Iced
Page 15

 Karen Marie Moning

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Beyond him I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror. Between the bruises, swollen eyes, cuts, and blood of all colors, Im not looking so hot myself.
Sword up, I squint through puffy eyelids and memorize faces on the way out.
Out in the streets, in the thick of battle, sometimes you have to make hard choices. Sometimes you cant save everyone.
Humans that hang at Chesters are never going to be at the top of my list.
FOUR
I want a girl with a mind like a diamond
Im attracted to her.
Shes fourteen. And Im attracted to her.
Im eight years older than she is. Eleven if you count the three years I spent trying to escape the Fae Silvers. Eight or eleven: whats the difference? It makes me one seriously fucked-up Highlander.
Or whatever the hell I am.
Shes a bloody mess, literally. Covered with guts and gore from killing, her nose is crusted with dried blood, shes bruised, and shes going to have two fierce black eyes before nightfall. Its too late for ice to knock down the swelling.
And shes on fire.
Light shines out of her delicate, battered face, blazes in her green eyes. Shes got a head of curly red hair that falls halfway down her back. Everything about her is brilliant and intense. Shes aware and invested in the world in ways most adults never get around to being. I know. I was once, too. Back when I thought hearing the truth in everyones lies was my biggest problem. She does everything one hundred and ten percent, with all her heart.
Thats what gets me.
Attraction isnt always about sex. Sometimes its about something far subtler, and far bigger.
I watched her fight.
And something stirred inside me that I thought was dead.
Not my dick. Thats working great. Better than ever. Always hard. Always ready.
What stirred was like gentle rain on a warm summer day. Sweet. Tender. Something I used to be. With my clan. With my nieces and nephews.
She reminds me of my Highlandsto which I can never return.
I know exactly what shes going to be one day. Bloody hell is she ever.
Worth. Waiting. For.
Too bad I wont be here anymore.
Take her now.
Fourteen, I growl. Ive gotten good at arguing with the voice inside my head. I get a lot of practice. An Unseelie prince wouldnt give a second thought about her age. An Unseelie prince would see only that she has the right parts, and temper to spare. The bigger the fight, the better the feast.
Why the feck does everybody keep saying that like its some kind of insult? Like, maybe I managed to forget for a minute? she says crossly. Geez! Ive never seen so many people obsessed with my age!
Dani bristling is something to see. I smile.
She takes a wary step away from me. Dude, youplanning to eat me or something?
My smile vanishes. I look away.
I wear a mask. A face that isnt mine.
I used to have what women called a killer smile.
Now I have a killers smile.
Cause, like Ryodan already bit me once today. Im not in the mood for any more teeth in me anywhere.
Ryodan bit her? One more reason to kill him. I look back at her, my face void of all expression. Theres no point in trying to look reassuring. This face cant pull it off. No biting. I promise.
She squints at me suspiciously. Dude, what are you? Unseelie or human? What happened to you?
Mac happened to me. She flinches when I say it, and I wonder why. I blame Jericho Barrons, too. If I survive what Im turning into, Ill kill them both. Hate ripples through me, dense and black and suffocating. If not for them, Id still be me. Then again, if Mac hadnt done what shed done, I wouldnt be here at all. Then again, if Barrons hadnt done what hed done, or rather failed to do, what Mac did might not have turned me into this. Barrons didnt check my tattoos before we performed a dangerous Druid ritual, then he abandoned me in the Silvers to die. When Mac found me in the Silvers, she fed me Unseelie to keep me alive. Its impossible to decide which one of them I blame the most. So I blame both and Im getting happier about that every day.
I saw Mac a few nights ago, across the club at Chesters, looking blond and beautiful and happy. I want to take all that shiny-happy-blondness, twist it into a garrote, and strangle her with it. Hear her beg, and kill her anyway, love every minute of it.
Later that night, Id stared at myself in the mirror for a long time. Arm bent behind my head, scratching my back with a knifeit itches all the time nowrelishing the slide of warm blood on my skin as it ran down my spine into my jeans. I used to hate blood. Now I could bathe in it. Mothers milk.
Yeah, she does that, Dani agrees with a sigh. She happened to me, too.
What did she do to you?
Its more like what she will do to me if she catches me, she says. Dont want to talk about it. You?
Dont want to talk about it.
Better things to talk about anyway. So, what were you doing at Chesters?
Good question. I have no bloody clue. I think the sheer number of Unseelie gathered calls to something in my blood. I dont know why I go half the places I go anymore. Sometimes I dont even remember the hours leading up to it. I just become aware that Im someplace new with no memory of when I decided to go or how I got there. I wanted a beer. Not many choices left in Dublin anymore.