THE MISFITS

Chapter 3

My jaw dropped as he outed me. Before I could ask him how he knew - and resisted me! - he walked away. The view proved surprisingly nice, especially for a guy his size. But I was allowing myself to get distracted.

How the hell had he known? Other than my two best friends from the club, I held my state of being a close secret.

And how come he's not on his knees worshipping me with his tongue? Surely I wasn't disappointed, but something made my lips twist in a moue of displeasure. Having never experienced rejection before, I quickly decided I didn't like it one bit.

I scurried after Simon, my bare feet sinking into the plush carpeting that ended outside the bedroom door. The gleaming wood floors - white pine, what else? - were chilly under my feet. Actually, his whole condo felt a tad cool, not that it bothered me. How hot or cold a body was remained a human concern. And I was far from human anymore.

I crossed the wide expanse of the living room, which shone bright and white, probably because of the wide bank of windows that stretched from the floor to the cathedral ceiling. Good thing my other side didn't suffer from the sunlight curse like my brothers. I was starting to wonder at his obsession with white, though. Would it kill him to have a little color?

A clanging of dishes alerted me to Simon's presence in the kitchen. The white kitchen - gee, did they forget color when they decorated? - opened into the living area, separated only by a gleaming island that was topped by - you guessed it - a white slab of marble.

I perched myself on the bar stool tucked under the breakfast bar and studied Simon as he plated some steaming food, the only spot of color in the whole place.

I wouldn't deny he was nice to watch. For such a big man, he moved light on his feet, and the play of his muscles under his clothing warmed me better than any coffee.

He didn't say a word as he finished making breakfast, but his eyes often shifted to me, along with a half-smile that made me want to smile back. I clamped my lips tight instead, not trusting how comfortable I found myself with this veritable stranger - whom I'd probably have to kill for guessing my secret. What a shame.

The silence stretched, as did my curiosity. Only once he handed me my portion on a huge plate heaped with enough food for three did I voice my question. "Why did you call me a succubus?"

In the process of shoveling food into his mouth - a fascinating process that made me flash to him devouring my p***y instead - he swallowed and took a sip of his orange juice before he answered me. "Haven't you figured it out yet? I'm not human, just like you."

His reply threw me, and I peered at him more closely. On the outside, he looked like a man - a drop-dead, gorgeously muscled one. I tuned in my other senses and sucked in my breath.

What the hell is he?

His aura glowed, thick and colorful, telling me without any words he'd not only lived a long life, but also a full one that ran the gamut from sweetness to violence. To me, a person's aura, their soul so to speak, appeared as a shroud around them. Over the years, I'd learned to read them - most of the time. The thicker the shroud, the older the person. Simon's was the thickest I'd ever seen.

Another neat thing I'd learned was that the colors of a person's soul told me what kind of life they'd lived. Darker colors stood for the violence and ugliness in a person's life while lighter colors represented happy times and caring for others. Most people tended to lean toward one shade or the other, however, Simon was a kaleidoscope, with all the colors of the rainbow plus some swirling in his super-thick shroud.

My mouth watered just looking at it, for he stirred the hunger of my succubus side. But unlike a true soul-sucking nymph, I could control myself and take what I needed without killing the provider. And, if the s****l energy around me ran high enough, I could feed without even touching. Hands-free was definitely not as yummy as the power fed to me via skin-to-skin contact, though.

"You have a pretty aura, but it doesn't tell me what you are." Although I did know whatever supernatural caste he belonged to was definitely long-lived.

"What does your other side tell you?" His eyes glittered, their faint glow pointing to his less-than-human DNA. And once again, he'd shocked me.

How does he recognize what I am?

I didn't like my other side as much and preferred not to wake that evil, sleeping giant, but once suggested, my darker side roused. My eyes narrowed, and my senses heightened. I inhaled deeply, my mind sorting through the myriad of smells from bacon, eggs, and toast to something old, musty, and...I faltered at the alienness that assailed my olfactory meter.

What the f**k is he?

He chuckled at my puzzled expression. "Okay, maybe you can't figure it out."

"So tell me?" I pinned him with my prize-winning - make that trouser-dropping - smile.

Over the wide counter, he leaned, close enough that if I tilted my head forward, our lips would touch. I almost did it, and I couldn't entirely blame my succubus nature. "Tell you? That would be too easy."

He smiled at me as he leaned back. He resumed eating his breakfast while I fumed. Okay, I was sulking. Having learned to use my attributes, I'd grown used to men - and yes, even women - doing as I asked.

Grumpy, I refused to look at him while I ate food that I swallowed without tasting. My mind raced through the possibilities and dismissed them. I arrived at the end of my short list of supernatural beings - a longer list than before my incarceration but by no means complete because, as I'd learned, the world held many secrets. The only conclusion I'd arrived at said he wasn't a vampire - his aura made that answer easy. But given my reaction to him - AKA my throbbing, wet crotch - he could be an incubus. Yet, while he drew me and made me want to indulge in carnal delights, I didn't get the impression that was the right answer.

He's something else, but what?

I studied him in silence, hunched over the breakfast bar, munching on toast. His eyes twinkled, but he didn't speak, too busy shoveling food in his mouth. A body like his probably required lots of calories to keep it going.

Good boy. Eat up because you're going to need lots of energy for what I have planned. My p***y just about hummed in agreement.

He finally broke the silence. "How old are you?"

"Why? How old do I look?" I replied with an enigmatic smile.

"Your very nature means you don't age, but I have to say, it's been a while since I've encountered one of your ilk. I'd thought you all dead in the last cleansing. How long have you been hiding?"

I gaped at him. "Say again? There are more of me? The doctors said I was the only one."

It was while we both stared at each other with puzzled faces that a swirling mist appeared behind him in the kitchen and coalesced into a man shape.

"Behind you," I yelled, throwing myself off the stool and diving over the sofa to crouch in a readied stance. I was ready to kick the ass of whoever had disrupted our breakfast.

"I smell something yummy," said a new masculine voice from right behind my ear. I would have shrieked, but the newcomer spun me and plastered his lips to mine.

And, to my surprise, I enjoyed it.

Enjoyable as I found the kiss, I stopped it by biting down on the tongue that insinuated itself between my lips. I had a moment to taste the sweetest blood ever before the man who'd embraced me pulled away.

Given my past experiences in these types of situations, I expected cursing. I even braced for a backhand. What I got, though, was laughter. Masculine chuckles erupted, and I relaxed at the realization that my actions wouldn't meet with violence - yet. I trusted no one, even someone who laughed with such ease.

As I looked upon the newcomer, I noted Simon ignored him as he continued to eat, working on my still-full plate.

Not as big or tall as my green-eyed savior, the stranger was definitely all male and handsome. In the white glare of the living space, his bald crown shone, and he posed with a hand on his hip as I perused him. I obliged, looking him up and down, liking what I saw.

Tanned skin tempted the chocolate lover in me. Around his mouth was a short goatee, providing great friction I'd bet for when he buried his face between a woman's thighs. His eyes, exotically shaped, were an electric blue so clear they looked unreal. He wore loose-fitting trousers that snugged his lean waist but bunched at the ankles. Over his torso he wore a billowy white linen shirt, and in one ear hung a gold hoop. He looked like a bloody pirate, and given how my body still trembled at his stolen kiss, I now wished I'd let him shiver me with his timber.

I then looked at him more deeply, my esoteric side quivering at the sight, for I'd never seen an aura like his before. It kept twisting and changing shape and color, like a smoky rainbow that refused to stay still. It stirred my hunger, and I licked my lips, wondering what it would taste like.

The newcomer grinned at me, his smile wide and bright - a true poster boy for Colgate. "Simon, where did you find this delightful creature? I thought they were all killed back in the great cleansing."

I frowned. What was it with this cleansing thing they'd both mentioned? And how did they both see through my human guise to my true nature?

"I think she's new," rumbled Simon.

"New to what? Can someone explain to me what the hell you're talking about?" I said, placing my hands on my hips in exasperation. "And who the hell is this guy who looks like Mr. Clean's tanned brother?"

The mocha-skinned scoundrel in question swept me a courtly bow. "I, fair maiden, am Gene, prominent member of the Ifrit."

"The If what?"

"He's a Djinn," explained Simon, who'd finally finished eating and sank onto one of the white leather couches.

"You mean, like, a genie?" I giggled. I couldn't help it when I thought of the only examples of Djinn I'd ever seen. "I saw Aladdin. Isn't he supposed to be blue?"

Gene folded his arms over his chest and glared at me. "I am nothing so crass as the media portrayal of my kind."

I bit my lip, but my eyes watered as I tried not to laugh at his indignant expression. "So does that mean you don't live in a bottle?" I blurted the question out before I bent over chortling.

"Why didn't you mention you wanted to see my bedroom?" he said, his voice suddenly right by my ear.

I whirled to face him, my laughter cut short. Before I could retort, vertigo made me close my eyes, and when I opened them, I realized I wasn't in Kansas anymore.

Okay, I'd never been to Kansas, but it was the first thing that popped to mind when I noticed I'd left Simon's white living room. I found myself instead in the polar opposite of that sterile space. Colors, rich colors, ranging from golds, reds, greens, and even blues decorated the circular room strewn with fat, tasseled pillows and one really big, round bed.

Gene, the sly bastard, slipped his arms around my waist and whispered in my ear. "What do you think of my bottle? Wanna fog up the glass?"

"It looks like a set out of a bad seventies porn flick." I shrugged out of his disturbing-to-my-libido embrace and smiled at his chagrined face.

"I'll have you know that I've yet to have a woman complain about my decor."

"Then you must be a better lover than you look," I said tartly to hide my unease at realizing there was no door out of this place.

Damn it. Did he make me into a mini-me to fit me in here?

The thought was a sobering one, and I reluctantly realized I'd better play nice if I wanted him to get me out.

"You truly have no idea about whom you're dealing with," he said musingly.

"Well, excuse me for not receiving the handbook on f****d-up Beings that Truly Exist." I disliked the fact he knew so much and me so little. Not fair. I mean, my siren and werebunny friends never mentioned others, which wasn't entirely their fault. Hell, they were just as clueless as me, having been adopted and raised by human families. How we'd ever managed to find each other was a miracle that I didn't question. I just assumed, given my many years of bad luck, that I was owed a streak of good.

I stumbled as the ground - er glass - beneath my feet shifted. A booming voice echoed inside the glass boudoir. "Gene, get your smoky ass out of there right now and bring Beth with you." Simon punctuated his words with a violent shake that threw me into Gene's arms.

"Don't worry, my pretty," he said with an exaggerated waggle of his brows. "We'll come back and crack the glass with your screams of pleasure once we've gotten to know each other better."

I wanted to refute his claim - after all, I preferred to decide who, where, and when I banged. But I had to admit, his manly assertion, a flirtation not inspired by my succubus powers, excited me. I also wondered if he could live up to his boast. While I'd enjoyed my previous encounters with men, I had yet to find one who really made me want to say, "Wow, you rocked my world."

Then again, given the shaking bottle, didn't that distinction belong to Simon?

Gene wrapped his arms tightly around me, and I clearly felt his erection pressing against my lower back. I closed my eyes as the vertigo from before returned, and when I opened them again, I faced a broad chest. Combined with the body still snugged to my rear, I couldn't help the imp in me from commenting.

"Mmm, my first sandwich. How decadent."

I peered up at Simon as I said the words, expecting a blush. Instead, his eyes glowed with distinct interest, and his hands came to rest on my hips, the thin material of the T-shirt I wore not stopping the heat that his stroking thumb imparted.

"Don't tempt me," he drawled, pulling me hard against an erection that made my eyes widen.

Well, that answered one question. He was giant all over.