"Should see yourself now." He let his gaze drape over me, white hot, and his tongue flicked his teeth, mesmerizing. "Knew it'd get you hot."

"Are you out of your mind? I can't believe you did that! You know I can't fly!"

"I was never gonna let you fall." Molten metal swirled in his iron-gray eyes, a fiery glimmer of hurt or apology. "I'd never hurt you, Lady Ice. You know that."

So sincere. My anger softened, a little. Maybe he hadn't meant anything by it. I scowled, still shaking and hot under his gaze. "Whatever, okay? You scared the s.h.i.t outta me."

He poked at my naked toes with his foot, teasing me, and a naughty little grin tweaked his silvery mouth. "No fun for you if you're not scared out of your mind."

I still wanted to leap up and strangle him. But the treacherous mirror giggled and groaned in my head, fueling my anger with excitement and raw desire. Moisture trickled over my legs, soaking my skirt. Anger throbbed harder in my veins, stinging my flesh sharp like desire. I squirmed my hips, but the water wouldn't stop. Now embarra.s.sment as well as rage flooded my cheeks. I hated it. My will struggled against the very idea of it. But my breath fought harder in my lungs, my wetness splashed the floor, and struggle as I might, I couldn't deny that being alive right now, in this instant, fired my blood like nothing ever had before. My s.e.x throbbed. My nipples ached. G.o.d, I wanted him to touch me.

Deep in my body, the mirror giggled and stroked me, rich and seductive like a lover. It felt so good, I swallowed a gasp. d.a.m.n it. d.a.m.n it. I kicked at his thighs, frustration lending me strength. "Fun? That's your idea of fun? Are you f.u.c.king insane?" I kicked at his thighs, frustration lending me strength. "Fun? That's your idea of fun? Are you f.u.c.king insane?"

He laughed, dark and intense, his eyes glowing. "Yeah. I am. Insane. Petrified. Alive. G.o.d, you turn me on like this." He grabbed my flailing ankle and tugged.

My b.u.t.t skidded over slick tiles, and my skirt raked upward. I kicked harder, but he fought for my other ankle and suddenly he was on his knees. My legs curled over his shoulders, silky skirt ruffles falling in my lap, and he pulled my knees apart and licked a hot wet swath of trembling l.u.s.t up the inside of my thigh.

Breath rushed from my lungs. My skin sizzled, hot like sunburn from my b.r.e.a.s.t.s to my s.e.x to the sensitive tendon at the top of my thigh where his teeth sc.r.a.ped me, raw and needy. He bit me there, swift and crafty, and sensation jolted straight to my c.l.i.t. A groan forced from my lips, unwilling, those l.u.s.tful hormones dancing through my blood. Adrenaline rush be d.a.m.ned. This was a life rush, an unbreaking wave of sheer joy and crippling tension from which I couldn't surface. My pulse hammered in every vein, painful. My breath jerked and shuddered. My wits sloshed, drowning in l.u.s.tful liquid. Surely it was the mirror, tormenting me. I didn't care. I couldn't calm down. I needed release.

He pushed my thighs farther apart, and I let out another helpless groan. He pressed me onto my back and pulled my thigh up onto his shoulder, and all by itself my knee crooked around him, desperate.

He sniffed me and slicked his tongue under the edge of my panties, deliciously hot and agonizingly close.

My tight flesh thrummed, and slick moisture slid from me. He gripped me tight around the hips, and I wriggled, helpless frustration cramping my legs with blood-sweet pain. No fair. He'd done this on purpose. I wanted it too much. "d.a.m.n it, don't f.u.c.k around, can you just-? Oh, s.h.i.t."

He slashed my panties away with stinging claws and fastened his tongue hard on my pulsing c.l.i.t. Sensation juddered through my legs. Not pleasure. Too extreme for that. Raw nerve damage, intense and razor-bright and exhilarating, pouring hot delight through my whole body. I think I screamed. I certainly didn't push him away.

I was burning, but his molten mouth still scorched me. He delved his tongue deeper into my folds, and my flesh slid and swelled between his lips, aching for him to take me. At last he thrust his long curled tongue in, claiming me, caressing me deep inside until I wanted to scream for release. He licked me, kissed me, teased me with his teeth, every stroke dragging me closer to what I craved. Still impatience wrenched my muscles taut like whipstrings. I squeezed my eyes shut. The tension inside me twisted, harder, tighter, more unbearable. I sobbed, my teeth aching. I couldn't take this. I dragged desperate hands through his sharp hair to pull him into me. "Harder. Please, harder."

Great. I was begging. Now the b.a.s.t.a.r.d would take me even slower.

But he sucked my c.l.i.t hard into his mouth, flashing sparks before my eyes. And now it did feel good, my desire flowering like a volcano, spilling delicious burning sensation inside me like lava. When he thrust his long finger inside me, searching for my deepest pleasure, I split apart.

Water crashed in my ears. Sensation rushed all the way to my fingertips, my scalp, my toes. My muscles spasmed, and the tension shattered like dropped gla.s.s, draining me. I groaned. Blessed, erotic, wonderful relief. G.o.d, that felt amazing.

I melted, limp, and if he hadn't been holding my legs, I'd have collapsed to the floor.

He caressed my ankle and kissed me softly between my legs like he kissed my mouth, slow and deep, but I barely felt it. I was numb.

I lay there, dazed, my wings crumpled beneath me. Lights swirled in my eyes, dazzling me. My muscles wouldn't move. My brain glugged like sun-warmed custard. Where am I again? What just happened?

Oh, yeah. Indigo just gave me a b.l.o.w. .j.o.b.

Correction. Indigo pushed me off an eighty-story skysc.r.a.per, and then gave me a b.l.o.w. .j.o.b.

That doesn't seem strange at all. Does it?

Mirrorsparkled mirth frothed in my chest, and I laughed, fresh and full like a rose bouquet. Life was good.

He swept me up, and next thing I knew we were inside in the dark. His warm arms cradled me, his rusty breeze fanning my face. Shadows of furniture, faint rosy sweetness on the cool air. Sensation p.r.i.c.kled back into my limbs, and I wobbled my head up, wet locks sticking to my cheeks. "Where's this?"

"My place. One of them." He nudged a switch, and gentle light blossomed. Steel-gray carpet, rosy walls, a black marble kitchen top. Ma.s.ses of dark roses drying in crystal vases, petal edges crisp and curled. Stuff everywhere, books with ripped covers and half-read magazines and silver DVDs missing their cases. A one-room place, shiny black bath in the corner and his bed in a loft up a light ladder. Couch looked comfortable, too, a splay of warm ocher cushions. I'm not fussy. Right now, I'd have him on a pile of broken gla.s.s.

I giggled, dazed. "Pink. Not what I expected."

"I told you, I've made the wrong impression. What did you expect?"

"I dunno. Bars on the windows. Mirrors. Guns in the fridge."

He flitted up the ladder, his chest warm against my thighs. He dropped me facedown on the crumpled quilt, heedless of the moist mess I made.

Excitement clenched my thighs tight. I inhaled delicious copper, the velvety smoothness of the quilt slipping on my cheek. Shadows streaked the bed. He slid his body onto my back, light and hard-muscled, fragrant rust flecks showering. "Knives, not guns."

He nuzzled between my shoulder blades, teasing a slow tingle down my spine with one crafty claw. Static arced tenderly over my skin. My ribs thrilled. His thigh wrapped around mine, pressing me into the bed. My wings quivered with fresh desire. I yearned back against him, my b.r.e.a.s.t.s aching, my skin wet for him, the flesh between my legs still slick and hot and swollen. I'd had my release. Now I wanted him all over me, under me, inside me. Long, slow, lazy love that lasted all night, lots of deep kissing and sighs and oh my G.o.d oh my G.o.ds. "What did you say?"

He slid his arm under my belly and flipped me over, folding my wings under me with a deft swipe of his hand. Now his body pressed into mine, torturing my b.r.e.a.s.t.s, making me ache and yearn. He licked a damp trickle from my shoulder, his hair dragging like a hot whisper over my throat. "I don't do guns. No intimacy in a bullet."

My body yearned for his touch, but my brain staggered a few seconds behind, and when it caught up, unease fluttered wildly in my heart. My wings stretched, ready to jerk me away, but he lay on top of me, trapping my body with his. Sudden awareness shivered through me of how strong he was compared with me. s.e.x is often like that. It's one thing that gets me hot. But . . .

He traced lazy fingers over my hip, and my breath caught, my claws digging into the quilt. "You know, that's a really freaky thing to say."

He stroked my hand to relax it, unhooked my claws, spread hot wet kisses in my palm. "Hardly. Would you rather die of indifference? Or of love?"

He kissed inside my wrist, and I shivered. I couldn't see him. I didn't know if he was laughing at me or not. After all this time, I'd finally made it to his bed, and I wasn't sure I wanted to stay. I swallowed, nerves clawing my throat. "Are those my only choices?"

He laughed, steel on crystal, and the vibration tingled my bones. "That was funny. I like you, Ice. Very much. Don't be afraid. You can check my fridge for weapons later, okay?"

He licked in the corner of my elbow, and pleasure sparkled to my fingertips. d.a.m.n, but staying was tempting. I stretched my arm above my head, searching for the bedpost so I could push against it, press my body harder against his, wrap my thigh around his to feel him where I ached. His hips crushed into mine, his delicious hardness making me groan. He'd already ripped my underwear away, and my skirt didn't cover me. I could feel every tight muscle, every engorged twist, every quiver.

I groaned in desperation, yearning for contact, sensation, affection. I gave in. Make love to me, just once. Even if none of those wonderful things you said about me were true, just let me pretend for a little bit longer. It'll give me something nice to think about when I'm alone again. And again, and again Make love to me, just once. Even if none of those wonderful things you said about me were true, just let me pretend for a little bit longer. It'll give me something nice to think about when I'm alone again. And again, and again. "Please. I want you. I won't ask anything. Can't we just-?"

Click.

Cold metal sizzled tight around my wrist.

My pulse gibbered. Another click. I tugged my arm. It wouldn't move. I tugged again. Hard edges dug into my wrist, and metal clanked on metal.

He'd cuffed me to the bed. Without asking.

My guts twisted, the old fear scratching wildly in my chest, that shackled madwoman jerking awake. Unpleasant memory savaged my desire, the times they'd hurt me, taunted me, used their strength against me.

I jerked up, tipping him off me. The short chain wrenched me sideways, twisting my bones, and I tumbled onto my hip, my heart somersaulting. "No. Not that. I don't like it."

He lifted his palm to placate me. "It's okay."

My cursed pulse wouldn't agree. No matter how his eyes mesmerized me, or my body longed for the caress of his naked flesh. No matter how I wanted him to love me, fear caged my heart in jagged steel. I scrambled to my knees and shook my trapped wrist, panic p.r.i.c.kling my skin with nasty claws. "Take it off. Sorry. I can't-"

"It's okay, Ice. Don't be afraid. You'll be safe here." Swiftly, he climbed off the bed, shaking his hair into place like a wet dog. Electricity singed his curls, the hot scent of burnt metal wafting.

I gaped. "What are you doing?"

"Don't you understand? You're in danger. He'll never let you stay like this. If you're cured, you'll be lost. I have to find the shiny before he does. Before it's too late." He wiped quivering hands on his jeans, rainbow metal shimmering on his right wrist. "You'll be safe here. I'll be back before he comes."

"Are you outta your mind?" Realization thrummed through me like seasickness, jolting my stomach. Left, right. Hot, cold. Soft, steely. Whether he admitted it or not, the mirror had affected him, too. Made him jumpy, changeable, bipolar or something. Not quite right in the head.

I rattled in my shackle, frustration stabbing deep in my body. He still wanted me. I felt it, and not just because of that lovely hard-on. In the way his breath caught, his kiss burned me, his fingers lingered on my skin in the places that made me moan.

"I can't let you hurt yourself. I'll be back soon." Static arced between his silver wing tips. Sweat and my water still shone on his arms. His molten red gaze gleamed, licking over me like warm fudge.

My s.e.x hurt me in response, my pulse too tight for my tender flesh. He wanted me, all right. But crazyfae was actually turning away from me, with some weird idea he was saving me from myself.

And I could do nothing, except watch him leave.

The apartment door clicks shut behind him, and Ebony smacks his head back against it, metal clanging on wood. His skin grates, his head aches, his claws shudder, and quicksilver blood pounds in his flesh like poison. His burning hard c.o.c.k demands things of him, gives naughty breathless orders, and it's all he can do to walk away from her. He's used to voices in his head, but not like this.

Oh, but she's an unexpected delight. Her fruity scent still burns his sinuses. The glorious salty taste of her o.r.g.a.s.m still sparkles in his mouth. He can still feel her under him, her skin fresh under his tongue, her body pressing into his, seeking him out, finding his pleasure, teasing it out until he didn't know where to begin with her.

She's thrashing around in there, thumping at the walls, and his needy flesh screams at him to go back inside, crush her naked body under his, push his c.o.c.k inside her and finish what he started. First he'd wanted her blood, her bright life flowing over his hands. But that fleeting connection wasn't enough. His eyes wouldn't leave her body alone, his lips itched to drape themselves on her skin and pleasure her, his hungry tongue kept sweeping the soaked air for her scent.

He can still smell her delicious woman-smell, strawberries and ash, and as he forces himself to walk stiffly away, a nasty metal ache brewing in his b.a.l.l.s, he wonders if that scent will ever go away.

He wonders if he wants it to. The delight of her chaos floods his blood with desperate calm he's not felt since . . . well, since Indigo dropped his beautiful, treacherous lover in a spiky pit and blacked out for the first time. Accident or not, Ebony was born that day, and Indigo's never been the same, so closed off and cold, he can't connect with anyone, let alone fall in love. Since then, Ebony's wandered the earth, searching, yearning for something he can't find. Maybe now, he's found it. Empathy. Acceptance. A twin spirit, reveling in her own madness.

Indigo never accepted him, never understood. But she's got her own itches, this strawberry liquor girl. She'll understand blood's rich lure, the antic.i.p.ation, but also the disappointment, the delight that lasts only for a second or two before it's false. She'll know why he does what he does, over and over again.

Affection, yes. Love, yes. She'll surrender to him. Only a matter of time.

Crazy, wonderful, precious girl. Indigo mustn't have her, mustn't prune her spirit off like a weed. She thinks she wants that. She thinks she wants him. him. She doesn't understand. She doesn't understand.

If Ebony must, he'll save her from herself.

Shunning the elevator, he pushes the weighted fire door open and skips down the concrete stairs, his body still a rampant jungle of l.u.s.t and yearning blood. The rough galvanized railing glows, the salty zinc spoiling his Ice-drenched palate.

He needs that mirror, before Indigo comes back and ruins everything. Already the whispers scratch in his head, the hammering, the horrid sense of his wits leaching away. He grits his teeth, savoring her taste on his tongue, using it to bolster his strength. This is for her. But he'll need help.

The iron skull necklace is one thing. Finding its previous owner is another, and he doesn't have time for his usual thief tricks, the questions, the bribes, the kisses and sweet promises.

He's leading Indigo straight to the prize, of course. Can't be helped. Just keep the p.r.i.c.k at bay for a little longer.

He leans hard on the door at the bottom, the steel handle sparking under impatient palms. The door sc.r.a.pes open, and he ducks between underground car park traffic into the street, his glamour zapping fresh and deceptive in ozone-laden air. The sky burns orange, gathering clouds reflecting the sparkling rainbow lights of Melbourne. It's still raining, the warm drops splatting on his wings, and in the distance, lightning flashes, ever closer. Trees rustle in wire cages on the black-tarred verge between gla.s.sy towers that clutch toward heaven, and summer-dead leaves dance at his feet in the warm night breeze.

Melbourne in the summer rain. There's no sweeter place, no place tasting more like his heart. If Indigo wants to go to Colombo, he can go alone.

In an inspired flash, Ebony wonders if the mirror can sunder what it splits, and the crafty seed of a plan worms to life in his rust-black heart.

Skipping toward the city, he slips out his little silver phone and dials.

Three rings, and Kane picks up. Ebony swallows, straining not to spit out the foulness sliming his gums. Kane made love to Ice. Ebony and Kane have an unpleasant connection. It doesn't taste nice, that jealousy.

As always, the demon's voice is pleasant, calm. "Ebony. I wondered when you'd call."

Somehow, Kane always knows whether it's Indigo or Ebony. Some h.e.l.lmagic trick? Or recognizing his own?

No matter. h.e.l.l can't be worse than this. Your mind eaten from within. Your happy heart crushed by your own weakness. The girl you love diluted, washed away like a watercolor in the rain.

Ebony licks eager metal teeth, antic.i.p.ation working a sensual shiver up his spine. "About your little shiny. I think I know where it is. But now I need to find someone."

In a grimy backstreet, Kane listens, and his claws crunch splinters into the handset. "I know this filthy thing. Akash. I sent it away."

Beside him, Angelo motions for silence and bends to scent around the corner, nose twitching. Angry sparks rainbow from Kane's hair onto spray-painted brick. He doesn't have time to deal with Akash now. Angelo's about to pull off a juicy triple hit on some DiLuca maggots. Their boss is dead. Crunch their bones to juice while they're down. Fun.

Ebony giggles, fairy-light. "Whatever you say. But he's still here, and he's got your shiny. Any clues?"

Wrath springs Kane's teeth an inch longer, and with a vicious blink he spears his winged shade skyward like a bat. Swoop on warm upcurrents over jeweled city lights, rain and dust and thunder, and under it all the spreading wet stink of flowers. Zoom closer, homing on the stench, a warehouse in Carlton with a rusted iron rooftop and jagged windows.

His shade hovers, quivering. Akash. Still there. It disobeyed. Nasty, horrid thing, spreading petty dissent through his city like a cancer. It won't do. Melbourne belongs to Kane. If the liars upstairs wanted it, they shouldn't have let it fester alone in the dark for a century and a half. f.u.c.king hypocrites.

Kane sucks his shade back in with a nasty crunch of leathery wings and jerks away from the wall to pace. Frost crackles the concrete under his feet. He gave the foolish thing its chance. Once Angelo's done, he'll cut out this festering wound and munch on the stinking flesh.

But for the moment, he has Ebony.

Steamy flames hiss from his needle grin. "Oh, yes. I'll tell you exactly where it is. And you'll find out what the worm is up to. Bring my mirror back to me, Ebony. Now."

19.

The door snapped shut like a magnet, and he was gone.

I kicked in frustration, leaving a smear on the sheet. Alone in his rose-drenched apartment. Chained to the bed. With no underwear on, and a shivering ache gnawing through my body like an underfed rat.

I'd imagined a lot of things about Indigo, but I'd never imagined he'd do something like this.

At least he'd left through the door and hadn't jumped out the window or ripped a hole in the ceiling or anything. Crazy metalfae.

My skin crinkled, uncomfortable. This was all my fault. I'd let him seduce me with his chaos, let him build my sick mirrorfever to a raging fire, when what I really needed to do was calm down, think, relax.

But I couldn't. He'd lied to me about not looking into the mirror. He'd pretended to help me even though he clearly had his own agenda. He'd deceived me after all, and I was so livid with myself for falling for it that my teeth stung.

I rattled my chain, furious, and had to force my hands still. Fine. Let him go off on his crazy quest to save me. I didn't need him. I could do this on my own.

First, get out of here. Then worry about finding Stalkerboy, he of the frightening angel-blue eyes and weird threesome aspirations. I didn't know what he'd really wanted with me that night at the Court, and I didn't care. He'd traded his skulls for the mirror, and he was my only lead.

I sucked in a calming breath and crawled up onto shaking knees to peer at the shackle in dim mood lights. Chain only a few inches long. Ratchet type, no keyhole, already too tight from my struggles. Good one, Ice. Teach you to flip out. Good one, Ice. Teach you to flip out.