Free Fading Amber by Jaime Reed

yourself, but I’m sensing a serious lack of trust in this relationship,” he said with a mock grin then left my side. He returned to the sitting area where the docile cleaning lady waited as instructed.
    He sat next to her on the sofa and gently pulled her closer to him. Whispering comforting words, he reached behind the woman’s neck, and her head tipped back in eager submission. I was quite familiar with that response. I’d felt the shivers whenever he looked at me, the way he would lure me closer to him. I recalled the heat of his mouth dance over my skin as he left sipping kisses on my throat.
    I shouldn’t have been watching this. It was wrong on so many levels, forcing me to reevaluate the dynamic of our fated union. Were we going to be one of those weird swinger couples that traded off spouses at dinner parties? I should’ve broken this up, cussed Caleb out, and told this woman to run for her life, but my feet remained planted where they were.
    Moreover, it looked really good, similar to watching someone eat a juicy burger with all the fixings and not offering me one bite. I just came back from dinner with Dad, but Lilith rolled and churned within like I hadn’t eaten in days.
    The maid returned the kiss, spine arching, head tilting back in a romance novel pose. Her fingers clawed at his shirt and hair, fighting to get closer. Her lips parted again and that silvery thread of light passed in to his mouth. The moment he breathed it in, an ice-cold splash hit my stomach, and my knees buckled. I braced the wall for support, hugged my waist, and tried to ignore the heavy breathing coming from the couch.
    â€œCaleb, that’s enough. Check her pulse.” I couldn’t believe I was actually coaching this madness. I was truly a sick individual, one who found a strange excitement by watching my boyfriend feed from another woman, a thrill that I was too ashamed to address. At the very core, our kind were incubi and succubi, and not even centuries of adaptation could dilute that dominant gene.
    He didn’t seem to hear me at first, but his fingers reached up and pressed the hollow dent near her throat. When he felt her heartbeat, his eyes flew open and purple heat shot in my direction. He stared at me with a blank expression, not really seeing me, but only the power lust that struck him blind. His hand slipped from the woman’s neck and she tumbled back to the sofa cushion in a boneless heap.
    Caleb rose to his feet and moved toward me, slow and deliberate. He never looked so dangerous, so wild, and the sudden tremor rocking my body wasn’t from fear, but anticipation. He continued to stare as if I were a sheet of glass, his intense gaze keeping me in place. Just when he was about to walk right into me, he stepped to the right toward the wet bar. Stunned, I watched him pull a small bottle of orange juice out of the minifridge, then he snatch the bottle of aspirin waiting on the countertop.
    Shaking the liquid in his hand, he returned to the couch where the woman lay sprawled on her back, gasping for air. He sat her up and handed her the juice and pills. He checked the pulse on her wrist while she chased each tablet with a swig of the drink. Between sips, she thanked him in both English and in her native language, her eyes glassy and on the brink of tears.
    The room fell into silence while he waited for her to regain her senses, but he and I knew the woman would never be the same after tonight. Part of her life, her history was now in Caleb’s possession. She would wake up tomorrow with a migraine from hell and spend the rest of her days chasing a high she could never catch again. We not only took lives, but we ruined them for those who survived our touch.
    When she was able to stand, he escorted her out and slipped a twenty-dollar bill into the front pocket of her smock. At least he was a good tipper.
    â€œAre you satisfied?” I asked when we were alone again.
    He leaned