During the fund-raiser luncheon’s after-party, the Itch hit me. As I shook hands with one of the rich benefactors of New City University’s archaeology department, I felt the full-body flush take over me. Without looking, I knew that my normally bleached-gray eyes had turned a blazing blue.
That meant just one thing: I needed sex, and I needed it now.
The Itch is what drives succubi, forcing us to hunt down men and have amazing, mind-blowing sex every forty-eight hours. As you get closer to your time, your eyes darken to blue, your skin becomes sensitive and flushed, and everything turns you on. Everything. The Itch makes it impossible to forget sex—you live, breathe, eat, and drink it. Crave it like you once craved oxygen and water.
I had a definite craving right now.
“Jackie Brighton, so good to see you again,” a voice boomed, and a hand slid over my bare elbow, pulling me to the side.
Dr. Morgan was my new boss and the head of the New City University archaeological team. Anyone who was anyone in Wyoming university archaeology worked for him, and I was thrilled to be included.
He smiled at me. “How are you enjoying the fund-raiser, my dear?”
I smiled in return, wondering if it would be offensive to yank my arm away. The slight touch was maddening to my overheated flesh. “I’m great, thank you, Dr. Morgan. I don’t suppose you’ve seen—”
“You seem a little flushed. Is something wrong?”
Why, yes. I’m actually a succubus. Got turned into one a few weeks ago, back when I was just a dumpy docent at the local museum. Now I’m the hot babe you’re ogling, and I need sex to survive—right now. That’s why my eyes are turning blue, my skin is feverish, and I feel the urge to rip off my clothing and throw the nearest man down on the carpet and make hot love to him.
But I couldn’t tell my new boss that—no one believed that succubi were real except, well, other succubi. And their masters. So I kept the bright smile on my face. “I’m just fine, Dr. Morgan. It’s kind of you to ask, though.”
Dr. Morgan’s hand slid from my elbow and caressed the soft underside of my arm. “I’m just looking out for my favorite new team member.”
If I’d been a normal gal, that sexual harassment move would have sent me right to a lawyer’s office. But since I was a succubus, a ripple of desire pulsed through my blood. And Dr. Morgan noticed, judging by the possessive way he stared at my now-heaving breasts.
“Is it warm in here?” I pulled my arm out of his and fanned my face. Stepping a few feet away, I plucked a glass of champagne off a waiter’s tray. Time for me to leave the party, and stat. “Have you seen my date, Noah Gideon?”
Six feet tall? Utterly gorgeous? Blond? Fallen angel? Tattoos on his wrist?
Noah was one of the two men who had turned me into a succubus. The other was Zane, a vampire. A few weeks ago, I’d been an invisible docent with mousy brown hair and an expanding waistline, toiling away at the New City Museum of Art for a boss who hated me. Everything had changed the night I was transformed by Zane and Noah. I’d gone from plump and dowdy to svelte and stunning. My hair had transformed into a fabulous red mane, my breasts had more Ds than a bad report card, and men lusted after me. A lot.
You’d think there was no downside, except for the whole “master” thing that tied me to Zane and Noah. Any command one of them issued, I had to obey like some oversexed I-Dream-of-Jeannie.
Noah was my date to this afternoon’s shindig, and it was a good thing, too. Not only was Noah one of the archaeology department’s benefactors, but his presence would keep Dr. Morgan and his overly grabby hands away before I did something that both of us would regret.
Like throw him down on the floor and ride him like a bronco.
Dr. Morgan backed off at the mention of Noah’s name. He might like boobs a lot, but he liked archaeology funding more, and his upcoming Mayan dig was in need of additional money. “Mr. Gideon? I believe I saw him over in the east wing not too long ago. Would you like me to—”
“Not necessary.” I gave him a quick smile, downing my champagne. “I’ll find him.”
I hurried through the crowd, the pulsing in my veins growing more