Dirty Little Misery (Miss Misery) (24 page)

As she shut the door on us, I heard her tell one of her addicts to wait outside.

Andre, who seemed to be reeling worse from the disorientation curse than I was, struggled to sit up. “This is why I should have known better than to laugh at any of those stiff jokes the Newton cops were throwing around.” He inhaled sharply and closed his eyes. “Bad karma.”

I rubbed my arm where Lucrezia had drawn her cursed glyph, but the mark stuck to me like a bad tattoo. The magic ink didn’t even smudge.

“It doesn’t work that way,” Andre said.

“Yeah, I know. A girl can’t help trying though.”

“Hey, please try. Try anything you can think of.” He rested his head against the wall. “How are you feeling? Still dizzy?”

I quit the useless rubbing and assessed myself. The floor didn’t feel solid and everything blurred if I moved too fast, but the nausea was gone. I could probably stand if I tried, but for how long? I was in no state to attempt to overpower the guard Lucrezia had left. “I’m getting better.”

Or maybe worse. Already, I could sense my body reacting to the F, and possibly the curse. I was getting warm, and my skin was increasingly aware of the feel of my clothes. Rough denim dug into my thighs. My bra scraped at my all-too-sensitive nipples. I held still, focusing on my breaths, searching within me for something grounding. Something to drive away the sensations. Something to fight for.

Like Lucen.

Okay, not Lucen. Bad idea. Thoughts about him weren’t helping, but oh, I wanted nothing more than to think of him.

“It’s hitting you too, isn’t it?” Andre’s voice was thick, and he slid to the floor, lying on his back. “You’re staring into space.”

“I am?” I blinked and tried to focus on Andre, but that was also a mistake. My partner looked really good right now.
Really
good. Why hadn’t I ever noticed how good before? Those warm eyes. That smooth, tan skin. He had cheekbones sharp as knives. I’d never dated a guy who shaved his head before, and I wanted to know what it would feel like to run my fingers over his scalp.

Then keep them running right on down his body, over his broad chest, down his abs… Shit.

Andre was staring at me too. I could see the desire in his face but could barely taste it. Either the F or Lucrezia’s glyph had to be interfering with my gift.

“Jess, we’ve got to think.”

“I am thinking.” Just of all the wrong things. I dug my nails into my palms. Pain usually snapped me out of any stupor, but it wasn’t helping this time. Even pain felt good. “How long did it take for Natalie and her friends to come off this?”

It took Andre a while to answer. “Hours, and the medics gave them sedatives on the way to the hospital.”

“Oh. Damn.” I’d forgotten the sedatives part.

I was starting to forget everything, in fact. My brain felt like it was getting duller and duller. I didn’t want to think. I wanted to feel, and I knew just what I wanted to feel. If Andre and I weren’t resisting as best we could, I was certain I’d already be lying on top of him.

“Rope,” I muttered, forcing my thoughts out of the gutter. “How come we don’t have anything like that in here?” The room was barren except for a long, banquet-style table and a few chairs.

“Rope, huh?”

“Not for that. But if we could tie ourselves down, maybe we could wait it out.”

“I’m not sure that would work, but I don’t see any rope anyway.”

I gave up and collapsed to the floor. My body was starting to hurt with repressed longing. It built inside me, triggering memories of Natalie’s frantic behavior. Merely observing and sensing her unfulfilled lust had been unpleasant for me. I didn’t want to live it myself, but it was coming whether I was ready or not, slowly taking control of my body.

I swore I could smell Andre’s skin—no cinnamon, no cloves, just something manly human and hot. A fine sheen of sweat glistened on his face and arms, and his chest rose and fell heavily. I had to touch him. Needed to touch him. Was going to explode if I didn’t.

“Oh, God, Jess.” His voice was so soft and thick I could barely hear him. “This is getting bad. I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

“I don’t know how much longer I can fight it.”

“Me neither.”

I wasn’t sure if I said the words or only thought I did. I wasn’t sure what happened next at all. Who moved? Who initiated? Who could tell? The fog hung so thickly over my brain, and my world dissolved into nothing but Andre. Andre, and the pain of a burning desire that I knew from experience couldn’t be satiated.

But we’d try. Oh, we were trying.

I was on top of him, straddling his waist. My lips were on his, his tongue exploring my mouth. Every time I breathed in his scent, every touch of his lips sent me further over the edge. His warm hands slipped under my shirt, and as I sat up to pull it off the rest of the way, he flipped me over.

Pinned to the floor, I moaned as he ran his tongue down my chin, my neck, onto my breasts. Andre whispered my name, nudging my breast from my bra. Grasping fingers clawed at the lace. Greedy lips sucked on my nipple, too hard to feel good, yet not hard enough to satisfy me. Andre’s touch was neither gentle nor sexily rough. He was driven by this mad hunger. Consumed by this artificial fire that couldn’t be quenched.

So was I.

Desperate for more of him, I pushed his face deeper into my body, crying out as his teeth skimmed my sensitive skin. I strained to reach his arms and tug off his shirt, to rub his bare chest against my own. His hardness grazed my legs as he kissed me lower and lower. My hands balled into fists at my sides, unable to reach him as he ripped open my jeans button. My hips arched to meet his mouth.

Stop it, Jess!

I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing I could kill the voice of reason inside my head, but it wouldn’t shut up. Even as Andre finally tossed his shirt aside, even as my hands tore at the button on his jeans, something inside me hadn’t fully succumbed to the lethal combination of magic I’d been given.

I hated that something. It was the voice screaming,
You’re part satyr. Feed off this energy. Control it.

But I didn’t want to control it, and even if I did want to, I couldn’t. I’d tried.

I yanked Andre’s jeans and boxers down his legs, and my body wailed as he emerged glistening with sweat and ripe and ready before me. If I couldn’t feel him inside me soon, I’d go mad.

No, you’ll live. Fight it.

Instead my fingers trailed along his thighs and curled around his cock. Andre moaned. I struggled to sit, to bring my lips to him and feast on my prize.

Fight it. Why can’t you do this? Why can’t you feed off this energy?

I didn’t know. Whatever was in this magic had killed my gift as easily as it had killed my ability to feel anything but senseless lust, and I was going to die because of it.

No, I was going to die if Andre didn’t fuck me soon. I couldn’t stand this need anymore. The ache between my legs had become a howling pain. Damn you, Lucrezia.

Anger, spicy and harsh, ran through me like an electric shock. With it came power. With the power came some control and awareness.

But my lips were already closing over the tip of Andre’s erection. His hands pulled me closer, fingers delving into my wetness and burrowing inside me. My body was alive and screaming, my hips thrusting in time with his hand.

Kill Lucrezia.
I scarcely could manage the single thought, but I grasped it with what little willpower I had.
Kill Lucrezia. Kill her. Kill.

My anger rose again. I couldn’t stop the lust, not entirely, but I could overpower it, push it down, bury it in my gut.

Gasping, I removed my lips from Andre and pulled his hand away from me, though I reeled from the empty coldness that took over. Unfortunately, he used the opportunity to press me back on the floor. With him hovering above me, I had to close my eyes to roll out of the way. Looking at him made it too difficult. The rage gave me some strength, but I was holding on to my self-control by an imp’s wing. It was fragile, barely there. Easily broken.

“Jess, come back.” Andre landed on the floor without me.

I moved quickly. He’d reach me soon. He’d push me back down, and I’d let him because my body ached for him. So I had to act while I could. My fingers found the leg of the closest chair, and I winced in anticipation. “I’m so sorry.”

Then I yanked the chair closer and brought as much of it as I could down on Andre’s head.

I didn’t hit him quite right. Part of me didn’t want to hurt him, and I couldn’t get a good angle. Andre grunted in pain and gawked at me like I’d lost it, which in fairness, I had. But so had he. Luckily, the F left him so out of it that he couldn’t react. I sat up, gained a better grip on the chair and hit him again.

Focus. Anger. Lucrezia. Stop.

I had seconds before Andre regained his wits. I’d stunned him, nothing more. Crawling over his body, far too conscious of the warmth of his skin, I grabbed his T-shirt and tied his wrists together behind his back and around a table leg. “I am so, so sorry.”

I just hoped he’d thank me later.

A trickle of blood ran down his temple, and his eyes fluttered open. “Jess?”

I pulled my pants and shirt on, and clenched my jaw. Though the worst of my lust was buried, I could tell it was only temporary. My skin was super sensitive. My clothes irritated.

Hate. Kill. Lucrezia.

“Jess, come back.” Andre writhed on the floor, his moans morphing into screams as he fought the table. “Jess!”

“Hold tight. I’m taking down Lucrezia.”

Some understanding flashed over his face. A single bead of sweat ran down his forehead. “God, yes. Do that. Please.”

“I will.” As soon as I formed a plan.

Who was I kidding? I could hardly walk straight. Partly because of the lusty pain, partly because my body didn’t want to cooperate. Which was also because of the lust.

I cracked the door an inch, doing my best to tune out Andre, who seemed to have already forgotten the plan and was begging me to come back. Naked and tied up, and looking good enough to lick every inch of—my body shivered with longing for him. My knuckles whitened as I gripped the doorframe. It killed me not to answer his pleas.

Get out. Kill Lucrezia.

Her addict was gone, if he’d ever been there in the first place. I opened the door wider and stuck my head outside.

The coast was clear. If Lucrezia was actually here doing work, she was probably on the top floor in the office—a room that had a view down onto the rest of the club. The only way up there was via the locked elevator. Attacking her, therefore, was out of the question.

On hands and knees, I crawled to the edge of the balcony before realizing I was directly under the office here. Lucrezia couldn’t see me. I got up, my knees shaky. I needed a plan and I needed it fast. The ball of magic I’d created was coming unwound even now. When I couldn’t hold it together any longer, that power was going to explode in me all at once. I’d start humping anything that moved. Or maybe anything that didn’t. I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be picky.

I grasped the balcony rail, and my gaze settled on the bar area at the far side of the floor beneath me. My phone was there, and so was my knife. Lucrezia had left them on a table. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was all I had.

Staying low, I took the stairs one trembling step at a time because my body fought every movement. The ache was delicious torture, the longing enough to make my eyes tear. I couldn’t decide which was worse. Everything was too intense—alternately pleasure and agony.

It took forever to reach the bottom, and the dance floor stretched out before me. I could keep up the stealthy creep, or I could make a dash for the bar. The addict goons were nowhere in sight, and I suspected Lucrezia was keeping them close by in the office. Possibly, she had them on watch duty up there. If that was the case, then running was my best option because they’d see me any second.

I gritted my teeth, channeling my fury at Lucrezia. I needed the speed, but more than that—this was going to chafe. My uber-aroused inner thigh area was not going to appreciate running.

Go. Now.

I sprinted across the floor and up the few stairs to the bar table where my belongings waited. My fingers fumbled over my phone, and only belatedly did it occur to me to wonder who to call. I might not get more than one shot at this.

I crashed to the floor, sucking a breath through my teeth, and chose.

“Jess?” Lucen picked up on the second ring. If The Lair had been busy, it might have gone to voicemail. I wasn’t sure why I chose him when I knew I should have called the Gryphons. I could only assume it was because when my body was alive with desire, Lucen was the person who sprang to mind.

Alas, his voice alone was enough to melt me. My grip on the curse slipped another fraction. “I need help. Get to Purgatory. Lucrezia’s the one, not Devon. Hurry.”

“Jess, you okay?”

I groaned, grasping blindly over my head until my hand found my knife. “No. Hurry.”

I could hear footsteps, but I couldn’t see who was coming. No matter. It had to be one of the addicts, who were as interchangeable to me as they appeared to be to Lucrezia. I shoved the phone aside, hoping Lucen understood, and pulled Misery from the sheath.

Don’t bring a knife to a gunfight. Oh well.

Back on my hands and knees, I crawled away from the table. I needed to buy time until Lucen could get here, and that meant I needed to go somewhere I’d be safe. I could scramble for the exit, but I’d already been captured once that way and I didn’t relish the idea of running around in public in my current state. I was liable to assault someone.

So what I needed then was to get someplace where Lucrezia’s goons couldn’t reach me. The basement. Once I was beyond the wards designed to keep out pesky humans, I’d be safe. Lucrezia could get to me, but she’d have to make the effort herself. It would take time, and unless she wanted to shoot me, she’d have a problem. As long as I had my knife, she’d be extra careful about getting close.

Somewhere behind me, the footsteps grew louder. Holding my breath, I tucked myself into a nook behind the bar. The floor was gritty and the tile worn, the confinement most unpleasant.