by Anthology
He waved that off.
Why had he given her the stupid pendant?
It was old. She could feel the age of it. Decades, centuries ago someone had forged this. She touched it again felt the ridges on the metal.
“It’s from our people,” he said noticing her fingers working the pendant.
“I know, or I can feel it. Thanks. Who gave it to you again?” she asked examining the medallion with a strange circular symbol on it.
“An elder. Now can we change the subject?”
She put the pendant onto the chain already around her neck. He watched her and finally nodded. When she had it on, she hid the medallion under her shirt. “You’re very confusing. You might have more people want to work with you if you were friendlier.”
He could only stare at her. “Like recognizes like, eh?”
“Probably.”
He shook his head. “So the witch is hunting him?” he asked again. “I still don’t get it. Why?”
“Revenge?” She shrugged. “He did lock her up for a long time.”
“Probably the most likely reason, but she could have stayed free if she stayed under the radar.”
“Either way, we need to tell Frankie about Henri.”
They walked on. She and Grayson did, upon occasion get along.
“I won’t stay long,” he said softly.
She considered him. “Okay.”
People passed them on the street. Colorful shutters and houses darkened in the growing night as thunder rumbled over the city.
“I hope this guy makes you happy,” he added.
She stopped on the sidewalk just a few doors down from Frankie’s. “Are you feeling all right?”
“Yes.” He frowned, a muscle jumping in his square jaw. “Why?”
“You’re being all…” she waved a hand. “I don’t know. Nice.”
He pulled back a bit. “Nice? I’m never nice. Don’t ruin my reputation.”
She laughed. “You know what I mean. I don’t do change well. I’m used to Angry Grayson, not Nice Grayson.”
He narrowed his gaze at her.
They both turned and walked on, reaching the steps just as the first raindrop hit.
She knocked but there was no answer. She knocked again.
“Maybe he’s not home,” Grayson said.
Or maybe he has a blonde in there.
She tried the door. “Frankie?”
There was a muted thump and a crash.
She tried the door again. “Frankie.”
Then the locks clicked and the door swung open. She stepped inside, drawing her sword.
Frankie swung from the banister, his arms raised high. Beside him and just behind him was a woman.
“Why are they always blondes?” she asked.
“That’s the first thing you wonder?” Grayson asked. “I’m wondering how she looks like you.”
“No she doesn’t.” She glanced at Grayson to see him looking from her to the woman.
She ignored him and turned back to Frankie.
He blinked and then blinked again. His lips were moving but no sound immerged.
“He’s a little tied up right now,” the woman said, stepping to the side. “But you and I can play. I can save your friend for later. I do love a good fae.”
“Screw you,” Grayson said.
The woman laughed. “We might could do that as well. But now I want to play with her.” The witch pointed to Devon.
“With me? Fine. I’ll play with you.”
They slowly advanced until met in the middle of the entryway, and a rush of power passed over and through Devon like a hot breeze. She ignored it and rolled her wrist with the sword, then drew the other one as well from the cross scabbards on her back. Her short swords were what she always traveled with. Thankfully, she’d grabbed them on her way out of the attic earlier.
Again the witch muttered something and a hot breeze blew across Devon’s body. She brought the sword up, slicing out. Bianca jumped back but not before the edge nicked her across her pretty cheekbone. Red welled and trickled down.
“You did not just cut me.”
“Your blood flows because of me. I drew first blood. There’s power there, no?”
The witch’s eyes glowed a bright blue-green. “You’ll pay for that.”
“Yeah?”
The witch again raised her hand. Devon slashed out again, this time catching the woman across the back of the hand. “Seems like you’ve been playing with my friends. I can play too.”
She spared a quick glance to Frankie, saw his lips still moved but this time he whispered.
“Damn it, Dee!” Grayson snarled. He pulled his gun, she knew the sound of his gun leaving his leather holster. Grayson always had a gun. She did too.
She probably should have used hers. She danced and parried against green lights the woman tried to hurl at her. Diving into the living room, one of the bright orbs barely missed her. The heat from it singed a line across the couch.
The soul thief muttered something else and Grayson went flying across the room to slam into the Christmas tree.
She wanted to get closer to Frankie to cut him down. Devon leapt through the doorway and rolled. Hot bursts hit the floor beside her. She stood but one caught her and she flew through the air and slammed into the wall next to the stairs. At least she was closer.
Frankie’s eyes burned into her, and she ignored it. She danced over to him, dodging the flying balls of light. Still feeling the charms or spells or whatever pas through or over her in a warm breeze. Why they didn’t stick she didn’t know, nor did she care.
“That’s all you got?” Finally, she was close enough to slice out on her way by him. He crumpled to the floor. She noticed the dagger sticking out of his chest.
Grayson yelled. “Try to stay out of the line of fire, please.”
“Same goes. You can shoot at any time.”
“Really?” he yelled. “If you’d stop getting in the way—”
The banister shattered above her head. Devon tucked and rolled, then ran.
She ignored him and continued to duck and dodge the green balls of light or power or whatever they were. The first wave of power had washed over her with little result. The green balls of light though, burned when they got too close.
The woman was blonde with craze-filled eyes. “I have so much power, little fae. I could teach you many, many things.”
“Branding and binding isn’t really my thing,” she said, slashing out again when she got close enough to the witch. She slashed at Bianca’s arm and caught the right shoulder deep. Good.
This time the woman screamed. “You cannot kill me!”
Another ball of light was hurled at her. Devon barely ducked in time, hitting the floor hard enough one of her swords went spinning across the entryway.
She rolled onto her back and sprung up just as the soul eater came flying at Devon. Bracing, she swung up with her last sword, catching the witch across her abdomen. A shot rang out. The witch froze, and wavered.
A dagger flipped past her from behind, end over end through the air to imbed in the witch’s chest.
The woman looked at the dagger then Frankie.
Grayson shot her again and she jerked.
“Soul eaters are fucking evil,” Grayson said.
“We own souls. Good or bad, it doesn’t matter,” the voice gargled out.
“He has a thing for blessed and sacred firepower,” Devon told the witch.
Frankie gasped a breath and she heard him whispering.
“How the hell do we kill it?” Grayson asked.
Take the head, burn the witch…
The witch started to smile, then laugh. “You can’t kill me. I’m too powerful.”
Devon planted her foot and swung her sword with all her might. The sword cut into the soul eater’s neck with more ease than Devon anticipated. The witch’s head flew off, bouncing and rolling across the floor even as her body thudded to the floor.
For a moment time froze, silence sucked the air out of their lungs.
Suddenly, shrieks and screams filled the air, growing louder and louder. The light and air shifted. Lightning shot from the sky to grip the witch’s body on the floor.
Blue and green lights swirled and shot from the body even as the shrieks grew. And grew. Devon tried to get to Frankie, but the sound…
She slammed her hands over her ears, even as she was shoved toward Frankie.
The blue and green lights grew bright and brighter. She could see faces and limbs in the glowing fog. More and more faces streamed past her, yelling, growling, and shrieking.
Hands pulled her down and bodies covered her as the screams peaked in a crescendo until she thought her ears would bleed.
The explosion ripped the walls down, glass shattered. She screamed, but it was lost in the cacophony of freedom and death.
Silence settled like the softest of falling snowflakes. Slowly, Devon opened her eyes. Particles floated in the dying glow, suspended in the air.
Freedom and death.
Hands pulled her to her feet. Two male bodies stood beside her.
She could only look from one to the other. Frankie was pale, a bloodstain on his torso, another trickle of blood along his cheek. His fangs were descended. Grayson had a bit of blood behind his ear and various cuts and scrapes along his neck and arm. She could only blink. The ringing in her ears finally quieted and she realized they were talking to her.
“Are you okay?” Grayson asked, reaching for her.
“Bloody hell, say something.” Frankie stood in front of her, glaring.
She blinked, blinked again and glanced around. The body was gone. The head was gone. The weird glow and screams was gone.
“Was that—“ she tried. She licked her lips and tasted blood. Her lip was bleeding.
“Souls.”
They all looked around, silent, staring at the destruction. The railing to the balcony hung over the mouth of the entry. Glass shards sparkled from everything and from every surface. The draperies in the living room were shredded, part of them puddled on the wooden floor. Black scorch marks scarred the once shiny wooden floors. One wall leaned crookedly.
“Your house is trashed, man,” Grayson said.
She wasn’t sure who started laughing, but soon they were all laughing.
9
They didn’t make it to the bed of the hotel room. Frankie had her pressed against the door as soon as he’d shut it.
Her mouth fought his, as they got lost in the kiss. The kiss engulfed him from her mouth, to spread all over his body. Like the beginning point of a large electrical storm. Energy charged from their joined lips.
“I want you, Dev. I want to kiss you until you can’t breathe, taste your skin to make sure it’s as sweet as I remember. I want to touch ever inch of you until you’re begging.”
She broke from the kiss, nipping at his lips. “I don’t beg. But I can make you beg.” She wrapped her legs around his waist and tightened her thighs as she rose up and raked her fingers through his thick dark hair. “I like you begging.”
“A challenge. Who will beg first?”
“Ah but that’s the fun part,” she said between kisses along his jaw to his mouth.
He carried her toward the bed. They stopped in the middle of the suite. “I hate hotels.”
She pulled back from the kiss. “Well, we have had a hard and difficult night. Battles and witches. Death and magic. I suppose we could just postpone—“
He sucked her bottom lip between his teeth. “Bite your tongue.”
“Isn’t that your job?”
He smiled, surprised he could. He took a deep breath remembering her fighting the demented witch. The image of her flying through the air and then slamming into the wall would be one he’d never get out of his head. “Don’t scare me like that again. Not ever again. I thought she’d kill you.”
“Me?” She tilted her head. “I wasn’t the one tied up and bloody.” She patted the now healed wound on his chest. He did heal fast.
He took a deep breath.
“I still can’t believe you thought she was me.”
She was not going to let him forget that anytime soon he feared.
“She did appear remarkably like you. One might even say she was the best at her glamor charms.”
She cocked a brow. “Glamor is not me.”
“She was practically you.”
“No she wasn’t.”
“I beg to differ. Your Grayson was confused when he walked into my entry. I saw his face.”
“Yes, but he knew I was me.”
“He was still confused.”
“Why could I see her as she was and you and he didn’t?”
“I don’t know,” he said, wondering at that.
She shrugged. “You should have known.”
“I did. Eventually. But it was too late.”
“Really?” she asked.
“She didn’t smell like you when she leaned close.”
“But by then she had enchanted you.” She tapped his head. “You should think with your big brain, Frankie.”
He narrowed his gaze. “Caught me by surprise.”
She kissed his jaw. “Potato. Potahto.”
He kissed her back.
“At least,” she said, nibbling along his jaw, “all the flying glass didn’t kill us or harm us.”
“After our epic battle? We’ll not die by flying glass.”
“Or angry souls.” She tightened her thighs and moved up slightly, then back down, rubbing against him. “We might die of fucking each others brains out.”
“I can think of many worse ways to go.”
She laughed, then reached up and felt his fangs.
He hadn’t fed in awhile. He slowed, calmed and drew back until he stared down at her. “I should feed.” So he didn’t feed from her. He wouldn’t ask that of her.
She glanced toward the door they’d just come through. “I don’t think you have time. Daylight awaits.” She tightened her legs more. “To bed you. If you need blood, I have plenty.”
He froze, every muscle in his body icing. Even his body temperature seemed to drop. “Devon.”
“It’s not like you haven’t before.”
It had been a long time. A very long time. He remembered what she tasted like, spice and sweet all rolled into one. He cleared his throat. “You’ve lost blood yourself and don’t need to lose anymore.”
She shrugged. “I’ll be fine.”
He wasn’t sure either of them would ever be fine.
She took his face between her palms. “Frankie, I’ll be fine. You’ve fed from me before. I know it’s been awhile. If you really don’t want to, we can probably call someone.”
“I want to, I just…”
“Then it’s fine.”
Sighing, he kissed her forehead and wrapped his arms around her. He wasn’t going to quibble now. She’d always fit perfectly against him. He wanted to go slowly, but she rarely wanted anything slow.
She grinned at him and ripped the shirt from his pants as she opened it, scattering the buttons. “That’s my,” he tried around her kisses, “last shirt.”
“We’ll get you more.”
Clothes flew, some in pieces, others in piles. He set her down to get rid of her jeans and winced at the blood matted into one of the pants legs.
“I’m fine, Frankie,” she said, raking her fingers through his hair. He picked her up and carried her to the bed where he tossed her down.
“Hey!” she said laughing. “You’ll pay for that.”
“Promises, promises.”
They fought and tangled, laughed and kissed until their breaths mixed and melded, joined and retreated. Tossing and rolling until he slid deep inside her. He closed his eyes and groaned at the exquisite feel of her hot and wet around him.
How in the hell had he forgotten how perfectly they fit together?
For the first time since he’d seen her walk back into
his life, she stilled, froze.
He gazed down at her beneath him, her blue gaze bright and welcoming. He could see so much in the depth of her eyes.
“Too fast?” he asked, as still as she.
She shook her head, cupped his face in her palm and moved under him. She squeezed her inner muscles, tightening around him, grinning when he hissed.
“I want to enjoy this,” he told her.
“Oh we’re going to enjoy this.” She moved again. “Over and over and over.”
He laughed as he lowered his head and kissed her. “Are we?”
“Yes. Again and again and again.” She kissed him back and arched her neck as he moved within her. “That is, if you’re very, very good.”
“A challenge,” he whispered against her neck, feeling her pulse against his lips.
He licked the skin, so sweet with a hit of vanilla and citrus. He breathed deep, felt her move under him again. His gums tightened as he fangs descended even more.
“Are you certain?” he asked her, stilling for a moment.
She caressed his face. “Yes.” She turned her head to expose her neck more and wrapped her legs around him, locking her ankles in the small of his back.
He kissed her, tasted the skin of her neck before he pierced the skin. Her blood was hot and sweet, still with a hint of spice in his mouth.
She moaned and moved again even as he stroked within her. He took what he needed, then sealed the small wounds with his tongue. She shivered under him, around him and tightened again. He thrust deep, smiling as she moaned.
He loved making love to her. He had always loved making love with her. He’d missed this more than he’d ever realized.
They moved together, a dance neither had forgotten, with a precious partner who knew the steps, knew the other, and enjoyed. Their bodies grew slick, the moans and growls fed him as much as her blood.
Her eyes shot open as she whispered, “Francisco.”
She tightened around him, her nails raking his back and he plunged deep getting lost in her, groaning as his own released shot through him.
Time froze. Her heartbeat paused and then kicked up again, thundering in his ears.
Her breath whispered out on small pants.
He dropped his head beside hers and rolled them.
He had missed her. Missed her more than he’d ever admitted to anyone. When both of them could breath again, he said, “You stole my heart you know. One glance from you and there it went.”
