Blood Cursed (9 page)

Diamond’s wings tilted in surprise. “What?”

My claws dug into my palms. “Like I’m dirt or something. Like you don’t give a shit. I’m not an idiot, Diamond. You helped me when I called. You obviously want something from me, so give it a rest and stop calling me ‘candy,’ okay?”

The words spilled out before I’d had time to parse them for offense, and instinctively I cowered, making myself small and inoffensive even as my nerves fired like chili with impotent rage.
Go on, hit me. I’ll be dead soon anyway. What the fuck do I care?

But Diamond just blinked glitter lashes, and shrugged. “Okay, Ember.”

I stared, bewildered. “Eh … Okay, then. Fine.” I squared my shoulders, unaccustomed confidence glimmering in my heart. It felt so nice just to have someone to confide in, but I knew it wouldn’t last. Nothing nice ever lasted. I waited for him to laugh, look askance, say,
Riiight, sure, thanks for letting me know. None of my beeswax, candywhore. Sort out your little demon problem on your own.

He glanced at my ring, chewing his beautiful lip. “So you took Jaspy’s gift, and now you’re stuck with his owings, too?”

“Seems that way.”

“Well, that sucks. Fucking demons. You got yourself a probby-lem.”

I snickered, humorless.
You
. Not
we
. “Yeah. I sure do. Look, Diamond old buddy, I appreciate you saving my ass and everything, but—”

“Kane say who these morons was you’re lookifying?”

I gave him a
whadda you care?
scowl, slurped more pink lemonade, and smacked my lips as loudly as I could. “Nice talking to ya, cutie. Don’t let me keep you. Thanks for the drink. ’Kay. See ya. Bye.” I pushed my chair aside.

But he caught it with his foot and dragged me back.

“Hey!” Now the table caged me. I wriggled, jerking my wings, but it only made my bare thigh rub against his under the table. Hot fairy muscle, too strong for me to shift. I sweated, seeping fragrant pink. “C’mon, no fair. Let go!”

He trapped my flailing hands against the table, light but firm. “Names, Ember.”

Panic shuffled my wits like cards. I didn’t want to owe him. Debts to sultryfae gangboys were dangerous. Damn it, did he have to insist? “I don’t need your help, okay?”

“Choice? Nope. Hushify,” he added, a dangerous purple glint in his eyes when I tried to protest. “My boy made you a pretty mess. My job to unmessify.”

“Yeah?” I glared, inches away. More stupid gang loyalty. He wasn’t even pretending he cared about me. “And what do I owe you for your unmessification, huh?”

“A favor.” His lips twitched, and inwardly I groaned.
Don’t do it. Don’t smile.

Aw, hell.

Stunning. Hypnotic. Sparkling with promise, dark with suggestion, wicked with the echo of kisses and laughter.

My belly melted, all warm and wobbly like treacle, and the moon howled wild in my blood.
I’m special. I’m wanted. I’m the only woman in his world.

I wanted to press my legs together. And his thigh jammed between mine wasn’t helping. God, a girl could die for that smile.

I swallowed, warm. “What kinda favor?”

“Hellfire cocktails and pitchforks in your butt, right? You care?”

“Maybe.” I flushed under his scrutiny. Jeez, if he thought I’d do something cheap and dirty, he was dead wrong. I didn’t care how tempting his smile was.

“It’s just a favor.” His musical voice dropped down a harmonic, mesmerizing. “Nothing grim. We’re friends. That’s all.”

I knew what he meant. My friend, your friend, all that anachronistic mob crap. I’d owe him, and everyone would know.

Awesome. Just great. I rid myself of one controlling boy, only to glue like a suckerfish to another. Emphasis on the
sucker
.

He let go and leaned back, his blinding smile quirking into a sly shadow of itself. “Yes or no, Ember. Got better plannings?”

My bones burned deep inside, a tiny but growing echo of Kane’s demonspelled will, and I scowled, but had no answer. Diamond was right. I had no choice. I didn’t know who to look for or where, and the moon grew fuller and brighter by the minute.

“Okay. Fine. You win.” I dug into my bag and tossed Kane’s card onto the table. “Kane gave me this. Mean anything to you?”

He flipped the card over, and his melting ruby eyes froze azure.

I leaned forward, my pulse flickering. “What? You know those people?”

“Showify that ring again.” His voice faded to a whisper, and his gaze didn’t leave the card in his hand.

“What? Why?”

“Just do it.”

Awkwardly, I stuck my hand out, splaying my bruised fingers like some fucked-up bride-to-be. The gemstone gleamed green like a wildcat’s eye, hard and cold, that strange icefire dancing within. The metal seared like frost, and my finger ached.

He laughed, cynicism clanging like iron. “You’ve got to be shittifying.”

“Excuse me?”

He shoved the card back to me and flitted to his feet. “Hangem here one second, can you?”

“Why? Where you going?”

He jerked his head toward the bathroom door, his knuckles crackling tight. “Gotta take a slash. Wanna come hold me?”

And before I could even wonder how I’d pissed him off, he’d left me there alone.

Across the street in hot dry shadow, Vincent DiLuca stares, bloodlust clogging his throat like hot honey.

God, she’s delicious.

He came here to stalk Diamond, kill the skanky glass boyslut in some dark alley and get Joey’s favor back. Now, Diamond’s gone, out the back for a quick line or maybe even giving him the slip, but Vincent doesn’t care.

He can smell the redhead from here, her darkrich bloodfae scent swirling him dizzy until his knees go watery and he has to grab the streetlight post to stay upright. He hyperventilates, sucking in even more of her, and hunger boils his blood.

Long warm thighs wrapped in the thinnest silken skin. Roughpaper wings, those delicate veins swollen with hot liquid, a rich bloodscented cloud of hair. The tantalizing womansmell of her sex, as tasty as blood but sweeter, softer. She crosses her legs, muscles teasing beneath her skin, and her secret flesh slicks together under her skirt.

Desperation burns in Vincent’s veins. Christ on a barbecued cross, she’s sex on a stick.

He crouches, sniffing for her like an animal. He’s seen her before somewhere. A gang groupie, someone’s girlfriend, maybe. Em-something. Emma? Amber?

Where did Diamond find her, this plumsweet bloodfairy princess? Who the fuck cares? Vincent just wants to eat her, fuck her, slash her pretty body with a hundred jagged cuts and bathe in her blood under the moon while she moans and writhes, impaled on him … .

No.
He grits aching teeth, fever flushing him sick.
Don’t want to kill. She’s pretty, it’s okay to want her. Just not like that. Besides, Joey’ll kick my ass.

But he can’t tear his starved gaze away. He’s only ever tasted one bloodfairy, and never under the full moon, when their blood’s richest and most delicious. Christ, even in the dark, it was glorious enough. Like the purest, smoothest heroin, easing into his veins, stroking him swiftly to the hottest pleasure of his rotten little life. And that was just a skinny black-haired boy selling it for sparkle, his blood undernourished and listless. This beautiful girl, pulsing with life and innocence, her blood swelled rich on midnight moontide …

Thirsty spit sloshes in his mouth, and he bangs his fist against the post until his knuckles split and bleed, but it doesn’t erase the truth. He’s tried having them without eating. It doesn’t work. He’s a monster.

Hunger scorches his veins, dragging his pulse tighter and hotter and faster. Sweat drips from his hair. His guts ache. He’s shivering. He’s so hard, it hurts, his balls aching deep like he’s shoved a molten iron spike in there. Virus-chewed synapses misfire in his brain, and his drowning human reason gulps one last ragged breath and sinks beneath the surface.

His vampire vision homes in sharply, showing tiny lines between her brows, her soft curving lips, the crisp edge of her flamebright hair. The veins in her throat throb, a deep pulling tide. He stretches his jaws hungrily, and swallows to stop slavering, make himself presentable.

Just this once. She’s only some Valenti groupie, probably a bloodwhore anyway. No one’ll miss her. And Joey never needs to know.

But not yet.

He smiles, crafty. Diamond likes her, and that’s worth something. She’s good for more than a few minutes’ bliss, this lovely girl with a few too many shithead Valenti friends for her own good. One more blade to stab Diamond with before he dies. She’ll be worth waiting for.

Black delight fires Vincent’s blood, and he rakes sweat from his hair and crosses the street.

9

Shaking, Diamond slams the bathroom door open and stalks in. No one inside, just rude white tiles and stainless steel, and when the door clangs shut, he strangles a screech.

Curse her. Cursify both of them.

His warm poison vial scorches his palm, accusing, and he unfolds aching knuckles over glittergreen glass.

He couldn’t do it. He had the fucking thing in his hand over her berrypink lemonade and he just … couldn’t. Couldn’t poison this lovelybright girl. Couldn’t spikify her drink like a sleazy lizard gangshit who can’t get laid. It’s not right.

But all that seems insignificant now.

Kane’s bloodyscratched letters still scorch his eyes. The demon’s riddling is laughafiably simple. Scarletfire, envied lady of shadow and flame. Famine, starved and insane, his heart clotted black with strange desires, an altogether more sinister beast. Simple to find. Harder to stealify from. Couldn’t care a spit for them, black or white.

But the bloodpetal girl can be only one person, and bitter dread parches Diamond’s mouth like ash.

Rosa has sold her soul to Kane. She’ll die screaming in hell. And she’s trappified Diamond right there with her.

Ashen heat crackles already in his bones, and slowly, he turns his wrist to the light.

His dustypink blood still crusts the sharp bracelet, dried rosepetals caressing wicked silver thorns. The jewel gleams under bluesharp fluorescents, purple like Rosa’s eyes, and the fire inside whispers sweet death. The bracelet’s tight, razor edges threatening. No clasp, no spring, no hook where it comes apart.

Shoulda noticed that before. Shoulda guessed her gift wouldn’t be harmless.

The memory of Rosa’s tricksy kiss taunts him raw. A calculamated, distracting kiss. He wants to crack his fucking idiot skull into the mirror. Pretty girls in trouble are his weakness. He’ll never learnify.

He digs his claw underneath to rip it off, and with a hiss, the metal flexes and tightens, piercing his skin until the blood seeps.

Yeow. The jewel winks, wicked, and an evil giggle whisks around the edges of his mind.
Mess with me, stupidfae? Cut your bloody arm off, see if I don’t.

He crunches glass claws hard on the sink. Demon lies. Hellfire. Rosa’s trickified him, as smooth and sweatless as Jasper trickified Ember. Check-fucking-mate.

And now Diamond’s torn between two unpossible endings.

If Ember doesn’t get her gemstones, she’ll die. But if she does get them, Rosa dies.

Never mind Diamond’s own worthless life. No matter what he does, some prettylicious girl is gonna burn.

Impotent fury clangs in his bones, a discordant crystalchime, welling louder and louder. His ears ache and split, but he can’t stop the sound swelling. His nerves stretch, impossibly tight. Evil resonance vibrates his body, glass glowing hot. The floor shudders beneath his feet. Tiles jiggle and crack. The air shrieks in pain, and the finger-smeared mirror judders and explodes.

Crash.

Abruptly, silence. Glintglass shards, scattered wall to wall. Blood running rosy in the sink where he’s cut himself again, but this time the pain doesn’t dissolvify his rage. He gasps, trying to catch his breath, muscles still aching despite the release.

He slams on the tap, and cold water rushes, soothing his bloody palm. His thoughts scramble wild. He doesn’t know it’s truthful, this soul-bindy-twiny-whatever. The stone could be tricksy lies, some elaborate swindlicality Rosa invented to tauntify him.

Or Ember could be falsing. Using her body and her luscious green glance to seduce him, grasping for another boy to keep her now Jasper’s dead. He’s only got her wordies that Jaspy’s even gone.

But the hopeless fear in her eyes still slashes his heart like poisoned steel, and he spits a curse. His glasstalent doesn’t lie. The hot, searching desperation in her touch wasn’t fakified. She’s telling real. Has to be.

And now he must choosify.

Pretty, brave, helpless Ember, desperate to trustify him even if she pretends not. Eyeball-deep in fuckup through no bad of her own. Or Rosa, dark, cool, sophistimacated, lies as venomsweet as her kisses.

One never did him a scrap of harm. The other tore his heart from his chest and ate it.

Can’t save both.

He squeezes his eyes shut, calming his racing heart. Easy. Chillify. Stick with the plannification. There’s still time to slippify the poison to Ember later.

Angelo dead. The city his. Rosa where she belongs. All he ever wanted.

Don’t owify Embercandy nothing. She’s not his problem. Never mind that she’s clever and courageous and begging to be cared for in more luscious ways than one.

Or that her spicy girlscent makes him sweat, or that he can’t peel his eyes off her sunfire hair or her smooth mochabrown thighs or stop imagining how those wispyfine wings will quiver when he kisses them. How she’ll moan, so rich and throaty, when he sucks her duskylicious wingjoint into his mouth …

Uh-huh. Like that’s ever happening.
Here, Ember, drink this tasty vampire poison so I can send you to hell, wanna screw?
Even his glassbrittle conscience squeals at charming her into his bed now.

He snaps the water off and blasts his hands dry under the hot air machine. His sliced palm already scabs itchy. The memory of her trusting green gaze salts his mouth with remorse, and he ripples his wings taut and cracks the guilt off like tarnish.

Because that’s what guilt is. Tarnish. Dirt. Useless verdigris.

Ember’s troublemesses change nothing. He’ll help her get her first two gems. Stealify her trust. Use the poison, one way or the other. Keep Rosa’s gemstone safe and secret, just until the moon’s ripe. And when Angelo’s dead and Rosa’s safe and everything’s the way it should be … well, maybe Diamond can warptruth, connive, find some sneakalicious way out of this. Sweet-talk Kane, trade him something nice, convince him to let Ember free.

Yeah. Because demons like letting mortals squirmicate off the hook. Happens all the time.

Whatever. One probbylem at a time.

Practiced, he breathes. Calms. Relaxifies. Spreads steady hands out before him, lights glimmering silver on his pinksmooth skin. The clinging bracelet hurts as he flexes his forearm, and the hellpurple jewel winks him a wicked promise.

His muscles quiver, then relax. Not a tremble. Not a twitch. Nothing to offshow his deception.

Remorse twinges his nerves with a faint blue glow, and he shucks it off with a grimace. Fresh pink light flares, rimmed with gold, and his hair shimmers in the broken mirror like rainbows. He looks good. Fresh. Sharp.

Cynicism tweaks his mouth sour. Always such a pretty liar. It’s why he’s still alive. Pity what’s underneath isn’t worth spitting on.

He turns, and the door squeaks open.

“Are you here on your own?”

“Huh?” My glass tilted as I jerked back to the present. I’d been staring off into space, imagining it was all a dream. That no ring clamped my finger, that I’d never heard of Kane or Jasper or this disturbing Diamond. That I’d looked askance that moonlit night six months ago when Jasper hit on me in the club, instead of sparking my courage bright and slipping him a saucy wink and a smile. That I’d skipped away with my girlfriends, drunk myself silly on salty tequila shots and stumbled home at dawn, instead of letting Jasper take me back to his place and love me into heartmelting oblivion.

I sighed. Nice dream.

“ … saw you with someone else.”

Smooth voice, low and casual. Not Diamond.

Orange lights glared. I slurped my drink dry, cold fizz tickling my throat. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I said, I thought I saw you with someone else before. Ember, right?”

I could see him now, crispy chocolate hair arranged in an elaborate mess, puppy-dog brown eyes, curling lashes. Jewelstud earrings, goldlink bracelets, too many rings on his fingers. Hot body, for a human, fit and shaped. He wore torn jeans and a white shirt with tiny ruffles, and light sweat caressed his olive skin in the heat.

Cute. Familiar. Could he see me? I thought so. His gaze was too direct to be glamour-dazzled. I squinted, trying to recall where I’d seen him before. “Yeah. Who are you?”

He sat in Diamond’s chair, lean legs stretching. He had a young face, handsome, big beautiful boylashed eyes and a secretly dirty smile. Like your best friend’s oversexed little brother, cute and harmless until you’d had a few too many drinks and he turned into a tempting ball of trouble. “Thought so. Listen, I wanted to apologize for my friends back there.”

“I’m sorry, who?”

“Y’know. The, uh, sharp-toothed lady and her pet. That wasn’t nice.” He smiled, charming, and curved fangs glinted at the corners of his mouth.

I jerked backwards, my nerves shrieking warning, and too late the rabid rawmeat scent of bloodfever hit me full in the face like a dumping wave. “Get away from me!”

“S’okay.” He grabbed my hand to halt me, his skin scorching. “You’re safe with me. They were outta line, and I’m sorry. That’s all.”

Disbelief muddled with wonder. So this one hadn’t jumped me yet. Didn’t mean I liked him touching me. Still, he was polite. I tugged my hand back, less roughly than I’d planned. “What, you not hungry?”

“With you six inches away? Honey, I’m fucking starving. But that’s no excuse for me to be rude.”

“Oh.” I fidgeted. I still didn’t trust him, and something was so naggingly familiar … . “Okay. Uhh … thanks, I guess. For the apology, I mean.”

“My pleasure.” He winked, and memory scraped my nerves again. I’d definitely seen him before. “So, you here with someone or not?”

I glanced past him at the bathroom door. Diamond hadn’t come out. “Kinda. Look, you should leave now—”

“I don’t mean to cut in or anything.” He leaned closer, so close, his feverheat warmed my face like sunlight, and again I scrabbled at memory’s edge for that elusive connection. “But you seem like a nice girl, I can’t just … Listen, how much d’you know about your new boyfriend?”

I flushed. Five damn minutes and the whole world thought we were screwing. “He’s not my boyfriend, okay? And how the hell do you kn—?” In midsentence, wires connected in my head, and my skin jerked cold. “Shit. You’re Vincent, right? Vincent DiLuca?”

The snake bastard’s human minion, après virus. The worst kind of DiLuca troublemaker. I’d heard Jasper curse him countless times. Diamond would kick the crap out of him on sight. But he’d been sorta nice to me, even if he was a stinky bloodsucker and technically my enemy.

Vincent gave a dangerous cherub smile, charming except for the fangs. “Guilty, Your Worship. I’m flattered. So, how much d’you know about glitter-boy?”

Loaded question, from him. But curiosity gnawed me. “None of your goddamn business.”

“Kinda quick to pick you up, wasn’t he? No offense or anything.”

I lifted my chin, haughty. “Wow, you’re a real charmer.”

“You know he killed some fairies tonight? S’what I heard.”

“Really. Why the hell should I trust you?” My thigh muscles twitched, begging to flee. I gripped my bag tight, determined not to show fear. The stinky little ferret was my enemy, charmer or no. If he jumped me, I’d scream. There were humans here. Violence got noticed.

But Vincent just laughed, handsome brown eyes glinting. “Don’t be afraid. We’re not all scumsucking morons.”

“Who, vampires or DiLucas?”

“Ooh, that stung. This your dance card, sweetie?” And before I could stop him, he’d swept Kane’s card from the table.

“Give that back!” I snatched for it, my heart skipping.

But he laughed and flipped it away, golden rings glinting. “Finders keepers. Tsk, tsk, bad Ember. That dirty fairy’s leading you astray. Into Famine’s kinky parties, are ya?”

My mind raced. Did he know something about this? “What do you mean? Who’s Famine?”

Vincent cocked a sardonic eyebrow. “Whatever. I think it’s hot. So what’s Diamond want with Famine? You Valentis got weird-ass fairy sadists working for you now? Or is pinkboy just hot for rusty dungeon sex? Jesus, stop it with the heart rate, lady, you’re giving me a hard-on.”

I flushed, but I couldn’t calm my pulse. Could he hear me? Feel my blood, hot and swelling with moonlust? “Look, you’d better leave … .”

“You know what? I’ll ask him myself. Nice meeting you, Emm-berr.” The way he purred my name made it sound like food. He grabbed my phone from the table, and before I could stop him or protest, he’d called himself and hung up after a single ring.

Great. Now he had my number. “Put that down!”

He winked and tossed it to me, making me fumble. “That’s Vincent with a
V.
You ever want the lowdown on your fairytoy, you gimme a call.” And he flipped my card back onto the table and sauntered off to the bathroom.

The bathroom door squeaks open, and swiftly, Diamond
blends,
hasty glamourflash clanging on broken glass. The magic stinks of rain and roses, but a human won’t notice. Anyone else won’t care.

Vincent DiLuca grins, jewels flashing in his ears. “Fancy meeting you here, glasshole.”

Diamond bites down on a mouthful of rich insults. Snitchy little bastard ain’t worth it, with his girly hair and
come hit on me
eyes. He’s never sure if Vincent wants him dead or naked. Either way, no fight with him.

Yes fight with filthyskank vampire creepazoids who won’t control their hunger. “Likeywise,” he mutters, and sidles for the door.

But Vincent clicks his tongue, cocky. “Who’s your lady friend? Wouldn’t mind a taste of her.”

Rage shocks Diamond cold.

Before he can think or breathe, he’s jammed Vincent against the shard-spiked wall, forearm crunching into his gold-chained throat. The vampire’s body fights, fevered and fresh against him, and muscle tight on muscle slams his pulse wild. “Wanna scrap with me, missy? Come gettify. Just leave her the fuck out of it.”

He sucks in a heated breath, blood pumping too fast. He’s glowing bright like a flashlight. Chillify, for fucksake. Ratbrain didn’t even say her name. Besides, Ember means nothing to him, right? And this is a public place. People care if gangboys kill each other.

But hearing Vincent threaten her enrages Diamond beyond sense or reasonicality. Shiteating vampire scum. Always taking what don’t belongem them.