Page 7 of Wicked Succubus
Agent Cooper stands, watching me as if he’s trying to determine whether I’ve just fooled them. I try not to make any sudden movements and keep my face as pleasant as possible.
“Leave us,” he tells the shifter.
“But Agent Coop—”
“I said leave us.” This time, his voice is a booming command and leaves no room for argument.
He glances at her briefly before returning his gaze to mine. She reluctantly stands up, opens the door, and disappears.
He growls before shoving his hand in his pocket and pulling out a key. He leans over and uncuffs both wrists. I’m conflicted. As much as I want to escape, I want to go back to looking for my mom’s killer, too.
“I’ve got cameras everywhere, so I’ll be watching you Zelyah,” he growls through gritted teeth, his jaw clenched with barely contained fury.
An unwanted shiver runs through my body. My hand twitches with the urge to caress his cheek. My body’s natural drive, my Succubus instinct, tells me to seduce him and have my way with him. I could have him if I wanted to. It would be easy, way too easy.
No, Zelyah, stop! He’s a powerful fae. He will know. I push the thoughts away immediately.
I stand up and follow him through the same door Agent Rodriguez walked out of. There’s a long hallway with three doors on each side. The room I was in is all the way in the back. We walk to the elevator, and I try not to panic as the doors open and we step inside the small, metal box. I hate being in small, enclosed spaces. My hands shake, and I ball them into fists. I hold my head up high, not showing any emotion. He might try to use this against me if he finds out I’m claustrophobic. I shiver at the thought and, luckily, he’s too busy pressing the button to notice.
He turns around to face me and watches me the whole ride up. I try to look anywhere but him. “So . . .” I try for a little chitchat to make it less awkward, but his lip curls in distaste, and I decide to keep my mouth shut instead.
We end up in a parking garage, and I look through every corner of the place out of habit. I watch him do the same, and I wonder what kind of shit he’s seen to make him jumpy. We get into a sleek black Audi. I’m trying not to squeal as I open the door and get inside. I’ve never been in a car this nice. My abuelita had an old beater that was stolen right before she died, and since then, I haven’t been able to afford more than bus fare on my own.
As soon as my butt hits the seat, I want to sigh in contentment. This car has so many buttons, but I have no idea what any of them do. I reach for one of them in curiosity, but Agent Cooper bats my hand away. I do it again, this time going for a knob, but before my hand makes contact, he pushes it away again.
“Don’t touch my car.” His tone is hard and impatient.
I don’t want to sound like I’ve never been in anything as nice as this, but I end up pouting at him anyway. “Why not?”
“Because it’s not yours.” Well, that just makes me want to touch everything even more.
“Fair point.” I bite the inside of my cheek, getting the urge to touch everything in his car because he doesn’t want me to mess with it. Before I can think about my plan further, I turn a knob, and loud music pumps through the speaker, startling me.
He gives me a long, hard stare before lowering the music. “Didn’t I just tell you not to touch anything?”
I shrug. “I was curious.”
I go to touch another button, but he stops me again with his hand. I roll my eyes and look out the window instead. Otherwise, I know we’ll just keep playing this dance on repeat until we get to wherever we’re going.
Fifteen minutes later, we arrive at a gorgeous two-story house just outside of LA. My mouth drops to the floor. This guy must be loaded. I want to ask him about his family, but then that’ll lead him to ask questions about mine, and I just can’t go there. He stops the car, but not before I press another button. It only changes the music. Agent Cooper clenches his jaw and gives me some hardcore side-eye.
“I’m starting to regret this.”
I only give him a wide, cheeky smile in return. Maybe he’ll get tired of me and let me go instead. I get out of the car and walk straight to the door, excited about going inside. As soon as he turns the key, I push my way in front of him and open the door to walk right in. Yep, this guy is loaded.
“What are your sizes?” he asks, startling me.
I look over at him, frowning. “What for?”
His eyes are glued to his phone. “Don’t you need clothes?”
I look down at the dried blood on my dress. I can’t believe he let me in his car like this.
As if he knows where my thoughts are headed, he says, “Yeah, it’s going to get cleaned. Someone is picking it up in about an hour. Now about your clothes—”
I snatch his phone away from him, faster than I probably should’ve, but he doesn’t seem fazed by the quickness. He probably just thinks it’s part of being a shifter. He grunts, but I ignore him, message the person on the other side of his conversation about my sizes, and then hand the phone back to him.
I turn slowly and survey my surroundings. I’m not going to wait for him to show me around his place because I know he won’t offer to. Instead, I strike out on my own.