by Cate Corvin
Will’s mouth dropped open. I felt the tension thrumming through him, even with a foot of open air between us.
“Tori… he’s a…”
“Yup. A demon. An incubus, to be exact.”
Will fell silent again, and I knew he was putting everything together, all the little puzzle pieces that added up to make a damning whole. The jig was almost up for him the night we’d run into his father, Prince Sitri, in the bottom of the Sugarworks.
“How?” Will whispered. Suraziel’s beautiful eyes flashed with brilliant fire. “Why?”
For his part, Suraziel was silent, that gaze flicking to me. I’d expected hatred or rage for selling him out.
What I hadn’t expected was a bone-deep relief beneath the apprehension. Disquiet nibbled at me.
Sura had made a video confessing all to Will. Maybe I’d done him a favor.
As long as Will accepted him.
I glanced at my stepbrother’s pretty face, torn between horror and anger. “You can put your glamour back on, Sura.” The tightness in my chest ceased as he stopped fighting the command. “You have your lust. He has blessed iron. This is a little gift for you two, which both of you should take to heart: honesty.”
I patted Will’s shoulder before I left the slayer and demon to stare each other down. Will’s fingers tightened around the dagger, his knuckles turning white. A sick tension filled the room before I walked away.
“Make the right choice.”
22
Tori
I went straight to my room, showered at rapid-speed, and threw on some clean clothes before I escaped Libra Academy.
The entire time I was washing Sura’s touch and come off my skin, I tried not to think that right at that moment, Will could be burying the blessed iron in Sura’s heart.
I tried not to think that Sura could’ve just grabbed Will and yanked him straight to Hell.
Into a court full of succubi who’d be very, very friendly. Like, fuck-him-until-his-pelvis-was-dust kind of friendly.
I tried not to think about how much either of those potentialities bothered me.
Instead, I focused on Càel. I’d been without him a whole three weeks, which, in the grand scheme of things, was absolutely nothing.
From the time I left my betrayers in the armory to the time I was fleeing the Caitland-Moore’s front steps, only half an hour had passed, if that. None of the alarms had gone off. No professors were patrolling the halls. I had to take all that as a good sign.
I caught myself as I practically jumped into the back of a school taxi. A good sign? What did I care who survived and who didn’t? Sura now knew what betrayal felt like, and Will had the truth of his best friend.
What they did with that information was up to them, and it shouldn’t matter to me either way.
My stomach was in knots, my heart in my throat the entire drive to Club Bathory. To my relief, Càel had heard the bloodsong between us as I got closer; his fair hair picked up the crimson lights of the club’s exterior. He stepped forward and opened the door for me.
I almost fell into his arms, but caught myself. It was a Friday night, and people were everywhere. Any number of eyes could be on the Libra student and the White Wolf.
Instead, I looked up into his ice-pale eyes and scowled like he’d just pissed in my cereal. “I missed you so fucking much I felt like I would die,” I whispered under my breath, hoping it looked more like a threat than an endearment to any watchers.
The delicious muscles in his arms flexed and he cocked his head to the side, considering. The sharp tips of his fangs flashed. “If a vacation that long ever comes between me and you again, I will find the bastard who gave you a ‘winter break’ and rip his arms from their sockets.”
He was only inches away, but that distance was much too far for my taste. I took a deep breath of his pine forest and ocean scent, a smell that dispelled most of my nerves. Odd how Càel was now home to me.
“I don’t know if he deserves that,” I said quietly. “Maybe just a really hard paddling. Take me up?”
Càel paused for the briefest of moments, but it was enough to put me on my guard. “Take the rear elevator, shíorghrá. The court has been unsettled these past few weeks.”
That explained his standoffishness, but now the anxiety was back in full force. I just brushed his fingers as I walked by, slipped through Bathory’s red doors, and followed the concrete hall to an elevator that looked like it hadn’t been updated since the 1930s.
Before I could pull the gate shut myself, a breeze touched my face, and someone else was suddenly in the elevator with me: Rhianwen Moonfawn, her long strawberry-blonde hair twisted in an updo and diamonds sparkling around her neck. As always, she wore a pretty silk cocktail dress, this one a deep scarlet, that looked incongruous with her ancient sword on her hip.
She pulled the grate shut and pushed a button while I shook off the heebie-jeebies of having a vampire who wasn’t Càel move so goddamn fast around me. “Welcome back, dear sister.” Cool fingers touched my cheek. “Morgrainne would like your input on a game called Candyland, and before you ask, my brother will join us shortly.”
The elevator rumbled to life underfoot, rattling alarmingly as we ascended at what seemed like a snail’s pace. I shrugged off my coat. Cold as it was outside, it was hot and stuffy inside Bathory. “Hi, Rhianwen. What’s going on with the court?” If Càel wouldn’t answer me, maybe she would.
Rhianwen was perfectly still despite the rattling cage around us. I desperately wished it was going down to Càel’s room and that he was with me, because my mind was still full of images of Will murdering Sura, or Sura blasting Will… and Sura buried in me, his horns rough under my hands.
“Our father is hosting honored guests,” she said, but there was a hint of misgiving in her tone. “It’s better if you stay out of the clubs tonight.”
“Is this just because you don’t want a slayer poking around in your business?” I asked, only half-joking, and Rhianwen leveled a maternal smile on me.
“Oh no, my dear. You are the one who doesn’t want to go poking into this business. Trust me on this, if you please.”
Well now, how could I argue with such a polite vampire?
The elevator doors finally opened on the quiet bar manned by Euphemia. Morgrainne was sprawled in the middle of the comfortable couches, with a massive stack of board games piled on the coffee table. As usual, we were the only people in the bar. In the time it would’ve taken for me and Rhianwen to use the ancient elevator, Morgrainne had all the time in the world to kick everyone downstairs and drag out Candyland and Operation.
“Sister mine!” She beamed at me, which was disconcerting with her raspy voice and the blue woad warpaint on her face. “We got a game where you rip out a little man’s organs! First one to remove them all wins!” Morgrainne held up the little Operation tweezers.
If I was a vampire, would I have that much fun disemboweling people, or was that a particular quirk of being Made in the medieval ages?
Okay, so I wasn’t going to get my comfort in Càel’s arms right this moment. No problem. I’d survived three weeks without him, I was a strong, independent slayer who didn’t need no vampire, and there was no way I could say no to Morgrainne’s intense enthusiasm for a children’s board game.
Operation had never seemed so sinister before.
I was finagling the Charlie Horse while Morgrainne and Rhianwen watched with bated breath when Càel finally arrived.
The buzzer blasted, and Morgrainne cackled. “I win!”
I dropped the tweezers when Càel sat on the couch behind me, and Rhianwen jerked her head none too subtly at her younger sister. The Morrígna rose to their feet, and Morgrainne twinkled her fingers with a lascivious wink before they left. Euphemia bolted the door behind them.
I wasted no time in shoving the board game aside and climbing astride Càel’s lap. After a day spent struggling against an angry, alluring incubus and my weak fall into his seduction, I just wa
nted to be with my pillar.
I cupped Càel’s face, brushing the faint marks of crow’s feet with my thumbs. “Càel. I love you, and winter break was awful. My stepdad is a complete psychopath who’s basically holding my mom hostage. I had to be around Will the whole time. I found out Sura’s an incubus, and then I bound him, and today I had sex with him. And now, for all I know, he and Will are murdering each other.”
Càel blinked up at me while he settled me more firmly in his lap. “I love you, too. Was the sex good, or should I introduce him to the iron maiden?”
Against my will, I snorted. “You’re not going to take it seriously, are you?”
“It is your choice to either murder him or fuck him. You’ve claimed them as yours to do with as you will, Victoria. But if you’d like me to take something seriously, tell me about your mother.”
I gave him the rundown, and Càel’s scowl grew deeper with every word.
“We can go to this Godalming Manor together and I will flay this bastard alive, shíorghrá.”
As appealing as that sounded, there was one problem. “Mom is terrified of vampires. Like I said, she was never the boldest slayer, but… she’d be just as likely to try to end herself if you went charging in there. I’m going to have to finesse this one, but if you want to flay Percival when she’s out- well, good riddance to him.”
Càel slid an arm around my lower back, forcing me to lean in so his face was buried against my neck. “Give me the word and it’s done.”
I let out the tiniest sigh of relief. I had Will- maybe, as long as Sura hadn’t dragged him to Sitri’s Court for eternity- and Càel had my back, of course. All I had to do was outlast the semester, and I’d be in the perfect position to take her and run to a clan that could withstand Percival and his associates.
“What’s going on with your Maker-” I started, but Càel shook his head. He ran his tongue along the line of my neck and sent a shiver down my spine.
“I do not wish to discuss the madness of my Maker now,” he growled, and fangs pricked my neck. “I only wish to feel you again.”
After what felt like an eternity without him, all coherent thought became a scramble to yank off his shirt and mine, and fumble his pants down over his hips. When he made me stand up so he could strip my clothes off, I felt a prick of nervousness.
“Càel, it doesn’t bother you that I had sex with a demon an hour ago? A demon.”
He looked up at me, all patience despite his throbbing cock. “Did you want to have sex with the demon?”
“Well… yes.” I could lie to myself, but I couldn’t lie to Càel. I’d absolutely wanted to screw Sura’s brains out. Even more so, now that I could force him to remove his false face.
“Then no, it doesn’t bother me. I’ve smelled them on you before I was permitted to touch you. As I’ve said before, Lilith’s love grows where it will.” Well, I certainly couldn’t claim there was love there… certainly not on my part. More like a very grudging tolerance. But Càel licked his lips, gaze running over my mostly nude body. “Now, come over here and show me how much you missed me.”
I climbed over him and sank onto his cock with a hiss of contentment. Maybe a sane person would’ve been tired and sore from having just had an incubus pounding into them. I guess I wasn’t sane at all, because having Càel in me was just as incredible, like Suraziel had merely whetted my appetite.
Càel pulled me in close while I rode him, waiting until I was shuddering and close to orgasm before he sank his fangs into my neck.
Pleasure exploded in me, followed by the dizzying sensation of blood being drained from my veins. Black flowers burst in front of my eyes, one after another, and Càel groaned against my skin when he came.
I clenched around him hard, drawing out his pleasure while he finished drinking from me. Before I grew too light-headed to hold myself upright, he broke the suction on my neck and ran his tongue over the tiny wounds, sealing them with loving care.
“Delicious,” he rasped against my skin. “If you leave me again, I might starve.”
I drew back to make a face before I kissed him. “You won’t starve. You can live on any blood, old man.” Secretly, I was pleased. Did I really taste that good?
“So old,” Càel agreed sadly, palming my ass. “Do you want me to live out my ancient decrepitude with nothing but second-rate plebeian blood to pass my days?”
“Come on. You’re not decrepit.”
Of course, talking about his decrepitude, or lack thereof, just brought Morgrainne’s point back to mind: every day that Càel stayed the same, I grew a little older… a little closer to decrepit.
In addition to everything else in my life, that fear was now perched on a pedestal of its own that almost overshadowed the others.
“Fine.” I held back a sigh when Càel squeezed my ass appreciatively, grinding me against him, and instead gave him a deep kiss. “Next time I go on mandatory vacation, you’re coming with. You can’t live without blood, and I can’t live without…”
“Cock,” he said with a grin.
“I was thinking your stalwart presence and romantic snuggles, but sure, cock fits the bill, too.” I wrapped my arms around his neck, trying to hardest to kiss every rough plane of his face.
“I knew it.” Càel sounded far smugger than he had any right to. He kissed a line over my collarbone, his hands sliding up my back…
And a knock on the door interrupted what was sure to be the sex that finally fulfilled my Dickin’ Quota for the week.
“Fuck me,” I whispered in irritation, and Càel grunted.
“Would that I could, shíorghrá,” he said against my breasts, “but that’s Rhianwen.”
And, given that the Moonfawn knew damn well what we were doing locked in our own level of Club Bathory, she was knocking for a damn good reason.
I climbed off his lap and tugged my shirt and jeans on. Càel was already re-dressed by the time I got around to shoving my feet in my boots. Not that he’d had much to do; I’d just shoved his pants down near his knees and ripped his shirt off.
Rhianwen knocked again. I heard the impatience in it.
“This is family business, Victoria,” Càel said. He ran his hands through my hair and touched the edges of my face with butterfly-light strokes. “Stay up here, understand? You are not to leave without me or one of your sisters as an escort.”
My stomach knotted up all over again, driving out most of the afterglow of amazing sex. “What’s going on here, Càel?”
Rhianwen’s third knock let her irritation through, and there was a sharp crack as a bit of the wood splintered.
“I will tell you later tonight, shíorghrá,” he said, kissing me swiftly. “I shouldn’t have allowed you to come at all.”
There was a definite innuendo in that, but there was a strain on Càel’s face that held me back. It was the sort of tension I only saw on him when his Maker was up to some fucked-up hijinks.
I sat back down on the couch, feeling a lot like a forlorn puppy dog left in a crate as Càel joined Rhianwen. The soft murmur of voices in the stairwell faded instantly as the vampires flashed away, to wherever their Maker was.
I ended up pouring myself a drink, realized I had to pee really badly, and found, after five minutes of searching, that this particular bar did not have a bathroom, probably because it was never intended to be used as a bar in the first place.
Going down one floor couldn’t hurt. I closed the door behind me and headed into the darkened well of the staircase, finding the bathroom sandwiched between Seventh Heaven and the pixie club. It was well-kept, at least, made all of porcelain tile, and it occurred to me that it was because it was an easily bleached, nonporous material in case one of the vampires or moonspawn got a little too rowdy…
The first stall was taken, so I ducked into the second. I had finished and was ready to zip up when my neighbor left her stall and stumbled to the mirror, just visible through the crack in the door.
My heart jumped into my
throat. Apolline Moreau swayed in front of the mirror, absent-mindedly wiping pixie dust from the corner of her mouth and gazing at herself with blank eyes.
Her throat had been savaged. There was no other word to describe it. The bite marks were healed, but roughly and carelessly… nothing like the neat holes Càel left on my throat and lovingly tended. The overlapping wounds and ridged scars were low enough to be hidden by her collar and tie at school, but here in the club, in a low-cut shirt…
I realized I was barely breathing. I stood up and zipped my pants as silently as possible, but Apolline didn’t seem to register that there was someone else with her in the bathroom at all.
We were all alone, and she was so high she didn’t know I was here. It would be the work of moments to tackle her to the floor and slide my dagger in her throat… and in the middle of the club, with her skin brutalized by a vampire, no one would look for another cause of death.
I still remembered her sitting on my chest, teeth glittering, telling me that she’d done everything simply because she didn’t like me.
Declared me the Brotherfucker, for no reason other than cruelty.
I took a deep breath and dropped my hand to my dagger’s hilt. One thrust, and she was gone.
Apolline touched a smudge of glitter under her eyes, let out a hoarse laugh, and shoved through the bathroom door, tottering in her unsteady heels.
I expelled a deep breath and left the stall, forcing myself to stay put and wash my hands instead of dashing after her.
I could just go back upstairs and wait for Càel. It’d be so easy.
I exited the bathroom and glanced down the stairs to my left. Apolline was so slow and wobbly, the top of her head was just visible as she moved into the pixie club.
The strobing lights ate her up. My dagger weighed heavy at my side.
I remembered her taunt after my first time in that same club with Will and Sura, her accomplices: maybe she was getting fingered against a wall. Brotherfucker. The bite of rope around my wrists.
