Home > Don't Rush Me (Nora Jacobs #1)(34)

Don't Rush Me (Nora Jacobs #1)(34)
Author: Jackie May

“You were affected by Ren?” Cecile asks, pushing me back out into her room where she sits me at a vanity.

“Yeah. But I also couldn’t breathe or move. I think he had his setting on full blast trying to get Nick to feel it.”

Cecile laughs again. “I’m sure. I do love watching those two in the same room. It’s entertaining, is it not?”

“Maybe for you. For me, it was just painful. I’ve never felt lust like that before. I could literally taste it. But again, the whole not breathing thing was unpleasant.”

“Oh, sweet Nora. That you didn’t rip your clothes off and climb up Ren’s body is a testament to your resistance. You, darling, are a conundrum.”

She plugs in a curling iron and begins brushing my hair out. For a moment, I close my eyes and enjoy the feel of her pampering me. I had one or two decent foster mothers, but for the majority of my life, I’ve never had someone to dote on me like this. I am starved for affection and touch that doesn’t repulse me, and I absolutely love this.

As if she can sense me relaxing, Cecile falls quiet and works on my hair in silence. She curls it into big, long ringlets and puts enough product in it to make it really shine. My hair has never looked so gorgeous in all my life. Honestly, I didn’t know it was capable of looking so pretty.

While she starts pulling out makeup and skin products, I reflect back on our conversation. I can’t stop thinking about how she said she could control her allure. I can’t imagine that. Being able to shut it off? Or at least turn it down to low? “Do you think, maybe, I’m like you?” I ask, finally breaking the silence.

Cecile smiles at me as she begins to brush a light foundation powder over my face. “What do you mean?”

“Everybody keeps saying I probably have a little underworlder blood in me. Do you think maybe it comes from a succubus? Like, way down the line or something? Maybe that’s where my curse comes from. Maybe I could learn how to turn it off, or at least control it like you do.”

Cecile’s smile turns sad. “As much as I would enjoy that—my kind are so very rare—I can’t smell a single hint of demon energy on you. Not to mention, I can smell and taste pheromones. If your allure was from that the way mine is, I would know. I’m afraid you must be something else. Something extraordinary, darling. Close your eyes for me.”

There goes that theory. I’m glad I have to close my eyes so she can’t see the disappointment in them. Not that I would want to be a succubus or anything, but answers would be nice. And a mentor who could teach me to control my curse would be amazing. Instead, my hopes are dashed. But it does make me determined to try and figure out what I am. With my powers, everyone is probably right; I have to be some kind of underworlder. If I could just figure out what kind, maybe I could get some answers.

“Beautiful,” Cecile murmurs. “Okay, open your mouth and relax your lips. It’s time for some light strawberry-flavored gloss.”

I let her gloss my lips, and then open my eyes. I hardly recognize the person staring back at me. “Wow, Cecile.”

She smiles sweetly. “I had a beautiful canvas to work with.”

Terrance changes his mind about having me come to the club the second I get to Underworld. He’s working the floor when Cecile drags me into the main dance hall of the club. He sees me about the same time as everyone else in the room. It doesn’t help that I’m standing next to the gorgeous succubus. Together, we stop all movement. Everyone in the room stills to watch Cecile and I head to the bar.

Because it’s Friday night, the club is three times as crowded as it was on my first visit. Cecile waves at Terrance across the room, and then drags me toward the bar. Two guys immediately stand up, offering us their stools. “Why, thank you, Pellitoris,” Cecile purrs, kissing the cheek of the man on the right that just gave her his seat.

“Anything for you, Cecile,” Pellitoris says. His voice is every bit as smooth as hers had been. His eyes drift to me along with the guy who gave me his seat. “Who is your exquisite friend?”

Cecile breathes in deeply, her pupils swelling as she skims some of the lust coming from the two men. “Mmm,” she says. “Exquisite indeed. This lovely darling is Nora.”

Pellitoris takes my hand before I can stop him and brings it to his lips. I don’t hear whatever greeting he gives me; I hear his thoughts. She’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. I need to get her on the dance floor so I can feel her body against mine and become the envy of every man in this club. Then perhaps I can bring her back to my kingdom. A little faerie food and wine, and she could be my human pet forever.

I pull my hand away while forcing him a tight smile. Yeah, I’m not going to be some summer fey’s plaything for eternity, thanks, but I keep my mouth shut. I know not to insult a sidhe. They’re a very prideful race and downright nasty when you slight them. “Nice to meet you.”

“And you, love. Perhaps you would do me the honor of a dance?”

Shit. How to say no without insulting him?

“Sorry, Pellitoris,” Terrance grumbles, having finally made his way to us. “This human is not available.”

Pellitoris frowns at Terrance and looks to me for confirmation. I shrug apologetically. “I’m waiting for my date right now. He’ll be here any moment.”

Pellitoris considers this and then grins at me. The sight gives me the bad kind of shivers. “And who is this man that didn’t have the decency to pick you up?”

“Parker Reed,” Terrance says, as if the name should scare the faerie away. “And he would have picked her up, except she’s staying at my place, and my wards are harmful to vampires.”

I glance at Terrance, wondering if that’s true. I’ll have to ask later, but I know better than to question him now. His face has gone dark enough that Pellitoris does a double take and then studies me again. “You’re staying with Terrance?”

I nod slowly. So does Terrance. And he’s taking on his badass-troll-bouncer stance. Pellitoris looks Terrance over from head to toe and then sighs. “Very well. I shall find another dance partner. It was still a pleasure to meet you, m’lady.”

“Pellitoris, love.” Cecile holds out a hand to the faerie. “Perhaps a dance with me instead?”

The sidhe’s face lights up, and he escorts Cecile to the dance floor. She shoots Terrance a subtle wink as she walks away. She offered to dance with the faerie to smooth over the situation, and I wonder if that’s not a big part of her job—playing peacekeeper for the surly troll. It would make sense.

“Nora, darling.” I glance at Cecile in time to see her flash me a brilliant smile. “Tonight was so nice. Do call me again some time. I hope we shall be great friends.”

Oddly enough, I like the idea of being her friend, so I nod. “I will.”

She walks away, and Terrance takes her place on the barstool next to me. He faces outward, scowling at everyone who looks our way. “Can’t leave you alone for a second in this place,” he grumbles. He eyes my outfit, and his frown deepens. “Damn succubus did too good a job. Is Parker on his way yet?”

I nod. “Texted him on the way. He should be here any minute. We’ll go somewhere else.”

Terrance growls at a man that sits on the stool on the other side of me. The man scampers away immediately. The poor guy must have made the mistake of checking me out. “Are you sure I can’t come tonight?” Terrance asks gruffly.

I shake my head. “As much as I’d love to have you backing me up, you really can’t. You’ll scare away our only lead, and we might not find Shandra in time. But don’t worry. I’ll have Nick with me every second.”

Terrance grunts. I take that to mean he’s satisfied with my answer. After a moment of silence, Terrance sighs. “You want something to drink while you wait?”

The offer makes me smile. “Sure. A Coke would be nice.”

Terrance disappears to make that happen without a word. It only takes him a minute to walk around the other side of the bar and shove a glass of Coke at me. “Thanks, T-man.”

“I was right, you know,” he says as I down half of the Coke. I didn’t realize how parched I was. Must be the stress of being so dressed up. “You are trouble.”

   
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