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Authors: Katana Collins

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BOOK: Soul Survivor
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His eyes darkened. “Maybe I'll get my own room.”
“Maybe that's best,” I said.
 
I managed to avoid Drew and Adrienne for most of the pre-boarding stuff. And even now, as we were in line to get our seats on the plane, I stayed at the front of the group and they hung in the back.
I hiked my bag over my shoulder, wishing not for the first time that I had thought to pack a bag that rolled. I had more strength than most humans—so it wasn't that the bag was heavy. Just an annoyance.
“I still can't believe you managed to get a first-class upgrade. Bitch,” George said beside me, nudging my shoulder with a smirk. “Five minutes with me and that straight boy would have been playing for another team.”
Damien snorted. “It is going to be a long,
long
weekend.”
I shifted the bag to my other shoulder, changing weight on my hips.
“Need a little help with that?” Damien's breath on my neck quivered deep within my belly. Sex was a drug for me. One that got deep under my skin making me ache for it. The more I had it on a frequent basis, the more I craved it. The stirrings of my itch began between my legs and I swallowed, suppressing the urge. It wouldn't be satiated with Damien anyway, so what was the point?
For pleasure, you idiot
, said a little voice in the back of my head. I pushed it away. Sex was a means of survival; that was it.
“I'm fine.” But even as I said it, I could feel my neck muscles tense.
He wrapped a finger into my hair, twirling it around, and let his fingernail graze my jaw. “Well, well, well, I didn't realize I had such an effect on you.” His finger slid against my moist skin, slick with a sheen of sweat. I shifted it quickly away.
“We would now like to welcome our first-class passengers,” a woman's voice echoed over the intercom. I took off, leaving the group behind me and made a beeline for my seat on the plane. I just needed to get comfortable in my leather chair with a glass of crisp, white wine. After stuffing my bag in the compartment above, I collapsed into the seat, shut my eyes, and crossed my legs in a weak attempt to satiate the itch raging between them. The leather was cool beneath me and no one else came to sit in the seat beside me. I couldn't help but wonder if Aaron had arranged for that as well.
“Hey again.” Aaron slid into the seat next to mine. He was so tall that his knees were at a forty-five-degree angle while he sat.
I couldn't help but smile when I saw him. “Hi, back. You're nothing if not persistent, huh?”
He returned my smile and brushed away a piece of hair that I had purposefully let fall into my eyes. Guys were always a sucker for that. “I was going to ask you before the angry guy interrupted us—did you want to come hang out in the cockpit? My captain said he wouldn't mind if you wanted to chat in there while he took care of pre-flight preparations.”
My smile spread even wider at the absurdity of the question. I was, of course, already a member of the mile-high club . . . but never from within the navigation area.
“Are you saying you want to show me your
cock
pit?”
Oh, this could be fun. . . .
His smile fell into a needy look that make all my hairs stand on end. “That's exactly what I'm saying.” He leaned closer, eyes flashing with something deprived and determined.
“Is there any way to see inside while we're in the air . . . ?”
The question registered on his face with shock, and his mouth dropped before he answered. As he blinked, the lust faded from his eyes and they brimmed with a new hesitation. “Uh—well, we have pretty strict rules. I-I don't know. . . .”
“That's okay,” I cut him off. Maybe he was more innocent than I had originally thought. Besides, as I'd thought before—it truly was a bad idea to take time off the life of the man who was flying my plane. I wouldn't die, but a plane crash would hurt like a bitch.
“No, wait.” He looked panicked and held a hand up, palm out. “We each take breaks once we get to our desired altitude. We take fifteen minutes to get water, stretch, use the restroom, etc. I could get you in while he's on that break—but”—he swallowed, eyes darting around the plane and lowered his voice—“we'd have to be quick about it.”
My mouth twitched and I suppressed a smirk. “Quick about what, Aaron?” I asked, eyes wide, head tilted. Again, he opened his mouth to answer, but seemed at a loss for words. I put a hand to his face and brushed my thumb across his bottom lip. The itch flashed from deep in my core and I closed my eyes ignoring her pleas. “It's probably a little risky, huh? Maybe we should wait and meet up properly. After we land, I could probably grab a drink somewhere, if you're interested?” It was an absurd question; of course he was interested.
There was a droop to his eyelids. A sadness, perhaps at the thought I wouldn't be joining him for some in-air playtime. “Promise? A drink when we land?”
He was a little stalker-like, sure. But I'd need to stock up on energy reserves somewhere.
“Sure. After we're on the ground.”
8
Ireland, 1740
 
“I
found a warlock,” Julian rushed in from outside, shutting the heavy wood door from the frost, chilly air gushing in with him.
I ran to him, taking some of the wool he'd brushed from the few sheep we had managed to keep alive.
“Someone who can reverse Carman's spell?”
“We can only hope. He certainly has status and monetary means to accomplish it. As of yet, he is our closest chance.”
“You must go to him. Immediately. I can tend to the ill.”
Julian's face tensed, eyes shining. “I'm not going to him. You are.”
I took a step away from my mentor. Surely he had misspoken. “You cannot put the fate of these people in my hands,” I whispered, gesturing behind me to where the sick lay in pain. “I have no idea what I'm doing.”
“We have little choice in this matter, Monica. We can't teleport into the grounds—only right outside it. I already attempted to discuss matters with him.” Jules's face darkened, a grimness settling over his features and he suddenly looked weary. “But his footmen demanded that you be sent in my place.”
“Me? How did they know me?”
He shrugged and a tension set in his jaw and in his beautifully manicured eyebrows. “I wish I knew. They asked for you by name.”
The door blew open with a frigid gust of wind and I hugged my body, shivering as Julian ran, using all his body weight and supernatural muscle to force it shut against the pressure of Carman's angry winds.
He glided forward and his large arms encompassed me in an embrace. He rested his chin on my head and moved his hands up and down my body from shoulder to wrist. “You must go. We have no choice. Believe me, I don't want to leave you in the hands of this sorcerer, but I have faith you are ready to take on this mission. If something goes wrong, all you have to do is call for me and I can be there before this warlock blinks.”
“We both know that it takes less than a blink for a warlock to cast a spell—especially one powerful enough to take on Carman.”
“You mustn't think that way. He's powerful, but he's no match for an angel.”
I turned my nose to the center of his chest and inhaled his spicy scent. Like peppermint. “You could barely shut the door just now.”
“A little faith, seraphim.” One hand stopped moving against my arm and clasped my palm, weaving his fingers through mine, pulling my body even closer to his. “Carman is a force to be reckoned with. I could take her—but restrictions prevent me from doing so. We cannot interfere directly with the day-to-day dealings of humans. All we can do is be here to help aid in their sickness. This warlock will have his work cut out for him.” The other hand traced my clavicle up the curve of my neck before landing on my jaw. “Hold on tightly, seraphim.”
A crack echoed through the air and when I opened my eyes, we stood on Dame Street in Dublin. Julian's hand still held mine, the other rested on my jaw. “You are here to see Lord Buckley,” he whispered, leaning his head to mine. Jules nuzzled my temple as he took a deep breath, his chest expanding into my nose. “Be careful,” he whispered, his lips dangerously close. His nose brushed the length of mine and my mouth went dry. A sharp inhale escaped him as I ran a tongue over my lips, his body stiffening beneath my hand.
“I must go.” His voice was harder. “The sick need one of us there.”
He unlocked his fingers from mine, taking two steps back. His eyes were sad as the crack sounded through the air. He'd disappeared so quickly one would have thought I had been standing alone in the street the whole time.
Turning, I faced the castle. Two men flanked the entrance, standing guard with eyes straight ahead. An outdoor roof was built over the gate and shaded the sun from directly hitting them. The one on the right—with eyes so dark, they almost looked black—glanced at me, his gaze tracing down my face and landing on my neck. My heart beat so loudly, I was certain he could hear it hammering against my ribs. There was something unsettling about the men. Something dangerous and supernatural. A warning shimmied across my skin as I looked upon them. Vampires.
A gust of wind sliced across my face and whistled in my ear. The whistling transformed into a scream. A shrill cry that brought the memory of fiery hair and hollow, milky eyes to the forefront of my memory once again.
9
I
awoke with a start, popping up and out of my seat, the scream still echoing throughout the cabin. I covered my ears with two palms and the sound quickly dulled. My clammy skin stuck to the leather and it felt as though I were covered with a thin film. Shifting the sweat away, I stole a glance over my shoulder around the first-class cabin to see if there were any witnesses to my sudden wake-up call. Once again, no one else had heard the scream. Of course they hadn't.
From what I could see, everyone was either reading or watching the little televisions plastered to the seats in front of them. In an instant, the anxiety melted away and I let my head fall back against the seat. The last thing I wanted to do was fall asleep again. Though it didn't seem to matter whether I was awake or asleep; the Banshee reared her ugly head whenever she damned well pleased.
The seat belt clicked as I threw it to the side. As much as I enjoyed first class, right now all I wanted was company. As I stood, a flight attendant came rushing to my side.
“May I help you with something, miss?”
She looked to be in her forties with chemically processed red hair. Attractive, but only one cigarette away from looking haggard.
I smiled sweetly back at her. I had done the flight attendant thing back in the golden days—a Pan Am girl. It was a tough job, made even more difficult by annoying and disgruntled passengers. Granted, in my day it was made more difficult by handsy businessmen who existed before sexual harassment was a thing.
“No, thank you. I was just going to head to the back to chat with a friend of mine I'm traveling with.”
“Well, there's plenty of room up here if he decides he wants a row to himself. Any friend of Aaron's . . .” Her words trailed off, eyes dropping to the floor.
I thanked her again and dipped myself beneath the curtain that separated the two areas. As I walked down the aisle, I felt a little bad for how cramped the others must have felt. All the passengers looked like adults being stuffed into children's furniture. Their legs up by their chests. Arms forced in their laps. Maybe I should invite George up front with me. Then Damien could have his own row and I'd have someone to keep me company.
A lump caught in my throat as I approached, seeing Drew and Adrienne. They were sleeping, Adrienne clinging to his arm, head against his shoulder. And Drew's body was angled away from hers, sleeping against the window. The small light above shined down on Adrienne, creating an angelic glow with bits of dust that shimmered and sparkled within the beam of light. Their hands were clasped together in a tangled web of affection; the intimacy was enough to bring bile up my throat. It felt so voyeuristic, watching them asleep together. Like I was a fly on the wall in one of their bedrooms late at night.
“Hey, you,” George whispered.
“Hey.” My voice sounded dead. Void of emotion and even his voice didn't manage to break the trance I felt while staring at the two.
“What are you doing back here? Shouldn't you be sipping champagne and eating food so rare it can only be hunted in international waters?”
I swallowed, still not able to tear my gaze from Drew. Tears pooled at the base of my eyes threatening to spill down my cheeks.
“Hey,” George said again, not a greeting this time, but a consolation. He took hold of my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
With a sniff, I swiped the back of my hand across my nose and brushed across my cheeks. “I'm fine,” I said, louder, and finally tore my eyes away from the scene. “Just wanted to say hi.” I scanned for Damien and didn't see him.
George nodded in the direction of the back bathroom. “He's back there.”
“If you wanna come up to first class, there's plenty of room.” My eyes darted to the
happy couple
again. “But just you,” I added. “No one else.”
My heart felt like a black hole these days. A black hole that continually sucked away any and all happiness. And for the first time in months, I thought it might actually be smart to quit the cafe. Though the threat had been conceived out of stubbornness, perhaps it was the best thing. For both Drew
and
me.
“Sure,” George said. And his eyes flickered with sadness—no, sympathy. For me. The thought of someone feeling sorry for me burned through my veins, bringing my blood to a low simmer. There were a lot of people in this world to pity—I was definitely not one of them.
“I might not be there, though. I've got . . . matters to attend to.” My voice had a hardness to it that hadn't been there moments ago.
George's eyes narrowed, a tilted smile curving to his eyes. “Matters? Might these matters be currently flying our plane?”
I swallowed and in lieu of an answer, pivoted, making my way to the cockpit.
“That's my girl,” George said, releasing his hold on my fingers.
Back in first class, I went to my seat, waiting for the right moment. The flight attendants packed the snack cart and went into the economy class to start serving drinks.
Just as I'd suspected, within a few minutes, the captain came out, stepping into the restroom. Ducking down in my seat slightly, I shifted to look like the flight attendant and surreptitiously stood, walking over to the galley. The bathroom door banged shut behind him as he exited and came over next to me. He had lots of gray hair and a little belly poking out from under his uniform.
“Hi, Captain,” I said with a little salute.
“Hey, Meg,” he answered with a sigh, grabbing a water bottle.
“Rough night?”
He ran a hand across his face, skin sagging beneath his heavy touch. “Just exhausted. It's my third flight today.”
“I talked to Aaron earlier. He seems very refreshed—and there's an empty row right up there.” I gestured to the first row in first class. “You could probably sit for twenty minutes or so.” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “I won't tell anyone.”
“Really?” His eyes widened. “That would be great. . . .” His words faded off as he looked at me through narrowed eyes. “You're usually such a stickler for the rules. What's going on?”
Shit.
I shrugged and sent him what I hoped was a nonchalant smile. “I'd just rather have my captain rested during a flight.” He didn't say anything else, but nodded in agreement. “Get yourself a blanket and pillow. I'll go tell Aaron where you'll be for your break.”
“Thanks,” he said, heading to the first row.
Still in Meg's flight attendant uniform, I turned to the cockpit, shifting my face back to myself and slowly turning my hair back to blond. I rapped a knuckle on the door and entered. Once the door shut, I shifted my hair completely back to its normal shade.
“Quick break,” Aaron said, not taking his eyes off a book in his lap.
I kept Meg's uniform on, making sure my hair was rumpled and sexy with big, soft curls that flowed just below my shoulders. “We've only got fifteen minutes. You better make it count, First Officer.”
His eyes widened to the size of quarters, the book falling out of his lap. “How did you—how did you get that outfit?”
I, of course, had shifted the skirt tighter and shorter and wore a blazer that dipped dangerously low into my cleavage with no shirt underneath. “You like it? May I get you a beverage? Some peanuts?” Taking my time, I strolled over to him. It was a short walk and I was soon swinging a leg over his lap to sit facing him. “I could offer you warm tea—as long as you save the tea bags for me.”
His shocked face melted quickly into one of lust, and grabbing the back of my neck, he pulled my face toward his. His kiss was urgent and almost as hard as he was.
Aaron groaned, two large and capable hands massaging my breasts through the blazer. They eventually landed on my hips, squeezing my ass. “They said you were good—but I didn't think you'd be this good.”
I froze, an icy chill creeping up my spine. As quickly as the theories formed in my head, Aaron had my wrists clutched in his hands and pinned them to my sides.
“I wasn't initially planning on fucking you before killing you—but now that we've started, I think this might be worth losing a few days of my life.”
My body trembled and I flailed my arms wildly about in an attempt to break his hold on me. With my superhuman strength, I should have been able to break his grasp as easily as one peels a banana. A chant that I immediately recognized as witchcraft came from his beautiful lips, barely moving. The foreign language slid easily over his tongue and teeth much in the same way one plays a tune from memory on the piano. My strength was nothing compared to the spell he had just cast.
When he finished the incantation, he tutted in a condescending way.
I closed my eyes, using the power stored from past sexual conquests to shift into a three-hundred pound man. When I opened them again, he was pinned beneath my massive body, face stricken with panic. “Still wanna fuck me before you kill me?” My voice had dropped several octaves.
“You bitch!” he shouted, letting go of my wrists immediately, and I pulled myself off of him, shifting back into my typical human body.
He was now standing at the other end of the cockpit, panting heavily. Relief? Fear? Who the Hell cared. I raised my chin. “The bounty. You've been sent to kill me?”
“Of course,” he barely blinked.
I almost laughed. “They sent a human? To kill a demon? You poor fool . . .” I muttered the last part under my breath.
“You're being naïve if you think I'm merely human.”
“Even as a warlock, you're still a mortal man. You have no idea what you're up against.”
“Ulikai Magen Etu Euto Ulikai Magen . . .” He eyes shut during the chant and a debilitating pain seared through my insides as though a fire were spreading across my organs. Clutching my stomach I fell to my knees, crying out.
His words faded away and so did my pain. I was afraid to look up into those eyes again. Afraid at what I'd see. He knelt down, taking my chin between a thumb and forefinger. “So beautiful,” he whispered.
“Can I ask who sent you? At the very least, I deserve to know who's behind my death.”
“All I know is they came to me knowing my flights are based out of Vegas. Someone else local turned the gig down.”
Someone local.
“And how much are you getting paid?”
Keep him talking....
“I'll be fairly compensated, upon . . . completion of the job.” I gulped, in an attempt to swallow my fear. “But I'll also receive whatever assets you have tied up, as well. And from what I've heard, you've been around for some time and have been quite the little saver.”
“So . . . what? You're going to explode my insides with some crazy witchcraft?”
“I have a spell I've been perfecting for quite some time now. Something that will help eradicate the world of your kind.”
“Looking to go down in the history books, are you?”
His eyebrow arched in place of an answer and a smile spread to reach his eyes as they flicked to the clock on the dashboard. “I'd love to keep chatting, darling, but we're almost out of time.”
He began a different chant this time, one that hung low in his throat, and wind started rushing around us as if someone had opened a window. My hair whipped my cheeks and neck as if someone were lashing my skin. A thin line of fire circled around where I stood, and I froze as I realized what was next to come. Salt. And once I was encased within the salt and fire, I'd be trapped; he'd be able to send me anywhere he wanted in a blink.
My own incantation escaped my lips before my brain could stop it and the wind that was swirling around the room funneled directly to the fire, blowing it out.
Aaron's eyes darted around the room and he stood staring at me, ready to pounce if needed. “How did you do that?” he shouted.
I smirked in an equally evil grin that mirrored his. “Guess we've both got our trade secrets, huh?”
His eyes were wide; terror. “No, it's not possible. A succubus's abilities end with shapeshifting.”
“Do they?” I smiled. Oh, this was turning out to be fun. Granted, he was far more advanced in witchcraft than me. But I was now certain that I could at least stave him off until the captain returned.
He advanced toward me—not quite a run, but faster than your average walk. The space in the room was shortened, and his legs were so long, it would only take him mere steps to reach me.
“Shantu Kii Meremeii,” I spoke while envisioning a knife. Instead, a broadsword materialized in my hand.
With the momentum he was moving toward me, Aaron was unable to stop and the sword sliced through his body with an ease I hadn't realized was possible. It was easy to forget that human lives were so fragile. His mouth hung open and he gurgled something that I didn't understand as he fell to his knees.
“Oh, shit,” I whispered falling with him. “Oh shit, oh shit. I didn't mean to kill you—I just wanted to fight you off.”
He still couldn't speak and fell farther to the ground on his side, legs curled in a fetal position. The sword stuck out from his body like a skewered piece of meat. With one last gurgle, his eyes glazed over and the muscles in his face relaxed. “Oh shit,” I whispered again while running a hand over his eyelids to shut them. I'd killed him. I hadn't meant to—but in the end, that didn't really matter, did it?
My hair whipped at my neck as I frantically looked around the cockpit for something to get me out of this mess. The captain would come back any minute now to find a dead man on the ground and a sexed-up stewardess busting out of her uniform. I felt around in Aaron ‘s pocket where his phone was and pulled it out. Sure, they say not to use your phones on a flight, but this was clearly an emergency. I dialed Lucien's number. It rang once before he picked up.
BOOK: Soul Survivor
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