Drained: The Lucid (14 page)

Amber smiled against her. Normally Riley wasn’t rendered unintelligent so easily, but time spent with Morgan in the realm had her energy dipping more than she was used to. She was wound tighter than the strings of a violin. And Riley was an exquisite instrument that demanded to be played.

A distinct male voice yelled at the kitchen staff. Amber immediately stood from her previous kneeling position, and her hands went to the front of Riley’s jeans while Riley busied herself with the buttons of her shirt.

“Twenty minutes?” Riley growled. The abrupt end was enough to ward off any lingering feelings of her natural cubare form.

Amber flashed a lopsided grin. “Maybe that was too generous of an estimate.”

The door swung open and the restaurant manager stood in the opening. He looked momentarily startled to see the two women in the employees’ area.

“What are you doing in here?” he demanded. “Who is this, Amber?”

“I—” Amber stammered. “I was—”

“She was apologizing for your absence,” Riley smoothly lied. “I wanted to speak with the manager about possibly adding more vegan or vegetarian options to the menu.” She smiled, showing off deep dimples. “This young woman was kind enough to help.” She turned her attention back to Amber. “Thank you for your thoroughness, Miss. I’m excited for future possibilities … on the menu.”

Riley breezed past the manager with Amber following. Once the door to the employees’ area closed behind them, Amber erupted with laughter.  

“Cute,” she openly approved.

“What? It was either lie or your ass gets in trouble,” Riley defended herself. Her hands went to the buttons on her shirt. In the hurry to redress, Amber had skipped a button.

Amber flicked her eyes around cautiously before pressing her mouth against Riley’s lips. Riley’s hands reflexively went to the waitress’s hips, but when Amber attempted to deepen the embrace, Riley eased away.

“You need to get back to work.”

Amber tugged at her bangs. “I know. But I don’t exactly want to right now.” She idly fiddled with the buttons on Riley’s shirt. “I have you to blame for that, you know.”

Showing an unwonted amount of self-restraint, Riley’s hands rested against Amber’s to still the movements. “Go,” she lightly instructed. “Before your boss sees us talking. I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

Riley hazarded one last kiss, far more chaste than she normally would have liked.

“Will I see you tonight?” Amber called out to Riley’s retreating form.

Riley spun on her heel and slowly walked backwards. “If you want to, I don’t see why not.”

• • •

Riley ran her hands through Amber’s long red hair, letting the silken strands slide through her fingers.

It was daylight behind the open windows of the European-style apartment. The sheer curtains billowed with a sweetly perfumed air, and small birds made conversation outside on the branches of a mulberry tree. The detail gave Riley pause. Most of her marks dreamed of a seduction at night, but she imagined Amber’s subconscious had placed them in the daytime hours as that was usually when Riley saw her. Night was reserved for other patrons in the dream realm. She made a mental promise to be more present during the night for Amber, to work harder to be a normal couple.

They sat together on the bed, small for the potential it could hold. The sheer lingerie did a poor job of covering Riley’s more intimate body parts. In their own relationship, she had not brought out the frilly teddies, corseted bustiers, or anything more elaborate than matching bra and panty sets. It was a simple dream of an uncomplicated life, and it made Riley’s eternally beating heart ache. She peppered kisses down the smooth column of Amber’s pale throat. Her girlfriend made a noise of approval, vibrating through her vocal chords like a quiet growl. Amber’s hands slid down her arms and past her wrists. The touch to her bare wrist felt unfamiliar as if that narrow patch of skin belonged to someone else. She had purposefully left her Trusics watch at home. She was off the clock, off the grid, for this visit.

A wisp of orange haze clung to Amber’s porcelain skin. The energy pulsed, cresting like ocean’s waves crashing onto the shore. Guilt flickered within Riley as she watched the energy concentrate in the center of Amber’s body. This was her girlfriend, not a mark; it would only be a one-time thing. And she reasoned to herself that it was only a little—enough to make up for what she’d lost in the realm with Morgan. Never again would she waste so much energy to impress someone who wasn’t going to let her bed them. Amber pressed her lips against Riley’s, forcing thoughts of Morgan from her brain.

The succubus opened her mouth and breathed in. Only cubare had the ability to see the colored energy, giving Amber no cause for concern. The orange-hued smoke crawled from Amber’s slightly parted lips and stretched the distance to Riley’s open mouth. With her watch on, the energy would have flowed from her mouth down to her wrist. But without the spelled timepiece to divert the flow, the energy settled in Riley’s chest, filling her with a sensual warmth. She’d nearly forgotten the rush of a pure energy drain. She overflowed with happiness, and she felt like she could take on the world, obstacles be damned.

Under normal circumstances, Riley would have reported the energy she’d taken from Amber since her girlfriend wasn’t in the Trusics database. Her employer was strict about monitoring extra-curricular energy. Too much energy, especially when taken directly without her timepiece, could lead to addiction; Trusics wanted to protect their employees and their own interests from that possibility. But she reasoned to herself that the paperwork would be too much of a hassle for such a minor amount of energy. This wasn’t going to be a new norm for them. This was to simply ebb her appetite, returning her to company-standard levels.

Amber’s hand found the side of Riley’s face. “Your eyes,” she murmured, her own heavily lidded. “They’re so black.”

Riley awoke with a jolt. She scrambled out of her bed and into her small bathroom where she flicked on the overhead light. Grey-green eyes stared back at her.

• • •

Riley poked her head into an open doorway. The room was too dark to see anything beyond the silhouette of furniture pieces. Morgan slipped between the succubus and the room and reached for the door handle to shut her out of the room.

“Is that your bedroom?” Riley asked, still trying to crane her neck despite the closed door.

“No. It’s my parents’ room,” Morgan corrected. “This is their home.” She folded her arms. “The place where I grew up.”

Riley’s features twisted in disbelief. “Why is your sexual fantasy to be seduced in the house where you grew up?”

“It’s not!” Morgan defended herself. “But it
is
where I feel the most safe,” she’d let slip.

The simple admittance seemed to click for Riley. “This isn’t the first time you’ve been visited in your dreams.”

Morgan hugged herself, drawing her cardigan around her figure. “I thought that much was obvious by now.”

Riley mentally kicked herself; of course Morgan had been visited before. Her Trusics profile said she’d been an active member since 2006.

“Is that why you’re lucid?” Riley’s brain churned. “Did someone tell you about who we are and what we do?” What she was doing, visiting but not feeding, was something Trusics certainly discouraged because it was a waste of energy, but it paled in comparison to revealing their true nature to a human.  

Morgan hugged herself tighter. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

Riley nodded and stopped her inquisition despite her burning curiosity. “So which room is yours?” When she’d shown up at Morgan’s house, she’d found the front door unlocked for the first time. The small gesture had her feeling braver than usual to push the boundaries of the dream.

A ghost of a smile played on Morgan’s lips. “Down the hallway, last door on the left.”

Riley led the way, unconcerned whether Morgan planned on following her. At the end of the dark hallway was a slightly ajar door. It was wooden, the white paint curling from the surface. Gold letter stickers that formed the name ‘Morgan’ bisected the door at a child’s eye level.

Riley poked her head inside. Morgan’s bedroom looked unaltered from a distant childhood. The wood floors were as beat up as the rest of the house. A rectangular throw rug, made of a thin woven material, covered the center of the room. A twin-size bed was shoved against one wall. Posters of long-defunct pop bands covered the walls.

Riley hovered in the doorway. “Pink, huh?” she mused aloud.

Morgan stopped in the hallway just behind the succubus. “Are you judging my taste?”

“Not at all.” Riley licked her lips. “In fact, I’m still waiting for a taste.” As soon as the words came out, she regretted the remark. After so many years of seduction, commentary of that kind had become second nature.

Morgan ignored the suggestive comment and pushed past Riley and into the bedroom. She didn’t bother to turn on the overhead light even though the dark weather outside cast shadows into the bedroom.

Riley cautiously followed inside, not wanting to overstep her boundaries or make Morgan feel as though she was trapping her. She might be explicit in her word choice, but when it came to this woman, she had learned not to pressure her.

In addition to the bed, there was a white wooden dresser with a child’s jewelry box on its top. A similarly painted desk and chair were positioned by the bed. On top of the desk was a lamp in the shape of a clown, a few random pieces of paper, and a broken figurine.

Riley tilted her head to one side. “Is that a tiny person?”

“Kind of. It’s the Knot of Isis.” Morgan picked up the clay pieces. “She’s an ancient Egyptian goddess.”

“It’s broken.”

Morgan opened up a desk drawer and shoved the pieces inside. “I broke it as a child,” she explained. “I never got around to throwing it away.”

Riley sat down on the edge of the mattress and bounced a little. The stiff springs creaked beneath her weight. “This is nice.”

“You don’t have to lie,” Morgan threw back defensively. “I know you think my house is a dump.”

Riley toyed with the material of a painstakingly homemade quilt. It was a charming detail. “I know I was critical at first,” she admitted. “I’m used to my marks having extravagant dream environments, so it was a little disorienting when I met you.”

“Plus that bag to the face,” Morgan reminded her with a sly smirk.

Riley chuckled at the memory. She rubbed at her nose, which had thankfully healed completely with time. “Yeah. That was a shock, too.”

Riley hadn’t lied about Morgan’s unexpected dream environment. They weren’t sunning themselves on a personal yacht off the southern coast of France. Legs weren’t wrapped around her waist while a tropical storm raged beyond the confines of a rustic hut. This was the realm, and the majority of her marks took full advantage of the unlimited possibilities contained within their imaginations. But there was a quiet intimacy that Riley had grown to appreciate about this house and about Morgan’s mind. Her marks freely gave her the keys to their fantasies and outlandish dreams, but never before had she been offered such insight into a person’s life. Morgan might have been her most sexually guarded mark, but in other ways, she was the most permissive.

Riley repositioned herself on the mattress, scooting close to the wall. She patted the empty space beside her. “If I ask you to come to bed with me, are you going to beat me up?”

Morgan stood, indecisive, in the center of the room. Riley wondered if she regretted telling her the location of her bedroom. “No funny business.”

Riley held up her right hand. “Scouts honor.”

With jerky, rigid movements, Morgan took over the vacant space on the narrow bed. It offered enough room for the two women to recline side by side. Morgan drummed her fingers against her stomach. “So you made it beyond the kitchen and into my bed. I’d call that a victory.”

Riley grabbed a throw pillow from the foot of the bed and propped it under her head against the wooden headboard. “It’s the little things in life, you know.”

“You seem to have no problem making yourself at home,” Morgan observed.

“My kind is pretty adaptable,” Riley replied. “Didn’t the others do this?”

Morgan was conspicuously quiet.

Riley’s curiosity refused to remain buried. “How many other succubi or incubi have been in your dreams?”

“Why? Jealous that you’re not my first?” Morgan reflexively shot back.

The change in tone made Riley frown.

Morgan stared at the space above her head. “Just one.”

“Based on our first few meetings and your unrelenting efforts to behead me during that time, I’m guessing it didn’t go very well.” Riley picked at the pattern on the homemade quilt.

“Understatement of the year,” Morgan mumbled.

“What happened?”

“He made me afraid to sleep.”

“For how long?” Riley gently pressed as she turned to face the girl beside her. Morgan had already revealed so much about her past in this one visit, so much more than before. She treaded lightly so as to not make the other woman rebuild the walls she was trying to dismantle, one visit at a time.

“It started during my senior year of college and ended right before my graduation. So, around a semester, I guess.” Morgan sighed heavily, remembering. “I honestly don’t know if I would have been able to graduate if it had lasted any longer.”

Riley chewed on the inside of her cheek. Six months and six times—that was the maximum duration Trusics allowed their agents to visit a client in the dream realm. It was a mandatory precaution to make sure their employees did not develop a codependency on any one human and to keep their existence hidden.  

At the end of those six months, a mark’s profile was placed on a year-long hiatus. If desired, the contracting agent had an option to extend said relationship, but only after the required dormancy. Regardless if the partnership was renewed or a new agent was assigned, the cycle would begin again until the client severed their relationship with Trusics.

By rule, company cubare were only allowed to renew contact with a specific mark six times within their lifetime. Any longer and the sleeping mark could become suspicious. For Morgan, however, that suspicion had surfaced after only a few months.