Shadowglass

Titanium rainbowed like oil as water dripped over his wrist. Definitely his left arm. Must have imagined things before, right?

His claws dripped, and current arced blue between his fingers. My skin tingled in sympathy. What would that feel like, if he touched me?

His gaze caught mine, burning, and swiftly I looked away, light-headed. “Okay, then.”

“Sure.”

“Fine.” Damn, my chin really itched like a bastard. I scraped it with my claws.

“Show me your face.”

“What?” I scratched again, harder, and blisters burst, spreading the itch.

He lifted my jaw with his finger, ducking his head to look, and clicked his tongue. “Cerulli really got you a good one. Already swollen. Wash it out.”

“What?” I say that a lot around him. Gotta get some vocab, Apples.

He touched a cut. It stung, and my skin stuck to his finger when he pulled it away. He waved his fingertip before my eyes, showing me a blob of evil green goo. “Venom. Wash it out or your skin’ll rot.” He licked his finger clean and spat, wrinkling his nose. “Nice.”

Alarm tumbled my pulse downhill. “Venom?”

“Yeah. You know. Like a snake.”

“But he had his hand in my mouth. I coulda swallowed some!” Already my chin swelled, my flesh tight and hot. I swallowed, and it hurt. Frantic, I shoved my claws down my throat, scrabbling for my tonsils to make myself throw up.

Andy grabbed my wrist and gently forced my fingers away. “Stop it. Calm down. It’s venom, not poison. Drink as much of it as you want. It won’t hurt you.”

I swatted at the scratches on my chin, panic tumbling in my pulse. “But what about these? I’ve gotta get to a shower—”

“No time. Wash it out.”

“What? How?”

“Water fairy, right? Before it sinks in, Appolonnia. Now.” Urgency sparked his eyes rusty red, and panic tightened around my lungs like a rubber band.

“I . . . I can’t.” I flushed, not from effort but embarrassment, and water seeped on my skin like light sweat, not enough.

“What?” His turn for monosyllables, a whisper that didn’t engage my confidence.

I shuddered, my skin cold and horribly dry. I jerked my wings, but I’d already shaken off the water. My stomach flipped, cold, and I jumped up and down in frustration. “I can’t do it on purpose! I don’t know how.”

He swallowed, and his wing tips rippled coppery. “Shit. Okay. Calm down. We’ll fix you up.

Come here.” He slid his hand around my neck and pulled me close, ignoring my jitters.

His powerful steely scent slid deep into my sinuses, and my head swam, light, either from the venom or from him. I flapped ineffective hands. “What are you doing?”

“Just stand there and take it, okay?” And before I could react, he nudged my chin up and opened his hot mouth onto my throat.

His lips burned me, gentle yet unyielding. My breath slid away in a hot rush of surprise that quickly melted into delicious pleasure. My skin sparkled under his kiss, all the way down. I closed my eyes. He kissed my throat, my jaw, the delicate place where my pulse trembled, wet openmouthed kisses that poured molten delight down along my collarbone and tugged my nipples tight.

Heat shivered down my spine to tingle between my legs. I tilted my head back, and water dripped over my chin, not just sweat now but the real hot water of desire.

His tongue stroked my slashed skin, stinging yet delicious. My veins constricted under the pressure, my pulse beating harder. So he was a taste fetishist. Just like I’d imagined. Baby, you can taste me all you want. His brittle claws teased my scalp and crunched in the dripping hair at the back of my neck, and I couldn’t suppress a whimper of delight.

And then he sucked, noisily, and I realized belatedly what he was really doing.

Not kissing me. Not licking my throat for the pleasure of it. Sucking out the poison. Making me wet all over, just to wash the venom out.

He released me and spat a mouthful of blue-tinged green slime onto the concrete. “Yuck.

Gross.” He worked his mouth to get more saliva, and spat again, cleaner this time.

I licked my lips, still breathless and trembling, and my voice shrank somewhere on its way from my swollen throat to my mouth. “Thanks. I think.”

He glanced up at me halfway through wiping his mouth and halted, completing the remainder of the movement carefully. “Sorry. I didn’t mean you were—”

“I know. I agree. Pretty stank, huh?” I tugged my diamond-stuffed bag tight on my shoulder. The scratches still hurt. The bruise he’d so sweetly made there hurt, too. But it hurt worse, deep in my heart, that he’d said that. That I’d wanted him to touch me even though he’d done nothing but insult me all morning, and that even when he had his mouth on my throat and my pulse trembling under his tongue, the rest of me hadn’t tempted him for even a moment.

Just like Ashley said. Andy wanted something. Only reason he was still here.

Notes

For my Baby Bats
- Grimm :)