Worth the Fight

by SF Benson

  My angel travels up the stairs, with me in tow, and stops in the largest bedroom. She sits on the edge of the king-sized bed. “Please tell me this is the master bedroom.”

  “It’s whatever room you want it to be.” The room faces the back of the house. To one side of the yard, the trees are visible. A pool sits on the right. “I was hoping you’d like this one. The shower is the largest one in the house.”

  “Hank, this is too much house for the two of us.” Edwina’s eyebrows knit together. “Ya know I can’t give ya kittens.”

  “Not a concern.” I kneel before her. “Angel, I told you I’m good without children. But if you want to experience it, I may have found a solution.”

  Edwina anchors her attention on me. “What?”

  “Believe it or not, we have Tyson to thank for this suggestion. There’s an organization which takes in orphaned kits. The little ones have lost their parents for a number of reasons. They need families.”

  Tyson surprised me, not just with the information though.

  “I’m going to accept a contract with the PFC,” Tyson told me over a beer in the French Quarter.

  “Why?” I took a swig of the weak beer. Finding someplace that serves a good Pilsner would become a priority.

  “Duchamp’s idea has merit. If he has someone like me fighting for him, the PFC might stay honest.”

  “Don’t you think that’s a bit risky? What if Duchamp can’t pull it off?” I pointed out.

  “And what if he does? I could miss out on a great opportunity.” My brother tossed a handful of peanuts in his mouth. “It’s a six-month contract. I can take the risk.”

  “And what if it messes up your chance for the AFC?”

  “Like I said, it’s a chance I’m willing to take.” He flagged the bartender for another beer. “All I’ve ever wanted was to fight. Sheila made it more like a job. Had I known what she was up to I would have cut my ties. She used me like a fucking babysitter so she could run loose.”

  “You do realize you might run into her while fighting for Duchamp?”

  “Yeah, I know. But I get to fight, Hank. Can’t you understand wanting something so bad you’re willing to put it all on the line?”

  My thoughts easily drifted to Edwina. Loving her was a gamble I was happy to take on. She was worth the fight.

  Edwina’s shaky voice grabs my attention. She pales slightly and asks, “Are you sure you want to be parents? They won’t be like us, Hank.”

  I know what she’s referring to, but I won’t let it deter us. “It’s a choice they will make. When I was little, my parents sat me down and told me how I was different than human children. I had to accept certain facts—how painful transformation could be, why it had to be done, and how to conduct myself in a world run by humans. It’ll be no different with any kits we adopt. They’ll learn their heritage. We’ll explain to them that they have a choice—remain a shifter or become a hybrid.”

  “Let’s think about it. Okay?”

  “If that’s what you want. Just know I think you’d be a great mother.” I push the strands of hair off her forehead. “You have so much love to give, but you won’t get any pressure from me. I’ll leave this decision up to you, Angel.”

  She leans forward and throws her arms around my neck. Her voice is light and so joyful. “Ya make me so happy, Hank Richards. How did I get to be so damned lucky?”

  “No. I’m the lucky one in this relationship, Angel. You brighten my days and make my nights complete.”

  “Ya know, the night ya killed Ryder, I thought I couldn’t do this.”

  My eyes meet hers. “Do what?”

  “Us. A relationship. Damien scared me with his words. I thought I was going to lose ya,” she admits.

  “Angel. We’ve talked about this,” I remind her.

  She shakes her head. “I’m not rehashing it. I promise. Ya just need to know this. Bear with me.” She swallows hard before continuing, “When ya told me ya wanted to claim me, I realized one day I would lose ya. Death would claim ya soul, and I’d be alone. Thankfully, ya pulled me off the edge. Told me ya would accept something I always considered a curse.”

  I cup her cheek. “Why are you telling me these things?”

  “Because ya need to know how ya love changed me, Hank. Every day I dreaded my existence. Thanks to ya, I no longer think eternity is a curse. Spending every minute with ya is a blessing I wouldn’t trade for anything. Giving me this amazing house just shows me how generous and kind ya are. But baby, being with ya is all I ever need.”

  I lean in and cover her mouth with mine. The kiss starts sweetly and quickly becomes one filled with passion. My beast stirs. I know what he wants, but he needs to wait until I’m done. I drag my lips away and rest my forehead on hers.

  “Why did ya—”

  I place my finger against her mouth. “Shh. I have something else for you.”

  Since I’m on my knees it seems an appropriate time to do this. I reach into my jacket and pull out a small black box.

  Edwina gasps.

  I open it and show her the blood-moon ring—a ruby surrounded by tiny black diamonds. It was something I found in the French Quarter. When I saw it, I knew it belonged on my angel’s hand.

  “You becoming my mate bonded us, Angel. It was an act that satisfied my beast and made me happy, but the man in me wants something more. I love you with every fiber of my soul, Edwina Marie Devereaux. The night I realized you were special to me, we were on the road, and there was a blood moon. That’s the reason for this particular ring. It’s a symbol of the night I realized I loved you. Do me the honor of wearing it. I want the world to know you’re mine. Be my wife from here into eternity.”

  Bloody tears cascade down her cheeks. “Oh, Hank, of course, I’ll be ya wife. Dawlin’, ya fill me with so much joy and happiness. But I don’t need Council or anyone else to approve our love.”

  I open my mouth to say something, but Edwina shakes her head as she wipes her face. “I get it though. If ya want the world to acknowledge what we have, I’ll gladly wear ya ring.”

  Without hesitation, I slip the ring on her chilly finger and look into her eyes. There’s so much love shining there. “Thank you, my angel. If I could give you the world, I would. Anything for you.”

  “Ya don’t have to give me anything else. Just love me.”

  “Always in all ways, Angel. No more demons haunting us.”

  She smiles. “No more demons ever again.”

  “It’s taken a lot for this moment to happen,” I say and pull her into my arms. “But it’s been worth the fight.”

  “Yes, it has.”

  Read on for a Sneak Peek of

  Finding Me

  ANOTHER FALLS CREEK ROMANCE NOVEL, #2

  SF Benson

  Sometimes loving someone means finding yourself first.

  Colton Najex, an incubus, has spent a month in Hell contemplating his life. The royal supernatural has grown tired of the decadent parties and wild sexcapades with forgettable females and males. Something’s amiss in his world.

  He’s bored.

  Unhappy.

  Lonely.

  Colton craves a more humane, laid back way of life with someone special.

  Jeremiah Jones, a struggling musician, has spent the last few years chasing the impossible. He wants a little solitude and a life spent making music with a special someone—person of destiny according to a celestial prophecy. Unfortunately, Jeremiah seems to only attract a long interlude of Mr. Wrongs.

  He’s frustrated.

  Downhearted.

  Lonely.

  Jeremiah’s ready to give up and merely live in a world alone—just him and his music.

  But an innocent wish from Colton to his grandfather, the king of Hell, changes everything forever.

  When two souls—one from Heaven and the other from Hell—collide, can they put aside rhetoric and just embrace love?

  Chapter One

  Colt

  Somewhere i
n Hell…

  A horrendous repetitive beat bounces off the walls of the Inner Circle Club. A pulsing red light keeps time with the techno rhythm. Scantily clad bodies gyrate up against each other while demons have sex in dark corners. Alcohol flows freely from the bar taking up one side of the room. The intermingling scents of cologne and pheromones wrinkle my nose. Someone needs to tell these wretches that bathing yourself in fragrance doesn’t get rid of the ever-present stench of brimstone. It only makes it worse.

  There’s a party going on—there’s always a party—for the group of incubi I first roomed with when I arrived in Hell. These demons will be some of the worst man-whores to set foot on Earth. Besides, being irritating metrosexuals (and this comes from someone who has his own metrosexual tendencies)—hogging mirrors and stealing each other’s clothes—their task is despicable. They’ll forge relationships, get human females pregnant, and then abandon the women when it’s too late to abort the demon spawn. The women are always left wondering how it happened—after all, birth control was used. Here’s a news flash for any human listening in: man-made medications and devices can’t stop demon sperm.

  I notice two incubi—one with dark hair and the other a ginger—locking lips up against a wall. It’s fucking hot watching them go at it. Honestly, they’ve been into each other ever since I arrived. When I walked in on them in bed, though, I requested a new room assignment. There are some things that shouldn’t be done, or heard, around others. Grandfather said those two won’t be going up anytime soon. I consider them to be lucky. They’ll get to continue enjoying each other, forging a relationship together, but they’re breaking the first rule of Lilin—incubi aren’t supposed to fall in love with each other.

  “Colt! You made it!”

  The familiar female voice grabs my attention. Taking a deep breath, I turn toward her. “Hi, Mother. I’m not staying for long.”

  My mother’s manipulative ways got both of us cast down here. If I hadn’t listened to her, I wouldn’t have kidnapped Qadira. Although my family wanted to let the matter slide, the djinniyah’s family wasn’t so pliant. They demanded retribution for my behavior.

  A radiant smile takes over my mother’s face. She absolutely loves it here. I suspect her exuberance is because she’s away from Father. Usually, she’s an uptight female with perfectly coiffed hair and dressed in a rigid suit. Her curly black hair hangs wildly around her shoulders, and she’s wearing jeans. Mother is having fun—something I’ve never witnessed.

  “Don’t be so grumpy all the time, Colt. Think of this as a vacation. Your exile will be over soon enough, and you’ll be back at home.”

  Not a moment I care to think about. Forcing a smile, I say, “I’m headed to the lounge.”

  “Have fun,” she says and goes back to dancing with an unfamiliar demon.

  One thing Mother has right is my punishment is nearly over. Good thing, because I’ve lost all my bearings. It could be another day or another night. Who the fuck knows? Markers of time aren’t customary in this inferno. I’ve spent every waking moment doing nothing more than staring at poor souls while wishing for something more. A party isn’t what I’m searching for, and neither is the pallid figure making her way toward me.

  Gorgyra. A follower of Hecate.

  “Nice to see you again,” she says in a raspy voice. A thin hand reaches up and pushes a strand of licorice-black hair from her face.

  I won’t lie to her. It’s never nice to see one of the Lampades. “Why aren’t you working?”

  “Orphne is covering for me. I wanted to see who’s going upstairs. I might want to keep one or two for myself.”

  There’s an unnerving thought. The Mazrel twins, thanks to some agreement Cash Martin made with the sisters, had to service the torch bearers for a whole week. Gorgyra and Orphne kept Alec and Dante locked in a room for their entire stay. I saw them right before they returned to Falls Creek.

  “Hey, Alec. Dante. What are you doing down here?” Although I was happy to see my friends, I didn’t like the idea of their being in Hell too.

  The identical twin brothers glared at me.

  Alec’s bright blue eyes blazed as he ran a hand through his short blond hair. “This is Cash’s fault. If you see him, you let him know we’re looking for him.”

  “We’re gonna kick his ass for every damned day we had to fuck those creatures,” Dante grumbled.

  The twins walked away with great difficulty.

  I had no words. It was common knowledge that Cash was now an employee of Grandfather’s. The one thing nobody knows, however, is that nothing happens to those who work for Ashmedai. He keeps them well-protected.

  The memory brings to mind the constant screaming I heard from their chambers. It was nonstop agony for the twins. At one point, I swore I heard them begging for help. An unpleasant situation even for demons.

  I go over to the bar where a necromancer serves up drinks with great flare. He spins around and tosses a bottle in the air, catches it, and pour out the contents. The dark-skinned male bops his head in time with the music as he slides to a stop in front of me.

  “What’ll it be tonight, Prince?”

  “Please don’t call me that.” I don’t relish the title I’ve inherited—Prince of Hell. One day this will be my kingdom, but I don’t want it. “Whiskey neat.”

  The bartender grabs a bottle and pours me a generous portion. I thank him, take my glass, and make my way to the back of the room.

  Personally, I abhor all of this. Standing at the edge of the crowd, I take one more look before opening the solid door behind me. Once it’s closed, the music becomes a dull thud and I find a little peace. Who would have thought I’d find solace in the VID—Very Important Demon—lounge? It’s either this place or back in my room though. Most demons don’t get their own space. I’m fortunate my grandfather, Ashmedai, moved me.

  A couple makes out in one corner of the room. Taking my drink, I sit down on a too plush black sofa. Finally, alone with my thoughts. Not that I need it. Since being here, I’ve had too much time to think. Maybe if I had chosen to come here, I’d enjoy myself. Debauchery abounds in this place. All sorts of decadence can be had. Without the need to replenish energy, though, fucking in Hell is simply sex for pleasure. Unfortunately, I haven’t found any.

  Even the ironies of Hell haven’t been delightful. Back on Earth, humans attach themselves to TV shows about other humans surviving great odds. If it were possible to televise Hell, would they watch? After all, this place is the ultimate game of survival. Every minute of every hour, for all of eternity, souls try to survive the depths of Hell—violent winds without shelter, icy piles of slush to climb with other souls, and the great river Styx where souls try to avoid drowning in its eternal muddy depths. Each level brings a new challenge.

  Demons normally find great pleasure in watching human souls fail. My lot—yes, Lilin are demons too—don’t get to partake in the survivor courses. We get to torment souls. Every. Single. Day. Every. Single. Night. I’m surrounded by those who get their kicks out of shredding peace of mind. Males get hard-ons while females cream their panties with every defeat handed to a soul.

  Not me.

  As a royal, I write my dance card. Partying, endless sex, or supreme torture… I could do it all, but I don’t want it. None of it. I’ve had my fill of constant fucking and drinking. Rarely do I get satisfied with either endeavor, anyway. As far as torture goes… It’s not for me.

  I place my untouched drink on the table in front of me.

  Before coming here, my relentless father introduced me to his version of Hades. His continuous torture helped me lose my taste for inflicting misery upon others. I’m his version of a fucking failure. Unfortunately, there are days I’m inclined to agree with him.

  The door opens and lets in the music along with a handsome figure—black, shoulder-length hair and brilliant cornflower blue eyes. His beauty radiates like golden rays. He presents a distraction I can appreciate. In so many ways. My cock stiffe
ns.

  “Mind if I join you?” he asks.

  I’m about to say no when I notice the set of magnificent black wings behind him. His full lips curl up into a smile. This isn’t the first time our paths have crossed, but it’s the first time I’ve seen his wings.

  A member of the fallen or dark angel?

  How did I miss that?

  Sitting down and spreading his wings around us, he says, “You didn’t miss anything. I just got these. I’m a dark angel. Consider me safe.”

  Safe?

  Since I’ve been here, this being has been my torment. Tempting me. Daring me from a distance. What the fuck is his name?

  “You’ve forgotten my name?” He runs a finger down my arm. “Theseon. No need to tell me yours. Everyone knows you.”

  “Sorry. I suck with names,” I admit. It’s always been a problem for me.

  “It’s not my name I wish for you to suck,” he says suggestively. “These are my last hours in Hell. Help me celebrate. When we’re done, you’ll never forget Hellfire.”

  “Hellfire? You think highly of yourself.”

  He moves closer and whispers in my ear. “Everyone who gets a taste of my cock never forgets. You’ll be branded for life. Hellfire.”

  Oh shit. My jeans are uncomfortably tight. His offer is too tempting, but I just can’t. It’s a matter of principle for me.

  Theseon’s onyx wings rustle. “Maybe your principles need to change.” His gaze drops to my crotch. “You can’t deny you’re interested.”

  “Not the point.” My rule has nothing to do with Theseon personally. It’s an issue with his kind in general.

  If he had been created from light, then this male would be forbidden territory. There’s always a chance that a fallen angel might seek redemption and return to soar in the heavens. Dark angels, however, are a different breed. Belched from the fiery depths, they have no allegiance to the heavenly realm.