Soul Enslaved (Sons of Wrath Book 3) (6 page)

“This requires prior consent, Nola.” Back to the skinny pale demon who’d wanted to keep Gavin in solitary. “You can’t just come—”

“First, it’s Nevolina to you. Second, don’t tell me what I just
can
do and not do. This demon owes one of my succubi. And I’m here to collect payment.”

A collection of groans hit the air.

“That’s right. Consider yourselves lucky that you get to spend your time getting tortured here.” Brow kicked up, she scanned the surrounding males. “Now, unless any of y’all want to be at the mercy of my most gracious ladies, I suggest you release this demon and step your adrenaline, testosterone-glutton asses the fuck off.” Her eyes narrowed on the demon silently tearing her apart from where he still sat slumped on the floor. “I got a pretty little thing for you, honey. All claws and no mercy.”

The warden cleared his throat, his gaze flitting between Nola and Gavin. “It seems your summons has overridden your … sentencing. You will resume your time once your debt to the succubus has been paid.”

“I understand.” Gavin nodded and turned his attention back to Nola. “Will she be requiring my services for long?”

Nola lips stretched into a wide grin. “I’ll let Sabelle discuss the terms with you, suga.”

***

From across her kitchen, Sabelle leveled her gaze, in the most respectfully pissed off way, on the heavyset woman who stood, arms crossed, in front of her. “Nola. I can’t do this. Not today. You can’t just drop him on my front porch, in the middle of the afternoon … like he’s some package I ordered from Male Depot. Christ, my kids, my house is wrecked to shit … I barely have food in the cupboards. I’d planned to wait another couple days until my next check. I can’t have him here
today
.”

“Sabelle, you know I love you more than your own momma ever could. But that man just spent the last month sleeping on a concrete slab while his body was used as a knife sharpener. I ain’t takin’ him back.”

“I’m sorry … but that’s not my pr—”

Nola raised her hand. “Your dirty laundry and lack of cuisine is not on his list of priorities. Last I checked, Wraths only ate for pleasure.” Her waggling eyebrows teased a frown from Sabelle. “However, any more time down there, and you’d have lost your chance to have him at your complete disposal.” She shrugged. “And I believe you have good purpose for his services. So you got him a week earlier. So what. Fuck him like you mean it, because he’s here to please you and pleasure you for as long as you see fit.”

“Yeah. That’s going to happen with my kids running around.”

“Sabelle, you are the only succubus I know who won’t fuck in her own home. It relieves stress. Makes you smile every so often. Ever think it might do your kids some good to see their momma happy?”

“Gods, does everything have to be about sex?”

“Said the succubus. Are we done?”

Sabelle tipped her head back and sighed. “He’s
not
sleeping in my bed, just so we’re clear.”

Nola shook her head and smiled. “You got a prime piece of ass lying on your couch. I mean, grade A perfection, panty-dripping prime!” She gave a ‘
mmm mmm mmm
’ and shook her head again. “’Bout five hundred years younger and I’d be strapping that male to my bedpost. Lighten up, baby. This could be the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

Rubbing her temples, Sabelle screwed her eyes shut. “I find that hard to believe.”

***

Gavin stirred on the couch. The wounds on his chest burned as they sealed themselves, while the constant throb in his ear beat a reminder of his torture with every inhale.

A scent infiltrated his mind. Not a house-smell, but something much sweeter. Feminine. Mouthwatering. Gavin took deep breaths, savoring it as the deliciousness coated his tongue and throat and hit the back of his mouth like warm apple pie oozing with sweet caramel.

Goddamn, what is that?

He sat up on the couch, head angled high and eyes closed, concentrating on the scent.

A shiver traipsed his spine at the same time a vision of Sabelle in black lace lingerie, tied to the bed, flashed through his head. Tingles warming his skin, the scent overwhelmed him, saliva pooling on his tongue—until a prick of his lip broke him free from the trance.

Gavin’s eyes flew open. Salty blood coated his tongue, as he licked his lip and hit a fang. He’d almost taken his demonic form over that?

Like an answer to the question, an ache beat in his groin, lifting his ass off the couch and then dissipated, spreading heat into his thighs, a rush of blood straight to his dick.

As if his libido had awakened from a slumber.

A tight grip of his bulge confirmed it and he froze, icy crystals of panic climbing his spine as a bleak awareness settled over him.

Shit. No. No. No.

In spite of the burn of his wounds, Gavin sat forward, clutching his forehead. Only time a demon took his native form while thinking about a female was when protecting her, fucking her or about to dive headfirst into a Savidon.

He shook his head and knocked at his temple to beat the image out of his brain. No fuckin’ way. It wasn’t the right time for his Savidon to hit, anyway, but he sure as hell didn’t need the
her
to be a vengeful succubus. Some things in life, a bastard just stayed away from: deadly tidal waves, category five hurricanes, quicksand, and the succubi.

Deep, calming breaths and a jab to his festering wound for good measure, had his body crawling back into itself, returning to its normal state.

Yeah, it’d been a long time since he’d been with a female, but
centuries
wouldn’t willingly coax him into bed with one of those crazy sex fiends. Especially when he’d be open to bonding with just about anything. It’d take some heavy hitting drugs and a severe knock to the head.

Fortunately, Sabelle didn’t seem too keen on him, either, which suited Gavin just fine. Though it left him wondering what the hell she
did
want with him.

Two more knocks to the skull still couldn’t loosen the image from his mind.

“D-d-does it hurt?”

Gavin lowered his hands from his face and sat back on the couch. The blond spongy curls, cherubim face and cerulean eyes of an incubus were a dead giveaway, though he looked older than the last time Gavin had seen him. Sabelle’s son, a twin to her daughter, Jane, stood beside the couch with his gaze fixed on Gavin’s unbuttoned shirt.

“Hey … Thomas, right?” He offered his hand, smiling with amusement when Thomas simply stared at his outstretched arm.

The kid dragged his nose across the sleeve of his
Transformers
shirt. Funny to see him in casual clothes when he looked like he belonged in a cloth diaper with a bow strapped to his shoulder. “You got blood on ya shirt.”

Gavin glanced down. “Ah, yeah. I, um … had an accident.”

“A-a-accident?”

“I fell. And got some blood on my shirt. I’m okay, though.”

“My M-M-Mommy can clean it. She cleans blood off my booboos and g-g-gives me Spidaman Band-aids.”

Gavin grinned at that. “Think she’d give me a
Spiderman
Band-Aid for mine?”

He shrugged. “Ask her.”

“You like
Transformers
, huh?”

“Yeah. I-I-I like Optimus P-P-Prime.” Thomas fell forward, catching himself on the back of the couch, chin propped against his palm. “A-a-are you staying with us?”

“Visiting. For a little while.”

“I gotta go. M-M-Mommy says I hafta take a nap, and she’ll be m-m-mad.”

“In the middle of the afternoon?” In Gavin’s world, naps happened between bar closing and breakfast joints opening up for business.

“Yeah. Bye.”

“Good to see you, Thomas.”

The little blonde puttered up the staircase.

Holy hell, Gavin needed a shower. His muscles sagged at the thought of heated sprays dancing across his skin, providing bitter sweet pain as they licked his wounds. The frigid baths of Obsidius had taken one of his favorite pastimes and made it abso-fucking-lutely miserable. Even at the mercy of a vengeance-hungry succubus, he’d revel in the opportunity to lose himself in the spray—assuming she allowed him to shower.

The door flew open, and Sabelle stood beside her Divine Matron, rubbing her raw-looking arm and nibbling on her lip like she wanted to consume the damn thing.

Nola gave a wink and brushed her hand through Gavin’s hair as she stepped past him. “You kids get along. Don’t
make
me come back here.”

“Nola!” Sabelle called out, her eyes pleading.

One foot hovering over the hole in the porch, the woman let out a huff and turned. “Get on with it, child. I ain’t got all day.”

Sabelle shook her head. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

“Good. I’m out.”

“Nola, wait, please.” Gavin sat forward and, pushing past the pain of splitting skin, rose to a stand. “Perhaps … perhaps this arrangement isn’t a good idea. Sabelle wasn’t expecting me and …”
I’m about to become a raging sex fiend with a fucking side of cuddles
. “A couple weeks might be better for both of us.” Gavin shot Sabelle a glance, taking in the upturn of her brows.

“Look, I’m not in the business of laundering dirty diapers here,” Nola said. “Get over your shit and get on with this arrangement.” With one hop, she disappeared into the floor, a sharp gust of wind scattering the chalk dust.

Sabelle strode out to the porch and used a socked foot to scrub away the rest of the chalk. “Like I don’t have kids that could fall into …” she muttered as though Gavin wasn’t sitting on the couch behind her. “I need this shit right now. This is just not my … damn it.”

“Sabelle, I—”

“You’re not.” She scratched the back of her head. “Shouldn’t you be lying down, or something?” Her arm fell away from her head, as she turned to go back inside the house.

One step inside and the scent hit him again—one he’d smelled before—like fresh baked pies, only the second time it cast a shiver down his spine. “Did you bake something recently?” he asked, pushing the question past the pooling saliva on his tongue.

She swung around, fountains of cinnamon tresses gracefully dancing across her shoulders. “Look, if you’re hungry … it’s fend for yourself in this house. Got it?” Hands on her hips, she seemed to bite the inside of her cheek as she steeled her eyes on his. “I don’t know what you’re expecting. This isn’t going to be some kind of
sex
fest, if that’s what you had in mind.”

Thank gods for that
. “Sabelle, the only thing I really want at this moment is a hot shower.”

Rubbing her cheek, she blew out a breath. “Of course. C’mon.” She jerked her head for him to follow her up the staircase.

The floorboards groaned under his weight, just as they had the last time he’d visited Sabelle’s house, and Sabelle glanced down at him. “Shhh. The twins are napping.”

He inwardly smiled at the fact that one of them
wasn’t
sleeping, more than aware that the closer to the top of the stairs they climbed, the more intense the baked scent grew.

They passed the twins’ room, where two bumps huddled tightly together on the bed. Light spilled out from a room along the hallway, blinding his eyes. As that apple pie scent, once again, overpowered every other sense, his jaw tightened to contain the drool itching to escape the corner of his mouth.

What the hell?

Demons never salivated over food and, yet, there he stood, as Sabelle gathered linens from a closet, inhaling it like a goddamn junkie. It seemed to be coming from the bedroom. He tipped his head, taking one step in its direction.

Sabelle jumped ahead of him and shut the door. “I don’t think so. That’s my bedroom, and it’s off limits to you.” She nodded forward. “You’ll sleep in my sister’s old room.”

Gavin double-blinked, pushing back the irritation of his senses having been severed. A sharp left detour had him standing in a clean but very aged-looking bathroom. White tiles patterned the walls and floor. An antique pedestal sink, perhaps from the early nineteen-hundreds, stood clean and functional but chipped with age. The claw tub and shower damn near called out to him.

As he took a step closer, a stench crinkled his nose, ruining the sweet smell from before, and his gaze instantly fell to the toilet, where someone had forgotten to flush.

Sabelle cocked her head. “What?” She lifted up onto her toes, then lurched into the bathroom, knocking into Gavin’s arm as she pressed the handle to the toilet. “Thomas is afraid to flush.” She shrugged. “So I don’t force him to do it.”

“Right. Thanks for the heads up.”

Sabelle’s lips tightened. “Look,” she said in a low voice. “Like I said, I wasn’t expecting this. Contrary to what you might think, men aren’t coming and going in this house.” Her eyes studied his, as if daring him to disagree. “Do you need anything for your wounds?”

“Thanks, but they’ll heal quickly.”

Frowning, she eyed the wounds. “That one looks a bit rough.”

Gavin didn’t have to look down to know she’d be pointing at the gaping hole where the drill had been lodged in his ribs. Most of the wounds had healed but the Demortis had slowed healing there. “I’m good.”

She crossed her arms. A stray red curl fell into her eyes and she blew it to the side. “I have to drop my kids off at my sister’s. Wasn’t expecting you so soon. Take your shower, and then we’ll figure out the details of this arrangement.”

Finally, she was speaking Gavin’s language. Arrangements and details often carried a finite timeline. Not that he was eager to go back to Obsidius anytime soon, but who the hell knew what Sabelle had planned for him? After all, he’d fucked with her lifestyle by firing her from the casino—something even Gavin could see she took very seriously.

She stepped past him, and the lingering pie scent trailed behind her, watering his mouth again.

“Do you use a … certain perfume, or something?”

She twisted around, a scowl deepening the lines on her forehead. “Do I look like the type of woman who spends money on perfume?”

Gavin cleared his throat, and she left the room, closing the door behind her.