Succubus Blues by Richelle Mead Read Free Book Online

smiled reassuringly at me. He found my habit cute. Paige, who apparently did not, looked as though she shared my wish that I be somewhere else. She cleared her throat politely and started a completely new line of conversation. After that, I scarcely paid attention to what anybody said. All I knew was that Seth Mortensen probably thought I was an erratic nutcase, and I couldn’t wait for this night to end.
    â€œâ€¦Kincaid would do it.”
    The sound of my name brought me back around several minutes later.
    â€œWhat?” I turned to Doug, the speaker.
    â€œWouldn’t you?” he repeated.
    â€œWouldn’t I what?”
    â€œShow Seth around the city tomorrow.” Doug spoke patiently, as if to a child. “Get him acquainted with the area.”
    â€œMy brother’s too busy,” explained Seth.
    What did his brother have to do with anything? And why did he need to get acquainted with the area?
    I faltered, unwilling to admit I’d spaced out just now while wallowing in self-pity.
    â€œI…”
    â€œIf you don’t want to…” began Seth hesitantly.
    â€œOf course she does.” Doug nudged me. “Come on. Climb out of your hole.”
    We exchanged smartass looks, worthy of Jerome and Carter. “Yeah, fine. Whatever.”
    We arranged the logistics of me meeting Seth, and I wondered what I’d gotten myself into. I no longer wanted to stand out. In fact, I would have preferred if he could have just blotted me from his mind forever. Hanging out as we toured Seattle tomorrow didn’t seem like the best way to make that happen. If anything, it would probably only result in more foolish behavior on my part.
    Conversation finally faded. As we were about to disperse, I suddenly realized something. “Oh. Hey. Mr. Mortensen. Seth.”
    He turned toward me. “Yeah?”
    I frantically tried to say something that would undo the tangled mess of mixed signals and embarrassment he and I had stumbled into. Unfortunately, the only things that came to mind were: Where do you get your ideas from? and Are Cady and O’Neill ever going to get together? Dismissing such idiocy, I simply shoved my book over to him.
    â€œCan you sign this?”
    He took it. “Uh, sure.” A pause. “I’ll bring it back tomorrow.”
    Deprive me of my book for the night? Hadn’t I suffered enough?
    â€œCan’t you just sign it now?”
    He shrugged haplessly, as though the matter were out of his control. “I can’t think of anything to write.”
    â€œJust sign your name.”
    â€œI’ll bring it back tomorrow,” he repeated, walking away with my copy of The Glasgow Pact like I hadn’t even said anything. Appalled, I seriously considered running over and beating him up for it, but Warren suddenly tugged on my arm.
    â€œGeorgina,” he said pleasantly as I stared desperately at my retreating book, “we still need to discuss that matter in my office.”
    No. No way. I definitely wasn’t putting out after this debacle of an evening. Turning slowly toward him, I shook my head. “I told you, I can’t.”
    â€œYeah, I know already. Your fictitious date.”
    â€œIt’s not fictitious. It’s—”
    My eyes desperately scanned for escape as I spoke. While no magical portals appeared in the cookbook section, I suddenly locked gazes with a guy browsing our foreign language books. He smiled curiously at my attention, and in a flash, I made a ballsy choice.
    â€œâ€”with him. It’s with him.”
    I waved my hand at the strange guy and beckoned him over. He looked understandably surprised, setting his book down and walking toward us. When he arrived, I slung my arm around him familiarly, giving him a look that had been known to bring kings to their knees.
    â€œAre you ready to go?”
    Mild astonishment flashed in his eyes—which were beautiful, by the way. An intense