Kiss Me Deadly: Tales of a Paranormal Romance

It is getting more and more difficult to concentrate.

I try harder. The blade isn’t made of silver—I know that much. Adam said it was made of iron, which would hurt the Afarit. So why is it burning between my ribs as though I will break in two at any moment? It must be magic, I think dully, trying to focus on some way I can get myself free. There must be something—I refuse to just lie here like a victim. I feel hot tears leaking out of my eyes. They roll down my temples and into my hair, and I can’t stop them.

The Djinn, in the shape of the magician called Bilal, crawls on top of me and lowers his body over mine. I try to shake him off but there is no strength in my limbs; they feel like overcooked spaghetti.

The Afarit’s breath is hot on my face, and I feel its neatly trimmed beard touch my cheek. I want to push it away—get it the hell off me—but I can’t move and the dagger hurts so much. And anyway, he is almost lying on top of the hilt. He will push it even deeper into me if I struggle too much. Large, hot hands press mine against the concrete, and I can feel chunky rings digging into my fingers.

It whispers in my ear: “You stink of fear, little vampire.”

Its face is pressed against mine, and I feel a flicker of wet warmth against my temple. I try to jerk away but his weight holding me down is too much. What is it doing? Something inside me shivers as I realize that it is licking me—lapping up my tears. Its tongue feels long and sharp as it collects every drop of warm, salty moisture from my face and I resolve, in that moment, to never cry again. It will remind me too much of this nightmare.

I feel sick and helpless. I want to kill this thing. Just thinking about sinking my fangs into its throat makes me feel a little better. I test my legs, trying for any sort of movement. I only need leverage, just enough to get my knee up and give this asshole something else to think about.

Bilal’s face leers at me, and I wish he would get a little closer. Maybe I can bite off his goddamn nose if I let him think I’m beaten. I slump and allow him to feel the shaking in my body. Let him believe it’s fear, I think savagely. Let him think I’m trembling because I’m afraid of him. I almost forget to play victim but manage to swallow the snarl that is building in my throat.

I think that maybe the creature sees murder in my eyes because it pulls back and stands over me. The pressure on the knife eases, and I take an experimental breath. The pain is turning into a dull sort of ache and I wonder if the wound is beginning to heal around the blade. That’s probably not a good thing.

The Afarit looks like it is done playing with me for a while. I follow it with my eyes as it finds the book lying in a puddle by Adam’s side. Stupid freaking book. I am tempted to burn it rather than deliver it Theo—if I actually manage to survive this and get it back from the spirit thing standing over me.

I can’t help thinking of the Afarit as Bilal, even though I know that the magician is long gone. Its white teeth are gleaming as it smiles at me. “Thank you,” it says in Bilal’s smooth tones. “All of this unpleasantness could have been avoided if you had just given it to me in the first place.” He sounds so calm, so reasonable.

I want to kill him.

I smile back. I can’t help it, because my legs twitch and I am getting the feeling back in my knees. That seems like something to smile about.

Bilal’s mud-spattered black shoe is close to my heavily booted foot. Close ... closer...

I take a deep breath against the burning pain in my chest and strike with the hardest kick I can manage. Under the circumstances, I think I do a pretty good job. I hit Bilal in the ankle and he howls with shock and staggers backward. Bones might not have broken but that’s got to hurt like hell.

I grip the dagger’s hilt with both hands and pull. It doesn’t matter that it feels as though I’m pulling out an internal organ or two, it only matters that I survive.

It only matters that I am free.

I fling the knife away, watching with fascination as my blood flies above me in a crimson arc. It sprays across Adam’s pale cheek, several stray drops landing on his lips.

His golden eyes snap open. He wipes away the blood and licks his fingers. He grimaces at the taste and then drags himself to his feet. Adam seems to take in the situation: me on the ground, starting to pull myself to my knees. Bilal is running away with the book, escaping with the only thing that matters here. Not just for Theo, I am surprised to find myself thinking, but for Adam. For a dead girl named Hasna.

I hurt all over. It feels as though something crucial is missing from my body, and I’m afraid to look at the wound left behind by the blade. I press a hand against the ragged hole over my ribs and use the other to help me regain my balance against the fence. I am pleasantly surprised to find that I can stand.

Adam is visibly torn. He is taking a step toward me, while at the same time turning to look at the fleeing magician.

“What are you waiting for?” I shout. “Go after him!”

He responds to the command in my voice, running to the corner of the alley and moving out of my line of sight.

I am still relearning how to breathe. I hope my ribs are all in their right places, otherwise healing is going to be a bitch even with my abilities. I look up and almost scream with frustration. Adam has returned and is hovering over me, his face filled with horror and something else it takes me a moment to recognize.

“This is all my fault,” he says. His eyes are wild as they swivel between me and the ground—alighting on the exact spot where Hasna died.

Of course, he thinks that I am the second girl he didn’t save from the magician’s knife. I swallow pain and bile and know I have to reassure him. Apart from wanting to help Adam, I can’t stand being fussed over like this.

“I’m okay, you should’ve gone after him. It.” I correct myself. It seems important that I remember the thing that stabbed me—almost in the heart—is a monster. Maybe it’s even more of a monster than me? That is a bizarrely comforting thought.

He nods his head toward the end of the alley. “He went through the stage door.”

“What? Why would he do that?” It was the middle of the freaking night. Unless London shows had special midnight performances, the Afarit wasn’t going to achieve much in a deserted theater.

I am furious with Adam for letting the book go. Idiot. I want to punch him, but I am suddenly feeling weak again. I’ve lost a lot of blood and will need to feed, but the last thing I want to do is to have to use Theo’s contacts. This job was supposed to be straightforward, dammit. It was meant to be easy.

And then I fall to my knees again and wonder why everything is spinning. Even Adam’s face is spinning around in slow circles. He crouches down with me and his golden eyes look like twin suns.

I manage to force words from my parched throat. “Why do I feel so sick?”

“Djinn magic,” he replies. His hands are underneath my elbows, holding me up. “The knife was a conduit for a death spell.”

“It can affect vampires?” I can’t believe there is such magic in the world, and yet here I am on the verge of collapse.

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I didn’t even know there really were vampires until today. It certainly looks like it can hurt you, even if it can’t kill you.”

I choke on a laugh. “Already died once.”

“What can I do?” he asks.

I take a shuddering breath, trying desperately to steady myself in his arms. “What you should have done was stop that bastard before he got away with my book.”

His eyebrow rises in response, and I could almost swear that he is smiling. “Oh, it’s your book now, is it?” He shakes his head and the smile is gone, if it was ever there to begin with. “I couldn’t leave you, Moth. Not after you trusted me.”

I slump a little further. “Yeah, and look where that got me. Tossed around and stabbed.” He props me up and my cheek rests on his shoulder. I take in the strange dry scent of him, and the hunger gnawing at my belly gets stronger.

Adam turns his head slightly so that his chin touches my face. “Are you going to bite me?”

“What?” I raise my head, surprise shaking me out of this half-drugged stupor. “Why do you say that?”