As soon as they were away from prying eyes, Jack dropped his magic, allowing Io to see him.

They stood chest to chest in the small space, staring into each other's eyes. Io was tall, but Jack was still taller. Many death feys were.

Jack's Ankou ancestor had also left visible reminders of his presence in his descendant's face. The eyes were gray, the flat impenetrable shade of pewter that gave lie to the notion that eyes were windows into the soul. His skin was slightly darker than most feys, so he could pass for human unless you got close enough to touch.

His features were harsh but still beautiful, even under the green lights.

Io willed her heart to stop its betraying pounding, but it was not feeling obedient. It had already been asked to suppress too much emotion one night-- disgust, terror, rage. It could not, or would not, again deny what it was feeling.

"You came into the city with the oh so arrogant Zayn," Jack murmured. His voice was a rough caress. "Does that mean that you are also with Humans Under Ground? Were you perhaps sent in to distract me from finding the jewel? It is the sort of tricky thing Xanthe would do."

Io didn't answer, and tried to blank her mind in case he was somehow reading her thoughts. She knew that she should force herself to relax against Jack, to flirt and charm, but she couldn't do it. Something about him was frightening, and his voice disturbed her at a visceral level. She had to remain on guard.

"You aren't going to deny it?" he asked, running a finger down her cheek. Magic leaped from his flesh to hers, making her catch her breath. Something inside of her clenched tight and she felt a wave of heat wash over her face and chest. Her impulse was to touch him back, but she clenched hands against the urge, squeezing so tight the muscles ached. He was manipulating her. The impulse wasn't likely to be her own.

"I can't reasonably deny that Zayn is arrogant," she whispered, twisting her face away from his touch as shivers of desire marched up and down her nape. "We all know it's true-- why lie?"

Jack laughed softly, and Io realized that he was feeling a little high, riding the euphoria of the influx of new magic. No wonder she hadn't been able to gather up much in the way of stray spells in the club. Obviously Jack had been there before her, picking magical pockets and socking the power away.

"So you don't deny being Xanthe's sacrificial offering. How conveniently refreshing." Jack set hands to her waist and pulled her close. He wasn't rough, but there was no way that she could fight him in such close quarters even if she wasn't feeling suddenly weak and able to count pulses in her abdomen where his groin pressed against her. "What's your name, little lure?"

"Don't," she whispered, trying half-heartedly to push him away. It was hard because desire was making her weak. Zayn had tried using his spells on her and it had not worked. They had both thought her immune to regular magical forms of ritual, sensual persuasion. Obviously that wasn't true.

Or maybe Jack wasn't using regular magic. Maybe it was something that came from his being a death fey. That thought truly terrified her.

"I'm not a whore. Take your hands off of me!" she gasped.

"Take my hands away? But why? Do you know what women say to my kind when we lay them beneath us?" he asked, his voice a soft stroke of her ear as he pulled her lower body tight against his. Heat flared where they touched and his magic washed over her, rolling up her legs and then finding its way inside.

She gripped his wrists, lean but impossibly strong, and tried to pull them away.