Chapter Twenty-Eight
Nix’s temper escalated to colossal proportions. “You’re not a fucking demon! Or evil.”
Shockingly, he believed those words. Until now, his Sherlock ideology had been black and white. Kill anything with a demon taint. But when he looked at Madison, he failed to see a half-succubus. He saw a beautiful, strong woman, fiercely loyal to her son, and determined to fight off the supernatural at whatever cost to herself.
“He’s right,” Georgie said, coming into the living room. “Unlike your full-fledged counterparts, you can choose to follow in the steps of mankind and chose a righteous path. Or you can follow your succubus mother’s path and spread evil far and wide.”
“Does that mean if I choose to follow the righteous path, I can’t enthrall a man?” Something about her body language told him the answer to the question was paramount to anything else Georgie said.
“No.” Georgie’s curls bobbed as she shook her head.
Madison’s stare pierced him.
“I’m not enthralled.” God help him, he wanted her, but he wasn’t obsessed to the point he couldn’t control himself around her. A man couldn’t resist a succubus exercising even a smidgen of her wily powers.
“And that kiss so proves it, Nix.”
Sarcasm drawled in her slow southern voice could be described as nothing shy of sexy as hell. Would she climax with a southern twang? Would he grow more aroused if she were lying naked beneath him, uttering his name in her husky drawl as he slid into her? Would—
He gave himself a mental kick in the ass. He cleared his throat and wrangled his libido back under control. “I kissed you before.” He felt like a sullen teenager defending a wayward hard on he couldn’t control, thanks to pubescent hormones.
“Not like that.”
On the porch, she’d have let him fuck her in front of God and all his natural glory and her uptight, ritzy neighbors. She’d launched into the kiss like a woman vying for the last life raft. She’d clutched him closer, rubbed her breasts against his chest, and kissed him with so much desperation he’d wanted to comfort her. Only when she wrapped her leg around him and rocked her pussy against his jeans had he come to his blasted senses. Seducing her wasn’t permitted, and not because he should be focused on protecting her instead of fucking her. Not a man to turn down a lusty thank you, he’d seduced many women over the years. Most of them clients.
She wasn’t the free-loving type of woman he normally found himself attracted to. All his other seductions were one-night stands with worldly women who understood he wouldn’t grace their pillow ever again.
The lame excuse wasn’t the worst part of it. The worst…Nix wanted her by his side. A one-night stand wouldn’t be enough for him. And he’d never wanted something so selfish in all his life.
Georgie’s impassive features told him nothing. He knew her too well. Her interest tweaked, he knew she’d ingested his and Mads’s argument. Standing beside Georgie, Amos listened with as much interest.
“You kissed back this time, too,” he said, a tad sullen.
Mads touched her lips as if remembering the feel of his mouth on hers. Didn’t like sex? After her lusty display on the porch, he knew she would love sex with him.
“I’m sorry.” She blushed prettily, and he wondered how far it’d spread when aroused.
“I won’t kiss you again.” He held his baby finger up. “Pinkie swear.”
Georgie snorted at his adolescent comment. She knew of his relationships with women and probably doubted he could keep the promise.
Leave it to Mads to call him on the vow. “We’re not thirteen. A promise is good enough.”
“Don’t promise something you can’t follow through.” Georgie’s sage advice.
He sent his aunt an exasperated glare. A one-sided smile tilted her mouth. His gut hinted she withheld a secret, something he would mostly likely want to know.
“I won’t be your downfall, Nix.”
Narrowing his vision on Mads, he realized she liked him. Probably respected him. He’d definitely keep his dick in his pants and his lips to himself from now on because he never wanted to lose her respect. There weren’t many women whose respect he cared to retain. Mads could count herself as one of the lucky few.
Amos added his own thoughts to the mix. “Does this mean I can call you Daddy now?”
Nix groaned and Mads screeched, “What? No!”
“Aw…Momma,” Amos whined.
Georgie chuckled at Amos’s displeasure, which lasted only as long as it took him to locate his Matchbox cars and commence a drag race on the coffee table. Sound effects included, of course…the squealing tires drawing a laugh from Nix.
His aunt wedged a heavy lock of hair behind an ear. “There are some things you need to know about Pandora’s Box.”
Mads studied her ring finger. Hands shaking, she rubbed her thumb over the skull and cross-bones elevating her skin.
“Friends?” Nix asked.
“Of course.”
“Micah omitted some truths about the Box.” Georgie made a tsking sound. “Damn demons are always lying, so they can bend things to their will.”
Irony hugged Mads’s voice. “So he told the truth about me, Amos, himself, and our marriage, yet lied about Pandora’s Box?”
“Welcome to the logic of demons.” Nix laced his fingers with hers and squeezed. She stared at their united hands for a long moment, before lifting her gaze to him. “Don’t tell me not to touch you. We were friends before the kiss, before we found out you’re part lusty wench.” He winked at her and cheered silently at her small smile. “And we’re going to finish this as friends.”
“Stubborn,” she teased.
“Get used to it.” He realized he threw her words back at her from the previous night when he’d stitched her wound.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“You okay?” Nix asked.
Uncanny how his voice alone touched her all over, a deliciously wicked caress she’d miss when he exited her life.
“No,” she said, without looking at him. Branded by his kisses from earlier, coupled with the revelations of the last twenty-four hours, Madison would never be okay again. With time, she might reach some level of normalcy, but that wouldn’t be happening soon.
“Drinking alone?”
He nodded at the bottle she balanced between hand and leg. Herradura Seleccion Suprema, a ridiculously pricey bottle of tequila.
“Contemplating getting smashed.”
“Think that’s a good idea?” He sat next to her in one of the rockers on the front porch and scanned the neighborhood.
Turning back to the uninteresting view—the city street and the ultra ritzy, ultra expensive mansion across from her—she dropped her feet on the railing, crossing one ankle over the other. She didn’t fit on this street or anywhere in this world. A half-breed demonic whore boasting a human identity wasn’t suited to live anywhere in the mortal world.
Madison, what do you want to be when you grow up?
Her favorite response as a child: “A Princess.” What did she become? A succubus whore, married to a freaking demon King. How about putting that in the yearbook!
This neighborhood would shit if they knew what resided next door.
I live next door to a demon King, his succubus wife, their Nephilim son, and you?
That wasn’t normal dinner conversation.
Dear God, a Nephilim child. Her father had preached on the subject more than once, claiming they were damned souls. A child born during Biblical times to mortal women and fallen angels, Goliath was often thought to be one of them. She didn’t think Amos was damned, but maybe he wasn’t Nephilim in the truest sense either, since she wasn’t solely human. The concept boggled her mind, one more of the intricate possibilities regarding Amos.
“Mads, I asked if you thought getting smashed was a good idea?”
“Probably not. My father said marrying Micah would be the biggest mistake of my life. I ignored his warning and did it anyway. I’m on a roll of bad choices. I shouldn’t stop now.”
She felt Nix’s gaze, even if she wouldn’t meet it. How could she not be aware of his attention when his presence screamed at every pore in her body?
“Not in the same ballpark, Mads. And you know it.”
“Shove the pep talks tonight, Nix.” She turned to stare at him. Big mistake. His eyes were unreadable, but not his lips. They were very kissable, and they would feel divine on her body. “Not in the mood.”
Her volatile state of mind wanted bodies grinding together and pleasures strong enough to eclipse her mental worries. Ridiculous, fancying herself desiring Nix. She hated sex and found it doubtful she’d enjoy it with him any more than her demon ex. But he was the first man she’d ever wanted in her bed. Sad she’d never desired Micah, the man she’d chosen to love for an eternity. Marrying a demon King put the word ‘eternity’ into a new perspective.
Nah…she gave a mental shake. She disliked sex too much to enjoy it with Nix. She sure liked his kisses, though. She had been grinding all over him, fucking him through his clothes.
What a tramp!
She rubbed her temples with her fingertips, uncertain if her actions were born of her own volition or those of the succubus hidden inside her. Could she control her lusty side if she got foxed, trust herself not to rape Nix in the middle of the night? Since she couldn’t answer the question with confidence, she handed the bottle of liquor to Nix. “You win. I guess you’re right; it wouldn’t do to be smashed if my demon ex decided to come calling again.”
“I’m always right.”
Madison snorted.
They grew silent while crickets chirped and a car moved down the street. Easy camaraderie hung between them. She felt no need to chat. No desire to bother him with her thoughts.
“Do you feel better about Pandora’s Box?”
“As good as I can feel about a demonic relic shoved inside my body.” She hoped she didn’t sound as hollow as she felt.
“What Georgie said about Pandora’s Box doesn’t sound as bad as….”
She glared at him. Nix looked everywhere, just not at her. “Not as bad as the succubus part?”
He winced.
“I guess not, Nix. At least I can control the Box. The succubus in me….” She shook her head. “I may never know which part is me and which part is demonic strumpet.”
“Mads—”
Madison threw up her hand. “Shush!”
“Shush? Seriously?” He laughed, rubbed his thumb over his bottom lip.
She faced him and leaned over the arm of her rocker. “Shove the pep talks.”
“Mads, I know I’m supposed to be taking you seriously, but that southern drawl of yours is too sexy.” He groaned and smacked his forehead. “Sorry, I had no intention of saying that aloud.”
Pfft…he’d have said something like that without apology before giving her those smoldering kisses this morning. Natural born flirt, he couldn’t help himself.
Rubbing the outline of the skull and crossbones—Pandora’s Box—she thought about what Georgie had said. The Pandora’s Box myth was a little skewed. Instead of housing all the evil impulses released onto an unsuspecting world, it held power. Power she could harness at will for any purpose, good or bad. Just one problem, with each use of the magic, it would leech into her system, altering her forever.
Yes, she could unleash demons onto the world with the Box, but not necessarily so. Just thinking she unleashed a demon while tapping into Pandora’s power would have been enough to open a demonic portal and allow a demon monster access to crawl out of Hell. Knowing what she now knew, she’d have to be careful if she ever opened the Box. She’d have to execute it just right to keep hell spawn from crawling out. Over dinner, Georgie said she thought Madison needed to practice opening and closing the Box a time or two, just to get the feel of it. Madison couldn’t make herself agree.
Madison sat up straight and her feet plopped to the wooden floor as a crow landed on the rail. Nix set the bottle of liquor beside his foot and moved to the edge of his seat.
The crow shifted into a woman with almond-shaped eyes and long hair, both as black as a crow’s feather. She possessed a body to die for, dressed in a black cat-like-pantsuit. Well, no, that wasn’t quite accurate. The pantsuit wasn’t made of cloth, but rather a seamlessly flowing feathery substance. A glossy, black feather floated across the porch and came to rest across Madison’s bare foot.
“You’ve been found worthy of the crows, succubus,” the woman said, her voice as melodious as a bird’s warble. “Keep the feather secure, and if you ever need assistance, grip it in your hand and consider our help a one-time deal.”
“Lucky me.” Pushing out of her chair, she heard Nix rise beside her. She palmed the dagger he had given her. In the paranormal world, things could turn on a dime, and she trusted no one. Not even a shape-shifting crow. She grew weary of feeling defenseless as each new supernatural entity arrived on her doorstep. Grew restless sitting and waiting on them to come after her.
Crow shuddered like she’d seen a bird do, her feathery black hair buzzing with the movement. “I came with a message only.”
“You’re an omen of death,” Nix snarled, glaring.
Startled, Madison peeped at him, his posture alert, pistol gripped tight in his hand.
“Sometimes, yes,” Crow agreed, looking him up and down. “You’re cuter in person, Phoenix Birmingham.”
“You….” He made a face of disbelief, “You know my name?”
Crow clucked her tongue at him and swiveled her head to stare at Madison. She blinked slow, like a bird assessing its prey. “The boy has risen from the puppeteer’s hell. Evil has been dismantled from his past. His future isn’t set in stone. The choice is his. A blood-father born of Hell will test the mettle of his son again, yet the boy owns his future.”
Chills scattered across Madison’s body. “What does that mean?” She glanced at Nix, feeling more than a little paranoid. “What does that mean?” Could it mean Amos would make his own future or choose the future the demon laid out for him? How could she plan if she couldn’t even decipher the message?
The crow ignored her question, frustrating her further. Nix could only offer a tentative shake of his head. Crow flicked her bird-like stare between them. “Nix, if you continue to squander and push aside what you desire most, you’ll fall to a partnership of your own making. A pact with a devil in a hell you cannot fathom. The anguish of lost regrets will force you to submit to his satisfaction, become the monster he desires, the tool for his entrance into a Kingdom not of his making. There’s hope. Allies will come to your aid, and a new Phoenix, battle hardened by heinous exploits and shame, may rise from the ashes.”
Crow’s strange gaze settled on Madison, and she resisted the urge to fidget under the penetrating focus. “Madison, you’ll be plagued by doubt and uncertainty. A mother from the grave complicates everything, leading to a life chiseled with years of wandering war. Out of tragedy, lifelong friends will be made. Only when he” she nodded toward Nix. “…falls will you find your wings and build a fearsome empire from within. You’re strong enough to crush a King. It’ll take courage to do the impossible. Forged in fire, you can exit the other side, supernaturally strong and greeted by a lover willing to sacrifice the world for you. Trust in the goodness you’ve instilled in your son, and a formidable alliance will be forged, one to defeat a second King.”
“What does all of that mean?” Nothing Crow said made sense.
“A death omen.” Disgust darkened Nix’s voice.
Crow smiled. “No, a life omen.”
“Who sent you? Another demon?” Impromptu visits from supernatural creatures had grown old.
“Demons are not my master.”
“Riddles.” Madison was fed up with guessing. “Nothing except freaking riddles, and none of them do me any good! Take your omens and shove them, too.”
As Madison made to walk off, Crow’s words halted her. “There are others more powerful than demons interested in your progress.”
Stopping, she took her time pivoting. “Such as?”
“Angels?” Nix asked.
Crow shrugged, proof she wouldn’t reveal her employer.
“Why would something more powerful care?”
“If you fall to the King, decisions will need to be made.” Crow shape-shifted back into a bird and flew off without another word.
Foreboding prickles struck her body, and Madison rubbed her arms. Nothing could erase the chill of Crow’s ominous omen. Nix came to her and massaged her shoulders.
“None of what she said sounded good, Nix.” Shivering, she glanced around the darkened street. “I would have been more surprised if she’d had anything good to say.”
“It’ll all work out, Mads.” He wrapped her in his arms, offering his warmth and comfort, kneading her neck with his strong fingers.
Inhaling his scent deeply into her lungs, she wrapped her arms around his waist, indulging in the way it felt to be held by him. Finding comfort in his embrace could become addicting.
“You can’t really believe that,” she whispered against his chest. She sure didn’t.