“How very well-adjusted of you,” Quin snipped, and Glyma snorted.
“Well, my mother does love me, after all,” she quipped, and Quin choked on her next inhale of smoke. She grimaced as Quin coughed. “Oops. Too blunt?”
Catching her breath, Quin shook her head, “Touché.”
“Sorry,” Glyma said, not sounding sorry at all.
She smiled cheekily before she tilted her head back, gazing up at the twin moons. The ghostly light highlighted the arch of her neck and the smooth swells of her breasts revealed by her unbuttoned blouse. Quin’s gaze caught and held there as the Succubus inhaled deeply. She imagined dragging the pads of her fingers over the soft curves, maybe unbuttoning the next in line to bring even more flesh to light.
“Careful, Quin,” Glyma sang, voice huskier than before, and Quin jerked her gaze away, taking a trembling drag from the cigarette.
“I wasn’t—” She cut off the obvious lie, focusing instead on a crack in the stone railing. “I didn’t mean… Sorry.”
“Trust me, I don’t mind you looking,” Glyma said, dangling hand tightening into a fist before relaxing. “But I haven’t eaten in too long, and my control isn’t what it should be. I don’t need the temptation.”
Terrified and exhilarated, Quin snuck a peek at the Succubus, stiffening when she found her staring her down, expression unreadable. “I’m tempting?”
A perfectly sinful smile curled Glyma’s mouth as her tail danced behind her legs. “Unfairly so. But I’m trying to be good. Unless you don’t want me to be.”
Heat roared through Quin’s veins, and her cheeks warmed. “Do you always say every thought that pops into your head?”
“Everythought?” Glyma’s gaze dropped briefly to scan Quin’s mouth, then her neck, then lower to her deep—but still modest—neckline. “No. I keep the most egregious to myself.”
Fuck, Quin was on fire again, and she couldn’t decide whether she should run or stay and enjoy the burn. “Are you propositioning me?”
Glyma’s eyes jumped back to Quin’s face, and Quin swore the pink was darker now, pupils shifting to jagged diamond shapes. But that had to be a trick of the light.
“That depends.”
Moving slowly, to give Quin time to stop her, Glyma reached out and plucked the smoldering cigarette from Quin’s grasp. She brought it to her lips, covering the lipstick stains Quin had left on the end. Her cheeks hollowed as she inhaled, and the sounds of the night faded into a dull buzz in Quin’s ears. The floral, earthy scents of the garden were replaced with something thick and heady, like cardamom and nutmeg.
Quin’s self-preservation shouted at her to flee. Instead, she swallowed thickly and whispered, “Depends on what?”
Smoke poured from Glyma’s nose and mouth as she offered Quin the cigarette back. “On whether we’re still just strangers sharing a cigarette.”
“Run, Quin!”the voice in her head—that sounded annoyingly like her mother—screamed.“Get the fuck out of here while you still can.”
Her fingers hovered over the cigarette, wanting to take it, wanting to know what it would mean if she did. The air around Glyma seemed to ripple and distort, and her spicy, almost woodsy scent thickened. Quin felt the fluffy tip of her tail slip under her dress and tickle behind her knee.
For a moment, she was floating, trapped in whatever Succubus spell Glyma wielded. It would be easy to give in, to give up. To be utterly lost in this stolen moment where she could finally be free.
But then what? Could she go back to her regular life after? Could she survive having a taste, knowing what it could be like, what itshouldbe like, but only once and never again? It would be more cruel than never having it at all.
“Quin?” Glyma said. No, she purred, and Quin’s knees trembled.
Her hand moved away from the cigarette, lowering to her side as she said, almost painfully, “I’m engaged.”
And the magic shattered.
Like it took physical effort, Glyma leaned away, taking the cigarette with her. She took a long drag as she shook her head, as if to clear her mind. “Waryn.”
It wasn’t a question, but Quin still nodded. “We aren’t—I mean, we are, technically, but it isn’t—he’s… and I…” With a grunt of frustration, she took the cigarette from between Glyma’s lips and took a desperate hit, letting the smoke scorch away the ache in her chest. “We have an understanding, Waryn and I. An arrangement.”
That was both too much and not nearly enough, but Glyma seemed to understand every word Quin couldn’t bring herself to say.
“That must be hard,” Glyma said on a heavy exhale. “Having to hide. Having to pretend.”
“I have a responsibility,” Quin said simply.
