Dirty Little Misery (Miss Misery)

by Tracey Martin

  Get out. Kill Lucrezia.

  Her addict was gone, if he’d ever been there in the first place. I opened the door wider and stuck my head outside.

  The coast was clear. If Lucrezia was actually here doing work, she was probably on the top floor in the office—a room that had a view down onto the rest of the club. The only way up there was via the locked elevator. Attacking her, therefore, was out of the question.

  On hands and knees, I crawled to the edge of the balcony before realizing I was directly under the office here. Lucrezia couldn’t see me. I got up, my knees shaky. I needed a plan and I needed it fast. The ball of magic I’d created was coming unwound even now. When I couldn’t hold it together any longer, that power was going to explode in me all at once. I’d start humping anything that moved. Or maybe anything that didn’t. I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be picky.

  I grasped the balcony rail, and my gaze settled on the bar area at the far side of the floor beneath me. My phone was there, and so was my knife. Lucrezia had left them on a table. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was all I had.

  Staying low, I took the stairs one trembling step at a time because my body fought every movement. The ache was delicious torture, the longing enough to make my eyes tear. I couldn’t decide which was worse. Everything was too intense—alternately pleasure and agony.

  It took forever to reach the bottom, and the dance floor stretched out before me. I could keep up the stealthy creep, or I could make a dash for the bar. The addict goons were nowhere in sight, and I suspected Lucrezia was keeping them close by in the office. Possibly, she had them on watch duty up there. If that was the case, then running was my best option because they’d see me any second.

  I gritted my teeth, channeling my fury at Lucrezia. I needed the speed, but more than that—this was going to chafe. My uber-aroused inner thigh area was not going to appreciate running.

  Go. Now.

  I sprinted across the floor and up the few stairs to the bar table where my belongings waited. My fingers fumbled over my phone, and only belatedly did it occur to me to wonder who to call. I might not get more than one shot at this.

  I crashed to the floor, sucking a breath through my teeth, and chose.

  “Jess?” Lucen picked up on the second ring. If The Lair had been busy, it might have gone to voicemail. I wasn’t sure why I chose him when I knew I should have called the Gryphons. I could only assume it was because when my body was alive with desire, Lucen was the person who sprang to mind.

  Alas, his voice alone was enough to melt me. My grip on the curse slipped another fraction. “I need help. Get to Purgatory. Lucrezia’s the one, not Devon. Hurry.”

  “Jess, you okay?”

  I groaned, grasping blindly over my head until my hand found my knife. “No. Hurry.”

  I could hear footsteps, but I couldn’t see who was coming. No matter. It had to be one of the addicts, who were as interchangeable to me as they appeared to be to Lucrezia. I shoved the phone aside, hoping Lucen understood, and pulled Misery from the sheath.

  Don’t bring a knife to a gunfight. Oh well.

  Back on my hands and knees, I crawled away from the table. I needed to buy time until Lucen could get here, and that meant I needed to go somewhere I’d be safe. I could scramble for the exit, but I’d already been captured once that way and I didn’t relish the idea of running around in public in my current state. I was liable to assault someone.

  So what I needed then was to get someplace where Lucrezia’s goons couldn’t reach me. The basement. Once I was beyond the wards designed to keep out pesky humans, I’d be safe. Lucrezia could get to me, but she’d have to make the effort herself. It would take time, and unless she wanted to shoot me, she’d have a problem. As long as I had my knife, she’d be extra careful about getting close.

  Somewhere behind me, the footsteps grew louder. Holding my breath, I tucked myself into a nook behind the bar. The floor was gritty and the tile worn, the confinement most unpleasant.

  “Where are you?” the addict muttered. His feet were close. I could smell him—smoke and beer, like a walking bar. In my cursed state, the combination didn’t rankle as much as it normally would have. Give me enough time and nothing would. I’d be like the Newton or Wonderland victims—willing to screw a corpse.

  Stop Lucrezia. Focus. Fight.

  And there he was. I sprung before the addict could react and threw myself into him. We tumbled backward, but this guy was well trained, and I was pathetically uncoordinated thanks to the curse. He deflected my arm with the knife easily. I tried to jerk out of his grip, a move that should have been simple, but he was too strong and too ready. Instead, I wrestled with him, which didn’t work so well for me.

  He didn’t smell as good as Andre, or look as good as Andre, but to my drugged-out, cursed-out body, those were minor details. His arms were wrapped around me, trying to hold me and force me to drop the knife. All those hard muscles rubbing me were a distraction. I fought my urges as much as I did him. No surprise, I didn’t fare well against both opponents at once, but I had a couple advantages—I had a knife, and he had balls. He couldn’t dodge my weapon and my knee at the same time.

  As soon as he went down, I raced for the door that led into the basement. It was off the main room, in a darkened bar. Light seeped around the entryway, but I banged my leg on a chair nonetheless. Surprisingly, the pain helped me focus. Apparently there was nothing erotic about a throbbing shin, not even while strung out on F.

  But although that was a good thing to learn, I realized my mistake as I crashed into the storage room door. Last time, it had been locked.

  Cursing in desperation, I yanked on the handle anyway and the door flew back. So did I since I hadn’t been expecting it. Maybe the door was unlocked because the club was closed. Maybe I’d finally caught a lucky break. I didn’t care so long as I was in.

  I turned on the light and darted down the winding stairs behind the shelves. Just like last time, an eerie blue glow lit the way and the humidity rose as I descended. I could feel the wards and compulsions that Devon and Lucrezia set creeping over me. My skin tingled with power. Two pairs of invisible hands seemed to grasp hold of me, one squeezing my mind, the other pushing me back the way I’d come.

  Last time I’d fought the magic, it had been a struggle. This time, it was much easier. It was as if the magic recognized me. I’d been down here before, and if I’d managed it once, then I’d been accepted. With a pop, like a change in air pressure, the compulsion released me.

  I stumbled deeper into the basement and caught my breath. My body raged with Lucrezia’s curse and the F, but for the moment I had time to breathe and fight it back down. The ball of power burned in my stomach, tendrils of magic escaping. One wormed its way into my groin—an unpleasantly arousing reminder of what was to come when I no longer had the energy to hold the worst of this at bay.

  Meanwhile, above, heavy feet clunked around on the landing. I froze, waiting and watching the stairs.

  It sounded like the addict kicked something, and he cursed. “Where the fuck did you go?”

  Another bang rang out, then the footsteps disappeared. It was almost as though he couldn’t actually see the stairs. Interesting. Maybe the compulsion worked that way.

  I crumpled to the concrete floor in the shadow of the sarcophagus farthest from the elevator. My whole body trembled, and beneath the painfully unfulfilled erotic energy in me, I detected the stirrings of a headache. Whatever magic I possessed, I was using a lot of it to fight Lucrezia’s curse.

  My reprieve down here was only temporary too. I had as long as it took the addict to admit defeat, find Lucrezia, and for her to figure out where I was. Rubbing my temples, I wished I hadn’t dropped my phone during the struggle upstairs, and I wished I knew how Andre was faring.

  Seconds passed like minutes. In the dark and quiet, my mind raced. Had Lucen unde
rstood my message? Was help really coming? Or were Andre and I destined to die here, one way or another? I was out of ideas and overmatched. My ability to resist Lucrezia’s curse would take her by surprise, but she maintained the advantage. I was too weak to fight much more.

  As I waited for my doom, my gaze fell on the nearby sarcophagus. Inside the cocoon-like shell it held, a human was dying and a satyr was being born. Had I gone through that process? And was my part-satyrness the reason Lucrezia’s magic wasn’t working as effectively as it should?

  My freakishness had both gotten me into trouble then saved my life with Victor. The scales were even. But if it was helping me resist Lucrezia’s curse, I’d have to admit it was useful, and I didn’t like that.

  But maybe I was getting ahead of myself. I hadn’t survived yet.

  The elevator opened, and I tensed. Climbing to a better position, I adjusted my grip on the knife and peered out from around the sarcophagus. Lucrezia strolled into the room, carrying a gun.

  Puzzlement spread across her beautifully evil features as she approached. “How, pet? How do you do it? I should have known when Devon told me someone got past the wards that he was referring to you, and here you go again after I just strengthened them, and you’re resisting my spells. What is wrong with you?”

  “What is wrong with you?”

  “Cute. You know this is nothing personal. I’m trying to save my people.”

  I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. The closer Lucrezia got, the harder it became to keep my control over the curse. It had to be her satyr power—it was affecting me the way satyr magic used to, before I became numb to it. It was somehow mixing with the F and pitching my arousal to an even higher level. I should have expected as much.

  I backed away, keeping low to the floor. My fingers were perfectly positioned around the knife, and I was ready to spring. I would only have one chance. Lucrezia’s gun aside, being close enough to hurt her was going to push me into no-return territory. Even now, the fingers on my empty hand opened and closed, rubbing against my leg. If I wasn’t touched soon, if this itch wasn’t scratched, I was going to have a breakdown. It fucking hurt.

  Lucrezia realized my dilemma. “Is this what it’s going to take, pet? Am I going to have to watch you and that Gryphon screw to death to make it happen? You have no idea how unpleasant it is for me to be around that much lust. It’s like gorging on sweets. It makes me ill. But if that’s what must be done…”

  She pointed the gun at me and motioned for me to get up, but I didn’t move. “Go ahead. If you’re going to kill me, I want it over with faster.”

  Lucrezia flinched. I’d called her bluff, and she wasn’t sure what to do. Shooting me ruined her ability to use my death as another strike against Angelia.

  In the silence that followed her hesitation, someone shouted upstairs. “Crezi, where are you?”

  Devon was here.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Lucrezia swore, but I tried not to get my hopes up. “You’re lucky I left the disorientation curse in my office or I’d hit you with it. Don’t even think about yelling or going up there, pet. John is waiting at the top of those steps. He has orders to shoot you if necessary, although I hope it doesn’t come to that. I have other ways of making you cooperate.”

  She took off upstairs, and I loosened my grip on the knife as her footfalls vanished. Don’t even think about it—yeah, right. The addict who was supposed to have been guarding me and Andre in the Blue Room hadn’t done a very good job. So like I wouldn’t test her this time?

  There was only one way to find out if she was lying. I was going after her.

  Just not yet. First, I needed to recover. The effects of her magic lingered in my blood, and I didn’t have the strength to call out to Devon.

  Although I worked to push the curse away once more, this time even less obeyed my will. More tendrils of magic slipped out, entwining themselves around my body. It was hard to breathe, and I grasped the edge of the closest sarcophagus as my knees weakened. Oh, God. I wanted nothing more than to collapse to the floor.

  My eyes closed, and I focused on my breathing. Anger. I needed anger or some other negative emotion to boost my power, but I couldn’t summon enough. Nor could I focus for long. My mind wandered to Lucen. I wanted him here so badly. Where was he? Why was Devon here instead?

  I must have spaced out again, like I had with Andre. Next thing I knew, someone was pounding down the stairs. A moment later Devon appeared around the corner.

  “Jess!”

  I turned dumbly to him, sensing his clove-tinged magic sweep over me. Don’t come any closer, my brain screamed. But my mouth wouldn’t obey. It didn’t want to.

  Not that he would have listened.

  Air caught in my throat, and I moaned before he touched me. I couldn’t hold it together any longer. He was too close, and even without the F, his magic had affected me for unknown reasons.

  As Devon knelt in front of me, the curse unleashed all at once. I grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and pulled him closer. He lost his balance, falling into me where I was pressed against the sarcophagus. His body was so warm, so what I needed. I stretched my neck, straining to reach his lips. The tension in me grew more intense by the second. I needed more. I needed it now.

  Devon didn’t fight me. The scruff on his chin scraped my skin as he kissed me back. His lips were as insistent as mine, and he tasted so good. He’d regained his balance, and his one hand pressed against my cheek, gliding his thumb over my skin. With his other, he squeezed my hip. The pressure from his fingers seemed to send shock waves straight to my groin. Wrapping my legs around him, I arched my back to get closer.

  Then he stopped abruptly and pulled away, breathing heavily. “Jess, you’re making it very difficult to help you.”

  I struggled to find a better position while my hand slid down to where his erection strained against his pants. More heat spread between my legs, encouraged by my discovery. So much for his protesting. The restraint he was exercising couldn’t hide the raw desire on his face or the way his body throbbed beneath my hand. “Please, I need you. This is helping.”

  This was all that was helping anymore. Lucrezia was a distant memory, so unreal. All that mattered was satisfying this craving. Every nerve ending had ignited. I was going to scream, and the pain wasn’t the good sort. Any real pleasure had fled. My body was on fire, and I needed him to put it out.

  Devon took my hands and flattened me against the sarcophagus. Not the best move on his part because I could feel his arousal pushing into me, and it worsened my own. His eyes burned, their normal pale blue almost silver in the basement’s creepy lighting. “I can help you, but you have to hold still for a minute.”

  “I can’t. Please.”

  “Yes, you can.” He adjusted his arms, pinning both of mine with one of his own. Then he kissed me again. Harder. His mouth tugging on my lips as though trying to fight mine into submission. His power was all I could breathe. My body shook and my eyes watered. But it wasn’t enough. Nothing would be.

  Cool glass touched my cheek. Once more, Devon pulled away and I whimpered. “You need to drink this.” He held up a small vial filled with pinkish liquid.

  “What is it?”

  “Something Azria cooked up,” he said, referring to one of the satyrs who acted as their healer. “After the first incident here, you gave me the idea that it would be smart to find a counter-charm in case it ever happened again. She’s been looking into remedies for me.”

  “Are you sure it works?”

  Devon smiled grimly. “To be honest, I’m not sure it won’t kill you, but I’m sure you’ll die if it doesn’t work. So bottoms up. Be a good girl and take your medicine.” He twisted the cap off with his thumb and forefinger. With his other arm, he continued to hold me down.

  I nodded. Devon flicked the cap to the floor, and I let him pour the co
ntents in my mouth. I gagged. It tasted awful, reminiscent of cough syrup, but I forced myself to swallow.

  “That good, was it?” He watched me with a wary expression but didn’t ease up.

  “You tasted better.”

  “That should be stating the obvious. How are you feeling?”

  I shrugged but the motion didn’t get me very far. Devon was stronger than he appeared, and I couldn’t move. “How long should it take?”

  “No idea. I’m afraid you’re the guinea pig.”

  “Great.” Yet as I spoke, it dawned on me that the counter-charm must be working. I’d managed something like an actual conversation with Devon. I’d focused. Plus, I could feel the cold, rough stone of the sarcophagus digging into my back, the unpleasant way my knees were twisted beneath me, and the headache slowly kicking up a fuss in my brain.

  Incredibly strong lust still raged within, but the pain of it—the overstimulation that had been driving me mad—was subsiding. I was no longer so desperate for sex I’d have done anything, or anyone, to get it.

  No, now I merely wanted the guy in front of me with his clove-scented pheromones and the surprisingly sweet concern on his face. It was an expression I’d never seen on Devon before, and damned if it didn’t turn his attractively average face into something undeniably hot.

  “You can let go,” I said, although part of me would much rather he not. “I have control again.”

  Devon seemed to consider, no doubt assessing my emotions for himself, then he removed his arm. “What do you know? I’ve got to give Azria more credit, assuming you don’t drop dead in the next few minutes. Glad I stopped by her place after leaving The Lair.”

  I slumped against the sarcophagus and stretched my aching legs. Without Devon touching me, more of the lust lifted. My brain was clearing too. I could think straight again, although that didn’t feel like such a great thing at the moment.

  Blood rushed to my face as I realized what I’d done. “Oh, shit. I am so sorry about what just happened.”