Shadow's Curse Read Online Free Page B

opened his eyes, the vacancy now replaced with a razor-keen stare. He jerked, coming up hard against his bonds, his gaze flicking down over the silver chain interlacing the thin cord at his ankles. “Fucking bollocks,” he grunted. “Damned bastard Fey-blood.”
    He might look aristocratic Mayfair, but his vocabulary came straight from the St. Giles stews. “Can you hear me?” she asked again. “Do you know who you are? Do you remember anything?”
    “Of course I bloody well hear you.” For the first time, he seemed to take her in, that frightening, steel-edged gaze raking her like a sword point. “You’re the minx that clobbered me over the head.”
    She slumped, her breath heaving out in a sigh. “I’d hoped you might not remember that part.”
    “Do you always bash in the heads of your rescuers?” He worked at his wrists before leaving off with a small moan that might have been frustration or pain. He looked pale, great shadows pooling beneath his eyes, his chest heaving in short gasps. “Fuck all,” he muttered. “Bloody silver. No wonder I feel like shit on a stick.” His gaze flicked back to her. “Here to smash another great piece of wood down on my skull, Fey-blood?”
    She frowned. “Why do you keep calling me that?”
    “It’s what you are, isn’t it?” He snorted, once more working at his wrists. “Caught by a damned Other,” he muttered under his breath.
    “You were coming to my rescue?”
    He paused to scowl at her. “That was the idea. Seems you weren’t in as desperate straits as I thought. Maybe those bastards had a perfectly legitimate reason for cornering you. If I were untied, I might throttle you myself.”
    She shuffled another arm’s length away. The knots held for now, but who knew—he might be strong enough to free himself or turn back into a wolf and gnaw his way out.
    “Where am I, Fey-blood?” the man asked, glancing about the sparse attic.
    She didn’t like his tone, but then, she couldn’t fault him for being angry if he had in fact been trying to rescue her from Corey’s villainous crew. “You’re in a house just off Queen Street in Soho—for now.”
    A corner of his mouth curled up in a grimace, dimple flashing. “Wondering what to do with me?”
    She sat back on her knees, arms folded in her lap. “If I know my brother, he’ll know exactly what to do with you.”
    “Why is that not a comfort?” He closed his eyes, sagging back against the beam. By now, his skin had gone clammy, and shudders ran through his body. Was he ill? Had she hit him harder than she thought?
    “May I ask you a question?” she ventured.
    “Turnabout’s fair play,” he answered without opening his eyes. “Go ahead.”
    “Who are you?”
    “The name’s David. Anything else?”
    “What are you?”
    This time a dry snort of laughter broke from his chapped lips, and she was once more subjected to a stare that could melt steel. “Didn’t take long to get round to that. I assumed you’d know exactly what I was—hence the bash over the head and the silver chains.” He shot a look at his ankles, which by now had swollen and turned an ugly shade of purple.
    “What has silver to do with it? Or you?”
    “You really don’t know?” He laughed again, though it no longer held the angry edge of earlier. Instead it was almost with pride that he said, “Just my thrice-damned luck. Clubbed over the head and lashed to a post by a Fey-blood who’s never heard of the Imnada.”
    *  *  *
    “But shifters died out ages ago. How have you managed to hide from the world without anyone finding out?”
    Interesting. Fey magic fairly shimmered off her, yet she gazed on him with wonder rather than revulsion. In fact, her power seemed to shine right through her skin and gilded her dark brown hair with strands of butter yellow, auburn, and burnished copper. David had always enjoyed beautiful women, and this one, while not his typical style—her chin was a little too narrow, her mouth a