name, as if determined that he should know it. One might think that there was something human about her, something seeking a connection with him beyond the physical.
Nonsense. He was being overly imaginative. Surely succubi never felt such things, and he himself hadn't the least desire to become entangled with a soulless monster. Compassion was expensive, and a pretty face a mask for deception. He would best use this Samira to his own ends, without qualm, just as she would use him if given the chance.
He lay a fingertip on the diagram. "Samira," he said, the spoken name a promise made to the fading night. She would be his.
----
Chapter Four
"Samira."
Samira flinched, startled from her reverie by Theron saying her name. She had been thinking of Nicolae, alone in his dark tower with his scars and his books, and those gruesome memories of battle and torture that filled his thoughts—and that
filled hers now, too, in bright flashes she seemed unable to shake. That magic book he'd been reading must be responsible for this imprint he had left on her mind.
It wasn't the imprint of his memories that had her thoughts dwelling upon him, though. She couldn't fool herself there. It was that he had seen her, and said her name, making her briefly feel that she was a being worthy of notice. She was still stinging from the harsh rejection that had come so soon after. If she'd had a heart to break, hers would be in a thousand glittering crystal shards.
She wanted to go back and have Nicolae see her again. Speak to her again. She wanted him to ask her where she came from, and who—not what—she was. She wanted him to find her fascinating, and to want to talk to her.
Impossible, of course. Not only was it forbidden for a succubus to revisit the same man, but the last thing Nicolae wanted was so much as a hint of her presence. He'd rather converse with a cranky three-year-old than with her. He'd find a gassy old man with long toenails a preferable bed partner; a hungry cannibal a better guest at his dinner table.
"Have you been hiding from me?" Theron said, sitting down next to her. They were on a dreamscape bluff, looking out over a nighttime ocean. Dark evergreen trees towered behind them, swaying in the dream winds half a world away from Nicolae. The beings of the Night World moved with the darkness, following the shadow of night around the earth. Samira could not be in Nicolae's land when it was daylight there.
"Not hiding," Samira said, unconsciously drawing her wings closer around her body, as if to shield herself from Theron. "I'm watching, is all, and wondering at the minds of men."
Stars shimmered above the dream ocean, reflecting their light upon the waves. Strange leviathans glowed and then disappeared just beneath the surface. Samira almost wished that she was one of them, living a simple, thoughtless life.
"Have mortals finally become as much an obsession for you as they have been for me?" Theron asked.
Samira kept her eyes fixed on the dark ocean. She didn't want to admit any such truth to him. She didn't want to explain to Theron what had happened with Nicolae, both the humiliation she felt and the inexplicable yearning to go back and have him see her again. She didn't want Theron to look at her with smug comprehension, as if she had finally proven him right about his own hopes and plans to step into the mortal realm. "Understanding humans helps me to do my work," she said instead.
He snorted, letting her know he was not convinced by such a pat answer. "I would think you'd learned all there was to know by now. Humans don't vary that much."
"Then why are you so anxious to become one?" she shot back.
"Because I won't be like all the others, of course! With my knowledge, after all these centuries of watching them play their war games, I'll be a king among them. No one will have learning that compares to mine. No one will understand how to lead men, how to rule, better than I."
"Nor will anyone think as highly
Nonsense. He was being overly imaginative. Surely succubi never felt such things, and he himself hadn't the least desire to become entangled with a soulless monster. Compassion was expensive, and a pretty face a mask for deception. He would best use this Samira to his own ends, without qualm, just as she would use him if given the chance.
He lay a fingertip on the diagram. "Samira," he said, the spoken name a promise made to the fading night. She would be his.
----
Chapter Four
"Samira."
Samira flinched, startled from her reverie by Theron saying her name. She had been thinking of Nicolae, alone in his dark tower with his scars and his books, and those gruesome memories of battle and torture that filled his thoughts—and that
filled hers now, too, in bright flashes she seemed unable to shake. That magic book he'd been reading must be responsible for this imprint he had left on her mind.
It wasn't the imprint of his memories that had her thoughts dwelling upon him, though. She couldn't fool herself there. It was that he had seen her, and said her name, making her briefly feel that she was a being worthy of notice. She was still stinging from the harsh rejection that had come so soon after. If she'd had a heart to break, hers would be in a thousand glittering crystal shards.
She wanted to go back and have Nicolae see her again. Speak to her again. She wanted him to ask her where she came from, and who—not what—she was. She wanted him to find her fascinating, and to want to talk to her.
Impossible, of course. Not only was it forbidden for a succubus to revisit the same man, but the last thing Nicolae wanted was so much as a hint of her presence. He'd rather converse with a cranky three-year-old than with her. He'd find a gassy old man with long toenails a preferable bed partner; a hungry cannibal a better guest at his dinner table.
"Have you been hiding from me?" Theron said, sitting down next to her. They were on a dreamscape bluff, looking out over a nighttime ocean. Dark evergreen trees towered behind them, swaying in the dream winds half a world away from Nicolae. The beings of the Night World moved with the darkness, following the shadow of night around the earth. Samira could not be in Nicolae's land when it was daylight there.
"Not hiding," Samira said, unconsciously drawing her wings closer around her body, as if to shield herself from Theron. "I'm watching, is all, and wondering at the minds of men."
Stars shimmered above the dream ocean, reflecting their light upon the waves. Strange leviathans glowed and then disappeared just beneath the surface. Samira almost wished that she was one of them, living a simple, thoughtless life.
"Have mortals finally become as much an obsession for you as they have been for me?" Theron asked.
Samira kept her eyes fixed on the dark ocean. She didn't want to admit any such truth to him. She didn't want to explain to Theron what had happened with Nicolae, both the humiliation she felt and the inexplicable yearning to go back and have him see her again. She didn't want Theron to look at her with smug comprehension, as if she had finally proven him right about his own hopes and plans to step into the mortal realm. "Understanding humans helps me to do my work," she said instead.
He snorted, letting her know he was not convinced by such a pat answer. "I would think you'd learned all there was to know by now. Humans don't vary that much."
"Then why are you so anxious to become one?" she shot back.
"Because I won't be like all the others, of course! With my knowledge, after all these centuries of watching them play their war games, I'll be a king among them. No one will have learning that compares to mine. No one will understand how to lead men, how to rule, better than I."
"Nor will anyone think as highly
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