by L. L. Frost
“Hey, don’t blame that on me.” He grunts and springs squeak, probably from the dilapidated couch he pulled off the sidewalk back in the nineties. “I did my best. It’s not my fault you were formed from the weakest spring storm in existence. You should be grateful I bothered to collect your tiny ball of energy off the church steps.”
I cringe, guilt sweeping through me. Succubus form through humans’ repressed desires. Enough repression combined with an electrical storm, and poof, all those emotions create a brand-new succubus. If another of our kind is nearby, they come to collect the newly formed being and nurture it, teaching it to take form in dreamland and feed off humans. It takes years of energy buildup before a succubus can take the next step into corporeal form.
“You know I’m grateful you took me in.” The elevator arrives, and I step on, punching the button for the third floor. “But why can’t you go get your own energy?”
“Hell & Heaven came out this week, and all my usual humans haven’t slept long enough to get a good dream on.” Landon specializes in video game fantasies. When new games come out, his food becomes scarce.
And therein lay the problem. Landon is addicted to the games himself and once the first home console came out, his visits to me in dreamland became sporadic, leaving me to starve while I waited for him to remember to come lead me to dreams. Occasionally, one of my many cousins popped in and took me for a feeding, but they’re all selfish scatterbrains.
It left me in a rush to go corporeal. When I formed my body twenty years ahead of schedule, something went wrong, and I found myself unable to re-enter dreamland on my own.
I slept on Landon’s couch for a while, hoping to learn how to fix the problem. Julian eventually took pity on me and taught me to skim off humans through skin contact. He hoped to lure me to work in one of his nightclubs. Little did he know he would give me an entirely different plan.
Open a bakery and feed off the rush of pleasure humans release when they eat sweets, while also obtaining a valid income to support myself.
“So, when will you be by?” Landon pushes as the sound of gunfire starts up once more in the background.
“I can’t tonight.” The elevator door slides open, and I exit onto my floor. “Besides, I didn’t end up meeting with Julian’s employee.”
“But you fed, right?” He releases a long sigh of annoyance. “I guess I can pop into your dreamscape. When are you going to bed?”
“Don’t you dare.” The last thing I need is for my half-assed mentor to show up and drain me dry. “Just find a human nearby.”
“It’s too much work to establish myself with someone new,” he groans. “Stop being selfish.”
“Stop being lazy!” Annoyed, I stab in the code to unlock my apartment door and stomp inside.
His tone turns crafty. “You can’t really stop me. I’m stronger than you.”
My fists clench. “If you show up anywhere near my dreams, I’ll sic the cousins on you.”
“Brat.”
“Slob.”
“When are you coming over to clean?” The crinkle of plastic water bottles nearly drowns out the question. “It’s getting pretty bad here.”
“I’ll come by next week.”
I need to stop picking up after him, especially since he can more than afford a housekeeper. But Landon’s issues with strangers in his house, along with the guilt over him raising me, keeps me going back every other week.
“Thanks, boo. You’re a lifesaver.”
“I’m bringing over pamphlets for a new service I found.”
“Sure, sure. See you next week.” The line disconnects before I can say goodbye.
I head to my bedroom and kick off my high heels with a groan before I crawl on the bed, burrowing into the mound of pillows at the top. The plush squares take up half the bed, and I pull my favorite purple sequin one against my tummy, curling around it.
The energy I gathered today fills me to bursting, more than I’ve consumed since becoming corporeal. If I can find a way to always be this well fed, maybe I can also figure out a way to solve my dreamland issues.
The bakery will fix everything. I just know it.
***
“Shit, shit, shit.”
I balance the box of cupcakes in one hand, glass vase stuffed under my arm as I clutch my car keys in my free hand.
It took my fifth alarm clock, plugged into the outlet in my bathroom and well out of easy shut off range, to pull me from my energy-digesting comma. I now have half an hour to get across town for my meeting with the bank.
The briefcase protecting my proposal knocks against my side as I rush out of the apartment and onto the street. A tiny, white truck with flashing yellow lights on top sits next to my old sedan. When I spot the yellow boot attached to my front tire, full panic sets in.
“Excuse me!” I yell as I run toward the meter maid.
Instead of waiting, the woman walks faster as she rounds the hood of my car and practically runs for her vehicle.
“Excuse me!” I yell again, chasing after her. “I paid my parking tickets!”
“Sorry, ma’am.” The woman hops up into her seat and slams the door shut, locking herself inside. Through the open window, she frowns at me. “You’ll have to take that up with the city.”
“But I need my car!” I grab onto the doorframe before she can drive off. “Please, I have a meeting I need to get to.”
“Not my problem.” She peers down at my hand. “Remove your hand from my vehicle.”
Shit. I can’t afford this right now. My stomach tightens as I spindle out a thick line of energy. Doing this outside of dreamland takes so much more out of me, and I really needed to save this for the bank. But if I miss my meeting, it won’t matter how much I keep in reserves.
I shake my head until the sunglasses slide down my nose so I can look at her over the rim. “Surely we can come to an arrangement?”
“Ma’am, I must insist you remove your han—” as her sharp gaze cuts up to meet mine, her face slackens, eyes glazing over. In the next instant, she straightens, adjusting the collar of her blue, button-down shirt. “Sir, I didn’t see you there. How may I help you?”
I grimace as the line of energy needed to whammy her increases. Too bad she doesn’t like women, it would cost a lot less.
I step away from her small truck. “Can you please remove the boot from this car? I would really appreciate it.”
“Yes, of course.” The door slides open, and she hops out. Her hand moves to the top button of her shirt, popping it free to expose the shadowed valley of her breasts. “Looks like it’s going to be a hot one today, don’t you think?”
“Most definitely.” I give her an appreciative smile as I adjust my grip on the box of cupcakes. The thin cardboard sags on one side, and I hurry to put it on the roof of my car before it folds in half.
Her soft body presses into my back. “How about we get a drink to cool off?”
A flood of images wash through my mind of the meter maid dressed in leather, one thigh high boot pressed into a man’s back as she holds a whip. Her lips, a bright crimson slash in her face, pull back from her teeth with satisfaction.
Great. A dominatrix. Which means my whammy must have transformed me into someone in need of subjugation.
I twist around and bite my lip, eyes down. “Do you think it’s okay? It’s so early in the day. We’d have to be fast.”
“Hmm.” She strokes my arm. “That doesn’t sound fun, does it? How about you come over to my place after work instead?”
A picture of her personal dungeon pops up, leather bench, concrete floors, and toys displayed on the wall. Silver rings dangle from the ceiling. I resist the urge to shudder. I don’t like being tied up.
Instead, good succubus that I am, I force an interested smile. “Sounds fun.”
***
“Please follow me. Mr. König will see you now.”
“Thank you.” Nervous, I twirl one of the cupcake roses to hide a dent in the f
rosting, then stand to follow the receptionist.
I arrived at the bank with five minutes to spare, no thanks to the persistent meter maid who insisted on writing her address on my forearm with a black sharpie. She even signed it, like we made some kind of contract of ownership right there. I adjust the sleeve of my blouse to make sure the mark stays hidden.
The receptionist leads me past a series of offices with frosted glass-paned doors, down another short hallway, and stops in front of a set of double doors made from rich mahogany. I stare at them, my fingers tightening around the glass vase as butterflies fill my stomach.
This doesn’t feel right. I’m here to apply for a small business loan. I belong in one of those offices near the front. Not deep within the bank at what appears to be the president’s office.
“Are you sure I’m in the right place?” I glance around nervously. “I’m Adeline Pond.”
The receptionist lifts a thick eyebrow. “Yes, Ms. Pond. You’re meeting is with Mr. König.”
My eyes skip to the gold plaque discreetly placed to the right of the door. It reads: Emil König, CEO. As in the K of K&B Financial.
I hastily pull off my sunglasses and stuff them into the side pocket of my briefcase as the receptionist raps his knuckles against the right hand door. It sounds deadened, as if the thick door contains a hidden layer of sound dampening material. After a heartbeat, the door swings open.
The man moves aside and extends an arm toward the office. “Please, step inside.”
I smooth a sweaty palm over my pencil skirt before I walk through the door. As the receptionist leaves, closing the door behind himself, I glance around the large office. On one side of the room, a leather sofa sits in front of a fireplace, the coals cold within the hearth. Matching chairs rest on either side, with a metal coffee table in the center.
On the other side of the office, bookshelves line the wall and a large desk dominates the space. Two chairs, small in comparison, sit in front of it. I hurry toward the desk, then pause, uncertain. Do I put the bouquet directly on it? Is that too presumptuous? I nibble my lip, eyes moving from the dark, pristine surface to my purple cupcakes.
I turn and search for a side table, something smaller and less intimidating, but find only the chairs. If I hold the vase, though, that leaves my hands tied. Maybe I should put them on the coffee table for now? The large office makes moving between the two spaces awkward. How will I easily get them for the presentation?
Around me, the air turns cold with a crisp, fresh scent, clean and silent like it gets before the first snowfall of winter. Metallic ozone underlays it, and I freeze.
“Ms. Pond, a pleasure to meet you.” Even his voice sounds cold, like the rumble that precedes an avalanche.
Slowly, I turn to meet the demon’s bright blue eyes. Snow white hair slicks back from a high forehead. His pale gray suit drapes in expensive folds across broad shoulders and narrow hips.
Did I step on a luck sprite sometime in the past two days? Where did all this misfortune come from?
I straighten my shoulders with determination. “Mr. König, thank you for meeting with me.”
“Please, call me Emil.” His gaze drops to the vase in my hand and the corner of his mouth twitches. “Would you like to set that on the desk and take a seat?”
“Yes, thank you.” I gently place the bouquet off to one side, turned so the best roses face him, and perch on the edge of the chair on the right.
He sits in the large, executive set and leans back, comfortable. “You are here today to apply for a business loan?”
“Yes, for the start up costs of an over-the-counter bakery.”
He folds his hands on the desk. “Do you have an executive summary review?”
“Yes, right here.” I open my briefcase, pull out the piece of paper, and lean forward to place it on the desk, which stands half a foot out of reach. Blood creeps up my neck as I stand to place the summary on the desk in front of him before resuming my seat.
He reads through it quickly and arches one translucent eyebrow. “You’re asking for fifty-thousand dollars?”
“Yes, for rental space, reconstruction, and equipment.” My summary itemizes each of the necessary pieces to start up the business.
He moves the piece of paper off to the side. “How much have you already invested?”
“I have the money ready to register the business, and I’ve created the website.”
“How much revenue have you made up to this point from,” his eyes cut to the bouquet, “selling cupcakes.”
“None so far.” I try not to flinch and open my briefcase once more, pulling out my projection charts. “But this diagram here shows how previous businesses have performed in the area.”
I stand to hand him the folder, and he sets it aside without looking through it. “If other businesses have done well, then why aren’t they still active?”
“The nearest one had a kitchen fire—”
“The current market leans toward health food,” he interrupts. “How do you plan to entice customers to load up on sugar?”
“I’ll have healthier options, as well as a full range of allergen alternatives.” I dig out my sample menu, stand, and set it on the desk, refusing to sit back down as I add, “I’ll also offer espresso.”
He skims the list. “You expect people to pay eight dollars for coffee?”
Annoyed at his tone, the flush creeps up my neck and into my cheeks. “It’s espresso and cheaper than the nearest competition.”
With one finger, he pulls my executive summary back in front of himself. “I don’t see a place for employee salaries. Do you have training to make good coffee?”
“I know how to make espresso.” I practiced on a store-bought machine at home for hours to figure out the right dosing, grinding, and tamping to pull a perfect twenty second shot.
His gaze once more shifts to the cupcakes. “Did you bring a sample of that, as well?”
Teeth gritted, I smile. “I can bring a sample by later today, if you like.”
He leans back, steepling his fingers. “I really don’t see how you need fifty thousand for this little venture.”
“As you can see on the summary—”
He holds up a hand to stop me. “Do you think the bank’s CEO usually reviews such small applications? This is a waste of my time.”
I fold my arms across my stomach. “I’d be happy to speak to one of your lower level loan officers.”
“Why?” He stands to match my pose, arms folded over his chest. “So you can use your succubus wiles to get the loan?”
My mouth drops open in shock. “How dare you!”
“Am I wrong?” He leans across the desk, eyes narrowed. “Where are your sunglasses, Ms. Pond?”
I stab a finger onto my proposal. “This is a sound investment.”
“Is it?” Now both eyebrows arch. “You didn’t have enough confidence in it to come in ready to deal fairly.”
“If you’d planned to reject it from the beginning, you should have refused the meeting.” Angry, I reach for the papers on his desk.
His hand flattens on the menu. “I didn’t say I would reject it.”
My head jerks up. “Excuse, me?”
“This is a negotiation, is it not?” The air drops in temperature as his eyes fade to white. “My business partner has a contract already prepared for you.”
“I…” My head spins with the sudden victory. “What? You’re giving me the loan?”
In answer, he pulls a cellphone from inside his suit jacket and lifts it to his ear. “Please join us.”
As he tucks the phone away, blue bleeds back into his eyes, and the air warms slightly. A hidden door next to the bookcase slides open and a tall man enters. Black eyes meet mine from beneath thick eyebrows, and a moment later, the metallic burn of his scent rushes toward me, like calling to like as his energy recognizes itself in my belly.
“Fucking hell.”
“Good to see you again, Adeline.”
I stare at the demon from the coffee shop, legs trembling with the need to bolt. Has this entire thing been one giant set up? An elaborate trap to harvest my wings? Feathers move against my spine, ready to burst free and fly me to safety. Only my trim jacket traps them, and even if it didn’t, I can’t fly. Yet another place where I fail as a succubus.
My eyes drop to the cupcake roses. I can use one of the hard-plastic stems to poke out his eyes. Heat lightning wars with the crackle of ice in the air, and my gaze shifts to the other demon in the room.
Outnumbered. Out powered. Out of luck.
I force my feet to stay planted as the coffee shop demon strides into the room, pulling a wheeled briefcase behind. He walks toward me, one hand extended. “It’s nice to officially meet you. My name is Tobias Braxton. I’m in charge of contracts at K&B Financial.”
“Nice to meet you.” Suspicious, I shake his hand. I drop it quickly and wipe my palm against my skirt to rid myself of the sting left by his touch.
His lips curve with amusement as he watches the gesture. “K&B Financial is ready to fully fund your venture at two hundred percent above what you’re asking for.”
“Excuse me?” I fight down the surge of excitement. “You don’t even know how much I’m asking for.”
“We like to invest in fellow demons.” His eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles. “It’s our way of encouraging our kind to seek peaceful integration with humans.”
“Okay…” Confused, I glance at Emil, who now sits once more behind his desk, face impassive.
“If you’d like to sign the paperwork now, we can have the check ready at the front desk before you leave today.” Tobias lifts his briefcase onto the desk and opens it to remove a thick stack of papers. “It’s rather long, and full of legal jargon, but I can give you a general overview as we go through it.”
Again, the smile.
My bones ring with warning.
