Craved
Chapter 6

Damon:

Damon kept stealing glances at Renee. Something was different about her, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He hoped she wasn't getting ill again after her bout with the fever. A brief thought flashed in his mind of her replaceing the crystal. No, that was impossible. The stone wouldn't be of any interest to most humans. To them, it appeared like a brown, ugly rock. Plus, he'd be able to sense it so close.

Tourists and locals milled about the alleys and sidewalks while vendors called out spices. Scents of cinnamon, sumac, paprika, and cumin mingled with olive oil and lamb.

"God, Damon, can't we eat first? I'm starving." Melanie's droning brought his gaze to her pouty mouth.

Instead of being inspired to kiss her, he thought about dropping her off and walking away. Not good.

A few sighs echoed through the bus's cabin from the rest of the crew. He doubted Melanie heard them over the bus's engine. Even Renee rolled her eyes.

Gary rested his arms over the seat closest to Melanie. "I agree, I'm famished, and I've not had a beer in days."

"That's 'cause we drank our supply the first night," one of the men said and punched Chris who was across from him.

When this expedition ended, Damon would cut Melanie loose. Her constant whining and complaining grated on his nerves. If he had a replacement boyfriend ready for her, he'd end it now so Melanie could sob on some other guy's shoulder and forget Damon. Who knows, she may even fall in love with the guy. If his succubus cousin, Adeline, knew Damon gave his human lovers a happy ending with matchmaking, she'd call him a sentimental cupid and laugh until she grew hoarse. Who would sate his hunger if he were alone? The image of Renee teased him.

No, too chancy. Besides, he would never again get involved with a colleague, not after Cynthia who made him wish he'd never set foot in Turkey. Out of all the women he had, she was like a strangling vine refusing to let go, stalking him until he wiped her sexual memories of him. Finally, she seemed to settle with the fourth guy Damon set her up with, and he ran and never looked back.

Renee was too bright and knowledgeable about history. Their eventual breakup would affect her future in this field because he would have to wipe her memory as well, and he truly believed that action took a part of someone whenever his kind covered their presence. He wouldn't wish the end of someone's passion for their chosen profession upon anyone. Heaven knew he already had enough of that in his life. No, easier to pick up random women and dump them before they got attached. Or before they fell in love because his love was deadly. All his life, he coveted love, and when he finally had it, she died. He couldn't risk losing control and killing someone again.

He flashed Melanie a forced smile. "It'll only take a few minutes. Then I'll take you to the best restaurant in the city."

"Promise to buy me a new fur, and I might forgive you," she purred.

From the back seat of the car, Renee made a faint gagging sound.

"Done." If the crystal were uncovered, he could cut the expedition tonight, or give the dig to Travis or even Renee temporarily. Then he could test its magical powers on someone new. Only for a few nights, nothing to endanger a human. "Check out that Bentley." Lance pointed. "And the blonde driving is fucking hot."

"Watch your language." Sarah frowned, shaking her head. "Do you all like pork chops? I was thinking of shopping at the market while we're here."

"I'm vegetarian, remember?" Carla turned from the window.

"Right. I've got a falafel gyro for you and lamb and beef for everyone else on the menu for later."

The conversation in the bus shifted to murmurs and broken conversations filtered up to Damon as he drove through the town.

On a street lined with tourist shops nearby, Damon backed the bus into a parallel parking space. "The museum's a few blocks away. Parking is easier here." Everyone chatted as they exited the bus. Gary and four of the men wandered over to Arnie's bar.

"Ready?" Renee clambered out and waited, cradling the urn in her arms as if she held an infant.

When she'd hauled it from the ground, his pulse jumped at the sight, and he fought the grin so she wouldn't suspect anything. The urn depicted a succubus priestess painted in yellow on the front, and at the top of her scepter was a crystal. It was here. Had to be. The swirls he told Renee were dust particles was the priestess' gift magnified through the crystal.

He chuckled when Renee stepped back several strides to avoid touching him. "This way."

"You and the others go ahead." Melanie stopped in front of a shoe store. "I'll meet you back here for dinner." She gave him a quick kiss, then the shop's bell above the front door jingled as she entered, a few of the women trailing after her. The rest of their team of nine filtered through the streets in packs of twos and threes.

"Let's visit the museum curator," Damon said.

Hopefully, Cynthia his crazy, stalker ex-girlfriend, would be amiable. They weren't on the best of terms since their breakup even after he removed his incubus lovemaking from her and left the purely professional relationship they had when he was here with Belinda. He frowned. This was a bad idea. Renee, because of her curiosity, wouldn't back down. Not without an expert telling her. Taking a sharp left past a corner grocery store, he waited for Renee to catch up. Damon needed Cynthia to agree with him on the urn and not give Renee any reason to pursue the matter of a priestess or ruler. For humans to believe in incubus and succubus was dangerous. Often they would pine for their lover, wasting away without eating or drinking anything. Or the humans despised them. Time taught his race not to leave any humans with their memories. Some of his kind did it so much the person's mind drifted to the point of Alzheimer's or full amnesia. If Renee dug too much into history or myth and legends, she might guess the true meaning of the urn. At the very least, his kind would get wind of it and the elders would remove all traces of the urn, including her love of history and archeology. He couldn't let that happen.

The thud of her hiking boots echoed behind him. Maybe he would invite her to dinner with him and Melanie. Oh, he'd loved to witness Renee's reaction to Sofia's cooking. She was a long-time friend of the family who was half-witch, quarter brownie, and quarter succubus. Her brownie-incubi father cooked, and she had his talent, but added in the sexual desire to the food, and viola... a meal almost as good as sex to humans. He'd known Sofia for over eight hundred years. At her restaurant, incubi or succubae fed off the excess energy from the humans' pleasure of her food. She was booked months in advance and only served one meal a day: dinner. Rumors, from her witch mother, said a crystal was hiding in Turkey, which is why he was there.

"How much farther?" Renee shuffled behind him. Her black hair curled around her face like dark wine corkscrews.

"Just around the corner on the next block." It was so refreshing to have a woman of the same intellect as him. Though part of him had to know why she kept her distance. He was used to women fawning all over him, so this was definitely new, not to mention a punch to the ego.

"Here we are." He jogged up the museum's steps and held open the glass door. "After you."

"Thanks." She strolled past him and into the lobby.

Glass cases of Phrygian and Greek sculptures lined the vinyl floor. A group of people waited in front of the ticket booth. To their left, the atrium branched into several hallways full of paintings and plaques.

"This way." He placed a hand on her back. When a sizzle of underlying sexual energy zapped his fingers, he jerked. What the hell?

"Ouch, you zapped me," Renee teased. "Stop dragging your feet and you won't get so much static charge."

"Sorry." He cleared his throat. Good thing she dismissed the effect of his power. "Down this corridor is Cynthia's, the curator, office."

The urn dipped in Renee's hands.

"Careful." He reached out for the antique to steady it.

"Gosh, I wasn't going to drop it." She bristled but clutched the urn tighter.

At the receptionist's desk, Damon leaned over the counter. "We're here to see one of the museum's curators, Cynthia." Darn it, he forgot her last name.

The young woman smiled at him. "I'll need copies of both your IDs, please."

He and Renee handed their driver's licenses and the woman scanned them.

"There, you both are on the computer. Go down the hallway to the left." The receptionist returned their licenses. "I'll let Ms. Cornwell know you're here."

"Thanks." Renee marched ahead, not waiting for him.

After stopping briefly, he assumed to read the name and titles on the door of the two other curators whose doors stood open, she continued. When she reached Cynthia's door, he cursed and dashed forward. The hallway was narrow and with Renee's saddlebag of a purse, he couldn't squeeze past. He'd give Cynthia a wink as he explained his false theory about the urn. If she opened her mouth first, his ruse would be over before it started.

After a single knock, Renee entered. Had Cynthia even answered?

He caught the door before it closed and slipped inside. "Lovely to see you again, Cynthia."

She gasped, looking from Renee to him. As usual, Cynthia's gray pinstriped suit was pressed, and the jacket opened to reveal a silk blouse, her blonde hair in a loose bun. It'd been so long since he'd seen her last. How were things in her life now? Was she married? He didn't notice a ring, but she'd always bragged she didn't require a rock to prove her marital status.

"Damon?" She stood, her hip banging against the edge of her desk as she rushed around it. "What a pleasant surprise. I didn't know you were in Turkey."

"Yes, on an excavation." He gestured to Renee. "This is my "

"Is this the famous sister you told me about? Or your cousin, Adeline?" Cynthia smoothed her skirt. "She's not at all how I pictured her."

"I'm Renee... Renee Maxwell." She wiggled her hand out between them. "I work with Mr. Cubins on his expedition here in Turkey."

"Do you now? Call me Cynthia." She smirked. "Well, what treasure have you brought me, Damon?"

"I'm so excited about this." Renee cradled the artifact. Her words carried passion and her cheeks flushed pink. "I hoped, with your expertise, you could explain the image here." After Cynthia nodded, Renee set the urn on the desk, and it vibrated in a ringing tone for a second. "See here, I think this is a depiction of a priestess ruler, including her scepter, and I think these wavy lines show motion or something."

Cynthia's eyes widened. "Really?" she asked, elongating the word, her pupils dilated. She opened a drawer and removed a pair of glasses, then she cleared her throat as she put them on and examined the image.

"I told her it's a woman cleaning something," Damon said, keeping his voice void of emotion.

"Well, these lines could indicate that." Cynthia pulled the urn closer. "I can't quite tell what she's holding." She met Damon's eyes. "Do you mind leaving it with me? I'd love to study it further and pass it to a few of my associates to get their opinion."

"Sure." Renee grinned, her grey eyes brightening.

"No." He took a step forward. Leaving it here was too risky. He hadn't planned on Cynthia keeping it. "We'd better hold on to it and have some others I know in the field look at it first."

"It would be fine here in the museum." Renee cocked her head. "I'm sure Cynthia has a safe."

"Just as well, we can bring it back another time," Damon whispered, coiling enough charm in his speech to lure both women into what he required.

Renee shook her head as though in an attempt to bypass him. "It's safer here than in tents for now. Let Cynthia have it for the week. I'm sure she'll return it as soon as it's examined thoroughly."

Why wasn't Renee bending to his suggestion? He amped the flow of his power a notch. "Come, one or two more days at the campsite won't matter. Everyone back at camp can admire such a rare discovery." He brushed her elbow. "Listen." He hadn't meant for the word to come out so forceful and the full extent of his heritage shot into her.

Her knees buckled, and she dropped, but he grabbed her before she hit the floor. Stupid! He'd let his emotions trigger too much of his power. Carelessness like this could kill people! Only luck and yanking his gift back fast enough had saved her.

Cynthia hustled around the table, her body trembling as she ran a hand over Damon's arm. "Is she alright?"

Her hand was anything but comforting, and her touch made him cringe. He fought the urge to shrug her off except he couldn't offend her. Not until she told Renee what he wanted her to know.

"I-I'm fine. I don't know what happened." Renee struggled to rise, and he helped her into the visitor chair.

"Maybe you should eat something. Low blood sugar causes some to faint." Concern filled him. Part of him thought to scoop her into his arms and carry her to the nearest doctor. He took a step toward the desk. "Cynthia, thank you for your help. We'll take the urn."

"No," Renee said.

Damon raked his hand through his hair. "How about a compromise? We'll leave it with Cynthia until after dinner. Then we'll go with whatever you decide. Agreed?" Why didn't the woman listen to him? It was for her own good. "I'll take care of it." Cynthia's shoulder nudged against his back. "Next time, don't stay away so long."

Did she remember him and their weeks together? No, she couldn't, he'd wiped that part out. Maybe it was instinctual, maybe she was the type that subconsciously flirted with men.

"Thank you. Please let me know if I may be of any help." Renee swung around, her purse knocking over a stack of papers. "Sorry." Hastily, she picked them up, but her hands shook. Was she nervous or weak from his taking her energy? Waving, Renee ducked out of the room. Her boots thudded down the hallway.

He turned to Cynthia. "Thanks." This hadn't gone as bad as he thought it would.

"Don't worry, you don't owe me anything for this yet." She returned to her seat and looked over some paperwork as if the urn was decoration.

As a curator, she would know the significance of the discovery. Yet, she willingly collaborated on his scheme for now. What price would she demand to keep silent?

He should never have brought Renee or the urn here. Cynthia had been a sticky woman to leave. All of the women he dated lived their happy lives after him without ever remembering him. He'd made certain of it.

But Cynthia? He wasn't sure about her, what she retained or her motives now.

Eyeing him with a lifted eyebrow, she said, "I'll think of a payment worthy of my time."