Poison Kissed (13 page)

“Or is there something else you’d rather do with him, mmm? Some red-hot serpent action? That tongue of his certainly has potential. And he’s a strong little brute, determined, too. I imagine he’d last quite a while with the proper . . . encouragement.” Delilah traces a warm finger up Ivy’s thigh, and lets it linger.

Warmth floods beneath Ivy’s skin. She remembers making love, not to the nasty black serpent man but another one, so beautiful, he hurt her eyes. She gasps as she recalls the golden hardness of her man’s body, his skin’s stormy scent, his strong mouth pleasuring her, the wonderful sensation spreading beneath his fingers as he strokes her.

She squints teary eyes, trying to see his face, but it’s blurred, distant, featureless like a ghost’s.

Delilah chuckles. “Bingo. So it’s love you’re after. Lost your confidence? You’re still a beautiful woman. No spring chicken, I suppose, but what’s life without disappointment?”

Ivy fingers her ruined cheek, lost in despair.

Delilah frowns. “It’s that, is it? We can be rid of that no problem. Sure there isn’t something more difficult? I’d hate to think you were selling me cheap goods.”

“You can make me pretty again?” Suddenly, Ivy’s world glows.

A wily glint sauces the demon’s glance. “Of course. So long as you get me what I want. Do we have a deal?”

Ivy jumps and claps, delighted. Peel his skin off, drip, slurp. Stuff that nasty black snakehiss in a bottle and drink it down. Oh, yes. “And the snake man. I want the snake man, too.”

She holds limefresh breath, and waits. If Delilah wants her sparklies that badly, she’ll have to agree.

But Delilah just shrugs. “Whatever you say.”

“Oh, yes! A deal. Most definitely a deal.” Ivy rubs her hands in glee and dives for her workbench. She’s got just the thing. She fingers through the tubes, searching for the new one. Just this afternoon, from the dirtyhandsome glassfae boy.

Ah, there. She fishes out a golden vial with a cork and holds it sparkling to the light, the liquid inside sweet and bubbly like champagne. “Perfect. A pretty little song. Needy. Hopeful. A splash of desperation. And wait . . . yes.” She rummages through and comes up with a glittering violet dropper. She flips back the cork and adds a single sparkling drop that dissolves instantly, swallowed by the hungry golden melody. “Just a dribble of unexpected. Surprise! Hah. Just what you need.” She presses the cork back in tight and displays it with a cheeky flourish.

Delilah eyes it dubiously. “You sure it’s powerful?”

A sly giggle. “Oh, yes. Some hardcore do-as-I-say here. Concentrated, you know. Not a drop wasted. Washed passionate with unrequited love and a dusty fairy boy’s pain. This’ll do you sweetly.” She twirls it in long-jointed golden fingers, shadows glittering. The subtle jasmine taint wafts, gratifying. Serpent man’s lover, stuffed in a glass tube. Happy.

Delilah sniffs at it, frowning. “Doesn’t seem like much.”

Ivy wobbles it close to Delilah’s ear, stirring the contents. A mournful tune drifts in minor mode, almost too faint to hear, and invisible strings of compulsion tug at Ivy’s heart. Magic in this one, all right.

A savage grin spreads Delilah’s rich brown lips. “Well, now. I smell banshee leather-fetish. Where did you get this?”

Ivy taps a claw to the side of her nose, grinning. “Couldn’t say. Couldn’t possibly tell. You like?”

“Oh, yes. Give.” Delilah snatches at it, greedy.

But Ivy yanks the tube away, her pointed chin lifting haughtily. Dirt drifts pewterbright from her hair. “Pretty. And the snake man, too. Promise?”

“Darling, if this works on Kane, you’ll be the prettiest girl alive and Joey will beg you to have your way with him. Now give it to me.”

Curiosity itches Ivy’s palms. Kane. The name feels delicious and textured in her mouth like a soft-centered chocolate. Who is he? She inhales, searching for the truth on drifting demon breath, and for a heart-stopping instant, she tastes her long-lost thunderstorm.

Her skin warms, and desperate longing uncurls like lace in her mind.

She rubs slinky fingers together, eager. “Now. I want the pretty now. Snake man can wait.”

“Oh, ouch, stop. You’re twisting my arm.” Delilah smiles indulgently and tweaks Ivy’s nose with an affectionate claw. “Greedy little fairyslut, aren’t you? Did no one ever warn you not to deal with demons? Very well. For all the good it’ll do you.” She exhales, dark and fragrant on Ivy’s face.

For an instant, pain tears along the twisted scar like fire.

And then it’s gone.

Ivy blinks, and her hand flies to her cheek. Her fingertips glide on silky skin. Nothing. She dives into the clutter on her desk and comes up clutching a shard of mirror. Her eager gaze devours her reflection. Smooth. Perfect.

Beautiful again.

Her blood thrums in swift delight. Who cares about silly spells? She won’t need them to captivate her lover now. Charmed glitter puffs from her wings, and eagerly she holds out the vial.

“Good girl.” Delilah smiles sharply, swipes up the vial, and stalks away into the gloom.

Holding her breath, Ivy waits until Delilah’s footsteps fade. Then she hops into the sultry green air on sly white wings and drifts after her, love’s lost echo a seductive black whisper in her heart.

Later that night, in a dark city street, where heat scorches the pavement and the air stings sweet with grime, Shadow’s spy falls to earth.

Burning air rushes through the angel’s feathers, dragging his wings back. The world snaps dark. Faster, falling through warm midnight sky. Stars dazzle, and below, a sterile tunnel of light rushes up, blinding him.

Concrete smashes his face, hard. Knocks his breath away. The impact thuds like agony in his bones, but they don’t break. The lightbeam flickers, and zaps out.

His cheekbone scrapes rough pebbles. Dirt, filling his nails, his fingers rasping on uneven ground. Hot dry air caresses his skin. Velvety summer darkness. The grotty earthen smell of fumes, flesh, and fire.

Akash crawls to his feet, delighted. Midnight heat scours his skin, an orange-lit city street. The stink of blood and dirt works fresh seduction in his starved nostrils. Streetlights burn sunlike overhead. Trees, still in the stagnant air beside a rusted wrought-iron fence. Houses, jammed close and crawling with ivy.

Grateful tears sting Akash’s eyes, and his mouth waters at that dirty taste. He inhales, and that delicious raw air fills his lungs, tainted sharp with emotion and human violence. Already, his starved senses glut themselves.

Shadow sent him to spy on Kane. That should be fun. But in truth, Akash has been longing for this rich rush of sensation. Pleasure, pain, the sultry lick of music in his ears, taste’s sweet assault on his tongue.

And now here he is. Home is silence, the sterile smell of flowers, always the same. Not a scrap of stimulation. Earth is always so much more interesting.

His wings are gone, his body changed into a nondescript pale human-suit. Neat blond hair, white skin, plain white clothing. It doesn’t matter. He’ll get a better one soon enough.

He surveys the empty street, cunning. No time to lose. He’s tried to hide here before, and he knows that time is short. Last time, Kane smelled Akash out and sent him back, even though he hid inside a fresh human body. This time, he needs a better disguise. Somewhere Kane will never think of looking, where flowery skyscent won’t give Akash away.

This time, Shadow’s already shown him just where to go. An angel lives here, goldenblond with brutal scars on his back, Kane’s tame prisoner of war. In Rainbow’s body, Akash will be safe to revel in the city’s hellish delights.

Oh, and spy on Kane for Shadow. If he can find the time. Who knows? Maybe he’ll steal a few souls back for himself. Shadow doesn’t need to know.

Stealthy, he unlatches the rusted iron gate, metal sharp in his fingers. Soft light burns behind the pebbled glass front door, and he creeps up the path and onto the wooden landing. His footsteps brush softly, his muscles tense, every movement a frisson of anticipation. Soon, he’ll have a real body, and all this wasted sensation will be wasted no more.

Dust crisps his mouth. He tries the knob. Click. Unlocked.

Silently, he opens the door. Creeps inside onto dark carpet. Clicks the door closed.

Inside, the living room is plush and neat, the tall lamp shining pastel over cushions and darkwood furniture. On the pale chaise longue, a woman stirs sleepy limbs, her pale silken robe dropping off one slim shoulder. Burgundy hair spills as she scrapes it from crusted eyes. “Rain? That you?”

“No,” Akash whispers, and before she can jump or scream, he’s on her.

Warm flesh in his hands. Soft breasts against his chest. Her succulent lips under his, her mouth forcing open. She struggles, her cries muffling to gurgles and whimpers.

Akash closes his eyes, sucks in one last mouthful of her fearsweet breath, and dives down her throat.

Her slim body jerks and shudders. He thrashes and coils inside her chest like a snake, chews her up and swallows her, hot soulblood running down his chin.

The empty white human-suit crumples, bereft of life, its blue eyes already washed clear.

Akash pushes it aside and slowly rises from the couch, his skin afire.

So good, to be alive again.

And now, the man-angel won’t see him coming until it’s too late.

Her heartbeat still thrums, pumping chemical excitement through his veins. The warm silk robe slides dark seduction over his skin. The short hem brushes his beautiful new thighs, and he watches her long slim legs as he moves them, muscles rippling gently under such delicate white skin. His new red hair whispers over his shoulders, a trail of pleasure, and something delightful happens in the area of his chest. He looks down, and her heavy breasts tremble, the nipples tight under thin silk.

He stretches, and laughs her husky female laugh. Her lips curl, her tongue sensitive and warm. He’s never been a woman before. It feels different inside, all that tight prickly male rage gone and replaced with something . . . warmer. Slicker. More malleable. He wants to breathe, taste, touch.

Already, at his feet, the dead human-suit sags and crumbles, caustic white dust puffing.

Images of the man-angel kissing this woman—deep, wet, delicious, tongues sliding together, soft flesh warm in his hands, the silken tangle of her hair—slide hot currents of desire into his blood. Last time, he didn’t get to. Maybe, when naughty-man-angel-Rain comes, he’ll pretend for a while.

Shadow would disapprove. But Shadow need never know. Shadow doesn’t know a lot of things Akash gets up to.

Behind him, the unlocked door creaks open, and a deep male voice caresses his ears. “Mel? Door’s open. You okay?”

Akash smiles, clasps damp quivering hands behind his back, and turns.

11

The shipping container’s metal ridges pressed warm into my back, the close space making me sweat. We’d been hiding here a few minutes now, the moon painting greedy white fingers over the deserted dockyard. Shadows poured ink on asphalt between the rows of steel containers, stacked two high, rust splashing dark through peeling paintwork.

A sweatdrop wormed between my breasts. The smell of corroded metal and water itched my nose. I glanced at my watch, sweating. Ten minutes to midnight. No sign of anyone. Didn’t mean they weren’t here.

To my left leaned Joey, a slim shadow among shadows, his minty scent an unwelcome distraction that sprang my skin alive. Once, I’d loved that smell. Now, it made me shiver. Beyond him, Iridium crouched, a dim bronze glimmer.

To my right, Vincent hunched over, sweat beading feverbright, and retched, muffling it with the back of his hand. Dark raspberry clots spewed onto the pavement, stinking of meat. He choked, and leaned against the wall, panting and covering his mouth. At least he was trying to be quiet.

I poked him irritably in the thigh with my foot. His bloodshot brown eyes glinted up at me, his face clammy and shining. Blood stained his shirt. Sweat dripped from his hair onto his bare arms, and he sent me a hungry red-tinged grin that shimmered discomfort through my veins. What the fuck was wrong with him?

Joey’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing, only slipped his warm hand over mine, that maddening mintgreen scent fresh on my tongue. In the dark, I felt the sweet prickle of claws on my knuckles as he tugged, letting me know I should follow him. He snaked out into the moonlight, silent and swift, his cane’s glinting brass top the only hint of color. He’d covered himself again, black suit jacket neat and lean, dark hat tilted over his eyes. Distancing himself. It wouldn’t do him any good.

My skin rippled hot. I wanted to leap on him, pin his squirming body to the ground, and tear his throat out with my nails.

But not yet.

Not until he’d admitted what he’d done, and pleaded with me not to end his deceitful little life.

I didn’t just want to kill him. I burned to tear down his goddamn impregnable façade, humiliate him as he’d done to me. Make him beg, whimper, lose that precious dignity.

I took a deep calming breath and followed him. Behind me, Vincent and Iridium slipped off in the opposite direction to find their own hide. We’d done this before. No instructions required.

My boots clicked softly on the concrete as we slipped out across the train tracks into the docks proper. Damp hair stuck to my shoulders, and my muscles still ached. I’d left my jacket at home, my knives strapped tight to my ribs instead. No need to conceal weapons here. I swallowed, my throat thick and sore, my ears hot and sticky like some scarlet infection festered there. My headache had faded, but weakness still vibrated my limbs. If Cobalt gave me something, I’d kill the diseased little worm.

If I could get hold of him, which I couldn’t.

I’d called him all evening—no answer. His number kept ringing out to voicemail. Memories of that evil blue sparkle taunted me, and I swallowed dark sapphire unease.

We slipped between container rows only a few feet apart, sheltering in the shadow of the first one, then the next as we crept closer to the dock. Heat haze rippled under golden floodlights, the concrete still overheated from the harsh summer sun, and sweat stuck my hair to my neck. Joey moved silently, slipping fluidly in and out of silhouette, his careful steps making no sound.

My pulse hammered, and I felt as though I clambered like a sweaty elephant, my feet clumsy and my boots echoing, though I knew from experience that they didn’t.

Noises drifted closer, truck engines, the groan of hydraulics, voices shouting, the tide’s dull slap against the bluestone breakwater. My ears ached, and dockwater’s greasy stink fouled my mouth.

Finally, we ducked in beside the last row. Hot floodlights shone above the road along the water’s concrete edge, and the crane’s sharp metal shadows crisscrossed the pavement at our feet.

Joey crept to the end, and I followed. He sniffed around the corner, testing the scents, and motioned for me to take a look.

I listened, but my clogged ears revealed nothing. I slipped past him, close to stay out of the light, and my nerves twitched. I could feel him breathing, his freshmint scent warm. So near. My knives so warm and ready against my ribs.

I swallowed and moved on.

I peered around the edge, my breath aching my throat. Grinding motors screeched. The crane groaned and shook as a heavy red container inched along the conveyor. A few wharfies wearing hard hats milled beneath in steel-capped boots, bright orange vests glowing under the lights. Melbourne dockworkers were universally corrupt one way or the other, and these guys looked no exception. Chains creaked and swung, and the container settled to the oily tarmac with a thud that vibrated deep in my lungs.

I checked my watch again, sweat glistening on my wrist. Midnight.

Chains rattled away, and Diamond lighted on the container’s roof with a sharp crack, glassy wings dazzling. “Thanks, ladies. We’ll take it from here.”

I tensed. Joey gripped my wrist, holding me back, and I wanted to shake him off, scream,
Get off me!

The wharf guys looked at each other, and one darted his hand behind his back for a weapon.

Diamond leapt to the ground like a glowing pink insect and kept running, waggling his finger in mock warning. “Uh-uh.”

The guy fumbled his pistol. Diamond hurtled up to him, wings drawn back like blades, and crashed him onto his back with a rippling glass punch under the chin. And like black velvet ghosts, the Valenti gang materialized from the shadows.

Sonny, huge and hulking in a dark suit but silent on his feet when he wanted to be. Fabian, his cousin’s image, only shorter and angrier, an ugly black automatic weapon clutched in both stubby hands. Three or four others, surrounding the wharfies in a ring of muscle and guns and slick vampire teeth. Everyone but Angelo himself, and I hadn’t heard a damn thing.

The guy on the ground didn’t move, his head stuck at a crazy angle, blood dribbling from his slack mouth. Diamond cracked his bruised knuckles, blood spattering, and gave the wharfies a psychotic grin. “Anyone else in a mood?”

Unwilled, my fingers clenched around Joey’s. Sweat slicked his palm onto mine. My heart thumped. We had our guys hidden in the container park. Numbers were no problem. But this was a serious fight with serious consequences. We’d be lucky if anyone came out alive, and if they did, it wouldn’t be for long once the repercussions started.

Adrenaline spiked in my veins, and my pulse rippled. I breathed hard, the metal hot against my bare shoulders. My heartbeat thudded, and blood coursed through my body, awakening my muscles, aching my flesh alive for action. This was what we did best, and I loved it.

Joey pushed his hat back, blond hair glowing white in the floodlights, and skewered me on that wicked, unsettling smile. My heart fluttered, drawn and repulsed. He’d always gotten off on danger. One thing we had in common.

With a deft, sexy flick of his fingers, he sent a terse message and flipped his phone away. He plucked up his cane from where he’d leaned it against the steel, and dragged my hand to his lips in a rough, burning kiss. “Find out what’s in that container,” he murmured, and darted away.

Shock riveted my tendons tight. The container? What about the fight? Why was he keeping me out of it? I bit back a curse. Wormshit Vincent and his lies. If Joey didn’t trust me, it’d make killing him that much harder.

Not to mention nowhere near as satisfying.

But I’d no time to think about it now. A gunshot ricocheted, the decibels jolting my head back. Shouts and curses stung my ears, scraping footsteps, slashing wings, and the harsh thud of metal on bone. My heart pumping, I risked a peek. Fabian on the ground, struggling under a cloud of thrashing nightblue wings and limbs, his weapon lying useless on the concrete. A body, limp and bleeding. Two vampires locked in struggle, fangs flashing. Diamond snarling, at bay, facing off Iridium’s scything blades. Vincent on his knees astride another guy, slamming his head into the ground over and over again in a rich scarlet spatter. No Sonny. No Joey. Must have taken their personal fight elsewhere.

I sucked in a deep breath and sprinted for the container.

My calves screamed as I ran, my tendons not flexing as they should. I felt slow and sluggish, my muscles creaking. It took an age to reach the container, and when I leapt, I barely made it to the top, my boot heels clanging dangerously on the edge.

My heart tilted, my arms wheeling for balance. My inner ears sloshed, and only inertia kept me upright.

A human could almost do better than that. Christ, I’m never sniffing sparkle again. That stuff really fucks you.

I leapt down the other side, heels crunching as I landed. No one interrupted me. Another gunshot, a screech and a wet sigh, Diamond’s crystalmad laugh.

The container was locked, a vertical metal pole sprouting horizontal bars. I grabbed the rusted handle and yanked it open with a screech.

Putrid fleshstink curdled my nose, and I choked. I peered into the darkness, my hand clutched over my mouth.

Pairs of glinting eyes blinked back. Dozens of them. From ceiling to floor.

Diamond’s cargo wasn’t drugs. It was people. Fae.

My brain clogged, and I stared.

Inside in the dark, the eyes moved. Wet wings flapped, and something snorted, deep and hungry.

Warning clanged dull in my skull. I tripped backwards, but too late. Giggles tore the stinking air apart, and the creatures rushed out.

I stumbled, bodies pushing me over. I whipped my thighs taut and backflipped, but I didn’t make it all the way over and slammed into the concrete on one shoulder, the breath smashing from my lungs. Wet bare feet swarmed past me, over me, thudding into my chest, smearing me with blood and piss and slime. I choked and squirmed away.

A steely hand grabbed my hair and yanked so tight, my scalp tore.

I struggled. Flat brown eyes, a hard unforgiving face. “Glad you could make it,” growled Sonny Valenti, and dragged me to my feet.

I wriggled, and yowled bloody aneurysm, but my voice broke and his grip held fast. His elbow rammed into my bruised ribs, a crackling maze of pain.

Confusion and the floodlights bloodied my vision. That cry should have blown his ears out. Swiftly, I whipped out a knife and slashed backhanded. Blood splashed. Sonny snarled and grabbed my forearm, mashing the bones together.

Agony ripped up my arm. I screamed, rich with hate and rage and bloody torture, but he just laughed, and the knife clanged from my numb fingers, lost. Panic tore at my pulse. Why couldn’t I hurt him?

I didn’t get time to think about it. He hurled me headfirst, and I tumbled sprawling onto the wet metal container floor.

Grimy. Stinking. Disgusting. My skin crawled. Dark walls loomed in on me, a smothering cacophony of memory, and my spine tickled from fear that the door would slam shut and I’d be alone in the dark. But I had more pressing things to worry about than my stupid phobia of small spaces. I scrabbled for another knife, trying to get my clumsy legs under me, but Sonny kicked me hard in the guts and I slumped like a wet sack, retching, my weapon spinning away.

His shadow loomed over me, and the stink of shit and vomit made me retch again. He grabbed my hair and yanked my head back, leering. “Payback, bitch. Shoulda done me when ya had the chance. What, no singing pretty songs for me this time?”

“Fuck you.” Spit and blood splashed from my mouth. First words that came to me. No time for eloquent comebacks.

He yanked out his pistol and jammed it against my temple, bruising me. “Pity we don’t have time.”

My pulse jibbered. He cocked the weapon, and the clunk echoed deep in my skull. Mad melody scrambled like panicked rats in my chest, chords building, and I sucked in a deep breath and sang ghastly murder.

Sound erupted from my lips, and died.

Low. Breathy. Useless. My rippling soprano ruined. No force, no shrill operatic vibrato. No magic in that weak human sound.

For the first time, real fear leached ice deep into my heart.

Sonny laughed, evil. “Then again, maybe I got a few minutes. Won’t take long, ya horny bitch.”

He kicked me in the small of my back. Ache exploded across my kidneys. My face smacked into the soiled metal. My hair dragged in the muck. I struggled to stand, to get away, but my treacherous magicstarved muscles wouldn’t work properly.

He pinned me down, and no matter how I flexed and screeched, I couldn’t dislodge him. My blood chilled. I’d kicked a big dent in Sonny’s pride the other night. It had humiliated him to the core to get beaten by a girl. I could feel his simmering rage from here, in the burning sweat on his palm as he grabbed the back of my neck and forced me down, brutish strength in his movements as he jammed my thighs apart.

I struggled, my limbs weak and useless. Outside, creatures screeched and giggled and moaned in mayhem, fairy feet dancing around like madmen. No one would hear me. We’d started the fight. Everyone was fair game, but like always, girls were the fairest game of all. He’d rape me. Fuck me. Rub my face in the shit. Get off on my powerlessness.

My heart quailed, but I steeled myself. I’d endured worse, right? I forced a laugh. “See if y’can get it up, cocksucker.”

“Shut it, skank.” His thick fingers dragged at my leather pants.

Perverse satisfaction giggled in my throat. Those pants were tough, the buckles tight. He’d not get them off me easily. I cackled, phlegm spewing from my lips. “Can’t even get into a girl’s pants. You’re a joke.”

Metal scratched, and suddenly my belt popped apart. My lost knife clattered as he tossed it aside. He wrenched at my waistband, and my buttons ripped open at the front. Warm air caressed my bare skin at the top of my bottom.

Sweat dribbled cold on my belly.

Fuck.

He laughed and jammed the pistol into the back of my neck again. I wriggled, but only worked my pants down farther. I kicked, lashing out with my steel-cored heels, but I couldn’t connect. Sickness gripped my stomach tight. My heart galloped. This was going to happen, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do. He’d rape me, and then he’d probably kill me. Bullet in the skull. Bang, you’re dead.