A Snippet From Our WIP, Faerie Rising

Lana’s mind wandered back to Summer’s Get as she carried the jar back to bed.  What was he doing visiting that strung-out wizard?  She hadn’t used to be so bad, but up until a few months ago there had also been a few more of them running around.  She had heard though the rumor mill that the others had been torn apart by something.

Oh well.  Not her town, not her problem.

Her problem was working on his second joint, his eyes half-lidded.  Maybe it was his third.  It took a lot to mellow out a sidhe as strong as him. 

She did not believe in coincidence.  If Summer’s Get was next door, it involved Senan.  Of that she was certain.  What she was not certain of was how much time it left her.  She had screwed around with this twit for far too long, but she had had to be so careful, and she was dancing on this wire with no net.  One misstep and the fall would kill her.

“Close to what?”

Even with her acute hearing, Lana barely heard his slurred words.  Instincts honed by years of intrigues riveted on those three syllables, and she slid up beside him on the bed.  “What do you mean?” she asked softly, tracing her nails over his skin.

Senan closed his eyes in pleasure and exhaled smoke.  He slurred something incoherent.  His eyes did not reopen.

Lana rocked herself up on one knee and straddled his waist, nails digging in harder.  “Jeremy, baby.  Talk to me.”

The hand with the smoking joint lowered to the bed and a small snore trickled from his lips.  Shit.  Ordinarily this would be her cue to put out the joint, pick up her paperback, and order sushi in.  In the morning she would gush about what fantastic sex they’d had.  Since she couldn’t feed on him without Prince Midhir sensing it, she preferred it this way.  Imagine, a succubus choosing fiction over fornication – but he just sucked that much in bed. 

She frowned down at his pretty, snoring face, hands on hips, and considered her options.  On one hand, her book was getting to a good part.  On the other hand… screw it, something told her she really needed to know what the idiot was talking about.  She knew from months of dating that Senan plus pot equaled taking forever to wake back up, and she so did not feel like spending the next forty-five minutes coaxing him to alertness.  There were much more direct approaches.  A smile stretched her mouth, and she knew it was neither sweet nor inviting.  After all, a rare opportunity to mess with the idiot was really not something she wanted to pass up.

She plucked the joint from his slack fingers, set it in the ash tray before it burnt a hole in her bed spread, and then bit his nipple just this side of bleeding.

Senan woke up with a scream like a stepped-on cat.  “Jesus, bitch!”  His voice was still slurred, but he was definitely awake.  He clasped both hands protectively over his left pectoral, propped up awkwardly on one elbow.

Lana tossed her hair and laughed.  “Aw!  Did I bite too hard, baby?”

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Filed under Urban Fantasy and Other Trifles

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