24. Chapter 24
Chapter 24
Zelyah
M y time is running out. I need to fuel my body before I slip up in front of the Arcana’s men. I’m exhausted from the fight in Faerie, and my energy is severely depleted. I can’t heal as quickly when I’m this weak, so I’m not in the best shape for killing tonight. I can only kill a human. A supernatural being would be a lot harder in my current state.
I’m also pondering how I’ll be able to separate myself from the FBI agent tonight. It’s becoming more dangerous for me to kill and feed without getting caught by any of them. How did this happen to me? I’m living with too many supernaturals. Two of them are hunting me, and the other is still suspicious of me even when he clearly knows I’m not the murderer he’s looking for. I’m living with powerful supes that can end me, so killing and feeding is on tonight’s agenda. I can’t allow any mistakes. I came too close to Killian finding out who I was. He could’ve captured me in the dream if only he was able to get in just a couple seconds sooner, and that’s a very scary thought. Knowing he can pop in at any given moment unsettles me. The last thing I want is to be dragged into custody by the Arcana Society, especially by Rhett and Killian because I sort of like them. I really don’t want to hate them.
I got a taste of Rhett’s power, and that half a second made me fear his abilities. And Killian, the way he snuck into my dream and changed it . . . My whole body shivers just thinking about it. I came too close. I need to make sure I’m fed at all times. I can’t allow a slipup, especially with the men I’m currently living with.
I’m at my vanity applying my dark purple lipstick when my phone dings. I walk to my dresser and pick it up. It’s a text from Easton, telling me he’s outside to pick me up for our date tonight. Perfect.
Easton: I’m outside. Ready when you are.
Me: Be right there.
I walk downstairs and stop in front of the huge mirror hanging in the entryway, and I take a moment to admire my clothing. I’m wearing a leather skirt with a black corset that ties up in the front, with some very comfortable black heeled boots. When I get to the front door, my skin prickles. I turn around, but there’s no one there. It’s like someone is calling me back from leaving tonight, and my body wants to answer the call, but instead, I unlock the door and swing it open. Easton’s huge, cheeky grin is the first thing I see as he stands leaning against the exterior wall with his hands in his pockets. I can’t help but smile back.
“Ready to go?” he asks cheerfully as he comes in for a hug.
“Absolutely,” I reply.
He takes a step back so that I can close and lock the door. We walk to his SUV, and he opens the door for me.
“I figured we could eat before we hit the club.”
Dread hits me full force, but I try to keep my calm composure and feign excitement. “Good. I’m starving.” I’m definitely hungry but not for what he thinks.
He gets in, puts the keys into the ignition, and says, “I’m really excited you decided to come tonight.”
“Me, too,” I respond automatically. There’s tension in my neck. I don’t know how I’m going to get through this dinner without having to feed my inner Succubus.
The drive to the restaurant is filled with small talk, mostly about his job, and I give him information about my abuelita. I tell him she and my mom were both born and raised in Mexico and came to the US when my mom was eighteen. Then I change the focus back to my abuelita and what an amazing cook she was. I make sure to withhold specific details, or when things get too personal, I shift the conversation to focus on him.
When we arrive at the restaurant, people are lined up waiting to get in. There are lots of humans outside laughing and having a good time.
“I hope you like seafood.” He sounds hopeful and a little nervous.
“My favorite.” It really is, but I still wish we’d skip this part.
Easton finds a parking spot, and we make our way through the throng of people hanging outside of the door. The host looks bored until he sees me, and his eyes widen. Since I need to feed, my body makes me sexier to others in hopes of luring in my next victim, and the host is no doubt feeling it.
“How many?” he asks as his full attention is on me.
“Two,” Easton responds. I detect a slight hint of annoyance in his voice, and he stands closer to me as if he’s staking his claim. Poor guy doesn’t know nothing will ever happen between us but dinner and dancing. “I made reservations,” Easton continues.
The host grabs his pen and glances down at the list. “Name, please?”
“Easton Barlowe.”
This place is really fancy, and I immediately feel underdressed. The restaurant is dark, with candles on each table. The men are dressed in crisp button-down shirts under slim fitted sports jackets, and designer jeans or slacks. The women wear luxury brand cocktail dresses that cling to their fit figures with Gucci and Prada bags draped over their chairs. As we walk through the crowd, I can feel their lingering gazes. I want to take my fill from these people. It would be so easy, but then I’m reminded that my species is all but extinct, and I’m supposed to be killed on the spot if I’m ever discovered. So instead, I try to make chitchat and hope to make it out of here without my horns and wings popping out.
“I love this place. I think you’re going to like it, too.” I don’t know how he would know that when he never asked me, but he’s actually right about this one. I love me some seafood. It just sucks I’m here on a night that I have to feed.
“I’m sorry about this, but I have to keep my phone on me at all times just in case they need me tonight.”
That brings me back to reality. It’s Saturday evening, so that means there’ll be another killing. That’s why I didn’t see Agent Cooper when I was getting ready. He’s probably trying to figure out who the killer is. I don’t want more innocent supernaturals dying, so this means that after I feed, I’m going in hard and finding out who’s taking out these women.
“Yeah, of course.”
He lays the phone on the table cautiously as if willing it to not ring, and I feel the same way, but not because of our date being interrupted. I don’t want to see any more women hurt.
“I’m so happy you decided to hang out tonight,” he says as we both grab our menus. A waitress sets bread and butter on the table between us.
“Are you ready to order?” the waitress asks. She’s short with shoulder-length brown hair.
“Yeah,” I say, not even thinking about it. We need to keep this moving. Thankfully for me, Easton puts his menu down like he already knows what he wants. I wish I had the time to really sit and enjoy the meal. I’ve never been to a fancy restaurant like this one before, but I have to carry on unless I want my horns to start showing.
“You go first,” I tell Easton.
He orders shrimp with lobster, mashed potatoes, and some type of vegetable that I’m definitely not going to eat. I order the same thing with a Coke Zero. I never bothered with looking at the menu. She grabs our menus and comes back with our drinks.
“I love this place. How’d you find it?” I look around the tables, and the people who are eating or waiting for their food steal glances my way when they think I won’t notice. When Easton doesn’t answer, I look over at him.
“What’s up?” I ask, taking a piece of bread and adding the creamy butter to it. I take a bite and almost moan at how delicious it tastes.
“Oh umm . . .” He scratches the back of his head, looking down. He looks up at me again and answers, “A date brought me here.”
“You don’t have to hide it.” A look of relief crosses his face. He probably thought I’d get jealous or something. Easton is really cute, but he just doesn’t do it for me. I eat the whole piece of bread and grab another.
The food finally arrives, and I inhale it. Easton watches me in awe. The food has so much flavor. My abuelita used to make ceviche, mojarra frita, and in the summer, she would grill oysters, and we’d add lime and Tapatio. This is no Mexican food, but it’s still tasty. I’m done eating before he is.
“Wow, you really enjoyed that,” he says, his tone light and amused.
I smile, wiping my mouth with a napkin. “Yeah, it was good. Reminded me of my abuelita’s cooking a little.”
He looks genuinely interested. “Tell me more about her.”
I pause, a pang of sadness mixed with fondness washing over me. “She was amazing. Strong, kind, always made the best food.”
Easton’s eyes soften. “She sounds wonderful. I’d love to hear more sometime.”
I nod, feeling a bit uncomfortable sharing this part of my life with him. I’ve told Agent Cooper that I was a shifter, and they know I’m half-human, but giving them too much information is dangerous. They can potentially use it against me one day or discover I’m lying. Vague answers are better.
“Yeah, she was the best,” I say, keeping it short and sweet. Easton doesn’t push for more, thankfully, just nods in understanding, his expression thoughtful.
He hurries up and eats his food. Easton asks, “Do you want dessert?”
I look around, taking in the display of sweets. Fuck, the desserts look delicious. One couple has a brownie with a scoop of ice cream and chocolate drizzle. Even though we just ate, it makes my mouth water.
“It looks good,” I say wistfully, “but I’m ready to dance.”
Easton grins, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Dancing it is, then. We can always come back for dessert later.”
I nod, though I’m secretly mourning the loss of that brownie. When the waitress drops off the bill, I catch a glimpse of the total and nearly faint. It’s more than a hundred dollars.
“Wow, that’s a lot for dinner,” I mutter under my breath.
Easton chuckles, pulling out his wallet. “It’s on me, don’t worry about it.” He hands the waitress his card, and I feel a mix of gratitude and awkwardness.
As we head out of the restaurant, I notice his hand trying to make contact with my back just above my butt. I move a bit faster, and his hand drops away. We get into the car. Hopefully, this time we’re headed to our destination.
“So, what kind of music do you like to dance to?” Easton asks, trying to lighten the mood.
“Anything with a good beat,” I say, smiling. “I’m not picky.”
He nods. “Great. This place has a fantastic DJ. I think you’ll love it.”
The drive to the club is filled with a mix of anticipation and awkward small talk. “So, how did you get into working with the FBI Supernatural Unit?” I ask, glancing over at Easton.
He shrugs, eyes fixed on the road. I notice his knuckles whitening as he grips the steering wheel a little too tightly.
“It’s a long story. I’ve always been interested in helping people, and this is the way I can help.”
I nod, genuinely curious. “It’s impressive, what you do. Not everyone can handle the craziness that comes with dealing with supernaturals. It’s not just the powers—it’s the unpredictability, the danger. You never really know what you’re walking into.”
Easton glances over at me, a knowing smile on his face. “Yeah, it’s definitely a challenge. Some days you’re dealing with a rogue shifter, and the next you’re trying to track down a vampire. You have to be ready for anything.”
I smile back, feeling a bit more at ease. “Sounds like you’ve got some interesting stories.”
“Oh, you have no idea,” he laughs. “There was this one time we had to deal with a group of witches who decided to curse a whole neighborhood just because their coven leader had a grudge. That was a fun week.”
I laugh with him, the tension easing a bit. “I can imagine. It’s not all glamorous, but it keeps you on your toes.”
He nods, his expression growing more serious. “Yeah, it’s tough, but it’s worth it. We’re making a difference, keeping people safe—even if they don’t always know it.”
I appreciate his sincerity and the way he genuinely seems to care about the work. “It’s good to have someone who can handle the craziness and still keep a level head.”
“Thanks, Zel. I’m glad you’re here. We need more people like you on the team.”
The conversation slows down as we approach the club. Finally! I can feel the bass from the music vibrating through the car even before we park. My heart pounds in anticipation, each beat echoing the thumping rhythm coming from inside.
“We’re here,” Easton says, pulling into a spot a few blocks from the entrance. The excitement in his voice is palpable, but I’m more focused on the urgency of my task.
We step out of the car, the cool night air hitting my skin and doing little to calm my nerves. I smooth down my leather skirt and adjust my corset, making sure everything is in place. Easton locks the car and comes around to my side, offering his arm with a charming grin.
“Ready to have some fun?” he asks.
I nod, forcing a smile. “Absolutely.” But inside, I’m a bundle of nerves. I only have so much time before my horns come out, and I need to find someone to feed on before that happens.
We walk toward the entrance, and the line of people waiting to get in winds down the block. Thankfully, Easton has connections. We bypass the line, and the bouncer nods at us as we walk through the doors. The interior of the club is dark and pulsating with energy, the music so loud it feels like a second heartbeat.
As soon as we step inside, the heat and the scent of sweat, alcohol, and perfume envelop us. The lights flash in time with the beat, creating an almost hypnotic effect. My nerves are running rampant, and my senses are heightened. I can feel the pulse of the crowd, the mingling of desires and intentions. I look toward the bar and then scan for dark corners where the vilest men tend to hang. Lucky for me, everyone in here is already pretty drunk. I get lingering glances, but I make sure to ignore all of those.
“Let’s get a drink first,” Easton suggests, leaning close to be heard over the music.
Shit, I almost forgot I came here with him.
“Uh, yeah sure, let’s get something at the bar.”
We make our way to the group of people hovering around the alcohol. The bartenders go from person to person, filling up their drinks of choice. I lean against the middle of the bar while Easton goes to the other end of the bar to order our drinks.
“Fancy seeing you here.” A recognizable voice sounds right behind me.
I turn around, and I’m surprised to find . . . shit. What was his name?
He points to himself.
“I’m Chase, remember?” Oh right, that’s this human’s name.
“Yeah, of course I remember.” I try to play it off, and even though he smiles, I’m not sure he bought it.
“I never got your name.” I look around to see if maybe his date will come and claim him, but no such luck.
“That’s because I never gave it to you,” I tell him, then proceed to laugh like a dummy. Ugh . . . Sometimes I can be very awkward.
Without even thinking, I move closer to him. My body is working on its own. I place my hand on his heart. It’s beating loudly. This man is attracted to me. I should take him to the back.
“Well, can you give it to me now?” he whispers in my ear, and I immediately step back.
“Uh sorry, I have a date.”
I should probably go. Easton is already talking to the bartender, and I make my way to him, leaving Chase behind. I can feel his eyes lingering on me.
“Here you go,” Easton says, handing me my drink. I have no intention of drinking it, so I don’t ask what it is. Time is running out.
“Who was that?” Oh shit, I didn’t even know he noticed. There is no jealousy in his voice, only curiosity.
“It’s just some random guy I danced with once at the club.” I shrug. Chase is unimportant in the grand scheme of things. I have to feed, and I have to do it before something goes wrong. “I have to go to the bathroom.”
“I’ll hang out right over here,” he says, pointing to a solitary corner. I hand him my drink and head to the bathroom.
I push past people on my way there. I haven’t spotted anyone I can feed off of, so I need a plan. I open the door to the restroom and walk in.
“Cool horns.”
I gasp and walk straight to the mirror. Oh no, no, no.
“Where did you buy them? They look so real,” the girl wearing a romper asks.
“Oh um . . . I got them online,” I lie.
I walk out of the bathroom and spot Easton. He looks distracted by his drink. I make a beeline to the door.
The fresh crisp air runs through my hair. It feels so good to let my horns out, to let this side of me out, but I have to hide it.
“Woah,” another male says standing by the door. “That’s dope.”
I ignore them and sprint two blocks away. I can’t just feed on anyone. I don’t want to kill an innocent.
I walk away from the strip to a much more secluded area.
“Let me go,” A woman screams. It looks like I won’t have to kill an innocent, after all. I follow the cries for help.
“Shh . . . It will only hurt a little bit.” I turn a dark corner and crouch down, watching the scene in front of me.
There’s a woman in a barely-there dress. Her tits are exposed as the man has her pinned against the wall. My adrenaline pumps, and I’m biding my time until I can rescue her.
“No one is going to hear your screams,” he says as he covers her mouth. She kicks him in the balls. Brave. He crouches down in pain.
“You fucking bitch,” he yells at her. “Now you’ve made me angry.”
She tries to leave, but he catches her before she takes two steps. He hits her in the face, and she falls to the ground. She’s out cold.
“I like it better this way, anyway. Don’t have to hear them crying or bitching.” He laughs to himself as he starts to undress her.
I walk closer, taking light steps, hoping to mimic my inner Agent Cooper. He still hasn’t heard me, focusing on what he’s trying to accomplish. He takes out his shriveled and nasty-looking dick, giving it a few pumps. It’s difficult not to gag in this situation, but the adrenaline and my focus on saving the other woman will ultimately override my disgust.
He’s on his knees getting ready to shove that nasty shit in when I silently walk over to him and put my heeled boot on his chest. He looks up at me, stunned, but then realizes that I’m a woman and his smile turns into something of hatred. Whichever goddess is on my side today, thank you. You just made my life easy.
“Not happening,” I bark out.
“You filthy tra—” Normally I’d play with him and keep him talking, but I just don’t have the time today.
I knock him out mid-sentence, the same brutal way that he did with the woman. I crouch down to put the dress back on her. I pick her up. This lady is taller than my five-foot-two frame, so it’s a bit awkward running with her as my wings feel like they’re about to poke out.
I run back to the closest bar.
“Can I borrow your phone?” I ask a woman with short blonde hair.
She is smiling with her friends until she looks at me.
“Oh yes, of course.” She pulls a phone out from her purse while I lay the woman I’m carrying down in a sitting position. Her head props forward, but other than that she doesn’t move. I check her pockets and find her ID.
The girl with the phone hands it to me, and I call a taxi. I would have Easton take her home, but with my horns out in the open, he’d know these aren’t fake. There are too many people around, but I just can’t leave her alone. Using someone else’s phone is a small but crucial step to cover my tracks when I feed. I can’t afford to leave any trace that could lead back to me.
When someone picks up, I give them the address to The Rocket, which is the bar that I’m in front of. Thankfully, the person said they’d be here in five minutes.
I hang up and hand the girl back her phone. “Thanks,” I tell her.
“What happened to her?”
“She had a little too much to drink,” I lie. There’s no reason for me to tell her the truth. It’s not like she can do anything about the guy, but I can.
I sit next to her to check her pockets and find a hundred-dollar bill and keys. I feel bad using the money, but I have no cash.
I see the yellow cab pulling up. I give him a little wave as he parks in front of me. I carry the unconscious girl—whose name is Amelia, at least that’s what her driver’s license says—and I settle her down in the back seat.
“What happened to her?” The driver looks concerned.
“Drank too much,” I tell him.
I slide right in next to her, giving the man the address. Fifteen minutes later, we pull up to an apartment complex.
“Can you give me three minutes? I’m going to help her to the door and come back. I want to go back to The Rocket.”
“Sure, but I’m running the time.” He points to the dash.
I get out quickly, pulling Amelia with me. I look at the directory and find her place on the third floor. I use the key to open the door to let me into the complex.
My wings are starting to show, but there’s nothing I can do. I have to take this girl back home. I face the elevator and have an internal debate with myself . . . fuck no, not today, so I fly up the stairs. I finally make it to apartment number 302.
I use the other key to open the door and go straight to the couch. I lay her down and search through the kitchen until I find a bottle of water. I go to the bathroom, open her medicine cabinet, and take out two Tylenol. Her head is going to be pounding when she wakes up.
I lay both items on the table then immediately make my way out. I lock the door from the inside and close it.
I fly down the stairs, happy to find the taxi is still there. I get in and close the door.
“Ready?” The driver asks.
“Yep,” I say.
As he drives, my leg shakes. I’m so nervous and anxious. “I didn’t know it was a costume party,” the man says as I get out of the door.
“It is. Thanks.” I give him the hundred bucks and sprint back to the human who has taken advantage of his last woman. When I see the man still lying on the floor, my knees almost buckle with relief.
I push his body with my boot, and he doesn’t even stir. This will be easy. I inhale and start taking his essence. With each breath I take, his body depletes more and more. He turns purple and looks like decay.
Feeling the high of feeding, I stand up and retract my wings and horns.
I don’t have the time to cover my tracks when I hear that sultry voice.
“I can just make him believe that she’s dancing with him, but we can have her all to ourselves,” Killian says, too excitedly.
I need to make sure it isn’t evident that a Succubus did this, but I have no choice. Either way, the body will be found. I just don’t want to be next to it when it is.
As footsteps grow closer, I make a break for the trash cans. The lid I open reeks of mildew and nasty shit, and all I want to do is throw up, but I climb inside, leaving the lid cracked just enough for me to see out of.
Killian and Rhett see the body immediately, and their eyes shift up and down the street as they approach it. Both of them squat next to the decaying corpse to assess the kill. They glance at each other, and the way they smile is chilling.
“She does exist,” Killian says. His dark eyes swirl with anticipation. I hold in my breath.
I’ve just revealed myself, and now they won’t stop looking until they catch me.