Chapter 49 #2
I nodded, seeing my chance. “Sure. Lots of things. But you’re more interested in upgrading your impressive powers, right?”
He ran a gray tongue across glistening fangs. “Ordinarily, I’d agree. But you do suck that ball rather nicely…”
“Well, turns out, they’re sort of one and the same…
” Another gulp of liquor, and my blood bubbled, the candles’ flames inching upwards and outwards the more the fires within me rose.
I drew the cup away and lounged back, not wanting to cool whatever power was flowing across me in lava-like waves.
Bryce had once said he feared his “curse” was transferable.
Maybe it was. But it had never hurt me. Maybe I’d been absorbing more and more of it, the closer we became.
Yet another gift from my Bry.
Conrad leaned forward, forehead scrunched. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, my ‘lovers,’ as you call them, all have new gifts. Not quite as impressive as your invisibility… or walking on water. That is what you did that night you took me outside your lab, right?” I dropped my voice into a throaty tenor as I said “took.”
“Yes.” His pupils broadened, swallowing the irises like a shark, and the growing candleflames danced inside them. “I knew it. Your blood enhances paranormals.”
I nodded.
“Are you saying you can give these gifts on purpose?” He leaned back, eyes roving as if lost in thought. “Perhaps you have a bit of Fae in you.” His voice dropped to a thoughtful whisper. “Winterborn’s magic let me share the invisibility for a time.”
I shrugged, drawing his attention back. “I can’t control what power I give.
I think the powers you get are based on your own internal prowess.
” I tried to sound impressed and let my eyes trail up from his feet to his face, as if seeing potential in every line.
“And I don’t know about Fae magic, but I can share my power through physical intimacy, not just blood feeding. ”
He reeled back, suspicion hardening his jaw. “And why would you tell me something like that? Think I’m an idiot, do you?”
Oh shit. “No.” I feigned a sob with my head hanging low. “I just want you to know, you don’t have to hurt me to get it.” I blinked watery eyes at him. “You can be gentle with me instead.”
He arched an eyebrow, and then a lecherous hunger softened his body language until he swayed toward me like a charmed snake. “Perhaps I can learn to be gentle.” His words were slow, swathed in frost as he growled, “But that depends on what other gifts you can give me.”
I swallowed more from the vodka, and to my amazement, as the fired blood passed through my arms, I saw steam rise off my skin in subtle wisps.
“Most develop over time, but I think there’s one I can give you right now. You have tattoos, right?” I asked, knowing damn well his whole body was coated in them. Skulls, guns, blades, skeletons, snakes, you name something nasty, he had it inked on his skin.
“What of it?”
“Did you see Detective Pierce’s jaguar tattoo in the fight back there? He can crush a man’s skull with one punch. He even smashed a hole in the back of your Fae armor with it.”
Conrad nodded. “Go on.”
“That was something I gave him. I made his tattoo like a magical weapon. It was the only thing that saved him from your brother, Raphael.”
He stroked an index finger along the bottom of his chin. “I did wonder how that dumb flatfoot managed to take out my coven’s meanest fighter. Clad in Fae armor, no less.”
“You see? And that was just one tattoo. Imagine what would happen with all yours. Your skin might become bulletproof, or your whole body invincible. Who knows?”
Conrad’s cheeks were reddening as his mind mulled the possibilities. “So I just feed from your wrist”—he smirked—“gently, and this gift will be transferred right now?”
“Yes, your skin might be even tougher than Fae armor.”
Nodding slowly he murmured to himself, “A double layer of magic.”
“Nobody would be able to challenge you.” I sat straighter, pushing out my chest as a let another gush of false admiration tinge my voice.
“Nobody, not Winterborn, not the cops, nobody.” I gulped the rest of the icy vodka, grimacing slightly at the large amount pouring down my throat.
It seemed to help me connect with whatever was brewing under my skin.
He stood and slowly sauntered down the steps. “You’ve tempted me. But if you’re trying to deceive me in some way, if nothing happens immediately after I’ve fed or if I feel unwell in any way, I’ll shout for my men to come in and… react appropriately. Deal?”
“Deal.” I exhaled discreetly. The breath passed my lips like sauna steam, hot on my tongue. I glanced at the candles. Their flames burned high and bright.
Conrad stayed fixated on me, never noticing their increasing roar as he took up my hand.
Fangs at full length, Conrad sank them into my wrist, feeding greedily. I had to look away.
But I felt no pain. No fear. I had a little piece of Bryce with me. I was sure of it now. And the thought brought me some of the comfort I felt in his care. I thought of Bryce and our shared heat, and let my blood temperature rise and rise.
Conrad extracted his bloodied fangs with a gurgle, eyes bulging. His mouth gaped open and closed, probably trying to call for his men.
Instead, he shuddered, his throat spasming, like he’d swallowed my blood down the wrong tube.
He staggered back, hugged his middle, and vomited lava.
It pooled on the grimy flagstones in front of his feet, sizzling.
Lunging with a garbled roar, he clamped his greasy hands round my throat, trying to take me with him as he gasped for air that wouldn’t come through a throat and esophagus closing with burns.
I could see blisters all throughout his open mouth as I grasped at his hands, tugging them apart.
His skin fried where I touched it, the smell like rotten meat on a grill.
I kneed him in the balls, but it only buckled him a moment before he lurched at me again with inky smoke pouring from his ears and nose.
I grabbed the heavy chalice with both hands and thumped it across his temple, stumbling him to one knee. He clutched his throat, gasping, drowning in the fire that was eating him from the inside out as he got back to his feet. Clang! I bashed him again. “That’s for all the kids, you motherfucker!”
As he staggered, he grabbed my dress, yanking me toward him. A stabbing pain radiated through my abdomen, and I looked down to see a dagger buried deep in my gut. Flaming blood spilled from the wound onto Conrad’s black suit pants.
The cloth ignited, and a hissing breath was the only shriek he could make as he reeled backward into a cluster of candles.
Their hot wax merged with his melting skin as he turned into a teetering bonfire.
With a final gasp, he crumpled into a pile, ash and stench bursting from his charred skin in disgusting billows.
The doors battered open, and five bulky coven members raced in, coughing at the smoke. I held up my red-hot palms, and a jet of raging fire devoured them, sending them shrieking to their knees, before they met the same barbecued end as their leader.
The world swayed, and I collapsed. I tried to drag myself toward the doors but I had no energy. I clutched at the dagger stuck in my lower abdomen, needing it out of me, and yanked at it, but it had gotten wedged somehow.
Black patches ate away holes in my vision, and fear rattled in my lungs.
I hoped there was an afterlife. One where I could live in peace with my guys when they eventually joined me, loving each other.
Forever.