To Handle A Hellcat (Southern Sanctuary Book 12)

by Jane Cousins

  Turning, she exited into a long, empty corridor. There was a staircase at the far end, leading up to the first floor where Elijah, Head of the Enforcement Team, maintained a little used office. Darcy turned left and headed for the front foyer.

  An Incubus was a Demon. They could only be summoned with the aid of Elemental Magic. Which meant there were only four possible locations in the Sanctuary available to perform that type of summoning ritual. If she was very lucky there might be a clue left at one of the Elemental Altars to give her a starting point.

  The question remained though. Had the Incubus gone rogue? Or was he here still performing his duties?

  Four days was outside the norm. And why no contact back with his home office? Incubi were very well-trained in the art of seduction and love. But they were also on the clock, and expensive as hell. It required a bucket load of money to keep them in moisturiser made from freshly crushed pearls and Italian bespoke suits. Not to mention the forty percent cut the Incubus King demanded.

  Hmmm, Darcy made a mental note to take a casual, highly illegal stroll through the local bank records after hours this evening. Maybe this case could be cracked by simply following the money. But right now she had a wannabe Enforcer to avoid.

  The morning sunshine felt good as Darcy stepped outside, making her way down the stone steps, past the two lion statues that guarded the Liaison building.

  The family had worked hard to repair all the damage done to the Town Square a few months ago when a Vulcan Demi-God had all but destroyed it. Across the street swathes of spring flowers battled for space with rosebushes flush with copious blooms. The tracts of green lawn separating the flowerbeds looked healthy and recently mowed.

  The new gazebo, smack dab in the middle of the Square, fairly glowed with fresh white paint. Some joker had added a large weather vane shaped like a lightning bolt to the domed ornate roof. Her family… hmm, which brought Darcy back around to the question. Just who, here in the Southern Sanctuary, would summon an Incubus? And more importantly, how had they succeeded in doing so right under her nose?

  Time to find out. Racing down the last few steps Darcy was aware of the need to hurry. Once she was in her car she’d be safe. She was notorious for being ultra-difficult to get in contact with when she was on the hunt. The Apprentice Enforcer would just have to glom on to some other unlucky soul for the final testing phase of their exam. She worked alone.

  Shit. She halted abruptly six feet from her car. No! Him? Of all people. No. No bloody way.

  He was simply standing there, leaning against her car. Dressed in nothing particularly special, a light grey t-shirt, faded jeans and black shit kicker boots, yet somehow he made the scene reek with sexual tension.

  Dark, impossibly violet coloured eyes sparkled with mischief and the promise of a hundred different, wonderfully wicked ways he would satisfy a woman. Sunlight lovingly caressed his alabaster skin and those high cheekbones as if it were nothing but grateful to have such a gorgeous specimen to display. Outrageous dimples only served to turn his smile into a knee melting event. While a light breeze danced happily through his too long blonde locks, teasing the ends, moulding the t-shirt he was wearing against his muscular chest and those taut, defined abs.

  The most annoying thing of all… there was no breeze today.

  “You?”

  “Me. And good morning to you too, High Priestess of Hi-Jinx.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  The knee melting smile ratcheted up to a lace dampening grin. “You didn’t get the memo? I’m assigned to you for the missing Incubus case, you’ll be conducting my performance appraisal.”

  Darcy’s eyes narrowed, how did he manage to make two perfectly innocent words sound so sinfully charged?

  No, this was not going to happen. If she had to work a case with him… well, she doubted he’d survive twenty-four hours in her company. Not given the way she felt about him… four-hundred and twenty-seven complaints. Four-hundred and twenty-seven lovelorn, bodacious babes, seeking her out and sobbing on her shoulder. Expecting sympathy. And because of her job… because of the man standing in front of her, she’d been forced to deliver it, or at the very least fake it like crazy.

  Declan Benavidez was her cousin in everything but blood, but that wouldn’t stop her from spilling it if he annoyed her too much. And spending more than ten minutes in his company would definitely be the tipping point. Spending hours, potentially days in his company? By day two he’d be nothing but an inconvenient body to dispose of and Darcy would no doubt be in trouble with the High Council. Not to mention all the Great-Great-Aunts, the Great-Aunts, the Aunts and all the female cousins who adored him.

  Shit, for his own protection she had to put a stop to this madness. “No way.” There. Done. He was out of her life.

  “Yes, way.” Declan looked unconcerned by the ice blue acid glare Darcy settled upon him. If anything, her expression seemed to make his dimples deepen and those dark violet eyes sparkle brighter. “I completed the written portion of the exam yesterday, aced it, by the way. Now I just need to complete the field portion and I’ll officially be a fully fledged Enforcer.”

  “No.” She dismissed him with one final glare. Time to hit the road, she had an Incubus Demon to find.

  Declan watched as Darcy sauntered past him, rounding her candy red sports car. “Darcy, I’m assigned to you for this hunt. I’m coming with you.”

  Darcy continued to ignore him. Opening the driver’s door and slipping inside. Biting back a smirk as Declan attempted to open the locked passenger side door. Okay, so she was openly defying the High Council’s wishes on this. But they could bite her dainty gorgeous ass. She was saving Declan’s life here, even if he didn’t know it.

  “Darcy.” Declan pulled on the door latch again.

  Why he sounded so amused was beyond her. Nothing ever seemed to faze the man. If anything, the bitchier she got, the more amusing he appeared to find her. He was one weird, undeniably gorgeous man.

  Nothing, no power on earth could make her open that door and let Declan accompany her on this assignment. Seatbelt on. Hmm, she’d kind of expected Declan to attempt to block her car, but all he did was lean over and knock politely on the passenger side window. She couldn’t help herself, she shot him a triumphant grin and turned the key… and flinched. Shit, even over the roar of the engine the excited feminine squeal pierced her eardrums. Oh, crap.

  Darcy glanced towards the Square. Sybbie was standing there, everything jiggling as she jumped up and down on the spot excitedly, waving frantically in their direction. Shit. Shit! She hit the door lock. “Get in, Cyrano.”

  “But…”

  Now he was waffling? “Get in!”

  Declan had barely closed the door before Darcy wrenched the wheel and peeled out of the Square. Struggling against the g-force he managed to buckle his seatbelt, glancing back through the rear window. “Was that a friend of yours?”

  “You didn’t recognise her?”

  “No. Should I?” Declan settled back, stretching his long legs out casually.

  Darcy sent him an incredulous glare but Declan continued to look nothing but innocent and slightly baffled, so she upped it to one of her legendary - you’d better start praying for death – glares.

  Grrr, she would not kill him. She would not kill him.

  Okay, so to get through today she would adopt a mantra. It would make her yoga-mad Cousin Quinn beyond ecstatic to know Darcy was finally prepared to embrace a Zen lifestyle.

  “Not that I’m not happy you changed your mind or anything, but why do you keep muttering four-hundred and twenty-seven under your breath?”

  Darcy’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. She would not kill him. Be the mantra. Live the mantra. Fuck the mantra.

  Chapter Two

  Darcy liked to drive fast. And as far as she was concerned, road rules applied to other people, not her. When you had scary fast reflexes and no respect for death, that made every highway, road, street,
laneway and cul-de-sac your own personal Autobahn. Where speed limits were something to be scoffed at.

  Turning into a tight corner, Darcy barely touched the brake before accelerating back to top speed. The sports car purring under her controlled touch. She loved driving, found it relaxing. Quinn, her cousin the psychiatrist, would probably say something about how Darcy’s driving was a clear indicator of her control issues.

  But frankly, Darcy just liked driving fast.

  Though normally when she had a passenger in the car that enjoyment was over-shadowed by the constant bitching, moaning and whimpering. Not to mention the panicked clutching of the dashboard or oh-shit handle. Heavens, even her Cousin Elijah, the big bad Head of the Enforcers, was known to flinch imperceptibly when she took a fast corner.

  Not today though, not Declan. Darcy cast a quick glance his way. Nope, if anything he looked decidedly relaxed. Nestled back in the passenger seat, his legs crossed casually in front of him as he took in the scenery as it whipped by. There was even a slight smile tugging up the corners of his lips and one of those devilish dimples looked ready to pop out at any moment.

  Grrr, that was the most annoying thing about Declan, he was always so relentlessly cheerful. It was beyond irritating and if Darcy was completely honest, confusing.

  What was there to be so damn happy about all the time? If she didn’t know him she’d say Declan was too stupid to know better, but the man was smart. Which was kind of even more irritating. No one that pretty should be intelligent too.

  But it seems the Universe had all but stacked the deck when it created Declan. Gorgeous, smart, generous, funny, loyal and so Goddess darn cheerful all the fucking time, it made Darcy want to haul out a knife and start carving off slices of anyone in her immediate vicinity.

  She took the next corner deliberately faster than she should of. For her trouble Declan did nothing more than sit there, looking happy, relaxed and at peace. Grrr. Darcy forced her foot slightly off the accelerator, no point in damaging her car just because Romeo in her passenger seat irritated her.

  She needed a distraction. “So, why now?”

  “Why now, what?” Declan enquired, his dark violet eyes settling on Darcy.

  “Becoming an Enforcer? You’ve been an apprentice so long I suppose we all just assumed you weren’t interested in going solo.”

  Declan shrugged. “It was time.”

  “Hadleigh kick you to the kerb?” Darcy referred to their mutual cousin and Declan’s Enforcer Mentor. “Or was it Vaughn?” Hadleigh’s seven-foot-three-inch tall Warrior meld mate.

  Declan laughed, the sound pure and joyous. It made Darcy want to laugh too. That was another thing about Declan that irritated her. She had weird, un-Darcy like reactions to him. Sure, she laughed. But she’d been told ad nauseam by friends and foe alike that her laugh bordered on the maniacal and tended to occur only when blood had been spilt. But here she was biting down hard on her tongue so as not to join in with Declan’s obvious merriment.

  “Vaughn has been dropping incredibly unsubtle hints from the first moment we met and he attempted to strangle me.” Declan laughed again. “Good times.”

  Darcy ground her teeth together, he really was outright strange. And she wasn’t talking about just Declan’s insanely good looks and the mysterious weird breeze that constantly tousled his hair into inhibition melting perfection. It was his reactions. Like to her for instance. If she snarked and called him names, it only seemed to make him more cheerful. If she threatened Declan, he laughed. If she pulled a weapon on him he just dimpled her way and fluttered those long dark eyelashes. A confusing look of heat and challenge making those deep violet eyes sparkle. It was… he was just so incredibly irritating.

  And the most annoying thing of all? There wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.

  She was Darcy Montgomery, Southern Sanctuary Special Liaison, she fixed things. When people irritated her, well, she fixed them… she fixed them good. Or should that be, for good?

  But she couldn’t fix Declan Benavidez, because he was family. Except he wasn’t any blood relation of hers. He’d been left in a basket on the steps of the High Council Building when he was barely a few days old.

  According to family legend he opened his tiny dark violet peepers and captured the heart of every person who caught a glimpse of him. More than a handful of relatives had eagerly volunteered to take the happy, exceedingly well-behaved, undeniably gorgeous baby on. But Edward, Head of the High Council, had quelled the almost riot and after some deliberation gave the baby to his nephew, James, and his partner, Enrique Benavidez, to raise as their own.

  For the next eight years Declan became somewhat of a family mystery. His fathers insisted upon home schooling him. And though he attended every family event, party, shindig, and gathering that all the children were invited to, he noticeably isolated himself from the family, clinging to the periphery of every get together, staying in the shadows.

  Though his fathers protested constantly that nothing was wrong with their adopted son. It wasn’t until Declan started school soon after he turned nine that the community relaxed. The grapevine running hot, rumours abounding. Finally settling on the idea that the stunningly beautiful child had been nothing more than incredibly shy, and that his fathers had been waiting for him to mature before gently pushing him out of the nest.

  Which Darcy knew was complete bullshit. Declan, shy? While she hadn’t really conversed with him until he was almost nine, she’d been aware of his existence on the edges of her childhood prior to that.

  He’d been careful, watchful. Certainly not shy. His gaze eagerly tracking the other children at play. Longing in his eyes sometimes… and fear, but she’d never been able to pin down what he was afraid of. Her childish senses just not honed enough to make any meaningful deductions from his behaviour.

  And while they’d attended school together from the age of nine through to graduation, she hadn’t really spent much time with him. Declan seeming to feel the need to make up for lost time by joining every sporting team, and participating in every extra-curricular art and drama class on offer.

  Unsurprisingly turning out to be a riveting actor, going on to take the lead role in every play the drama department staged. To this day the elderly relatives still talked about his Hamlet with glowing praise.

  There didn’t seem to be an activity Declan was capable of being average at. Until he surprisingly decided to try out for the Southern Sanctuary Enforcement Team. He now held the record for longest Enforcer apprenticeship, at just shy of ten years.

  Assuming that is that he passed this field portion of the exam with Darcy acting as his adjudicator.

  It’s not that Declan was a bad or inept apprentice. It was just at first he had a difficult few years finding his niche. Or, more accurately, finding a Mentor who could actually teach him.

  The problem was, Declan was universally considered by all to be an annoyingly handsome man, but in the same instance an extremely nice one. For the first few years every Mentor he was assigned to… not exactly coddled him, but when it came to a fight, couldn’t seem to resist the urge to protect Declan… at all costs.

  To a man they reported to Elijah, their boss, that initially everything was fine but the longer they spent in Declan’s company, it was like some mysterious urge gripped them, and they instinctively ended up putting themselves between Declan and harm each and every time. Not exactly a desirable instinct in a Mentor when it came to training.

  A similar reaction occurred anytime one of the Enforcers attempted to spar with Declan. They just couldn’t bring their A-game, fearing that if they did they might accidentally hurt him. And no matter how many times or ways Declan expressed that he was quite capable of defending himself, none of the Enforcers could step up.

  So for the first few years of his apprenticeship, Declan was kind of rudderless.

  Until Elijah had the bright idea of partnering Declan up with Hadleigh, the kick-ass half Valhalla Warrior with a tenden
cy to behead first, and forget to take names - for the headstone - later. In actuality, Hadleigh had pissed Elijah off and the assignment was considered a punishment. But much to everyone’s shock and surprise, a lasting partnership was born.

  Hadleigh confided to Darcy a few years ago that Declan turned up at her house, the expression on his face one of defeat. As if their pairing was already a foregone failure. He’d waved off any attempt Hadleigh made to conduct an interview, much to Hadleigh’s relief, since she sucked at small talk. And promptly requested that Hadleigh smack him in the face. Well, you didn’t have to ask Hadleigh twice when it came to physical violence. She knocked him out cold.

  The weird thing was, Declan woke up grinning his head off and calling himself Hadleigh’s Mentee. Within an hour he’d moved his gear into the small cottage behind Hadleigh’s orchard and much to her chagrin, Hadleigh had been unable to shake him ever since.

  But it seems after five… no, make that six years, the baby apprentice bird was ready to fly the nest, for reasons he was not yet ready to fess up to. That was okay, Darcy had a way of getting to the truth. Sometimes it was via a major artery, sometimes it took little more than some good old-fashioned staring.

  Hmmm, but in the meantime, that weird silence had descended once more. She could practically feel Declan sitting beside her radiating contented happy thoughts. It was unacceptable.

  “Tell me what you know about Incubi?” She might yet be able to ditch Declan onto another field appraiser, but for today it seems she was stuck with him. Time to make him sweat.

  * * *

  Being within ten feet of Darcy always made Declan’s gut churn and yet at the same time, this sense of peace… happiness, flooded his veins. It was a weird dichotomy. One he’d been dealing with since he was eight years old.

  A feeling that he had become vaguely addicted to. The feeling and the woman… damn, she was beautiful. Walking around like a fanboy’s fantasy in those thigh-high boots she always insisted on wearing, invariably paired with cute pull-up stockings, a plaid skirt and whatever tight fitting top matched the outfit and suited the weather. Adorning a lithe, fine boned figure, with high breasts, no more than a handful, a small waist and a delightfully pert ass.