Succubus Calling

Syn City
June 2078

Detective Summer Michaels had never considered herself a prude. She lived every aspect of her exciting, dangerous, and energetic life with a spark that naturally drew people, or so her grandmother liked to tell her. But one rainy Thursday night during a humid, hopelessly tedious stakeout, she opened the crooked bathroom door of their safehouse and was more than shocked to see her lieutenant naked and dripping wet in a curtainless shower stall that should have been vacant.

He stood under a spray, which due to the rain, blended soundlessly into the bleak atmosphere of watch and wait. All six feet, three inches of prime Lieutenant Drake Nichols stared at her intrusion in astonishment, his dark brown hair slicked back off a face too rough to be called handsome but too dramatic to be ignored. Bright gray eyes blazed with shock as water ran greedy fingers over his superbly conditioned body.

She swallowed loudly, unable to tear her gaze from the source of so much speculation and rumor. Hell’s trinkets, but his shoe size did correspond healthily to his—

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he snarled but made no attempt to cover himself.

Breathing through what felt like a mouth full of cotton, she had to cough to regain her voice. After a short, hopefully unnoticed struggle, she tugged her gaze back up his body to his face, noting the incredulity in his bright, silvery glare.

“Richards asked me to relieve him early.” She casually tossed a thumb at the now-empty living room, hoping she looked a lot calmer than she felt. Was it possible to orgasm through sight alone? Oh God! It’s growing! Focus on his face, on his face. Puhlease, Nichols, cover it up before I forget myself and jump you.

     He must have sensed her internal plea for he flushed and half-turned toward the wall of the shower, giving her a mouthwatering view of his amazingly muscular ass.

“For God’s sake, Michaels, put your tongue back in your mouth and throw me a towel.”

Scowling over her blush, she quickly turned around and grabbed the towel hanging off the nearest semi-clean towel-bar. Facing the wall, she held the towel toward him with a straight arm.

“Why don’t I wait out there?” she took a step toward the doorway after he’d grabbed the cloth but froze when his large hand settled over her shoulder.

“Hold on,” he growled in a low voice. “You can turn around now, newbie. I won’t bite.”

Well I might if you don’t shelve that attitude, she wanted to say. Instead she turned to face him and kept her mouth shut as tightly as possible, knowing her internal voice had a tendency to outweigh her sense of self-preservation. Newbie, my ass.

“Your shift isn’t until two, and you’re not supposed to be alone.” He spoke in that hard, raspy voice that had every woman under the age of a hundred hot for him, except for her, of course. Summer made it a practice never to mix business with pleasure. Looking at him couldn’t hurt though, and she took another subtle once-over.

“My eyes are up here, Michaels.” He smacked his forehead. “Christ, I can’t believe I just said that. What a day.”

She grinned, glad at least she wasn’t the only one aggravated. At his scowl she quickly blanked her expression.

“Richards left early, eh?” He stared thoughtfully at the doorway, then settled hot eyes on her. “Where’s your partner?”

“Going over some forms with Richards in the car.” He’s your boss, get a grip.  “Didn’t realize you were in here, sir. With the rain, it’s hard to hear—”

“Never mind.” He ran a hand over his wet hair, his biceps bulging at the motion. She forced herself to stop ogling him, which was way harder to do than it should have been. “I’m going to get dressed, and we’re going to pretend this never happened. I’m not giving Richards the satisfaction, got it?” Richards had made it clear he didn’t like the new lieutenant despite Nichols’ sterling reputation.

She nodded vehemently, gratified by the easing of his frown. Quickly exiting the room, she closed the uneven door behind her, aware it never completely shut—temptation temptation— and stood anxiously in the living room.

He met her in less than five minutes, his hair still wet, his clothes stuck to his body in spots. How was it she’d never noticed the breadth of his chest, the extreme strength in his massive arms? Though seeing her boss in jeans and a tee-shirt helped square the picture. At work, his drab, dark suits didn’t do the man justice.

She was about to apologize again when a buzzing in her head—her ability to eavesdrop—froze her to the floor. The volume of noise increased until words filtered through the static, and when he would have spoken, she held a hand up to stop him.

Just grab the shit and let’s go. Word has it Spec is out tonight.

Whose word?

     I dunno. But I got a bad feeling about it. Like someone’s walking over my grave.

     Dumbass. We’ll go when I’m good and ready. Where’s the kid?

     “Michaels?” Nichols asked quietly.

She shook her head. There was more, she could feel it. And it wasn’t good.

The kid? I thought you said she was okay as long as I kept her blindfolded in the closet?

I changed my mind. She heard my voice. Grab her from the basement. We do her now.

“They’re going to kill a child.” She tensed, readying herself to jump.

“Tell me.” Nichols touched her forehead to listen, something she’d seen him to once before to a squad mate when in need of information on a case. But when he touched her, a wave of electricity shot through her body.

Apparently, it shocked him as well, because he closed his eyes and gave a soft curse.

When he opened his eyes, his gaze was nearly blinding, his voice husky, filled with power. “Let’s go.”