Succubus Shadows. Richelle Mead
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INTO THE SHADOWS
I slowly rose from my bed, moving toward that which had no form. Come, come.
Outside my door, I heard Roman shout my name, but the tone was different from before. This wasn’t confusion or pleading. It was frantic and concerned. The sound was grating to my ears as I stepped closer to that beautiful warmth. It was home. It was an invitation. All I had to do was accept.
“Georgina!” The door blew apart, and Roman stood there, blazing with power. “Georgina, stop—”
But it was too late.
All that joy and protection wrapped around me, taking me into its arms.
The world dissolved . . .
Books by Richelle Mead
The Succubus Series
SUCCUBUS BLUES
SUCCUBUS ON TOP
SUCCUBUS DREAMS
SUCCUBUS HEAT
SUCCUBUS SHADOWS
SUCCUBUS REVEALED
The Eugenie Markham/Dark Swan Series
STORM BORN
THORN QUEEN
IRON CROWNED
SHADOW HEIR
Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation
SUCCUBUS SHADOWS
RICHELLE MEAD
KENSINGTON BOOKS
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2010 by Richelle Mead
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
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Zebra and the Z logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
First Kensington Books Trade Paperback Printing: April 2010
First Zebra Books Mass-Market Paperback Printing: September 2016
ISBN-13: 978-1-4201-0555-1
ISBN-10: 1-4201-0555-8
eISBN-13: 978-0-7582-5817-5
eISBN-10: 0-7582-5817-8
For my brother Scott, who always let his little sister
watch Flash Gordon and Star Wars with him
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 1
I was drunk.
I wasn’t entirely sure when it had happened, but I suspected it had occurred around the time my friend Doug had bet me I couldn’t take down three vodka gimlets faster than he could. He’d promised to take my weekend shift at work if I won, and I was going to do his stock duty for a week if he won.
When we’d finished, it looked like I wasn’t going to be working next weekend.
“How did you out-drink him?” my friend Hugh wanted to know. “He’s twice your size.”
Through the crowd of people crammed into my condo, I peered at the closed bathroom door, behind which Doug had disappeared. “He had stomach flu this week. I’m guessing that doesn’t go so well with vodka.”
Hugh raised an eyebrow. “Why the fuck would anyone take a bet like that after having the flu?”
I shrugged. “Because he’s Doug.”
Hoping Doug would be okay, I scanned the rest of my party with the pleased air of a queen sizing up her kingdom. I’d moved into this place back in July and had been long overdue for a housewarming party. When Halloween had finally rolled around, combining the two events had seemed like a pretty reasonable solution. Consequently, my guests tonight were clad in an array of costumes, everything from elaborate Renaissance fair quality garb to the slackers who’d simply thrown on a witch’s hat.
Me, I was dressed as Little Bo Peep—well, that is, I was dressed the way Little Bo Peep would if she was a stripper and/or a shameless strumpet. My frilly blue skirt stopped just above the halfway point on my thighs, and my puff-sleeved white blouse was so low-cut that I had to be careful when leaning over. The crowning achievement—literally—was my curly mane of flaxen blond hair, neatly arranged into two pigtails tied with little blue bows. It looked perfect, absolutely indistinguishable from the real thing because…well, it was real.
Shape-shifting always came in handy as a succubus, but for Halloween, it was golden. I always had the best costumes because I really could turn into anything I wanted. Of course, I had to keep it within reason. Too much of a change would raise the suspicions of the humans around me. But for a hair change? Yeah. Shape-shifting was pretty convenient.
Someone touched my elbow. I turned, and my smug enthusiasm dimmed a little when I saw who it was: Roman, my sociopathic roommate.
“I think someone’s getting sick in the bathroom,” he told me. Roman was a nephilim, half-angel and half-human, with soft black hair and sea-green eyes. If not for the fact he occasionally went on immortal killing sprees and had me on his hit list, he would have been a pretty good catch.
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s Doug. He lost a vodka challenge.”
Roman grimaced. He wore devil horns and a red cape. The irony wasn’t lost on me. “Hope he’s got good aim. I don’t want to clean that up.”
“What, you don’t do housework either?” asked Hugh. He’d recently