THE MISFITS

Chapter 2

At five-foot-ten, lanky, and with a shock of platinum hair, my ex-brother still wore the sneer he'd been famous for back in the institution.

"Jonathon," I greeted him carefully. "Long time no see." And I could have done with a lot longer, given the last time I'd seen him he'd had his pants around his ankles and a bleeding nose. I still fondly remembered the conversation he had with the edge of my fist.

His attempted rape earned him solitary at the institution, and I lost my pudding at dinner - a huge bummer at the time.

After the uprising, I never saw him again, although I'd had chance encounters over the years with others. They weren't happy family reunions, needless to say, but I was proud to say I'd always come out on top.

"Love the new name, Trixi." Jonathon coughed up a nasty chuckle as he recited the fluffy name I'd given myself, but seriously, who wanted an exotic dancer called Beth? Besides, as far as I was concerned, Beth had died along with my old life. The new me didn't like to remember the humanity I'd lost.

"What brings you to town?" I asked while unobtrusively scanning the darkness of the alley for his two companions.

"This and that," he answered vaguely. "You know, the whole crew has missed you. I know they'd love to see you again." His yellow eyes narrowed as he smiled at me with pronounced canines.

Why what sharp teeth you have. An aspect of Jonathon's curse, along with an allergy to sunlight.

"I'll just bet you've missed me. How is your nose?" I might have smirked as I asked.

"Still as mouthy as ever, I see. We'll have to fix that."

Him and what army? I wouldn't go down easy. "What do you want?"

The smile on his lips was more chilling than the expression in his eyes. "You."

Shudder. It didn't take a genius to realize he and his friends probably whacked off to visions of me naked, cuffed, and spread eagle, a fleshy buffet for them to feed on.

I decided to stop wasting time with idle chitchat. Any i***t could tell this wasn't a social call. Besides, attacking Jonathon would probably draw the other two out. Not bad odds for someone special like me - and I was hungry, having skipped out on work early before fully feeding.

I turned it on, the half of me that fascinated men, the side that drew them with a sensual allure they couldn't resist. Say hello to my succubus side. "Mmm, I see someone still has fantasies about what could have been. Wanna play?" With a sensual smile that promised delight, I sashayed toward Jonathon, the hypnotic sway of my body capturing him and allowing me to approach.

My brothers considered themselves predators - the baddest bunch around. Ha, they looked like amateurs compared to me. After all, I was the only one who'd gotten both sides of the curse - and lived. Perhaps I had an inflated sense of my worth, but then again, so far the score was Trixi, fifteen, and bad guys, zero.

Held under my sensual spell, Jonathon could only blink as I neared him. The nails on the tips of my fingers extended into claws - really sharp and deadly ones. My canines - a present from my other, more sinister half - also descended as my adrenaline ramped up in anticipation of the violence I was about to unleash.

Time to open a can of whoop ass.

Close now, I leaned toward Jonathon, inhaling his scent, only to wrinkle my nose. Ugh, he stank. Not physically, but metaphysically, the experimentation doing to him what only death does to humans - stripping his soul, his very aura. Without it, he smelled of decay, the sickly sweet scent of the grave, even as his body appeared intact. Yet, even without his soul, my succubus powers worked on him, but in his case, I'd feed on his very life, the spark that animated him - though not for much longer.

Bad smell or not, former brother in torture or not, he needed to die before he could tell others he'd seen me. I liked my new life and my friends, thank you very much. I wouldn't let him and his covetous nature ruin it for me.

I pressed against him, my mouth opening and preparing to suck the life - putrid as it was - right out of him.

"Now," Jonathon croaked, managing to force the word out through the enthralling spell I'd placed him under.

How surprising. Usually, once I had them under my spell, they couldn't move until I released them.

My brethren had grown stronger. Not a reassuring thought given the situation.

The sound of several thumps hitting the ground behind me forced my hand - and deprived me of dinner. With a quick, slicing s***h, I opened up Jonathon's throat before he could raise a hand to defend himself. I'd lost my fear of violence after my escape when I realized it was kill or be killed. As Jonathon sagged to the ground, leaving the wall he leaned against bare, I whirled and pressed my back against the rough concrete.

It would seem I had miscalculated. Jonathon might have entered the club with only two lackeys, but facing me were a half-dozen faces, of which I only recognized two.

Who were these strangers? And a better question, were they vamps like my experimental brothers?

My question was quickly answered. With a snarl that showed a lot of pointed teeth, they dove on me. Deciding the bottom of the pile wasn't a good position for me - I preferred to ride my bucking men - I sprang into the air, calling forth my tarnished wings, which burst from my back in a shower of fluffy grey feathers. I was a woman with many hidden talents.

At the apex of my leap, I flapped my wings, to no avail. Gravity pulled me down with the help of a tall attacker, who wrapped his hands around my ankle, acting as an anchor keeping me grounded.

Pump my wings as I might, my free foot kicking at the restraining hands, I couldn't break free, and the whole gang joined in pulling me down.

A piercing shriek escaped me, not of maidenly distress but rage.

How dare they!

I'd suffered as much as they. We should have shared a bond. We should have banded together against those who tortured and changed us. Instead, because I'd turned out different than all of them, they thirsted for me.

Unfair. I just wanted my freedom and to be left alone. Simple needs that would prove impossible if I let them get away with news of my continuing existence. I stopped my attempts to escape and let myself suddenly fall, my unexpected capitulation sending them stumbling.

As I hit the ground, I moved. My fist shot out and jabbed the one who'd clipped my wings, the diaphragm shot bending him over to gasp. Even if they were no longer human, one thing remained the same - they still needed to breathe.

Hulking bodies with glowing yellow eyes and gnashing teeth moved in to crowd me. That wouldn't do at all. I needed breathing room to lay down the law - my law.

My wings retracted as I spun and kicked out, my high-heeled foot hitting and sinking into soft flesh. For a moment, my stiletto stuck, but a vicious yank set my foot free, and the figure slumped to the ground gushing blood.

Ew. I'd ruined my shoes. This evening was getting worse all the time.

A blow from behind snapped my head forward, but I'd been hit harder than that before - the hospital staff didn't know the word gentle - and before I'd even brought my head back up, my foot kicked backwards like a pissed donkey and connected with some soft male parts. His squeal brought a grim smile to my lips.

My fists were also busy, driving forward, claws extended, to rip and punch with bloody effect.

The problem with fighting others like me, though, was the rate at which we healed. Even as I took one down, the first bounced up again, his eyes burning and his lips pulled back over snarling teeth.

I had to admit it wasn't looking good for me, but I refused to give up. Even if they managed to take me down and capture me, I'd never stop fighting. I'd learned one important lesson while in that prison shrouded under the guise of a hospital. Freedom was the most precious thing I could own, and by damn, I wouldn't allow anyone to take that from me again, not without a vicious fight.

Slugging left and right, kicking back and forth, covered in a sticky layer of blood, I wasn't aware the tide of the battle had changed until the body I fought fell over and I discovered there was nothing left to hit. And yet, the sound of someone's fist hitting flesh still filled the air. Except it wasn't mine.

I pivoted in time to see the last of my attackers drop, laid flat by a giant of a man, and I mean giant.

My lips parted to say thank you, but the words became caught in my throat as eyes glowing the green of fresh spring grass rose to meet mine. For once, I was the one spellbound.

My breath caught, my lower extremities heated, and my lips parted on a sigh. I couldn't see the face of my sparring partner, the gloom of the alley hung too deep, but I didn't care because, sinking into the green depths of his eyes, I felt a calming peace - and a naughty thrill. I took a step toward him, or I meant to, but my legs buckled. I sank to my knees, my mind fuzzy with incomprehension.

Am I injured? I didn't recall receiving any severe wounds.

Peeking down at myself, I noted the blood staining my clothes and skin. I vaguely felt the sting and throb of dozens of scratches and bruises, none of them grievous enough to cause such a weakness. The needle, however, sticking out of my side explained a lot.

"Fuckers," I slurred before keeling forward on my face.

*

Yawn. Stretch. I awoke in a bed - a nice, fluffy, soft one. And so totally not mine.

Now you might think, being part succubus, that I woke in strange beds all the time. Not true. Sleepovers implied intimacy and trust. I never indulged in either.

Thus, finding myself at someone's mercy meant I sprang out of the bed in a flash, instinct placing me in front of a wall while my eyes scanned the room I found myself in.

As rooms went, it was actually quite nice...and confusing.

Did I die and go to heaven?

A valid question, given everything around me - from the sheets to the walls to the rugs - gleamed a snowy white, including the T-shirt covering my body - a huge tent of material that hung down to my knees. The reassuring feel of my thong between my cheeks and lack of labial soreness led me to believe that, despite my undressed - or considering what I usually wore, dressed - state, I was unmolested. But that begged the question...

"What the f**k?"

"Maybe later," replied a deep voice that shot a shiver right down to my toes, but especially lingered in my crotch.

I whirled and beheld a behemoth - a handsome one, but still a freaking beast of a man. He towered over me, and thick muscles stretched the fabric of the - you guessed it - white T-shirt he wore. His thighs strained the seams of his jeans, and peeking down, I noted the size of his bare feet - extra freaking large.

He was handsome in a square-jawed, nose-flattened-by fists kind of way - in other words, a brute of a man. The most shocking feature of his appearance, though, if one ignored his size, was his hair. White and tinged with the blue of an iceberg in the northern seas, it stood in spikes on his crown, but despite its pale color, he appeared to be in his early thirties.

My arousal woke with a sensual purr, tightening my n*****s and moistening my cleft. He was so totally my type, which made me distrust him right off the bat. "Who the hell are you?"

"Funny, I was going to ask you the same thing." His green eyes twinkled, and even without the glow, I recognized them.

"You're the guy who helped me out last night." Which didn't make him a good guy in my books - yet. But it did mean I'd give him a chance to prove he didn't have nefarious intentions toward my body before I killed him. Or I'd let him f**k me. Either way, I'd ensure I came out on top. I was never one to look a gift horse - as in hung - in the mouth, not when I could be on my knees. "Why did you fight them?" Altruism and Good Samaritans usually stayed far away from the kind of violence I faced.

He shrugged, a nonchalant roll of a massive shoulder. "I needed the exercise."

Big, handsome, and modest. I wondered what flaw he hid.

"Thanks," I said, the word emerging grudgingly. Having survived on my own for so long, it galled me to admit his aid had saved my ass from the proverbial frying pan, but the warmth in his gaze let me know I hadn't escaped the fire yet.

"Thanks for what? If they hadn't played dirty with the tranquilizer, I do believe you'd have flattened them on your own."

Heat warmed my cheeks at his praise. I almost choked at the sensation.

What an utterly ridiculous and girly reaction. Since when did that happen?

My smile transformed into a scowl, which only deepened his grin. "Who are you, and where am I?" I asked in a grumpy tone that had a lot to do with the reaction of my body to his presence, but for my peace of mind, I'd blame on a lack of coffee.

"My name is Simon, and you're in my loft on the twelfth floor," he said, his voice a low, soothing rumble that I enjoyed way too much.

Good manners dictated I introduce myself, even if I still remained unsure of the situation - besides, in case we ended up naked in bed, he'd need a name to bellow when I gave him the best orgasm of his life. "My name is Beth." I almost slapped a hand over my mouth when my old name came flying out as natural as you please. I must have looked shocked, for he tilted his head.

"Beth. It's much nicer than your stage name, I must say."

"How do you know about that?"

The giant chuckled. "You had Trixi labeled inside your clothes, so unless you like to wear other people's underwear and outfits, common sense dictates, along with the fact that I found you in the back alley of an exotic dancing location, that you have a stage name. If it makes you feel any better, Simon is my real name."

"What's your stage name?" I blurted out, curious.

Again, his lips curved into a smile that moistened my panties, and I had to wonder if he was an incubus because, quite honestly, despite all the men I'd enticed over the years, he was the first to return the favor.

"My stage name when I used to step into the ring was Puff."

I wrinkled my brow. "As in puff pastry?"

Again, he laughed, the low timbre of the sound reverberating throughout my body pleasantly. "No, as in Puff, the magic dragon." He'd really lost me at this point, and he must have noticed it because he snorted in amusement. "Don't worry. You'll figure out why soon enough. Now, what do you say to some breakfast?"

Hunger gnawed at me sudden like, and my mouth watered, but not for the bacon I smelled drifting through the open bedroom door. Looking him up and down, my eyes lingered on the distinct bulge in his pants. I licked my lips as I realized I could go for some sausage. Injuries always wakened my hungers.

Smiling at him, I turned on the juice to prep him for my idea of a morning pick-me-upper. "I'd love to eat, honey."

"Bad succubus," he chided. "Is that any way to thank your host?"