Chapter 3 #2
“I know about the oath,” Aleka said. “But come on. It was a verbal oath, not a magical one. You can break it anytime. And you’re trying to tell me that neither of them has ever made a move on you?
Really? Not even Mace?” As if to make a point, she lifted the spiked mace off its hook.
“That guy will nail anything with a pulse. And honestly, I doubt a lack of a pulse is a deal-breaker.”
Scotty scowled. People always misjudged Mace. Yeah, he could be an egotistical playboy with absolutely no filter, but he was also generous, loyal, and reliable. If he said he had your back, he did. One hundred percent.
Scotty would enjoy kicking Aleka’s ass in Mace’s name today.
“They’re honorable males,” she shot back. “If they make a promise, they keep it.”
“Take it easy, sis.” Aleka held up her hands, the mace in one fist. “I didn’t say they weren’t honorable. But they are lust demons. They need sex a gazillion times a day, or they’ll die. I’m just a little shocked that their instincts have never overridden their brains around you.”
Her sister made a good case, and Scotty had probably overreacted, but she’d always been protective of her teammates. Besides, it wasn’t as if Aleka had any room to talk, given that their evil grandmother was a succubus.
“You’re part sex demon,” Scotty pointed out, still a little irritated by her sister’s lack of a pulse comment. “Do you have problems controlling your instincts?”
“No. Do you?”
Scotty frowned. She’d never really thought about it.
She was what she was, and the why of it didn’t matter.
She lived in the now, didn’t need backstories, didn’t care about history.
Which was funny, because her sister was the opposite.
Obsessed with history, backstories, and getting answers to all the questions that came with them.
“I don’t think I have any sex-demon instincts,” she said.
Heck, she had never felt so much as a stir of arousal on any date. Which was why she’d never had sex. She’d kissed guys, even copped a feel now and then, but…ugh. So unexciting.
So far, she hadn’t noticed even a hint of Lilith in her genetics.
Thank the gods. But Mace and Blade had said that her succubus traits might not manifest until they were triggered by a specific event, like having sex or reaching a certain age.
The latter seemed unlikely, though, because puberty usually brought on those kinds of changes, and she was well past that.
“You said you can control your instincts,” Scotty mused. “But are they like, normal? Like the birds-and-bees stuff Mom talked to us about? Or does weird succubus shit happen?”
Aleka shifted her weight and took a sudden, keen interest in the spikes at the tip of the mace. “Dad’s coming.”
Scotty wheeled around to the arched entryway, only to find that Aleka had been messing with her. “Bullshit.”
“Well, he’ll be here any minute.” Aleka swung the mace in a wide arc. “We should start practicing.”
Scotty easily, almost lazily, blocked Aleka’s sideways blow with her sword, and the comforting, thrilling clang of weapons echoed through the arena. “You are the queen of avoidance.”
Aleka grinned as she sidestepped Scotty’s half-hearted return jab. “And you’re the queen of asking too many personal questions.”
That was fair. “Let’s switch to summoned weapons.”
Scotty’s sword materialized in her left hand, and its power surged through her body. Man, she loved the buzz she got from holding it. Craved it, even. When she fought with the thing, the thrill she got was almost sexual. Better than anything any male had ever done for her.
Oh. Was that how her succubus DNA showed itself? By giving her a lethal sex toy?
Lame.
Aleka hefted her weapon into attack position, broadcasting her next move, as usual.
No matter how much training she did, she couldn’t break that habit.
Good thing she had a dull desk job. She wouldn’t last a day in Scotty’s world.
Of course, Scotty wouldn’t last a day in Aleka’s, either. She’d die of boredom.
“I want to practice with a mace today,” Aleka said.
“You can manifest one.”
Which had always irked Scotty. She could only manifest a sword, and while she could charge it with the powers of nearby elements, a double-edged longsword was the only weapon she could summon. Aleka could conjure up almost anything without mechanical moving parts.
“I like the feel of this mace.”
That…seemed unlikely. “You never want to practice with summoned weapons,” Scotty pointed out.
“So?”
“So, it’s weird.”
Aleka swung the mace, and Scotty danced out of the way. Her sister really wasn’t great at fighting. “You sound like Dad. Again.”
“He wouldn’t get all over your case if you’d just do it.” Scotty went on the offensive, swinging her manifested and physical swords in a form her father called Skinning Trolls. “He probably thinks you’re being stubborn just to piss him off.”
Aleka retreated, ducking and blocking as she went. Her form was so sloppy. “If he wants me to attend these stupid fighting lessons once a month, he’ll have to deal with it.”
Seriously, what the hell was the problem?
Aleka hadn’t conjured a weapon during training in over a year.
She always chose something from the rack and refused to change it up, no matter how hard Scotty pressed her.
Frustrated, their father had confronted her about it a few months ago, and the confrontation ended with Aleka storming home.
Then, their mother had scolded their father, and no one had spoken of it since.
Scotty swung her blade, pulling back at the last second so she didn’t slice through her sister’s unprotected neck. Still, the tip nicked Aleka, leaving a thin red line spreading across the top of her collarbone.
“Ouch—”
Scotty nailed her with an identical cut on the other side. As their father liked to say, “Injure one side of the body, then strike the other while they’re guarding the first one. Symmetry. It’s artistic, and evil hates it.”
“Scotty!” Aleka slapped her hand over the second cut. “What the hell?”
“Sorry.” She shrugged. “First one was an accident.”
“And the second?”
“Symmetry.”
Aleka threw her hands up in frustration. “Even when Dad isn’t here, he’s here.”
“I’m sure he’d love to know you actually pay attention to his lessons—” Scotty broke off at the sensation of her comms vibrating on her wrist. A heartbeat later, a message from Kynan popped up.
Yes! Looked like there’d be some real battles in her future, not just lame sparring lessons with her sister.
“You’re going to have to get another sparring partner,” she said. “I gotta go.”
“Duty calls?”
“Yep.” Scotty made her summoned sword disappear. “Want me to ask Rath to spar with you?”
Aleka racked her mace. “He’s on guard duty.”
Rath, their adopted older brother, lived for guard duty.
He’d grown up with Aleka and Scotty, but he’d joined his Ramreel demon herd several years ago, becoming part of Ares’s island security team.
The warrior race excelled at battle, and their size and vigilance made them natural, formidable sentries.
Scotty returned the practice sword to the rack just as their father entered through the main archway.
The living glyph on his forearm, his trusty warhorse, Battle, stomped its hoof as Ares stepped out of the shadows.
The high sun made the red highlights in his hair glitter, bestowing him with a coppery crown that only added to the kingly air he bore like a mantle.
A warrior nearly as old as time itself, he feared nothing.
Nothing except losing a family member. Which was why Scotty, Aleka, and Rath had been training to fight since they could walk.
“Sorry, Pops.” Scotty moved to meet him, planting a kiss on his grizzled cheek. Apparently, their mother liked him with a five-o’clock shadow. “I have to go to work. But Aleka tells me she’s super excited to train.” She shot her sister an impish wink, and Aleka shot her the finger.
“Be safe,” he said, hauling her back in a one-armed bear hug.
“Hey,” Aleka called out. “How come whenever I cancel a session, you make me reschedule?” She flung her arm at Scotty. “But she just gets to walk away?”
“Scotty constantly practices,” he said, his deep voice rumbling off the arena walls. “You constantly avoid it.”
Scotty laughed and waggled her fingers at her sister. “Toodles. Have fun!”
That earned her another flip of the finger and a glare that promised retribution. Aleka would probably guilt Scotty into a shopping trip—or worse, Scotty would have to help her dig through musty museum crates.
But what Aleka didn’t know was that Scotty didn’t always mind spending time with her sister.
They had so little in common that they struggled to find stuff to talk about, so when Aleka asked for a favor, Scotty usually agreed.
Maybe they couldn’t bond over deep conversation, but they could share experiences now and then.
They regularly got a laugh out of the time Scotty got stung by a petrified demonic scorpion when she’d stupidly reached inside a three-thousand-year-old crate.
Scotty preferred the story about Aleka spilling coffee all over a hot firefighter in a bookstore café she’d dragged Scotty to, though.
While she stammered out an apology, she spilled the rest on his buddy.
Scotty chuckled as she jogged toward the island’s Harrowgate. She loved her sister, but sometimes, the woman needed to loosen up. Or lose herself in a bloody battle. Or steamy sex.
Not that Scotty was experienced with steamy sex. But Mace and Blade swore that it was the best way to relieve stress. Even better than battle.
Scotty wasn’t so sure about that, but if she had her way, she’d find out in the next two weeks.
Kynan Morgan loved his damned job.
Who would have ever guessed that he’d go from dedicating his life to killing demons…to marrying one and running an agency that employed them.