Succubus Shadows by Richelle Mead Read Free Book Online

an ungrateful harlot who’s abandoned me to actually come up with my own plots.”
    “That’s a record for you,” I observed. I’d seen him have fits of writer’s block when we dated, but it never lasted more than a few days. “When’s your deadline?”
    “Not for a while, but still…” He sighed. “I don’t like to be stalled out. I’m not really sure what to do with my days if I’m not writing.”
    I started to say that he must have wedding stuff to do but then thought better of it. I kept to lighter topics. “Maybe it’s time to pick up a hobby. Fencing? Origami?”
    That slightly bemused smile that was so characteristic for him crossed his lips. “I tried latch hook once.”
    “You did not.”
    “I did. Do you know how hard that is to do?”
    “It’s actually pretty easy,” I said, trying to hide my laughter. “Kids do it, you know. Your nieces could probably do it.”
    “They can. And you’re not making me feel better.” But those beautiful brown eyes were amused. I studied them for a moment, loving the way they would sometimes turn amber. A moment later, I snapped myself out of my lovesick spell.
    “There’s always dancing,” I said mischievously.
    This made him laugh too. “I think we’ve proven how futile that is.” I’d tried twice to teach him how to do it—swing and salsa—all with disastrous results. Seth’s talents lay in his mind, not his body. Well, upon further consideration, I realized that wasn’t entirely true.
    “You haven’t found the right kind,” I said. I’d given up on hiding my grin.
    “What’s left? Riverdance? Square dancing? And do not even suggest jazz. I saw Newsies and was traumatized for, like, five years.”
    “Harsh,” I said. “You could still probably wear your T-shirts with jazz dancing. I know you must have a ‘Dancing Queen’ shirt somewhere.” His shirt today sported Chuck Norris. “Unless, of course, you wanted some variety. Square dancers have some pretty sweet costumes.”
    He shook his head in exasperation. “I’ll leave the dancing getup to you. And no, no ‘Dancing Queen’ shirt yet—though I do have an Abba one. I think a ‘Dancing Queen’ shirt would be better for you anyway, not me.” His eyes moved from my face to what he could see of my body at the table. “You look like you could go dancing right now.”
    I started to feel myself flush at his gaze and immediately utilized shape-shifting to nix it. The unseasonably warm weather lent itself to sundresses, and I had another on today. It was a cream-colored trapeze, sleeveless with a keyhole top that may or may not have been showing managerial-appropriate cleavage. He wasn’t ogling me or anything, but I had learned long ago that Seth was good at keeping his emotions off of his face. I wondered what went through his mind. Simple aesthetic admiration? Lust? Disapproval of non-managerial cleavage?
    “This old thing?” I asked breezily, uncomfortable for reasons I couldn’t explain.
    “You were wearing that color the first time we met.” He suddenly seemed embarrassed. “Not sure why I remember that.”
    “You don’t,” I said. “I was wearing purple.” Now I felt flustered to remember that.
    He frowned in a way I found cute. “Were you? Oh, yeah. I guess you were. The violet top and flowered skirt.”
    Every detail. If he’d mentioned me wearing a snakeskin jacket, I might have passed out. Yet, I had a feeling he did remember that. Probably my shoes and the way I’d styled my hair too. An awkward silence grew. I might have been keeping the flush off of my face, but there was warmth spreading through me. And only half of it was desire. The rest was something else…something sweeter and deeper.
    I cleared my throat. “What’s the book about? Cady and O’Neill, right?”
    He nodded, looking grateful for the subject change. “The usual. Mystery and intrigue, sexual tension and life-threatening situations.” He hesitated. “It’s the last