Wicked Deal (Shadow Guild: The Rebel Book 2) Page 6

  “Wow.” My head felt woozy. We were bound in some cosmic way, two stars spinning through space. I’d suspected we were linked, and this confirmed it.

  There was more to it than just magic, though. I could feel his inherent goodness, somehow. It wasn’t strong or overwhelming—maybe it was even a product of my imagination—but I could feel it.

  I looked up at him. “I sense the kindness in you. You’re not all bad.”

  “You have no idea what I’ve done.” The shadows in his voice made me shiver. “The atrocities you imagine that Vlad the Impaler committed? Worse. Ten times worse.”

  I swallowed hard and looked away.

  “Focus,” he ordered.

  I blinked, trying. Work was safer than he was.

  Visions flashed through my mind, and I tried to hone in on one in particular, a woman with dark hair who’d sat here last.

  “It’s working,” I said.

  “Good. Focus on the feeling of control. On where your magic is coming from inside you. It will help you in the future.”

  I nodded, doing as he said. “It’s easier this time, but our guy never sat at this table.”

  “That’s fine.” He withdrew his hand, and I felt the strangest sense of loss. “We’ll approach the bar under the pretense of wanting to taste some local wines, and we can ask the bartender.”

  “All right.” I stood, leaving my emptied champagne glass on the table. I hated to leave the rest of the bottle, but there was no way I could drink more and still take care of myself, even with this enchanted dress. “Let me use the facilities, and I’ll join you.”

  He nodded.

  I turned and strode toward the toilets, finding them without too much trouble. As I passed the men’s room, I trailed my hand along the wooden door. Had our guy touched it? I used my new control to focus on the faces, but there were too many, a jumble of images I couldn’t decipher.

  I headed to the women’s room, determined to practice more. Another patron was standing at the sink when I entered. Her eyes met mine in the mirror, and she gasped.

  “You!” she said, her accent light and unfamiliar.

  “Me?”

  She turned to face me, swaying slightly and clearly a little bit tipsy. “You’re with him.”

  “The Devil of Darkvale.”

  “Yes.” She nodded, her tone wary.

  “I am.”

  “Be careful. He is not what he seems.”

  “I’ve been getting that impression. But who is he?”

  “He’s…you know.” She looked around as if to check that the room was empty. It was so silent that it had to be. “The Impaler.”

  A chill raced through me. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  Did I believe her?

  Yes.

  I’d already known it, even though he’d never confirmed it. And now I was dead certain.

  She was obviously worried about me. Concern radiated from her like perfume. She’d clearly had enough to drink that her guard was down.

  “Just be careful.” Her voice was intense. “He has a terrible past here.”

  “But it’s in the past?”

  “Yes. Long ago, but… those things cannot be forgotten.”

  The chill on my skin grew colder. “Thank you for the warning.”

  She nodded. “I can show you the back way to sneak out, if you want.”

  “Thank you, but I can’t. I am with him for a reason tonight, but I’ll be careful, I swear.”

  She nodded, looking unsurprised, and left.

  I watched her leave, her pink dress glittering under the light, and was struck again by the thought that drunk girls were the best people on earth.

  As I finished my business and tidied up at the sink, I thought of the Devil. Of his many secrets. Of the goodness I’d felt in him when he’d shared his magic with me. But he’d also told me that he was worse than I could imagine.

  Which one was the real man?

  7

  The Devil

  Carrow emerged from the corridor. She glowed with an ethereal light that drew me to her, the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.

  I leaned back against the bar and waited for her. The bartender had asked what I wanted when I’d first approached, but I’d made an excuse. I would wait for Carrow. We would need both of our skills for this.

  My gaze followed her as she walked across the room. So did the gaze of every other man.

  I clenched my fists, fighting back the desire for violence.

  Rational thought pulled me from the precipice. I’d left that part of my life behind. I needed to atone. At the very least, I could refrain from tearing other people’s heads off. I was a pastime I’d once enjoyed, but my cold, dead heart recognized it as wrong.

  Mostly.

  Carrow stopped in front of me. She was close enough now that I could see the shadows in her gaze.

  “Are you all right?” I asked.

  “Fine.”

  Despite her small smile, there was something under the surface. Mistrust?

  I couldn’t blame her. I wouldn’t trust me, either.

  But this seemed newer. Deeper.

  “Let’s do this.” She moved her gaze to something behind me.

  I turned as the bartender approached. She had nondescript features and cunning eyes. Intelligence gleamed in their depths.

  “What can I get you?” she asked.

  Her twin was nowhere to be seen, which made this the perfect time to act.

  I leaned close and pitched my voice low, giving it all my magic. “We are looking for any information on this man.”

  I pulled the picture from my pocket and showed it to her.

  Her gaze blurred at the sound of my voice. She blinked at the image. “I don’t recognize him.”

  The words sounded forced from her. “Don’t try to lie.”

  “I’m…not.”

  “You are.” I pulled the magic from deep inside me and sent it pulsing toward her. It was invisible, but I often imagined it as smoke that they inhaled.

  My compulsion hit her, and her eyes became totally unfocused. “He met Ivan here several days ago.”

  The name punched me in the stomach, but I wasn’t unsurprised. The old bastard was back. “What did they discuss?”

  “I couldn’t hear them.”

  This, I believed. Ivan, a notorious warlord from my past, was clever and careful. I’d put him in the ground centuries ago, but he’d risen, it seemed, and kept all his talents.

  Carrow’s hand crept out. She rested her fingertips against the woman’s forearm and closed her eyes. I felt her magic swell, the scent of lavender rushing over me. I held my breath, not wanting to inhale the sweetly spicy scent for fear of losing my focus.

  “They sat on the other side of the room, across from us,” Carrow said. “Too far for her to hear. But she saw them pass something between them.”

  “Was it a napkin?” I asked.

  “No.”

  The bartender struggled to break free, but I pushed more magic toward her.

  “It was a key,” said Carrow.

  “A key? To what?”

  “I don’t know.” There was truth to her words.

  The bartender’s twin approached from the other side of the bar, returning from her errands. Her sharp eyes narrowed on us, and she strode over, a scowl cutting deep across her face.

  I withdrew my power from the air, calling it back to me. Carrow jerked her hand back, but it was too late.

  “You are not welcome here,” the angry twin said.

  The bartender gasped and glared at us. She raised her hands and gestured, and a band of men stepped from the shadows. No surprise. I’d spotted them when we’d walked in. Perhaps they were Ivan’s men, set to guard his old favorite hangout in his absence.

  Fine. I wanted Ivan to know we were coming for him.

  After all, he was coming for me.

  Carrow

  I turned from the bartenders, spotting the huge men drifting
away from the walls. The guards I’d noticed earlier.

  “Are you ready to use that dress?” the Devil asked.

  I nodded, shaking out my right arm and hoping that the punching charm worked.

  The Devil murmured against my ear, “We need to get to the exit, and we can’t transport out of here because of a protective charm.”

  “I got it.”

  Tension prickled across my skin.

  The men charged—at least eight of them, maybe more.

  The Devil was faster. His movements were a blur, his vampire speed incredible. Within seconds, he’d knocked together the heads of two of the guards. They collapsed like redwoods, unconscious.

  I left him to it, racing for the door. I’d fight if I had to, but I wasn’t going to run straight at the guys like he did. Let him take the worst of the hits.

  My enchanted stilettos gave me Fae agility with the comfort of trainers. I darted around tables with speed and grace. I was nearly halfway to the door when a tall, dark-haired man intercepted me. A small, black table stood between us. I grabbed it and swung it at him, and the legs broke against his chest.

  He growled and reached for me. I shoved the wreckage of the table at him and dodged behind him. When I kicked him in the knee, he went down hard. Sprinting around him, I punched him in the face. The blow landed with a force that shocked me. He grunted, spit and teeth flying.

  “Holy crap.” I spun around, adrenaline keeping me moving. Another guard hurtled toward me. I tried to avoid him, but he was fast. He grabbed me, yanked me against his chest, and wrapped a beefy arm around me.

  Across the room, I saw the Devil dispatch four men, but more were coming at him.

  I was on my own.

  I flicked my wrist, converting my bangle into the dagger like the Fae woman had shown me. The hilt fit easily in my hand. I stabbed over my shoulder, hoping to hit something fleshy.

  The knife hit its mark. The guard roared and shoved me forward. I stumbled but kept my grip on my blade, then righted myself and spun around.

  “You want to play it that way, do you?” He withdrew a knife from inside his suit coat. It was easily twice as long and scary as mine.

  Crap.

  He darted toward me, swiping out with speed and precision. The steel sliced my arm, and pain flared. I yelped and leapt back, taking stock of my surroundings. There was another table, but it was too far away.

  The man advanced, bloodlust in his eyes.

  I’d never been any good at throwing knives, but I was desperate. I chucked mine at him, praying.

  Somehow—by magic or luck or unknown skill—the blade pierced his shoulder. He roared, momentarily stunned. I lunged forward and punched him hard in the face, grateful for my magical Fae clothing.

  Just like before, the man’s head jerked sideways, and two teeth flew out.

  He teetered in front of me. I yanked my dagger out of his shoulder and sprinted for the door, leaping over a fallen chair and swerving around a table.

  Out of the corner of my vision, I caught sight of the Devil. He punched the last guard standing and sprinted for me. I increased my speed. Thanks to the shoes, I was fast, if a bit awkward. I reached the door just as the host stepped out of an alcove.

  The polite man who had welcomed us to the club was gone. He now bore the fiery eyes and furrowed brow of someone out for blood. He raised a massive spiked club, and I skidded to a stop just out of range.

  The Devil hurtled past me, fast and powerful as a freight train. The other man swung the club, but the Devil caught it in one hand. He took a spike to the palm without flinching and slammed his fist into the man’s jaw, sending him toppling backward.

  Blood dripping, he pulled his hand free of the club and stepped around the body. “Come on.” He yanked open the door, and I sprinted through it, racing down the stairs.

  He hurtled after me, and I looked back to see if any guards were following. There were none.

  For now.

  “They’ll recoup and follow.” The Devil held out his hand for mine.

  I grabbed it, and he pulled a stone from his pocket, smearing blood on his trousers. He threw the thing to the ground, and the familiar silver smoke poofed upward. When he dragged me into the vapor, my stomach pitched as the ether spun me through space.

  My feet met solid ground, and I stumbled. Gasping, I pulled my hand away from the Devil’s and looked around. “This isn’t Guild City.”

  In fact, it looked like the same town. There were the same beautiful four-story buildings and cobbled main street, along with the scent of the mountains and the cool breeze.

  “It’s not. We’re staying here.” He pointed to the gorgeous building in front of me. The Crescent Hotel was written in gold over the white exterior. “Come. We should get off the street before someone sees us.”

  I followed him up the stairs and into the fabulous lobby. It was gorgeous, with a marble floor gleaming under the sparkling light of two crystal chandeliers.

  The huge wooden desk was manned by a beautiful woman with sleek red hair and a bright expression. Her eyebrows rose when she spotted us, and she inclined her head. “Welcome, Devil.”

  “Thank you. The rooms are ready, I presume?” The Devil’s words were so smooth and cultured that I couldn't believe it was the same man who’d just torn through a room full of guards like a lion going after a steak buffet. His hand was dripping blood on the floor, but the hotel clerk studiously ignored it.

  She hurried out from behind the desk and waved for us to follow. “I will show you straight to your rooms.”

  We followed her through the lobby and up a lift done in mahogany and gold accents. Within a minute, we were ensconced in a beautiful suite with a view overlooking the city and mountains beyond. Moonlight gleamed brightly over the scene.

  “Please ring if you need anything.” The woman disappeared.

  I turned to the Devil. “You were prepared.”

  “I thought we might need to stay to learn more information.”

  “Hmm.” Again, I got the feeling that he knew more about this than he was letting on.

  His gaze flicked over me, and concern flashed on his face. “Your arm.”

  Fresh pain blazed. I looked down at the gash made by the guard’s dagger. Adrenaline had driven it from my thoughts, but the Devil’s words reminded me.

  “Ouch.” I resisted clapping a hand over it like I might with a smaller cut. This was ghastly. “I might need treatment for this.”

  “I can take care of it.”

  I looked at him, surprised. “What? Really?”

  He nodded.

  “You’re not a nurse. Or a doctor.”

  “No. But I have healing powers.”

  “Oh.” I blinked. “Like what?”

  “Come here.” He gestured for me to step closer.

  “Tell me what you’re going to do.” I looked at his bleeding hand. “Strike that. Fix yourself first, and then I’ll know what’s coming.”

  “Mine will close on its own. Vampire blood has healing properties.”

  He was right. As I watched, the wound appeared to be growing smaller.

  “I promise I won’t hurt you,” he said.

  I could hear the truth in his voice, and my wound stung like hell.

  “Are there any side effects?”

  “No.”

  I drew in an unsteady breath and approached him.

  His gaze dropped to the dripping wound, and his nostrils flared. His jaw tightened, and his eyes flashed. There was something hot and dark and unreadable in his stare.

  My heartbeat picked up the pace. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” His voice was tense, and I swore I could see the slightest bit of his fangs, which were normally retracted. He looked away, his jaw working as he got himself under control.

  Was he turned on?

  Was I crazy for thinking that?

  But his eyes…

  I shivered. “Is it my blood?”

  He nodded sharply. �
��This hasn’t happened in…ever.”

  I swallowed hard. “But there’s something between us.”

  His gaze moved back to mine. Heat crackled between us like lightning. “There is.”

  Cursed Mates.

  I didn’t say it. I couldn’t. Tension had stolen my voice.

  “I won’t bite you without your permission,” he said, his voice rough.

  “I know.” Did I, though? Fear shot through me, followed by desire. “Just heal me, okay?”

  Excitement had me thrumming. I couldn’t help it.

  He nodded sharply and raised his wrist to his lips. His fangs were out. At the sight of them, something inside me warmed.

  He sunk them into his wrist. I winced, but he didn’t so much as flinch. He raised his head. Two pearls of blood had formed on his wrist.

  He held his arm to my lips. “Don’t drink, just lick.”

  Shock raced through me. “What?”

  “You won’t turn into a vampire, but my magic needs to get into your system. Born vampires would anoint the wound with their blood, but I am turned.” His gaze flicked to my lips. “This works better with our kind.”

  “Um…” My gaze dropped to his wrist, and heat flashed through me.

  I felt like an inferno, a blazing desert storm.

  My human side rebelled. This was crazy.

  The magic side of me leaned closer, drawn by the intoxicating scent of his magic and the crimson liquid that beckoned.

  I swiped my tongue over his wrist. The flavor made my head spin.

  A low, rough groan was torn from his throat, a sound so faint I almost didn’t hear it. I lifted my gaze. His head was tipped back, and his eyes were squeezed shut, as if he were in pain.

  Or pleasure.

  He acted as though he hadn’t been touched in centuries, and he wasn’t sure if he liked it.

  “Does it hurt?” I asked.

  “No.” The roughness in his voice was like a caress.

  I shivered and stepped closer to him.

  He straightened and opened his eyes. The pupils were dark and blown out. “Careful.”

  “Of what?”

  “Me.”

  We were so close that I could feel the heat of him. I could smell his fireside scent and see the pulse at his neck. His touch earlier tonight had shown me how good he was. Deep down, at least.