Page 19 of Soul Redeemed

Without giving Zayne so much as a glance, she walked off.

“You got a lot of nerve, Mister Fucking Righteous.” The Nephilim leaned forward, setting his hands flat on the table. “Coming up in here asking about virgin succubi.” He lowered his voice, and good thing.

Asking about a virgin succubus would have him fitting right into the depraved shit-fest. The only succubi known to be virgins were generally under the age of fifteen, which would make Zayne look like a damn predator. If he didn’t happen to be interested in the only college-aged virgin succubus in the whole damn city. Hell, Denya was probably the only virgin succubus in the world over the age of eighteen.

Not even the asshole across from him would believe a twenty-something virgin roamed the city somewhere.

“What’s the news?”

The Nephilim rolled his shoulders and cleared his throat. “I hear the authorities are after a female. Fallen.” By authorities, he referred to the angels who hunted The Fallen. Sentinels, they were called. Fiercest goddamn supes in the underworld. Had to be, to watch some of the shit that went down when they worked undercover. Shit not even a Wrath demon could stomach.

“And?”

“She’s wanted for practicing black magic. Like, the dark shit. Apparently, she escaped a compound where they had a bunch of succubi. All virgins.”

Zayne’s eyes narrowed on him, and he leaned back into the booth, casually pulling a blade from his holster, his focus on the Nephilim who tracked his every movement. “And just how do you know this?”

“My supplier. Learned from some dude on the inside. That’s where this shit comes from.” He nodded toward the vial still clutched in Zayne’s palm. “Virgin succubus blood is the best shit. I ain’t no vamp, but it’s potent. And the older they are? Like a fine fucking wine, man.”

“Where is she? This Fallen angel?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t tell you. But unfortunately, no one knows.”

“Then, this information is useless.”

“Maybe. But you find that woman. You find a whole lot of virgin succubi. Otherwise, you’ll just have to watch the snuff shit like the rest of us.”

“You like to watch young girls, huh?”

The Nephilim sneered and stretched his arms across the back of the booth. “I’m an equal opportunity offender. I do not discriminate on the basis of race, sex, or age. Now, I think you owe me something for that shit you got in your hand.”

Zayne stood up and drilled his fist in the bastard’s face. Not once, but twice. Three times. Bone cracking against bone, as his skin split with the punch. And another for good measure. Blood sprayed up from the Nephilim’s lip and nostrils, until his head kicked to the side and he fell forward, smacking his head against the table, motionless.

“There’s your payment, shithead.” Zayne strode past the woman who rushed toward the Nephilim, and without a single glance back, he exited the club.

10

Ava buried her face into the pillow, breathing in the delicious hint of tobacco over notes of sandalwood and spice, like an old gentleman’s club. Not that Ava picked those up herself. She’d gone out of her way to read the ingredients on Calix’s cologne once, to find out what made him smell so mouthwatering and masculine.

Gods, the male brought out some primitive part of her that made her want to devour him. The sight of him had stolen her focus, the moment he’d stepped in the room. It reminded her of the first time she saw him stroll into one of Ryke’s parties like he owned the place. Every female had had her eyes on Calix, commanding the space in his fuck me jeans and button-down shirt. Dark hair and cerulean eyes, paired with a chiseled jawline and the body of a god, made him look like he’d walked right off a magazine.

When Ryke had introduced him, Ava had to push the words right out of her mouth to speak—his virility and sex appeal radiated from every pore on his body. A year later and he still had her heart leaping in her chest.

Warm silk slid across her skin, a reminder that, while she’d lain chained to a cot with the smell of mold and rot and death lulling her to sleep, comfort still existed somewhere, and all she’d had to do was wait for the moment when she’d feel it again. The moment had finally arrived, and Ava could’ve stayed in the bed for the rest of her life. Even if nothing else worked out afterward, she’d relive the moment over and over in her mind.

She scissored her legs across the sheets, letting the soft fabric glide beneath her skin, as she breathed in the delectable scents.

Heaven.

The door clicked, and the silhouette outlined the frame of the only person in the world who could make her feel even better.

She lifted her head just enough to catch Calix’s eyes skimming across her bare legs that peeked from beneath the top sheet.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked, strolling across the room to the chair beside the armoire.

“Very.”

“Good.” He fell back into the chair, allowing his legs to casually splay open as he drummed his fingers against the plush upholstery. “Why are you here?”