Lethal Blow: (Succubus Hitwoman Book 2) Read online

Rachel reaches into a little pouch at her side, pulls out a pinch of powder, and starts talking gibberish again. Riskus does the same as Rachel extracts her wand and together, they recite some incoherent lines.

  She twirls her wand in a circular motion, and a blue light spits out from the tip.

  Well, that’s new.

  How much has she been practicing over the last week? The thought is a bit frightening. It means she’s been dabbling with the magic from the Book of Origin. She summoned a goddamn griffin, for crying out loud. What the fuck else did she unleash into the world?

  It still blows my mind that this kid has the Book of Origin. What was I thinking? I was so selfish in wanting my money from Jamieson that I downplayed the severity of the situation.

  I should have left it in my chest where it was safe. Not only will Jamieson and Lucius now hunt for it, but I’m thinking it has made its existence known to countless shadow dwellers.

  As Rachel twirls her wand in the air, a large oval shape takes form. She glances back at me, and then at Veerka. “It’s ready. It’ll take you right outside of the Lotus Hotel, in the back alley.”

  When Veerka steps toward her, I can’t help but open my big mouth. “Wait.”

  She turns back, a foreign sadness in her eyes. This whole time, I thought vampires had no feelings—that they were nothing but predatory, empty shells. Veerka is still the same person I knew, but a lot paler and more badass.

  I walk toward her, and although I want to grab her by the neck and kiss her, I don’t. Instead, I extract my wrist blade and cut three lines in her dress.

  “Alexis!” she shouts.

  “Relax,” I say, tugging at the holes. They rip wide, one of them tearing beneath her right breast. With my fingers still wrapped around the torn fabric of her clothes, I can’t help but stare.

  Her skin is so smooth… so soft-looking that I’m drawn back to last night. I replay everything in my mind, taking in every inch of her naked body as she begs me to go harder.

  Drax clears his throat, pulling me out of my fantasy.

  I stiffen and force an uncomfortable smile. “Um… There, that’s better.”

  Veerka wrinkles her nose and points at her ruined dress. “How is this any better? You’ve made me look homeless, Alexis!”

  “They can’t suspect you ran away,” I say. “Tell them you were kidnapped for your necklace.”

  She rolls her eyes the way she always does when she thinks I’m being overdramatic. “I’ve been with you for a week, Alexis. Why on Earth would anyone kidnap someone to steal jewelry? My kidnapper could have tied me up and taken the necklace without kidnapping me for so long. I mean, that sounds preposterous.”

  Tie you up… Yeah, I’ll tie you up, all right. I’ll tear the rest of that dress off, too, then strap you to a bed and spread apart those perfect legs of yours. Then, with my tongue—

  “Alexis,” Veerka says sharply.

  I clear my throat. “Okay. Tell them I took you hostage for information, and you refused to give me anything. Then, the second you had the chance, you attacked me and ran away.”

  Her stunning smile returns. “Don’t worry about me, Alexis. I’ll know how to handle Lucius.”

  Yeah, I bet she does, which is why I hate that she’s going back.

  Fighting the urge to make some immature remark about how I’m better in bed, I ball my fists. “All right, go. I’ll find whatsherface and go from there.”

  Veerka looks a bit concerned. “You do remember her name, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, yeah, go.”

  I’m playing it off cool, but inside, I feel like I’m being torn apart. This is why I don’t let myself care for anyone. I go fucking insane. I don’t know when I’ll see her again, and all I can think about is that piece of shit Lucius putting his nasty hands on her.

  Will she be okay?

  She reaches for my face, her fingernails tickling my cheek. “See you soon, darling.”

  And with that, she walks into the portal and disappears.

  Chapter 5

  ──────────

  “Holy crap,” Rachel says. She clutches hard at her Book of Origin and gazes around the hotel room, mesmerized.

  Yeah, it’s luxury. This is what happens when you stay at the Dark Hall. You pay an arm and a leg, but you’re protected from virtually everything.

  “So, there are no humans here?” she asks.

  Reaching into the oversized fridge, I pluck out a cold beer. “No.”

  “How do you know it’s safe?”

  “This whole place is enchanted, Rachel. Feebles don’t know about it. They can’t see it. And the whole point of having a shadow dweller-only casino is to encourage different species to get along. The most powerful beings of all time put this place together, so you can bet your ass nothing bad happens here. They have a zero-violence policy. No conflict at all. And apparently, anyone who has exhibited violence of any type gets cursed to a hell-like dimension for eternity.”

  Rachel swallows so hard I hear the gulp.

  “Yeah,” I say. “They don’t fuck around. When I tell you that your book’s safe here, it is. But this isn’t a permanent solution. We need to find Zerachu.”

  Rachel covers her mouth and giggles.

  I don’t even bother telling her she’s being immature, laughing at some woman’s name. She can have her laugh. Whatever.

  Drax walks around, looking like a kid himself. Every time he finds some electronic gadget, or some fancy decoration, he points at it and turns to me with a grin.

  I get it.

  This place is to die for.

  I walk across the room’s marble floors, taking in the massive Jacuzzi, the eighty-inch television, and the ginormous windows that open up with a simple voice command. This place is even more luxurious than the Bellagio, but it’s also ten times the price.

  Two grand per night.

  Good thing I’m a multimillionaire now.

  With my beer in one hand, I reach for a bottle of Patrón on the liquor rack, open it with my teeth, and chug several shots’ worth. Maybe if I drink enough, I’ll stop focusing on Veerka.

  Or maybe drinking isn’t what I need. Now that I think about it, I’m fucking hungry.

  “You guys stay here,” I say.

  “What?” Rachel says. “Where are you going?”

  “To find Zerachu,” I say.

  “Can’t I come with you?” she asks.

  Drax plops himself down on the leather sofa, pulls out a rolling paper, and rolls a joint. When he catches me watching him, he says, “What? You don’t need me. Go do your thing. I’ll be right here.” Then, he reaches for the TV’s remote, turns it on, and squeals like a kid on Christmas morning when the high-definition screen lights up the room.

  “I’d rather you stay here,” I say, turning toward Rachel. “I’ll come back to get you if I need you.”

  She looks bummed out.

  “See that fridge?” I point to the one I pulled a beer out of. “It’s an Apparitious 4000.”

  One of her reddish-brown eyebrows pulls up. “What’s that?”

  She doesn’t know what it is, which should be no surprise. She’s a newbie to the world of magic.

  “Think of it as the magic genie of foods.”

  “Holy shit,” Drax says, almost as if only tuning into my voice now. “Is that an Apparitious 4000? I thought those things weren’t even real!”

  He leans forward as if on the verge of getting up, but his blunt remains his priority.

  “All you have to do is think about what you want, open the fridge door, and there it is,” I say.

  “Like, magic?” Rachel says.

  No, like mathematics.

  “Yeah,” I say.

  She’s a witch. Why does the idea of a magic fridge surprise her?

  “You wanted a beer?” she asks, staring at the bottle in my hand.

  I shift my eyes sideways like I missed the punch line. Isn’t it obvious? Why even ask me that? I always want a b
eer.

  “Try it out. Have fun. Eat whatever you want. I’ll be back,” I say. Before exiting the hotel room, I turn around with a rock-hard finger pointed at her. “And don’t even think about trying to get anything other than food out of that thing. You’ll get an explosion of magic, and trust me, it hurts.”

  She gulps again as I close the door behind me.

  The Dark Hall Casino is like any other casino—full of bright lights, cold air pumped with oxygen, and massive crowds of people with drunken grins plastered to their faces. Now and then, someone gets upset and smashes a fist against a poker table, which is immediately followed by, “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to get upset”.

  I’ve been inside the Dark Hall about five times in all of my existence. It’s an awesome place, but it’s so damn expensive. Think of it as a reserve for the elite.

  Everyone is friendly, at least on the surface. People know better than to express their discontent. Some shadow dwellers gamble for money, but it’s more typical to find people bartering for weird shit like jars of eyes, fingernails, bright gooey green stuff… You catch my drift.

  As I walk through crowds of odd-looking fae, I have no desire to gamble any of my money.

  What I want is to feed. Correction: what I need is to feed. As much as I’ve enjoyed my hot, steamy nights with Veerka, it hasn’t satisfied my succubus side. How can I feed off the living dead? Don’t get me wrong—I love it. It means we can fuck nonstop without the risk of anyone getting hurt.

  But now I’m left feeling hungry. Hungry me tends to be irritable… like an explosion is lingering right beneath the surface, waiting for the right opportunity to tear someone’s face off. After that comes a sense of depletion and weakness, the result of starvation.

  I’ve reached starvation a handful of times in my entire life, and I’m not about to add to that list tonight.

  I walk through the casino, releasing some of my charm. It’s almost like a scent—it lures people in sexually. I don’t even have to go all-out succubus for it to work, and although it isn’t the same Lure I use when seducing someone, it’s as powerful.

  Most of the casino is made up of demons, and while demons might not satisfy me the way feebles do, I don’t have a choice. Feeding off a demon is about equivalent to feeding off a feeble and stopping halfway, which is what I do anyway unless I’m on the job.

  Several heads turn my way as I take long strides past a dozen red felt poker tables and toward a mahogany bar. I glide my fingers along the smooth shiny wood, climb up onto the leather stool, and lean my breasts against the hard surface.

  I’m about to order myself a beer when a voice with a Texan accent enters my right ear.

  “Quite the drink for a fine lady like you.”

  Without turning my head, I glance sideways.

  A Crimmus demon.

  I’m not surprised—those things are everywhere. He tips his head forward and pinches the brim of his cowboy hat. “I’m Charles. How do you do?”

  How do you do?

  I stare at him, analyzing every inch of his body. I have nothing against Crimmus demons, but they’re all so different that I want to make sure I’m getting what I need out of this one. His skin, red as blood, hides underneath a blue and white carrot-top shirt and a pair of torn jeans. He has a prominent jawline and handsome features.

  The red skin is a distinguishing feature of Crimmus demons. That’s how they got their name. Something to do with the color crimson. The funny thing about Crimmus demons is that aside from their immortality, they aren’t special in any way. I mean, they’re strong—stronger than any feeble out there—but they don’t have any other special ability. When they reach adulthood, they stop aging, but that’s common with most demons.

  “Give the woman some space,” comes another voice.

  I don’t even have to look to my left to know it’s a Gorton demon—I can smell it.

  Gortons are everywhere in Vegas. Why? Because of their greed. I’m about to roll my eyes at him based on the stereotype that Gortons are all greedy bastards, but the moment I glance his way, my irritation goes away. He smiles at me, revealing a set of glossy white teeth surrounded by a perfectly manicured scruff. He fixes his tie, smooths his jet-black hair back, and leans his upper body against the bar. Through the cold, air-conditioned air comes the scent of crisp cologne.

  This, I can work with.

  “Let me know if this guy’s bothering you,” he says.

  To my right, the Crimmus demon squeezes his beer. “Can’t ya see I’m conversing with this fine lady? I suggest you get on outta here and make friends elsewhere.”

  The Gorton smiles at me again, ignoring the Texan demon. “Let me get you a drink.”

  “You deaf?” the Crimmus cuts in. “I said get outta here.”

  Ignoring the two aggravated demons, I flick a finger at the bartender and smirk. “I’ll have a beer. Whatever you recommend.”

  The Gorton brushes invisible lint from his ironed black suit and sucks his teeth. “See what you did there, cowboy? You made this lovely woman order her own drink.”

  The Crimmus tightens his red fingers around his beer again, this time shattering the bottle. It crumbles into little brown shards across the bar top.

  Should I step in and stop the altercation? Maybe. I’m still subtly broadcasting my Lure, which is why these two are about ready to tear each other’s throats out. But that’s what I want: intensity. It’ll make my feed that much more satisfying.

  With blood pooled in his palm, the Crimmus leans forward, his face inches away from mine despite his glare being aimed at his opponent. “I ain’t gonna ask you again, my friend—”

  “Is there a problem here?” comes the bartender’s voice. With furrowed brows, he slides me a frosted glass filled to the brim with caramel-colored beer. His eyes shoot sideways, which tells me he’s on the lookout for security.

  If I don’t handle this now, I’ll lose my meal, which means playtime is over.

  I take a sip of my fizzy drink and place the glass on the bar top. Sighing, I reach into my coat pocket, extract a twenty-dollar bill, and lay it flat on the counter. “No problem here.”

  With that, I release my Lure and reach for the Gorton’s tie. His eyes glaze over the moment my fingernails graze his chest, and I pull him in slowly, his warm whiskey breath slipping into my mouth. He licks his plush bottom lip, a sly smirk tugging at one side. As much as I want to grab his face and kiss him hard, I can’t do that. If things heat up too quickly, I won’t be able to stop, which means we’ll end up fucking on this bar top and I’ll get banned from the Dark Hall.

  Anyone caught doing something wrong is banned from ever returning here or sent to Hellfire City—an underground prison for shadow dwellers which happens to be ruled by the infamous and legendary Hades. Hellfire City is the worst-case scenario, but being banned is awful, too, especially for those of us who are immortal.

  So instead, I walk my fingers down his torso and under his belt, where a hard bulge sits.

  He isn’t huge, but I’m thinking he knows how to work those hips.

  All right, enough playing around.

  I’m fucking starving.

  Grabbing hold of his tie again, I slip off my stool and drag him with me. With a tilt of my head, I throw my chin out at the Crimmus demon. “You. Get up and take us to your room.”

  Chapter 6

  ──────────

  The second the Crimmus opens the door, the three of us try to enter at the same time looking like total idiots. I give them both a nasty glare, one that says, Learn your place, boys, and they bow their heads.

  Submissive, I see.

  Well, I can tell how this will play out. They want to be bossed around. If there’s one thing I’m good at, aside from getting away with murder, it’s telling people what to do.

  The room looks the same as mine—luxurious as all hell, but I don’t take the time to look around.

  I’m starving.

  “Take off you
r shirts,” I order.

  Staring at me like hungry dogs, they do as they’re told. The Crimmus gets stuck on one button, grumbles in frustration, and tears his shirt off. Buttons fly into the air and scatter across the marble floor.

  With that bloodred and chiseled chest of his, he resembles a Greek god emerging from battle.

  Beside him, the Gorton smiles at me with his head bowed as if preparing to pounce on me. But he won’t do it—he’ll do what he’s told.

  With my chin raised, I take a step between the two of them. Turning toward the Gorton, I reach for his tanned chest and glide a finger down toward his bulge. He must see this as an invitation. In an instant, he reaches for my hips—a mistake on his part.

  Scowling, I slap his hand away. “Did I say you could touch me?”

  Without responding, he bows his head. Behind me, the Crimmus breathes so loudly it’s like he’s about to explode, so I turn my face sideways to look at him. “Take off your pants.”

  Without hesitating, he tears at his belt buckle and drops his pants. As expected, even his erection is bloodred.

  “Someone’s excited,” I say.

  Slowly, I unbutton my jeans, tuck my thumbs inside my purple panties, and pull everything down to my ankles. I’m so turned on that part of me wants the Crimmus to have his way with me from behind, but that’s not how this is going down.

  Instead, I stare at the handsome Gorton in the face, admiring his square jawline, his slick black hair, and his sexy dark eyes. He stares back at me, his gaze shifting onto my naked hips.

  I’m about to reach for his stubbly face when behind me comes the sound of heavy breathing. I spin back around to find the Crimmus stroking his thick red muscle.

  Frowning, I grab him by the throat. “Did I fucking say you could do that?”

  He lets go of himself, but his jaw muscles pop. This is killing him. What he doesn’t know is that it’s killing me, too, but in a sick way, I enjoy the torture leading up to the actual act.

  Biting my bottom lip, I turn my attention back to the Gorton, pinch the bottom of my shirt, and pull it up over my head. I stand quietly for a few seconds, allowing my playthings to get a good look at my naked body.