The smell hit me first. An overwhelming and suffocating odor of natural gas.
I stopped struggling for half a second. I didn’t need to be human to know that meant trouble.
Before I could process that further, the kitchen exploded into flames and fire expanded out into the living room. It didn’t quite reach us, but I think Greg must have still gotten burned because he screamed in pain and released his hold on me. His body had shielded the worst from me, and mostly all I felt was a rolling wave of heat and air.
I didn’t bother to think or question anything. I scrambled from the couch and ran out the front door, away from the fire.
The only thing I could think about now was getting away and getting to safety …
Books by Richelle Mead
The Georgina Kincaid Series
SUCCUBUS BLUES
SUCCUBUS ON TOP
SUCCUBUS DREAMS
SUCCUBUS HEAT
SUCCUBUS SHADOWS
SUCCUBUS REVEALED
The Eugenie Markham/Dark Swan Series
STORM BORN
THORN QUEEN
IRON CROWNED
SHADOW HEIR
Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation
SUCCUBUS HEAT
RICHELLE MEAD
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2009 by Richelle Mead
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN: 0-7582-4515-7
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
For my sister Deb, who shares my views on
red hair, coconut rum, and guys named Jay
Chapter 1
Sleeping with my therapist was a bad idea.
I knew it too, but I couldn’t really help it. There were only so many times I could hear “Why don’t you explain that” and “Tell me how you feel.” So, I finally snapped and decided to show the guy how I felt. I’ve gotta say, for a decent guy who had never cheated on his wife, he wasn’t that hard to take advantage of. And by “not hard,” I mean “ridiculously easy.” His pseudo morals gave me a strong succubus energy fix, and when you consider that what we did was probably the most productive thing that ever took place on his couch, it was almost like I did a good deed.
Still, I knew my boss was going to be pissed, seeing as he was the one who’d ordered me to seek counseling in the first place.
“Do not tell Jerome,” I warned my friends, tapping my cigarette against the ashtray. “I don’t want to deal with that kind of fallout.”
My friends and I were sitting at a booth in Cold July, an industrial club down in Seattle’s Belltown district. The place was dark and loud, with crisscrossing pipes on the walls and ceiling forming the bulk of the décor. Because it was a private club, it didn’t have to adhere to the city’s public smoking ban, which was a perk for me. In the last few months, I’d found nicotine was one of the essential things helping me cope. Other things on the essential list: vodka, Nine Inch Nails, a steady supply of moral men, and an all-purpose bitchy attitude.
“Look, Georgina,” said my friend Hugh. He was an imp, a type of hellish legal assistant who bought souls for our masters and did assorted middle-management tasks. He had dark-cropped hair and was big without being fat. “I’m no expert in mental health, but I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that probably wasn’t a helpful step on the road to healing.”
I shrugged and let my eyes scan the crowded room for potential victims. There were some pretty good pickings here. “Well, he wasn’t that good. At therapy, I mean. Besides, I don’t think I need it anymore.”
Silence met me, inasmuch as silence could meet me in a place so noisy. I turned back to my friends. Hugh was making no pretense of hiding his you’re fucking crazy look. Our vampire friends, Peter and Cody, at least had the decency to avert their eyes. I narrowed mine and put out the cigarette.
“I don’t suppose,” said Peter at last, “that this is anybody you’d maybe, uh, like to date long term?”
“Yeah,” agreed Cody, eyes wide and hopeful. “I bet a therapist would be a great listener. And you wouldn’t even have to pay for it.”
“My insurance pays for it,” I snapped. “And I don’t really appreciate your passive-aggressive attitude about my boyfriend.”
“It’s not that passive,” said Hugh. “You could do better, sweetie.”
“The guy’s corrupt and going to Hell. How is this a problem for you? And you didn’t like my last boyfriend either. Maybe you should stop worrying about my love life and go back to figuring out how to get your latest secretary into bed.”
In what had to be a weird twist of the universe, none of my friends liked my current boyfriend, a dark magician named Dante. Dante’s morals were pretty nonexistent, and he owned stock in bitterness and cynicism. That would make you think he’d fit in perfectly with this group of damned souls, but for whatever reason, he didn’t.
“You aren’t meant to be with someone bad,” said Cody. We were all immortal now but were considered “lesser immortals.” That meant we had once been human before selling our souls into Hell’s service. Cody was young compared to the rest of us in our little circle. Hugh claimed almost a century. Peter and I had millennia. As such, there was almost a naïveté about Cody, a charming idealism that rivaled the kind I used to have.
It had been shattered when my previous boyfriend, a human named Seth, had left me for a friend of mine. Seth was a good soul, quiet and infinitely kind. He’d made me believe in better