Demon Chained (Shadowfae Chronicles) (14 page)

The fairy in the corner snickers, and flips ice cream at me from the end of his spoon. Everyone else has hit the floor, except Joey's über-banshee, Mina, who twitches and scowls, and Rajah, who gives me a tiny, bashful shrug. Looks like everyone reads the news except me.

I gulp, like I'm drowning. My mind kicks and thrashes, but it keeps going under. None of this makes sense. Valenti and DiLuca have been at each other like rabid dogs for decades, and now Ange is taking shells for Joey? What the fuck?

All I know is that any chance I had of Ange helping me out with this lamp business is gone for good.

I wipe spit from my lips, and stalk out, shaky, furniture bruising my thighs as I scatter it. The sun glares in my eyes, and I go ahead and pretend that's why there's water in them.

Nice work, Tam. Just beautiful.

Not only have I spectacularly screwed up my best and only chance at Joey DiLuca? I've lost my gun. I've lost my patron. I am now fair game on the street to any pissed-off DiLuca cretin who thinks it's his lucky night, and I've got less than twenty-four hours left to keep myself upright and out of hell. And, in case I'd forgotten, I've already alienated the only crazy-assed half-fae madman in town who's dumb enough to give a shit about me.

There's only one place left for me to go.

***

Chapter Fourteen

The broken door creaked inwards, the chain pulling slowly taut, and a long brown hand curled inside, uncannily flexible fingers grasping for the chain's fastening.

My throat clenched, and I halted, my hand hovering inches away. I knew those fingers, clawed and double-jointed. Double-crossing little bastard.

I tore the chain free, grabbed that slender wrist in both hands and pulled with all my weight.

The door banged open, and a skinny fae body somersaulted inside, tumbling onto the dusty lino in a sprawl of limbs. Improbable fingers fastened around my wrist, tight and wet, and I fell after him, my knees thudding into the floor. My palms slapped the lino, hard and stinging, and I yanked free and scrambled away, panting. "Get off me, weirdo."

But he just looked at me, crouched like a wary cat on all fours, ready to spring. Intense coal-burning eyes, dark hair like spilling cocoa, skin tainted with red like raspberry juice.

Ire toasted my composure on a pitchfork. No doubt he'd followed Tam here last night. Maybe even helped Tam steal from me. Without this guy and his fae-crazy insight, I'd still be fat and happy with my lamp in the cupboard. I wanted to punch his pretty face in, dig those mesmerizing eyes out and crush them under my foot.

I stood, dusting my stinging hands off. "You're too late, okay? Your boyfriend already stole everything I have. Get lost."

"He's not my boyfriend."

"Too bad for you. See ya." I yanked the door open and held it, waiting.

But he just hugged his knees to his chest. "I'm sorry I melted your hand."

"Just get out of my house, okay?"

His fingers flexed, sleek claws gleaming. "I didn't mean it. I don't know why I did it. It just happened." Weary and resigned, like he said that a lot. Like he made a lot of mistakes and apologies.

I remembered his exasperation at the club, the words tumbling off his tongue like he couldn't control them, and reluctantly I softened. "What do you want?"

He chewed his knuckles like a kid. "I thought I could help. You seemed to . . . I dunno. Fuck. Doesn't matter." He unfolded and stretched to his feet, ready to slink away.

I sighed. "Wait."

He stopped, automatic, gratitude shining scarlet in his eyes. Like he was used to people telling him what to do.

I knew what that was like. Being controlled was infuriating, sometimes hateful. But it was also comforting. Never taking responsibility, never having to decide. Always someone to rely on, someone else to blame. Even fetching Tam's stupid french fries, my essence sang with belonging.

Truth was, I missed it. I missed it, and some cowardly part of me wanted Tam back. Wanted him to do this properly, to keep me and watch over me and love me so I'd know what to do. Not like this, indecisive, terrified, alone.

I didn't want to be alone.

Tears spilled out, and I swiped my cheekbones roughly. Crying in front of a stranger. Some free spirit I was going to make.

"It's missing." The wingless fairy snaked out a fluid hand to catch my tears. His fingertips felt warm and smooth, just a flicker of silky claw under my eyelid.

My cheeks heated. I swallowed, but more tears erupted. "What?"

"The other half of you. I'm sorry."

He didn't know me from the next smoke-vanishing girl, and he was sorry. I tried a smile, but it crumpled, and I gave up and closed the door. "What's your name?"

"Gavain." He shifted on delicate feet, twisting those deft brown hands in front of him. A knitted bag I didn't recognize hung over his shoulder, shapeless. He'd gotten wet since the club, I noticed, his jeans stained dark at the seams, his spice-brown hair clumped in sticky rat tails. He still looked like Javier, those fragile cheekbones, that sweet curved mouth, the same light kindling in his fire-mad eyes. But Javier never apologized. He didn't know the word.

I dropped onto Luke's couch, dust puffing. "So why'd you have to tell Tam about me, Gavain? Why couldn't you just keep your mouth shut and leave me alone?"

He eyed the couch next to me with shifty red eyes, but settled on the floor on his knees instead, supple dancer's legs folding effortlessly under him. He swatted at something I couldn't see on his forearms, a little hiss curling his lips. "Bugs," he explained when he saw me frown. "They bite me. I squash them."

Uh-huh. Whatever you say. "You didn't answer me."

"I see things. Smell them. Feel them in my blood. I can't help it. If I don't give them to someone, they hurt. Tam . . ." He chewed his berry lip, pointed fairy teeth digging in, and a bloody flush darkened his cheeks. "Tam doesn't look at me like the rest."

I stifled a smirk. Not his boyfriend, hell. I knew unrequited touch-me when I saw it. Pretty, lithe, graceful Gavain, who'd probably never been turned down in his life. But jealousy twinged in my guts, and I swallowed sour bile. Tam's mine. Hands off, fairy boy. "So what's with Tam? Why is he so . . . well, you know. In denial? Mad as hell?"

"Shiny Joey DiLuca shot him. A demon brought him back to life. But Joey shot Tam's daughter, too, for spite. Tam doesn't feel too good about that."

Hmm. Mark this Shiny Joey DiLuca down as a nasty Jewel-coveter. Avoid at all costs.

But my skin prickled, the hot poison sting of guilt. I knew how Tam felt. Guilt could flay you raw for a long, long time. Just because something's out of your control doesn't mean it isn't your fault.

I thought of Javier, his reckless courage and fractured compassion, his hunger for sights, places, people anew. I'd have followed him to earth's end, lamp or none. I tried to understand why he wouldn't give my lamp up to me. I'd reasoned he was afraid I'd leave him. He always had a bashful streak, no matter how many times I swore I'd love him until time itself flickered out.

But maybe he'd just liked me better helpless. Trapped. Needy.

And in the end, he'd tried to give me away, and died for his trouble. Love sucks.

Gavain curled his graceful neck to look up at me, and his eyes shone weary with hope. "Tam isn't terrible, jasmine girl. He isn't hard and careless, like he wants you to think. He just hurts so much, he laughs instead of screaming."

My nerves wrenched raw. I'd laughed, that horrible day, lying in a pile of frosty black splinters that used to be my lover. Laughed until my eyes scraped raw and my guts tore in agony. If I'd screamed, I'd have screamed until I died.

Gavain scooted closer on his knees, and in a movement so swift it left my eyeballs behind, he flittered his hand before my face. "Here."

I jerked back, my nerves jumping. But too late. Blue citrus sparkles already dusted the air, and before I could stop myself, I inhaled.

Blood boiled to my head, a flaming rush. Crisp lemon parched my palate. My eyes watered, blinding, and burning tension seized my muscles, ripping deep within me, sexual yet frightening.

I reeled, thudding back into the couch. The room span around me, dazzling. "What was that? What did you do?"

"Don't be afraid."

"Fuck! Was that a drug? Are you trying to . . ."

I tried to scramble away, but he laid his pretty head in my lap like a cat. "Peace," he whispered. "This won't take long."

What won't take long?
I wanted to scream, but somehow words didn't matter anymore. My veins burned, a hot ball of tension wrapping tight inside me. My vision sharpened. Gavain's hair poured over my bare legs like silky cocoa. Warm, gentle, fragrant with copper and spice. It felt amazingly good. Dark, so soft it might melt.

Heady memory dizzied me, whispering a hot promise in my ear. Maybe, if I brushed my finger over his lips, sparks might fly.

My eyes drew hungrily to his taut thighs, the shift of tight fae muscles in his abdomen, the ruby spit shining on his lips. This was insane. He'd drugged me. I should smash his face into the floor and run.

But my disobedient gaze crept to his eyes, dark now and glowing, like garnets in fire. His sharp-tipped ears, so like Javier's, hidden shyly in a splash of cinnamon-dark hair. His cute pointy chin. His mouth, so ripe and soft, so close to my thighs, a tantalizing glimpse of teeth. The drug dizzied me, and I wondered what kissing him would taste like, how his sharp tongue would feel in my mouth, and desire uncoiled deep in my belly. God, I loved fae boys, the whippy muscles, the double joints, the weirdness. But he wasn't just fae. He was human too, bursting with agony and mortal rage.

Like Javier. Javier was the most human fairy I'd ever met.

But Gavain was real. Javier was dead, in pieces on the floor while I stood, trapped by his betrayal. Helpless. Needy. Just the way he wanted me.

Compelled, I traced my finger across Gavain's delicate cheek. Teased the corner of his raspberry mouth. Explored the curve of his bottom lip. Gavain closed his eyes, lashes fluttering, and his hot breath scalded my fingertip, fading it into a white curl of smoke.

A bright tingle crept along my nerves, and my finger reformed. I slid my new finger between his lips, where it was wet and warm. His tongue flickered over my sensitive fingertip. My breath caught on such strangely dirty pleasure, and when I pulled my finger free, instead of sparks it drew forth a faint stain of fairy blood.

A shudder gripped me, and when he crawled up to his knees on my lap, I didn't stop him. His thighs felt slender and hard under my hands, his body weight so light like a fairy's yet strong enough to trap me. He traced deft fingers along the line of my throat, and a desperate moan welled up inside me. He was so like Javier, it hurt me deep inside. I knew it was false, this desire, this bittersweet tide of memory. I knew Gavain was tricking me. But I couldn't stop.

Sick sweat stuck to my skin, and my pulse thudded too strong in my head, a horrid bright ache that stabbed through my face and down my neck. He pulled my hand to his mouth and breathed on me.

Panic swept me with coarse black wings. I tried to yank my hand away, but too late. Smoke curled, my fingers dissolving. "Stop it. What are you doing?"

"This." He leaned forward, and caught the smoke with his tongue, and breathed in.

Oh, fuck. My free hand clawed the sofa in shock, and my muscles jerked. He'd
swallowed
me. I was sliding over him, entering him, curling around his inner shapes. His throat muscles moved around me, stroking, feeding, teasing. I filled him, the friction of our contact dark and delicious. It was amazing. It was horrible. I wanted to groan and thrash and come apart.

The fairy drug caught fire in my blood, scorching my reason away. My hips arched to meet him, straining for more. Hot tension gripped me. My nipples rubbed hard like pebbles against my dress, pleasure stabbing deep, flooding my sex with sensation even though he wasn't touching me there.

My fingers re-crystallized, every nerve ending ragged with bliss. Did I say I liked fae weirdness? He'd just chewed weirdness up and spat it out in little crunchy pieces, and if I'd thought about sex with him before, I was on the brink of begging for it now . . .

No. This was bad. Wrong. Unsafe. For some reason. I was sure of it. My thoughts muddled, the drunken taste of blue citrus a sly seduction on my tongue. Uh. What . . .? Who . . .?

"You taste like fire." He pulled my hand to his mouth again. This time he dragged wet lips up my forearm, from wrist to elbow, trailing that hot, marvelous breath along my skin.

Oh, God. I squeezed my eyes shut. My arm sparkled like sweet flame, and dissolved. He groaned as he inhaled me, and I felt every vibration, rippling through my body like the pleasure of a hot shower, caressing my muscles, feeding my need. God, I wanted him inside me, like I was inside him. I wanted to come while he swallowed me. I wanted him to do it over and again, stroke me inside and out until I fell apart or melted forever, in some magical, blissful land where Javier still loved me and I wasn't a murderer.