” Oz told the customer service manager at the desk. “We’re going to be spending quite a bit of money in multiple departments, but it’s imperative that all our customer service people are women.” The manager raised an eyebrow at that, looking at Isabel, and she gave him a wry smile from behind her sunglasses. The man frowned, peering more closely at her, and Isabel could see the brief flicker of confused lust on his face. Okay, so maybe the stupid, ugly disguise was a good idea.
“Of course,” the manager said. “If you can tell me which departments you’ll be shopping in today, I’ll make sure to have someone on hand in each one to assist you.”
“Intimates, women’s shoes, and jewelry,” Oz told the man. Isabel squeezed his hand reflexively at the last category, even as the manager nodded his assent and stepped over to the phone on his desk to make the arrangement.
“Jewelry?” she tilted her sunglasses down on her nose just enough to meet Oz’s gaze.
“My money, I can spend it how I want,” Oz told her.
“If you think that this is going to obligate me–”
“You already have to do what I say,” Oz interrupted her, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Why would I need to obligate you?”
Isabel took a slow breath and exhaled sharply through her nose.
“Fine,” she said. “But don’t … don’t think that this makes me ... indebted to you. That’s all.”
“If I wanted to indebt you to me, I’d write up a contract,” Oz said. The manager came back to them.
“Would you like to st
art in Intimates? One of my best representatives is there, ready to assist in any way she can.”
“As long as you have a chain of female attendants for us to go to, I am happy to start wherever you like,” Oz told the man. He looked at Isabel. “Intimates, my dear?” Isabel almost started at the familiar name, but quickly realized that unless they played the part of a couple, they’d attract more than their fair share of unwanted attention.
“Sure, babe,” Isabel said sweetly.
The woman waiting for them in the Intimates and Sleepwear department was middle-aged, but Isabel could see that she had been lovely – probably even hot – in her younger years. Her skin was duller with age, and her hair had the look of salon processing to cover grays, but she had bright eyes in a well-made up face. She looked curvy enough to have learned the hard way the value of proper lingerie fitting. “Oh, my dear, new wardrobe?”
Adored by The Dragon: (The Dragon Lord - Book 3) (The Dragon Lords) Page 51
