by Jill Myles
“Jackie,” Zane said, his voice soft.
I turned around to look back at him, curious. “Yes?”
He paused, his gaze roaming over me in a vulnerable moment. “I just want to know … do you trust me?”
He’d asked me that before, and it had gotten me into trouble. But we’d come so far that I felt confident in my answer. I smiled at him. “I do trust you, Zane.”
“Good,” he said, his eyes intense on me. “Hold on to that, okay?” His face changed from the serious look into a smile, then he put a cigarette between his lips. “I’m going to finish this, and then I’ll head back.”
I headed back out to the Hummer, propelled by the subtle compulsion in our conversation.
Remy leaned against the hood of the vehicle, looking utterly bored. She eyed me. “You sure he’s okay with this trip?”
“Zane’s fine with it,” I said to her, my tone convinced if my body wasn’t. “He knows I need his help right now. He wouldn’t abandon me.”
“Oh, sweetie,” Remy said, her voice sad. “When will you learn not to trust vampires?”
“He’s fine. I’ll go get him and prove it to you.”
I stomped back to the bathroom. What I didn’t expect to find was his long leather trench coat discarded in a heap in the middle of the floor.
He’d left me. Flown away without even saying good-bye.
This title is also available as an eBook.
PRAISE FOR JILL MYLES’S TEMPTING DEBUT,
Gentlemen Prefer Succubi
“Debut author Jill Myles just wowed me! She’s written an outstanding first novel—I read Gentlemen Prefer Succubi in one breathless sitting. Want laugh-out-loud scenes, scorching eroticism, and pulse-pounding adventure? Don’t miss this book!”
—Kresley Cole, New York Times bestselling author of
Kiss of a Demon King
“Witty, sexy, and wickedly fun. Jill Myles is a captivating new voice, and I can’t wait to see what she writes next.”
—Ilona Andrews, New York Times bestselling author of
Magic Strikes
“A fabulous roller-coaster ride filled with sex, adventure, humor, and just enough darkness to keep the reader guessing. A combination of old myths and brand-new interpretations blend together seamlessly in this erotic and fast-paced romantic urban fantasy. Jill Myles made me wish I had written this book! Hot, delicious, and witty, the hottest new star in the genre has just landed.”
—Kathryn Smith, USA Today bestselling author of
Night After Night
“Gentlemen Prefer Succubi is a lavish confection of a book, its deliciousness frosted by dark-winged angels and vampires with bite. Don’t miss this supernaturally sensational divertissement of sex, Sucks, and total satisfaction.”
—Ann Aguirre, national bestselling author of Blue Diablo
“Jill Myles pens a deliciously sexy and fun debut. With stiletto-sharp humor and two heroes to die for, Gentlemen Prefer Succubi is a temptation no reader should resist.”
—Meljean Brook, national bestselling author of the Guardians series
“You can’t read one page any more than you can eat just one potato chip. Jill Myles is inventive, addictive, and wickedly entertaining.”
—Charlene Teglia, award-winning author of
Animal Attraction
“Sexy vampires, fallen angels, and a reluctant succubus … oh my! Gentlemen Prefer Succubi is amusing as hell!”
—Michelle Rowen, author of Tall, Dark & Fangsome
ALSO BY JILL MYLES
Gentlemen Prefer Succubi
Available from Pocket Books
SUCCUBI LIKE IT HOT
THE SUCCUBUS DIARIES
JILL MYLES
* * *
The sale of this book without its cover is unauthorized. If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that it was reported to the publisher as “unsold and destroyed.” Neither the author nor the publisher has received payment for the sale of this “stripped book.”
* * *
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2010 by Jill Myles
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Cover illustration by Shane Rebenschied
Manufactured in the United States of America
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
ISBN 978-1-4165-7283-1
ISBN 978-1-4165-8815-3 (ebook)
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I thanked pretty much everyone and their brother at the beginning of the last book, so that kind of made me wonder … was there anyone left to thank for Book 2? I’m lucky enough to have some people in my life that are so awesome that they deserve another round of thanks, so here we go.
To my husband, thank you for being the world’s best guy and the best supporter a writer could possibly have. I use a lot more of your ideas than I give you credit for.
To my terrific agent, my superlative editor, and my editor’s amazing assistant—you guys are awesome beyond belief. I’m so lucky to get to work with you on two books now! An email from New York is just like Christmas in my Inbox.
To my copyeditor—I cussed your name a lot, but it was all in love. A thousand times thank you.
To my family, for driving me to the airport at oh-god-in-the-morning so I can go to writers’ conferences, all without a word of complaint. And for shoving my bookmarks under everyone’s noses (even at Bingo). A girl couldn’t ask for a better support team.
To the Mean Girls, for talking me down off ledges and supporting me, and for not being afraid to tell me when my work needs an overhaul. I raise a Slim Jim in salute to you.
To Kent—this one’s for you, too.
SUCCUBI LIKE IT HOT
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
The Succubus Diaries series
back 1
CHAPTER ONE
During the fund-raiser luncheon’s after-party, the Itch hit me. As
I shook hands with one of the rich benefactors of New City University’s archaeology department, I felt the full-body flush take over me. Without looking, I knew that my normally bleached-gray eyes had turned a blazing blue.
That meant just one thing: I needed sex, and I needed it now.
The Itch is what drives succubi, forcing us to hunt down men and have amazing, mind-blowing sex every forty-eight hours. As you get closer to your time, your eyes darken to blue, your skin becomes sensitive and flushed, and everything turns you on. Everything. The Itch makes it impossible to forget sex—you live, breathe, eat, and drink it. Crave it like you once craved oxygen and water.
I had a definite craving right now.
“Jackie Brighton, so good to see you again,” a voice boomed, and a hand slid over my bare elbow, pulling me to the side.
Dr. Morgan was my new boss and the head of the New City University archaeological team. Anyone who was anyone in Wyoming university archaeology worked for him, and I was thrilled to be included.
He smiled at me. “How are you enjoying the fund-raiser, my dear?”
I smiled in return, wondering if it would be offensive to yank my arm away. The slight touch was maddening to my overheated flesh. “I’m great, thank you, Dr. Morgan. I don’t suppose you’ve seen—”
“You seem a little flushed. Is something wrong?”
Why, yes. I’m actually a succubus. Got turned into one a few weeks ago, back when I was just a dumpy docent at the local museum. Now I’m the hot babe you’re ogling, and I need sex to survive—right now. That’s why my eyes are turning blue, my skin is feverish, and I feel the urge to rip off my clothing and throw the nearest man down on the carpet and make hot love to him.
But I couldn’t tell my new boss that—no one believed that succubi were real except, well, other succubi. And their masters. So I kept the bright smile on my face. “I’m just fine, Dr. Morgan. It’s kind of you to ask, though.”
Dr. Morgan’s hand slid from my elbow and caressed the soft underside of my arm. “I’m just looking out for my favorite new team member.”
If I’d been a normal gal, that sexual harassment move would have sent me right to a lawyer’s office. But since I was a succubus, a ripple of desire pulsed through my blood. And Dr. Morgan noticed, judging by the possessive way he stared at my now-heaving breasts.
“Is it warm in here?” I pulled my arm out of his and fanned my face. Stepping a few feet away, I plucked a glass of champagne off a waiter’s tray. Time for me to leave the party, and stat. “Have you seen my date, Noah Gideon?”
Six feet tall? Utterly gorgeous? Blond? Fallen angel? Tattoos on his wrist?
Noah was one of the two men who had turned me into a succubus. The other was Zane, a vampire. A few weeks ago, I’d been an invisible docent with mousy brown hair and an expanding waistline, toiling away at the New City Museum of Art for a boss who hated me. Everything had changed the night I was transformed by Zane and Noah. I’d gone from plump and dowdy to svelte and stunning. My hair had transformed into a fabulous red mane, my breasts had more Ds than a bad report card, and men lusted after me. A lot.
You’d think there was no downside, except for the whole “master” thing that tied me to Zane and Noah. Any command one of them issued, I had to obey like some oversexed I-Dream-of-Jeannie.
Noah was my date to this afternoon’s shindig, and it was a good thing, too. Not only was Noah one of the archaeology department’s benefactors, but his presence would keep Dr. Morgan and his overly grabby hands away before I did something that both of us would regret.
Like throw him down on the floor and ride him like a bronco.
Dr. Morgan backed off at the mention of Noah’s name. He might like boobs a lot, but he liked archaeology funding more, and his upcoming Mayan dig was in need of additional money. “Mr. Gideon? I believe I saw him over in the east wing not too long ago. Would you like me to—”
“Not necessary.” I gave him a quick smile, downing my champagne. “I’ll find him.”
I hurried through the crowd, the pulsing in my veins growing more insistent with each moment. It concerned me that the Itch had appeared out of nowhere—most of the time it was a gradual change in my body chemistry. To have it flip on like a switch was disturbing.
And until I fixed my Itch, my body would grow steadily more sensitive, overheated, and needy. If I didn’t? Well . . . I’d never resisted for longer than a few days, because that way lay madness, pain, and death. In that order.
Not too irksome a fate if you had a hot man at your beck and call, and I had two of them. But since I’d just had sex last night with the vampire, Zane, I wasn’t due for another two days.
The east wing of the archaeology department was crowded, benefactors and their trophy wives circling around ancient vases and clay figurines, and commenting about them as if they knew what the heck they were looking at. I looked for Noah’s tall blond head in the sea of silver hair and poofy, frosted helmet-hair, but there was no sign of him.
I found him down one gallery hall, wine glass in hand, gazing at a large painting. Noah Gideon was breathtakingly gorgeous—not a surprise, given that he’d fallen from Heaven. His dark blond hair had been brushed into a haircut that looked perfect despite the intentional tousled style. His shoulders filled out his designer tuxedo, and I paused to admire him from behind. Because damn, the man had a nice behind. It made me quiver just to look at it.
Then I noticed what he was looking at and froze. It was a dark painting, full of shadow and light (chiaroscuro to the art nerds like me). A crumpled angel lay at the bottom in one corner, collapsed in a heap of feathers and rosy flesh. At the top, crimson heavens seared the dark canvas. Fall from Grace, the plaque read. It was a painting that one of the professors was restoring for the Smithsonian, brought out to display so all the wealthy patrons could see the good things we were doing.
And Noah was staring at it with an intense look that made me think that he hadn’t forgotten that part of his past, not by a long shot. As a fallen angel, he didn’t like to be reminded of Heaven. Originally angels like Uriel and the rest of Heaven’s warriors the Serim were condemned to live among mortals for all eternity because they’d had the bad luck to fall in love with human females. Exiled to Earth, they were doomed to have sex and give orgasms to their partners.
As curses went, I had no complaints (being the recipient of said orgasms), but Noah seemed sad for his loss.
Crap. How had I forgotten about that painting? Noah never talked to me about his past and how he’d fallen. I didn’t know how old he was (though I knew it was old) or if he kept in contact with the other angels that had fallen, or anything like that. Heaven was private, and I didn’t ask. I figured he’d open up on his own at some point.
From the devastated look on his face as he stared up at the painting, that point would be a long time coming.
“Noah?” I said quietly, moving to his side and slipping my arm into his. “Can we go now?”
He turned to me, the melancholy leaving his face so quickly I wondered if I’d imagined it. “Leave? But I thought you wanted to—”
His voice died at the sight of my bright blue eyes and the moist flush on my skin.
I gave him a faint smile. “Bit of a problem seems to have cropped up.” I slid my hand down his chest, a blatant invitation.
His eyes grew darker, the gray turning almost black, then a deep blue within a second or two as his own desire flared to match mine. “You’re never a problem, Jackie,” he said in a low voice, and the husky timbre caused my entire body to tremble.
I automatically moved toward him, pressing my body against his and tilting my face toward his.
“Not in here,” he said, glancing down the hall.
Oh, pooh. I frowned at Mr. Propriety, even though he was right. I just didn’t like being reminded of it. “Where, then? It had better be someplace close, or I’m going to make a spectacle of myself.” I slid my gaze over him meaningfully. “And you.”
He took my hand and led me through the crowd, murmuring excuses to the people who tried to stop us with a greeting.
When we finally cleared the wall-to-wall throng, Noah headed toward the double glass front doors. “Is the limo okay?”
The limo? All the way across the parking lot? “I have a better idea.” I tugged him down toward the professors’ row of offices.
“Is one of these yours?” he asked, his hands sliding to my hips despite his reserve, and I nearly lost my breath. My body began to tingle even harder with excitement. Sex now.
“No.” Good things the halls were clear—everyone was at the fund-raiser. I cussed under my breath when I discovered the first door was locked. I moved down to the next one—success. Pushing Dr. Morgan’s door open, I dragged Noah inside, then locked the door behind me.
“Jackie,” Noah warned, “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”
“Morgan won’t care,” I said, grabbing Noah’s tie and ripping my fingers through the knot. “He already suspects I’m sleeping with you for the good of the archaeology department. He’ll think I’m trying to do some extra fund-raising on the side.” I pushed him up against the heavy wooden desk in the center of the small room, and nearly swooned with delight when my hips pressed against the hardness nestled between his. Oh, yum.
“I can’t say that I approve of him having that impression of you,” Noah said, his voice sounding stern as he ran his hands over my hips again, teasing me.
A moan escaped me and I pulled his mouth down to mine, biting at his lower lip in excitement. “Right now,” I said between fierce kisses, “he could watch and I wouldn’t care.”
