Blood Cursed (3 page)

So let it go. Revenge is all he has left. Hell, what else is there to do? Angelo stole her. Angelo infected her with his filthydirt virusicality. Angelo made her a monster, and deserves to die.

Diamond has worked for Ange for years. They’re practicamally family, and without family loyalty, who can you trustify? Gangland is a vicious backstabbing swamp of untruths, and enemies are fair game. But you take care of what’s yours. Right down to the lowest sparkle-grubbing puke or skanky faeborn muscleguy.

You protectify your own. You don’t seduce his girlfriend and turn her into a ravenous beastie. Even if she wants you to.

He shoulders to the bar at the other end, stretching his wings carelessly to make room, and crunches frustrated elbows on the glass. The warm surface reflects neonblue, the ghostly echo of his envy. Determination burns like firefae oil over his heart. He’ll think up another plan. Another tricksy vampire deathtrap.

But Ange is too clever, too vampire-strong for a knife. Three dead fairy assassins prove that. And he can’t just slip the greendeath in a drink or creep up while the hypersensed prick is sleeping. He’ll be caught in an instant.

He’ll just have to thinkify another way. A fabulicious, Ange-proof way. The ice-hearted bastard’s gotta be vulnerable somewhere, and Diamond’s crystalline faetalents have a way of winkling out weaknificality.

He scans the crowd, making sure no one’s watching. Across the room, there’s Vincent DiLuca, his enemy, crazy-ass vampire, slurping blood from a glass and giving Diamond a cheeky wave. Diamond flashes him a glamour-rich scarlet fuck-off. Rabid bloodsucking asshole. Rules sayem no gangfights at Unseelie Court. Only reason Vincent’s still breathing.

Over by the steps, Tony LaFaro’s already chatting up girls, oblivious. A giggling drunk fairy with bright nectarine wings leans against his misshapen shoulder, and her lips slur and dribble with whatever faedrunk poison Tony’s slipped her. His slanted yellow eyes shine cruel, sly claws wandering onto her dress. Scorn burns Diamond’s fingertips. Dirtified little rat.

But Ange and Rosa are still at the bar. Stealthy, Diamond inhales and reaches out invisible glassfae talent.

Colors leech like waterpaint. Shapes waver and fade, translucent, a glassy matrix of lines and glowing shadows, and he weaves his senses among them, ghostlike. Closer, caressing the air like velvet, the soft whisper of hair, warm desire tingling, a fairy girl’s haunted breath. The bar, damp glass aglow with neon, slick plastic cash, icy moisture trickling on a drink. Creep closer still, and here’s Ange, dark and sinister, his cold gray eyes burning black in this strange shadowview.

Diamond leans against the bar, casual, and feels his cautious way, his skin tight and hot with magicweird sensation. Smooth, ageless vampire skin, no feverheat. Heartbeat steady and cold, even though Rosa is whispering her hand in his lap and nibbling his ear with her tiny sharp teeth.

Acid froths in Diamond’s throat at the scorching bitterness of her desire. Since he lost her, he’s felt nothing except disgust and contempt for himself, so clueless and unable to keep her. He can’t forgivify.

In his shadowy magicsight, Rosa slips her finger over Angelo’s lips, tempting him. Ange nips her, blooding his tongue in a hot burst. She sighs in pleasure, and smears her bloodstained finger on her own lips before leaning in for a kiss.

Ange nudges Rosa’s chin up and strikes. Teeth flashing, skin ripping, the dulcet squelch of tearing flesh. She gasps, lost. Angelo drags her head back to bite deeper, claiming her body and blood. God, it’s so primitive, so sensual, and pain and desire echo like dark music in Diamond’s body. He wants to scream, be sick, touch himself.

But Ange’s skin doesn’t twitch. He doesn’t get a hard-on. When he sucks deep and swallows, his pulse jumps slightly.

That’s all.

Diamond pulls back, and glass shatters in his ears as the magic dissolves.

Every time, it’s same-same. No doubts, no flaws, no weaknificality. The hunger’s there—oh, it’s there, all right, the need screaming in Ange’s ancient blood like the dirty virusfever it is, and it isn’t pretty inside Ange’s head, not after 350 years of slaughterfication—but his passion is cold, calmified, wrapped in the icy straitjacket of centuries-perfectified control.

When Ange loses it, it’s explosive. But it happens only when he wants it to.

Diamond’s nerves tweak sharp. Can’t sneakem up. Can’t distractify. It’ll take something specialicious to put Ange off guard.

Something Diamond doesn’t have.

Just like he didn’t have what it took to keep Rosa. All the one-night-stands in the world can’t change that. Sometimes they cling, those nameless girls. He always shakes them off. They’re not her. None of them ever will be.

Melancholy lurks at his mind’s edge like a black crystal ghost. In his pocket, his little mirrored case tempts him, square edges tracing a seductive trail against his thigh. Forget. Drift away. Go somewhere else.

His mouth dries in anticipation of the nectarsweet crystals inside. He pops the shiny case open, cuts a tiny glitterblack line with one practiced claw, and inhales.

Lemonbombs burst fresh and cold in his sinuses. Things jolt brighter, clearer, closer, like chemical contact lenses slipped over his eyes. His blood rushes tight in his veins, glowing under his translucent skin like a pulsing scarlet web.

Energy, pure excitement, stolen on a kiss from some unsuspectifying creature by a lie-bright fairy spell-worker. Or maybe not so unsuspecting. Sparkle is crafted from emotions, memories, dreams, and some people will sellify anything for what the fairies offer, pleasure, blood, a few moments of dizzy oblivion. Sparkle is Diamond’s business, and he knows where it comes from. Tonight, he doesn’t care.

He shakes his head like a dog, silvery tears spraying, and slides the case back into his pocket with ultrasharp movements. Already his muscles tighten, itching for action, touch, pain. In a few seconds, he’ll have a hard-on. Shouldn’t be difficult to get it attended to. And maybe screwing some random flirtgirl will take his mind off
her.
…

Sweet female sorrow fires his tongue electric.

He glances along the bar, compelled. The bloodfairy girl next to him is crying, lovely red hair messified with cherryblood and tears. Teethmarks pierce her slender neck, a bruise shadowing her chin. Blood streaking those luscious swelling breasts.

Pretty thing. Maybe a vampire boyfriend, or some asshole trying to get lucky. Seems everyone’s in a mood tonight.

Diamond’s eyes water, dazzled with hot druglaced focus. She isn’t Rosa. None of them are. But the same anger flows in his bonehollows like lava. Dirty virus-rats, chewing on this girl’s perfect milk chocolate skin. She’s so delicate, her sparklygreen eyes jewelbright with tears. And those luscious cherrypop lips …

He eyes her speculatively, taking in endless tanned legs, narrow waist, delicate papery wings. He’s a mind to kissify those bruises away. See if he can’t make her forget her tears for a while. Mmm …

But waitify one second. He knows her. Isn’t she—?

Fuck.

He glances around for his boy Jasper, but the lying weaselfae is nowhere in sight. He sighs, but he can’t pretend he didn’t seeify her, and that old covetous instinct caresses the back of his neck with seductive fingers.
Mine. Want. Mine.

Pretty girl, covered in blood, crying into her vodka. Desperation flooding her eyes. Velvet helplessness richifying her scent.

His sensitive nose twitches, his drugstung flesh hot and deeply aware, and he swallows a dark twinge of conscience. Obvio-liciously, the pretty lady needs his helpification. In gangland, you protectify your own, right? Even if she’s your own boy’s woman and the sexiest girl in the room, trouble-icality in a juicy bitesize package.

Especially if Jasper can’t be bothered to take care of her. But Jasper’s temper is notorious. So who the hell was dumb enough to bite her? Curiouser and curiouser.

Diamond’s skin prickles, warm and dangerous with intent, and he swallows and skids his stool over to her.

3

“Ember? You okay?”

Cool voice, crisp with bellchime harmonics. His rosy glow warmed my skin, and I glimpsed sharp gemstone claws, a crystalline jaw, fiber-optic hair shimmering in laserlight rainbows.

My stomach twisted. Jasper’s weird glassfae boss. Who taught Jasper everything he knew about pushing sparkle to teenagers and kicking the shit out of gang pukes and screwing cute little fairy tarts behind his girlfriend’s back.

I sniffled, dragging my hand across my eyes. Too late to pretend I hadn’t seen, that I didn’t care. “What you want?”

No doubt he expected trouble for Jasper from me. Likely he’d try to placate me, soothe my temper, shut me up.

But he just studied me distantly, taking in the blood, the cuts, the smeared tears on my cheeks. A weird creature, this Diamond. Clearly flesh and blood—nothing made of glass could smell like that, all warm and rosefresh—but his translucent skin glowed like faint pink neon, the shadows of his muscles curving underneath. Slanted crystal cheekbones, liquid berry eyes, lashes long and glitterbright. Glassfibered hair, long and shining like rain in sunlight. And eerie, luminous wings like fine quartz, a few broken edges glinting sharp. Nightclub lights glittered over him like jewels, reflecting in ripples over the shadowed floor.

Dangerous, sharp, ironstrong yet fragile. A perfect roseglass angel.

Pity he was a violent kiss-ass gangboy like all the rest.

He blinked, and faeweird prescience slid grasping fingers into my skull, stripping me of guile. “Eww. What happenated you?”

I shook myself loose with a sharp crack of glamour. I didn’t like him. Didn’t like how he saw through me with insidious glassfae talent. How he flirted with me in front of Jasper, careless and condescending like he was doing me a favor. How he looked at me sometimes, those intense ruby eyes raking shivers down my spine, like he knew something I didn’t. And he was sparklefucked. I could tell by his wet gleaming eyes, his quivering fingers, the glowing pulse throbbing in his throat.

I ruffled my wings, like I had it all under control. “Nothing. I’m just great, Diamond. Like you give a shit.”

He leaned strong, graceful wrists on the bar, showing off glasscarved muscles. His flashy fashion sense almost made me smile. Only an arrogant glow-in-the-dark fairy boy could carry off a sleeveless limegreen shirt and soft plumpurple leather pants and not look totally queer.

His claws jittered across the glass. “Have it your way. Just polite-ifying.”

I wiped away scarletstained tears. His weird English was kinda cute, all the same. He talked too fast, like his mind sprinted ahead of his mouth, and his words jumbled and flowered new syllables. It was annoyingly disarming. “If you’re running interference, you suck at it. You’re supposed to intercept me before I see him?”

A blank. “Seeify who what?”

Laughter snorted wet from my nose. “Screw you. Like you didn’t know all along.”

“About what?”

“About that, smart-ass.” I stabbed my finger over my shoulder and chugged my drink dry, cool moisture dripping from the glass.

He glanced back, stainedglass wings rippling, and I couldn’t help but stare. He was decorative, I’d give him that. Half a head shorter than Jasper, but none of Jasper’s narrow fae slimness. No, Diamond was all hard glassy muscle, his weird translucent skin smooth and tight, faint scarlet veins an intriguing web beneath. When he moved, muscles stretched and bunched, fluid in a warm rosy glow.

Curiosity tingled my palms. Glassfae were strange. Improbable. Those churchwindow wings looked so delicate. For him to fly, all that dangerous muscle had to be fairylight. What would that ultrasmooth chest feel like under my fingertips? Blown glass? Cold, like crystal? Or soft, like skin, warm, slick, inviting? …

I swallowed and dropped my gaze, my cheeks warm. Like trouble, that’s what. All the same, these cocky gangboys. Too damn intriguing for their own good.

He spied Jasper and turned back, elegant for such a bulky guy. He had the grace to look embarrassed, gold glimmering deep in his ruby eyes. “Oh. That.”

Was that sympathy? Warmth spilled over my heart, and I quenched it. Everyone knew Diamond went through girls like toilet paper. Use ’em up and flush ’em when you’re done. “Yeah,
that
. Seriously, am I invisible or something?”

“It’s nothing. Just biznificality.” Rainbows danced in his long glassy hair.

His
fairy boys will be sluts
insouciance tickled warm indignation through my limbs. I plonked my glass on the bar. “Oh, sure. That makes me feel better, coming from you. Where’s your tart-of-the-evening? Broken her already? You get them from vending machines, or what?”

“Moron.”

“Excuse me?”

His gaze caught mine again, glowing violet. “Jasper. He’s an idiot. If you were my lady, I wouldn’t be fucking some other girl. I’d be fucking you.”

Stupidly, I blushed. He flashed me an unreasonably scintillating smile, and before I could collect my wits, he’d tilted my chin up, exposing my wounds, already half-healed by virus-soaked vampire spit.

I jerked back, but he held me, ducking to peer at my cuts. “Let me lookify.”

Mortification stained my sweat bloody. “It’s nothing. Let go.”

He tugged me closer, probing my slashed skin with surprisingly gentle claws. His voice clanged, discordant. “Who did this?”

“No one.” I twisted, but he stroked me, soothing my bruised skin, easing the wound open to look for corruption. More a caress than an examination. His hair tumbled on my arm, not sharp but springy and soft. He leaned closer, his rosy warmth inflaming me, and I wanted to squirm away.

My wings tingled, aware. His tenderness embarrassed me. I didn’t care what he thought of me, but somehow I didn’t want to tell him I’d done it for a strange fiery gemstone and one of Jasper’s smiles. I swallowed, feeling his fingers move on my skin. Maybe he wasn’t the thoughtless puke I’d imagined. “It doesn’t matter, okay? It was an accident.”

“Not on my patch. You’re one of ours. Tell me who bit you, and I’ll rip the skanksucker’s fangs out.”

My blood iced. So matter-of-fact. That was all he cared about. His patch. His possessions.

They were all the fucking same. If some guy gave me a hard time or looked at me the wrong way, Jasper would invariably break the guy’s nose. Not because he cared how I felt. Because he owned me, and no one else was allowed.

Why did I expect Diamond to be any different? I shouldn’t be disappointed.

But I was.

I grabbed his shining pink wrist and yanked my chin away. “Leave it, okay? It’s nothing. Jasper told me to. He wanted me to steal from the guy. I swapped my blood on purpose. You got a problem with that?”

He broke my grip, his effortless fairy strength both threat and promise. Shiny contempt flashed his eyes silver. “Hey, it’s your choosings, angel. You wanna put out for favors? Go right ahead. But don’t fucking cry about it when they stick it in.”

His scorn ripped me naked, a razorsharp mirror of my own shame. Fury burned my moonrich blood bright. Before I could hold back, my hand flashed out and I slapped him.

Right across his beautiful crystalline cheek.

My palm stung hot. His face glowed brighter, and shock lit magenta flames in his eyes, but I didn’t care. I was too incensed at his goddamn attitude. “Don’t you judge me, sparkleboy. You don’t fucking know anyth—Ugh!”

In a rosy flash, he grabbed my forearm and yanked me off my stool.

I stumbled against his hot glassy body, and my breath squeezed tight.

I wriggled, but he held me. I tried to look away, but he captured my gaze with his—not cold and contemptuous, but hot, intense, curious—and my guts melted.

His breath scorched my lips, warm glass and roses, only an inch or two away. “Do that again, and I’ll do it back.”

His glasschime murmur tinkled through me, dark and warm with promise. His bunched muscles slid on my limbs, damp with his rose-perfumed sweat, and damn it if his skin didn’t feel nice on mine. Improbably smooth, inviting, that beautiful hair pouring over my arms like a hot sparkling waterfall. His pulse against my breasts, a shock of pleasure. His arousal against my thigh a temptation, though doubtless that impressive hard-on had more to do with a snort of glittering black-jewel than it had to do with me.

Rebellion fired my blood. All my fear, my sorrow, all that energy I’d stored up tonight begged for release. I wanted to run, fly, scream my rage at the stars, do all the naughty crazy things that being weak and bloodfae and Jasper’s girlfriend forbade me.

I bared my pointed teeth, wickedness flaming like magnesium in my veins. “Dare ya.”

His eyes glinted violet with challenge. “So kitty’s got claws after all. Wanna showify?”

God, he was so fucking self-assured. His lips curled into a smile, and I thought I’d snap in two with rage.

But I didn’t. Instead, a tingling ache flared in my wingjoints, and suddenly my mouth dried. Lights prismed through his translucent wingpanes, shadowing me in dark rainbows that smelled of roses and hot male skin, and the images that flooded my head weren’t sordid and violent but hot and sensual.

My skin zinged fresh, alight, and I tried to stop staring at his mouth.

This wasn’t happening. Moontide waxing in my blood, right? Making me horny, careless, indiscriminate. Just a little harmless rebellion. No way was I attracted to some cocky pinkglass gangpuke who called me a tart. Even if deep down, I feared he was right.

But my body wasn’t listening. My pulse thudded, demanding things I didn’t want to give. I tried to talk, but only a whisper came out. “Get off me, asshole.”

He just gripped me harder, his breath tight against my breasts. “Name-calling? Fine. You’re a whore, Ember. Sellifying yourself for safety. You blame Jasper but you’re a big girl.”

Too close. His sparklesharp scent dizzied me, the play of his muscles against mine a hot confusion. “Bully,” I whispered. “Picker-on of little girls. Can’t take it if you’re not in control.”

“Coward. Scarified little hider. Afraid to take what you want.” His hot ruby gaze caressed my face, my hair, slid downward to my lips.

Heat pooled between my legs, slick and hungry. His fingertips played wicked games in the sensitive place between my wingjoints, and my voice dried to nothing. “Don’t do that.”

He didn’t stop. “Why? Afraid you might likify?”

I’d like it, all right. I licked my lips, tempted. “You afraid I wouldn’t?”

His tiny hot chuckle caressed my mouth. “Mmm. Sounds like a challenge. I’m in if you are.”

Moonshine flamed in my blood, and I leaned in.

And my nose twitched with the familiar, tingling honeyscent of Jasper.

Diamond released me in a swift ripple of glamour that shocked me breathless. His rosy glow dissolved, and he
dimmed,
leaving only a shimmering ghost and a faint scarlet shadow on the floor. Jesus. How did he do that?

How
did
he do that? He’d barely touched me, yet my body still ached. My skin still tingled, frustrated, my lips stinging wet.

I tossed my hair straight and wiped my mouth, flushing. I knew the glass-ass freak was still there. I could see him, hiding in the crowd, a faint pink outline that could have been an illusion, a reflection. He flicked his shadow-wings casually, caught his breath with a swift sigh. Looked anywhere but at me.

Pretending nothing had happened.

Well, nothing had happened. Nothing would ever happen. Cocky glow-in-the-dark prick. Taking advantage of me like that.

Jasper’s wirestrong arms slipped around me, his long-muscled fairy body hard against my side. Deep violet eyes curled in wild blue lashes, gorgeous death-white skin, long charcoal hair torn artfully jagged, the most perfectly curved, mauvesweet lips in Melbourne.

Lips that just made love to another girl’s mouth. His honeyspice scent weakened my limbs, and my pulse lurched. For all I knew, he’d gone down on her right there in the dark.

I shivered, and behind him I spied shadow-Diamond sidling nonchalantly away. Like he’d done this before. Bastard.

But Jasper’s embrace sank me into familiar fearful territory. Guilt flushed me damp, and I hated it. I hadn’t done anything bad. But instinctively, my confidence sank, my mind racing for something, anything I’d done wrong, any small action or movement or thought that could have raised my lover’s ire.

Like, I dunno, nearly kissing his boss? My skin burned at the memory. Jesus in a jam jar. What was I thinking?

Jasper’s kiss brushed my cheekbone, and I jumped, my heart melting at the same time. I wanted him to comfort me, stroke my hair, tell me everything was okay. I wanted to slam my fist into his face and fly away.

“Did you get it?” His voice sparkled down my spine, dark and sultry with dirty earthfae come-hither.

Not
Emmy, hi, how’s it going?
or
Are you okay?
or
Gosh, I’m sorry you had to bloodfuck some random guy just because I said so. Let me make it up to you.

Just,
Did you get it?
like I was some gang puke he ordered around. Like I worked for him.

I swallowed, the half-healed bite on my throat hurting like poison. “Yeah, I got it.”

“Show me, pretty.” He captured me for a kiss, and I fumbled the clasp of my velvet clutch bag. The curve of my back tingled under his palm, and my sensitive wingjoints ached. Damn him.

I pulled back and popped my bag open to pull out the gemstone. My blood still slicked it, vampire spit trailing in a sticky string. I wiped wet hair from my throat, my gaze slipping. “Here.”

Jasper took it, a greedy red spark lighting his eyes. “Oh, that’s good. That’s most wonderfully good. Did I tell you lately how special you are?” He wrapped me in his arms, his body pressed to mine, and danced me lightly backwards on a flutter of soft blackvelvet wings.

His embrace dizzied me, made me think of chili hot chocolate, a crackling fire, deep silken fur caressing my back. Not for the first time I wondered what wicked spells lurked on his scent that he affected me like this. I licked dry lips, his honeycomb taste still tempting on my tongue. I was leaving him, remember? “Umm … look. We need to talk—”