Poison Kissed (4 page)

Virusrich bloodstink sweetens Iridium’s coppersour tongue. His cock twitches and aches. His rusty iron flesh burns, and inside the hunger grows, festers, boiling alive like an angry black fungus.

Joey doesn’t get it. Doesn’t understand what hunger’s like. He thinks his monster is hateful, relentless, eating him up without remorse.

He should try rusting to death, one screeching muscle fiber at a time.

The pain starves Iridium, makes him so hellspitting hungry, for pleasure or sweet numbness or anything other than screaming agony, that nothing satisfies him. He’s fought the snarling painbeast every interminable hour of his life.

Doesn’t make the sadistic fucker hurt any less.

Flora blows him a kiss, and he scowls, silvery drool licking his lips. Gangland used to be such a lovely façade. Under the old leadership, he could murder and torture and destroy without need for reasons or restraint. But Joey is different. Joey disa-fucking-proves.

Well, Joey can keep his own monster locked up if he wants to. Not this angry ironfairy.

Iridium wrenches aching wingjoints, and rusty shards crumble onto the floor, but he’s still got a hard-on. Yes. He’ll let the painbeast roam and shatter and kill, and if Joey doesn’t like it, Iridium will just have to find another stupid gang puke to shelter behind. Someone fresher, more pliable. Pity Vincent is such a weakling. He’d do fine.

Flora sashays up, little ass cute and chewable in a flimsy miniskirt, fluttering long glowpink wings. Her drugged eyes sparkle cruelly. “Wanna dance?”

Taunting the cripple. Classy.

He watches those hungry vampires circlesucking, fangs buried in each other’s throats. The girl moans, pleasured, and an idea rusts solid in his mind.

“Bite me,” he says absently, giving Flora the finger.

Flora laughs, a sharp stab in his ears. “Want me to? You look tense, poor baby.” And she actually reaches for him, her palm grazing his hard twisted flesh through his jeans.

His tortured nerves spasm, and his pulse throbs, dangerous. Unused to being touched voluntarily. Unwilled, he imagines her scream vibrating his teeth. Excruciating. Exquisite.

Tension burns his balls, and he yanks Flora’s hand away before he explodes. It hurts to come. Better make sure it’s worth it.

Sour metalgrit scrapes his tongue. “No. But you can play a tricky trick on Vincent for me. He won’t mind,” he adds when she pouts. “Promise. Make him horny as hell.”

Flora’s eyes glint magenta with mischief. “Okay. But rain check on the blow job, sweetie. You’ve got a real big cock.”

Whore. Iridium smiles, disgust and broken iron teeth stinging his lips, and beckons. “See those vampires? Go on over there, and tell them . . .”

3

From the bar, I glimpsed Joey at the rail, searching the crowd for me with that cold, empty look in his eyes, and helplessness flooded my limbs, sluggish like treacle. Damn that sneaky Vincent-rat, always trying to insinuate himself with the boss at my expense. If I lost this job, I had nothing.

Worse than nothing—once the Valentis discovered Joey wouldn’t protect me, I’d be a red smear on some back-alley sidewalk. I’d kicked too much Valenti butt to be allowed to walk away.

His scotch sat waiting on the bar, ice slowly melting, an itching reminder he was working without me. I drank my beer, but the bubbles frothed weakly in my throat, the sweating lemon’s bitter tang too gentle. I needed my therapy. I wanted to get on with hunting my mother’s killer. But I wanted to wait for Joey, too, for him to melt my heart with that secret crazysmile and show me everything was okay.

I slammed the bottle down in frustration, that nagging little sparklefreak voice gnawing harder at my guts.
Feed me, Mina. I’m so hungry. You know where to get what we need. It’s easy. Feed me, and I’ll love you and stroke you and lick you, slide deep inside you and make you feel good, and we can forget everything. I’ll make tomorrow better, I promise. . . .

A scratchy giggle beside me grabbed my attention. A skinny yellow airfae girl blinked up at me with a split-lipped smile, her ragged wings brittle and undernourished. “Hey, Mina. How’s it shinin’?”

“Hey, Violet.” I tried a smile, but it didn’t work. Once, Violet was my friend, sort of, if you call scrapping through garbage for food together friendship. We’d starved, fought, and hustled side by side, and the first time I ever swallowed some guy’s sweaty hard-on for cash, she was right there with me. Far as I knew, she still turned tricks for a living.

She tugged moth-eaten sage hair in a tiny swirl of fairy breeze, her knobbly fingers scabbed with bruises or scurvy. “You got nice clothes.”

“Thanks.” I drained my beer, my stomach twisting in protest. She wore a faded blue halter top over a frilly skirt and cute heels that blistered her yellow feet blue. Her scratched legs looked scrawny and underfed, and unpleasant memory squirmed rotten in my soul. The only difference between her and me was Joey. I really didn’t need that reminder tonight.

“Workin’ out strawberries for you, then. That job.”

“Yeah. Umm . . . how you doing?” Fucking lame question. Bruises mottled her skinny arms, and her pale blue eyes gleamed tired and dull. She looked like a corpse, and a poorly used one at that. The weak magical breeze stirring from her ripped wings smelled foul.

But her pretty smile flashed, game as ever. “Okay, y’know. Same old. I was wond’rin, maybe if ya had some spare cash—” Her face fell. “Oh. Never mind.”

A tall black spriggan in jeans and no shirt loped up, long wiry hair swept forward and springing in front of his pointed chin. Multiple body piercings shone golden on his coarse skin. He grabbed her elbow with sharp shiny fingers, his lean muscles hard and unforgiving, and planted a rough, possessive kiss on her mouth.

She didn’t respond, and he grinned cruelly around broken black teeth. “There y’are, sweet thing. Gotta run. Sorry.” He flashed me a warning glare beneath spike-pierced eyebrows.
Mine. Don’t touch without paying. You want a job, pretty? You want something to eat? We got work for ya. Easy money.

The golden rings in his sharp ears made me shiver. I didn’t recognize him. But I knew him too well, and I wanted to scrape his face off with my nails, rip those haughty piercings from his body, and feel him scream. I swallowed on angry scarlet chords. “You okay, Vi? Call me if you need anything, huh?”

She sniffled. “Yeah. See ya, Min. You look great.” And the spriggan dragged her away, his black limbs shining like a crab’s.

Guilt spilled bitter into my mouth, and I swallowed it. None of my business. For all I knew, the bastard paid us protection. Not my fault I got lucky and she didn’t. Right?

I waved at the handsome blond barboy, my heart aching. “Gimme a double bloodfever, ice, no cherry.”

He winked, muscles shining beneath his leather vest as he poured, bourbon shots over ice first, then the splash of sparkling cola, then the rich scarlet dash from a clotted squeeze bottle and a sprinkle of crushed chili. Deep old scars showed white on his shoulder blades as he slid the short glass over to me and popped in a pink straw, his oceanblue eyes glinting merry. “Shitty night?”

“Ain’t over yet. Gimme another one.” I tossed the straw away and swallowed half the drink in one gulp. Chili stung my tongue, and bourbon and rich vampire blood slid like boiling honey down my throat. It hit my stomach and frothed like a witches’ brew, and right away that rich slinky darkness spread in my veins.

I sighed, deep, relaxing. The stuff felt good, caressing my nerves like a slow, deep kiss. Drinking infected blood was supposed to be like kissing someone with HIV—you’d have to be very unlucky. If you wanted the virus, you really had to persist, and most people didn’t live long enough. Good thing for us, or there’d be fucking vampires everywhere.

So yeah, it was safe, so long as you didn’t overindulge. Right?

Live music tonight, the crowd packed and warm, thundering guitars over a frenetic panic of drums and bass. The skinny singer tossed long ink-dyed hair over her jewel-pierced face and screamed of tunnels in the dark and the black canker in the depths of her heart.

Automatically my ears filtered harmonics, nuances, spikes in amplitude and wavelength, flaying the melody to bare emotional truth. Flashes of hard flesh piercing her body as she screams, laughter, a metal pistol butt smacking into her face. The air swelled tight with her raw-skinned pain, and sweet agony stretched my eardrums rigid.

I gulped my drink, and my belly heated.
Right on, sister. Share the hurt. Make them feel as you feel. That’s the only way you’ll ever live again.

A glass rang sweetly against mine. “Cheers.”

I jerked, fumbling. I hadn’t heard him approach, and the deep smooth frequencies of his voice vibrated to my core. I flushed, and cursed under my breath, hoping he hadn’t noticed my concentration wandering. “Um, yeah. Yourself.”

Joey sipped and offered me a shattering smile, green lights flashing on his pale hair.

His smile was hard to take, cold and perfect like an evil djinn’s, inviting but sinister. He used it to scare people away. But it made me think of flesh, warmth, a sweet poison kiss, the shiver of hot lips caressing my spine.

Tall-blond-and-scarred slid me my second drink. I drank, alcohol and virusflesh sharp on my tongue. Sounds swelled and faded, the music swirling like ocean water. “Finished talking about me?”

“It’s business.” Joey sucked an ice cube into his mouth and crunched, leaning his elbow on the bar and glancing around like I bored him, his gaze lingering on a busty blond vampire slut with her tight black skirt up around her butt. Immediately, I wanted to punch her.

His attitude rubbed acid into my hurt. God, I hated how my confidence relied on him, how desperately I needed him to make me feel safe and important. I hated that I wanted things from him I had no chance he’d ever give, that the only man I ever respected had no respect at all for me.

Vampire blood whispered hot distraction inside my skull, staining my vision scarlet, dizzying me and dragging words onto my tongue that would never otherwise have made it. “Yeah, it’s business. Everything’s business to you, right?”

I tilted my glass again, my bloodseduced mouth already watering for more.

He grabbed my arm, stopping the glass an inch from my mouth. Sweat shone on his lean-muscled wrist, his grip light but steely. “You shouldn’t drink that shit.”

“Why not? Afraid I’ll embarrass you?” I yanked my hand away, half-hoping he’d hang on and drag me closer. But he let go, and I shook my wrist and downed the rest of my drink, defiance scorching my veins.

“It fucks up your brain, Mina.”

“What do you care?” I wanted to provoke him into revealing something, anything, even disgust.

“I care because I need you first thing tomorrow. Breakfast with Delilah down at Southbank, the usual.”

I swallowed. Delilah, our demon patron, probably with some helltwisted scheme to annoy the Valentis and score points against Kane. Demons always bicker amongst themselves, and Delilah has it in her head that Kane’s got it coming, because he’s arrogant and in charge and scary as shit.

Maybe she was right, but her last effort at pissing him off nearly got us killed. We were just game pieces to her. But even pawns get to party when the enemy king dies.

I shouldn’t miss this breakfast. Joey might need me. “Um . . .”

“Don’t be late. Unless you wanna let some glassfae maggot kick your ass and get away with it.”

Challenge stirred embers in his eyes, and my heart tumbled like it always did. He knew what I liked, how I thought, where my darkest desires led me when I thought no one watched. I fiddled with my bodice’s low neckline, my temper fizzling out in a warm wash of blood-sharpened need. “Look, I didn’t . . . I’d never lie to you. You know that, right?”

He just looked at me and finished his drink.

My stomach tightened. No matter how I fought to hang on, my life was slipping away from me. I needed this job. I didn’t know how to do anything else. Poor Violet wasn’t just my past. She was my future, if I didn’t hold on to this, now, here, until my fingers bled.

The vampire blood burned under my skin, swelling my flesh, nagging at me to consume, touch, swallow. I stabbed my courage to reluctant attention and tried one more time. “Can I get you another? It’s kinda loud in here. We can . . . y’know. Go somewhere, if you want.”

Yesss,
whispered the blood, its lust an unpleasant echo in my sex.
Somewhere like your place, where it’s warm and dim and I can slip my fingers beneath your clothes, kiss you until I ache, tempt your hands onto my body, wrap my legs around you and warm that cold blood of yours with my pleasure.

My face burned, and I held my breath. Waited for him to smile coldly, embarrass me, pretend I wasn’t there.

Joey took my hand and kissed it.

Just a light brush of ice-cooled lips, his fingers warm under my palm. And a tiny flicker of his tongue, hot and exciting on the back of my hand like a flashburn.

My gaze dragged to the place where his lips touched me, and my blood-drunk optic nerves set off a sizzle that stabbed all the way down to my breasts. I wanted to touch his cheek, hear my fingertips brushing his skin, slide my finger past his tempting lips into his mouth. I remembered how that mouth sprang alive on mine, that night a few weeks ago when he kissed me, wired and feverish from a fight. So fresh and dangerous, his forking tongue demanding, the hot snaky shift of his flesh and the urgency of his lips on mine showing me how much he wanted . . . something.

Maybe not me.

But he was alone. I was alone. We’re both old enough. Even if he just wanted to forget all this macho gang bullshit for a few hours and make himself feel good, I’d do it if it meant he believed me.

He leaned closer and inhaled. His lips inched apart, and my breath caught. I knew he examined me with those enhanced reptile senses, tasted my sweat, smelled my blood. Did he like it?

He cupped my bruised cheek and raked his thumb over my lips, only a few inches from kissing me. “You’d have killed him tonight, wouldn’t you? Sonny Valenti, I mean.”

“Yeah.” My voice withered to a whisper, and my body ached with helpless longing. So much for toughness. He’d disarmed me with a glance and a rough caress. If he slipped his thumb into my mouth, I’d suck it.

“Because I asked?” He grazed his teeth over my chin, possessive. Bit me softly.

Oh, god. I shivered, terrified. “Uh-huh.”

“Would it feel good, do you think? Would you
like
it?”

His whisper sizzled down my spine, and the way his tongue tasted those words made my belly melt inside. I felt it in my breasts, between my legs, all the way to my toes. Daring, I slid my hand on his chest, his taut muscles warm under my palm. My fingertips brushed bare skin, and beneath them something dark and hungry shifted and groaned. “I’d have liked it if you told me to.”

“Mmm. And what else, if I told you to?” The briefest kiss, just a faint brush of his lips on the corner of my mouth, so soft, I might have imagined it. Helpless, I followed, but he pulled back, just an inch from my reach.

“Anything.” Desire throbbed tight and wet between my legs, so hard, it made my head swim. I pressed closer and gasped at the steely pressure of his hardness against my belly. He liked it when I surrendered. Liked the power.

I liked giving it to him.

Now I ached for his body, hard and shifting against mine, his teeth on my nipples, the scorching pleasure-pain of him entering me, his bitter venom seeping in my mouth. I didn’t care if it was sick. Whatever it was, this weird lust-hate-punish-me attraction sizzling between us, it was past time we purged it.
Take me. I’m empty without you. I’ll beg for it if you want. I don’t care. Fuck me, and let’s get it over with.

His grip tightened on my chin. “Anything?”

I grabbed his hair and pulled myself up to him, thirsty for contact. My mouth hovered so close to his, I could taste delicious scotch and mint. My mind swirled, drunk, and my whisper cracked with desire too long denied. “Everything.”

His fingers closed light and steely around my throat.

Shock flickered my eyes open. His hot green gaze hardened like glass, and he twisted from my grip and softly pushed me aside. “Sounds expensive.”

My bowels heated, and an angry flush rushed straight to the top of my head. Always he tempted me. Always, once he’d won, he rejected me. Like there was never any question I’d submit.

I swallowed, burning, trying to halt the stupid tremble in my lip. He was just my boss. I shouldn’t care what he thought of me, so long as I did my job.

But I did care.

His gaze met mine, cold, impassive, and too-familiar shame crunched in my guts. His arrogant little games hurt me. And he didn’t care. Wouldn’t be kind to me. I’d cry afterwards, in the bathroom where he couldn’t see or hear me. I’d done that before. And Joey paid me more to guard him than the assholes who sold my body ever did.