Page 3 of Soul Redeemed

Calix, help me.

2

Being an incubus sucked sometimes.

Skin slick with sweat, Calix tipped his head back, digging the back of his skull into the pillow as his hand furiously slid up and down his shaft. The sounds of female moans filling his head with wicked fantasies of what they were doing behind his shuttered eyes had gotten him hard enough, but it was clear, after hours of jacking himself off, it was another futile attempt. Veins popped beneath his skin as blood pumped to feed his rock hard dick. His muscles shuddered and burned, turning weaker by the second. His knuckles ached, and the line of tension that smarted his jaw damn near shattered his clenched teeth. “Fuck!” he growled, yanking the earbuds from his head and releasing the strangling grip of his cock.

For weeks, he’d done the shit. Watching porn. Frequenting strip clubs. BDSM clubs. Fetish clubs. Night after night spent trying to sate his appetite for sex by acting as a voyeur to the kinky fuckery of others, and not once could he effectively get the relief he’d felt in one night of burying his own stubborn dick into a female. Not just any female. The female. The one who’d sated him every time his incubus nature required a recharge, which’d happened to be just about every damn night if he could swing it.

Ava.

Her name sprung goosebumps across his skin, and the painful hard-on tenting the sheets hardened more. Calix writhed against the mattress as the ache swelled his balls and had him involuntarily thrusting his hips toward the invisible body he imagined riding him at that moment. Muscles tight, jaw clenched, he beseeched his mind to materialize her, to let him have one brief moment of reprieve when he could find the release he craved and stop thinking about slamming his dick into something for once.

“Fuck!” He threw back the sheets and held his stubborn cock as he made his way to the adjacent bathroom, damn near stumbling as he went. He didn’t want his mind to be consumed by sex. He wanted to focus on finding Ava, but the needs he’d ignored for weeks while searching for her had begun to turn physical. His body had come to rebel the abstinence of daily, or even hourly, sex that an incubus craved—the needs that were as essential as food and water to a human.

Deceleration happened when his species ignored its requirements, and a bastard underwent three stages when that shit went down. Obsession, which he’d already suffered, thanks to the Nephilim woman. Vexation, the phase he’d begun to slip into, the longer he ignored his hunger for sex. And infirmity—the final stage just before the body took over and his head no longer steered the ship. At that phase, an incubus would be weak, manipulative, taking a nose-dive into mind-fuck territory, and Calix would rather sever his own cock than suffer that kind of agony. He’d seen firsthand what happened when bastards reached that point, terrorizing entire cities, raping up to a hundred men and women in a single night while they slept. It was how the incubi had come to be feared amongst humans.

The ancients had often starved incubus slaves and used them to overthrow villages in the underworld.

Calix wouldn’t let that happen. If he had to, he’d rub his dick raw to get the release that would keep those symptoms as far the fuck away from him as possible, because being with another female just wasn’t an option when he longed for only one.

Sliding the shower door aside, Calix stepped inside and flipped on the ice cold water, but it hardly touched the heat of his skin. Gods, he’d have given anything to have Ava crowded against the tiles, pushing into her as the water beat down his back.

The unyielding cold wall pressed into his forehead as he rested it there, eyes clamped shut.

If he could just reach her.

Typically, after having sex with a victim, an incubus could materialize wherever he, or she, happened to be just by invading the mind and wishing himself there. It was why human victims could never really get rid of their demons. Often times, they’d bounce from one house to another, thinking the place was cursed, or haunted, only to find themselves seduced in their new dwellings, too. In his prime, Calix’d had his fun terrorizing beautiful human females that way, but those days were over.

As a half-Fallen breed, Ava could be enough for him. He could have her every night without the worry of taking too much, without the worry of accidently depleting her. She’d be his, and he’d see to it that she was happy, sated, and all kinds of spoiled. As she gave him what he needed, he’d give her more in return.

Unfortunately, his brothers—particularly Logan—probably wouldn’t welcome her back into the mansion again, not after what she did to Calla. Stealing her away for Draven had put Ava on Logan’s shit-list, and Calix would be hard-pressed to convince him to forgive.

Calix wasn’t even sure if he could forgive her for that, so he certainly didn’t blame his brother. After all, since having bonded, Logan’s only purpose in life had become to protect his female and unborn child—even if it meant going fist to fist with his own blood.

It wouldn’t come to that, though. Calix would rather die than be forced to fight his brothers, so maybe it was all for the best.

Maybe he just wasn’t meant to find her.

The frigid water did little to ease his erection as he washed himself before exiting the shower. Once dressed in his dark jeans, black button-down shirt, and leather jacket, he made his way down the stairs. The mansion suffocated him sometimes. The whole damn city suffocated him, but getting out was better than straining the muscles in his hand to find some relief.

“Calix!” Gavin called out from his office.

Veering from his initial intent, Calix popped into his eldest brother’s office and took a seat in one of the chairs across from him. “What’s up?” Tipping his head, he frowned at the shadows beneath Gavin’s eyes and those behind his expression that confessed he hadn’t slept in a while. “Gods, you’re looking rough, man. Thought I was the only one losing sleep at night. Everything alright?”

“What’s troubling you?” Typical Gavin. Always concerned about everyone else.

“You first.”

Rolling his head on his shoulders, Gavin leaned back in his chair and kicked his feet up onto the desk. “It’s rare that I regret a decision I’ve made, but I’m beginning to think having Zayne go after Denya was a mistake.”

“He take off?”

“I don’t know.” Gavin pinched the bridge of his nose and squinted. “I don’t know where he is. What he’s doing. How he’s doing. It’s been weeks since I received the call, and I haven’t heard from him since. Sabelle hasn’t been eating, she’s been so worried about her sister and feeling guilty about Zayne. And Zeke keeps having nightmares about his twin that are oddly similar to the vision I had a while back.”

“How can I help?”

Gavin’s hand fell away from his face, and he stared for a moment toward somewhere beyond Calix. “I’m getting the impression Zayne doesn’t want to be found. At least, not for now. I’ve decided to look for Denya myself.”