Chapter 4
Chapter
Four
ASH
A sh leaned against the cold tile wall in the small back room of the morgue, flexing his fingers as the last remnants of soreness faded from his muscles. By now, his body had fully recovered, thanks in part to Geneva’s fae healing magic and the resilience that came with his half-demon heritage. He could feel the energy humming through him, his strength returning in full force. But while his physical wounds had healed, there was something else that still lingered in the air between them—an undeniable tension he couldn’t ignore.
Geneva had been distant throughout the day, ever since she had checked on him that morning. She had made sure he was recovering, fussing over his bandages and muttering something about stubborn demons who never knew when to quit. But even through her cool exterior, Ash had caught the subtle shift in her scent, the way her breath had quickened ever so slightly when their fingers brushed or when he had looked into her eyes for just a beat too long.
He was certain he could smell it now—the faint, intoxicating scent of her arousal. It was subtle, laced beneath the cool, crisp smell of antiseptic and morgue air, but it was there. Her magic might have masked her emotions from most, but Ash had always been able to sense things others couldn’t. And when it came to Geneva, the pull was undeniable. No matter how much she tried to hide it, he knew.
The problem was, she was keeping her distance. Every time he teased her, every time he tried to get closer, she would pull away—making an excuse, diving into her work, or finding some reason to leave the room. He’d tried banter, flirtation, even a few well-placed smirks that usually made women weak at the knees. But Geneva wasn’t like most women. She was guarded, as if keeping him at arm’s length was the only thing stopping her from stepping into something she couldn’t control.
Ash ran a hand through his dark hair, glancing at the door to the main room where Geneva had been working on the bodies that had come in earlier. Her shift was almost over, and soon she’d be gone, leaving him to figure out his next move. She’d told him she and her sisters would help with the demon trafficking ring, but there was still a tension between them—something unresolved, something unsaid.
And it was driving him insane.
He pushed off the wall and moved toward the doorway, his movements silent and deliberate as he stepped into the dimly lit room where Geneva worked. She was standing over one of the examination tables, her back to him as she finished cleaning up from her last case. Her long hair was pulled back in a loose braid, and the curve of her neck drew his attention, making him wonder what it would feel like to trace his fingers along that smooth, exposed skin.
He couldn’t help himself. “You know,” he said, his voice low and teasing, “you’ve been avoiding me all day.”
Geneva stiffened slightly but didn’t turn around. “I’m not avoiding you,” she replied, her tone clipped. “I’m working.”
Ash grinned. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”
She let out a breath, setting down the tools she’d been cleaning and finally turning to face him. Her green eyes met his with a flash of irritation, but there was something else there too—something she was trying very hard to hide. “What do you want, Ash?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest in a gesture that was clearly meant to create distance.
He leaned against the edge of the nearby counter, his gaze locked on hers. “I want to know why you’re keeping me at a distance,” he said, his voice softening, though the teasing glint in his eyes remained. “I can smell it, you know. Your magic can’t hide everything.”
Geneva’s eyes narrowed, a faint blush creeping up her neck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied, though the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her.
Ash chuckled, pushing off the counter and taking a slow step closer. “You can deny it all you want, but we both know there’s something between us.” His voice dropped lower, more serious now. “Why are you fighting it, Geneva?”
For a moment, she didn’t respond. Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but then she closed them again, her gaze flickering away from his. Ash took another step closer, closing the distance between them until he could feel the warmth of her body just inches away from his.
“Geneva,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to keep your distance. I’m not asking for anything you’re not ready to give.”
She swallowed hard, her gaze finally returning to his. For a brief moment, the tension between them hung in the air, heavy and electric. Ash could see the conflict in her eyes—the way her walls were cracking, piece by piece. But just as he thought she might let them fall, she stepped back, shaking her head as if to clear her thoughts.
“This is a bad idea,” she said, her voice firm, though there was a hint of hesitation in it.
“Why?” Ash asked, his voice steady as he met her gaze. “Because I’m a demon?”
“Half-demon,” she corrected automatically, though her tone softened. She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “It’s not just that, Ash. There’s… too much at stake. We need to focus on stopping this trafficking ring. You said it yourself—it’s dangerous.”
He studied her, his expression thoughtful. “And you think that’s all this is? You’re just worried about the mission?”
Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t answer.
Ash stepped closer again, his hand gently brushing her arm. “Geneva… you can’t pretend there’s nothing between us. Not anymore.”
She looked up at him, and for a moment, Ash saw something raw and vulnerable in her eyes. But then, just as quickly, she blinked, and it was gone. She stepped away, her back straightening as she pulled the professional mask back over her emotions.
“I’ve made my decision, Ash,” she said quietly, her voice steady now. “My sisters and I will help you. But that’s all this is. We’re allies. Nothing more.”
Ash felt a flicker of frustration, but he kept his expression neutral. He could push harder, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good—not right now. Geneva was too careful, too controlled. She needed time, and maybe a little more convincing, to let those walls come down.
He gave her a slow, crooked smile, letting the tension ease. “Fine,” he said, his voice light again. “We’ll do it your way. But don’t think I’m giving up on this… on us.”
Geneva’s lips parted as if she wanted to protest, but then she closed them again, shaking her head slightly. “You’re impossible,” she muttered under her breath as the barest hint of a smile seemed to soothe her almost pursed lips.
Ash chuckled. “I’ve been called worse.”
She rolled her eyes, but he could see the faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth broaden. For now, that was enough.
Ash watched as Geneva gathered her things, preparing to leave for the night. He could feel the lingering heat between them, the chemistry they both refused to fully acknowledge. But even as she walked out of the room, he knew one thing for certain.
This wasn’t over.
And when it came to Geneva, he wasn’t willing to walk away. Not yet.
A sh slipped out of the morgue just as Geneva left from her shift. His body had fully recovered, thanks to the combination of fae magic and his half-demon resilience, and though his mind still buzzed with the memory of their tense interactions, he knew he couldn’t stay hidden in the shadows any longer. He needed answers.
New Orleans had always been a city teeming with supernatural activity, but something darker was rising beneath the surface. The demon trafficking ring he had stumbled upon wasn’t just a small operation—it was growing, expanding its influence into corners of the city that even Ash had thought untouchable. And if he didn’t act quickly, countless innocent lives—both human and supernatural—would be caught in the crossfire.
The streets were alive with the usual nighttime bustle as Ash moved through the city, careful to keep to the shadows. His senses were heightened, every shift in the wind and movement in the dark felt more acutely. The last thing he needed was to draw attention to himself, especially given the growing presence of demons and their enforcers in the city. If word got out that Ash was snooping around, it wouldn’t be long before his former associates came hunting for him.
His destination was Crimson Veil, a nightclub nestled deep in the French Quarter. The club catered to the supernatural elite, its doors guarded by vampire bouncers and its clientele carefully selected. It also sat atop the Labyrinth, a kind of supernatural space where rooms and hallways shifted, formed and vanished without notice. It was the perfect place to gather information, and more importantly, it was run by Valeria Bloodmoon, a vampire with more connections than anyone else in the city.
As he approached the entrance, Ash nodded at the bouncer—a hulking vampire with a cold, dead gaze who simply stepped aside, recognizing him immediately. No need for introductions here; Ash had made enough waves in the supernatural community that most knew who he was, or at least what he was capable of.
Inside, the atmosphere was heavy, the air thick with the scent of blood, alcohol, and the lingering aura of dark magic. The lights were dim, casting shadows across the velvet-lined walls, and the patrons—vampires, witches, and a few demons—were scattered across the room, engaged in their own quiet conversations.
Valeria sat in her usual spot at the far end of the club, lounging on a plush velvet couch with a glass of blood-red wine in her hand. Her raven-black hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her crimson eyes glinted in the low light as she watched him approach. She was beautiful in the way all vampires were—ageless, ethereal, and always slightly dangerous.
“Ash Shadowbane,” Valeria purred, her voice low and smooth as silk. “I was beginning to wonder when you’d make your way back to me.”
Ash smirked, taking a seat across from her. “You know I don’t like to overstay my welcome, Valeria.”
Her smile widened, revealing a hint of fang. “You’re always welcome at Crimson Veil, darling. Now, what brings you here? Business, I assume?”
“Information,” Ash said, his tone shifting to something more serious. “There’s a demon trafficking ring growing in the city, and I need to know who’s behind it. You hear things, Valeria. I need your help.”
Valeria raised an eyebrow, swirling the wine in her glass. “Ah, yes. I’ve heard whispers about that. Nasty business, really. Demons trading in souls, making deals that are far too dangerous even for my taste.”
Ash leaned forward, his voice low. “It’s not just whispers anymore. They’re getting bolder, and if we don’t stop them soon, the whole city could become a battleground.”
Valeria studied him for a moment, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “And what’s in it for me, Ash? You know information comes at a price.”
“I’m not interested in your politics,” Ash replied, his gaze hardening. “I just need the facts. I’m not here to get entangled in your games.”
Valeria’s lips curved into a sly smile. “You always were so direct. Very well, I’ll help you… to an extent. But be careful. You know how the game works—owing a favor to a vampire like me can be dangerous.”
Before Ash could respond, the doors to the club swung open, and a human police detective stepped inside. His presence immediately caused a ripple through the room, the supernatural patrons shifting uncomfortably as the human entered their domain. Ash’s pulse quickened as he recognized the detective—a man he’d seen around the city’s darker corners before, but never in a place like this.
The detective’s gaze swept across the room, his expression sharp and searching. “I’m here on official business,” he said, his voice carrying over the low hum of conversation. “There have been some… disappearances recently. I’ve been hearing strange things about this place.”
Ash cursed under his breath, sliding further into the shadows as the detective’s eyes scanned the room. This was bad. Human authorities getting involved meant the trafficking operation was already drawing far too much attention. If the police started digging too deeply, it wouldn’t be long before they stumbled onto things they weren’t ready to handle.
Valeria remained calm, her expression unreadable as she addressed the detective. “I’m afraid you’ve been misinformed, Detective,” she said, her voice smooth as silk. “Crimson Veil is a respectable establishment. We cater to our clientele with discretion. Surely you wouldn’t want to make any accusations without proof?”
The detective frowned, clearly not convinced, but before he could press further, one of Valeria’s vampire guards stepped in, subtly guiding him toward the exit. “We’ll cooperate fully with the authorities, Detective,” the guard said. “But I assure you, there’s nothing here for you to worry about.”
As the detective was ushered out of the club, Ash let out a slow breath, his mind racing. The fact that human police were already sniffing around meant the situation was worse than he’d anticipated. This wasn’t just about demons trafficking in souls anymore—if the disappearances were connected, it was escalating in ways he hadn’t foreseen.
Valeria turned her attention back to him, her expression still calm, though her eyes gleamed with a hint of curiosity. “It seems your problem is drawing more attention than you thought, darling. You may want to be more careful.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ash muttered, his thoughts already shifting to his next move.
As he left Crimson Veil, his mind churned with possibilities. He needed to figure out the full scope of the operation, and fast. He considered his options—there were people he could turn to for help, but each came with their own risks.
Zane Riker and Griff Broussard were both detectives, deeply connected to the supernatural world through their relationships with Catalina and Phoenix Duvall, two of Geneva’s sisters. They had resources and access to information that could be valuable, but involving them meant exposing them to danger.
Then there was Gage Tremblay, Savannah’s Rougarou lover and mate. Gage had his own network of contacts, and his connections in the supernatural underworld could be useful. But Gage had his own struggles with his demon side, and Ash wasn’t sure if he could afford to drag the Rougarou into this mess.
Ash’s pulse quickened as he considered his next steps. One thing was clear—he couldn’t do this alone. But who could he trust? And how deep was this trafficking ring rooted in the city?
As he moved through the darkened streets, the weight of the decisions ahead settled on his shoulders. This was no longer just a mission. It was a battle for survival—and for the fate of New Orleans.
And for some reason, as much as the city’s safety weighed on him, Ash couldn’t shake the image of Geneva from his mind. Her scent, her presence, the way she had kept her distance… He needed her help, but he also needed to keep her safe.
Because whether she realized it or not, the danger was already closing in.
The suffocating heat of the New Orleans night felt as if it was sucking the breath right out of him. The French Quarter was alive with music, laughter, and the unmistakable pulse of magic that hummed beneath the surface. But Ash’s senses were on high alert. Something was wrong. He could feel it—the sudden shift in the energy around him, like the very air was holding its breath. He paused, narrowing his eyes as he scanned the shadows that clung to the narrow alleyways.
The streets were quieter than they should have been, too still for a city known for its nocturnal life. That’s when he felt it—the unmistakable ripple of dark energy closing in around him, thick and oppressive like a storm ready to break.
"Shit," he muttered under his breath. His hand instinctively went to the hilt of his blade, fingers wrapping around the cool steel just as the first demon lunged from the shadows.
Ash spun on his heel, narrowly avoiding the swipe of razor-sharp claws aimed at his throat. The demon enforcer was fast—too fast. His black eyes gleamed in the low light, his hulking frame nearly twice the size of Ash’s. With a snarl, the demon charged again, claws gleaming under the dim streetlights.
Ash slashed with his blade, catching the demon across the chest. Black blood sprayed, but the creature barely flinched, its eyes glowing with an almost rabid fury.
Another surge of energy slammed into Ash from behind. He staggered, his vision blurring for a split second as a second enforcer, just as massive as the first, grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him against the brick wall of the alley. Pain shot through his back as he hit the wall hard, the breath knocked from his lungs.
"You’ve pissed off the wrong people, Shadowbane," one of the demons growled, his voice low and gravelly. His claws flexed, catching the light in a deadly gleam.
Ash coughed, tasting blood on his lips as he pushed himself off the wall. "Tell me something I don’t know," he spat, tightening his grip on his blade.
The first demon charged again, but this time Ash was ready. He ducked low, twisting his body to avoid the claws aimed for his head, and drove his blade deep into the demon’s side. The enforcer howled in pain, the magic-infused blade burning through flesh and bone as black smoke began to pour from the wound. Ash yanked the blade free, but before he could land another hit, the second enforcer was on him.
Massive hands wrapped around Ash’s throat, lifting him off the ground with terrifying strength. His vision darkened as the pressure on his windpipe intensified, but he summoned the last of his strength, driving his knee into the demon’s chest with enough force to send the creature stumbling back.
Ash dropped to the ground, gasping for air, but there was no time to recover. The first enforcer, bleeding and enraged, was already lunging at him again. This time, Ash didn’t bother with finesse. He let the demon close the distance, waiting until the last possible second before spinning to the side and slashing upward with his blade.
The sharp edge of the blade cut clean through the demon’s throat, severing its head from its body in a single, fluid motion. The creature collapsed into a heap of cinders and smoke, its lifeless body disintegrating before it even hit the ground.
Ash didn’t have time to savor the victory. The second enforcer was already advancing, his black eyes burning with rage as he stalked toward Ash. His claws scraped against the pavement, leaving gouges in the stone as he moved.
"You think you can stop us?" the enforcer growled, his voice like the grinding of metal. "Lord Asmodeus will have your head for this."
At the mention of his former master, Ash’s blood ran cold. Asmodeus. He had suspected the demon lord might be behind the trafficking ring, but hearing his name spoken aloud sent a shiver down his spine. This wasn’t just about the trafficking operation anymore. His former master knew he was in the city. And he had sent his enforcers to take him out.
"Yeah, well," Ash muttered, wiping blood from his mouth as he squared off against the remaining enforcer, "he’s gonna have to wait his turn."
The enforcer charged, but this time Ash met him head-on. The two collided with a bone-shaking force, the demon’s claws ripping into Ash’s side even as Ash drove his blade into the enforcer’s chest. Pain exploded through his body, but Ash didn’t falter. He twisted the blade, pushing it deeper into the demon’s flesh until the creature let out a final, guttural scream and collapsed into cinders and smoke.
Ash staggered back, clutching his side as blood poured from the deep gashes the demon had left. His vision swam, and for a moment, he thought his legs might give out beneath him. But he forced himself to stay upright, his heart pounding in his chest as he scanned the alley for any more attackers.
The street was eerily silent, the two demons reduced to nothing but smoldering embers at his feet. But the danger was far from over. If Asmodeus knew he was here, if he had already sent his enforcers after him, it meant Ash’s time in New Orleans might be running out.
He couldn’t afford to stay in one place for long. Asmodeus would keep sending more demons, stronger ones, until Ash was dead. And if the demon lord was connected to the trafficking ring, things were far worse than he had initially thought.
Ash wiped the sweat from his brow, grimacing at the pain in his side. He had to move. He had to figure out what Asmodeus’s plan was before it was too late.
But even as he stumbled through the darkened streets, his mind kept drifting back to Geneva. She had offered her help, but if Asmodeus was involved, this was no longer just a dangerous mission. It was suicide.
The last thing he wanted was to drag her into the hell that was coming, but did he really have a choice?