“Well, that sounds nice. Why do you wanna make candles?”
He shrugged. “Dunno. Thought it sounded fun.”
“It is fun. I did it once. I made a candle in the shape of a human vulva. The wick was the clit.”
“Nice.” Krul lifted his hand, and Glyma high-fived him. “Clits are the best.”
“Clitsarethe best,” she agreed as they walked to her front door, tails twining, then untwining playfully. “Oh, thanks for the new puzzle, by the way.”
He glanced at the square table with a mostly finished puzzle on it. “Yeah, no problem. It was too hard for me. Too many pieces.”
“That’s okay. You’re super good at other things, like building things.” She pointed to her kitchen window. “I still have that cryrie house you made, and the family comes back every year to lay their eggs.”
His face brightened. “Really? That’s awesome.”
“I know. I love it.” She opened her front door, then went onto her tiptoes to give him a firm hug. He gave her bare ass a pat, making her giggle. “Sorry to kick you out right after. Next time, we’ll have dinner and watchThe Bachelor.”
“I’d like that. I miss hanging out with you.”
Squeezing him extra tight, she kissed his cheek, then released him. “Maybe Sunday?”
“I’ll check my calendar and get back to you.” He kissed her cheek, too, before stepping out into the hall. “Oh, hey, Joe.”
Glyma’s neighbor waved at Krul, muttering a gruff greeting before he looked at her. His eyes widened, and he coughed harshly.
“Hi, Joe,” she said cheerily.
“Glyma,” he wheezed as he struggled with his keys.
“You’re still naked,” Krul said, and Glyma glanced down and laughed.
“Oh, right. I forgot. Sorry, Joe.”
Joe flapped a hand over his shoulder, muttering nonsensically as he scurried into his flat across the hall. Krul and Glyma snickered.
“See you later, Glym.” Krul tucked his hands into his pockets and struck up a jaunty tune, whistling as he meandered down the hall.
“Bye.” She watched his ass bounce in his jeans for an extra minute before she ducked back inside and skipped to the shower.
After a good meal, she usually preferred a nap, but she didn’t have the time today. She had to be in Greed in an hour, and the trains were never reliable. Her nap would have to wait.
She was strangely nervous as she rode the train to Greed, then jumped on a tram to reach the outskirts. Seeing Quin at the gala over the weekend had been as unexpected as what came after. Quin’s honesty and vulnerability, followed by her obvious desire soured by shame made Glyma ache.
Sure, she was accustomed to being wanted by most everyone. It came with the territory of being an Incubi. But there was something different about the way Quin looked at her. There was an innocence to it, a reverence, a desperation. Like she was dying of thirst, and Glyma was the promise of rain.
Living a life in hiding would do that to a person, and she wouldn’t wish that on anyone, even her worst enemy. There was nothing worse than being trapped, than being forced to smotherwho you were to appease someone else. Family, society, religion, they forced people into molds so small they had to trim off the edges. Everything that made themthemwas swept up and burned away until they were like everybody else.
But that world was cold and dark, and Glyma had decided long ago that she would never trim her edges to be smaller or duller. The world needed bright people, and she refused to dim her light. She wanted that for Quin, too. She wanted to see just how bright Quin would burn when given the chance.
“She has a fiancé,” she reminded herself as she crossed the parking lot of the strip mall. “She is off limits, so you”—she pointed at her crotch—“are gonna keep yourself in line. You too!” She glared at her tail, and it withered, tucking itself around her ankle.
She took several deep breaths, hoping to fill her lungs to capacity before she was trapped in a small room with nothing but the Daemon’s smoky, sweet scent to tempt her. Technically, she could hold her breath a while, which really came in handy when she was using her mouth for… things. But she would have to speak eventually, which meant the untainted air in her lungs was a finite resource.
“Okay, let’s do this,” she said, using up some of that air. “Damn it!”
As she pushed the door open, she took one last gulp as the bell overhead dinged. The front desk was manned by the same receptionist as before, Marci, but Quin was there, too, studying the computer screen over her shoulder. Both Marci and Quin looked up at the sound of the bell, and Quin’s throat bobbed with a heavy swallow as she straightened.
She was in another business suit, this one a dark green reminiscent of the gown she’d worn to the gala, and her locced hair was down. She tucked several of them behind her sharp earas she rounded the front desk, red-pupiled gaze stuttering on Glyma’s exposed shoulders before returning to her face.
