Hell's Phoenix

by Gracen Miller

  “What type of magic do you have to consume?” Alessa tapped a fingernail against the chair.

  Petra spoke before Madison could. “Lynx were legends told to demon children to scare them into submission. Or if they didn’t want to perform something nasty they were commanded to do, they were threatened with death from a Lynx.”

  “Dear God.” Madison’s stomach heaved at the idea of being a nightmare to any child.

  “I knew Daddy had the Pyxis and there was no question the pink eyes meant something mammoth, but I’d never have guessed Lynx. My condolences, Madison.” She popped the lollipop back in her mouth.

  “I know a little about them.” Zen leaned against the wall, his stance casual. If not for the disturbance she saw in the creases about his eyes, his apprehension would’ve been clear in the jazzy spikes disrupting his aura. “The first Lynx was the sister to Pandora. The one previously inside you.”

  Madison rubbed the finger where the box resided for over five years. She held up her hand and waggled her fingers at the group. “Gone.”

  Georgie paled. James wouldn’t look at her. Gage still scowled and Nix’s expression remained unreadable. Alessa became fascinated by her feet. Zen ignored them all and continued. “She plotted to overthrow the Kingdom of Heaven and was destroyed for her aspirations.”

  Not because God was jealous of her powers, as Micah claimed. More lies when he’d wanted her trust and swore he spoke true. Lies. Always lies from him.

  Maybe he gives us the truth how he sees it, Usha played her role as the devil’s advocate.

  Whose side are you on?

  Ours, of course.

  A lie is a lie. It couldn’t get more black and white.

  Kur crouched on the other side of Amos, ran his finger down the spine of the female Hellhound. “It’s noteworthy to mention she could’ve succeeded in conquering God.”

  Madison released a breathy sigh at Kur’s information. Nix’s thoughts were important to her, so she slid a glance in his direction to gauge his opinion. He pinched the bridge of his nose. The topic couldn’t give him a headache nearly as bad as it did her.

  She shifted her attention to Zen. Doomed by my DNA.

  His resulting silence to her telepathy was telling.

  “I have a name for the boy, but you should name the girl.” Amos’s eyes were bright with excitement. It’d been a long time since he claimed a pet. She hoped he didn’t remember slaughtering his former ones.

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “Devlin.”

  “Excellent name.” She scratched behind the male Hellhound’s ear and he leaned into the affection with a grunt. Shifting her hand to rub the female, she pondered her name a moment. “How about FiFi for the girl?”

  “FiFi and Devlin.” Amos gave the names a test run and grinned. “I like them.”

  “Me, too.”

  Zoe laughed. “I don’t think there’s a King in Hell that would appreciate the very non-scary FiFi name.”

  “Precisely.” Madison grinned.

  “Zen, you got nothing to say about this?” Nix twisted in his chair to get a better view of the immortal.

  Zen stuffed his hands deep in his pockets. “I’ve got more pressing matters to worry about than Hellhound pups that can be easily subdued.”

  “They came to me for a reason, Nix.” He spun about in his chair to meet her gaze. “I cannot ignore that. Once they leave their mother’s nest, they cannot return. I’m their new mother, and I will not allow them to die when they chose me for a reason.”

  As if in a battle of wills, they stared at one another. Inappropriate memories flitted through her mind like snapshots of a dicey vacation. Staring into his eyes as she climaxed off his messian and the stroke of Micah’s fingers, his desperation when he realized she was saying goodbye in Hell. His anguish when Alessa had been nearly fatally injured. None of them were recollections she wished to recall.

  “I’m going to go find Devlin and FiFi a bed. Can they sleep in my room?”

  Madison blinked, taking a moment to shift back to the conversation. “Yeah, of course.”

  “I’ll retrieve the nourishment they require.” Zen walked toward the door, but halted when he reached it and glanced at her over his shoulder. “Stay out of trouble while I’m gone, Madison.”

  “Pinkie swear.” She grinned, but it felt forced and overly tight.

  “You should rest, Madison.” Petra cocked her head to the side. “You look exhausted.”

  She nodded. “A shower would be nice. I can still smell Hell.”

  “If you need us, let us know.” Zoe spoke for the Birmingham clan, who all nodded their agreement except Nix.

  “Thanks.” Rising and moving across the room, she almost made it to the door before Nix halted her.

  “Mads?”

  “Yes, Nix?” She turned to find him right behind her. Startled, she placed a hand on his chest to catch her jerk of surprise.

  He enveloped her in a hug. His was the only embrace she returned. She wrapped her arms around him, gripping his shirt and squeezing. “I’m glad you came out of Hell.”

  Dry-eyed, she peeked up at him. Before Hell, he’d been her rock. He remained her pillar of support. A few short months ago, her emotions would be tearing her up. The need to take him, physically and magically, terrified her. She resisted the inclination. “Thanks, Nix,” she forced out through parched lips. “I promise not to disappoint you with the Hellhounds.”

  “You could never disappoint me, baby.” Sweet words, but not true. His knuckles skimmed her cheek. “We’ll chat after your nap.”

  Madison nodded and pulled from his embrace. She walked up the stairs and down the hall to her bedroom. She collapsed face-first on her rumpled bed. Earthy pine mixed with brimstone. Nix had lain here. She wrapped her arms around the pillow, buried her face in it and inhaled his scent.

  Dear God, she had to get a grip on her demon.

  Chapter Forty

  Unable to sleep, Madison remained curled up on her bed for hours. As the house fell silent with everyone retiring, she finally left the comfort of Nix’s scent for a much needed shower. She twisted the water as hot as it would go and scrubbed her body until her flesh protested. The scent of brimstone still lingered.

  She put on some music and dried her hair. The soft beat failed to soothe her frayed nerves. She peeked at the clock. Half past midnight. Antsy for nectar, her demon prowled, restless for the unique blend of power only Micah and Nix could provide. Fantasizing about Nix giving her his mojo was one thing, but asking for it quite a different matter altogether.

  Sugar. Maybe that’d help. Worth a shot.

  Zen’s presence startled her when she opened her door and found him leaning against the opposite wall. “Jesus, Zen! You scared me to death. What are you doing?”

  “Thinking.”

  That sounded portentous. “Anything I can help you with?”

  He stepped across the hall, and not a single one of the squeaky floorboards creaked. A ghost of death, wearing the face of an angel. And she called him friend. Had given him her trust years ago and, as with Nix, she’d never regretted it.

  “Your worries concern me, Zen?”

  “I never worry.” He leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb.

  Never worry? Hmm…maybe his worries should be termed contemplation. Either way, his thoughts reflected upon her, or he’d be sharing.

  Arms folded over his chest, his stance was more standoffish than a mountain of impenetrable ice. She’d never allowed his moods to stop her probing before and she wouldn’t tonight. Whatever came at them, they’d face together, or failure would result. Of that she was certain.

  She placed a hand on his forearm. He regarded it as he might a king cobra.

  “I realize I’ve done the unspeakable.” Tendons flexed beneath her palm, and his gaze flashed to hers. “I defeated an immortal with unimaginable powers. I will not pretend to misunderstand the ramifications of my actions.” She’d defeated Pandora and now owned
her powers, while also claiming the rank of Lynx succubus. Even if she understood the danger she’d become to humanity, Zen comprehended better than she how big of a threat she was.

  His tension, rigid muscles, manifested beneath her palm. She smoothed her thumb across his forehead. “You’ll get permanent wrinkles if you don’t stop fretting.” His expression didn’t change. “Frown lines on an immortal. Women might find it appealing,” she teased.

  He didn’t take the bait. “I sense your turmoil,” he said, his tone flat.

  For a long time, she’d seen beneath his detached surface. Others believed him devoid of emotion, but she knew better. He cared too much and when he miscalculated, he suffered by beating himself up.

  “I figured you would. I have no idea how to calm the chaos of my demon. I will try with a sugar high.” She planned to consume an entire bucket of her favorite ice cream. “I doubt it’ll suffice.” Zen remained silent. She knew him too well. His eyes showcased the torment he felt in ways his bland facial expressions never could. “I’ve always placed my faith and trust in your decisions. If you decide my transgressions are worthy of death, you know where to find me.” She squeezed his arm and offered him a small smile. “I will not attempt to stop you.” She kissed his cheek and he crushed her in a hug. Unlike him to express his emotions and it conveyed the level of his apprehension. When he released her, she said, “Sweet meditation, Zen,” because the immortal never slept, but recharged by meditating.

  Rubbing her arms, she walked barefoot to the kitchen. The eerie silence of the house was so loud it hummed in her ears. She flipped the light switch on over the sink, not wanting the fullness of the overhead light. The over-brightness of the fluorescents, left her exposed, as if they’d showcase her demon’s guilt in a luminous spotlight. Silly imaginings. Zen was the only person who understood the depth of her confusion. And maybe Nix.

  She opened the freezer in search of ice cream. Decadent chocolate. Her favorite. She wanted something she couldn’t have. Only the refreshment of power zinging through her veins would alleviate her cravings. Desperation tightened her skin and she fought against cracking a door back to Hell and diving headfirst inside to get the fix she ached for. If Micah were dead, there’d be no one in Hell willing to offer her the drug she needed. Elias would make damn sure she suffered without receiving what she craved.

  Her hand shook as she placed the tub of ice cream and a spoon on the table. Her demonic yearnings were a necessity. She and Zen would have to chat, figure out a plan, or she’d put a bullet in her head herself.

  Before pulling out a chair, she located the first aid kit and slumped in a chair at the table.

  The sigil on her forearm marked her for life as the property of a rogue angel. A design so potent she could dredge power from its owner with the use of his demonic name. An angelic husband wanted the world bowing at their feet, worshiping them. That had never been a goal of hers. Since Micah’d entered her life at fifteen, nothing had gone as planned.

  She picked up the spoon, and instead of digging into the ice cream, she tapped it against the unopened bucket. Not what she needed or wanted, but like any devoted mother, her desires came second to the well being of her son.

  She’d felt defeated before she went into Hell, certain she would save Nix while damning herself.

  She twirled her finger over the spoon. Senses numb, she watched it elevate on the tip of its handle and rotate in the direction of her finger movements.

  Proof her DNA monster could now play. And she hadn’t even let it out to play for real.

  The spoon rattled against the wood when she curled her fingers into her palm. Madison propped her elbows on the table and dropped her face into her hands. Five years wasted denying the demon inside, only to lose the battle in the end.

  She wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. She needed to clean the burn. It stung like a bitch with a half-inch long red band and a streak that ran to the curve of her elbow. Not a good indication.

  Angel poisoning instead of blood poisoning? Just my freakin’ luck!

  Doctors were out of the question. If death awaited her, then death would come on its own terms.

  “What’s wrong, Mads?”

  Madison bolted upright and bumped the chair across from her with her knee.

  Nix.

  She hadn’t heard his approach and didn’t wish to be alone with him. Not after all that transpired in Hell. Particularly not with her demon so gung-ho to devour him.

  Hair wet, no shirt, and his tattoos dark and sexy in the dim lighting. A pair of well-worn faded jeans hung low on his hips. And he was barefoot.

  So fucking sexy, Lynx purred as loud as a mountain lion in the rage of heat.

  He should be a frequent hitter in one of those porn magazines. They’d sell the shit out of those publications if the moneybags behind them ever scented his particular pheromones.

  “Nothing’s wrong. I came down for this….” She shook her wrist at him and set to pulling out the medical supplies.

  “Ah…care to join me”—he held up a bottle of Jack Daniels—“while I take care of that for you?”

  “Nah. Don’t trust myself to drink.” A sugar high would have to suffice as her liquor high. She just prayed it quenched the untamable succubus prowling inside her. “You still pissed at me?”

  “I don’t like the way you handled the situation in Hell, so, yeah, I’m still pissed. But I’m happy you’re alive, so I’m over it.”

  She nodded. His attitude was fairer than she might have been if the tables were reversed.

  “Why don’t you trust yourself to drink with me?”

  Because we want you worse than all the sugar in the world. The matter-of-fact tone Lynx used surprised her.

  Madison shrugged, rose from her seat. “I have something else you might enjoy better than the whiskey.”

  We want him, but we’ll let him go. They agreed on that one. One thing she’d learned in Hell, Nix would stay in danger so long as he remained in her presence.

  She could feel Nix watching her as she walked to the cabinet and dug out the bottle of Herradura Seleccion Suprema she’d bought for him a couple of days before entering Hell. She’d hid it from Petra, the heavy drinker in the house, and shared its location with only Zen and Amos.

  Bottle in hand, she grabbed a glass from another cabinet and strode back to him. “Here.”

  Arm outstretched, she waited for him to accept the liquor and goblet. He might have drunk Jack Daniels straight from the container, but the design of this liquor bottle wouldn’t afford him the luxury.

  “For you, to celebrate defeating Hell,” she said at his hesitation to accept the spirit. “I know it’s not whiskey, but you enjoyed the tequila years ago, and I figured you’d want something to commemorate your exit.”

  She could use a big fucking drink herself.

  Drink him, her demon purred in her head. Drink him down like the fine bottle of tequila you’re handing him.

  A hand emerged from his jean pocket and his fingers curled around the bottle. She suspected he read the label, but couldn’t be certain without looking at his face. How could she look at him without her face flaming in humiliation over all the intimacies that transpired in Hell? God, what humiliation! The demon scratched at the thin surface of her control, begging for freedom to play with him. Looking at him would make that compulsion worse.

  Madison didn’t want to know what he thought when he looked at her. Monster? Whore? None of the things she ever wanted to become, but had. And she could barely face her reflection in the mirror without cringing.

  “Mads?”

  “Hmmm?” She rearranged the first aid supplies, folded back the long sleeves so her shirt wouldn’t get in the way while she cleaned the wound. After leaving Hell, she couldn’t get warm.

  “Look at me.”

  Her hands froze right along with her brain. The request was too much. She swallowed, calmed her breathing and said, “Not tonight, Nix. I don’t want to—”
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  The bottle hit the table, more violent than practical, startling her words to an abrupt halt. The liquor sloshed. Good thing the lid was still in place.

  She gasped as his fingers dug in her hair and forced her to face him. Green eyes walloped her with a combination of anger, frustration, and hurt. The thumb of his other hand traced her jaw from ear to chin.

  “Why don’t you trust yourself?” The way he watched her just then, no sane woman would. Breathing in his exhilarating pheromones was more intoxicating than liquor. “And why won’t you look at me? We’ve been through too much together for this…this….”

  Belly trembling and succubus inching forth to claim its newest victim, she closed her eyes and licked her lips. She confessed before he could find the final word he needed, “I’m afraid I’ll go demon.” She gave a small, easy shrug to withdraw from his grasp. Taking the hint, his hands fell away, allowing her to escape his presence. “I came for sugar, not just the first aid supplies.” She motioned to the ice cream.

  “Sugar?”

  Madison opened her eyes and met his potent gaze. She grew antsy beneath his silent regard. “Yes, sugar to tame the demon you and Micah fed.” She cleared her throat. “And looking at you…I can’t help but remember all the other…activities that transpired in Hell.” Couldn’t she just keep her big mouth shut?

  “You’re embarrassed?”

  If nothing else, she owed him honesty. “Humiliated would be a better word.”

  Nix flinched as if she’d struck him. “I’m sorry, Mads—”

  “Don’t.” She made a slashing motion with her hand. “You weren’t yourself.”

  “What if I told you I don’t remember all of it?”

  “I’d say you’re lying.”

  He ran his palm over his mouth. She noticed he didn’t deny that he remembered. “Let me heal your wound, Mads.”

  “No.” She shook her head. Mutiny tightened his jaw and she blockaded any argument he might sow. “I accepted Micah’s sigil. I should live with the reminder of what I allowed myself to become.”