Poison Kissed (26 page)

I arched my back, willing his mouth onto my breasts, but he took his own sweet time, teasing me with the tiniest kisses and licks like sparkling fairydust over my skin before he sucked my eager nipple into his mouth.

Yes. My body flushed with pleasure, enough to make me moan and struggle against his hands. God, I loved what he did to my breasts. His teeth stung me, just the way I wanted, and his lips dragged such pleasure from my nipple that I thought I’d melt in scorching harmony. He released me to slide his hand between my legs, and caressed my clit, so light and gentle, I moaned. And then he did something swift and sharp inside his mouth, and I exploded.

The sting ripped straight down a hot wire from my breast to my sex. My nipple flowered rapidly between his lips, hard and big and so sensitive that one flick of his tongue was enough. I gasped and shuddered and came, the flesh between my legs swelling too fast, too hard. My pulse throbbed with rich chemical pleasure. Through a dizzy haze, I realized he’d bitten me, poisoned me just enough to make it feel good, and dark deliciousness made me shudder and jerk all over again.

I groaned in delight as the shocks faded and he slid his body up over mine to kiss me again. His cock slipped against my wet flesh, a sweet tease. The bittersweet taste on his tongue swelled a lump in my throat, and it wasn’t from the venom. He’d let me see, back in Ivy’s cavern, that smooth succulent serpent he’d always kept hidden. And now he’d let me feel him, taste him, be with him. Finally, he was letting me close.

Tears welled, hot and sparkling with desperate gratitude. I swallowed in our kiss, trying to get more of him, all of him. Venom smeared between us from my aching breast, warm and secret, like nothing could ever touch us. He curled his fingers between mine, pinning my hands on either side of my head, and I pressed against his grip, light-headed, wanting to tangle my hands in his hair, slide my hands over his smooth flank and drag him onto me, into me.

He murmured in satisfaction and kissed my lips, first the top one, then the bottom, sucking them tantalizingly between his teeth. “You liked that?”

“God, yes. Do it more. Show me. Please—”

“Shh.” He just gazed deep into my eyes so I couldn’t look away, and slid inside me.

Slow, delicious, totally in control. His sweet menthol freshness filled me, mingling with the sultry heat of his flesh. My muscles rippled and clenched as his cock slipped deeper. God, it felt all the better for how tight I was. My swollen glands protested, sore, but I didn’t care. I moved my thigh up along his hip, opening myself. He thrust even deeper, harder, his fingers tightening around mine. “Jasmina,” he breathed into a kiss, “you’re so beautiful.”

Oh, sweet lord. If I wasn’t crying before, I surely was now. I didn’t just feel it where his flesh slid into mine, that glorious friction, the shape of him caressing sweet hidden places inside me. I felt it in my heart. He filled me, both in flesh and in soul, an empty place inside me now hollow and cold no longer, the missing notes in my melody slotting perfectly into place. And it hurt, deep inside where I’d always imagined myself a whole person.

I had nothing. Nothing but this, him, now. I belonged with him, to him, completely and inescapably. And it didn’t shame me. It just made me feel at home.

He moved so sweetly inside me, like everything he did, so precise and elegant and deliberate. I pushed against him, moving with him, and a whole new symphony of sensation built slowly inside, chord by perfect chord. Satisfaction drowned me deep, led me breathless to pleasure I’d never imagined, sparkling inside me like hot crystal. I’d wanted him so long, this was like a misty-eyed dream.

I bit my lip, and my own salty tears ran into my mouth.

He held me, kissed me, tasted my tears away. His whisper fell like warm rain on my lips. “I know, princess. I’m sorry. Just don’t talk.” And then he thrust harder, and all words and reason fled.

My muscles stretched and rippled, so good. I tilted my hips upward to accept him, offering my parted lips for another kiss. He took it, sliding his shifting mouth on mine, tasting my tongue until I swallowed and gasped for breath.

I clutched his hands tightly, tears spilling on my cheeks. Of course, he knew just what I liked, thrusting deep and slow and hard, until pleasure deep inside me shuddered and threatened to break. His hands on mine, pressing me into the bed, felt safe, warm, protective, like he’d never let me hurt again. He slid hot kisses onto my throat, and I tilted my head back, arching against him, lost in perfect bliss.

I’d had sex with who knew how many guys, sometimes conscious and indifferent, other times drunk or insensible on sick fairy drugs. Most were ashes on the breeze. A few stuck in my memory, for good reasons or bad. But this was different. This felt—oh, god,
he
felt—like it meant something more than mindless sensation or distraction or punishment. My body thrilled like dark and dangerous melody to our shared heat, our kiss, the luscious slide of his weird skin on mine, the secret way his breath caught as he found the deepest place inside me he could manage. My nipples slid on his chest, tight and hard and so sensitive, the pleasure stabbed deep. I’d barely dreamed it would be this good.

But I’d also dreamed of more.

I shivered and moaned under him, the relentless pleasure of him inside me too much. I needed to come. I needed to stop this right now before I lost my heart. His will was iron. He’d break me before I broke him. Unless . . . Desperate, I licked into his mouth, searching for serpent fangs, that secret fluid, that sharp twinge of pain.

He dragged his head away, gasping. His shining fangs sprang out, and he bit them away with a groan. “Fuck, no. Not in the mouth. You’ll choke.”

So beautiful, slick and curved and wicked. So deadly. The sight made me quiver inside, glowing beginnings of orgasm taunting me. “Just a little bit. I want it.”

“No.” But his hands shifted in mine, and that slick skin enfolded me, so hot and smooth and delicious, I shivered.

Oh, god. I arched, the sweet friction inside me scorching my pleasure harder, higher, closer. But his neck muscles corded, and he gritted his teeth and shifted back, sweat glowing on his face.

“Please, Joey. I want all of you. Show me.” Little cries forced from my throat, and I curled my legs around his hips, pulling him harder, deeper, searching for that elusive melody. His muscles strained against me, his bright neon scent of changing already tingling my nose. The strange lithe flesh moving and swelling under his skin felt so perfect. So natural.

But he fought it. He averted his face, stained hair falling over his cheek. Despair leaked scorching into my pleasure. He wanted to shift. I knew he did. Wanted to taste me with those enhanced senses, feel our bodies entwined and molding together, skin to glossy skin.

Harmonics shivered me, tuning me to higher pitch. God, I wanted him to. Even a little. That rich dark serpent flesh against mine, his minty neon scent, the hiss of his gentle claws as they teased my skin to ecstasy. Tension built inside me, twisting tighter and hotter and more urgent. I tilted breathless on the edge of mindless orgasm, and I wanted him to show me so bad, I moaned it aloud. “Do it. Just do it. Please.”

But he wouldn’t. Wouldn’t look at me.

Wouldn’t let himself be.

Even after all we’d survived, he was still holding back from me.

And just as I was about to shatter like a crystal glass in perfect harmony, he ripped himself away.

29

My body convulsed, discordant. Delirious, I reached for him, but he scrambled away, muscles shining pearlescent in the dim light. My wetness gleamed on his skin, my sweat and spit and juice mingling with his.

He cursed and crunched shuddering claws in the bedspread, leaving ragged holes. “Fuck. I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“You can. You have to. I don’t care. Please.” My words choked, breathless, my throat sore and crackling. I sat up, shaking, my hair falling in wet blue tangles. My sex ached. My nerves jangled like an unresolved, broken chord. I wanted to scream, to roll him under me and impale myself on him and finish what we started.

Don’t let me ruin this now. Don’t let the spell between us break. Not when we’ve just begun.

“No, Mina! You don’t know what you’re saying. It’s my fault. Just let it be.” And he curled himself up, dark muscle roiling under his skin, and rolled away from me so I wouldn’t see.

Sweat glistened on his taut body in the dim light, and my fingers ached to touch him, comfort him. But I didn’t know how. Nothing more I could say.

Even after everything we’d done—all the times we’d drawn inexorably together, magnetized despite our best efforts to hate each other—even after all the walls had crumbled between us, he still wouldn’t let me in.

Sorrow hacked a blunt axe into my heart, severing my infant melody like rusty piano strings, and inside I screamed.

Even after everything we’d just been through, Joey was back to business as usual—pushing me away and making it impossible to get through. Even after I’d opened myself completely to him, he couldn’t drop his guard and do the same for me.

The man was a lost cause. When would I ever learn?

My own stupidity crashed in, and I wobbled. What he’d said to me meant nothing. He didn’t care about me, not enough to give something back. He just thought I was hot, like every other fucking freak I’d ever met.

Just too squeamish about shifting to go through with it.

Sickness blotted my stomach like clotted blood. Stupid to think he’d ever trust me again after what I’d done.

Tears blotted my vision. My heart still thudded. My skin still tingled from his touch, and inside, my muscles still trembled in anticipation. I wanted to cover my face, sob until my guts ached, spring over there and claw his eyes out for preying on my naïveté.

But no use crying over what’s done.

I grabbed my top and pulled it on, snagging my damp skin in the zipper, and stumbled into the bathroom. The tiles still shone with water and blood, and the light glared crimson accusation like a punch in the guts. I dragged my soaked pants on, fumbling my feet in wet leather. My bitten ankle stung. My boots were too sodden to wear. I grabbed them and scrambled out, tripping over my ankles, trying not to run. I had to get out of here.

My feet slipped in wet carpet, his gaze hissing holes in my skin. I didn’t look. Didn’t speak. Just stumbled blindly into the hall and out the door.

Outside, the relentless heat slammed into my chest. Red fingers of dawn twisted in the sky, and brutally cheerful magpies chortled in weeping green foliage over traffic’s distant screech.

The sound clanged like hellscreams in my ruined ears. Tart eucalyptus mocked me, an unwanted echo of his minty flavor. I ran down the steps and out into the street, where our blood still splashed the pavement like a murderer’s crimson trail. Stones stung my bare feet. I didn’t care. I had to get away.

Not until I’d turned the corner did I slow down, staggering to a stop in a narrow side street, bricks warm and rough against my back. My lungs ached for air, and the dusty heat stifled me. A stitch chewed my side. I dropped my boots and bent over, massaging my ribs, my thoughts flogging in crazy circles until I didn’t know which way was up.

But I finally understood: I’d lost him. I couldn’t ever have him, and he’d haunt me forever.

My heart howled like a wounded animal, and remnants of Ivy’s memoryspell scraped my wits raw and vulnerable. Confusion and grief dragged my mind in six different directions at once, and with a tortured groan, the fabric started to rip.

I gritted my teeth and hung on.

I’d lost Joey. I’d lost Vincent. I’d even lost Violet. Add to the list Diamond, who’d likely kill me next time he laid his dirtyberry eyes on me, and Iridium the psychofairy, whom Vincent had likely poisoned against me. Oh, and not to mention the entire Valenti family from Angelo on down, after I’d knifed their favorite cousin to death.

Excellent. My chances of living out the day slimmed by the moment.

I had no job. No magic. No strength. Even my revenge had given up on me in disgust. And without my song, I was helpless.

Headache stung my eyes crossed. I coughed, and a few broken notes grated, sliding around the pitch like a drunken melody but never hitting the spot. A few wispy curls of magic floated on the air, but they dissolved without a trace.

I wasn’t silenced. But I was gagged, truly as if they’d cut my tongue out. I couldn’t fight off a sparkleblind fairy like this.

Finally, the ache in my ribs softened, and I crunched my waist in with sore hands and sucked in grateful breaths. The sun rose rapidly, melting the sky bright. I stared at my bare feet. Blood seeped between my toes, staining the concrete, and the only choice I had left coalesced in my mind like a clot, deadly and inevitable.

Wait for them to come and kill me.

Or get my magic back.

At least if I could sing, I’d have a fighting chance.

I straightened, determination hardening like ice in my chest, and the chill sparked energy through my tired muscles. One last effort. Back to Ivy’s. Give her whatever she wanted. Beg if I must. Buy some other poor creature’s magic if I had to. It was me or them. And I wasn’t ready to die.

Oh, no. Not yet. Even just to spite them all, I’d stay alive.

My mother would never be avenged. But I’d just have to learn to live with my fear.

I don’t need your forgiveness. You do. When you gonna forgive yourself?

Joey’s words boiled in my chest like rich acid reflux, and I choked and spat them away.

And then, who knew? Maybe a change of venue. The gang scene in Sydney might use a hard young thing like me. Outside Kane’s dominion, new enemies, new friends, Darling Harbor glowing neonbright with fairy glitter, golden casino chips at Star City, breakfast by the ferry wharf at Circular Quay by the blinding white Opera House, sweet frangipani drifting on sultry sea breeze.

Sydney traffic sucked, and it was a bit grungy compared to cosmopolitan Melbourne, but liveable. And no one there knew what a miserable coward I was. I’d been there once, backup for Dante and Joey on some dodgy import deal, and the demon lord painted my ass with his greedy eyes the whole time. I didn’t mind working my way up. Maybe I’d get lucky.

Joey hated Sydney. Too much goddamn salt in the air.

Suits me.

I yanked my sticky hair back, sweat already dripping down my neck. I could do worse than demon’s arm candy, right? At least I’d be someone’s idea of a good time. Distaste rumbled my stomach, but I swallowed it down.

Face it: I wasn’t much good for anything else. No skills, no references. I’d never had a real job. What could I do, be a waitress? I didn’t even know how to make coffee.

It was decided, then. Beg my song back. Go home, pick up my stuff, avoid getting killed. And then hit the highway north, hitch a ride with some horny truck driver and wheedle him to my will with a glimpse of cleavage and a sultry suggestive song.

I wiped one stinging foot on the opposite calf and bent to pick up my boot.

And something cold and hard thudded into my skull.

Pain lanced, and my legs buckled. A rich fairy chuckle caressed my ringing ears. I tried to turn, to fight back, but dizziness disoriented me. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t feel my knife. My kneecaps smacked into concrete, and the world shimmied through silver to black.