by LJ Swallow
My usual plan of attack works again tonight. The hotel room we head to contains a bed and the usual hotel desk, chair, and little else. My stays are always the same, just different levels of luxury and quality. I can’t wait to wipe off the smug smile he brought into the room with him.
The demon runs his hand along my forearm, the tickling sensation repulsive, not arousing. As far as demons can be, he’s not bad looking. A bit skinny but there’s something sexy about his deep brown eyes and stubbled jawline. Sexy? Ugh.
I switch my brain off and tell myself this is the easiest way. Fighting them hurts; seducing them is quick and generally painless.
“Why’d you bring me here, soul hunter?” he asks, stepping forward and wrapping his arm around my waist.
In response, I place my hands on his chest. Taut muscles, but I’ve touched better. I gauge the demon’s strength from his grip, and by running my hands along his body. Average. Easy.
“Life is lonely. Boring. I saw you, and I know you’re a demon, but I’d rather screw you than a human,” I say and add just the right amount of slur to my voice.
He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Aren’t you worried I’ll kill you?”
I moisten my lips and then bite down coyly, looking from under my lashes. The demon’s eyes darken, and his grip on my waist tightens. “No. We can fight after. I’m willing to risk the consequences.”
The demon grins, and his hands roam across my waist and under my shirt, his eyes on mine the whole time. I slap his hand.
“Checking for weapons, sweetheart.”
Stepping back, I unsheathe the dagger from the belt of my jeans and place the blade on the table. “Like that one? How about you?”
He laughs. “As if I need a weapon.”
We stand opposite each other, and I hope he doesn’t see the shudder in response to his sweeping gaze of my figure, the way he focuses on the swell of my breasts beneath my tight black top. The thought of the tongue currently moistening his lips anywhere near me sickens my stomach. Focus. His look travels back to mine. Oh, here we go…
Seconds later, the demon crushes me to the wall, and I twist my head away before his mouth can meet mine. He chooses to bite at my neck instead. Wrapping my hair around his hands, he pulls my head back. I remain compliant, heart racing from adrenaline. Gross, gross, gross. But if he had any bloody sense, he’d restrain my arms. Demons and sense? Ha ha.
I twist around, duck under his arm, and jab an elbow into his throat. In surprise, he drops my hair, then grabs for me. I dodge and back away, waiting for his predictable next move. I meet his attempt at a body slam with one of my own—kick him in the balls so he sinks to his knees. My signature move. With the strength he underestimated, I kick my heavy boot into his head, and he falls backward. All this before the poor fucker realises what’s happening here.
“You fucking…”
He can’t say anymore because I stand on his throat. Wide eyes look back at mine, shock registering. I grin at him as he looks over to my dagger on the table.
“You think I’d let you touch me if I didn’t have a weapon?” I pull the dagger from my boot and lean down, the shining metal point against his cheek.
He tries to talk, instead all I hear is a rasping sound. If we were still against the wall, I’d stab him now, but this position is too awkward. I’d have to release him first, and that won’t happen. I push down with my boot, restricting his windpipe until his eyes glaze into unconsciousness.
“Thanks for the drink,” I say.
He’s unaware when I stab him through his dark heart. See, I can be merciful sometimes.
Two years is a long time to survive in the field, and a fucking long time to be knocked back by Darius every time I ask when I’ll receive my Will. The demon from the hotel room equals soul number 114, and now I finally have the task of retrieving my promised last soul. After 115, I’m done. Allegedly.
Small problem.
Darius wants me to retrieve a Nephilim soul.
What the fuck?
How does Darius think I’ll manage to win against a Nephilim? I pull out the picture again and remember the first time I saw a picture of one in Daniel’s class. This one’s a good-looking guy. I’d be attracted to him if it weren’t for the smug arrogance hidden in his expression. Or is this look supposed to be seductive? Who knows, I guess you have to be pretty self-assured to spend your life seducing people. Or pretend to be self-assured, like I do.
I shudder, remembering Daniel’s words about not surviving against Nephilim.
But I’m not that Ava. The confused, frightened Fated girl left long ago, and I’m fucking good at what I do. Daniel told me I can survive, and I’m still here.
Daniel. Some days memories of him and the few days we spent together, in conflict and more, encroach. I replay the night Sarah died and summon as many images as I can to figure out who Daniel was with and what they were doing. I replay their conversation over and over, but nothing makes sense. My injured state at the time doesn’t help. Was Ruben another soul hunter? Did demons kill them both? I don’t know what happened to Daniel, but whatever his fate, I sure as hell won’t let that happen to me.
One more soul, and I’m out of here.
I glance back down at the photograph. You’re my lucky last, Nephilim boy.
Epilogue
Bonus Scene
Chapter One of Soul Ties from Keir’s POV
KEIR
“Another soul hunter.”
“Already?” I ask, unable to hide the exasperation.
Dahlia nods at me, mouth pulled tight. We sit on a bench in the midst of the campus, students streaming by. I watch from the corner of my eye, head down attempting to keep a low profile. Feigning shyness stops most approaching us. Not every girl, but Dahlia helps in that respect—our constant proximity sends out the wrong signals about our relationship, but they suit us.
“For fucks sake, can they not give up their lost cause?” I rub my hand across my face. Not again. Not another one.
“Evidently not.” Dahlia pulls her phone from the laptop bag, which dwarves her body. “Her.”
She passes me the phone, and I stare at the picture. A girl with a cascade of blue-green hair, wearing a short dress and motorcycle boots. Unaware the Nephilim she’s seeking has a friend as smart as this chick thinks she is.
“What the hell is she doing? I thought soul hunters were supposed to blend in?”
Dahlia arches an eyebrow. “Like I once did, you mean?”
“Blending in is smart. Standing out like a sore thumb, not so smart.”
”And however hard you try, you can’t manage it,” she mutters.
“What can I say? Body of an angel…” I straighten and wink at her.
Dahlia thumps me in the chest. “Half angel. And so in love with yourself.”
“What’s not to like?”
Moments like this, silliness and relaxed banter, become fewer and fewer. I’ve killed six soul hunters in as many months, and still the Caelestia send more. I’m not sure whether to be pissed off or flattered they think killing me is crucial. Whatever the reason, they keep them coming. I’m unsure exactly how Dahlia feels about me killing the soul hunters—people she possibly grew up with. But I often have a hard time trying to figure out what Dahlia’s thinking or feeling.
“Do you know her name?” I ask.
“Ava. She’s signed up for the same classes as us, so I imagine we’ll meet her real soon.”
I peer at the phone. “Is this the only picture?”
“Why? It’s not as if we’ll have problems locating someone who looks like her, is it?”
”Just curious.”
Dahlia narrows her eyes at me, reading what I’m trying to hide. Okay, some of the soul hunters they send are easy on the eye and willing to try seduction as an aid to killing me. Usually I’ll snap their necks before their clothes are off, but one or two of them I’ve had more fun with.
“What?” I ask Dahlia.
“Don’t do that again. It’s disgusting.”
“What is? Me killing them or the sex?”
Dahlia turns pink, I think with embarrassment, but because it’s Dahlia, she might just be pissed off with me.
“I don’t kill them, unless they try to kill me first!” I protest.
“And you don’t screw them unless they try to screw you first?” The pink creeps across to her ears.
I poke her. “On both counts, they just can’t help themselves. One, they’re told to do. The other… well, who can blame them?”
Now Dahlia knows I’m playing around, and she rolls her eyes. “Whatever, Keir. But sooner or later, they’ll send one cleverer than the others.”
“As clever as you, you mean?”
Dahlia’s face darkens. Crap. Ex soul hunter Dahlia who’s smarter than the sum total of every soul hunter, I’ve met. She’s human now, and the guy she gave her soul hunter life up for is dead. Partly because of me.
“Cleverer than me,” she says quietly. “Stronger than me.”
I wrap an arm around Dahlia’s shoulders and hug her close. She stiffens, before resting her head on my shoulder. I never had a sister, but if I had, this is how I imagine things would be. I like her. We understand each other, but sometimes we clash. Hard. At those times, I resent Dahlia, but the guilt over Jack’s death eats at me more than she realises. Helping this girl, who refuses to admit how weak she really is, now fills my every day. Keeping her safe. If she knew this is how I saw her—as something to protect—she’d probably smack me round the head. Dahlia does that a lot anyway; not that she does any damage. I’ve never had someone argue with me before, and it’s amusing when she does.
I swipe my thumb across the screen, cancel the picture of the poor soul hunter who’s about to be mouse to my cat, and check the time. “Reckon she’ll be in the first lecture?”
“They never waste any time, do they?”
I watch Dahlia speaking to mermaid-hair Ava from the back of the lecture theatre, and I duck between two guys as tall as me. She doesn’t look over, but for some reason, the soul hunter seems to affect her. By the way Dahlia sits stiffly and taps her fingers on the edge of her laptop, I can tell something is wrong. What did Ava say to her?
I’m not a hundred percent comfortable with Dahlia scoping out the assassins first, but sometimes this is the easiest way. They don’t suspect the girl with the tiny persona is any threat to them. Dahlia would be livid if she heard me voice this. Sure, she killed dozens of demons in her soul hunter role, but she’s so fragile now… I shake away the memory of Dahlia killing Alexander. A vampire—few soul hunters ever managed to kill one, so I guess I’m selective in my memories. Not a good memory—what a fuck-up involving Dahlia was.
The soul hunter scans the room as the lecture commences, but I’m hidden behind the lanky guy with the shoulder-length brown hair, and I keep my head down. She doesn’t spot me. Unless she meets my bright blue eyes, the hunter won’t spot where the Nephilim is. I smirk to myself as she gives up. What amuses me further is she sinks down in her seat, feet on the bench in front, and appears to fall asleep. Obviously she’s not concerned about big bad demons baying for her blood.
The lecture ends. Dahlia and Ava exchange more words before Dahlia stalks off. Ava follows. This intrigues me—why is the soul hunter trying to make friends with Dahlia? I hang back hoping by the time I leave mermaid girl has disappeared and left Dahlia with some target information. A few minutes later, I leave the room.
Shuffling my bag on my shoulder, I pull out some paper and pretend to study the contents; keeping myself hunched to the height of most other guys and my eyes away from the interested gazes of female students. I’m built for seducing the souls out of humans. The problem is now I don’t want their souls, but they’re still attracted to me. This can be awkward. Which is why the shy act—and Dahlia—are a huge help.
Someone crashes into me, and I halt. What the fuck was that? My arm tingles as if whoever jostled me wired a thousand volts through my veins. I turn to look at my assailant, unable to control the confused expression on my face.
And stare straight into the bright green eyes of the soul hunter.
“Sorry!” she says with a huge smile.
Didn’t she feel that? Stunned, I stumble away, racing mind attempting to catch up. This is new. What kind of power does she have? Without looking back, I pick up my pace, denying the fact the electric charge I took from her did more than tingle my arm; my whole body floods with a strange energy. This is weird shit. Dangerous.
I shake myself out of the confusion. Library and Dahlia.
She can tell me what she’s discovered about Ava.
Of course, the soul hunter follows. I pretend I don’t notice as I chat to the librarian, aware of Ava hovering close by. I position myself at a desk with my laptop; Dahlia appears and joins me at the table.
Dipping her head, Dahlia pulls her laptop and lecture notes from her bag. “So I met her.”
“The soul hunter?”
“Yeah.”
“You don’t sound impressed.”
“Wait till you meet her, you’ll see why.”
Before I can reply and tell Dahlia about what happened when we touched, Ava approaches. In her boots, this girl towers over many around her but would struggle to stand head to head with me. She’s slender, almost delicate physically, but her make-up-hidden face warns she isn’t. A soul hunter sent for me? She’ll be strong, not delicate. I avoid her eyes and study her figure closer. Nice. Could be fun.
“Hi again.” She sets her bag on the desk, knocking Dahlia’s papers to one side. Interesting—her seeking us out. I brush my arm absentmindedly, remembering the surge from her touch.
“Ava…” Dahlia scowls.
“Dahlia.”
I should avoid her eyes and play the role. Attention focused on my laptop, I ignore Ava.
“Introduce me to your boyfriend?” Ava asks, manoeuvring herself into the chair opposite me.
Dahlia scratches her cheek. “Boyfriend? Hear that, Keir?”
I exchange amused smiles with Dahlia. Our act just gets better every day.
“Oh?” says Ava.
Something in Ava’s tone piques my interest. This isn’t going to be a boring cat and mouse game. The last two soul hunters were pathetically easy to kill. This one? I sense I’ve some fun incoming.
“We’re not a couple, Ava,” I say and meet her eyes.
Despite her attempt to hide the reaction, Ava’s green eyes reflect the knowledge she holds. Looking for a blue-eyed boy with the body of an angel, Ava? Guess you found him. I rein in my desire to switch on the charms and keep going with the calm, shy angle.
“Old friends?” she asks. “Or just study buddies?”
“Kindergarten. Friends for years, just happened to get a place at the same college.”
“Just happened?”
I sit back and watch their exchange as something heavy hangs between them. This is strange. Dahlia doesn’t normally involve herself with the soul hunters. If this had happened before, Dahlia would’ve ignored her, but Ava has her riled.
I look sideways at Dahlia, whose eyes are narrowed. “Yes,” she says.
“Lucky,” replies Ava, “I know no one. Just shipped in. Guess that’ll teach me not to go traveling around Europe before college.”
Oh, she’s good with her fully drawn back history. I bet she has stories of a false childhood she can share too. “Europe?”
I slip a little in the intensity of the look I give her, but Ava doesn’t seem to notice. Not blushing or unable to tear her gaze away? Definitely something new going on here or she’s as clever at faking as I am. I return to studying my laptop, denying the confusion creeping in.
She shakes her hair over a shoulder. “Yeah. Just for a few months, I had some business to attend to. Now I’m here. Friendless.”
Dahlia makes a soft sound in her throat.
“I’m not great at making friends. I think people misjudge my app
earance.”
“I don’t agree with judging by appearances,” I say, closing my laptop.
“So true, Keir.”
Were her words a hint she knows something? Sees through me? I continue to stare at my laptop, debating what to do and already formulating a plan of attack to discuss with Dahlia. Anything apart from looking back at Ava and seeing something in her eyes to match the jolt from her touch.
“You guys going to show me around tonight?” Ava asks, “I’m free after eight—any suggestions?”
Fighting down the desire to outright laugh at her, I look up. This is too easy. ”Sure, Ava, sounds like fun,” I say softly.
“Cool.” Ava leans across the desk and takes Dahlia’s pen from her hand. She scrawls a number on the corner of the lecture pad while I fight against moving back in case she touches me again. “This is my dorm room number—come over at eight then?”
Ava gives Dahlia a sweet smile, stands, and walks away, ass swaying in her tight dress. I blink. Yeah, she’s hot and definitely has decided to use the seduction angle. I’m looking forward to this.
“Stupid bitch,” mutters Dahlia.
I raise an eyebrow but can see what she means. Ava’s attitude to Dahlia will add to Ava’s pain when the time comes, especially if she figures out who Dahlia is and tries to eliminate her first. If she does, Ava will suffer for it when I kill her.
But something from the moment we collided remains in my system, as if I know this soul hunter already. Know Ava. Uneasiness creeps down my spine. I kill soul hunters, but as I stare at her retreating figure, the feeling she’ll be the death of me shudders through my soul.
The End
If this is the first Soul Ties book you have read you can read Keir and Ava’s story in Soul Ties. Read on for a sample.
If you have read the other Soul Ties books then look out for Shattered Souls (Soul Ties #4). Expected publication early 2017.
Soul-hunters sent to capture Nephilim souls never return and Ava has no choice. Return with Keir’s soul in exchange for her freedom or die trying.
Ava has retrieved hundreds of souls from demons and this mission doesn’t worry her, but Keir isn’t what she expected. Half angel, half demon and a hell of a lot hotter than Ava’s usual targets. She’s tempted to get closer to Keir before she takes his soul—if he doesn’t kill her first.
