Page 50 of Soul Redeemed

“Well, not long ago, your brother asked me to lock him up down here to keep him away from his girl.” Xander crossed his arms and shook his head. “Obviously, that didn’t go over well.”

He almost felt like an ass asking for the same thing.

“Why don’t you just fuck her and make it all better?” Xander shrugged his shoulders. “Worked for Gavin. I wasn’t going to say anything, but you look like shit, man.”

“My situation is a bit more grave than Gavin’s. I’m not asking you, I’m telling you. Lock me up.”

“And if your girl comes down here looking for you?”

“Make her leave. Whatever you have to do. I’m a danger to her.”

Xander’s dramatic eye roll had Calix’s fingers twitching with the urge to punch the expression right off the bastard’s face. “Right, right. Sounds like she’s a danger to you, brother. I get that you’re trying to be all chivalrous and shit, but at some point, this is going to be a security matter, and I’m not interested in playing the role of some fucked-up porn director, making sure you get your daily dose of pussy so the world is a better place. I mean, if push came to shove, I’d do that shit, but I’m more of an active role kind of guy.”

“Xander. Just put me in a fucking cage, chain me up, and keep your mouth shut.”

“Fine. But once I lock you up, you’re in for the night. None of this, Xander, unchain me, you rotten prick bullshit. I’m speaking from experience here.” Brow cocked, he prodded a finger into Calix’s chest. “I lock you up, you better not summon your incubus powers to curse my dick, or something. I’ve got plans, and I need this bastard,” he said, grabbing a handful of himself, “fully functional.”

“I’m not touching your dick.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t touch it.”

“I’m about ready to sever the fucker, if you don’t lock me up.”

“All right, all right. In the cage with you, then.” Xander jerked his head toward the cell behind him. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

24

Zayne’s skin crawled as he sat staring at the female who lay on the cot, lips thinned with her stubborn refusal to talk.

The shakes had begun to settle over him again, every muscle stiff and aching, along with his jaw. Interrogating her wasn’t the best idea, when he needed a hit of Abyzz so bad, he could damn near taste the sweet licorice flavor swimming through his veins. He wanted to wait. To see Shey again, get lost in her for one night to set him straight, before he returned to focusing on Denya. Even if it wasn’t the Shey, she was damned close enough. Enough to make him come. Enough to make his body all fucking warm and tingly.

Enough that he couldn’t stand one more minute of the female’s stubborn bullshit that kept him from drowning himself.

Zayne shook his head of those thoughts.

He rarely got pissed off at women as a general rule, but his patience had worn thin, and the intervals between the stiffness had grown closer and closer, until once again, he faced falling into a monster case of withdrawals.

“Why don’t you take a hit of whatever it is that’s bothering you?” Her voice drew him out of a momentary spell, catching him off guard with the sound he hadn’t heard in the last hour they’d stared each other down.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re a junkie. It’s written all over your face. And you’re about ten seconds from falling into a seizure.”

Zayne licked his lips, slightly embarrassed at her mostly accurate assessment of him. “Why don’t you talk, so I can get right on that?”

“You’re asking for secrets. Secrets I can’t give you, unless I happen to like my skin extra crispy while bathing in the flames of Stygius.”

“You know where the succubi are kept.” A tic in his muscles twitched his neck, and his hands curled into his body as a violent spasm wracked his bones.

“I give you about five minutes before you’re seizing on the floor.”

“Then, fucking talk!” Another wave of agony struck his muscles, and Zayne fell from the chair, just as she’d said. With a trembling hand, he managed to snake his fingers into his pocket and pull out two vials. The angry cloud of red slid across his eyes, giving both vials the same hue. “Fuck!” He pushed his muscles to raise a hand, holding up the small glass bottles to the female. “Which is red?”

“The one on the right.”

“Which right?”

“My right.”