As I sat opposite my date, my hand trembled. I reached over slowly for the cool glass of water; it’s condensation left a sheen of sweat on the glass.
The man opposite me was well maintained but older than he had looked on his profile picture. His caramel-coloured hair had a natural wave but his cheeks held a taut youthful quality that made plastic surgery an uncertainty.
He ordered a bottle of wine but did not question my tastes before doing so. He spoke French to the waiter, but his accent was atrocious. It smacked of boarding school lessons with no real-world experience.
I did not care. Every second I drank in his presence, I felt my cheeks warm and my veins fill with energy. Every lie and omission he told as he skirted around the fact that he had a wife, and that they were in an open marriage, was a gluttonous feast.
I had spent too much time around bleeding hearts. Open people without filters. I needed corruption. Layers upon layers like an onion. I was linked the sin of betrayal. Treachery and lies.
I took a sip of my water and sucked the lemon tint from my tongue as I glanced around the restaurant. It was in Hoxton, which was unexpected for a man of Bradley's nature. Perhaps he wanted to be as far from his wife as possible. I imagined that he lived in a lavish home in Queens Park on the other side of the city.
“Dahlia, what do you do for a job - if you don’t mind me asking?” Bradley's eyes glinted, as if he was proud that he had thought to ask a question of the woman that he planned to fuck.
“I’m a broker of sorts.” I shrugged. I eyed the full glass of Rioja with disdain. I had planned to curb my appetite for red wine, ever since Luc had gifted me the bottle, my taste for it had soured.
“Insurance, mortgages? That kind of thing?” Bradley asked. “That sounds a bit...boring.”
I glanced at my Rolex, biding my time.
“I didn’t mean for it to sound that way, of course.” Bradley laughed nervously. “God, you’re an intimidating woman.”
I cocked my head to the side. “How so?”
Bradley shook his head to clear it. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. You must have some Japanese ancestry or something?”
I rolled my eyes internally but kept my expression impassive. “Or something.” I trilled a false laugh. “You like my face then? I’m glad, I made it myself. It’s ever so hard to get the mixture of Oriental and Caucasian just right.”
Bradley rubbed the back of his neck, and the silence became awkward.
I could see his thoughts as if they were a tickertape across his forehead. He was deciding if I was eccentric or just insane. He was debating if my pussy was worth it or not.
I took another sip of water to hide my smile. Oh Bradley, you will never know the touch of my body, but thank you for the feast of lies.
“Ms. Clark, fancy seeing you here,” Samuel’s voice was made of warm molasses but his tone was benevolent.
I schooled my expression into a mildly peeved off one when I felt the opposite. I had not hidden my connection to Hell fast enough but when I glanced at Samuel’s emerald eyes, I knew that he was too focused on my breasts to notice.
I smiled demurely and gestured to my date with a flick of my wrist. “Bradley Connors, this is my associate Samuel Rose.”
“It’s Connalls.” My date cleared his throat. “Not Connors.”
“Riveting,” Samuel drawled.
“What brings you this far from Camden, Mr Rose?” I asked tartly.
“What brings you this far from Kensington?” Samuel fired back with a smirk.
The air was thick with tension that could only be supernaturally led. I wondered how honed incubus' senses were.
I quickly pulled back my connection to Hell again, little more than a human once more. I saw the tension in Bradley’s spine slowly relax when my presence no longer triggered his fight or flight response.
“You’re making the lady uncomfortable.” Bradley glared at the incubus.
I glanced around the room, every eye was on Samuel Rose in some fashion. Women and men alike were drawn in by his presence.
“Are you threatened by me?” Samuel gasped theatrically. “Is it my facial scar?”
Bradley spluttered. “No. I just—”
“Is it because you're married?” Samuel’s voice was low and menacing.
I groaned and sank back in my seat. The incubus paid no mind to me. The playful man that reminded me of the Devil was in front of me.
Bradley stood up with a scrape of his chair. His eyes darted from me to Samuel’s languished and toned body, as it imposed on our table. The human's pupils dilated in the presence of a predator but his human mind could not make logical sense of the reaction.
My date left without a word, tripping over his male heels on the way out. Samuel took his seat with aplomb. He slipped in as if he belonged there. He took a sip of the red wine and shivered.
“This is a pretentious Rioja.” He licked his lips and gestured to the waiter to our table.
“You know wine?” I asked.
“I know a great deal about alcohol.”
I lifted my glass of water to a toast. “To one of the most socially acceptable vices.”
“If only orgies could be as accepted.” He smiled wickedly.
He danced around the subject of what he was, as I played dumb. His harsh exterior, marred with a sardonic smirk almost dared me to ask.
“Red wine? When you ordered the fish? Is that man insane?” Samuel shook his head.
“To be fair, I didn’t plan to eat the fish.” I said, but did not elaborate further.
“Why were you seeing a married man?” Samuel asked darkly.
“I fear commitment.” I lied.
Samuel huffed, rolling my deception on his tongue as if to taste my words. I made him uncomfortable but he could not decide why.
“Do you have any hobbies?” I asked gently. The waiter returned with a ice bucket with a white wine bottle, stalwart and proud as it poked it’s head from the silver edge. I nodded in appreciation when the server showed me the label.
“Wine. Women. Worldly affairs.” Samuel pushed his glass forward to allow the waiter to pour the wine.
I nodded in appreciation. “That’s a lot of W's.”
“And you?” he crooked a brow.
“I work too much to consider a hobby.” I licked my bottom lip and fought the urge to pick the skin on my thumb.
Disgusting. Filthy habit.
“You're a broker. Is it as 'boring' as Mr Connors suggested?” Samuel smirked.
I caressed the rim of my wineglass with my manicured finger. “So boring.” I purred.
“You never just want to... Let go. Have some fun. Release your inner...” his sentence went unfinished.
“My inner what?”
Samuel surveyed me from head to toe, his gaze hovered like the slow caress of a lover. “I couldn’t tell you until you let it out.”
I smiled demurely to myself. “And what about you?”
“You don’t want to see what happens when I let out what’s inside of me.” Samuel warned, his voice was dark with warning.
I sat up, intrigued. “Maybe I do want to.”
The server brought my dish out but cleverly did not bring out the food for my absentee date. I placed my napkin on the table with delicacy.
Samuel’s eyes were hooded. Together, there were sparks on the air. A promise of physical gratification. His gaze reminded me of the possessive way that Luc used to look at me. As if I was his alone.
“Can I offer you a ride home?” Samuel whispered. Even though he sat on the other end of the table, I felt his voice curl in my ear like a roaming tongue.
I shivered and nodded.
It was all downhill from there.
The street outside of The Honeycomb Bar in Hoxton was a main road with double yellow lines. When Samuel put his hand on the base of my spine, I could feel the cool temperature of his skin through the thin material of my pencil dress.
We rounded the corner of a secluded alleyway, my heels on the cobblestones was the only sound. It was bright out; a side effect of the relentless summer sun. The sharp geometric graphic on the brick walls of the alley stared down at us. A splash of colour in a darkened city crevice.
Samuel took a set of car keys out of his pocket. He did not dress like a business man. In fact, we looked like opposites. I was suited and straight from a day in an office. He wore fitted jeans and a white t-shirt that stuck to the hard lines of his broad chest as if it was wet.
The blue lights flashed as Samuel unlocked an Audi from the line of cars parked on the side street. He held the door open so that I could slide in.
Samuel was a gentleman. I hadn’t expected that. He even put the seat warmers on to protect me from the bite in the air. Obviously, he wasn’t aware that I was just as resilient to temperature as he was, as I maintained the facade of humanity.
I couldn’t take it anyone. My mind was a stew of conflict as I battled with sexual frustration and intrigue for the incubus at my side, and the heavy burden of my past. My secrets.
Samuel reached over and cupped my face. My lips parted and our kiss lingered.
I wanted to fill my mind with a stranger and pull further away from Luc.
The Devil's written message played through my mind as Samuel’s tongue danced with mine. I could hear Luc’s voice in my mind as he was right next to me. Arousal died quickly as if someone had dumped a bucket of water over my head. I broke the kiss, and smiled nervously. My hand trembled.
“I’d like to go home please,” I whispered. My voice was uncharacteristically raw.
Something in Samuel’s eyes told me that he was concerned for me and my sudden hesitancy towards him. He drove me home; I did not wait for him to open the car door for me as I ran up to my house and slammed the door behind me.