ELLE LINCOLN
Copyright © 2021 by Elle Lincoln
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1. Vanessa 2. Vanessa 3. Vanessa
4. Vanessa
5. Hades
6. Vanessa
7. Vanessa
8. Vanessa
9. Vanessa
10. Pim
11. Apollo
12. Vanessa
13. Vanessa
14. Vanessa
15. Greyson
16. Vanessa
17. Vanessa
18. Vanessa
19. Vanessa
20. Apollo
21. Vanessa
22. Vanessa
23. Vanessa
24. Vanessa
25. Vanessa
26. Pim
27. Vanessa
28. Vanessa
29. Hades
30. Vanessa
CONTENTS
Greyson
Author Note Acknowledgments About the Author
Also by
Elle Lincoln
Vanessa
Didyouremembertodisconnectyournaughtyaudiofromyour bluetooth?
Hey friends so a few things before you read this. There is the insinuation that Persephone abuses Hades. This is only implied and not shown.
This book also deals with a mate who commits what the main character believes is suicide. However the character in question is immortal and cannot die. But I recognize the sensitivity of the situation.
If any of these these things are triggering to you please, please take heed.
TWENTY-SIX YEARS Ago
The clack of heels against stone hammers off the rock walls, each tap-tap-tapspearing straight through the soul.
Torture.
Such a blasphemous word, and yet one that pays homage to what happens here in the bowels of hell.
One would think that the pits of Tartarus would hold nothing but heat to rival that of a scorching volcano. That the skin of a mere human walking through the halls of this dungeon would simmer, boil, then fall off like melting wax.
Theywould be right.
But also wrong, so very fucking wrong. Here in the deepest, darkest recesses, where no light lives and no wind swirls, the cold becomes all-consuming. Mind-numbing.
No, it isn’t the heat that kills. The fires of Tartarus would be welcome. It is the dungeons below Tartarus that destroy the eldest of the gods, those who roamed the realms long before man, afore the sniveling of mortals became a torture unto itself. It is here that they strip away their power, laying them bare upon the cool stone.
But hearts still beat for the immortals, for the deathless, who cannot succumb to the blissful sleep of the void. Magic keeps the
dark organ flowing with putrid blood, while time slowly erodes memories into insanity. Death would mean salvation.
That clack echoes around the darkest chambers. Moans fill the air, holding false hope that those footsteps belong to one who holds empathy.
Empathy does not exist here.
It is nothing more than a void.
Of life.
Of magic.
Of hope and dreams.
Outside the cell doors, those footsteps slow to a stop before the locks disengage. One, two, then more and more, until the heavy, magic-laden door opens with the piercing light of a lantern.
Eyes squint against the light that flares into the void like a thousand suns, and warmth seeps in around the curvy calves of a creature loathsome to this hell.
A queen of the damned.
She crouches low, her eyes full of glee at the pain she inflicts. When she opens her mouth, it’s to release a siren’s lure. “I have a bargain for you, demon.”
Throat dry and unused, he scratches out a reply. “W-What?”
“You want freedom?” Lips once dreamed about by Cupid himself smirk without humor.
No answer floats in the stale air. All creatures want freedom, especially those rotting in the void. “Cost?”
“That, old friend, is negotiable.” She sets her lantern aside, the light casting long shadows into the cell.
Light, the giver of life, which allows most creatures to flourish, burns across the floor, chasing back the void. Creatures scuttle away, their long forms nothing but an outline in the inky dark.
But in all things, there is balance. Without the void, the darkest among the monsters would not survive. Without the light…well, they’d have nothing to taunt those who exist here.
That light shines on the king of fucking monsters, who was born of the acid of hell and the dirt of this cell. He presses up on shaking
palms, his muscles, atrophied from eons of disuse, trembling with the effort.
The scratchy reply croaks from parched lips. “Deal.”
Tinkling laughter echoes around the void, stirring the creatures in the cells along the hall. Fear leaks into the chamber like a lover’s caress. “You don’t know what I need of you, demon.”
“Does it matter?”
“No.”
“Then tell me the price I’ll pay for my freedom.”
Her vacant eyes stare off into the inky blackness before she swiftly picks up her lantern. Standing, she turns to stalk down the hall on those clattering heels. “Follow me, demon.”
A gust of sickly sweet wind wraps around the cell, teasing and taunting with the bite of freedom.
There is no other choice.
The void or the light.
In the end, it was only a matter of time before beasts roamed the earth once more.
nd all the ghoulies say I’m pretty fly for a dead guy.” My long-lost lover’s lousy singing blankets the desolate plane surrounding us. “Da-na-da-de-na-da-de-na.”
The longer he chooses this particular kind of violence, the more my tortured ears bleed.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as he rolls his body like a seasoned male stripper, his smile full and similar to that of the Joker’s. Each thrust teases my eyes, or rather my hormones.
Only I can see his body, so at least I don’t need to get jealous if any other woman looks at him.
Averting my eyes, I try not to stare at him, but I admit my willpower is not that strong. “Your penis looked at me.” His thrusts turn a little more deadly at my words as his dick presses against the soft material. It’s truly distracting, at least until he opens his mouth. He always has to ruin the moment with that smart tongue of his.
“Baby, any time you want to touch…” His tattooed hands tease the edges of his shirt just enough to show me a brief stretch of dark hair I know scatters across his chest and leads down to an outie belly button. “All you’ve got to do is ask.” He winks at me as soon as he catches me looking.
My eyes get stuck on the tattoo inked on his chest, a chest I kissed once upon a time with hair I once threaded my fingers through. My fingers touch my lips, where I can almost taste him on my tongue.
Then he died. The creature standing before me flickers in and out until my vision focuses on his very dead body. Luckily, the app on my phone beeps, pulling me out of that depressive spiral.
“Ditto!” A squishy purple body wiggles across the phone screen until I can collect him. A shiver of pleasing satisfaction hums its way through my body at a job well done.
“Angel, baby, are you asking to touch me? Because I need you to say the words.” Pim’s voice turns tortured, finally catching my full attention.
“What?” I blink at him, trying to recall what he was talking about. I know I heard every word he spoke, so what was he saying?
His arms drop. “I thought you came out here to visit me.” He points an accusing finger at my phone screen. “Not to play Pokémon.” His tone dips just a little with disappointment.
“But ditto.” I blink at him, confused by his tortured state. I did come out here to play Pokémon. He is just an unfortunate side effect of me leaving the safety of the town.
His shoulders slump forward, his brown bowler hat tipping and falling to the ground where it doesn’t cast a shadow. A moment later, it disappears from this plane, going wherever it is that ghost hats go. Deep breaths he doesn’t need test the buttons of his white dress shirt, while his suspenders hold up his pants. He’s handsome, truly. With full sleeve tattoos and a smile that stretches across his face with a mirth that screams mischief. My fingers itch to trace the lines of his jaw, just as they always used to.
Once, he made my heart stutter in my chest. He was the perfect bad boy who intrigued a young naïve girl, stealing my heart with seductive words and promises all good little girls want to hear.
Then he stepped in front of a train, stealing my sympathy for his dumb ass and making me realize I was not a good little girl. I wanted to bring him back from the dead and push him off that platform for hurting me.
Eight years have passed since that fateful day, eight years, and he showed back up in my life dead as a doornail. At least now I have my chance at revenge. Except when I look at him now, all I want to do is hold him close and taste his skin once more.
I shouldn’t feel like I did when I was so much younger. I was a fool who blindly fell for the bad boy. But he still makes my heart trip over itself. He still steals my breath when he gives me that sexy as sin smile. I told my best friend it was a tragic accident, which she assumed was a car accident, and I never corrected her. Especially when I watched him do it.
My pulse skyrockets the same way it always does when I look at him, and all I see is him jumping onto that train platform. All I hear is the train hitting him. The thud still echoes in my ears late at night when no one is around to chase away the nightmares. I can still hear my broken sobs as the security guards stopped me from rushing to him.
All those years ago, I had to learn to hold my emotions in check. I grit my teeth and hold back my tears, reviving that lesson. I give him one of my signature smiles. The way he looks at me with his chin dipped just so, his dark eyes alight, makes him look psychotic, as though a devil whispers in his ear, telling him just how to cause chaos.
My heart doesn’t know the difference between psychosis and love as it flutters in my chest, and maybe something broken inside of me calls to something broken inside of him.
“You’re killing me, Angel.” His voice turns dark and gravelly as I stare at him. Shivers dance over my skin as my nerve endings sing and beg for his touch.
“But, Pim…” I press my palm against his chest and lean in close until my nose brushes the stubble of his chin. My tongue laps at his neck as I inhale his essence of leather and sin before I whisper, “You are already dead.”
“But, Vanessa,” he mocks, clenching my waist as his fists scrunch the soft material of my skirt, “you make me alive.”
I stumble forward into his hold, his erection pressing against my belly. A breath expels from my lungs as fire that has nothing to do
with the Arizona heat licks at my skin. He isn’t wrong. My touch breathes life into him, making him visible for the world to see.
I don’t know why.
I don’t even know what I am, only what I can do.
My mamas tell me I’m God’s special cherub sent to them at their lowest point in life—a version of the nickname Pim adopted the moment he met them. I always let them tell the story of how the orphanage called them and how they loved me at first sight. They took the role of doting mothers to an extreme that I will forever be grateful for.
There is just one problem. Theydon’t know me.
They saw then, and still see now, what I want them to see—the cherub my moms call me, the angel Pim calls me—but they don’t realize that my eyes see a world that shouldn’t exist. That my mind delves into the darkest parts of what has been and what could be.
A friend once called me a soothsayer, but inside, I know I’m something far more sinister than that. I just don’t know what. So I smile, I nod, and I push past the dread of the unknown that clogs my throat.
Swallowing thickly, I push away from Pim, though my body screams in protest for just one more touch. “Well, you are just going to have to wait.” I wink over my shoulder as I saunter back to my 1969 Mustang Boss, my flip-flops clapping over the ground.
Both the car and the shoes are completely ill-fitted for the desert, but they suit me.
“Hello, Bruce.” My hand glides over the dark green hood, just a slight graze, and I can feel the heat rolling off of it.
“What do I have to do to get you to touch me like that?” Pim winks over to the passenger side, or rather does that teleportation thing ghosts do, wearing a frown on his perfect face.
“Live.” I’m only partially serious. Okay, no, I’m serious.
“Low blow, Nes, low blow.” Crossing his arms, he pouts. His pink lips tug down as though that will appeal to my no touching rule when it comes to the dead.
The sun sets behind him, casting him in a halo I know he doesn’t deserve. “Why did you do it?”
Pim’s face falls, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening. “You know I can’t tell you that.”
“Then you know you cannot touch me.” If he does, he will only break my heart once more. I’m barely holding on as it is.
“Stay.” His palms press against the scorching metal of the hood, a reminder that he is dead and I am not.
“You know I limit my time out here,” I murmur. If I stay any longer, then…then the visions will come. The last eight months have been a respite that I don’t want to give up, at least not yet.
“The only one looking for you was me, Nes.” It’s the same argument he’s been using since he found me, and it’s a dead argument. Just like his pulse. He’s also wrong, I can feel eyes on me. Not now, but they will come, and I will have to run.
“Maybe,” I hedge.
“And I found you.” He preens, always so pleased with himself. It took me weeks to hike from Lake Tahoe to Eternal Hollows. A few days in, I thought it was someone else hunting me, but alas, it was just Pim, my ghostly ex-boyfriend.
“You did.” The car door squeals in the fading afternoon light. I slide into the driver’s seat, hiking up my long green skirt. The heat is overbearing outside, and inside, it’s stifling.
Yet I embrace it.
Maybe that is a part of the psychotic aspect of me. The heat doesn’t bother me, hell, I’m barely sweating. I glance at my phone, and the screen is black with a heat warning. Even my long brown hair flutters around my body and down to my waist like a halo, and not a single hair sticks to me with sweat.
I was born for the Arizona heat.
“One kiss says it doesn’t start,” Pim comments with one arm on the seat behind me, his legs crossed.
I turn the key in the engine and listen to Bruce purr. I bite the corner of my lip and give Pim a teasing smile. “What was that?” I slam the door and pull out onto the broken road. Even with the heat, the potholes don’t compare to the ones in Pennsylvania. I still avoid them at all costs, though, because Bruce is my baby.
“You just got lucky.”
“You are just angry I’m not staying out here with you.” My thumb begins a slow tap on the steering wheel as I head toward town. The long road stretches out before me, while nothing but desert brackets the lone asphalt. Waves of heat dance in front of me to the beat of the earth. Sometimes, I can hear that beat if I listen in the dead of the night when I can’t sleep.
“Of course I’m angry. I lost you for eight years, then I find you, and you find the one town in the United States that’s a dead zone.” He doesn’t hide his annoyance, and his voice creeps higher as he speaks. “A crossing of ley lines to boot!” he yells to the cloudless sky.
His argument is valid. Ley lines should amplify magic. But here, tucked away at the edges of the country, something voids that magic. Or so I’m told.
“That one town is the only town that will help me keep my sanity.” It feels as though I’ve been running from myself for so long that when I finally found out about the dead zones, I stopped running and sprinted.
A year ago, something broke inside me, and with it came a torrent of painful visions that I could not control. They took over my life, stealing every hope and dream I ever had.
That’s when the nightmares began.
The visions gained momentum.
They aren’t all incredible glimpses into the future either. Some are so horrific that they steal my breath, my sanity. So yeah, I ran to the one place in the world where the visions can’t take my life, where I could regain control and just be me.
A place that shouldn’t exist between Phoenix and Yuma, Arizona, right outside of a reservation. In fact, it isn’t on any map, and the road there is hidden from normal eyes. It’s a place where magical lines intersect and cancel out all magic, and a haven for people like me and mortals who just want to hide.
You are noperson, Vanessa, a vile little voice in the back of my head whispers. It’s right. I don’t know what I am, and that’s okay.
But Eternal Hollows became a home away from home that gives me room to breathe. The visions backed away, though I have to leave town occasionally to allow them to pop in my head, otherwise
I can feel the slow buildup inside me, like a burn behind my sternum that increases with a pressure that must be uncorked.
But leaving town is dangerous. Leaving means the visions may take over and leave me as a shadow of the person I am. I’m also not so sure that Pim was the only one hunting me. There are whispers that those like me, those who could see into the future, were sought after in the ancient world. I may surround myself with creatures of myth, but that doesn’t mean I am one, and that doesn’t mean they won’t use me if they knew what I could do.
Or maybe I’m just psychotic and paranoia is my middle name.
“Earth to Vanessa.” Pim snaps his fingers in front of my face.
We sit on the side of the road. The turn off is visible ahead. I must have zoned out.
“Another vision?” His tone turns soft, and his fists clench to keep from reaching out to me. The tattooed word ‘fire’ stretches across his knuckles. He’s the only one who knows what I can do besides those I left behind in Pennsylvania.
“No,” I answer honestly. “Just thinking.”
“You miss the girls?”
“I always miss the girls.” Just the thought of my wolf pack, my best friends, causes yearning to slice through my heart. “But Sabina is getting thoroughly sexed up by a bunch of lycans, and Pepper is off with the amazons, and Ash is, well…” I close my eyes and reach for that flicker inside me that holds the ability to stretch across time and space to find those I love.
It’s sluggish after months of pushing it down, making it unpredictable. Sometimes, I can see what I want, while other times, a vision takes over. But there, deep inside my soul, the flame flickers, and I stoke it. I coo to my well of power like I would a baby until I can grasp it by the balls and search for Ash.
She’s surrounded by trees and leaves the size of a car, a jungle. I watch her through the eyes of another soldier as she brings her sniper rifle up and peers through the scope. I pull away before I can see her kill anyone.
“In a jungle,” I answer.
“I hate it when you do that.” He waves his tattooed hand around his face. “Your eyes go all opaque and creepy. I don’t like it.”
“Well, Pim, that sounds like a you problem.” I tap my thumbs on the steering wheel again, wondering why I haven’t pulled back onto the road and driven toward town. I try to look at Pim without him noticing, but he’s watching me, he’s always watching me, and he catches my gaze.
“Admit it you want to stay with me a little longer.” He grips my shoulder and slides the gear into park. The car idles a little too loudly for my liking, but I let it go as Pim’s touch burns a path of desire through me.
“What I want to do is head to the diner, pick up a roast beast, and consume monsters for a meal.” I nod to myself as my stomach grumbles her agreement.
“Roast beast? Monsters?” I can hear the smile in his voice as he reaches for my hips and turns me toward him.
“Yes, monsters, although I’d much prefer for their heads to be on pikes on this very road to keep them out of my town.”
“How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
His fingers dig into my hips. He’s always doing this, and I’m pretty sure it’s because he can touch me and no one else. “Say shit like that and be completely serious about it?”
“I am serious.” Doesn’t he have any idea what could be out there looking for me? “A year ago, I didn’t know lycans, gods, shifters, fae, and ghosts existed, and now I’m suffocated by them. If I show that I won’t hesitate to kill them, then they will leave me alone.”
“Angel, baby, you are far too kind to kill anyone.” His thumb makes little circles on my hips, distracting me from my rant.
My brows dip low. “I’m vicious.” Can’t he see that?
“To what?” He chuckles, and the timbre of his laugh sends a pleasurable shock straight through my body. “An ant?”
“How can you not see the crazy lurking in here?” I tap my forehead for emphasis.
“Oh, I see the crazy, and I love it.” He leans closer, his lips grazing mine in a ticklish kiss. I breathe in his exhale, wanting more
of him, all of him.
“I’m serious, Pim. If you are not willing to divulge your secrets, you get no love from me.” No matter what my libido demands, and right now, she is demanding a whole hell of a lot.
He sighs and leans back, a wrinkle forming between his brows, which I press down with my finger.
Quicker than he should move for a ghost. He yanks me closer, stealing a kiss.
I’ve abstained for eight long years, and in this moment, Pim drowns me as he devours my lips. For a full minute, I remain stunned before I climb onto his lap, my skirt tangling all around me as I press against his body like a woman starved.
Because I am.
My tongue darts out to taste his lips as my hands knock his hat off, my fingers spearing through his hair before I clutch the brown strands and yank his head back.
His light brown eyes close, his palms splaying across my ass as he holds me close. My gaze remains on his lips as I keep him pulled back, exposing his long, tattooed neck.
“This means nothing.” My breath comes out in pants as I press my core against the erection rising beneath me.
“To anyone driving by, they’d just think we were teenagers.”
“We once were,” I whisper against his pouty lips, my tongue teasing their seam.
“Kiss me, Vanessa. Punish me for all those years I left you alone.” He rolls his hips, stressing his point. Sweet fire dances over my core as he hits the spot where I crave his touch.
Need flares in my stomach as my willpower for why this is such a bad idea dissolves.
What’s one little pleasurable moment?
One moment that I take for myself.
Pim rolls his hips again. “Make me yours, Vanessa,” he pleads, causing the last of my willpower to disperse.
My lips crush against his, my body pressing as tightly against his as it can, as though I’m trying to remove those years between us.
I just can’t get close enough.
The moment his hands travel under my tank, I’m a goner. His touch ignites a fire inside me that only he can quench. He starved me, made me parched. It’s as though I’ve been waiting eight years to touch him and no other. And there wasn’t any other. My heart wouldn’t allow it.
But as he kisses me with an apology on his tongue, I almost swallow it down and forgive him completely. I didn’t lie—this means nothing more than human touch. He needs to earn my forgiveness, and he isn’t there yet. A chasm sits between us full of questions and no answers. No matter how much my body aches for him, a loss will always sit between us until he breaks and tells me the truth.
He yanks his mouth away, and I guide his head to my neck, where the stubble of his cheeks scrapes against my sensitive flesh. “Fuck, Vanessa, I’ve wanted to touch you since the moment I saw you again. My angel.”
“Less talking, more kissing.” I steal his lips so he can’t talk, though I kiss away his chuckles. As he rolls his hips again, I’m ready to lift my skirts and impale myself on his ghostly dick.
“Fuck!” He pulls away, horror etched across his features.
“Don’t do it.” I yank on his hair, making him wince.
“I’m so sorry, Angel.” He winks out of the car, causing me to crash onto my leather seats, hot and frustrated.
“Dammit, Pim!” I yell, though I know he’s gone, off to whomever can summon a ghost. It isn’t the first time it’s happened, but it is the first time it’s happened when I finally gave in to my carnal desires.
Lesson learned. I slam my hands against the seat, debating if I should lie back and take care of my needs. With a grumble of my stomach, I decide against it—for now. But there is always later, definitely later, in the quiet of my apartment, where I can make a date night with myself.
I’ll stop and get some dinner from the diner and matches for my candles, heck, I may even break out one of the toys my crazy friend Pepper mailed me months ago.
Plan set, I roll back into the driver’s seat and sort myself out like the proper lady I am not, and then I throw the idling Bruce into gear.
I don’t bother to look when I pull out onto the broken road. No one is there. No one ever comes out here unless they want someone else to forget about them.
That is the power of Eternal Hollows, where someone can become eternally forgotten. My tires kick up dirt as I turn onto the hidden road on a long stretch of dry desert land. The sky shimmers like glass as calm washes through me in anticipation. A moment later, the magic of intersecting ley lines flows over me, taking away the pressure that always exists at the back of my head outside town limits.
A sigh of comfort expels from my lungs, and the pleasant buzz of nothingness settles in my sternum. I’m home.
V A N E S S A
ETERNAL HOLLOWS RISES into view like a mirage. It may not seem like much to an outsider, but to me, it is perfection. The days are a steady one hundred and ten degrees Fahrenheit, while the night dips to the eighties. Air conditioning doesn’t exist unless you are one of the fools who tries to hook one up.
Mama didn’t raise no fool.
The edifice of the corner store comes into sight, and I slow as Main Street greets me like a lover. The town stretches before me in the shape of a cross, where dirt roads roll with tumble weeds and cars park on a diagonal.
All the important businesses face each other down the main strip a schoolhouse, firehouse, market, bar, and of course, the diner. There is a sheriff’s station, where Tom sits with his jovial smile, eating his way through a daily pork belly. Really, he’s just there for show while he plays crosswords every day. Then there is the bakery and café, which was love at first sight.
Small shacks dot the perimeter, where some residents live. Maybe it isn’t much, but it is a slice of heaven for me. The population is just over a few thousand. It’s quiet and full of monsters and mortals alike.
We keep quiet, and they keep quiet, looking the other way when something weird occasionally slips through. It is the perfect relationship. Cell phones rarely work, and there are still functioning
telephone booths if we need to make a call out, but most of us just go for a drive to one of the closest cities for that.
I love it.
Bruce rumbles into a parking spot out front of Tate’s Diner, the engine ticking down slowly once I remove the key. Through the windshield, I watch the bustle of the diner as laughter floats out to me.
By the time I arrived here all those months ago, my exhaustion had worn me down. The visions wouldn’t stop, and I could feel my essence leaking from me. Eternal Hollows healed that by sealing out the power that drained me daily. In the months since I’ve been here, that fateful day in the woods back home has faded to nothing more than a nightmare.
Feeling more at home here than I ever did in my actual hometown of Philadelphia, I climb out of Bruce, and with a bounce in my step, I skip right to the dusty diner doors.
Tinkling bells announce my arrival, and Daisy looks up from her place at the counter with an impish smile on her face.
Now, I have picked up strays in the past because everyone needs a friend from time to time, but I think Daisy is the one exception to the rule that says I should leave people alone. All bark with a slow bite, she taps her pen cap against her ruby red lips as I slide onto a busted vinyl seat. I didn’t realize it at the time, but Daisy is a nymph. Her reasons for hiding in a hellscape are her own, and I never questioned why she refused to be near the nature I know her kind needs.
It doesn’t mean I don’t miss the dark circles under her eyes or how she sleeps longer than she should. I picked her up along the side of the road that led us here. She was traveling along the ley line like me, drunk as a skunk and singing classic rock.
It was friendship at first song.
“Don’t say it,” I hiss.
“Girl, who’s been running their fingers through your hair and messing it up?” She leans in close, inhaling me like a sex popsicle.
“No one.” I snatch a menu from her hands, hiding my smirk. “Sometimes when I’m out in the desert all alone,” I say dreamily,
catching her attention, “I just can’t help slipping my hands into my —”
“Got it, you aren’t saying,” she interjects, but the flush in her face tells me she wouldn’t mind if I kept going.
It’s a game we play.
I like her well enough, but not enough to take her to bed. Men have that devil stick that I just can’t help but chase after.
Liar.Youchasemenwhodon’twantyou.
I push down the voice that keeps popping up in the back of my mind. I don’t chase after men, not anymore. Last time that happened was with Pim.
That ended with a bang.
“Heads-up.” Daisy wipes down the counter with a dirty, dusty rag as she leans in close. “Greyson is here with his buddies.” The amusement in her tone and the roll of her eyes that latch onto bodies somewhere behind me suggests this is fun for her. Daisy loves to stir up trouble and watch as it plays out around her.
My hair cascades around me in a waterfall as I duck my head, hiding my face so I can spy on the diner. Not like those looking wouldn’t know who I am.
Fine, it’s utterly pointless.
Giving up, I sit up straight as Daisy laughs.
“You on the morning shift?” She tosses her rag into a bin before leaning closer, her dark eyes flashing mischief.
“What are you up to?” I drop my menu, unable to decide what to eat.
“I’m bored.”
“And a bored nymph…”
“Is a naughty nymph,” she finishes.
“I open tomorrow.”
“No!” She shakes her fist up to the sky, her nose ring glinting in the dim light of the diner. “I want to get trashed and dance through the town naked.”
“You need a wingman?” Mark slides onto a stool beside me, all rough edges with an overgrown beard and hair well past two missed haircuts. “You’ve got one right here.” The rich scent of earth clings
to him, despite us being surrounded by nothing other than dust and cacti. It’s that supernatural aura that hangs over him.
“Lycan,” I tease, watching for the offense to etch across his features.
He doesn’t disappoint. His neck cracks as he jerks it in my direction, and like the dramatic wolf he is, he falls off his stool, capturing the attention of every single diner patron. Lying on the dirty linoleum floor, he jerks his body as though I hurt him, but it’s only his pride—I didn’t bite him this time.
My legs swing as I smile down at the wounded animal. I like Mark far too much to truly injure anything other than his ego.
“Why must you encourage him?” A tantalizing shiver races down my spine as Greyson McCoy’s low timbre whispers over the sensitive nerves of my ear. He’s Arizona’s version of a cowboy, complete with that twang and charm and a dash of good manners that remind me he remains out of my league.
Once more, my body lights up. I need food, candles, and a vibrator. Stat. Embracing the shiver, I let it course through my body and commit it to memory, for later of course.
“Shh.” I rest back against Greyson’s chest, earning a hiss that gusts over my hair. He may be out of my league, but his body responds to mine, and rumor has it he has a crush on me. “Don’t spoil my fun.”
“You taunt him.” Greyson leans into me, just enough for me to feel his warmth and to smell the soot that has embedded itself into his skin. Then, he moves away, causing my body to sway at his loss.
He’s just another male I have yet to allow myself to enjoy. Why, Nessa?Whydoyoutortureyourselfso?
Oh, that’s right I don’t know what I am, and the visions that haunt my soul are far too sinister to allow anyone in.
Mark pops up, invading my space. Our flirting remains mostly innocent. Both of us know we’d never cross that line. Plus, he just doesn’t do it for me. His shifter senses allow him to smell when I’m needy or even angry.
“You wound me, devil woman.”
“You’re a drama queen.” Greyson steals my menu. I don’t snatch it back because I have it memorized, and I still don’t know what I want.
“I am not.” Mark pushes in closer, indignation dripping from his voice. “Baby, you can’t tell me you don’t want to feel this knot?”
I don’t. Not at all.
“Don’t do it, Nes,” Greyson warns. We’ve only known each other for the duration I’ve lived here, and somehow, he already knows me far too well. A fact that should terrify me. Instead, it excites me.
I tilt my head to the side.
Screw it, I’m going to do it.
I slap my palm against his flaccid dick, which is hidden behind his jeans, and grip him tight. A normal man would fall to the ground crying because his dick got slapped. Not Mark, because Mark isn’t human, he’s a shifter. Shifters are unique, rare to this world. Their history is that they were born of beast and took the form of a man, keeping all the fun parts of a beast, like a knot. One I don’t feel.
Mark’s eyes light up with a spark of interest before they dart behind me to Greyson, looking for permission.
I tsk under my breath. “Mark, stop teasing me. There is no knot here.” I squeeze once more before letting him go. “Guess it just isn’t meant to be,” I singsong before releasing a dramatic, defeated sigh and turning to face a chuckling Daisy.
Besides, I’m a mortal with a few spare gifts. We don’t get a fated mate.
“Hungry?” She pushes a strawberry milkshake and a bleeding burger before me. “The blood of your enemies and their beasts for your meal, milady.” She winks before heading back to the kitchen.
My stomach growls in anticipation.
“I feel violated.” Mark slips onto his stool, slouching over the countertop.
“She didn’t violate you, you asked her if she wanted your knot.” Greyson pushes the menu away, his icy blue eyes taking me in as I gaze longingly at my burger.
“She grabbed my dick.” Mark rests his chin on the counter before rolling it toward me. His big brown eyes stare up at me like the
