Succubus Shadows Page 0,48

was not so out of the ordinary for lower classes, but as a tradesman's family, we modeled a lot of our customs on our betters among the nobility - or pretended to. A girl's virtue was a sacred thing, one that reflected on her father and family as a whole. This disgraced all of them - and had serious repercussions for me. As Kyriakos well knew.

He had moved toward me so that I could hear him through the noise. "Now they all know," he said in a low voice. "They all know you for what you are."

"It's not true," I said through my tears. "You know it isn't."

"No one will have you now," he continued. "No one worth having. You'll spend the rest of your life on your back, spreading your legs for whoever comes along. And ultimately, you'll be alone. No one will have you."

I squeezed my eyes shut to try to stop the tears, and when I opened them again, I was surrounded in blackness.

Well, not entirely in blackness.

Before me, the Oneroi glowed more brightly than before, lit from within by that eerie light.

"An interesting dream," said Two, with what I think passed for a smile. "One that gave us much to feed on."

"It's not true," I said. There were tears on my cheeks in waking, just as there had been in sleep. "That wasn't true. It was a lie. That wasn't how things happened."

The dream was muddling my brain, almost making me question myself, but my own memories soon won out. I remembered that day. I remembered kissing Kyriakos by the building and how we'd then gone separate ways, strengthened by the knowledge that we would soon be man and wife, making our wedding night that much sweeter. And it had been. It hadn't been rushed against a wall. We'd taken time to learn and explore each other's bodies. He'd been on top of me, staring into my eyes - not my back. He'd told me I was his life. He'd told me I was his world.

"It was a lie," I repeated more firmly, fixing the Oneroi with a glare. "That's not how it happened. That's not how it happened." I knew I was right, yet I felt the need to keep repeating it, to make sure the words were true.

One gave a small shrug, unconcerned. "It doesn't matter. I told you: Mother shows the truth. But dreams? Dreams are dreams. They can be truth or lies, and all provide food for us. And you?" He smiled a smile that was the mirror of his twin's. "You will dream...and dream...and dream..."

Chapter 11

I was in Seattle. Modern-day Seattle, thankfully. I wanted to be nowhere near the fourth century, even though I dreaded what awful vision the Oneroi would show me now.

Not only was I in Seattle, I was with Roman. He had just parked on Cherry Street and was striding toward the heart of Pioneer Square, which was buzzing today with tourists and others enjoying the clear autumn night. This time, I wasn't in the dream. I was an observer only, following along with him like a ghost or maybe a documentary camera. I wanted to talk to him, to communicate in some way, but I had no mouth with which to speak. I had no form whatsoever, only my consciousness watching this vision.

His pace was brisk, and he pushed through the meandering crowd with no concern for the dirty looks and occasional comment. He was focused on his destination, one I recognized immediately: the Cellar. Our favorite immortal hangout was crowded with mortals tonight. Yet, for whatever reason, no matter how busy the bar was, Jerome always managed to get the same corner table in the back. He sat there now with Carter but didn't wear the usual unconcerned look we often found him with while drinking. The demon's face was filled with agitation, and he and Carter were arguing about something.

Roman's signature was masked, so neither angel nor demon noticed his approach. Jerome shot him a glare, no doubt thinking some human was bothering them. Jerome's expression promptly changed when he saw who it was, and he opened his mouth to say something. He didn't get the chance because Roman spoke first.

"Where is she?" demanded Roman. He sat in a chair and jerked it toward Jerome so that father and son could look eye to eye. "Where the fuck is Georgina?"

The music and conversation covered most of his shouting, but a few nearby patrons gave