"The Darkest Edge of Dawn" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gay Kelly)15Aaron shook me awake. I must’ve been more tired than I thought because I’d drifted into a sleep deep enough to dream—a dream that kept repeating scenes of Emma running away, me falling forty-six stories, and the sunken corpse of Daya sneering at me with bloody lips. A glance at the clock told me that I’d only been out for twenty minutes. The apartment was so quiet I could hear the muted sounds of Underground from beyond the brick walls. As I roused myself, Aaron went into the kitchen and began cleaning up, packing up the overflowing trash and taking care of business as silently as possible. I stayed in the loveseat for a moment, letting the fog of my dreams clear. We needed answers. Needed to find Llyran and stop him from doing whatever the hell he was planning. But how the hell did you find a guy who could pop in and out of thin air? I grabbed my phone and texted Hank. I pushed off the couch and went into the bathroom. The light brought tears to my eyes, a big contrast from the darkness of the apartment. After they adjusted, I washed my hands and then pulled my hair into a ponytail, using a borrowed band and tucking one side of my bangs behind my ear. I straightened my T-shirt, a black stretchy V-neck, and adjusted the charm necklace Bryn had made for me, the small disk nestling in the center of my cleavage. Once I returned to the living room, I secured my shoulder holster and grabbed my jacket. “I’ll be back,” I told Aaron as he stood at the sink, washing utensils. He nodded and then returned to his task. “Call me if you need to.” It was a short ten-minute walk from Mercy Street to Helios Alley. I was tempted to stop at the bakery, but kept going instead. Helios Alley was lively, in the midst of the dinner rush, but it didn’t have any effect on me; inside I felt quiet and very much alone. After I passed the butcher shop I slowed my pace as I came to Off-world Exotic Pets and next to it, Skin Scripts, a tattoo, branding, piercing, and ceremonial marking parlor. In the window of the pet shop, a gargoyle pup slept in a cage next to a moon snake, and I shivered despite the distance and safety—the one at Ebelwyn’s apartment had totally freaked me out. Skin Scripts also had a glass front where passersby could watch a patron get inked or branded, but most would agree the ceremonial markings were the best ones to watch. Done with the freshly cut twig of a Throne Tree shaved to a needle-fine point, the inside of which dripped an indigo-colored substance, the mark was scratched into the skin to form intricate symbols relating to vows, religion, or anything that was binding. And once the marks were made, there was no turning back—you were forever bound. Go back on your chosen vow and the Throne Tree ink embedded in your skin turned to poison. Today, however, the patron inside, a young human male—a college student if I had to guess—was getting pierced in the navel by a darkling fae artist. 133 Helios Alley was accessed by a tall, black door sandwiched between the pet shop and Skin Scripts, the apartment above running the length of both businesses. I pressed the buzzer. “It’s open,” Hank’s deep voice crackled through the small speaker. With a fortifying deep breath, I opened the door and jogged up the hardwood stairs. At the landing, I paused briefly, about to knock and ready myself, but the door swung open. Hank stood in the doorway in an untucked white dress shirt, rolled to the elbows and open at the neck, with a tumbler glass filled with amber liquid and ice in his hand. He wore jeans, with a hole just above the right knee and the ends frayed to white threads at his feet, which were bare. He stood aside, inviting me into a professionally decorated apartment that struck me as being more a showplace than an actual lived-in home. “You cleaned,” I said. Last time I’d been here, it looked like a cyclone had hit. “Zara had it cleaned.” He closed the door behind me. “Just grabbing some dinner. Figured we were going out again after you took care of Bryn.” I followed him across hardwood floors and into the kitchen with its cherry cabinets, stainless steel everywhere, and a smooth cream and black marbled countertop. He stood behind the counter where an entire array of lunch meats, condiments, and toppings had been dumped. After a long drink, he set the glass down. “You want a sandwich?” My stomach growled. Obviously the Doritos hadn’t cut it. “Sure.” I removed my jacket and my weapons harness, setting them on the stool next to me. “Just fix me whatever you’re making. What are you drinking?” “Yrreb#233;.” I made a face. The Elysian drink made from the Yrreb#233; root was not a favorite of mine. Way too bitter for my tastes. “That stuff is nasty.” And strong. “How many have you had?” “Three. You want a beer or something?” “I wish.” Unfortunately, I didn’t have the liver function of a siren. Alcohol went through their system so quickly that Hank could drink three Yrreb#233; on the rocks, experience a buzz, and be fine within the hour without any ill effects. “Why do you even bother?” He shrugged. “Because it tastes good, and it helps me relax. Here, have a soda, then.” He pulled a Mountain Dew from the fridge and handed it to me. “How’s Bryn doing?” Hank had to possess the same kind of crazy metabolism I did because he was in the process of making the biggest sandwich I’d ever seen in my life. It didn’t seem like he had any rhyme or reason to what he was doing either. Just picking pieces of lunch meats, piling them onto giant kaiser rolls, and building higher and higher … “She’s sleeping. Aaron is with her. I’ve been going over everything in my head and can’t make the connection between the star and Solomon’s artifacts …” I spent the next five minutes filling him in on what Aaron had told me about Ahkneri, and then the next ten trying to eat Hank’s colossal sandwich creation. “I think our next step should be visiting that jinn storyteller,” he said, polishing off the last bite, then taking a healthy drink from his glass. “Winter solstice is approaching, and I’ll bet Llyran is laying low until then.” “I agree.” I finished the Mountain Dew and then dumped my paper plate into the trash can. “You have a Throne Tree?” I asked, surprised to see the large potted tree in the corner of the dining room. It was obviously pruned and trained to that size because in Charbydon they grew to be over fifty feet high with heavy corkscrew limbs and smooth bark in shades of dark grayish blues. He flicked a glance at the tree with its thin, leafless branches, the ends of which were pointed and often razor sharp, and nodded. “It was a gift …” He dumped his plate into the trash and then began cleaning up the chaos on the counter. I glanced around, realizing how very little I came here—unlike Hank who was at my house every week, stealing something from the fridge or just stopping by to say hi to Emma—and how very little personal information I knew about my partner. “A gift from whom exactly?” I slid back onto my bar stool as he turned his dark, enigmatic gaze my way. When he didn’t answer right away, I continued. “Why did Llyran call you He took the three steps to the counter where I sat and placed both hands on the smooth, cold surface. My blood pressure rose. If there was one being with the ability to unnerve me, it was this one. I could handle egos, ranting, fighting … but this quiet allure made it difficult to read him, to anticipate his thoughts and actions, and to control my own. “Full of questions, eh? What’s this really about, Charlie?” His voice had dropped an octave, low and confident and easy. And buzzed on Yrreb#233;. “It’s about realizing you know everything about me, and I know near to nothing about you. It’s all surface stuff.” He shrugged, but a small grin tugged on one corner of his mouth, making a nice little dimple in his right cheek. “You never cared before. Why the sudden change?” Heat shot to my cheeks. “There’s no change … I was just curious.” I sat back and crossed my arms over my chest, embarrassed by how lame that sounded. He slid his hands across the cool surface of the granite, leaning on his elbows and eye level with me. I held my ground, instantly drawn into the way his eyes started to change from sapphire blue to topaz blue. “You like me. Admit it.” An instant sputter of denial erupted out of my mouth as he withdrew, looking like a damn Cheshire cat. He was trying his best to unsettle me, but he’d have to do more than that to get me unhinged. “Yeah, well, that’s the problem with sirens. They assume everyone likes them, and when one doesn’t they’re just so damned blind and ignorant, that no amount of denial can make them see the truth.” “The truth being that you want me. Don’t lie. I can tell.” I laughed without humor. “You’re drunk.” A small smile played on his sensual lips as he finished cleaning up and put everything back into the refrigerator and cupboards. “Probably for the best anyway. Wouldn’t want you falling in love with me, bugging me at all hours of the day and night. Begging “Oh my God,” I said, rolling my eyes. He wiped the counter, tossed the paper towel in the trash, and then placed one hand on the counter and the other on his hip, his smile fading. “The Throne Tree was a gift from my sister. I knew Pen as a child back in Elysia, but then lost track of him after I’d grown. He stood there, waiting, his irises returning to their familiar hard blue. I couldn’t look away from him, couldn’t move, yet every instinct was telling me to run. The air became charged with a dangerous mix of awareness and potent masculinity. I’d become prey—caught, stunned by the sheer beauty and power of his being. “Jesus Christ,” I breathed, heart pounding through my eardrums. “Stop using your siren crap on me.” His jaw tightened and flexed. “I’m “You’re an ass. A schizophrenic ass.” I hopped off the stool. “One minute you’re normal, the next you’re all moody, and the next you’re doing this … I started for the door, concentrating hard on putting one foot in front of the other. Without a shadow of a doubt, Hank had just completely unnerved me. Somewhere along the way, my jeans became too tight, brushing faintly against a place that did not need any more encouragement. The door went fuzzy for a second. “Charlie.” He was right behind me. Why wasn’t I moving forward? But I didn’t have to. Hank took one more step, his front pressed against my back, his warm hands sliding down my bare arms to encircle my waist, overwhelming me with his scent, his hard body, his heat. The assault cut through my defenses like a hot knife through soft butter. My body took over, relaxing against him as his head dipped and his lips brushed my neck. My breath hitched. My stomach went light and airy. Holy God. His tongue flicked out and swirled over my skin as his hand glided slowly over my belly and downward. My eyelids fluttered, and my limbs became instant putty. I succumbed so easily. With his other hand, he reached across and cupped my chin, turning my face to his. My head fell back against his shoulder. His hand delved into my hair, thumb grazing my cheek and lips settling against mine without hesitation. Hank completely swamped me. Took control. Did what he wanted, and I didn’t even put up a fight. The scent of Yrreb#233; clung to his lips—like newly stripped bark from a pine sapling. His tongue flicked out, warm and soft, trailing idly along the seam of my mouth. My lips parted all on their own. Our breath mingled. I opened to him, letting him in, needing him in. His taste reminded me of Christmastime and roaring fires. His tongue slid against mine in a slow, deep rhythm, making my limbs grow heavy and my body tingle. Hank kissed like he had all the time in the world, like this moment was the I was shaking, wanting more, wanting all of him and feeling ready to combust. All this pent-up need … overwhelming desperation to be touched. As though he knew exactly what I needed, his hand slid under the waistband of my pants to cup me, applying just enough pressure to make my blood pool and my pulse beat between my legs. As the pressure built, our kiss deepened. I groaned, trying to move against his hand. I felt his lips smile against mine as his hand dipped beneath my underwear. That first touch made my knees give out and a groan erupt from my throat. His arms tightened around me as he moved his mouth back to my neck, a simultaneous attack on two of my most neglected erogenous zones. He swirled two slick fingers around me, slow and steady, pushing me into a state of absolute abandon. He bit my earlobe, and then spoke words so low and lyrical, so rich and possessive. The words I didn’t understand, but the effect it had on me was instantaneous. His fingers kept moving, kneading every last pulse of the orgasm from my body. I’d never come that fast in my life. And then he held me, both of us standing in his apartment, locked together as his heart hammered against my back and his erection pressed against my ass. Five minutes? Ten? I couldn’t tell. Eventually my heart found its normal rhythm and my mind began to clear, but the lingering effects of the endorphin flood racing through my system left me shaken and weak. It didn’t take long for the realization and total embarrassment to sweep in. I broke from his hold, turned, and stumbled back, my lips achy and swollen, my pulse erratic. I stared wordlessly at him, aware that my face was burning and everything about my reaction had proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was right. And I wasn’t even under the influence of alcohol; I should’ve been the one in control. And I’d become just another siren groupie. “Stay, What the hell was I doing here, acting like this? Like a clich#233;? “I … We have work to do. I …” He hadn’t even needed the full force of his siren voice to push me over the edge. A few words, a kiss, a touch … My teeth ground together, and I tried like hell to force my humiliation down. My nostrils flared as my chest expanded with the hum of Charbydon power, like a wakening beast, one that, in my current state, I’d have very little command over. My mind went cloudy again, but this time it wasn’t from seduction, it was from the chaos of my emotions and the power they stirred. I blinked hard, trying to climb out of the haze and regain control. I was trembling. My eyes stung. “You think too much, Charlie.” The disappointment in his tone struck me as condemnation. A short laugh erupted from my throat as I struggled to keep a lid on my power. Hank pushed my bangs behind my ear. “Stop touching me,” I croaked, though I didn’t move away. “You knew this was inevitable from the moment we got into the pool together. Deep down. You knew as I did.” The first wave of tears filtered across my vision, but I kept them from spilling over. “I can’t deal with this right now …” I went to take a step back, but his hands remained on my shoulders. I jerked, he held—two strong wills colliding. It was that tiny, split-second physical war that snapped my control. It came out of me in a riot of emotion, a bright burst of blue power that shoved Hank back, through the dining room, into the kitchen, slamming him against the huge stainless steel refrigerator. The panel dented, the entire fridge rocking precariously. Shit. I tried to fight my way back to regain control, but it was like swimming upstream in a mud-filled river. A small, sane part of me knew we were in trouble. I was having a power surge I couldn’t manage, and Hank was buzzed on Yrreb#233;, still nursing a wealth of frustration and anger over the voice-mod issue, having problems with Zara, and now … this. Through vision ringed with blue fog, I watched him straighten and swipe his blond hair from his forehead, his expression one of intense focus as his gaze narrowed and his lips thinned, giving him an aquiline visage, a fierce, dark look that made me extremely wary. “You don’t want to fight me, Charlie,” he said, proceeding toward me in a slow, confident, challenging manner. “You want to ride me until you see stars, and that makes you quite angry.” Yes. Yes, I did. No, wait. No, I didn’t. I shook my head hard, knowing he was goading me, knowing he was just as pissed as I was and was using whatever ammo he had. My face burned. The tips of my fingers flamed and buzzed as a line of power raced down both arms from the center of my body. It pooled in my hands and wrists, weighing my limbs down. He made a motion as though flicking an annoying insect to the side, and my burst of energy was redirected out the window, blowing the glass and the drapes out above Helios Alley. It hadn’t even broken his stride, and in three long steps he was in front of me. My eyes widened. Anger burned across my chest. I reached out and grabbed both of his arms, sending thoughts of cold into my hands and daring him with my expression to deflect A glance down told me that it was working. His skin began to harden beneath my grip. Ha! But then it softened and steam rose from his skin. His hands curled around my elbows, his irises bright like blue flame. “You’re an amateur. A child.” “Go to hell.” I kneed him as hard as I could in the groin. I swung again. He deflected, trying to grab hold of my arms and finally getting me into a bear hug amid a slew of angry Elysian curses. I raised back to head butt him. “Don’t … you … I hit him hard, bracing for the impact, but he turned his head and my forehead slammed against his cheekbone. He fell back, taking me to the floor. I tried to roll, but he was quicker, using our momentum to pin me to the ground. I didn’t give him time to settle, bucking and twisting beneath him, rolling into the Throne Tree and knocking it over on top of us. We became a flailing mass of arms and legs, curses and grunts. The Throne Tree scratched my skin. Bits of soil got into my eyes and mouth as we both scrambled to get out from under the tree while remaining the one in control. I found myself flipped onto my belly, nearly breathless, as I tried to crawl out from under Hank. He snagged my ankle and pulled me back beneath him, his weight keeping me flat against the hardwood floor. Shit. I struggled but couldn’t move. He snapped a branch of the tree, and I threw a glance over my shoulder. “Stop!” A dark blond brow lifted, and I knew what he was thinking. I hadn’t listened to him with the head butt, so now it was payback time. Indigo liquid dripped from the jagged broken edge of the corkscrew branch. “What the hell are you doing?!” I shouted at him, struggling. He jerked my black T off my shoulder. “I swear to God, Hank, if you cut me with that, I will kill you!” “You wouldn’t kill your lover, Charlie.” “You are not my lover!” He froze. “Admit it and I’ll release you.” “Fuck you.” “Right back at ya, babe.” He jerked my shirt harder, leaving a good expanse of my shoulder exposed. “You can’t mark me unless I agree to it, you big idiot!” “You know the Throne Tree is sacred to the nobles,” Hank said. “The Charbydon thrones are made with its branches. Its liquid can link two people forever.” “Trust me, Hank, you’d regret that “I’m sure I would,” he said flatly. “But other symbols … Ah. Actually, I like that idea.” He pressed the tip of the Throne Tree branch against my skin, intending to give me a goddamn ceremonial mark. I struggled with everything I had, so angry that I fell back on all my human responses, completely abandoning the power humming inside. My chest and lungs constricted as I fought for freedom. Anger had its hold on both of us, and neither one of us cared. Neither one of us was going to lose this battle of wills. I screamed as he stabbed the sharp edge of the branch into my skin, tracing the curved half-arrow-shaped symbol with two slashes and a dot into my flesh as he muttered a few Charbydon words to match. The symbol tingled and burned. Finished, he sat back on my ass. “There. Now try denying what you feel.” The veins throbbed along my temple. My face flamed in fury, and every inch of my skin shook with rage. I could think of nothing but retaliation. And the fact that he His decision to sit up was his biggest error. I flipped under him, snatched the branch out of his hand, sat up, and shoved it into his chest. |
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