Blissful Demise: Nox: Succubus, #1

Chapter One

(This book begins three months before the end of Trickster’s Treachery.)

YOU WILL MEET A TALL, dark and handsome stranger who will sweep you off your feet, Madam Quilla Astrid predicted as she studied the tarot cards. They were arranged in a pattern on the small round table that sat in the center of the room. Not much over five feet tall, the gypsy was slender, had a bold nose, olive skin and long, curly, dark brown hair. She was one of the few Night Cursed beings who hadn’t been completely drained of her energy. Like all of her kind, a black tattoo was branded onto her skin. Her tattoo was on the back of her left hand.

Eden mentally rolled her eyes at the cheesy, predictable fortune. I was hoping for something a little more original than that, she said.

Madam Quilla’s style was eccentric to say the least. She wore a multilayered, multicolored dress and a black shawl that kept slipping off her shoulders. A headband with silver discs attached to it encircled her forehead. Her fingers were covered in rings and multiple bracelets on both wrists jingled with her every movement. Half a dozen necklaces adorned her neck. Frankly, it was an outfit that no uncursed fortune teller would be caught dead in.

The seer looked at her and her gaze seemed far too sharp for one of her kind. Night Cursed beings were usually little more than vapid, brainless morons. Their memories were wiped clean each night, so they lived in a perpetual rut. The cards don’t lie, Madam Quilla said, then pointed at one of them. It depicted a man wearing a black cloak with the hood forward to hide his face. I see danger hovering around you both, the gypsy went on as she concentrated on the cards again. You have mutual enemies and you could become a powerful match. You don’t trust easily, so it will be difficult for him to woo you.

Eden gave the fortune teller a humorless smile. I highly doubt that could ever happen. I don’t have the capacity to fall in love.

Madam Quilla peered at her and Eden almost flinched at the pity she saw in her eyes. Everyone has the capacity to love, she said gravely. Even someone with a past as dark as yours.

For a moment, Eden felt as if the gypsy was looking deep into her soul. If she was, all she would see was a void. If she had a soul, it was stained beyond recognition after all the evil things she’d done. No one could love me if they really knew me, she said, struggling to get the words out through the lump that had formed in her throat.

You will be given a choice, the mystic said as her gaze became unfocused and distant. She looked past her client at something only she could see. You can continue to live your life as it is, or you can trust someone who should be your enemy. It will be dangerous and it could end with your death, but it could also give you the freedom you crave. Her gaze shifted back to her client’s face and their eyes locked. I sense you have an important destiny, Eden. It will be up to you whether you choose good, or if you choose evil.

Eden looked away to break herself from her spell, not that the gypsy was actually using magic on her. The walls of the boutique were covered in purple cloth. The table was covered in a purple cloth as well and the carpet was also purple. Fairy lights were strung from the ceiling. A few chairs were lined up against the walls. So, I’ll meet a tall, dark and handsome stranger and he’ll give me the choice between being good and evil? Eden said to sum it up.

Yep, Madam Quilla said in a cheerful tone that sounded slightly forced. You might want to keep this reading to yourself, she added as she began gathering her cards together. I doubt it’s something you’ll want anyone else to know about.

I won’t mention it to another soul, Eden agreed wryly as she stood up. She wondered who she would tell anyway. The only beings she had any contact with were her two housemates, the men who held her leash and the targets she was sent out to assassinate.

Picking up the black umbrella that she’d propped up against a leg of the table, Eden smoothed the wrinkles out of her formfitting black dress. Her stilettos sank into the thick purple carpet as she crossed to the door. When she opened it, she came face to face with Xiara Evora, otherwise known as the Guardian of Nox.

As always, Ms. Evora wore ripped black jeans, a long, lacy black shirt and a cropped black jacket with fake black and green feathers around the collar. Her platinum blonde hair was up in a ponytail. A silver sword was belted to her waist and her deadly staff called Wrath was slung over her shoulder.

Fear leaped into Eden’s throat when their eyes met. Xiara’s eyes were blue and were ringed with way too much black eyeliner. They pierced Eden just like the gypsy’s gaze had, but the huntress made no move to attack her. Maybe she’d come to have her fortune told. Whatever the reason for her presence at the boutique, she hadn’t come there for Eden.

Keeping her expression neutral, the assassin opened her umbrella to shield herself from the driving rain and strode away. She had to resist the urge to look over her shoulder at the legendary killer.

The Guardian of Nox was the public executioner for the Immortal Triumvirate, but she wasn’t the only killer they controlled. There were others who hid in the shadows, creatures like Eden who had been bred to act as the Triumvirate’s private murderers. The three lords owned the half breeds, mind, body and soul, just like they owned the Night Cursed abominations that were housed in compounds in their District.

Eden wasn’t sure what had possessed her to visit the fortune teller she’d heard so many whispers about. Rumor had it that her tarot card readings were eerily accurate despite the fact that she was a cursed being. Her kind had become shunned after the undead apocalypse that had happened twenty-four years ago, shortly before Eden had been born. The Immortal Triumvirate had drained most of the Night Cursed of their energy, which had rendered them harmless. Apparently, the cursed had been created to act as batteries that ran the city. The Drain, as it had been named, had simultaneously saved the uncursed civilians from being attacked by the Night Cursed again, but it had also doomed them to increasing poverty and hardship.

An annual Energy Tax had been implemented to keep Nox running. Every uncursed citizen had to give up some of their magic or lifeforce each year on Halloween in order for the Districts to continue to function. Most of the population were weak from the yearly tax and had become malnourished due to the shortage of food. For a being like Eden, there would never be a lack of sustenance. While she ate normal food, she craved something else. Something that she could only get from other living beings.

She’d walked a few blocks away from the mystic’s boutique near the City Square by now. A thought occurred to her and her hand clenched around the handle of the umbrella. I didn’t tell the gypsy my name, she murmured. Maybe the seer was the real deal after all rather than a charlatan as she’d figured.

Eden’s feet had carried her close to a bridge that led to the Shifter District as she pondered about the city she’d been born in and had no chance of ever leaving. One thing that hadn’t been diminished after the Drain was the spell that kept everyone imprisoned here.

The assassin sensed the lifeforce of a shapeshifter just ahead, then a low growl emanated from the mouth of an alley, breaking her from her thoughts. It took a lot of energy for shifters to transform into their wereforms and back again on the three nights of the full moon. Some opted to remain in their bestial forms indefinitely. Doing so caused them to become more animal than human over time. Their minds became warped and their instincts to hunt and kill took over.

Eden’s heels clicked to a stop and she peered into the dark alley. While she appeared to be weak and delicate, she was far from it. She was a monster wrapped up in a beautiful package. The werewolf that was staring at her so hungrily thought she was the prey, but he couldn’t have been more wrong. Eden wasn’t going to be the one who would end up as dinner tonight. He was.

Chapter Two

A SNARL RIPPED FROM the throat of the werewolf, then he rushed towards the assassin. Eden reached into her purse for the silver dagger she carried and braced herself for an impact that never came. Strong arms wrapped around her from behind and she was swung off her feet. She dropped her umbrella in surprise, and the dagger slipped back into her purse. She had to shield her face with her hands as wind and rain lashed her when her rescuer took off with blinding speed.

They stopped a few minutes later and she was placed back on her feet. The hair that she’d carefully pinned up in an elaborate updo was bedraggled now. Her dress and shoes were soaked and her makeup had most likely run. She figured she probably looked like a clown. She surreptitiously reached into her purse to grip her dagger again and turned to face the vampire who had kidnapped her.

Instead of grabbing her and sinking his fangs into her neck, he just stood there, looking down at her with a slight smile on his undeniably handsome face. A couple of inches over six feet tall, rich, dark brown hair framed his face. His eyes were green and light stubble covered his square jaw. Dressed in a black cloak, he looked just like the figure on Madam Quilla’s tarot card. He’d pulled his hood up to shadow his face before she’d turned to face him, which had deepened the resemblance.

"Are you alright, mademoiselle?" he asked. His voice was deep and his accent was European, but Eden didn’t know where he’d originated from. How could she, when she’d never left Nox and knew practically nothing about the outside world?

I’m fine, she said, still rattled from being snatched off the sidewalk without warning. Why did you save me from the werewolf? He’d taken her to one of the many abandoned buildings in the city. They were now in the Fae District, in the suburbs where the fairies lived.

He shrugged and his movements were inhumanly graceful. It seemed like a shame to allow such a beautiful woman to be mauled to death.

She sighed inwardly at the compliment that she’d heard far too many times to count. Eden knew she was beautiful. Her genetics made it impossible for her to be ugly. Strangely, her innate magic began to rise of its own volition and reached out towards him. She always kept it on a tight leash, but it was trying to escape from her. He shivered a little when her allure caressed him with invisible hands. Her magic didn’t work on his kind, so he shouldn’t have been able to feel it. Thank you, stranger, she said and let go of her dagger, since it didn’t look like he was going to attack her. I owe you my life. She hadn’t actually needed his help, but it seemed like the appropriate thing to say. She wasn’t used to dealing with people she hadn’t been sent to kill and she hadn’t been trained to engage in small talk.

"It was my pleasure, mon cher," he replied and it was her turn to shiver in reaction. She felt drawn to this man despite what he was. The undead couldn’t feed her craving for energy. She couldn’t ingest the necromantic magic that sustained their bodies. She found herself craving something else instead. Her seductive magic oozed towards the bloodsucker, but he vanished in a puff of wind. He’d moved so fast that she hadn’t been able to track him.

Eden stood alone in the empty house as her magic swirled around her in agitation. After a few seconds, it sank back into her and became dormant again. She was disturbed by the desire she’d felt because it was the first time her body had ever reacted to a man in that way.

The vampire assumed she was fae because of her beauty, but he was only half right. Her mother had been a fairy, but her father had been something else. His name had been Tannic and he’d been an incubus. She’d heard Xiara Evora had executed him after he’d gone rogue and had drained a bunch of women to death. Eden felt no anger towards the Guardian of Nox for doing her job. She’d never met either of her parents and she didn’t even know who her mother was. For all she knew, she could still be locked up by the Immortal Triumvirate, being forced to breed more babies to become their servants.

She could only distantly feel her fairy magic. Lord Dallinar had locked it away inside her when she’d been a baby so she couldn’t access it. The Triumvirate had wanted a female minion who possessed the same talents as an incubus. Their wish had come true when she’d been born. She was a succubus and she could drain the life out of her targets within minutes.

From a young age, she’d been trained to be an assassin for her overlords. The rest of the city might think their rulers were benevolent, but she knew what they really were. They were vain, selfish, arrogant and evil to the core.

Memories of years of abuse washed over her. As a succubus, she used her feminine wiles to lure men to their deaths. Her innate magic could bemuse most species, with the exception of the undead. As a vampire, Lord Kreaton was safe from her spell. The other two lords who ruled the City of Night were immune due to the enchantment Lord Dallinar had used to bind her to them. All three men had used her body for their pleasure countless times once she’d reached puberty. Her beauty had been too hard for them to resist. It was a relief when their interest in her had finally worn off. The fairy lord had stopped bedding her years ago, but the master vampire and alpha werewolf had continued until a couple of years ago. Now they just used her to kill their enemies, which was fine with her. She wasn’t yet twenty-five, yet she felt ancient and weary.

It would take her a couple of hours to get home from here, so she left the house and started walking. While she was half fae, she didn’t live in the suburbs where the fairies or elves dwelled. Her home was near the City Square.

Once upon a time, Nox had been brightly lit by magical streetlamps. Now, they were few and far between. What little light they cast was dim and Nox truly had become the City of Night. Skeletons still drove carriages to ferry people to their destinations, but they were far scarcer now.

Eden was in luck and a carriage rumbled towards her after she’d been walking for a few minutes. Instead of being pulled by horses, they were powered by magic. They were always black and looked like something that would be suitable for a funeral procession. The skeleton sensed she needed a ride and pulled over to the curb before she could lift her hand to hail it. The walking corpse’s brittle, ivory colored bones creaked when it turned to look down at her. Eyeless sockets gaped darkly as it waited to hear her destination. She told it where she wanted to go, then climbed into the back. The seats were soft and were covered in plush black fabric. She sank back against it as they headed for the heart of the city.

The vampire who had saved her from the werewolf played on Eden’s mind during her journey. Madam Quilla’s prediction had come true. She’d been swept off her feet by a tall, dark and handsome man. None of the rest of her reading had happened, though. She hadn’t been given a choice of any kind. The stranger had dropped her off in an abandoned house, then had vanished into the gloom. He hadn’t tried to woo her at all.

While a small part of the assassin was slightly disappointed that the seer’s prediction had proven to be false, the rest of her was relieved. Hearing her talk about mutual enemies, of choosing between good and evil and her having an important destiny had unsettled Eden. She longed for freedom from the Immortal Triumvirate, but she knew she could never escape from them.

Many rebels had tried to overthrow Lord Dallinar, Lord Kreaton and Lord Graham over the forty-nine years the city had existed, but none had succeeded. No one had the power to take them down. It occurred to her that maybe the uncursed weren’t so different from the Night Cursed beings they felt such contempt for. They were all stuck in a rut with no hope of ever changing their destinies.

Chapter Three

SEBASTIAN SOUGHT REFUGE from the rain in one of the many abandoned houses in the Vampire District. He’d been on a scouting mission near the City Square when he’d spied a werewolf about to attack a delicate, dark-haired beauty. Despite the fact that he’d been a monster for over a thousand years, a shred of chivalry still remained inside him. He’d swept the woman into his arms and had carried her to safety before she could be injured.

His fangs descended at the memory of how close the werewolf had come to shredding the helpless female apart. If they’d been anywhere other than in Nox,