by Rory Miles
Her Retribution
Tainted Power Book 1
Rory Miles
Copyright 2020
Reproducing this book without permission from the author or the publisher is an infringement of its copyright. This book is a work of fiction. The character names, names of places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real or used without the author’s authorization. Any resemblance to any actual events or persons, living or dead, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
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Contents
Demon and Fae Hierarchy
Author’s Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Her Reign - Tainted Power Book 2 Preview
About the Author
Also by Rory Miles
Demon and Fae Hierarchy
The Creator – maker of demons.
* * *
First born - Succubi and Incubi
•Shera
•Naomi
•Dante
•Shane
* * *
Royals:
Lucifer – Appointed High Lord
* * *
Princes/Princesses:
•Beelzebub – Pride
•Levia – Envy
•Asmodeus – Wantonness
•Berith – Violence
•Astaroth – Laziness
•Verrina – Impatience
•Gressil – Impurity
* * *
Dukes/Duchesses:
•Carrea – Hardness of heart
•Carnivea – Obscenity and shamelessness
•Oeillet – Gluttony
•Rosie – Sexual impurity
•Belias – Vanity
* * *
Earl/Countess of Hell:
•Verrier - Disobedience
•Olivia – Incompassionate
* * *
FAE HIERARCHY
Seelie
•Court of Fire – Lord Vukan
•Court of Water – Lady Tallulah (Tallu)
•Court of Wind – Lord Coro
•Court of Life – Lady Chaka
* * *
Unseelie
•Court of Shadows – Lord Draven
•Court of Nightmares - Lady Mara
•Court of Dreams – Lord Kilo
•Court of Dead – Lady Thana
Author’s Note
Shera is out for blood. This is not a dark romance, but there will be bloodshed. There will also be sex, Shera’s a succubus and makes no apologies for the way she lives her life. If you don’t enjoy cursing, sex, and sarcasm, run away. Otherwise, stay and enjoy Hell. <3
* * *
Are you ready?
Chapter One
“I’ll be right back!”
Even with Jasper’s supernatural hearing, I have to shout over the noise in the club so he can hear me. Pulling my more than willing target along behind me, I head out into the fresh night air. The woman giggles and presses into me, my succubus powers hardly doing much to encourage her. She’s a handsy one, this little human.
Downtown Albuquerque pulses with music and life. Fae, mages, demons and humans are all out to play on this warm summer night.
“Follow me,” the woman says, turning and half-running to an alleyway.
I frown after her, because humans are usually more careful about such things, but I follow all the same. Seeing as I have a willing participant, and I’m hungry, it isn’t really the best time to judge the careless way she lives her life.
The light above the alley flickers and I glare up at it. My semi-drunk human is giggling as she tries and fails to jog in her high heels. When she falls to the ground, I sigh and hurry to check on her.
Can’t have my dinner dying on me.
“Are you all right?” I ask as I help her up from the filthy concrete. She landed right on top of a large oil stain and her knees have turned black. “You should be more careful.”
The human ignores my chastising and stares lovingly into my eyes. “Kiss me?”
Finally.
Thank the devil her face didn’t touch the ground. Most humans willing to be used by demons have a messed-up sense of self-preservation, but this woman is just plain reckless.
Just as I’m about to seal my lips with hers and take my fill of her essence, tires squeal and screech. My head whips up and my eyes widen as an ominous black van screams down the alleyway.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Pushing the human aside, I jump out of the way and prepare to fight off whomever is inside the van.
The tires burn as the brakes are slammed and the vehicle comes to a jolted halt. Doors open on all sides and several low born demons aim human weapons at me.
“Hands up,” one shouts.
“I’m a bit busy if you can’t tell.” I gesture to the human woman whose eyes have gone wide, jaw slack with surprise.
A familiar royal demon jumps out of the back of the van, red curls bouncing around her shoulders as she lands without wavering in her six-inch heels. A bit of my discontent fades; at least the duchess is fairly harmless.
Crossing my arms and letting out a tired sigh, I say, “Rosie, why am I not surprised?”
She chuckles, running her hand down a handsome low born demon’s arm.
“I wanted to chat.”
Uncrossing my arms, I step toward her and we lock gazes.
“Cornering me in an alley is hardly appropriate.”
She glances at my human and smirks. “Come now, there are no rules for these things.” With a shake of her head, she stands in front of the woman. “Who’s your friend? She’d make a wonderful treat.”
I grab Rosie’s arm and forcefully jerk her back. “She’s not for you.”
“Maybe not yet, but with the right amount of influence I can make her mine.” Rosie tempts people against sexual purity. Think sex before marriage. She’s not, however, a succubus and can’t force an attraction that isn’t there.
I, on the other hand, can. Not that I need to with this human; she’s head over heels for me. Or at least, she really, really wants to get into my pants. Either way, Rosie isn’t getting her.
Arching a brow, I lean closer to the royal. “Is that a formal challenge?” If it is, she’s stupider than I thought.
She pats my arm. “Goodness, no, dear,” she says with a chuckle.
I shove her away. “What do you want?”
With a Cheshire smile, she smooths her short black dress and says, “I’ve come to ask you about joining my program.”
For the love of the devil, how many times do I have to say no? The duchess of sexual impurity has asked me three times to help her breed halflings. Why didn’t she use her fertile week, like every other being, to make her own babies?
I knew the answer. Why use your own body when you could use a succubus with a month-long fertility period?
My period comes once every three months, and the likelihood of me getting pregnant during my fertility period is high. Though I’ve been careful over my lifetime, taking care not to ge
t pregnant because I’m not sure the world is ready for Baby Shera.
Not to mention, I’m much more powerful than she is and would create stronger halflings. Even if my kind isn’t formally recognized in the power structure, she knows who would make the best baby demons for the army she wants to create.
“No.”
Her smile fades at the bite in my words. “I was afraid you’d say that.” With a snap of her fingers, two of the lower demons rush me. As a general rule, we demons try not to use our powers in front of humans, hence the human weapons. They won’t kill, but the bullets hurt like a bitch to get out.
With a kick, I knock one demon’s gun to the ground and then slam my fist into his stomach. He crumples, my demon strength far surpassing his.
The other one pulls the trigger on his pistol but I duck before the bullet hits me. The human gasps, but there isn’t time to check on her. I slam my fist into this demon’s nose, breaking it, and then jam my knee between his legs.
The other three start to move toward me.
Time to stop playing nice.
Dropping my glamour, I let out a full-force wave of red allure and smirk at Rosie as even her pupils dilate with lust. Now that no one is attacking me, I glance back to check on the woman.
“Shit,” I mutter. The bullet hit her neck and she’s bleeding profusely. I check her pulse; her heart’s slowing down and there isn’t time for a hospital. She has minutes, if that, and I still need to deal with Rosie.
Slanting my gaze to the demon, I narrow my eyes on her. “Did you have to kill my dinner?” Shaking my head, I take a calming breath before I do something stupid; like kill the duchess because I’m hungry and piss off Lucifer.
Since I’ve rolled her with my power, Rosie doesn’t focus on my question, too busy hungrily eyeing the males present.
“Let’s get in the van,” I suggest to the group of four. The three male demons almost trip over each other. Eager little beavers. “Rosie, you too.”
She brushes against me and tries to bring me along. “Come on, Shera. They’re loads of fun.”
I shake my head. “Rosie, this is my special treat to you.” With a bit more allure shoved in her face, Rosie forgets about me and turns her sights on the lust-crazed demons in the van. “Have fun.” Slamming the door closed before I see too much naked flesh, I curse under my breath.
My dinner is dead and Rosie just tried to kidnap me so I could become her breeder. I make a quick call to 9-1-1 for the human. Fighting off a wave of regret, I adjust her hair and smooth it. Poor thing, what had started off as a fun way to spend the night for her ended in death. This is why humans should steer clear of demons. Feeling drained of energy, I head out of the alley and to my car. I’m too tired and annoyed to go back in the club and take my fill of essence. Besides, I know just the place to find another willing participant.
The next morning, I pull up to Erma’s house. Quite a sight. Perhaps the only apt way to describe the mage’s house. Her front yard is littered with play tables and stuffed frogs sitting in chairs. Ribbons of all shades hang from the tree branches, swaying and twirling with each gust of wind.
At first, it looks beautiful, like a human child’s wildest dream. Looks can be deceiving though. I smack the delicate ribbons threatening to wrap around my neck with each gust of wind.
Stepping around an elephant ear planted right in the middle of the dirt walkway that leads to her rickety old house, I glare at the filth covering my shoes. The woman refuses to get a sidewalk like a normal person.
Fickle old mage.
I told myself I wouldn’t do this again, but seeing as my last date ended up dead, I don’t really have a choice. Especially not if I want to keep up appearances.
I’m not stupid. I know all too well what happens if I don’t please the high lord of Hell—or the devil or Lucifer or what have you—with my quota of souls and energies to help fuel my home world of Avernus. I try to avoid killing if I can; it’s a nasty business killing someone while I screw them. Most of the time I just take a little bit of the soul, stripping just enough of that core essence within a being without causing undue harm. No, I don’t actually have to have sex to take the lifeforce from a being, it’s just a lot more fun to do it that way.
I sigh as I step around a Russian sage swarming with bees. I’m not ready to face the box again. Contrary to what the devil might think, I don’t enjoy dying.
Stepping onto Erma’s porch, I catch myself before I fall on one of many banana peels strewn about the stairs, and strut to the door. My Louboutin heels clack against the wooden planks.
With a cursory glance around, I try to figure out how to knock on the door without getting blasted with glue and feathers. Mages are paranoid little things, prone to episodes of hiding in the closet and waiting for the human government to break down their door and burn them at the stake. Erma is no exception and I know her tricks well.
Seeing no obvious triggers, I step forward to knock. I feel the fishing line at the exact moment my fist raps on the door.
Shit.
I drop to the floor and cover my head, but Erma, the fucking witch, moved her little trick. The stupid contraption is concealed with magic that my succubus powers can’t suss out. You see, mages and demons use different magic, leaving me at a distinct disadvantage when coming to visit the crazy bitch witch. Hot glue sears my hands and a fan blows feathers over the glue in a very Home Alone fashion.
Fucking Kevin.
“ERMA!” I scream.
Her footsteps pitter-patter behind the closed door. She opens it and gasps; vibrant blue eyes stare down at me.
“My god, Shera. What on earth are you doing down there?”
I glare at her. Really? She has to ask?
“The last time I was here your stupid trick was aimed at my head. Would it be too much trouble for you to let me know when you’ve moved it?” I stand while I speak, ripping some hair out when I pull my hands off my head. Extending my arms, I inspect the damage. Great, I look like a fucking chicken shifter.
Oh yes, there is such a thing. You can thank the fae for that fuckery. Pious bastards.
I reset my heated gaze on her. She stands strong, unyielding. The old coot has balls. Her white and grey hair is still in curlers, for crissake. The woman is wearing a muumuu and obnoxious frog slippers.
Did you hear that? FROGS.
I’m a soul-sucking succubus. I shake my head. No wonder he gets mad at me. Getting bested by a frog-obsessed mage. Devil, I’ve become soft.
“Don’t be stupid, Shera. You know as well as I do if I call to tell you, the NSA will hear.”
I stifle a snort. A mage afraid of human authorities. Now that’s hilarious. Then again, seeing as witches were hunted and burned at the stake, I guess her fear is warranted. Though I highly doubt Erma’s dealings would set off any alarm bells.
Shooting her a withering glare, I ask, “Are you going to let me in?”
She eyes the feathers adorning my onyx hair.
“I’ve got something to get those out. Come on.” She opens the door, and I step over the threshold while holding my breath, hoping to the devil she disarmed the rest of her boobytraps.
The inside of Erma’s house is just as wacky as the outside. After she uses a solution to pluck the feathers off of me, I sit down on a puke green couch and eye the peeling bright orange and yellow striped wallpaper. Whoever gave the woman interior design advice deserves to die. I cross my toned legs—perks of being a succubus—and the slit in my skirt falls open. I leave it.
Erma scowls at the skin I’ve revealed and clucks her tongue. A smirk pulls at my lips. She used to admonish me but quickly realized that only made me more obnoxious. Now she just clucks her disapproval. She perches on a patent leather magenta armchair, waiting patiently for me to make a request.
I let out a put-upon sigh. She knows why I’m here. She plays this silly game with me every time I visit. Making me ask for what I want.
“Really, Erma?”
An
almost genuine look of surprise flashes across her face. She plays this game and then has the audacity to feign ignorance. Witches are bitches. Technically Erma is a mage, but human lore calls her kind witches, and honestly, “mages are bitches” doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.
“I’d like to see the list of clients,” I say.
She narrows her eyes at me.
I purse my lips before growling the word she’s waiting for. “Please.”
“Well, since you asked so nicely.” She promptly flicks her wrist; red magic shoots from the tips of her fingers and wraps around a photo album on the shelf to my right. The spell drops the velvet book in front of me on the coffee table. A few errant papers scatter across the floor with the impact.
“Thank you.”
She nods, snapping her fingers and using her magic to pick up the fallen pieces of paper. When I first met Erma, over sixty years ago, her magic unsettled me. Now I barely bat an eye when she uses it.
Using a finger, I caress the soft cover. One more time. That’s all.
I gently open the book, as though it might break if I go any faster. Erma watches me with interest, sipping from a cup filled with tea.
The first page is filled with women both beautiful and ugly, though beauty is relative to a creature like me. Humans get so caught up in the physical world, not realizing true beauty comes from the purity of their soul. They can thank Gaia for that. A pretty blonde catches my eye, or rather, the ugly sneer she wears does. I’m sure it’s meant to be seductive, but even in a photo I can see the Taint marking her soul. Since she’s been marked by moral misdeeds, her soul has been claimed by Avernus and will be used as fuel to power the world when she dies.