by Lori Selke
In “Hunger Pains,” Di looks at one succubus’ essential nature and the conflict this has created for her. “To thine own self be true” may be an inspirational motto, but what happens if being true to your nature means you cannot attain your heart’s desire?
Olivia grapples with that very problem. She is another succubus in this anthology who is willing to take a radical step to gain what she most desires. But sometimes the conviction that one is making the right choice is not the only factor at play in life-altering decisions.
Sometimes the past comes calling in unexpected ways.
Hunger Pains
Olivia’s head spun, her vision clouding. She snatched blindly at the railing to steady herself. Behind her trailed a wide flight of steps down to a diamond-shaped plaza with a waterfall fountain in the center. Ahead of her loomed a lofty tower made of silver glass and blue steel. She tipped her head back, tracing the jutting rise of the building from its blocky base to the lights glittering like jewels around the crown. Though it was impossible, she imagined she could hear laughter and music drifting down from above.
Her muscles quivered. She hadn’t eaten—really eaten—in twenty-nine days, and her body was definitely not liking the starvation diet. She stumbled away from the stairs and sagged onto a polished granite bench, huddling into her jacket. The evening was plenty warm, but her body didn’t seem to realize it.
It’s just the withdrawals, she told herself. Once I get past them, I’ll be fine. I’ll be fine.
Like telling herself would make it true. She closed her eyes and caught her head in her hands, bracing her elbows on her knees. It has to work. It just has to.
A car honked. The screech of rubber and crunching metal tore Olivia from her torpor. She lifted her head dully. Laughter pinged against her brain and footsteps pattered lightly on the stairs. The bright smell of expensive perfume swirled around her, blotting out the city smells and the stench of Olivia’s own fear and wasting.
“Wait a second, everyone. I think that’s my research assistant. Olivia? Is that you? Are you okay?”
Her entire body clenched. Noah. Shit. No no no. She didn’t want him seeing her like this. Not weak and pathetic and looking like a fifty year old ex-hooker with a coke problem.
Not that she had a choice.
She straightened as he squatted down before her. The two women and man he was with gathered curiously behind him. Olivia flicked a glance at them, her cheeks flushing. She squirmed and knotted her hands together, the knuckles turning white.
She hardly noticed the man, except that he had a broad chest, blond hair and looked a little like a viking. His companion, a redhead, had long legs and smokey eyes. Her boobs jutted like they were made out of plastic. Probably they were.
The other woman was Noah’s date. Her ash white hair was sleek and short, her eyes big and blue, her mouth full and as luscious as a fresh-picked cherry. She had a Barbie body with big boobs, a tiny waist and flared hips. The body of a succubus. She smiled sympathetically at Olivia over Noah’s shoulder. Pretty and nice too. Bitch.
Olivia clenched her teeth. She could look that good. Better. She could make Noah and his gorgeous friend fall at her feet and grovel just to lick her toes. She could—
No.
She didn’t want him that way. She wanted him the normal way.
Her gaze dropped to him, her belly throbbing hard with desperate hunger.
He was tall and slender with dark hair that was just a little too long over his ears and forehead. His eyes were laser blue and his face was just the right mix of angles and curves. Beneath his coat and shirt, he was hard with muscle.
“Hey,” he said, brushing a wisp of hair out of her face. “Is everything all right? You look . . .”
She waited while he searched for the word. She knew how she looked. Haggard. Faded. Wizened like a raisin.
“You look like you aren’t feeling so good,” he said finally. “This is my fault. I know I’ve been working you hard. But we nailed the case and you can have some time off anytime you want.”
She smiled. Trust him to find the diplomatic way out. “I got lunch at the taco cart,” she said and then shrugged. “Maybe something didn’t agree with me.”
What didn’t agree with her was food—human food. Or rather, it did nothing to sustain her. She needed a whole different kind of diet. But once the spell took hold, she’d no longer be a succubus. She’d be an ordinary woman, and once she was, Noah would be hers. All she had to do was avoid sex a little longer…
Her glance roved over his face, pausing too long on his lips. The tip of her tongue flicked out to wet her own.
He flushed and looked over his shoulder at his waiting companions like he was looking for an excuse to get away. Olivia bit her tongue sharply, tasting blood. Stupid. Looking like she did now, it was no wonder he wanted to get away.
She pushed her hair behind her ears. All she had to do was let loose a little magic and Noah wouldn’t see anyone but her. A night of sex would cure the bags under her eyes and plump her sagging skin. She’d have a vibrant glow that no man could resist. Hell, with magic, she could have leprosy and he’d still beg to get in her bed. With magic, he’d be hers as long as she wanted him. He’d think about her constantly awake and asleep.
An ache ran through her and need twisted in her chest. With magic, he’d be her slave. Who the hell wanted that?
“Noah, we’re going to be late,” his buddy Thor said in his chocolate-and-whiskey voice.
A flash of fury burned through her. Olivia glared at him, letting her pent up magic burst out in a dart of pure frustrated rage. He recoiled, his face turning gray.
She smiled inwardly. She was still a succubus, and it was never a good idea to piss off one of her kind. The pretty redhead was not going to get laid tonight. Maybe not all week. Not if she was expecting Thor to do the job for her. The only way he was going to get his dick up was with a splint and some duct tape. There wasn’t enough Viagra in the world to get him hard.
Noah put a warm hand over Olivia’s, his long fingers strong and warm. Desire shivered through her and it was all she could do not to jump his bones.
“Are you heading up to Sarmad’s for the party? Come with us.”
She should go home. She should say goodbye and grab a cab and get the hell out.
“Yes. Colleen and Dani are meeting me,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Her blood was pounding in her breasts and crotch, the ache in her lower belly twisting hard. All the same, she couldn’t resist his touch. Couldn’t resist the musky smell of his cologne mixed with a salty tang of sweat.
“Great. C’mon. Let’s go up together.”
He held an arm out for her and when she’d stood and slid her hand through the crook of his elbow, he did the same for his date. Olivia’s teeth ground together. Her left hand curled into a fist and her nails sliced into her flesh. Blood dripped to the ground as they walked.
Soon. Soon he would be hers and hers alone.
They went inside the glass doors and Noah introduced his date as Bree. The redhead went by Velvet and Thor’s real name was Casey. A crowd of people stood about dressed in designer clothes and dripping with jewelry and looking like they were heading for the Oscars. They milled behind a red velvet rope that corralled off the elevators. A path was open to the front and several men in tailored Italian silk suits stood guard to keep it clear and to make sure no one got to the elevator who wasn’t allowed. Olivia didn’t know any of them. She’d avoided this place like the plague for the past few years.
Noah led the way to the front.
“May I help you, sir?” asked a brown-haired man with slicked-back hair and pale skin.
Olivia snorted to herself. Duh. Of course he had pale skin. He was a vampire. What was he going to do, get a spray-on tan?
“We’re here for the Cutler, Hein, and Olsen party,” Noah said confidently.
“Your names?” the vampire bouncer asked as he glanced at Velvet, Casey, Bree and finally
Olivia. He did a double-take and then reached for the rope to let them in. “Never mind. You’re on the list. Go ahead.”
Succubi and incubi were always welcome at Sarmad’s.
Noah kept a steadying hand on Olivia’s back as they went into the elevator. It was elegant with wood paneling, gold trim, an abstract oil painting on the rear wall, and floor of inlaid wood. Another vampire stood inside and pressed the buttons, ignoring the group otherwise.
“I can’t believe we’re actually going to Sarmad’s,” Velvet said, giving a little wiggle of joy. “I’ve always wanted to go but I’ve never been able to get an invitation.”
“For a minute there, I thought for sure they weren’t going to let us in,” Casey said, adjusting his purple silk tie and smoothing his lapels. He stood as far from Olivia as he could get. “I hear the place is out of this world.”
“If you like that sort of thing,” Olivia murmured sourly.
“What? Who wouldn’t?” Velvet said in surprise. “Only the richest and best people can even get in. Oh! Do you think we’ll see Alex Pettyfer? Or Matt Damon? Or no! I’d die to meet Bradley Cooper!”
“I’m not enough for you?” asked Casey, looking annoyed.
Velvet rolled her eyes at him. “Of course. But we’re talking Bradley Cooper. I’m sorry, but if that man wanted to change my oil, I would not be turning him down.”
“You sound like you’ve been up here before,” Bree said to Olivia, her brow furrowing slightly.
Olivia shrugged. “A few times. Awhile ago.”
All four of them stared without speaking and it was as obvious as a tail on a dog that they didn’t believe her. Not that she cared. Noah’s hand had dropped away and he’d slid his arm around Bree. Olivia’s jaw clenched with jealousy. She shouldn’t have come. There were so many reasons why this was not a good idea. Not the least of which was the danger of losing control. That would fuck everything up. Still, she couldn’t seem to make herself turn around and leave.
The elevator rose quickly; less than a minute later the doors slid open, and suddenly the air was full of scent and sound. It filled the small space, running over Olivia’s skin like a lover’s caress. She tensed, pulling inward. She would not let it get to her. She would not screw up the spell because she fed on the wild sexuality that was the club’s hallmark and whole reason for existence.
“Welcome to Sarmad’s,” the vampire said as he gestured wide.
The five of them stepped out, Olivia bringing up the rear. She came along slowly, holding her breath. As if that would help. Sexual energy, life energy, folded around her like wet, warm silk.
Olivia shivered, hunger swelling inside her. She fought it back, ignoring the clawing pain inside. If she fed, she’d blow it. She’d lose her chance to break the curse and lose Noah too. Bree would have the chance to capture his heart. He hadn’t been dating the other woman long, Olivia knew. Otherwise he’d have mentioned her before. But it was clear he was more than just a little attracted to the beautiful blonde.
The hard and cold fact was that if Olivia gave in to her succubus needs before the spell was complete, then she’d have to find another witch and start all over again. With Bree in the picture, Noah could very well be taken by then and she’d lose him forever.
It was just one more day. One day, and one night at Sarmad’s. She could do it. She had to do it. She was too close to quit now.
The music pulsed with a deep beat that vibrated down into a person’s primal center and tore away inhibitions and taboo. It was siren song, played by a band of ‘bi who spun magic into every note.
The music summoned human listeners, compelling them to just one thought: fuck your brains out. Right now. For humans, Sarmad’s was an elite club—the most expensive and most exclusive club in the western hemisphere. For succubi and incubi, it was a diner.
The club was a vast open space made cozy with gauzy draperies that pretended to be walls and lent the illusion of privacy to lovers. Everybody was a lover when they came to Sarmad’s. The colored lights sparkled like fairy stars, and a long bar filled one end of the room. There were three hot tubs, each big enough to hold thirty people. Complimentary bathing suits were available, but most people went in wearing their underwear or straight up naked.
Surrounding the center stage was a dance floor. Beyond it were clusters of couches and tables interspersed with piles of cushions and canopied beds. The last were only used for sex when an orgy broke out. Complimentary private rooms lined the walls and more were available downstairs. Several stairways provided quick access. Customers were encouraged to use them regularly and often. The more sex, the more food. It flowed in the air like manna from heaven. Or hell. Whatever.
But it wasn’t just about food. Not for Arash Sarmad. He used his ‘bi waitstaff to fuck the secrets out of the clientele—a clientele of tycoons, Wall Street big wigs, politicians, CEOs, Hollywood types, foreign ambassadors, judges and whomever else he could lure in. Humans simply could not resist when ‘bi did the asking. He should have called the club Loose Lips. Once he got the information, Sarmad leveraged it to build himself a financial empire. He was now one of the richest men—using that word loosely—in the world.
‘Bi waiters and waitresses dressed in next to nothing delivered drinks and food throughout, pausing here and there for a stroke along the back of a neck or a rub up against a hip.
Olivia’s companions surveyed the club, faces alight with marvel and excitement. Just like kids at a carnival. And Sarmad’s was a hell of a ride.
Olivia scowled at Bree who was rubbing herself up against Noah. The music was getting to her and Velvet both, and neither Noah nor Casey were doing much resisting. Olivia bit the inside of her cheek. If they wanted to go screw their brains out, she couldn’t do anything about it. She wouldn’t. Not this close. But her fingers curled hard into her palms, and she felt her skin parting where her nails cut in.
Just then the moment she’d been dreading arrived. A hand slid over her waist and she was pulled against Arash Sarmad’s strong, hard body. He brushed his lips across her bare shoulder.
“Olivia, my sweet. It’s been too long,” he murmured in a deep, husky voice. A bedroom voice. Of course. What else?
She couldn’t help glancing at Noah and his companions. Their reactions were irritatingly shocked. Bree’s mouth fell open and Noah’s eyes widened as he looked back and forth between Arash and Olivia. She smiled back at them defiantly.
She turned. Arash didn’t let go of her. She met his gaze, her chin lifting.
He scowled, brushing her hair back from her face. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his dark eyebrows slashing down and his entire focus shrinking down to her, as if she were the only person in the room.
She twitched and fought the urge to step away. She had nothing to apologize for. Instead she smiled. “I’m fine. This is my boss, Noah Larson. These are Bree, Velvet and Casey.”
He continued to eye her for a long moment, then turned his attention to the others. His arm remained around Olivia’s waist.
He shook Noah’s and Casey’s hands, then stroked his fingers over Bree’s forearm and leaned in to kiss Velvet’s cheek. Both women looked like they’d been hit with hammers. Olivia was pretty sure Velvet had nearly peed herself. And why not? Arash was damned beautiful. He was six foot four with chiseled features, a godlike body, and of course, a siren voice. He was seriously hot, even for an incubus.
Noah and Casey stared admiringly at him. That was Arash—women wanted him, men wanted to be him. Olivia rolled her eyes. She’d be a lot more impressed if he could have that effect without magic. Noah did. He had a quiet presence that was hypnotic to everyone around him. No magic required.
“Please, come and enjoy yourselves,” Arash said, gesturing widely. “If you want anything at all, do not hesitate to ask. Friends of Olivia’s are friends of mine. But if you don’t mind, I’d like to steal her from you for a few minutes.”
He didn’t wait to find out if they minded or not. Instead he sw
ept Olivia away. She couldn’t help glancing over her shoulder at Noah. He was watching them leave with a faint frown, his brows rising as if to ask if she was in trouble. Arash followed her look. She flushed and turned away.
He hustled her back into the elevator. The vampire inside looked faintly startled.
“Where to, sir?”
Arash didn’t answer. Instead he reached over and punched a button. Floor thirteen. Nowhere else in the world was there a hotel with a floor thirteen. Owning a building has its perks, as does not giving a shit about what the rest of the world thinks.
The doors opened and Arash pulled Olivia out into a plush foyer. She didn’t have time to register much about it before he towed her through a short passage and then through a series of rooms, each expensively decorated with beautiful artwork and elegant furniture. It was all very tasteful with golds and dark blues, reds and greens. The floors were alternately wood and marble.
Arash finally pulled her into his study. It was enormous—at least as big as her entire apartment. In the middle was a heavy desk made of cherry wood. Tall bookshelves lined two walls. Leather-bound books with gilt writing filled them. On another wall was a broad fireplace with a black marble mantle. It looked big enough to roast an entire cow.
He pushed Olivia down onto a couch in front of the fireplace and stood in front of her, his arms folded across his chest.
“You look like hell. Tell me what’s going on.”
“What’s going on is I’m missing the party upstairs,” Olivia said coolly, standing back up. He didn’t step back. She tipped her head back, eyes narrowing. “I’d like to leave now.”
The corners of his mouth turned a fraction. “Not a chance. Not until I know why you look like a corpse.”
“And I thought you were supposed to be so good with the ladies,” Olivia said. “Compliments like that get you laid, do they?”
