Dangerous Creatures(53)

“Who says you haven’t?” He smiled. “Now that you mention it, who says he hasn’t Charmed you?”

She rolled her eyes. “In your dreams.” Now Ridley’s hand was at her tiny silver clutch, casually flicking the lock, casually drawing her fingers inside.

“Would you like to be?” His voice dropped, dark and husky.

She laughed. There was some new angle to this game, and it wasn’t lost on her. Ridley was an expert at playing the angles. “Why are you trying so hard, Mr. Gates? I’m flattered, but we both know this isn’t about me.”

“You’re a Siren. I thought everything was always about you.”

“No, really. What’s changed since our last conversation? Why don’t you just tell me what you want from me?” Ridley leaned forward. “Can’t take the pressure? Your goons coming for you? Let me guess—I’m not the only person who owes someone a little something-something around here?” She leaned closer. “Maybe you owe a few markers of your own?”

“You have no idea what you’re saying.” Nox was annoyed. “So try shutting up about it.”


Bull’s-eye, she thought.

Ridley reached out to smooth the lapel of his coat with a tiny, victorious smile. “Gladly, Mr. Gates. And here’s a little good-bye for you: Whatever it is, I’m not helping you do it, find it, or get it. If it has anything at all to do with that lump of Mortal mental limitations up on that stage, you can forget it.”

A moment of anger lit his face. “For a Siren, you’re really not all that enthralling.”

“And you’re nobody’s sweet meatball,” she said, patting his cheek. “Poor thing.”

He covered her hand with his, leaning toward her to press his lips briefly against hers. She was breathless, and he took full advantage, biting her bottom lip. A surge of raw energy hit both of them. Ridley pulled away, gasping.

Then she kissed him back, pressing toward him like she was falling. She couldn’t help it. His kiss was like a Cast, and she was the only person Bound by it. Her lips were burning.

I want to slap him, but I want to kiss him. And I want him to kiss me.

As soon as she thought it, Nox pulled away from her, studying her eyes.

“Mmm-mmm,” he said. “Just like I thought. You’re sweet enough for both of us.” Then he stepped through the crowd and was gone.

No.

Ridley backed away, speechless, and fled to the front of the stage, her hand pressed against her lips as if she wished she could rip the kiss right off them.

Too bad she couldn’t.

Too bad she had lost control and kissed him back.

Too bad it was at that precise moment that Sirensong’s lead Linkubus happened to look up from his drum kit, center stage.

Watching your girlfriend—whether or not you’d broken up—kiss another guy always made something in a guy’s head snap, free and clear. Whether you were a Mortal or an Incubus.

Ridley could almost hear it snap, and she could tell from the look on Link’s face that there were no questions left. Not for him.

Link was out.

Ridley’s eyes blurred as she fought back tears. She could see it in Link’s face, even though he wouldn’t look at her.

Even though they hadn’t said a word to each other.

They didn’t need to say anything.

Link’s hand was glowing, as red as blood. The ring. Just like Lena had warned her. Ridley had never seen it that color before.

He wasn’t singing, but he was pounding on the drums as if he wanted to smash them.

Then he did.

“What the—” Floyd backed away as drum skins and metal and drumsticks and cymbal brass went flying.

Sampson dropped the mic stand.

Link picked up the bass drum and hurled it off the stage. The music stopped. He kicked over the keyboard, smashing it to the floor. It was like watching the Hulk on fast-forward.

He was done.

The stage had become a dark place.

But it was Necro who seemed to be feeling it most. When the bass hit the floor, she hit the floor with it, passing out into a crumpled pile of arms and legs and black leather.

Link looked down at his blue-haired bandmate, panting for breath, his voice raspy. “You okay?”

By the time Ridley pulled herself up onto the stage, Necro was out cold. Rid bent down and caught a glimpse of the girl’s neck. The cut was festering, a dark liquid oozing from the wound.

Black blood.





CHAPTER 24


Wish You Were Here


It only took a few seconds for Link to pull off his sweat-soaked T-shirt and wrap it around Necro’s neck. Floyd held it there, but the blood kept seeping through.

“That’s not a regular cut,” Ridley said, hovering. “It wouldn’t be bleeding so much.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Link snapped.

“Somebody,” Floyd said, her face pale. “Somebody help us.”

“Link—” Ridley began.

He looked up at Ridley, his hands streaked black with blood. “No. Not now.”

“What can I do?” she asked.

Floyd stood up. “Leave.”

“I want to help.” Ridley was shaking.

Floyd looked like she wanted to slap her. “Nobody cares what you want.”