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  Nocked Senseless

  Sam Cheever

  Book 3 in the Gods of Love series.

  Hermes Adonis has a broken heart and an attitude problem. When the Fates send him on a forced sabbatical from Cupid’s Arrow, he’s not a happy Cupid. Hermes spends his days sucking Brimstone and anticipating his total destruction. But when a dark-haired beauty throws him to the ground and puts a knife to his throat, he feels an unexpected spark in his dead heart.

  Nidras is a cursed demon princess. She’s pretty tapped out just trying to kill the wizard who holds her curse. The last thing she needs is a man, especially one whose sexy head is fuzzy from sucking Brimstone all day. But Hermes is funny and determined, and Nidras is lonely and scared. And when they get together in a room, the heat they create nearly melts the paint from the walls.

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  Nocked Senseless

  ISBN 9781419927539

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Nocked Senseless Copyright © 2010 Sam Cheever

  Edited by Helen Woodall

  Cover art by Syneca

  Electronic book publication February 2010

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Nocked Senseless

  Sam Cheever

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Google: Google Inc.

  Porsche: Dr. Ing. h. c. f. Porsche Aktiengesellschaft Corporation

  Prologue

  Ousted!

  My name is Hermes and I am Cupid.

  I’m not a chubby little guy flying around with a skein of arrows. And, right at the moment at least, I’m not very good at finding love for people.

  I can’t even find love for myself.

  But I am Cupid.

  For millennia Cupids weren’t allowed to fall in love. The gods and the Fates conspired against us to make sure we stayed loveless.

  And it was only recently that one of us managed to find a way to beat the Fates and release us from this curse.

  So I haven’t had a lot of experience finding love for myself. But I have had a lot of experience getting my heart pounded into bent, little pieces because of the curse.

  I can’t give you any excuses about my failures as a Cupid. Except that I’ve been functioning for a while under a severely broken heart. I think my spirit got a little cracked alongside my heart.

  I’ve had a bit of a…I guess you’d call it ’tude…for a few years now. And the gods have been a bit put off by me recently. I should have known it was coming.

  I should have seen the signs.

  But I didn’t.

  I was way too immersed in my emotional turmoil to notice that everybody had started to avoid me. And that my customer list had grown increasingly smaller, until I was only getting the few clients nobody else wanted.

  The lost causes. Like me.

  But I have to admit I was shocked when the Fates showed up in my office and told me I was being sent on temporary hiatus until I got my head together.

  What does that even mean anyway? That sounds like something a chick would say. It wasn’t my head that was in pieces. It was my heart. And my spirit.

  Anyway, the Fates told me I was worthless as a Cupid in my present state.

  Now I ask you? Was that a nice thing to say?

  Unfortunately, they were right. Which was why I set out to destroy myself completely. Just get it over with. Not strictly logical, I know but…well…it’s a guy thing.

  It didn’t quite work out the way I’d planned though. You see, there was this woman…

  Chapter One

  You’re Owwwwttt!

  “You’re kidding me right?”

  Clotho pursed soft, well-shaped lips and frowned at me. “I don’t know what would make you think that, Hermes Adonis. I thought we’d been very direct and clear.”

  I slammed a hand down on top of my desk, making Atropos and Lachesis jump and shimmer with power as their sister fate, Clotho grew an inch and started to float off the floor.

  Realizing that if I sent the Fates into their angry alter egos, the Furies, it probably wouldn’t help me win my argument, I lifted my hands and inclined my head. “Sorry.” I turned away and walked toward the window, looking down at the everyday antics of the people driving, walking and cycling along below me. Not for the first time I wished I could be like they were. Oblivious to magic and gods and imminent destruction.

  And able to love when and whom I wanted.

  Behind me, the air thickened with power, spitting and smoking like a backyard barbecue. I kept my back turned, giving them time to rein in the fury and return to a calm, Fate-like state.

  It took them a while.

  Finally I turned and tried a pleading tone. “Look, Your Graces, I know I’ve been a bit…prickly…the last few months.”

  Clotho snorted in a most unladylike way.

  I lifted an eyebrow at her and went on. “But I’ve been trying really hard lately and I think I’m doing better.”

  “You told a client to kiss your narrow, Greek ass last week,” Atropos told me with a wry smile.

  I shrugged. “Well, yes but he was being unreasonable.”

  “He just wanted you to schedule his arrow ceremony,” Lachesis responded.

  I scowled at them. “I was in the middle of something.”

  “What?” Clotho demanded.

  “Thinking. I was thinking about how to improve my disposition.” I topped this declaration off with a grin.

  I knew the power of the Hermes smile. It was a legendary creature that had gotten me nothing but trouble over the centuries. But there was nothing like it for turning the hostile female heart to mush. The ladies’ eyes softened briefly when I smiled at them. But it didn’t last long. “You’re out, Hermes.”

  I swore softly. “For how long?”

  Atropos shrugged. “Until we think you can handle the work again. In the meantime, try to enjoy yourself.”

  “Maybe you should have lots of sex,” Clotho offered.

  I lifted my eyebrows at her in surprise.

  She shrugged. “It works for us when we’re in danger of reverting to our hag forms. It might work for you too.”

  I grimaced. I’d seen them in their hag forms. The thought of anybody having sex with them when they’re on the edge of that particular state was scary.

  I started to shuffle the folders on my desk and then realized there was nothing there that needed my attention and flung them down again.

  Grabbing my jacket f
rom the back of my chair, I stalked toward the door.

  “I hear the Succubus Sisters have a new girl. She might put a smile on your face,” Lachesis said, obviously trying to make me smile. I just glared at her.

  “I don’t do demons.”

  I closed the door, shutting off the sound of their collective gasp at this politically incorrect statement.

  Ignoring the well-wishes of my fellow Cupids, I stalked angrily to the elevator and out of the building.

  If they wanted me gone I’d give them what they wanted.

  Nobody could get as gone as I could.

  *

  I lay on my back, staring up at the haze of smoke wafting by over my head. The sharp tang of it stung my nose, making it quiver with annoyance. I narrowed my eyes and examined the smoke more carefully.

  It looked suspiciously like a woman’s breast.

  Of course, lately, everything was starting to look like a woman’s breast to me.

  Somebody stuck a long, glass object with a rounded bottom in front of my face and I took a pull from it, sending a new stream of smoke into the air in front of me. A fresh batch of breasts danced and slithered across the room, taunting me with their wispy perkiness.

  I frowned at the demon bong and gave it a shake. “Doesn’t this thing do anything but boobs?”

  I turned to the green-faced, red-eyed demon beside me and his wide, scaly face folded into a frown. “Huh?”

  Shaking my head in disgust, I murmured, “Brimstone head,” and passed the bong to the next sap in the circle. I lay back onto the soft mountain of pillows behind me, crossing my hands beneath my head and continued to stare up at the smoke, waiting. Maybe the next guy could eke out a nice, pert ass or two with his exhalation. On this happy thought, I must have drifted off to sleep.

  Something woke me up. I don’t know how long I’d dozed in a Brimstone stupor but I thought it must have been several hours because, when I looked around the circle, the faces of my companions were different.

  I pushed myself upright, scrubbing at my gritty eyes with both hands. The room was so smoky at that point that I could barely see the blinking red light over the exits. As I sat there trying to decide whether to get up and leave or take another hit of Brimstone, I heard the sound that must have jarred me awake.

  The bong appeared in front of my face and I looked at it longingly, licking my dry lips as I considered forgetting what I’d heard and just letting the drug carry me away again. But somebody was crying and I couldn’t ignore that. No matter how much I wanted to.

  I shoved the bong away and stood up. My legs felt like newly made rubber, all bendy and unstable. I locked my knees and stood there, wavering dangerously on my feet. The demons on either side of me cocked their heads and said, “huh?” as I wobbled unsteadily above them.

  I don’t know how long I would have stood there trying to clear the fog from my brain but a shrill scream pierced the silence and adrenaline kicked in. I found myself leaping over drugged demons and running full tilt toward the sound of that scream.

  I ran into the smoke-free outer room and stood looking around. The foyer of the Pleasure Palace was built as a large octagonal, with doors leading off each of the eight walls. Dead center of the foyer was a coiling, stone staircase that lead to the upper rooms, where the Succubi took care of their customers.

  I was pretty sure the sounds I’d been hearing had come from the main level. That meant I had seven doors to choose from, since I already knew what was going on in the smoke-filled room I’d just left.

  I started with Simone’s office. She was one of the Succubus Sisters who owned the wonderful establishment where I’d been spending much of my time lately. Simone was currently off on some adventure with her favorite client and hadn’t been in residence for a few weeks. The room looked as if a bomb had gone off inside it. But that was pretty normal for Simone’s office so, after making sure there were no bodies nestled among the clutter and velvet covered furniture in the room, I closed the door and went to the next door.

  In complete contrast to her sister’s hovel of an office, Sidra’s office was almost painfully tidy. No pictures, knickknacks, or memorabilia cluttered the pristine surfaces of Sidra’s office. It was all business in there. Hard furniture with clean, contemporary lines was arranged in an unimaginative and perfunctory fashion around the room. Papers were stacked with rigid perfection on top of her dust-free desk and any personal items in the room had a place to be and were perfectly situated in that assigned place.

  There were no bleeding bodies staining her hard, lint-free rug.

  Next I opened the door to the bathhouse. Although, in reality, the bathhouse consisted of a single room within the pleasure house, it had been magicked to look and feel as if it were a separate entity and had always been referred to as the bathhouse.

  As soon as I opened the door I knew something wasn’t right.

  Steam wafted out in such a thick blanket it made me sneeze. The air in the bathhouse was always thick and moist, covering its inhabitants with an almost oppressive blanket of dense heat. It felt good when you were immersed in one of the dozens of large, claw footed tubs in the room but the thick, wet air tended to make you feel like somebody had grabbed your lungs in a tight grip and squeezed hard if you entered the room fully dressed.

  Combined with a truly astounding level of Brimstone in my system, the clogging heat and moisture made my existence in that room nothing short of torture. But my senses were screaming that something wasn’t right there, so I kept sliding one foot in front of the other, moving more deeply into the sweltering, cavernous room.

  My eyes scanned the dim light, seeing nothing but dozens of steaming, empty tubs. That, in itself, was unusual. Generally the room was one of the busier spots at the pleasure house.

  But the air in there was more than hot, it felt ominous. Almost as if somebody had put a repelling spell of some kind on it. Shaking my head I gave a nervous little laugh.

  I’d been doing Brimstone for too long. It had apparently rotted my brain and made me melodramatic.

  At the furthest corner of the room, I slid my gaze over the last line of tubs and, seeing nothing, prepared to turn around and leave. But something red caught my eye, nestled in the shadows just behind the last tub in the line.

  I took a step forward, suddenly reluctant to find what I’d been looking for.

  A wisp of flower-scented air touched my skin and I turned just as a long, deadly looking knife arced through the air toward my head.

  I ducked and kicked out, my instincts reverting automatically to the decades of martial arts training I’d undergone in an effort to stay in shape and manage vast levels of sexual frustration.

  The figure with the knife was small, agile and quick. He dodged my first kick and came at me again with the knife. I countered the blow with an outstretched fist and spun, levering my leg outward with the force of my spin.

  The figure easily jumped the kick and countered with one of his own, catching me just under the jaw as I completed my spin.

  I went down hard and felt my black-clad attacker slamming into my chest as I hit the ground.

  Something long and metallic settled against my throat. When I moved the knife bit into my skin, causing me to gasp and settle immediately into an unnatural stillness.

  I squinted through the steam and drug haze in my mind in an effort to see the face of my assailant.

  If I was gonna die I wanted to know who was killing me. And maybe even find out why.

  The face above me was black and featureless. It had no hair and its skin looked shiny, impossibly smooth.

  I figured it was some kind of new demon I’d never seen before. Whatever it was it smelled like sun-drenched flowers.

  But then the thing reached toward its head and pulled. Its skin started to separate with a soft thwucking sound. I grimaced. “Eieww!” I exclaimed.

  The slick, black skin came away easily in the demon’s hand and a bright, oval face with peach-tinted cheeks was look
ing down at me. The creature had wide lavender eyes with the longest, thickest black lashes I’d ever seen and spiky, black hair. Its lips were full and peach colored. They looked incredibly soft.

  I found myself staring at those lips, licking my own in anticipation of kissing them. “You’re a girl.”

  The lips parted slightly, allowing a husky laugh to escape. “And you’re a Brimstone-headed bum.”

  I shrugged. What could I say? She was right.

  She jerked her head toward the splotch of red I’d spotted in the corner. “Did you have anything to do with that?”

  Her voice was as husky as her laugh. It sounded like she’d spent hours puffing on a Brimstone pipe, except the edges of it were smooth and rich.

  My cock stirred and came to life just from the sound of it.

  I turned my head. From where I was sprawled, I could now see the contorted form of one of the Succubi. She was slouched against the wall, her long, slim arms flung across her body and her shapely legs crossed and bent like a child’s stuffed doll.

  She was excessively pale.

  That might have had something to do with the large hole in her chest and the growing puddle of rich, red blood spreading out from underneath her nude body.

  I grimaced. I hadn’t been one of the beautiful demon’s clients but I had seen her around the pleasure house. In fact we’d spoken a few words earlier that day.

  Or the day before. My mind was Brimstone befuddled.

  “I heard a scream and came to investigate. Is she dead?”

  The knife twisted more tightly against my skin and I grunted from the pain. “Look. You can kill me if you want. It wouldn’t be that great a loss to anybody if you did. But for the gods’ sake, just get on with it if you’re going to do it. It’s a little hard to breathe with you crouching on my chest.”

  The lavender eyes held a cynicism that seemed out of place on the flawless, unlined face. She cocked her head. “So let me see if I get this straight. You don’t mind if I kill you, you just don’t want me to make you uncomfortable.”

  I thought about this for a moment and then nodded, licking my dry lips. “That sounds about right.” I grinned at her and she blinked as if I’d struck her.