Shadowfae by Erica Hayes

orders.
    I shook him off, trembling, my head still throbbing. “Don’t you ever hit me again. Get your filthy hands off me.”
    “The Lord have mercy on your soul. You gotta repent, or you’ll go to hell.” He clamped his fingers around my wrist, gray irises spiraling blue.
    I backed away, hot shame stinging my face at the fear that speared into my heart. Sick loathing writhed inside me. “Don’t, Ange, not tonight. Please.”
    But the wooden wall thudded into my back and I had nowhere to go. He pulled my straining forearm toward him. I struggled, yanking back, my biceps bulging, but he was strong, effortlessly strong, and horror crunched icy teeth into my bones as he bent and fastened his lips onto the soft skin inside my elbow. My skin crawled in horrible anticipation, and I couldn’t help but cry out.
    I have no clue where romantics get the idea that being bitten by a vampire is sexy.
    It fucking hurts. The horrible metallic slide of his teeth under my skin, the vile pop as the vein broke, the burning agony of my blood forcing out, faster than the hole wanted to let it because he was sucking, drinking, tearing the hole bigger. Pain skewered my arm, my fingers clawing. Sick heat spreading in my abdomen, and I gritted my teeth so hard, my jaw ached. I wanted to vomit, or piss myself.
    I scrabbled in his hair, trying to drag him off, stiff black curls scratching my fingers, but he didn’t let go until he was finished.
    He straightened, sucking crimson remnants from his lips, catching his breath. A healthy flush warmed his skin, like he’d exercised or spent time in the sun. “You’re filthy with sin, Jade. Get to confession, be absolved.”
    “Go to hell.” I clutched the crease of my elbow, bending my arm up, blood already dripping. He hadn’t taken that much. I didn’t feel faint or anything. I just wanted to kick his head in for pushing me around.
    “I will. Why you think I wanna live forever?” He licked his pointed teeth clean and wiped his mouth with the back of his heavy hand. Not a drop stained his clothes. “Get out of my place, whore. Don’t come back till you’re clean.”
    I laughed, incredulous. “Are you listening to yourself? Ever hear of throw the first stone, and all that?”
    “Jesus was a nice man. I’m not. Get the fuck out.” His lips tightened, mean and hard, and the pulse in his jaw quickened.
    For Ange to curse in front of a woman, even one he despised like me, he must be dead furious. Time to burn my bridges. I raised my voice so the whole restaurant would hear. It wasn’t like they weren’t all straining their ears already. “You know what? Fuck you, Ange. I’m sorry I had to kill Nino. He was a better screw than you. At least I could feel it when he stuck his cock in me.”
    And I walked out, shoving awkwardly past customers with my hand still clamped on my bleeding elbow, my heels clicking on the tiles. The Valenti boys studiously kept their gazes down, but Tony’s graveyard chuckle followed me, and as I reached the street, I heard the crack of smashing timber.
     
     
    A cross the street, Kane sits on the sidewalk in a shimmer of overwarm air, tapping listless black nails on the white plastic café table. Streetlights burn golden haloes onto the pavement, traffic cruises by in whiffs of carbon and warm metal, bats flicker and flap on fragrant currents dark with kinetic mystery.
    A glorious summer night, brief and frantic like a chemical mood, ripe for mischief and power games. But Kane shifts, discontent itching his skin. He sighs, restless, and a car swerves, the driver spooked by some cosmic fluctuation.
    The waitress approaches, a blond child with bony hips and tendons standing out in her swanlike neck. She places a tall frothing drink before him on a saucer. “One lime soda. That’s five fifty.”
    Kane dips the straw in, mixing the scoop of ice cream into the creamy green fizz. “You’re not too fat.”
    She blinks, froglike. “Excuse me?”
    “To be a