Addicted (2 page)

Selena handled the money exchange swiftly. It was then that London caught a glimpse of this Rand fellow. A Changeling, London was certain of it. The last few times she’d dealt with Changelings bad things happened. Despite the assurances of Charnel and her friends, London’s instincts went on high alert.

The Changeling worked fast, blinking in and out he teleported first Selena, and then the other vampires a couple at a time. It took all of maybe forty five seconds for the Changeling to ‘magic’ away the vampires, which left London alone when he blinked back in. Rand crossed his arms and sneered. “I don’t usually mix clientele. Vampires can get territorial when they feed.”

She tried to make a quick assessment to see if she could get a bead on his intensions. Though his clothing appeared pricey, they didn’t quite fit him, almost like he shopped for labels instead of size, a little long in the sleeves and a little loose through the shoulders. The gold Rolex watch had to have set him back a mint, as did the gems in the clunky gold pinkie rings. It seemed to her Rand had more money than style, shopping for price tags and the image that went with it, but with no innate appreciation for those things beyond the status symbols.

“I can take care of myself.” London tensed, disliking the way Rand fixed her with unblinking eyes. Of the few Changelings she’d encountered, Rand was the first to smile. It chilled her like an evil finger of ice tracing down her spine.

“I bet you can. But you see, there is another problem.” The Changeling said, as he circled her slowly, overtly checking her out with long, dragging looks that practically made her feel groped. “My boss, the Sidhe? See, he’s got certain rules. Certain business practices, let’s say.”

London glanced back over her shoulder at him as he lingered in his assessment of her rear end. “What kind of business practices are we talking about?”

“See, for vampires it is a straight cash only arrangement, so the party only covers them.” Rand finished his circle, stopping right in front of her, way inside her personal space. She had to crane her neck back to look at him.

“And for non-vampires? What’s the deal?” London refused to back away, refused to break eye contact. Changelings, in general, were a shifty bunch and she was still learning the nuances of the expressions, body language and vocal tone of the fey. Something she’d been focusing a lot of energy into learning since getting cursed by one. As far as she was able to discern there weren’t any clear commonalities between even fey of the same race, much less across the various species of fey.

Rand held out a hand. London glanced at it and then slipped her hand into his, expecting him to teleport her to the party now. Instead, he knocked her hand aside with annoyance. “Your weapon, Junkie.”

London debated denying that she was packing. Finally, she withdrew her gun from under the back of her blazer where she’d holstered it at her lower back. She handed it over, knowing the safety was on and watching to see if the Changeling flicked it off.

He checked the weapon, popping out the magazine and clearing the chamber with an expert technique. Rand put a thumb against the bullet in the top of the magazine. He’d know if it was silver from just the briefest touch, or so she’d heard. And silver was as bad on fey as it was the weres, by all accounts.

He slapped the magazine back into place and handed it over. “You any good with that? Or you just like feeling badass?”

“I’m good enough,” she said, giving him her best badass glare.

“The deal for humans,” Rand began, lingering on the word “humans” for a beat, “is service. The boss gets plenty of money out of the vampires. Sometimes money will work, but really, cash is like water. It comes and it goes. What’s harder to find is motivated, dedicated muscle. That’s where all you lovely humans come in. Now vampires like the Sidhe blood, don’t get me wrong, but they won’t risk death to get at it. You take a strung out human, though, and now you got someone who will go to any length to get another hit of the magic. Any length, am I right?”

London shifted, not wanting to admit the truth.

“What wouldn’t you do for the Touch, Luv?” he asked, and they both knew he was right. Denial only wasted everyone’s time.

“Nothing.”

“That’s my girl.” Rand grinned like he owned her. Or at least his Sidhe boss owned her. She might need the Touch bad. She might do a lot of unpleasant stuff to get it. But no one owned her. Rand went on, “So the money paid for the vamps to party. You…” he poked her in the chest, “will still have a debt to pay. We’ll settle it up tomorrow. I’ve got a project you can help me with.” He checked his watch. “The vampires should have latched on by now. You can slip in, but don’t challenge them. Find a spot and get your fill. Got it?”

Chapter Three

London trembled with anticipation. Being so close to what she needed sharpened the edge on her anxiety. Rand clamped a hand on her shoulder and the shop blinked out. An instant later the dark of a cave wrapped around them. London stumbled, disoriented by the shift in the angle of the floor. Her eyes adjusted to the faint glow from the enchanted moss on the cave walls. Just in front of them an archway led into a wide chamber. More of the glowing stuff grew on the walls in there, giving just the minimal of illumination. The fey and the vampires, with their sharper vision, probably didn’t realize how dark it seemed to her, and they probably didn’t care. In the shadows around the periphery of the chamber, goblins huddled in packs, watching and waiting with their glowing eyes, glistening teeth, spindly little bodies, and wicked sharp claws. The evil that lurked in the dark. The addiction spurred her forward where instinct would have her retreat.

As she entered the chamber, the undulating mass of bodies in the center brought London up short. Overlaying the stale earthen odor of the cavern were the sharp scents of blood, sex and overheated bodies. Moist sounds of feeding and sex mingled with moans and gasps. The Sidhe on the stone table was male, easy enough to tell each time Charnel played cowgirl and pumped her hips. From the peek-a-boo glimpses the Sidhe was a well-endowed male at that. London gave the vampires feasting on the Sidhe a wide berth as she circled, deciding on her spot. He was naked and on his back, something that London couldn’t imagine was comfortable on the cold, rock surface, but the Sidhe appeared too preoccupied with the vampire orgy to notice.

As Charnel rode him, her boyfriend was biting the inside of the Sidhe’s thigh just above the knee. Jimmy’s hand ventured to cop a feel on the Sidhe when Charnel wasn’t slamming down. Brandy cradled the Sidhe’s opposite leg and writhed with pleasure as she sucked from the meat of his calf muscle. Although London might manage to touch the Sidhe’s foot without causing the vamps to attack her like she was a hyena at a lion’s kill, she circled around to survey the upper half of his body.

The Sidhe’s arm draped over Selena’s back as she bent to his chest, biting into his pec muscle so her mouth covered his nipple. On the other side Colin was fang-deep in the Sidhe’s wrist which he had extended out from the crowded activity on the table.

London moved to the Sidhe’s head. He appeared to be in his late teens, somewhere past the lanky growth spurt that gave him his height but lacking the muscle mass of a grown adult, making him look underfed. Given the length of a Sidhe’s lifetime though, he could have been hundreds of years old for all she knew. His dark hair, stylishly disheveled, covered the points of his ears and fell across his eyes.

Those eyes… those deep, dark pools that fixed upon her face knocked the breath from her. He watched her with those hooded, bedroom eyes. Even though he shifted rhythmically with the sex and the groping of the vampires, he stared at her. London felt mesmerized by his eyes alone. So like Rico’s in sensuality. Must be a Sidhe trait.

Her hands moved and she could have sworn it was either by their own accord or because they followed the unspoken summoning of the Sidhe’s lure. London brushed the brunette locks from his face without touching the skin of his forehead, just fingering aside the soft silk of his hair so nothing blocked her view of those amazing eyes that drew her in with unnatural magnetism. With trembling hands, she cupped his smooth face, intending for it to be an introductory contact, something small and nearly innocent. Instead, London jolted as her palms locked into place as if by electricity. Her entire body jerked with the instantaneous pleasure of the Touch. The Sidhe’s magic flooded through her hands, up her arms, and burst through the rest of her body so violently that she cried out. No build up at all, just immediately intense and utterly shattering.

Her thighs tingled. Her nipples hardened to painfully sensitive points so that even the brush of her clothing made her shudder with uncontrollable need. Her core pulsed. Spasmed. It overwhelmed her with a body quake of orgasm. Had Charnel not already been riding the Sidhe London would have mounted him herself.

Blinking down at the young man, London fell into those dark eyes again, so handsome and so oddly disconnected. Even in the low light of the chamber the pupils appeared too dilated. Despite the understandable haze of sex and desire, they were unfocused.

Drugs, she realized. This place, this cave of dark orgies, was this Sidhe’s drug nest. Not even the fey appeared immune to the demon of addiction. Such a good-looking young man, with untold potential, and he was throwing it all away. “Such a shame,” London whispered to him.

When she spoke he watched her mouth, as though deciphering what she’d said. Or as if he thought about kissing her. She required no further invitation than that. Still framing his face with her hands, London leaned down and kissed him. Her tentative, soft caress of lips grew bolder as he returned the sensuous kiss with equal measure. The flow of his Touch pulsed through her, rocking London as if he made love to her. She moaned into his mouth, their tongues meeting, tasting, caressing. Drinking in the magic, London deepened the kiss.

The Touch filled her. Overflowed her. Washed away all her pain, all her anxiety, all her fear. Right here, right now, she was whole again. Better than whole. Renewed. Sparkling with fey power. Bursting with joy beyond all joys. Crying with happiness. Shouting with the explosion of power even as the sounds were muffled in the melding of their mouths.

And then the Sidhe screamed. London broke the kiss, but not the skin contact with her hands. The Sidhe winced hard; in the pain of pleasure as he found release in the vampire lover that rode him. His body bucked, but London wouldn’t, couldn’t break her contact with him and his magic. The others grabbed on tighter too, lest they lose their bite as he spasmed. His climax exploded through his magic and the entire group of them followed him into the devastation of his orgasm. It tore through London until she knew nothing but the sexual fury of the magic flaring through her.

Suddenly the Touch ceased.

“What?” London turned the Sidhe’s face toward her. His head rolled limp with unconsciousness. The others drew back a little, the sudden loss of the Touch ending the mass climax like the flip of a switch. This lasted only a few heartbeats and then the vampires returned to their feeding. Magic laced the Sidhe’s blood, conscious or not. London and Charnel were the only ones out of luck.

“Party’s over when the boy is tapped out,” Rand announced. The goblins swarmed in and prodded and pried at the vampires, waving flaming torches close to their heads until they drove them back from the table. London backed away without anyone needing to chase her off. She’d had her fill. Her body couldn’t handle another ounce of magic. In fact, much of what she’d been given was probably wasted, overflowing her beyond her capacity to contain the magic. As intense and tormenting as Rico’s Touch had been the night he cursed her, it paled in comparison to what just occurred. She would never, never be able to forget this encounter. Every second and every feeling was etched into her. It would follow her. Haunt her. Drive her endlessly to seek it out again.

Bloody evil Sidhe curse.

Chapter Four

The afterglow of the Touch continued to throb throughout London’s body all that night and into the next day. Her erotic dreams swam with visions of the dark-eyed Sidhe whose name she didn’t know but whose kiss she’d never forget. Her waking mind shunned the memories, though they floated ever present in the background. She felt so good in every fiber that she ached. London hated the power of the magic over her. Hated the control it wielded. Hated the Sidhe whose magic drove her to return to the Fairy Circle Shop to perform whatever service was required of her just to keep his favor.

London hadn’t expected the crowd she discovered milling about in the alleyway, about twenty of them, all humans and undoubtedly just as cursed as she. This was the ‘muscle’ Rand had been talking about. A few of them were grouped in twos and threes. All of them were carrying some kind of firearm, most of them concealed. London knew how to spot the telltale bulge under jackets. Her own was at the small of her back, like the night before. Whatever ‘project’ Rand had in mind it was going to be nasty, of that London harbored no doubts.

Of those gathered, only one stayed off to the side by himself. He had the look of military or law enforcement about him. While tension or fear painted the features of the others, he projected confidence. He wore jeans that fit him nice. A white t-shirt under an open flannel shirt, with a durable looking denim jacket on top, dressed in layers in case the mission took them through the heat of the day and the chill of the night. The steel toe boots were an interesting choice as was the cowboy hat. The hat was not fancy and had seen a lot of use. A pair of UV sunglasses hooked in the front pocket of the jacket. A Glock was holstered on his hip under the flannel, which was not tucked in like the t-shirt was. In his forties, she guessed from the hardness to his face, but physically fit. He had the look of someone who knew how to handle himself and had done so on many occasions. With his arms crossed, and the prepared but patient way he leaned back on the hood of his jeep, he didn’t seem terribly approachable. And while she’d been assessing him, his pale blue eyes had been giving it right back at her. She could see how that level look could intimidate, but she’d stared into some fierce parahuman and fey faces before, and not many humans had the mojo to intimidate her after that.