To Handle A Hellcat (Southern Sanctuary Book 12)

by Jane Cousins

  Today’s predominantly red outfit fired all of Declan’s senses, not to mention stirred his cock to attention. But there was more to Darcy than the stripper meets schoolgirl outfit. Her black short bobbed hair drew attention to her high cut cheekbones. Her skin was French vanilla creamy, looking velvet soft and lickable. Her lips cupid bow, yet full and all kinds of distracting. But Declan’s favourite thing about Darcy was her ice clear blue eyes. Many said they were eerie, but to Declan all he saw in them was frozen flames waiting to be thawed. Waiting for the right man to come along and melt the frost.

  Declan intended to be that man.

  He just had to figure out how to make that happen without dying in the process.

  Darcy could be as prickly as hell and tended to lop off limbs first and ask a man’s intentions later. Which was too bad, too sad, when your right hand is lying twitching on the pavement and all you were trying to do was ask directions.

  He’d had almost twenty years to plan his big move. Except, every idea that he’d come up with had to be discarded. Too obvious. Too stupid. Too much danger of dying. Too convoluted. Too sickeningly sweet. Too weird. Too hopeless. Too romantic.

  Darcy was special. Definitely one of a kind. And her patience for stupidity… for anything really, even for someone who breathed too loudly was paper thin. By the time he was fifteen Declan had come to the harsh realisation that any plan he came up with, Darcy would see through it in a split second and destroy it with disdainful abandon.

  So as a last resort, he imagined himself in her shoes and it just came to him… he would trap her. It would require dedication, trickery, deceit, subterfuge, cunning and he would have to commit whole-heartedly. There could be no hesitation. No take backs. He was all in, there would never be anyone for him but Darcy. Not since he was eight years old and she’d looked up at him with those clear, ice blue eyes and invited him to play with her as if it were no big deal.

  Problem was, he wasn’t sure whether he’d gotten the timing right. His gut, every instinct he had was saying yes… yes, now! The only thing was, when you want something so very badly, it’s easy to overthink things. Let fear creep in. The what ifs. There were so many angles to consider. Even yesterday morning, just before he’d entered the exam room to take the final written Enforcer test, he’d been questioning whether it was launch time.

  What he needed was a sign. And then, as if by magic, Great-Aunt Alma, the family matchmaker, better known as the Sherman Tank, because she had all the finesse of one when she manipulated her targets, had sauntered by, glanced over at Declan, and winked. Just winked.

  Immediately his stomach eased and his confidence sky-rocketed.

  Declan assumed that some how, some way, maybe from looking into her magical matchmaking crystal ball or however she performed her meld miracles, that Alma was fully cognizant of his plan to trap Darcy, and that she thoroughly approved.

  And yesterday, when she’d winked at him, her brown eyes shimmering with bright golden magical sparkles there could be no denying it. The look she’d sent his way could only be described as knowing. Entering the exam room for the written portion of the test, it had bolstered Declan’s resolve that all systems were go, mission - Handle a Hellcat - was green-lit.

  It was a stupid name, but hey, he’d only been fifteen when he’d come up with it. And damn, if Darcy wasn’t a Hellcat. And double damn if he didn’t want to handle the hell out of her.

  He’d never been more terrified, yet at the same time so bloody excited. This was it. Thirteen years of manoeuvring, patience, and persistence. And now he had a window of opportunity to burrow so far under Darcy’s skin that no matter how irritating she found him, she would never be able to cut him out of her life. It was a weird tick analogy, but it seemed to fit.

  “…so in summation. While Dante’s grading of demonology might see the Incubi classed as a relatively high threat, considering the Era, it is surmised that Dante was referencing the threat to a woman’s morals, rather than any violent tendencies on the part of the Incubi. According to Section 26, sub-section 192 of the creature-feature field guide, Incubi are only deemed a threat if cornered, or if you get between them and the Sephora counter during a Sale.” Declan glanced over at Darcy who was looking a little dazed. Well, she’d asked about Incubi, what did she expect, he was an Enforcer. “I can summarise the folklore if you like but I think Dante’s listing of their weaknesses and strengths is reasonably thorough. Though it probably needs updating to include Italian-made, bespoke suits.”

  Darcy pulled the car to a halt in the practically empty car park of the National Forest and released a deep sigh of relief. Thank the Merciful Lady, they were here, she didn’t think she could stand to hear any more regarding the grooming habits of Incubi or their birthing process… ick, she would never be able to look at the Demon King with a straight face again.

  “No, I’m good.”

  “You sure?” Declan kept his expression deliberately cheerful. “Because there are over three hundred folklore tales mentioning Incubi, you never know if one of them might prove useful in locating this lothario.”

  Darcy coughed loudly into her hand. “Pot – Kettle.”

  “What was that?” Declan enquired, long dark lashes fluttering inquisitively.

  “Nothing.” Darcy looked away, suddenly she was very aware they were just sitting there, in her car, only inches separating them, but even so, she could feel the body heat radiating off of Declan. It made her fingers itch for a handy sharp blade as the heat he emitted seemed to sink through her skin, sizzle along her nerve endings and target things low in her body.

  Bloody hell, one minute she’s grinding her teeth in irritation, the next she’s all but squirming in place thanks to a flood of hormones. Very un-Darcy like. That’s why Declan did nothing but piss her off. With his sparkling dark violet eyes and washboard abs, most women would view him as catnip, Darcy only saw poison.

  She trusted Declan about as far as she could throw a bloated, decomposing corpse into a swamp. Which is to say not very far at all. That’s why the Sweet Lady above invented hydrofluoric acid. Yeah, smile all you want Cyrano, she wasn’t fooled. Would never be suckered in by those hard, washboard abs or dazzling dimples.

  “I hope you wore your comfortable boots, we have a bit of a hike to get to the Altar.” Darcy all but leapt out of the car.

  Declan exited the vehicle at a slower pace, rolling his shoulders as he straightened. “Looks like a beautiful day for a stroll in the woods.” Blue skies overhead with nary a cloud to blemish the horizon in any direction.

  Darcy ignored the blinding flash of his too white teeth and the dazzling double dimple whammy. He was so freaking cheerful, fine, let’s see how chipper he was after a long slog through the thickly covered terrain they would need to cover to get to the Altar. She was pretty sure he wouldn’t be smiling in the very near future.

  Declan watched as Darcy’s ice blue eyes sparkled with secret pleasure. Oh, shit. His Hellcat was plotting something, probably his untimely death and the fast disposal of his earthly remains. Well, he knew going in that he was courting danger and potential death. But, if by some miracle he managed to pull this off, then it would all be worth it.

  “After you.” Declan grinned, waving his hand at the faint trail.

  “I don’t think so. Remember, this is your test, I’m appraising you every step of the way. You take the lead.”

  Declan shrugged, took a few steps and then glanced back at Darcy over his shoulder, grinning. “So you intend to appraise me from the rear?” Heat flashed through his violet eyes and a knowing smile twisted up the edges of his sensual lips. “How novel.”

  Why did he have to make everything so flirty? So dirty? And now, as they entered the forest, Darcy not only found herself looking at Declan’s rear end, she was actually thinking about it. With all the jogging and swimming the man did, it was no surprise he had a world-class tight butt.

  If she was indeed to appraise it, then five star accolades and go
ld medals would rain down on Declan. Grrr, it was enough to make her want to pull her favourite knife from her boot and play pin the tail on the incredibly annoying, irritating, cheerful wannabe Enforcer.

  Chapter Three

  Shit, Darcy just managed to catch herself before she stumbled and landed on her face. What the hell was going on? She, who could normally move through any landscape seamlessly, barely making a sound, even if it was an urban setting, or dense bushland. Was bumbling along in Declan’s wake like some sort of… normal person.

  That last almost stumble brought her total of klutzy near misses to four. Four! And that didn’t even begin to factor in the number of branches that had smacked her in the face. The multitude of twigs that had caught on her tiny snug top, or the plethora of bugs dive bombing her ears and eyes.

  And she couldn’t swear to it, but she had the distinct impression that the unusual number of birds that were coming in to land on the branches of the towering eucalyptus trees along the trail were critiquing her progress, and laughing through their beaks at her.

  Yeah, right, just like that rabbit she caught a glimpse of a few minutes ago had actually flipped her off. Except, it really did meet her gaze, wrinkle its nose disdainfully and then lift its tail and give her the one-eyed disapproving wink as it hopped away.

  If only she could blame the heat. But honestly, it was only Spring, and while it was a lovely blue sky day, the sunshine beaming down was far from hot, especially filtered through the dense bushland canopy. No, Darcy couldn’t blame the heat but she could blame Him. Declan Benavidez.

  Seriously, it was like the forest and all the fauna recognised Declan as he walked along the trail. Leafy branches reached out to caress his shoulders and brush back his hair gently. Spring blooming flowers leaned over to plant kisses along his bare arms. The purple flowering native hibiscus trees swayed gently, shooing flies away from him. The birds trilled soft melodic greetings. Hopping from branch to branch as if to keep him in sight. A wombat woke from its daytime slumber and nosed its way out of a burrow to rub its head against Declan’s ankles.

  Darcy was ready to explode. As yet another branch that had trailed leaves gently over Declan’s shoulder seemed to rear back and try to scratch her eyes out. While a clump of fawning flowers spat out a bee in her direction. And the bloody wombat snapped its jaws threateningly as it turned to waddle its way back to its burrow.

  That was it. Scratch her. Bite her. Sting her. But no one, not even woodland fauna was allowed to scuff her favourite red, patent leather, thigh-high boots.

  “You’re like some sort of Disney – fricking - Princess.”

  “What’s that?” Declan slowed his pace and glanced back. “What happened to you?” His violet eyes filling with surprise as he noted the scratch across Darcy’s cheek, the rising red welt on her neck and the bright pink angry bumps decorating her left arm.

  “This is all your fault.” Darcy waved her hand at the surrounding vegetation, and shooing away a dive bombing annoying fly at the same time. “Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that the birds help you get dressed each morning.”

  “Not since I was twelve. We had a parting of ways because they kept pairing spots and stripes together. Made me look like a clown.”

  The sad thing was, Darcy couldn’t be a hundred percent sure he wasn’t telling the truth.

  “Here.” Declan walked back, slipped his arm through hers and tugged.

  “What do you think you are doing?” Darcy snarled as Declan dragged her forward along the worn path.

  “I don’t know how you walk in those high heels.”

  “Normally, I don’t have the slightest problem. I’ve tracked Grimps through swamp land and never even got my boots muddy. But today… today…” Darcy tried to pull her arm away.

  “Hey, just relax. It’s a beautiful day for a stroll, and isn’t this better?”

  Darcy grit her teeth, glaring at the surrounding vegetation. No more branches trying to scratch her. No more flies or insects attacking her. Okay, if all she had to do to evade the spiteful flora and fauna was walk along arm in arm with Declan, then that would be a small price to pay. Except, now she was noting how warm his flesh was where it was pressed against hers. And how his muscles tensed and shifted under her touch.

  “You sicked the bugs and the vegetation on me, didn’t you?”

  “Please, I’m no Earth Witch, I leave all that to Serena. I just come out this way a fair bit and the forest and its inhabitants recognize me, that’s all.”

  “Why would you come all the way out here?” Darcy looked around, okay, so it was kind of starkly pretty, if you were into trees, shrubs and wildlife. But it was rather isolated. Surely there was more accessible wooded areas for Declan to run around in trawling for bodacious supernatural babes.

  And just think, she’d met four-hundred and twenty-seven of those women, all gorgeous. If they were the rejects, just how high were Declan’s standards? Goddess level? The man was certainly handsome enough to sucker in the deities.

  “The reason I’m out this way often is because of you.”

  “Me?”

  “Remember those traps Elijah had you set around the Elemental Altars after the last Big Foot invader? Well, they have to be checked regularly, and who do you think does the checking? The Enforcers.”

  “I’d forgotten about those.”

  “The first few months those traps saw a lot of traffic. Though, lately, for the last two months or so, things have been really quiet.”

  “Hmmm, that’s interesting, the timing, the numbers dropping off. I wonder if there could be some sort of celestial or tidal reason behind the spikes and dips impacting the Sanctuary grid? It would be nice to think someone is tracking the activity.”

  Declan shrugged, his shoulder pressing against Darcy’s arm. “I’m just the dumb muscle. Don’t come looking to me for answers.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short, you’re the pretty-boy muscle.”

  Declan laughed and dimpled. “So you think I’m smart and pretty?”

  Darcy’s ice blue eyes narrowed. “I didn’t say that.”

  “Close enough.” Declan was grinning, flashing those pearly whites her way.

  “Oh, shut up Princess.”

  “Yes, my Dark Queen.”

  Honestly, Declan didn’t have enough common sense to cower in fear when his life was all but hanging in the balance. He was always baiting her. Met every icy death glare she sent him with a warm, amused smile. Some might call him brave. Darcy had decided long ago that Declan was such a babe magnet, used to the fairer sex all but slobbering over him that he just couldn’t contemplate the possibility of a woman being immune to his - all too obvious from Space - charms.

  And though Darcy was immune, she wasn’t blind, deaf or dumb. As they continued their trek in silence Darcy was conscious of Declan’s arm flexing under her touch, his shoulder pressing gently against hers. The smell of him wrapping around and taunting her senses; decadent dark cacao, rich blood orange and lush oak moss.

  Bummer, though she had requested silence, suddenly without the distraction of conversation, Darcy found herself all too aware of him, six-foot-two-inches of lean muscle striding confidently along beside her. A body honed from hours of Enforcement training, jogging and swimming.

  Timothy, their cousin the photographer, was known to publically beg Declan on his knees to act as his muse. But other than a mandatory driver’s license photo, Declan had always made it a point to say no.

  Which the majority of females in the Sanctuary thought was a pity, since Timothy had a knack for nudes. And given the drool-worthy, shirtless, windswept, glistening with sweat shot of Declan he’d produced for the driver’s license, they could only guess at what wonders he would create if given leave to let his artistic freak flag fly.

  Great-Great-Aunt Adelaide had been so chuffed by the black and white nude series Timothy had shot of her a few years ago that she’d posted the results on the library notice board. Some thing
s, you just can’t unsee.

  Declan had taken the teasing of his fellow Enforcers and the majority of his male cousins on the chin. Though there was a rumour circulating that he had requested Timothy conduct a nice normal headshot only re-shoot. And that Timothy had gotten huffy when his artistic license was called into question and had taken a whole two days to recover, before he was back pestering Declan to model for him.

  With thoughts of nude Declan flashing through her head it was a relief when the trail finally widened and the Earth Altar came into view. Darcy automatically scoped the naturally formed large clearing for any sign of a threat or obvious disturbance. But other than an overabundance of springtime flowers and flitting butterflies, she found nothing overtly jarring about the setting.

  As they sauntered further into the clearing she tried to shake off Declan, but the man had the grip of superglue. Perhaps if she hadn’t been distracted by trying to untangle herself from Declan’s hold, she would have seen the smear of dried mud on the fifth eucalyptus tree on the right immediately, and questioned sooner, why the fallen leaves directly to her left were distributed so evenly.

  Too late, every instinct for danger Darcy had flared. “Wait, this is wrong-”

  Zoomp. The trap snapped shut. The large camouflaged net gathering them up and yanking them unceremoniously into the air.

  “What the…” Declan found himself choking on bits of twigs and leaves momentarily. Plunged into darkness, the net surrounding them a little suffocating as it bobbed under their combined weight. On the plus side his arms were full of a squirming and majorly pissed off Darcy. The two of them wedged tightly together.

  “That fucking, feral, mud slinging, cow.” Darcy ground her teeth. How embarrassing, so this was what it was like to be caught in one of her traps. At least she’d had the good sense to raise both her hands into the air at the last moment. “That sneaky, devious, sly, trap-stealing, wannabe Goddess.”