When Wicked Craves Read Online Free PDF

erase the memories of Lissa, of course, but never once had he considered what a gift it was to feel flesh against flesh, heat against heat.
    A flash of sympathy burned through him, and he pushed it brutally away. He could be sympathetic to herplight, yes, but he couldn’t let the emotion rule him or influence his decisions. He hadn’t rescued her out of kindness or out of anger that his carefully constructed legal arguments had been denied. He’d pulled off this stunt for one reason only—he needed her.
    Whether it took her knowledge, her touch, or her blood, in the final analysis, Petra was the key, and Nick wouldn’t rest until they’d unlocked the curse and set Serge free.

    “Sir,” the med tech said, his voice unsteady. “Sir, if you could just stay still, the medicine—”
    Dirque lashed out, the blue flame rising in fury from his fingertips visible despite the hazy veil that covered his eyes. “Give me the goddamned salve and I’ll do it myself.”
    He could feel the tech’s hesitation as he tried to avoid the flames dancing between Dirque’s fingers, and it took all of his restraint not to lash out against the quivering brat. Not because the tech deserved it, but because Dirque’s temper was running so high that he needed the simple, cathartic release that would follow the sound of an innocent’s screams.
    No.
    This was a mission, not a vendetta, and he was too smart to give in to emotion. Too cunning to fall prey to fear.
    But he was afraid. Dammit, despite everything he’d seen and done in over two millennia upon this earth, he was afraid of one goddamned curly-haired girl.
    No, he corrected himself. Not the girl. He was afraid of what she could create.
    More important, he was afraid of what she could destroy. Him. The Shadow Alliance. The whole fucking world.
    Exhausted, he fell back against the pillow, the poison still working upon his eyes. He scooped up some salve and slathered it on.
    “The others?” he asked. “Trylag? Narid?”
    His eyes were closed now, the salve soothing and healing, but he could hear the med tech shuffle about near the foot of his bed. “They will recover,” the tech said. “Member Narid is already almost fully healed, and the physicians anticipate member Trylag will be back to full strength within the hour.”
    “Good.” Dirque’s body relaxed. He’d feared the worst, but realized now that the poison the executioner had shot into the room was not meant to kill, only to hinder.
    A mistake.
    Had Dirque perished, his wrath would have died with him. As it was, he would spend the rest of his days—and as a jinn, they could be numerous indeed—seeking retribution for this crime against him, the Tribunal, and the Alliance itself.
    “I must speak with them,” he said.
    “But—”
    “Bring them here. As soon as they are able.”
    “I—” The tech lowered his eyes.“Yes, sir. Of course, sir.”
    “And the rest of the Alliance? They have been notified?”
    “Yes, sir. I believe so, sir. I only work in Medical, and—”
    “Send for Tiberius.” The vampiric liaison to the Shadow Alliance hadn’t sat on the Tribunal, but as the governor of the Los Angeles territory, he had remained on premises during the execution. Or, rather, during the attempted execution.
    “He’s already outside,” the tech said, then scurried to the door. He opened it, and Tiberius strode in, and through Dirque’s hazy vision he appeared even taller than his six and a half feet, his eyes as black as his clothing.
    “Chairman,” Tiberius said, referring to Dirque’s position as the chairman of the Shadow Alliance. The vampire didn’t incline his head, though, and the failure to display the proper deference was not lost on Dirque.
    “We have had our differences, Tiberius,” Dirque said, in an understated reference to his own attempts to oust Tiberius from the Alliance only a few months ago. “Now is the time to move past them.”
    “Indeed.”
    “It is not merely our positions