Blood Cursed (17 page)

I’d liked him when I thought him just a sticky gang puke out for a good time. At least he was honest about it. I’d even liked him—too much—when he kissed me and touched me in public like the dirty fairy tempter I knew he was.

Truth was, I’d liked him when I had his attention. When I thought he was mine.

And now he wasn’t. He had some other woman to rescue. Someone else to care for. And it didn’t leave room for me.

My eyelids burned, and I turned my face to the sky to hide stupid tears. The wind buffeted my face hard, squashing me in on myself, and shadows loomed gigantic like I’d shrunk to half my size. Even catching Jasper kissing another girl hadn’t hurt like this. This time, some other woman was the girlfriend, and I was the bit on the side. The one who wasn’t fit to be seen in public. The whore.

Fact was, I was used to being the prettiest girl in the room, and Diamond had ignored me for someone else.

I was jealous, pure and prickly. And it cut me to the core.

I swallowed a hot lump, my face afire. “Fine. Go rescue her, then. But you can do it alone.”

And I flitted onto the balcony rail in hot gusting wind and dived into fading sunlight.

18

By the time I reached the riverbank, sweat washed off me in rivulets. The setting sun glared on windswept concrete, and the footbridge streaked dim and neonless over sunglittered brown water. The moon hadn’t yet risen, and relief smoothed sticky bumps from my arms. At least I didn’t have rampaging hormones to deal with. Much.

I wiped my streaming face, pulled out my phone, and called the latest number back, trying to quiet my trembling nerves.

It rang a couple times before he picked up, and a smile tainted his voice. “Whattaya know? It’s my new girlfriend. Didn’t expect you so soon, beauty. Did Diamond dump you already?”

“Cut it out, Vincent.” My spine chilled. God, he gave me the creeps. And not in a good way. This was insanity. Foolishness. I might not live out the night. Trusting my life to a known enemy vampire with hungry undress-me eyes and a potty mouth. Great plan.

But it beat spending another moment with a sexy rose-winged poisoner who made me want things I shouldn’t.

I stuck my finger in my ear, trying to hear over the bar noise at his end. “Can we just be nice to each other? I need to find this Famine person.”

“Uh-huh. Dude, look where the fuck you’re going.” Crashes, stumbles, distant swearing. Didn’t sound like he was really listening.

I pressed harder. “I need Famine, Vincent. Can you help me?”

The click of a lighter, a deep exhale, the rustle of the phone held on his shoulder. “Fucking loser. Look, yeah, maybe we can sort something out. Let me make some calls, get back to ya—”

“No, you don’t understand. It has to be tonight. I don’t have time to wait!” My voice shrilled, and I bit my tongue, but too late. He’d heard my desperation. I sat on a concrete bollard decorated with seashells, but frustration crawled nipping ants under my skin and I hopped up again.

Vincent chuckled, dark. “Don’t twist your G-string, princess. I’m just playing with ya. Since I like you, we’ll expedite. Where are you? I’ll pick you up.”

My skin tightened. “You don’t have to do that. Just tell me where I should go—”

“Nuh-uh. Wouldn’t want a pretty thing like you to get lost on the way. You down by Diamond’s? Cool. I’ll swing by Princes Bridge and pick you up. An hour … no, make it an hour and a half. Famine never gets up before dark. Umm … you been to his place before?”

I swallowed, nerves shredding. No point in lying. Vincent had an unsettling knack for picking up on it. Besides, I needed all the help I could get. “Nope.”

“Didn’t think so. Listen, it’s kinda edgy down there. People go to Famine’s to play games. You’re either a boss or a victim, get me? You might wanna slip into something a bit more assertive.”

My blood frosted. What did he mean, boss or victim? Images forced into my head, black leather, spiky chains and whips, cruel power games. “Excuse me?”

“Just saying. Gotta go, princess. See ya soon.” And he hung up, a dull clunk like death.

I slipped my sweaty phone away, discomforted. I didn’t like Vincent, his hungry gaze and snarky wit and self-satisfied laugh. I didn’t like any of this.

But at least I knew where I stood with him. Might as well make the best.

Ninety minutes to get ready. Dinner, shower, change. Famine’s sounded like one hell of a place. Something more assertive, hah. If Vincent thought to dress me up as his own private dominatrix fantasy, he could bloody well think again.

But the words
boss
and
victim
resonated in me like evil demon breath, and I tossed my head, defiant. I was through being a victim. I’d show this Famine and his sick slave-fantasy cronies just who was boss tonight. And I had just the wardrobe. Jasper liked me pretty, but he also liked me sexy, usually when he was in the mood for some rougher games. I could take it. If babyboy Vincent thought he could shock me, he was dead wrong.

Acid laughter spurted from my lips. Look at me, acting all tough. This was the dumbest, most futile idea of my life. I was gonna die, and scream in hell forever. Why didn’t I just go out, party, get laid, have myself a rocking good time? Screw tomorrow. It’d never come.

Temptation licked my flesh warm.

But a little hard shiny place deep inside me glowed hot and angry. I didn’t deserve this death. I didn’t want it.

I’d been weak, but now I had one last chance. Screw Kane. And Jasper, and Diamond, and everyone else who’d ever tried to control me. I was finally learning my lesson. I couldn’t give up now.

I tugged my bag over my shoulder and headed for Jasper’s one more time.

19

Good as his word, Vincent picked me up, and as we drove beside twin tram lines past the green quasi-cubic edifice of Federation Square toward Chinatown, the last scarlet ghost of sunset stole away, leaving the tree-lined street in thick hot darkness. As we turned under the bright-painted Chinese archway, open windows loomed close on either side of the one-lane street, restaurants and bars lit with red lanterns and flickering candles, drifting with the salty smells of Szechuan spices and chili. Humans and fairies and every shady creature crowded the sidewalks and lanes, sullen and dangerous, the redstained light glinting evil in heatgritted eyes. The heat had put everyone in a mood, for a party or a fight or both.

I clutched my bag in my lap, nerves crawling. Vincent’s cute little black SUV smelled of cigarettes and spicy male perfume. The seat belt trapped me, the warm seat like a prison. Vincent grinned at me, hungry. It didn’t help.

He stopped the car by the curb in a pool of shadow, sweat still slicking his hair tight. We hadn’t gone far, and it was slow driving through the people spilling onto the road. The aircon hummed. It wasn’t achieving anything. The temperature hadn’t dropped with the setting sun. No, if anything the heat had intensified, and the air stank with smoke and hot tar. Streetlights lay dark and useless, and behind me the moon rose fat and sultry, only a sliver from full, throwing sharp silvery shadows under the cantilevers and threading hot tension through my blood.

I shifted uneasily, my bare thighs slicking the seat. “We here?”

“As promised. You gonna thank me?” Moonlight glinted danger deep in Vincent’s eyes, and his gaze slid downward.

“Uh … sure. Thanks.” I flattened my hands on my knees. Knew he’d get down to payment sooner or later. No use pulling my skirt down. It didn’t go down any farther. I’d picked the tightest one I had left, a shiny halter dress in black vinyl that showed an acre of cleavage and midriff, little buttons in the curves of my waist holding top and bottom halves together. It hugged my butt like glue and forced my boobs up high and full.

“Wasn’t what I had in mind.” Vincent’s gaze licked up to my cleavage where my pulse jumped.

I flushed, my fingers twitching. I wasn’t defenseless. Even I’m not stupid enough to get in a vampire’s car without some protection. I had the little girly handgun Jasper gave me strapped in a holster between my thighs. It wouldn’t kill Vincent, but it’d slow him down enough for me to get away. At least, I hoped so.

Still, the metal did strange things between my legs, sexy and uncomfortable at the same time. The smooth, warm, hard feel of it caressed my sensitive skin, the danger licking me wet. And I wasn’t wearing any underwear. Remind me not to bend over when I get out. I swallowed. “Very funny. I gotta go. You’re, uh, not coming in, are you?”

Vincent laughed, predatory. “No offense, princess, but I don’t think you’re bringing Famine flowers. Farther away, the better.” He slicked a burning finger down my cheek, and leaned closer, teeth glinting. “Pity, though. Love the outfit.”

His body heat swamped me in teasing vampire scent. Irrational moonfever heated my skin, rich and needy, and embarrassment only inflamed me more. God, he could probably smell my arousal. I could. I was tempted to let him take a bite. More tempted to let him kiss me, slide his tongue on my skin, graze me with those sharp teeth and ease out first one drop, then another … .

I scrabbled for the door handle, sweating. “Uh-huh. Look, thanks for the ride—”

“You always this shy? ’Cause it really turns me on.” He twined a lock of my hair around his finger and sniffed it hungrily. “Mmm. I can taste the moon on your perfume, baby. Sure you don’t wanna play? I’ll be gentle.”

I fumbled the door open and scrambled onto the curb, my pulse clattering. He hadn’t locked me in. Hadn’t grabbed me. He was letting me go, for some crafty reason I didn’t understand.

Whatever his game was, it didn’t bolster my confidence. A trap? Probably. But what else could I do?

Vincent laughed, and flipped me a wave as he drove off.

Asshole. I pulled my dress straight. My hair dragged wet on my wings, flushing me overwarm. Too hot to wear it down, so I’d pulled it off my neck in a high ponytail that spread in scarlet waves around my shoulders. Along with the fetish dress, I’d picked shiny black stiletto boots up to my thighs and heavy black-and-silver makeup, and I’d sprayed my wings with dazzling crimson glitter.

So yeah, I looked like a hooker. I hoped I looked tough and arrogant. Boss, not victim.
Victim
sounded bad.

I wiped my forehead, discomfort frothing inside me for more reasons than one. I felt strange. Displaced, as if just for tonight, I was Big Em, a sexy Ember-shadow I couldn’t control.

I didn’t want to control her.

She was wild, sexy, free. As I’d dressed, the tight vinyl sliding over my skin, I’d stared at myself in the mirror in my candlelit bedroom, imagining Jasper bending me over the bed and spanking me, taking me from behind, hard and rough, his claws raking my hips. I saw myself on top, red hair smearing over him, my breasts ripe in his hands, riding him harder and deeper until my pleasure broke.

Then Jasper morphed into Vincent, crunching hungry teeth on my throat in a hot crimson splash, his cock moving deep in me, making me cry out in pleasure or pain. And then Vincent morphed into Diamond, loving me hot and slow on a warm updraft, crystalrose wings spread and my legs wrapped around him. God, he felt good inside me, his massive body straining into mine, his rainbow hair sifting over my face like water, and that’s when I turned from the mirror and didn’t look again.

What with that and the gun, I felt swollen and uncomfortable down there. This costume made me feel naughty and sexy. And the reckless moonshine caressing my skin wasn’t helping. My pulse thrummed, desire’s sweet melody singing in my veins. I wanted movement, laughter, touching, kissing, the feel of a man’s flesh inside me, anything and everything to set my body afire.

I scowled, flushing. Damn that full moon. Pay attention.

I looked around, trying to orient myself. Asian supermarket, a convenience store, an Internet café, all darkened in the blackout. A Thai restaurant with a guy sizzling up a fragrant green curry on a little gas stove in the window. I sidled past an old troll in a raincoat hunched beneath a painted sign reading COMMIT NO NUISANCE, spit dribbling from his broken tusks. Kids zipped by me on skateboards, glamourbright fairy girls in summer dresses and high heels did late-night shopping in benighted alleyways, couples headed to restaurants and dimlit cafés. Like we were all pretending the lights weren’t out, that this was normal.

A pair of vampire guys stalked for prey beneath the darkened neon lights of a karaoke lounge, leather jackets and shiny smiles, their hypnotic eyes tracking passing girls and luring them in. The blond one glanced at me and salivated, and he had to whip his hand up to stop it gushing down his chin and giving him away.

I snickered, and waved at him through the crowd. Keep it in your pants, sunshine.

Ahead, a sunken doorway beckoned, cracked plaster edged in broken tiles. A scrawny black fairy hunched in the door’s lee. His manky teeth shone with spit, his ragged gray mothwings curled behind twistypointed ears and a shaven skull.

I stabbed my courage alive. Vincent dropped me right here. This must be it. Either that, or he’d dumped me in some bloodsoaked vampire den to get eaten. But that seemed unlikely. Vincent wanted to eat me himself, not give me away.

Hell of a reason to trust him.

I felt for my clutch bag, a habitual gesture of comfort, and grasped empty air.

My heart sank. Great. I’d left my bag in Vincent’s car. Now I had no money, no phone, no anything. Hooker-Em would just have to do it all herself.

Boldly, I strode up to the door, cocking one hand on my outthrust hip. “Famine sent me.”

The fairy just crouched, scratching his bony butt through his jeans and stabbing irritably at the dust with a gnarled stick. “Yeti-skin britches. Whatever you say.”

I prodded his ankles with my pointed boot tip. “He won’t be pleased if I’m late. Special order, know what I mean? Client’s waiting.”

He poked his sharp chin at me, pale eyes gleaming. He was naked to the waist, his brittle black skin shining, and weak glamour crackled like plastic. He stank of crackers and moldy cheese. “Yeah? What’s your poison, green-eyes?”

I leaned over, flashing him my ample cleavage. My dress pulled up over my butt, and I wrestled down the urge to yank it south again, hoping I wasn’t flushing. I traced a suggestive finger under his grimy chin and gave my hardest
don’t fuck with me
smile. “Whaddaya think, skinny? Any smart-ass makes a victim of me, I’ll crush his balls.” I squeezed his chin, hard enough to hurt, and leaned my painted lips closer to whisper. “With my teeth.”

The fairy grinned. “Baby, you can crush my balls any time.” He hopped up, tucking his stick under one scrawny black arm, and kicked the cracked door open.

Inside, dusty steps led down. A single light globe buzzed and flickered, the distant creak of a generator echoing. He led me downward into the fresh fairy scents of lavender and jasmine. My metal heels clicked on each step, and sweat dripped between my breasts. The air heated as we descended, darkness swarming.

The skinny fairy pushed aside a motheaten velvet curtain, and fiery light dazzled.

I blinked, squinting. Low ceiling, mottled brick walls. On one side, a bar stretched, metal stools and a polished redwood bench with beer on tap and colored liqueurs shelved along the wall. A purple glossy-winged bargirl polished glassware, her frilly skirt frothing. Cherry alcohol and delicious perfume drenched my nose, making me want to inhale more. From somewhere, rhythmic music filtered. Air flowed gently, an unseen fan or window, and even the heat seemed bearable, welcoming.

Red velvet loveseats scattered the room, little alcoves for two or three with cushions, wooden tables, copper vases with single red carnations. It was only early, but the place was full, men and women, fae and human, and not all vinylfetish apemen like I’d expected. I saw jeans, evening dresses, sleek skirts and heels. Dampbright wings shone, skin of a dozen different colors gleaming in sweat, the crisp glint of clean vampire teeth.

I swallowed, smoothing my shinyclad hips. I felt overdressed. Had Vincent brought me to the wrong place? A couple of fairy boys kissed at the bar, green fingers twining in sootblack hair, and a girl and a guy danced in a clinch by the door. But that was it. No brawling or drunken revels, no puddles of vomit, no music screaming so loud, you couldn’t think. No one taking drugs. Not even anyone screwing in the corners that I could see. Unseelie Court was far seedier than this. I liked it here. The kind of place your boy might take you on a date.

Unless your boy was a sparklefreak gangbanger.

Not that this was the pointificality, as Diamond would say. I just needed to find Famine. Steal his gem. Bug out. Easy.

An elbow jabbed my ribs. I jumped back. “Huh?”

Skinnyfae handed me a pair of pinkglass spectacles. “Take these. Don’t put ’em on yet. They’re for the client.”

Confused, I took them. Wire-rimmed, thick oval glass lenses the color of diluted blood. The hinges were bent, the wire doubled over in loops. Looked like a mad professor made them. I held them to the light, peering through, but saw only a dizzy pink blur.

I snickered. Like I needed these. I was already winning Idiotic Optimist of the Week, imagining I could escape Kane’s trap. “Rose-tinted glasses. You’re kidding, right?”

Skinny’s wetslug lips stretched in a smirk. “You’ll see. Now wait here and I’ll sort out your client. Drinks on the house for players. Back soon.” And he unfurled limp gray wings and drifted away, down a dimming corridor out of sight.

O-kaay.

I folded the glasses and tucked them in at my hip, sliding one wire earpiece down inside my skirt. Urgency nibbled my toes. My time just started ticking. When Skinny found out I’d lied, he’d throw me out, or worse. Better get on with it.

I sauntered up to the bar, trying to keep it cool. My dress kept sticking to my thighs. Damn, it was hot. I could really use a drink. Champagne cocktail, for choice.

The purple girl smiled at me, long dragonfly wings flickering violet and green. “It’s okay. No need to be scared. Champagne cocktail, is it?”

I blinked, and tried to toughen it up with a saucy sneer. I didn’t look scared, did I? “Uh … yeah. Thanks.”

Her blue ponytail bobbed as she filled a glass, long aubergine fingers curling. A pair of pink wire-rimmed glasses, same as mine, perched on her turned-up nose.

Curiosity prickled. What were they for? I didn’t want to ask in case it gave me away. I sipped, thirsty, the fine bubbles tingling my throat. “Hey, uh … is Famine here tonight?”

She giggled and crossed her eyes. “Well, yeah. He’s always here. You new?”

“Uh-huh. Client, you know. Special order. I kinda wanted to talk to Famine about that, actually. Make sure the, uh, payment’s satisfactory. He around?”

But she just smiled and pushed me a plate of peanuts as she glided away. “Sit down, make yourself at home. Famine knows. He’ll be out soon.”

Damn. She wasn’t revealing anything. Maybe I’d have better luck with the clientele.

I wandered off, sipping my champagne. Good stuff, too, not the cheap shit. Jasper had spoiled me for bubbly with too many giggly nights on the Moët. Anything less tasted like piss.

At the tables, couples chatted and laughed. I saw more pairs of glasses, on the table or in pockets or sticking out of bags. Everyone had them, but no one wore them, and intrigue tickled my spine. What were they for? 3D glasses? Some kind of light show?

I draped myself on a red velvet chaise longue, beside a green troll with polished black horns and golden earrings, sitting quietly alone with his beer. I grinned and tossed one boot over the couch’s edge, showing off my thigh right under his flat bull nose. “Hey, baby.”

Trollboy kept drinking his beer, vast shoulders hunched in a tight black T-shirt, but his gaze flickered to where my tiny skirt barely shadowed what was underneath.