Death Kissed (Nightworld: Court of Magic Book 1)

by J. N. Colon

  My lids snapped open, and I jerked forward, nearly smashing my head against Caleb’s. Luckily, his hands shot out and pressed my shoulders back into the seat. White blurred over my vision as my flesh bubbled and smoked.

  Hellfire and Hecate! That hurt like a son of a bitch.

  After what felt like hours, the pain lashing at my neck finally lessened, and I slumped against the chair again, spent. My magic slowly swam back from the dark abyss while a deep, shaky breath spilled from my lips.

  A hand gently brushed the hair from my face. “I’ll get you some water,” Caleb said before his presence disappeared.

  “Here, take this.”

  My lids opened to find the king leaning over me with another small bottle filled with a glittering aqua liquid. “What is that?”

  “It’ll help you heal faster.” He tipped the bottle, waiting for me to open my mouth.

  I angled my head back and gulped the tart elixir. Another shiver crawled down my back. “The dagger,” I mumbled. “Cyria’s using it to—” A fit of coughs overtook my lungs.

  Caleb kneeled before me with a glass of water and helped me take a few sips, soothing the ache in my raw throat. How long had I screamed my head off while the demons used blades covered in Devil’s Nightshade?

  I waved the prince off when he tried to urge me to drink more. This information was more important than my discomfort. “Cyria is using the dagger to turn humans into demons.”

  Caleb’s head tilted to the side as he studied me, lines developing across his forehead. I didn’t blame him for not believing me. I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen it myself.

  His gaze reluctantly peeled away, lifting to his father’s. “Is that even possible?”

  Lachlan fiddled with the gleaming cuff link on the sleeve of his crisp burgundy shirt, the only sign of his agitation. “I don’t know.”

  “It’s very possible. I saw it happen.” Images of Dumont murdering that poor guy, the body writhing and returning to life with a pair of vibrant-blue demon eyes, steamrolled to the forefront of my mind. “She wants to create more demons to overpower the fae. The humans that don’t make the change and die, she’s dumping in fae territory.”

  “That evil hag.” Lachlan cursed and drew his phone out, flicking through the screen. “She really thought she could one-up me.”

  Caleb lowered himself onto the coffee table in front of me, his knees brushing mine. “Why did she torture you?”

  “Oh, it gets even better.” I held my hand out for the glass of water, feeling a little less like a pincushion after that last fae elixir. The healing properties worked wonders on the shallow slices across my frame and even my broken wrist.

  I took a few sips of water before handing it back to Caleb. “She tried to force me into a blood oath to bring the dead demon converts back to life.”

  Lachlan froze before slowly tearing his attention from his phone. “She wants you to wake the dead?”

  “I thought only a necromancer had that capability.” Caleb dipped his hand in a large bowl of water on the coffee table, wringing out a rag. He leaned forward and dabbed at the blood on my neck.

  “Thorn’s powers are connected to death, so it’s possible she can manipulate those that have crossed the veil.” The king’s lips thinned into a tight line. “Very possible indeed.” He cursed and marched toward the kitchen, grabbing two bottles of liquor from the bar.

  The warm rag Caleb moved over me to clean the blood off had my lids growing heavy. Or maybe the fae prince’s intoxicating presence drugged me.

  Ugh. I really needed to get a grip.

  I blinked, fighting the urge to let my head fall back as the conversation I overheard in the torture room returned. “Cyria doesn’t have me anymore, but she has a backup plan. She’s located a necromancer.”

  Lachlan returned from the kitchen, downing the rest of his drink before slamming it on the coffee table. “Caleb, continue patching up Thorn. I need to see if I can get a lock on Cyria’s location.” The king trekked toward the door, slamming it behind him so hard the collection of tree pictures above the leather couch rattled.

  I sucked air sharply as Caleb ran the rag over a particularly deep cut below my collarbone.

  “Sorry,” he muttered, removing the rag as he examined my haggard state. “I’m going to take your shirt off so I can get the rest, okay?” He hesitated, waiting on my permission.

  “Sure.” I grabbed the hem of my torn shirt, drawing it over my head. Or at least I tried. I only made it halfway before sharp stabs of pain halted my movements.

  Caleb’s fingers curled into the sheer material and lifted the rest of it off, tossing the stained garment to the floor. He cursed when he caught the full sight of my slashed torso. Harsh lines cut into his face. “Those bastards,” he ground out.

  “What happened to the two demons who tortured me?” I asked, picturing Dumont’s sadistic leer as he sliced into my flesh a dozen times.

  Caleb dropped the rag on the coffee table, breathing heavily. “They’re dead.”

  “Oh.” The thick silence that stretched lingered with unanswered questions. Had Caleb been the one to kill Dumont and Link?

  Using his elemental power, he lifted a bubble of water from the bowl. “Stay still. This will be better than the rag.”

  My back remained pressed into the chair as Caleb glided the bubble of water over my wounds to remove the blood. The soothing touch had my lids fluttering closed, a soft sigh drifting between my lips. This was better than a shower. If I let myself relax, I’d be asleep in no time.

  But after those hallucinations, I had a feeling my dreams would be inundated with images of my mother and the grand witch.

  “I’m sorry.”

  The tormented slash of Caleb’s words had my lids opening. He steered the bubble, now stained crimson, back into the bowl with a quiet splash.

  “I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.” His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat while his eyes remained on his lap. “I shouldn’t have argued with you when you came over to tell me about the dagger. The night before just…”

  My stomach clenched. Oh, gods. Something did happen the other night when Caleb helped me to my room after I’d had too much to drink. “What did I do?” I stammered. “Did we…?”

  Caleb’s gaze finally lifted to mine, and he shook his head. “Nothing happened between us. Not like that.”

  Some of the panic loosened around my heart. “Then why were you so mad?”

  “You’re not what I thought.” He dragged his fingers through his hair, messing up the already wild strands of charcoal and silver. “I lost a lot because of witches. Then you come here, and you’re nothing like I expected.”

  I crossed my arms, shivering from the dampness of my skin and the anger in his tone. “Sorry I’m not some evil hag with a cackle and a warty face.”

  The prince shot to his feet and began pacing the length of his living room, every pass more aggressive than the previous one. “Yeah, well, it’s really screwing with my head. I should hate every last one of you for what happened.”

  My legs trembled as I stood, trying and failing to match his ferocity in my weakened state. How ferocious could one look while wearing nothing but jeans and a bra? “As soon as this nightmare is over, you can forget about me and go back to being the terrible, feared fae prince of the Unseelie Court. You can blissfully sleep with Zeta and whoever else without worrying about what kind of trouble I’m getting into.”

  “I didn’t sleep with Zeta that night.” Caleb whipped in my direction. “She just let herself in while I was in the shower. I made her leave after you and I argued.”

  The image of Zeta wearing his shirt while a haughty smile graced her mouth played on repeat in my mind, making me want to punch a hole in the wall. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “I just wanted you to know,” he ground out.

  I crossed my arms against my chest, feeling exposed under his intense, fiery stare. “Why?”

  “I don
’t know!” Caleb let out a string of curses and marched toward me until he stood so close his breath dusted over my lips. “I don’t know,” he repeated, his tone dipping to a soft whisper.

  My heart crashed inside my rib cage, and my mouth turned desert dry. He was too close. His scent clouded my mind, and I couldn’t think straight. I needed to get the hell out of here before I did something stupid.

  I took a step back, but my legs gave out, and I headed straight for the floor.

  Strong arms wrapped around my waist, bringing me into a solid form. “I got you.” Caleb’s low, husky voice vibrated through my ears.

  “Thanks,” I muttered. A fever blossomed across me, and I attempted to extricate myself from the prince’s arms.

  He kept a firm grip on me. “Let me help you sit.”

  I trembled, but it had nothing to do with recovering from a torture session and everything to do with him. “I’m good. You can let go now.”

  But Caleb wouldn’t release me. If anything, his hold tightened, keeping me locked in his warm embrace. “Look at me, Thorn.”

  As if hypnotized, my gaze lifted, and fire shot down my spine at the heat sizzling in his expression.

  The prince leaned forward, the tips of his hair tickling my forehead. “I need something.” When I wet my lips, a growl rumbled in his throat.

  “W-What do you need?” Any idiot would know what was on Caleb’s agenda. Desire swirled in the air, as electric and hot as a summer thunderstorm.

  He was going to kiss me.

  But would I let him?

  Chapter 24

  Caleb’s mouth brushed over mine, a featherlight touch that still managed to stoke those smoldering embers into a blazing fire. I only had seconds to push him away or surrender to the wild, reckless craving that ravaged my body.

  His lips parted, waiting for me to decide just how much I enjoyed my sanity—because once we crossed that line, all rationality would crumble into dust.

  And then, as if the temptation hadn’t already reached dangerous levels, Caleb’s sensual scent of sugar and bergamot crashed over me, grabbing hold and refusing to let go.

  My choice had been obliterated that very instant.

  Not another moment passed before Caleb took possession of my mouth, maybe even my mind. His tongue flicked out, tracing my bottom lip before giving it a gentle suck.

  A soft moan tumbled out, and my mouth parted, practically begging him to slip inside.

  Hellfire and Hecate. If this was how the prince began a kiss, I could only imagine how he would unravel me completely.

  Finally, his tongue grazed the tip of mine, sending fire across my lower half. He tasted like honey and wickedness.

  Shit. Did he have a tongue ring?

  A shiver slinked down every vertebra as I imagined the wicked things he could do with it.

  The doorknob turned, and we sprung apart before the king stepped inside. The room spun like a Tilt-A-Whirl, and I swayed backward.

  Caleb cursed and grabbed me before I hit the floor. Again.

  Lachlan arched his brow as he glanced between his son and me. “Caleb, perhaps you should get Thorn a shirt so she’s not standing there half-dressed.”

  “Sure.” The prince cleared his throat and helped me into the chair again without meeting my eyes. His cheeks were as red as mine felt.

  What the hell just happened?

  I grabbed the water on the coffee table, gulping the rest of it. Why did it suddenly feel like a hundred degrees?

  Caleb returned with a T-shirt, tossing it into my lap without so much as a glance.

  Chicken shit.

  His fresh, spicy scent swirled off the soft cotton material as I opened it, dragging my arms through the sleeves. A sharp hiss spilled out of my mouth when I attempted to lift it over my head.

  “Here.” Caleb resumed his seat on the coffee table and hesitantly helped me into the shirt, careful not to touch my bare skin.

  Clearly, I wasn’t the only one freaking out about the kiss. “Nothing happened,” I gritted out between clenched teeth low enough for our ears only. “Nothing at all.”

  He gave a sharp nod.

  Had he thought I’d fall madly in love with him after one kiss?

  Ha! It was barely even a kiss anyway.

  “Cyria has gone into hiding,” the king said as he marched into the kitchen. Clinks of bottles and glasses echoed as he made himself another drink. “We’ll need to find her before she makes too many demon converts. And we need to make sure she doesn’t get her hands on that necromancer. There’s no telling how many dead ones she has out there to wake up. I doubt she dumped all the bodies in my territory.”

  Caleb grabbed the empty glass of water and stood. “Wouldn’t more people have been reported missing? I don’t remember seeing too many in the human news.” He marched beyond the massive bookshelf and into the kitchen just as his father emerged with a churning green and gold drink.

  “There are plenty of homeless in Chicago no one would miss.” Lachlan took a sip of the strange concoction and then swirled it around in the glass tumbler as he thought. “Cyria has another thing coming if she thinks she can get rid of me or my kind that easily.”

  I took the glass of water from Caleb as he sat on the edge of the coffee table again. If he was so freaked out about the kiss that didn’t happen, why did he find it necessary to be so damn close?

  And why couldn’t I stop thinking about running my tongue over the hoop piercing his bottom lip?

  Ugh, focus!

  “Now that I’ve discovered the culprit behind the murders, our blood oath is done,” I pointed out. Lachlan never said anything about capturing the person. My eyewitness account, along with Caleb and the other fae that stormed into the basement of Toliver Tower, had to be enough for the council to pursue punishment.

  The Unseelie king arched his eyebrow and surveyed me over his glass. “Technically, I suppose that’s true, but you do realize a lot of humans will die if the demon queen finds the necromancer. She’ll create more, and who’s to say these turned demons can control themselves enough not to kill when they feed on souls.”

  “And that’s my problem because…?” That was harsh, but I fulfilled my end of the bargain. The rest was Lachlan’s dilemma.

  Caleb took the glass from my trembling hands and placed it on the table beside him. “Maybe you should get some sleep.” His gaze flickered to his father, hardening for a moment before returning to me. “It’s been a long night.”

  Lachlan’s sigh bounced around the room, and he took a seat on the couch. “I understand your reluctance, Thorn, but you must know what’s at stake. And your human friend could still wind up hurt. Do you really want the trouble you went through to be all for nothing? Do you want his death or the deaths of dozens of other innocent humans on your hands?”

  That son of a bitch knew exactly what he was doing. He didn’t really care about humans. As long as enough existed to party at his club and give off energy, he was happy. Lachlan’s sole motivations were keeping his territory and sticking it to the demon queen. Maybe this would even allow him the opportunity to steal her land.

  Unfortunately, he did have a valid point. A lot of innocent people would die.

  “I can do a spell to locate the necromancer.” A bitter tang slithered across my tongue as those words tumbled free, but finding the witch Cyria intended on going after next was the least I could do.

  Lachlan didn’t even bother to contain his smile. “Excellent.”

  The familiar brush of dry paper against my fingertips as I flipped through my grimoire brought on a flood of memories. How long had I sat in Ellexia’s book reliquary memorizing spells?

  While Caleb left to retrieve a list of items for me, I returned to my room to shower, change, and grab a few magic ingredients. I’d tossed his shirt back on over a pair of leggings and hurried back to his apartment.

  So maybe I liked the way it smelled. Big deal.

  I sighed and rubbed my forehead, flipping another
page from my spot on the floor in front of Caleb’s massive stone fireplace. Did he really kiss me earlier?

  Nope. Didn’t happen.

  Heat crawled up my throat and into my face. Gods. Would this night ever end? I studied the scene out of the window, the dark skyline still spotted by the artificial lights of towering buildings. The fancy bronze clock on the bookshelf read two a.m. I needed some sleep.

  Had it only been the night before that I’d gone to Pulse in search of information on the dagger of Astrix? I’d certainly gotten more than I’d bargained for.

  Lachlan cleared his throat. “Is everything all right?” He sat on Caleb’s leather couch, a collection of bottles glittering on the coffee table in front of him.

  “I’m fine.” I’d think the king an alcoholic if I didn’t know most of those liquors hardly affected him. Lachlan was the most powerful fae on this side of the world. Could he even get drunk?

  The door opened, and Caleb stalked in, a paper bag dangling from his fingers. His rumpled clothes, disheveled hair, and the five o’clock shadow coating his sharp jawline only added to the sexy, devil-may-care appeal.

  No. Not sexy.

  “I got everything you asked for.” He made his way toward me, dropping the bag near my leg. He regarded my damp hair and then his T-shirt.

  I returned his stare, daring him to say something. “Thanks.”

  Caleb nodded and then took a seat in a plush chair in the corner, rubbing his hand over his face. “Now what?”

  “Now, I work some magic.”

  I grabbed a ritual bowl and dumped the dry ingredients onto the floor, spreading them out. I tossed in a pinch of hemsweed, nightingale, lily of the Nile, gumshade, lockworm, and midnight bog moss. Glass vials clanked together as I pulled wet ingredients out of the bag.

  “I’m going to make a map of the city, and if the necromancer is in Nightworld or close, it’ll pinpoint her location.”

  “Hopefully, we’ll be able to get to her before the demons have a chance.” Lachlan swirled the crystal tumbler, sniffing the amber liquid before taking a sip. “Cyria will eventually have to come out of hiding.”