Page 35 of Soul Redeemed

“Motherfuck—!” Calix arched up off the bed, and still she wouldn’t relent, wouldn’t release him until the last of his load filled her mouth.

Pulling herself off his cock, she sensed he’d finally stilled and glanced up at him, licking the last of him from her lips.

He lay unmoving, his body trembling, and a twinge of panic had her crawling up his body and placing her hands either side of his face.

“Baby? Calix?”

He still convulsed beneath her, and she lifted his lid, her panic amping up a hundred notches at the way his eyes rolled back.

“Calix? What’s wrong? Tell me what’s wrong?”

His body planked and sagged, the shivering subsided, and his breathing finally slowed. For a moment, he lay still, eyes closed.

Ava’s breath hitched, her eyes searching for any sign of movement, until at last, his lips stretched to a smile, and she allowed herself a shaky exhale of relief. “Calix? Are you all right?”

“I’ve never been so fucking right in my life.”

“You scared me.” She slapped his chest and pushed off of him. “Jesus, I thought I’d killed you, or something!”

“Death by blowjob? That’s exactly how I want to go.”

“I’m serious. You freaked me out.” Staring down at his tight jaw and bliss-tinged expression, she tipped her head. “Is that the first time you’ve ever ejaculated?”

Nodding, he licked his lips and pulled her in for a kiss. “You’re mine now, Ava. We may not be bonded yet, but we both know you’re mine. My body’s already claimed you.”

She wouldn’t dare say it, but Ava knew. The moment she’d returned to him, she’d known his touch would make everything right.

And that scared the shit out of her.

18

The silky red substance, like ribbons, danced around inside the vial, as it sat on the dashboard, calling out to Zayne like a siren. Fantasies made real. Should he take the drug, he might as well kiss the search for Denya goodbye. No way he’d come back from Shey. He’d want to drown in her for as long as he could, even if she wasn’t real, even though she’d be visible to those around him, constructed entirely out of his fantasy.

Would his memories be strong enough to flesh out the beauty who was once his mate?

She’d never be the same Shey. What he’d always loved most about her was not knowing what she’d say, or do. She’d been crazy. Unpredictable.

Absolutely perfect. In life.

Zayne couldn’t bring himself to fuck that up by throwing her back into a world that didn’t belong to her anymore. She’d never bear a son. And she’d disappear with the effects of the drug.

Which meant he’d be on a never-ending search for a high that’d never last long enough.

He swiped the vial off the dashboard, tossing it into the open glovebox, and trained his gaze back on the club entrance. Zayne had gotten word from one of his contacts, that the female who had a connection to the kidnapped succubi liked to hang out at some sleazy night club owned by the Fallen. Abyzz would’ve made the whole experience much more palatable, because he sure as fuck had gotten sick of frequenting the joints over the last couple of months. Something about the Fallen made even the toughest demon’s skin crawl, and Zayne was only skimming the surface. If he dug deeper, he’d be faced with the kind of horrifying shit that bubbled up from the underbelly on prime time news from time to time—kidnappings, rape, torture, mutilations—the world that existed beneath the cover of normalcy. Abyzz shielded him from all that shit. If not for the drug, those images would implant themselves deep enough to drive him mad.

He craved the fog. The thin veil that allowed him to walk up into a club like he didn’t give a shit what he’d see go down. Unfortunately, the only thing the bastard’d given him was the succubi grade, and he sure as hell couldn’t afford that level of distraction.

A tremble wracked his body like the deep rumble of an earthquake, and Zayne’s hands shook. Withdrawals from human drugs meant some shakes, some throwing up, pain and seizures. Withdrawals from the demon variety meant madness, a deep psychosis that’d have him seeing images from the darkest side of his mind. And pain. Pain so unbearable, it’d make human childbirth feel like a spa day.

A knock at his window yanked Zayne out of his trance, and he rolled it down, staring into golden eyes on a dark-haired kid, early twenties.

Standing with his hands in his pockets, he stretched his neck, looking beyond Zayne into the interior of the car. “Nice ride. Wanna sell it?”

Zayne might’ve been desperate for Abyzz, but he sure as hell wasn’t desperate enough to give up his beloved Mustang Shelby. “Just give me the shit. No questions, kid.”

Bodhi was decent, probably the most straightforward of Zayne’s suppliers. College kid, trying to get through a doctorate degree. Only half demon, so he dealt in human currency—lots of it.

“Twenty K. Unless you want to do an even trade for the car.” From his pocket, he pulled out a vial of the all too familiar black tarry substance and handed it off to Zayne, who examined it through the glass to make sure it didn’t have any of those silky red ribbons.