Lethal Blow: (Succubus Hitwoman Book 2) by Eliza Hendrix (best motivational books to read TXT) 📗

words What the fuck prepared to slip out of my mouth, I turn back to look at the old vampire and discover he’s gone.

Chapter 10

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The translucent crowd of witches continues to move around sporadically, some walking right through me as I make my way to the dirt path.

The moment I step onto it, a cool gust of wind sweeps into me, bringing along with it the smell of pine, wet earth, and fresh lavender. Farther ahead is a thick forest masked by rising fog. I’d be lying if I said the forest looks inviting. It feels like I’m about to step onto some Halloween movie production set. Every time the wind blows, swirls of white swim through the air.

It’s downright creepy.

But there’s a reason this path appeared, so I have to trust that I’m doing the right thing by entering the forest.

I glance from side to side, even though no one in the warehouse can see me, and slowly make my way into the forest. The dirt path feels soft under my boots—at least softer than old planks of wood. The farther I go, the quieter everything around me becomes. The bickering witches sound like nothing more than an old radio emitting sound from across a house.

Overhead, crows sit atop dry branches, cawing every time I take a step forward. I can’t tell if they’re encouraging me to continue or warning me of what’s to come.

Suddenly, one of them takes off, its powerful wings sending a few dead leaves spinning through the air.

You’d think that being immortal would make me immune to being jumpy. After all, what do I have to be afraid of? It’s not like I can die. Well, at least not easily. Deep down, though, I don’t think it’s the fear of death that scares me—it’s the fear of eternal suffering.

I think that’s what scares most immortal beings. I mean, once you’re dead, you’re dead. But the idea of being imprisoned for all of eternity, or worse, tortured every day, is enough to drive someone mad.

I’ve heard countless stories of vampires being punished through eternal torture. While everyone’s version of torture is different, vampires imprison their enemies and starve them of blood. Then, right before the prisoner is so weak they can barely move, their captor places a dropperful of blood, allowing a single droplet to fall out every hour.

Sick, right?

I’ve heard stories about succubi being imprisoned behind glass walls and forced to watch other people fuck.

You think your vibrator battery dying right before you get off is torturous? Or having a girl—or guy—stroke you only to turn around and say they aren’t feeling well? Imagine that feeling a hundredfold.

Then amplify it another hundredfold.

I feel sick to my stomach thinking about it, so instead, I focus on the murky path ahead of me and keep walking.

How far am I supposed to walk? I can’t believe Veerka put me up to this shit. It better be worth it.

I picture her rubbing her breasts, smiling playfully up at me from underneath a candlelight’s glow. A throbbing sensation radiates down my stomach and in between my legs.

It’ll be worth it.

I walk for what feels like hours. Am I going in circles? Everything looks the same: the trees are tall and slanted, fog floats around my ankles, and every few minutes, a single crow caws… And it sounds the same every single time.

What kind of sick game is this?

“Hello?” I shout.

Like in horror movies, my voice echoes over and over throughout the forest.

“What the hell do you want from me?” I shout.

The last few words echo again, moving farther and farther away from my ears.

“We want you,” comes a soothing voice.

Spinning around, I spot a naked couple. The man has long luscious brown hair and glistening skin covered in black tribal tattoos. His chest is so muscular that it’s rounded, and his shoulders are twice the width of the woman’s. With a strand of hair dangling in front of his face, he smiles at me, then wraps his fingers around the woman’s bare, curvy hips.

Like him, her eyes are on me. She pulls her long blond hair over one shoulder, allowing it to hang over her large right breast.

Without looking away from me, the man grabs her by the back of the hair and pulls, exposing her delicate neck and forcing her lips to part. She lets out an excited moan, her eyes never leaving mine.

With his veiny, muscular hands, the man bends her forward, grabs himself, and spreads her legs apart. A high-pitched sound escapes her parted lips as he enters her from behind.

Holy shit.

Unable to look away, I swallow hard, my throat sticking.

Although he starts slowly, his movements roughen, and the sound of skin slapping expands throughout the forest. With every thrust, her breasts jiggle on her chest and she lets out a pleasured whimper.

They should know better than to taunt a succubus.

Grinding my teeth, I bow my head.

I’ll show you what a real fuck feels like…

I’m about to charge at them when another sound captures my attention.

It’s the last sound I want to hear when I’m sexually aroused—the sound of a frightened woman.

“Help!” she cries out.

Begrudgingly, I turn around to spot a young woman in a bright red coat and shoes to match. Her long, wavy brown hair flows behind her as she runs, a look of sheer panic on her face. With her mouth open wide, she breathes out hard to catch her breath, her cheeks reddening in the process.

What’s she running from?

First, I hear it; then I see it.

The monster’s footsteps send vibrations into the soles of my feet as it approaches, and then its head—well, all three heads—emerge from the forest’s greenery.

It roars out, its three heads bouncing