Such Violent Delights: A Holiday Paranormal Romance Anthology

by S. L. Jennings

  Chapter 7

  I made it within five steps of the door before she snarled a curse at me. So close, and yet so goddamned far from the night I’d thought I was going to have.

  “What the hell did you just call me?” I pivoted slowly and stared into her eyes, tinged with fear and already bleeding to yellow as her animal rose to the surface in alarm. “Lady, you don’t know me. You’d better learn to take care with who you call a bitch around here.”

  Zenith stayed silent, staring out into the street where Gamble and I had parked, his jaw set, his whole body tensed for a fight.

  “We are not doing this right now, Zen. You left. You moved on. You don’t get to be mad when I spend time with someone else.” I glanced at the woman, her lipstick smeared in a thick red streak that traveled off her lips to her chin. “It’s not my fault your company can’t hold your interest without fucking you on the street.”

  I slipped inside the door as she threw herself at me with a screech, her body slamming against the glass door with a satisfying thump. I hoped it took him a long, sexless night to soothe her ego, but the way he was burning through women, he’d be on to someone new in a day or two anyway.

  Halfway up the stairs to my apartment I heard quick footfalls. I braced for the hit and swiveled as she connected, deflecting the blow and letting her momentum carry her into the landing, smashing her face against the steel fire door.

  “Really? What the hell are you thinking, you stupid...” I grabbed her by the hair and lifted her head so I could look into her face, but she’d knocked herself unconscious. “Oh, for the love of the Goddess.” I dropped her and opened the door to see Zen at the other end of the hall, his expression equal parts embarrassment and irritation.

  “You didn’t have to start something with her, you know,” he chided me as I let the door go, stepping over her to get through. The door bumped her head with a soft thump as it swung closed behind me, and I shrugged an apology.

  “No, you started it when you saw us sitting on the street. You let your flunkies come at me like I’m still the competition, you’re liable to get someone hurt.”

  He huffed and glanced behind him at the sounds of his date coming to. “You didn’t have to hurt her.” The scrabbling against the door got louder, and I imagined her pushing herself into a sitting position, wondering what the hell had just happened to her.

  “Hurt her? All I did was step out of her way. You should see the dent she put in the door,” I scoffed at him. “Don’t blame me for your bad choices in Fae. What is she, anyway, a shifter? She’s not wife material. Trust me.”

  "You were." He reached for me, and I blocked him, not physically, but by forcing my power down his throat as he fought for control.

  “Don’t.” I stormed into my apartment and leaned against the door, shaking with anger, and something else I wasn’t ready to unpack yet. I'd never told him that I imagined us handfasted, having children. I wanted a family, and he’d fit right into my fantasy.

  It felt good reminding him that I could stop him in his tracks. But it had been foolish to do it where a neighbor might see us. Zen wouldn’t retaliate, somewhere beneath his ego he knew he was wrong, and he was still a good man.

  But there were others who were afraid of my power. As quiet as I kept my life, who and what I was would always stand in the way of my accomplishments. And as Gamble’s legal persecution proved, humans were always ready to believe the unfounded worst of us, rather than just judge us by the lives we lived.

  Chapter 8

  My mother’s tomes were a comfort to me, reading her journals and the notes she wrote in her spell books made me feel like I knew her a little, and understood what kind of witch she was, and what kind I wanted to be.

  Fortunately for Gamble, witches had feared mind-control from the Fae for ages. We had cures and preventions for every kind of magical possession or enslavement. In the battle for supremacy of the magical world, elf-sickness was every witch’s worst nightmare.

  But it had been a couple hundred years and change since we’d had to worry about being taken by surprise, and even my training had been lax on the subject, a mere footnote in our history textbooks about a time when we were not safe to walk the streets in a city where Fae were permitted to live.

  I jotted some notes and texted Gamble. Some of the herbs were now illegal, but somehow I figured he’d be able to find them for me. “I can cure your friend, but it will cost us both. If you have a list of Fae willing to sell Hyperion’s folly and devil’s nest, we can make her forget you ever existed in less than three days.

  He was quick to reply. “The underground sells every kind of herb, I’ll go there myself and bring you the herbs tomorrow. She’s at the door, or I would do it now.”

  Nothing in his text indicated fear or even concern. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I needed to hurry and my time to save Cecily was running out. I went back to my mother’s book of shadows to read more about the potion I needed to concoct and the spells I would cast when I noticed a faint scrawl in the margin.

  Turning the book, I shone a light on the faint ink and tried to make out the words.

  One Moon.

  I didn’t understand if that was the name of another cure or a time, but the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach told me that I'd been right to be afraid. Gamble said their fling had been almost a month ago. If she had one moon to be cured, then I didn’t have the luxury of waiting another day to begin.

  Chapter 9

  I need the herbs to save the quickly deteriorating woman. But the Black Emporium was no place for a High Fae, especially not the daughter of the most hated Fae among the exiles, estranged or not. I let Gamble know my fears and asked him where the entrance to the bay’s magical black market was.

  I was at the old tunnel Gamble texted back when he texted again, just four words. “DO NOT go in.”

  Shit. Well, he’d know where to find me then, if he really cared to join me.

  The tunnel was darker than before, and for a moment I worried that the market had already moved, as it often did, taking with it the herbs I needed for my spell. I flexed my magic, and my sight improved, just like a real fox. There was a familiar twinge of guilt for not reaching for my spellcasting, but witchcraft was not what I needed to enter a den of Fae.

  I’d only just begun to feel confident embracing my Fae heritage. My pointed ears, sharp canines, and wide, almond eyes set me apart from humans, but searching for the black market was the first time I felt relieved that I looked as Fae as I did.

  I followed the dim passage until I smelled body odor, peat fires, and dried herbs. The market had indeed moved from the explanation he’d given, but not far. I followed my nose until the corridor opened into a rough, open space that looked like it had been hewn out by the inhabitants over time.’

  “Well now, haven’t seen you here before,” a rough voice sounded from behind me, to my left.

  “Hey, hi. I’m just, uh, waiting to meet a friend, shopping for some herbs. Need to cure a little elf-sickness. You know where I can get some Hyperion’s folly, or uh, devil’s nest?”

  He scrubbed at his jaw. “Old Tellan over there, she sells the nightshades and Atlantean herbs everybody’s always asking for. But I don’t know about specifics.”

  “I appreciate the assistance.”

  “First timers are rare, at least unaccompanied.” His eyes narrowed. “You aren’t one of those new magic cops, are you?”

  “Nope. I work in bonds, getting guys out, not putting them in.”

  “Right. Who you waiting for?”

  His questioning was making me nervous. I hadn’t expected to draw any kind of attention at all, now I was getting the third degree from a Fae I couldn’t recognize, and therefore could not know what magic he had to attack with.

  “There you are. What the hell, Morgan? You could’ve gotten lost.” Gamble panted as he jogged up. “Uh, hey, Rongo, what’s up?”

  “This is your girlfriend, succubus?”

>   Gamble nodded. “Sort of. I mean, nothing serious, but she’s coming home with me tonight, right babe?”

  Something in his eyes warned me to just go along with him. I nodded and bit my lip, clinging to his arm when he got close. “I would've told you his name if I knew you guys were friends." I smiled up at the hairy Fae, who scoffed.

  “Yeah, we’re close,” he rolled his huge, protruding eyes and shuffled off.

  “You don’t want to mess with Rongo, sweetheart. No human is worth the kind of pain he can inflict on you even before killing you.”

  He led me to the old woman Rongo had already pointed out to me and purchased the herbs. He was unusually quiet all the way back to our cars, parked a couple of blocks from the entrance to prevent police from getting suspicious about the entrance to the sewers that was the market’s front door.

  “I’ll get this started. You get Cecily to my apartment,” I directed him. We parted ways, but I was anxious to get it finished for more than one reason. The black market seemed to call, full of Fae delicacies, magical relics, and creatures to learn from.

  Gamble needed my help, and I knew just what to ask in return. “When this is all done, take me back there, okay?”

  He groaned but agreed. Give me a couple of hours to get Cecily sedate enough to travel. I’ll be at your apartment soon. I stood on my toes and leaned up against him to kiss his cheek, and he turned into it, his full soft mouth brushing mine, sending jolts of electricity down my body.

  I moved into the kiss, pushing his hands down from my face to my breasts as I opened to him, tasting the champagne he’d drunk on his tongue and lips. He stoked the heat low in my body, his fingertips brushing over my breasts through my clothes until it felt like the fabric would melt to my skin.

  He lifted me into his SUV, his hands sliding up over my skirt as I unbuttoned his shirt and finally, finally slid my hands over the hard muscles of his chest and down to the flat of his stomach. His fingers found the slit in my skirt and slid up and under it, between my thighs until he found the silk panties between them. He stroked me softly at first, then pressed harder, until the panties were wet and almost slick under his fingers.

  “Gods I want inside you so bad.” He groaned the words against my temple. He pushed the damp fabric aside and slid his fingers down the length of me as I rocked my hips against him.

  "Shit. Me too. Don't stop. I'm almost…" I whimpered as he slid one slender finger inside me, pleasure shooting through me as his mouth latched onto my breast at the same time. A second finger joined the first, and he stroked them over that smooth spot inside me at a maddening pace, slowly drawing out then in again. "Oh gods, just come home with me now, I need you in me,” I gasped, holding his hand in place when he tried to pull away.”

  He pushed me back into the console, the stick shift digging into my spine as he climbed up and kissed me, stroking faster and deeper until I cried out, the sound muffled by his mouth. Almost the moment I climaxed he backed out of the car giving me room to leave as he stood with his back to me, blocking the view so I could straighten my clothes.

  The sudden change in his mood stung. I reached for him, and he shrugged me off.

  “You need to go home without me. I don’t know that I can’t hurt you. I shouldn’t have risked even this much. Not before you have a cure in hand.” He handed me the bundle wrapped in burlap. “You need these. Now please go, while I still have the strength to let you.”

  I stumbled away from the car and straightened my clothes, my body still humming and liquid from his touch, clutching the fragrant bundle of herbs like my life depended on it. Next time I had him alone, I would be ready. Next time, there would be no stopping until we were finally sated.

  Chapter 10

  Cecily was thinner then she had been just two days before, wasting away as food and drink held no draw for her now. All she wanted was Gamble. I thought of how close I’d come to sleeping with him myself and shuddered.

  No amount of pleasure was worth this price. No companion so lovely that I would die for their attention. She wailed as he laid her on the floor, lashed out whip-fast to close her fingers around his ankle.

  “Don’t leave me.”

  “I’m not leaving you, Cecily. You’re sick. You need to be healed. Lie still now.”

  I crushed the last of the spiny, knotted devil’s nest with my pestle and poured the sour, oozing pulp into my little counter-sized cauldron. “Get me water. You’ll need to reconstitute this as I cast the spell over it.

  On the living room floor, Cecily began to wail, until she worked herself up enough to stagger to her feet. “You evil bitch,” she gasped as she stumbled toward the kitchen. “He’s mine. You can’t have him.”

  Shit. I called the vines from my serpent plant to grow and bind her, an additional length sliding between her teeth to gag her.

  “Couldn’t you have sedated her somehow?” Gamble paced, worry etched between his eyebrows.

  "Do you know how sedatives react with spells?" He shook his head. "Then zip it while I clean up the mess you made until you do know something of my magic."

  I sidled up to her and pricked her finger, adding her blood to the potion. She growled at me, a deep, animal sound from her chest. “Gods, this is awful,” he whispered. I agreed but said nothing. I didn’t have to.

  I mixed the potion, then handed it to him. “You’re the only one who can get her to drink it. I’ll step out of sight to make it easier.” I ducked into the hallway where I was out of her line of sight and waited for him to signal it was done.

  “It is finished. She fainted, is that normal?”

  I peeked around the corner. “Highly likely. I tripled the Valeria root to make her sleep as her body heals.”

  He looked concerned. “That won’t change the outcome?”

  I shook my head, and he gathered her in his arms. "We still need to discuss what happened between us," he reminded me, and I blushed at the memory.

  “Take me back to the Black Emporium, and we can talk on the way. After you take Cecily home and walk away from her forever, of course.”

  “Of course,” he smirked. He gathered the sleeping woman up in his arms as I called upon my plants to release her. “The underground is no place for the Fae princess, you know, Disenfranchised or not. You’re asking to be taken, tortured for ransom, or worse.”

  He was right, but I didn’t care. I held the door for him, then moved to the window and watched him put the unconscious woman in his car, waving when he glanced up to the building. I’d seen it in his eyes. He had no intention of letting me go back to the market or anywhere near the exiled Fae.

  I dressed for the underground in my blackest jeans and tank top, layered with a light hoodie, my shoulder holster, and finally my leather jacket. My baton went in the waist of my jeans, my 9mm Beretta in its holster, and my athame tucked into its sheath on my left wrist. An extra knife went in my boot.

  As I walked out the door, I paused to grab my thigh sheath and my throwing knives, remembering my brownie friend’s words. “The Fae in the tunnels are brawlers. You want to win, you need them wounded before they get to you.”

  I didn’t ask how she knew what I was up to. She had refused to tell me everything that had happened to her when she lived there, and I had respected her privacy. Maybe I should’ve asked more insistently. Perhaps when I returned, she would feel free to tell me more.

  The roads were almost deserted, the witching hour had already passed. But the market would still be open, the merchants taking money or trade for their wares. I tucked my packet into my jacket, and I made my way deep into the tunnels. Before long, I found the old woman, a brownie-like my homeless friend Pippi, sipping fragrant broth from a mug.

  I sat down next to her, hidden from view behind the high counter of her stall “You may not remember me, but I was here earlier, you helped me with an elf-struck human,” I almost whispered. “I noticed you had many wares I did not, but that you had no living plants. I raised this moon jasmine from
a seedling, she needs only the light of a full moon, one night a month, to survive.”

  The woman snatched the cutting from my hand and sniffed it, then her mouth spread in a gummy grin. “That’s a fine plant for a garden.”

  “Aye, that it is.” I watched her croon over the plant for a minute before touching her hand to get her attention. "I have other plants that can live underground, and even more than a brownie could build a home from if you would like. We can trade, my plants, for your tales and herbs."

  “I knew it,” a rough growl resounded above me, just as a giant hand grabbed the neck of my jacket and lifted me out of the shabby stall. “You are one of them spies, sent to chase us from our homes.” I stared into the yellow eyes of Rongo, the paranoid Fae from before.

  “No.” I kicked him hard in the groin and drove my fingertips into his throat at the same time, making him drop me. “I’m just here to learn of the Fae. To understand why my people are forced to live this way.”

  He scoffed. “You’re a liar. You come down to us with your police weapons and your human weakness and expect us to believe you are one of us.” He cracked his thick knuckles and laughed, roaring with feigned humor and sending spittle flying in my face. “Now, false-Fae. You get to die.”

  Chapter 11

  Without further warning, he rushed me, nearly sweeping me as he came at me unbelievably fast. Faster than I’d ever seen an ogre or troll move. Those long arms reached almost behind him, twisting in their sockets like something out of a nightmare.