Succubus Dreams Page 0,41

might be worth it."

"Worth cleaning out your bank account?"

"Yes."

"Worth being part of a pyramid scheme?"

"They say they don't do that anymore."

"What if they're lying?"

"Thetis," he said with a sigh. "I'm going to say something to you I've never said before."

"What is it?"

"Be quiet."

And then he leaned down and kissed me, bringing warmth to my cold lips. Nearby, I heard children giggle at us, but I didn't care. I felt the kiss down to my toes. It was brief, like always, but when Seth pulled away, my whole body was filled with heat. Every nerve in me tingled, alive and wonderful. I barely noticed the chilly temperature or the way our breathing formed frosty clouds in the air. He laced his fingers through mine and lifted my hand to his lips. I had gloves on, but he kissed exactly where I wore his ring.

"Why are you so sweet?" I asked, my voice small. My heart beat rapidly, and every star peeping through the clouds seemed to be shining just for me.

"I don't think I'm that sweet. I mean, I just told you to be quiet. That's one step away from asking you to wash my laundry and make me a sandwich."

"You know what I mean."

Seth pressed another kiss to my forehead. "I'm sweet because you make it easy to be sweet."

We linked arms again and continued our circuit. I had a sappy urge to rest my head against his shoulder but figured that might be asking too much of his coordination.

"What do you want for Christmas?" I asked, my thoughts spinning ahead to next week.

"I don't know. There's nothing I need."

"Oh no," I teased. "You aren't one of those, are you? One of those people who are impossible to shop - "

One of Seth's feet slipped out from under him. I managed to stay upright, but he went down, his legs crumpling underneath him.

"Oh my God," I said, kneeling down. "Are you okay?"

"I think so," he said. The tight set of his lips informed me things were a bit more painful than he was letting on. Putting my arm around his hip, I helped him up. The leg he'd fallen on started to buckle, but he managed to keep it steady in the end.

"Come on," I said, steering him toward the gate. "We should go."

"We just got here."

"Oh, suddenly you're a fan, Scott Hamilton?"

"Nope, but you are. It was just a fall."

Maybe it had been just a fall, but the thought of Seth getting hurt had made my heart seize up. "No, no. Let's go. I'm hungry."

The expression on his face informed me that he knew I wasn't that hungry, but he didn't fight me anymore. When we'd shed our skates for normal shoes, I was pleased to see he didn't walk with a limp or anything. That would have really been too much: him getting hurt and having it be my fault.

"I'm not made of glass," he told me as we drove to dinner. He was remarkably good at guessing my thoughts. "You don't have to protect me."

"It's instinct," I said, lightly. But in my mind, I recalled the grim conversation he'd had with Erik. They were mortal. They could get hurt. They could die.

It was something I'd witnessed over and over throughout the centuries. Each time I grew close to a new mortal, I'd try to pretend that it wouldn't happen to him or her. But it always did, and eventually that cold reality would hit me, no matter how hard I tried to push it aside.

In fact, that knowledge consumed me for the rest of my night with Seth. I knew it was stupid to make such a big deal out of one fall, but I'd seen too many small things lead to disaster in my life. Lying in bed beside him later on, I found myself thinking back to a series of events that had also started small and ended in tragedy.

Several centuries ago, I lived in a small town in southern England. I'd called myself Cecily then and worn a body with flaming red hair and big, man-eating eyes the color of sapphires.

Funny thing about the Middle Ages. Modern folk always harbor this image of devout, God-fearing people strictly adhering to the letter of divine law. While they were certainly devout back then, that whole adherence thing left something to be desired - even among the clergy. No, scratch that. Especially among the clergy. Powerful churchmen often lived very well in an age where commoners desperately