Lethal Blow: (Succubus Hitwoman Book 2) by Eliza Hendrix (love books to read TXT) 📕

I climb on top of the Gorton with my knees on either side of his thighs. As the Crimmus continues to fuck me from behind, I grab the Gorton by the face and kiss him hard.

If there’s one thing more satisfying than feeding, it’s feeding while continuing to fuck.

Then, the magic happens.

As my horns emerge, I suck on the Gorton’s lips to extract my favorite purple mist.

He’s so out of it he doesn’t realize what’s going on. Neither does the demon behind me—he’s on the verge of exploding himself.

And so am I.

Just as I think I can’t handle any more pleasure, the Crimmus thrusts hard one last time and releases himself inside of me. With my lips still against my prey, I cry out and dig my claws into the sofa’s cushions, feeling like I’ve ingested every drug known to mankind.

My wings burst out on either side of me and I spin around, grab the dazed Crimmus by the throat, and presses his lips against mine. I suck hard, feeling a vibrant power course through me.

But as squiggly black lines spread across his face, I pull away and throw him onto the sofa next to the other guy.

I breathe in hard, feeling high as fuck, and grin from ear to ear. “Now that’s what I call a good meal.”

The two of them sit without responding, obviously too dazed to understand what happened. Whatever. They’ll get over it.

Besides, unlike feebles, shadow dwellers recover much faster from this. That’s not to say the recovery is pleasant, but after what I gave them, they have nothing to complain about.

Drawing in a deep breath, I elevate my chin as a tingling sensation spreads throughout my body.

I could stand here for hours, enjoying every second of my high, but I have shit to do.

Without wasting time, I slip back into my clothes, put on my boots, and pull my hair back into a high ponytail. With my stiletto heels clicking against the floor, I move toward the hotel room’s entrance, but right before exiting, I glance back at the two demons and wink. “Thanks for the pick-me-up, boys.”

Chapter 7

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As much as I want to find Devania Arkis, or whatever her name is, the issue with Rachel and that stupid Book of Origin is more important. Do I want to put an end to Lucius’s reign? Of course. I also want to kill the son of a bitch because I don’t want his hands going anywhere near Veerka.

But at the end of the day, what good is getting Veerka back if we’re all dead?

If those book pages get into the wrong hands, we could all be done for. I still can’t believe Rachel lost half the book to Lucius’s goons, but there’s no use dwelling on the past. I have to focus on finding Zerachu—who I now picture as a Pokémon thanks to Rachel—and ask her for help.

I can’t think of a more powerful witch than her, and I know exactly where she is.

Strutting down the hotel corridor, I whistle a tune. I fucking love this feeling—it’s better than doing coke and ecstasy at the same time. I’d say it’s better than heroin, too, but what kind of role model would I be if I said something like that?

I form white-knuckled fists to contain the crazy amount of energy I have and make my way down to the Red Lounge. This is where Zerachu is, or at least, where she should be. She’s famous around here, and everyone and their grandmother knows that if there’s one person you want magical advice from, it’s Zerachu. She also happens to give card readings—something I’ve had done once and refuse to do again.

I’d rather not rehash the whole thing, but she ended up being right, and I ended up binge-drinking for six months only to wake up on the side of the road soaked in my piss.

Classy, I know.

If I’m right, or if Zerachu’s still in the business, she should be located at the back of the Red Lounge Casino, right next to the Blood Fang blackjack table. It’s hard to miss, and it’s the first thing I see as I maneuver my way through slot machines, poker tables, and weird betting games with slimeballs and boxes of fur.

Her tent is purple, and at the top of it is a wooden plank with a creepy symbol on it—an eye surrounded by little blue speckles. Long black drapes with celestial designs hang over the tent’s opening, and through the crack is a bright green glow.

What’s she doing in there? Magic? Zerachu isn’t one to perform any magic out in the open. She’s private, and despite how talented she is, she doesn’t flaunt it. As I get closer, a young group of vampires walks across her tent, pointing and giggling. The tallest of the bunch, a scrawny guy with uneven fangs that don’t seem to have settled in properly, bends forward, pokes a finger through the crack, and presses his eye up to it.

What a fucking idiot.

I’m about to blurt this out loud, but I don’t even have the time.

In an instant, he disappears, and a giant flash of blue light replaces him. Around its edges are white lines that spit out like bolts of lightning. The whole thing happens so fast that it looks like a camera’s flash. The moment the light disappears, he’s gone.

Where he stood seconds ago is a little black kitten with cute, overhanging fangs. Its eyes bulge and its ears go flat as people start freaking out around him.

He tries to meow, but it comes out sounding more like a squeal.

One of his friends shrieks—a high-pitched noise that makes the kitten’s hair stand on its back.

If I didn’t know Zerachu, I’d be freaking out. Who does something like that to