Succubs on Top Page 0,101

I'd imagined possible. Hadn't I come here to kick his ass? Why was I making out with him? Was this what ambrosia did to me? Were these my core traits - the power to get buzzed and take pleasure in sex? To become even easier than I already was?

His hands moved down and unbuttoned my shirt so they could slide down and cup my breasts, which were just barely covered by the black mesh bra I'd bought with Dana. He kissed me directly now, his mouth pressing against mine. As his tongue delicately slipped between my lips, I tasted a sweetness akin to the ambrosia.

Bottom line: it needs to be self-defense.

So Carter had said, but suddenly I didn't really need much defending - unless it was from myself. My own hands were moving without my conscious knowledge to unfasten his pants, and our bodies were becoming entwined together on the soft cushions.

Self-defense. Self-defense. Why self-defense? What was I forgetting here?

Ah, of course. The dart.

I pushed through the red haze muddling my senses, forcing clarity. The dart. The dart would stop Sol somehow, stop him from continuing to spread the poison of ambrosia. It would stop him from hurting people...like Doug.

I battled through my disorientation and pulled my mouth away from Sol's, attempting to squirm the rest of the way out of his grasp. I won a little room but not much. He was still close.

"No..." I gasped out. "Don't do this. Stop."

Sol, regarding me with surprised amusement, shushed me. "You don't know what you're saying."

"I do. Stop."

I wriggled one arm free, one arm that then snaked to the pocket containing Carter's pouch. I needed the other arm free too, but Sol was holding it. Looking down, I suddenly saw that his wrist was bleeding. How had that happened? I hadn't caused it.

"Georgina, you are about to be honored above all mortal women. Lay back. Stop struggling. No harm will come to you. You will enjoy this night, I promise."

He moved his mouth back to mine, and again that blazing euphoria swelled within me. A traitorous moan of pleasure caught in my throat. Taking this as submission, Sol's grip on my restrained arm lessened, and I shifted it away just enough that both of my hands now touched the pouch. Yet, it was a hard battle. My motor control still wasn't all it should be. Kissing him, in that moment, seemed much more important than some silly pouch. My mind didn't want to focus on anything else.

But I forced it to. Through sheer strength of will, I pushed the physical pleasure out of my head and instead replayed every consequence of the ambrosia I'd seen: Casey's devastation, Doug's wild swings from darkly frenetic exuberance to even darker depression, and finally his limp body in the hospital.

Mortals are fragile things.

Very fragile. And Sol played with them as if they were nothing. The smoldering coal of my anger began to burn again.

He's a stronger immortal than you. Preying on you - especially when you belong to Jerome, so to speak - is a big no-no. You would be justified in protecting yourself.

Again, I pulled my mouth away. "Stop," I said again more firmly. "I want you to stop. Stop doing this."

"I'm not going to stop," Sol snapped. Anger marred his honeyed tone. His breath was heavy, and his chest heaved with exertion. He - or I - had removed his shirt, and I had a perfect view of that unprotected skin. "I'm not going to stop, and believe me, once I start, you won't want me to stop either."

My fingers moved to open the pouch; the other hand slowly readied itself to reach inside. The ambrosia in my system dulled my reflexes, but I kept battling through it and sized up where in his chest his heart would be.

"I've asked you three times to stop. Once should have been enough. No means no."

"No means nothing from someone like you." He laughed a little, still not taking me seriously. "What's wrong with you? I thought you wanted to be immortal."

My hand was inside the pouch, pulling the dart out. Sol and I both felt its power at the same time, just as he realized what I was. His eyes widened, but I didn't give him time to react. I didn't think or falter. Just as Carter had ordered, I simply took action - well, with a cheesy punch line, of course.

"Been there, done that," I said, slamming the dart into his heart.