by Michele Hauf
Had she been stupid to believe such a plan could work? All she wanted was to live her own life. To not be sent to make an exchange, which would become so much more than Charish could ever imagine.
Because really? The faery lord wouldn’t simply take the gown and bid her adieu; he’d kill her. Lyric knew that as well as she knew the vampire out in the kitchen was not going to leave her alone anytime soon.
She had never thought her life would come to this.
Sure, her dreams as a little girl had been similar to those of other little girls—mortal girls. Until the blood hunger had emerged at puberty. She’d always known she was vampire—had been born that way—and that the hunger for blood was a given. But she hadn’t expected it to erase all those dreams of living happily ever after with the prince in his castle in an enchanted land far, far away.
“You idiot,” she whispered. “The prince doesn’t want to marry you, he wants to kill you.”
She laughed softly at the ridiculousness of it. In a manner, the little girl had been promised to a prince of an enchanted land. However, Charish was unaware of that devastating detail.
“So I guess I can’t deny dreams don’t come true. Does that mean I should accept it?”
No. She wanted to ride away from the castle and forge a new story. Something that didn’t involve faeries.
“You okay in there, sweetie?” the vampire called from the other room.
Sweetie. Ugh. Why did men think it was okay to call women cutesy names when they didn’t even know them? She’d give him sweet.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she called over the patter of the shower. “Keep your pants on.”
“Oh, they’re on. But not for long.”
Lyric caught her forehead against her palm. Did he think she’d allow him to get close enough for some kind of rough play, as he’d implied? He wouldn’t get any information from her by raping her. He didn’t seem the type, though. She’d met rapists. Her family ran with a vicious lot.
Vail was scary looking, but not as mean as he wanted her to think he was. When he’d stroked a palm over his erection she’d caught the subtle quiver of his lower lip. He was not immune to the sensual tease. If she were to put the moves on him, she could wrap him around her little finger and toss him over a shoulder.
Lyric bolted upright. Now there was an idea. But could it work?
This smelly apartment was getting smaller the longer she had to sit in it, with him, and wait for the fence to call. Which would never happen. And she was hungry.
She would seduce a frog if it would help get her out of trouble.
Tugging out a soft jersey pullover dress from the packed duffel she’d planted in the apartment two days earlier, Lyric switched from the dark shirt and pants to the cozy red number that clung nicely to her semimoist skin. The shower had given her a nice steam bath. She put the red high heels on again, because Vail had definitely noticed them.
Slicking on some lip gloss, she pressed her lips together and nodded. The vampiress had a plan.
“And it will work.”
The vampire jumped from the counter and stood, legs spread at a cocky stance as Lyric approached.
He stood well over her six feet two inches, which was impressive, considering she wore heels. And his frame was tight and muscled like an athlete. His clothing was classic black leather pants, his black shirt shot through with silver threads, which dazzled as much as the silver studs and rivets embellishing his jacket in a menacing death-metal kind of look.
She stopped before him, red-pointed toes to steel-toed cowboy boots, and made a blatant show of looking him from his face, down over the tight shirt, which hugged his muscled chest like a lover, and then lower. Leather pants with buckles here and there scuffed down one thigh. No visible hard-on, but she intended to change that.
She guessed the dark appearance and wardrobe were not a fashion choice but a means to keep most at a distance. Though some vampires took the dark lord thing too seriously, a wise vampire blended in with mortals and did not stick out like a goth club kid.
She couldn’t see any faery dust on him now. Had it been a trick of the moonlight when he’d leaned over her earlier? Or maybe it was a fashion choice, and the dude was into glitter?
Clear whites in his eyes, and his deep blue irises held her as if he’d clutched her shoulders. His dark glamour appealed to her careful, pining heart. She’d always been attracted to the bad boy, and Charish and Leo had always been too protective. She’d tended to date family friends.
She wondered what this compelling man’s dark glamour tasted like? She wasn’t above biting fellow vampires. As long as she didn’t share the deep bite and sex at the same time. That was a bonding ritual she would only share with the one vampire she loved. The Prince Charming she counted on finding one of these days.
Vail smirked. A killer move. It tugged his mouth higher on the right, and revealed a sneak of white fang. The bad boy wanted some fun.
He grabbed her by the hips and pulled them hard against his groin where Lyric felt a buckle impress her flesh below her belly button.
“Well.” She skimmed her palms up the silken weave of his shirt, her fingers touching his skin at the base of his neck. He was cool. Most vampires were warm thanks to frequent infusions of blood. They must both be hungry, she figured. “I guess I gave you time to come up with a plan, eh? Seduce the girl and get her to talk?”
Always make them believe they are the ones in control, and the ones with a plan. Seduction 101.
He dipped his head and landed a hard, firm kiss on her mouth. It was so unexpected that Lyric could only accept it, breathing in his breath, tinted with mint. Men did not take a kiss from her. The ice princess always kept them at arm’s length. And she would prove it by…
Well, maybe a little longer. No sense in stopping what felt so good. Bad boys took what they wanted. She was willing to experience what she had always desired.
Too quickly, he broke the unsettling yet sigh-worthy contact. “Seduction tastes pretty good to me.”
“Me, too.”
Without thought, she returned his kiss but remembered she was playing a role. Get smart, Lyric. Or you’ll never ditch this guy. This kiss must be the money play.
Lyric nudged open his mouth with her tongue and traced his clean, white teeth. Strong hands at her hips crushed her against him. His hard-on, thick and long, lay diagonally against her hip. Encouraging his arousal, she rubbed her hip against his erection and ran one hand down his back to press him even closer.
He moved deep within her, tasting her mouth, teeth and tongue, giving her the urgent intensity of contact she gave him. It was as if they were starving and had found sustenance in an enemy masked by desire.
Thinking of satisfying her blood hunger brought down her fangs. Amidst the crush of their mouths, Lyric’s fang pricked her lower lip. She pulled from the kiss, wiped a finger over the blood, and then traced it along the inner side of Vail’s lower lip.
He pushed her away, and she stumbled awkwardly to land against the wall, arms dumbly slapping it. “What the hell?”
Vail sucked at his lip and spit her blood onto the floor. “This isn’t going to work.”
“Seriously?” She followed his pace toward the window. “I get that we were both screwing with each other right now. But you…spit out my blood? I thought you were vampire?”
He spun on her, his overwhelming height shadowing the moon framed in the window. “I am.”
Lyric touched the flesh beside his eye. “No, you’re not. This isn’t club glitter. You said you were familiar with Faery? You really are a dust freak.”
CHAPTER FOUR
FAERY ICHOR TO VAMPIRES was like meth to mortals. And once the vamp got a taste, he needed more, more and more. Lyric knew, because a dust freak had once worked for Charish, and had caused chaos for the few days he’d resided at the Santiago mansion.
“I just…do it to maintain,” Vail said, with a stroke of his thumb across the black stuff smu
dging his eyes.
“Maintain?” Lyric didn’t hide a shake of her head. “That’s what they all say while they’re lying in some dust den, sucking in the ichor. It’s so obvious now. You have sparkle issues.”
“Is that so? Well, you’re avoiding the real issue. Like the fact there is no fence, and you expect I’m going to wait this out forever. Don’t be stupid, Lyric.”
“I’m not stupid. But neither am I willing to trust a dust freak.”
He gripped her shoulder and spun her about. It hurt, his fingers digging into her skin, but she wasn’t about to let him see her pain. Lyric pulled the ice princess on and stiffened her spine.
“I’m immune to dust,” he said. “I’ve spent a lot of time in Faery. Now that I’m in the mortal realm, I need to take dust every now and then to maintain it in my body—otherwise I’d go through withdrawals.”
“Sounds like an addict to me.” She shoved him away.
A flash of moonlight glinted at the corner of his eye, like a beacon calling her to fix on his dark glamour. It wasn’t worth the risk if he was a dust freak.
“This little dance we’re doing is getting old, Vail. I’m tired, but most of all, I’m hungry.”
“You tell me where to find the gown, and I’ll let you out to scam for some blood.”
“You won’t offer me your own?”
“Would you take it?”
“No. Wouldn’t want to have to maintain because of you.”
If even a trace of faery ichor scurried through his veins, she’d taste it and she’d become addicted like that. Addiction was not something Lyric was willing to risk simply because the blood hunger currently tightened her veins and made her jittery.
“Let’s make a deal,” she said, smoothing a hand over her thigh to distract from the burgeoning shakes. “There’s a club down the street. They play heavy metal and the blood is always hyped with adrenaline. Let’s both go out and have a drink, then I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
“You tell me what I want to know, I’ll let you out on a leash.”
“Bastard.”
“Ice princess.”
“Oh, you use that tired old title, too? And here I was beginning to think you weren’t like the rest of the male vampires. I’m going.”
She started for the window, but he beat her to it, sliding across the bed before she could touch it.
“Fine.” Vail parked himself on the windowsill, blocking her escape. He clasped his ringed fingers together and narrowed surprisingly compassionate eyes on her. “I know what it’s like to hunger. You’re not going to give me anything until you’re satiated, relaxed.”
“You got that right.”
“I’m not a complete creep. I’ll let you feed.”
“Thank you.”
“But we’re not going inside the club. I need to keep you close. You try to get away, you’re going to regret it.”
“Ooh, you going to dust me with your sparkle juice?”
“You willing to take that chance?”
She met his steely blue gaze. Faery dust glittered about his eyes and in his hair. It must seep from his very pores. She wondered now if she’d gotten any on her hands, but did not look, because she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her flinch. A little skin contact wasn’t going to make her high—the dust had to enter her veins. She hoped.
“I’m sure we can find a nice mortal couple in the parking lot. One for each of us,” she said.
“I don’t do mortals.”
Comment wasn’t necessary. That was apparent. The guy was fucked up, and that would make her escape a breeze. She just had to play along for a while. “Let’s go.”
* * *
HE DIDN’T TRUST HER as far as he could blow dust into the eyes of his enemies. And that was about five, six feet maximum.
After a five-minute walk they stood outside Club Vert. Hard, growling music pounded through the brick walls, and patrons danced outside the back doors, which were curvy and appealing, designed after the Art Nouveau style.
Vail and Lyric sat on the hood of a black Renault Mégane, watching the crowd shift in and out of the club. The interior was decorated in more Art Nouveau and plenty of green, Lyric explained. The club offered absinthe that mortals inhaled through a long straw, à la freebasing, as opposed to drinking. Provided a faster, cleaner high. Vail favored absinthe himself, but not extracted from mortal veins.
“Those two.” Lyric jumped from the car and smoothed palms over her hips and down her backside.
Vail couldn’t help but appreciate the tight curve of her derrière. The soft red dress conformed like skin on skin, emphasizing the slight cleft and the sexy dimples at the base of her spine. Those long legs had to end somewhere in the vicinity of her armpits. Legs like that could wrap around him and hold on for the ride.
Legs like that could also kick him in the jaw, which he entirely anticipated should he put the moves on this wicked vixen.
“Not going to happen,” he muttered, as he watched her approach the mortal pair who, hand in hand, searched for their car. They chatted with Lyric. She pointed over her shoulder at him. Vail offered a nod, hiding his disgust. The woman, a redhead sporting a nose ring and a bare midriff, smiled drunkenly.
He suspected Lyric had done this before. Not getting two mortals to succumb to a vampire foursome, but rather, lying to achieve a goal. She was lying to him about the fence. Had to be. But he could play her game. He must if he was ever to get the answers he needed.
The trio approached, the man’s arm around his girlfriend’s waist, and the other arm draped across Lyric’s shoulders.
“Nice,” Vail said to them as they walked by, leading him toward the end of the parking lot where the streetlight flickered and a dented black van sat parked in the corner.
Chain-link fencing surrounded the parking lot, bent up here and there to admit a person or a stray cat through the overgrown weeds that probably never saw a mower’s blade. Security lights beamed over the entire lot, but here, the van shadowed their encounter.
Lyric was already cozying up to the man by the time Vail rounded the back of the van. The sight of her running her hands up the man’s arms and whispering in his ear increased Vail’s heartbeats. But for the life of Herne, he wasn’t sure if it was arousal or—no, couldn’t be jealousy.
The mortal woman threaded her arms about his shoulders and tugged him around toward the front of the van. She breathed whiskey onto his face. “You’re sexy,” she tried, enunciating carefully as drunks often did when they thought they could conceal their inebriation.
“And I love redheads,” he replied, allowing her to kiss the corner of his mouth sloppily. Mortals. No attraction whatsoever.
Keeping an eye on Lyric, he nudged his nose along the woman’s jaw, following the rapid pulse that did not call to him. It was just a heartbeat.
He bent closer to her skin, drawing in the acrid scent of whiskey, yet beneath that something deeper lingered. Life. It gushed and throbbed. So unique how mortal blood took on the scents and taint of the things they consumed and put on their bodies, which was why it did not attract him. Ichor remained pure, no matter what the sidhe had consumed.
Remembering his captive, Vail glanced aside, pushing curls of red hair away to better see. His ice princess hadn’t bitten her mark yet; she was prolonging the tease, working the mortal to a sexual frenzy. Spiced with adrenaline, it must make the blood hotter, perhaps even tastier.
And yet, it was just a tease. Vail maintained the staunch insistence ichor was the only sustenance for him. And it was. But a weird part of him, something he didn’t want to examine too closely, suddenly tilted his head down to inhale the scent of mortal blood. It didn’t smell awful. Actually, it smelled appealing, whiskey and all.
What was that about?
The woman read his subtle exploration incorrectly, and palmed his cock through his leather pants. That both pissed him off and pushed him over the edge he’d been toeing since kissing Lyric e
arlier. The vampiress had gotten under his skin, and he had wanted to get under, into and all over her skin—until she’d touched her blood to his mouth.
He’d never take vampire blood.
Moans slipped from Lyric’s mouth now, her mark matching the sensual tones. Scent of jasmine and cherries distracted Vail from the mortal woman’s whiskey perfume. She kissed the edge of his mouth, but he didn’t want her sloppy attempt at intimacy.
“Swoon for me,” he whispered, penetrating her mind with persuasion. You feel so good. Better than you’ve ever felt.
“Kiss me back,” she murmured. “Don’t you want me?”
The persuasion was not working. Why couldn’t he utilize the thrall in the mortal realm? Was it akin to the power Hawkes insisted he claim?
He considered dusting her, but mortals didn’t drop like vamps, they usually went into a swoony kind of reel.
Pressing his fingers along her neck, he found the subclavian nerve below her clavicle and increased pressure. Just a second or two… Sleep took her quickly. She relaxed in his arms.
He dropped the woman noiselessly at his feet. He glanced to the van—the mortal man hugged the rear fender, delirious. Blood ran from his mouth.
The vampiress was gone.
Vail leaped over the sprawled female and tilted the man’s head to the side. “Did she bite you?”
“Bite me? Dude, she punched me. Think she knocked out a tooth. What’s up with that?”
What was up was that the wily vampiress had been waiting for him to drop his guard so she could escape.
“Stone-headed vampire!” he cursed himself.
Trotting along the row of parked cars, he spied a large gap in the chain link. Ducking through, Vail emerged in the pristine parking lot of a car dealer. Hundreds of cars were parked row after militant row. Perfect place for a vampiress to hide.
Vail kicked a tire and swore again. His cell phone rang and he angrily tugged it out from a front pocket and answered. “What?”