attracts the finest and freakiest Melbourne has to offer, and the line was a flashbulb forest of Lycra-bursting breasts, tanned female legs in fishnets, buffed boy muscles in rainbow colors, and the glitter, glass, and glamour of gorgeous fae. The hottest action, the coolest drugs, the most expensive drinks in town—the Court had it all.

  The other thing about Unseelie Court

  is that on paper it was neutral territory. Owned by neither DiLuca nor Valenti, it wasn’t off-limits to anyone, so either everyone was safe or everyone was fair game, depending on which way you looked at it.

  I ducked under the rope, attracting some envious glares and a sneer or two. It wasn’t actually true that you couldn’t get in unless the bouncers thought you were hot. But it was a useful myth for management to foster, and in any case, I had a certain advantage when it came to first impressions.

  I stalked up and smiled at the big black-shirted troll on the door, igniting my glamour with a crackle of static. “I’m expected.”

  He flushed darker green, his beady gaze fixed on my chest, the vein in his biceps pulsing. “Sure, honey. Go on in.”

  I winked. “Thanks, big guy.”

  He pushed the metal door open, releasing a warm breath of smoke-stained air from inside, and I hopped up the stairs and into the Court.

  Music throbbed, dark art rock, the off-rhythmic beat vibrating in my lungs. The dim air flashed with colored lasers and sweet white smoke. Brilliant strobes stabbed at the shining floor, snapping shots of sinuous bodies moving to the rhythm, glittering off oiled muscles, piercings, lissome limbs, iridescent fairy wings. Along one side, the bar glowed, girls in tight black T-shirts serving colored spirits and sparkling fae-drenched wine.

  Fragrant remnants of my rapture turned heads as I sidled through, and I didn’t stop or look. I thought I looked okay, in a tight black halter dress that reached only halfway down my thighs and a pair of low heels—that is, if you liked skinny, no breasts, bony hips—but I knew they weren’t really looking at me.

  I could do with a fix, after once again so nearly screwing Rajah’s brains out last night—didn’t look like I’d learn the no-Rajah lesson any time soon, not the way he made me ache and burn and moisten—but my golden bangles buzzed, Kane’s slick insistent whisper creeping in my heart. I wanted to scratch myself all over, the pestilent itch of thrall maddening me. It would only get worse until I found Dante DiLuca and did as Kane ordered me. I hankered to hunt down Detective Quinn, too, suck his hate-filled soul into my trap and begin this horrid freedom ritual, but as always, thrall overrode my own wants. My black lust for Quinn’s soul would have to wait.

  I shouldered through to the glowing glass-topped bar, impatient, and ordered a tequila shot, leaning my elbows on the warm surface. The place was pumping tonight, and as usual no one cared much what anyone did or who saw. On a couch in the dim corner, a peach-skinned water sprite with long tapered wings like a dragonfly’s was going down on some moaning mortal girl, her leather skirt twisted around her waist. Her ankles were locked around his slender neck, his long pointed tongue lapping at her glistening sex, feeding. I wondered if she could see through his glamour to what he really looked like, like I could, or whether she just thought she was getting it from some hot mortal guy with an acrobatic tongue.

  My drink came, and I tossed it back, the strong alcohol searing my throat. How should I approach this? How smart was this Dante anyway? Rapture didn’t work too well on vampires. Perhaps a direct come-on was too overt. Then again, notorious vampire gangsters are still just men in the end: when it comes to thinking, it’s dick first, fangs second, brain a distant third.

  I ordered another drink, relaxing the curve of my back on the bar while I waited. Against the wall at the end, a half-naked shaven-headed guy with the body of an athlete took a panting blood fairy from behind, pumping into him with fingers clenched on his narrow hips. Sanguine sweat trickled on the fairy’s naked back, his wings glowing crimson, wet dark hair falling in his face.

  “Let me get that.”

  I watched them, fanning myself with my hand. Damn, it was hot in here. I realized someone had spoken. “Huh?”

  “I said, let me get us a few drinks so I can work up the courage to hit on you.” The voice was amused, unruffled, a touch of sexy continental Italian.

  I turned, and a short rebuff died on my lips. He was cute. Sweet smile, neat dark curly hair just right for crushing, the most amazing indigo eyes. Expensive clothes, dark shirt and trousers on a tight, fit body. Great ass. A hint of fresh scent that warmed my belly. No, he was more than cute. Sexy, in a nonchalant I might not be Rajah, but that doesn’t mean I’m not hot kind of way.

  Guess my rapture must still be showing. I sighed, regret stinging. “Look, you don’t understand. I’m not really . . . This isn’t really me, okay? You’d be disappointed.”

  The bar girl delivered my shot. I gulped it, fire flowing into my blood, and he gestured for another. “I don’t think so. I have a pretty good idea what to expect, and I still really want to hit on you, Jade.”

  I suddenly realized my bangles no longer clamored quite so loud, and I flushed, my nerves twisting. Jesus. Did I have to screw everything up?

  He just held out his hand, rings glinting. “Dante.”

  I took it, hoping I could repair my mistake. He kissed my hand, just the briefest brush of warm lips before he released it, and faint warmth flooded my cheeks. From any other guy, the hand-kissing thing was trying way too hard. This Dante did it like he wasn’t thinking, like I just deserved it. Smooth.

  Sharp teeth glistened at the corners of his mouth, and I smiled in return, uneasy. At least he had manners. “I’ve heard of you.”

  “Really? What did you hear?” He leaned toward me, his forearm on the glass bar, and then he grinned, bashful, and dropped his gaze for a moment. “No, scratch that. Let’s talk about you. What brings a girl like you to me?”

  I laughed. They were all the fucking same, even charming ones like this. “Yeah, I bet you know a lot of ‘girls like me,’ right?”

  “You mean touched with sorrow? Wasted? Unfulfilled?” His blue gaze didn’t waver, and for an instant my insides lurched like I was falling, drowning in warm indigo bliss.

  I shivered, pleasured, and tossed my head with a nonchalant laugh. “Wow. You work fast, Dante DiLuca.”

  “Only when there’s no time to waste.”

  “Really. So what’s your hurry this time?”

  The bar girl brought the drinks, only it wasn’t tequila but golden fairy wine, fragrant mist wisping from the tall-stemmed glasses. Dante slipped one into my hand, drawing closer to clink his glass against mine. “To get to know you before you get all dutiful on me and go back to Angelo.”

  His closeness warmed me, made me feel good. Not challenging, or frightening, or sexually threatening. Pleasant. Alluring. Moreish. The icy glass stung my lips as I sipped, giddy fae essence leaching from the wine onto my tongue, melting like snow. I vaguely recalled I was supposed to be pretending rebellion. “What makes you think duty means anything to me?”

  He gave a tiny shrug, awareness of his movement washing over me in a rash of goose bumps. “Why else your sorrow?”

  My heart swelled. Jesus. He knew all the right things to say. I’d felt more genuine interest from him in two minutes than I’d had from Ange in a month. And he smelled fantastic, something I couldn’t place, berries or fruit or . . . something.

  Concentrate, Jade. This guy’s dangerous. You’re supposed to be getting information out of him, not gazing into his pretty vampire eyes. Make him try harder, uncover himself, let something slip.

  I shrugged, light and heady. “Maybe I had a lousy day, and I’m just looking for some fun.”

  Dante laughed, a glint of fascination brightening those wonderful eyes. “Five people dead last night in a street fight your idea of fun, Jade? Such charming chaos. I knew I’d like you.”

  The war had started, then. I hadn’t heard about any fight last night, but Ange sure wasn’t in a good mood when I left him. I shook my head and laughed, like it was all too complicated for little old me. “Don’t blame me for your gang bullshit.”

  Dante leaned closer, confidential. “Why not? It wasn’t me who accused Angelo of having a small dick. Nice play, by the way. Is it true?”

  So he’d heard about my quiet conversation with Ange. Great. I drank again, trying to look uninterested, and obligingly my mind swayed and drifted loose. “You’re giving me too much credit. The boys are restless, that’s all. If they don’t rip a few DiLuca arms off every now and then, they get bored and start breaking things. Nothing to do with me.”

  “Don’t bore me with modesty. Actions have consequences. If you want to play, you’ve got to be prepared to lose.”

  A pleasant buzz drifted in my head, whether from the wine or Dante I couldn’t tell. He was right. I’d said my lines and taken my chances. Shit, if Ange wanted to get hormonal, so much the better. I sipped and swallowed, steadying myself against the bar. I felt warm, pliant, agreeable, and through a distant fog of apathy, it occurred to me that maybe Dante had put something in my drink.

  He slipped his hand around my waist and tinkled the rim of his glass against mine again. “So do you want to play, Jade? Or are you just a spectator?”

  For a moment I wanted to protest, to say, What the fuck? How dare you? but the truth was, I didn’t mind at all. He made me feel safe, wanted, protected. That bottomless blue gaze flooded mine, his fingers harmless on my waist, and gratitude immersed me, overwhelming. “Umm . . . what did you have in mind?”

  He put his glass aside to grip my chin, gentle but inexorable, as if he needed to make me look at him the way I was staring. “Be mine, Jade.” His whisper was comforting, warm and sweet like honey, mesmeric. “Forget Angelo. Forget Rajahni Seth. Give yourself to me. You know you want to.”

  My lip trembled. I did want to. So help me, I did. Some distant warning of wrongness clamored deep in my skull, and my thrall bangles heated, urgent, but it seemed faint. Inconsequential. I ignored it.

  Dante gave a soft smile and put a finger to his lips, as if to hush me. I watched, fascinated. Now, blood shone on his fingertip, rich dark blood with a coppery scent that made me faintly sick. Horror gripped me with sudden, burning claws as he brought the filth to my lips, but it was too late. I couldn’t move.

  Hot vampire blood ran into my mouth, coating my tongue with salt and rust. My will dissolved, and the first dark sexual glimmer sparkled in his eyes. “Come, Jade,” he whispered, walking me backwards away from the light, “tell me everything.”

  Dante feeds her, just a single burning drop on the tip of his finger, and she sucks it down greedily, her eyes glazing, her tongue lapping and searching.

  “More.” Her whisper is husky and pleading, and Dante smiles softly as he walks her back into the dark. This is only the beginning of her addiction. She’ll need more, crave it, beg him for it. But not now. There’s too much to do, with her body limp and willing under his hands. She isn’t really his type—too skinny, too many bones—but to take what belongs to Kane and Rajahni fucking Seth makes his teeth ache and his cock bend and strain.

  He can’t help but press his body against her, enjoying the pressure of her little breasts, the grind of her hips. Never mind the business with her and Angelo, so painfully transparent, it makes his head ache. She’s so needy, so empty inside. For all her powers—and he can feel them, struggling deep within her like a starving beast—she’s just a lonely, unloved little girl. Easy prey to a sly whisper of charm, a blink of hypnotic suggestion. And then a single drop of lust-drenched blood turns Kane’s spy into Kane’s weakness. It’s all too easy.

  He sniffs at her mouth, teasing himself with a taste of her bloodstained breath. “Tell me what Kane wants.”

  “Poisoned fae,” she murmurs, distracted, her eyes rolling. “He wants to know why you killed them.”

  Irony stings Dante’s throat, sour amusement stinging like bile. He laughs, and nips playfully at her chin, catching it in his teeth and shaking gently. “Fucking demons and their games. Well, it doesn’t matter. Shall we get to know one another?”

  Swiftly he folds her onto the soft white couch, her limbs still strong but pliable, persuadable. Her head falls back against the wall, listless, her forest-brown hair floating on her shoulders. “More,” she pleads again, breathless, her lips shining.

  The urge to take her throbs in his veins. Take her. Taste her. Skin breaking, flesh crushing in his mouth. Shake her throat in his teeth until the tendons rip and the burning blood runs scarlet . . .

  But not yet. There’s too much to be gained from waiting. With the blood already seeping poison into her wits, Jade will tell Kane exactly what Dante wants her to. And—the salty gravy on the feast—this willowy ingénue is in Rajahni’s confidence. Rajahni is planning something. Plans can be spoiled. Jade’s blood will speak to Dante, tell him the truth she won’t dare whisper.

  Dante snarls, hot saliva flowing over his teeth, dripping. Sweat dampens his warming skin. Her carcass is his. He’ll suck blood from her throat, her ankle, the palm of her hand, the core of her dripping sex, tear her skin open wherever it pleases him and she’ll beg for more while she’s screaming.

  But not yet.

  He peels her skirt up to get his mind off her blood, pulling her legs apart and her skimpy black underwear away. Her sex smells fresh, clean, salty, blood pulsing gently in the vein inside her slit. He growls and drags his tongue over her, the hot slick fluid the next best thing. She presses against him, murmuring, offering herself, and he dives his tongue in, searching, tasting, feeling for that tempting pulse.

  She writhes, her murmurs deepening to moans. Her clit hardens under his stroking, her flesh swelling. He burns to pierce it, twist it, feel the orgasmic gush of blood splashing the back of his throat. His cock swells in sympathy, urging him not to stop, to take everything, even if it’s just to spite Rajahni. But if she comes, if he bites that tender little bud to feel it throb, he’ll never stop until he consumes her.

  He drags himself away, aching, his teeth stinging with thwarted anticipation. He cleans her up, wiping away the wetness, and pulls her skirt down before he leaves her to lurk in the darkness, stalking her with hungry eyes.

  “What the fuck was that?” His skinny cousin Joey sidles up to him, black fedora tilted over one unblinking eye.

  Dante grins. “That, Joseph, is an opportunity.”

  Joey’s narrow hands morph to scaly black fins, and he snaps curved talons together like he’s still picking Valenti blood from them. “Don’t underestimate Kane.”

  “Kane underestimates me. Fuck him.”

  “I told you that demon queen’s been sniffing after you. We should do the deal, get her on our side before—”

  “I already told you no.” Dante crunches bitter teeth, his own blood stinging his tongue. Let Angelo fawn to the demon court if he wants to. No demon queen will own the DiLucas, not while Dante lives. He searches the crowd for Jade and steps away to follow her.

  Joey grips his arm with snakeskin webs, the stink of rotten leather rising. “That one’s poison, Dante. You’re crossing the line. Why don’t you let me handle her?”

  Jealousy burns Dante’s blood, and he snaps aching fangs within an inch of Joey’s black-scaled nose. “No. She’s mine.”

  Joey squirms backwards, his neck elongating swiftly like a serpent’s. “Okay, dude. Whatever you say. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Dante wipes his sticky mouth. “You always warn me, Joseph. It’s never stopped me before.” And he grins over his shoulder as he slinks away.

  9

  I sat up with a start, blinking. Unseelie Court

  hove into view, crowded and smoky, lights glowing, music throbbing. My fingers found soft suede upholstery beneath me, my short skirt still in place, my purse mercifully unstolen. I didn’t remember sitting down. Those tequilas must have really gone to my head. I’d vagued out for a minute. Beside me on the pale couch, two girls kissed, spit shining, one’s hand planted firmly between the other’s legs. Looked like I was lucky no one had jumped me while I sat here in a daze.

  I swallowed, my mouth sour, and stood, my legs a little weak but not so unsteady as I’d feared. I wasn’t wearing a watch, so I had no idea what time it was, but the club was still pumping. I had time to do what I’d come for. Detective Quinn would be here somewhere, and his soul was mine. My guts warmed as I thought about it, my pulse quickening, and rapture awoke, snarling within me like a caged tiger.

  I weaved around the ring of sofas and shouldered out onto the floor, through glitter-eyed banshees and rainbow-haired fae, struggling to silence my simmering rapture so no one would notice me. Unseelie Court

  was owned and run by some faceless corporate conglomerate, but the DiLucas hung out here with predictable regularity and Quinn was up to his speed-shiny eyeballs in their graft. He’d be here, and he’d be in the shadows, watching, waiting for some simple, unsuspecting wallflower to try his shallow charm and rough good looks on.

  I climbed metal steps to the shadowy mezzanine. Fae and mortal alike tumbled and giggled on the floor in a haze of chemical mirth, or slumped sluggish against steel chairs, hallucinating, fingers straining for things only they could see. A fat black spriggan waddled among them, stealing, her gnarled fingers crawling into their pockets or snapping off chains and shiny earrings.

  I ventured deeper into the green neon darkness. Against a wall, a muscled vampire in leather nuzzled a naked, groaning mortal boy’s cock, tongue and teeth trailing over the soft-veined skin inside his thigh. That little romance was going only one place.

  Above the narrow doorway to the back room drug shop burned a single ultraviolet fluorescent, bathing smokers, lovers, and junkies in weird violet light—and against the doorframe leaned Killian Quinn, alone, tense and twitchy, a cigarette burning in his hand. I could only hope he hadn’t already gotten off tonight.

  He saw me, and his eyes focused, unmoving. I walked up, letting him survey me with that chilling half disgust, half lust that made me squirm. “Hello, Killian.”

 

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