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

I’ve reached starvation a handful of times in my entire life, and I’m not about to add to that list tonight.

I walk through the casino, releasing some of my charm. It’s almost like a scent—it lures people in sexually. I don’t even have to go all-out succubus for it to work, and although it isn’t the same Lure I use when seducing someone, it’s as powerful.

Most of the casino is made up of demons, and while demons might not satisfy me the way feebles do, I don’t have a choice. Feeding off a demon is about equivalent to feeding off a feeble and stopping halfway, which is what I do anyway unless I’m on the job.

Several heads turn my way as I take long strides past a dozen red felt poker tables and toward a mahogany bar. I glide my fingers along the smooth shiny wood, climb up onto the leather stool, and lean my breasts against the hard surface.

I’m about to order myself a beer when a voice with a Texan accent enters my right ear.

“Quite the drink for a fine lady like you.”

Without turning my head, I glance sideways.

A Crimmus demon.

I’m not surprised—those things are everywhere. He tips his head forward and pinches the brim of his cowboy hat. “I’m Charles. How do you do?”

How do you do?

I stare at him, analyzing every inch of his body. I have nothing against Crimmus demons, but they’re all so different that I want to make sure I’m getting what I need out of this one. His skin, red as blood, hides underneath a blue and white carrot-top shirt and a pair of torn jeans. He has a prominent jawline and handsome features.

The red skin is a distinguishing feature of Crimmus demons. That’s how they got their name. Something to do with the color crimson. The funny thing about Crimmus demons is that aside from their immortality, they aren’t special in any way. I mean, they’re strong—stronger than any feeble out there—but they don’t have any other special ability. When they reach adulthood, they stop aging, but that’s common with most demons.

“Give the woman some space,” comes another voice.

I don’t even have to look to my left to know it’s a Gorton demon—I can smell it.

Gortons are everywhere in Vegas. Why? Because of their greed. I’m about to roll my eyes at him based on the stereotype that Gortons are all greedy bastards, but the moment I glance his way, my irritation goes away. He smiles at me, revealing a set of glossy white teeth surrounded by a perfectly manicured scruff. He fixes his tie, smooths his jet-black hair back, and leans his upper body against the bar. Through the cold, air-conditioned air comes the scent of crisp cologne.

This, I can work with.

“Let me know if this guy’s bothering you,” he says.

To my right, the Crimmus demon squeezes his beer. “Can’t ya see I’m conversing with this fine lady? I suggest you get on outta here and make friends elsewhere.”

The Gorton smiles at me again, ignoring the Texan demon. “Let me get you a drink.”

“You deaf?” the Crimmus cuts in. “I said get outta here.”

Ignoring the two aggravated demons, I flick a finger at the bartender and smirk. “I’ll have a beer. Whatever you recommend.”

The Gorton brushes invisible lint from his ironed black suit and sucks his teeth. “See what you did there, cowboy? You made this lovely woman order her own drink.”

The Crimmus tightens his red fingers around his beer again, this time shattering the bottle. It crumbles into little brown shards across the bar top.

Should I step in and stop the altercation? Maybe. I’m still subtly broadcasting my Lure, which is why these two are about ready to tear each other’s throats out. But that’s what I want: intensity. It’ll make my feed that much more satisfying.

With blood pooled in his palm, the Crimmus leans forward, his face inches away from mine despite his glare being aimed at his opponent. “I ain’t gonna ask you again, my friend—”

“Is there a problem here?” comes the bartender’s voice. With furrowed brows, he slides me a frosted glass filled to the brim with caramel-colored beer. His eyes shoot sideways, which tells me he’s on the lookout for security.

If I don’t handle this now, I’ll lose my meal, which means playtime is over.

I take a sip of my fizzy drink and place the glass on the bar top. Sighing, I reach into my coat pocket, extract a twenty-dollar bill, and lay it flat on the counter. “No problem here.”

With that, I release my Lure and reach for the Gorton’s tie. His eyes glaze over the moment my fingernails graze his chest, and I pull him in slowly, his warm whiskey breath slipping into my mouth. He licks his plush bottom lip, a sly smirk tugging at one side. As much as I want to grab his face and kiss him hard, I can’t do that. If things heat up too quickly, I won’t be able to stop, which means we’ll end up fucking on this bar top and I’ll get banned from the Dark Hall.

Anyone caught doing something wrong is banned from ever returning here or sent to Hellfire City—an underground prison for shadow dwellers which happens to be ruled by the infamous and legendary Hades. Hellfire City is the worst-case scenario, but being banned is awful, too, especially for those of us who are immortal.

So instead, I walk my fingers down his torso and under his belt, where a hard bulge sits.

He isn’t huge, but I’m thinking he knows how to work those hips.

All right, enough playing around.

I’m fucking starving.

Grabbing hold of his tie again, I slip off my stool and drag him with me. With a tilt of my head, I