Blood Cursed Read Online Free PDF Page A

doesn’t twitch. He doesn’t get a hard-on. When he sucks deep and swallows, his pulse jumps slightly.
    That’s all.
    Diamond pulls back, and glass shatters in his ears as the magic dissolves.
    Every time, it’s same-same. No doubts, no flaws, no weaknificality. The hunger’s there—oh, it’s there, all right, the need screaming in Ange’s ancient blood like the dirty virusfever it is, and it isn’t pretty inside Ange’s head, not after 350 years of slaughterfication—but his passion is cold, calmified, wrapped in the icy straitjacket of centuries-perfectified control.
    When Ange loses it, it’s explosive. But it happens only when he wants it to.
    Diamond’s nerves tweak sharp. Can’t sneakem up. Can’t distractify. It’ll take something specialicious to put Ange off guard.
    Something Diamond doesn’t have.
    Just like he didn’t have what it took to keep Rosa. All the one-night-stands in the world can’t change that. Sometimes they cling, those nameless girls. He always shakes them off. They’re not her. None of them ever will be.
    Melancholy lurks at his mind’s edge like a black crystal ghost. In his pocket, his little mirrored case tempts him, square edges tracing a seductive trail against his thigh. Forget. Drift away. Go somewhere else.
    His mouth dries in anticipation of the nectarsweet crystals inside. He pops the shiny case open, cuts a tiny glitterblack line with one practiced claw, and inhales.
    Lemonbombs burst fresh and cold in his sinuses. Things jolt brighter, clearer, closer, like chemical contact lenses slipped over his eyes. His blood rushes tight in his veins, glowing under his translucent skin like a pulsing scarlet web.
    Energy, pure excitement, stolen on a kiss from some unsuspectifying creature by a lie-bright fairy spell-worker. Or maybe not so unsuspecting. Sparkle is crafted from emotions, memories, dreams, and some people will sellify anything for what the fairies offer, pleasure, blood, a few moments of dizzy oblivion. Sparkle is Diamond’s business, and he knows where it comes from. Tonight, he doesn’t care.
    He shakes his head like a dog, silvery tears spraying, and slides the case back into his pocket with ultrasharp movements. Already his muscles tighten, itching for action, touch, pain. In a few seconds, he’ll have a hard-on. Shouldn’t be difficult to get it attended to. And maybe screwing some random flirtgirl will take his mind off her. …
    Sweet female sorrow fires his tongue electric.
    He glances along the bar, compelled. The bloodfairy girl next to him is crying, lovely red hair messified with cherryblood and tears. Teethmarks pierce her slender neck, a bruise shadowing her chin. Blood streaking those luscious swelling breasts.
    Pretty thing. Maybe a vampire boyfriend, or some asshole trying to get lucky. Seems everyone’s in a mood tonight.
    Diamond’s eyes water, dazzled with hot druglaced focus. She isn’t Rosa. None of them are. But the same anger flows in his bonehollows like lava. Dirty virus-rats, chewing on this girl’s perfect milk chocolate skin. She’s so delicate, her sparklygreen eyes jewelbright with tears. And those luscious cherrypop lips …
    He eyes her speculatively, taking in endless tanned legs, narrow waist, delicate papery wings. He’s a mind to kissify those bruises away. See if he can’t make her forget her tears for a while. Mmm …
    But waitify one second. He knows her. Isn’t she—?
    Fuck.
    He glances around for his boy Jasper, but the lying weaselfae is nowhere in sight. He sighs, but he can’t pretend he didn’t seeify her, and that old covetous instinct caresses the back of his neck with seductive fingers. Mine. Want. Mine.
    Pretty girl, covered in blood, crying into her vodka. Desperation flooding her eyes. Velvet helplessness richifying her scent.
    His sensitive nose twitches, his drugstung flesh hot and deeply aware, and he swallows a dark twinge of conscience. Obvio-liciously, the pretty lady needs his helpification.