Dirty Little Misery (Miss Misery) (25 page)

“Where are you?” the addict muttered. His feet were close. I could smell him—smoke and beer, like a walking bar. In my cursed state, the combination didn’t rankle as much as it normally would have. Give me enough time and nothing would. I’d be like the Newton or Wonderland victims—willing to screw a corpse.

Stop Lucrezia. Focus. Fight.

And there he was. I sprung before the addict could react and threw myself into him. We tumbled backward, but this guy was well trained, and I was pathetically uncoordinated thanks to the curse. He deflected my arm with the knife easily. I tried to jerk out of his grip, a move that should have been simple, but he was too strong and too ready. Instead, I wrestled with him, which didn’t work so well for me.

He didn’t smell as good as Andre, or look as good as Andre, but to my drugged-out, cursed-out body, those were minor details. His arms were wrapped around me, trying to hold me and force me to drop the knife. All those hard muscles rubbing me were a distraction. I fought my urges as much as I did him. No surprise, I didn’t fare well against both opponents at once, but I had a couple advantages—I had a knife, and he had balls. He couldn’t dodge my weapon and my knee at the same time.

As soon as he went down, I raced for the door that led into the basement. It was off the main room, in a darkened bar. Light seeped around the entryway, but I banged my leg on a chair nonetheless. Surprisingly, the pain helped me focus. Apparently there was nothing erotic about a throbbing shin, not even while strung out on F.

But although that was a good thing to learn, I realized my mistake as I crashed into the storage room door. Last time, it had been locked.

Cursing in desperation, I yanked on the handle anyway and the door flew back. So did I since I hadn’t been expecting it. Maybe the door was unlocked because the club was closed. Maybe I’d finally caught a lucky break. I didn’t care so long as I was in.

I turned on the light and darted down the winding stairs behind the shelves. Just like last time, an eerie blue glow lit the way and the humidity rose as I descended. I could feel the wards and compulsions that Devon and Lucrezia set creeping over me. My skin tingled with power. Two pairs of invisible hands seemed to grasp hold of me, one squeezing my mind, the other pushing me back the way I’d come.

Last time I’d fought the magic, it had been a struggle. This time, it was much easier. It was as if the magic recognized me. I’d been down here before, and if I’d managed it once, then I’d been accepted. With a pop, like a change in air pressure, the compulsion released me.

I stumbled deeper into the basement and caught my breath. My body raged with Lucrezia’s curse and the F, but for the moment I had time to breathe and fight it back down. The ball of power burned in my stomach, tendrils of magic escaping. One wormed its way into my groin—an unpleasantly arousing reminder of what was to come when I no longer had the energy to hold the worst of this at bay.

Meanwhile, above, heavy feet clunked around on the landing. I froze, waiting and watching the stairs.

It sounded like the addict kicked something, and he cursed. “Where the fuck did you go?”

Another bang rang out, then the footsteps disappeared. It was almost as though he couldn’t actually see the stairs. Interesting. Maybe the compulsion worked that way.

I crumpled to the concrete floor in the shadow of the sarcophagus farthest from the elevator. My whole body trembled, and beneath the painfully unfulfilled erotic energy in me, I detected the stirrings of a headache. Whatever magic I possessed, I was using a lot of it to fight Lucrezia’s curse.

My reprieve down here was only temporary too. I had as long as it took the addict to admit defeat, find Lucrezia, and for her to figure out where I was. Rubbing my temples, I wished I hadn’t dropped my phone during the struggle upstairs, and I wished I knew how Andre was faring.

Seconds passed like minutes. In the dark and quiet, my mind raced. Had Lucen understood my message? Was help really coming? Or were Andre and I destined to die here, one way or another? I was out of ideas and overmatched. My ability to resist Lucrezia’s curse would take her by surprise, but she maintained the advantage. I was too weak to fight much more.

As I waited for my doom, my gaze fell on the nearby sarcophagus. Inside the cocoon-like shell it held, a human was dying and a satyr was being born. Had I gone through that process? And was my part-satyrness the reason Lucrezia’s magic wasn’t working as effectively as it should?

My freakishness had both gotten me into trouble then saved my life with Victor. The scales were even. But if it was helping me resist Lucrezia’s curse, I’d have to admit it was useful, and I didn’t like that.

But maybe I was getting ahead of myself. I hadn’t survived yet.

The elevator opened, and I tensed. Climbing to a better position, I adjusted my grip on the knife and peered out from around the sarcophagus. Lucrezia strolled into the room, carrying a gun.

Puzzlement spread across her beautifully evil features as she approached. “How, pet? How do you do it? I should have known when Devon told me someone got past the wards that he was referring to you, and here you go again after I just strengthened them, and you’re resisting my spells. What is wrong with you?”

“What is wrong with
you
?”

“Cute. You know this is nothing personal. I’m trying to save my people.”

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. The closer Lucrezia got, the harder it became to keep my control over the curse. It had to be her satyr power—it was affecting me the way satyr magic used to, before I became numb to it. It was somehow mixing with the F and pitching my arousal to an even higher level. I should have expected as much.

I backed away, keeping low to the floor. My fingers were perfectly positioned around the knife, and I was ready to spring. I would only have one chance. Lucrezia’s gun aside, being close enough to hurt her was going to push me into no-return territory. Even now, the fingers on my empty hand opened and closed, rubbing against my leg. If I wasn’t touched soon, if this itch wasn’t scratched, I was going to have a breakdown. It fucking hurt.

Lucrezia realized my dilemma. “Is this what it’s going to take, pet? Am I going to have to watch you and that Gryphon screw to death to make it happen? You have no idea how unpleasant it is for me to be around that much lust. It’s like gorging on sweets. It makes me ill. But if that’s what must be done…”

She pointed the gun at me and motioned for me to get up, but I didn’t move. “Go ahead. If you’re going to kill me, I want it over with faster.”

Lucrezia flinched. I’d called her bluff, and she wasn’t sure what to do. Shooting me ruined her ability to use my death as another strike against Angelia.

In the silence that followed her hesitation, someone shouted upstairs. “Crezi, where are you?”

Devon was here.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Lucrezia swore, but I tried not to get my hopes up. “You’re lucky I left the disorientation curse in my office or I’d hit you with it. Don’t even think about yelling or going up there, pet. John is waiting at the top of those steps. He has orders to shoot you if necessary, although I hope it doesn’t come to that. I have other ways of making you cooperate.”

She took off upstairs, and I loosened my grip on the knife as her footfalls vanished. Don’t even think about it—yeah, right. The addict who was supposed to have been guarding me and Andre in the Blue Room hadn’t done a very good job. So like I wouldn’t test her this time?

There was only one way to find out if she was lying. I was going after her.

Just not yet. First, I needed to recover. The effects of her magic lingered in my blood, and I didn’t have the strength to call out to Devon.

Although I worked to push the curse away once more, this time even less obeyed my will. More tendrils of magic slipped out, entwining themselves around my body. It was hard to breathe, and I grasped the edge of the closest sarcophagus as my knees weakened. Oh, God. I wanted nothing more than to collapse to the floor.

My eyes closed, and I focused on my breathing. Anger. I needed anger or some other negative emotion to boost my power, but I couldn’t summon enough. Nor could I focus for long. My mind wandered to Lucen. I wanted him here so badly. Where was he? Why was Devon here instead?

I must have spaced out again, like I had with Andre. Next thing I knew, someone was pounding down the stairs. A moment later Devon appeared around the corner.

“Jess!”

I turned dumbly to him, sensing his clove-tinged magic sweep over me.
Don’t come any closer,
my brain screamed. But my mouth wouldn’t obey. It didn’t want to.

Not that he would have listened.

Air caught in my throat, and I moaned before he touched me. I couldn’t hold it together any longer. He was too close, and even without the F, his magic had affected me for unknown reasons.

As Devon knelt in front of me, the curse unleashed all at once. I grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and pulled him closer. He lost his balance, falling into me where I was pressed against the sarcophagus. His body was so warm, so what I needed. I stretched my neck, straining to reach his lips. The tension in me grew more intense by the second. I needed more. I needed it now.

Devon didn’t fight me. The scruff on his chin scraped my skin as he kissed me back. His lips were as insistent as mine, and he tasted so good. He’d regained his balance, and his one hand pressed against my cheek, gliding his thumb over my skin. With his other, he squeezed my hip. The pressure from his fingers seemed to send shock waves straight to my groin. Wrapping my legs around him, I arched my back to get closer.

Then he stopped abruptly and pulled away, breathing heavily. “Jess, you’re making it very difficult to help you.”

I struggled to find a better position while my hand slid down to where his erection strained against his pants. More heat spread between my legs, encouraged by my discovery. So much for his protesting. The restraint he was exercising couldn’t hide the raw desire on his face or the way his body throbbed beneath my hand. “Please, I need you. This
is
helping.”

This was all that was helping anymore. Lucrezia was a distant memory, so unreal. All that mattered was satisfying this craving. Every nerve ending had ignited. I was going to scream, and the pain wasn’t the good sort. Any real pleasure had fled. My body was on fire, and I needed him to put it out.

Devon took my hands and flattened me against the sarcophagus. Not the best move on his part because I could feel his arousal pushing into me, and it worsened my own. His eyes burned, their normal pale blue almost silver in the basement’s creepy lighting. “I can help you, but you have to hold still for a minute.”

“I can’t. Please.”

“Yes, you can.” He adjusted his arms, pinning both of mine with one of his own. Then he kissed me again. Harder. His mouth tugging on my lips as though trying to fight mine into submission. His power was all I could breathe. My body shook and my eyes watered. But it wasn’t enough. Nothing would be.

Cool glass touched my cheek. Once more, Devon pulled away and I whimpered. “You need to drink this.” He held up a small vial filled with pinkish liquid.

“What is it?”

“Something Azria cooked up,” he said, referring to one of the satyrs who acted as their healer. “After the first incident here, you gave me the idea that it would be smart to find a counter-charm in case it ever happened again. She’s been looking into remedies for me.”

“Are you sure it works?”

Devon smiled grimly. “To be honest, I’m not sure it won’t kill you, but I’m sure you’ll die if it doesn’t work. So bottoms up. Be a good girl and take your medicine.” He twisted the cap off with his thumb and forefinger. With his other arm, he continued to hold me down.

I nodded. Devon flicked the cap to the floor, and I let him pour the contents in my mouth. I gagged. It tasted awful, reminiscent of cough syrup, but I forced myself to swallow.

“That good, was it?” He watched me with a wary expression but didn’t ease up.

“You tasted better.”

“That should be stating the obvious. How are you feeling?”

I shrugged but the motion didn’t get me very far. Devon was stronger than he appeared, and I couldn’t move. “How long should it take?”

“No idea. I’m afraid you’re the guinea pig.”

“Great.” Yet as I spoke, it dawned on me that the counter-charm must be working. I’d managed something like an actual conversation with Devon. I’d focused. Plus, I could feel the cold, rough stone of the sarcophagus digging into my back, the unpleasant way my knees were twisted beneath me, and the headache slowly kicking up a fuss in my brain.

Incredibly strong lust still raged within, but the pain of it—the overstimulation that had been driving me mad—was subsiding. I was no longer so desperate for sex I’d have done anything, or anyone, to get it.

No, now I merely wanted the guy in front of me with his clove-scented pheromones and the surprisingly sweet concern on his face. It was an expression I’d never seen on Devon before, and damned if it didn’t turn his attractively average face into something undeniably hot.

“You can let go,” I said, although part of me would much rather he not. “I have control again.”

Devon seemed to consider, no doubt assessing my emotions for himself, then he removed his arm. “What do you know? I’ve got to give Azria more credit, assuming you don’t drop dead in the next few minutes. Glad I stopped by her place after leaving The Lair.”

I slumped against the sarcophagus and stretched my aching legs. Without Devon touching me, more of the lust lifted. My brain was clearing too. I could think straight again, although that didn’t feel like such a great thing at the moment.

Blood rushed to my face as I realized what I’d done. “Oh, shit. I am so sorry about what just happened.”

Devon smirked. “No need for that. I’m happy to have you tear my clothes off, Jess. Didn’t I once tell you it was inevitable? Just next time don’t be dying while you’re doing it.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. Dying and desperate is the only way it could happen. And, oh—Andre and Lucrezia!” In spite of my soreness, I climbed to my feet. Fury returned with a vengeance. I wanted to hunt Lucrezia down and drive my knife through her. But first, I had to make sure Andre was okay. “You don’t have any more of that stuff, do you?”

Devon capped the empty vial and pocketed it. “I have two others. Your partner is alive. I can sense him up there.”

“We need to give him the counter-charm too.” I raced to the stairs. “And what about Lucrezia? Do you know—?”

“Jess!” Devon stood by the elevator and beckoned me over. “This way, and I wouldn’t worry about Lucrezia. I got everything out of her.”

I hurried over as the elevator opened. “Where is she? She has armed addicts running around.”

“I don’t know where she went, but don’t worry about the addicts. They’ve gone with her, and she won’t get far.”

Andre was worse off than I was. It wasn’t a surprise, but it was awful to witness regardless. It took a concerted effort between Devon and myself to hold him down and force him to drink the counter-charm, and the potion itself took longer to work on him. After he’d calmed down, we untied him and let him recover in peace. He was barely coherent, and I hoped he was spacey only as a result of the curse’s lingering effects and not because I’d knocked him on the head. His wrists were raw and bloody from the restraints, and more blood stained his head and his back. He must have banged his body against the table trying to get free.

I stepped out onto the balcony and frowned down at the empty club. “I should call an ambulance. Andre needs medical help.”

I figured Devon would protest like he had last time, but he didn’t. “The counter-charm should be enough to treat the magic. That’s why I asked Azria to work on one. But your partner has other injuries, so go ahead.”

“And Lucrezia?” I paused at the top of the steps.

Devon took out his phone and offered it to me. “As I said, she fled with her addicts. My first concern was getting to you. I had to let her go.”

“How did you know what was going on?”

“Lucen called me after you called him. I was close by, so I got here first, but he should be on his way. As for Lucrezia?” He grimaced, and I noticed he wasn’t using his nickname for her. “It’s not as though she could hide what was going on when I could sense you and your partner losing your minds. She tried to convince me to go along with her, but when I made it clear I didn’t approve, she ran.”

So that explained it. My fingers hovered over the phone’s keypad, but I felt Devon staring at me. “What?”

“Is it true you came here expecting to bust me for cursing those people?”

I bit my lip sheepishly. “You were a logical suspect.”

Devon stuffed his hands in his pockets, but he appeared more amused than angry. “I’m hurt, Jess. I think you owe me an apology, and while I’m at it, a thank you for saving your life would be nice.”

“I’m sorry, and thank you?”

He inhaled deeply, feigning pain. “I don’t know. You don’t sound very sure of yourself, and words are so meaningless. If you wanted to pick up where we stopped downstairs though…”

“Dying and desperate, remember?”

He took a step closer and pushed my knotted hair behind my ear. “Not even you believe that, do you?”

I backed away, not knowing a good answer. There had to be a reason why Devon’s magic affected me more than anyone else’s. Besides Lucen’s, that was. I just preferred to ignore the more obvious possibilities. One satyr was more than enough for a part-human.

A door opened below us, sparing me from a weak rebuttal. Voices filled the club, and Devon darted down the stairs to the main room. I stayed where I was, tired and unsure I wanted to be a part of the commotion.

Lucen entered the main room with Lucrezia. He had her arms bound behind her, and it was a tossup as to which of them looked more pissed off.

Lucen’s face softened, however, when he saw me. Unlike Lucrezia’s. “Jess, are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” I tightened my grip on the balcony railing.

“Lucrezia dosed her up well,” Devon said. He explained to Lucen what had been going on when he arrived.

Lucen’s face hardened a second time.

“I was trying to protect us all,” Lucrezia said through clenched teeth. “Do you care more about your human pet than you do us?”

“What they care about isn’t your concern.” A new voice—Dezzi’s voice—cut through the club. I held my breath, and Lucrezia fell silent. Her eyes opened wide as her Dom strode into the room. Dezzi’s attitude was regal as always, but murder lined her face. “This is how you thought to protect this domus? By framing one of your own for murder? By turning the Gryphons on us? You care nothing about us, just your own ambition, and you’d stomp on whoever got in your way, even your own people. It’s vile.”

Lucrezia tossed her hair. “Your disregard is what’s vile. You going to kick me out for this? You’ll take in a freak like Angelia, but kick me out?”

Dezzi turned her back on her—presumably—former number two. “No. It was Jessica who figured out what was going on, and Jessica who was willing to work within the Gryphons to minimize the damage to us.”

That wasn’t entirely true or exactly what happened, but who was I to correct Dezzi?

The Dom stared up at me. “I think it is only appropriate in this case to let Jessica deal with you. I’m therefore relinquishing my privilege as Dom to punish you, Lucrezia. The Gryphons can have you and put you on trial instead.”

Lucrezia gaped at Dezzi, and so did I. That was most unexpected, but after a moment’s thought, I realized it was also smart. Dezzi’s move would go a long way toward placating the Gryphons’ unhappiness with the satyrs, and by treating Lucrezia like she was beneath her, Dezzi sent a powerful message to any other satyrs who might have backed her former number two. Undermine your Dom and face the most serious of consequences—be kicked out of the domus.

I’d anticipated a fight over Lucrezia’s fate, but this would make the next few hours a lot easier. On that note, I remembered I had Devon’s phone, and I dialed the Gryphons’ emergency line.