Richelle Mead- Kincaid 1, Succubus Blues by Richelle Mead

Author:Richelle Mead
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

Sometimes you wake up from a dream. And sometimes, every once in a while, you wake up in a dream. That's what happened to me. I opened my eyes, head throbbing, vaguely aware of something warm and fuzzy in my arms. Bright sunlight made me squint at first, but when I could finally focus, I realized I was looking straight into the faces of Cady and O'Neill.

I shot upright, a motion my head did not approve of at all. Surely I was mistaken. Surely, no . . . there they were. Before me, next to the bed I sat in, was a large oak desk surrounded by bulletin boards and white boards. Pinned to the bulletin boards were magazine cutouts, faces and faces of people who reflected every nuance of the characters described in Seth's books. One section was even labeled NINA cady, displaying at least twenty different cutouts of slim blondes with cropped, curly hair, while another section—marked BRYANT O'NEILL—displayed brooding, thirty-something men with dark hair. Some of the cutouts were from major ads I recognized, though I'd never before connected the resemblance to Seth's characters. Other minor characters from the books also had places on the display, though less noticeably so than the leads.

Scrawls of notes and words filled the white boards, most done in a bizarre shorthand type of flow chart that made no sense to me. Working Title: Azure Hopes—fix later; Add Jonah Chap. 7; Clean up 3-5; C&O in Tampa or Naples? Check stats; Don Markos in 8. . . On and on the scrawls went. I stared and stared at them, realizing I was seeing the skeleton foundation of Seth's next novel. Part of me whispered I should look away, that I was ruining something, but the rest of me was too fascinated at glimpsing the way a novel and its world came to life.

Finally, the smell of frying bacon made me turn from Seth's desk, forcing me to piece together how I'd arrived here. I cringed, recalling what an idiot I'd been around Doug, Roman, and even Seth, but my hunger won out in temporarily allaying my remorse. It seemed odd that I should feel hungry after what I'd put my stomach through last night, but like Hugh's beating, I could bounce back quickly.

Disentangling myself from the covers and the teddy bear I'd unknowingly been holding, I made my way to the bathroom to rinse my mouth and study my appearance: wild-haired and downright adolescent looking in the T-shirt. I didn't want to waste the energy to shape-shift, however, and trotted out of the bathroom, following the sounds of sizzling against a background of "Radar Love" by Golden Earring.

Seth stood in a modern, well-lit kitchen, tending a skillet on a stove. The color scheme was bright and cheery, maple wood cupboards and beams accented with cornflower blue paint on the walls. Seeing me, he turned down the music and gave me a solicitous look. His shirt today displayed Tom and Jerry.

"Good morning. How are you feeling?”

"Surprisingly well.

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