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.He’ll be over this in no time.”“But he needs to get important information to his superiors.I have to give it to him.”“Bree, if you go to the vampire now, don’t come begging to me when he attacks and kills you.On second thought, I won't have to worry about that, because you’ll be dead.”She nodded, accepting, but the shiver in her shoulders made Erte shake his head.Poor girl, she was as addicted as the longtooth.He knew what was happening.It was all good.And it sucked like no amount of dead dog could ever suck.Bree must have hired the elf to kidnap him and take him home.Chained in his own basement.How humiliating.Yet, the mortals were serving a purpose by purging his system of dust.And of Bree.He could feel his pretty, sparkly faery slip further from him with every drop of mortal blood he consumed.He hated it.He was losing her.But rationally, he knew it had to be like this.Could he ever have a real, honest relationship with Bree?He wanted that.He needed that.No, you don’t need it, that’s the addiction talking.You would like it.That’s all.No, he genuinely wanted to be the man for her.Intended? He was in for the ride because he did love her.At least he thought he did.Hell, he needed to think beyond the dust!A third mortal woman was escorted down the stairs.Rev strained at the chains.Her initial reaction was to scream, but he was skilled at persuasion and it took less than a minute to settle and entice the woman into his arms.That he was being kept like an animal reminded of his imprisonment in the sporting warehouse.He’d brought this upon himself this time.No one to blame but himself.“Bree,” he murmured as he sunk in his fangs.“Come back to me.”Slammed against the wall below her loft, Bree’s teeth chattered from impact.The vampire Fernando Degas had returned to torment her.Not only did he collude with the wolves, he also pimped the sidhe into selling him their ichor.He, in turn, sold the dust to addicted vamps.Why hadn’t she the courage to tell Rev about this immediately?Because she'd thought with that information, Rev might try to buy some of the dust from Degas.That she would be leading him back to his worst.She’d been stupid not to believe Rev was stronger than that.Besides, she had led him to his worst.“You are pissing me off, faery.”“Yeah? Doesn’t take much, obviously.”He slammed her again.“You’ve been talking to my people, stepping over the line.”“So drain my ichor like you do all the other faeries and be done with me.”He hissed and snarled, revealing fangs.“Go on, dust dealer, I know you want a bite.”“I’m not an idiot like your boyfriend.I wouldn’t let a drop of ichor down my throat.This ends right now.” He released her and stepped back.Bree wasn’t sure why he wasn’t pummeling her, or stabbing her with iron, but when the tall figures behind Fernando walked into view, she let out a groan, guessing the man wasn’t about to get his hands dirty.He’d leave that for the two hulking werewolves.Unchained felt good.Rev's head was clear.It had only taken five days of intensive blood donations.But it would take a lifetime to stay clean.Rev wondered why a paranormal sort of AA didn’t exist.They could call if DFA—Dust Freaks Anonymous.He'd be the poster boy for possibilities since he'd now beat the addiction twice.He knew well enough that was a crock.He'd never actually beat the addiction the first time around.He'd risen above it.Now, if he wished to stay sane he must remain vigilant about staying away from the dust.If being dust-free meant feeling powerful and clear again, that was a great start.Time to focus on bringing down the sporting warehouses.He’d called Fernando, hoping to convince him to go to Bree and try to get the information from her, but the guy wasn’t picking up.Too late he remembered something Bree had said about Fernando.He was involved with the wolves? It didn't make sense, because he'd thought Fernando an honorable man, but he was inclined to put more trust in Bree.Yes, even after she had swept him into her enchantment.He couldn't blame her for that.He should have been stronger.So it was up to Rev.Two donors this evening had only temporarily assuaged the blood cravings.He knew well the hunger would remain strong until he got into a routine.“I can do this.”He knocked on Bree’s door, but it swung inside; the latch hadn't been secured.That wasn’t good.Stepping inside, he scented the acrid odor of dust.It smelled off, not sweet and attractive like he was accustomed to.It didn’t appeal at all.That was either very good or—“What the hell?”He raced across the flat to Bree’s bed.Sprawled upon the rumpled purple silk, lay a tattered faery.Her wrists were encircled with iron manacles yet she was not chained to anything.“Oh, Bree.”He couldn’t touch.He had to touch.His fingers shook over the scatter of tangled pale hair that sparkled with her innate dust.He couldn’t do this alone so he tugged out his cell phone.Searching the phone’s call list, Rev found a name he had recently added.They’d chatted daily since he’d been chained up to dry out and Rev had gained respect for the elf.He cared about Bree as much as Rev did.He hit the call button and Erte answered on the first ring.“It’s Bree,” Rev said.“The wolves have been here.She’s been shackled—hell, it looks like iron.Her body, it’s stiff and her veins are purple.”“Holy Herne in a hand basket, sounds like iron poisoning.Get those shackles off her right now.”“All right.Hold on.”He dropped the phone and lifted the cold iron banding her ankle.It was heavy and her flesh was dark, nearing necrosis.A twist of the lock mechanism gave free.Too easily.Rev decided the shackles hadn’t been designed not to be torn off, but more to intimidate and steal her power.He made quick work of the other three shackles, tossing them to the floor.Bree didn’t stir at all from the commotion.He picked up the phone.Erte said, “If her skin is blackening the iron must have entered her bloodstream.If you don’t get her ichor flowing quickly, she’ll die.”“How do I do that?”“You high on dust, buddy?”“No.No, I’m clean right now.I can’t think to get high with Bree like this.Help me, man! I don’t want her to die.But I can’t touch her.I…I just can’t.”“Dude, you’re going to have to.Get over yourself.”“It’s not something I can control—"“You can if you love her as much as I think you do.I heard you moaning her name the entire time you were chained in the basement.You got it bad, buddy.""I do.So how do I help her?""Unless you drink her ichor the dust should be a mere nuisance.The craving will be a bitch, but which is more valuable? Your high or Bree’s life?”The elf wasn’t stupid.Nor was Rev.This was all mental.Of course the dust was a mere facsimile of mainlined ichor.It tingled and pricked at the craving, but it wasn’t the master of his addiction.He thought he had so much control? Now it would be put to the test.“You’re right, I can do this.Bree’s life is top priority.What do I do? A warm bath? Will that do it?”“No,” the elf said, “don’t submerge her in mortal water.It could be tainted with chemicals, which includes iron.Strip off her clothes, then start massaging every inch of her body.You’ve got to get the ichor flowing.Work slowly, methodically, and not so hard you bruise her.And when she starts to rouse, do her wings.”“Her wings?” Now Rev saw they were exposed, crushed beneath her body.“They’re dry and so lifeless.”“Her body first, then her wings, vampire.Got that?”“Yes.”“You know about faeries and their wings, right?”“Uh, they can fly?”Erte chuckled.“You’ll learn soon enough that touching a faery's wings is a sexual thing [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]