I was not going to let him cut me. If he thought I was going to just bleed for him when he was extorting me to kill a king, he could pound sand. Lots of it.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “No way. If you need blood to get this damn thing going, use your own.”

He was nonplussed at my resistance. “Would you rather I take it from your throat?” He flashed a set of tiny fangs, not the size of a vampire’s, certainly, but enough to make me balk. 

My fingers went to my neck, running over the feathery scar I’d had since my teens. I had an aversion to anyone touching my neck, and rightly so. But that didn’t mean I would offer my wrist either.

I shook my head. “Nothing doing. Use your own.”

Stone gripped my elbow. “It won’t work if you fight,” he said. “It has to be voluntary.”

“I didn’t volunteer for any of this,” I said, flashing him a glare. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly a team player. Maybe you should have checked with Gideon about that before you decided to switch weapons.”

“You’re going to be difficult?” he said. “Now of all times? Over a bit of blood?”

I stepped back. “It’s not too late to rethink your strategy,” I said, hoping the look of doubt on his face meant he might be rethinking his choice to take me over Gideon.

“You’ve got a lot to learn about human women,” said a voice from behind us.

Blade. Great. Like I didn’t have enough Fae testosterone to deal with.

Stone swiveled to face him. “This coming from someone who drugs his dates with magic,” he said and cursed beneath his breath when his gaze fell on the man in the doorway. “And put some clothes on, will you?”

At the comment, I peered from beneath veiled lashes to where Blade leaned with his shoulder against the door, one ankle over the other, arms crossed. He was naked now, the towel discarded on the floor in the room behind him. 

I mean. He was gorgeous. There was no denying that. With his attention on Stone, I had a nice long look, and if I was honest, I didn’t think I’d ever seen as well-cut a body as his. Even the placement of the scars and branding gave him an entirely aesthetic appeal, as though the hand that marred it had an artist’s soul.

Damn if the tips of my fingers didn’t itch to trace just one of those scars. Here, I’d thought Stone was the hottie. He had nothing on Blade. Blade would be a selfish lover, taking what he wanted with brutality. No regrets. No apologies. Someone like myself, using another body for relief as much as lust. There was a sort of liberation in that sort of sex. 

Despite myself, a series of images played out behind my eyelids as my traitorous body imagined how they’d feel beneath the pads of my fingers, the tip of my tongue. Oh yes, I’d use him just as hard and just as callously. And I’d walk away knowing I’d taken what I wanted without worry of leaving my heart behind.

By the time his gaze turned to me, I was sure he knew exactly where my mind had gone galloping with such enjoyment. I was even more sure when his voice took a dive in pitch and his gaze dipped along with his head, as though he was trying to see into my face. I let my ponytail fall forward to hide the most of it. I wasn’t scared of him, but I didn’t relish the idea of him seeing the heat in my cheeks. I might be an unloving wretch, but I still had my decencies.

“It’s my apartment, Stone,” he said after a moment. “I dress or don’t dress whoever I like. Or what the ladies like.” He smiled wide, flashing white teeth that, like Stone, had sharp points on the canines.  

I edged sideways, trying to get out of his way as his long strides swallowed up all the space between him and me as he headed toward Stone without a stitch of embarrassment riding his features.

When he stopped in front of me, I decided to look him full in the face. What was a little nudity to a chick like me? I’d seen the insides of a werewolf’s bowels. A bit of skin was nothing compared to that.

He towered over me, peering down as if he expected me to wince or avert my gaze. It was a dare, I knew. A test of some sort.

How I met it was to let my gaze travel his body slowly, taking him in the way he had me, as though I had all the world to assess what I saw and decide if it was worthy. 

The problem with that was the heat that rose to my face as I did so. 

Stone stepped between us, effectively—and thankfully—cutting me off from Blade’s view of my face. 

“Back off, Blade,” he said. “Ava isn’t here as a trinket for your tavern.” He hooked the swing’s rope with one finger and let it go. The swing rocked forward and back.

“Sometimes I think you programmed the portal to take mortal female blood on purpose,” he said, his voice thick with barely concealed ire.

Blade reached out to stop the movement of the swing. Another challenge, I thought, as his eyebrows rose in feigned innocence.

“I happen to like mortal females,” he said. “Is it my fault they find me irresistible?”

He shrugged in a helpless sort of gesture as he slid his gaze over me like a pour of hot oil on a griddle. “Your problem, Stone,” he said, putting an inflection on the name that suggested an insult of some sort. “Is that you don’t understand humans.”

His palm ran up and down his stomach in leisurely strokes that threatened to capture my attention like a cobra might. “Like most fae, you can’t conceive of trying to get them to want to bleed to enter the realm. You think I always have to use brutal, violent methods.”

The brushing of his palm against his skin halted, and he propped his arm against his chest, balancing the opposite elbow on his forearm. 

I watched the two of them, the interplay that spoke of a long history of avarice no matter how cool and calm the voices were. 

Stone’s fists clenched at his sides, proving it. “Don’t imagine he’s some champion for mortal women’s rights, Ava,” he said through gritted teeth. “He is not kind to your kind.”

Blade’s hand rose to his throat in mock indignation. “I merely acquire mortal women for those Fae who haven’t the charm to take them for themselves. And if I enjoy a few here and there, who’s to argue?” 

His expression hardened as it landed on Stone once again, and inside that gaze, a serpent of copper coiled around his irises, as good as a lick of flame. 

“You don’t charm them,” Stone corrected him. “You pretend to be one of them, living in the human world like this.” He sounded so repulsed, it made my head snap. “Then when you drug them with magic, you trick them into blood-sharing with you so they travel your portal for delivery. Nice, neat, and despicable.”

Blade’s face went tight as he stepped up to Stone, looming over him and shooting him a hard look. “It’s my job, is it not?” he said in a tight voice. 

“You like it too much,” Stone said. “Now open the gate.” He inclined his head toward the living room, where the blonde had started to rub her temples. “Better hurry. The magic is making her sick.”

With a sigh, Blade beckoned her over. “Come here,” he said in such a husky voice I almost felt my own legs moving. She smiled brightly, taking her fingers away from her head.

“Is it time?” she asked. 

I noticed her pupils were a bit smaller than when we’d first arrived. She wavered on her bare feet and Blade reached for her almost tenderly, the hand with the polka dotted nail flashing out quickly to catch her before she fell sideways.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Blade shushed her while Stone’s steely gaze raked over them. “You remember how to get it to work, baby?” he said, and she nodded, all owl-eyed and pouty. 

“Are you coming with me this time?”

He shook his head. “Neither of us are going, babe. I just need you to turn the key.”

Stone muttered something about the ludicrousness of having a gate that needed a human lock, and Blade silenced him with a look.

“I can travel any time I want,” he said, then nodded in my direction. “But if you’re taking her, you need consent. It’s only fair, isn’t it?” His voice was a demand, a dare, for Stone to argue.

He turned back to the girl, but he reached out to me. “You have a blade, I take it?”

I stiffened. “I’m not handing over my weapon.”

His eye roamed my face. “You want to travel; you pay the fare. It’s your blood or hers.”

At that, my attention drifted to the woman’s arms. She had a dozen or more scars crisscrossing over her skin, and yet she was holding out her wrists as though she was a kid waiting for candy. I stepped back, shaking my head.

“I’ll do it,” I said, distaste filling my cheeks. 

I pulled my karambit from its sheath with all eyes watching me, ran the tip over the back of my hand. A bubble of blood rose to the surface, and I watched it, waiting for some indication that it would be enough. 

When no one said anything, I held out my hand in query toward Blade.

His lips pressed together thoughtfully, but he ushered the girl back into the living room, leaving Stone and I to stare after him. Blood trickled down my forearm and onto the floor. Droplets puddled into circles with miniature spies crowning the perimeter. Tiny flowers with pointed petals. I lifted my hand to face up, squeezing the wound with my free palm to stop the flow. 

When Blade returned, he held the towel in his grip. With a gesture that waved it like a flag in the swing’s direction, he said, “Hop on.”

I eyed the swing with some trepidation but gripped the velvet ropes tight enough to hoist my bottom onto the seat. I waited for Stone to approach, sure he’d have to be somewhere near. He took a step toward the swing, but Blade held him back. 

“This is some sort of sick joke,” I said.

“Afraid not,” Blade said, jerking his chin at me. “Now take off your pants.” A wicked gleam lit his eye. 

My chest went tight at the words. He couldn’t be serious. 

“Blade,” Stone said in a threatening voice, but Blade held up his finger, cutting him off.

“I’ve adjusted the mechanism since you were here last, Stone,” he said coolly and swept a languid palm over his naked stomach. “Blood is just the key. It fits the lock. But if you want to turn it, the poor dears must have an orgasm.” 

He patted Stone on the shoulder. “Best let me handle it. Why do you think I took off my towel? The gods know you can’t manage such a feat.” He waited eyebrows raised, for his bait to get nibble on.

I didn’t wait to see what reaction Stone would have. The horror of the insinuation had me throwing myself off the seat and scrambling to get to the wall before either of them could touch me. 

The karambit was up in my fist and held out in front of me, just in case. Whoever came at me first was going to lose a testicle and probably half his cock. 

If I had to slice through leather to get to Stone’s that wouldn’t be a problem.

At my reaction, Blade laughed out loud and slapped his thigh. 

“Sweet Jesus,” he said. “You should have seen the look on both your faces.”  

He wrapped the towel around his waist, knotting it at the side by tucking the tails in. “I can’t believe you thought I’d set the gate to unlock by fucking your date. You’re pathetic.” He scratched his belly absently. “Or you’re sweeter on her than you want her to know.”

I went rigid at the insult, not sure whether it was the insinuation of Stone’s interest in me or that the bastard had mocked me that made me so hotly furious. Except for having to keep it together for Kit’s sake, I would have given it free rein.

I waved the karambit toward them, letting it twitch in a motion that suggested I planned to razor straits up from their nuts to their stomachs if they so much as approached me.

“I might have to be here,” I said, “but I don’t have to take shit from either of you.” The words came out through a throat so tight every word hurt. I slid the karambit out past my hand, letting them see the curve of the blade. “If either of you touches me, you will wish for a quick death.”

Stone held out his hands, trying to calm me down. He needn’t bother. I was calm. Deadly calm.

“I’m not going to touch you,” he said.

Blade sucked the back of his teeth and then chortled like I’d just delivered the funniest joke. “Quite sure you’d be dead before you could use that butter knife of yours, Ponytail.”

“I have a fucking name,” I ground out. 

Blade ran his palm up his stomach to his chest and that green gaze captured mine, flared copper for an instant then went cold as flint. “Whatever your name is,” he said. “I don’t need to know it. Ponytail works just fine for me.” He mimed grabbing it as he bucked his hips, slapping an invisible ass with each thrust. 

Blood boiled behind my eyelids. Before I knew what I was doing, I launched myself at him.

The karambit sliced out all on its own, my reflexes doing most of the work even though my mind didn’t really expect to connect. They were fast. Too fast. 

So, when it did connect and fetched into flesh, tearing along as it completed its arc, spraying blood back at me, I kept swinging because that was what I’d been trained to do. Act. Don’t think. Swing. Don’t stop.

Even when the spray struck me in the face and misted over my chest, I recoiled to swing again. 

Blondie screamed from the other room. 

Stone latched onto my elbow. He yanked. Hard.

My chest heaved with emotion. I was too far gone to stop. He had to yank so hard to dislodge me from my planted stance that I nearly fell when I whirled on him, furious.

“Back off,” I snarled.

In the next instant, I swiped out at him and before the knife moved more than an inch, Blade had me. 

It happened so fast, he moved so fast, that I didn’t realize I was pinioned until pain razored across my shoulder blades. My elbows locked behind my back as he held me in his meaty grip. I felt the greasiness of blood on my skin. 

His breath moved the tendrils of hair that escaped and clung to my temples and neck. “You’re like a wildcat, Ponytail,” he said against my ear. “And I’ve bedded a few in my day. Are you as wild in the sack as you are in a fight?”

…

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