Counterpart (Succubi & Incubi Assn.) (11 page)

“I see the wheels turning in your head. Don't start another brawl.
And I'm not even going to bother telling you not to get in trouble, because it
seems that when I do, you end up in trouble anyway, so I'm just not going to
bother.” She shook her head, but even I knew she was finding it hard to keep it
in.

I waited for her to say it.

“Just don't do something stupid,” she said and quickly walked out of
my room. “And get out of fucking bed. You're going to be alone forever with
that mood.”

“I'm going to be alone forever anyway,” I retaliated, “remember,
succubus,” I said, pointing to myself, even though she couldn’t see, “can't
romanticize with a human or incubus.”

Her head popped around the door. “Actually, the rules state that if
a human is to find out about us, the SIA will be in charge of what happens, so
there.”

My hand reached for the first thing it could, and I threw it at the
door. She was lucky it was a pillow and not something hard, like one of the
many encyclopedia-sized books from my floor.

She disappeared out of my sight and I heard her walk into her
temporary bedroom.

I pushed the blankets down and stared at my bare stomach. I was
wearing the new lace bra I brought the other day, and I had fallen in love with
it even more when I tried it on.

I trailed my finger around my bellybutton, my thoughts running in
different directions. Would Tristan still be talking to me if the brawl didn’t
happen? Or was it something else that pissed him off?

“What would you do?” I spoke to my demon.

There I went again, talking to my stomach. Truth of the matter
though, was that I never knew where my demon was. Most of the reactions I
received always came from my stomach—when I was hungry for sex, my stomach
would constrict. Sometimes it was too the point of pain, but it hasn't gone
that far lately.

An image sparked inside my head and it made me narrow my eyes. My
demon was showing me something I could do to satisfy both of us. It was a risk.
Hell, it was already sounding stupid.

“You know I can't do that,” I said out-loud.

The image flashed through my head again. She didn't care. She wanted
me to do this. She was telling me that I could do it and not get busted while I
was at it.

“Melinda said not to start trouble.”

It was like I could feel the demon roll her eyes and even I had to
admit that was a lame statement.

I had to think about the plan again when the image replayed.

“You better not be telling me to do this just so
you
can get
satisfaction.”

There was no reply at all, and I took that as a sign that she
obviously wasn't going to care.

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

I pushed off the bed and opened my closet. If I was going to do
this, I needed to look the part. I pushed aside shirts that weren't appealing
for the matter and found a backless red shirt that dipped down at the front. I
walked over to the mirror and held it in front of me, my own eyes darkening at
the color.

It was safe to say my demon liked the choice.

I threw it on the bed and retrieved a pair of black leather
leggings. My new lingerie was discarded to the ground and I pulled out a fresh
pair. I didn't need dirty memories lingering over my newest buy.

My hands rested on my hips as I looked at the final pick for today.
“This better be worth it, demon,” I muttered. And I meant it.

This better be fucking worth it.

****

I arrived at the arena an hour later. Apart from the few street
walkers that scattered around, the street was dead.

If my estimations were correct, there shouldn't be anyone here
besides the usual. Then again, you didn’t even need to ask if anyone was here.
No events meant empty place.

My red heels clinked against the hardwood of the floor. Just a week
ago this floor was crowded with people, cheering, hooting, and wasting money.

Now, the only thing here was me, the air and maybe a few dust bites
here and there.

“Hello?” I called out, my eyes flicking over the top balconies.

I had dolled up my face, ignoring the churning in my stomach when I
had placed the red lipstick over my lips. Normally, I would despise the use of
so much make-up, but here I was wearing more eyeliner than I would intend. I
could be very in-sync with my demon when it came to some things.

This was the side of me she loved to see.

I wasn't the casual jean wearing Maya right now.

I was my demon's reflection.

“Hello?” I called out again, patience becoming my biggest problem.
Someone better answer or I was going to be pissed. I got dressed up for
nothing.

“Yeah yeah, hang on.” I heard the reply, followed by a sigh and I
looked up in time to watch a male walk out of one of the rooms.

He had to be in his late thirties at least. Stress affected the
business charade he was trying to pull off. The tie—that would normally look
presentable around his collar—was loose and messy over his white shirt. His
disheveled brown hair was streaked with gray—showing the signs of stress—while
his clueless eyes wandered over me with confusion.

“Can I help you?”

My eyes took in the length of him and I cringed inwardly at his
round stomach. But, as much as I would love to just turn around, I couldn’t. I
was here for a reason. No point backing out now.

“Actually yes, I was wondering if I could speak with you,
privately.” I felt my lips pull up into a small smile, hoping that was all I
had to do.

I wanted to roll my eyes when his looked over me again. All he had
to do was say yes. It’s not a big decision.

“Yeah sure, come up,” he finally said after a brief silence.

I semi-hesitated again, but my demon wasn’t going to let me go so
easily. So, much to my dismay, I headed towards the side door and up the
stairs.

He was sitting at his desk when I arrived to the office. The scene
in front of me was exactly what you would expect from an officials room. Trophies
sat in the corner collecting dust, photos of fighters—who had fought in the
arena—hung on the walls, also collecting dust. And then there was his desk,
which was as messy as his hair. Piles and piles of papers scattered around the
room and it made me wonder if he cleaned in here in the past decade.

When I finally moved my eyes to him, he was standing behind his
desk, a hand outstretched for me to take. “What can I help you with, uh...?”

“Ms Simmons.” I reluctantly shook his hand with what I was hoping to
be a polite smile.

My demon swayed in my stomach, like she was doing a victory dance at
the skin-to-skin contact.

Stop it. You'll throw me off.

“Well, Ms Simmons. Take a seat and tell me what I can do to help.”

I looked to the wooden chair and arched a brow. There was a piece of
chewing gum right in the middle of the seat, not convincing me to do as he
said. “It's cool. I can stand.”

“Alright, well, what can I do for you?” He sat down and laced his
fingers over the desk.

I know he asked me what I wanted, but I was trying to delay
everything.

I walked over to the wall and looked over at the photos that hung.
They were all of the fighters and officials that had worked here, or were still
here. My eyes ran over the grinning faces until I found a few of Tristan. Most
of them were candid shots of him fighting, while others were of him grinning
next to other fighters. “He's a good fighter, don't you think, Mr...?”

“Oh, sorry.” I moved my eyes back to him and found him looking at my
bare back. “West, Geoff West.” I nodded. I didn't really care what his name
was. This was just me trying to spark up a discussion. “And, yes, he is a good
fighter, one of our best actually. Are you looking to sponsor one of our
fighters?” His hands were moving over his attire, straightening out the
creases, but we both knew it wasn’t working.

This was going to be much easier than I thought.

Then the mention of sponsoring came in my head. Did I really come
off as a business woman? I'm in leather leggings, a backless shirt, red
stilettos, my face caked up, and this guy thinks I'm here for business?

“No. Actually, I was wondering what happened to his fight. I never
heard any news on who won.”

A bead of sweat trickled down the side of Geoff’s face. It was
almost revolting to watch.

Remember what you're here for, Maya. Just think about the satisfaction
you and the demon will feel.

Sometimes mentally preparing myself could always help.

“There was no fight, Ms Simmons. A brawl broke out which canceled it
altogether,” he said.

“And?”

He was caught off guard from my question. “What do you mean, Ms
Simmons?”

I was starting to think he was stupid. “Well is the fight going to
be rescheduled?”

He was quiet for a moment, tugging at his tie slightly. “No. We have
come to the conclusion that Tristan cannot fight.”

“And, why's that?” My eyes narrowed at him, and I resisted walking
over there and slapping him. “Why isn't he allowed to fight if he's one of your
best fighters?”

Nerves were getting the best of him and I watched as he swallowed.
“You see Ms Simmons, the reason he was involved in the brawl is against the
rules. He may not have been the one that started it, but the fact that he was
involved and assaulted an individual was enough to suspend him. The fight is
canceled by a forfeit.”

I turned back to face the photos again, my hands clenching and
relaxing repeatedly. In all honesty, I was surprised he was telling me this.
Wasn't there something about confidentiality around here?

Either way, I still wanted to just strangle him and that stupid
decision, but I needed to remember why I was here, and that this guy was doing
his job.

After I diminished my temper, I let the demon inside release a pint
of her scent. It was just a fraction of what she did the other night, but I had
a feeling it was more than enough.

“Mr West,” I walked slowly over to his desk, my voice turning low.
“Is there any way that it could change?”

His eyes watched me as I walked, and even though I hadn’t touched
him yet, they were already straining to stay on my eyes. It was safe to say
that my affection was well, affecting him.

“Uh,” he moved his eyes away and concentrated on a piece of paper
that was in front of him. “I don't—I don't think it can, Ms—uh... Ms Simmons.
Once the decision is made... it's... final.”

I ignored the fact that he was letting his nerves get a hold of him
and I trailed my finger over his desk, collecting dust along the way.

Ugh, this whole place stinks of filth.

I flicked the dust off my finger and watched as it slowly floated to
the ground. “Are you sure about that, Mr West?” I said, bringing my eyes back
up to his.

He swallowed again. And for once, I actually thought I might get out
of this easier than I thought. Then I remembered it wasn’t just me, I also had
a demon that wanted in on the deal as well.

“That's the rules, Ms.” Geoff was keeping his words to a minimum and
I stepped closer. My leg brushed against his knee and I was sure I heard him
intake a sharp breath.

“That's a shame,” I said, “because I would have been
very
happy if the match were still on.” I leaned back against his desk and made a
show of straightening my shirt, but I was more pulling it down to give him a
better view.

“Uh...”

Something in the corner of my eye grabbed my attention and I looked
down to spot a ring around his finger.

“Mr. West.” I pushed off the desk and took a small step closer. His
knee was positioned between my legs. My demon had already made herself useful
and sent her scent through to his skin. A smirk appeared on my lips when I
watched his green eyes darken. “I would love to see that match.” I lowered
myself down a little, testing out his commitment to his wife back at home. He
didn't move. I lowered down even more and still got no movement.

He was completely under my influence.

“Maybe you could change that little arrangement,” my lips moved
close to his ear, “and I'll make sure it's the best decision of your life.”

My demon was jumping hoops inside me, waiting for the right time to
unleash herself fully and take what she wanted.

If his eyes could go any darker, they would have. I didn't break eye
contact as I reached my arm behind me and retrieved his desk phone, bringing it
between us. “All you have to do is make one call.”

His chest moved in an uneven pace, and I could smell how much his
need for me was. I held the phone higher, in case he didn't see it and his eyes
flicked down.

He hesitated, his eyes moving from me to the phone. When he finally
did pick it up, my legs had already exhausted themselves and I was practically
sitting on his knee.