Drained: The Lucid (28 page)

Riley sat on the concrete curb and attempted to ignore the tiny rocks that bit into the back of her naked thighs. It wasn’t raining, but it also wasn’t the sunshine to which she’d started to become accustomed. Instead, a fat yellow moon hung in the sky. She shifted her weight, but comfort never came. Her outfit wasn’t suited to this environment; it was meant to be pressed against the smooth silk of luxury bed sheets, not the cold concrete of the curb outside of Morgan’s house.

She grabbed a dandelion, its flower still a shock of yellow, and tugged it from the cracks of the sidewalk. The pollen left a yellow streak in the palm of her hand, and she tossed it into the middle of the street with disgust.

“Weed.” She spit out the word like a curse.

After their fight, she didn’t know why she had returned. She also didn’t know why she continued to dress to seduce when Morgan repeatedly showed no interest. It was her habit, she supposed, to explore the contents of her deep closets before each new visit.

“She’s right.” Riley hung her head forlornly. The boning of her corset dug into her ribs. “A demon who likes to play dress up.”

She tugged at the top of her cherry red bodice. “This isn’t helping,” she muttered to herself.

The stiff material of the lingerie melted away to become a cotton T-shirt. Her vintage nylons flared out to form cropped shorts, and her stilettos became strappy sandals.

“But I’ve never complained about your outfits.”

Riley’s head snapped to attention at the sound of Morgan’s voice.

“Can I sit down?” Morgan visibly fidgeted on the sidewalk. Her grey cardigan was pushed back on her forearms, and her hands curled around two ceramic mugs. Twin coils of steam twisted in the air.

“It’s your dream,” Riley responded dully. “You do what you want.”

Morgan nodded and sat down beside Riley while balancing the mugs. Riley noted the deliberate space she’d left between them even though they’d been infinitely closer on Morgan’s twin bed, living room couch, and in the hammock.

Morgan offered one of the cups to Riley. “It’s tea.”

Riley took the cup without a word, but she didn’t take a drink.

“It’s not poisoned,” Morgan muttered. Her words, spoken into her cup, echoed.

Riley remained silent, staring into the murky tea.

“Are you cold?” Morgan tried again.

“I’m fine.”

“I could give you my sweater?” Morgan set her teacup on the concrete beside her and began to wiggle out of her cardigan.

“Morgan, I’m fine,” Riley insisted. She was a little cold, but her pride won out over physical comfort. It was why she continued to sit on the rough concrete when even the front lawn would be better. She could change her clothes at any point in the dream, but she didn’t want to admit her discomfort.

A warm wind whipped around outside, ruffling Riley’s long, curled hair. Despite her dour attitude, a smile slipped to her lips. “Ass,” she mumbled.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Riley nodded in agreement. Morgan was lucid, but she hadn’t demonstrated she knew how to actively control their physical environment. The sunshine and hammock could have been a fluke.  She took a tentative sip of the tea.

“I’m sorry, you know.” Morgan’s voice was gravelly with the apology. “I shouldn’t have gotten so angry with you; it’s not my place to judge other people’s relationships.” She shook her head, and her hair fluttered around her face.

“Your anger wasn’t unwarranted.” Riley dipped the tip of her finger through the surface of the warm tea and swirled the liquid around, making patterns in the drink. “I’ve been …
sensitive
… about the topic lately. I try so hard to have a normal life, when everything I am resists that desire.”

“Will you stay?” Morgan chewed on her lower lip. “I’ll understand if you have to go. I …” She sighed and her shoulders shook from the weight of it. “I want to know you.”

“There’s not much to know.”

“I know that’s not true.”

“You should go inside,” Riley said quietly.

“Oh. Okay.” Morgan’s hopeful features drooped with the rejection.

“It’s really too cold out here for those kinds of conversations. Either that, or I’m going to need a blanket.”

Morgan’s generous mouth curled at the edges when she realized it hadn’t been a rejection. She stood and offered a hand to help Riley up.

“Go on in,” Riley motioned. “I’ll be right behind you.”

“Checking out my ass?” Morgan quipped. She brushed at the backs of her legs to dislodge any rocks and dirt that had become stuck to her yoga pants.

“Always.”

Morgan reentered her house and left the front door slightly ajar. Riley dropped her gaze down to her watch. The multiple clock faces kept track of a variety of things. The major clock face told her the current time, adjusted to her California time zone. A smaller gauge kept track of her monthly energy collection while another face ticked off the time remaining before the fail-safe would flash her out of the dream, unless she ingested sexual energy. In the span of a brief conversation, she had gone from wanting to speed up time to reach the hour so she wouldn’t have to remain in Morgan’s head longer than necessary to finding a way to extend her visit.

Riley thought about the glass vials in the cabinet beneath her bathroom sink. She stared at the palm of her hand, mentally picturing the outline of the container filled with red sexual energy. Focusing on its location in the waking world, she willed it to cross into the realm. She hadn’t expected for this visit to last longer than her allotted hour or else she would have brought the bottle along with her. Her palm shimmered as the vial and its essential contents began to take shape.

Her hand curled around the bottle, now solid in her grasp. She removed the tiny cork from the opening and made short work of its swirling contents. The counter on her watch restarted, and the gauge that tracked her progress towards her quota similarly reacted. But without taking more energy, that dial would drop by the end of her visit with Morgan. The energy Darren had provided her was enough to fool the system and extend her visits, but not enough to help her reach her energy production.

“Damn it.”

She helplessly clutched the now-empty bottle, realizing she’d brought no bag to hide the evidence. The bottle would return to the waking world once she phased out of the dream, but for now, she needed to hide its presence to avoid rousing Morgan’s concern. Conjuring a bag wasn’t worth the energy it would waste in order to bring it into the realm. Thinking quickly, she discarded the vial into a nearby bush.

Her breath was shaky as she stepped up the walkway and pushed through the threshold of Morgan’s childhood home. It was warm inside, and she roughly ran her hand over her arms to get rid of the goose bumps that had formed. She found Morgan in the front living room instead of their usual place at the back of the house. A fire crackled in the fireplace, steadily filling the room with a warm, smoky heat.

“A fire?” Riley questioned, hovering in the archway.

Morgan held up sooty hands and wiggled her fingers. “You’re not the only one with skills, Succubus.” She patted the space beside her on the couch. “Sit. Talk,” she urged.

Riley sat down on the couch, but kept her body erect, not able to fully relax around Morgan. If Morgan noticed the rigid posture, she said nothing.

“So what do you want to talk about?” Riley asked with a cursory glance to her watch.

Morgan noticed the movement. “Do you have to go soon?”

“No. It’s fine. I took care of it.” Riley picked at the material of the worn couch. It was too quiet in the house.

Morgan wet her lips. “You said you wanted to be normal. Is that why you’re dating a human?”

“We’re not …” Riley pushed out a long breath. She didn’t need to rehash details of a messy, incomplete break up. “Is this another therapy session?”  

“Do you want it to be?”

Riley abandoned her interest in the furniture. “I don’t know if I can afford your patient fees.”

Morgan’s smile was crooked. “Lucky for you I’m not a licensed psychologist yet, so how about we wave the fees for now?”

“What do you want to know?”

“Too much.” Morgan leaned into the couch and her head tilted back. “In college, when that … that thing happened to me, I spent so much time researching your kind, trying to make sure it would never happen again. I didn’t get very far though. I guess when something wants to stay hidden hard enough, it does.”

Riley thought about her own overwhelming questions when she’d first encountered Liliah in the company archives. “What question is most pressing?”

“Will you look like this forever?”

“Unless I don’t get sex,” Riley confirmed. “Then I die.”

“Dramatic, much?” Morgan’s brief laugh sounded forced.

“It’s not a line. I promise.”

Morgan’s eyebrows knit together. “Could you ever have too much sex and, like, I don’t know, turn into a child?”

“Sex addiction is a thing, even among the cubare,” Riley confirmed, trying not to laugh, “but I’ll never get younger. I’m frozen like this.”

“When you don’t …” Morgan fumbled with her question. “… you know, with me, does that hurt you?”

“Only my ego.” Riley smiled charmingly and rattled the watch on her wrist. “This keeps me from overstaying to the point of injury. If I don’t feed, it phases me out of the dream for my own protection.”

Morgan nodded slowly.

“I’m glad you’re not charging me by the hour. This feels more like a game of twenty questions than therapy.”

Morgan ducked her head and regarded Riley through heavy eyelashes. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Riley lightly laughed. “But now it’s my turn.”

Morgan shifted on the couch.

“When did you lose your virginity?”

“Wow.” Morgan’s hazel-green eyes widened. “Starting with the big guns, huh?”

Riley smiled gently. “I can ask something else if you’d like.”

Morgan shook her head. “No, it’s fine. I was a late bloomer, I guess. I was a junior in college.”

“What was their name?” She was purposeful with the gender-neutral pronoun.

“Derek.”

Riley was sure she hated Derek. “Have you ever … with a woman?” she pressed.

Morgan shook her head.

“But you’re interested, right?” Her voice cracked. Had she been trying to seduce a
straight girl
all this time? Morgan’s user profile had marked her sexuality as unidentified, but that could have been for a number of reasons.

Morgan’s eyelashes fluttered at the question. “I’m amenable to the possibility.”

“You’re cute when you do that.” Riley tilted her head to one side.

Morgan looked up from her lap. “Do what?”

“You pull out the big words when you’re feeling uncomfortable.”

“You must think I’m a walking dictionary then.” Morgan laughed before she bit at her fingernail. “I’m
always
uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t seem like you were in the hammock.”

“That’s … that was different.” She cleared her throat. “My turn.”

Riley smiled and sank back into the cushions of the couch. The worn upholstery was far more comfortable than the stiff material of her apartment furniture. “Okay. Give me your worst.”

“Do you keep track of how many people you’ve had sex with?”

“No. It’s just a number.” If she calculated the total amount, she had a feeling that it would make her uneasy. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

Morgan nodded, looking thoughtful. “Yeah, I suppose there’s no double standard among incubi and succubi, huh?”

“Nope. We’re all studs.” Riley smiled mischievously. “What about you? Do you keep track?”

“It’s a little easier than you, I’m sure.”

“What’s your number? Seven?” Riley started with what she thought was a conservative number.

“God, no.” Morgan flushed.

“More or less?”

“Less.”

“Five?”

Morgan shook her head.

“Three?”

Morgan shook her head harder, and her cheeks looked flushed from either the line of questioning or from the fire that seemed to burn even hotter and brighter across the room.

“Tell me it’s more than one.”

Morgan stared straight ahead, refusing to regard the succubus.

“Derek was that bad, huh?” Riley lightly teased.

“No,” Morgan stated stiffly. “He was … fine.”

“Then why …” Riley cut her own words short. She thought back to everything Morgan had revealed to her about her past. “The incubus that visited you. You said that was your senior year of college.”

Morgan nodded.

“And he … and then you never …”

Morgan licked at dry lips.

Riley reached across the expanse of the couch and touched her fingers against the top of Morgan’s hand. “I’m so sorry, Morgan,” she whispered.

Riley’s watch clanged a warning.

“Time to go.” Morgan pulled her hand away and rested it on her lap.

“I can stay,” Riley offered. She thought back to the remaining glass vials hidden under her bathroom sink. Once they were gone, she didn’t know what she was going to do.

“No. Your watch knows best.”

Riley stood from the couch and Morgan followed her to the front door. She didn’t need to use the entrance to flash out of the dream, but it had become a kind of ritual for them.

Morgan opened the front door. “Thank you for tonight,” she said in quiet somberness. “Thank you for your honesty.”

Riley ducked her head. “You, too.” She looked back up when she felt tentative hands at her waist. Slender arms wrapped more fully around her, pulling her in for a brief embrace. Riley resisted the urge to bury her face in Morgan’s neck and inhale her scent.

Morgan dropped her arms to her sides as quickly as she had reached out for the succubus. She stared at her feet.

“Sweet dreams, Morgan.”

The front door shut behind her with a quiet click. Riley breathed out into the chilly night air and absently rubbed her palms against her arms. The action was habit more than a necessity. Even if Morgan hadn’t put the fireplace to use, she would still be radiating heat from their brief embrace. The gesture had been sweet and honest and heartfelt. And in all of her experiences in the realm, it had been more rewarding than the most satisfying energy exchange.