Page 2 of Wicked Succubus
He doubles over, clutching his nose, and that’s my chance to get out of here. It’s only a matter of time before they find Nick’s body in the next room, and with two dead bodies, I’m the only one here to take the fall. My odds of survival if I get caught aren’t looking so hot right now.
“Get back here,” he yells, but I’m already out the door and running away from the motel in only my short, blood-soaked dress and bare feet.
To my relief, he was the only one here. Idiot. He should’ve come with a partner. But hey, it worked out in my favor. I’m free for now, but I need to get out of this city before he tries to look for me. I take the alleyways. They’re not the safest route, but I need to make sure I’m not being followed. While I may have lost the fed, he’s not the only thing I have to watch out for.
“Hey there, cupcake,” says a drunk man who’s barely able to stand, let alone walk straight. “You looking for a good time?”
I’m giving off the sexual scent that comes with being a Succubus. There is nothing I can do to turn it off, but being only half-Succubus, I shouldn’t be able to attract so many people at once. Another person grabs me from behind and lifts me off my feet. Shit! In a panic, I throw my head back and hit my assailant with the back of my skull. A loud crunch precedes a painful wail. The person drops me, and when I’m standing up again, I turn around to see another drunk human.
This time, I run all the way to my apartment and grab my backpack. I’m in the process of stuffing what I can into the pockets when the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Someone is watching me. I look around, but no one is in my apartment. Ugh. Either way, I need to hurry, but I can’t shake the feeling as I continue tossing things into my bag. I set my backpack on the table and look out the kitchen window. My heart jolts when I catch something moving in the shadows. I squint to see who it is, but I can’t make out the figure.
As soon as I turn around, I hit the wall. No, not a wall . . . a person. The first thing I notice is a small card falling from his pocket. Slowly, I look up and find an angry set of turquoise eyes. Before I can react, the fed scowls and grabs my hand, twisting one arm behind my back.
“Soy inocente,” I say, still trying to pretend I don’t know English. It’s true, I’m innocent of murder. Well, at least where the woman is concerned.
“Cut the shit. I know you’re supernatural, and I intend to find out exactly what kind.”
My heart plummets to the floor at the word supernatural. My breathing becomes heavy, and that’s when the panic sets in.
“You’re a killer,” he whispers in my ear. I draw a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts, but his proximity is intoxicating. He’s close, so close I can feel the warmth radiating from his body. The faintest hint of his cologne swirls around us, a mix of citrus, and sweet, and something uniquely him.
“I saw what you did to that human man and what you did to the supernatural woman at the motel. You left her just like the last woman you murdered.” I frown in confusion, but before I can say anything else, he continues. “You’ll either be executed or locked away for a long time,” he promises. I believe him because, as I’m being cuffed, all I remember is what my abuelita used to tell me.
Don’t get caught by the FBI Supernatural Unit. If you do, you won’t make it out alive.
Chapter 2
Zelyah
Don’t get caught . My abuelita’s voice repeats over and over in my head. If she were alive at this moment, she’d very lovingly slap me on the back of my head for getting captured. She always taught me to be careful everywhere I go. She got me into self-defense classes on the off chance that I’d do something dumb and get caught.
I’m sitting in a small, dark room with a single dim light hanging overhead. I’m on one side of the desk with two chairs across from me. I play with the metal handcuffs encircling my wrists. The bands press into the tattoos winding up my arms and are tight enough to leave a bruise. I want to take them off, but I don’t want them to notice that I know how to undo them until I can plan my escape without getting caught.
For now, I’ll listen to what they have to say and find a way to make them believe I’m not a threat. Although, I’m not sure how I’m going to pull it off when there were two murders in connecting rooms, and I was the only one at the scene alive.
I wait for an eternity, or at least it seems like it, because I hate enclosed spaces. I suppress the urge to bounce my knee up and down. I’m only able to exhibit a collected demeanor because I just fed like never before. The excess power flowing through my veins helps me calm the anxiety trying to leak through.
There are no clocks in this small space, but I know the feds are just outside this room, watching me through the glass. I can feel their gazes on me. They’re trying to figure me out, trying to dissect me. My abuelita warned me about this. All I can do is sit here and wait until they decide to show their faces. I hope the fae who caught me isn’t the one they send in for questioning. His power to compel me was unlike anything I have ever experienced, and resisting that force under questioning would be difficult.
Fae are already the most dangerous species in the supernatural world. They have no regard for other species, or each other, when it comes to manipulation. If Agent Cooper happens to be a Night Fae as well, that’s even worse. Faeries steal humans, but of course, that is not the supernatural unit’s concern. Some of the rarest fae can envelop an area or individual with a mist that erases specific memories. If you’re mundane, they treat you like you’re the bottom of the barrel. My kind would be classified as maybe a step up from them, if that.
Since I’m part mundane human and part Succubus, I’m on everyone’s shit list. If humans found out what I am, they’d murder me. If the supernaturals found out what I am, they’d do the same. My only friend was my abuelita. Even Nick didn’t know what I am. I had planned to tell him last night before—
The door opens and in strides that fae fucker I’d hoped would disappear. He’s dressed in a pristine black suit and exuding arrogance like he owns the place. Who knows. Maybe he does. I haven’t kept up with the hierarchy of the FBI because I never planned to be captured. Trailing right at his heels is a woman. She’s wearing dark blue pants with a white button-down shirt. She’s left the first three buttons undone, and her cleavage peeks out of the plunging neckline. I raise my head, but not so much that they’ll notice, and catch a whiff of a shifter. Maybe a fox since she has a combination of red and orange hair.
The shifter sits entirely too close to the agent, thrusting her chest in his direction. She’s trying so hard to get his attention. Under any other circumstances, this would almost be laughable. Agent Cooper’s focus is all on me, and his turquoise eyes are unblinking as he scrutinizes my expression and watches my every move. He’s looking for tells, micro expressions, anything he can use against me.
“Good morning, Ms. Gomez. I’m Agent Rodriguez, and I believe you’ve met Agent Cooper already. I’m sure you know why you’re here, but for the record, you’re under investigation for the murder of Ms. Clarice.”
Agent Cooper’s mouth parts slightly in surprise, and his gaze drifts toward Agent Rodriguez as if he just noticed he wasn’t alone. I stare across the desk at the agents, giving them nothing. My lips are tightly shut because I don’t want to say something I’ll regret. It’s better to stay quiet.
“Did you know the victim?” She gets right to it, no bullshitting like I’d expected. I’m kind of warming up to this lady.
The small room falls silent, and their hardened gazes linger on mine, waiting for me to talk, but my whole focus is on the tall, dark-haired man sitting right in front of me. I know he’s more of a threat than she is. I could take her down easily, but him? It would require a lot more maneuvering, but once I have a chance to study his movements, I think I could squash him like a fly. Every combat lesson I’ve taken has taught me to pay attention to my opponent’s weaknesses. My abuelita made sure I was always training to bring any opponent down.
Agent Cooper leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. “What supe are you?”
He really wants to know what I am, and by the way he leans into the table, he wants to know badly. The woman sitting beside him doesn’t look as interested. She’s more concerned about the murders. I like her a little bit more.