by Michele Hauf
The Seelie gown would have been the jewel among this dazzle. She hoped being here wouldn’t remind Vail to get tough with her about that. She really needed to contact Leo, see if he’d been successful in his search to help her.
“This one.” Vail handed her a weightless bit of fabric. Truly out of place in his dark attire and sunglasses, he commanded her attention with but a few words. “Over there.” He pointed to what looked like a wall of leaves, but when Lyric approached she figured the dressing room was behind all the verdant greenery.
The dress Vail had handed her was thin and felt as if it would tear if she twitched, but it was gorgeous. A deep crimson, it hugged her body as if a second skin. It was too risqué, for her nipples were plainly visible and it had an A-line cut right across her groin that emphasized her flat belly and the place where Vail had enjoyed putting his tongue. It felt snuggly, though, like a sweater, even with its thinness.
She turned and checked out the back view in the mirror. Did her ass really look that good? Her smile reflected back at her.
Wait.
Lyric turned and pressed her palms to the mirror. Her reflection gaped at her. “I can see myself? What the—?”
Must be some kind of magic faery mirror. Or—who cared? She could see herself. She hadn’t been able to see her reflection since her first blood hunger. And looking in a pool of water, which was possible, always distorted her features.
Tilting her head, Lyric smiled at what she saw. Bright blue eyes and a fine nose. Not so bad, she thought. The moment took away her breath. Even without makeup she liked what she saw.
“Not so bad,” she muttered to her reflection. “Kinda pretty.”
“Kinda pretty?” Vail popped his head in through the leaves, and she stepped aside to invite him in.
“I can see myself in the mirror,” she said, pointing out the obvious.
“Yeah, it’s a genuine sidhe mirror. But just kinda pretty? Lyric.” Standing behind her, he slid his palms along her hips, and looked over her shoulder into the mirror. “You are gorgeous.”
“It’s been so long,” she muttered, caught on the reflected image. Was that a tear burning at the corner of her eye?
He slicked back his hair and winked at his reflection. “Pretty damn sexy myself.”
The bad boy at his finest. Lyric smirked and he winked back at her.
“So tell me why you don’t do a riot of color, Mr. Dark Lord? I can’t imagine black is a popular color in Faery.”
“True, I identify with Faery.” He adjusted his tie knot in the mirror. “But you might say I’m on a protest of sorts. I wear black because it is everything Faery is not. I don’t need a reminder of what I once had.”
She tapped the spikes running down his jacket sleeve.
“Well,” he added, “a little flash is necessary. The mortal realm can be so dull.”
She tilted her head against his shoulder. “We make a good-looking couple.”
“We do.”
They stared at each other’s reflection, and Lyric could almost imagine they were a real couple, until Vail stuck out his tongue at them both.
“Here.” He reached outside the leaf curtain, and returned to hand her a pair of high heels. “I picked these out for you.”
Five-inch stripper heels appealed to her inner nasty. It looked like tooled violet leather, but what kind of animal it had come from was anyone’s guess. “Gorgeous,” she said. “Too pretty to wear anyplace but…”
“But?”
She whispered, “Only place to wear these shoes is in bed.”
“I can arrange for that to happen.”
“I bet you can.”
“Come out and model for me,” he said, and slipped out of the dressing room.
Lyric gave one last glance at her face, winked at her sassy self, then swished aside the dressing room curtain. Striding out in the complete outfit, she posed for Vail. His eyes dropped right to her breasts, and then her slender waist, before traveling down her legs to inspect the bedroom-worthy shoes.
“Passable?” she asked, finding she preferred her reflection expressed in Vail’s eyes to that of the mirror’s.
He grabbed her by the neck and devoured her mouth in a claiming kiss that perked her nipples hard against his crisp black shirt. Sliding her hand down his chest, she grabbed his hip and pulled him to her, while hooking a leg up aside his thigh.
The man could kiss. Nothing tentative or weak; he took what he wanted and made damn sure she did the same. It was impossible not to like the guy, despite his wanting to ruin her life by bringing her home and, ultimately, right back to the Unseelie lord’s hands.
“It’s almost perfect,” he offered.
“Almost?”
He grabbed something from a wall display. “I think you should add this.”
Dangling from the middle of one finger was a thin, red, braided collar with spikes on it. A delicate silver chain trailed three feet in length.
“I thought you said this wasn’t a normal fetish store?”
He moved to put it around her neck.
Lyric swiped it from him. “I don’t think so, big boy. That’s not my scene.”
“Come on. It’s a look.”
“Oh, yeah?” She threaded the collar about his neck and snapped it to a snug fit. A tug of the chain pulled up his wicked sexy sneer. “Can this work for you?”
He flexed his shoulders and his neck strained against the red collar. It looked like a slice of blood above the somber black shirt collar.
The vampire who could scare any mortal shitless, not to mention most other vampires, glared at her. He looked ready to blow, his eyes narrowing viciously—then he nodded. “Works for me.”
SINCE DONNING THE FAERY DRESS and still ogling her sexy shoes, which she’d put up on the dashboard of the Maserati, Lyric had let down her guard about her pseudokidnapper. And she had forgiven him for the wild rose handcuffs.
Bolting was out of the question this evening. Her curiosity for the faery club was too high. And to be seen striding through the place with the hunk of gorgeous vampire at the end of her silver chain?
The image stirred the hum of desire, which hadn’t stopped since they’d made love. Okay, had sex. It wasn’t love. But who cared? Sex was hotter. And she entirely expected round two to happen later while wearing these shoes.
“They are beyond sexy,” Vail commented as he shifted gears.
Lyric realized she was bent forward over her legs touching the shoes. She ran her fingers along the soft violet fabric, which felt like rose petals, and marveled they could possibly be real flower petals. “Do they make you want to have sex with me?”
“I don’t need a pair of shoes to feel like that. But you can poke me with the heel if you want to see if I moan.”
His wink felt as if he clutched the inner core of her and blew on it with a hot breath. The man’s sensual aim was impeccable.
Lyric tilted her head and noticed movement in the backseat. She reached back and carefully extracted the long green snake, pulling it up against her chest, where it flicked out its tongue, scenting her. “What’s this?”
“Oh, that’s where he got to.” Vail flashed the snake a look, and managed to skim the bumper of a parked car at the same time. “Hey, Green Snake.”
“Watch the road, Vail.”
“Yes, O Mistress of the Sexy Shoes.” He swerved back into the center of the lane. “So you’re not afraid of snakes?”
She tilted her fingers and the green mamba glided over them and down her arm. “Nope. This one’s poisonous, isn’t it?”
“Not to you or me.”
“Why do you keep a snake in your car?”
“He likes to get out.”
“Uh-huh. You are the strangest vampire I have ever met. Bet this pretty little guy cost you a fortune.”
“Who knows? What is a fortune, anyway?”
“You don’t know? Do you have any concept of the value of mortal money?”
He shrugged. “Is it
necessary? I keep some euro notes in the glove compartment. When I need money, I use some.”
Lyric inspected the contents of the glove compartment, startled to find bound stacks of euro bills that must total in the tens of thousands. “You seriously need to get a financial advisor.”
The Maserati roared, and then squealed as Vail’s erratic driving hugged the passenger side along a parked car, surely taking a nasty scratch in the process.
“Absolutely no concept,” she muttered, closing the glove compartment.
She had to laugh. Oh, to be so innocent of what would cause most mortals stress and drive them to the brink. Even vampires got bummed about money. They weren’t all rich and handsome, like Vail.
“How’d you get all this money if you’ve only been in the mortal realm a few months?”
“A gift from my uncle. This car was, too.”
Vail drove into an underground parking lot, and decided to wrap Green Snake around his neck and shoulders.
“You’re taking him inside?”
“Sure, the bartender always keeps a treat for him. Come on. And whatever you do, don’t stare.”
He directed Lyric to an elevator that, once inside, felt as if it moved sideways, but when she asked about it, he just grinned.
They emerged in the Lizard Lounge amid fronds of lush plants. Lyric felt as if she stood in a jungle, were it not for the weird techno-synth music that seemed to emanate from the floor, which flashed green and yellow. A tendril of some kind of vine got caught on her finger and clung with sticky filaments. She flicked at it.
“Be cool,” Vail whispered against her ear.
He stopped at the bar and high-fived the bartender, whose skin was a pale shade of amber. Green Snake was rewarded with a squirming white mouse. Lyric couldn’t watch while Vail fed the treat to the snake.
“That’ll keep him happy for days.” Vail teased his tongue along the shell of her ear. She gripped the silver chain, pulling him closer so his lips brushed hers. And so he’d keep his tongue away from behind her ear. Anywhere but there.
“Lead me through the throngs, mistress mine. Let’s take a look around.”
“What are we looking for?”
“I’ll know it when I see it.” Green Snake flicked his tongue out, and Vail pointed in the direction the snake had chosen. “That way.”
Laughing with the utter joy of leading the sexy vampire about on a chain, Lyric stepped through the crowd and along the dance floor. She knew Vail wasn’t near to submitting to her. The chain was a prop, and too flimsy. But she’d work the role to the hilt.
Stopping at the edge of the dance floor, she spread her legs, hands on hips, and looked about. Vail’s hands found their place on her hips over her hands, as he did the same. He ground his hips against hers in rhythm to the music.
“You like to dance?” she asked over a shoulder.
“Hell, yes. So does Green Snake. I want to feel the music in you, Lyric. The vibrations between the two of us.”
He talked a good game, but the proximity of the snake’s bulging form to her face appealed little to her. “Maybe later.”
Lyric took in the atmosphere. Colored lights flashed across her skin and the people all appeared normal. Until she really started to look.
Skin tones soaked in the red and violet lights, yet here and there they did not. Such as the thin woman with the green skin barely covered by strips of sheer lace. Her eyes were violet, and her white hair swept like liquid over her shoulders.
Wings brushed Lyric’s skin as she strolled through the crowd. They felt warm and some scratched crisply over her skin. She wanted to touch but dared not. It would be an intimate move on which she wasn’t prepared to follow through, because she did know that to stroke a faery’s wings was considered a sexual come-on.
Some of the faeries moved in a jerky manner. It was as if a few slices of the filmstrip had been cut out from their movie. “Why do they move like that?”
“Faery time is different than in the mortal realm. Those newer to this realm are still moving as they would in Faery. The longer they are here—” he pointed to a couple of dancers who appeared mortal for their lacking jerkiness “—the more they lose the connection to where they once belonged.”
Faery dust shimmered in the air. She rubbed her arm, worried about the effects of getting too much on her skin. Her fear would give her away, but she suspected no one doubted she did not belong.
“It’s not all dust,” Vail whispered against her ear. “Lots of it is glitter, blown about by the fans. Adds to the atmosphere, I guess. Like I said, this isn’t a full-on faery club. Many different paranormals frequent the place to get a taste of what only FaeryTown offers. I see the sidhe I want to talk to.”
Vail tugged at the chain, directing her toward a wooden staircase that wound around a massive oak tree to the second level. It was impossible for a tree to grow inside the building, yet when Lyric traced along its upper branches and leaf canopy she decided it sure felt real.
Realizing she’d dropped the chain leash—or maybe Vail had tugged it from her hand—she skipped to catch up to him, and was stopped by a man with violet eyes and blue lips.
He gave her a dressing-down that did not in any way feel sexy. Could have been the white film that blinked over his eyes or it could have been the tail that Lyric felt curl about one of her ankles. Just as the guy leaned in with the tip of his blue tongue extended, Vail slapped a hand to his shoulder. “Mine,” he said.
The faery skedaddled.
“Did I stop something meaningful?” he asked with a knowing wink.
“Maybe you did.” Lyric flounced past him, running her fingers down the chain that dangled before his chest.
“I can bring him back,” he said. He clasped a hand about her waist from behind. “Did you like that freak?”
“No. Thanks for the rescue.” She kissed him, and they turned to the nervous chuckle from an observer.
“Raskin,” Vail said, and slapped hands with a particularly thin male. “Long time.”
Brilliant violet hair spiked upon his head, a match to his eyes. His cheeks were sunken and the lighting gave his skin a purple cast. He folded his azure wings down as he made contact with Vail.
“And well met,” Raskin returned. He gave Lyric a once-over. She could feel his eyes gliding across her skin, and the smirk he ended with satisfied her need for acceptance in this alien world. “Surprising,” he said to Vail without taking his eyes from Lyric. “Looks vampire to me.”
“You don’t get points for the obvious,” Vail answered.
He gestured for Lyric to take a seat in the booth beside them. She balked, not wanting to be pushed aside as if a prop.
“She is the one, is she not?” Raskin said. “So you were the one who kidnapped her?”
“Me? Ch’yeah—no.” Vail’s cocky smirk dropped. Lyric felt his muscles tense in the arm paralleling hers. Dead serious, he asked, “What do you know, Raskin?”
Vail forced the faery backward until he had no choice but to sit in the booth. The vampire slid in after him. With a glance from Vail, Lyric got the hint and slid in from the other side of the booth, the two of them trapping the purple faery in the middle.
Raskin flinched when his shoulder rubbed hers. Weird. She should be the one afraid to make contact with him.
“I’m not going to bite,” she offered, then teased her tongue along the tips of her fangs. They weren’t down, and she had no intention of willing them down, not with the haze of faery dust floating about. “Maybe.”
“Go ahead,” Raskin offered, but shakily. “Bite me and we shall see who walks out of here tonight. Bet those pretty little shoes of yours will not take you far with your brain addled on ichor.”
Vail gripped the faery’s jaw and twisted his head to face him. “Be nice to my girl.”
“Chill, Vaillant. Just testing her mettle.”
His girl?
The slip of a wing over her bare arm tickled. Lyric wanted to touch it, but
the glint of dust restrained her. Everything about Raskin smelled springlike and…alluring.
“What do you know about her that you’d ask me such a question?” Vail insisted.
Raskin shrugged. “I know what everyone knows, that the Lord of Midsummer Dark was screwed over by vampires. And you, sir, are a vampire who is strolling with a sexy, blonde vampiress on his arm who matches the description flittering about. Seems pretty incriminating, if you ask me.”
“I didn’t kidnap her.”
“And yet, here she is.” Raskin fluttered his violet lashes at Lyric. “With you dangling from the end of her chain. You tupping her?”
Vail grabbed one of the faery’s wings and bent it, which turned the faery’s face bright red.
“Don’t,” Lyric said, “you’re hurting him!”
“He can take it.” In proof, Vail bent the wing farther, which turned the upper part of it bright violet, while the bent half was drained of color, much as if blood had been forced from unseen veins. “Now, what’s the deal with Zett? What’d he promise the Santiago family in exchange for the gown?”
“Gown? I know nothing about a gown. What gown? You have a gown? Oh wait, is it the Seelie gown? That has gone missing?”
Vail dropped the faery and slid from the booth as if burned. He gripped Raskin by the neck. “You didn’t talk to me tonight.”
“But I am right now—” Vail’s fingers clamped tighter about the faery’s neck. “Oh. Right. Who are you again?”
“Come on, Lyric.”
“But we just got here.”
“And we’d better leave before all of Faery gets your scent.”
“Every sidhe in the city will be after you now!” Raskin called after them. “You know I will not tell a soul, but it is too late. They know. They hear all, vampire!”
* * *
“SORRY ABOUT THAT,” Vail said as they entered his apartment and neither bothered to click on the lights. It was after midnight, but both were natural night seers. “I think I made a wrong move going to the faery club.”
He set the snake on the potted tree in the corner by the kitchen. No longer could Lyric see a lump in his long, scaled body—that was quick.