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

the teenage male witch, and must want to impress him. Hey, I don’t blame the kid. By the sounds of it, she doesn’t have many friends, so this could be a great thing for her. But as much as she wants to contribute to this battle, there’s no way she could have made it through the portal. Only those who wear the Battalion ring can pass through.

Poor girl.

She’ll have to sit tight with Drax and the others until Ace and I get back.

The crowd is getting thicker by the minute.

Witches, fae, and a handful of vampires gather inside the open space, whispering about Zerachu, the Dark Hall, and the End of the Divide. It all makes sense to me now that the rebellion would include all races—not merely vampires. What was I thinking? Everyone is aware of vampire corruption, and everyone is affected. That means we all have our part to play, regardless of skin color, background, or magical abilities.

I gaze around the room at the low ceiling, the musty carpet, and the yellow walls. Small windows sit below the ceiling tiles, which tells me we’re in a basement.

“This is outrageous!” shouts an old witch.

Then, the woman next to him paces in small circles. “Never in a million years…”

An enormous four-eyed demon steps between the two of them, and the woman stops pacing before bumping into his belly. “Talkin’ about it ain’t gonna fix nothing. We need to make a plan.”

The old male witch glares up at him with a tight jaw engulfed in a ratty beard. “Would you shut your—” He stops himself and spins around before any more offensive words can come spilling out of his mouth.

It’s difficult to imagine Devania allowing someone like him to be a part of the Battalion, but I’m willing to bet that panic is what’s bringing out the worst in people.

Ace leans into me. “They aren’t usually like this. They’re scared.”

Aren’t usually like this? For Ace to say that means he’s attended one of these meetings before. How often do they occur? Does Devania make an appearance, too? Is it limited to San Halos and surrounding areas, or do people come here from all over the world? Given the fact that I walked through a portal to get here, there’s a good chance I’m nowhere near San Halos anymore.

The room seems to contract as more and more people appear through the circle of bright green light. Some carry luggage, others cling to their wands.

“This is bad,” comes a deep yet feminine voice.

I turn sideways to find a woman standing next to me with arms crossed over her frayed leather jacket. Down the side of her neck is a tattoo of a skull with a red rose in its mouth. She squints at the crowd with her black-outlined eyes, almost as if assessing the crowd’s worthiness. But when she senses me watching her, her features soften.

I have that effect on people.

Turning to me, she pulls her long chestnut hair over one shoulder and takes me in… my mouth, my chest, my hips. If we weren’t standing in a crowd full of unofficial heroes, I’d throw my Lure at her and drag her someplace quiet.

“I’ve never seen you before,” she says, almost suggestively.

She doesn’t smell like any demon I know—the only scent I’m getting off her is a sweet, fruity perfume, which means there’s a good chance she’s a witch.

I tilt my head to the right. “How unfortunate for you.”

Hey, I get that I’m hot. Considering I chose this body, I can say that. I also know that I tend to attract attention without my Lure, but her response seems more impassioned than what I’m used to.

“You’re a succubus,” she says, matter-of-factly.

How did she figure me out so quickly? “I am.”

Gnawing at her plump bottom lip, she gives me a full up-and-down. “You look like you need replenishing.”

Is this happening? While I’m used to having feebles throw themselves at me even without my Lure, having someone approach me so nonchalantly while knowing full well what I am is new to me.

“I do,” I say.

Without another word, she grabs my wrist and leads me around the crowd. I turn my head back in time to spot Ace watching us with a tense jaw.

Is he jealous? The guy barely even knows me. Not that it matters. I’m not passing up a good meal over someone else’s feelings.

She leads me through an open door and into a small kitchenette. Ensuring no one is around to see us, she clicks her fingers and makes the wall next to the fridge swirl as if it’s nothing more than wet paint floating in the air. She pulls me in and I wince. But much unlike drywall, the surface isn’t hard, and I slip right through as if the wall is made of water.

Does she expect me to do the same?

The passage leads us into another room—one much smaller that could be mistaken for a broom closet. The light above us hangs by an old wire, the dim bulb swaying from side to side. Around us are cardboard boxes covered in cobwebs, and beside them, more boxes.

Good thing I’m not a romantic.

I’m about to make some sarcastic remark about how talented she is at the romance game when she spins on her heels and her long wavy hair follows. Everything around me instantly fades. The only thing I can focus on now is my hunger.

“All right,” she says, as if I’m wasting her time. “Fuck me.”

I swallow hard, taken aback by her brazenness.

“You do understand what I am, don’t you?” I ask.

Why am I even talking? She asked me to fuck her. That’s what I should be doing.

She rolls her eyes and holds her hips like an impatient schoolteacher. “I know what I’m