Crave the Night (27 page)

The vampire would return. To push, as he’d
put it. And while she should be fearful, regretful, she teased the
idea of meeting his push with as much shove as she could muster—and
perhaps, a little pull.

Rev stalked the shadows tracing the alley
behind the nightclub. Fists tight at his sides and jaw clenched he
fought the shudders threatening to tremor through his body and
steal his control.

He was in control. Dust heightened his
senses and made him stronger. He just had to keep this new
strength. He would maintain…

Lunging, he punched the brick wall. The skin
on his knuckles, already bloodied from previous punches, opened and
bled, yet healed moments after. He growled with pain, but even more
so from lack of dust. His insides were losing their grasp on her
enchanting ichor. Everything was gradually becoming…less.

He needed a fix.

Slapping a palm against the wall he closed
his eyes and pressed a cheek to the rough brick. “What have I
done?”

She’d trusted him.

He had trusted her.

Both had allowed it to happen last
night.

Now here he stood, trembling like a junkie,
with an eye out for the first faery he could spy. Hell, it had
happened so quickly. He couldn't have stopped it if he'd wanted
to.

She could have stopped him. Had she wanted
this to happen to him? Why would she be so cruel?

He could return to Bree’s flat. It was just
down the street. Salvation loomed close. He growled and kicked at a
curious alley cat.

He would not go to the fickle faery who had
trapped him in the addiction with but a curve of her gorgeous mouth
and a bat of lash.

He wanted, he needed, he devoured dust. He
would have it. By any means. But a small part of him still
recognized his respect and admiration for Bree. He couldn’t harm
her. He’d promised.

Because betraying Bree would betray his
heart. Their connection was more than friends, more than a means to
get his job done. She was a part of him for reasons he couldn't
quite figure, and he valued that trusting sacrifice.

A trio of women crossed the street at the
end of the alley, giggling and chatting about their clothes. Two
mortals and a cat-shifting familiar, to judge by her feline mien.
No faeries out tonight. Damn it!

Clamping his arms across his chest to fight
the urge to again punch the brick, Rev beat the back of his skull
against the wall. Teeth chattering, he exhaled and bent double.
Need worked at his gut. He could remember that kind of visceral
hunger, yet had never starved or gone hungry. It was but a shadow
of the pain he felt now. Pain mixed with craving. And the craving
promised bliss.

He had to find more ichor.

Stumbling forward, he broached the end of
the alley. Red and blue neon bar signs flashed on the sidewalk.
Cars cruised slowly by, looking for a hookup, dropping off partiers
in clouds of laughter and hoots.

So many sexy women clad in barely-there
clothing and the sound of spike high heels that clicked in his
brain like bats navigating the world with sonar. Mortals to feed
his cravings. Blood would pale in comparison to ichor. He didn’t
want to risk watering down the high by taking blood. He’d suffer
longer to finally ease the need with the spectacular high ichor
offered.

A black Escalade rolling the street boomed
with hip-hop music. The driver’s head bobbed and he chatted on a
cell phone. In the same instant Rev saw a woman in pink step off
the curb onto the street, unaware of the oncoming vehicle as her
attention was on texting.

Without thought, he raced into the street,
hooked an arm about her waist and slammed her against a parked car.
The Escalade drove by, missing them by a hands-width.

“
Holy crap.” The woman shook in Rev’s
arms. “You saved my life.”

And she smelled like cherries and blood. He
hissed at the delicious concoction and dashed to the right,
increasing his pace away from the woman’s call of thanks.

Perched on the building roof opposite the
bar, Bree watched Rev flee the scene. He’d saved the bimbo from
becoming roadkill.

“
If she’d been sidhe he wouldn’t have
left her behind,” she muttered. And then she admonished herself for
her cynicism. The man had saved a mortal’s life, even as he'd
fought the relentless cravings.

At his core, Rev Parker was a good man, who
should never have to deal with the addiction. She’d followed him a
few blocks and had witnessed his struggles. He was jonesing. And
she guessed he was headed toward her place.

She’d like to stand in his arms right now.
And she would not. It wouldn’t be because he was interested in her
sparkling personality or her deep thoughts or her physical
attraction—or even that he was meant for her. It could only be for
more of her ichor.

Bree entertained the thought of having a
virile, sexy man clamoring for her attention, for her regard. To be
worshipped. What woman didn't desire that? But Rev's worship would
never quite reach her heart or be honest while he swam in a haze of
dust.

There was where she needed his touch. Not on
the surface. Not even a deep gaze into her eyes. She wanted to feel
a man in her heart—and she had felt him. The intense thundering had
told her he was the one. Everything about him made her heart swell
and her wings tingle. Except seeing him in the throes of addiction
hurt her heart, and she knew it was all her fault.

“
I should tell him he is my Intended.
He might be willing to bond if he knew.”

Or it could devastate him that a faery—his
worst nightmare—was inextricably tied to him.

"Better keep that information to
myself."

Bree skipped across the roof, taking a leap
to the neighboring building, and alighted down the metal stairs.
She’d considered stopping by the club to see how Nicole was coming
with her pole work, but the night was too bright and gorgeous and a
nearby park edged in frothy-leaved sugar maples called to her
instinctual need for nature.

It neared midnight, the moon was waning, and
there were no children out this late. Bree had the whole park to
herself. She leaped onto the spinning merry-go-round, and gripping
one of the bent steel poles, riding it a few rotations. She dropped
her glamour, confident the lacking park lights would keep her
secret hidden from mortals out on a midnight jog.

The tank top she wore tugged at her shoulder
blades as her wings unfurled and stretched through the air. A
shimmer of dust dispersed across the wet grass blades. Fluttering
her wings, she took a moment to honor her truth.

Most faeries preferred to live in Faery,
where they never had to put on glamour to hide from mortals. Bree
had become enchanted with the mortal realm the first time she’d
visited, and hadn’t looked back. She truly believed that by helping
mortals to care for their planet the effects would reverberate to
Faery. And her quest for her Intended had led her here.

A cat mewled and, obviously angry at
whatever had disturbed it, took off across the park like the devil
had bitten its tail. Bree knew better. Himself paid very little
mind toward cats.

She spun and searched the shadows at park’s
edge and scented another creature. Dog? There was a dog park a few
blocks east.

Before she could ascertain her musings, she
landed the ground on her back. A wolf crouched over her, its paws
to her shoulders. Dust glittered in the air from the impact. The
beast snarled and snapped at her, revealing a deadly maw of
teeth.

Even though it looked like one, it wasn’t a
normal wolf. Behind her a man called and the wolf jumped off
her.

Coming to her feet, she stood but was unable
to avoid being wrangled as the man's arms banded like iron about
her body. His shoulders were broad and his coat seams torn.
Mid-shift, the werewolf was in half human shape with his arms and
shoulders taking werewolf form.

“
Sabrina Kriss,” the man hissed.
“You’ve been a naughty faery.”

He squeezed her so tightly she couldn’t find
breath. “Let me go, dog.”

“
Fernando Degas said you’ve been
keeping him informed on where we’ve been sporting. That’s not very
nice of the chick who should be our friend.”

“
Friend?” She gasped when he squeezed
her again. The wolf on all four legs snarled. “Is that how you
treat your friends? Feed them to vampires?”

“
He didn’t eat you. Besides, we were
just playing.”

"Playing with our lives, you bastards. That
was it? You shoved me in the cell with the vampire for play?" These
wolves and their blood games; they really were twisted.

The thick scent of blood suddenly swarmed
the air. Something warm splattered Bree’s face. Her body dropped
and she landed in the wet grass in a sprawl.

The werewolf who had been holding her
grasped for his head. It wobbled on his neck. He’d been slashed
deeply from the side.

An animal yelp echoed in the night. The wolf
was tossed aside. Its jaw had been ripped wide open. The
half-shifted werewolf, still gripping his head, swung around,
slashing a clawed hand that began to shift and elongate.

Bree scrambled across the grass until her
back hit the merry-go-round. Glamour instinctually camouflaged her
wings.

Rev wielded a pistol that sported a deadly
blade along the barrel, and aimed at the wolf with the broken jaw.
He fired. Silver dust shimmered upon impact. The silver bullets the
vampires used against werewolves were deadly. They merely had to
enter the bloodstream, and the wolf would drop dead.

The werewolf howled and tore off its shirt.
Bree cringed, for surely someone in the neighborhood would
hear.

Rev moved sinuously, striding toward the
werewolf as he fired off two rounds. Didn’t look like the same
dust-addled, unfocused vampire she’d followed earlier. The bullets
hit target at the wolf’s neck and heart. But the yowling beast
didn’t go down.

Instead, the wolf leapt, soaring toward Rev.
Werewolf and vampire collided. The pistol spun through the
darkness. Bree did not see where it landed. Blood scent infused the
grass and adrenaline-tainted air. The werewolf slashed Rev’s
chest—the beast stiffened, clutching its gut. Falling backward, it
landed on the ground not far from Bree’s foot.

She ran for Rev and plunged to the ground
near his body.

“
My phone,” he muttered.

“
What?” She patted his chest in the
dark but instead of finding a cell phone, her fingers slipped
through blood. The wolf's talons had cut deep. “You’re
hurt.”

“
Phone in my back pocket. Must call
for cleanup immediately or mortals will see.”

“
Right.” He thought only of protecting
their kind. Smart guy—smart, bleeding-out guy.

Bree patted down his torso, and Rev groaned.
She tugged out the phone from his back jeans pocket and clicked it
on.

“
Speed dial six,” he said. “Hand me
the phone.”

As she looked over the carnage, he gave
orders to whomever she had dialed.

One dead wolf, still furred and in animal
shape. One dead werewolf, now shifting to its were, or man shape.
It was naked, and the neck was slashed to expose the spine. Rev
must have initially attacked with the blade. The bullet entry
points steamed as the silver worked at flesh and bone.

She scanned the perimeter. No house lights
on. Could they be so lucky no one had witnessed?

“
Five minutes for the cleaners to
arrive.”

She startled when Rev touched her shoulder.
Must not be too wounded because he stood fairly straight and
steady. “Are you okay?" he asked. "Did he hurt you?” She’d
forgotten she was the one initially in danger.

“
I’m fine. Maybe a few cracked ribs,"
she decided. "Were you following me?”

“
Yes.”

To the point. He was no longer high on dust,
couldn’t be. The fresh air must have cleared his senses, but if so,
that would prove remarkable.

“
Thanks,” she said. “What about you?
You…okay?”

“
Couldn’t be better.”

“
You don’t look…”

“
Strung out? You were following
me.”

“
I was curious.”

“
Thought so. Spying isn’t very
nice.”

“
I’m—” She stopped herself from
apologizing. Who was Rev to tell her what to do? “You must have
found some dust.”

“
Not tonight. Blood. A poor substitute
for what I crave, but it cleared my head. Least until I can find
another hit. ” He scanned across the park and Bree's heart fell. He
was already looking for his next score. "So what was with the dogs?
Didn’t look like a friendly conversation.”

“
He knew I was informing on the
packs.” Bree nudged the dead werewolf’s foot. “He said Fernando
Degas told him.”

Rev’s mouth tightened. “Degas? Talking to
the wolves? Hell. What’s up with that guy?”

If Fernando found out she'd tattled he could
make things rough for Rev, because he had a secret weapon that
could spin Rev into darkness forever. It was bad enough Bree had
gotten him addicted again, she had better not lose his job as well.
She wanted to blurt out what she knew was up with the vampire. She
didn’t know how to.

“
Let’s get you home,” he offered, and
spread an arm across her back.

Bree slipped from his grasp. “Me? What about
you? You’re bleeding from new orifices, buddy.”

“
I’ll have healed by the time I get
you to your door. Come on, the cleanup crew doesn’t need us to wait
around. And I’d prefer to get out of sight in case there are
curious mortals observing.”