Firestorm (Smoke & Ashes Book 1)

by D. N. Hoxa

  The grin that broke Asshole’s face could give mine a run for its money. Everything about it, from the way his lips twisted at the corners, to how round and bite-able his cheeks became, demanded you believed that it was honest. Good thing I knew better.

  “And if he doesn’t?” Chelsea wondered in a whisper, and Asshole made a move.

  He stood up, pushing the chair behind him without a care of who could hear. His eyes were still on me, and I couldn’t look away if I tried, so I saw it all as if in slow motion. He stepped away from the square table and walked toward ours like he really thought he was on a runway. Asshole. His army green jacket was baggy, hiding an infinity of ripped muscle cords topped with skin so smooth your fingers sort of slid on it if you tried to grab him.

  And, yes, I only knew this because I’d fought with him before. Shirtless.

  But it was useless to keep hoping that he was just going to disappear off the face of the Earth now that he was barely five feet away from our table.

  Things were about to get very real.

  2

  Lexar Dagon’an in all his six-foot, two-inch glory put one foot after the other in my direction, like he couldn’t read the expression on my face—the one that said piss off, loud and clear. We had no business together and he knew it. I knew it. Our fathers knew it, too.

  So, what the hell was he doing?

  For the second and a half that it took him to get to me, I scanned every inch of space around me until I was fully convinced that he was alone. There were no other creatures like himself in the bar—or around it as far as I could hear. The only weapon on his person was his body, and that was more than enough to burn this entire neighborhood to the ground. He didn’t use knives or guns or anything like that. He claimed it was beneath him—an insult to his skilled hands. And other body parts.

  I claimed he was full of shit.

  When he stopped in front of me, I thought about standing up, but I didn’t want him to know how on edge I really was thanks to his presence. That he was here meant nothing good, that much I already knew. I just hoped that whatever bad thing it was, it wouldn’t involve me personally.

  “Hello, Sassy Pants,” he said, slipping his fingers in the pockets of his faded jeans that had no right to look as good on him as they did. That was to show me that he was at ease, completely relaxed in my presence.

  Ugh. “If it isn’t Nevermore himself,” I replied. His name—Lexar—meant raven in our fathers’ language. He had the eyes of a demon, and his presence was like a fucking shadow everywhere he went. Just like Poe’s Raven, he was the very embodiment of evil in my eyes.

  Not really, but he didn’t need to know that.

  Asshole didn’t even flinch.

  “Chelsea, it’s a pleasure to see you again,” he said, looking away from me for a second. If I’d been smart, I’d have made my move then. As it was, I kept my hands on the table, my fingers itching to grab him by the throat and throw him out through the wall.

  Chelsea looked up at him, eyes glossy, mouth open, but no word came out. Then she looked at me, and I could hear her cry for help echoing in my mind.

  “She’d tell you the same but she’s not a fucking liar,” I said to Lexar. “What brings you to my city, birdie?”

  “Hate to bruise your little ego, but you don’t own this city,” the asshole said, like he was paying me a compliment. “In fact, you don’t own shit, Sassy Pants. Not even that shithole you live in.”

  “Hmm. But you know what I do own? Every knife on my person, plus all the good stuff under my skin. You know all about that, don’t you, dove? How’s your chest feeling, by the way?”

  Something flashed in his pitch-black eyes, but it was gone too soon. “Just as well as the back of your head, actually. Your skull was pretty dented in, if I remember correctly. I hated to make you cry, by the way, but it was nothing personal. Just business.”

  Ha! Cry, he said. “The only time you made me cry was from joy, when you got dragged back to whatever hole you crawled out of.”

  “I think I’m going to—” Chelsea started, but I cut her off.

  “Stay.” She wasn’t going anywhere. If I was left alone with Lexar, I could do something stupid, and I was trying really hard not to. Those days were behind me now. I was an adult, and I wanted to behave like one. Nobody had told me how hard adulting actually is, but I was still trying to figure it out.

  “Speaking about holes, you’ve got a few on your hoodie,” he said, nodding down at my torso, but never looking away from my eyes. I looked down. Just for a split second, the fool that I was, and the next thing I knew, he was dragging a chair from the table next to ours to sit with us. At the same table. As me and Chelsea. Together.

  What in the hell?

  “What are you doing?” I did have two tiny holes in my hoodie that I’d assumed were drops of blood. It must have been from when the maggot tried to push me off him. I hated ruined hoodies.

  “Sitting down. Let me guess: you had some fun before coming here, didn’t you? You killed an infernal. Or was it two?” He sat down, just like that, like we were the best of buddies just hanging out at the bar.

  “What the hell’s an infernal?” I blurted. How was I going to get him to piss off without actually leaving myself? He would not chase me out of my favorite bar. I would never allow it.

  Lexar actually rolled his eyes with a sigh. “You call them maggots. The world calls them infernals. I’m sure you’ve heard this before, Sassy Pants.”

  Ah, yes. They did call the maggots infernals.

  Straightening in my seat, I risked a quick glance at Chelsea, who was holding onto her drink with both hands and looking at the table without moving an inch. I hated to do this to her, but it would be over soon.

  “Cut the shit, Nevermore. Tell me why you’re here and leave.”

  He didn’t smile for once, which was a welcome change. Except I’d apparently forgotten that, when he didn’t smile, he looked like he was deep in thought, trying to decide whether to set the world on fire or not. He was ready for it, too. Had a match in his back pocket and everything. Ugh. He took badass to a whole new level.

  “That’s the spirit,” he said. “For a second there, I thought you were going to start undressing me in front of all these people.”

  “I would, but these poor people have done nothing to deserve the sight of your tiny assets in full display like that. I’m a people-person—you know that.”

  His jaw locked. “That mouth of yours hasn’t changed a bit, has it,” he said, and it wasn’t a question.

  “And you apparently still think that talking about dicks is going to make me blush.” I offered him a smile.

  He chuckled. “I was actually referring to speed. You haven’t learned how to talk a bit slower since I last saw you.”

  “And you haven’t learned to listen faster, apparently.” Maybe I did talk fast, but only a little bit. Chelsea had no trouble with it. She talked just as fast as I did.

  “Nobody can make me want to insult them the way you do, Sassy Pants. You’re truly gifted,” he said, but the smile wasn’t genuine this time. I got to him the same way his very presence got to me.

  “To be insulted by you, I’d have to care about your opinion of me. Here’s a newsflash: I don’t, so go ahead and give it your best shot, dove.”

  “Tempting the thunder never leads to anything good,” he warned in that low voice, almost like a whisper, that my ears liked for some reason.

  But if he thought his powers could scare me, well…he would be right. There’s something about watching thunder and lightning materialize out of thin air, so fast you have no chance of preparing for it, so unpredictable you can never guess where it’s going to hit next. It did make me a bit uncomfortable. It didn’t help that his lightning bolts were bright enough to render you blind for minutes afterward if he wanted it to. Not a nice feeling.

  “I’m not tempting shit. You’re in my city, pretending that we’re friends and that we didn’t try to kill
each other last time we met. I’m just playing along until you tell me what you’re doing here and leave. Or I make you leave.”

  He leaned closer on the table, extra slowly as if to tell me that he didn’t mean to attack. I still expected him to. “I’d like to see you try.”

  “Tempting the fire never leads to anything good, Nevermore.”

  His black eyes sparkled as if a new life ignited in them, which I shouldn’t have even noticed but he was so damn close. It made me really nervous, but I was not going to back away. Fuck that.

  “I never claimed to have good intentions.”

  “So, tempt me. Make a move, birdie. C’mon, make my fucking night.”

  His eyes fell to my lips as if he was trying to figure out if I just said what I said. An open invitation for a fight. If he did what I asked…well, let’s just say that it was going to be a long night, if the last time we went at it was anything to go by.

  “As much as I’d like to teach you some manners again, Sassy Pants, I can’t,” he said and leaned back in his chair. “I’m here on business.”

  “So why are you talking to me?”

  “Because it’s your business, too.”

  “Your business is not my business.”

  “My business is your business when my business is in your city.”

  “So, you admit that this is my city.”

  “Only when it suits me.” At least he was being honest.

  “You need my help.” That was perfectly clear to me by now.

  “I don’t, but I’ve got orders to treat you like the little princess that you really are, so here I am.”

  “Oh, that word turns you on, doesn’t it? Orders?” I leaned closer on the table and put my chin in my palm, batting my lashes at him. “Is that what you think about when you’re pleasuring yourself, Nevermore? Do you get off on people telling you what to do because your brain just isn’t big enough to make decisions by itself?”

  “Maybe I would if I ever got the chance to pleasure myself every once in a while, but you already know that I don’t. You also know exactly what turns me on.” Oh, shit. “But for the purpose of this conversation, let’s pretend you’re an adult and that you can handle yourself for five minutes. Can we do that? Because like it or not, you can’t disobey direct orders from Downstairs no matter how big of a tantrum you throw, Princess Sassy.”

  He was going to really make me blush now. “Have you been living under a rock, dove? Oh, wait. You have.” He closed his eyes with a sigh. He did live under a rock. Technically. “So why don’t you say whatever you need to say to convince them that you made an effort, and be on your way? This princess is bored out of her fucking mind by you.” I scratched my chin for a second. “Hey, maybe that’s your gift!”

  He opened his mouth, and I could see it all over his face that he wanted to keep going with me. He always did. We could do this all night for all I cared, but he was here on business, so he controlled himself. Good for him. I wouldn’t have even made the effort.

  “A nocturnal witch is on the loose and I was tasked with containing her. She’s here in Philadelphia, in hiding for the moment, and so far, nobody knows what she’s up to.”

  “A nocturnal witch?” I whispered and widened my eyes.

  “Exactly,” he said, a stern look on his face as he crossed his arms in front of him. He looked down at the table for a moment and did that thing where he pulled his bottom lip over his upper one in wonder. As if those damn things weren’t full and soft and pink enough already. Seriously, it was like he had lipstick on (he didn’t, I checked), and it was the perfect contrast to the deep tan of his skin.

  I noticed it all in less than a split second—the way his hair fell in waves on his forehead, and how he was probably the only guy on the planet who could pull off a tiny silver hoop earring in his left ear so well—then I got my shit together.

  I put my hand on my chest and gasped. “Fucking hell, that was close.” His eyebrows shot up. “I almost gave a damn there for a second.”

  I did give a damn. Witches in general were dangerous creatures, especially nocturnal ones, but he didn’t need to know that I cared about that.

  “I’m being serious, Sapphire.”

  “What are you, my dad?” I spit. Only my father ever called me by my full name like that.

  “Your dad demanded I speak to you about this first. This is no joke, and you know it.”

  “But you’re already here, aren’t you?” And as much as I hated it, he was apparently going to stick around until he found that witch. Or I did. A direct order from the pits of Hell wasn’t something either of us could ignore—though for different reasons. That didn’t mean I had to like it. “You’re going to do all the work again and get Employee of the Year Downstairs, I just know it. Everybody will be so fucking proud of you—the Golden Boy, the rule follower, the rising star. Meanwhile, I’ll just continue to be…me.”

  He locked his jaw so tightly, I heard it snap. For a long second, he didn’t say anything. I didn’t say anything. We just stared at each other.

  I’d only ever known him for a little over a month the first time. I had been much more willing to cooperate then. I’d been a fool. It had taken me all of two weeks to fall for him, and I’d opened myself wide to him because I’d thought he felt the same way.

  Then he’d practically laughed in my face, and I’d realized what a stupid mistake I’d made.

  But I was young then—so young. Barely twenty-four, I had no idea what the hell I was doing. Now, at the ripe age of twenty-five, I was wiser, smarter, more clever, brighter, sharper…what other synonyms are there for this? You get the point, anyway.

  “She’s very powerful. She’s in possession of some very powerful spells, too.” He did deserve credit for trying.

  “Wait, did you hear that?” I turned my head toward the door. He looked right away—and so did Chelsea. “That’s the sound of nobody giving a shit.” A total classic.

  He didn’t even flinch, but he was probably laughing his evil heart out on the inside.

  I could hardly believe it myself, but it worked. The next second, the ferocious raven of the Underworld rose from his chair, hands pulled up in fists at his sides. I could feel the energy coming from him now—I’d pissed him off. Definitely one of my proudest moments in life. I didn’t think he’d actually attack me because he was a sucker for orders, and Daddy Dearest probably explicitly told him not to mess with me after what happened last time. But still, I reached for my own magic, too, feeling it vibrating under my skin, begging to be let out.

  And he could feel it.

  It didn’t scare him as much as I’d have liked, but he stepped back.

  “Be on your way now, Nevermore. And try not to sleep with everything that moves out there. STDs are a real thing,” I said. “Friendly warning.”

  “One of these days, I am going to wipe all those words out of your brain, and the only thing you’ll know how to say is please.”

  I had the perfect comeback for that, but the prick moved so fast, it took me off guard. He put his hand on the table, and when he pulled it back, a small piece of paper remained. Then, he turned around and practically ran out of the bar.

  My mouth was still hanging open when the door slammed shut behind him.

  “Do you need some water?” Chelsea whispered from across the table. “You know, for the burn.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Man, that was intense. Now I’m turned on,” she said. “How is he so hot? I mean, seriously.” She fanned herself. Actually fanned herself.

  “He’s a fucking prick is what he is.” How dare he come back here, just like that, like nothing at all had happened, and talk to me like he actually expected me to help him?

  And leave that piece of paper on the table without so much as a word about it?

  Probably because he knew I’d know who it was from. I looked at it like it was a hissing snake, about to bite my hand off if I so much as reached for it.

  “What the
hell is that?” Chelsea asked with a flinch.

  “A letter.” From my father.

  Chelsea let out a long breath. “I’m going to get another round. Finish up quick before I come back. Looks like I’m paying. Again,” she muttered.

  I took the glass in front of me and drank half the vodka in one gulp. The alcohol burned me in a good way. I was no longer smiling, and I had no choice but to pick up the stupid letter and read it eventually.

  But maybe it wasn’t from my father? He had only sent me a letter once. Maybe Lexar was just giving me his number or something?

  Yeah, right.

  I picked up the piece of paper and turned it over before my nerves made me burn the whole place to the ground.

  * * *

  Meeting Downstairs - dawn.

  * * *

  And that was it.

  I read those letters over and over again, just to make sure that I wasn’t missing anything. My father wanted me to go to Hell to meet with him? I squeezed the letter in my palm until smoke started coming out of it. I was heating up, and it took a lot of focus to get myself to cool down again.

  A meeting in Hell. I’d only ever been there once, very briefly, and I never wanted to go back.

  But Lexar was right. I couldn’t disobey a direct order from my father. The silver-colored bracelet dangling around my left wrist was one of the reasons. It was a gift from him—a gift I never dared to take off, not when I showered, not when I slept. It was always with me. My life depended on that thing—and he was the only one who could destroy it without having to even be close to it.

  And I knew my father. If I refused to go see him, he would come up here to talk to me, and I wanted that even less. It was bad enough that everybody knew we were related. Being seen with him up here made people’s reaction to the sight of me even worse than it already was.

  No, my father hadn’t been up here in the past two years, and if I could keep that way, I would. I’d rather hear whatever he had to say when nobody else was around.