Page 1 of Wicked Succubus

Chapter 1

Zelyah

Ijust sucked the life out of my boyfriend. This is not the first time it’s happened, nor how my twenty-fifth birthday was supposed to go. We were going to have sex for the first time, and since I’m a virgin, it was supposed to be magical and romantic and full of passion.

Instead, I accidentally murdered the only man I’ve ever truly loved. Now he’s lying dead on the cheap motel bed, his vacant eyes staring up at the water stains on the ceiling.

Unlike my usual kills, there’s no blood running down his body. He’s also decomposing faster than any before him. His once-normal light skin has turned a sickly gray, almost as if the corpse has been lying dead for days instead of mere minutes, and soon, any supernatural nearby will catch the scent. Well, mostly the shifters. Nothing can get past them.

I want to scream, to cry out in frustration as my body vibrates with the very power and strength I drained from my lover. Nick. That is . . . was his name. Tears fall freely as I run my fingers through his sandy blond hair before thumbing the cute dimple right in the middle of his chin.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “I got caught up in the moment. I should have never let myself go.”

My abuelita always warned me to never let my guard down, but I wanted to so badly. I just wanted to give in to the desire that comes so naturally to me. Things would have turned out differently if I had just done what she said and suppressed my cravings. I shouldn’t have given in to my instincts. But how do you have a relationship without having sex?

Before I even know what my next steps will be, a loud hammering at the front door, startles me from my thoughts. My whole body freezes, and my tears dry up. I don’t dare make a peep as I close my eyes and hope the person goes away. I open them back up and look down at my boyfriend, shaking him like he’ll just magically rise from the dead.

“Please wake up,” I plead, low and full of anguish. I know he won’t answer me, but I don’t want to fully accept what I’ve done.

A light flashes through the window, and before it shines on me, I turn the grief off and switch to survival mode. I rush across the room, grab my sparkly pink dress, and yank it over my body. The pretty Louboutins Nick bought for my birthday are on the other side of the bed, closest to the door, but I don’t dare move near the window. It hurts to leave them behind knowing they are the last gift I will ever receive from Nick, but they aren’t worth being captured over.

“This is Agent Cooper with the FBI. Open the door.” The melodic tone of his voice is smooth like sweet honey. My body twitches to comply.

He’s fae, then. They’ve got a way to lure humans and supernaturals with their voices and pretty looks. He’s a very powerful one, he almost made me jump out of my hidden position. If I hadn’t just fed, I might have done exactly as he commanded. I can’t face him. Who knows what he could make a half-human like me do.

Not today. Keep it together, Zelyah. I repeat the words in my head like a mantra.

My gaze scans to the bathroom, and right beside it is another door I hadn’t noticed before. I had been too wrapped up in Nick’s heated stare and the feeling of his hands grazing my bare skin for the first time. With his lips on the base of my neck, I hadn’t exactly been thinking about an emergency exit, but wherever that door leads, it has to be better than staying here.

Silently sliding along the far wall to reach the door, I grab the handle and twist as my heart hammers. I stifle a frustrated cry when it doesn’t open and then glance over my shoulder at the shadow beneath the front door. I force my numb body into action. Grabbing a pin from my hair, I stick it inside the small hole in the center of the doorknob and twist until I hear the click. It takes longer than usual with my trembling hands, but I learned my way around a pin tumbler lock long ago.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I pull the door open and immediately jump into another room, which looks similar to mine. Adrenaline pumps through my veins, heightening my senses and emotions. My instincts scream to take down the FBI agent, to neutralize the threat he poses to me, but I know better. As tempting as it is, killing him would only cause way more problems than it’s worth. The only thing to do is try to escape, but as I move into the new room, I trip over a suitcase on the floor and land in a puddle of sticky, crimson liquid. The familiar stench of copper hits me hard, filling my nose.

“What the hell?” I whisper, looking over the open suitcase and the blood pooling beneath me, soaking my clothes. Blood is the key to my survival, so I’m not usually one to fuss over a ruined dress or the puddles of gore I sometimes find myself in. As my eyes pan around the room in confusion, I spot a dead woman lying only a few feet away.

A startled scream catches in my throat. Her eye sockets look dark and sunken, like the eyes may be missing, and the twisted, anguished expression frozen on her face causes a wave of panic to roll through me, the memory of my mother’s corpse bubbling to the surface. Before I can even process what’s happened here, the motel door bursts open with a loud bang.

The fae FBI agent looms in the doorway with a gun braced in his large hands. “FBI Special Unit. Don’t move,” he shouts.

“Keep it together, Zelyah,” I whisper to myself again.

As soon as he walks in, my gaze locks on the most beautiful turquoise eyes I’ve ever seen. His presence takes over the whole room. I look back toward the connecting door that leads to Nick’s body. At least no one’s there yet, but how many more feds are out in the parking lot?

The agent’s full lips curl with disgust when he takes in the entire scene. I have to drag my gaze away from him and look back at the dead body again. The way his attention is on the body but angled toward me, I know what he’s thinking. But I didn’t kill this woman.

He points his gun at me. It’s not a regular human gun, either, although they look very similar. This one can take down a supernatural, and the feds are the only ones allowed to have one. Allowed being the operative word, of course, because you can always find one on the black market if you look hard enough.

I have all this strength and power running through my body from feeding, but I can’t let him find out what I am. Who knows what they’ll do to me if they discover the truth. I’m probably the only one of my kind still alive.

As he gets close to me, his steps falter; it’s no doubt the effect I have on men. He’s trying to figure me out. I bet he can’t pinpoint if I’m supernatural or human and I use his confusion to my advantage.

“Señor, yo no se que esta pasando no mas me caí.” I don’t know what’s going on. My abuelita taught me Spanish, that’s how we would speak to each other. “Por favor ayudame.” Please help me!

I act like the damsel in distress, pushing up off the floor and putting my hands up in a non-threatening manner. He watches me for a while, and I school my face to give nothing away. He cocks his head and narrows his eyes.

“Quien la mato?” Fuck, he knows Spanish. He’s asking me who killed her. There goes that plan.

I walk closer to him with blood still dripping down my party dress, and I keep my hands up to let him think he’s got me cornered. He strolls closer to the scene and drops his gun to his side. Thank you, sir! Exactly what I needed. As soon as he holsters his weapon, I close the distance between us and use all my strength to crack his nose with the palm of my hand. I might have used more strength than I should have, but I’ve never fed this much before. I have so much power, I’m not sure how I’m going to contain it.