Worth the Fight

by SF Benson

  Damn.

  Never in a million years would I have guessed Edwina could be so ruthless, but her grandparents and the overseer deserved their fate. Reaching out, I hug the female to me. “Angel, you did what you had to do. I’m glad you took what should have been yours to begin with.”

  Edwina glances up, red tears shining in her eyes. “What do ya mean?”

  “Your grandparents never acknowledged you as family. Your grandfather should have gladly made you an heir without you compelling him. Doesn’t make you a monster though. In my eyes, you’re the strongest person I’ve ever known.”

  She drops her gaze and says, “I’m no longer human.”

  “You were once. I don’t give a fuck about labels. Don’t you realize that?” Hell, if I was concerned with designations, I would have never married Sheila. Although we’re both cats, my family tends to stick with their type and not hook up with jaguars. My father used to tell me jaguars were untrustworthy. After the fiasco of my marriage, maybe I should have worried about classifications when I met Sheila. Might have saved me some grief.

  Edwina nods and pats my chest. “Ya should get some sleep.”

  “Lie down with me,” I urge.

  “No. I should—”

  She doesn’t get a chance to resist. I inch upward on the bed, pulling her with me. “I want you beside me. It’ll help me sleep.”

  “Fine,” she says softly and rests her head on my chest.

  I exhale deeply. Somehow, I’ve got to get this female to understand her own worth. Edwina’s physical proof of the damage done by the slave trade. She acts like someone who’s been beaten down all her life. I’m grateful she shared this part of herself with me though. It helps me understand so much more about her.

  Her past is probably why she never went public with Cash. Ridicule and shame are her constant companions. Announcing her relationship with the incubus would have earned her overwhelming scorn from Council and a majority of the Falls Creek supernaturals. I got a taste of it at the Red Room, but that backlash was mild. Nobody cares about a black cat prowling around town with a creature of the dark. Over time, residents might have forgotten about us.

  I push the disparaging thoughts from my mind and let sleep take over.

  Hours later, I wake up. The sun is setting, and Edwina’s side of the bed is empty. I roll over and find her in a chair near the window. The TV is on, but the sound is muted. She’s sipping from a tall, plastic cup.

  “Angel?”

  “Stop worrying, Hank. I’m fine,” she says flatly. “Ya need some food, and then we should go.”

  Sliding out of bed, I crawl closer. On my knees, I place a hand on her thigh. “How could I not worry about you? Angel, you’ve been through so damned much.”

  She looks down her nose at me. “I don’t need ya pity.”

  “It’s not pity.” I choose my next words carefully. “All I want to do is knock down the wall you’ve built around yourself. The one hiding your heart.”

  “My heart is just fine.” There’s an iciness to her voice. “ I don’t have a wall up.”

  That’s where she’s wrong. Edwina let it down when she fell for that jackass incubus. Once I pointed out how grieving over him was destroying her, she reconstructed the wall. Brick by brick it went back up. Now I’ve got to tear the fucking thing down again. What Edwina doesn’t need, though, is my dwelling on it, so I’ll let it rest. For now.

  “It’ll take another day to get to New Orleans. Maybe we can drive straight through?” My eyes lift toward hers. “Do you have your charm?”

  “Yes. Let me drive at night though. When the sun comes up, I’ll use my charm. The windows in ya car are heavily tinted. I’ll be fine.”

  I rise to my feet, return to the bed, and put on my shoes. “There’s a diner down the road. I’ll see if I can get a steak or something. Be back in a bit.”

  “Take ya time. I’m going nowhere.” Edwina lowers her head and stares into her cup.

  After Edwina’s story, the crisp night air is appreciated. As I walk toward the diner, I deliver a mental warning to any lurking spirits from her past. If we cross paths, you answer to me. Nobody hurts this female ever again.

  An hour later, we’re back on the road with Edwina driving. It took her a bit to figure out the clutch, but you wouldn’t know it at the moment. Angel drives like she’s been doing this for years. I realize that’s a faulty assessment. Edwina doesn’t even own a car. She’s had no need for one.

  Her melodic voice interrupts the overwhelming silence. “Tell me something about ya.”

  Only fair.

  “What do you want to know?”

  Edwina tilts her head to one side. So much time goes by I think she’s forgotten the question. I’m tempted to say something when she asks, “Do ya always change in private?”

  “Pretty much. Not too many have seen my beast come out. Of course, my family has and…Sheila.” And now my demon is riding shotgun.

  “But why?” Edwina glances at me. “I want to see it.”

  My brow furrows. “Why would you want to see me in pain?”

  “It’s not about the pain. I’ve seen my share of shifters. The process always amazes me.” A grin stretches across Edwina’s face. “It’s a sight to behold. Such beauty hiding beneath ya skin.”

  Beauty amid the pain?

  I never thought of it like that. All I’ve ever considered, when it came to changing, was the pain. Gut-wrenching, bone-twisting pain. “That so-called beauty doesn’t compare to you, Angel.”

  “Please.” She huffs. “I’m far from beautiful.”

  Listening to Edwina tear herself down breaks my heart. It’s becoming obvious she only kept company with the incubus because he didn’t do feelings. Their tenuous relationship kept her from sharing hers. It was a symbiotic, fucked-up arrangement. That shit ain’t flying with me though.

  My beast may be a predator, but he feels shit. My emotions run the full gambit—happy, pissed off, contented—and I don’t deny them for anyone. Something tells me if given the chance, if her wings hadn’t been clipped so early in life, Edwina would soar. She would have been the queen she was meant to be. If I have anything to do with it, I’m going to help her grow new wings. Help her to fly as high as she can and then some more.

  What if she flies away?

  It’s a chance I’m willing to take. She’s worth it.

  And there it is. The whole reason why she’s by my side. I care about her. A lot. It’s time she knew.

  “Pull over, Edwina,” I demand.

  “Why?”

  “Please.” If I don’t do this now, I’ll wuss out. It’s something I’m good at.

  As soon as the car is on the shoulder, I jump out and run around to the driver’s side. Edwina gasps when I jerk the door open. Grabbing her hand, I help her out. A car speeds by us. Once it passes, I walk her to the side of the road.

  “Hank, ya scaring me,” she says cautiously.

  “No need to be,” I say gently before putting my hands around her waist, lifting her up, and placing her on the hood.

  Her eyebrows knit together. “What are ya doing?”

  “I need you to understand me.” Staring into her eyes, I clear my throat. “You, Edwina Marie Devereaux, are a creature of beauty.”

  She shakes her head and tries to look away.

  I grasp her chin and hold her gaze. Damn. Her beauty astounds me.

  “Hear me out. You were a beautiful human, and now you’re a phenomenal supernatural. Angel, you’re stronger than you realize. Only a survivor could’ve done what you’ve done. You claimed your inheritance and then went after the asshole who turned you. Those are the actions of a bad-ass hunter.”

  “No, Hank. I’m—”

  “Angel,” I continue not letting her finish her thought. “You have a habit of giving your heart to the wrong types. I’m talking about Lucas and Cash, but that shit stops right now.”

  “Hank—”

  “I’m not done.” I take her hand
in mine. “Before you ask, I’m with you not because I pity you. Angel, you’re everything to me. I wish you could see what I see.”

  “What’s that?” Caution rings through her words.

  “A female worth fighting for. A female whose soft side threatens her well-being each and every day. Someone my beast wants to love, protect, and cherish.”

  “Love?” Edwina regards me with squinty eyes.

  “Yes…love.” If I’m honest with myself, I’m falling for this female. Hard. But I need her to embrace her strength. It’s the only way we’ll work. Otherwise, my dark side will see her weakness, and eventually, it will prey upon her. I’ll walk away before I let that happen though.

  “Hank, no one’s ever cared for me.” Edwina’s chin trembles. “Other than my parents.”

  I inch forward and cup her face in my hands. “Well, that’s the past. I care for you, and anyone who threatens what we’re building will answer to me.”

  Chapter 11

  Edwina

  Utter silence surrounds us as we resume the trip down the dark road. Frankly, I don’t know how I’m supposed to respond to Hank’s confession. With joy? In all fairness, I’ve had my suspicions about him for quite some time. He gave himself away when he moved his belongings into my house after Cash left town. Then Hank started showing up unannounced like he lived there.

  It’s not like you minded.

  This thing between us was just supposed to be about stroking our needs. Two lonely beings reaching out for a little companionship. Now that Hank’s spread his cards on the table, am I supposed to show my hand?

  Would that be such a bad thing?

  “Angel, talk to me,” he urges. “I didn’t say those words for you to pull away from me.”

  I side-glance at him. It would be so easy to let myself fall for Hank, but I just can’t. I’ve been down that road before. Only misery resides there. “I don’t know what ya want me to say.”

  He shakes his head as if dismissing my words. “Forget it. Tell me more about your past.”

  I start to speak, but the view in the rearview mirror distracts me. The same car has been following us for the last hour.

  “As much as I’d like to bore ya with my history, now isn’t the time. We have company.”

  Hank looks over his shoulder. “Shit!”

  “Three raggedy-looking guys. They remind me of Elijah Ryder’s sons,” I say with complete calm.

  “Not his sons. More like members of his crew.” Hank’s head whips around. “You can see them this far away?”

  “My eyesight is as good as yours, if not better.” I try to focus on the road ahead. “There are three of ‘em. We’re evenly matched.”

  “How the hell do you figure that?” Hank is bouncing around in his seat as he constantly checks over his shoulder. Fingers dancing on his thighs reveal his nervousness.

  I ignore his frantic movement. Better to focus on a course of action. “The driver is mine, cher. Your beast can handle the other two.”

  “You have a weapon?” he asks.

  “Yes, but I won’t need it.” I grip the steering wheel tighter. My pulse quickens while my mouth salivates. It’s the thrill of the hunt—piercing flesh, taking souls, imbibing the life-giving fluids—motivating me. To be honest, it’s the only thing I’ve enjoyed about being undead. “There’s a rest area a mile ahead. A perfect spot to take care of our guests. Be ready or get out of my way.”

  Hank’s mouth hangs open. Whatever retort he has for me dies on the tip of his tongue.

  Ryder’s men follow us to a rest area—closed for construction—like sheep to slaughter. I lower the window and inhale deeply. Hank tilts his head to the side and sniffs the air too.

  “Humans,” we say in unison.

  I add, “This will be easy.”

  Hank pulls out a gun, checks the magazine, and clicks it back into place. “Don’t put shit past Ryder’s men.”

  My fangs descend while my heart ricochets in my chest. The thought of taking lives excites me. These thrilling moments—right before my monster leaps—I relish. It’s the only time I feel something. Being undead is a curse not only of the soul but also the emotions governing it. Most of the time I’m completely numb. Then there are those rare times, like now, where I’m allowed to experience one of two emotions—both intense and all-consuming. The first is pure hatred and the other is unadulterated love.

  Hank and I exit the vehicle at the same time. I reach down to my boot and remove the antique silver dagger.

  His eyes go to the heavily decorated weapon. “Where did you get that?”

  “Just a little something I picked up,” I tell him. Somehow I don’t think Hank would appreciate hearing the story of how I ravaged a German store owner simply because he refused to sell me the item. My fingers grip the gargoyle-covered hilt tight. It’s my prized possession, infused with enough magic to take down any supernatural who gets in my way. The poison within the blade does a nice job of ending humans as well.

  This is not an occasion, however, to be considerate of Hank’s sensibilities. Instead, my eyes drift over to Ryder’s men who look like they’re all related. All three of them sport the same stringy hair in need of washing, overly tattooed bodies—also in need of bathing—along with sagging jeans and ill-fitting T-shirts. The tallest man is the one I noticed behind the steering wheel.

  Mine.

  “Elroy, think we gonna have a little fun tonight,” says a man with a beer gut and a few missing teeth. The body odor, like a rutting dog who’s pissed himself a few times, wrinkles my nose. I choke back the bile rising up my throat.

  Hank responds dryly, “Ain’t that kind of party fellas. You need to get back in your car and let Elijah know the game’s over.”

  Poor Hank. He’s always the diplomatic officer of the law. These men aren’t looking for peace talks. I’ve read their thoughts. They’re here for information and lives. Won’t they be surprised when I’m the one doing the gathering?

  Elroy, the tallest man, moves closer to me. Body funk mixed with stale tobacco hit me and bring back recently surfaced memories. Too bad. I won’t be dining tonight. Almost time to strike.

  Ten…nine…

  Elroy reaches for my arm.

  Stay calm.

  Eight…seven…

  “She’s gonna be easy,” he says and makes the mistake of touching my face.

  In a flash, I grab his hand and yank. The bones in Elroy’s wrist pop, and he screams. His hand droops at the end of his arm. Elroy drops to his knees and cradles the useless limb.

  Gravel crunches behind me, snatching my attention. I pivot on my heel and witness the other two men reach for weapons tucked into their waistbands. From the corner of my eye, I notice Hank going for his gun, but I’m faster. I lift my hand and twist my fingers. The necks of Ryder’s men snap in unison.

  Hank glares at me but keeps his hand on his gun.

  Pointless.

  I return his icy scowl. “Vampires don’t play with our food,” I joke—a directed jab at Hank’s beast—before turning back to Elroy writhing on the ground.

  I crouch in front of the man. He sneers at me and utters through gritted teeth, “You gonna pay for that, bitch.”

  “Not before ya do.” I twist my fingers again and listen to the bones crumbling in Elroy’s wrist. “Now, we’ll have us a little chat. I’m going to ask questions, and ya going to answer them.”

  “Not happening,” he snarls.

  I lock eyes with Elroy’s and stare into his close-set smoky pupils. Black tendrils from his soul reach the surface, and I speak directly to his mind, bending his thoughts.

  “First question. Why are ya following us?”

  “On a mission from Ryder.” He grits out the words through clenched teeth. “He wants Richards to pay for his crime.”

  Hank and I figured as much. “Who else is working with Ryder?”

  “Captain Miller and Lucas Duquette.”

  “Dammit!” Hank exclaims. Gravel scatters benea
th his feet as he kicks the dirt.

  So far, Elroy has only confirmed what we know. This line of questioning is worthless. One more attempt before I take his pitiful life. “Does Ryder have anything to do with Tyson Richards?”

  Elroy’s pupils widen. “The MMA fighter? Yeah. Dumb fucker got himself a nice gambling debt. Ryder made sure Tyson got a one-way ticket to the PFC.”

  Hank yanks the man to his feet, breaking my spell.

  I stand up. Before I can speak, Hank delivers a blow across Elroy’s face.

  We don’t have time for a damn pissing contest.

  “Humanum est mori,” I chant.

  Elroy gasps before crumpling to the ground. The air hums around us as I call forth more magic. Spreading my fingers, the men glow bright orange and then burst into flames. The putrid smell of burnt flesh fills the air.

  Hank stands there with his mouth hanging open.

  “Get in the car, Hank. We need to go.” I head to the driver’s side.

  He steps into my path. “No. I got this.”

  Rolling my eyes, I think this is not the moment for a show of testosterone. It’s also not the time to go toe to toe with Hank. Conceding, I walk around the car. As soon as I’m in the seat, Hank slams the door and jams the car into gear. The engine revs. A plume of ash and dirt trails behind us as the car peels out of the lot.

  I hold my words until we’re a few miles away from the rest area. “What’s eating ya?”

  “Was that little display back there necessary?”

  “I did what was needed. First rule of the BlackGuard is to never leave witnesses or evidence.”

  “You’re not with the BGS anymore!” he screams.

  “Don’t matter!” I shout back. “My way got ya information, and ya didn’t have to raise a paw.”

  Hank glances at me with a grin spreading across his face. “Did you really just say raise a paw?”

  “I did,” I answer with a laugh and replace the dagger in its sheath. “Ya forgive me?”

  “There’s nothing to forgive,” he says.

  “Then why are ya angry?”