Soul Enslaved (Sons of Wrath Book 3) (8 page)

“Nola said you need protection.”

“Why do you do that?” She crossed her arms.
Don’t let him intimidate
. Though that was easier said than done when the man wore a black T-shirt and jeans like Spartan warriors wore battle garb. “Is that some big businessman trait, or something?”

“What are we talking about?”

“You seem to feel the need to take control when we’re talking business.”

A corner of his lip kicked up. “Have we ever talked business prior to today?”

“Yeah, a couple times. For a couple of brothers, as I recall.” Shifting on the seat didn’t stamp out the nervous butterflies the male incited. “So we’re clear,
Nola
thinks I need your protection. I was perfectly fine watching out for my own ass. And this isn’t going to be you living it up with your riches. You live by my means. I don’t need every hood-rat in the city thinking I’ve got money up in here.”

“Protection from whom?” Gavin cocked a brow. “I need to know what I’m up against.”

“I volunteered to infiltrate a lycan lair. Cash’s Black Book was stolen.”

“Who’s Cash?”

At the ring of her cell phone, Sabelle’s head jerked toward where it lay on the table beside her. An eight hundred number popped up on the screen, and, groaning, she clicked the
ignore
button.

Gavin sat back in his chair. “Do you need to answer that?”

“I already know what they want.”

“They?”

“Bill collectors.”

“As in, looking for payment?”

She frowned, tipping her head to the side. “No. They’re calling to find out if white pumps and pencil skirts are in for spring.”

His eyes held a flicker of amusement before he swiped at his nose. “You were saying … Cash is?”

“He’s the leader of the Lenovidus demons. Cassius is his real name. The pimp of all pimps, I guess you could say. My pimp, Jeven, answers to him as well. His Black Book carries the names of every succubus in the city of Detroit. It also lists their assigned pimp. Cash uses it to monitor which succubi haven’t yet been inducted into his dysfunctional little cult.” She entwined her fingers and set them against the table. “Anyway, one of his own stole it. He wants to find out who took it, but more than that, he wants the book back. Word is, a lycan group that’s been tearing up the Eastside has it.”

He frowned. “What’s your role?” Concern blanketed his voice and he crossed his arms. “Have you trained for this kind of work?”

Funny he should ask. “I’m to seduce the lycan. Collect his soul. You know, basically what I was born to do.”

“What’s he done?”

“Succubi are going missing. They’re being used to—”

“Sex young lycans. Yes, I’ve heard about this.” He stroked his chin, drawing her eyes to his perfectly trimmed five o’clock shadow. “I don’t understand why these abductors are seeking young males.”

“Lycans, as you know, are sterile. Christ, even my species wouldn’t normally screw them. The new crop of young males, however, is virile. Stupid. They have no self-control. The female succubi are seducing them, killing them, and collecting souls. This underground shit gets swept under the rug, as long as souls are stocking the underworld.” She huffed. “One of Cash’s informants told him there’s a fight coming up. This weekend. Young lycans cage fighting. Supposedly, these things go down in the old church on Van Dyke.”

“Why you?”

“Because my sister hasn’t yet been assigned a pimp. Nola had warned me that the book went missing, and an unassigned succubus is a big red flag.”

“Why?”

“She’s a virgin. A prime candidate for sucking souls. Especially one as old as Denya.” Sabelle watched for any indication that her confession about Denya had piqued any interest in Gavin, but he simply stared, as if waiting for the rest of her explanation. “Since my family is potentially at risk,” she continued, “I asked Cash how I could help. Apparently, this alpha lycan … Lachlan, has a thing for redheads. No one else is signing up, so Cash put me on it. In exchange for my freedom.”

His head kicked to the side. “Freedom?”

“Emancipation from my pimp.”

“Why doesn’t Cash go infiltrate the lair himself?”

“Cash doesn’t do anything
himself
. He’s grown accustomed to having others do his dirty work.”

Gavin rubbed a hand down his face, as though trying to hold back some contempt for the male. “Why wait until the end of the week? What’s so special about this fight? Why not infiltrate the lair now.”

“This isn’t their
main
lair. Nobody knows where their main lair is. Ordinarily, these fights are closed off. But it’s open invitation to all supes.”

Eyes narrowed, Gavin drew back. “That’s got shady written all over it.”

“Friday is a full moon. On a full moon, a succubus is most fertile. Don’t ask why, I’ve no idea. Coincidence?” She shrugged. “I don’t know. But this fight is supposed to be big, and there’ll be a lot of horny succubi walking around.”

The rapid winging up of his brow didn’t escape Sabelle. “Including you. Do you have any idea what you’ve just signed up for? You’re talking about walking straight into a lycan’s lair.” His elbows rested against the table, and he entwined his fingers, like the shit was about to hit the fan—the same gesture she remembered from when he’d fired her from the casino a few months back. “This isn’t like running across a pack on the streets. The place will be teeming with the bastards.”

A silent growl rumbled in her chest. “Don’t. They chose me, and I’m not backing down from the money.”

“For money?” He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, and she clenched her palm into a ball to keep from slapping him across the face. “Sabelle, I want to give you more credit than that. I really do. But you’re talking insanity right now. They’re ruthless. Savage. How is this possibly worth the money?”

Her breasts nudged the table as she leaned forward, her lip twisted with disgust. “Obviously, you know nothing about being enslaved into a concept that is so far from who you are … and being tied to someone who makes your life a living fucking hell.” She pressed her finger into the table to emphasize the point. “A lair isn’t going to be any different from walking into Moonshines on a Friday night.”

“Except they’ll be high on a fight, and you’ll walk in like T-bone Tits.” He scratched his jaw, gaze fixed on her. “Look, if money is going to make that much difference to you, I’ll give you whatever amount you need. I’ll write that check today. No obligations.” He swiped his palms flat across the table and set them down, like a stand in blackjack. A gambler’s gesture. “You can send my ass back to Obsidius afterward, if you want, and we’ll leave it at that. A done deal. How much?”

Just like that
. Half her problems could melt away. Foreclosure—gone. Shitty car syndrome—cured.

The other half of the equation happened to be far more important to Sabelle, though. “A million succubi would jump at an offer like that. I hate the entitlement of my kind. And believe me, I wouldn’t have called on you for something so simple as money. This isn’t just about the money. It’s about
freedom
. Freedom to go anywhere and do anything, without the pressure of being forced to take life.”

“Odd. I always thought that was a perk for succubi. Sex and souls.”

“Well, you thought wrong. I happen to
not
be fond of either, so don’t go thinking I hired you for sexual slavery. I want nothing to do with sex. Part of the terms.”

The curiosity in Gavin’s eyes burned a hole through her skull. Crossing his arms over his chest bunched the muscles beneath his T-shirt, and bullets of warmth shot through her veins, burning her cheeks.

Irritated by the distraction of his body and the way he so easily disarmed a female with simple gestures, she shifted in the chair. “Look, this is all new to me. I’ve no idea how any of it works. My kids … will be staying with my sister. I want to make sure they’re safe.”

His raised brow goaded her explanation.

“I have to work on my skills until the fight. It’s called Priming. And I have no intentions of spelling it out for you. If you care to know more, log on to your little demon laptop and
Google
the shit.” All succubi Primed before hitting the streets—a relaxation technique that drew out their inner nympho, kind of like porn yoga. She had to be careful about it though, because some species picked up on a succubus Priming—like unneutered dogs.

“So I’m to protect you … how?”

“While I seduce the lycan.” Her eyes fell to the tattoo on his neck—how disgustingly sexy it peeked up out of the collar of his shirt. She’d always thought of Gavin as an attractive guy, but seeing him dressed so casually made him
almost
touchable, too. “I’m not going to beg you for help. If you’re not up to this, just tell me.” Crossing her arms, she sat back in the chair with a stoic face and a silent prayer that he wouldn’t back out.

“I’ll do it.”

“Good. You can sleep in Denya’s old room. By day, you can do your casino boss thing.”

He tipped his head, offering more of that delicious tattoo and the muscles beneath. “To come and go as I please.”

“I don’t see the harm. I like to work on my art during the day and don’t need the distraction.” She choked on the last word and cleared her throat. Gavin was a physical distraction, in every sense. The thought brought a prickle to the back of her neck, and she rubbed it. “At night you can … guard the house while I’m gone.”

“Gone where?”

“Work.”

“I should be where you are.”

“No. I don’t need a Wrath demon shadowing me. Particularly when said Wrath demon has already caused me enough shit.”
Like firing me from the only job I actually enjoyed
.

Gavin shook his head. “I’m either all in, or all out.”

“Fine.” She rolled her shoulders to soften the ego-blowing fact that she’d just conceded in order to keep him
all in. “
You can come with me to the bar. But I suggest you keep your distance.”

“Deal. And you can accompany me to the casino.” He leveled his gaze. “You’re with me at all times.”

Something in the command of his tone seemed to have a very odd connection to her inner thighs, and they suddenly itched to cross over one another. “Who’s a slave of whom, here?”

“Having you with me is the only way I can guarantee your safety.”

She rolled her eyes. No sense arguing over it. “I’m guessing you’re going to want some clothes to wear to the bar.” She gave him a cursory onceover. “I’d take you to your place, but something tells me bus routes don’t come close to the mansion, and you probably wouldn’t tell me where to find it, anyway.” It was common knowledge amongst the staff that no one had any idea where the brothers lived. Sabelle had been there when she’d saved Logan’s life, but couldn’t remember where to find it if she’d wanted.

“No.”

She entwined her fingers atop the table. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“How’d you end up in Obsidius?”

His chest puffed with a breath. “I tangled with the wrong female.”

“Bonded?”

He nodded. “To a high lord.”

“I’m—surely you’re not that stupid.” She wanted to laugh at the absurdity. Yes, the male had always been known for womanizing, but he’d equally been known for his logic and good sense.

“She didn’t give off the scent. She was flirting like an unbonded female.” He scratched his jaw. “I made a mistake. I won’t even blame it on her, because that’d be denying I had any role in it, and the truth is, I quite enjoyed her flirtations at the time.”

“Then what happened? She go psycho, or something?”

“She insisted, under oath, that I forced her into it.” He rubbed his hands together.

The accusation must’ve gnawed at him, given the rumors that had always floated around the casino about how reverent a lover Gavin was despite his womanizing, and just about every single female pined after him.

“Fortunately, every floor in the casino has security cameras—including my office—otherwise, I doubt I’d be sitting here at all. After much debate and much humiliation on both sides, the findings were determined to be inconclusive. We were both sent to Obsidius.”

“You almost sound like you feel sorry for her.”

“Why wouldn’t I? Whatever possessed her to make such an accusation was clearly the result of a deranged mind. It’s impossible to make sense of crazy. Better to sympathize.” His brows lowered. “Does this make you uneasy around me?”

“I don’t think you have any desire to return to Obsidius and face death for the rape of a succubus you’re enslaved to, so no.”

“You’re absolutely right about that.”

“Besides, I believe you.” She bit the inside of her lip, drinking in the striking blue of his eyes. “Let’s find something for you to wear tonight.”

***

Gavin stared in the mirror, adjusting the black button-down shirt he’d managed to find in a sea of cheap knockoffs at the Goodwill. Aside from the prison issues, it was the first shirt he’d worn in years that hadn’t been straight from the designer and tailored to fit him.

He exited the bathroom, tugging at his sleeves as he descended the stairs. Just before hitting the bottom step, he paused, eyes locked on Sabelle. Bent forward over the couch, she rifled through a bag, the short shorts she wore, baring half her ass cheeks.

A chill climbed his spine alongside the visuals of slamming into her. Gavin screwed his eyes shut and tipped his head back, but the tickle remained.

That hair, tangled in his fist with each glide inside her. Long, tone thighs spread wide, ass high; the curve of her back pooling with sweat; her screams of ecstasy only stoking his lust.

More prickles danced across his skin, and Gavin opened his eyes once more. The tips of his fangs scraped his lower lip, and he rubbed a hand across his mouth and chin to hide them.
Stop.
’The fuck was he thinking?

Too much time with thugs
, his thoughts responded.

Straightening, Sabelle spun around, her eyes narrowed on him before her stare roved him up and down. She double-blinked, neck bobbing with a swallow, and she cleared her throat. “Griffin says my car should be ready midweek, which means, unfortunately, we’ll be taking the bus.”