THE MISFITS

Chapter 8

Gene popped them back to Simon's place before letting out a string of curses that would have made a pit demon blanch.

"Un-f*****g-believable. The humans experimented on her. A mere child!"

Simon calmly went about making them a coffee, reinforced with liquor. The ratio? A tablespoon of coffee to a mug full of whiskey.

"Sons of bitches. If they weren't already dead, I'd stake them out in the desert, pour honey on them, and then call some fire ants." Gene paused in his rant to glare at him. "Why the f**k are you so bloody calm? I got the impression from the fist mark you left at her place that you were pissed."

"I was," replied Simon, squirting a generous dollop of whipped cream onto the drinks. "I am, but I've also had time to realize that, if they hadn't experimented on her, she would have died. While I regret the pain she suffered, she at least lives." His eyes rose to meet Gene's, whose shoulders slumped.

"I hadn't thought of that. And truly, I have no problem with what she is. I am as drawn to her as you are, but keeping her existence secret isn't going to be easy."

"Why, because some random demon came across her?"

Gene shook his head. "No, because the vampires who were created from the same gene as her know of her existence."

"I killed them," Simon stubbornly stated.

"Not all of them. So long as any of them are alive, along with the angelic creations, she is in danger of discovery. f**k, for all we know, the vampires have already hooked up with a demon and relayed that information."

"Only one way to find out," said Simon, and at Gene's narrowed gaze, his face twisted into a chilling grin. "We find them and question them before we kill them all."

"And if the Legion already knows of her existence?"

Simon smacked his fist into his open palm, the loud sound bringing a dangerous glint to Gene's eyes. "Then we help her fulfill her destiny."

*

Troubled for so many reasons, it took me some time to fall asleep, and not just because of the demon who seemed to think the fact that I lived spelled an end to the world. The guys, and my reaction to them, preyed on me.

Why did I feel such a connection to them? It went beyond my wanting to jump them and ride them like an out-of-control cowgirl. I simply liked - no, make that loved - being around them. I loved the way Simon treated me like a fragile princess. The way he thought I needed a hug. I loved that Gene didn't just drool over me. He joked with me like I was his friend.

After my experience in the compound with my brothers, I'd shied from friendships with men. I hated that they all looked at me with lusty eyes, never seeing me, the real person - albeit specially endowed with superpowers.

I had the same problem with human women, although not to the same extent as men. With human men, all their actions and conversation with me seemed geared toward one thing - getting my pants off. In the past, that had suited me just fine. After all, my mother always taught me to not play with my food.

With Simon and Gene, the s****l attraction was definitely there, along with the innuendos, but it went further than that. They saw me for who I was, not just a sexy succubus. They could have taken advantage of me at any time as well, and yet, they'd acted like perfect gentlemen, even though I sensed their raging desire. They talked to me and listened without staring at my boobs, which was disconcerting. I wasn't used to men looking me in the eyes. I wondered how intense gazing into their eyes at the moment of climax would affect me.

All this musing, though, wasn't getting me ready. I gnawed my lips as I realized something else.

I was nervous.

This was, after all, my first real date. Sure, I'd had guys take me home to see their ceilings, and I'd visited plenty of backseats, but all those encounters had resulted from me siccing my power on the male in question.

Dinner in a nice restaurant where I was expected to keep my panties on while the eating happened, how new and different. The jury remained out on whether I liked it. If I truly wanted to be honest with myself - the horror! - then I needed to also admit the upcoming evening scared the hell out of me.

What if we enjoyed a great dinner and then returned to their place for some amazing s*x, and tomorrow, they didn't call, and I went back to being alone? A part of me was terrified that, once they'd conquered my panties, I'd end up ditched at the curb with a broken heart. Stupid me, when did I allow myself to care?

The problem with having in-depth, heart-to-heart conversations with myself? I never liked my own answers.

I finished dressing and headed out to the living room and my waiting panel of roommates, ready to judge me.

"How do I look?" I asked as I smoothed down the skirt of the black cocktail dress I'd bought for the occasion. I'd discovered upon browsing my closet that nothing would do. These men offered me a fresh start. A true chance at something real. I didn't want to wear my usual slutty clothes. This called for something new. That something new was a dress that actually went to my knee. While it hugged my curves, it was far from skintight. It did, however, dip really low in the back, making a bra useless, so it had some redeeming slutty qualities.

"You look fabulous, and you know it," said Lana, taking the sea conch from her ear for a moment. On land, we had cell phones. Under the sea, they used conchs and seashells. Go figure. She'd gotten her hand on one a few years back via the sea market - the ocean version of the black one. While she wouldn't step foot on a beach, she had made some friends and liked to talk.

"Are you sure I look all right? I feel so-so - "

"Dressed?"

Lana totally deserved my mock glare. "I was going to say so proper. What if they don't like it? What if they prefer my usual short skirt and halter top?"

Claire giggled. "I never thought I'd see the day you were worried about attracting a man, or should IÊsay men?"

I made a face at her. "I'm more worried about looking too hookerish and not being allowed in the restaurant to eat."

They reassured me that I looked elegant, not high-priced. I knew my friends were right - I looked great. On the outside at least, I looked sleek and sophisticated, but under the skirt, I wore a skimpy G-string and my p***y was clean shaven - for their pleasure.

And mine. Tonight was the night.

All my soul searching and disturbing conclusions still led back to one key point. I had been given a second chance at life and, mutant hybrid or not, possible means to the end of the world or not, I'd live life to the fullest and worry about the consequences later. And that motto meant grabbing the boys by their horns - with a firm grasp - and taking what they offered - naked and enthusiastically.

I also had a plan to take care of my ex-brothers, kind of. But I'd need help, and I knew just the two guys to give it to me - and not just in a carnal sense.

A knock sounded, and I jumped, to the amusement of my friends.

Lana started crooning, a certain "Like a Virgin" song.

When my middle finger failed to stop it, I glared at her as I went to answer the door. Upon opening it, I found myself assailed by a jungle. Okay, not a real one, but the wild tangle of blooms thrust at me certainly must have set back the rainforests quite a bit.

Startled - my first bouquet of flowers, sniff.

"These are for you." Simon's voice was hidden behind the dense foliage.

"Thank you." I hid my surprise and delight by grabbing the supersized bouquet and heading to the kitchen to find something to put them in. An acre of land came to mind, but by splitting the floral arrangement into every large container I could find, I managed to find the time to calm my shaking hands. Like a virgin indeed, I snickered to myself.

Chiding myself for being a ninny, I took a deep breath and headed back out to the living room, where I could hear the rumble of voices.

I stopped dead at the sight of Gene and Simon. I didn't have a choice because I needed to clamp my thighs tight to stop the shudder that went through me. Yes, I got instantly aroused, but who could blame me when they looked so yummy?

I wasn't the only one who'd taken care with her wardrobe. The guys looked splendid dressed in matching suits with - gasp - ties. The wicked vixen in me could already imagine those naughty neck nooses lashed around my wrists as I writhed beneath their sensual touch.

With those kinds of thoughts already rampaging through my mind, however, would I make it through dinner?

Their eyes shone with admiration, and their smiles reflected their happiness at seeing me. Simon approached me first and grasped my hand in his big paw. He lifted my trembling hand and, twisting it slightly, placed a hot kiss on the inside of my wrist. I shuddered, and I would have slumped into a boneless puddle at his feet had he not released my arm to slide his own around my waist, supporting me. I was in so much trouble if such a simple gesture had me losing all my motor skills.

Gene approached me next and leaned in, kissing me softly on both cheeks, European style. The subtle aroma of his cologne tickled my senses. His whispered, "It felt like an eternity waiting for this moment." Corny, and yet it was enough to almost make me close my eyes and swoon.

A snort from Lana with a, "Get a room," revived me a bit, as did the unexpected blush that crept up my face.

Claire sighed. "Oh, I can't wait to find a man who makes me feel like that."

"You'll be meeting him sooner than you think," Gene said to her cryptically before bowing in their direction. "Ladies, if you'll excuse us, we have reservations."

And just like that, I was whisked away. Instead of using a limo, Gene hugged Simon and me, and with a nod of his head, we were elsewhere.

We stood in the vestibule of a swanky joint, the polished wood, thick carpeting, and gold accents screaming old school. I heard the sound of a throat being cleared and turned to see the maitre d'. And that's when I realized, fancy place or not, I doubted Chef Ramsey had ever heard of this place. The lizard man in the suit with the bowtie inclined his head at us, and I bit my lip so as to not rudely blurt out a very unladylike, "What the f**k?"

The guys saw nothing amiss with our host, so I took their cue and pretended a nonchalance I didn't feel.

"We have reservations." Simon tugged me forward to stand before the podium, upon which sat a thick book, the pages uneven and yellowed, with, of all things, an ink well and quill alongside it.

"Your name?" asked the lizard thing with what I could have sworn was a sneer.

I'm not sure what Simon did behind me, but the maitre d' recoiled and adopted a more servile expression. "Of course, sir. Sorry for not recognizing you. Please, follow me."

We followed the lizard man, who, to my amusement, had a tail sticking out of the back of his pants. We passed dozens of tables, partially hidden in shadows, but not dark enough for me to not realize that most of the patrons weren't descended from Adam and Eve.

I recognized some species - like the dwarves with their big beards and short, stocky stature. There were some fairies with gossamer wings whose sizes ranged from Thumbelina to human-sized. The one-eyed scary dude was, if I remembered my mythology correctly, a Cyclops. And at the sight of a bright blue demon, I clutched tightly at Simon's arm.

He followed my gaze and patted my hand reassuringly. "Don't worry. We'll explain things in a second."

His words made my eyes widen because I immediately grasped the implication. "You're using me as bait," I hissed. I'd actually contemplated doing that, and it was part of the plan I'd meant to broach over dinner. It annoyed me that they'd acted without consulting me first, never mind I'd had the same thought. I didn't take kindly to them making decisions for me. Especially ones that affected my life - and how long I would get to enjoy it.

"Bait is so harsh, don't you think? I prefer the term Ôshowing you off,'" Gene replied as we arrived at our table. With a flourish, he pulled out a chair for me.

Some women would have turned on their heel and walked out. But to leave meant foregoing answers or forging ahead alone. Could I trust they had a plan and, more importantly, my best interest at heart?