Shadowfae (12 page)

I weaved around the ring of sofas and shouldered out onto the floor, through glitter-eyed banshees and rainbow-haired fae, struggling to silence my simmering rapture so no one would notice me.

Unseelie Court

was owned and run by some faceless corporate conglomerate, but the DiLucas hung out here with predictable regularity and Quinn was up to his speed-shiny eyeballs in their graft. He’d be here, and he’d be in the shadows, watching, waiting for some simple, unsuspecting wallflower to try his shallow charm and rough good looks on.

I climbed metal steps to the shadowy mezzanine. Fae and mortal alike tumbled and giggled on the floor in a haze of chemical mirth, or slumped sluggish against steel chairs, hallucinating, fingers straining for things only they could see. A fat black spriggan waddled among them, stealing, her gnarled fingers crawling into their pockets or snapping off chains and shiny earrings.

I ventured deeper into the green neon darkness. Against a wall, a muscled vampire in leather nuzzled a naked, groaning mortal boy’s cock, tongue and teeth trailing over the soft-veined skin inside his thigh. That little romance was going only one place.

Above the narrow doorway to the back room drug shop burned a single ultraviolet fluorescent, bathing smokers, lovers, and junkies in weird violet light—and against the doorframe leaned Killian Quinn, alone, tense and twitchy, a cigarette burning in his hand. I could only hope he hadn’t already gotten off tonight.

He saw me, and his eyes focused, unmoving. I walked up, letting him survey me with that chilling half disgust, half lust that made me squirm. “Hello, Killian.”

He eyed me sullenly, his gaze traveling over me, up, down. He didn’t look very drunk, and his bloodshot brown eyes gleamed dully over a falling high. An almost imperceptible green mist hummed around him, shining sickly.

I glanced around in the dim purple glow. No one watched us. Excitement tightened my skin, and I tried to keep my breath steady. He knew what I was, of course, so I had to be careful with the rapture. Subtle. I shifted, crossing one foot over the other, letting my hair fall on my shoulder with an oh-so-gentle shimmer of persuasion. “Look, I wanted to say sorry about the other night. I didn’t mean what I said. I just . . .” I let my head drop, hiding behind my lashes. A real blush burned my cheeks, but it wasn’t from modesty. Lust for his soul writhed inside me, threatening to break loose and smother him.

“You just what?” He drew hard on his cigarette, the ash flaring bright, and held the smoke for a moment before releasing it away from me.

I wandered closer, twisting my fingers together like I was embarrassed, and breathed another tiny whiff of rapture into the air. No more, or he’d get suspicious. “You want the truth?”

His pale gaze slipped to my breasts, then back up to my face, and he swallowed and dragged again. “It’d make a change.”

Watching him move was okay, actually, now he wasn’t threatening to rape me with a .38. He was a big man, tense, barely contained. I could see his muscles straining beneath his shirt, sweat trickling along his throat, the dark aura shimmering like a second skin. A hot body, overwhelmingly male. Probably had a big cock. I’d bet he was quick and rough in bed, a good hard ride if you could keep up with him.

Pity he was such a woman-hating asshole that the thought of doing what I’d have to made my stomach turn, even as my yearning for his soul made me want it bad.

I slid my hand onto the wall beside him and shifted even closer. Now I could smell him, fresh sweat and scotch. I looked into his eyes, letting my gaze flicker downward. “Truth is, I don’t know how to behave around you. What you did, the way you touched me . . . it got me thinking.” I licked my lips to tempt him. “I’ve been thinking about it all weekend.”

His aura rippled, thickening like murky green treacle. He turned toward me, his shoulder against the wall, his breath deep and husky. “Yeah?”

I didn’t back off. “Every waking moment.”

Insolently he stroked my hair with the hand holding the cigarette, smoke drifting. He wound a curl around his broad thumb, pulling until it hurt, watching me gasp. “You look hot, with that tight dress up around your sexy ass.”

It was hard to smile at such an evil compliment. But I did, and my trapped rapture made me ache, hungry now as I traced a seductive finger down over his shirt to his belt buckle. “I wore it for you.”

“Why?”

To make me look like the slut he thought I was. I moved my finger lower, teasing. “I wanted you to like me.”

“Is that all you want?” His aura flared, bright, and he tossed his cigarette away and grabbed my hand, his eyes flashing. For a moment I thought he’d shove me away, and my heart skipped, but instead he wrenched my hand over and pressed it into his lap, his breath short.

Oh, yeah. He had a big cock, all right. Big and hard like a stone. Angry heat sizzled off him to burn my palm, his fingers digging into my wrist.

“God,” I whispered, widening my eyes, “you’re so . . . I never thought you’d let me . . .”

His eyes flashed, ravenous and filthy with hatred, that aura writhing bright and evil. My pulse thudded in my ears, triumphant. My thighs tingled, and rapture clawed within me, my body screaming with lust. I was wet, my flesh throbbing with anticipation. I wanted it, and I hated it as much as he did. If he rammed that hot, massive thing inside me, I’d come, and that would be too humiliating.

So I slipped to my knees on the iron floor, gazing raptly up at him, letting my lips part and shine. God, I was glad it was dark and no one else could see me. “Can I? Please, Killian. Let me.”

Swiftly he opened his trousers, freeing his cock, the musky smell of aroused male sweat overpowering. He leaned on the wall over me, his head on his forearm, one hand twisting in my hair, tight so it hurt. “Suck me, bitch. If I see you pulling any rapture tricks, I’ll break your fucking neck.”

We’d see about that. Until you’ve experienced the rapture, you don’t really understand how helpless you are.

His hateful aura swam around me, tingling my skin with delight and danger. I took him in both hands, triumph and dread swilling together in my guts. A drop of liquid already glistened on his tip, and I licked it off, hot and salty, making him sigh. I slipped the head into my mouth and closed my lips over it, letting the saliva flow to dilute his sweat, sliding one hand down to grip his heavy balls. They were tight, hot, the veins pulsing rapidly. It wouldn’t be too long before his soul was mine.

I slid my lips down farther, grazing him with my teeth, applying suction with my tongue. He groaned and pressed forward. “Yeah. Take it. Take it all, you horny slut.”

God, how romantic, you fucking shitball.

I moved down as far as I could—he really did have a huge cock—and pulled back, sucking. He watched me hotly as I worked him, and I watched him back, sensation building inside as rapture sizzled over my every nerve ending, stinging to be free. And then he made his last mistake.

He closed his eyes.

I sucked down as hard as I could, dizzy with triumph, and let the straining rapture gush out.

The air shimmered, crackling hot with seductive energy. His swirling aura fled like a storm cloud, screaming, but it was too late. He gave a gasping groan, and I swear his cock swelled even further as he pushed it deeper into my throat. “Oh, Jesus, Jade, you’re good. So hot . . .” He crushed his fist in my hair, leaning over me, his heavy thighs straining, thrusting harder and faster until he let out a throaty cry and emptied himself into my mouth. His hot seed spurted into me, sweet and salty, and with it came his soul, a dark struggling mass of seething emotion that boiled down my throat like hot tar. I swallowed, and swallowed.

Color drained from his eyes, his face slackened, and it was done.

I let go and scrambled aside before he fell. I collapsed panting against the wall beside his lifeless body, wiping my wet mouth with the back of a shaking hand. Victory burned in my heart even as my stomach churned with what he’d left there. I had him. He was mine. One down, three to go.

But Jesus. I’d just sucked off Killian Quinn. That qualified as a new low, even by my standards.

Nausea clutched my guts, and I scrabbled in my purse for the brass soultrap bottle, popping the cork just in time. My stomach heaved, and the black mess spewed out stained with white froth. It poured into the bottle, plopping like hot black soup. Tears scorched my eyes, my face burning. My guts clenched again, and more foul liquid choked me, splashing out over my hand. I wiped my dripping lips, but still more came up, and by the time I finished spewing, I’d filled the bottle to the very top.

I spat one more time, jammed the cork back in and shoved the bubbling bottle back into my purse. My guts ached, my mouth sour and stinging with acid. I wiped my mouth again, black grime smearing with what was left of my lip gloss, and scrambled to my feet. No one watched me in the dark. No one saw anything. All too intoxicated to care. Even forensics wouldn’t lead to me. They didn’t have my DNA on file, and even if they did, going down on a guy isn’t illegal. Without Quinn, the cops didn’t believe in succubi. And Quinn was a speed addict, a hypertensive accident waiting to happen. I’d get away with it. I always did.

My knees buckled as I descended the mezzanine stairs, and I had to grip the railing to keep myself upright. My rapture crackled angrily, robbed of its treasure, and swollen glands ached between my legs. That was to be expected, but all wasn’t well inside me. I could feel it. Part of Quinn’s energy still festered within, not yet dead or consumed. It feels strange, another person’s soul jabbering in my mind, terrified, thrashing against the bars of its new and eternal cage.

It occurred to me for the first time that I’d have to drink the whole thing again to be free. As well as three others, whoever they turned out to be. I’d be lucky if I didn’t come out a raving lunatic.

I reached the bottom of the stairs and searched through the backlit smoke for the exit. My rapture gnashed frustrated teeth, making me squirm. I didn’t want to feed it, not now. I wanted to go home and sleep it off.

“There you are. Are you okay? I’ve been looking for you.” He hurried up to me, his dark blue eyes clouded with concern.

“What?” For a moment I had no idea who he was.

But he slipped his arm through mine, and warm contentment flowed over my skin, calming my restless heart. Dante. I remembered now. I was supposed to pretend to like him. Thing was, I did like him. I felt like I’d known him for years. We’d had such an interesting conversation . . . about what, exactly? How exactly did we meet?

I didn’t remember, and for a moment confusion rippled my nerves, uncomfortable.

But I knew he’d charmed me, intrigued me, treated me like an equal instead of like an object. That was enough.

He smiled, handsome, and my heart fluttered. I dropped my gaze, sure I was blushing like a girl. “Oh, sure. I’m fine.”

“Can I get you anything? You look hot.” He paused, and swiped a hand over his dark curls, embarrassed. “Shit. Flushed. I mean you look flushed. I didn’t mean it that way.” He touched me shyly under the chin, his fingers warm and safe.

I liked how he spoke without thinking, said what was on his mind. How he didn’t try to touch me sexually, even though I could see he wanted to. Though right now I wouldn’t have minded if he had tried something. I wanted to forget about Quinn, get rid of the greasy shadow of his hands in my hair, his salty sweat on my lips.

I grabbed Dante’s smooth hand, slipping my fingers into his. “I’m fine. Really.”

“How about another drink?” He made as if to lead me away.

“How about you come here?” I pulled him back, closer, facing me, and his body brushed mine, warm. I’d let Quinn make me his whore. Dante could wash me clean again.

He smiled, his heartbeat quickening against me. “Okay. I’m here. What now?”

He felt lean, muscular, controlled. Not massive and frightening like Quinn. I needed Dante to touch me, needed to know I was still here, not in some crazy dreamland where I gave blow jobs to men I despised and cried in the arms of men I lusted after, where everything was turned upside down, where it was even possible I could be free.

“Well, generally you go like this.” I slipped his hands around my waist. “And this.” I slid my arms around his neck, crossing my wrists.

“Mmm.” He dared to pull me closer, a sparkle in his eyes. “I’m beginning to get the idea.”

“Thought you might.” I wanted to look at his mouth, tempt him to kiss me, but I couldn’t look away from those wonderful, bottomless indigo eyes. All my secrets seemed to swirl there, everything I’d ever wanted a man to understand. My head swam, my thoughts melting in warm, adoring enchantment. I wanted to tear my heart out and give it to him. Lie beneath him and whisper
I love you
while he stroked my face, played with my hair, made love to me.

He drifted his mouth closer, his teeth glinting. “Is this okay?”

I swallowed, cool fear coating my nerves even as my heart raced. Angelo and his vicious moods had kind of turned me off the whole vampire sex thing. I wanted so much for this to be different. “Umm . . .”

“Don’t be afraid. I won’t bleed you unless you ask me to.” His warm whisper brushed my lips, and desire wrapped me like a hot velvet blanket.

Trepidation piqued my need as I remembered I’d just vomited, and probably wouldn’t taste too good, given the contents. But Dante didn’t seem to mind. He closed his eyes, his lips hovering so close to mine but not touching, waiting for me to go to him.

And I did. His mouth was soft, gentle, warm, tasting faintly metallic, and trust glowed in my veins along with smoldering desire. He wasn’t like Angelo, crude and demanding and careless of my pleasure. I wanted to share myself with him. I tried to get him to part his lips, tracing my tongue over them, tempting, but he shook his head to break free, his fingers tightening on my hips. “You shouldn’t.”

“I don’t care.” I captured another kiss, sinking my fingers into his crisp curls, and he groaned and caught my tongue with his, tasting me, letting me in. He crushed me against him, his rapidly hardening cock pressing into my belly, and ravished me with his tongue, testing every corner of my mouth. My sex ached, wet and burning, not just because he turned me on but also because I trusted him. I wanted him to touch me, slide his fingers into me, rub me and make me come. Reckless, I flicked my tongue along the crisp edges of his front teeth, daring him, daring myself. I brushed the razor point of his fang, my tongue stinging. He gasped into the kiss, and sensation ripped into me, not agonizing or frightening but glorious. I pressed the tip of my tongue harder, and the delicate skin broke, his fang piercing me like a sweet knife. The taint of coppery blood twinged my tongue, but not for long.