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Authors: Erica Hayes

Tags: #Paranormal, #Romance, #Fiction, #Fantasy

Poison Kissed (14 page)

BOOK: Poison Kissed
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Just as things were looking up.

He forced his hand between us, and now his hot bare skin pressed against my butt. He was hard, all right, short and stubby and thick, his sweat and slick liquid sliming my skin. I struggled and yelled and wrenched my muscles tight, but he worked himself between my cheeks, pushing, searching roughly. “This gonna hurt? That snakeass prick’s cock so small, you don’t even feel it? Feel this, you uppity whore.”

He shoved, spearing a sharp ache through my guts. I screamed. My muscles didn’t give. He tried again, and I struggled to concentrate, plan, think how to get away, get him off me, anything but what he was doing.

Knife. Had to be here somewhere. His hot breath dampened my shoulder. Dimly I felt the pressure at my neck release a little, the pistol not scraping my vertebrae quite so hard. He was having too much fun humiliating me.

Don’t close your eyes, fuckhead. Not for a moment.

Surreptitiously I twisted, wriggled, squirmed my palms along the floor, searching for my discarded weapon.

A sweet sting greeted my fingertips, and relief swamped me cold. I pawed it nearer, and at last my bloody fingers tightened around the handle.

He squirmed, working his way in, and groaned in triumph as he finally found the place he was looking for. “Oh, yeah. You’re gonna feel g—owf!”

I slashed backwards with all my depleted strength, and the blade connected.

Flesh caught, and tore, my sweet steel edge slicing effortlessly.

Sonny howled and tumbled off me. The knife yanked from my hand. Gunshot thundered, ripping my ears raw.

My bladder clenched, stabbing heat into my belly, but I didn’t die. If you hear the shot, you’re safe. That’s what they say. The one you don’t hear has already killed you.

I scrambled up, wet leather twisting around my thighs. My hair hung stinking, smeared with blood and excrement.

Sonny staggered, clutching his neck, blood spurting between his fingers. He gurgled a curse, and more blood spilled, thick and bright. I’d stabbed him right in the throat. He’d probably bleed out, but the tough son of a bitch was still clawing with crimson hands for his dropped pistol.

Fury burned cool in my throat like mint, and I wanted to jam my steelspiked heel into his face and crush him. But now that I was free, fear crashed in like stormwaves, and my legs trembled though I tried to hold still. He’d nearly fucked me. Nearly killed me.

I bit my lip bloody, but the fleshy crunch between my teeth only made me shudder more, and all I could do was stand there and shake.

Frantically, I tried repeating it, over and again like I used to. Shouldn’t care. Should be tougher than that. My body’s just flesh. It’s not me. Not me.

But this wasn’t like surrendering my body for cash or food or drugs or shelter. At least then I was trading it for something. There was nothing in this for me. Just him, making himself feel good with my body.

Some proud female creature deep inside me curled up and wailed, its spirit burned raw. And hatred scorched me black inside like helldirt.

I fumbled to dress, my fingers numb. Rip his face off with my nails. Scrub myself raw. Crawl away and hide. My body shuddered, and hot tears streaked my face.
I should finish the fucker off.
But I couldn’t move, couldn’t scrabble up my knife and slit his throat, and my weakness ripped my guts raw. Had I gone soft, without my cruel songlady crooning murder in my heart?

A scream burst in my lungs, my voice a ragged ghost. “Just die, you fucking animal, get your—!”

A serpentine black shape scythed the air before me, and hot flesh ripped and splattered.

Sonny choked and crumpled, his throat a swelling scarlet mess, dripping emerald with venom.

“Filthy fucking hands off her,” finished Joey, and kicked him in the balls.

Blood and flesh sizzled, and Sonny convulsed, spluttered, and died, his face turning slowly purple. Poisoned blood the color of rotting flesh soaked into his shirt, smoking. Froth spilled from his lips. The fresh stink of his bowels letting go mixed with the stale creature stench, sickening.

I stared, shock still riveting me cold.

Joey was breathing hard, like he’d been running, blond hair stuck to his cheek with sweat. Somewhere, he’d lost his jacket, and his shirt stuck wet to his chest, showing me more of the way his tense muscles moved than I needed to see. His sleeve hung torn around one bloodstained wrist, and venom dripped sparkling emeralds from his curled black claws. Glossy black webs stretched tight between his knuckles, the bones long and elegant like a fairy’s, his skin dark and sleek and beautiful.

He whirled, and the momentum shifted his hand back with a wet snap. The snakeskin slid away beneath pale human flesh, the webs folded and crackled away into his fingers, his claws retracted into soft pale fingertips. His eyes glittered like icy jewels. “Can you run?”

“Yeah.” My reply was automatic. Never let him see me hurting. I fumbled up my remaining knife—great, I’d lost another one, those things cost me a fortune—and dragged my disgusting hair back, shivering.

He stretched out his hand—his strong, pale human hand—to me. “Come on.”

I stared, mesmerized by the pulse in his wrist. Just a smear of pungent venom on his knuckles, a tiny bloodcrust under his nails. That creature, writhing just beneath his skin. What would it look like? What would it feel like? Warm needles of sensation slid into my belly. Wonder. Excitement. Fear. I didn’t know which.

My mouth dried. I swallowed, and he grabbed my hand and dragged me out.

12

We ran. Floodlights glared. Bodies scattered the bloodspattered tarmac, weapons and clothes discarded. I didn’t see Vincent or Iridium. I recognized Fabian Valenti, slumped in his dark suit on the concrete with blood pooling from his skull, eyes rolled back, face even more vacant than usual. A cackle of baby fairies, escapees from that mysterious crate, licked giggling at the scarlet spill, their little wings flitting in delight.

Go to hell, asshole. You and your rapist cousin. Hope it hurt.

I didn’t have time to see who else. Somewhere, I heard Diamond’s wind chime chuckle coming closer. A few dirty fairies still hung giggling like monkeys on the crane, spitting and flinging debris at us. Joey tugged me around a corner, and we sprinted up a dark alley between container stacks.

My hand slipped from his, the better to run, and as I stretched my legs, the panicked shudder in my muscles at last began to ease, replaced by the warm thrill of fight and flight. My tall heels felt good under my feet, their strength pressing up into my calves. Warm clean air filled my nostrils, swelled in my lungs, fingered through my dirty hair. Blood pumped sweet chemical excitement through my body. My sweat ran, cleansing, fresh, ridding me at last of Sonny’s vile smell and hot clammy hands and disgusting words.

Diamond’s insane giggle lilted after us, and his tinkling light step echoed in the metal corridors. “Run, shitlickers, ’cause ya can’t hide.”

Shadows thudded like hammers. My loose pants flapped on my belly, and strange weakness shrank my muscles. Struggle as I might, I couldn’t run fast enough to keep up with him. My eyes struggled to adjust, blackness hemming me in. Joey’s night senses were far superior to mine. I faltered, panting, the hungry air both a comfort and a threat in my lungs. “Wait. I can’t see.”

“Peace.” He dragged me into a shadowy crevice to hide. Tall containers, rust stinging my nose, soft green venom luminescent on his sleeve. He was breathing hard. So was I. Our bodies pressed together, warm and alive, and I jerked back, but metal clanged my skull and scraped my shoulder blades.

Only half a step I could move. Only an inch or two keeping us apart. Nowhere to run.

My pulse clattered, too swift. Small dark space. Alone, in the dark, with him. My song ruptured, my reflexes sick and sore.

And now I owed him a goddamn favor.

He touched a light finger to my lips, warning me to keep quiet.

Inside, I squirmed. I tried to control my breathing, banish that bewitching minty scent from my mouth, but my lungs ached for air and I couldn’t help gulping it in. My thoughts tumbled. Sonny was probably already a goner, but Joey didn’t know that when he attacked. He’d protected my tarnished honor, killed to save me pain and degradation. Probably saved my life. Again.

And Sonny was Ange Valenti’s favorite cousin. Joey had just made both of us fair game to save me.

Anger welled up like acid in my blood. Why did the bastard do it? Why keep up the façade? Why put his precious family business in danger just to trick me?

And what if he found out I was sick and couldn’t fight? Surely he’d cut me loose, and I’d never get near him again.

Not that it mattered. If Diamond found us, we were both surely dead, and then I’d never get breakfast tomorrow, let alone my revenge.

Ordinarily, I could sing blackness to hide us. I didn’t dare try.

Glassy feet clanged on metal as Diamond landed atop a container nearby. Shadows flitted over us as his wings caught the light. “Fine,” he called. “Piss off, if you’re too scaredified to fight. I got drinking to do. Next time I see you, you’re rat meat. Both of ya.” Wind whistled as he flew away.

Silence. Just Joey breathing, my heartbeat, the sticky sound as I swallowed.

A trick? Maybe. Hot dry shadows closed in like smoke. Sweat stung my skin, and my throat parched.
Now what?

“You okay? He hurt you?” Joey still gripped my arm tight, claws quivering. His murmur caressed my face, minty and warm, barely audible but strained with tension.

Automatically I shook my head, though my bruises still stung and the horrid slide of Sonny’s skin on mine stirred my guts sick.

Joey banged his forehead on the metal next to my ear, his jaw quivering tight. I could tell he wanted to slam it harder. His body shuddered with stress, barely controlled, and his sibilants hissed. “Christ, I’d kill the fucker again if I could. You sure?”

His whisper slid warm into my hair, and bumps stung my scalp. I swallowed and forced myself to relax, though my hands trembled. My knife beckoned warm, tight against my ribs where my heartbeat thudded.

This was my chance. Jammed between two metal walls, nowhere for him to hide. Distract him, get him just a little closer. He drops his guard for a second too long, and . . .

My stomach wriggled. I licked my lips to make them shine, and flickered my gaze shyly to his and away again. “Umm. I’m a little shook up. C-can you just hold me?”

He ran his teeth over his bottom lip. Let my wrist go. “Look. You know I don’t expect you to put up with . . . that kind of thing. Right?”

Scorn blackened my heart. Coward. I knew he wanted to touch me, just to prove I belonged to him, even if he pretended otherwise. He didn’t care what happened to me, but what Sonny did really chewed at Joey’s pride. He wanted to kiss me raw, strip me naked, lick me clean inside and out and wipe off all trace of another man’s touch so he could own me again.

I shivered, hot and icy at the same time.
Well, come on, then, you lying bastard. See what happens.

Deliberately, I caressed his cheek, a seductive suggestion, tilting his face toward mine. God, his hair smelled fantastic, warm and minty, fresh like pine. Fucking prick. “You pretending you didn’t hear, or what?”

He closed his eyes and let me bring him nearer. His cheek brushed mine, and he drew in a soft gasp. “What are you doing?”

I pressed closer, brushing my breasts seductively against him, finding his hands and sliding them onto my bare midriff. “You mean this?”

Unease licked me cold. I’d tried to inject some sly magical persuasion into my voice, but all that came out was a husky whisper. But it didn’t matter. It did the job.

Green flame ignited deep in his eyes. His muscles jerked tight, and his hands quivered on my waist, barely daring to move. Like he couldn’t help it, his lips crept into my hair, and his breath caressed my bare shoulder, hot and strained with temptation. “Mina, don’t—”

“And this?” I traced tempting fingertips over his collarbone, down over hard shifting skin, inside his shirt. Dark muscle roiled under my touch, and he jumped. Christ, he was on edge tonight. Good for me. Bad for him.

His grip tightened on my waist, and he shuddered. “Jesus. Don’t do th . . . Oh, fuck it.” And he crushed me hard against the metal wall, wrapped his fingers in my hair, and brought his mouth down on mine.

Triumph spread warm on my heart, and I wanted to laugh, but his kiss tore the breath from my throat.

Dizzy. Intoxicating. Dangerous. I tried to hold my breath, pull away, change my mind, but I gasped, and inhaled him, and my treacherous senses exploded.

His hot mintleaf taste, not sweet but burning, venom’s bright tang on my tongue. My wits shattered under an onslaught of frustrated desire. Diamond might hear us. I didn’t care. I forgot my weapon. I forgot thinking. There was only this long-buried need, erupting inside me like a trembling volcano. “Oh. Fuck. Umm . . .”

“Don’t talk. Just kiss me.” He cupped my cheek and pushed my mouth open with his thumb, and his kiss was like sex, thrusting deep and hard with nothing left to the imagination. Heat splashed through my belly, scorching deep inside with delight and anticipation and five long years of shivering denial.

No time. No options. Every sensible shred in my brain screamed at me to run.

But my body growled with hunger, and my heart trembled, and I grabbed his hair and kissed him back.

Our mouths met, molded, hot and wet and ravenous with every simmering impulse we’d ever denied. He pressed into me, lithe and warm, serpentine muscles alive just beneath his skin. My breasts swelled against his chest, and desperate shivers pleasured my skin like a hot shower, rippling deep between my legs. My pulse threatened to burst my veins. I had shit in my hair, greasy fingerprints on my skin, the echo of a violent man’s breath on the back of my neck, and all I cared about was Joey’s mouth on mine, his hard-muscled body tempting me to touch.

He didn’t tease me or test me or wait to see what I liked. He ravished me, more than I’d ever felt from him before, and the hot demanding scent of his pulse made me drunk.

My knees shimmied, weak. With no magic, how could I fight this? I clutched at his shirt, trying to keep some distance, but he fought for my wrists and pinned them to the wall at my sides, too strong for me to escape even if I’d wanted to. His lips tortured mine, his tongue demanding my surrender.

And I gave it, overcome by some twisted compulsion for belonging that melted my resolve. I swallowed, letting him fill me, his rich taste and thrilling sensation thrashing hot exhilaration in my blood. I was starving, and at last he fed me, every movement of his body and rough caress of his lips a feast.

Stupid, to imagine I could control this. That I could lead him only where I wanted to go and no further.

I kissed him harder, desperate. His soft groan filled my mouth, and his tongue shifted, wrapping long and sensitive on mine, teasing tingling pleasure from me that spread all the way to my nipples. The dangerous sensation of that muscle
changing
spiked moist desire deep into my sex, and I couldn’t help but groan, too.

He nudged my chin up to spread hot kisses on my throat, and it felt so good, I gasped. Shivering danger sparked in my belly. Too tense. Too ready to break. The flesh throbbed between my legs, making me wet and swollen. If he touched me there, or sucked my nipple into his mouth, I’d probably come.

Fuck.

He’d spotted my attack from a mile away. And now I’d lost control. So very hard, not to revel in this fever-rich desire. Not to moan and shiver and beg for more.

Truth burned ragged holes in my conviction, and I wanted to scream. I couldn’t deny this, no matter how my shredded wits screeched at me to fumble for my weapon and slit his lying throat. He made me feel alive. Special. Needed. Worth something, in this dirty world that despised me.

Anger mixed a scorching cocktail in my already heated blood. Just for that deception, he deserved to die.

“Mina.” God, I loved it when he whispered my name. His words bruised my lips between kissing, like he couldn’t stop. I didn’t want him to stop. The risk he took even to make a sound exhilarated me. “I can’t get you out of my head. I dream about doing dirty things to you. I feel you under my skin, every moment of every night, and it’s not enough. I can’t have you. I can’t ignore you. I only want you more.”

Shock and hot emotion swelled my heart sore. Finally, an admission that he wanted me, too, that I affected him beyond business concerns, that he cared when I got hurt. Those words I’d waited so long to hear him say dripped over my skin like warm poison.

So tempting, to swallow that dangerous nectar. Surrender my senses to that sweet opium lie, and die happy.

But I couldn’t. I daren’t. Wrong, wrong, wrong. My mind scrabbled for reason, and I made some incoherent sound into his mouth.

He pulled my hand between us, pressing my palm against his swollen sex. My skin scorched, and by themselves my fingers curled and stroked, caressing him. Not weird and twisted like a fairy. Just long and straight and perfect. How hard he was for me, a demanding desire that couldn’t lie. His hot menthol scent maddened me, and all I could remember was how much I wanted him naked, so I could open myself beneath him and make us one, slide this tight hard cock deep into me where it belonged, lure that sleek beautiful creature from inside him and let him pleasure me until we died.

He shuddered and caught my bottom lip between his teeth, teasing me. His claws grew and dug sweetly into my wrists, and venomsting pierced my skin. My pulse throbbed, the tiny cuts swelling tight and hot, and I groaned at rawblind sensation, a whole lot similar to what was happening between my legs, where he pressed his thigh so wonderfully tight, teasing dark and forbidden pleasure deep into my sex.

I groaned, helpless, my breath lost. God, he knew exactly what he was doing. How did any woman ever resist him? “Don’t. Don’t tease me.”

“Not this time. No more pretending. Tell me you want this. I’ll give it to you.” He eased my palm against him, stealing another mintscorched kiss, and his hand shifted. His slick fingerwebs enveloped my hand in delicious heat, and need shivered through me like bloodfever. Me and him. Naked. Sex. Now.

He didn’t feel like a lying, thieving murderer without conscience. He didn’t even feel like an ice-hearted ganglord who cared only for power. He felt like a man, hot and hard and barely controlled. A man who knew what he wanted and took it. And I still burned for him.

Hot steel denial pierced my heart.

No way. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be.

A cry warbled in my throat, but my magical voice still eluded me. I fought him, twisting my wrists, and tore my mouth away though nothing would have pleased my body more than to let him have his way. My muscles shuddered weakly. I couldn’t break free. Fear wrenched an impotent gasp from my throat. “No. Stop it. Let me go!”

His body stiffened. He closed his eyes, and slowly his grip on my wrists relaxed.

I wriggled away, my burning skin suddenly cold and bereft.

He struggled to regulate his breath, and with a grimace he slammed his forehead against the metal where I’d been, wet blond hair sticking. Weird neon sweat glowed on his face, and along his cheekbones and in his throat, darkness writhed beneath his skin. He didn’t lift his head, but his hot gaze followed me, unblinking, and slowly, with an effort that gritted his teeth, he folded his fingerwebs away.

My limbs still ached with desire, and sick remorse clutched my heart.

BOOK: Poison Kissed
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