Sins of the Flesh (Half-Breed Series Book 2)

by Debra Dunbar

  Sins of the Flesh

  Debra Dunbar

  Copyright 2015, All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Formatting by Anessa Books

  For more information please visit www.debradunbar.com.

  Chapter 1

  The very best flights are those that end with me getting laid, or, in this case, lei’ed. Although I’m very fond of the first, having a beautiful brunette drape a band of artificial flowers around my neck with an appreciative smile and an ‘Aloha’ ran a close second. The lei reminded me of the beads I’d brought home from New Orleans. It was another necklace to add to my collection.

  I held myself back from running as I climbed the jetway and reread Darci’s message.

  An incubus and a succubus in Maui? You both are gonna set the island on fire!

  I smiled, my heart rate returning closer to normal. Darci had been talking me off the ceiling for the last few months. Only my very best friend would put up with my insane angst that Irix wouldn’t be here, that he was dead or had forgotten about me or had found someone in Hel that made me seem like a rank amateur. In spite of the cheerleader text from Darci, I fretted. Demons lived relatively short, violent lives compared to other immortals. As a half-breed, I managed to fly under the angelic radar, but Irix risked his life every time he crossed the gates from Hel. He had to be here, though. I would have certainly heard if something had happened to him. And if he changed his mind... well, what better place to drown my break-up sorrows than in Maui.

  The memory of my best friend’s rah-rah pep talks kept me stable through baggage claim, but my pulse leapt back into overdrive as I looked about for an olive-skinned man with shoulder-length, sable hair, golden eyes, and enough sex-appeal to turn the entire airport into a writhing orgy. He wasn’t there, but a stork-like, balding Caucasian man was, holding a sign with ‘Lowry’ written across it in bold black lettering.

  It would all be okay. He was here. He had to be here. Breathe, breathe. There wouldn’t be a car service unless Irix had arranged it, and I doubted he had scheduled a limo pickup six months ago when he bought the plane tickets.

  “Amber Lowry?”

  I nodded and hid a smile as my driver did a once over, flushed, and turned his head with an embarrassed wince. It wasn’t his fault. I might only be half succubus, but it was enough to stir up lust in every human that saw me — even with minimal effort on my part.

  “I’m... is this your bag?” He took the large rollerboard in one hand, wiping sweat from his brow with the other.

  There was no hiding my smile now. I could put him out of his misery with a quickie in the back of his limo. Images of his fantasies flooded my mind, stirring my own desires. Research on my thesis, preparing for my trip, and a touch of spring fever had made me careless about taking care of this part of my life. I was running a bit low. Sex fueled my energy, kept me alive, and outside of a few hard limits, I wasn’t overly particular. I might be only fifty-percent Succubus, but I carried one-hundred percent of their needs.

  Married. My succubus side might not care, but I did. I refused to have sex with a married man. It was one of my hard limits. Sorry, limo driver. Not going to happen. I locked down my pheromone output and slid into the car, showing as little leg as was possible with my short skirt. It would be cruel to tease this man when I had no intention of following through.

  The scenery along the road from the airport didn’t seem much like the glossy travel brochures my stepsister, Nyalla, had been happily shoving under my nose the last six months. There were the obligatory palm trees, and putting-green-length grass outside of shops, stores, and parking lots. As we cut across the center of the island, heading west, the scenery increased minimally in drama. Tall, rounded mountains clustered to my right, fronted by acres of hardy island shrubbery and the occasional grassy pasture. The tour guide chatted nervously, pointing out landmarks and mentioning his wife, three children, and two grandchildren. Repeatedly. I smiled and tried to dial things back even further, bummed that I hadn’t inherited some kind of calming ability from either parent. Demons preferred the humans around them to be terrified rather than calm, and elves apparently just didn’t care what those around them felt. Honestly, I couldn’t imagine my elven mother and my demon sire getting it on. Of course, who could imagine their parents getting it on? There was an ick factor in that, no matter the species.

  “Ever since she killed the two lovers, the flowers bloom only in halves.”

  What? Flowers? Now the guy had my attention. Anything to do with the plant kingdom was near and dear to my heart.

  “One half blooms in the mountains, and the other half by the shore. They share a heart, but are never to be reunited.”

  “How beautiful and tragic,” I mused. “Who did you say murdered them?” Hopefully there wasn’t a serial killer nearby, or a psychotic demon with transmutation skills. Although I couldn’t see a demon turning two lovers into plants.

  “Pele.”

  Ah, the volcano goddess. “Didn’t she also turn some other young lovers into a tree?”

  He nodded, smiling. “Yes, the Ohia Lehua. Pele was angry that Ohia didn’t love her, so she turned him into a tree. Lehua cried and begged the other gods to bring him back to life, but they couldn’t. They turned her into a flower on the tree so they could always be together. If you pluck a flower from the tree, it will rain. Lehua’s tears will fall upon the island, because she cannot bear to be separated from Ohia.”

  Ugh. I couldn’t stand people who cried all the time. I’d probably turn on the waterworks too if Irix were taken from me, but I’d at least have the decency to do it in private, or over the phone to Darci. And although there were probably worse fates than being turned into a flowering tree, there did appear to be an unsavory theme to these Pele legends.

  “No offense, but your volcano goddess sounds like a narcissistic bitch.” Okay, maybe that was a bit harsh. I didn’t know what was happening to me lately, but my demon half seemed to be edging out my more polite, politically correct elven half.

  He started, shooting me a shocked glance through the rearview mirror that was accompanied by a nervous laugh.

  “These are volcanic islands, so we’re kind of on her home turf.”

  I huffed. The guy had a point, but even if this fictional crazy bitch had created the islands, she still had no right to go around burning shit up and turning the guys who spurned her into trees. Sheesh.

  “So tell me about some of the plants and trees that didn’t used to be human.” I figured I might as well soak up some local knowledge to keep my mind off my pending reunion with Irix.

  The driver talked about the pineapples, guavas, and coconuts, pointing out the fields of sugarcane, like thick, giant blades of grass on either side of us. Then he fell to reciting the list of must-see spots that I’d read on those dozens of glossy tri-folds.

  “There are some amazing holy spots on the island. Places of great power and sacred energy.”

  My interest peaked until he handed a brochure back to me. Lanai Breeze Island Tours, it read. Pretty pictures, much like the ones Nyalla had shown me, accented small paragraphs discussing energy lines and ancient rituals. At the bottom was a phone number and the driver’s name. Uh oh.

  “Call that number and give them my name. They’ll give you a discount if you tell them I referred you.”

  I relaxed, realizing the guy wasn’t trying to pick me up. No, instead, he was trying to do the taxi-driver version of selling me a timeshare.

  “Thanks... I’ll
be sure to do that.”

  Actually, if I had been here with my New Orleans buddies, I would have gone. Wiccans dug this sort of thing. I only wished I could get my energy from the earth instead of siphoning it off others through sexual intercourse. But I’d made peace with my lot in life over the last six months. I might not embrace it as wholeheartedly as Irix did, but I had a kind of happy middle ground acceptance thing going on.

  “Wow.”

  We’d rounded a corner, and I turned to my right, awestruck at the expanse of ocean. Blue with patches of green where the depth was shallow, the water meandered toward the shore with lazy nonchalance, gently curling into a white break as it reached the sand. In the distance, an island rose, red and pockmarked as the mountains on my left had been, no doubt sheltering this portion of Maui from the pounding of the Pacific. A geyser of water shot into the air, and I squealed like a delighted child.

  “A whale! A whale!”

  Shit, that was embarrassing. The driver didn’t seem to mind, smiling at me.

  “Yes, this is the tail end of their breeding season. They’ll start the trek northward in April. You should come sometime in January or February. That’s when the males do their mating display, breaching and launching themselves into the air. It’s spectacular.”

  Mating displays always were. Turning to my right, I gaped again. The barren, red volcanic rock mountains had given way to verdant hills. Clouds clustered in the valleys, caught in the embrace of their rounded peaks.

  “That’s the Iao Needle. The valley is the fifth wettest place in the world,” the driver told me proudly. “It’s an amazing spot, filled with all sorts of indigenous flowers and trees. It’s worth a visit, as is Haleakala National Park. Make sure if you drive the Hana Highway that you stop and hike through the rainforest and swim in the waterfalls.”

  Now I was the one trembling with need. That must be the Maui where all the travel pictures came from. I had to ask Irix to take me there. A rainforest! I’d never been to one outside of the manufactured exhibits at various botanical gardens.

  “There are some tours listed on the brochure, as well as a few that go to the old volcano craters. Call, and you’ll get a discount if you mention my name.”

  Yeah, yeah. I got that the first time. And no doubt he got a hefty commission from every ‘referral’. He had kept my interest with his mention of craters, though.

  “I didn’t think Maui had any active volcanoes.”

  “They’re dormant.” The driver grinned at me through the rearview mirror. “Pele has taken up residence on the Big Island. She doesn’t venture from there any longer, especially to Maui.”

  The volcano goddess again. I knew the islands played host to other gods and goddesses of legend, but evidently none were as story worthy as this one. No surprise there; the bad girls always get the press. I sat back and let the driver’s monologue wash over me, my mind swimming with folklore as I watched the gorgeous backdrop of surf. The cliffs leveled out, and small camping spots appeared along the beach edge. Teams of rowers shot through the water in long canoes. As the tall resorts appeared in the distance, the water smoothed out. People and their surfboards dotted the water, tentatively riding the gentle waves toward the shore.

  My thoughts again turned to Irix. Would he be waiting at the hotel entrance? In our room, naked on the bed? Had he left little notes, clues as to his whereabouts? I hoped it wasn’t the latter. Games would be sexy, intriguing, and fun in a few days. Right now I just wanted to feel my skin against his, curl up in his arms and listen to his heart on my cheek, taste every square inch of him.

  Shit, I’d lost control. A glazed look had come over the driver’s eyes. The limo swerved, and I clamped down the pheromones, holding my breath as he got it under control. With a flick of his wrist, he signaled a turn into the drive of a plush resort. Oh, thank God we were here. I didn’t think I could take much more waiting after the long flight and six months of fretting. And I knew this poor limo driver couldn’t take much more either.

  The car pulled around an entrance lined with containers of Hibiscus and Birds of Paradise. The driver nearly launched himself from the car, panting as he yanked my bags out of the trunk. He waved off any offers of payment or tip, telling me it had been taken care of. Then he jumped back into his car and peeled rubber, no doubt heading for a quiet spot to jack off.

  I did feel sorry for the guy, but this was a rather abrupt drop-off. Thankfully the hotel porters picked up the slack, racing each other with brass luggage carts as they came to my aid. The winner placed my suitcase on his cart as if it were a precious object then wheeled it in as I, and the other porters, followed in a procession.

  I’d barely made it through the doorway when a smiling young man greeted me with another “Aloha” before slinging a shell necklace around my neck. Cool. I was going to have quite the collection by the time I went home.

  The folks at the desk were equally eager to assist, and once they typed my name into the computer, their hospitality went through the roof. “Oh, you’re... .” the desk clerk blushed, her eyes sparkling as a smile curved her lips. “You’re with him.”

  Holy shit, I was going to need a paper bag to breathe in. He was here. All my doubts, in spite of the limo service, fled. He was here. Well, he was somewhere.

  I took the proffered key card, made my apologies to the porters, grabbed my bag, and ran toward the elevators, all previous intentions of remaining calm and collected shot to hell. If Irix wasn’t in the room, he soon would be, and I’d be ready for him. Really ready.

  Chapter 2

  The scent of hyacinth and hibiscus filled the room. I didn’t call out, knowing that if he were here, he’d sense me. I heard nothing, saw nothing. The room was dark, heavy shades drawn with care. Not a beam of sunlight pierced the edges of the curtain. The only sense in play was that of smell — and my otherworldly ones.

  Sex. Irix’s pheromones had slid their way across my skin the moment I’d opened the door, and now they increased, nearly driving me to my knees. I shuddered. Taking a deep breath, I turned on the lights.

  Flowers. They were everywhere. The room was filled with bright colors — comforter, upholstery, drapes, paint, and the vases and pots filled with blooms that occupied every horizontal space. Well, except for the little dining table where a bottle of Captain Morgan and another of ginger ale stood beside a bucket of ice and two tumblers. Irix’s favorite drink — Captain and ginger. Every time I had one, memories of him filled my thoughts.

  “Turn the lights off.”

  I did as he asked, closing the door and giving my eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness.

  “Irix?” We’d been apart six months. That was a blip in time to a demon, but I’d spent my life thinking I was a human. To me, it had been an eternity.

  “Pour us both a drink.”

  The voice rasped with a sultry note. I obeyed, my blood heating. “Irix, I can’t do this. Get over here and kiss me. Get over here and do more than kiss me.”

  “My trip. My rules. Now, drink. And strip. Slowly. Very, very slowly.”

  Damn him. Wasn’t six months of separation enough sexual tension for the bastard? I debated an act of defiance. Thought of searching him out and jumping him. I’m sure that’s what he expected though, and I loved doing the unexpected. A little extended foreplay wouldn’t kill me, and a seductive striptease might drive Irix into moving things along faster than he’d planned.

  I could hear him prowling the dark edges of the room. My hands shook as I dropped three cubes of ice into each tumbler, and I took a steadying breath, planning my next move. One-and-a-half ounces of the rum, then a solid splash of ginger ale. I took mine and walked to the drapes, pulling them open. If I was going to give Irix a show, I wanted natural light accenting my curves.

  Small sip. I ran a finger around the edge of my glass and lifted it to my lips, sucking gently before dragging the tip of my finger across my lower lip. Reaching my hand down, I flicked the button on my skirt, stretching to re
veal the skin at my waist. Spreading my fingers across the waistband, I eased the zipper undone, twitching the skirt low on my hips. Another sip, and with a shimmy, the skirt slid down my thighs to the floor.

  I stepped free, taking another pull of the drink before setting the glass on the table with a clink. Crossing my arms, I reached to my waist and gripped the hem of my shirt. He wanted slow; I’d give him slow. I raised my arms, teasing the shirt up over my abdomen and chest, spinning with a sway of my hips. The top cleared my head, and I shook my hair free as I discarded the shirt on the floor.

  Another sip. Walking to the sliding doors that led to a porch overlooking the ocean, I placed my hands flat against the glass, arching my back to show my rear and breasts to their best. I looked down at the sand and surf, at the tourists, thrilled at the thought that if any looked up, they’d see me in my lacy demi-bra, arms spread wide against the glass. Even more thrilling was the thought that Irix was behind me, seeing the curve of my rear in a black thong. Was he looking at my ass and thinking of pressing into me from behind, his hands on my breasts and teeth against my neck? Because that’s sure as hell what I was thinking.

  I slid my hands down the door and spun about, running fingers up the skin of my waist as I approached the table. Sip. Running my thumbs under the band of my bra, I hesitated at the back and breathed deep. I leaned my head backward to expose my throat then snapped the latches.

  The bra band released. Pushing my breasts forward, the shoulder straps slid down, half-cups catching on my taut nipples.

  “Slower.”

  Eyes closed, I allowed a smile to curl my lips as my hands came forward to cup my breasts. “Is this better?”

  I heard a low murmur of assent. The bra slid down my arms and onto the floor while I took some time to trace the fullness of my breasts, flicking my thumbs across my nipples before pinching them into hard nubs.

  Sliding one hand down my waist, I hooked a finger into the waistband of my thong, easing it slowly over the curve of my hips. With a twitch, it dropped. I let it dangle around my ankles before kicking it onto the bed, all the while stroking myself. I was now naked except for my four-inch platform stilettos.