Humans are strange, strange creatures.
They think sex and drugs are ways of feeling more alive.
They’re not.
They are ways of forgetting. Detaching. If only for a little while. Mortal drugs only last minutes in my body, but I’ll take that short time of numbness every chance I get.
The sparking energy between us makes that numbness nonexistent though.
I’m drawn to her. I have her in my hands. And I want more.
My lips press to hers before I ever exhale. Curling smoke slips out between our tongues. She tastes as reckless as she looks: like vodka and honey. I get lost in that intoxicating deliciousness. Her fingers press harder to my jaw, black painted nails stinging into my flesh as she deepens the kiss in a way most human women never do. They don’t take what they want. They don’t realize they can have more.
This forsaken woman takes from me. And I fucking dive into her.
And I almost—almost—feel bad for what I have to do to the beautiful redhead.
I can feel bad all I want, but it doesn’t change the deal my father made with the Thorn King.
A deal’s a deal. And fae never let you back out of a deal.
My fingers push through that thick, soft hair, and when I pull her head roughly to the side, she lets me with the sound of a breathy moan. In my life, women give themselves up like this all the time. But there’s always a little bit of fear that’s edging on their excitement.
That logical fear doesn’t exist in this woman.
A part of her knows what I am. And a part of her doesn’t seem to care if she lives or dies.
She offers the slender length of her pale neck up to my lips, and I can’t help but hold her wild gaze as I go in to taste her even deeper.
Sparkling emerald eyes never do close as my lips press to the curve of her neck. She trembles with a heavy breath. Her pulse thrashes in rhythm with the bass. Something deep inside her, something animalistic, something primal, it knows what I am.
Even if she doesn’t.
Inky shadows flicker across my pale flesh. Hidden dark magic beneath my façade of perfection itches to crawl out. My fangs slide down and sink into smooth flesh as the crowded club dances on. The most delectable blood bursts across my tongue, and the heavy, pounding music continues. Their drinking, kissing, dancing carry on.
While little by little, the beautifully reckless redhead goes slack in my arms.
The softest words slip from her lips beneath the blanket of chaotic music. Even I barely hear it. I almost wish I hadn’t.
“He’s going to kill me.”
I hold her against my chest, hugging her to me in a way that I both love and hate. Because she wasn’t talking about me. She didn’t sayyou’regoing to kill me. She saidhe...
He who?
“Hey, buddy!” A tall man with thin, scratchy tattoo lines inking his arms taps my shoulder.
My attention lingers where his dirty index finger touched my suit jacket. Three specks dust the sleek black material now. His scent taints the cloth.
When I pull my gaze away from the jacket that will now have to be burned, I find myself eye to... single eye with him. A bandana is wrapped around his head, covering his right eye, and this raggedy man is looking more and more like someone I deeply wish hadn’t touched me.
“Can I help you...buddy?” I add his endearment to the end, but it feels foul in my mouth. Too quirky. Disgusting. I hate it.
“Yeah. That’s my fucking girl passed out in your arms.” He points to the girl he so quickly claimed, but he hasn’t swung at me or even attempted to lift a hand to get her back.
“You’re weak,” I tell him.
“Excuse me?”