Chapter 8 #4
Pippa raised the glass to her lips and took a sip, then moaned.
Was there bourbon in this? She hadn’t been paying attention as the succubus had poured.
The drink was so beautifully mixed that she could hardly taste the alcohol.
Pippa gulped down half of it in an attempt to discern what had gone into her glass.
Spicy, sweet, as smooth as the silk of Thalia’s robe.
The taste lingered on Pippa’s tongue. She closed her eyes, the robe’s hem sticking in her vision.
She could imagine it gliding nearly frictionless between her fingers.
Where Thalia’s robe was pale, Maxim’s tie yesterday was a geometric clash of varying shades of navy.
Not as soft to the touch, surely. She could almost feel that as well, how the patterns would rub her palm if she tugged on it.
How it would crease and fold as she pulled him close enough for his warm breath to puff against her neck, and the tip of it would tickle her bare stomach.
Suddenly Pippa was shifting on her seat to try and ease a powerful ache that had manifested between her legs. Her breath shuddered out of her as if she were being squeezed.
She opened her eyes to see Thalia watching her with an excited smile. The succubus propped her red chin in both hands, and her tongue traced one of her sharp canines.
Pippa sent a glare at her drained glass. Just . . . wow. Classic succubus. She was probably getting a buzz off the lust radiating from Pippa right now.
“Rude,” she said. “Charming my drink? Really? Because I haven’t had enough to deal—” She broke off when Thalia lay a cool hand over hers.
“It was to help you,” Thalia said softly. “You look exhausted, Pippin. It’s strength. It’s . . . nourishment. I thought you could use that more than alcohol.”
If she focused, Pippa could tell that her head felt clearer, her limbs less heavy. Guilt washed over her at how she’d snapped at the friend whose only harm was in caring.
“So yes,” Thalia continued. “A little bit of a charm.” Then her smile returned. “Though your arousal is all your own.”
Pippa tried not to look startled. She made a little “Hmm,” and rolled her glass between her palms. Ice cubes clinked and swirled with the amber drink as they melted.
When she’d wanted to throw herself on Maxim yesterday, she’d been shot full of adrenaline and the exuberance for living that came with bumping shoulders with death. Having an attractive, attentive person practically between her legs had lifted that exuberance into full-blown arousal.
Now?
She had no similar excuse for fantasizing about him.
There had been nothing threatening her in this apartment; the only nearby danger was a succubus with a commitment problem.
Which meant that the reason she couldn’t stop thinking about his crooked nose, his pursed lips, his rolled-up sleeves, and his flexing forearms was because she wanted him.
She wanted him.
Pippa sagged onto the counter, her knuckles pressed against her forehead.
It wasn’t a convenient realization. She’d already come to a tenuous acceptance of him learning a few more details about her world, and that was uncomfortable enough.
She should be continually terrified of any additional knowledge he gained that might render him a panicked, broken mess instead of wondering what else might make his stern expression crack.
How his breathing might catch, how his lips might part around filthy words she’d hardly dared to imagine coming from his mouth.
How his gaze might settle on her differently if it raked down her naked body. Would his intensity remain then?
Heat crept up Pippa’s chest and settled in a low pulse in her neck. It wasn’t a leap to assume that his borderline dominating assertiveness might translate to fucking.
Before she could wonder any more about the potential lovemaking styles of Maxim Sheppard, Thalia chuckled. It wasn’t the chuckle itself that wrenched Pippa out of her fantasies, but the thick, satisfied cast to it.
“Stop,” Pippa said.
“Stop what?”
“Enjoying this.”
Thalia kept smiling. “You offered me a free appetizer, it would be rude of me to not take it.”
“I don’t know why we’re friends.” Her skin still flamed from her thoughts, and she pressed her chilled glass to her neck.
“Because I make you nice things to drink.”
“Ha,” Pippa said wryly.
Thalia plucked Pippa’s glass out of her hands and took it to the sink. She paused after setting it in the basin.
“I’m glad you came, considering,” Thalia said.
“Considering how I’m flagrantly disobeying the group I want to be part of, or considering the rumors of my hellish few days?”
“Considering how your life is in danger.”
“When is it not?”
The seriousness of Thalia’s expression sent a chill down Pippa’s neck. “Pippa, this is—”
“This is different? Is that what you were going to say?”
Beneath the silken robe, her red tail twitched like that of an irritated cat. “I didn’t tell you before, but I already knew about the Tro’grath. The fight in the warehouse.”
Pippa’s hands grew cold. “What? How?”
Thalia sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. “There has been talk. Gossip. The one you killed was a prince, of sorts, from a highborn family new to the city. They didn’t know all of our rules yet, or the Ash Coven’s power over the city.”
“And? I’m sure the rest of that family knows now.”
“They do not appreciate witches ending the lines of their royalty.”
“And that would be awful, if they knew it was me who’d done that.” If any creatures had come to the empty warehouse after she’d left, all they would find was some scattered ash.
Thalia’s tail lashed. “When a highborn Tro’grath comes of age, they have stones placed in their foreheads. The colors vary, I hear, depending on the family.”
Ah, so that must have been what her mother had been trying to tell her. “All right, so I’ll keep an eye out for others that have those and make sure I don’t—”
“They are scrying stones, Pippa. Any Tro’grath in that family saw exactly who murdered their favorite offspring.”
Her heart plummeted into her shoes.
They will see. They will come for you.
The demon’s final words echoed in Pippa’s head, raspy and snarled.
Stars. Charles’s mysterious patrons, the Boe’s presence in her workplace—all because she’d killed a demon with a powerful family.
“There’s more,” Thalia said.
Pippa let out a warbling laugh. “Of course there is.”
“Word is going around that the Tro’grath family is working on something they’re claiming will make you helpless. That will take away your magic.”
Her mind whirled. It had worked; partly.
Had the Tro’graths only known to make the poison to block her from the world’s magic because that was what they had seen her use?
They wouldn’t spend time taking away magic that only existed in rumors.
Why bother creating a poison to suppress what might as well not exist?
Pippa clenched the edge of the counter until a piece of chipped Formica dug into her palms. She needed to find the Tro’grath family and end them before they hired anyone else.
She inhaled slowly and gave Thalia a reassuring smile, since the succubus was watching Pippa like someone would watch a bottle of spirits at the edge of a fire.
“I’ll figure it out,” she said at last. “It’ll take more than a handful of vengeful demons to finish me off.”
Thalia didn’t look convinced. “And what if this is what it takes? When will you find out your limit, Pippa?”
“At the same time everyone else does, I guess.”
She glanced at the clock above the stove. It was getting late, and she still had a long journey of public transportation ahead of her.
“Thanks for the drink,” she said honestly, then stood. Thalia’s magic held fast; her legs were more stable than they’d been when she had arrived, and her feet hurt far less. The ache in her thigh was a foggy memory of what it had been before.
“Of course.” Thalia was still looking at her as if she expected either an outburst or a breakdown and didn’t know what to make of this forced cheer.
Pippa grabbed her coat and purse and slipped on her shoes.
“I’ll let you know if I hear anything else,” Thalia said. She’d reapplied her glamour and was once again the angelic-looking woman in a silk gown. “Be safe, please.”
In response, Pippa gave Thalia a little salute before she left. Better that than a promise she likely would never be able to keep.