by Michele Hauf
So many sexy women clad in barely-there clothing and the sound of spike high heels that clicked in his brain like bats navigating the world with sonar. Mortals to feed his cravings. Blood would pale in comparison to ichor. He didn’t want to risk watering down the high by taking blood. He’d suffer longer to finally ease the need with the spectacular high ichor offered.
A black Escalade rolling the street boomed with hip-hop music. The driver’s head bobbed and he chatted on a cell phone. In the same instant Rev saw a woman in pink step off the curb onto the street, unaware of the oncoming vehicle as her attention was on texting.
Without thought, he raced into the street, hooked an arm about her waist and slammed her against a parked car. The Escalade drove by, missing them by a hands-width.
“Holy crap.” The woman shook in Rev’s arms. “You saved my life.”
And she smelled like cherries and blood. He hissed at the delicious concoction and dashed to the right, increasing his pace away from the woman’s call of thanks.
Perched on the building roof opposite the bar, Bree watched Rev flee the scene. He’d saved the bimbo from becoming roadkill.
“If she’d been sidhe he wouldn’t have left her behind,” she muttered. And then she admonished herself for her cynicism. The man had saved a mortal’s life, even as he'd fought the relentless cravings.
At his core, Rev Parker was a good man, who should never have to deal with the addiction. She’d followed him a few blocks and had witnessed his struggles. He was jonesing. And she guessed he was headed toward her place.
She’d like to stand in his arms right now. And she would not. It wouldn’t be because he was interested in her sparkling personality or her deep thoughts or her physical attraction—or even that he was meant for her. It could only be for more of her ichor.
Bree entertained the thought of having a virile, sexy man clamoring for her attention, for her regard. To be worshipped. What woman didn't desire that? But Rev's worship would never quite reach her heart or be honest while he swam in a haze of dust.
There was where she needed his touch. Not on the surface. Not even a deep gaze into her eyes. She wanted to feel a man in her heart—and she had felt him. The intense thundering had told her he was the one. Everything about him made her heart swell and her wings tingle. Except seeing him in the throes of addiction hurt her heart, and she knew it was all her fault.
“I should tell him he is my Intended. He might be willing to bond if he knew.”
Or it could devastate him that a faery—his worst nightmare—was inextricably tied to him.
"Better keep that information to myself."
Bree skipped across the roof, taking a leap to the neighboring building, and alighted down the metal stairs. She’d considered stopping by the club to see how Nicole was coming with her pole work, but the night was too bright and gorgeous and a nearby park edged in frothy-leaved sugar maples called to her instinctual need for nature.
It neared midnight, the moon was waning, and there were no children out this late. Bree had the whole park to herself. She leaped onto the spinning merry-go-round, and gripping one of the bent steel poles, riding it a few rotations. She dropped her glamour, confident the lacking park lights would keep her secret hidden from mortals out on a midnight jog.
The tank top she wore tugged at her shoulder blades as her wings unfurled and stretched through the air. A shimmer of dust dispersed across the wet grass blades. Fluttering her wings, she took a moment to honor her truth.
Most faeries preferred to live in Faery, where they never had to put on glamour to hide from mortals. Bree had become enchanted with the mortal realm the first time she’d visited, and hadn’t looked back. She truly believed that by helping mortals to care for their planet the effects would reverberate to Faery. And her quest for her Intended had led her here.
A cat mewled and, obviously angry at whatever had disturbed it, took off across the park like the devil had bitten its tail. Bree knew better. Himself paid very little mind toward cats.
She spun and searched the shadows at park’s edge and scented another creature. Dog? There was a dog park a few blocks east.
Before she could ascertain her musings, she landed the ground on her back. A wolf crouched over her, its paws to her shoulders. Dust glittered in the air from the impact. The beast snarled and snapped at her, revealing a deadly maw of teeth.
Even though it looked like one, it wasn’t a normal wolf. Behind her a man called and the wolf jumped off her.
Coming to her feet, she stood but was unable to avoid being wrangled as the man's arms banded like iron about her body. His shoulders were broad and his coat seams torn. Mid-shift, the werewolf was in half human shape with his arms and shoulders taking werewolf form.
“Sabrina Kriss,” the man hissed. “You’ve been a naughty faery.”
He squeezed her so tightly she couldn’t find breath. “Let me go, dog.”
“Fernando Degas said you’ve been keeping him informed on where we’ve been sporting. That’s not very nice of the chick who should be our friend.”
“Friend?” She gasped when he squeezed her again. The wolf on all four legs snarled. “Is that how you treat your friends? Feed them to vampires?”
“He didn’t eat you. Besides, we were just playing.”
"Playing with our lives, you bastards. That was it? You shoved me in the cell with the vampire for play?" These wolves and their blood games; they really were twisted.
The thick scent of blood suddenly swarmed the air. Something warm splattered Bree’s face. Her body dropped and she landed in the wet grass in a sprawl.
The werewolf who had been holding her grasped for his head. It wobbled on his neck. He’d been slashed deeply from the side.
Chapter Eight
An animal yelp echoed in the night. The wolf was tossed aside. Its jaw had been ripped wide open. The half-shifted werewolf, still gripping his head, swung around, slashing a clawed hand that began to shift and elongate.
Bree scrambled across the grass until her back hit the merry-go-round. Glamour instinctually camouflaged her wings.
Rev wielded a pistol that sported a deadly blade along the barrel, and aimed at the wolf with the broken jaw. He fired. Silver dust shimmered upon impact. The silver bullets the vampires used against werewolves were deadly. They merely had to enter the bloodstream, and the wolf would drop dead.
The werewolf howled and tore off its shirt. Bree cringed, for surely someone in the neighborhood would hear.
Rev moved sinuously, striding toward the werewolf as he fired off two rounds. Didn’t look like the same dust-addled, unfocused vampire she’d followed earlier. The bullets hit target at the wolf’s neck and heart. But the yowling beast didn’t go down.
Instead, the wolf leapt, soaring toward Rev. Werewolf and vampire collided. The pistol spun through the darkness. Bree did not see where it landed. Blood scent infused the grass and adrenaline-tainted air. The werewolf slashed Rev’s chest—the beast stiffened, clutching its gut. Falling backward, it landed on the ground not far from Bree’s foot.
She ran for Rev and plunged to the ground near his body.
“My phone,” he muttered.
“What?” She patted his chest in the dark but instead of finding a cell phone, her fingers slipped through blood. The wolf's talons had cut deep. “You’re hurt.”
“Phone in my back pocket. Must call for cleanup immediately or mortals will see.”
“Right.” He thought only of protecting their kind. Smart guy—smart, bleeding-out guy.
Bree patted down his torso, and Rev groaned. She tugged out the phone from his back jeans pocket and clicked it on.
“Speed dial six,” he said. “Hand me the phone.”
As she looked over the carnage, he gave orders to whomever she had dialed.
One dead wolf, still furred and in animal shape. One dead werewolf, now shifting to its were, or man shape. It was naked, and the neck was slashed to expose the spine. Rev must
have initially attacked with the blade. The bullet entry points steamed as the silver worked at flesh and bone.
She scanned the perimeter. No house lights on. Could they be so lucky no one had witnessed?
“Five minutes for the cleaners to arrive.”
She startled when Rev touched her shoulder. Must not be too wounded because he stood fairly straight and steady. “Are you okay?" he asked. "Did he hurt you?” She’d forgotten she was the one initially in danger.
“I’m fine. Maybe a few cracked ribs," she decided. "Were you following me?”
“Yes.”
To the point. He was no longer high on dust, couldn’t be. The fresh air must have cleared his senses, but if so, that would prove remarkable.
“Thanks,” she said. “What about you? You…okay?”
“Couldn’t be better.”
“You don’t look…”
“Strung out? You were following me.”
“I was curious.”
“Thought so. Spying isn’t very nice.”
“I’m—” She stopped herself from apologizing. Who was Rev to tell her what to do? “You must have found some dust.”
“Not tonight. Blood. A poor substitute for what I crave, but it cleared my head. Least until I can find another hit. ” He scanned across the park and Bree's heart fell. He was already looking for his next score. "So what was with the dogs? Didn’t look like a friendly conversation.”
“He knew I was informing on the packs.” Bree nudged the dead werewolf’s foot. “He said Fernando Degas told him.”
Rev’s mouth tightened. “Degas? Talking to the wolves? Hell. What’s up with that guy?”
If Fernando found out she'd tattled he could make things rough for Rev, because he had a secret weapon that could spin Rev into darkness forever. It was bad enough Bree had gotten him addicted again, she had better not lose his job as well. She wanted to blurt out what she knew was up with the vampire. She didn’t know how to.
“Let’s get you home,” he offered, and spread an arm across her back.
Bree slipped from his grasp. “Me? What about you? You’re bleeding from new orifices, buddy.”
“I’ll have healed by the time I get you to your door. Come on, the cleanup crew doesn’t need us to wait around. And I’d prefer to get out of sight in case there are curious mortals observing.”
“Does cleanup take care of mortal bystanders?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.” She glanced around the perimeter of the park, hoping no unsuspecting mortals had witnessed the attack.
“Persuasion, Bree. We don’t kill mortals.”
Relieved, she blew out a breath. “You saved my life, Rev. Again. You're some kind of hero.”
“Far from it.”
She knew better. The man had the ability to think beyond his own cruel cravings and care about others, even mortals. He was good.
He clutched her hand and tugged her into the darkness lacing the park. They walked under a thick canopy of maples on the sidewalk. “You in the market for a hero?”
“I could be.”
“What about one whose armor is dented and he sold his horse to get a fix?”
“A few dents and bruises make the man, don’t you know?”
“What about a vampire who wants to bite you?”
He would take her home, and then she'd enchant him again and the whole vicious cycle would start over. She had to be smart. If she really wanted this man, from here on she had to do things right.
Bree stopped at the park edge. Rev tugged her hand, but she held her ground. She bowed her head and sighed. “I care about you, Rev. I think I could love you.”
He smirked and chuckled but cut his forced mirth off short. “Never had anyone tell me that before.”
“Seriously? You’ve never been in love?”
“A few high school infatuations when I was mortal, but nothing serious. I could love you too, Bree. My heart tells me that. It aches for you. I don’t know how to make it work though, because there's this thing between us determined to make it impossible.”
She stroked a finger along his jacket collar, careful not to touch his skin, but close enough to feel the heat of him. He became so aroused under her touch. She must stand by the conviction that she could make things right.
“There are ways to move beyond the craving,” she said. “Finding more addictive things than dust, for example.”
“Trade one addiction for another? Doesn't sound good. Besides, nothing’s better than an ichor high, Bree. Trust me.”
Alone in the darkness, the twosome dallied with an embrace but didn’t move closer. Bree lifted her head and Rev tilted his to meet her expectant mouth. They did not kiss.
“You could make love to me,” she whispered across his lips.
“I stand corrected. That would be better than dust. You’d let me? I mean, you trust me?"
"It’s more risky for you than me."
"Right. But I can’t seem to get beyond biting you. Hell, I'd give the world to go beyond, to take you in my arms and make love to you. To put myself inside you and fall into that oblivion.”
“I want to try. I want us to bond. It would take a lot of control.”
“I have control. But what's this about bonding?”
"Have you heard about certain sidhe races who have one particular mate for them in a lifetime? They're called their Intended. We believe the universe gives us the exact person we need to have a whole and fulfilling life."
"Yeah? So who is your intended? Wait." He tilted his head, eyeing her narrowly in the darkness. "Are you and I…?"
She nodded. "I knew it the moment I looked into your eyes when you were chained to the wall. It's why my wings came out without volition."
"That makes little sense. We're the worst thing for one another."
She hung her head, not sure what to say now. If he truly felt that way, she had no right to try change his mind.
"I mean… Hell, Bree, I'm attracted to you. Never been more attracted to a woman, but I don't know if that's because of the dust. You mean it? We two? Meant for one another?"
"I know, it feels like a karmic punishment, but maybe we could be good for one another. If we made love, we would bond, and maybe you could get beyond your addiction to dust, and instead simply crave me for…me."
"With all my heart and soul I wish I could make love to you. But when I get your dust on my skin…" He moaned and nudged his nose along her neck. “You smell so good. Step away from me, Bree, please.”
The desperation in his plea startled her. She stepped away, but her heart remained at his side, clinging to the connection they had dared to forge. And wanting. “Come home with me,” she whispered.
“You’re torturing me.”
“I know. I can’t believe I’m doing this, but Rev, you’re like no man I’ve ever known. I want to feel you on me. Inside me.”
“Bree.”
Now she stood in his arms, falling into his cruel enchantment. His gentle embrace was edged with a tension she wanted to crush into and lose herself against. He was brave, kind, compassionate, and made her feel protected. Loved. Even though neither of them could truly know the meaning of that word. Faeries didn't fall in love. They laughed at love. And vampires, well…she couldn't imagine a vampire lost in a dust haze could fathom the meaning of love.
“Make love to me, Rev. Let's see if we can go beyond your addiction and find love.”
"I want that. So I'm your guy?"
She tilted up and kissed his mouth, their lips barely touching, and his sigh imprinted her with his desire. "Yes, you're my guy."
Chapter Nine
A day later…
Moonlight spilled through the glass block wall behind the head of the bed. The advantage to having but a bed for furniture was the expanse of floor stretching from said bed to the kitchen. It made for a perfect dance floor.
Held against Rev’s body, her hand in his near his shoulder, her other hand straying around to stroke the
small of his back through his shirt, Bree felt sure this was the heaven of which all sidhe were denied entrance.
The rhythm of Rev pulsing against her body, his heartbeats, his slow breaths, even the step of his bare feet, surrounded her as if a comforting symphony.
She wore his windbreaker jacket. He’d suggested she cover her bare arms and back if they were going to be close. Less skin contact meant less danger for him. Worked for her. Mostly. What she wanted was to pull off her dress and open his shirt and press her breasts against his strength, his very being.
Rev’s inhale lifted his chest against hers. There was no music, only their heartbeats.
“Your wings were out in the park the other night,” he said softly. “It was dark, but I noticed their sheen. And when I was chained up, they glowed red around the edges. They seemed brighter than the faery wings I've seen.”
Because he had likely spent time in ichor dens populated by faeries who were literally dying to feed their vampire patrons.
“I’m accustomed to glamourizing around mortals. And yes, they are bright because I don't eat processed mortal foods and try to live clean and healthy. A red glow means…desire." She looked into his intense eyes. “You’re shivering.”
He was fighting the need for her right now.
And when he dipped his mouth to her neck, Bree allowed the vampire to bite her for what must have been the third or fourth time in the past day. Because she didn’t want him to leave. Because she wanted to feel him on her always. Because she wasn’t thinking rationally.
And because she thought she knew better.
Never had she felt so inadequate. So ineffectual. And yet, it was as though she had become Rev Parker’s world.
He’d not left her home for three days. And she didn’t know what to do about it. Bree fought the weakness loss of ichor threatened by eating five small meals a day and drinking lots of water and mead.
