The Shifting Price of Prey (9 page)

I pushed myself up on my elbows.

It wasn’t just his shirt that was gone. All his clothes were gone. He was naked . . . Gorgeous . . . My eyes followed the silky black hair that shaded a line down his washboard stomach,
all his muscles crisply defined beneath beautiful taut skin . . . skin that glowed a soft silver as if he’d somehow consumed the moon. I looked lower . . . all of him was—

Oh my gods! That wasn’t in the script!

He pulled me slowly towards him, his hands gliding like rough satin up my legs. My pulse turned erratic and instinctively I clutched at the tablecloth. But it and I slid unresistingly across the
table until I was half lying, knees bent, legs dangling and Malik standing between them.

‘Well, Genevieve.’ He grinned: a feral, fanged slash. ‘This is how you wanted me, was it not?’

‘U
m, sort of,’ I said, sitting up, bemused that he was talking and sounding like himself. He was trapped in my Glamour; he should be my
willing, adoring slave, waiting for my every whim. So why wasn’t he?

‘Sort of?’ He raised an elegant brow. ‘Maybe you would prefer me like this.’ His grip on my knees tightened as he jerked me towards him. I yelped, surprised, clutching at
his shoulders as his hands clamped high on my thighs, holding me teetering on the table’s edge.‘Is this close enough, Genevieve?’

I looked down; there was only a breath of air between us. My skin flushed, need and anticipation coiling tight inside me as the urge to wrap my legs around him and feel him thrust deep flashed
in me like lightning; it had been too long since I’d last lost myself to pleasure. And this wasn’t some venom junkie; a stranger I’d picked up in Rosa’s body to satisfy my
cravings, only to leave me with a bitter taste in my mouth . . . This was Malik.

A feeling hotter and sweeter than mere lust trembled inside me. I’d wanted him since I’d first seen him and that want had strengthened, shifting into something indefinable as my
initial fear and distrust had dissipated. All it would take was one of us to move, and then—

I swallowed and raised my eyes to his. They were still gold with my Glamour . . . He might seem like he wasn’t my slave, but I wasn’t about to trust that, not when Glamouring anyone
was akin to force. Shame mixed with yearning rolled through me.

This. Was.
Not
. Real.

‘I think that’s close enough,’ I said, though my voice held uncertainty instead of the dryness I’d been aiming for.

His mouth quirked. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes,’ I said, this time more firmly. ‘What I’m not sure about is how come you seem yourself again.’

His thumbs traced circles over my inner thighs, sparking desperate desire. ‘Ah, you wonder why haven’t I succumbed to your magic?’

Succumb!
Gods, I
so
wanted to succumb,
so
wanted to pull him to me, to close that infinitesimal gap between us. ‘Yes.’

‘I told you once before, Genevieve, your magic is not powerful enough to hold one such as I, not even weakened as I am with this.’ He dipped his head to indicate the spell on his
forehead. ‘But your magic does appear to be strong enough to keep it at bay. It is allowing me some respite from the need to fight it.’ He lowered his voice. ‘As does inducing me
to taste the delights of your body.’

I inadvertently dug my fingers into the cool skin of his shoulders as an image filled my mind: we weren’t talking euphemisms here. I batted the thoughts away before they shattered my
resolve. I was the one supposed to be doing the distracting, not him. And my distraction was working, even if it had been a rough, roller-coaster ride. And even if the ride had ended before the big
finalé. Which was for the best, I told myself firmly, determinedly keeping my eyes on his face and ignoring both the frustration itching through my veins, and how tantalisingly close he was,
almost brushing against me.

‘Right,’ I said, adopting a businesslike air. ‘If you hold still, I’ll have a look at the spell and see how to remove it.’ I lifted my hand only to have him catch
my wrist.

‘I do not think that is wise,’ he said, mimicking my brisk tone. ‘Magic has an adverse effect on you.’

‘If I absorb it, yes,’ I agreed. ‘But I’m not going to do that.’

‘What are you going to do?’

His slightly too casual question rang a warning bell in me. He appeared fully in control, but I didn’t know enough about the spell to trust it truly wasn’t still influencing him,
albeit less than before. I decided to sidestep, and satisfy my curiosity at the same time. ‘First, I think you need to tell me why you’re shining.’

‘You are the one that is shining, Genevieve. Like the desert sun at noon.’

Despite his playful tone, a faint echo of sadness twisted in me. Did he miss the sun? I pushed the thought away. ‘I know I’m shining,’ I said. ‘I’m concerned about
why you are. Is it something to do with the spell?’

‘The risk is too great for you to remove the spell.’

Okay, so he wasn’t going to answer. And whether his silvery moonlight glow was connected or not didn’t really matter. Time to bait a hook, see what I could catch. ‘I’ve
got something that takes all the risk out.’ I grinned. ‘A magical turkey baster.’ Not that I could magic it up here from Leicester Square, but hey, he wasn’t to know
that.

Emotion flickered in his eyes, eagerness, desperation, or both, though with my magic colouring them gold, it was hard to tell. ‘Do you have it in your bag?’

‘Well, it’s not stuck behind my ear, is it?’ I said, giving him an arch look.

Pain contorted Malik’s face. He dropped my arm and made a slashing gesture at my backpack. It lifted itself from where I’d dumped it and smashed into the wall at the far end of the
room with a resounding crash.

Well, that confirmed my suspicions that Malik had some sort of kinetic power. And – I shot my crushed backpack and its scattered contents a resigned look – that confirmed my other
suspicion. Malik wasn’t fully in control of Malik.

‘Genevieve. I order you—’

I grabbed his cock and squeezed. It had the desired effect.

He stopped speaking, a heavy groan of need cutting off whatever order he, or the Autarch using Malik as his mouthpiece, had been about to give me.

‘I knew there was a reason you got naked,’ I muttered, slapping my other hand on his forehead. This time when I seized the Jellyfish spell I was ready for its stingers, gritting my
teeth as the pain arced though my body. Only my own determination and Malik’s hands clamped around my thighs held me in place. I panted through the pain, working my fingers into the
jellyfish, caging the mass tightly in my hand. Another groan came from Malik, this one less needy, more agonised. I glanced down at the hand holding him . . .

Oops.
Looked like I was going to have to do the adult equivalent of the kids’ trick of patting my head while tracing circles on my stomach, otherwise this was
so
not
going to be any fun for him.

Not that fun was what this was about.

I
focused
on his forehead, slowly tugging the jellyfish, taking care none of its stinging tentacles snapped and were left behind. The things were vicious, alternatively attacking my arm
or trying to reattach to Malik through the brand. The jellyfish pulsed against my palm, and horror washed through me as I realised it wasn’t the normal magical spell construct but was a
living organism the spell had been
tagged
to. Ugh. It had been inside Malik’s brain, constantly stinging and no doubt feeding off him. No wonder he couldn’t think. I swallowed
back bile. The sadistic Autarch really had it coming for this.

The jellyfish finally pulled free with a disgusting sucking sound. I released Malik, threw myself back on the table and plunged the jellyfish into the flower arrangement, using my will to
tag
it to the roses. I yanked my hand back,
focused
on the magic at the Jellyfish spell’s heart, and
cracked
it.

The roses exploded in a blinding flash, petals raining down like bloody confetti. Crimson seared my retinas, burned inside my skull and down my arm. I had a moment to think . . .
that’s not right
. . . before red-hot flames roared up and consumed me.

‘Genevieve.’ Malik’s voice pulled me from the fire I was twisting in. I opened my eyes. His were only inches away. For a long moment I wondered why I was on
my back with Malik almost lying on top of me, his hands clasping my head as if he meant to kiss me. It was an intriguing position, and one part of me wanted to take advantage of— if it
weren’t for the gleeful little devils sticking my arm and skull with their hell-hot pitchforks.

‘Do you remember what happened, Genevieve?’

‘Yep,’ I whispered past the pain. Pain that, I now realised, came from having parts of the spell, thanks to the jellyfish’s venom, inside me when I’d destroyed it. Damn
magic, always ready to sting you – literally this time. Good job I was hard to kill. ‘Jellyfish stung me. Infected me with spell.
Cracked
it. Hurts. Happens.’

Exasperation and concern warred on his face. ‘What hurts?’

‘Arm. Head,’ I muttered.

A soothing chill emanated from his hands as his power cooled my blood. Not quite a healing but enough to banish the pain and spread a welcome peace through my body. I noted his pupils were back
to their normal obsidian black, no hint of gold or red. I smiled, relieved, and as exhaustion swept over me, let myself drift away. Nothing appealed more than sinking into that coolness and
sleeping for at least a month.

Ice seared my veins as he dialled his power level up, instantly shocking me awake. ‘What the hell was that for?’ I muttered.

‘You were losing consciousness again.’

‘Yeah, well,’ I said grumpily. ‘I’ve had a busy night. Let me sleep.’

‘You can sleep once I know the spell is gone, Genevieve. Not before.’

‘Stop worrying. I blasted it and now you’re good to go.’

‘Yes. I am fine.’ He braced his hands either side of my head, raising himself up. I thought about pushing him totally off me, and getting up, then decided moving was too much effort;
I might as well lie here while we chatted. ‘But it is you I’m concerned for. The jellyfish is parasitic. It has been living inside me for the last three months, feeding off my blood. It
stung you. I want to ensure that you are not infected by its poison or any remnant of the spell, or my curse.’

I sighed and forced myself to
focus
. The brand on his forehead was a healed scar, nothing more. He was clear of the spell. I scanned round. Shredded rose petals, tiny chunks of glass,
bits of something green which had me frowning until I realised it had to be the florists’ foam stuff the roses had been stuck in, and specks of translucent jelly littered the table and no
doubt the floor nearby. It was all free of any magic. As I was.

‘Everything’s clear,’ I said, turning my attention back to Malik. ‘They could add salt when they do the clean-up if they want, but the spell’s dead. There’re
just the physical remains left.’ Bits of which peppered his pale skin— which was no longer glowing. Because the spell was gone? I ditched that thought as I belatedly remembered
I’d been naked. I looked down. I was draped in something white . . . Malik’s shirt. And judging by the sticky itchy feeling of my skin, I hadn’t escaped being speckled by sticky
spell debris either. Even as I wished for a shower, and wondered how long I’d been unconscious, frustration sifted in me as I saw I wasn’t the only one who was no longer naked.

‘You dressed,’ I said, stating the obvious as I eyed his trouser-clad legs where they straddled my hips.

‘The situation was not conducive to remaining unclothed, Genevieve. Nor had I anticipated that your desires would result in such emphatic handling.’ One corner of his mouth lifted.
‘I fear you have unmanned me.’

Unmanned him?
I raised my brows, suddenly feeling much more alert. ‘Is that some archaic euphemism for what happened when I grabbed you?’

Amusement sparked his eyes. ‘It was . . . unexpected.’

‘It was meant to be, buddy.’ I poked him in the chest. ‘I was trying to distract you.’

‘And you succeeded. In that, and in removing the spell.’ He smiled, his amusement tempered with gratitude and something that was balm to my heart: respect. ‘It was well done,
Genevieve. Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome,’ I said, happily appeased. ‘Anyway, it’s not like you were being particularly gentle either.’

‘My apologies.’ Remorse replaced his amusement. ‘I would not have destroyed your clothes nor marked you if I could have avoided it.’

I frowned. ‘Marked me?’

He touched my chest gently where his shirt covered me. I peeked under it. For a moment, I thought the red marks scattered over my breasts and stomach were a dusting of finger-sized rose petals .
. . then I realised the marks were like the bruises encircling my left wrist. Vampire property marks.

‘They can be removed,’ Malik said quietly, answering the question I was too stunned to think of, never mind ask. ‘I did not intend them, nor did I mean to cause you harm, but
the force of the images you sent me was difficult to counter. If we should find ourselves in a similar situation, the equivalent of a whisper instead of a shout would be sufficient.’