Free Succubus On Top by Richelle Mead Page A

overwhelming,” she apologized. “I sort of feel responsible for their stamping frenzy.”
    The fact that she’d used the word “frenzy” to describe them made me laugh. “How so?”
    â€œI got them into it.” Her dark eyes twinkled. “Never thought it’d go this far, though. I used to be an elementary art teacher, and sometimes they remind me of the kids. They’re all good souls, though.”
    â€œWhy don’t you teach anymore?” Drawing pictures with children sounded like a wicked cool job to me. If nothing else, the grading had to be easy.
    â€œWell, Jack likes me at home, and this way I get to take out my artistic urges on the house—and enable the neighbors. Every time I get hooked on a new project, our house takes the brunt of it: pottery, beading, watercolors . . .”
    â€œAnd stamping?”
    She laughed. “And stamping.”
    â€œCould you, like, teach part-time and still get everything done around the house?”
    â€œMaybe. But I’ve also got my CPFV duties, so my schedule’s pretty packed.”
    CPFV? Damn. For a minute there, Jody had seemed like a pretty cool person. “You’re a member?”
    Her expression registered mild surprise. “Yes, of course. We all are. You should come to a meeting someday. I know Dana would love to have you.”
    â€œWhere is Dana?” I hadn’t even seen the main attraction tonight. “I mean, I’m such a fan and all. When Mitch told me we were coming, I couldn’t even believe it.”
    Pursing her lips, she glanced around with a cute frown. “I’m not really sure where she is. She’s probably just mingling. Everyone wants to talk to her. But don’t worry—you’ll see her before you leave.”
    â€œThat’d be great.”
    She smiled and gave my hand a quick squeeze. “I hope we get to see you around. Oh—here we are.”
    We arrived in a massive, glass-encased sunroom containing a crystal blue pool. It looked lovely and inviting. When Jody asked if I had a suit, I assured her I had one under my clothes and thanked her for helping me. She returned to the main party, and I slipped into a bathroom where I shape-shifted into a turquoise bikini.
    Some people eyed me curiously, probably wondering who I was, but they left me alone once I was in the pool. I dove under, swimming laps, enjoying the solitude water offered. It had been a long time since I’d been able to do this. I knew Seth swam at a local health club; he said it helped clear his head sometimes. He and I would have to go together one of these days. Or better yet, swim in the ocean somewhere. Yes, that was the way to go. Moonlit beaches and tropical air, away from this crummy rain. Maui. Cancún. Hell, why did we even have to constrain ourselves to North America? We could go to the French Riviera, the Greek Islands . . .
    I was so caught up in my fantasies that when I climbed out of the pool, I didn’t notice the woman in front of me. I sidestepped, ever quick on my feet, just barely avoiding collision.
    â€œSorry,” I said. “I didn’t see—”
    I froze. It was Dana.
    She looked exactly like her promotional pictures. Slim, average height, shoulder-length black hair, and penetrating blue eyes. Her bio placed her in her forties, but she looked a lot younger than that. The result of all that clean living, I supposed. She wore khaki shorts and a green T-shirt, modestly covered by a white button-up blouse tied in a knot over her stomach.
    A smooth, cool smile settled on her face, and those eyes reminded me of a hawk seeking out prey.
    â€œNo harm done,” she said in that same hypnotic radio voice. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Dana.” She extended a hand, and I took it.
    â€œYes. Of course you are. I mean, I know you are. I’ve seen your pictures. Er, I mean, I’m a fan and all . . .”
    â€œAnd