by Kim Schubert
“Then what?” the asshole asked.
“To forget. Now are you going to tell Mark it’s okay if he comes over here, or do I have to get up and go to his bed?”
Logan patted the warm spot my body had left and Mark eagerly curled his body around my own. It would have been romantic when he buried his face in my hair, except he was in love with Jerry and I was an emotional train wreck.
Logan lowered his hulking form down, leaning closer so the minimal gap I had left between our bodies vanished. His warm skin heating my own, I thought, here’s hoping I don’t have nightmares.
…
It was a subtle jerk that woke me up. Logan looked down at me, his brow furrowed.
“Did I snore?” I asked, feeling Mark’s heavy arm around my waist.
“No, it’s been four hours.”
I grunted, pushing at him. “Move, so I can get up without disturbing him. He needs his sleep.”
“You aren’t waking him?”
“Not yet, but I have to pee,” I hissed, slowly wiggling my body out from under Mark and shoving Logan at the same time.
He gave a low chuckle as he watched me hustle to the bathroom. I snatched clothing for the day before shutting the door behind me.
Dressed with teeth freshly brushed, I rummaged through my bag until I found my binoculars.
“Going old school on this one?”
I shrugged. “I’m curious as to what’s happening. I’d like not to be caught unaware.”
Logan nodded before taking care of his own morning routine. I sat in front of the window, watching the people coming and going from the coffee shop and art gallery. While I didn’t think the latter had any connection to what was going on, it didn’t hurt to look.
A pain of longing struck me as I sat there thinking about my last stakeout with Jerry at the strip club. While he may not have been up front about who and what he was, I liked him. He had my back and I wasn’t going to let him down now. Everyone had a past, and it didn’t serve any purpose judging him for it.
Logan pulled a burgundy armchair close to my perch on the dark gold and white striped couch.
“Anything?” he asked, lacing his fingers over his flat stomach.
“Not yet.”
“Hungry?”
“Do you even have to ask?”
He laughed, picking up the phone and ordering room service.
I heard the shifting of a sheet as Mark got up, silently dressing and coming to stand behind me.
“Logan ordered breakfast, do you want to go check out the coffee shop?”
I felt his gaze on me. I lowered the binoculars, turning to meet his eyes.
“You trust me? I was certain there would be some speech about not being able to keep my shit together.” His teeth ground on the last part.
Logan looked at me, waiting for my response, which was, “I trust you won’t let Jerry down.”
He nodded, jaw still clenched tightly as he looked out, arms crossed over his chest.
“Why don’t I get breakfast down there?” he asked, eager to see inside.
I smiled. “Sure, I doubt Logan ordered enough for all of us, anyways.”
Logan huffed, “Do you need the wax cleaned out of your ears? You heard my order.”
I chose to ignore him. “You have your phone?” I asked Mark.
He nodded.
“Good, take pictures, but—actually, Logan why don’t you accompany Mark and act like a couple taking pictures!”
Sometimes I’m a freaking genius.
The look Logan gave me said he didn’t share that appraisal of my skills.
Mark covered his laugh with a cough. “I can handle it, Olie, but thanks for the offer.”
He grinned suggestively and the surprise laughter caught me off guard. We were all saved from Logan’s retort by the arrival of breakfast.
Mark slipped out, still sporting a small smile, as two carts were brought in.
“Please tell me you ordered French toast and donuts and pancakes and hash browns,” my watering mouth demanded.
“Yes to all the above.”
“Glorious food, come to mama.”
I pulled a metal cart towards my perch, analyzing my sitting arrangement as Logan tipped the man, closing the black door after him.
“Can you move the couch?” I asked, already munching on a donut.
With an annoyed huff he pushed it around until it hit the back of my knees and I sat. “Good?” he grumbled.
“Hmm, maybe a little closer.”
I got a solid whack that pushed me closer and my bite of donut down my windpipe.
Hacking, I glared at him though watery eyes. “Asshole.”
“Prissy.”
“Hey, I think you have me confused with your ex-fiancée,” I retorted, propping my feet up on the windowsill, powdered sugar coating my hands. “I believe you prefer the term demon whore to describe me.”
He exhaled loudly. “I’m sorry I’ve called you that.”
“Why? It’s how you feel,” I replied, smearing chocolate donut frosting on my binoculars as I watched Mark cross the street to the coffee shop.
“Maybe once,” he answered honestly, “but not anymore.”
“Careful Logan,” I warned softly, hiding behind the binoculars like the chicken I was. “People might start thinking we are friends.”
Silence.
…
Logan and I devoured both carts of food in the five hours Mark was gone. Logan had texted him to make sure he was okay, but Mark just kept sending pictures of various parts of the shop, everything from the bathroom to the back alley.
I cleaned up my hands, face, and binoculars before snatching Logan’s phone from him.
“What the hell, Olie?”
“Shh,” I muttered, zooming in and out on the alley, squinting my eyes as I tried to bring up the memory of Jerry bound.
Chewing on my bottom lip, I confessed, “It’s possible I saw Jerry on the top step and not in the storage room.”
Logan moved to sit beside me on the couch. I tilted the picture for him to see while I manipulated it.
“I can see why. The concrete floor and backing are the same as the storage room.”
“And The Oracle smartly only showed a snapshot of Jerry, very little background.”
I chewed on my fingernail as Logan’s phone pinged. He reached over me to grab it, getting to the message faster than I could.
“Did it look something like this?” he asked with a hard edge.
My mouth hung open as the picture The Oracle had shown me consumed Logan’s phone screen. Jerry was looking away from the camera, blood on his white shirt and an angry slant to his jaw.
“Shit,” I hissed, reading the message: We will trade your magician for your succubus.
“No,” Logan bellowed, taking his phone away. I reached for it, slumping into the couch as he stood up, pacing. “You cannot give yourself over to those witches!”
I decided to sit this argument out, for now, letting him rage. Picking up my phone, I debated texting Mark. Deciding he had a say in this, I did.
I watched Mark trying not to run back to the hotel. He arrived far faster than he left, the double black doors cracking under his weight as he outpaced the electric lock.
He was panting, but I imagined it to be more from nerves than exhaustion. “We are trading me for Jerry, once Logan confirms date and time.”
Logan growled low in his throat, “Losing you gives us nothing.”
I raised a calm eyebrow at him. “The witches needed Jerry for contacting the Fae. If they want to trade him, then things are not going as planned.”
“Why do they want you?” Logan asked, his caramel eyes hardened.
“Money, sex, drugs, more information on the Fae. Fuck if I know.”
Mark watched our exchange silently, which was really in his best interest.
“And you think giving them what they want is a good thing?” Logan yelled at me.
“I think having Jerry being held
hostage is worse than me being held hostage. I can’t help him, Logan. But this way, I can get him out without bloodshed. We are doing this.” My voice hardened, daring him to try and fight this out with me.
Mark whined.
“Stop, Olivia,” Logan said, averting his gaze.
“Uh, what did I do?” I genuinely wondered, blinking my gaze away from him to check on Mark.
Mark cleared his throat. “You were acting like a mated pair and I could feel your dominance through Logan.”
“Huh, that’s new isn’t it?”
“Yes,” was the enlightening answer from Logan.
I wanted to take issue with what he wasn’t telling me, but we were on the clock. I got back on point. “Answer the message, agree to the trade.”
Logan held his phone so tightly I thought he was trying to break it. Finally, pissed off, he typed a quick response before throwing the phone at me.
“Happy?” he hissed.
“No, Logan. I’m not.” I left out that broken succubi like me don’t get to be happy. Our endings are like our beginnings: bloody and brutal.
Instead, I handed him his phone, not looking at it when it vibrated again. His stiff shoulders pulsated with repressed anger. I stood with a huff, placing my hands on the skin of his biceps, letting my emotions seep into him, my resignation and possibly a little apology for pushing him so hard.
“How do they even know we are here? That we tracked him?” Logan questioned, ignoring my touch.
“I don’t know,” I sighed. “It stinks of a mole, to be honest, and I’m not sure whose House they’re in.”
“I will be okay,” I uttered, taking a guess at what was bothering him, letting my confidence and peace with this situation seep into him.
His shoulder relaxed slightly as he looked into my eyes. Message sent. “Tonight at midnight, in the alley behind the coffee shop.”
I have no idea what possessed me when I gave him a small smile and caressed the side of his face, his stubble pricking my fingers.
Thankfully, Mark was there to clear this throat. “Guys, you are killing me here.”
“Sorry Mark,” I giggled, not exactly sure what I was apologizing for. “Let’s order food. I’m starved. “
…
I had stuffed myself with every dessert item on the menu, plus a grilled cheese that Logan insisted I needed to eat. Whatever.
We sat together on the couch, me dressed in my leather pants, soft white shirt, and matching leather vest. It was a new addition from Myrtle and could hold almost double the usual number of throwing knives. Not that I had any weapons on me at the time. I was actually debating changing back into jeans, but that seemed like a nervous twitch and I didn’t want to give Logan any ideas.
Mark sat on my left, he and Logan both in jeans, not needing more weapons than their claws and fangs. And they wondered why I was jealous. Their legs leaned against mine, protective and worried.
“We should go,” Mark stated tentatively.
I patted his leg and stood.
The walk to the coffee shop was uninteresting, through the fancy lobby, past the glass doors held open by a polite doorman. We made our way steadily and I wished it could have taken longer. The “what if’s” were playing on repeat in my head. What if Jerry was dead? What if the witches had already contacted the Fae? What if I was leading the Alpha into danger? What if, … ENOUGH. I had made my decision and I would accept the consequences.
As we rounded the corner into the alley, my eyes were drawn to Jerry on his knees, about ten paces in front of several black hooded figures and Destiny, hood back. Smiling.
“So glad you could make it,” she greeted us merrily.
“I’m going to enjoy killing you,” I informed her. Her delicate laughter had me reaching for blades that weren’t there.
“Now, now, succubus.” She smiled, throwing her dark hair over her shoulder. “I knew the Alpha was too smart to keep your troublesome ways around.”
Logan’s lips peeled back in a snarl. “Let’s get on with it.”
“Fine, enough small talk. Send the demon whore to Jerry.”
I walked without having to be told, keeping my gaze trained on Jerry, whose lip was dripping fresh blood. Reaching down, I helped him stand, balancing him when he swayed.
His head dipped to my shoulder. “Forgive me,” he whispered.
“There is nothing to forgive,” I whispered back. “Can you make it?”
He nodded and I moved to allow him past me. Mark struggled to stay next to Logan, pain etched deeply into his face, as Jerry stumbled toward them. I turned toward Destiny, not seeing the reunion.
But I did hear Logan command, “Get him to safety.”
I steeled myself to walk to the witches, but Destiny’s features darkened.
“What are you doing?” she shrieked at Logan.
I turned, seeing him next me. “Logan, go!” I hissed at him.
When I looked again, I saw that it wasn’t the Logan I was used to interacting with. Seeing his lion peering back at me, I gulped and quickly averted my gaze.
The witches fell back, leaving Eli sauntering toward us, his flunkies not far behind.
“Logan?” I asked softly.
A growl was his only response.
Eli’s eyes were wild, and if I didn’t know better I’d say his beast was running the show. The click of a gun had me turning my head to Logan. The barrel of a large caliber weapon rested against his temple.
“It’s fucking silver, bitch. Screw with me and I’ll blow his head off. He won’t be able to regenerate.”
“What do you want?” I asked, unable to look away from the gun.
“Fix him,” his voice broke with painful emotions. “Fix my father, Eli.”
Slowly, I turned back as Eli circled in front of me. “I can’t fix this.”
“You can and you WILL!” His desperation turned into conviction.
Eli shifted into wolf. The transformation was breathtakingly fast; not even Logan could duplicate it.
“They spelled him,“ the gun wielder announced, “to make him shift faster. But it’s destroying him.”
Slowly, I lowered into a crouch.
Logan spoke one word: “Don’t.” His eyes flashed with heated anger.
I shook my head with a groan and kneeled in front of the shifter. His silver eyes held no human emotions, only an idle curiosity. He turned and huffed to the man holding the gun to Logan’s temple.
This was going to hurt. Resignation hunched my shoulders as I reached out to fist my hand into his fur. A pull from a shifter in animal form, while courting the possibility of succumbing to the shifter’s beast, hurt.
A pull from the results of magical enhancements, I’ll admit to being a little scared at that thought.
Sucking in a long breath, I pulled the wildness into my soul. My back arched of its own will, the animal nature seeking a release. Fear, confusion, and hatred blasted through me, finding a voice in my throat. There was too much; behind my closed lids I could see the magic, watch what I pulled out filling back up just as quickly.
Fuck.
I kept pulling, squeezing my eyes closed against the pounding in my head, the pressure building from the foreign emotions.
Grinding my teeth, I squinted an eye open and saw my work have an effect as the silver eyes gained human intelligence again. Stemming the flow of raw emotions, I tried to wrench my hand free, finding that my fingers would not obey me. The wolf snapped far too close to my face, the magic roaring into him once again.
“Olivia, STOP!” Logan screamed.
Turning my neck took more effort than I had in me. Still squinting, I saw Logan was free. With a heavy woosh of air, I tried to release my hand again, finding it once more refusing the commands I gave it.
The silver wolf snapped at my shoulder.
I had to get away. I had to dump some of this rage or I would be worthless to get us out of this situation. Terrified necessity had connections firing inside of me that
I didn’t take the time to understand, only encourage.
When the flow reversed into Eli, I was shocked. A warning buzzed in my ears but I ignored it, expelling all of the unfiltered, powerful hatred I had absorbed.
Granted, I pushed emotions all the time, but they were my own and I played upon others’ existing emotional states. This was different, and it was uncontrollable for me. The rush drowned out all other noises, blinded my eyes yet again, and forced another scream from my lips.
But it didn’t stop. My own emotions rushed out, as pain, betrayal, and anger tumbled down my arm and into the silver wolf. It was too much, the power of the witches fueling him plus my own turbulent emotions. I felt his life force snap under the brutal assault.
Gasping for air, I released the wolf, pushing away from him, shock numbing me. I had killed him with a touch? Where the fuck had that talent been hiding?
A distant part of my brain was worried. This was succubus magic. This was my true magic.
Darkness blocked out the rest of my thoughts, exhaustion claiming me.
…
I rolled over, my head pounding, knees grinding against the harsh cement.
“Fucking hell,” I hissed, pulling at my chained wrists. “Not again.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Logan answered.
“Seriously, they got us both?’
“Yes.”
“Crap, now who is going to save us?”
Logan looked down at me with a raised eyebrow. “You typically free yourself.”
I sighed. “I was going to play the damsel in distress this time, see if the sex was better.”
Logan laughed, pulling at his own chains.
“Mine are magic,” he informed me, holding the chains to the minimal light for me to see.
“Mine aren’t.” I gave a tug but nothing happened.
“Wanna try?” I asked, holding my chains to him.
He shook his head. “I have a shorter tether.”
I groaned.
A deep chuckle reached my ears and Logan turned, not surprised to see a shifter with a striking resemblance to the silver haired one I had killed standing in the shadows.
A little warning would have been nice.
“And you know what?” I added defiantly, “When I get out of here I’m fucking killing the maker of these chains. I’ve seen this shit enough.”