by L. L. Frost
My hand tightens on the piping bag and a glob of purple and pink frosting spurts out. Annoyed I set the cupcake down next to my other failures. “I didn’t get my mojo back.”
“Darling, you’re glowing right now.” He frowns, head tilting the other way as his blue eyes narrow. “Well, maybe not glowing. But at least you don’t look like a three-day dead corpse now.”
“I wasn’t that bad.” I reach for the second to the last cupcake on my cooling rack. I need six perfect ones to make the cupcake bouquet, which means the next two need to be perfect.
Julian shakes his head, fine white curls bouncing. “Adie, my darling, the cousins were asking when your apartment would be available for rent.”
“Pack of vultures,” I mutter.
“So you found a desperate human to feed on?” With one long finger, he drags the plate of ruined cupcakes closer. “Because no way you had enough whammy left to begile anyone.”
“You know I didn’t.”
“I don’t know that.” Delicately, he picks at the green wrapper of one cake. “I have every hope you’ll be cured of this unnecessary concern for human safety and start bleeding the barbarians dry like any other normal, healthy succubus.”
“Bodies are hard to hide.” Not that I’ve ever sexed anyone to death. Hand steady, I pipe on a thick center base. “And the human scientists are already close to uncovering our race.”
“Pesky evolution.” Julian takes a large bite of cake, eating half of it, and frosting sticks to his nose. With his mouth full, he adds, “You should have been around a hundred years ago. Those were the days.”
“Before cable TV?” I shake my head. “No, thanks.”
“Youth is wasted on you.” Julian rolls his empty wrapper and reaches for another cake. “These are good.”
“Thanks.” I rotate the one in my hand, applying the last, long arch to complete the rose. “I just hope they’re good enough to impress the bank.”
Julian mews in distaste. “I don’t know why you’re bothering.”
“Because I need the loan to open my bakery.” Gently, I fit the cake onto its waiting stick next to the four other perfect roses.
“Can’t you just seduce an old man and have him pay for it like any other respectable woman?”
“No.”
He lifts his eyebrows. “Do you have gerontophobia?”
I pause in the process of building up the last rose. “What?”
“Do old, wrinkly wieners creep you out?”
“You’re disgusting.”
“Your desire to work for a living is disgusting.” He throws his hands up. “What’s the use of being a demon if you go around pretending to be human?”
“Haven’t you ever just loved doing something?”
“Yes.” His eyes widen, tone serious. “But witch hunting is now forbidden.”
“I can’t talk to you right now.”
“Why talk when we can dance?” He jumps off the stool to shake his hips, tight red vinyl short-shorts creaking with every gyration. “Let’s go to the club. You need a top-off. You still look a little…dry.”
He’s not wrong. While the energy pull from earlier brought back a lot of my vitality, my skin still itches, even after a liberal coat of lotion. “Tempting, but no.”
“We can go to Buck Ruckers,” he wheedles. “Demon’s only. Neutral ground.”
“I need to rest. Tomorrow morning will be stressful enough without clubbing all night.” I set the piping bag aside to admire the last cupcake before I add it to the bouquet. I spin the vase to check it from all angles. “What do you think?”
“I think, if they decide with their stomachs, that you’ll get your loan.” Unhappiness fills his voice.
I smile with excitement. “You really think so?”
“It’s so embarrassing to be related to you.” With a roll of his shoulders, he heads back toward the front door. “Should I send Philip over? You should go in ready to whammy them if you need it.”
The offer tempts me, the way he knows it will. It would be easy to beguile the lenders into giving me the money outright. But I want to start my business off right. “No, I’m good. But, thank you.”
“Your loss. Just don’t call me crying if things don’t work out tomorrow.” He pauses at the door and turns back, considering. “Actually, do call me. I have a contact on the black market who’s on the lookout for succubus tears.”
My eyes narrow. “You’re a horrible cousin.”
He shrugs, unrepentant. “Money’s money, right?”
I wave him away. “Have fun tonight.”
“I’d say the same, but I don’t see how it’s possible.” With a last, disparaging look around my small apartment, he leaves.
I disassemble the cupcake arrangement and carefully store the small cakes in individual holders within a cardboard box to make sure they’ll be safe for travel in the morning. As I slide the box into the fridge, my cellphone vibrates on the counter. I hurry to grab it, reading the contact name.
With a sigh, I press the answer button. “Yes, Julian?”
“I forgot to mention one more thing while I was up there.” In the background, the sounds of traffic flood through the line, a car horn honking. It comes through my kitchen window, too, in a strange double echo. He must still be outside my building.
I walk to the corner to glance out, spotting the red glare of his shorts at the corner crosswalk, illuminated beneath a streetlight. “Yes?”
“I have a friend looking for succubus strippers. So if the cupcake thing fails—”
“Goodnight, Julian.”
I hit end and toss the phone back onto the counter, where it clatters against the gray marble surface.
Despite my best efforts, Julian’s words fill me with doubt. Maybe it would be a good idea to top off a little, get my powers boosted enough so I can beguile the lender if I need to. It will just be for the loan; it’s not like I’ll rob the bank or anything.
Usually, a decent-sized crowd hangs out at the club down the street. It’s not as big as Buck Ruckers, which lowers the risk of running into family. I haven’t been inside yet, having only just moved to the area to be closer to where I hope to open my bakery. The neighborhood costs more than I’d like, but the high number of businesses means more foot traffic during the day, while the clubs and bars will bring in customers at night. With the constant flow of humanity, I can skim the surface of their emotions and stop worrying about my inability to dream walk.
I peek into the fridge to double check I closed the lid on the cupcake box. My fingers hesitate on the waxed cardboard. Should I even bring them in? Banks like charts and graphs, solid numbers to back up requests, not baked goods.
Slowly shutting the door, I hurry to my bedroom and dig out my skimpiest dress. It leaves my arms, along with most of my legs and chest, bare for maximum skin to skin contact.
As I shimmy into it, I push down the guilt. I’ll only use the whammy tomorrow if it’s absolutely necessary.
***
My body throbs to the music, a deep bass that vibrates my bones, resonating with a primal urge to dance. I lift my arms over my head, head back as I let the beat lead me.
Around me, humans press close, their bodies flowing together in an age-old mating ritual that modern sensibilities have tried to wash from them. Their cells remember, though, as their legs move in rhythm to the drums, the motion of feet propelled by instinct.
Passion, lust, happiness. They hang over the dance floor in a heavy fog that settles against my skin, dew on the morning grass, the nectar of life. My body hums with the glut of it, nearly filled to capacity.
This type of feeding takes more time, hours of being surrounded by the humans, but I haven’t felt this alive in months. If I starved myself, I wouldn’t have needed to order a meal from HelloHell Delivery. But, by the time I realized my desperation, I’d already depleted my reserves. In order to skim energy, I need to have a well of it already inside, a magnet that draws like to like.
Thanks to the kickstart I received from the demon this afternoon, I now have more than enough to guarantee my loan tomorrow.
Hands slide over my waist, not the first pair tonight. I lean against the hard body to enjoy the strength of hot muscle against my back. After this next song, I’ll leave, but until then, why not enjoy?
The hands move higher to cup my ribs, fingers spread to brush the undersides of my breasts. A throaty rumble comes next to my ear. “I’ve been watching you for a while.”
I smile at the pickup line. Also not the first of the night. I sway against him. “I’m not interested.”
“No?” One large hand slides down to spread over my lower stomach. “You seem interested enough to me.”
Annoyed, I turn my head, ready to shut him down. The mouth-watering scent of ozone fills my nose. My eyes widen in panic. What are the odds of two demons coming to the same club?
My muscles tense, ready to flee.
“None of that, now.” His broad hands tuck me closer against his body. “If you run, I’ll want to chase you.”
Heart hammering, I peer up at the smooth underside of his chin. In the strobe of lights overhead, his hair glows red. He’s not the demon from this afternoon. I drag in another breath. But he smells similar.
I swallow past the thick lump of panic. “What do you want?”
As his body moves against mine, he glances down, his vivid-blue eyes serious. “Payment for using my club to feed on.”
“I—” Frantic, I search the walls for some sign that a demon owns the club. There should be markings to warn others of our race. “I didn’t know.”
“That’s a poor excuse.” His head dips, breath hot against the curve of my neck as he inhales. “You’re the little succubus that moved here two months ago, aren’t you?”
“I filed my transfer paperwork.” I know I did. It took three days to get all the proper stamps in place. They should have alerted any other demons I would be arriving. I received a welcome packet on my move in day, complete with a list of demon safe businesses. My eyes narrow. “You’re club’s not on the neighborhood registry.”
“I’m listed under the city registry, since this building crosses the territory lines.” He swings us around and points at a shrouded balcony that overhangs the club’s entrance. “That’s my mark, there.”
I squint at the dark gray on black swirls that form a barely visible glyph. “That hardly counts.”
“And yet it does.” The song changes, transitioning into something with a faster pace, and the people around us jump up and down, hands out at their sides in some modern dance style that resembles a pogo-stick. “Come, let’s take this discussion to somewhere more private.”
I dig in my heels. “I don’t—”
“—want to leave with all that energy? I agree.”
He releases me long enough to transfer his grip to my arm, his fingers a loose but inescapable shackle around my arm as he moves in front of me to pull me forward. His skin against mine tingles, like low-level electricity.
My lips part on a gasp as it shivers up my arm and down into my stomach. I stumble forward a step, a moth irresistibly drawn to the bug zapper.
“Look at all this energy.” His thumb sweeps circles over the sensitive bend of my inner elbow and little sparks of static crackle between us. Lightning blue eyes catch mine, and I fall into the storm. “What do you need it all for?”
“My meeting tomorrow.” Mesmerized, I let him lead me away from the dance floor and into a dimly lit hall.
“What kind of meeting?” His hand slides down to circle my wrist, trailing sparks in its wake, and I shiver.
“With the bank.” I lick my lips. “For my cupcakes.”
He smiles in bemusement. “Cupcakes?”
I nod, unable to take my eyes from his. “I have a bouquet.”
“A bouquet of cupcakes?” Confusion wrinkles his forehead. “That you’re taking to the bank.”
Annoyance ripples through me, a counter wave to the flow of electricity. It disrupts whatever spell the demon wove around me, and I scowl. “Yeah, a bouquet of cupcakes. You have a problem with that?”
“It’s a little unusual.” He reaches up to cup my face, and tingles course own my neck. “But let’s talk about this stolen energy.”
“Stop that.” Now that I know his trick, I won’t fall for it again. I duck away from his touch, and when he reaches for me again, I snap my teeth at him. “Fuck off!”
“Oh, feisty. I like that.” With a grin, he presses me against the wall, one muscular thigh pushing between my knees.
I wiggle against him, my already short dress sliding higher. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“That’s my energy you’re filled up with.” He cups my jaw, tipping my face up. His eyelids drop to veil the intensity of his gaze. “I want it back.”
“The fuck it’s—”
His mouth covers mine, and I clamp my teeth shut. I spent the last three hours skimming this. How dare he say it’s his.
Firm lips move against mine with gentle nips that send electricity down into my stomach while his thumbs stroke my chin with coaxing pressure. I narrow my eyes at him in refusal.
His mouth curves against mine in a smile as his fingers trace down the side of my throat, then skims over my collarbone. The lightning in my belly spreads lower, warmth pooling between my legs. His thigh presses closer, against my core, and I drag in a shaky breath through my nose, flooding my lungs with the metallic tang of thunderstorms.
My mouth opens on a gasp, and his tongue slides inside, rough and invasive as he laps at my energy. A tug pulls at my core as he spindles it out of me, drinking it down, and I moan. He cups the back of my head, his head tipping to take a deeper drink, and my thighs tighten around his.
I’ve never had power taken from me, only the reverse, and shivers of pleasure roll through my body. His hand grabs my ass, yanking me closer, and his hard cock rubs against my hip. Twice in one day I’ve had a man ready in my arms, and my core aches with the need to be filled.
Liquid heat slicks my thighs, and I reach for his ass, digging my fingers into the hard muscles. My tongue thrusts against his, moving into his mouth. His eyes widen in surprise as I latch onto the energy inside him, dragging it back into my stomach.
Did he forget I’m a succubus? Like I would give in that easy.
When he tries to release me, my hands fist in his hair to hold him in place as I swallow him down.
While giving the energy felt great, taking it roars through me with the rush of a dozen orgasms. He shudders, his legs giving out, and I ride him to the ground, straddling his chest as I continue to feast. My skin heats with the rush of power, my wings shifting restlessly beneath my skin.
When I drag myself away, my head buzzes, too full to think properly. I stare at the man beneath me and lick my lips. “Thanks for the meal.”
He gives a rueful smile. “It’s not quite what I planned.”
I reach back to cup the front of his pants, now wet with his release. “You got more than you deserved.”
His brows arch. “You stole from my club.”
“Be careful.” My hand tightens around his still semi-erect cock. “I’ll file a claim against you for improper display of ownership.”
Undeterred by my threat to his manhood, his hands slide up my thighs, pushing the dress higher. “My glyph is up to code.”
“Are you willing to bet on that?”
His pupils dilate as his hands cup my bare ass. “Are you willing to move a little higher so I can taste you?”
“And give you another chance to take my energy? Fuck, no.” I lean closer to him, inhaling his lightning scent. I wasn’t wrong before. His energy feels like the demon’s from the coffee shop, only more stormy somehow. “What kind of demon are you?”
“The kind that desperately wants to fuck you.”
“Take a nice look.” I stand, legs spread on either side of his broad chest. “This is the closest you’re ever get
ting.”
(un)Lucky
As I stride out of the club, energy crackles beneath my skin, my wings restless in their hidden place along my spine. I want to get home, to crawl into my mound of pillows and digest like an overstuffed human after Thanksgiving.
My cell phone vibrates in the holster on my thigh. The buzz sends ticklish pleasure across my hips, and I let it ring a couple times longer than necessary, unsure if I should answer. Not a lot of people have my number, and I already spoke to Julian today, which reduces the options to one of the cousins, shudder, or my mentor, double shudder.
The phone quits as it drops to voicemail, then instantly buzzes back to life. I pause to hike the right side of my dress up to reach the damn thing, and an old man stops nearby, rheumy eyes wide as he stares at the long expanse of bared leg.
I finger wave at him before striding on, lifting the phone to my ear. “Yes?”
“Hey, boo, what you up to?” a low voice mumbles from the other end of the line. In the background, the rat-a-tat-tat of gunfire blares.
I sigh, mood plummeting. “What do you want, Landon?”
“I heard you tried out Julian’s delivery service today?” An explosion blasts in the background. “Hey, don’t fucking throw grenades, asshole!”
“What do you want, Landon?” I repeat as a headache slowly blooms in my temples.
“Can you swing by and do a little energy share? I’m kinda low right now.” Blast. Boom! “I said stop throwing fucking grenades! Half your team is down here! Shit!”
Plastic clatters, and I picture Landon’s favorite bright blue controller landing on a coffee table covered in porn magazines and empty water bottles.
“I’m not your supplier, Landon.” I push through the door to my apartment complex and head for the elevator. “Feed yourself.”
“Is that any way to treat your mentor?” he grumbles.
“You’re the reason I can’t transition back into dreamland!” I stab at the elevator’s call button, foot tapping with impatience.
