Shadowfae (4 page)

“You look tired.” Kane stroked a gentle thumb through my hair, whispering lank strands over my forehead. His gaze locked on mine. “My poor Jade. So hungry.”

Kane isn’t a subtle man, and my breath quickened, the shattering need for energy making my pulse race at his touch even as my stomach sank. I recalled the spicy taste of cardamom, the burning pleasure of Rajah’s kisses, his willing body on top of mine, and my head swam with regret. If I’d just swallowed my pride and taken him, I wouldn’t have to endure this.

But Kane’s ageless scent of wind and thunder and midnight heat dizzied me. It isn’t thrall that makes Kane smell good, but sheer power. Emerald fire kindled inside his irises, and my lips parted of their own accord, my throat dry. “It’s been a long night.”

“Let me help you.” He cupped my cheek in his hard palm, pressing my mouth open with his thumb, leaning into me so agonizingly slowly that I whimpered. He brushed his crimson lips across mine, not icy but hot, slick and alluring, promising, and I’m not sure I’d have backed off even if I wasn’t enthralled.

He tasted of charcoal, fire, ash. His mouth demanded my surrender, his smooth tongue wrapping around mine, but at the same time, he gave himself freely, and his energy flowed through me at last, alien and unpleasant but also delightful.

Warmth and vigor surged into my mouth, down my throat, through my veins, penetrating my deepest insides, feeding my exhaustion, sating it. My skin relaxed and thickened, my pulse thudding stronger. My hair stretched, springing with new luster, sparks rippling over my scalp. I felt strong, energetic, alive, my flesh tingling.

Deep satisfaction flooded me, not sexual but invigorating, and I slipped my fingers into his crisp sparking hair and held him, caressing his hot, willing lips with mine, taking as much as he’d let me have. He’s a demon, after all. It’s not like I can suck out his soul or anything.

At last he pulled away, licking a remnant of wetness from my lips. “Jade,” he murmured, and smiled, guileless like a child. “I like it when you kiss me.” He licked his bottom lip, tasting it, and for a moment it trembled, his hard black eyes softening to clear liquid gray, betraying loneliness he didn’t have the words for.

Compassion pierced my heart, spiking the unease already squirming there. Why shouldn’t I use him? He used me. I didn’t owe him anything.

But it wasn’t as if he could date like an ordinary guy. Sooner or later, they all ask what you do for a living, and I knew what it was like to dread that question.

Unwelcome sympathy warmed me. Kane’s not such a bad guy, really, for a demon lord, and he’s a talented lover as far as the physical stuff goes. He just has no clue about the emotional side.

I don’t mean that he’s cruel, or means to hurt you, though he often does without intending to because he’s so strong. You just don’t lose yourself in Kane. There’s no substance to him, no matter the centuries he’s lived or the countless lives he’s known. You come quick and hard, gasping, and then a few minutes later once your legs stop shaking, you wonder why you bothered. And then he asks if he pleased you, and you truly don’t know what to say.

I couldn’t cope with Kane tonight. Not after Quinn and Nino and Rajah. I squeezed his hand, dreading that he’d order me to stay even as I wished he had someone other than me who ever did.

He brushed a stray strand of my newly lustrous hair from my shoulder, his fingernails gleaming a hesitant magenta. “Maybe . . . that is, if you’d—”

“No.” I angled away slightly. Guilt stung me, maddening. I didn’t owe him this. “I can’t.”

“No.” He traced his knuckles over my jaw, reluctant. “You’re right. You can go now. Do you need a lift home?”

“I’ll get a tram.” I stood awkwardly, not wanting to seem in a rush, but I just wanted away, before I could change my mind. In the entranceway, hot breath dampened my shoulder, and I spun around, startled. But Kane remained sitting on his sofa, tranquil. I swallowed, shivering. “Kane?”

He quirked one elegant golden eyebrow, a lick of flame curling around his earlobe.

“Who was I supposed to trap tonight?”

Kane gave a wistful little smile. “Doesn’t matter,” he said softly. “I believe it’s no longer his lucky night.”

I
nvisible, Rajahni Seth watches Jade stalk by in the entranceway, inches away. Compelled, he lifts his hand to touch her shining hair, making her jump. She’s even more beautiful now she’s fed, her skin glowing, her eyes alive like a stormy ocean. Watching Kane kiss her, the demon’s eager sensual tongue stroking her lips, sent spasms of fury through him, but it was worth it to see her like this. Glorious.

The rampant itch attacking his skin has subsided now he’s answered Kane’s silent summons, but he waits, and only when the door clicks shut and Jade is gone does Rajah shed his cloak and reappear.

Burning fingers squeeze his throat, crashing him into the wall. Sandstone ridges jam into his spine, pain flaring, and hot demon breath caresses his lips, the ashy taste searing his mouth dry. “Rajahni Seth,” hisses Kane, an inch from Rajah’s face. Sharp fingernails sink into Rajah’s throat, warm blood trickling. “Give me Nino’s soul.”

Kane’s body is burning hot, unyielding, his fingers crushing Rajah’s neck, immensely strong. Rajah’s thrall bangles burn, but to no avail. Rajah can’t swallow, and saliva spills from his mouth, but dark amusement makes him laugh.

“Give it to me.” Kane’s teeth sharpen, glinting, and he bangs Rajah’s head into the stone for emphasis.

Rajah’s vision doubles briefly, dizzy pain sheeting through his skull, but he grins, satisfaction bubbling black inside. “I can’t,” he chokes.

“What?” Shock flushes Kane’s face red, and his grip loosens.

“It’s in a very safe place. Safe even from me. Command all you want, it isn’t happening. And soon I’ll have the other three.”

Kane laughs, and scarlet flames lick his hair, steam hissing. He shoves Rajah away, watching him fall. “Do you really think you can escape me?”

Rajah stumbles to his knees, choking, ashy residue still harsh on his tongue. He touches his warm bangle, where the engraving still shines clear after nearly four centuries. He doesn’t need to read it to know the words:
odium, primordium, terminus, animus.

Four words, four souls. Drink them down, the bangles will shatter and he’ll be free. Free to go where he pleases, love as he chooses and not at a demon’s behest. Free to live a mortal life.

For four hundred years, he’s searched, and fate has finally brought him here, to the new world and Melbourne, where the streets and bridges drip with fell magical energy and dark fae auras glow bright and unfettered under fat southern stars. If freedom lurks anywhere, it’s here.

He struggles up from the floor, but Kane’s hand descends on his shoulder, unyielding. “No. Stay on your knees. You look good there.”

Hatred radiates off Rajah’s skin like sunburn, and he glares up at Kane, the floorboards hard beneath his knees. Kane traces a finger along Rajah’s jaw, and Rajah has to grit his teeth to stop from snapping.

Kane laughs. “Do you like the word
minion
, Rajah? I’ve always preferred
slave
myself. Tell me what you are.”

Rajah bites his tongue, blood spurting, but the thrall bangles sear and itch. Compulsion swells the words to bursting in his larynx and he must speak or suffocate. “I am . . . your slave.”

“Again.” Kane’s fingertips trace Rajah’s lips, hot, tingling arcs of blue static crackling.

“I am your slave.” Niter stings Rajah’s tongue, and he swallows it along with his humiliation, thick, black, festering.

“Yes, you are. Defy me, and every grotesque agony I can dream up will become your best friend. And I assure you, when it comes to torment, I have a vast imagination.”

Rajah swallows again, licking stinging lips. “You can’t stop me.”

“No.” Kane twists his fingers in Rajah’s dark locks, hungry, and his voice roughens like sandpaper screeching on glass, smoke hissing between his teeth. “But I can make sure you spend the next six hundred years invisible so people won’t run screaming from how hideous you are. I can make you vomit blood every time you smell a woman’s juices. I can make your cock sting with the fire of a thousand scorpions every time you fuck. That’s a tough call when you need to fuck to live. How would you like that?”

Rajah stares up at him, inches from rubbing his face in Kane’s lap. Kane is breathless and hard, his cock straining against his pants, his fingers clenched in Rajah’s hair, forcing him closer. The smell of his arousal is strong and smoky, like a bushfire, and Rajah’s cock awakens in memory. He can already feel smooth naked muscle in his hands, the velvety hardness in his mouth, the hot charcoal taste of pale demon flesh pressing against his palate, the gush of seed that burns his throat like acid.

But defiance sears away any inkling of desire. “Say it,” he suggests coldly. “Make me suck you off, if it’ll give you a laugh. You can fuck me, too, if you like, since you didn’t have the guts with Jade. It won’t stop me leaving you.”

Kane screeches in fury like a vulture, green lightning crackling between his fingertips, and his palm smacks into Rajah’s cheek like a thunderclap. Blood splashes, and Rajah tumbles to the polished floor, laughing in salty scarlet bubbles.

4

I
leaned my head against the warm window, orange streetlights looming and fading as the number eight tram rattled and thumped along its tracks. Tall brick university buildings blotted out the stormy sky and cast gloomy shadows on the wet black asphalt.

It was the last service for the night, and the carriage was almost empty, the lights flickering on and off as the current spiked. The tart stink of pot stung in the overconditioned air, and in the corner, a skinny banshee in tight leather pants and a lacy corset made out with some guy. Smoke drifted from the joint she held loosely between two fingers, bluish-white hair sliding over her bare shoulders. She straddled his lap on the vinyl seat, crooning an eerie song deep in her throat as they kissed, her purple lips plastered to his. Sweat trickled down his temple from his shaven head, his eyelids flickering to show bloodshot whites, his grimy gold-ringed hands planted firmly on her ass.

Two in the morning had come and gone, and the air thickened with the smell of distant thunder when I got off the tram at the corner of

Lygon Street

and walked the couple of blocks to my flat. Warm breeze lifted my hair, sultry and pleasant on my skin after the chilly tram. Voices and music from a few pubs still drifted, and I passed a gang of drunken students, a dreadlocked Jamaican who sidled past and offered me a twist of shiny foil, a teenage girl in thigh-high boots and red hot pants arguing into her phone.

Against the wooden fence at the corner of my street crouched a spiky-haired spriggan, giggling, poking at a hunched figure with her yellow claws, her narrow black eyes shining with glee.

“Leave him be.” I kicked at her. The vile pest hissed and scuttled away, leathery black skin gleaming, pointed knees and elbows flailing like a crab’s legs. The homeless guy groaned and rolled over into the bluestone gutter, his greasy coat flapping open to waft out his beery stink. Even if he wasn’t paralytic, he probably couldn’t see through her glamour, and would have thought he was being dissed by some insolent foul-mouthed teenager.

Most mortals are easy prey to fae glamour, and never see what’s right in front of them. Some aren’t, and they wander the world with a glazed look in their eyes, constantly slipping over the edge from one reality to another. Not every whacked-out fidgeter or hollow-eyed nutcase is just a junkie.

I stepped over the drunk and into my shabby little enclave. Kane probably didn’t know or care where I lived, but I knew Angelo didn’t like me renting such a tiny beaten-up place. It’s only a cheap student flat, just a couple of rooms, a kitchenette and a shower. But I liked it here. I liked the smell of old floorboards and furniture polish, the creaking peppercorn tree above the tin roof. I liked that it was away from the traffic so the stray cats that darted in the street didn’t get run over. I liked that my neighbors were students, waitresses, musicians, bad artists, and petty criminals. People who didn’t look down on me.

The hours I kept, they probably thought I was a prostitute, or some wannabe drug dealer’s or gangster’s girlfriend, and it was close enough to the truth that I didn’t bother to correct them. I’d tried real jobs, in bars, cafés, secondhand bookshops, whatever I could get, but they never lasted long. Employers didn’t like it when you tore off in the middle of a shift because your bangles started itching, and now Ange won’t let me work. He says it’s undignified. For him, maybe. There’s not much dignity for me in taking his money.

My front door hid at the end of a concrete path, squeezed under a rickety iron fire escape. I reached it to find a green fairy swinging by his knees from the heater pipe, his knotted yellow hair dragging in dust eddies. His wings fluttered lazily, pearlescent colors glittering, and he sang to himself as he swung back and forth, beautiful and breathy like a siren.