“It wasn’t me,” she said, eyes locked on mine. “I don’t care what idiocy Margo was babbling about. That ‘If I can’t have him…’ line is absurd. I l-loved Anthony. Why would I hurt him?”
I wanted to believe her. I wanted to believe in love and all the noble ideals it entailed. I shook my head.
“People do stupid things for love. Especially if they’re afraid of losing the ones they love.”
Starla stared at me for several more seconds, sighed, and then vanished.
Seth showed up later that evening, looking rather pleased with himself. I was lying on the bed, watching a reality dating show. The conversation with Starla had left me introspective.
“You get a lot of work done?” I asked.
“Tons.”
He set the laptop on the desk and lay down beside me. His hand found mine, and he squeezed it contentedly.
We watched those poor, pathetic souls on TV for a while, but soon, I couldn’t take it anymore. With great effort, I kept my voice as level as possible.
“Where’d you work today?”
Seth’s eyes were on the screen where some girl ranted about how her boyfriend had slept with her mother. Most of her tirade was bleeped out.
“Hmm?” he asked. A moment later, he processed the question. “That diner again.”
The f**king diner. Fantastic.
“Ah,” I said. “You must like that place.”
“They have good pumpkin pie.”
And good company, I thought. Beth’s cute face and jaunty ponytail flashed into my head. It was stupid. I had nothing to be insecure about. She was nothing in the grand scheme of things. Seth wasn’t going to run off with her. Even if he did want to do something physical with her, it’d be nothing. Cheap, meaningless sex.
Suddenly, it was as though Kurtis was leaning over me with his laughing face.
It would kill you if he slept with someone else.
Gritting my teeth, I reached for the remote and turned the TV off. Seth glanced over at me in surprise. Shifting onto my knees, I crawled over and straddled him.
“What’s this?” he asked, amusement in his voice.
“I’m tired of watching other people’s love lives.”
I pulled my shirt off over my head and tossed my hair back. Seth, still with a half-smile, watched me. His eyes drifted down to where a black velvet bra held my br**sts. A cute little gold clasp unfastened in the front. I had better br**sts than that whore waitress, of that I was certain. Better shape, better size. Grabbing his hands, I slowly slid them up my stomach, careful to avoid the br**sts themselves. It was always a delicate balance, this pseudo-making out. Too much, and we’d be courting danger.
My skin tingled as those fingertips slid across it. I brought his hands to the clasp, and he deftly unfastened it. Carefully, he peeled it away, and I wriggled it off my arms. His hands immediately withdrew, staying clear. Balance, balance. Always balance.
I slid off of him. Standing by the bed, I slowly and deliberately pushed my skirt down my legs. I wasn’t wearing any stockings today, only a matching black velvet thong. It was my own creation. I’d searched high and low for one for a while. No luck, so I’d used my own resources. Shape-shifting was like a never-ending shopping trip.
My suitcase sat near the bed, and I rummaged through it, bending over as I did to give him a full view of my ass. Seth, I had long since discovered, wasn’t a breast man or an ass man or anything like that. He was non-discriminatory. He appreciated it all.
Soon, I found what I wanted: a bottle of rosemary-scented oil that I’d brought along. Turning back to him, I poured some of the liquid on my hands, rubbing them until they were slick and shiny. I set the bottle down and brought my hands to my br**sts, stroking them at an agonizingly slow pace—not unlike how Clyde had spread the life energy onto me. The memory made me shiver. The spicy scent of rosemary drifted around me as I leisurely rubbed the oil into my skin. My br**sts took on the wet, gleaming look my hands had.
After several lifetimes of countless lovers, it always surprised me that I could turn myself on by doing this to myself. I think, however, it had less to do with my own skill and more with the act of being with Seth.
He still looked mildly amused, hands folded across his stomach as he watched me. I met his gaze full-on, knowing mine was smoky and full of sex. His was alert and interested, though I could read little beyond that.
When my br**sts and stomach were finally oiled to my satisfaction, I moved one hand down, slipping it inside the front of the thong. A cry that wasn’t faked left my lips. I was warm and slick between my thighs, hardly in need of any oil. My fingers stroked me slowly, then found their way into me. In and out I moved them, attempting to quench a desire for him that would never really be adequately fulfilled. My moans came soft and low as I got myself off, my mind ablaze with images of Seth’s body moving against mine.
I didn’t realize my eyes were closed until I had to open them. Still touching myself, I regarded him curiously.
“How do you want me to finish it?” I asked in a breathy voice. “Keep standing? Lay down?”
His eyes traveled down, watching my skilled hand. Sometimes he would touch himself when I did this; sometimes he’d wait until afterward. Since his hands were still folded, I assumed it would be the latter.
“Actually…” he began, hesitation in his words. The half-smile was gone. “There’s, um, no need.”
My hand froze, oblivious to the rest of my body’s outrage.
“I…what?”
Sheepishly, he shrugged. “I mean, you’re beautiful. Like always. Sexy. Really sexy. But, well…I’m not really into it tonight.”
I stared, unable to speak. What kind of guy isn’t into a succubus masturbating in front of him?
“You can finish for yourself, though, if you want,” he added hastily, helpfully.
My brain started working again, and I pulled my hand out. “No…” I said slowly. “It’s fine.”
I shape-shifted away the velvet and oil. Jeans and a T-shirt took their place. Returning to the bed, I settled down beside Seth. This time, we didn’t touch.
“I’m really sorry,” he said. “I’m kind of…tired.”
“It’s fine,” I repeated. I reached for the remote and turned the TV on again.
Neither of us brought the matter up again, but I was reeling. I’d just been rejected. This had never happened with us before. And what was up with the tired line? That was the lamest excuse in the book.
Beth, I thought. It had to be that goddamned waitress. But how, exactly? Had he f**ked her in the diner’s bathroom? I found that unlikely. Too unsanitary. Maybe she was just on his mind. Maybe that working girl image was what turned him on now, so much so that my seductive attempts were about as effective as a cold shower.
No, I thought. There was nothing wrong with me. I had no reason to feel insecure, not when it came to stuff like this. No way was he not attracted to me.
Seth turned his head to look at me. I must have had a troubled look on my face. He lightly brushed my cheek.
“I’m tired, Thetis. Really.”
“It’s fine,” I said.
Chapter Eight
If Seth had any lingering feelings from last night, he didn’t show it. He showered and packed up his bag like normal, called me Thetis, and regarded me with all the affection he normally did. I watched him as he moved toward the door.
“You going to that diner again?” I asked carefully.
He glanced up, face momentarily distracted. I could tell he was already getting sucked into the whirling plots of his stories.
“Hmm? Ah, no…they’re closed on Sundays. Gonna go over to that coffee shop across the street.”
“The one with the pig on the front? It looks horrible.”
“Yeah. But just because it’s not kosher…”
I groaned. “Oh my God. I really sleep with you?”
He grinned, one of the rare, genuine ones that flashed across his face like a sunrise breaking over the horizon.
“Yes. Happily.”
He brushed a kiss over my mouth, then headed out. I stared at the door a few moments, felt a smile of my own cross my lips, and left shortly thereafter, suddenly feeling cheery about life again.
That cheeriness faded when I reached my destination for the day. The trial was over, the ballroom empty. No more court. Now it was time for the jury to deliberate.