by SF Benson
Blessed Hearts: Hearts Duology Book Two
By SF Benson
Copyright © 2017 by Avanturine Press, LLC
All rights reserved worldwide
Published July 10, 2017
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the express written permission of the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of this author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Editing by Tia Silverthorne Bach
Formatting by Avanturine Press, LLC
ASIN: B071LR3TVZ
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Also by SF Benson
Cursed Hearts: HEARTS DUOLOGY BOOK ONE
THE ALLIANCE CHRONICLES SERIES
REGRESS (#1) - Available Now
RESCUE (#2) - Available Now
RELEASE (#3) - Available Now
REBEL (#4) – Available in August
Stranger Things Have Happened.
“Cash, you gotta help us. I think we killed a coupla girls.”
I recognize the anguished, shaky voice. Anger spirals from somewhere deep down. I’m not sure whether it’s the idea of being interrupted or the fact there’s a cleanup needed that provokes me.
Granted, this isn’t a call I want at two in the morning from anyone. When my phone buzzed, I seriously considered not answering it. I just knew it was bad news. If I had let it ring, my partner in crime wouldn’t be sizing me up like a snake zeroing in on its prey.
For the moment, I ignore her icy stare and focus on the call. “Slow down, Alec. Where are the girls?”
Alec Mazrel, my friend since I was thirteen, stammers, “Behind the diner.”
“And where are you now?”
“At a motel outside town with the fellas.”
Damn. Dude sounds like he’s in tears. I sit up and scrub my hand over my beard. The mattress dips beside me. My next words will earn me a spot in Hell. “Text me the address. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
I hit the END button and wait for the attack to start.
“What have the twins done now?” Edwina’s voice goes straight to my core. There’s something about her sexy, low-vibrating voice that unravels me. Even though there’s an edge to it, I’m tempted to slide back under the covers with her.
Anyone who knows the issues surrounding my family would call me a fucking hypocrite. Let them. This she-vamp offers pleasures I’ve become addicted to. Her arsenal of tricks keep me coming regularly. It’s been about five years since our first hook-up. Edwina will never be able to satisfy all my hungers, but she does a damned good job with at least one of them. We always practice discretion, though. My family has had enough drama with my sister hooking up with a vampire. No need to add to it.
Edwina stares at me, waiting for an answer. I reach for my jeans as my phone buzzes with the text message. I read it and report to Edwina. “Alec claims they might have killed somebody. There may be one or two bodies dumped behind the diner. I have a meeting with the fellas.”
She draws in a breath before speaking. “Cash.” Frustration and disdain come through her words. “When are ya going to let ya friends handle their own problems?”
“Don’t start, Edie.” I pull on my socks and shove my feet in my boots. “You know those guys are like my brothers. I can’t ignore them.”
Edwina drags the bed sheets over her perfectly shaped breasts and groans. “Ya know this has got to stop. It was one thing tidying up messes for ya sista. Now ya want me cleaning up behind ya friends?”
My gaze darts over to her. I shoot back, “Are you complaining ‘bout Kelsie? I thought you wanted to help me with her situation.”
“I did. I’ll still help you.” Her forehead creases. “I’m just concerned about ya. Dawlin’, ya can do better than hanging out with a bunch of immature incubi. It’s time ya grow up and find ya self some permanent female companionship.”
I tug on my shirt. We’ve had this conversation too much over the past year. Frankly, it’s the wrong time for this argument. “Listen, Edie. We’ve talked ‘bout this. I’ve got you. I’m not looking for anyone else. Have you forgotten ‘bout the curse, or the simple fact incubi don’t fall in love?”
She grabs my pack of smokes off the nightstand and lights up. “Bullshit! The curse involves succubi and vampires. Ya can love anyone ya want, if ya want. Ya just need to open ya heart.”
Is she trying to pick a fight? I don’t like arguing with Edwina. When we do, I don’t see her for a while. A few days I can manage. The last time we fought, however, it was a month before I heard from her.
“Can you drop this for now? I’ve got enough to handle with Alec and Dante.” I pick up my leather jacket. “Can you do me a favor and take care of this shit before people start talking?”
“Fine, cher.” Edwina takes a drag off the cigarette, and blows out a halo of smoke. “I’ll do this one, but ya owe me.”
“And I always pay up.” I wink at her and grin. “How ‘bout I come through tomorrow night?”
“Fine,” she drawls. Dark emotions, ones I can’t decipher, cross her face. “But I’m not done with this discussion.”
“But I am.” I kiss her forehead. “Thanks, Edie.”
It’s time for me to deal with a couple of assholes. Discussing the improbabilities of my discovering love isn’t happening now or in the future.
I’m an incubus.
We don’t fall in love.
Ever.
The motel Colt chose is eight miles west of town. It’s the usual type of dump near a highway—two-story brick with rooms facing a broken, near-empty parking lot. I’m glad for the small measure of seclusion. It’s best no one knows we’re here. When supernaturals get into trouble, it’s critical not to have witnesses. Shit only gets complicated, and a bit bloody, when that happens.
A single light shines in the lobby over a plain, anorexic-looking woman with greasy brown hair. She’s alone at the desk. I could use a charge after spending time with Edwina. But the unappealing human is so far from my type she isn’t even on my radar. She’d be like drinking cheap whiskey. It’ll get a person drunk, but they’ll feel like shit the next day. The best humans to steal essence from have a little more meat on their bones—the bigger the better.
I pull my Ducati Multistrada 1200 motorcycle into a spot near the end of the lot and kill the motor. The shiny red and black bike, my pride and joy, is something I won off a dragon passing through town. The beast mistakenly thought sex was the only game Lilin play to win.
Room 207, the number Alec texted me, is on the second floor. At the front of the building, the rusty staircase clangs precariously against the brick wall. It sounds like someone banging on an old tin can. Bits of old paint flake off in my hand as I touch the railing. I drag my feet, moving toward the room while pondering the situation.
If the Mazrel twins killed someone, it’s up to me to deliver the punishment. But how the hell am I supposed to inflict it so they understand the error of their ways? Of course, this would be easier if they were strangers. But these guys are family, closer to me than my kin. I’m supposed to have their backs.
&
nbsp; I lean against the wall for a moment and survey the dark, starry sky. My chest tightens, and the tension builds up in my muscles. What I must do is fucking hard. Bottom line? I don’t want to punish these guys. Punishing them might further damage things between Colt and me. Our relationship changed when Kelsie dumped him for the vampire, and I have the sneaky suspicion Colt blames me for how that went down. Then again, maybe it has nothing to do with me. I’ve heard rumors about the Najex forcing Colt to move back home. The demon’s back to torturing his son night and day.
His father’s abuse, however, shouldn’t stop Colt from hanging with us. Nowadays, he’s conveniently missing when we go out. When I asked Colt about it, he said he was just really busy with family shit.
Right. Dude usually keeps a wide berth away from them.
I just can’t wrap my mind around Alec and Dante killing humans. It’s not that they couldn’t do it. There’s never a need for incubi to kill anyone, unless they’re just learning control. But novices are expected to pay some respect to human life. It’s the whole reason I supervised Kelsie as much as I could. Every innocent killed taints the soul. Because I acted as my sister’s teacher, I received a black mark as well. It was a reminder I was doing a piss poor job.
With Alec and Dante’s latest misadventure, I have to be the demon in charge of cleaning up someone else’s shit. It’s not like I asked for the job. I just want to live my life like a normal incubus—fuck around and party too much—and enjoy my life as a tattoo artist. Is that too much to ask?
I push off the wall and continue to the room. The door squeaks as it opens, and Alec sticks his wavy, bleach-blond head out. Remorse flickers across his face while his apologetic sapphire eyes rake over me.
“I’m sorry, Cash,” he moans.
“Apologies don’t change things,” I snap and push past him.
Inside the shoddy room are the incubi who have been closer to me than any male I’ve ever known. Alec and Dante are identical twins—from the color of their hair down to their muscle-bound physiques. The best way to tell them apart is the fact Alec, the more thoughtful of the two, wears his hair cut close, and Dante lets his hang to his shoulders. Their recent move out of their father’s house might be why they stay in more trouble than usual these days.
Before the mirror is the self-absorbed Colt Najex, a slender-boned incubus with a rock-solid body. Dude’s got NS—narcissistic syndrome—something fierce. He’s a Japanese Royal—the only one of us with two Lilin parents. The guy spends his days modeling for human photographers in and around town. It’s an upgrade from his previous gig as a male stripper. Colt pats the top of his slicked back hair, and throws a nod in my direction. There’s a war in Colt’s expression—pain in his eyes and a smile on his face. Proof the rumors are true. I’m glad he’s still here.
Rocco Surnan, with his Middle Eastern features, is more down-to-earth, if that exists with incubi. He enjoys tinkering with cars in his father’s shop when he’s not recovering from an all-nighter.
Living at home, along with being the son of a human sire, makes me the oddity in the group. Mom doesn’t think she needs any protection, but she does. Too many males try to prey upon unsuspecting succubi all the time. Honestly, my address doesn’t bother me as much as it would some incubi.
I prop my butt against the cheap wooden dresser. “Okay, spill it. Who did what?”
Alec and Dante exchange a nervous glance.
“The way I understand it,” Colt offers, “they met the girls near Crucifix Park. When things got intense, the girls wanted to bail.”
“It was my fault,” Dante admits. He stares at the floor and says, “One of the girls got pissed and hit me. I let things get out of control. I swear I didn’t intend to kill her.”
I’m not believing for one minute he killed her. Maybe he came close to draining her.
“This stops tonight. I handled your mess, but it’s the last time,” I tell them. I should have seen this coming. In the last six months, Alec’s and Dante’s encounters with females have become sloppy. One victim, before tonight, was so weakened she had to be revived by Edwina. Tonight is the first, and I hope, the last, death by one of the twins.
“Whatcha wanna do about this, Cash?” Rocco asks. He’s sprawled out on one of the beds with his hands behind his head like he’s at home.
“Fuck if I know,” I respond and rake a hand through my hair. “How do I punish you guys?”
“Send them to my father,” Colt interjects. “You know how he loves to torment.”
There’s a topic I don’t care to visit. The Najex and his erratic forms of agony forced Colt away from home at seventeen. Contrary to belief, even a demon has limits when it comes to torture.
Alec looks up. His face is pale, and his eyes are overly bright. “Cash, don’t send us to the Najex. He’ll end us.”
I rub the back of my neck. “No one’s going anywhere. I won’t have that on my conscience. Do this again, though, and you’re on your own. I’m not cleaning up anybody else’s shit anymore. Got it?”
Alec and Dante mumble a pitiful apology.
Surprisingly, Dante asks, “So, what’s on for tonight?”
I face-palm. “You didn’t just ask…” Dude doesn’t get it. Then again, who am I to correct another incubus? “Never mind.”
We’ve been through all sorts of shit together—first conquests, night terrors on humans, even the occasional twisted ménage à trois. Anything a demon can do for fun, we’ve done it. I’ll cut the guys a little slack. After all, what happened was an accident.
“Since we’re already here,” I announce, “might as well have some fun. Colt, you with us tonight?”
“Damn straight. I’ve missed hanging with you guys,” he says with a smile on his face. His keys dangle from his hand. “Beer or something stronger?”
Alec, Dante, and Rocco shout out, “Beer.”
“Beer it is,” Colt says. “Shall I bring back some entertainment?”
Actually, we’re not too far from the Wild Stallion. The dancers in that strip joint are some of the hottest females, human or supernatural, around. We’ve always had a helluva night with those women.
“On second thought”—I remove my keys from my pocket—“maybe we should have a night out. Have some fun. Come back here for a little R and R.”
Dante waggles his eyebrows and utters, “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”
Music from the Wild Stallion greets us in the parking lot. The place is packed. Wicked beats thump off the wall while the smell of ripe flesh mixed with alcohol hugs the air. We wind our way through the crowd of salivating men, human and supernatural, before we find an empty table in a far corner.
Dante flags a redheaded waitress walking by. She’s wearing a sheer one-piece number that barely covers her pear-shaped ass. She turns around, and I catch a glimpse of her ample boobs threatening to break free of her outfit.
“Hey, sweetheart, can we get a few beers?” Dante asks.
“Sure thing.” She plays with a silky, blonde tendril of hair. Her big blue eyes drag over him. “Want a lap dance, too?”
Dante reclines in the chair and points to his lap. He flashes a mischievous look and then shoots a grin at her. “We’d love one.”
“I’ll send over some girls.” A wide, toothy smile crosses her face. She winks and sashays away from us.
Dante places his hand over his heart and sighs.
I laugh at his antics. The waitress’s backside has a tad too much swing for my taste. Remembering what Alec’s call interrupted earlier, I canvass the place. Men, and even a few women, crowd around the main stage where a human is shaking her assets. Her gyrations tempt me to move closer and get a better view. My phone buzzes. I glance down and see Edwina’s name.
Deliverance.
“Guys, I gotta step outside. Be back.”
Three females along with the redheaded waitress approach us, and the fellas forget I exist.
I’m focused on the device in my hand rather than watching where I’m going. Halfway to the door, I collide into a warm body.
“Be careful,” a heavily accented female voice yells.
“Sorry,” I stammer out and glance up from the screen.
The most gorgeous female I’ve ever seen stands before me. Her curvy figure is clad in red leather—zippered jacket, pants, and spiky-heeled boots. Her crimson, full lips turn down, and a pair of coffee brown eyes rake over me. My dick stands at attention while my mouth hangs open.
She hollers, “Move out of my way.”
Normally, I’d deliver a smart-ass comment, but the words get stuck on the tip of my tongue. This creature renders me speechless. The golden aura surrounding her, though, baffles me.
What the hell is she?
Perfection. That’s what.
She rolls her eyes and pushes past me. My gaze follows her as she cuts a path through the room. The buzzing phone in my hand grabs my attention again. I connect and head for the lot.
“It’s about damned time,” Edwina snaps.
“Sorry, Edie.” I shout above the music. “I’m at the Wild Stallion. Job done?”
“Yes.” Edwina takes a deep breath and exhales loudly. “If the Mazrels are responsible, ya need to have a serious talk with ‘em.”
“Why?” I pace in a small spot to the right of the door. My fingers itch to grip a cigarette.
“Cash, this wasn’t normal. The girls were drained along with…”
“What, Edie?” I lower my voice. “What happened?”
“The beast ripped their necks out,” she mutters.
My stomach flips. The need for a drink replaces the urge for a smoke. “You sure?”
“Have I ever lied to ya?” Her voice cracks.
Edwina Devereaux is a lot of things, but a liar isn’t one of them. “Did you pick up a trace or imprint?”