Beneath (Heven and Hell #3.5) by Cambria Hebert Page B

she’s there, right now, with him. Hadn’t I just finished telling him we couldn’t be together? It would be good if maybe they could rekindle their relationship… Who was I kidding? From everything I’ve seen and heard from Kimber, she wasn’t just one crayon short of a full box; she was just the empty box. And considering she was now mixed up with Hecate, Cole would be better off alone.
     
    I don’t know what I’d been thinking going over there tonight. I should’ve just avoided him until I couldn’t, which probably would’ve been in a room full of people at Heven’s. At least then, we wouldn’t be alone and he wouldn’t be able to get the truth out of me. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to tell him. I was just afraid if I did he would throw everything away and I wouldn’t have enough resolve to stop him.
     
    “Tell me what the price is to love you. I’ll pay it.”
     
    I would hear those words in my sleep. I would hear them in the sunrise and when the stars sparkled in the sky. They would be there always, whispering directly to my heart, following me wherever I would go, and even if I spent eternity alone, those words would forever wrap around my soul and keep me from ever feeling alone. To him, those words had been a plea, but to me… they were everything.
     
    The door to the seedy bar slammed and brought me out of my thoughts. This was no time to moon over a lost love. I had work to do, work that was important and the sole reason I was allowed to live here on Earth instead of being damned to hell. If I did nothing else right in my entire existence, I would at least be able to rid the Earth of scum.
     
    I straightened and walked out of the rolling smoke and toward the entrance to the bar. It was late, just the right hour for predators to be on the loose. I pulled the door open and went inside, shaking my hair around my shoulders and putting a little extra swing to my step. Not too much, just a little.
     
    I sat at the bar—at the single open seat. The bartender, a greasy-looking man in a sweat-stained gray T-shirt, came over with a dirty white rag in his hand. “What can I get you?”
     
    “Vodka, on the rocks.” I sat back in my seat and kicked one leg up over the other, stretching out my toe and pointing it toward the floor. Knee-high boots were a necessity for me—a place to hide all my weapons—but men liked them for other reasons.
     
    My drink arrived in front of me and I reached out and pulled the glass closer, not letting on that even touching the glass made my skin crawl. Before I could force myself to take a sip, a man, about three inches shorter than me with a bald head and tattoos on his neck, came over.
     
    “Buy you a drink?” he said.
     
    “I’ve got one, thanks.” He wasn’t the guy I was here for.
     
    “That one’s gonna be empty soon.” He tried again.
     
    I set the glass down on the counter and leaned over into his ear like I was about to tell him the secret to unlock all women. I could hear him swallow at the impression that his offer for more liquor had won my heart. “I’m not interested,” I said with just enough bite to snap him out of his love-drunk stupor. “But in spirit of your offer, I’ll let you pretend it was you who rejected me. Now get out of here before I introduce you to the dagger in my boot.”
     
    He pulled back, sneering, to look me in the eye, and what he saw there must have convinced him I was serious because very loudly he said, “Lady you’re sick!” and then shuffled back to his table with his equally disgusting friends.
     
    I suppressed an eye roll and turned back to the bar to grab my drink. After a few minutes of pondering just how dirty the glass really was, I was approached.
     
    This time by the breeder.
     
    I always loved the jobs when the scum came to me.
     
    Suddenly the barstool next to me was available and a man wearing scuffed-up jeans and boots slid in close to me. I glanced at him and gave a half-smile,