"No. I apparently need a fucking Bat Signal or something. Jerome's gone too. Hugh—this imp friend of mine—could get a hold of him, but it'd probably piss Jerome off if we were wrong about all this." I scowled, recalling the conversation in the deli. "Anyway, Hugh's pissing me off right now, so I don't even know if I want his help."

  Dante smiled. "I thought succubi were supposed to make friends everywhere they went. Or is that a myth like the bat wings and flame eyes?"

  "He's just being an asshole about Seth."

  Dante looked at me expectantly. I sighed.

  "He thinks us dating is a waste of time. And not because of the sex thing. He thinks I'm going to get hurt."

  "Terribly altruistic of an imp. But then, considering your quasi-morals, I'm starting to think it's a bad idea to assume anything about you guys." He took a few steps toward me and playfully tapped my nose. "And what about you? Do you think you're going to get hurt?"

  "No. And if I do, that's for me to deal with. Hugh shouldn't be worrying about it. And he shouldn't make Seth worry about it either!"

  "Don't get so upset about people worrying about you. It means they care. If enough of us were like that, there'd be a lot less pain in the world."

  That was an unexpected observation from Dante. "Maybe. But there'd also be a lot less unnecessary stress."

  He chuckled and caught hold of my hand. Flipping it over, he looked at the palm. "A random assortment of lines for this body?" he asked.

  I nodded.

  "Can you change it to your original?"

  "What, so you can read it? I thought this was a bunch of bullshit."

  "Sometimes."

  I waited for more, but it didn't come. His gray eyes were serious and thoughtful as they met mine. Something in them compelled me, and with great reluctance, I shape-shifted my hands back to the ones I'd been born with. I hadn't worn my original body since the day I'd become a succubus, and this small change felt unnatural. I hated this form. While my original hands weren't gargantuan, they were larger than was proportional to this petite frame I carried and appeared weird and mismatched.

  Dante held my hands in his and glanced back and forth between the palms. After just a few seconds, he snorted and dropped them both. "Surprise, surprise."

  I shape-shifted them back to the way they had been. "What?" I asked.

  "Right-handed?"

  "Yeah."

  He pointed to the left hand. "Those lines represent what you're born with—your inherent traits. The right hand is the hand that shows how you grow and change and adapt to what you're born with. Nature and nurture."

  "So?"

  "Yours are identical on both hands. Your heart line is high on the palm—which means you have an intense, passionate nature. No surprise there. But it's broken into a million pieces. Sliced and diced." He tapped my left hand. "You were destined for heartache." He tapped my right hand. "And you are going to repeat that pattern forever. You aren't learning. You aren't changing."

  "If I'm destined for it, then what does learning or changing have to do with anything? Isn't it a done deal?" I didn't like the censuring tone in his voice, like I'd done something wrong by having these palms.

  "Don't start," he said. "I'm not a philosopher and don't want to get into any pre-destination or free-will debates. Besides, palm reading is a bunch of bullshit."

  "Yeah," I said dryly. "So I hear."

  To my surprise, Dante put his arm around me and drew me close in a sort of half-hug. "Be careful, succubus. You've got a mess o' dangerous things in your life right now. On all fronts. I don't want to see you get hurt either."

  I stayed in the embrace and rested my head on his chest. "When did you get so nice? Are you still trying to get me into bed?"

  "I'm always trying to get you into bed." He pressed a kiss to my forehead, to my nose, and then to my lips. "But I kind of like you too. Just watch out."

  I drove home after that, a bit confused over Dante's surprising behavior. Thinking about him, I soon arrived in Queen Anne before I knew it. I found neither Vincent nor the angels in my apartment and decided to go to the bookstore. I had today off too, but I knew they were busy and could use the extra help. I needed the distraction.

  Just before closing, Seth called my cell and asked if I could pick him up at his brother's. He and Terry had indeed gone to see the movie, but Seth's car was actually here in Queen Anne and he needed a ride now since Terry had originally picked him up. I finished what I was working on in my office and headed out.

  Terry and Andrea greeted me warmly when I showed up, reminding me to come to Christmas dinner—even though I'd long since told them I'd be there. They always regarded my relationship with Seth as a tenuous, fragile thing (which it was) and felt compelled to do all they could to protect it. The girls were as thrilled as always to see me, and they assaulted me with questions and chatter.

  All except Kayla. She'd apparently gotten to stay up late tonight. In some ways, her silence wasn't surprising. Aside from the startling conversation the other night, she almost never spoke anyway. But usually, she'd come forward with the other girls to see me. Tonight, she simply stayed on the couch, watching me solemnly. When Seth made motions to leave, I broke from the girls and went over to Kayla.

  "Hey, you," I said, sitting down beside her. "How's it—"

  I hadn't touched her, but Kayla suddenly jerked away from me as though she'd been burned. Backing up, she scrambled off the couch and tore out of the room. We heard her small footsteps on the stairs as she ran to her room.

  Startled, I looked at the others. "What did I do?"

  "No idea," said Andrea, puzzled. "She's been fine all night."

  "Something must have gotten into her," said Terry. "No telling with kids. Especially with girls." He mussed Kendall's hair, and she yelped.

  Everyone promptly forgot about Kayla and continued to make farewells to Seth and me. I spoke to them half-heartedly, though. Kayla was always happy to see me, and last time, she'd demonstrated a special trust and belief in me. Tonight, she had looked at me with abject terror. Why? Was it a little girl mood? Or was there something hanging on me from another plane that I couldn't see?

  Just before we left, I asked if I could go say good-bye to Kayla and give talking to her another shot. Upstairs, I found her curled into a corner of her bed, clutching the unicorn. Her eyes widened in terror when she saw me, and I stopped in the bedroom door.

  "Hey," I said. "You okay?"

  No answer, just wider eyes.

  "I won't come any closer," I said. "Promise. But, please…just tell me. What do you see? Why are you afraid of me?"

  For a moment, I didn't think she'd answer. Then, finally, she spoke in a voice I could barely hear.

  "You're bad," she whispered. "Why are you so bad?"

  That wasn't what I'd been expecting. I'd thought maybe she'd tell me there was a ghostly hag hovering above my head. Something in Kayla's words made my stomach sink. I knew I was evil—it was kind of the definition of a Hellish servant. I lived day to day with my eternal task, seducing and corrupting men. But somehow, a little girl telling me I was "bad" hit me harder than the cruelest, most profane accusation could. Without another word to her, I headed back downstairs.

  As I drove Seth back to my place, I gave him the scoop on the angels and my subsequent lack of progress.

  "You've got some creature stalking you, and you decided to go into work?" He sounded both amused and exasperated. "You might as well have gone to the movie with me."

  "Oh." I felt kind of stupid. "I didn't want to interrupt any brotherly bonding."

  "And," he added, "you forgot."

  "I never forget about you," I said stoutly. "But I was kind of distracted."

  "Funny how that's never a good excuse when the roles are reversed…"

  My apartment was still empty when we got there. I left my coat and Dante's charm in my bedroom and then went to sit on the couch with Seth. "I hate waiting," I told him. "Why does this always happen? Some big, supernatural crisis pops up in my life, and I always end up sitting around and feeling useless. I'm always dependent on others."

  "No, you aren't," he said, lacing his fingers through mine. "You're wonderful and capable. But you can't do everything."

  "I just wish I could do something else besides shape-shift and look good. I wish I could, I don't know, shoot laser beams out of my fingers or something."

  "You think that'd stop Nyx?"

  "No. But it'd be cool."

  "Me, I always wanted frost power."

  "Frost power?"

  "Yeah." Seth gestured dramatically toward my coffee table. "If we're talking superhero abilities. If I had frost power, I could wave my hand, and suddenly that whole thing would be covered in ice."

  "Not frost?"

  "Same difference."

  "How would frost and/or ice power help you fight crime?"

  "Well, I don't know that it would. But it'd be cool."

  I laughed and snuggled into Seth, feeling better. I could wait this out.

  "Are you hungry?" I asked him. "Yasmine and Vincent have been waging their own version of Top Chef around here."

  We went to the kitchen and found it stocked with more food than it had ever had since I moved in. I unwrapped a plate of what appeared to be slices of freshly baked shortcake. Seth pointed to the refrigerator.

  "If there are strawberries in there, it's proof of God's existence."

  I opened the door and peered around. "Get ready for a religious experience," I told him, pulling out a bowl of chopped-and-sugared strawberries. With the other hand, I pulled out a larger bowl covered in plastic wrap. "And homemade whipped cream."

  "Hallelujah," he said.

  We piled plates high with shortcake and strawberries, and suddenly, dream entities seemed downright comical. I unwrapped the whipped cream, and Seth promptly dabbed a finger in it.

  "Savage," I scolded.

  "Heavenly," he countered, licking off the cream.

  He stuck another finger into the bowl and held it out to me. I leaned forward and ran my tongue over the tip. Rich sweetness flooded my mouth.

  "Mmm," I said, closing my eyes.

  "Mmm," said Seth.

  I opened my eyes. "Are you talking about the whipped cream?"

  "Not exactly."

  "You talking about this?"

  There was still whipped cream on his finger. I took it into my mouth and sucked gently on it, cleaning up the last of the cream and stroking Seth's skin with my tongue. When I finished, he exhaled a held breath.

  "Thanks for the cleanup."

  "Cleanliness is next to godliness, I hear."

  "I think I have more on me, though," he said.

  "Really?" I asked. "Where?"

  He swiped his finger through more whipped cream. "Right here."

  I licked that off too, sucking and kissing all of the fingers on his hand—not just the guilty one. Finished, I flipped the hand over and kissed the top of it.

  "There. Sparkling clean."

  Seth shook his head. "Oh no."

  "What?"

  "You've got some on you too."

  "Do I? Where?"

  He dipped into more whipped cream and dabbed it on my lips, my chin, and the side of my throat.

  "Everywhere," he said.

  Before I could formulate a response, his mouth was on my neck, licking and kissing with as much sensuality as I had just used on his fingers. The eroticism of it astounded me—and I was hardly one to be caught by surprise with such things. I instinctually moved my body toward his, arching my neck back as his lips continued moving up. I felt his tongue, warm and amazingly skilled, clean up every drop of the whipped cream on my throat before sliding to my chin and finally to my mouth.

  We kissed harder, dessert (of the food nature) now forgotten. I felt his lips fit perfectly with my own. My back was against the counter, and Seth pressed his body against mine, trapping me. When I finally pulled back from the kiss, I could scarcely breathe.

  "Wow," I said, eyes wide. "This is why I don't cook. It only leads to trouble."

  Seth, still right against me, glanced left and then right. There was a heated, feral look in his eyes that made me shiver. "I don't see anything too bad happening."

  "Not yet," I admitted. "But you know the drill."

  He shrugged. "Yeah. But nothing bad is happening now."

  "It will if we—mmphf!"

  Seth was kissing me again, and this time his arms went around my waist, pulling us closer still. I wrapped my own arms around his neck, tilting my face upward to get more of the kiss. It was hot and dangerous and amazing, and I couldn't get enough. I knew, though, that I'd have to get enough of it pretty quickly here and was contemplating how to stop it when Seth broke away first.

  "Ah," I teased. "You've come to your senses."

  Seth smiled at me, and my heart raced at the juxtaposition of the animal desire and trademark laidback look on his face. "Nope," he said. "Let's see how far we can go."

  "You already know," I said. "We've timed this before."

  That was a bit of an exaggeration. We'd never had a stopwatch or anything, but we'd gained a good sense of how long and how deep a kiss could go before it was time to part.

  He shook his head. "Not kissing. This."

  I wore a black tank top with a red cardigan over it. Seth reached out and unfastened the sweater's three large buttons and pulled it off of me. Letting it drop to the floor, he then rested his hands on my arms, fingers warm against my bare skin. He looked at me expectantly.

  "We're timing how quickly you can take off my sweater?" I asked.

  "Wrong answer. It's not always about you."

  Removing his hands, he caught the bottom edge of his Cap'n Crunch T-shirt and pulled it over his head. He'd pulled me to his chest before it even hit the floor, and suddenly, I was face to face with golden, delicious-smelling Seth skin. Lots of it. Resisting the urge to start kissing his chest then and there, I looked up into his face and attempted levity.

  "Is this like strip poker? Except…without the poker part?"

  "This, Thetis," he said, grabbing the edge of my tank top, "is a test. A test to see how far we can go on all dimensions. Not just kissing."

  I should have stopped him, but the feel of his hands sliding up my torso was too intoxicating. The tank top went over my head and joined the other clothing on my kitchen floor.

  I laughed. "So…we know how much kissing we can do. Now you're trying to see how much naked we can do?"

  "Yes," he said. He was attempting a dignified air. "It's a scientific experiment."

  "Mostly it seems like you pulling off my clothes."

  "That's part of it. We know how much we can kiss. But can we kiss naked? How long can we kiss naked? Is it the same?"

  "I don—"

  Again, he cut me off with a kiss, and my whole body tingled as my breasts pressed up against his chest. There was nothing between us, just skin on skin, and it was incredible. Between that and the kiss, I felt dizzy.

  And so, Seth's experiment progressed. He removed articles of our clothing one at a time, then would kiss me, pause, and examine the results. When we were both completely naked, he stepped back and admired my body, his face gleeful and smug.

  "I don't think the succubus thing is working," he said.

  "Oh, it works, believe me," I said, suddenly nervous. Every inch of me wanted to be touched and caressed and ravaged. My skin burned. And the hunger within me—the instinct that urged me to feed off human energy—was raging, realizing just how close it was to dinnertime. This had started out as an amusing game, but it now occurred to me how dangerous this had become. "It's less about naked and more about us not kissing so much. Remember that time we started making out in bed? I got some of your energy then, and we were dressed. Push this enough—or start doing things with other parts of our bodies—and it'll be game over." I stepped back and reached for my shirt. "But you made good scientific progress tonight, I'll give you that."

  Seth caught my wrist before I could get the shirt. He pulled me back to him. "Just a little bit more. Just to see." He still had the same intensity and arousal all over him. I'd seen it in him before but never like this.

  "What more is there?" I asked.

  "Just one more kiss," he said, feigning innocence. "A…parting kiss."

  "Oh good grief."

  "One kiss, Thetis. That's it."

  I hesitated, then nodded. "Okay. Fine. But I'm onto you, so don't think you can get away with anything here."

  "Noted."

  At least that's what I think he said because it came out kind of muffled with his mouth crushing mine. I was pressed back against the counter again, and his hand was moving down my ass, down the back of my thigh. We were so close. So, so close. We'd never been this close, this naked, before. We'd certainly never been this naked and kissing before. I felt alive and on fire, craving him both as a succubus and a woman in love. The floodgates burst, and all the passion we kept restrained flowed forth. I could feel him, how hard he was and how much he wanted me. My own body responded in kind, pushing closer and grinding against him. His hand on the back of my thigh tensed and then pulled my leg up. It was barely around his hip when I felt…it.

  It.

  Seth's life. Sweeter than kissing, sweeter than whipped cream. It came into me pure and bright, unlike anything else I'd ever tasted—well, other than the last time I'd stolen some from him. I would have moaned if my mouth wasn't preoccupied.

  Reason seized me, and I did my best to squirm free. My best wasn't good enough, and all I could do was slide my mouth away from his. He simply moved down, kissing my neck. The energy didn't stop.

  "Seth. Seth. We made the point. We saw how far we can go."

  His eyes, full of so much longing and passion, held mine. "Please, Georgina…we're so close…just this once…"

  We were so close. Too close.

  "No." I pressed my palms to his chest. "Seth! Stop." I shoved hard. "Stop!" I broke free all at once and staggered a few feet back, my hand catching the counter for support. The energy transfer cut off abruptly.

  He reached out a hand to help steady me, but I stayed out of reach. "Are…are you okay?" he asked.

  "I'm fine," I said, breath heavy. "But you aren't. I got a little—a little of your energy."