Less than a minute later, voices sounded outside Quin’s office, and she stood from her chair, buttoning and smoothing down her blazer. The doorknob turned as someone laughed, and Quin stiffened. The laugh was loud and free, like it came from someone who had never learned—or felt the need—to quiet themself or take up less space. It was melodic and smooth, like the blues music Quin loved so much.
Then the door opened, and that laugh turned into a sentence, spoken with a light Lust accent in a voice that was… Oh, it was just lovely. It dripped down Quin’s spine like hot massage oil, and the base of her horns tingled.
“Thanks so much, Marci. And don’t sell yourself short; if Romy can’t appreciate you for the incredible woman you are, he doesn’t deserve you.” The woman speaking was hidden behind a tall—worryingly tilted—tower of objects, held together by purple hands and a prayer. Quin nearly vaulted herself over her desk as the top object, what looked like a covered baking dish, slid haphazardly to one side, teetering on the edge.
“You’re right,” Marci was saying. “I deserve someone who remembers my birthday without me having to remind him.”
“Of course you do! It’s literally the bare minimum, and we are done rewarding men for their less than mediocre effort.” The woman, who Quin assumed was Miss Aryti, shifted her weight, causing the baking tray to slide the opposite way, and Quin braced for it to topple off the other side of the pile.
By some miracle, it didn’t.
“Oh my gods, you’re so right! I’m gonna call him and break up with him right now,” Marci said, and one of the purple hands holding the tower moved to rest on Marci’s shoulder, causing the tower to lean precariously in the other direction, sending the baking tray back again.
Quin inhaled sharply through her teeth as it teetered…teetered…
“Good for you,” Glyma said, giving Marci’s shoulder a squeeze.
Tearily, Marci nodded. “Thank you so much.”
“Of course. It’s tough out there. Us girls gotta stick together.” Miss Aryti patted Marci’s biceps comfortingly. “By the way, I love your shoes. You need to tell me where you got them.”
Marci simpered, pressing a hand to her chest. “Thanks. I got them at Salvo’s. They were having a sale—”
Quin cleared her throat, and Marci jumped, like she’d forgotten where they were. Her eyes widened at Quin before she ducked her head and mumbled, “Miss Duboi, this is—”
“Miss Aryti, I presume?” Quin said, stepping around her desk to extend her hand.
The leaning tower of trouble shifted again as the woman turned toward her, and whatever Quin was going to say next died in her throat. Without the tower obstructing her view, she could finally see the person to whom that voice and laugh belonged, and the entire world seemed to stop.
She was beautiful, but even that word felt inadequate. Lackluster. Nowhere near close to describing the woman before her. Stunning. Arresting. Bewitching. Divine, maybe? None of them were satisfactory, and it rankled. Because this ethereal creature deserved better words.
Hot pink eyes pinned Quin to the floor, x-raying through her shield of propriety and armored nonchalance. She felt bare and naked, like this stranger could stare right into the heart of her and see all the things she tried to hide. For a moment, those eyes softened immeasurably, and Quin swore she heard that voice say,“Oh, there you are.”
And Quin nodded because, yes, yes,yes. Here she was, and it was so nice to finally be found. Which was crazy. Absolutely bonkers insane. But it felt real, and it felt right.
Right, like the yellow sundress swishing around the woman’s thick thighs, her light purple skin and full, apron belly. Right,like that serpentining tail ending in a fluffy, dark purple tuft that Quin wanted to feel drag over her bare skin. Even the yellow flipflops adorning her feet were so utterly and perfectly right.
“Miss Aryti?” The woman laughed again, and Quin nearly shivered at the chiming sound. “Oh my, I don’t think anyone’s ever called me that before.” Thrusting a purple hand in Quin’s direction, she beamed at her, revealing the cutest little fangs, and the prickling at the base of Quin’s horns spread over her scalp and down her neck. “Please, call me Glyma. It’s so nice to finally meet you, Quin.”
On instinct, Quin took Glyma’s hand and shook it, still star-struck by her beauty. She swore a bolt of electricity zipped her up arm, originating from where their hands met, but she ignored the ludicrous idea, blaming her temporary insanity on the fact that Glyma was clearly a Succubus and Quin was woefully unprepared for that.
“Yes, it is,” Quin said stupidly. “I mean, you as well. It’s nice to see your face—to put a face to the name, I mean. Because we’ve only spoken over email. Which you know. Obviously.”
Now, Quin had always prided herself on her eloquence. She could stand in front of an audience and give a presentation or a speech without batting an eye. So why she was babbling like an idiot as she continued to shake the poor Succubus’s hand, she couldn’t fathom.
Glyma’s smile curled mischievously as Quin attempted to speak, and one of those tiny fangs captured her full bottom lip, dimpling the skin. Humor danced in those hot pink eyes, and Quin’s face flooded with heat. Blushing. Deities below, she was blushing like a teenager!
“I’ll just…” Marci said slowly, gaze ping-ponging between Quin and Glyma, “leave you to it, then.”
“Thank you, Marci,” Quin bit out as she managed to force her fingers to release Glyma’s.
Turning to Marci, Glyma beamed at her. “Stay strong, and dump his ass.”
“I will. Thanks,” Marci said as her cheeks pinked, and Quin barely resisted the urge to stamp her hoof in warning.
As Marci shut the office door, Glyma spun back around to face Quin, and the baking dish atop the dangerous tower finally lost its purchase. It slid to the edge, but before it could topple over, Quin lunged forward, balancing on the edge of her hooves as she held the dish in place with her fingertips.
Unfortunately, it brought her disconcertingly close to Glyma, and the Succubus froze. They stared at each other, a mere inch separating their faces. Glyma was taller, and her breath fanned over Quin’s forehead. Then her eyes drifted up to study the dish Quin had saved.
