Demon Chained (Shadowfae Chronicles) Read Online Free Page B

blood fairy, all beautiful.
    He looked like strange candy to me even before I died. He has no idea how he looks to me now. Exquisite. Precious. Breakable. Delicate things get broken when I'm around. Just look at Katie and her mother.
    Gavain tugs hair from his collar and taps curved claws on his teeth, his knobbly knuckles shining. "I'm sorry, Tam. I fucked up. Couldn't catch the whippy little turd."
    "Forget it." I retrieve my pistol and empty the chamber, thankful that he's lucid, at least for now.
    "Your lady turned to smoke."
    Not lucid for long, evidently. "Uh-huh." I pop the ejected round back into the magazine. Oh, look, it's still got Mr. Whippy Turd's name on it. Later, shitball.
    Gavain slides crafty fingers over my shoulder, scarlet fae weirdness glinting from his eyes. "The black-eyed diamond lady. She's made of smoke."
    "Whatever you say, man. Let go." His touch crawls, too much and at the same time nowhere near enough. I shrug to get him off, my unease taking a serious shit-kicking from sensation-lust just beneath my brittle skin.
    "You going home?" He digs insistent claws into my forearm, piercing, and mottled blood seeps under them, flecked with bits of my flesh. A wicked, glorious stab of real pain goes straight to my balls. And then he wets his lips, slowly.
    Aw, shit no. Don't think it, Tam. Not going there . . . too late. Already I can see it. Blood, sweat, his crushed-berry mouth, his tongue . . . Sweet Jesus.
    I shake him off, my blood stinging. His claws rip, and fluid oozes from four parallel scratches, but I don't care. I can't pretend he means nothing to me—hell, these days he's the closest thing I've got to a friend. But Gavain's like a lost fairy child, needy and helpless, and I'm not his goddamn mother. He couldn't assert his way out of a soggy paper bag. I'm just not going there. "Yeah. Alone. Go screw with someone else's head, Gavain. It's what you're good at."
    I don't wait for his expression. I'm not interested in guilt tonight. I jam the pistol barrel down my jeans and walk out.
    Outside, music drenches my ears like acid, and I drag it in, letting it fill me, vibrate me, scour away the shock. My knee pops out as I descend the stairs, but I'm used to that and I kick it back in without breaking stride. I forge into the undulating crowd. People move away from me as I push past, but I'm used to that too.
    Around me the usual late night shit is going down—at Unseelie Court, that means fucking, mostly, if you're not still dancing or snorting vampire blood or wheedling a hit of fuck-me-over from some greedy fairy—and it isn't helping my mood. The sting of Gavain's claw marks already fades, the immediacy lost, but my cock still twitches, impatient. Feeling neglected? No sympathy.
    I crunch my elbows onto the glass bar, leaving a satisfying smear. I ask for a triple bourbon straight up, and drop it in a single fat swallow. Slow fire spreads in my gut, the aftertaste barely making a dent.
    Getting drunk is dangerous when you're dead, and I tell myself I want only one. Any more than that and I'll be drunk for a week while it works out of my blood. My metabolism isn't exactly on top of things these days. I really want a cigarette, too, something black and strong, just to feel rough smoke sear my lungs, but nicotine just makes me glassy and paranoid like bad meth.
    Can't drink, can't smoke, can't take a pill. Being dead sucks.
    I slide the glass back onto the bar and turn away. Home. Shower. And as far as jerking off goes, hell, I've got all night.
    "She is made of smoke, you know."
    I halt, and close my gritty eyes. Knew I shouldn't have said 'hell'. But demonic compulsion hacks like dull razors in my veins, and I have to turn or I'll cramp. "What the fuck do you want?"
    Kane sips his vodka cruiser, lime green liquid slipping into his mouth through a straw. He leans his elbow on the bar, casual, and blue sparks jump from his fluffy golden hair. "Your pretty black-eyed jewel. She turns to smoke.