"Hey!" I cried. "That's not sexy. That's not even cool." Actually, being pinned to the floor by him was about as sexy as it got.

He stabbed it toward me playfully, never actually making contact, but I flinched anyway. "What's the problem?" he teased. "You can just shape-shift it away."

"Oh! You're a twisted bastard."

His lips quirked into a wicked smile, and he dabbed the brush at my cheek, leaving a small streak of paint. A second later, he added a matching mark on the other cheek.

"Ready for battle," he declared.

I yelped in dismay, then used his momentary satisfaction to break free and reverse the situation, rolling him over. Now I hovered on top of him, one hand on his chest, the other on his arm.

"I'm learning more about you every day," I observed, leaning my face toward his. My hair had come undone from its haphazard ponytail and now hung down, almost creating a curtain around him. "You've got a real dark side."

"Is that a problem?"

"Actually I kind of like it."

I lowered my mouth and gave him what we had now dubbed a "stealth kiss"—the kind of semi-deep kiss perfected at the concert that just pushed the envelope of succubus absorption.

I pulled up a moment later, my lips still tingling from where we'd touched. He shifted one hand to the small of my back while his other tangled itself up in my hair. A lazy and contented smile played on his face. "You want to go grab something to eat after this?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"Anything. So long as the company stays this good."

I smiled and leaned down to kiss him again, only this time I had trouble keeping the kiss as stealthy as it should have been. When I should have broken away, I kissed him a little harder instead, letting my tongue probe more boldly into his mouth. Surprisingly, what abruptly stopped this indiscretion was not the twinge of energy transfer, but Seth himself.

"Thetis," he warned, pushing me away—not harshly, but not gently either.

I stared, my better judgment suddenly scrambled. I wanted to kiss him again. And again. To hell with the succubus thing.

And it wasn't just because of the chemistry or the physical roughhousing, the comments about my toes and lack of underwear. It was about everything tonight. Pretending I was part of his family. Talking about weddings that could never happen. I was suddenly overcome with emotion. Joy and delight over the way just being around him felt. Knowing he loved me for both my inner and outer selves. A warm contentment that his presence naturally brought on. And, of course, the dark emotions were there too. Anger that our relationship could never be complete. Despair that he was not immortal. Jealousy that I could never be his bride. What had Jerome said? That being with me denied Seth all the normal things in life? Kissing him was a base, anxious reaction to all these emotions I couldn't otherwise deal with.

"Thetis," he repeated, studying my face and whatever crazy expression was on it. "Come on. You're stronger than this."

He sounded sad and sympathetic, yet stern and parental too. His words snapped me out of my emotional vortex, suddenly making me feel, well, inadequate compared to him.

Terry walked back into the living room, looking rightfully startled to see me on top of his brother. "Do you guys need to go to bed too?"

Seth and I exchanged bitter, amused smiles. "If only," I said.

Once everything was cleaned up, Seth and I left to find a very late dinner. We stayed quiet, neither of us bringing up what had happened earlier. I think he knew I was taking it harder than he had and wanted to say something to cheer me up. But nothing apparently came to mind, so silence reigned until we returned to Terry's house to get our respective cars.

"Georgina," he said suddenly, hesitantly, as we stood by my car. "I have to know something."

I looked at him wearily, not liking the seriousness in his voice. I really didn't want to deal with any more weighty issues tonight. I sighed. "What?"

He studied me a moment, apparently assessing my emotional state. "So… areyou wearing any underwear now?"

I blinked in astonishment, taken aback. Then I saw how hard he fought to keep a straight expression. It was too funny. Seth was trying to make me feel better, very much in a goofy way I might have attempted. The tight coil of frustration inside of me unwound.

"Yes," I told him with a smile.

"Oh," he said, looking relieved to see me relax but disappointed by the answer.

"But you know what the real beauty of shape-shafting is?"

"What?"

"I'm not anymore."

 CHAPTER 14

I wasn't prepared for Dana to answer Bastien's door the next day.

Oh my God, I thought. He finally slept with her.

The truth turned out to be far less exciting. Bastien—as Mitch—was covered up to his elbows in flour, his hands busily kneading a medium-sized lump of dough.

"Hey Tabby Cat," he said upon seeing me and my startled expression. "Dana's teaching me to bake bread."

"Wow," I said. Really, there was no other way to respond to a statement like that.

I had personally seen Bastien make bread in far more primitive conditions, but he apparently believed the old teacher-student routine was going to pave the way to Dana's bed for him now. It did have its merits, of course. Human nature liked showing superiority in areas of expertise, and a teaching relationship provided lots of alone time together. I suspected that even with that tactic, Dana might still be out of reach, but hey, maybe it was worth a shot. The fact that she actually made time for this struck me as odd. I figured she'd be too busy bombing abortion clinics and handing out school uniforms.

Speaking of alone time, I worried that I'd blundered into some meaningful opportunity for the incubus. I met his eyes.

"I can come back later if it's a bad time," I told him.

"No, no. Dana's got to go to a meeting soon. You can keep me company once this baby's in the oven."

His tone was genuine. He'd probably already exhausted efforts to get her to stay.

Uneasy in her presence, I sat on one of the stools by the counter and sipped the white-chocolate mocha I'd picked up on my way over. Dana sat down beside me. I resisted the urge to move away. Glancing at his kitchen table, I saw stacks of CPFV pamphlets and brochures.

"Why the interest in cooking?" I asked blandly when no one said anything.

"A bachelor can't live on fast food and frozen dinners forever, huh?" He turned up the dial on his smile. "And hey, I'm always open to new experiences. Next time she's going to teach me to make creme brulee."

I grunted. "You learn to makecreme brulee, and I might have to move in."

Dana turned to me, elegantly crossing her legs, showing that oh-so-wholesome slip obtained during the infamous shopping trip. I'd given up on slips a while ago. They just delayed the main event. "I could show you too."

Hell no. I'd gotten roped into yard work by pursuing a similar vein of conversation with Jody. No more domestic vices for me. Besides, I knew Bastien wouldn't welcome my presence.

"Thanks, but I'll just leave it to Mitch. He's the brilliant one in this family anyway."

Bastien gave the bread a final pat. "Okay, now what?"

"Now we put it in the pan."

She walked over to show him. As she did, he leaned in extra close, supposedly to get a better look. He even reached out his hand to brush hers, following her motions as they transferred the bread. Perhaps it would have been polite to look away, but there was nothing overtly romantic going on, and besides, I felt a professional interest in the matter. Histechniquewas good, I had to admit. Very subtle. Nothing that could be misconstrued as more than a polite accident. Yet, I saw Dana—just as subtly—stiffen and step away once the bread was in its pan.