Page 81 of Succubus

“But you’re not sick.”

“Maybe I am.”

A seed of fear twinges at my center. A seed that might germinate, grow into something tall and complex.

“I don’t think you are,” I say. “I can’t kill you. I’m not sure why.”

He glances toward me, not at my face.

“We might as well be honest.” I keep my voice casual. I’m better and better at doing that. “Might as well compare notes.”

His eyebrows lift. “Might as well not.”

I reach out, touch his jaw, turn his face gently. “Look at me.” He resists for only a few seconds. Then he looks. It’s erotic, the simplicity of it. Just my fingertips on his face, my complete control over him.

Complete control, like I saw Dick Face exercise.

It’s time to see exactly how like my father I can be.

CHAPTER 26

I smile at Joel. He regards me, unblinking, torment in his eyes. I command myself to keep looking at him without reacting. I won’t let myself feel his sadness, I’m annoyed I even notice it.

I lean forward, shortening the already short space between us. His gaze moves to my mouth. His lips are parted. Our shoulders brush, dock. I feel the slippage of my mind again, the wriggle of it trying to get out from under the saddle of my plan. I pull back—ruthless, inhuman self-control!—and ask, “Are you really going to kill them, my half siblings?”

He blinks. “Yes,” he says, gruff. He clears his throat. “Yes, of course.”

“You don’t have any hesitation? After what I’ve told you about Grub. After what you’ve seen.” I reach out, run my fingers down the side of his face. The subtle roughness of his cheek catches at my skin like it’s trying to slow me down, make me stay.

He breathes in shakily, leaning into my touch. I think I might lick his lips. I close my eyes for a moment to refocus. It’s not good, how often this is happening.

“No,” he says.

I open my eyes, look into his. I realize I’m trying to find their color in the dim; the warm gold with its implication of an underlying green. Olive, maybe. A summer color that takes light like antique wood. I saw it in the park, after all these nights, and now I want to see it again.

“Yes,” he whispers. “I don’t know if I can do it.”

Yes! My spine unfurls, stands alert. It’s working. I wasn’t imagining things with the telemarketer, the pharmacy rep, the people I’ve run into in the world who have wanted to help me, to give in, instantly. Even Dee, when I asked her to let Al stay. She just complied. No argument.

“Damn it,” Joel whispers, panicked. “Don’t!” He says it a little hopelessly, like he already knows I won’t listen.

“No, it’s okay, it’s okay,” I soothe, stroking his cheek again, his hair. I am a thief dropping down on a rope from a hole cut into the ceiling.

He puts his hands over his face, curves forward, elbows meeting his knees. I rub his back, an addictive expanse, and he shivers under my hand.

“I just want to know what you’re really thinking,” I tell him softly.

“I’m trying,” he mutters. “I’m trying so hard.”

“I know,” I say. “But you don’t have to.” I’m ambushed by the urge to put my head on his shoulder. To wrap my arms around him and hold him and let myself feel small against him. I draw back a few inches, keeping my hand on him.

“No, I do,” he says into his hands.

“It’s lonely, isn’t it?” I prompt.

He nods.

“Your grandmother told you about another person like you. Who can do what you can. Do you know who that person is? Have you met them?”