Worth the Fight

by SF Benson

  The old barn surrounded by oak trees and unkempt fields is all that remains of the Devereaux property. My monster burned the antebellum big house, outbuildings, and slave quarters to the ground.

  Hank opens the door and exits the car. He starts to say something, but no words escape. Disbelief shines in his green eyes as he encounters visual proof of what my monster can do. Hiding in the car won’t absolve me. I always believed my becoming undead was punishment for the crime. After a few minutes, I join him.

  “Over the years I’ve sold parcels of land,” I tell Hank, “but I never would sell the whole thing.”

  Finding his voice, Hank asks, “Why not?”

  “I don’t know. Stupidity perhaps. Nostalgia most likely. I owe a debt to the BlackGuard, which means I need to stay near N’awlins. It’s probably a good thing I kept the property. We can build on it. Make it our own personal fortress where no one will bother us. Ya can let ya beast run free when ya need to.” I smile up at Hank. “That is if ya want me to see it.”

  “You want me with you?” Caution drapes over his words.

  I’m not surprised by his hesitation. After all, I just hurt him. This is my chance to fix things, though. “Of course, I do.”

  “And what about Cash?”

  Unfortunately, it’s another valid question, but it isn’t the real one Hank wants answered. It pains me to admit my feelings for anyone, especially Cash Martin.

  But if you had admitted how you felt sooner, Cash might still be with you.

  “Part of me will always love him,” I say with shame—no self-respecting vampire would fall in love with Lilin. The two species are like night and day. Our only similarity is in our chosen prey. Bigotry and snobbery keep us separate. “Just like ya will always love Sheila. But I’m not with Cash. I don’t want to be.”

  Hank faces me and brushes the hair from my forehead. “Good to know.”

  I lift my gaze and lick my lip with guarded hope. “Are we okay?”

  He snakes a hand through my curls and rests it on my neck. A gentle kiss is delivered to my forehead. “The whole time we were apart I missed you, Angel.”

  “Same here.” I put my arms around his waist and let my head rest on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. “I don’t want to be here without ya, Hank. I’d rather die again than be without ya.”

  Hank tightens his embrace. “I’m not going anywhere, Angel.”

  Is this us moving forward together? I thought offering Hank a place we could share would let him know how I felt.

  He needs to hear it.

  Cash was the last male I wanted to say those words to and that ended dreadfully. What if I tell Hank how I feel and he leaves me? It would devastate me to lose him. It’s not something I’m willing to chance.

  “Edwina?” A finger slips under my chin, forcing me to look up. “Angel, what’s troubling you?”

  “There’s something I need to say, but the words scare me,” I admit.

  “Then maybe I should say them first?” A smile plays about his lips. “Angel… I love you.”

  Chapter 23

  Hank

  Edwina opens her mouth just as my phone rings. We separate, and I notice the unfamiliar number flashing on the screen. I’m tempted to ignore it, but it might be one of Edwina’s associates.

  “Yeah?” I connect and glance at her.

  “Hank, this is Ace. We’ve a problem.”

  “What is it?”

  “Ya brother got a call from Damien Duchamp. As soon as he hung up, Tyson said he had to go back.”

  “Why the fuck would he do that?” I shout.

  “Ryder threatened the kid if ya brother refuses to fight.”

  Edwina’s staring at me. The scowl spreading over her face lets me know she’s listening in. “Shit. We’re on our way back. Give us a couple of hours.” I end the call.

  “Do ya really think Ryder would hurt Michael?” she asks and drops the keys in my palm.

  “I’m not chancing it.” I walk around to the driver’s side and open the door. “We need to find Tyson.”

  “No,” Edwina says as she enters the vehicle. “We find Michael. Ya brother will take care of himself.”

  I jam the car into gear and let the motor rev before peeling back onto the dirt road. “What I don’t understand is why Sheila got tied up with Ryder and Duchamp in the first damned place. It makes no fucking sense.”

  Angel’s hands creep into her lap and twist together.

  Oh hell. Edwina knows something. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “When I compelled Sheila, I saw something,” Edwina mutters.

  A shiver spirals down my spine, and I growl. “What?”

  “Did ya know Jackson Ryder was Sheila’s cousin?”

  The words semi-blind me, like a bomb blast, and I jerk the steering wheel, letting the car drift onto the shoulder. Panic engulfs me. I can’t think. My head drops.

  “Hank,” Edwina continues, “Sheila is helping her uncle. She never loved ya nor ya brother.”

  I clutch my chest. This isn’t a heart attack though. More like reality kicking my ass.

  “Hank!” Edwina screams. Her hands are on me as if she’s searching for a source of pain.

  I push her off me. “It’s not what you think. I’m fine.”

  “What’s wrong? Talk to me,” she demands.

  “Can you believe I thought Sheila might have been sleeping with Jackson?” I scrub a hand over my face. “That would be an easier pill to swallow.”

  “I’m sorry to have to tell ya, but ya needed to know.”

  “Thanks.” After a few calming breaths, I’m able to steer the car back onto the highway. “We can’t let them hurt an innocent kid. Any ideas how to find Michael?”

  “I’ll contact Morgan. She can work with her mama. A locator spell might help or…”

  “Or what?”

  “I could meet with Damien,” Edwina says calmly. “It won’t take me long to learn what he knows.”

  My eyes swing from the road, and I roar, “No way in hell—”

  “It’s the best way for me to learn what’s happened to the child. If Damien’s had anything to do with it, I’ll read it from him.” She touches my hand. “Let me help ya, dawlin’. It’s the least I can do.”

  “No, Angel,” I protest. “I won’t put you in harm’s way.”

  “Ya not putting me anywhere.” She swallows hard. “During my time, I’ve learned not all family share blood. Michael’s that type of family.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?” I side-glance at Edwina. My throat acts like a prison, trapping the words I need to say.

  “Okay, Hank. We’ll find another way.” She removes her phone from her pocket and taps out a message. “I’ve asked Morgan for help. It’s late and ya should get some sleep. We’ll go back to Kragen’s and regroup.”

  I’d rather have this female under me tonight, but I need rest more. Thanks to Ryder’s men beating the shit out of my ass and the metal collar cutting into me, I’m worn out and weak. Even my beast agrees for a change.

  Hours later, I awaken in a darkened room. Edwina rests beside me—eyes shut, body stretched out as if she was laid out by a mortician. It always freaks me out to see her like this. It’s a not-so-subtle reminder that my love is no longer alive. Right now, it’s time for her to feed.

  I swing my legs out of bed, tug on my jeans, and grab my T-shirt as I make my way into the hallway. Darkness covers every inch of the mansion. More proof of the vampires shrouded within its walls. The aged stairs creak beneath my weight. Somewhere in the distance a grandfather clock chimes out the hour—nine in the morning.

  “Is there something I can get for ya?” The booming voice sounds behind me.

  My heart ricochets in my chest. Damn vampires can be more stealthy than a cat. I take a calming breath and face the brother. “I could eat some breakfast. Edwina needs to feed as well.”

  “Follow me.”

  “I don’t think I caught your name la
st night,” I point out as he leads me down the narrow hall.

  We stop in a small kitchen that’s seen better days. Missing drywall exposes reddish brick. Paint peels from cabinets while the wood on the counters is splintered and bowed. In the middle of the faded-and-chipped painted floor is a lopsided table. Crossing the room, the pine boards squeak and groan beneath the servant’s shiny shoes. He stops in front of a stainless-steel fridge, standing out like a new silver dime, on one side of the room.

  “I am called Baldovino. Ya intended refers to me as Vin.” He reaches into the fridge and removes a raw steak. “How do ya want this prepared?”

  “A little char on the outside would be nice.”

  Baldovino goes over to an equally new six-burner gourmet stove, places the steak in a cast-iron skillet, and turns on the jet. The smell of burning meat tickles my nose and makes my stomach growl. A few seconds later he sets a china plate and silverware in front of me. Blood pools beneath the meat. Lifting the knife and fork, I tear into the food. The servant stands over me, obviously looking for approval.

  I raise a thumb while I chew. “Perfect.”

  “If there’s nothing else, I’ll take a bottle of the Master’s finest up ta the Missus.” Baldovino opens a cabinet and removes a dark bottle and a goblet.

  “If you don’t mind,” I start. “What did you mean by my intended?”

  “Before I became undead,” Baldovino places the items on a silver tray, “I was a seer. It might surprise ya ta learn the hybrid was meant for ya.”

  “How so?” I continue chewing.

  “Are ya familiar with the zodiac?”

  I nod, finishing my steak.

  “Then ya know earth and water work together. The hybrid is the earth. Her former partner was also of the earth. Definitely a strong attraction, but their relationship had no future. It was only about the physical. Ya are water to the earth. Ya soften her heart. Ya let her know she’s cared for.” Baldovino inclines his head. “The Missus is rested and is looking for ya.”

  Pushing away my empty plate, I reach for the tray. “Let me take that up for you.”

  Baldovino extends it toward me. “Thank ya. Just remember the hybrid needs ya. It will take a lot for her to admit it, though.”

  Understatement of the year.

  Opening the bedroom door, I see Edwina sitting on the side of the bed. She’s wearing a thin white nightshirt which grazes the tops of her caramel-colored thighs. “Morning, Angel.”

  “Good morning, dawlin’.” She reaches for the glass, and I pour out the crimson fluid. “Thank ya.”

  I set the tray on the nightstand. “Have you heard from Morgan?”

  “Yes. Michael is being held in a warehouse outside of town. It’s the site for this evening’s fight.” Edwina takes a long sip from the goblet, draining the contents.

  “What else?”

  She holds the glass out for a refill, and I happily oblige. Edwina takes a moment, staring at the viscous fluid, before speaking. “I also spoke with Julien. The BlackGuard wants Tyson to go through with the fight.”

  “What? No!” It’s a good thing I’m not holding the bottle. “Have they lost their fucking minds?”

  Edwina clenches her fingers around the stem. “They believe that it’s the best way to shut the PFC down.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Right now we only have conjecture. If there’s a fight, however, and someone is killed…”

  Angel doesn’t have to say it. If someone dies during a fight, the BlackGuard will have evidence of the PFC’s nefarious agenda. Problem is they want to sacrifice my brother to get it. Ain’t happening.

  “Where’s the fight being held?”

  Edwina’s eyes widen, and the blood she just ingested drains from her face. “Ya not going there!”

  “I can’t let my brother die because of my actions,” I shoot back.

  “And I won’t let the one who holds my heart die either.” Her hand goes to my cheek. “Dawlin’, I love ya. Don’t make me face the rest of my eternity without ya.”

  Chapter 24

  Edwina

  For a fleeting moment, I wish I could retrieve the words, but I meant what I said. Every last word. Telling someone you love them isn’t something done lightly. There’s a certain fear that comes with the admission. Surprisingly, liberation and a little relief accompany it too.

  Liberation and relief…

  Not words I’ve experienced much in my existence.

  Confinement and misery…

  Those are words I know only too well.

  As a slave, I struggled alongside my mother. There wasn’t much she could do to eradicate the horrors in our lives. We endured the same degradations. Poor Papa tried, but he couldn’t protect us from the overseers. The bastards caught up with us and murdered my parents. Their deaths left me vulnerable to the old witches left on the plantation.

  Not one of those old bitches helped me. Instead, they cast aside an orphaned teenager and neglected the vows to the ancestors—never leave a witch untested and untrained. They were supposed to raise me as their own. They left me alone to defend myself against the cruelties of men.

  Solitude haunted me throughout my time as a free woman and even after I became undead. I traveled the world without anyone by my side. My existence was predicated on a palpable fear. I never knew whether a superstitious human would try to force a wooden stake through my heart or douse me with holy water. Eventually, I learned those methods are based on myth and would have no effect on me. For my kind, the death blow could come from a vindictive supernatural decapitating me or forcing me to stay in the sun. I’m fortunate my pendant keeps the latter from happening easily.

  Instead of chancing the odds with humans or supernaturals, I endured my isolation in the shadows. Joy and comfort became strangers to me. Besides, the memory of the lecherous overseer was enough to keep me from seeking solace. But the Fates put Cash Martin in my path, changing my existence. The incubus gave me hope, nothing more. He’d never admit how embarrassed he was being in my company. It was something I learned drinking from him. So I never let my guard down, not completely, around him. I was unable to be myself. So different from the being with me now. Hank accepts who I am without question.

  “Angel, you don’t have to prove anything to me.”

  Yes, you do. Show him.

  Sliding into Hank’s lap, I straddle him and say, “I love ya, my dawlin’, and I’d gladly prove it to ya over and over again until ya believe me.”

  Gazing into Hank’s viridescent eyes, I see my heart and my love reflected back at me. My pulse quickens as he wraps me up in his strong embrace and brushes his lips to mine. One simple gesture declares, without words, how much this male loves me. But it’s his rock-hard cock pressing against me, signifying what his body needs, which draws my attention. I grind, shamelessly, against him.

  Hank drags his mouth away. “Angel, what about—”

  “Ya worried about Kragen and Vin? Don’t be. Kragen’s room is on the other side of the mansion. Vin’s room is in the basement. No one will hear nor disturb us.” Eagerly, I yank my gown over my head. Pulling myself off Hank’s lap, I lean back onto the pillows and pat the mattress. “Make love to me, cher.”

  Growling followed by the hush of his zipper break the room’s quiet. Hank’s jeans hit the floor with a purposeful thud. He tugs his shirt off and gazes at me tenderly. Licking my lips, I appreciate the chiseled perfection—gleaming skin and rippling muscles—standing near me. The antique iron bed screaks as he crawls toward me with eyes full of passion.

  Unfamiliar feelings grab ahold of me. What I feel for Hank isn’t just lust, although it’s always there. Hank protects me even when I don’t realize I need protection. He makes me feel special when I forget my own worth. The being listens to my complaints, my fears, and my desires. He builds me up when the world wants to tear me down. When it’s all said and done, Hank loves me when I don’t think I deserve a shred of kindness.

  As
my thighs part for him, I realize this can be a glorious beginning for me…for him…for us.

  “I love you, Angel,” Hank whispers in my ear right before we come as one.

  Afterward, as we lie together I realize that my spirit, centuries later, has finally found peace. It’s a wondrous feeling this love I have for Hank, and I don’t ever want to lose it. I rest my head upon his chest and listen to his contented heart beat strong. I don’t think anyone—living or undead—could feel this much happiness.

  Be careful.

  Hank’s hands stroke down my naked back to my butt. “Angel, there’s something I want to ask you. I don’t want you to think there’s any pressure though. You don’t have to answer right away.”

  His words concern me. I sit up, dragging the sheet with me. “Dawlin’, ya scaring me.”

  “No need to ever fear anything I ask of you.” He runs his fingernails along my side.

  I close my eyes, my body already responding to his touch. Quietly, I say, “Go ahead and ask me.”

  “We’re good together, and we love one another. When I asked you to come with me, you came.” His hand rests on my thigh. “I’m asking you to stay by my side. Always and forever. Be my mate.”

  “Ya mate?” I knew this moment was coming ever since I heard his thoughts on our trip here. I just didn’t know it would be so soon.

  Hank sits up and cups my face in his hands. “Yes, my mate. I’ve never had a true one. I told you Sheila wasn’t it. She was a mistake—an act of a lustful boy, nothing more. But you, Edwina Marie Devereaux, you fill me with joy. Angel, you make my heart soar. Whenever we’re apart, I can’t stop thinking of you. And when I’m with you… Oh, baby, when I’m with you, I don’t want to leave your side. You bring out the best in me, and I never want that to end.”

  I lean in and kiss him. A long and leisurely kiss, which stirs up my lust all over again. Reluctantly, I break it off and bite my lower lip. Saying no to this male is impossible. My heart won’t let me deny him. “What do I need to do?”