Finding Me (Another Falls Creek Romance Book 2)

by SF Benson

  Finding Me

  By SF Benson

  Copyright © 2018 by Avanturine Press, LLC

  All rights reserved worldwide

  Published May 4, 2018

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the express written permission of the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of this author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design by Covers by Christian

  Editing by Tia Silverthorne Bach

  Formatting by Avanturine Press, LLC

  For more information about this book and the author visit:

  www.authorsfbenson.com

  Trust your heart.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Colt

  In Hell…

  The walls of the Inner Circle Club bounce with the horrendous, repetitive beat. Keeping time with the techno rhythm is a pulsing red light. Its energy matches my own—frenetic and unfocused. With nowhere else to go, I enter the dark sanctum. Scantily clad, gyrating bodies immediately greet me. Every available corner is filled with demons playing sex games. Not an activity I care to watch. Averting my eyes, I continue across the room.

  My destination is now clear—the bar on the other side. Earlier I merely wanted a diversion, but now I’m looking for a way to revive my spirit or at least help me forget the reason why I’m in Hell. Before I reach my target, however, a lingering, pervasive odor hits my nose. The overwhelming scent of cologne and the heady pheromones mixing with it evade my senses, and I choke back bile. Someone needs to tell these wretches that dousing themselves in fragrance doesn’t get rid of the ever-present stench of brimstone. It only makes it more intolerable.

  This many demons gathered in one room, celebrating like the Four Horsemen have been signaled, is for one thing only—a party. And what are they celebrating? The last night in Hell for a group of incubi I first roomed with when I arrived. These demons will become the worst man-whores on Earth. It’s not because they’re irritating metrosexuals (and this comes from an incubus with his own metrosexual tendencies). Their personal habits—hogging mirrors and stealing each other’s clothes—isn’t what makes them despicable. These assholes will forge relationships, get humans pregnant, and then abandon the women when it’s too late to abort their demon spawn. The women always wonder how it happened—after all, they used birth control. Here’s a news flash for any human listening in: man-made medications and devices can’t stop demon sperm. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but once a woman is targeted, she’ll deliver evil into the world.

  Two incubi—one with dark hair and the other a ginger—lock lips up against a wall near the bar. It’s fucking hot watching them go at it. I’ve noticed them ever since I arrived. Anyone can see how much they honestly care for each other. Their relationship isn’t strictly sexual, but they do fuck a lot (and that comes from a being who loves to fuck). Their activities, however, forced me to request a new room assignment. There are certain things that shouldn’t be done, or heard, around others. They’re lucky—Grandfather said those two won’t be going up anytime soon. They’ll get to continue enjoying each other, but they’re breaking the first rule of Lilin—incubi aren’t supposed to fall in love with each other. We can’t populate the world with demons if we’re busy fucking ourselves.

  “Colt! You made it!”

  The familiar female voice grabs my attention. Taking a deep breath, I turn toward her. “Hi, Mother. I’m not staying for long. Only putting in an appearance,” I say dryly. Royalty is expected to show up at these events.

  My displeasure runs a little deeper than an unwanted obligation. It was Mother’s manipulations that got both of us cast down here. If I hadn’t listened to her, I wouldn’t have kidnapped Qadira. Whereas my family wanted to let the matter slide, the djinniyah’s family wasn’t so pliant. They demanded retribution for my misdeed.

  A radiant smile rests on Mother’s face. She absolutely loves it here. I suspect her exuberance is because she’s away from Father. Usually, she’s an uptight female with perfectly coiffed hair and dressed in a rigid suit. Mother is always the picture of dignified, reserved grace around him. If Father saw her now with her curly black hair hanging wildly around her shoulders and wearing jeans, he’d be furious. But Mother is having fun. I can’t recall the last time I witnessed her enjoying herself. It might not see it again.

  “Don’t be so grumpy all the time, Colt.” She eyes me for a moment before pushing a lock of hair off my forehead. “Think of this as a vacation. Your exile will be over soon enough, and you’ll be back at home.”

  Not a moment I care to think about. Forcing a smile, I say, “I’m headed to the lounge.”

  “Try to have fun.” Her shoulders bounce to the beat as she begins dancing with an unfamiliar demon.

  This is nobody’s vacation. Even for a demon. Correction. There are those of us who enjoy the respite from the human world, but I’m not one of them. One thing Mother has right, nevertheless, is my punishment is nearly over. Good thing because I’ve lost all my bearings. I don’t know if it’s day or night. Markers of time aren’t customary in this inferno. But time isn’t the problem. Every waking moment I’ve spent here amongst these poor souls, I’ve yearned for something more, but I’m not sure what that might be. A party isn’t what I’m searching for, and neither is the pallid figure making her way toward me.

  Gorgyra—one of Hecate’s followers.

  “Nice to see you again,” she says in a raspy voice. A thin hand reaches up and holds back a strand of the licorice-black hair covering her face. Her eyes pass over me like an addict staring down her next fix.

  Being in the presence of a sex-starved Lampade is never nice. It’s damned uncomfortable. “Why aren’t you working?”

  “Orphne is covering for me. I wanted to see who’s going upstairs.” Gorgyra casts a frightful smile my way. “I might want to keep one or two for myself.”

  That’s an unnerving image. One would think the sisters would be satisfied after spending a week with the Mazrel twins. Thanks to an agreement Cash Martin made with the Lampades, the brothers had to service the torch bearers. Gorgyra and Orphne kept Alec and Dante locked in a room for their entire stay. Before they returned to Falls Creek, I spoke with them.

  “Hey, Alec. Dante. What are you doing down here?” While I was happy to see my friends, I didn’t like the idea of their being in Hell too.

  The identical twin brothers glared at me.

  Alec’s bright blue eyes blazed as he ran a hand through his short blond hair. “This is Cash’s fault. If you see him, you let that fucker know we’re looking for him.”

  I had heard rumors about why they were in Hell. His statement confirmed them.

  “We’re gonna kick his ass for every damned day we had to fuck those creatures,” Dante grumbled.

  I had no words. I simply watched the twins walk away with great difficulty.

  There was no way I could tell them that Cash was now an employee of Grandfather’s. Nothing happens to those who work for Ashmedai. His cambions work overtime keeping those who obey him well-protected.

  Memories of constant screaming surface—nonstop agony for the twins, and endless pleasure for the sisters, I’m sure. At one point, I swore I heard Al
ec and Dante begging for help. An unpleasant situation even for demons.

  Finally, I reach the bar where a necromancer is serving drinks with great flare. He spins around and tosses a bottle in the air, catches it, and pours out the contents. The dark-skinned male bops his head in time with the music as he slides to a stop in front of me.

  “What’ll it be tonight, Prince?”

  “Please don’t call me that.” I don’t relish the title I’ve inherited—Prince of Hell. One day this will be my kingdom, but I could do without it. “Whiskey neat.”

  The bartender grabs a bottle of a single malt and pours me a generous portion of the Scotch whiskey. I thank him, take my glass, and make my way to the back of the room.

  Personally, I abhor all of this. It’s taken its toll on me, and I’m no better for it. Standing at the edge of the crowd, I take one more look. There has to be more to my life. A purpose that makes me look forward to each day that I breathe. I’m certain it’s not this, I think, and open the solid door behind me.

  Once it’s closed, the music becomes a dull thud, and I find a moment of peace. Who would have believed I’d find solace in the VID—Very Important Demon—lounge?

  Noisy slurps and moans come from a dimly lit corner, and my solitude dismantles. A female sits with her dress pushed up to her waist while the demon positioned between her legs enjoys himself, oblivious to my presence. Not wanting to be a voyeur, I lumber toward my own corner and sink into the overly plush black sofa, finally alone with my thoughts. It’s not like I need it. Since being here, I’ve had too much time to think. Maybe if coming here was my choice, I’d enjoy myself. Debauchery abounds in this place. All sorts of decadence can be had as evidenced from the cries of passion reaching my ear. Without the need to replenish energy, fucking in Hell is simply sex for pleasure. Pleasure, unfortunately, has not been my friend for a long time.

  Back on Earth, humans attach themselves to TV shows about other humans surviving great odds. If it were possible to televise Hell, would they watch? After all, this place is the ultimate game of survival. Every minute of every hour, for all of eternity, souls try to survive the various levels so eloquently described by Dante—violent winds without shelter, icy piles of slush to climb with other souls, and the great river Styx where souls try to avoid drowning in its eternal muddy depths. Each level brings a new challenge. But none of these ironies have delighted me.

  Demons normally find great pleasure in watching human souls fail. My lot—yes, Lilin are demons too—don’t get to partake in the survivor courses. We only torment souls. Every. Single. Day. Every. Single. Night. Surrounding me are those who get their kicks out of shredding sanity. Males get hard-ons while females cream their panties with every defeat handed to a soul.

  Not me.

  As a royal, I could easily write my dance card. Partying, endless sex, or supreme torture… I could do it all, but I don’t want it.

  I don’t want it.

  I.

  Don’t.

  Want.

  It.

  None of it. I’m sick to death of constant fucking and drinking. Rarely do I get satisfied with either endeavor, anyway. As far as torture goes… It’s not for me. Glancing down at my untouched drink, I place it on the table in front of me. Alcohol is another bad habit of mine I wish I could shed for a moment.

  Before coming here, I used to think inflicting misery upon others would be pleasurable. My relentless father, however, spoiled that notion with his version of Hades. His continuous torture destroyed the dream. It earned me his contempt—I’m his version of a fucking failure. Unfortunately, there are times—like now—that I’m inclined to agree with him. I’ll never be—and—I don’t want to be—the demon he wants me to be.

  The door opens and lets in the chaotic noise along with a handsome figure—black, shoulder-length hair and brilliant cornflower blue eyes. His beauty radiates like yellow flames flickering in the night. A distraction I can appreciate in so many ways. The sight of him slinking toward me stirs my cock.

  “Mind if I join you?” he asks.

  I’m about to say no when I notice the set of magnificent, sleek black wings jutting behind him. His full lips curl up like embers. This isn’t the first time our paths have crossed, but it’s the first time I’ve seen the appendages.

  A member of the fallen or a dark angel?

  How did I miss them?

  Sitting down, he spreads those wings around us, delivering privacy and—dare I say—a level of intimacy. The winged being leans toward me and his hot breath tickles my ear. “You didn’t miss anything. Today is my graduation day; that’s why I have wings. I’m a dark angel. Consider me safe.”

  Safe?

  Since I’ve been here, this being has been anything but safe. He’s been my torment. Tempting me. Daring me from a distance. Making me want things from him…with him. Making me want to do things, try things…

  What the fuck is his name?

  “You’ve forgotten my name?” He runs a finger down my arm, and chills course down my spine. “Theseon. No need to tell me yours, gorgeous. Everyone knows you.”

  “Sorry. I suck with names,” I admit with embarrassment. Remembering names has always been a problem for me.

  Theseon’s gaze bores into me as he says suggestively, “It’s not my name I wish for you to suck.”

  His words go straight to my crotch. I draw in a breath.

  Licking his lips, he tells me, “These are my last hours in Hell. Help me celebrate. When we’re done, you’ll never forget Hellfire.”

  “Hellfire?” I swallow hard. “You think highly of yourself.”

  The space between us grows smaller. Theseon’s fingers play in my hair. “Everyone who gets a taste of my cock never forgets. It will brand you for life. Hence the name Hellfire.”

  Oh shit.

  My jeans are suddenly uncomfortably tight. His offer is too tempting, but truthfully, I can’t. Not because he doesn’t interest me—I’m ready to throw caution to the wind and let him fuck me right now, but I do have principles.

  Theseon’s wings rustle. “Maybe your principles need to change.” His gaze drops. “You can’t deny you desire me.”

  “Not the point,” I say, wishing I could hide my erection. My rule has nothing to do with Theseon personally. It’s an issue with his kind in general.

  If he was a creature of light, then this male would be forbidden territory to any self-respecting demon. There’s always a chance that a fallen angel might seek redemption and return to soar in the heavens. Dark angels, however, are a different breed. Belched from the fiery depths, they have no allegiance to the heavenly realm and its celestials.

  Either way, I’ll never taste this dangerous fruit. I simply don’t do angels. The sarcastic connection—demon does angel—sounds like a bad porn plot. But still… I am in Hell, and so is he. It’s not like I’m going to broadcast my exploits.

  “You don’t know what you’re missing.” Theseon’s eyes caress me with lusting, invisible fingers. “Pleasures of the flesh are my specialty. After I’ve fucked you, you’d wish for your own pair of wings.”

  Damn.

  I could use a little pleasure.

  “I’ll pass,” I say, with a touch of regret. Giving in to the darkness would doom me to this place. Lilin tempt others. We don’t give into temptation. Like I said, I’m not ready to assume my position as ruler of Hell. Besides, I can only imagine the rumors—the Prince of Hell was fucked by an angel of seduction. Not good.

  “Too bad.” His deep, rich voice tugs at me while his body—sculpted muscles making his black T-shirt look like a second skin—entices me. I’m reconsidering this predicament when the door opens again and that voice drifts in.

  Theseon’s wings furl with the grating sound.

  “Colt! Colt! There you are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere…” Her voice, like nails on a chalkboard, drones on.

  She’s one of the many females Grandfather paraded before me, hoping to make me happy. Unfortu
nately, I fucked her and ended up with a bad case of friction burns and a raging headache from her constant words. As a human, she figured she didn’t need to listen to anyone but herself. Now, she spends eternity listening to her own endless voice. Unfortunately, her non-stop chatter is also torture for anyone left in a room with the woman. Even a dick in her mouth didn’t shut her up. She tried to talk around it—a muffled sound I hope never to hear again.

  How the hell did she get in the VID?

  “Time for me to go,” I say to the dark angel.

  “Another time, perhaps?” He shoots me a sexy grin before I leave.

  Actually, I should thank the condemned chatterbox. Her interruption kept me from making a mistake. Unfortunately, she follows me from the lounge and out the front door of the club. The changelings keeping guard cover their ears with their hands. That explains her appearance in the venue meant for demons only. She literally talked her way in.