The Alien Huntress Series - Gena Showalter(ang.)

Contents

ENSLAVE ME SWEETLY SAVOR ME SLOWLY SEDUCE THE DARKNESS Bonus Material

“I’m a Rakan woman who kills people for a living. I’m not afraid of you, and I’m not afraid of EenLi. I will kill him.” Lucius remained unperturbed. “I haven’t figured you out yet. By killing other-worlders, you protect humans. But humans hunt your people for their golden skin.” I gave a stiff shrug. “You’re human. Would you kill a human if you had to?” “Absolutely,” he said. His eyebrows arched. “Would you?” “Absolutely,” I replied. “You, in particular.”

Gena Showalter features alien huntress Mia Snow in her acclaimed novel

Awaken Me Darkly

“Sizzles with intrigue…. Similar to Laurell K. Hamilton’s Anita Blake series…. Brilliantly written…. Amazing.” —Freshfiction.com “Mia Snow is perfect as the alien hunter with a secret.” —Booklist “A fantastic read…. Fascinating characters…. Gena Showalter has created a very interesting world that readers will enjoy over and over again.” —ARomanceReview.com “The final spin will shock…. Mia is a fabulous ‘bad girl.’ ” —TheBestReviews.com

Also by Gena Showalter Awaken Me Darkly Available from Downtown Press

An Original Publication of POCKET BOOKS DOWNTOWN PRESS, published by Pocket Books 1230 Avenue of the Americas New York, NY 10020 www.SimonandSchuster.com This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Copyright © 2006 by Gena Showalter All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available. ISBN-13: 978-1-4165-2298-0 ISBN-10: 1-4165-2298-0 eISBN-13: 978-1-45165-196-6

DOWNTOWN PRESS and colophon are trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc. Visit us on the World Wide Web: http://www.SimonSays.com

To Jill Monroe, who said, “If you’re going to name her Eden, you might as well let her smell like Paradise.” To Sheila Fields, who said, “She’s a killer. So what. Nothing wrong with enjoying a job well done.” To P. C. Cast, who said, “Someone should write a book about a man with a forked penis.” People often ask me where I get my ideas. Well, I blame the lovely ladies mentioned above. Without them, this book would have been about a depressed assassin who smells like sterile air cleaner when she happens upon a man with a normal penis. Thanks, ladies.

Contents

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14

Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30

Up Close and Personal with the Author

Chapter 1

As I lay in the rafters of the Old West Cattle Co., surrounded by dust, shadows, and the smell of stale hay, anticipation raced through me. I cradled an A7 pyre-rifle in my hands, the barrel aimed at a steep angle. Below me, several halogens hung strategically from the walls, giving me the visibility I needed, but at the same time shielding me from view. No one wanted to stare up at those harsh lights. To be honest, I didn’t like staring down at them. The warehouse boasted no furniture for my target to hide behind. Only people (human and alien), dirty floors, and weapons. Right now, a crowd of other-worlders teased and taunted two naked, whimpering females banded to the far wall. The bastards who weren’t participating were watching, waiting their turn. My anticipation for the kill increased, and I gripped my gun tighter. The tormentors were having such a lovely time, but my fun would come when I broke up the party with a few rounds of deadly fire. See, I’m paid by the government to destroy other-worlders so vile, so disgusting, they can’t take a chance alien rights advocates will get involved in

the case. I’m not A.I.R., Alien Investigation and Removal. I’m worse. Just a little longer, Eden. Information first. Kill second. EenLi (my target) and his compadres were abducting humans and shipping them off-planet to sell as slaves. I needed to know where they were storing the human “cargo” before deportation. More than that, I needed to know how they were hopping from one planet to another. Oh, I knew they were using interworld portals— the same portals they’d used to invade our planet. I just didn’t know where or how to find these portals. I should have known exactly where they were. I’m an alien. A Raka. A golden one, some humans call us, because our hair, skin, and eyes resemble liquid gold. But I was conceived here and raised by a human. The portals are as much a mystery to me as they are to every other Earth-born. One of the women screamed, slicing into my thoughts. A man was pinching and twisting her nipples, laughing while he did it, laughing while she writhed and sobbed in pain. My finger twitched on the trigger. Hold. Hold. Tonight I’m going to prove I’m as capable as any man—as any human. Over the years I’ve been delegated the easy marks, the ones requiring no more skill than a blind man in a virtual game. Since my father is also my boss, he’s the reason for my lack of hard-core cases. I know he hopes to protect

me, but I’m long past the need. My success tonight is critical. I took this case against his wishes, and I would not fail. I had my target in sight: EenLi Kati, a.k.a. John Wayne and Wayne Johnson. He was a thirtysomething Mec, average height, with eerie, narrow white eyes. We didn’t know a lot about Mecs, only that they had some control over the weather and preferred hot, dry climates. Like every Mec, EenLi possessed opalescent skin that glowed different colors with different emotions. He was the leader of this elusive group, and right now his skin glowed bright red. The bastard was pissed. Dressed like a desperado from the past—hat, boots, and spurs—he stood in a shadowed corner, arguing fiercely with another Mec known as Mrisste. The latter wore boots and spurs, but had opted not to wear a hat. Who did they think they were fooling? Cowboys. Please. They spoke in their native tongue—a halting, guttural rhetoric of clipped syllables and highpitched timbres. Languages were one of my specialties, and I’d mastered this one years ago. As I listened, I managed to pick up words like bodies, profit, and underground. Technically my assignment is to eliminate EenLi. However, I’m going to do Mris-ste for free. A bonus, if you will. At the thought, my lips curled

into a half smile. The two men had been working together for over a year. No telling how many men and women they’d raped. No telling how many people they’d enslaved. I drew in a measured breath, then slowly and calmly released every molecule of air. Sharp, spiky splinters from the old wooden rafters dug past my shirt and into my belly, but that wasn’t the worst of my discomfort. The air was stifling and hot, and it didn’t help that I wore military fatigues and a face mask. The heat wave blasting through New Dallas had yet to dissipate—probably because of the Mecs. Sweat pooled between my shoulder blades and ran down my back. I yearned to spirit-walk just then, to force my consciousness out of my body so I could leave my body behind and walk unnoticed, invisible, below. Like a ghost. A phantom. I had killed many of my targets like that, but I only did so when my body was totally and completely protected. Otherwise, I was left physically vulnerable because I couldn’t do my job and guard my body at the same time. Just then EenLi’s cell unit erupted in a series of beeps, and he barked an irritated “What?” into the receiver. I couldn’t hear the voice on the other end, but whatever was said caused the other-worlder’s spine to stiffen and his fingers to clench into fists. One heartbeat of time passed. Two. As he continued to listen, he removed his hat

and swirled the gray felt between his fingers. Give the man a pony and ask him to shout “Yee haw.” That’s all the scene lacked. By the time he returned his hat to his shiny, bald head, his skin pulsed so brightly red, I wanted to shade my eyes. Finally, he replaced the unit in his back pocket. Then, growling low in his throat, he shoved Mrisste, propelling the hatless Mec backward. The latter man’s long, dark hair (obviously a wig) danced around his shoulders. “Tell me you moved the tainted cattle from the Pit,” EenLi shouted. “Tell me you have not screwed this up yet again.” The pit. The pit. I rolled the phrase through my mind. An image quickly clicked into place, and I frowned. The Pit was a local bar known for its criminal patrons, druggies and whores who bought their way into oblivion. Could that be the place under discussion? “Well, I—they have been moved,” the other man offered, righting himself. “I am not so stupid that I would leave the sick in cells with the healthy.” Cells…I’d followed EenLi inside the bar just two days ago, but he never left the main area. Never even went to the bathroom. I hadn’t noticed any doorways leading to other rooms. The cells could be hidden. Or underground. Very, very interesting.

“Do you want to know who just called me, Mrisste? Pablo. He found two of our cattle dead in their cells. They’d obviously been sick, and you left them there.” “I…I…” Mris-ste’s opalescent skin began to pulse with blue. Even without the distinctive shading, the alien would have reeked of fear. “How many died in the move?” EenLi demanded. “Three,” came the shaky reply. This enraged EenLi further. His scowl turned black. “We were to deliver twelve. Not seven. You idiot!” “I am sorry.” “Your sorry doesn’t bring my cattle back to life. If one more is lost, just one more, I will sell your worthless hide to make up the difference.” Mris-ste shook off the threat with a nervous laugh. “We will not lose any more. This I swear. I gave the sick to Rose. She will care for them until they are well.” I knew Rose. Sahara Rose, human. Twenty-six years old. Blond hair. Blue eyes. I’d trailed her for a few days after taking this case. She was a known alien sympathizer and had spent many nights in EenLi’s bed. I knew where she lived, what kind of car she drove, and what brand of vaginal lubricant she secretly used whenever her lover visited. And, of course, I now knew she was hiding some of the

missing humans. “There is no time to find more cattle,” EenLi said. “The portal opens in one day.” The portals weren’t always open? I’d always assumed aliens traveled through whenever they wanted. Tell me where they are…tell me where they are… He didn’t. EenLi soon changed the subject, and the two men actually began discussing how to dress the female slaves. Information I didn’t need. It was time. I preferred close kills to shots fired over a long distance. Nothing wrong with enjoying the fruits of my labor up close and personal. Sauntering into the middle of all those men, however, significantly decreased my odds of success. I’d stay here. My anticipation renewed as I closed one eye, my face mask and powered autoscope narrowing my field of vision. Still locked on target? Check. Disposable silencer in place? Check. I knew I had one chance to nail him. Just one. Because the moment I fired, everyone below me would whip into action, aiming and firing their own weapons straight at me. EenLi began to pace in front of Mris-ste as he expounded on the merits of stiletto heels and kristales, jewel stones brought over from Mecca. I kept my barrel still. My pyre-rifle produced heat-

sensitive fire bullets, and those would follow him straight into hell. One. He moved away from Mris-ste. Two. He turned, facing Mris-ste. Three. He stepped into my line of fire, and I squeezed the trigger. A whiz. A scream. The big, bad Mec went down like a de-pressurized hovercraft, his hat rolling off his head like tumbleweed. Only it was the wrong Mec. This one had thick brown hair. I stilled. No. No! My fire bullet had slammed into Mris-ste. Not EenLi. When had EenLi given him the hat? When the hell had EenLi given him the hat? I’d watched them. Once I’d locked on target, I hadn’t lost my focus. Shock bubbled inside me as the men below cursed and shouted, scrambling for their guns. Bullets and blue fire launched in my direction, raining like deadly hail. Remaining calm, focused, I dropped my rifle and grabbed the thick wire beside me, already anchored to a sturdy beam. Then I jumped. I kept one hand clasped to the metal handle that allowed my downward slide, and used the other to whip out the pyre-gun strapped to my waist, dialed to kill. I started firing. As I descended, a bullet cut into my left forearm. I didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down. The

determination rushing through my veins muted the fiery sensation of being shot to a sharp sting. Oh, I knew I would feel it later—in full force. I wished I had time to doctor up. The longer the slug remained inside my body, the more damage it would do to me. Earth metals act as a deadly poison to me. To all of my kind. But the mission came first. I had to finish this. Fast. Maintaining my inner balance, I continued shooting, not taking time to aim, but simply allowing a continuous stream of fire to discharge; the blue beams of molten heat spewing from my gun lit up the warehouse like a nuclear war. The moment my feet hit the ground, I released the wire and reached for my other gun. With both of my hands armed, I scanned from left to right, taking in every detail. EenLi was gone. Gone! He must have hit the door running the second Mris-ste fell. I couldn’t chase him down, not pinned in by gunfire like I was. That meant… I’d failed. My shock grew, almost freezing me in place, but I kept firing. Kept moving. Bile rose in my throat. I’d truly failed. I’d missed my target and allowed him to stroll from the building as happy as he pleased. I failed echoed continuously through my mind.

I shook my head in disbelief. All I could do now was get the two women and myself out of here alive. No, I thought in the next instant. I was taking down any man who’d been stupid enough to stay. My gaze scanned the area again. Five aliens remained inside the warehouse, their bullets and fire spraying all around me. Calculating the distance between them and the chained women, I started running forward. Right at them. I cringed when another bullet struck me. Twenty feet. Not much, but enough to risk what I was about to do. I dropped one of my weapons and reached for a mini grenade in my side pouch. In one fluid motion, I pulled the firing pin with my teeth, tossed it, and dove to the ground. Boom! The impact threw me backward, slamming me into a wall. Air shoved from my lungs. When I was able to breathe, dirt and ash bypassed my mask and filled my nostrils. Instinctively, I covered my face with my hands as fiery wood chips rained. Then, several minutes passed in silence. No return fire. No screams or moans. When I looked up, all five Mecs were strewn across the ground, lifeless. The human women were bloody and bruised, but alive. They were—No, I realized then. Only one of them was alive. The blonde. The other, the one with curling red hair, had

been caught in the crossfire and stared out at the charred warehouse through lifeless eyes. My eyelids squeezed shut, and I let my head sink into my hands again. The atmosphere was thick, hot, and laden with smoke. I needed to drag in a deep breath, to fill my lungs with oxygen, but didn’t dare. There was no help for it, no other choice; I had to call my father. With shaky hands, I tugged out my cell unit and said, “Boss,” taking comfort in the sound of the automatic dial. I trusted this man with my life. He was the one who had found me as a small child, alone and lost on the streets after my parents died. I don’t know why he’d taken me in, and I couldn’t ask him. He stiffened every time I brought up that horrible night. But he’d raised me, loved me, and trained me to be an assassin just like himself. And I had just let him down. He answered after two rings. “What happened?” were the first words he spoke, his raspy voice upbeat. He clearly expected me to give him the usual “all went well” report. Over and over he’d advised me not to take this case. When he’d realized he couldn’t talk me out of it, he’d followed me here “just in case I needed him.” Most important information first. “The target is on the run. I’ve got one human casualty, another wounded.” My self-disgust rang loud and clear in

my tone. “How in the hell,” Michael, my father, said haltingly, “did that happen?” “I don’t know. I had him locked. I fired, and the next thing I knew, he’d switched places with his partner.” “How?” “I don’t know,” I repeated. “Goddamn it, Eden F.” He only called me that when he was mad, or seriously worried. “I told you not to take this case. I told you to leave it alone.” “I’m sorry,” I said on a ragged breath. And I was. Because of my failure, a human slaver was even now roaming free. Worse, he knew he was being hunted. He’d be more careful now. I’d just screwed the entire operation. “I think some of the slaves are in cells inside the Pit. It’s a bar on the east side of town.” I opened my mouth to tell him the rest, but my mind went blank. A thick fog covered my thoughts. I blinked, shook my head and beckoned them back. “Some are with a human, Sahara Rose.” “I’ll put a man on it. You bring the survivor to me. Goddamn it,” he snarled again and disconnected. Silence greeted me. And in the silence, I noticed that the throbbing in my arm had increased. I looked down. Though my vision was clouding, I studied the gaping, oozing wound. The bullet had

done more damage than I’d thought. I was losing blood fast. Too fast. Fighting past the pain and weakness, I pushed to my feet. My knees wobbled, and my bones liquified, and neither showed any sign of improving. Even my stomach battled a sharp pain. I stumbled over to the woman. She flinched as I reached out and cut her free. Then she sank to the splinter-sharp ground and sobbed, her dirty hair covering her naked shoulders. I tried not to think about the other one, the one who wouldn’t go home this night or any other. The crossbow strapped to my back suddenly weighed me down like a concrete block, and the ache in my stomach intensified. It was becoming harder and harder to breathe. A wave of dizziness assaulted me, heavy and strangely seductive…lulling me to the ground beside the woman. When our arms touched, she uttered a terrified gasp and hastily scooted away. Her movements were so jerky, she flung dirt onto my legs. I wanted to comfort her, but my mouth refused to form the right words. What the hell was wrong with my stomach? Slowly, so slowly, I lifted my shirt. There, just below my ribs, was another bloody, gaping wound. When had I received that? I hadn’t even felt the bullet go in. Wait. Yes, I had. When I’d run with the mini-grenade. Damn.

I set aside my cell unit and reached inside my pouch, withdrawing a thin silver Extractor. Bracing myself for what I was about to do, I bit my bottom lip, centered all of my strength, and jabbed the damn thing into my stomach wound. Instantly the metal-sensitive prongs elongated and probed for the bullet. A scream ripped from me. How much time passed before the small, round tip was removed, I didn’t know. I only knew desperation, pain. And fear. I wasn’t ready to die. Not here. Not now. I laughed humorlessly. Not as a failure. Concentrate. I had to concentrate. Though I craved a moment’s rest, a single moment to close my eyes, I repeated the entire process, shoving the now bloody device into my forearm. When I pulled out the last bullet, my shoulders and back sagged in relief. Distantly, I heard the woman crying. Quickly losing energy, I found the syringe in my pouch and injected myself in the heart with pure molybdenum to slow the spread of copper or brass or whatever the bullets were made of. Searing pain erupted. I screamed again, long and loud, until my vocal cords cracked. The now-empty syringe fell from my suddenly limp fingers. I hurt everywhere, but a comforting lethargy was already working through me. A minute, maybe less, and I’d be out. I reached blindly for my cell unit, my fingers

somehow closing around it. “Boss,” I said. The word emerged so weak and broken, I experienced a moment’s surprise when the phone began to automatically dial. He answered on the fifth ring this time. “What?” “I’m hit.” “It just gets better every time you call,” he said, his sarcasm heavy. I caught the thick undercurrent of concern, however. “Can you make it to the safe house?” “I’ll…” A murky web of darkness wove through my mind, blackening my eyesight, paralyzing my muscles. “Try.” Oblivion seized me in its demanding grip.

Chapter 2

I was floating. No, not floating, I realized a second later. Strong male arms cradled me tightly, securely. The scent of pine and man wafted to my nostrils, and male strength radiated all around me. Someone was carrying me. Who? Why? A thick, smoky cloud blanketed and scattered my thoughts, keeping the answers just beyond my grasp. “Is she going to make it?” someone asked. I recognized the broken, concerned voice. Michael, my boss. My father. “Don’t know,” a second man said. I didn’t recognize his voice at all. The timbre was deeper, more raw than any I’d ever heard before. So distant, so uncaring. “She’s lost a lot of blood.” Both voices seemed to drift from a dream, surreal and remote. Which man held me? My father or the stranger? Whoever it was, he emitted a kind of heat far different from any I’d ever encountered before. His warmth seeped into me, as soothing and gentle as a lullaby. “We need to cut these clothes off her,” the stranger said. “Get her out of the mask so she can breathe.”

“Wait till we get her in the car.” Michael’s tone broke further, was more hurried. He always freaked when I was injured. Even the smallest scratch undid him. Minutes passed. Maybe hours. I didn’t know, didn’t care. Time had long since become immeasurable. All I had was the solid embrace of my rescuer, but even that was soon denied me as my body was eased to the cool ground. Hands tugged and ripped my clothing, causing my wounds to throb. I gasped as air kissed my bare skin. In the next instant, the mask was jerked from my face. Someone sucked in a breath, and it wasn’t me. Then…silence. “Shit,” the stranger exhaled, his tone laced with…awe? Fingers coasted gently over my cheekbone, then through my hair, comforting and soft. Sleep…I’d sleep a little longer.

I’d missed EenLi. I’d failed. Over and over, those words echoed in my mind. I’d missed EenLi. I’d failed. His smug face drifted into my thoughts, shimmering just beyond my consciousness. I reached for a pyre-gun, but managed to grab cool, soft sheets instead. The events in the warehouse flashed, playing out like an old video. The gunshots.

The blood. The blinding pain. Is that why I felt so empty and hollow, like a nocturnal phantom whisking from cloud to cloud? EenLi’s image wavered, then disappeared. I raced after him, but my limbs were suspended in motion, and I remained in place. He laughed. The sound taunted me. You’re a failure, Eden. A failure. I’d had one job. Just one. And he had walked away from me without a single scratch. When aliens first arrived so many years ago, humans had tried to destroy them all. They almost destroyed themselves instead, or so I’ve been told. To survive, a sort of peace was reached between the different races on the condition that agents be allowed to kill predatory other-worlders. My target had been predatory, no doubt about it. I should have destroyed him, but I’d let him get away. Failure, failure. Failure. The word rang in my head and jarred me awake. My eyelids popped open. A gasp lodged in my throat. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. I lay still for several moments, trying to calm my racing heartbeat. Shadows enveloped me. No, wait. Small streams of moonlight danced from the window, revealing a lacy canopy and high, vaulted ceiling. Where was I? I struggled to turn my head, to scan the rest of my surroundings, but my muscles refused to obey, keeping me in the same chin-up

position. Using all of my energy, I tried again. Still nothing. What was going on? Why couldn’t I move? Sparks of panic lit inside me but were quickly extinguished by confusion. I heard the beep-beep of…something. Smelled the sharp tang of antiseptic. On a wave of relief, my shoulders sagged into the softness of the mattress beneath me. A hospital. I must be in a hospital. Relaxed now, I licked my lips, realizing my mouth felt dry and cottony. Thirsty. I was so thirsty. My tongue flicked out, moistening my parched lips. “Thirsty,” I croaked out. No one was there. No one could hear me. “Thirsty,” I gasped again. Perhaps a heartbeat later, a man stood beside my bed. I couldn’t make out his features, only that he was tall and muscular. A drugging warmth radiated from him and slid along my body. I wanted to turn toward him, sink into him. Inside him. I shivered. “Where’s Michael?” I asked. “Sleeping. Finally. Here,” he said, his deep, raw voice familiar to me. He held a cup and straw to me. I drank deeply, the cool, sweet liquid flowing down my throat. Never had anything tasted so wondrous. “That’s enough,” he said and tugged the straw from my mouth. “Sleep now.”

A direct order. His tone left no room for argument. Usually I didn’t respond well to that type of “do what I say or suffer the consequences” command. This time, however, I was too tired to argue. I closed my eyes. The last thought to drift through my mind was, I’ll instruct that man on how best to speak to me tomorrow.

“Wake up.” The strong, determined voice prodded at me relentlessly. “Wake up.” A callused hand shook me, working in sync with the voice. Evil. They were both evil and deserved to die a horrible death. “Wake up, sweetie.” I attempted to roll over and bury my head in my pillow, but my sore, tired limbs resisted. That caught my attention in a way nothing else could have. I jerked at my arm. Nothing. I kicked out my leg. Nothing. Panic rushed through me, and I struggled to open my eyes. “That’s my girl,” the man said, relief heavy in his tone. Stark white light pounded into the room, its unwelcome fists leaving nothing untouched. Too bright, I thought, squinting, still struggling. But

slowly, very slowly, my eyes adjusted. My gaze locked on the glowing restraints that bound me, on the plain white T-shirt I wore and the white silk sheet that covered my lower half. Then I narrowed my gaze on my uninvited guest. Michael Black. My boss. My adopted father. The panic dissipated completely, leaving me weak, and I settled back into the auto-adjust mattress, my spine stiff with anger. Every line of Michael’s weathered face was etched with concern, from his piercing hazel eyes to his broad, unsmiling mouth. His graying hair, usually styled perfectly, fell in disarray around his temples, and his expensive suit possessed more wrinkles than a Genesi. “Why am I banded?” I asked, my vocal cords hoarse. Bands were stronger than handcuffs and could not be removed without severing an appendage. They bonded to alien skin, locking the prisoner in place. “You were thrashing uncontrollably, which kept opening your wounds.” “Unband me. Now.” I gave the order, making sure there were no emotions in my tone. I would not show weakness. Not to this man who seemed to have no weaknesses himself. But Michael knew me better than anyone, and he knew I didn’t like the feeling of helplessness. I never had. Besides, I doubted I had the strength to move upon threat of

death, so the bonds were unnecessary. He did as I requested, pressing an ID button and causing the lasers to unwind from my skin. He settled back into the plush azure chair beside the bed. “How are you feeling?” “Good,” I said, surprised that I meant it. Except for a sense of weakness, fragility, and the dull ache in my side, I remained mostly unscathed. “Thirsty, though. Will you get me some sugar water?” A cup was perched on the nightstand, and he handed it to me. I downed the cool, sweet contents and closed my eyes in surrender. Sugar acts as a revitalizing agent for my kind. Though there aren’t many Rakas left, the ones that are here are probably responsible for consuming three-fourths of the earth’s annual sugar crop. “That copper really worked you over,” he said. “It always does.” I scanned the room. Thick crimson and navy carpet adorned the floor, and several imperial gold floor lamps climbed toward the arched ceiling. There were three open windows, the holographic shade turned off. The walls boasted bronze stucco and ornately carved, gilded mirrors. Obviously, this was not a hospital. Even my coverlet shouted wealth. Soft emerald velvet and white silk sheets surrounded my skin in a delicious cocoon. “Where am I?” I asked. “My house.”

That told me nothing. The man owned thirteen estates all over the world. “Which one?” “New Mexico. Closest one to New Dallas.” “You redecorated since I was last here.” He nodded. I arched a brow. “Would you care to tell me why I’m here instead of a hospital?” There were special hospitals specifically designed for agents like me: paid killers, as well as alien. I’d been a patient numerous times. “One, you were delirious and I didn’t want anyone to hear the things that you were saying. You were moaning and groaning about your failure with EenLi. I want everyone to think you let him go on purpose. Two, I didn’t want your name on record as having received gunshot wounds. And three, I didn’t want anyone else brought in on this case.” Though I was glad, I sighed deeply. I would have liked him to be able to sit back and simply bask in my success, no interference required. “Playing my protector again, Michael?” He shrugged, but glanced away. “Actually, my boss thinks this situation works out for the best. EenLi used to work as an agent, and he—” “What?” I blinked. Surely I had misheard. “EenLi used to work as an agent. For me, specifically.” I tried not to gape. “Why am I just now hearing about this?”

He shrugged again, the action stiffer, more clipped. “He was supposed to be an in-and-out job. I tell you what you need to know, and that was something you didn’t need to know.” “A target’s training is a need to know. He probably knew he was being watched the entire time.” “I doubt that,” he said. “He was an okay agent. Good at finding people, which is why we kept him on, but not much else. He was too emotional, had too many vices. I guess that’s why he decided to make more money selling slaves. End of story.” I closed my eyes for a brief moment. “So why is your boss glad he escaped?” “The government now wants to know where those portals are, and they think EenLi will lead the way.” Michael leaned back in his chair, watching me. “They’ve decided they don’t want him dead until they know.” “I followed him for weeks. He never revealed a single portal’s location.” “Orders are orders. He lives until he divulges how he’s planet-traveling.” What if EenLi never gave the information they wanted? Did that mean the murdering criminal would get to live a long, happy life? I didn’t voice my questions, though. Michael knew how I felt about law breakers. My gaze traveled the length of my T-shirt-and-sheet-clad body. I looked thinner.

“How long have I been here?” “Thirteen days, six hours, forty-eight minutes.” He propped his expensive Italian loafers on the cherry wood nightstand. “I had everything you needed brought here.” “Even a doctor?” That would have totally defeated the purpose of keeping me here, out of the government’s watchful eye. “No,” he said hesitantly. I arched a brow. “Who patched me up?” “Lucius Adaire.” “That tells me nothing. Who is he?” “A man. A human.” My curiosity grew about this Lucius Adaire, and I studied Michael. Just the mention of this mystery man had caused the easy line of his posture to stiffen and a glimpse of uneasiness to enter his eyes. Michael had seen the worst life had to offer— he’d even caused some of it—so he rarely became uneasy. Why now? “Tell me about him,” I prompted. “In a minute,” he said. He picked a piece of invisible lint off of his pants. “You remember anything else about that night in the warehouse?” The job came first, always. I didn’t try to keep the conversation on my mysterious doctor. I centered my thoughts and replayed every minute I’d spent in that warehouse through my head. Then

I leveled my gaze at Michael. “EenLi said a portal was going to open in a day. That day has already passed, of course, but that means the portals aren’t always open, that he can only send his cattle, as he calls them, through on certain days.” “What opens them?” “He never said.” Michael scowled. “Damn, we can’t seem to catch a break. After I picked you up, I sent a group of men to the Pit. It was empty, top and bottom. There were cells underneath, but no one was in them.” My stomach knotted, and I scrubbed a hand down my face. “Was there evidence of recent use?” “Makeshift toilets that hadn’t been emptied. Manacles with dried blood—which we analyzed and cross-referenced with the victims’ blood types. Every drop had an exact match.” “What about Sahara Rose?” “Gone, her house abandoned. She packed in a hurry, that much was obvious.” “Wonderful,” I muttered, almost afraid to ask my next question. But I had to. I needed all the facts. “What about the human woman at the warehouse? The survivor?” Leaning back, he rested his hands behind his head and gazed up at the ceiling. His lips pressed tightly together as a long, protracted silence

enveloped us. “You don’t want to know,” he said softly. I pushed out a breath and shook my head in disgust—disgust with myself. With EenLi. “She’s dead, isn’t she?” Michael nodded, his expression apologetic. “I’m sorry, sweetie. Her wounds were too extensive. She died before we got there.” I bit the inside of my cheek and fought back a razor-sharp crest of regret. “What was her name?” “Don’t torture yourself this way. You did what you could.” “What was her name?” I insisted. “Amy,” he supplied, reluctance heavy in his tone. “Amy Evens.” Amy Evens. She’d been young, probably no more than twenty-five, with pretty blond hair and wide blue eyes. Like every young woman, she’d probably dreamed of love and a happily ever after, yet she’d been raped, abused, and had died alone. My disgust and hate for EenLi grew in intensity, but most of all, my disgust for myself grew. I was to protect the innocent; that was part of my job. I closed my eyes, hoping to block the images hovering there, images of both women alive and chained to the wall, neither knowing Death had knocked on her door. I’d failed in every way there was to fail. I had failed to kill my target; I hadn’t even managed to save one human life.

These wounds of mine…I deserved every one of them and more. A resolution to make it right solidified within me. “What do we do now?” I asked, once again facing Michael. “My guess is EenLi’s still in New Dallas, putting together another crew. I want you to go there, find him, find those damn portals, and finish your job.” A moment passed before his words sunk deep enough inside me that I was able to respond. Shocked, I said, “You’re letting me have another shot?” “You know his MO better than anyone. You know his habits; you’ve studied him. Plus, I know you. You’ll want a chance to fix this, and I love you enough that I want to give it to you.” “I—” I pressed my lips together. The fact that Michael trusted me enough to right my wrongs propelled a thrill of pride and happiness through me, and I had trouble finding the words to express my gratitude. I guess I’d assumed his protective instincts would surface, and he would command me to stay behind. I truly loved this man. “Do you think any of your agents are secretly working with EenLi?” I asked. “That would explain how EenLi knew to trade places with Mris-ste.” “I already have a man on it, so don’t worry about it.” I nodded. “Thank you for giving me another

chance,” I said, allowing all of my appreciation to seep through my voice. “I know I don’t deserve it. I’m not going to let you down.” “Don’t thank me yet,” he said wryly. “You’ll be working with a partner.” What? “Absolutely not.” Shock quickly replaced all of my happiness, and I jolted upright, winced, and glared over at him. “I work alone. Always.” “Not this time,” he said, resolute. Final. “I’m perfectly capable of finding the portals and killing EenLi on my own.” I needed to do it on my own. I couldn’t allow someone else to fix what I had created. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared over at me. “Then why isn’t he dead?” That was entirely beside the point—even though he was right. “I will not work with one of your agents.” “Yes,” he said calmly, assuredly, “you will. Lucius,” he called without removing his gaze from me. “Come meet your new partner.” As if the man had been standing behind the entrance, guarding it, the thick metal doors instantly slid open. He strode stealthily inside, not emitting a single noise: not the swish of clothing, the plod of footsteps, or the rhythm of breath. He was as human as Michael, but where my boss was lean, this man was solid muscle. Where Michael was average height, this man was tall. Where

Michael was aging, this man was all vitality. He stopped at the foot of my bed. The scent of pine soap and sheer maleness wafted from him. He wasn’t near enough to touch, but I could feel the warmth of his skin, beckoning me, lulling me. That warmth, that scent…I recognized them. A moment passed, and I sucked in a breath. He was the one who had carried me. He was the one who had given me sugar water last night. He was the one who had stripped away my clothing. My stomach knotted at the thought of his hands on me, undressing me, seeing my naked flesh. A shiver of awareness fired down my spine. His lips were soft and lush, as pink as flower petals. The rest of his features, however, were granite hard, boasting deliciously rough planes and harsh angles. Cheekbones carved from stone. A nose sculpted from steel. Black eyebrows slashed over his eyes, eyes so blue they could only have been created from ice chips, regarding the world with an I’ve-seen-it-all acerbity. Right now those eyes bore down at me, into me. He wore a tight black T-shirt, the same inky color as his chopped hair and form-fitting jeans. Simply standing there, he exuded a masculine intensity that shouted, I’ll fuck you or kill you— take your pick. I suddenly felt vulnerable. Exposed. It didn’t matter that I was covered by clothes and a sheet. I

was lying in a bed; I was injured. And he knew what I looked like naked. More than that, I was not operating at full strength and probably resembled a sick tabby kitten, mussed and disheveled. I forced a cool facade, hoping I exuded regal composure. I didn’t know this man, and I didn’t want him seeing me as anything less than controlled. “Have you ever killed anyone, Sparkie?” I asked, hoping to put him on the defensive. He’d take over if I let him. Not a glimmer of emotion lit his features. He remained in place, silent, unconcerned. Distant. With a conscious effort, I tore my gaze from him and attempted to ignore his very existence. “I don’t need or want a partner,” I told Michael. “Tough,” he said, his expression hard. “I work alone,” I said again, my tone colder than ever before. I was surprised ice chips didn’t form from my breath. “Not anymore,” he replied again. “I will not—” “Your protests will change nothing, sweetie. I want you to work with Lucius, and so you will. That’s an order.” “He’ll get in my way.” “He knows what he’s doing.” “I doubt that. Men like him are all brawn and no brain. How can I do my job if I have to watch his

back too?” The man finally deigned to speak. “Listen, cookie,” he said, his voice rough, low, as if his vocal cords had once been damaged. “The day I need you to save my ass is the day I’ll find myself a new job. Maybe cloning flowers. Maybe walking robotic dogs. I’ll decide when the time comes. Until then, you take care of yourself, and I’ll take care of me.” With that, he exited the room as quickly and silently as he’d entered. The moment the door clicked shut, I pinned Michael with a fierce stare. “Did he just call me ‘cookie’?” Michael’s lips twitched, and amusement turned his hazel eyes to a bright, vivid green. “You deserved it after that ‘all brawn and no brain’ crack.” “How can you expect me to work with that man?” The twitching became a full-blown smile. “Consider it penance for your sins.” I didn’t let his amusement soften me, though I did love to see him happy. “I’ll tell you one more time, Michael. I don’t need a partner.” Let me do this, I silently beseeched. Something deep and dark flashed across his features. “You’ll work with him, or you’ll work for another agency. Understand?”

He meant it. Michael never threatened. Only promised. And with it put like that, I couldn’t refuse. I nodded stiffly. My hands fisted at my sides, but resolve slowly moved through me. “Can he do anything besides look pretty?” And tough. “I guess you’ll just have to wait and find out.” “That’s comforting, Michael. Very comforting.” I knew Michael, knew when he was turning stubborn. Anything I learned about Lucius, I’d have to learn on my own. He sighed. “If you’re on edge with him, you’re less likely to make mistakes with him.” How wonderful to hand out little gems of wisdom at a time like this. Thanks. For nothing. “Any other bits of ingenious ramblings you want to toss my way before I kick you out and get some rest?” “Yeah.” He chuckled. He always liked when I reverted to my old spoiled-princess ways. “I want you operating at full capacity in three days. Otherwise, I’ll let Lucius have the mission all to himself.” He left me alone then. With his parting words, he had sealed my fate. I’d be back in fighting shape within two days and not a moment more. Whether it was feminine pride or simple arrogance, I would not let Lucius have this mission for himself. I still had something to prove. More now than ever.

I would not be a failure. Not again. “‘Cookie,’ my ass,” I muttered.

Chapter 3

Later that night I forced myself out of bed. My muscles screamed in protest, but I managed to stay upright. The white T-shirt I wore hit my knees, leaving the rest of my golden legs bare. Darkness and moonlight mingled together, offering a hazy cocoon. Only silence touched the air. The rest of the house slept peacefully. My movements slow and halting, I maneuvered down the mahogany staircase and into Michael’s office. I loved this room, with its intricately carved desk, the high shelves filled with real books—not the holobooks sold in stores—and the fresh scent of leather. I traced my fingertip over the world globe, over the maps of the universe lining the walls. Over the chessboard. Michael and I had spent many nights in this room, talking and laughing. Strategizing. No time for reminiscing, girl. Get to work. I plopped into the plush chair behind the desk. After bypassing his ID scans and voice-activated computer—just like he’d taught me—I searched for a file on Lucius Adaire. All information had been permanently deleted. I wasn’t surprised. Michael didn’t want me to know

about Lucius, so of course he’d removed every piece of information. Smart man, my father. Frustrated and overtaxed, I slipped back inside my room. I needed a few hours sleep before morning arrived. Just before I reached the fourposter bed, however, I stilled. I was not alone. I sensed heat, smelled pine. My eyes narrowed on my uninvited guest. Looking casual and unconcerned, Lucius lounged in the padded chair beside the bed. I scowled over at him. “Find anything?” he asked smugly, as if he knew what I’d been doing. I didn’t bother answering him. I climbed onto the bed, the mattress adjusting to my weight, and closed my eyes, though I remained alert. The covers were warm and soft, a soothing caress against my skin. “What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded. “Sleeping. You’re welcome to stay and watch like the pervert I’m sure you are.” “I don’t think so. Get up.” Leaning toward me, he reached out and shook my shoulders none too gently. “Get dressed. We train.” A man of few words. How quaint. “You want to pretend to be my physical therapist and give me a massage, I’ll let you touch my shoulders. Other than that, keep your hands to yourself. Got it?”

“Not a morning person?” “I’ll let you know in the morning. For now, I’m resting. Get out.” “Are you always this bitchy?” I didn’t take time to find my calm center. I simply came up swinging, jerking myself into a sitting position and letting my fist fly. I nailed him in the jaw. His chin didn’t even turn, but I winced on impact. His bones were more solid than steel, and I wasn’t at optimum strength. Had he had enough time to stop me completely? Probably. Had he had enough time to move away? Most assuredly. My movements were slower than usual, my reflexes dulled. A glimmer of humor lit his eyes, making the blue appear almost purple. “Get your ass out of bed. In the shape you’re in, other-worlders will eliminate you, not the other way around. I’ll meet you in the basement gym in half an hour.” “Get out of my room.” “Half an hour,” he said. “Don’t be late.” When I heard the doors close, I forced myself out of bed. I felt sorer now than I had been five minutes ago. I blamed Lucius, of course. But damn if I didn’t look forward to training with him. I loved a challenge. In my current state, I probably couldn’t beat him. I could do a lot of damage, though, I thought, grinning. I saturated my wounds with a cyanoacrylate

adhesive—a superglue for injuries—and took a lingering shower, luxuriating in the steaming, rosescented liquid. Most people had to bathe with dry enzyme and glyceride spray. Michael could afford water, thank God. Showering was almost a hobby of mine. I’d been told Raka was a planet with more water than land. Perhaps bathing was something all Rakas enjoyed. If my parents had survived their night of terror, I could have asked them. Would have given anything to ask them. A pang of remorse hit me, just as it always did when I thought of my parents. I missed them terribly. When I climbed out of the tub, I felt more limber, less awkward. I glanced at the wall clock. Three forty-five. I couldn’t help but smile. Thirtythree minutes had passed since Lucius had ordered me to be in the gym. I imagined him pacing, waiting impatiently for me. Reaching up, and experiencing only a slight twinge in my side, I secured the length of my gold hair from my face and rummaged through a dresser filled with clothes. In all of his homes, Michael kept a room and wardrobe just for me. I donned a red sports bra and matching spandex shorts. My stomach growled. I’d had nothing more substantial than sugar water in days. As I entered the kitchen, the smooth, marble tile was cold against my bare feet. Real coffee, not the synthetic

blend, simmered in the silver pot sitting on the platinum countertop, saturating the air with a thick, caffeinated aroma. I wrinkled my nose in distaste. How anyone could drink that crap, I didn’t know. With the press of a few buttons, a turkey sandwich slid onto the counter hatch. I sprinkled it with sugar and managed to eat half before my stomach protested. Forty-nine minutes had passed. I finally sauntered my way into the basement gym. I was grinning. Lucius was there, pounding away at the punching bag, looking sexy as hell. How annoying. With his irritating personality, he should be ugly. Hideous. His bronzed skin stretched taut over muscles and sinew. Several scars laced his ribcage. Sweat glistened and traced small rivulets down his bare chest and back, catching in the waist of his black shorts. He didn’t spare me a glance. I spent the next two hours stretching on the mat and centering my energy, forcing my body past the barriers my injuries had set. At times, I found myself unsteady and shaky. A good shaky, though. The kind that let me know I was alive. I’m sure Lucius would have preferred I make use of the weights, maybe the virtual boxing ring. Usually, I did train in the ring. I didn’t want to go that route today. Instead, I pranced off the mat and to the bar across the far wall. I stretched one leg up,

glancing over at Lucius. I nearly gasped when I realized he was watching me, his eyes heated and intense. My gaze slitted on him. “Enjoying yourself?” “Let’s practice,” he barked. “If you think you can handle me.” “I’ve been handling men like you for years, Sparkie.” A muscle ticked in his temple. “Let’s get a few things straight, cookie. You don’t like me and I don’t like you. You don’t want a partner, and I sure as hell don’t need one—especially an arrogant female other-worlder with no talent that I can see.” “Then why did you agree to work with me?” I ground out. “A paycheck is a paycheck, baby, and your daddy is paying out the ass to have me here.” “We’re paid by the government, baby. Get your facts straight.” His lips pursed, and he cut off his next words. “At least you got the better end of the deal,” I muttered. “How’s that?” He arched a brow. “You failed your last mission, and I’ve succeeded every damn time.” I worked my jaw in irritation. Like I really needed a reminder of my failure. Like it wasn’t front and center in my mind, even in my dreams. “In all my years as an agent, that’s my only failure.

One I plan to rectify.” “You’ve succeeded at easy cases, sugar. That’s nothing to be proud of.” Bastard. “Have you even made a single kill?” “If you have to ask, you’re not a good judge of character.” Cold, hard death gleamed in his eyes, speaking of innumerable kills. My hands clenched at my sides. “I’ve made kills, too. Many, in fact.” “I’m curious,” he said. “How did you eliminate those targets of yours? Annoy them to death?” Scowling, I closed the distance between us until we were nose to nose. Our breath mingled, and I could feel the vibration of his strength. I could not seem to hold my usual cool facade with this man. I responded to him whether I wanted to or not. “Why annoy them when I can use my knife—when I can take a human like you, cut you up, and sauté you for breakfast?” He studied me for a long, silent moment, his eyes raking over my curves with heated intent. “That’s one glorious ego you’ve got there.” “I’ve earned it. You, however, have probably never—” “That’s enough, children,” Michael said, suddenly filling the doorway. We both spun around and faced him. With a feigned nonchalance, he leaned against the thick wooden frame. He held a cup of steaming coffee in

one hand and an unlit cigar with the other. “I leave you two alone for a few hours and you turn on each other. Work together on this or find yourselves new jobs.” He shook his head and gave me his complete attention. “I meant to give you more time, but something’s come up.” Now he turned to Lucius. “Finish your training, then explain to Eden what I want done today.” With that, he left us alone. “Explain now,” I said, glaring at Lucius. I would have run after Michael, but that would amused my partner, I’m sure. “Anyone ever tell you if you’re nice to a man, he’s more likely to be nice to you?” “Please explain what Michael wants done,” I said, the words ripped from my throat. “Not until after we train,” he said, drawing out each syllable with relish. He eyed my injured side. “You, cookie, are in desperate need of it.” I had to swallow back a rush of curses. How did he keep getting the upper hand? “I’m ready when you are,” I said through gritted teeth. As a Raka, I didn’t have special, instinctive fighting skills. As a trained assassin, I did. I would not be the easy mark he obviously considered me. Injured or not. He claimed his place on the large blue mat in the center of the gym. Gathering my energy, centering at last, I placed myself just inches away from him. My strength was

not at the level I wanted it, but for now it would have to do. I considered my battle strategy. Focus. Keep my thoughts clear. Don’t allow an emotional reaction. “I won’t go easy on you,” he said. “I don’t care that you’re a woman, and I don’t care that you’re injured.” I’d trained with holograms more fierce and lethal than this man, so his warning didn’t frighten me in the least. “You plan to take me down all by your little self?” I laughed. “Good luck, Sparkie.” Uttering a low growl, he sprang at me. In one fluid motion, I leaned to the side, effectively avoiding impact. He whizzed past me and tripped on his own feet. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. You let your anger get the better of you.” Pivoting, he advanced on me. I kicked him in the stomach, but that didn’t slow him. He reached me all too soon and grabbed me by the shoulders. This time I couldn’t evade him; he moved too quickly. He tossed me down, and I hit the mat with a smack. I winced at the sharp ache in my side but quickly leapt to my feet. And just like that, before I could drag in a breath, he was on me again, shoving me down, his hands wrapping around my throat to choke me. “You’re too slow,” he said. I knew that. The slower I moved, the more time my opponent had to consider his next action. I

broke Lucius’s hold with a quick thrust to his elbow. Not enough strength to break his arm into two pieces, but enough to hurt. Then I kicked him in the chest, sending him stumbling backward. When he regained his momentum, he launched at me. Twisting, I sprang up and sidestepped. Gave another fluid twist. Kick. Contact. My foot slammed into his midsection, knocking the air from his lungs. As he doubled over, trying to suck in air, I lunged, elbow raised. With one downward slice, I connected with his cheekbone. He howled. I grinned. “Still too slow?” “Not a bad move,” he said, rubbing his cheek. After a moment of staggering, he stood to his full height. “Let’s see what else you’ve got.” He went low, spinning on his heels, at the same time performing a booted strike. Anticipating such a move, I jumped. Not far enough away, however. The heel of his boot ground into my calf. My knees knocked together, buckled, and I propelled onto my face. Cool foam met hot flesh. I lost my cockiness. He jumped on me, his chest pinning my face to the floor. His warm breath fanned my ear, my cheek. Everywhere his skin touched mine acted as a live wire, singeing me, making me ache—not in

pain, but in lust. I had trouble drawing in a breath, but when I did, I inhaled the savageness of his scent. The wildness. “What should you do in this position?” he said calmly. I should place one palm against my cheek, then extend my other arm and roll myself over. But his long, thick fingers were surprisingly gentle as they slid down my arms, and I remained in place, doing nothing. His touch wasn’t like that of an enemy, but like that of a lover. An unwanted wave of need and desire crested inside me, growing hotter, hotter still. It didn’t help that he had an erection. Thick. Hard. Hot. He didn’t want me, I knew. Not really. Men were simply turned on by physical contact. And we’d definitely gotten physical. Knowing he would have desired any woman under him failed to diminish my own lust as it should have. Dark, dangerous fantasies sprang to life. Naked bodies, moans of surrender…Without thought, I arched my butt toward him, seeking more of his heat, craving deeper contact. And that’s when a fragrant cloud of cinnamon and honey surrounded us. The moment I smelled it, my cheeks burned a bright red and I fought frantically for release. If Lucius knew anything about Rakas, he’d know we only emitted that scent when desperately aroused.

“Let me go,” I shouted. I couldn’t have erected a calm, cool mask if my life depended on it. “Let me go right now.” I extended my arm as I should have done earlier and tried to roll over. He pressed me down with more of his weight, keeping me immobile. “What’s wrong with you?” he barked. “Be still, woman. And when the hell did you put on that perfume?” He didn’t know. I immediately relaxed. It was one thing to desire him, but quite another for him to know about it. He seemed like the type of man who would use that against me, mock me. “Get off me,” I said more calmly. “What are you going to do if I don’t?” he asked. “I’ve got you pinned, and you know what? There’s not a damn thing you can do about it. So it looks like you’ve got yourself a bit of a problem.” “You think so?” I replied, nearly breathless. I had to get him off of me before I did something stupid. Like whimper…or spread my legs. “I do,” he said confidently. There was a pause, then, “Was I too rough?” he asked gruffly. I forced myself not to struggle. “I happen to like it rough.” “Liar.” His voice was now low and husky. Full of sexual energy. “I think you like it slow and tender.”

My God, if he kept talking to me like that, I was going to rip off his shorts and demand he take me right here. “Damn you. Don’t you want to teach me a lesson?” “Maybe next time.” He paused. “When a man has you pinned like this, the best thing you can do is bite his arm and use the distraction to twist yourself around.” Before I could take his advice, he jumped off me and stood to his feet. Feeling strangely bereft, I wrenched to my back and kicked, swiping his feet out from under him. Down, down he tumbled. I laughed when he hit. “To do something like that?” I asked him. His laughter mingled with mine, the sound of it raw and genuine. He didn’t move to rise, but remained in place. “Good move.” “Thank you.” When our amusement died, he anchored one of his arms behind his neck and frowned. “I want that bastard EenLi killed. Not because it’s our assignment, but because he deserves to die.” I glanced over at his profile; it was as harsh and savage a view as full frontal. “You make it sound personal.” “Every mission is personal, but I’m sure Michael told you EenLi used to work here.” “He did.” “When he left, he killed several agents. Agents who were my friends.” Lucius turned to face me,

the glint in his eyes feral, hard. “If at any time I think you’re holding me back, I swear to God I’ll kill you myself.” My eyes narrowed. “I’m only going to say this once.” I held up one finger, just in case he needed a visual. “I’ll speak slowly so you understand. If you hold me back, I’ll send you crying back to your mommy—cut up like a little girl.” Another flash of amusement played at the corners of his lips. “Good with knives, are you?” “Very,” I said with utter confidence. “Fair enough. Warning received.” Quick as a snap, he rolled on top of me and pinned my shoulders to the mat with his knees. I quickly brought my legs up behind him and wrapped my ankles around his neck. My thigh muscles ached when I jerked him backward. Down he went, up I went. The moment his back hit, I used the momentum to pull myself the rest of the way up and planted my elbow in his stomach. His breath whooshed out. “That’s the second time you’ve elbowed me,” he panted. “Has EenLi showed up anymore?” I asked, quickly pushing to my feet. Just for fun, I dropped and thrust my elbow into his lungs. “Damn it!” When he caught his breath, Lucius said, “A few more times in New Dallas. We think he murdered a human female.” “That’s not his usual MO. EenLi abducts, rapes,

and tortures. He rarely kills. There’s no profit in a dead body.” “I know. I think he’s desperate and made a mistake.” Lucius spun and lashed out, his foot slamming into my forearm. Into my wound. I winced, but maintained my balance. My God, that hurt. He wanted me to cry “unfair,” but I didn’t give him the satisfaction. I leapt, whirling in the air, one fist cocked and ready. Contact. I nailed him in the temple. His chin whipped to the side. “It usually takes him months to round up the right slave candidates, since he only wants those that meet his buyers’ specifications,” I said. “Why act hastily now?” “From what you told Michael,” he said, dancing to the side when I came at him again, causing me to miss him, “some of his last shipment died from some sort of sickness. His buyers wouldn’t have liked that. They asked for a certain number, I’m sure, so he has to supply that exact number. And don’t forget, you killed his top man, so he’s doing some of the dirty work himself now.” “Makes sense.” Since the move had worked for me before, I went low, kicked out. My leg connected with his ankles. When he tumbled down, I jumped and pinned his shoulders with my knees, my crotch near his face. He met my eyes, then purposefully slid his gaze

slid downward. “Nice view.” I shivered and tried to halt the new flicker of awareness sparking within me. Short, inky locks of hair spiked over his forehead, giving him a justroused-from-bed appearance. “Look, I’m not like other women you know. I’m tougher than you think. I’ve done things and been places most people only fear.” “You’re still a woman,” he said, as if that explained every secret of the universe. “And you’re a Raka, the most peaceful race ever to slink their way onto this planet.” Slink? I should break his nose for that. “I’m a Rakan woman who kills people for a living. I’m not afraid of you, and I’m not afraid of EenLi. I will kill him.” An unreadable emotion glimmered in his eyes, and I wondered what he was feeling. Admiration? I wished. Doubt? Most likely. “Why do you choose to kill other-worlders when you yourself are an other-worlder? Isn’t that like killing your own brother?” “My reasons are my own and no business of yours.” “I’ve read your file,” he said. “No reason is mentioned.” Stunned, I blinked. Michael had the nerve to delete Lucius’s file so I would have to learn about him on my own, but he left my file for the man to

peruse at his leisure? Fury seared me, and lightning snapped along my tongue. “Like my reasoning, my file is my business and mine alone.” He remained unperturbed. “I’ll be honest. You’re a contradiction, and I haven’t figured you out yet. By killing other-worlders, you protect humans,” he said, “but humans hunt your people for their golden skin.” “I’m as much an earthling as you are. I was born here, raised here. The fact that I’m Rakan…” I gave a stiff shrug. “You’re human. Would you kill a human if you had to?” “Absolutely,” he said. His eyebrows arched. “Would you?” “Absolutely,” I replied. “You, in particular. Some people, no matter their race or gender, are bad and need to be destroyed. That’s the only way peace will be reached.” Those full lips of his curved sensuously, and I had the sudden, unwelcome urge to lean down and nibble them. “You want to know what Michael plans for us today or what?” he asked. I nodded and fought a rise of color in my cheeks because I’d forgotten Michael’s dictate so easily. Stupid lust. I didn’t like this man. Remember? “Last night one of our agents caught Sahara Rose. She’s being held in New Dallas,” he said, not bothering to try and move me off of him. “Michael

wants us to fly there and question her, get whatever information we can.” I nearly jumped to my feet in excitement and anticipation, but managed to remain where I was. “When do we leave?” “Two hours.” He clasped his hands over my thighs and squeezed. Not enough to hurt, but enough to get my attention. “I want to question her alone, which means you need to stay here.” I laughed. I just couldn’t help myself. “You’re kidding me, right?” “There’s no way you’ll get answers out of her. You look about as scary as a bowl of warm honey.” “Looks do not determine ability,” I ground out, losing all traces of humor. I’d heard similar words my entire life. As a teenager, my spoiled, pampered self had loved that kind of statement. As an adult, and in light of my recent failure, I hated—hated!— hearing such a thing. “And don’t even get me started on your mouth,” he continued. “What about my mouth?” I asked slowly. “It’s a two-hundred-dollars-an-hour mouth, not a tell-me-all-your-secrets-or-I’ll-kill-you mouth.” “You know what?” I said. Oh, this was going to be fun. He obviously had no idea what he was about to encounter with his interrogation. “I’m willing to make a bet with you. I’ll give you ten minutes to get a single answer out of Sahara Rose.

A single answer.” I’d followed the woman for days. I knew her. Lucius, with his towering build and hard-ass I-don’t-givea-shit edge, would intimidate her into absolute silence. Wicked intent gleamed in his expression. “And when I do get an answer out of her?” he asked, both brows raised. “I’ll let you have my mouth for free.” He didn’t hesitate. “Agreed.” “Don’t you want to know what I get if you fail?” “I don’t plan to fail.” “You still have to offer me something I want.” Now he hesitated. “What?” he asked suspiciously. “When your ten minutes are up, I want you to step aside and shut the hell up. I’ll get the information we need. Afterward, you’re going to get on your knees and praise my ability.” His lips stretched to a full, anticipatory grin. “Agreed. But get ready, cookie.” He lifted up, getting so close I felt the warmth of his breath on my face. “I want your mouth all over me.”

Chapter 4

I want your mouth all over me. I tried not to think about Lucius’s parting words as I luxuriated in the softness and decadence of Michael’s private ITS—Ionic Transport System—a jet that ran on vibrations of subparticle strings of energy rather than gasoline. Complete with four laser cannons and retractable wings. I tried not to imagine my mouth devouring Lucius’s hard, muscled body, his moans of pleasure in my ears, his hands gripping my hair, the taste of him teasing my tongue. Unfortunately, I thought of little else and spent nearly every moment of the flight to New Dallas lost in a sensual haze. The cloying scent of honey still wafted from me—and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. At least Lucius hadn’t mentioned my ‘perfume’ again. I might die of acute mortification if he did—I could even picture the headline of my obituary: “Alien Assassin Survives Antique Gunshot, Laser, Knife Wounds, Poison, and Explosion, Only to Succumb to the Stupid-ass Comment of a Human Male.” I pushed out a breath and settled deeper into the

plush leather seat. The private, luxury ITS offered a smooth ride, a lavish sapphire couch and a gilded table. If it weren’t for the panoramic view of white clouds and blue sky, I might have convinced myself I lounged at home, reflecting on the success of my last mission. Instead, here I was. A failure. Partnered. Lusting after a human. Rakas were sensual by nature. Creatures of peace, pleasure, and decadence—qualities I’d battled for many years, and thought I had conquered. Or rather, killed, along with all of my victims. I sighed. I hadn’t set out to become an assassin. I asked to train with Michael and his agents simply to spend more time with my father. To impress him. He respected his men, and I’d wanted that respect for myself. Wanted to be more than his spoiled, pampered, lazy daughter—something he’d been teased about often. He’d never complained, had actually taken pleasure in indulging me, but I had begun to notice the difference between his men and me. Reluctantly Michael agreed to let me participate. Throughout training, I was pushed as hard as the men. I fought, I hunted, I learned the intricacies of weapons. Afterward, I watched my male counterparts leave and return from assignments while I remained behind. I heard them discuss the

atrocities being committed by their targets, and I felt their pride at protecting those weaker than themselves. Becoming an agent soon became my real goal. As the days passed, it was less about Michael and more about me. What I could do to help. Finally Michael allowed me a chance to prove myself. That first kill had been less difficult than I’d expected. Less difficult than everyone expected. I was a Raka, sensual, a peace lover, true, but I had easily taken life. That’s when I realized the destruction of evil was a sensual dance and my means of keeping the peace. Killing was my nature. Lucius stretched out his long, thick legs, eating my personal space. He sat across from me, no part of our bodies touching. Still, I felt the heat of him, and I didn’t like it. I didn’t like him, period. He upset my inner balance. An inner balance I desperately needed. After all, I destroyed aliens and humans for a living, violently, without thought or regret. One single distraction could get me killed. I knew that. I did. Yet here I was, consumed by a man who made me ache in ways that had nothing to do with physical injuries. I stole a quick glance at him, my gaze locking on his lips. Though pink and lush, they somehow appeared hard just then. Abrasive. Just like the rest of him. But I didn’t think they’d be hard when kissing a woman. No, they’d be tender and silky.

Hot. Perfect. Utterly perfect. A man who looked like he did, comprised of razors and nails, muscle and sinew, belonged in wars. Not on top of a woman, giving untold pleasure. And yet I’d be willing to bet he excelled at both. Not that I would ever find out first hand. Shifting to the side, I allowed myself to take in the rest of him. The change in his appearance still surprised me. The man had somehow transformed himself before leaving New Mexico. After our innocent tussle in Michael’s basement gym, we’d gone our separate ways to shower and change clothes. Lucius had emerged with his dark hair bleached completely white, his left eyebrow pierced, and the base of his throat sporting a skull tattoo. He looked sexy as hell. “Want to tell me what you’re thinking about?” he asked casually. My heart hammered at the sound of his voice. Like I was going to admit that little gem. He hadn’t said a word about the change, and neither had I. I could guess why he’d done it. Obviously he’d been to New Dallas before—under a different identity. This identity. He’d probably worked with the men we were meeting, and they knew him as this man. Lucius continued to watch me, I noticed, his iceblue gaze intent. At least his eye color hadn’t changed. That sexy, electric blue should never be

concealed. “You might as well tell me,” he said. “I’ll get it out of you sooner and later, and you’ll be doing yourself a favor if it’s sooner.” “I’m just imagining your failure with Sahara Rose,” I lied. His pierced black brow arched, raising the silver stud. “If the thought of my failure is what put that ‘fuck-me-now’ expression on your face, keep thinking about it. Please.” The last word sounded foreign on his tongue, as if he’d never spoken it before. I fought to keep my expression neutral, to keep from scowling. With his words, he placed his pleasure-giving image right back in the gutter of my fantasies. “Must you be so crude?” I ground out. “We kill people for a living, cookie, and you’re balking at my language?” We might both be killers, but we were different on so many levels. I worked for peace, for the good of the people. He worked for money. My allegiance would never waver. His probably shifted with the wind. “Oh, wait,” he added. “You’re a princess, a spoiled little rich girl. And don’t try to deny it. I’ve heard stories about your teenage years. Crying and pouting when you didn’t get what you wanted. ‘I asked for a blue dress, Daddy, not green,’” he

mimicked in a high voice. “Boohoo.” He rolled his eyes. “Of course you’re balking at my language. Girls like you can’t be happy, no matter their circumstances.” My eyes narrowed. I was not that girl anymore. I hadn’t been for a long, long time. When I began my agent training, I’d even stopped calling Michael “Daddy.” I’d called him what every other agent called him. “Too bad there isn’t a price on your head,” I muttered. “You’re one target I’d take great joy in destroying.” “Who says there isn’t a price on my head?” My brows arched. “Is there?” He shrugged. “You’re the hotshot tracker. You tell me.” Our gazes clashed and held. Some invisible force refused to release me from its grip as I studied him. His features were as granite-hard and unreadable as ever. Nothing about his expression or body language betrayed his thoughts. “Okay. Maybe there’s more than one,” I said. “You’re not the kind of guy who knows how to play nice. Most likely, you have enemies in every city, country, and hellhole you’ve ever entered.” The moment I spoke the word “play,” his eyes dropped to my lips. The word actually hung between us like a living, breathing thing. Was he imagining naked, sweaty bodies? Drugging kisses and pleasure?

I glared at him, silently commanding him to look away. He didn’t. In fact, his stare became more intently focused on my mouth. Such intense scrutiny unnerved me, but I was used to controlling my actions. My body would obey the will of my mind, not my lust. I wanted to squirm and turn away, but I forbade myself even an inch of movement. For my job, I’d often sat in one place for hours, surveying my prey, not giving away my location by a single breath. I decided to challenge him by turning his own question against him. “What are you thinking about?” He arched his pierced brow again. “Do you want the honest answer or the same shit you gave me when I asked?” He didn’t give me time to reply, but finished with, “I’ll give you the honest answer.” He leaned forward, his mouth twisting upward, his eyes darkening. “I’m thinking how hot and wet and eager your lips will be when I win our bet.” “You don’t even like me.” “I don’t have to like you to want you.” How like a man. Thankfully the landing gear moaned as it disengaged, saving me from slicing that smug grin off his face with the three-pronged razor strapped to my ankle. Never mind that I didn’t like him and wanted him myself. The self-driving ITS glided smoothly into its programmed location, a private airstrip in New

Dallas. Lucius and I hustled outside. A step behind him, I found myself watching the way his butt moved. Nice. Damn him. The sun glared directly overhead, causing midday heat to wrap around me. My gold skin burned easily, more easily than a human’s. When possible, I wore long-sleeved shirts (with accessible slits for weapon handling) and tight black pants (also with accessible slits). I slid my dark sunglasses into place. Because I belonged to a hunted race, I also shoved my golden hair under a black ball cap. A fine sheen of sweat formed, and a dirt-laden breeze kicked up. I hurried into the air-conditioned back seat of a bullet- and laserproof black Hummer. Two of Michael’s employees waited in the front. Both were physically fit humans in their midthirties. I recognized them and nodded. Ren, the muscled brute in the passenger seat, had asked me out on numerous occasions. I’d always turned him down. His wandering eye irritated me. “Thanks for the ride,” I said. “No problem, baby,” Ren said, giving me a welcoming smile. “Anything for you.” As he spoke, he sent me a wink. He even skimmed his gaze over my body, and I wouldn’t have doubted if he mentally willed my legs apart. Any reply I offered would have encouraged him. I knew that from experience. So I kept my mouth closed.

The easy atmosphere changed when Lucius entered the vehicle and folded his big frame beside me. Ren avoided looking directly at him, but his lips pressed together in disdain. The driver, Marko, whipped around, facing us. His olive complexion and dark eyes were rosy with…fury? “You guys have met before, I take it,” I muttered. “He broke my fucking nose,” Marko snarled. Lucius remained unperturbed. “I’ll break it again if you don’t turn your ass around and get us where we need to be.” There was a sizzling pause, a suspended moment between the escalating tension where I was one hundred percent confident the three men were going to kill each other. Wait. Let me rephrase. I was one hundred percent confident Lucius would kill Marko and Ren. I doubted anyone or anything could hurt Lucius Adaire. And wasn’t that a funny realization? When I’d first meet the man, I’d accused him of being all brawn and no brains, too pretty to actually fight. He’d proven himself capable during our training session. I’d give him that much. I adjusted the sunglasses on my nose. Obviously, Lucius had served time in the military. Special forces, black ops maybe. Perhaps he’d even worked for A.I.R. at one time. He moved silently, fluidly, with the patent stillness of a predator. He

didn’t balk at the thought of violence; he embraced it. I still didn’t want him as my partner, though. How could I prove myself? How could I prove my worth and my capabilities with this tough man at my side? Despite his threats to let me die if I got in his way, he just might jump in front of me if gunshots erupted. Agents were protectors by nature, and he wouldn’t be able to help himself. “I’m not paid by the hour, ladies, so let’s get this job done,” Lucius added. I watched as Marko’s flush turned ruddy, his eyes narrowed to dark slits. He slowly turned away from us. His back and shoulders were stiff, and an aura of fury radiated from him. Ren was slower to turn around. He glanced from Lucius to me, from me to Lucius. He’d never seen me with another agent before, so undoubtedly he wondered what the hell I was doing with this one. I offered no explanation, and switched my attention to the window. Trees were dry and yellow from lack of water. Tumbleweed rolled up the fenced enclosure and along the runway, and men rushed to remove them. Seconds later our coordinates were programmed into the car and we were speeding down winding back roads. No one spoke. In the silence, my awareness of Lucius became electric, a spark begging to burst into flame. The hard length of his

thigh pressed against the firmness of mine. Where our clothes met, my nerve endings sizzled. He smelled good. Too good. Like soap and man and a hint of Michael’s woodsy cigars. To preserve my sanity, I forced my mind from such dangerous territory and concentrated on the coming confrontation with Sahara Rose. Such a gentle, fragile creature, and that fragility made her a weak link in EenLi’s chain. I’d always wondered why the slaver had used the girl. Stupidity? Or desire? The latter was most likely the answer. Desire could make the sanest of people do foolish things. Wasn’t I becoming proof of that? Soon the Hummer eased to a stop in front of an old, dilapidated farmhouse on the verge of collapse. Appearances were often deceiving, and I knew this was one of those times. Inside, those splintery walls were solid and impenetrable. Trip wires and land mines littered the surrounding property. Computers and other equipment protected the “home” from invasion—as well as keeping prisoners inside. “Ten minutes,” I reminded Lucius as I jumped outside. I didn’t want anyone opening my door and helping me out. Femininity and delicacy were two things I didn’t want to project right now. I slammed the door closed with more force than necessary. “I’ll be watching the clock.” The heat hit me instantly, once again wrapping around me like a thick blanket. Bright rays of

sunlight baked everything in their path. The barren ground. The twigs and rocks. Lucius strode to my side, his long, muscled legs making short work of the distance. He radiated heat of his own, but it left a far different feeling inside me than the sun did. “Don’t be surprised,” he said briskly, “when I win after only five.” I secretly smiled. So cocky, yet so doomed for failure. I hadn’t had this much fun in years. If ever. But I gave no outward reaction to his words. Instead I turned and marched forward. He stayed close to my side. There was no one waiting for us at the door. Instead, guards and agents abounded inside, a few watching our every move as we passed the ricketylooking threshold. Since we would never have made it to the porch without clearance, we didn’t have to endure retinal scans or fingerprint IDs. Besides, we were expected. And since Michael Black controlled this little building as well as everything and everyone inside it—and he wasn’t here—I guess that made me the boss for now. My shoulders straightened at the thought. The chipped front door closed automatically. My hands remained close to the knives strapped to my thighs. A habit, really. Immediately, I took stock of my new surroundings. Eleven men manned the first room. Two were stationed at the computer terminal in back; three were seated on the only couch,

cleaning and testing weapons. The rest of the men were relaxing and talking over coffee. Cool air welcomed me in an open embrace. Relieved, I tugged off my cap, and my hair tumbled down my back. I hated wearing hats because they retained heat, but I also didn’t like hair in my face. The gold locks restricted my vision—and a good assassin needed to see everything around her. I should have cut it off long ago, but it reminded me of my mother—the only reminder I had, really—so I never had. I reached up and tugged my hair into a ponytail. “Take Lucius to the prisoner,” I said to no one in particular. A short, stocky bull of a human immediately stepped up to my—growl—partner. “This way,” he said, not meeting Lucius’s eyes. Lucius made to follow him, but I stopped him with a hand on his forearm. He paused, leveling an expressionless glance at me. “Leave your weapons with me,” I said quietly. He laughed. Actually laughed, a booming sound that filled the room. But when he spoke, his voice was as quiet as mine had been. “Not a chance.” “Did you hear what happened to that A.I.R. agent Dallas Gutierrez when another agent took a weapon into an interrogation?” His smile remained, softening the harsh planes of his features. “I can handle myself. Besides, I

wouldn’t do you the favor of getting myself killed before I claim my prize.” With that, he shook off my hold and strode away. At least he hadn’t called me “cookie” in front of the men. I turned to Ren, who had followed us inside. “Where can I observe?” A muscle ticked in his jaw, but he replied helpfully, “I’ll show you.” He ushered me down a well-lit, narrow hallway that slanted down, taking us underground. With every step, the temperature became damper, cooler. The walls were plain, a little dirty, but there were no visible cameras or sensors. Still, both were there, I knew, watching our every move. I knew how Michael operated, and the man left nothing to chance. Even though security cameras were illegal without a proper license—which Michael didn’t have because he didn’t want anyone knowing his business—I knew they were here. “What’s with you and Adaire?” Ren asked, breaking the silence. I didn’t spare him a glance. “What business is it of yours?” “Lucius Adaire is a killer.” I had to smile at that one. “So am I. So are you, for that matter.” “No, I mean a vicious killer. He’ll kill anything. Women. Children. I’d watch my back if I were you.”

I didn’t allow myself to react to his words. “Well, you aren’t me.” I still wore my sunglasses, so I looked over them and leveled him with a pointed stare. “Besides that, I always watch my back—even while I’m with you.” The hallway finally ended. We stood in front of what looked like an average wall. Ren laid his hand against a corner section, and two panels opened. A disposable, computer-operated needle pricked his index finger, and a small sample of blood was taken. When the computer recognized his DNA, the wall—consisting of two steel plates—split down the middle, admitting us. I didn’t know if Ren had spoken the truth about Lucius. The two men weren’t friends, so there was a very real possibility Ren had embellished his story. However, I didn’t like to think of Lucius as a killer of innocents—the very innocents I strove so hard to protect. “Come on,” Ren grumbled, unhappy with the lack of reaction he’d gotten from me. He led me into a small room. One entire wall boasted a holoscreen that played out the happenings in the other room. I saw the small, plain blue room, the two wooden chairs. I sank into Observation’s only chair, a padded stool, forcing Ren to stand beside me. I watched as Lucius crossed his arms over his chest and glared down at a pale, trembling Sahara

Rose—who wasn’t speaking. She did whimper, though, but that didn’t count. Her blue eyes were wide and watery, and she kept tugging on her lightcolored hair. Grinning, I glanced at the clock beside me. Ten minutes, then I was going in.

Chapter 5

Five minutes down. Five minutes to go. I almost hated for the ten minutes to end. Lucius was simply too entertaining. Screaming at Sahara Rose failed, so he tried cajoling. Intimidation through silence failed, so he switched to I’m-anice-man-and-you-can-tell-me-anything mode. Whenever he approached her, her trembling and sobbing increased, but she never spoke a word. When at long last she began screaming hysterically, he turned his back to me. He reached up with one hand, looking as if he wanted to scratch his head. He flipped me off. I laughed. Desperation clung to him, growing darker in his features, becoming heavier on his shoulders. The best thing, I had to admit, was that his antics kept my mind off EenLi and my own failure. Another three minutes passed with no results. Lucius tried to hide it, but I caught several panicked glances at his wristwatch. I had to choke back another round of laughter. I’d never been one to enjoy another’s pain, but please. Watching this hard-assed man flounder ranked right up there with consuming an entire bowl of sugar-covered peaches

—my biggest weakness. I glanced at the digital clock next to the screen. Only one minute to go. Lucius began to pace frantically, begging—actually begging—Sahara Rose to utter a single word. His eyebrow ring glinted in the light. “Please,” he said, the word hard against his lips. “Please, just say your name. Curse at me. Anything. I’ll pay you. However much you want.” She continued to tremble in her corner, lips pressed together, tears in her eyes. At least she’d stopped screaming. “I’m begging you. Tell me your name. That’s all you have to do. I’ll leave, then. You’ll never have to see me again.” Five…four…three…two… One. I resisted the urge to jump up and shout. Lucius burst forth with a stream of curses so foul and black Sahara Rose nearly seized. She did sink into a faint, her hair fanning out around her. “He’s going to kill her,” Ren gasped. He whipped out his cell unit, and held the small black box to his lips. “We need backup—” I grabbed the unit and tossed it to the ground. The sound of cracking plastic greeted my ears. Ren’s mouth gaped open, and he blinked at me in shock. “What the hell did you do that for? I need to protect the suspect. She’s—”

“Fine,” I said confidently. “She’s fine. He won’t hurt her.” “The hell he won’t.” Back and forth Ren paced, his agitation manifesting itself in the brisk way he moved. He jerked a hand through his hair. “He’s in a rage. He won’t be able to control himself.” “For God’s sake, calm down, Ren. You’re working yourself up over nothing. His anger is directed at me. Not Sahara Rose.” “You?” He ground to a halt. A gleam of confusion entered his eyes, as if I’d spoken a foreign language and he needed to translate the words. “I don’t understand.” “Nor do you need to.” Gaze narrowing, Ren snatched at the gun holstered at his side. I quickly laid a hand on his wrist. “Lucius won’t hurt me either,” I said. “How the hell do you know?” I smiled sweetly. “Woman’s intuition.” Lucius stormed from Sahara Rose’s cell wearing an expression of utter violence. His eyes blazed bright blue, his cheeks glowed vivid red. His muscles were bunched and ready to spring into action. I laughed. Ren paled and blinked at me as if I were insane. Maybe I was. Who else would laugh in the face of such a man’s fury? He deserved it, though. He’d been so confident of his success. And he’d failed. I had the chance to show him up, to beat him. I laughed again. How fun

this was going to be. I’m not sure how many seconds passed before Lucius stormed inside the observation room. Beside me, Ren froze in place. Lucius’s gaze locked on mine. He braced his legs apart and fisted his hands at his sides. I didn’t even try to hide my amusement. “You lost,” I said. His eyes narrowed. “That doesn’t mean you’ll win.” “But it means you lost.” He popped his jaw, but didn’t respond. “I’m going to enjoy this,” I said. “A lot.” I unbuttoned the first three buttons of my shirt, causing the material to gape and reveal the lacy edges of my bra. Both men watched me, Ren with fascination—it didn’t take much to douse his fear, did it?—and Lucius with fire. Lusty fire or black, angry fire? I wondered, as I pulled out my ponytail and combed my fingers through my hair. I licked my lips. “I’ll be back in five minutes,” I said. His eyes narrowed further, mere slits that completely blocked the color of his irises. “That confident?” “Oh, yes. If you’ll excuse me, Ren. Agent Luscious,” I said, nodding to Lucius before I sauntered past him and out of the room. Had I forgotten to mention that Sahara Rose didn’t like

men? Oopsie. She might be EenLi’s lover, but she found men sexually repulsive. Little Miss Sahara Rose liked her phallus strapped on and plastic. The more delicate and sexy the woman, the more susceptible Sahara Rose became. Did I feel guilty or ashamed or even less of an agent for using my femininity as a weapon? Hell, no. Look at everything Lucius had tried. Look how sublimely he failed. A good agent uses whatever means necessary to win. Men could scoff at my methods if they so desired, but let’s be honest. They’d do the same thing if they could. Men never hesitate to use their strengths, so why should women? Two armed guards stood posted at Sahara Rose’s door, which was adjacent to the room I’d been in. Their gazes seemed to devour me. I knew it wasn’t my appeal as a woman that so entranced them. I’d learned long ago that humans were simply susceptible to anything gold. I arched a brow insolently, and one of the men quickly punched the code that opened the door. I swept inside without a word. There were two chairs. No bed. No table. A large, black screen comprised the far wall; that was it. This wasn’t a room meant for comfort, but for intimidation. Michael hoped that the more uncomfortable the room, the less time the suspect would want to spend inside it.

I crouched beside the unconscious Sahara Rose, growing angry with Lucius. He hadn’t even attempted to catch her. I sighed. Her body was splayed across the floor in the exact position she’d landed in her faint. She’d fallen backward, but at least she hadn’t cracked open her skull. She was a young girl with too-pale skin and pretty, light-colored hair. Beautiful, yes, but her looks were already fading and showing signs of wear. Stress could do that to humans—age them before their time. Cradling her head in my hand, I gently brushed aside wisps of hair sticking to her temples. “Sahara Rose,” I said softly. “Wake up for me, baby.” She moaned and murmured something unintelligible. “Come on, sweetheart. Wake up.” Her eyelids fluttered open. When she realized where she was, absolute panic flooded her blue eyes. She struggled against my hold, but I held firm, keeping her in place. I might appear dainty because of my gold coloring and small bones, but my intense workouts kept me strong. “I’m not going to hurt you,” I whispered against her ear, letting my breath caress her cheek. The moment I spoke, she stilled completely. Her desperate gaze sought me, and whatever she saw in my face made her relax. “That man. Is he—” She gulped, trembled.

“He’s gone,” I said, stroking her jawline. “After the way he scared you, I sent him to clean the toilets. That’s all men are good for, anyway.” “Thank you,” she said, sinking deeper into my hold, clinging to me because I was the only lifeline she’d encountered. “My pleasure, sweetheart. Can you sit?” She bit her lip and nodded, then slowly eased to a sitting position. She wore a plain white top and matching drawstring pants. Both had been given to her courtesy of Michael. Because agents were nocturnal creatures who usually wore black, we always kept our prisoners in white. “I want to go home,” Sahara Rose said, her voice trembling. “Soon, sweetheart,” I promised, knowing it was a lie. This woman, no matter her reasons, no matter her sweetness, had aided a predatory alien. She would be punished in some way. That was the law. I experienced a twinge of guilt and regret, but brushed both aside. “First, I have some questions for you.” I pushed to my feet and looped my arm around her waist, helping her stand. I made sure my breasts meshed into her side. Just in case that didn’t make her notice me as a female, I let my fingers slip under her shirt and latch onto her bare midriff. When she felt the heat of my palm, she sucked in a breath. Since my desire for Lucius had yet to

dissipate, my honey scent wafted to her. “To the chair,” I told her. She gave me more of her weight than necessary, and I helped her ease into the slatted seat. “Comfortable?” Gazing up at me through her lashes, she nodded. “Yes. Thank you.” I grazed her cheeks with my knuckles and knelt in front of her, gently prying her knees apart to nestle my body between her thighs. Her eyes grew big, and she wet her lips. “I really need your help, sweetheart,” I said. “Your life depends on it.” “I can’t tell you what you want to know,” she said, beseeching me with her gaze to understand. “You can,” I insisted. My fingers traced the waist of her pants, making her stomach clench. “You want to help me; you know you do.” “No, I can’t,” she said, but I could see the war raging inside her mind. EenLi had probably threatened her life or her family’s life if she ever dared speak a word about his activities. But she didn’t want to get in any more trouble. “Please,” I said, all feminine eagerness. She gulped. “What do you need to know?” she asked hesitantly. I played a look of reluctance across my face, as if I didn’t want to involve her but had no choice. “I need to know about EenLi and his…cattle business.” Her lips compressed in fear, and she shook her

head. “I can’t. I don’t know anything.” I spread my fingers over her thighs and ran them upward until I grasped her hips. Her mouth dropped open in surprise, but she didn’t pull away. My eyelids dipped to half-mast, casting shadows over my cheekbones. I knew she caught a glimpse of my bra because when I glanced up at her, she flicked her eyes away guiltily. Her cheeks warmed to a rosy shade of pink. Good. I had her attention, and she was responding to my femininity. “Sahara Rose,” I said, pronouncing her name like it was my favorite food. She gulped again. “Yes?” “Please help me.” I returned my hands to her waist, toying with the ties on her pants. “In return, I’ll help you however I can. You’ll never have to see EenLi again.” That much was true, since I planned to kill the bastard. “Let’s start with something little. Why don’t you tell me why you helped EenLi in the first place? That’s easy enough, isn’t it?” She bit her lip and nodded hesitantly. “I was living on the streets. He found me and took me in, made me his lover. He gave me money and food and a place to stay and he told me he would…” Kill her if she betrayed or left him, I finished for her. “He trusted you enough to help with his cattle.” That war inside her continued to wage for

several more minutes. Should she, shouldn’t she? Should she risk angering EenLi, or risk believing in my aid? Finally, she sighed, and her shoulders sagged. I knew then that victory was mine, and I fought to contain my grin. “If I didn’t help, I would have become cattle.” Tears pricked her eyes, brimming over her lids. “He would have sold me, and I would have been taken to another planet.” Now we were getting somewhere. “Tell me about the ones who are taken off-planet.” “People give him orders,” she said, taking my hands and linking our fingers. She was shaking, seeking comfort. “Like off of a restaurant menu. Red hair, brown eyes, and so on.” “Who buys the slaves?” “Humans. Other-worlders. Origins don’t matter. Some of the buyers don’t even live on Earth.” “Then how do they give EenLi their orders?” She shrugged. “They come through the portals for a visit, I guess.” The muscles in my back jumped in anticipation of her next words. “Do you know where the portals are located?” “No.” A wave of disappointment crashed through me. I reached up and brushed her hair aside. Her eyes closed, and she leaned into my touch.

“He never told me,” she added. “His only job for me was to take care of the sick.” “If a human wanted to place an order, how would he do it?” She pressed her lips together for a moment. “There’s a man, Jonathan Parker. He’s old money. Oil, I think. He hosts parties at his house, and people tell him what they want. He tells EenLi.” I knew that the moment she spoke the name, every agent listening began searching our databases for Jonathan Parker. We’d have a printout of his entire history within minutes. “Do you know the type of people EenLi is looking for now?” She shook her head. “He never gives me those details.” “What about dates? When is a shipment due?” “I don’t know.” She bit her bottom lip and gripped my hand. “Can I go home now?” A beseeching note layered her voice. “I never hurt anyone, I promise. I took care of them.” “I know you did. But you need to stay here a while longer in case we have any more questions. Besides that, you’re safe from EenLi here,” I added, squeezing her hand, “just like I promised.” But more than that, if we ever decided to use her as bait, she’d be readily available. Callous, I know, but innocent lives came before this one woman. Sometimes bad things had to be

done to facilitate peace. “I’ll see that you’re fed and moved to a comfortable room. All right?” “Yes,” she said reluctantly. “All right.” “You did real good, Sahara. I’m proud of you.” Cupping her jaw, I inched upward and slowly brought my lips to hers. She immediately opened her mouth to deepen the kiss, but I kept it sweet, gentle, breathing in her scent and she mine. Feeling her softness, and she mine. She was a sad girl with a sad life, but she wasn’t evil. “You’ll tell me if you remember anything else, won’t you?” “Yes,” she whispered. I stood and stepped away, my fingers coasting over her jaw as I did. Giving her one last, lingering glance, I moved toward the door. “Wait,” she called. She too stood, the chair skidding behind her. I didn’t turn fully, but glanced over my shoulder. “Yes?” “What’s your name?” she asked. “Eden Black.” I paused. “Alien assassin. Don’t worry. I will take care of EenLi.” Her “thank you” echoed in my ears as the door closed behind me.

Chapter 6

Blanketing my features to reveal nothing, I sauntered into the observation room. Lucius sat alone. Ren had probably bailed the moment I’d stepped out of Interrogation. Either that or Lucius had kicked him out, not wanting an audience for what was about to happen. I remained in the open doorway, taking in the scene and allowing my anticipation to unfurl. Lucius occupied the only chair, his gaze locked with mine, his legs splayed out in front of him, his arms locked behind his neck. Never had a man appeared more relaxed and at ease. He pushed a button on a remote he held, and the holoscreen went blank, blocking out Sahara’s image. “Close the door,” he said in that rough, gravelly voice of his. I caught a hint of fury in the undertone. Not so relaxed, after all. A shiver trekked down my spine as I continued to stare over at the man, at my unwanted partner. I wanted to hear him say “Please,” but knew there was a better chance of EenLi’s head falling from the sky like manna. I stepped inside, causing the double doors to

slide closed automatically. Lucius tossed the remote on the floor. With every second that passed, something…murderous grew in his eyes, a gleam that belied his casual pose yet fit perfectly with his tone. Feigning my own sense of nonchalance, I leaned one shoulder against the wall. “We’re alone now, Sparkie. Was there something you wanted to say to me? Something you needed to do?” His gaze slitted, blocking every hint of color from those ice-blue lasers. He remained very still. “Tsk, tsk. You know that’s not the required position.” I showed no mercy. Still he remained standing. “You lost.” “I know.” “Drop to your knees.” “Why don’t you make this interesting,” he gritted out, “and take off your pants?” His words supplied an image of him kneeling between my naked legs. I stopped a shiver before it could form. My brows winged up. “You reneging?” Very slowly, he eased to his feet, inching his big body higher and higher. I gave my cuticles my attention. I heard his teeth grind together, even thought I heard his jawbone crack. I flicked him an insouciant glance and patted my mouth to smother a fake yawn. That murderous gleam had branched from his eyes and now consumed his expression.

His black clothes rustled as he moved to his knees. I studied my cuticles again, waiting, my breath suspended, the casual pretense the only thing keeping me from gaping. “You did a…good job,” he ground out. When the last word left his mouth, he sprang up. He wiped the dust from his knees, keeping his gaze locked with mine. I hadn’t thought he’d do it. What a puzzle he was. I could have nodded, said nothing, and saved him at least a hint of his stubborn pride. I could have…but I didn’t. “Don’t ever underestimate me again. You’ll end up on your knees every time.” He ran his tongue over his teeth, but didn’t reply. “Next time, research your suspect before you interrogate her. That’s where you went wrong.” His entire face bloomed red—in embarrassment, in renewed fury. Renewed? No. I doubted he’d ever lost the first batch of fury. He didn’t like losing, but more importantly, he didn’t like losing to me. A spoiled princess. Well, too damn bad. He’d gotten the best of me from the moment we’d met, so I intended to savor this victory. “You were doomed to fail before you even stepped foot into Interrogation. I tried to tell you, but you wouldn’t listen. You refused to consider the possibility that I might know something you didn’t.

Well, guess what? I’d followed her for days. I knew her, knew everything about her. Your silly pride cost you this war.” “War?” He chuckled, the sound devoid of humor. “That was only a minor skirmish, cookie.” I rolled my eyes. “Big talk for a loser.” Lucius stalked a menacing step toward me. “You did good, all right. There. That’s twice I’ve told you. I meant it then, I mean it now. But one day we’ll have a reckoning, you and I.” I moved toward him, closing even more of the gap, a rush of adrenaline quickening the blood flow through my veins. “I do believe we will—if one of us doesn’t kill the other first.” “I’m going to fuck you, Eden.” He stepped closer. “Killing is optional. After.” My nostrils flared as I closed the remaining distance. I was excited, I admit it. Our noses touched, and my beaded nipples pushed into his chest. His breath fanned my lips, brushing every crevice. The scent of cinnamon and honey instantly enveloped us. Our heated exchange was playing havoc with my hormones. “You’ll never have me.” Lucius never turned his attention from me. “Get a new goddamn perfume!” he shouted. I blinked, felt a glimmer of satisfaction. “Why? Does this one bother you?” He ran his tongue over teeth and flatly refused to answer. “Do you even give a shit about this

case? Do you want to know what we have on Jonathan Parker or not?” I stalked away from Lucius and to the door, opened it wide, and called for Ren. When he appeared, I said, “Make Sahara Rose comfortable. And be nice to her.” Ren flicked Lucius a nervous glance, then rushed off to do as he was told. I didn’t turn around but remained braced at the entrance. “What do you know about Parker?” Feigning nonchalance, I rebound my hair. “I’ll tell you about him over lunch,” he said, relish in his tone. He liked knowing something I didn’t. He liked choosing when and where he’d tell me. Since he’d gotten on his knees for me, I gave him this victory. Just barely. “I was just about to suggest that,” I said with a faux casual shrug. At my easy compliance, his lips dipped in a frown. He’d expected a fight, I know. “Let’s get out of here. Too many ears.” “We’ll need the keys to the Hummer.” “I pocketed them,” he said, dangling the set from his fingers. My hands tightened at my sides. I didn’t like that he’d thought that far ahead and I hadn’t. I strode from the room without a word, knowing he followed directly behind me. As we left the farmhouse, I had the last laugh, however. Several

men whistled and waved good-bye to “Agent Luscious.”

Lucius purchased half a dozen drive-thru burritos and tossed the sack into my lap. I held them without complaint as he drove for over an hour. Finally, he eased into a hidden thicket located in a richly treed patch of land—privately owned land that was well watered. He cut the locks off the gate and sneaked us inside. Both of us, I noticed, continually checked the mirrors, making sure we weren’t followed by anyone. The fewer who knew our business, the less chance there was of leaks. He told the car to park, grabbed the sack, and said, “We’ll eat now, then talk.” I caught the burrito he carelessly flung my way and ate what I could, but my appetite had yet to fully return. Plus, I preferred sweet, sugary foods. Always had. I often wondered what type of food grew on Raka, what I’d be eating if I was there. It was sad that I didn’t know much about my own people or my home planet. There simply weren’t many Rakans left here to ask, hunted as we were. Michael once hired a Rakan tutor for me, but that had lasted less than six months. The man had taken a day off and never returned. I knew the planet had two small suns, three large

moons, and massive amounts of water. I knew there had never been a war, the crime rate was low, and the penalty for any crime was death. I knew the entire population was ruled by an iron-willed dictator and that many Rakans had left simply to escape him. Is that why my parents had left? I so would have loved to ask them. To know them. They’d been taken from me so suddenly. Singing me to sleep one minute, lying in pools of their own blood the next. Murdered. Obliterated. I missed them more than I could ever say. Leaning back in my seat, I waited patiently while Lucius consumed the thick, greasy wraps. He chewed slowly, sensually, like a man who savored every bite. I watched the way his mouth and throat moved in harmony, and unbidden images of him partaking of me invaded my mind. I forced my attention to the window. Apparently, he didn’t like my change of focus. “Let’s take a walk,” he said, throwing the last wrapper in the back seat with the others. We exited on our respective sides. Lush, green trees filled the entire area, providing a luxurious shade. I stashed my hat and sunglasses on the car’s dash. Fresh, vibrant air wrapped us in a welcome breeze. I’d traveled the world, many times, but I rarely experienced nature like this. The tranquil area surprised me. “New Dallas has

been under a dry spell since EenLi and his men arrived. How is this glen possible?” “Michael keeps it well watered,” Lucius said, reaching my side. My eyes narrowed, and I experienced a spark of anger that Lucius knew something about my father that I didn’t…until I recalled that Michael had told me about buying a patch of land in New Dallas. I’d forgotten. He owned so much land. Now, if I could just get him to tell me about Lucius. “So what’s your real name, O man of many identities? I seriously doubt it’s Lucius.” “I have a lot of names,” he answered vaguely. We walked slowly, keeping pace beside each other, zigzagging through the thick trees and branches. Leaves and twigs snapped beneath our feet. “I realize that,” I said. “But I want to know your real name.” He glanced down at me. “I’ll give you three guesses.” “We’re alone, and there’s no chance of anyone listening in on our conversation. You can tell me.” “Maybe I only tell women I’ve seen naked.” “Is your name Bastard?” I fluttered my lashes at him. “Wrong.” A hint of amusement laced his tone. “Only two guesses left.” Frowning, I stopped and stomped my foot.

When I realized what I had done, my frown intensified. I hated when I reverted to my old princess ways. “That wasn’t a true guess, so you can’t count it.” “Too bad,” he said, never slowing. “I am.” My frown became a scowl, and I jumped back into motion. “Forget it. Don’t tell me.” “I wasn’t going to. But now that I have your permission not to, I feel so much better,” he said, sarcasm dripping from each word. “You are such a jerk.” A teasing light sparkled in his eyes, softening his entire face. “My mother always told me women like mysterious men. If I tell you, I’ll lose my mystery.” “You have a mother?” I hadn’t meant the question to sound so shocked, but the words whipped out of my mouth before I could stop them. “Yes, I had a mother. I didn’t get much time with her, but she was very real. What, did you think I’d been spawned magically from fairy dust?” “No. I thought you’d been spawned magically from the devil.” He laughed, the sound rich and husky and so inherently sensual my blood warmed. “You read my file,” I said, “so you saw that I’m Eden F. Black. Tell me your real name, and I’ll tell you what the F. stands for.” I frowned again when I realized I was skirting around the need to beg him

for the information. Why the hell did I even care about his name? I wondered. The answer eluded me, but the fact remained that I did care. I had to know. “That’d be a good bargain if I were even remotely interested in knowing your middle name.” My hands clenched at my sides as Lucius quickened his pace. He didn’t dart a glance behind him to see if I followed. After a moment, I did. I was too curious to wait behind and play games. Besides, I didn’t want him to know how much his lack of interest in my name bothered me. When I caught up, he said, “You ready to talk business?” “Always,” I ground out. “Jonathan Parker is old money, just like Sahara Rose said. I did a job here in New Dallas a few years ago. Jonathan’s brother was abducting otherworlder children, as well as human children, and forcing them to—perform with each other.” Our eyes met in a moment of unspoken understanding. Child pornography. I’d seen a lot of evil, but crimes committed against children always disgusted and infuriated me most. “You completed your job, I hope.” We both knew I was asking him if he’d killed the brother. “With relish,” he said. “Slowly and painfully.” “Good.” Very good. “The point is, only a few people—very few

people, at that—are allowed into Jonathan’s life. We can capture him, but he won’t talk under torture. His brother didn’t. That means we have to gain his trust, get into his inner circle.” The catch in his tone warned me of impending ire on my part. I would have missed it, but I was extremely focused on everything about this man. “By we, you mean—” “Me. I’m already in.” Of course. Every muscle in my body clenched. “He knows me as Hunter Leonn,” Lucius said, “the wealthy, pampered son of a dead Onadyn smuggler.” “Hunter,” I said, playing the name across my tongue. “Cute. Nice irony. I also like the pampered part. You make a lovely spoiled little prince.” I jerked a hand down my ponytail. “So you want me to sit back and watch you do the job, I guess.” “No.” Moving his head left and right, he popped in the bones in his neck. When he spoke again, he broke down the situation like I was a child. “I go in as Hunter. You’ll go in after me as bait.” “Okay. So…who am I to become?” “Yourself. You’re a Raka, a rarity. Your people have been hunted for their skin and are now nearly extinct. We can’t change your identity. More than that, Michael is high-profile. Most believe he’s a wealthy weapons dealer, and too many people know you as his daughter.”

“I’m with you.” Michael purposefully cultivated his image as a weapons dealer. After taking a job with the government, he’d needed a good cover, something that offered mass appeal to criminals and distanced him from his true identity. “Wait,” I said after a moment’s thought. “EenLi used to work for Michael. If I go in as myself, he’ll suspect I’m an agent. He’ll know Michael is protecting me.” “He won’t know about me, however, and that’s the important thing. From everything I’ve read on him, I think he’ll find it amusing to steal an agent.” “All right. I’m on board.” “Good. We’re going to spread the word that Eden Black is moving to New Dallas. You’re getting old, anyway, so you need a place of your own.” I sucked in a breath, the scent of sun, pine, and blooming flowers taunting me with their vibrant freshness. I glared up at him. A good motivation, yes, but not something I wanted to hear. “Actually, we’ll tell people you’re moving out to escape a stalker. Does that suit your vanity?” I punched his arm. “You’ve acted as an other-worlder interpreter for Michael in the past,” he said, rubbing the bruised muscle. “We’ll find out which highpowered humans are in need of an other-worlder interpreter. As their employee, you’ll have to attend parties and political functions, and that will put you

in contact with Parker. And me. Your stalker.” He eyed me up and down, lingering on my breasts. “Think you can handle it?” A wave of awareness battled with a flood of irritation. I ignored his stupid question, already making a mental list of the things I needed to do. Rent an apartment here. Obtain a new wardrobe. Recondition my feet to high heels. “I’ll work my way back into Jonathan’s circle,” he said, “and mention that I met you, learned you were moving here, and followed. I’ll let him know that I wanted you, pursued you, but you turned me down.” “That won’t be difficult, since it’s the truth.” “Shut up and listen.” He glared at me. “You’ll begin attending all the parties, and I’ll play the lovesick fool.” I opened my mouth to offer another little gem: it was always best to stick to the truth, so we didn’t get caught in a lie. He cut me off with, “You’ll continue to rebuff me. Hard. I’ll grow more desperate.” “I see where this is leading,” I said. “After I turn you down, you’ll place an order for me.” “That’s right. Other men will probably want you too, if not Jonathan himself. Either way there will be an order placed for you, and you’ll be taken. All you have to do is let them take you.” I nodded my head in approval. “I like it. How

are we going to proceed after that?” “I’ll buy you, whatever the cost, then purchase us passage to another planet, where I will claim that I can keep you without worrying about legalities.” “And once we know how they’re planethopping, we strike.” “Exactly. You’re going to need new clothes,” he said, giving me another intense perusal, a perusal that stripped away my clothes and devoured the naked body underneath. When his eyes reached my breasts, my nipples hardened. When they reached my stomach, my belly quivered. When they reached the apex of my thighs, a flood of warmth pooled there. “I’d already thought of that,” I said, my voice hoarse, dry. “I’m still known as Michael’s spoiled, reclusive daughter. I know how to dress the part.” “Good. Because a sophisticated interpreter would not wear”—he gestured to my scuffed leather pants and hiking boots—“whatever it is you’re wearing.” “Thank you for the fashion advice, Sparkie. I’ve always wanted a pierced, tattooed, bleached-out muscle boy to tell me how inept my fashion sense is.” His lips twitched. “Go to Michael. Tell him—” “I know what to do.” I arched a brow. “Can you say the same?” “Yes. Smart-ass. Like I said, I’m going to renew

my acquaintance with Jonathan. Give me three weeks before you show up. But no later, you hear me? Three weeks.” I batted my lashes at him and walked my fingers across his chest. “Why, Lucius Adaire, aka Hunter Leonn and Bastard Extraordinaire. I do believe you’re going to miss me.” “No, baby doll, but you’re going to miss me.” With no more warning than that, he jerked me into the hardness of his body, his lips instantly slanting over mine. His tongue thrust into my mouth, deep and probing. I moaned at the pleasure of it, at the heady flavor of him, and sank deeper into his embrace. I didn’t protest, though I knew I should have. No, I tangled my tongue with his. My teeth banged into his. I gripped his head and held him to me. I think I had wanted this since the first time I saw him. His arms felt like steel bands as they wrapped around me. His palms splayed out over my back and dipped lower…and lower…cupping my butt and pressing me into his erection. I spread my legs for better contact. Even through his clothing I could feel the long length of him, the thickness. I’d never craved a man like I craved him. You don’t like him, remember? So what, my body responded. I’d have him and get him out of my system. Out of my mind. The fragrance of honey and flowers seeped from

me, surrounding us as surely as the trees, billowing sweetly in the wind. I didn’t panic at the telltale sign this time. I welcomed it. The intoxicating scent blended with the pine soap scent of Lucius, creating an intoxicating aphrodisiac. With his hands still cupping me, he lifted me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he backed me up against a thick tree trunk. The bark bit past my shirt, but I didn’t care. “You’ve been driving me crazy, cookie.” His voice whispered huskily along the column of my neck, making the nickname sound like an endearment. I didn’t comment. I was incapable of speech. All I could think about was stripping him naked and impaling myself on him. Riding him hard and fast. And often. “It’s that mouth of yours,” he continued. He nipped at my jaw, ran his teeth along my earlobe. “I can’t stop thinking about it. I hate it. I should hate it.” As I panted, I forced myself to find my voice. “Do you like my mouth better when it tells you to kiss me again?” I said rawly. “When it tells you to take off your clothes because I want to see you naked?” He groaned. My nipples pebbled, and I rubbed them against his chest, wishing we were already naked, wishing

he was already inside me. It wasn’t him I needed, I assured myself. Just sex. Only sex. Instead of stripping me, he whipped away from me. My legs dropped to the ground. “Damn it,” he growled, tangling a hand in his hair. “This isn’t the time or place.” Several seconds passed before I found my equilibrium. When I did, his rejection nearly gouged me. More than his rejection, however, I resented his ability to stop what he’d started when I would have eagerly gone the rest of the way. Even though he was right. We both had jobs to do, and getting sexually involved right now was foolish. My eyes narrowed as fury rained through my blood, fury with myself for allowing him to distract me. “Touch me again, and Michael will have one less employee. Do you understand?” Lucius remained silent for a long while, watching me, studying my face. Obviously, he didn’t like my threat. Very deliberately, he reached out and palmed one of my breasts, tracing his fingertips around the nipple. I didn’t stop him, but I wouldn’t back down or show weakness. “Why?” he said, his eyes slitting to match mine. “You fear you’ll die from pleasure?” “No. You’ll die. And not from pleasure. See, I’ll take this knife,” I patted the blade strapped next to his pride and joy, “and play a little pocket pool.”

He disengaged from me completely and frowned. The lines around his mouth went taut, and a fire kindled in his usually arctic eyes. “That’s the second threat you’ve made against my dick.” “Threat?” I laughed, the sound hollow. “Oh, no, Sparkie. It’s a promise. And will be a pleasure.” “Just so long as you’ll play with it, I guess I don’t care what you do. But you’ll have to be patient and wait until after the mission.” My hand twitched with the urge to blacken his eye. Maybe break his nose. “I usually don’t have a temper,” I said, “but you push me past every boundary.” “Two weeks,” he said gutturally, as if I’d never spoken. “I want you back here in two weeks.” “You said three earlier.” “Two weeks,” he repeated. “Or I’ll hunt you down, and we’ll finish this.” Threat or promise? God help me, but I foolishly hoped the latter.

Chapter 7

Sharp, agonizing pain consumed me. My body tensed against the assault it was even now enduring. Oh, God. I’d survived the extraction of copper bullets. I’d survived grenade blasts and C4 explosions. But this… The pain was too sharp, too acute, spreading from one section of my body to another. Fists clenched, eyes squeezed shut, I screamed, emitting a raspy sound more animal than human. My throat had already endured several similar screams in the past half-hour and now felt raw, aching. If only my knives were nearby. My guns. Anything! But I was unarmed. I lay on a flat, white table, gripping the edges. I was vulnerable, exposed. “I’m ready to do the other leg,” the woman responsible for my torment said. The diabolical, evil devil incarnate herself: the esthetician. “No,” I gritted out. “Like hell you are.” Years ago, I’d had this done every month. I’d worn nothing but designer clothes, had always looked expensive and sophisticated. What a lifetime ago that seemed. “Getting one leg waxed was bad

enough. You’re not touching my other leg.” “Big baby,” she mumbled, gathering her supplies. Long blond hair cascaded down her shoulders, framing a delicate, elfin face. She was a wisp of a woman, just under five feet, with fragile bones and a tiny frame. Her angel face hid the beast inside. I could snap her neck like a twig—and laugh joyously while doing so. Over the years I’d killed more people than I could count. Big baby? Me? I don’t think so. “Better be careful what you say to me, sweetheart,” I warned. Before she could respond, however, I added darkly, “Just do it. Finish. And hurry.” My tormentor’s rose-petal mouth twitched. If the bad guys learned about waxing, they’d be able to take torture to a whole new level. “I expected more from you,” she said with a chuckle, applying warm, oozing, sticky wax to my right leg. In the wake of laser treatments and folliclekilling creams, waxing had become obsolete for humans long ago. Unfortunately, such treatments permanently damaged Raka skin cells, forcing me to revert to these archaic practices. As my tormentor jerked a strip of tape from my leg, quickly followed by another, and another, I pounded my fist against the table. I forced my

thoughts elsewhere. Michael had already purchased and furnished an apartment for me in New Dallas, though I had yet to see it. I’d wondered, though— more often than I should have—if Lucius had sneaked inside and found the best escape routes and secured any weakened point of entry. Most likely. That man wouldn’t leave anything to chance. But more than that, I doubted he trusted me to see to it. He was just like every other agent I knew, thinking women weren’t as competent as men. I looked forward to proving them all wrong. Most importantly, I looked forward to proving Lucius wrong. Lucius…His picture formed in my mind. Cheekbones cut from glass. Aquiline nose. Piercing ice-blue eyes. Even in my mind, he regarded me with something akin to superiority. God, I despised him. I desired him. I hated him. I craved him. My teeth bit into my bottom lip. I hadn’t seen him in seven days. I missed him. Yes, I hated him. With one kiss, he’d consumed my mind, my good intentions, my common sense. He’d taken my sanity and scorched me to the core, somehow branding his name into my every cell. Most days, I thought of nothing but him. I saw his face when I bathed. I heard his voice when I slept. I felt his heat when I walked. In the whole of my life, I’d had two lovers.

Neither of them had affected me so strongly. So deeply. And that Lucius did, a man I wanted out of my life at the earliest possible moment, irritated me. Yet I still wanted to see him again. I hungered for the sight of him. And my hunger had nothing to do with the case. What was he doing right now? What was he thinking? Had I passed through his mind even once? Stop it, Eden. Just stop. Lucius’s thoughts didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he’d renewed his acquaintance with Jonathan Parker and that our plan ran smoothly. “There,” the esthetician said. “Your legs are finally done. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” “A knife wound isn’t so bad,” I grumbled and sat up. My gaze traveled the length of my legs, examining the supple, golden skin. “Being chained to a wall and awaiting my enemy’s arrival isn’t so bad.” She uttered a humorous snort. “You’re acting just like a man. No, actually, most men would at least pretend to be tough.” “Go ahead. Laugh it up.” I smiled darkly, leaning close. “But make sure you sleep with a weapon tonight.” Unperturbed, she returned my smile. “We haven’t even done the bikini area yet.” I scowled. Twenty minutes later, she laughingly waved me

away. “I have never heard so much screaming.” I grabbed up my pants and tugged them on. Then—God, would the torture never end?—I strapped on a pair of high heels. My feet had grown used to boots. I stalked (okay, hobbled and stumbled) from the room. With the torturous waxing complete, I spent the rest of the day inside my room being fitted for a new wardrobe. My feet ached constantly. I didn’t mind wearing dress suits and flowing gowns, as long as they hid my weapons. I would not go without protection for any reason. Ever. The shoes, though… “Don’t forget,” I said to the seamstress, “to make room for my weapons.” She rolled her eyes and knelt at my side, sticking her pins in the ice blue material. “You want me to add a codpiece, too?” I leveled an irritated stare at her. “Only if you can make it extra large.” Did no one find me menacing? Damn it, my hands were stained with blood; I’d spent my life killing people. “Funny,” she said dryly. “I’ve worked for Michael for many years. I know the drill.” I at last found myself alone, but it didn’t last. I didn’t have time to change or sprawl across the bed before Michael knocked on the door. “Enter.” The door slid open, and he entered hesitantly. “Don’t hurt me,” he said, tiptoeing to the seat by

the window and sinking into the plump gold cushions. Laughing, I removed my shoes and tossed them on the floor with a thump. Relief! “I can’t believe I used to do this stuff all the time. Fittings, waxings. High heels.” “I remember those days.” He grinned fondly and leaned his head against the chair’s edge. “So how are you feeling?” I eased into the white velvet settee across from him. My dress puffed around me. The seamstress had given me orders to remove it and hang it the moment she left. I took a small bit of pleasure in disobeying. “I feel like the pampered princess I’ve always been accused of being.” He slid a long, thick cigar from his jacket pocket and placed the tip in his mouth. He didn’t light it yet but savored the flavor as he studied me. “I meant, how are your injuries? I’m worried about you, sweetie.” “One hundred percent healed.” His brows winged up, and his eyes gleamed with doubt. “Not even a slight twinge of pain or weakness?” “No,” I said, total deadpan. I didn’t feel guilty about lying to Michael about my lack of injury. I was almost one hundred percent. But I didn’t want him to worry about me. Or worse, doubt me. The cigar rolled between his fingers as he said,

“Would you tell me if there were?” “No.” Another grin lit his features. “That’s what I thought. Stubborn, girl. That’s what you are, and that’s what you’ve always been.” His smile faded slightly. “You know, I never wanted you to be an agent.” “I know,” I said, my tone soft. “You came and asked me to let you train, and I…” He shrugged. “I just wanted you to learn how to protect yourself. Your kind is hunted. And my kind, well, you could have been abducted and used to get to me. I wanted you prepared. You proved stubborn, though, and wouldn’t let me keep you behind the scenes.” I chuckled. “I remember how you had me play doctor to injured agents to show me exactly what kind of pain I was asking for. ‘See the blood,’ you said. ‘See the pain in his eyes because that’s what you’ll get if you choose this line of work.’ ” “But you never wavered.” There was pride in his voice. “No. I never wavered. I wanted you to see me as strong and capable. Like your men.” “I know.” “I love that you trust me now, that you’ve given me another chance. I don’t think I can ever express just what that means to me.” Michael pushed to his feet and strode to the

mini-bar. I insisted one be installed for my own personal use in every one of his homes. Sometimes it was the only way I could relax. “You’re my daughter,” he said. “No matter what blood runs through your veins, you’re my daughter and I love you.” “I love you, too.” Silence settled around us for several minutes before he said laughingly, “What kind of killers are we, having such a mush fest?” After clipping the end of his cigar, he claimed the nearest lighter and puffed. Smoke soon billowed around him. Cigarettes and cigars were illegal because they were air pollutants. But Michael lived in a world where he followed no rules but his own. He poured a Scotch. “Want one?” he asked. “Yes. Thank you.” He handed me the glass, and my fingers wrapped tightly around the cool container. He poured another. Sipping, I reveled in the way the smooth liquid warmed me and erased the twinges in my arm and side. “Have you ever dealt with Jonathan Parker?” This was the first chance we’d had to talk business. “From a distance.” “I’d like to see your files on him.” “Of course. They’re in the study.” I didn’t bother with shoes, but went barefoot. I took my drink with me. God knows, I needed it. I

felt more on edge today than I had in a long time. Silently, we strode down the stairs, past Oriental vases, metal sculptures of gods and goddesses, and the trickling rock waterfall he’d had built into one of the walls. When the sealed door to the study sensed our presence, it opened automatically. The cleaning crew had already left, so we were alone and didn’t need to worry about prying eyes. “Sit,” he said, indicating a dark brown leather recliner with a tilt of his head. “Relax.” I obeyed without hesitation, resting in the chair across from his desk. I breathed in the familiar scent of leather. He padded to that desk, rested his cigar in an ashtray, and palmed a remote. He pressed a series of buttons, dimming the lights and causing a holoscreen to materialize over the far wall. A man’s image flashed into focus. Human, thirty-something. Pale hair, a long aristocratic nose. Thin lips, but a handsome visage nevertheless. Arrogant brown eyes regarded the world with a nothing-can-hurtme gleam. Even with the warnings about the sun’s dangerous rays, Jonny Boy obviously spent a lot of time outside. His skin was deeply tanned and lined more than it should have been. An aura of selfimportance enveloped him. I disliked him already. “Does he like women or men?” I asked.

“He likes power.” “Typical.” “He’s been married three times. The first wife died in a car accident.” Michael pressed another button, and the image of a gorgeous young woman filled the screen. Black hair, green eyes. Flawless skin. “Her brand-new tires blew.” “Convenient for him.” “The second wife died in a car accident, as well.” Another young woman, this one with silvery white hair and big blue eyes, consumed the screen. “Let me guess. Her brand-new tires blew?” “No, her sensors gave out.” “What tragic accident befell his third wife?” I asked. “Amazingly enough, she’s still alive.” She wouldn’t be for long, I thought. Not if Jonathan Parker had his way. I gazed up at the third wife’s picture. Glossy red hair, sparkling brown eyes. A sultry vibe radiated from her. “Obviously Parker likes his women young and pretty. Too bad they don’t live long.” I tapped my knee with one finger, smashing the puffed, satin dress. “There wouldn’t happen to be a hit on him, would there?” Michael’s entire expression lit with amusement, easing the age lines around his mouth. “At this time, no, there isn’t a hit on Parker.” “Too bad.” I took another sip of my Scotch and

savored the rich taste in my mouth for a long while. I wondered what type of persona Lucius—a.k.a. Hunter—had donned in order to immerse himself in Parker’s world. Lucius wouldn’t be tattooed. Nor would he be pierced. Most likely he’d have to wear a suit and tie, perhaps sport a pair of glasses. A sigh slipped from me as I set my glass on the small table beside me. No matter what persona he used, he’d be sexy as hell. “Tell me about the man I’ll be interpreting for.” “Her name is Claudia Chow, and she’s major player in the alien rights movement. Her dedication to other-worlder equality has made her the first human ambassador of alien goodwill.” He grinned a guess-what-I’ve-done-now grin. “As of now she’s on my payroll.” “Ambassador of alien goodwill?” I snorted. “What did you tell her about me?” “Only that my daughter desired a change of scenery and needed a new job. I almost couldn’t convince her to help me. However, the moment she learned her interpreter was a Raka, she relented. I think she sees you as a new prize pet she’ll get to parade around and show off.” “I can hardly wait,” I said, my sarcasm heavy. He pointed a finger at me. “Don’t you dare kill her.” All innocence, I blinked over at him. “Give me some credit. I do know how to use restraint when

the situation warrants it.” A teasing light glowed in his eyes. “I thought so, too, until I saw you with Lucius. You’re…different around him. Why is that?” “That man—” My hands clenched. Michael was right. I was different with Lucius. More emotional. Lustful. On edge. Why? I didn’t understand and couldn’t answer Michael’s question. “You trust him completely?” “Of course.” Slowly he frowned. “I never would have paired you with him otherwise.” Michael lifted his cigar, rolling it between his fingers and causing smoke to waft around his hand. “This is a good plan the two of you have put together.” “Him. Not me.” I crossed my arms. “I wish I could take credit.” As soon as I spoke, I realized how true those words were and how great my bitterness. I might desire Lucius, but I resented him, too. This assignment should have belonged to me, and me alone. Not Lucius. Yet so far he was moving the pieces of the game on his own. Was it wrong of me to feel that way? Yes. Did that matter? No. Michael shook his head. “Sweetie, you’ve been injured. Don’t be so hard on yourself. It’s not a competition between you and Lucius.” Yes, it was. Sometimes I felt like I was in competition with the entire world. I wanted to be the best. Always. At everything.

“Go get some rest, Eden. We’ll talk more tomorrow.” No point in arguing. I planned to go to bed as he’d suggested, I just didn’t plan on resting. There was something I needed to do first. I pushed to my feet, closed the distance between us, and kissed his stubbled cheek. “Good night,” I told him. He eyed me suspiciously, since he wasn’t used to me obeying his orders. “Love you.” I patted the cheek I’d kissed and strolled to the sanctity of my room. My feet sank into the rug as I skidded around a gold lamp and into my closet. I changed out of my dress and into a black shirt and a pair of black pants. I put on boots, not heels, and crawled atop the velvet green comforter. Moonlight drizzled through the curtains, and the sounds of the night seeped from wall speakers, offering a lazy, almost sultry tune. Crickets hummed, and cars zoomed. I closed my eyes against the programmed noise. I was going spirit-walking.

Chapter 8

Keeping my eyes closed, I internalized my focus to the deepest part of myself, gathering my energy there. Warmth soon churned inside my stomach, leaving the rest of my body cold. Determinedly I began to push that energy forward with mental hands, the weight of flesh separating from the etherealness of soul. A cracking sound filled my ears. Slowly, so slowly, my spirit rose out of my body. Though the feat had become easier over the years, such a disconnection—for that was exactly what it was— required intense concentration and strength. I’d wanted to visit Lucius so many times this past week, but had resisted. He’d called every night to give me a progress report, and every night I’d waited in anticipation of that call. Too much anticipation. By resisting seeing him, I had proved to myself that I didn’t need to see him. He wasn’t a necessity. I had myself under control, and my defenses against him were well fortified. So what that I’d thought about him constantly today. I took immense delight in the fact that he’d never know I had visited him. We were located in different states, but that

didn’t matter. I’d find him. Usually I had to be within a mile or so of my target because I had to walk the actual distance to reach him. That had never been the case with Michael, who I could reach anywhere, anytime. After my kiss with Lucius, I knew it would not be the case with him either. With my spirit freed completely, I became suspended in a place between reality and death, experiencing only an ephemeral lightness. I stood at the edge of the bed and stared down at my physical body. Even though I’d done this countless times before, I always experienced shock when I saw myself lying on the bed—there, but not really there. The first time my spirit exited my body had been an accident. I’d been a little girl, only four years old, and had just discovered my parents’ lifeless bodies sprawled in blood. In my bedroom. I’d run from them, run outside screaming for help. Michael had scooped me up and carried me back inside, to the nearest room. My parents’ room. He’d placed me in their bed, said, “Stay here. Don’t move. I’ll take care of them,” then raced away to do just that. While I’d lain there, sobbing violently, I’d heard a cracking noise, like something breaking apart. At the time, I’d figured it was my heart. But the next thing I knew, I looked down and saw myself. I barely had time to rationalize what had happened before I floated to another room, to Michael.

He’d never known I was there, never known I watched him. He’d been in my bedroom, the bodies and blood gone—as if they’d never been there. Michael drank himself into oblivion that night, his hands shaking, what he’d seen almost too much for him to bear. Later, he told me the killer had been a man who’d intended to rob the house. He also told me he’d killed the bastard for me. I’d spirit-walked many times after that, each time beginning and ending of its own accord. My Rakan tutor had vaguely mentioned that some of our kind had this ability, but he himself hadn’t, so he hadn’t known how to teach me. Over the years, however, I’d honed the skill. I now controlled every aspect: when, where, how long. I’d never told anyone. Not even Michael, though I loved him more than anyone else in the world. I wanted him to see me as human as possible, I guess, like a real daughter. I’d almost told him once, after he’d gifted me with the car I’d begged him to buy me. In the end, I hadn’t wanted to spoil the moment. Others, well, if people learned I left my body unprotected, unguarded, and vulnerable to attack, I’d fall prey to my enemies. The huntress would become the hunted. With a sigh, I brought myself back to the task at hand. Right now my physical body was splayed out like the fairy-tale Sleeping Beauty. Utterly still,

golden hair spilling around my shoulders and arms. If not for my shimmering gold skin, I could have easily passed for a human. I closed my eyes and pictured Lucius. Pictured the hard planes and angles of his face, pictured the silkiness of his lips. The width and sinew of his chest. Soon a ghostly wind ruffled my hair. I lost the foundation under my feet. Tugged by an invisible cord, my spirit began to move. Faster. Faster. Lights whizzed past me, twinkling in and out of focus. Soon a mixture of voices—one a rough but cultured timbre, the other a smooth baritone— gained in volume. I stopped suddenly, abruptly, and gasped. I stood in a study very much like Michael’s. I knew beyond a doubt, however, that this was not my father’s. The wood paneling was lighter, the furniture different, more modern. A purple and red Lucite column towered over the desk. Bookshelves of fuchsia and yellow lined one wall. Silver-plated side tables and a faux-fur ottoman occupied a corner. Blood red carpet covered the oak floors, and a large portrait of a nude redhead—obviously a natural redhead and Jonathan’s third wife—hung over the unlit fireplace. My attention slid to the center of the room. Lucius lounged atop a lime green couch, a brandy in one hand and a cigar in the other. He’d colored his hair again, this time a rich walnut brown. A scar

slashed down his right temple. He wore contacts, darkening his ice-blue eyes to the same shade as his hair. As I’d predicted, the piercings and tattoos were gone. He’d fit his muscled body into an expensive silk suit. I almost didn’t recognize him. His lips gave him away, though. He couldn’t change the lush, rosy softness of them. I licked my own as a picture flashed through my mind, a picture of him kissing me, devouring me. Setting my body aflame. Was I destined to always respond to this man? Another man sat across from him. Jonathan Parker. The self-indulgent, wife-killing playboy. His picture failed to reveal the aura of depravity that encompassed him, a depravity he couldn’t mask in person. Cigar smoke drifted around him as he chuckled devilishly over something Lucius had said. “So you met an other-worlder who fires your blood, did you?” Jonathan said. He sipped amber liquid from a glass, his feet propped on top of an expensive coffee table. His grin widened, revealing too-white, too-perfect teeth. “And she’s a Raka, at that.” He sighed wistfully. “I’ll be honest. I’ve always wanted to fuck a Raka. All that gold…” “This one’s mine,” Lucius cut in sharply. His gaze narrowed, leaving no hint of humor. Only deadly menace. “She’s the only reason I came back here. I want her. She’s mine,” he repeated.

Leaning back, Parker tugged at his earlobe with his free hand. “That hot, is she?” “She’s fire and ice. Lava one minute, glacial the next. And she won’t have anything to do with me,” he admitted, losing his darkness and assuming a sheepish quality. “Ah, Hunter. I wouldn’t let it worry you. Women like to play hard-to-get. They want us to romance them. They’re desperate for it. How else do you think I won each of my wives?” “I thought that was what women wanted, too. I sent her three hundred orchids, and she used them as fertilizer. I bought her a ’Vette, and she used it for a crash-test demonstration. I sent her a diamond necklace, and she sent me a restraining order.” Jonathan chuckled. “If she’s that difficult, why don’t you find someone else?” “I want her.” I stepped toward Lucius, coasting my fingertips over the buttery soft leather couch. With each step, I imagined his scent, that soapy pine scent I so admired. I even imagined the heat of him. What are you doing? Stop! Lucius’s shoulders tensed slightly. Had I not been so focused on him, I would have missed the action. My head tilted as I watched his gaze flicker left and right, as if searching for something—or someone? A cold shiver racked me, and I paused. There was no way he could see me. Right? Was

something wrong? I scanned the room, looking for anything that might have raised his guard. I found nothing out of the ordinary. “I’ll win her one way or another,” Lucius said, but there was now an edge to his voice that hadn’t been there before. “I hope you’re right.” Jonathan didn’t act any different. He dropped his head back to stare up at the vaulted ceiling, the action causing the liquid in his glass to slosh. He puffed at his cigar. “If the woman’s as reluctant as you say, she might not like it that you followed her here. Well, beat her here, I should say.” “I can guarantee she won’t like it.” Determination gleamed in his eyes. “But I’ll persuade her to see things my way, I have no doubt.” “You’re confident.” Parker straightened and gazed pointedly over at Lucius. “That’s what I’ve always liked about you. Nothing dampers your determination.” Lucius nodded in acknowledgment of the compliment. I resumed my journey toward him. I hadn’t seen him or touched him in a week. It felt like years. The urge had never left me, of course, but now that I was here—well, kind of here—the craving intensified. When I reached him, I allowed my fingers to drift through his hair. I couldn’t feel the strands, but

I imagined their silkiness and wished I could somehow solidify my fingers. The best I could do was gather energy and push that through his hair. But such an action required more concentration than I was willing to devote at the moment. Besides, Parker and Lucius might wonder at a sudden breeze. Sighing, I moved to caress his jaw. He stiffened, even sucked in a slight hiss of breath. My hand froze in place. What the hell was going on? He should not feel me. Not even a little. No one, not even Michael, had ever guessed my secret. I hurriedly drew back my hand. “Do you smell cinnamon?” Lucius asked. My knees nearly buckled in shock. “No.” Parker’s brow furrowed. He regarded Lucius silently for a moment, then tilted his chin and said, “Are you all right?” “Fine, just fine,” Lucius said. “Just thinking of Eden. She’s likely to spit on me when she realizes I’m here.” “Even if she despises you, you’re a lucky man. No woman has ever consumed me like this one does you.” “Not even your wife?” “Which one?” Parker snorted. “Never mind. Which one doesn’t matter. They were all bitches.” Lucius’s eyebrows descended low over his eyes. “Were? Isn’t Cybil still alive?”

“Barely. If I’m lucky, she’ll soon drug herself to death.” My focus whipped to Parker, darkening. If I’d had a weapon, I might have used it. Such casual disregard for his wife deserved a bit of punishment. “Being consumed by a woman isn’t a pleasant experience,” Lucius grumbled. “I almost wish I’d never met her.” There was a ring of truth to his voice that insulted me. Turning to face him, my eyes slitted; I reached out and jerked his hair. Childish of me, I know, the actions of a spoiled princess. Just like before, he stiffened. I frowned. How was he doing that? Did the connection between us allow him to sense me? My blood chilled with the thought. I didn’t want to be connected to him like that. I gulped and backed away until I stood in the corner, out of reach. Out of temptation’s way. “Speaking of Eden,” Lucius said, resuming the conversation as if it had never stopped, “I need you to host a party for me.” Parker grinned slyly. “One to welcome her to town, perhaps?” “No.” Lucius shook his head. “I don’t want her to know she’s the guest of honor. A political gala will do. A gala that I, of course, will attend.” “What about the restraining order?” “The law can kiss my ass. She’s an alien, so she

doesn’t really have rights, does she?” Parker’s grin widened, and he sipped his brandy. “Who’s your Eden working for?” “Ambassador Claudia Chow.” A heavy pause slithered around the room while Parker mulled over his next words. “I don’t like Claudia Chow,” he said. “And I’ll be honest. I don’t really have the time to host a party.” It was a lie. I knew it, and Lucius knew it. Parker was simply hedging for some type of favor. “I’ll owe you,” Lucius said. Head tilting to the side, Parker studied him. “The woman really means that much to you?” “I told you. I’m obsessed with her.” He sighed. “I know she’s a Raka, but goddamn. She’s still pussy, and you can get that anywhere. Tell me again what’s so special about this one.” A wicked gleam lit Lucius’s eyes. “She’s got a mouth that could suck a man dry.” Yes, a weapon would have been nice. I’d carve my name in his balls, then drain every drop of his blood so there would be nothing left to suck. “Then, of course,” Jonathan said, “I’ll take you up on that favor and happily arrange a party where the two of you can renew your acquaintance.” The two men continued to chat for a while, before finally saying their good-byes. Parker walked Lucius to the door and with a slap on the shoulder, sent him on his way. Lucius was doing his

job—quite nicely, too, I grudgingly admitted—so it was best I get some rest so I’d be in top shape when I joined him. Though I wanted to follow him, I closed my eyes and pictured my bedroom. That ghostly wind soon returned, and I felt a strong tug. Felt the foundation shift, saw twinkling white lights. Within minutes, my spirit glided back into my body, and I opened my eyes. Moonlight pushed through the familiar velvet curtains of my bedroom. The feather-soft mattress I’d grown accustomed to cushioned my back. Unlit, vanilla-scented candles fragranced the air, blending with a hint of Michael’s cigar. I rolled to my side, forcing Lucius from my mind. I’d never sleep otherwise. Odd, though, that I felt more bereft and alone than I had in a long time. Damn that man.

Chapter 9

The next day, I lugged my newly waxed body through a grueling three-hour workout, followed by two additional hours of assault and defense training using a diverse range of weapons. A girl never knew when a specific skill would come in handy. Knives, pyre-gun, hand-to-hand combat in the virtual reality chamber, they all took their toll. I opted out of the final wardrobe fitting. The seamstress had my measurements. What more did she need from me? My failure with EenLi was becoming a heavy mantle of guilt on my shoulders. More so than before. Perhaps that was why I had pushed myself so hard today. Or perhaps watching Lucius so easily insert himself into Jonathan Parker’s life had made me jealous. He was a much better agent than I’d given him credit for at our first meeting. Now I had to prove my worth to him. Only when completely exhausted did I retire to my room. I didn’t nap, however. There was much yet to be done. I showered, changed clothes, then jogged downstairs for a quick meal to boost my energy. Chocolate truffles, strawberries dipped in cream, peaches, all sprinkled with sugar. My

favorites. I ate them quickly. As I downed two glasses of sugar water, I heard Michael’s voice over the speaker system. “Eden, sweetie. I need to see you in my office.” Curious, I abandoned the kitchen and my delicious treats and strode into his office. He looked exactly as I’d left him yesterday—dressed in a suit, hair slightly rumpled, cigar at his side. He sat at his desk and glanced up from a thick stack of papers. He grinned at me welcomingly. “That was fast. Finish your fitting already?” “No, I decided not to go.” Before he could respond, I sank into the chair in front of him and said, “What did you need to see me about?” He leaned back in his seat and watched me silently for a long while. “I know you’ve been anxious. I also know there’s nothing to be done on EenLi’s case right now.” “Yes,” I said, confused. What was he getting at? He folded his hands over his stomach. “I have another case for you.” Excitement bubbled inside me. God, I loved this man. “Go on.” “There’s a Morevv in New Florida raping human women. Local A.I.R. have been unable to act because of political bull-shit. The Morevv is the mayor’s lover. Mayor Jeffries, to be exact, a woman known for her political iron fist. The man’s death needs to look like an accident.”

“Does he have guards?” Michael shrugged. “Two burly humans, but they always make a hasty exit when the mayor visits him.” Which meant I needed to catch him with his pants down. Literally. “Does A.I.R want to interrogate him first?” “No. They just want him dead. He’s due to meet the mayor tomorrow.” I could get in and out in no time. It was exactly the challenge I needed to combat my restlessness. Michael knew me so well. “I’ll do it,” I said. “Thank you.” Perhaps, with this success, I could begin to wipe away my last failure. He uttered a sigh. “Please, please, please be careful. After all the resources you’ve put into EenLi, I don’t want you knocked out of commission on a routine takeout.” “I’m always careful.” I blew him a kiss. “I’ll leave within the hour and hopefully return by tomorrow night. If you’ll reschedule my fitting, I’d be grateful.” I winked and shoved to my feet, then sprinted from the office.

My target’s name was Romeo Montaga. Yes, that’s what the Morevv called himself. Romeo. Morevvs were known for their beauty, so I

suppose the name fit. Especially since this alien’s beauty surpassed any I’d ever seen. He possessed sun-kissed hair that flowed past his shoulders and an innocently divine face only an angel should have. Only his forked tongue gave away his alien status. He dressed his tall, lean frame in black leather pants and an open white shirt. I think he fancied himself a Casanova pirate. He owned a wolfhound instead of a parrot, but the dog was about as menacing as a bird. She sprawled on her velvet pillow beside the bed and hadn’t blinked twice when I entered. With her head resting on her paws, she watched Romeo with complete disinterest, even a little fear. I’d spent the day following him, learning his patterns. He liked young girls, liked watching them and rubbing unceremoniously against them as he sauntered past them. He disgusted me. And right now the disgusting bastard had New Florida’s sixty-four-year-old mayor naked and tied to his bed. I’d known I needed to catch him with his pants down, but I’d hoped to arrive after the act was completed. Not before. Amid the woman’s cries of encouragement, he quickly undressed, ripping off his clothes in a single, dramatic sweep. Seeing his naked body, I blinked. Shook my head. Nope, still there. I guess Morevvs had more than one alien quality. A forked

tongue and a doubled-pronged penis. Two penises, of all things. As Romeo stood naked at the edge of the bed, the mayor moaned and thrashed liked she’d just entered the corridors of paradise. I noticed the Morevv remained unaroused. He had to close his eyes and stroke himself to achieve a (double) erection. Being inside the closet as I was, I yearned to jab out my eyes and cut off my ears. These memories were going to haunt me. If only the closet door wasn’t slatted. “Ride me, my stallion,” Mayor Jeffries cried. “Ride me hard. Just like you know I like it.” “No talking, woman,” he growled. He slapped her ass, only a mild tap, really. “I’m in charge here.” She moaned with rapture. He slapped her again, harder this time. Though he would never have admitted it aloud, I think he was turned off by her enjoyment. I wouldn’t have doubted if this was how Romeo raped the others. Chained them to a bed, and let them see his goods. “Now you’re mine.” The words held no hint of possessiveness. No, they sounded rehearsed. He climbed up the bed and slammed into the mayor. That brought forth another round of moans from her. Thankfully, only five minutes passed before the

Morevv stallion finished his ride. Well, before his bedmate finished, that is. Her entire body convulsed in orgasm. With his features drawn tight, the alien hefted himself off her, even though it was obvious he hadn’t come. He untied the sated woman and said, “Did you like that, sweet?” “You know I did. Maybe…maybe do it even harder next time,” she whispered, almost as if she were ashamed by her desire. “Harder?” “Yes.” Mayor Jeffries lumbered off the bed. She retrieved a mint green suit from the floor. Once the wrinkled material was secured over her equally wrinkled body, she withdrew a stack of bills and placed them on the table. She stared over at Romeo. “You will be free tomorrow,” she said, her voice going crisp. When she donned her clothes, I guess she also donned her sense of power. Romeo glanced at her. He grinned slowly. “Of course. I’ll ride you so hard your screams will be heard all over the world.” “Tomorrow, then.” She shivered before striding from the room. The door closed behind her automatically, locking her out. Romeo quickly lost his smile. “Bitch,” he muttered. If I hadn’t realized before, I did now. He didn’t

like her. Not a bit. He was a paid lover, and gave her what she wanted. Domination. It was ironic that a public figure known for her iron fist in the political arena allowed a man, and an alien at that, to so control her privately. Alone now, Romeo scowled down at the dog. “You should have bitten a chunk out of her ass, you worthless piece of shit.” The dog whimpered at his tone. I frowned. Romeo closed his eyes and began stroking his erections—he needed two hands for the job. Added new meaning to the term “double your pleasure.” I rolled my eyes. I could stun him now, then poison him while he couldn’t fight me. He’d be dead by morning, and no one would know why or that I’d even been here. But… I’d broken in several hours ago, bypassing two guards and a cutting-edge robotic security system. A robotic system that used artificial intelligence to systematically learn the homeowner’s behavior patterns and adjust itself accordingly without the need for programming. Security components integrated into such a system armed and disarmed automatically, while making accommodations for those still on the premises. To even enter the home, I’d had to program myself into the system. Very time-consuming, but worth it.

There should have been more guards, but I guessed the mayor preferred to keep their liaison as private as possible. Probably because she was nothing more than the Morevv’s bitch. I wouldn’t want people to know that, either, if I were her. Upon first entering this room, I’d taken the time to glance around. I’d found Romeo’s holograph appointment book. Why did people use those? They left a clear trail to follow. Anyway, there’d been an interesting tidbit there. Visit home, 9 P.M. Return 11:30. What did he mean by home? Did he have family here? Or did he mean something else entirely? Did he mean to travel through a portal and return for a while to his home planet? I suspected the latter, and that piqued my interest. Actually, I hoped the latter. EenLi was using those damn portals. Michael wanted to know where they were. Lucius wanted to know where they were. If I could supply that information…The intoxicating thought seduced me as surely as a passionate lover. When Romeo (thankfully) finished his business, he rolled to his feet. “Like what you saw, Killer?” he asked the dog, his tone snide. “Bitch,” he said. “You’re all bitches.” He kicked Killer in the stomach, and she yelped. She tried to bite him, but he kicked her again. Head ducked between her paws now, she crawled backward, away from him. I bit the inside of my

cheek. Kick her one more time, I thought darkly, and I’ll forget the portal and kill you now. Naked, he padded to the closet to find something to wear. As huge and filled to bursting with clothing as this space was, I didn’t worry that he’d see me lying on the top shelf. Hell, I wouldn’t have been surprised if a dozen other assassins were hiding in here, and I simply hadn’t seen them. The only thing that bothered me about the situation was how clichéd it was. I mean, a sophisticated killer forced to hide in the closet? Please. But I’d been stuck like this before, and I’d most likely be stuck like this again. Romeo quickly chose another pair of black leather pants. He opted not to wear a pirate shirt, instead choosing a tight V-neck. I supposed I could see why some women fell for him—besides the double penis. His outward beauty bordered on illegal. He left me cold, however. Partly because I knew he possessed the heart of a monster underneath all that masculine beauty, but also because he lacked the rich vitality Lucius possessed. Comparing the two men was like comparing a still-life portrait with a carved sculpture. The sculpture, at least, boasted three dimensions. Finished dressing, Romeo closed the closet. I quietly climbed down and moved to the slatted door. He was admiring himself in a full-length

mirror. I glanced at his digital clock. He was scheduled for “home” in thirty minutes. The ticking of time didn’t rush him. Humming under his breath, he ambled to his dresser and slipped a necklace around his neck. I remembered seeing the necklace earlier when I’d searched his room. It was small and triangular, with a platinum chain and an odd stone in the center—a stone unlike any I’d ever seen. Crystal-like, yet shiny and smooth as brass. After spritzing himself with cologne, Romeo finally left the bedroom. The dog growled at the door. I desperately wanted to spirit-walk and follow his exact steps, but I didn’t dare leave my body unprotected in this home. Instead, I pulled my duffel bag from the shelf. I strapped it to my back before stealthily slipping from the closet. Killer stopped growling and glanced up at me through soulful eyes. Save me, she seemed to say. She didn’t attack me, didn’t act as if she wanted to hurt me in any way. Something inside me lurched. I didn’t have time for this, but I found myself bending down, cupping her face in my hands and meeting that big, brown gaze. “Don’t worry,” I whispered to her. “That’s the last time you’ll ever have to see him.” Then I left the same way I’d entered—through the bay window. I didn’t think the portal would be located inside the house. That meant he had to exit sooner or later.

I pulled my face mask down. As I hooked my belt to the clear wire I’d left dangling, cool, moist air penetrated the knitted fibers of my black body stocking. I already wore gloves, so I pushed myself over the window’s ledge. Amid the sound of nearby swishing waves, I propelled down the five stories. The evening darkness offered some protection. Unfortunately, the home’s security lighting cast away most of the shadows. I’d scaled walls brighter and more visible than this with no problem, and this proved no exception. I floated to the ground undetected. The key was to stay close to the corner, move quickly and silently, without pause. I unlatched the clear metal tether and crouched low to the ground as I maneuvered to the front of the house. Romeo’s car still sat in the driveway. I pushed out a relieved breath as the Morevv exited the house’s front door. I’d guessed correctly. He didn’t go to the parked, empty Porsche, however. No, he strode purposefully to the wooded area behind the house. Confused, I silently followed, wondering all the while if I’d made a mistake after all.

Chapter 10

Romeo stopped in a small circular clearing at the edge of the property, away from the ocean and allowing me an unobstructed view of him. Over the years, other targets of mine had come to clear areas like this. I’d never known why; I hadn’t cared why. I’d always used the isolated surroundings to my advantage and struck. Perhaps I should have had more patience. For a long while Romeo stood motionless, silently watching the darkening sky. Was he meeting someone? Did he suspect I followed? Or… was he expecting a spaceship? Perhaps the word portal actually meant “ship.” Minutes passed. I unsheathed my gun. Brittle grass bit into me. Salt stung the air. Concealed by shadows and bushes, I crouched motionlessly, waiting as time continued to pass and nothing happened. Nothing at all. No one arrived. At least his movements didn’t indicate suspicion. I uncovered my wristwatch by pushing back my shirtsleeve. Three minutes after nine. I frowned. What or who was he waiting on? Did he expect to world-travel simply by standing there? If Lucius were here, he’d grab Romeo and beat

the answers out of him. I could do the same, I suppose, but that wasn’t always effective. I preferred to observe the other-worlder’s natural tendencies. I only prayed my patience would be rewarded. A quiet whistling sounded several feet behind me. A person? Merely the wind? Heart drumming with adrenaline, I shifted my focus, switching my aim as I searched the trees. No one was there that I could see. Leaves rustled, then stopped…rustled, then stopped…like the beat of a drum, ever increasing in intensity. Not wind, for I felt nothing on the ground. An animal? Romeo didn’t seem to notice or care. The sound steadily crescendoed to a thousand disharmonized screams, like blades screeching through metal. The noise ripped through me, tearing me apart inside. Pressing my lips together to cut off my own scream, I squeezed my eyes shut and dropped my pyre-gun, covering my ears with my hands. That didn’t help. When I realized what was happening, I cringed. Solar flare. They always affected me this way. Humans never seemed to hear them, or feel the searing, violent bombardment of charged particles. Other-worlders always seemed to be affected. For most, the experience was a pleasure. For me, it was a nightmare. Flares were stronger out in the open, with nothing to obstruct their destructive waves.

I forced my eyes open, forced myself to watch Romeo. He basked in the sound, spreading his arms wide, welcoming the disharmony. Had he caused this? How? Why? I didn’t understand. The wind kicked up, lifting and scratching like a desperate lover. Trees shook and rumbled ominously. A bright light pulsed in the purple sky. Too bright. Getting brighter. Getting closer. What was happening? What— Romeo vanished. One second he stood there, in the center of the circle, the next he didn’t. The screaming ceased. The light dimmed. The trees settled. Gaining my balance, I shoved to my feet. My head whipped to the side as I searched for my target. I searched the entire clearing for tracks. None led away from the circle. My confusion doubled. I replayed the scene through my mind. The screaming, the wind, the lights, and the way Romeo embraced them. My eyes widened as realization struck me. He’d somehow traveled from one world to another through the solar flare. My God. Knowing what he’d done, however, merely increased the number of questions I had. Why hadn’t I traveled with him? I’d been no more than ten feet away. I should have disappeared, too. He was scheduled to return in two hours. I’d question him then. Brimming with anticipation, I

settled into my hiding place. And waited for his return.

Eleven thirty came and went. I should have returned to Michael by now, or at least called, but I didn’t dare move from this spot. I kept myself awake all night, well past the time allotted for the trip on Romeo’s daily planner. Another solar flare did not erupt, so Romeo didn’t return. Morning brought the harsh rays of the sun, causing heat to envelope me. Causing the grass to stiffen. Maybe I’d miscalculated. Maybe he’d meant eleven thirty this morning. I’d wait. Sweat dripped down my face and chest. I wished to God I’d brought a canteen of sugar water. But this was supposed to be a quick job. In and out. So I’d brought no provisions for anything other than killing. One hour after another dragged by, the sound of the insects my only companion. I wouldn’t doubt if Michael had sent out a search party for me by now. The man did like to worry. Eleven thirty arrived without any signs of a solar flare. Romeo, however, arrived right on schedule. I kept my gaze on the circle, and before my eyes, he simply appeared. No warning. Just blink, there he was.

Excitement and anticipation renewed, flooding me. He shook his head to orient himself, and I made my move. I jumped up from my crouch and bolted toward him, taking a controlled, don’t-fuckwith-me stance right in front of him. My pyre-gun locked on his heart. His eyes widened when he saw me. Covered from head to toe in black as I was, I looked every bit as menacing and deadly as I actually was. Without a word of warning, I punched him in the nose to get his attention. His head whipped to the side, and blood poured down his lips and chin. “Where did you go?” I demanded. His mouth gaped open, and he stumbled backward, away from me. Instead of trying to overpower me, he wanted to run. I expected no different. Most people, even those who used physical force when angry, backed down when faced with physical force against themselves. “You have three seconds to answer my question, or I’ll melt the flesh from your bones. One.” I saw the wheels turn in his head before he morphed into seductive mode and offered me a let’s-go-to-bed smile. “There’s no need for this. We can—” Disgust welled inside me. “Two.” “I know how to pleasure women,” he whispered suggestively.

“Thr—” “Home,” he gasped out, his body beginning to tremble like a little girl’s. “I went home to Morevv.” “Through the solar flare?” “Yes, yes.” He licked his lips, and his gaze darted from side to side. “Please don’t hurt me.” “How does the solar flare work?” “I—I don’t know.” “You’re lying.” I stepped toward him and punched him again. Tears filled his eyes and spilled onto his cheeks. He dropped to his knees. “I swear I don’t know how it works. I only know it’s the transit portal. Please don’t hurt me. Please.” I wished he could see my expression when I said, “Is that how women have begged for your mercy? On their knees, pleading? Did you show them even an ounce?” His sun-kissed skin paled, giving him a ghostly pallor. “I’ve never raped a woman.” Busted. “I didn’t mention rape. Did I?” “So what?” he said with sudden bravado. “They liked what I gave them in the end. Every woman does.” “Now I know you’re lying, angel cakes, and I don’t like liars.” I pulled the trigger. A blue light flashed, hitting him directly in the chest. He froze, locked in stun. His features projected

shock and fear. I withdrew a small vial from my pocket, closed the distance between us, and poured the liquid down his throat. “Onadyn,” I said, knowing he heard every word. “Completely undetectable. A deoxygenating drug that some other-worlders use so they can breathe Earth’s air. You—someone who needs oxygen to live—will suffocate in minutes, your every breath ineffective, making it look like you came out for a walk but died of organ failure.” I saw a muscle twitch in his jaw, and abject terror filled his eyes. I patted his cheek and gave him my sweetest smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of your dog.”

Romeo had named the dog Killer. Since that wouldn’t do, her new name became Agent Luc. A play on the name Lucius. Hopefully he would be properly irritated, especially when he learned this shaggy brown dog with the big, watery brown eyes was female. I smiled. Ah, life was suddenly good. Agent Luc and I negotiated an understanding on the flight home. She craved affection, and I gave it to her. She’d been nothing more than Romeo’s punching bag. She deserved a little pampering. When we exited the ITS, she saw Michael waiting at the bottom of the exit steps. His expression was concerned until he saw me. Then a

big, relieved grin lit his face. Immediately, Agent Luc began whimpering. I guess she didn’t like males—even those who smiled. Wise woman, I thought. I gently patted her neck, cooing, “He won’t hurt you. He just looks mean.” I squinted in the harsh daylight, heard another ITS pass overhead, a gentle hum. Michael’s confused gaze flicked from the dog to me. “You’re late, and you didn’t call” were the first words out of his mouth. “I was delayed. I’m sorry.” I hoisted my bag over one shoulder. Gripping Agent Luc’s leash in the other hand, I strode from the private airstrip toward Michael’s waiting sedan. Agent Luc resisted at first, watching me with those sad brown eyes. “Come on, big girl,” I said. “Think of this as an adventure.” She reluctantly fell into step beside me, hopped into the back seat, and curled into a protective ball. She looked out of place against the fine black leather. “Who’s your friend?” Michael asked, motioning to the dog. “She used to belong to the Morevv, but now she’s your newest agent.” He rolled his eyes. “Do I have to pay her?” “Of course.” I slid into place beside Luc, and Michael settled behind the wheel. “Mission complete,” I told him. His motions clipped, he spun to face me. “That’s

it? That’s all you have to say? I was beyond worried about you. After your last injuries…” “I’m sorry I didn’t call.” I reached over and squeezed his hand. “I got caught up. I should have made the time, anyway, and I was wrong not to. I admit it.” I knew he was a worrier, and I needed to take better care of him. “Forgive me?” “As if I could stay mad at you,” he said with no heat. Only affection. I grinned. “What do you know about solar flares?” “Only a little, and only because they bothered you so much as a child. Why?” I sidestepped his question. “Tell me what you know first.” He programmed the self-navigating vehicle to take us home, then shrugged. “They’re sudden eruptions of energy, heat, and light.” The car jolted into motion, but Michael didn’t have to turn his attention away from me. The car drove smoothly along the road, expertly weaving in and out of traffic. A typical male, Michael had always liked his toys to be expensive, fast, and state of the art. “What else?” I asked. “Humans can’t see them, but we think a lot of other-worlders can. They happen more frequently when the sun approaches the maximum apex of its cycle. Now, you tell me something. What’s this

have to do with anything?” “I experienced one.” “And?” he prompted. Leaning back in my seat, I propped my feet on the dash. “And I watched an alien disappear in the midst of it.” “Disappear?” Michael frowned. “Until a few weeks ago, I’d never heard of anyone mastering molecular transfer.” “I don’t think that’s what happened.” “Because—” he prompted. “Because of what was happening around him. Violent winds. High-pitched screams. It wasn’t just molecular transfer. What if solar flares aren’t what we think they are? What if they happen when aliens open portals?” “Then why can’t we open one? Why can’t you?” Michael’s frown deepened. “Maybe you missed the guy. Maybe—” “No,” I interjected. “I looked for him, for his tracks. He didn’t simply run or hide, Michael. He vanished.” “So you think…what?” “Remember what EenLi said about the portals not always being open?” “Yes, I remember.” “That means they are opened and closed. They could be opened and closed through solar flares. Because of solar flares. Cause the solar flares.

Something.” “Possibilities, yes, but they raise the question of why you have never vanished during one. Over the years, you’ve been in the middle of several.” True. My hands curled into fists. I was so close to the truth. I knew it. But so close wasn’t what I needed. “There has to be a reason, a catalyst that sucks someone through. When is the next flare due, do you know?” “I’ll check on it.” I rubbed my forehead. “I wish my parents were alive. I could ask them how we came to this world.” Michael stiffened, just as he always did when I mentioned my biological parents. I immediately regretted my wistfulness. I suspected when I spoke of them, Michael felt I was somehow dissatisfied with him. I wasn’t. Michael had worked hard to raise me. Very hard. He hadn’t hired nannies or shuffled me off on other people. No, he’d kept me near him, seen to my every need and want. I loved him all the more for it. I hurried to change the subject. “Could the other-worlders be using some sort of homing device?” “Again, it’s a possibility,” he said. “I’ll do a little research on solar flares and keep you posted on what I find.” “Thank you.” He patted my hand. “I hope you’ll go to your

fitting when we get home,” he said. “That seamstress, what’s her name, Celeste?” I shrugged. I didn’t know, either. “She nearly cut out my heart with her needle and thread when I told her you would be gone for an entire day.” I laughed. “Give her a raise. I like her style.” We reached the house a few minutes later. I shifted to command the door to open, but Michael caught my wrist in his hand. His features tightened. “Eden,” he began. “You know I love you, right?” My stomach instantly clenched. “What’s wrong?” I asked, my concern making the words sharper than I’d intended. He told me he loved me all the time, but there was something in his voice this time—something deep and filled with pain. “Nothing,” he said, turning away. “Nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to remind you how I feel about you, that’s all.” “Michael—” He emerged from the car without another word to me, leaving me mystified.

Chapter 11

Still reeling from Michael’s words, I grabbed my bag and tugged Agent Luc from the car. We quickly stormed the house, leaving the heat of the afternoon behind us, along with the trees and birds and colorful flowers that encompassed the home. I had every intention of hunting my father down and demanding an explanation. I didn’t buy his “I just like to remind you” line. He liked to remind me, sure, but never with such stark pain in his eyes. Before I found him, however, the seamstress— Celeste—found me. Agent Luc plopped protectively at my feet as Celeste bounded down the stairs, needle and thread in hand. “Where have you been?” she scolded. “I have eleven dresses and six pantsuits to finish, and yet you abandon me at the most pivotal part of my work.” “You don’t need me here to finish.” Frowning, I hoisted the weight of my bag over my shoulder. “You have my measurements.” Exasperation flittered over her pretty features, and she tossed her hands in the air. “Fine. You want the clothes to slip from your shoulders, tear when you run, and reveal your precious weapons, that’s

fine with me. I will sew another’s name in the garments so no one knows they are my creation.” “Great idea,” I said and turned toward the study where I knew Michael had gone. The doors were closed, most likely locked. Celeste screeched, the high-pitched sound echoing off the walls. “Go to your room and try on those clothes, Eden Black. Now!” I spun and faced her. I opened my mouth to offer her a stinging retort, but noticed how her chest heaved, how her eyes gleamed. She was as passionate about her work as I was about mine. I respected that. “What are you waiting for?” she prompted. “An engraved invitation from the Rakan king? Go.” “This isn’t a good time.” She pushed a breath from her pursed lips, and her shoulders drooped slightly. “There is never a good time with you.” I cast one last glance toward the study door, then reluctantly leapt up the stairs with Agent Luc close to my heels. “Next time someone talks to me like that, you attack. Understand?” She whimpered. I rolled my eyes. Useless canine. Thankfully, the pinching and poking of my fitting only lasted an hour, and Celeste quite happily went on her way. While Agent Luc slept on the bed, I allowed myself a long, lingering shower, letting the steamy

water wash away the trials of the last few days. Afterward, I brushed my hair and changed into comfortable lounge pants and a shirt, then strode into Michael’s office. He was absent, but two women were cleaning and dusting. I fought a wave of disappointment. “Come back later,” I told the women. They nodded and hurried out. I really did need my own place, I realized. Somewhere private and all my own. Unlike Michael, I’d do my own damn laundry and cleaning. I didn’t like how freely he admitted his staff. Yes, he took precautions against theft and spying, but was that ever enough? Alone, I logged onto the computer with a spoken “Eden F. Black.” I e-mailed Colin Foley, a quantum physics instructor I’d once dated, asking for information on solar flares and potential transportational properties. He might know nothing; he might know something. We’d ended our twoyear relationship amicably, so I didn’t doubt he’d return my message. I stressed the importance of a speedy reply—which I hoped to receive before I left for New Dallas. As I stared at the screen, willing him to reply now, my eyes began to burn and water. I yawned. I’d been up the last two days and needed sleep. Pushing out a breath, I shut down the computer and left the comforting familiarity of the office. I trudged up the stairs into my room and flopped

onto the bed beside Agent Luc. Hopefully taking an hour or so to rest and center my energy would grant me a measure of peace and sanity. I closed my eyes and commanded every limb, cell, and organ to relax. Slowly my mind smoothed, beginning its gradual slide into calmness and tranquillity. In gentle increments, my chaotic thought patterns coalesced into a focused whole. The pulse of my heartbeat harmonized with the steady stream of my mind. Just when I was congratulating myself on a job well done, an image of Lucius appeared, upsetting my equanimity. My heartbeat sped up and thumped eagerly; my blood heated. I bit my bottom lip and mentally shoved his picture out of my mind. It slid right back to center, taunting me. My eyelids fluttered open, and I shifted to my side. The dog opened her eyes, checking her surroundings. When she realized all was well, she closed her eyes again and continued slumbering peacefully—taking up half the bed. If only I could find such peace. Lucius, I decided in the next instant, was a disease. A stinking, festering disease that rotted my common sense and might very well be the death of me. I needed some sort of antidote. The battle to cast out the haunting presence of his image was in full force when my phone erupted in a series of beeps. I uttered a low growl and picked up the cell unit

from the side table, anchoring the main piece to my ear. “Yes.” “Miss me?” A rough voice crackled over the other end. “I miss you about as much as I miss the copper bullet I had to dig out of my stomach.” Lucius laughed, the sound husky and rich as it washed over me. Neither of us commented on the fact that we didn’t have to state our names, that we’d only known each other a short time but already recognized each other’s voices. “I love it when you play hard-to-get. Tell me how things are going,” he said with barely a breath. “On schedule.” “What’s this I hear about solar flares?” My eyes narrowed, and I glared at the far wall. “When did you talk to Michael?” “Answer me first.” I did, and my speech was followed by a long silence. “We need to investigate this,” he finally said. “Michael’s doing some research, but I think we need to do some on our own. The more the merrier, right?” He paused. “There’s got to be something to this flare shit. You did good.” To be validated by someone as stern and unbending as Lucius was intoxicating. “Thank you,” I said. I tried to keep the elation out of my voice.

I must have failed because he said, “You cryin’ tears of joy over there?” My cheeks heated. “Shut the hell up.” “Don’t bite my head off.” He laughed. “Which one?” I muttered. “Either.” Another pause reigned before he blew out a breath. “I like you more every time I talk to you, you know that, cookie?” I faked a southern drawl (quite well, I might add). “Is that why you’re calling me, Agent Luscious? So you can like me more?” “Don’t call me that,” he snapped. “I had a spare minute and thought I’d check on you.” “Didn’t Michael tell you how I was doing?” “I wanted to hear it from you, all right?” “All right,” I said, and let the subject drop. I didn’t admit that I was glad he’d called, that I’d wanted to hear from him. “Let’s finish our conversation about the solar flares, and you telling me what a good job I did.” He snorted. “Just look into them. We can compare notes when you get here.” My eyebrows winged up as a tide of anticipation hit me. “I bet I’ll have more information than you.” He chuckled huskily. “My God,” he said. “What?” “Did you hear yourself? I’ll have more information than you,” he mimicked. “I doubt I’ve ever heard a more obvious challenge. You have got

to be the most competitive woman in the entire world.” “Now that’s hardly a fair statement. You haven’t met every woman in the world.” “Doesn’t matter. I accept the challenge. We’ll just see who has more information.” I grinned, invigorated. “So, how are things with you?” “Parker sympathizes with my obsession for you and plans to help me win you. He’s throwing a party and made sure your new boss received an invitation.” I knew that, I almost said, but thankfully stopped myself. He had no idea I’d listened and watched his interaction with Jonathan Parker, and I needed to keep it that way. “What exactly do you plan to do to win me?” “Let’s keep that a surprise so your reaction is real. I wouldn’t worry except that your acting sucks.” My grip on the unit box tightened, and I lost my grin. “I can act.” He didn’t comment. I heaved a sigh. Fine. “What’s my apartment like?” I gritted out. He offered no denial about the fact that he’d sneaked inside. “Looks good. Spacious. Well guarded. Expensive. You’ll have no trouble fitting in. And in case you were wondering, your bed is big

enough for two people.” “That’s good to know. I’m sure Agent Luc will be glad we can both fit.” Silence. Dark, heavy silence that crackled with tension. “Who the hell,” he said haltingly, “is Agent Luc?” “A friend of mine.” I stroked a hand down the dog’s soft fur, and she snorted blissfully in her sleep. “Luc is helping me with the case.” “You did not have my permission to include this man in our mission.” I didn’t correct his assumption that Luc was a male. How’s my acting now? “I don’t need your permission for anything.” “Damn it, Eden. Does Michael know?” “What? Are you going to run and complain to the boss?” I taunted. I heard a sharp grinding noise and pictured Lucius working his jaw. I smiled because I’d just ensured he wouldn’t ask Michael about Luc for any reason. Ah, male pride. So predictable. “If this man steps one foot—one damn foot— inside your apartment, I’ll shove those feet so far up his ass he’ll vomit them out. Understand?” My smile grew wider. I couldn’t help myself. “Oh, I understand all right.” He paused. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He no longer sounded angry. He sounded hesitant.

“Your jealousy is cute, that’s all.” Click. The abrupt disconnection and sudden silence caused my ears to ring. My smile became a chuckle. I rolled to my back, letting the cell unit drop beside me. I even kissed Luc on her wet nose. A few minutes later, the phone rang again. Still grinning, I picked up on the fourth ring. “Yes,” I said. “I never make threats, Eden. Only promises. I didn’t want a partner, but I’ve resigned myself to you. I will not tolerate anyone else on this case.” I wouldn’t either, but I was not about to let this man think his threats—oopsie, promises—cowed me. I would not let him think he called the shots. “Agent Luc and I will be there on schedule,” I said. With that, I severed the connection. Feeling more at peace than I would have after a ten-hour slumber, I affectionately scruffed Luc atop her shaggy brown head. She opened her eyes and stared up at me adoringly. “Better watch your paws, girl. Agent Luscious is a jealous man.” I laughed happily.

Chapter 12

Finally, the day arrived. Pretending to be an employee of Michael’s sent to check on his daughter’s accommodations, I flew into New Dallas. After a quick stop at Michael’s farmhouse, I visited my apartment. For the event, I dressed in a short, spiky black wig and wore a fake pregnancy belly under a synthetic cotton dress. My skin was heavily caked in makeup. I looked a sight, I’m sure, but I needed to map an escape route. Or two. I needed to know what to expect when I, as pampered Eden Black, arrived. God, it was hot. Sweat dripped from me as I walked down the sidewalk. I blamed EenLi for the extreme heat and wouldn’t have doubted if he was one of the Mecs who could control the weather. They did like it hot and dry, but the boiling temperature nearly felled me. Situated in the bustling heart of New Dallas, the apartment building was enhanced chrome and bullet-resistant glass. Eighty-seven stories high. I stepped inside. Fingerprint scanners were at every door. Holographic guides. High-tech, just like Lucius had said.

Grateful for air-conditioning, I maneuvered my way through the throng of people in the well-lit, computerized lobby and entered the farthest elevator, exclusively used for the penthouse. My data—both real and fake—had been programmed in, and the scanners readily accepted me as who I claimed to be. The ride inside the decadent box was long but smooth. A satin-covered bench occupied the far wall, and a cooler with single-serving wine sat next to it. When I reached the top, the doors slid open and I stepped into a world of utter self-indulgence. Gazing around, I inhaled the aromas of leather and cotton, expensive commodities in this synthetic world, where alien and human wars had destroyed so many precious things. Plush recliners, overstuffed couches. Glass tables. Double holoscreen TVs. Two wet bars, fully stocked. Everything was voice and fingerprint protected. I did a quick walk-through, making sure that I was alone. I was. Good. I found the two hidden doorways that Michael had installed, making sure they opened properly. The one located on the kitchen floor squeaked, so I oiled it down. Wouldn’t do to let the bad guys know my location. It led to a safe room. The other door, which opened smoothly, led to a slide that would take me straight to the bottom of the building. My bed, I noticed, was covered in blue silk and

lined with what looked to be sheer lace. I knew the material was a protectant and would seal out poisons and gases. And yes, two people could easily fit inside it. Everything was in order. That was all I’d needed to know. I took a cab for several miles, then walked the rest of the way to the farmhouse, all the while making sure I wasn’t followed. A girl could never be too careful. Agent Luc was waiting for me. The moment I stepped through the door, she bounded from her floor pillow. Ren, the agent I’d left in charge of her care, growled a clipped, “Be still, dog.” “Watch your tone,” I snapped. I crouched down and pet Luc’s soft, clean fur. She sighed happily. “Missed me, huh?” I quickly showered and changed into a fancy dress suit, then Marko drove Luc and me back to the airport to await pickup. What a busy day so far, and I knew it was only going to become more hectic from this point on. Thankfully my civilian driver, or rather Claudia Chow’s, arrived not long after, and I soon found myself gazing out of a limousine window. I shifted impatiently in the soft leather seat. The mission, for me, had officially begun. Agent Luc lounged next to me and rested her chin on my leg. Absently I stroked her fur and

tapped my high-heeled foot against the floorboard. This part of New Dallas offered a plethora of scenery, most of it bleak. One moment a series of towering buildings and speeding cars could be seen; the next I saw wide-open spaces, tumbleweeds, scrubby trees. I’d always thought of myself as a patient woman. But right now, everything inside me screamed to hurry. Not because I yearned to see Lucius, I assured myself, but because I wanted, at last, to begin helping with this case. An hour passed. My lips dipped in a frown, and I shifted in my seat again. Why couldn’t the ambassador of alien goodwill live closer to the airport? I’d read the file on Claudia Chow. She’d been born to privilege. She’d married young—a man also born to privilege. She’d never known a moment’s hardship in her life. When her husband had been alive, the two of them had enjoyed hunting animals and traveling the world. Now she spent her time fighting for alien rights. That didn’t make sense to me, didn’t seem to fit her background. I was to translate for her at parties, meetings, and any other events she chose to attend. I sighed. She owned a ranch on the outskirts of the city… a sprawling ranch now visible on the horizon. Thank God. My back straightened, and I grinned

suddenly. Happily. “We’re almost there,” I told Luc, excitement dripping from my tone. She blinked up at me and licked my hand. I patted her between the ears. “Be careful around the ambassador. She used to hunt animals. She might still.” Luc licked me again. She trusted me to keep her safe, and I liked that. I returned my attention to the ranch. It was red and white, wide and sprawling, with notched wooden posts anchoring the first floor to the second. Armed guards roamed the edges of the property, as well as around the home itself. They weren’t human. They were purebred Ell-Rollises, creatures so thought-dependent they could only follow the dictates of their master. “You’ve got to show total courage while you’re here, girl,” I said to Luc. “If anyone suggests one of those guards hurt you, they’ll do it without a moment’s thought. So don’t go outside without me.” I traced a hand down my braided ponytail and muttered, “Maybe I should have left you with Michael.” I didn’t want her hurt. I’d intended to leave her behind. As I’d strode out the front door, however, Luc had bounded behind me, whimpering with every step. I’d been reminded of every time Michael left me behind for a mission—every time I’d cried for him, wanted

him to sing me to sleep. I hadn’t been able to do the same to Luc. Who could have known I’d turn to mush over a dog? She licked my leg. With such a fierce companion, I thought dryly, I might not need the modified rifle, silencer, and hollow-point bullets in my bag. Of the two of us, though, I was in more danger than Luc. Michael had told me Ambassador Claudia Chow liked to collect other-worlders. All races. “I bet she’d stuff and mount me if it were legal.” Agent Luc gave me yet another lick. Honestly, I despised humans who used otherworlders as trophies. “Ah, look at my alien,” I mimicked with sugary sweetness. And I didn’t care if the driver heard me. I was a pampered princess. A diva. “Isn’t it pretty?” My lips pursed. If Claudia treated me that way… One of the guards must have notified Claudia of my arrival, because the moment the limousine eased into the long, winding gravel drive, she stepped onto the slatted porch. I studied her. She wore her black hair in a severe twist, had perfectly applied makeup, and her long, elegant body was molded into a conservative black silk suit. I would have put her age at thirty, but I knew she’d just turned forty-six. She was an attractive woman who obviously knew her power and reveled in it.

The car stopped, and my door instantly opened. An Ell-Rollis stepped toward me and extended his hand. “Thank you,” I told him cooly. Game face on. Sweet, air-conditioned air became hot and fragrant with the smells of summer and horses. My nose twitched as I stepped outside. The Ell-Rollis didn’t speak. He did smile at me, revealing razor-sharp yellow teeth. The smile seemed out of place on his lizardlike features. He must have been ordered to greet me with a welcoming grin. Agent Luc jumped beside me and sat, my everwatchful guard. At least she didn’t fall asleep. As if she had heeded my warning, she eyed the Ell-Rollis warily. With absolutely no expression on her face, Claudia closed the distance between us and folded me in her arms. For show? Most likely. I didn’t welcome the embrace, but I did tolerate it. She stood a few inches shorter than me, forcing her to stretch on her tiptoes when she kissed both of my cheeks. “Welcome,” she said, her voice cultured, refined. Her eyes were brown, and up close I could see the freckles scattered over her nose. “Thank you.” I smiled sweetly, not a single hint of falsity. I hoped. “I’m very happy to be here.” “Let me look at you,” she said, releasing me and stepping away. Her dark gaze drifted over me,

slowly taking my measure in a full body once-over. “So much gold. It’s stunning, really.” Want to check my teeth? Perhaps tag my toe? I gave her a wider grin. “Thank you. That’s nice of you to say.” “Did someone tinker with your DNA,” she asked innocently, “or are all Rakas as glittery and golden as you?” “We’re all like this, I’m told.” “I’m simply eaten up with jealousy. You must look at yourself in the mirror a thousand times a day.” “Yes.” The answer of a princess. “We’ll make sure no one tries to de-skin you. I’ll take measures to protect you.” She patted my cheek, just as I sometimes did to my dog. “You and I are going to get along famously, I’m sure. Giles,” she called over her shoulder. She even clapped her hands together. “Take Miss Black’s bags to the Yellow Room.” To me, she added, “Yellow will blend so nicely with your golden skin.” “I won’t need my bags taken to the Yellow Room. I have an apartment in the city.” “Nonsense. I want you to stay here. No reason for you to travel back and forth.” Oh, no, no. “I prefer to stay at my own place. That’s one of the reasons I moved away from my father.” Claudia’s brown gaze sharpened, and she inched

toward me in a subtle I-am-in-command-here pose. “I prefer to have you here. With your dog, of course. It’s welcome to stay, as well, and will have more room to run and play here.” “I’m sorry, but I must insist—” “And I must insist that you stay.” Her eyes gleamed with determination. “That was not part of our arrangement,” I said, striving to maintain my calm. Should I throw a fit? “I’ve now made it a part of our arrangement. If that’s a problem…” Then she would find another interpreter. I’d lose my cover. Why such insistence that I stay? I wondered, fists tightening. Still, I gnashed my jaw and didn’t offer another argument. Studying the apartment, oiling the secret door, had been for nothing. Great. “The Yellow Room sounds lovely.” The moment I spoke, her expression softened, and she grinned happily. Her teeth were white, perfectly straight. “Wonderful. I knew we’d get along. Giles,” she called again. A tuxedo-clad Genesi appeared behind her. His race possessed wrinkled gray skin that folded over in layers. I’d killed a Genesi once. A female. She’d emitted some sort of humming energy that tinkled like bells as she fought me. Those bells had grown in volume and had nearly burst my eardrums by the time I finished her off. Without looking me in the eyes, the Genesi

walked stiffly past me and to the car, hefted my bags in his arms, then pivoted on his heel. I allowed this without protest. Most of my weapons were hidden securely in everyday toiletry items. Even if he searched my things for hours, he’d never find anything out of the ordinary. “Now, tell me about your friend,” the ambassador said, motioning to the dog. “What’s its name?” “Her name is Luc. She’s leery of men,” I added, patting her head, “so it will be best if your male servants leave her alone.” “I think it’s marvelous that you have an Earthborn companion.” Ambassador Chow’s face blanketed with a hint of sadness. “My companion is gone. A virus took him.” I didn’t mention that I myself was Earth-born. “I’m sorry for your loss.” She waved her hand through the air and forced a smile. “It was so long ago. Are you thirsty, my dear? I’m sure you are,” she answered for me. “Let’s adjourn to the drawing room. We’ll have lemonade and get to know one another better.” With Luc clopping at my side, I followed the ambassador and strolled eagerly inside, my formfitting calf-length skirt crinkling with my every movement. Cool air blasted me, shivering through my clothing and onto my too-warm skin. That brief stay in the sun had overheated me, I realized.

I blinked away the red-gold sunspots and studied my new, temporary home. Comfortable looking, yes. But…My hands curled into fists again. I wanted my apartment. As we sauntered down a long hallway, one of the first things I noticed were the animal heads that decorated some of the walls. Deer, coyote, and wild hog, all of which were endangered and illegal to possess or kill. I’d expected something different for the elegant Claudia Chow. Yes, I’d known she hunted animals, which was now illegal without a government license, but I’d thought…I don’t know what I’d thought. She glanced at me over her shoulder. “What do you think of my home?” I decided to be truthful. Less complicated that way. “The animal heads give me the creeps.” “Really?” She frowned, genuine surprise flicking through her eyes. “Almost all of your people seem to enjoy them.” My people? Did she mean Raka or all otherworlders? Either way, it didn’t seem like something an Ambassador of Alien Goodwill should say. We finally stepped inside the drawing room, a room boasting animal skulls and bird feathers. Interspersed throughout the carcasses were lace doilies and flower-filled vases. My God. This had to be hell. Hiding a grimace, I waited until Claudia seated

herself in a floral chair before I claimed the rosy pink settee across from her. Luc sat at my feet, still looking wary. Between Claudia and me was a small, rolling table piled high with cookies and lemonade. Except for the dead animals, the scene reminded me of a period piece. An old movie, perhaps, with ladies and gentlemen and proper manners. I suspected Claudia cultivated the image purposefully. To relax her guests? To disarm them? Ever the gracious hostess, she poured me a glass of tangy lemonade, and I tentatively sipped. I hated anything sour, and this proved to be completely devoid of the sweetness I preferred. “Martha,” she said, “please bring Luc a bowl of water.” Orders given, Claudia offered me a cookie. I readily accepted. It, at least, possessed some sugar. If I could have only one food in the entire world, that would be it. Pure, granulated sugar. I nibbled on the edges of the cookie and sighed with satisfaction. “I’m not sure what you’ve been told of your duties,” she said, “but all I’ll require of you is your presence at every political and social function I attend, to accompany me when other-worlders visit to tell me of their problems and concerns, and to interpret any calls I receive.” That’s all, huh? “My last interpreter spoke only six languages, so aliens often left my presence frustrated with their

inability to communicate with me. Your father mentioned you speak twenty-seven languages.” There was a ring of disbelief in her tone. “He didn’t exaggerate, I assure you.” Surprise flittered over her refined features, as if she’d expected me to deny it. “How did you manage to learn so many?” A female servant arrived with Luc’s water bowl. The girl was alien, a Brin Tio Chi, a race that was dark as mocha and moved with fluid grace, practically floating. She placed the bowl in front of Luc and drifted away like a dream, her white robe wisping at her ankles. The dog drank greedily. “A tutor of mine once told me Rakas have an affinity for languages. That all of our kind seem to learn them as easily as human children learn the alphabet.” “That’s wonderful.” Grinning, Claudia clasped her hands. “There’s a party we’ll be attending tonight, and I expect many different alien races to be there. Some of them haven’t yet mastered English, so you’ll have to translate for me.” The party. I could hardly wait. “That will be my pleasure.” She sighed. “Something you need to know about me is that I always mix business with pleasure. I expect many other-worlders to approach me tonight with problems they’ve been having. They know they can come to me anywhere, anytime.”

My head tilted to the side. “What kind of problems?” “Discrimination, mostly. Humans often act superior to their alien counterparts—and jealous when someone they feel is un-deserving has money and power. That’s when I step in. I make sure alien needs are represented in the Senate.” A pretty speech. Rehearsed? Or truthful? “When Yson—he was my husband—was alive, we traveled the world and witnessed so many atrocities against aliens. We vowed to do what we could to help.” Her face gleamed with sadness. “Then the Zi Karas came over and brought that horrible plague that killed so many humans and animals. Yson was one of the first to die, leaving me to help on my own.” “I’d think that would have made you hate all aliens.” I stated the words as an observation, an afterthought. Casual. But I watched her expression intently. The fine lines around her eyes seemed to deepen. “For a while, yes, I did hate them. But Yson would not have wanted me to harbor such hatred. He would have wanted me to keep my vow. And so I have.” She waved a hand through the air. “Now enough sadness. Let’s talk about happy things.” What a puzzle she was—a puzzle I planned to solve. Whether the pieces would fit together in an

innocent or betraying manner, I didn’t know. I only knew I’d have to stay on my guard with her. Michael seemed to trust her (somewhat), but I couldn’t. Not yet. We chatted for a few more minutes about the weather, about my food preferences and sleeping habits. “Why don’t you go upstairs,” she said. “You can unpack or rest or whatever you need to do before the party.” “Where’s the party located?” I asked, unable to keep anticipation from my tone. I already knew the answer. “At Jonathan Parker’s estate. He’s wealthy and powerful and a good man to have on your side.” She paused, grinned. “He insisted, absolutely insisted, we attend.” I returned her grin with one of my own. “I look forward to meeting him.” And I did. God, I did.

Chapter 13

I spent the next hour searching my new bedroom for bugs and cameras. A single dead animal head hung from my “yellow that blends well with my skin” walls. A deer. The rest of the decor was tasteful, if purely Texan. Cowbell chandelier, horseshoes on the walls, wooden bedposts that supported a wheelbarrow-shaped bed. Snakeskin baskets rested on the side tables. I found two cameras, but no bugs. The ambassador of alien goodwill had replaced the deer’s eyes with round, black lenses pointed toward the bed. Whether Claudia Chow was simply a pervert who liked to watch, had nefarious reasons for wanting me under surveillance, or wanted the camera here to help “protect” me from gold lovers, I didn’t care. I renewed my determination to be cautious around her. She didn’t know my true purpose for being here, but she was going to get me inside Jonathan’s party. For that I’d endure her creepiness. I didn’t care if she knew I’d found the cameras. I openly removed and disabled them. Picture splicing had become common years ago, so the

government had made cameras like these illegal without a permit. I doubted she had a permit. “Lord save me,” I muttered. I could handle the camera problem one of two ways. Hand the cameras to the ambassador personally with a warning not to place them in my room again, or not mention them at all. After a moment’s debate, I decided not to mention them. I’m willing to bet she knew the exact moment I found them. If I kept quiet, she’d wonder about my thoughts, my reaction, and perhaps tread more carefully around me. Assured now of my privacy, I began memorizing the layout of the room by sight, then with my eyes closed, learning the spacing between furniture and the length of the floor. Luc watched me curiously the entire time. She even paced beside me for a while before becoming bored and flouncing to the bed. A time might come when I needed to navigate this room in the dark, simply to survive. I charted the best escape route, as well as a second in case the first was blocked. Afterward, I allowed myself a lingering shower. The dry enzyme spray did not offer the same relaxing sensation as the warm, steamy water at Michael’s, but I enjoyed the feel of clean skin. Especially now, knowing I would soon see Lucius. Knowing I would soon meet Jonathan

Parker face to face. Knowing a “slave” order would soon be placed for me, and I would be stolen away, perhaps locked underground. Dirty and cold. Soon…yes, soon. Lucius would be attending Jonathan Parker’s party tonight. I’d see him in person. Talk to him. And I would think only of our case, I vowed. Had he learned anything new about the solar flares? About EenLi? According to Michael, the bastard still had not been spotted. It was like he’d disappeared. Maybe he had. Maybe, like Romeo, he’d used a solar flare to return home. If that proved true, I’d find a way to chase him all the way to Mecca. The spray began to sputter, so I shut the unit off and stepped from the white tiled enclosure. Heated air billowed from vents above, beside, and below me to keep me warm until I dressed. I restrapped my weapons onto my body: a small pyre-gun on the inside of my thigh, one knife, and a tiny vial of Onadyn. I never knew which I’d need, so I liked access to all three. I decided, though, that I needed something else this time. Something more than my usual arsenal. Just in case. These were new surroundings with people I didn’t know and hadn’t followed. I locked an anklet around my ankle—an anklet that

possessed hallucinogens in the shapes of diamonds. That done, I slipped the ice-blue sheath dress over my head. The sheer material kissed my breasts and hips, but flared freely around my calves with different lengths of scarves. I left most of my golden hair down, clipping only the sides back and out of the way with sapphire-studded combs— which also doubled as retractable blades. “Not bad,” I muttered, studying my reflection in the mirror. Iced gold. I’d come to loathe high heels, but I supposed I could tolerate them for tonight. Who knows? If needed, I could use the heels as a weapon. I anchored a strappy pair the exact shade of my dress onto my feet. A little mascara, a swipe of gloss. There. Done. Luc barked her approval. I checked my computer for a message from Colin. Nothing. I sighed. The wall clock ticked the hour. Five o’clock, two hours before the ambassador and I needed to leave. That gave me plenty of time to question her about Jonathan Parker.

Claudia, as it turned out, was a certified gossip and more than happy to tell me everything she knew about everyone she’d ever met. Our conversation lasted the entire two hours before she rushed

upstairs to change for the party. During our chat, I’d learned the following tidbits of information: 1. River Garwood preferred homemade beer to expensive champagne, although he did have an excellent wine cellar. 2. Norine Smith’s breast augmentation had left her with one breast larger than the other. The woman now wore a onesided padded bra. 3. Jonathan Parker hated peas with a passion that could not be surpassed (perhaps this knowledge could be used if we ever decided to torture him?). 4. Gladys MacGregor, who lost all her money to bad investments and everyone knew it, had paid her dentist for her porcelain veneers with a little oral surgery of her own—performed on her knees. I brooded over the fact that those were two hours I’d never get back. Not one of my better plans. When Claudia rejoined me ten minutes later, she wore a shiny violet sequined dress that hugged her body. It glinted like rich oil in the light. Her hair

was wrapped in a matching turban. She looked elegant. Refined. “Claudia,” I said as she descended the stairs, “do you mind asking one of your female employees to walk Luc sometime this evening?” “Of course.” She eyed her servant, the floating, velvety dark Martha, who nodded. “Martha will see to it. Are you ready?” “More than I can say.” We climbed inside the limo and made our way to Parker’s. Claudia picked up our conversation as if we’d never left off. Who knew a cozy limo with its black leather and mini-bar could be used as a torture device? I half listened, hoping there’d be information I could use. At long last, she mentioned the name Hunter Leonn. Lucius. I perked up and adopted an expression of feigned distress and dismay. Remember, he stalked me. Abused me. An intense rush of impatience and excitement gripped me. “Hunter Leonn, did you say?” I asked sharply, jolting forward in my seat. “Yes,” she said, blinking over at me. Her features lit with eagerness, and she leaned toward me. “Why? Do you know him?” I gave her the same story Lucius had given Jonathan. “He chased me relentlessly. Ruthlessly! Every time I turned, he hovered beside me. I tried to tell him I didn’t like him, that I didn’t want him

in my life, but he wouldn’t listen. He refused to leave me alone.” “Oh, how awful.” “Yes, it was. Hunter is the real reason I moved away from Michael. I wanted so badly to escape him.” I gripped my knees in a show of agitation. “And now you tell me he’s here?” “Are you worried he’ll bother you again? Well, don’t be. My home is well guarded, Eden. He won’t be able to reach you.” “I thought that before. With Michael. But because I continually told Hunter no, he jerked me off the street one day and into his car. He took me to his house and locked me inside. He almost raped me, and would have, if I hadn’t escaped. What am I going to do?” “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize the seriousness of the situation.” Features tight with concern, she grabbed my hands. “You must have been so scared, and now you’re finding yourself in the same predicament. I wish we could have him arrested, but—” She sighed with dejection. “Humans simply aren’t punished for hurting aliens. Not yet, anyway.” “What if he tries to steal me again?” I asked. I bit my lower lip. Was I laying it on too thick? “I bet he learned I would be living here and decided to move here, too. He’s probably there right now, waiting for me.”

“I’m sorry to say he will indeed be there, but I don’t think he’ll make a scene. Too many people will be there to act as witnesses.” She squeezed my hand. “Please don’t worry. I won’t let Hunter harm you in any way. That I promise. I’ll talk to Jonathan, and make sure Hunter is kept at a distance from you. All right?” Such adamancy from her surprised me. Her perfectly made-up features were bathed in concern and affront, and tension hummed from her body. Authentic distress? For me, an other-worlder? If this was indeed real, such concern for alien safety was probably why this vain, pampered, gossiping woman had been chosen as ambassador of alien goodwill. I hadn’t expected this from her. Rarely did someone prove to be more than I’d anticipated. First Lucius, now Claudia. Had I lost my edge? “Thank you for your concern,” I told her, letting myself visually calm. “I just wish I could do more. Aliens have feelings, just like humans. Why can’t more people see that?” “Have you met him? Hunter, I mean?” “Once.” She released my hand. Her gaze flicked to the window, and she stared out at the moonlit landscape. We passed Michael’s lush little glen, a dewy and sparkling emerald haven. A total contrast to the dry land everywhere else. “He’s an

intimidating fellow, I must say. His eyes are… there’s something about them. They’re dark and cold and so unfeeling.” “Yes,” I agreed, shivering. “I remember that about him.” This had worked out so much better than I could have ever planned. “You speak so highly of Jonathan Parker. How can he be friends with such a man?” “I’m sure Hunter pretends to be civilized when he’s with other men. Men like him always do. But I can assure you I will tell Jonathan everything, and something will be done.” By telling him, she would completely validate the story Lucius had given him. Why, thank you, Ambassador Chow. “That truly would set my mind at ease.” I placed my fingers over my heart in a show of relief. “You are wonderful, Ambassador Chow. Truly.” “Please. Call me Claudia. And I would do the same for any other alien. I believe other-worlders should have the same rights as humans.” “Claudia,” I said. “If only everyone believed as you do.” The limo slowed, then stopped altogether in front of a towering white stone mansion, surrounded by a narrow cerulean river and an electric fence. My heart began a fast, erratic dance. We were here. Multicolored and multisized cars littered the grounds, and throngs of formally clad

people meandered toward the arched bridge that led to the house. Moonlight stretched and yawned over the entire enclosure, as golden as I was. I tried not to smile, but I felt, actually felt, the hum of Lucius’s energy. He was inside. And he was waiting for me. Our mission was about to reach the next level.

Chapter 14

The party overflowed with humans and otherworlders, twinkling jewelry, and rich fabrics. Real cotton, real silk, not the synthetic versions worn by the masses. The room fairly buzzed with activity. Amid a thick haze of illegal cigarette smoke, expensive perfume, loud, laughing voices rolled through the air like a cadence of ocean waves. Candles glowed from wall sconces, giving off a dim, antique light. Alcohol flowed like a giddy river. Mahogany floors, plush carpets. Every piece of art hanging on the walls depicted a woman in different stages of dishabille and seduction. Several alabaster columns with ivy twined around their entire lengths stretched to the vaulted ceiling. The elegance surprised me. This foyer and living area did not resemble the modern, vibrant office I’d seen when ghost-walking. I remained at Ambassador Chow’s side as we worked our way through the throng of guests. Both men and women, humans and other-worlders, constantly slid their gazes over me in speculation. The humans speculation soon turned to appreciation for my golden color. I could almost see

the direction of their thoughts—my skin and hair decorating their walls. I scanned the crowd for Lucius, for EenLi, for Jonathan, but I saw only strangers. Every few minutes, Claudia paused to speak with someone. I forced a casual, this-is-exactly-what-I-want-to-bedoing tone each time I translated her conversations with the other-worlders. Most of the complaints, as Claudia had predicted, were about discrimination. A Mec’s office was wrecked by humans. An Arcadian—a race known for their white hair, psychic abilities, and dabbling in mind control—wanted the laws changed so he could marry his human lover. A catlike Taren had been locked in an A.I.R. jail for two weeks because he’d been accused of stealing a dress from a human. When the dress had been discovered in the back of the human’s closet, the alien was released but without an apology. Claudia offered each of them a fervent assurance that she would speak to the Senate and do everything she could to get their problem resolved. I hoped she followed through. I was an other-worlder, but I’d never known these prejudices, and it struck deep that others had. Michael had always protected me. If someone had looked at me oddly, they were never again allowed inside Michael’s house. If someone said a derogatory word to me, they were never heard from

again. “You’re not too bored, are you?” Claudia whispered when we had a rare moment alone. “Of course not.” “I haven’t seen Hunter.” Her gaze darted left and right as she made sure we weren’t overheard. “Hopefully I was wrong, and he won’t dare show his face here.” Just then a tall, handsome man stepped from the crowd and approached us. Jonathan Parker. I recognized him instantly. Blond. Strong. He wore a black silk suit that fit him perfectly. Our gazes met, and his thin lips played in a welcoming smile. Up close, he reeked of money, self-indulgence, and confidence. “Hello,” he said to me, barely sparing Claudia a glance. His low, seductive timbre scratched across my nerve endings. “Hello,” I returned, using my huskiest voice. I even managed a soft, welcoming smile without gagging as I held out my hand. “I’m Jonathan Parker.” He clasped my fingers and lifted them to his mouth, then placed a line of kisses between each of my knuckles. “You must be Ambassador Chow’s new assistant.” “Yes, I am.” Did he think I’d be charmed by such a display? Of course he did. He fancied himself a smooth-talking ladies’ man. I shook off my revulsion as images of his dead wives flashed

inside my mind, and fluttered my lashes. Coyly I withdrew my hand. “I’m Eden Black.” “Such a lovely name.” His heated gaze swept over me, lingering on my cleavage. “Eden…a man’s paradise.” I chuckled seductively, as if I’d never been so flattered. The action stretched my acting talent to its limits. “I certainly hope so.” Bastard. The man was married, was supposed to be helping Lucius win me, yet here he was hitting on me as if I’d jump instantly into his bed. Naked and ready. “Jonathan,” Claudia said, a stern edge to her tone. In that moment, she was all business. She pinned him with an equally stern stare. “I’m glad you found us. I need to talk to you about something very important.” Still his gaze remained on me. “You know I’m always willing to listen to your causes, Ambassador Chow.” His voice had lost its sensual edge and was now crisp with formality. “First tell me where you came to find this vision of loveliness.” “She found me, and I’m grateful that she did.” “I needed a change of scenery to escape a bit of…unpleasantness at home,” I said, “and Claudia needed a translator.” “Unpleasantness?” Jonathan replied, his eyes locked with mine. “Please tell me you were not subjected to the types of discrimination Ambassador Chow is always complaining about.”

I glanced (shyly) away. “I wish it was that simple.” Maybe I’d take Parker out after EenLi. An employee perk, if you will. Everything about him irritated me. Changing the subject, I said, “Claudia has spoken so highly of you, Mr. Parker.” “Please, call me Jonathan.” “Jonathan,” I said, pretending to savor the name. I definitely deserved an award for my performance. How could Lucius say I wasn’t a good actress? “Jonathan, I must speak with you.” Claudia stepped in front of me, a silent demand to be heard. “I’m afraid Eden is in danger. The unpleasantness she mentioned has followed her here.” I moved beside her and watched Jonathan arch a perfectly sculpted brow. “Danger?” He grinned slowly. “How ominous that sounds. Whoever would harm such a delicious creature?” “You,” she said. “Me?” His face darkened and twitched with affront and I caught a glimpse of the killer he tried to hide. “I can assure you I would never harm a woman, and certainly not this one.” “Not you personally, but through your association with a certain individual.” Claudia’s voice rose, projecting to those hovering around us. He frowned, and his gaze moved over those people in a silent command to go about their

business. “Perhaps we should move this conversation elsewhere,” he suggested. Claudia shot me a triumphant grin. “I knew he would help us. I’ll only be a minute, Eden. Jonathan, can you guarantee she’ll be safe while we’re gone?” I think he wanted to ask who she thought would hurt me, but thought better of it out here. He already knew the answer, anyway. “Of course,” he said. He turned to me. “If anyone accosts you, there are Ell-Rollises posted along the edges of the room. They each have pyre-guns under their jackets and have been ordered to subdue unruly guests.” Claudia employed Ell-Rollis guards, as well. Had Jonathan given them to her? They could be in league together. After all, I had to wonder why she wanted to talk to him without me. “You two go on,” I said. “I’ll be fine. I’m going to make a quick trip to the ladies’ room.” Jonathan’s gaze lingered on me for a long while, classical music floating around us like a gentle breeze, before he led Claudia away. When they disappeared in the crowd, I followed the path they had taken. They passed two half-man, half-lizard Ell-Rollises, then Jonathan scanned his fingers into an ID box. A bright blue light enveloped his hand. A door slid open, and I caught a glimpse of light wood, those red and purple columns, and those

fuchsia and yellow bookshelves before the door shut, cutting off my view. I had to get into that room. But how? Secret door? I blinked. Yes! Of course. In all of Michael’s homes, he had installed a secret door to every room. He wanted to be able to get inside anyplace at anytime, as needed. I bet Jonathan was the same. Men with something to hide, as well as men with something to find, liked unlimited access. Liked watching and listening when others didn’t know they were watching and listening. Michael could get to any room in his house through a hidden corridor that began in his bedroom. Jonathan would have that, too. I knew it. Felt it. In his bedroom, he would be able to lock himself away for hours, do anything he wanted, no one the wiser. I didn’t have long before Jonathan and Claudia finished their chat, so I had to act quickly. During one of our phone conversations, Lucius had given me the layout of this house—just in case. Well, just in case had arrived. I knew Jonathan’s bedroom was upstairs, third door on the left. There were probably guards upstairs, so I’d have to be careful. I’d need a distraction. Nothing overt, just something to draw attention away from the stairs. I spun slowly around, thinking, gazing, studying. An idea hit me and I grinned. When a waiter passed me

with a tray of red wine, I claimed two glasses. There, below the steps, was a woman in a sleek white dress, speaking with several men. Her hair was salon red, her skin sun-kissed, her makeup perfectly applied. She’d obviously spent hours preparing for this event. Determined, I strode toward her. The different layers of scarves I wore danced at my ankles. Another female passed the group just in front of me, and she was holding her own glass of wine. When I reached her, I tripped her and “accidentally” tripped myself, spilling both of my wineglasses. Both women screamed as red liquid cascaded over their hair, their clothes. The entire room seemed to turn toward them, intent on finding out what had happened. “Towels,” I said. Several others began muttering about towels. “I’ll get them towels.” Without another word, I slunk up the staircase as quickly as possible. No one tried to stop me. When I reached the top, I meshed myself behind the wall and into a shadowed corner. Just beyond, I could hear footsteps pacing back and forth. One…two sets, I realized. I didn’t have time to spirit-walk. Didn’t have time to learn their nuances and sneak around them. Determined, I reached up to remove my hairpins— but I paused, dropped my hands to my sides. Killing them wasn’t necessary, and I didn’t want blood on

my dress. I quietly palmed the miniature pyre-gun strapped to my thigh and programmed it to stun. My adrenaline spiked—even as my feet ached. Damn heels. Say hello, boys, I thought, leaping into action, racing straight for them, not even pretending to be lost. My hair swished back and forth down my back. Immediately I saw that both Ell-Rollises were holding pyre-guns. They were startled to see me and raised those guns to shoot. But they paused when they realized I was a woman, and their scaled, yellow faces darkened with confusion. That pause cost them. I fired two shots in quick succession. A stream of blue light erupted, nailing one. The second stream slammed into the other. They froze in place, where they’d be locked in stun for hours, unable to move. But I couldn’t allow them to later tell Jonathan what they’d seen, so I fed them the hallucinogens. They wouldn’t know what was real, what wasn’t. They might even be blamed for stunning themselves. I bypassed them and quickly worked at the ID box that locked the bedroom door. A few seconds and two cut wires later, I was inside the room, the door closed behind me. I sheathed my gun. Before I could revel in my victory, a hand smashed over my mouth and jerked me into a hard, hot body. I recognized Lucius’s decadent scent.

Recognized the contours of his chest. I’d felt it that day in the woods, had seen it in my dreams. Still. Grab me, would he? My eyes narrowed. It was time to prove to this man he wouldn’t always get the upper hand with me. I shoved my elbow into his stomach once, twice. He puffed out a breath, and his hold on me loosened. Spinning around, I kneed him. Hard. I didn’t curb my strength. He dropped to the fluffy white carpet with a pained moan. While he was down, I slammed my fist into his temple, and his head whipped to the side. I didn’t want to break his nose or blacken his eye. Not because I liked him, but because it wouldn’t do for people to know he’d been in a fight. “Don’t ever grab me again,” I told him quietly. “Dear God,” he said. There was pain in his eyes, but also respect. And admiration. “You’re in a slinky dress, and you look like a lady. You shouldn’t do that to a man.” “I’ll do whatever it takes. Always.” “Good to know.” He lumbered to his feet and massaged his balls. “Don’t ever hurt the boys again. I get vicious when they’re threatened.” I rolled my eyes. “What are you doing here?” “Same thing you are, I’m sure, and there’s no time to waste. This way.” He grabbed my hand—I didn’t hurt him this time—and led me to a mural of naked, frolicking couples. He reached out,

caressing his fingers between a redhead’s splayed legs. “What are you—” The mural parted, revealing a dark entryway. I almost clapped in excitement. I’d been right about the corridor! Lucius tossed a grin (still a little pained) over his shoulder before tugging me inside. The door closed, and total darkness surrounded us. Total silence. Lucius never slowed as we descended a staircase. “I hope you know where you’re going.” My words echoed through the small, cramped space. “I’ve been here a thousand times. I know the way.” An eternity had passed, or perhaps only a few minutes, when he ground to an abrupt stop. He released my hand. I heard a scratch, a clang, a muffled curse from Lucius, and then another door was sliding open. Rays of light seeped into my line of vision. “In here,” he said. “Should we be talking?” I whispered. “Soundproof walls.” We stepped into a plain gray room that boasted a single wall of windows, nothing more. Those windows gazed into the library, where Jonathan was lounging on the lime green couch, Claudia seated across from him. They each held a glass of dark,

rich liquid. I stopped and stared, but Lucius walked to the window and pushed a panel of buttons. The speakers came on, and we could suddenly hear what was being said. “—won’t hurt her here, I promise you,” Jonathan was saying. “Oh, really? Your friend came to New Dallas because he knew Eden would be here. He’s a stalker, Jonathan. A dangerous criminal who once kidnapped her and locked her away. Now, can you offer me a hundred percent assurance that he’ll leave her alone?” Jonathan chuckled. “That certainly sounds like something Hunter would do. The man has balls of steel. But I’m not his father, and I can’t control him.” Anger gleamed in Claudia’s dark eyes. “You’re laughing about this?” “Claudia—” “No. Eden is an alien and my employee, and therefore I am her protector. You’ll either keep your friend under tight watch, away from her, or I’ll bring in the media. You know several of them are sympathizers and will crucify you.” I blinked in surprise. She was defending me, fighting for me. Wasn’t backing down. Was determined to help me. In that moment, I realized she wasn’t working with or for Jonathan. She really

did care about her job, about aliens. A muscle ticked in Jonathan’s jaw. “Very well,” he said. “I’ll speak with him.” Done with the conversation, he unfolded to his feet. “Come. I’ll escort you back to the party.” Claudia, too, stood. She didn’t wait for Jonathan, but turned on her heels and strode out. Before he left, he tossed his glass against the wall, and gleaming shards rained onto the floor. All that sneaking around for a small glimmer of conversation. I glanced at Lucius, who was watching me. Our gazes met. Clashed. The intensity in his eyes was disconcerting. Confusing. “We better get back, too,” I said. He latched onto my arm, stopping me from movement. “Can you handle this?” he asked roughly. “Once we leave this room, there’ll be no going back.” Was he doubting me again? “I can handle it, Hunter. You don’t have to worry about me.” “These are dangerous people.” He stiffened, but slowly, slowly relaxed and surprised me by saying, “The other day, I told you I had a mother. She raised me the first ten years of my life. She was a drug addict and a whore, but she loved me in her own way. I think she was glad when Social Services took me away.” I couldn’t open my mouth to save my life. I was

riveted by his words. Why he was telling me this now, I didn’t know. “I was given to a nice, conservative family, but I was already street-hard and used to doing whatever I wanted, so that didn’t last long.” When he paused, I gulped and finally found my voice. “What happened to you?” “I was sent to a sadistic couple who liked to rent out their foster children.” A cold sweat broke over my skin at the implication of his words. I should have let the subject drop. Knowing about him, about his past, wasn’t necessary and might actually harm my resolve to resist him. To dislike him. I should have let it drop, yes, but I didn’t. I had to know. “Rent out?” His shoulders lifted in a rigid shrug. “The first time they gave me to a man, I was scared and ashamed. Have you ever been raped, Eden?” My eyes wide, I shook my head no. “It’s a thousand times worse than anything you’ve ever heard about it, and it’s what’s going to happen to you if something goes wrong.” “I can protect myself,” I said shakily. “I thought so, too. But the second time I was sold, I tried to fight. I was strong for my age, and I’d been in a lot of fights. He had me pinned to the ground in minutes, as if my struggles meant nothing. I’d never felt so helpless in my life.”

“I’m sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say. I’d had a childhood of privilege. Yes, I’d seen my parents murdered, but nothing had been done to me physically. I’d known love and safety. “So very sorry.” “The third time, I went into a rage. Before I could be subdued, I stabbed the fucking pedophile in the stomach. He died, and I spent the next seven years locked away.” “But you were a child.” He shrugged again. “I was due to spend three more years inside, but Michael stumbled upon my case and got me out. I didn’t tell you that for sympathy, so wipe that look off your face. I told you because I want you to realize those are the type of people we’re dealing with here. They don’t care about anything except pleasure and money. They’ll rape you, sell you without blinking an eye, and we’re about to gift-wrap you and hand you to them.” I straightened my shoulders, fortified my determination. “If I don’t do this, no one will. People will continue to be bought and sold, slaves to their masters. I have to do this. I, at least, know what to expect. I know how to defend myself. They don’t.” He didn’t speak for a moment. Just watched me, studied me. I don’t know what I expected from him, but what he did wasn’t it. Without warning, he

jerked me into his chest, and his lips came crashing down on mine. I didn’t think to resist. Couldn’t. He’d been hurt so long ago, and there was a deep need inside me to soothe that pain. To make it go away, to wrap him up in total safety. His tongue thrust and battled. Mine thrust and battled, as well, each of us craving something from the other. Something we shouldn’t. His strong, strong arms wound around me, slithered up and down my back before cupping my butt and lifting me up until I cradled his erection. “You excite me,” he growled. He didn’t seem happy with the knowledge. “Yeah, well, you excite me too.” I definitely wasn’t happy with the knowledge. “You also infuriate me.” He licked the seam of my lips. “You dropped me to my knees today, and that’s something no one else has done.” “You deserved it.” I nipped at his jaw. “Yeah, I deserved it.” He paused, pulled away from me. “You’re a better agent than I gave you credit for.” The unexpected praise shocked me. Thrilled me. Rocked me. My heart actually skipped a beat. “Ththank you,” I stuttered. He drew in a deep, shuddering breath. The beams of light that couched his face gave him a menacing yet angelic ambiance. Conflicting, like

the man himself. “All right, then. Now that that’s settled, let’s go buy your ticket into hell.” We traveled through the tunnel again and back into Jonathan’s room. I needed that time to get myself under control. To stop thinking about Lucius and his kiss, Lucius and his praise, Lucius and his past, and to concentrate on the mission. He led me through a back way. We soon reentered the party undetected and became part of the laughing crowd. Like a dream, smoke wafted around us. “This dance is mine,” he said. His strong, callused fingers wrapped around my wrist as his rough, husky voice shivered along my spine. Without waiting for my reply, Lucius dragged me onto the dance floor. Back in character, I cast a helpless look over my shoulder, searching for Claudia or Jonathan. I didn’t see either of them. Soft, lulling music hummed from strategically placed speakers that were hidden in the walls. Lucius wound his arms tightly around me, and I fought the urge to sink completely into him and continue our kiss, picking up where it left off. I gave him my complete attention, trying to appear fearful and furious. Meanwhile, my body thrummed with the pleasure of his heat and pine scent. If only he hadn’t praised my abilities… In the light, I saw that his dark hair framed around his chiseled face, and his faux-brown eyes

glowed with…what? I couldn’t read the emotion there, only the extreme intensity. My fingers itched to trace the fake scar that slashed down his temple. My mouth watered for another taste of him. The small tastes he’d already given me weren’t enough. Not nearly enough. The music began to fade from my ears, and the people around me vanished from my vision. The gray suit Lucius wore fit him to perfection, molding itself over each and every one of his muscles. Though his eyes were now brown, his lashes were the same: long, black, and spiky. “Goddamn it, put up some kind of fight,” he growled quietly. “You’re supposed to hate and fear me. Not fuck me with your eyes.” Common sense slammed into me. My teeth ground together, and my gaze narrowed. I slapped him with so much force his head whipped to the side. The people around us gasped. Lucius didn’t remove his arms from me. No, he tightened his hold. Slowly he turned and faced me again. “Better,” he said, his eyes now glowing with amusement. Just for fun, I slapped him again. He lost his amused glow. “I think people get the message.” “You sure?” My tone was dark with suppressed animosity…and desire. A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I’m sure.” He

jerked me deeper into his arms. “Miss me?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave. Maybe his kiss had weakened my resolve to dislike him, maybe his praise had, or his confession about his childhood, because I suddenly wanted to give him an honest answer—the one thing I hadn’t given him in all our sexual sparrings. But I had to stay in character from this point on, and we both knew it. “Take your hands off me,” I demanded and tried to pull away from him. His hold tightened even further. “You like to play hard-to-get, Eden, but we both know how easy you’ll be,” he said, and there was a ring of truth in his tone. He wasn’t speaking to my character, but to me. “You like where you are.” “Take your hands off me, damn it!” “First, admit that you like when I hold you. I want to hear you say it.” I pursed my lips. I’d admit nothing, not for our audience and certainly not for him. “I’ll scream.” “Do it. Scream.” “Bastard. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” “I won’t wait forever, you know. I will have you.” He leaned toward me, placing his lips near my ear, as if he meant to kiss me and whisper sweet words of love. Softly, so softly, he said, “You’re the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen. Your nipples are hard and your sheer dress does nothing to hide

them.” I slapped him again, harder than before. It was either that, or sink into him. He stumbled backward. “Stay away from me.” I projected my words loudly, loud enough that the people around us heard. “I don’t want you. I’ve never wanted you.” I swirled around and finally found Claudia. Her eyes widened when she spotted me, and her features became pinched with shock and concern. Jonathan’s darkened with anger. Claudia said something to him, and he motioned to one of the Ell-Rollises, who immediately raced toward him. I reached them, and Jonathan’s attention veered to me. He forgot the guard as he took my hand, turned it, and kissed my wrist. “I’m sorry if my friend frightened you.” I pointedly withdrew from his hold and glared at him. “He dragged me to the dance floor and wouldn’t let me go. He could have hurt me.” I stomped my foot, the perfect pampered child. “I wouldn’t have let him, I assure you.” His brown eyes were already so dark they appeared black, but they darkened further. “Claudia explained what happened between you and Hunter. Believe me, I won’t let anything like this happen again. I’ll talk to him.” “Thank you.” But I remained stiff. There, I thought with satisfaction. I’d done my

job. I’d effectively established my dislike of “Hunter.” I’d proven I wanted him nowhere near me, which would validate his growing desperation for me. I gave my attention to Claudia. “I’m feeling poorly. Are you ready to leave?” She nodded, her color high with anger. She truly was concerned for me. “Yes, of course,” she said. “Let’s get you home. You’re shaking.” Like a mother hen, she wrapped her arm around my waist and led me through the crowd and to the front door. “See that they make it to their car safely,” Jonathan commanded the Ell-Rollis. I felt his gaze boring into my spine—and ass. I couldn’t help myself. I tossed a glance over my shoulder, past the Ell-Rollis now shadowing us, and watched as Lucius approached Jonathan. The two men began arguing. People inched away from them, but not far enough that they couldn’t listen. Unfortunately, I was too far away to hear. Jonathan pushed him. Lucius balled his hand into a fist, and it appeared like he was going to pound the stupid man into a bloody, lifeless heap. But then Jonathan pointed a finger in his face, said a few words, and Lucius nodded stiffly. Both men glanced to me. I didn’t pretend to misunderstand what they’d been talking about, and didn’t pretend I hadn’t watched with interest. Lucius abruptly swung

around and stalked toward the back door, widening the distance between us. Still glowering with anger, Jonathan stared at me, silently commanding me to appreciate his efforts on my behalf. I merely offered him a half smile and turned away. Though I desperately wanted to race after Lucius and find out what had been said, I forced myself to keep pace beside Claudia. What kind of power did Lucius wield over me that he made me forget my job, my surroundings, my…everything? If I knew, perhaps I could fight against it. Fight against him. The return drive to the ambassador’s residence was filled with chatter—all of it Claudia’s. She lamented on the plague that was man, promised to speak with Jonathan again, and asked me over a thousand times if I was all right. “Not a good first day on the job, was it?” she said. “I’ll be fine,” I told her. “I handled Hunter once, and I’ll handle him again.” Unfortunately, I was lying on both counts.

Chapter 15

Why the hell aren’t you in your apartment?” a rough, infuriated voice growled. I came awake instantly. I lay in bed—my new, wheelbarrow-shaped bed at Claudia’s home. I wore a thin tank and equally thin sleep pants. A soft yellow cover draped my lower half. Agent Luc slept peacefully on the floor at the end of the bed. And Lucius was crouched at my feet. When he realized I was awake, he sprang on top of me. I had my knife at his throat before he could take his next breath. He didn’t flinch, didn’t seem to care that I held his life in my hands. Frankly, I was amazed. Not only had he bypassed the ambassador’s security; he’d bypassed mine. I’d rigged the windows and door locks before I allowed myself to fall into sleep. Lucius’s weight pushed me deep into the mattress, making me all the more aware of the cool material underneath me, and the pure male heat on top of me. “How did you get in here without waking me?” I demanded quietly, pressing the knife deeper. Not deep enough to draw blood. Not yet. “Very easily. Now answer the damn question.”

“Claudia insisted I stay here.” “Claudia, huh? You two are on a first-name basis?” “She’s not so bad. She wants to protect me from you.” “Baby, nothing can protect you from me.” The darkness of his voice cut through the darkness of the room. I tried to wriggle out from under him, but he had me pinned by his strength. More than that, my halfhearted wriggling wouldn’t have dislodged a feather. It did spark my desire for him to new heights, though, causing my breasts to mesh into his chest. The scent of honey began to encompass us in a fragrant cloud. And perhaps, just perhaps, I intentionally spread my legs so his lower body would sink into mine. His nostrils flared, and tension radiated off of him in decadent waves. “We’ve got to do something about your perfume.” “Why?” “It gives a man ideas,” he grumbled. I swallowed. “What kind of ideas?” “The naked kind.” His eyes narrowed. “Did you bring Luc?” Undiluted and unrestrained menace dripped from his tone. I almost smiled. Almost. “Agent Luc is here, yes.” Even in the moonlight, Lucius’s eyes visibly

darkened. His ice-blue eyes. No contacts. He’d come to me as himself. My heart picked up in speed, drumming hotly in my chest. “I told you what would happen if you brought him. Where. The hell. Is he?” “On the floor,” I said, bending both of my knees. An innocent (I swear) action that cradled him intimately against me. I kept my knife steady. “The only thing on the floor is a fucking lazy-ass dog.” “Exactly.” The word emerged on a smug breath. “And she’s not lazy. She’s finally getting some rest after a horrible life with a predator.” In that moment, he understood how I’d played him. How I’d purposefully made him jealous. Watching me, he popped the muscles in his jaw. “You’re going to pay for that, cookie.” “Yeah, and you’re going to pay for sneaking into my room.” At last I pressed the knife hard enough to nick him. A tiny drop of blood slithered down his neck. “I named her after you.” “If you couldn’t have me, you’d have the next best thing, right?” “Can’t you take an insult as it’s intended? Now get the hell off me.” If only I sounded convincing… Angry with myself, I pressed the knife a little more deeply into his neck. He didn’t answer or comment; he was too busy staring at my lips. For a moment, however, it did

look like he wanted to say something, something smart-assed and cutting, but then he changed his mind, pressed against the blade, and swooped down. He kissed the breath right out of me. His tongue plunged inside my mouth, and I opened eagerly. Helpless to do otherwise. He tasted like man and heat, firing my blood, igniting my senses. I could become addicted to his flavor, I thought dazedly. His lips were soft, so soft, the perfect contrast to the hard battle of supremacy our tongues waged. Suddenly he jerked back, his breathing ragged and unsteady. He glared down at me. “Getting involved with an agent is stupid.” I glared up at him as I dragged in my own unsteady breath. The blade winked between us. “Getting involved with your partner is stupider.” “Do you care?” he said, brows arching. “No.” I should have, but I didn’t. Not here, and not now. “Me, either. Drop the knife, Eden. We finish this.” “Do we?” I smiled slowly, seductively, though how I was capable of the action when my mind had long since forgotten everything but Lucius I don’t know. I moved the blade over his collar like a caress. “I could kill you, instead.” “Drop it.”

“No.” I used the blade to cut his shirt. His eyes widened; his nostrils flared. I tossed the tatters of his shirt aside. He grabbed the knife and cut off my top then flung the blade aside. It landed on the floor with a thump. We were chest against chest. My nipples abraded him, and he sucked in a breath. “You better be worth the wait,” I said. Neither one of us commented on the fact that we hadn’t truly known each other long. It just seemed like we’d waited for this for an eternity. When he didn’t move, I prompted, “Do you need an engraved invitation?” He groaned a sound more animal than human, and his lips instantly slammed into mine. I moaned when one of his hot, callused hands found my breast and squeezed, then plumped. My nipples beaded. I’d told him once that if he ever kissed me again, I’d kill him. To be honest, I’d kill him without thought or hesitation if he dared stop. We’d been building to this moment since we first clapped eyes on each other. Why not get it out of the way so we could at last focus on our jobs? “This isn’t safe here,” he said, tearing his mouth away. “Then hurry.” “You read my mind.” He uttered a ragged chuckle. “Everything about you turns me on.” He laved my lips with his tongue. “The way you move.

The way you talk.” Weapons were strapped all over him. My hands unsteady, I tugged at the cords holding them to his chest. He let me, too. All the while, his mouth slanted over mine, his tongue plundering deliciously inside. Soon, his knives and guns surrounded us. He jerked off his pants. I jerked off mine. I shoved at the covers that separated our lower bodies until finally, we had total skin-to-skin contact. I sucked in a breath at the sheer heat, the rightness. Luc whimpered. Lucius tore away again. “Good girl,” he said over his shoulder. His eyes met mine, and his tone changed, deepening with his next words. “Very good girl.” Sweat ran down his temples, and he breathed as shallowly as if he’d run a marathon uphill. Lines of tension bracketed his eyes. “You’re a screamer. I can tell. Just try and keep it down.” “I am not a screamer,” I whispered roughly. A look of sublime pleasure consumed his features, tempered only by amusement and satisfaction. “Then get ready, baby, because you’re about to.” “Enough talking.” I jerked his head to mine, claiming his lips in a kiss that branded my very bones. My hands were everywhere. All over him. His nipples speared my palms; the muscles of his back jumped under my assault, and his ass tightened. I bent my knees…and felt the weapons

that were strapped to his thighs. Another barrier. I cursed under my breath. “Take them off,” I whispered fiercely. “Hurry.” I’d never seen a man bolt up and discard his weapons so quickly in my life. He watched me while he did it, his gaze so hot it scorched me. My blood flowed through my veins in a rush of need and eagerness as I allowed my own gaze to slide down his body. The long length of his penis strained thick, so thick, and hard. I bit my bottom lip to keep from panting; I clenched the sheets to keep from reaching for him. I ached. I felt the moisture pooling between my legs. I wanted him all over me, inside me, stretching me, slamming deep. Finally, he was completely naked. No weapons on him. The next thing I knew, he was on top of me, between my thighs. Guns and knives bounced around us with the swiftness of his movements. Without a word, he pushed his way inside me. I gasped at the extreme pleasure of it, at the heady sensuality. He was long and thick and stretched me to the point of pain—pain that soon vanished into pleasure. I’d been with other men, of course. Hadn’t I? I suddenly couldn’t recall the image of any other man. Only Lucius existed. Only the feel of his hands, his mouth, his cock. “Eden, Eden, Eden.” He chanted my name with every inch he sank deeper. Finally, he was in to the

hilt. But he didn’t move. He remained utterly still. He stared down at me, his hands by my temples. “I didn’t use any goddamn birth control.” “Humans and aliens can’t conceive.” At least, to my knowledge it had never been done successfully before. Though that did raise the question of why the government had issued a law against it if it wasn’t possible. I didn’t voice that little gem, however. Still he didn’t move. Didn’t answer. Desperation sparked to life inside me, strengthening all of my desires. My body screamed for completion. I needed it, would disintegrate without it. I twined my legs around his waist; I gripped his ass and tried to force him to move. “What are you waiting for?” I growled softly. “Finish this.” One of his rough hands coasted over the sheet, then covered my knee and gently caressed upward. That was the only movement he made. “You’re impatient, competitive, spoiled, and so damn hot I think about you all the time.” If he wouldn’t move, I sure the hell would. I arched my back, rolled my hips. Ah, there. Yes, just like that. I did it again. My eyes closed of their own accord, and I ran my tongue over my lips. I heard him drag in a tortured breath. He gripped both my hips to still me. “Always determined to go it alone I see.”

“Fuck me, Lucius, or I’ll fuck you. Either way, we’re both going to come.” Fire exploded in his ice-blue eyes. “Some of us are going to come more than others,” he muttered darkly, but he slowly withdrew, then surged forward. I gasped. “I bet I win.” “I bet you do, too. I liked it when you talked dirty. Do it again.” “Again?” The word emerged as a blissful moan. “Again.” Once more, he withdrew. “Fuck me.” His lips edged in a wicked grin as he slid forward. “My pleasure.” He clamped both of my knees and pushed them apart, wider and wider, sending him so deep inside me that I felt him everywhere. Not one inch of me was untouched by him. That was all I needed to send me over the edge. I shattered completely, and a scream of fulfillment burst from my throat. Spasms consumed my body, and I clenched him tightly to me. Luc barked. “Shh, girl,” I said, still flying through the stars. Lucius chuckled, and the sound emerged strained. “Told you,” he said. He stilled again with a muttered curse. “Damn it. Do you think we’ll have to do damage control?” He pulled out of me and rolled one of my nipples through his fingers. A

drop of sweat trickled down his temple and onto my cheek. I expected the pitter-patter of feet, and waited several moments. When I heard nothing, I said, “I think we’re good to go.” I bit back a blissful moan as Lucius replaced his fingers with his mouth, sucking hard on my nipple. “I’ll be careful next time.” He moved his attention upward and licked my collarbone. I closed my eyes for a moment as I savored the silkiness of his tongue. Reaching up, I traced my hands over the ropes of muscles that comprised his stomach. God, he felt good. Like velvet over iron. He bit my earlobe, and I gasped. “Want more?” he rumbled menacingly. “Cause I’m dying here.” “More, more, more.” Once more Lucius pounded into me. Yes. Yes! As I met him stroke for stroke, arching into him, I would have sworn a blood oath at that moment that I’d never felt anything so right. My pleasure was already building steadily again, preparing me for another mind-shattering orgasm. Surely I had experienced such pleasure with someone else. Surely Lucius did not mean more to me than any other. I tried to close my eyes, to resurrect a face that had given me comparable pleasure. “Don’t you fucking dare look away,” he uttered

gutturally, having realized my intent. “Watch me. See me. Know me.” I almost experienced my second orgasm right then because, as he spoke, he stroked in and out of me with determination, slipping and sliding, our bodies slick with sweat and desire. The scent of cinnamon and honey intensified. My knees squeezed his waist. “Can you handle a harder ride?” he demanded. “Harder. Rougher.” That was all the encouragement he needed. He rocked into me deep, deeper still, harder still. Rougher still. As he did, he bit down on the sensitive cord in my neck. I came right then. My body shuddered with the force of it, and I silenced another scream that demanded release. Lucius meshed our lips in a brutal kiss of warring tongues. He continued to hammer into me, riding the waves of my orgasm. Then his body stiffened, bowed, and spasmed, and I swallowed his roar of satisfaction. A long while of shallow breathing passed. When both of our heartbeats at last calmed, he collapsed on top of me. I didn’t mind his weight; I welcomed it. We stayed like we were, weak in the aftermath, every ounce of our bodies sated, afraid to shatter the lethargic spell. “I told you,” he breathed against my ear. “What?” I barely had the strength to get that

one word out. “That you’d come more than me.” I smiled into his chest. “That means I won.” “Competitive,” he tsked. We settled into a comfortable silence for several minutes. “Speaking of competitions,” I said, “have you learned anything about solar flares?” “Not much. You?” “No.” Colin hadn’t contacted me, and I hadn’t had time to do the research I wanted. “Guess we’ll have to wait to crown the winner, hmm. I will beat you.” He paused and pushed out a breath. “You’re not the spoiled princess I thought you were,” he said. “Not at all.” Another admission from him. Two in one day. This one weakened me as much as the other. “I was at one time,” I admitted. I traced my finger around his nipple. “Michael spoiled me rotten. Whatever I wanted, he bought me. If he didn’t buy it fast enough, I threw a tantrum the likes of which you’ve never seen.” His breath fanned my cheek as he chuckled. “What about your parents? Do you remember them?” “Not really.” Maybe I should keep my past to myself, but he’d shared with me. And for the first time, I had someone I could talk to about my parents, people I had loved and still missed. I couldn’t with Michael. “I have a vague image of

my mother’s face, pretty and golden, but that’s all. Sometimes, in the quiet of the night, I can still hear her voice singing me to sleep.” “She sounds like a good mom.” “She was. I wish I had a memento of her, something, anything, but the day after she and my dad died, our house was burned to the ground, destroying everything inside. Michael had moved me to a hotel, so I wasn’t hurt at least.” “Why did they leave Raka and come here?” “They wanted something better, I think. To escape the dictator who ruled them. I’ve always wanted to ask them, but…” Lucius kissed the top of my head. I realized, then, that this kind of bonding was propelling us into another realm of awareness. A dangerous realm. We both knew the drawbacks of becoming sexually involved with an agent. But emotionally… did we have any clue about the ramifications? I forced myself to get back to business. Keep it light; keep it casual. “Tell me what you and Parker argued about at the party, after I left.” He rolled off me, then off the bed entirely. Cool air immediately ghosted over me. A muscle ticked in his jaw as he began strapping his weapons onto his bronze chest and thighs. “Lucius?” As I watched him, I noticed the bite marks and scratches I’d left all over him. I liked it. I liked seeing my brand on him.

“Jonathan wants me to leave you alone for a while,” he said, the words rough and raw, “to give you a chance to settle in before I pursue you.” What was wrong with him? “Why does he even care? I highly doubt he’s afraid of Claudia’s wrath.” His shrugged, the action stiff. “Why else? I told you it might happen. He got a good look at you, and he wanted to fuck you himself.” Lucius ran his tongue over his teeth, his eyes glinting like pressurized steel, but he said nothing more on the subject. “Will he continue to help you?” Luc appeared at the side of the bed, silently requesting reassurance. I patted the bed and she jumped up beside me, all the while watching Lucius warily. I ruffled her fur, and that seemed to be enough for her because she relaxed. “I think so,” he answered. “Even if it’s merely to help himself to you.” Lucius pushed out a long stream of air. “I know I told you before, but it bears mentioning again. You did good today.” “I know. You roared your satisfaction.” “I don’t mean the sex, smart-ass.” I snorted and jerked upright. Stiffly I pulled on my ripped tank and shimmed into my panties. “All I did was turn you down. I didn’t do a damn thing to truly help this case.” I tried to keep the bitterness from my tone. “I haven’t since the day I started.” He whipped around, leveling me with a hard

stare. The fierce scowl he wore had enough power to kill anyone in its path. “Who got Sahara Rose to talk? Who got closer to EenLi than any other agent ever has? Who got us the lead about solar flares? Who got inside Jonathan’s room undetected and knew to look for a hidden door?” Before I could respond, he added, “You want so badly to prove yourself that you’re forgetting to stop and acknowledge what you have done.” His intense gaze held me immobile. Only Michael had ever praised me like that. It was astonishing—and wonderful—that Lucius kept doing so. As if he hadn’t just rocked my entire world, he turned away and casually resumed dressing. “I put one of my men in this house,” he said. “He’ll let me know which parties you’re going to attend, so I can make sure I’m there.” I forced my mind on his latest words. “Who is this man?” “He’s now the main driver for Claudia. White hair, violet eyes. Six feet. A human pretending to be an Arcadian. Go to him if you need immediate assistance. Also, I left a cell unit in your bag. It’s programmed to dial my number the moment you open it.” Expelling a breath, I shoved my hair out of my face. “You could have given it to me before I flew here. Why did you come here tonight, Lucius?”

He shrugged, didn’t turn to me. “You risked a lot,” I persisted. “I risked nothing.” “You could have been spotted.” “I wasn’t.” “How can you be so sure?” His motions clipped, he shoved a blade into the scabbard on his thigh. “Because I’m damn good at breaking and entering.” “Well, I’m good at getting answers, and you haven’t answered me. Why did you come here? Tell me the real reason.” I wanted to hear him say it. “Maybe I wanted to tell you to make sure Claudia Chow brings you to see Jonathan and me tomorrow. I want us all to have a heart-to-heart so you can rebuff me again.” “You didn’t have to come here to tell me that.” He bent over and jerked on his boots—I didn’t remember him ever removing them—giving me a glimpse of his taut, pant-clad ass. He straightened and paused; his fists clenched. “I wanted to see you. Is that a good enough reason to risk everything?” Without waiting for my answer, he stalked to the bay window and disappeared into the night. More than enough, my mind foolishly supplied. The thought made me stiffen. Made me panic. It hinted at deeper feelings, hinted at…caring. No.

No, no, no. I dropped my head into my hands and forced myself to breathe. He was an agent and my partner. We’d had sex, but it couldn’t be more than that. I wouldn’t allow it to be more than that. Too much was at stake. “Nothing matters but the mission,” I whispered, then said with more force, “Nothing matters but the mission.”

Chapter 16

The next morning my body thrummed with sensual remembrance, mocking my resolve. Sunlight poured past the wispy yellow-and-white curtains as I lay in the bed. For a long while, I soaked up Lucius’s lingering scent and let the softness of the sheets caress me. My skin felt oversensitized, my thighs bruised, and I still emitted the telltale fragrance of honey. “You’re an agent, Eden Black. Don’t forget again. Last night doesn’t matter. Remember?” I’d give myself the reminder a thousand times if necessary. Agents who become emotionally involved were easily distracted (case in point) and constantly put their missions at risk. Michael didn’t have a rule against it because he knew the forbidden often became the obsession. Still, we all knew the reality of agent relationships. I forced myself from the bed. I took Luc for a walk, fed her, then quickly showered in the dry enzyme spray. I strapped on my arsenal and dressed in slim black slacks and a white silk top. Steps clipped, I strode to my laptop, which was perched atop the marble vanity in the sitting area of my

bedroom. As I booted up the blue, jelly-like holoscreen, Luc padded to me and I rubbed her head. A message from Colin popped up within seconds, and I nearly jumped up and down in eagerness as the words crystallized. Finally! “Sorry for the delay. Was out of town. Small solar flares usually have no effect and are basically undetectable,” I read. “Large solar flares, however, create auroras. At the right angle, these can reach down and create a geomagnetic storm, which can distort the earth’s magnetic field. If that happens, radios, TVs, cell units, airplane communications, basically anything that reacts to magnetism, can be affected. I suppose, in theory, a being or object could be molecularly transported into the belly of another solar flare—if they were wearing some sort of magnetic device. To my knowledge, that’s never been done. Does this help, or do you need more? Colin. P.S. Let’s do dinner soon. I miss you.” A thrill of satisfaction danced through me. I’d been right. My lips curled in a smile. I’d been right! Laughing, I replied, “This helps. Thank you. Can you give me an example of a magnetic device that would work best? Eden. P.S. No dinner. You’re a good friend, but an awful boyfriend.” A knock sounded at my door. I quickly shut down my computer and strolled to the thick cherry wood entrance. Strolled? Yes, I had

a spring in my step that couldn’t be denied. I couldn’t wait to share this information with Lucius —and win the solar flare competition. After unscrewing the extra cylinders I’d placed in the lock, I pulled open the door. “Yes?” I said to the woman in front of me. Or rather, to the pure white, deliciously fragrant orchids in front of me. No, not pure white, I realized a moment later. Flecks of gold had been sprinkled on the petals. “These came for you,” a soft, lyrical voice spoke in halting English. As I studied the orchids, a very feminine reaction occurred inside me. I melted. My bones literally liquefied, and my muscles turned to mush. Before I took them from her, I removed and read the card. Thank you for last night. I pressed my lips together to keep from scowling —or smiling, I wasn’t sure which. Way to keep it about the mission, Lucius. Anyone who read the card would think “secret admirer,” but I knew. “Thank you,” I told the woman and claimed the heavy crystal vase. I tried to shut the door with my foot. I’d shut off the automatic sensor. “Wait,” she said. She was an Agamen. Not attractive by human standards because of the small horns protruding from her skull—horns that produced poison when the Agamen was frightened —but her eyes were a pure, liquid silver and very pretty. “There’s more.”

I placed the flowers on a nearby table and turned back to her. I’d fought only one Agamen over the years. He had rammed me in the stomach, and I spent six weeks recovering from the toxic liquid that invaded my body. She bent down and hefted another vase, this one stuffed with blood red roses. “These also came for you.” Again I read the card before taking the flowers. I’m sorry you were upset last night. I hope you’ll give me a chance to make it up to you. Jonathan. The only reaction I experienced toward this gift was satisfaction for a job well done. “Thanks,” I said, taking the roses and setting them behind the orchids. “The ambassador wishes to speak with you in the formal dining area.” I massaged my neck and stifled a sigh. I’d wanted to call Lucius and tell him what I’d learned. Now there wouldn’t be time. “I need a moment.” Not bothering to shut the door, I rummaged through my bag for the right pair of shoes. Open-toed black heels. My feet immediately screamed in protest, but I strapped the torture devices on anyway. To the Agamen, I said, “Please, lead the way,” speaking in her own language. She blinked at me in surprise, then smiled slowly, revealing sharp gray teeth. “Come.” Down the elegant hall and winding stairs we

went, the fragrance of coffee growing stronger. I tried not to grimace; I truly hated that smell. I didn’t know how humans could drink coffee. It was so bitter. If I had my way, only sweet-smelling food and drink would be prepared. Finally we reached our destination, a dining room with an antique cherry wood table, benches instead of chairs, and pictures of sunflowers on the walls. No animal heads. The ambassador sat at the table, which was piled high with food. Her black hair was pulled back in another severe twist, and she wore a severe black pantsuit. “Sit, sit,” she said when she spotted me, waving to the chair across from her. I did as she requested. She looked me over and frowned. “Eden, dear, you look tired. Are you still upset about the party?” “A little,” I lied. “Well, stop that right now. I told you I spoke with Jonathan, and he assures me he will see to your safety, as well as to Hunter.” “Thank you. You’ve been wonderful about this whole thing.” “Speaking of wonderful,” she said. She sniffed the air. “What is that heavenly scent you’re wearing?” Feeling hot pink circles consume my cheeks, I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “I’m, uh, not wearing perfume.”

Her brow puckered in confusion. “You have to be. You smell. In a good way,” she rushed to assure me. “Like honey.” “No. No, perfume.” “Oh. Well. Maybe it’s the food.” She swept her hand over the buffet of choices. “Are you hungry?” “A little.” I filled my plate with toast and eggs. There was a bowl of sugar probably meant for the tea, but I sprinkled several heaping spoonfuls over my food. Everything tasted better with sugar. Everything except these eggs, I realized after the first bite. They possessed enough salt to fill an ocean, and even the sugar couldn’t mask it. I managed to choke down a few bites before pushing my plate away. Claudia nibbled on a piece of toast. “Did you get the flowers Jonathan sent you? I think he sent you the roses and the orchids. He feels terrible about what happened.” Lucius had insisted I find a way to Jonathan’s residence today, so I said, “I’d like to thank him in person, if I may.” Claudia brightened and dropped her toast onto her plate. “That’s a wonderful idea. I’ll call him right now and see if he can fit us in.” She clapped her hand and called, “Martha. Please bring me the phone.” A few seconds latter, Martha floated into the room holding a silver tray. A black cell unit and

receiver rested on top. Claudia anchored the earpiece in place and said, “Jonathan Parker.” Pause. She grinned. “Jonathan. This is Claudia Chow. Eden Black and I would like to meet with you—” Her lips pursed, and there was another pause. This one longer. “No. We want to meet with you, not you and Hunter.” “I’ll meet with both of them,” I rushed out. She blinked at me in puzzlement. “But…but…” “I’m eager to get this settled.” I needed to be careful about my eagerness. “Jonathan,” she said into the mouthpiece. “I’ve changed my mind. We’ll meet with both you and Hunter.” Pause. “Yes. Thank you. Until then.” She tossed the unit back onto the tray, and Martha floated out of the room as gracefully as she’d entered. “We’re meeting with them this afternoon, after we make my morning rounds.” “Excellent. Thank you.” Her “rounds,” as it turned out, consisted of door-to-door schmoozefests at other-worlders’ residences. I spent the next four hours interpreting conversations about health care, dietary needs, and Earth currency as Claudia Chow visited with her constituents. I admit, her concern for the aliens of New Dallas impressed me. Finally we were inside the limousine and headed for Jonathan’s house—the moment I had been waiting for. I enjoyed the lush green landscape, the

hills on one side of the window and the flat plains on the other that whizzed past the window. “I feel like I haven’t thanked you enough, Claudia, for championing my cause. You really fight for other-worlders, and I commend you.” Her cheeks flushed with pleasure. “I do what I can.” “I’ll be honest,” I said, facing her. “You aren’t what I expected.” She furrowed her brow. “What did you expect?” “Someone who saw other-worlders as a prize, but didn’t actually care for them.” “Aliens are people, too.” “Yes. We are. But not everyone realizes that.” She leaned forward and whispered, “I’m considering dating a Taren, the one who spent a few weeks in an A.I.R. prison for allegedly stealing a dress. He’s asked me out on several occasions, but I’ve always told him no. Any”—she coughed —“advice for me?” I couldn’t picture Claudia with a feline, for that’s what Tarens were. They walked and talked like humans, but their skin was patched with fur and their tongues were abrasive. Some could walk through walls. I’d trailed several over the years, and had seen them do it. “Advice?” I was not the girl to come to for relationship advice. “Hmm. Well. Treat him like you would a human, I guess. And pet him often.

Tarens like that.” She nodded, her expression rapt, as if she were soaking up my every word. “Pet him. Yes. Good idea.” “I don’t know what more to tell you,” I admitted. “I’ve never dated a Taren myself.” Tips on killing them, I could give her. Thankfully, our car eased past the tall iron gates of Jonathan’s estate, effectively ending our conversation. I saw the towering mansion, white brick and jagged peaks. The lawn was perfectly manicured, but the grass was sparse. My heartbeat picked up speed—not out of fear, but in anticipation. Even now Lucius waited inside, ready to push our prey further. Several black-clad guards manned the outer walls, I noticed, semiautomatic pyre-rifles strapped to their sides. Interesting. Jonathan had human guards today, rather than aliens. When the car parked in front of the entrance, we emerged in the afternoon heat, strolled over the bridge, and entered the coolness of the house. The French doors were already open, like arms beckoning us inside. We were expected, after all. My gaze collided with one of the guards positioned at the side of the door. Another human. His eyes widened with…awe? Greed? He took an unbidden step toward me, even reached out to touch me, but an older man dressed in a black suit

led Claudia and me past him. His arm dropped to his side. We were taken straight to Jonathan’s office, the very office he and Claudia had occupied last night. Lucius was there and seated on a blood red chair, his feet resting on the faux-fur ottoman. He watched me through narrowed eyes, his lips firm and unyielding. I pretended to ignore him, though every cell in my body screamed in awareness. “Thank you for the flowers,” I told Jonathan. “And for agreeing to meet with us.” A muscle in Lucius’s temple ticked. “My pleasure.” Jonathan, seated behind the desk, beckoned Claudia and me to take the green couch across from Lucius. He had a cut lip, I noticed. “I’m so glad you could come,” Jonathan said, his cultured baritone very smooth. He watched me, but I didn’t feel his gaze boring into me like I did Lucius’s, branding me, making me ache. “This is hard for me.” I cast a dark glare at Lucius. That was the only way I could allow myself to study him. The contacts he wore made his eyes as dark as a midnight, starless sky, but there was a spark inside them I had never seen before. There was a bruise on his left cheek. Had the two men fought? “I’m anxious to have this problem fixed.” “As are we.” Jonathan nodded to Lucius, a silent you-may-begin.

“I would never hurt you,” Lucius said to me, speaking for the first time since I’d entered. His rough voice washed over me in sensuous waves. “Is that so? You jerked me off the street. Locked me in your home. Yesterday you jerked me onto the dance floor and wouldn’t let me go.” “I’m sorry for that.” He didn’t sound sorry. In fact, he leered at me. “I was…overcome, seeing you again. But I didn’t hurt you, you have to admit.” I pressed my lips together, admitting nothing. “We’re all civilized adults,” Jonathan said. “And I assure you, Hunter has learned his lesson.” “I want to believe you.” I forced my eyes to fill with tears. “I really do, but do you see the way he’s looking at me? He isn’t sorry. Not really.” I couldn’t accept Hunter’s apology or Jonathan’s assurances because the stage had to be set for my abduction. It had to appear Hunter couldn’t win my affections through conventional means. Later, when I left, he would be able to speak to Jonathan about “buying” me. Jonathan would then speak with EenLi. And EenLi would then come after me. Once I discovered what magnetic device EenLi used to transport his “cattle,” I’d have the pleasure of killing him. Ah, life suddenly seemed so good. “I think…I think I need a moment alone,” I said. I placed a shaky hand over my heart. I’m sure

Lucius already searched the house, but I wanted to do my own search. He might have missed something. If there was any information about EenLi, the abducted, about the portals or solar flares, I wanted to know it. “Will you excuse me?” “If you want fresh air, there’s a veranda down the hall. Just off to your right,” Jonathan said. “I won’t be gone long.” I knew Lucius would distract them if I didn’t come back in a timely fashion. This was going to be fun.

Chapter 17

Of course, I didn’t go to the veranda. For privacy, the guards had been sent away and were no longer inside. Remaining alert, I strode to the first room I came to. Surprisingly, it wasn’t locked. I stepped inside. The scent of bleach and lemon permeated the small, dim space. A cleaning closet, I realized happily. They were often overlooked as inconsequential. I ran my fingertips over several bottles of cleaner as I looked for a trash receptacle. There, in the back. Grinning, I bent over it and riffled through the contents. Dirty napkins, an old pair of shoes. I sighed. People used computers and digital notepads, so paper—rare as it was—was hardly used anymore. Still…a girl could hope. Next, I found a bathroom. It, too, was open. Blue-and-white marble flooring, an antique porcelain tub. Fake plants in every corner. But nothing of importance. The only other room in this hallway was a laundry. Large and wide, the area overflowed with clothes and servants, poles for the material, and dry-spray hoses that ejected the cleaning enzymes. I stood in the doorway, watching the women work

for a moment, hoping to catch sight of something of Jonathan’s. Maybe he’d left something in a pocket. Suddenly a thick, hairy male arm reached from behind me and clamped over my mouth. I was pulled into a hard body, and it wasn’t Lucius’s. The scent was different, not as clean. The feel was different, not as muscled and hot. The man kicked my knees, and I buckled to the floor. I winced, but I didn’t fight. Not yet. Not until I knew what was going on. Had Jonathan already contacted EenLi? Was this my abduction? “I’ve got her,” a deep male voice whispered. “Hurry,” another man said, his voice frantic. “Before someone sees us.” They dragged me outside, and I glanced up, squinting past the intense light. My abductors were human and dressed entirely in black, guns strapped to their sides. Jonathan’s guards, I realized. In fact, the one holding me was the man I’d seen positioned at the front door when I first arrived. Excitement at last sparked in my veins. This had to be it! I hadn’t expected him to act so quickly. “Be careful with her. Don’t damage her skin. Don’t pull her hair too hard.” “Will you shut up? I’m doing the best I can. We’ve got to hurry, or we’ll be seen.” The man who held me by the hair cast me an evil, greedy smile. “We’re gonna sell your skin and hair for a fortune, pretty girl.” He jolted into

motion, hefting me up by the waist and carting me away from the house. The other man followed quickly behind us, tossing nervous glances over his shoulder. They weren’t here to abduct me. They were here to de-skin me! Cold, haunting fury replaced my excitement. The bastards wanted to flay the gold skin right off my body. Sell it. Hurt me unmercifully. My fury intensified with every step my tormentor made, but I didn’t utter a sound of protest. Alien voice was as incriminating as human DNA or fingerprints. That was why A.I.R. had strategically placed highfrequency recorders and satellites all across the globe. If an alien was ever implicated in a crime, his voice was logged into a database, then used to trace his whereabouts. I doubted my name was located in any of the databases—Michael would have seen to that—but I couldn’t risk it. I didn’t want to be linked to the slaughter about to happen. My captor squeezed me even tighter, almost cutting off my air. Once we reached a cluster of thick bushes that hid us from view of the house, I tangled my feet in his legs, tripping him. As we fell, I twisted toward him and slammed my palm into his nose. He hit the ground, collapsing on top of me and howling in pain.

Gasping for breath, I rolled out from under him, already jumping into position to attack the second man. I crouched and lashed out with one leg, sweeping both of his feet off the ground. He flailed midair, then landed with such a loud thud, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he cracked his skull. As he lay there moaning, I sprang up, whipped the knife from his waist-band—the very knife he’d planned to use to peel away my skin— and slit his throat. He gurgled, became silent. Everything happened so quickly, the first man only now realized what had transpired. Blood poured from his broken nose as he stared, wideeyed, at his friend. A roar of rage and horror erupted from him, and he leapt at me, hands raised to choke the life from me. I held the dripping knife steady, waiting, waiting until he reached striking distance. Only then did I swoop low and gut him, sharp silver sinking into human flesh. His own momentum sent the blade deep. He gasped as his knees buckled, and in the next instant he was dead, collapsed at my feet. I sucked in a breath of satisfaction. Simple. Easy. They deserved what they’d gotten. I didn’t feel an ounce of remorse. I couldn’t leave them like this, however, because I didn’t want anyone to realize I was responsible

for this carnage. If they knew, they might begin to wonder how a delicate other-worlder interpreter, a peaceful Raka, had bested two burly human males. Though I didn’t possess any fingerprints, I cleaned the knife with the men’s clothing to remove any evidence I might leave behind and placed the hilt in one of their hands. The other guy needed a weapon, too, so I performed a thorough search and found one strapped to his ankle. I dipped the tip in the other’s blood before wrapping his fingers around it. There. Done. They looked like they’d fought with each other, and both emerged the loser. Satisfied with my work, I cleaned my hands in the grass as best I could and strolled back to the house. I whistled along the way. “Where were you?” Claudia asked the moment she spied me. She stood on the porch steps, staring down at me in concern. “I went for a walk,” I said, all innocence. “But…” Her eyes grew wide, concerned. “There’s blood on your shirt.” I glanced down and spotted the crimson splotches. Jonathan and Lucius joined her in the doorway, avidly watching and listening to our conversation. I felt Lucius’s questioning stare all the way to the marrow of my bones. “Jonathan,” I said, forcing myself to tremble, “two of your men are knife fighting just over the north hill. I was coming to tell you.”

Lucius’s eye flared. Jonathan frowned. Claudia raced to my side. She wrapped her arm around my waist. “Knife fighting? Dear God. Let’s get out of here.” I had to contain my smile as she ushered me to the limo.

That night, I waited for Lucius to come to me. I stayed crouched under the window, in the shadows, practically glued to the wall. It wasn’t a comfortable fit, but I didn’t mind the pain. Anything to best Lucius. I’d reinforced the balcony lock with steel pins, which would force him to crawl into my room through the highest, smallest window above me. I grinned because I knew he’d have to climb down from the roof to fit. Would he make the effort? Oh, yes. He would. I heard the gentle slide of glass, which meant he’d already disabled the security box. A moment later, I saw his booted feet peek through. Silently I jolted up, grabbed his ankles, and jerked him inside. Not expecting the action, he propelled to the ground, crashed hard and grunted. The wire he’d used to rappel from the roof snapped his feet back up. I was on top of him in the next instant, my knife

at his throat. He wore all black, but no face mask shielded his face from view. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple. He remained where he was, silhouetted by shadows and moonlight, staring up at me. “Think you’re funny?” he bit out on a quiet breath. Like Lucius, I wore black pants and a black shirt. I’d hoped, by wearing these clothes, I’d ensure we wouldn’t become sidetracked. “Well?” he said. “Yes, I do.” I tapped the silver blade against his cheek. “Think I’m funny, that is.” His gaze slitted. “Where’s your dog?” “In the bathroom.” I’d locked her in and petted her to sleep on a fluffy pallet. I hadn’t wanted her to worry if Lucius and I tussled. “Sneak in on me once, and that’s my bad. Sneak in on me twice, and it’s yours.” I cut the wire to his feet. His legs dropped to the ground with a thump, and Lucius sighed. He tangled a hand through his hair. “You’re turning out to be more than I ever expected. I’ve told you that, haven’t I?” “Yes and I still take it as a compliment.” I inched off him and sat down, remaining in a crouch. He pulled himself up and met my stare. “That’s how it was meant. Now, tell me what happened at Jonathan’s. Why was there blood on your shirt?

Why were those two guards dead?” “I did a little exploring, and those men followed me. They dragged me outside, behind some bushes, hoping to steal my skin and hair.” His ice-blue eyes became hard, steely. “For the gold?” “Yes.” “And?” he prompted when I said no more. “And I killed them.” “Were you hurt?” Once again his muscles tensed as he waited for my answer. He reached out and gripped my arm with vise-like strength. “Not even bruised,” I assured him. I tossed the blade aside. Instantly he relaxed. I told him what I’d learned about the solar flares, and he nodded. “That’s good stuff. There’s more there, I know it. Keep digging.” “You do realize I’m winning, right? I’m truly kicking your ass.” He grinned. “Yes, I realize you’re winning. You want to hear what happened after you left Jonathan’s or not?” I tried not to let my eagerness show. “Tell me.” First, he surprised me by tugging me to his side. I didn’t protest, but all the while I told myself I wasn’t going to have sex with him again. We’d been there, done that. Didn’t need the added complication. Again. One of his hands gently caressed my back, the other clasped my palm. “The

men were found, but Jonathan assumed they’d simply killed each other. After we cleaned up the mess, Jonathan pulled me inside his study for a chat. He wouldn’t say EenLi’s name, but he offered to put me in touch with a man who could help me ‘obtain’ you.” Excitement pounded through me. This was it. We were so close. Without removing my hand from his, I leaned back and rested my weight on one of my elbows. My hair spilled over my shoulder and onto his stomach, gold against our black clothing. “It won’t be long now.” “No. It won’t be long.” I nodded as satisfaction blended with my excitement. “I’m glad.” EenLi would soon send someone to abduct me. God, I couldn’t wait! With his free hand Lucius wound long strands of my hair around his palm and tugged my face close to his. “I know having you taken is the plan, but I expect you to be armed. From this moment on, wear your weapons twenty-four/seven.” “I do, anyway.” “You’ll also inject the isotope I brought. It bonds to your cells and helps us track you.” I frowned. “For how long?” “Three months.” “And if the mission is completed in two days?” “Don’t argue.” His expression turned hard, unbending. “You understand the reason for it.”

“I don’t like the fact that anyone who knows about isotopes and computers will have access to my location.” “We’re setting you up to become some bastard’s slave, Eden. Hopefully mine, but maybe not. You want to risk being captured and no one knowing where to find you?” Damn it. I hated it when someone had a good point—a point that annihilated my point. He was right. There was a chance I’d be taken underground, hidden away by a stranger. “You’re right.” I sighed. “I’ll inject it.” “Good girl.” “I’ll inject it,” I added, “on one condition.” “What condition is that?” “Tell me your real name.” He shook his head. “You still have two guesses, and I’m not telling you a damn thing.” “At least tell me what your first name starts with.” “Why do you even care?” he asked, an edge to his voice, layered by a forced casualness. “I don’t like calling out a fake name during sex, okay?” “We having sex again?” His lips twitched, and I felt my heart skip a beat. He looked so relaxed just then, so sexy. I loved it when he lost his reserve and simply enjoyed the moment. I don’t think he allowed himself to do that very often. Neither did I.

“No?” I said, more a question than a statement. Damn it. “Liar. Tell me what the F stands for in your name.” Oh, oh, oh. What was this? “I thought you didn’t care.” “Maybe, like you, I was lying.” “I’m not telling,” I said in a singsong voice. I liked, really liked, that he wanted to know. His eyes dipped to my mouth, and he ran his bottom lip between his teeth. “I’m not telling, either, so I guess we have ourselves what’s called a Mexican standoff.” “Looks that way.” I lost my smile. He looked like pure desire just then. Total pleasure. I gulped and hurried to change the subject, to get our minds on the right track. “When I’m taken I want you to kidnap Luc from here and take care of her until I return.” “Consider it done.” The teasing light slowly extinguished in his eyes. Before I could protest, he rolled over and pinned me. I held my breath as he stared down at me. Hell, even the room seemed to hold its breath. A thin beam of moonlight slipped past the curtains over the window, illuminating his bronze skin. A gentle breeze caused those curtains to dance over us, circle us in a wispy, private haven. My pulse leapt. He braced himself on his hands, and his gaze

raked over my clothes. His lips twitched. “Did you really think locking the balcony doors would stop me?” Stay strong. Don’t give in. “Look, we have more to talk about.” “You’re right. We’ve got a lot to talk about.” Reaching behind him, he tugged his shirt over his head. My mouth watered at the sight of his pecs…his shredded abs. “Put your shirt back on.” I didn’t sound convincing, not in the least. As he stared deeply into my eyes, he tsked under his tongue. “Silly girl. You’re going to be the death of me. You know that?” He leaned down, placing his mouth within a whisper of mine. His warm, soapy scent enveloped me. “Talk later. Fuck now.” Then he was kissing me, and I was kissing him back. I forgot what I wanted to tell him, forgot everything but this man and his wicked mouth. Without slowing our kiss, he peeled away my clothes and weapons, as if I’d never been stupid enough to don them. I tore off his pants, wanting—needing—skin-toskin contact. His hardness to my softness. Nothing else mattered. I might hate myself for it later, but there it was. I knew how he felt buried deep inside me, and I craved that again. I knew how my name sounded on his lips as he found his pleasure. I would have that again.

“You didn’t cut into my skin this time,” he whispered huskily against my lips. He stood, scooped me up and tossed me on the bed. The mattress bounced with my weight. He was beside me in the next instant. “That’s progress.” “Why are you talking?” I tugged him down on top of me. He gave me his full, muscled weight. I cradled his long, thick erection between my legs and rubbed against him, already wet, already willing. The friction nearly caused me to go off like a rocket. My honey scent blended with his pine scent, fragrancing the air. He paused while I nipped at his jawbone, his neck, and he blinked. He pulled back, searching my gaze. Then he slowly grinned. “You smell like honey when you’re turned on.” I stilled. I didn’t deny it, but I didn’t confess, either. His smile widened. “I may be slow, but I finally figured it out. That day in the gym…” “So what?” I snapped, my cheeks heating. “Admit it, baby.” He laughed with genuine amusement. “I rocked your world then, and I’m rocking your world tonight.” His male superiority irritated me. My eyes narrowed, and I seductively licked my lips. “Just for that,” I told him, “you’re going to be punished.” Heat flared in his eyes, melting the ice into blue fire. “How? A spanking?”

He sounded so eager, I almost laughed. “Not a spanking.” Though I liked the idea of inflicting a bit of innocent pain, then easing away the sting. “You sure?” A bead of sweat rolled down his temple and dangled at his chin. “I probably deserve a good, hard one.” “You have to make me come three times.” “Three?” He smirked. “You only managed two last time.” I traced my hand between our bodies, letting my fingers graze his erection. “Damn, you’re evil,” he said, but there was a layer of anticipation and relish in his tone. “Thankfully I’m up to the task.” He swooped in and gave me another tonguethrusting, frantic kiss. His hands and fingers worked over my body, plumping my breasts, pinching my nipples, caressing between my legs before darting away. Within minutes, I was writhing and moaning his name. He licked his way down my body, and my belly quivered. Without pause or breath, he drove his tongue into the heart of me. I had to bite my hand to cut off the screams I couldn’t allow, causing sultry, hungry moans of total abandon to emerge. His tongue tormented me, made me ache and claw at his shoulders. “You taste like you smell,” he murmured against me. “Honey and cinnamon.”

The moment he worked two fingers inside me, I shattered. I arched and writhed and chanted his name in my head. Still he didn’t stop. He worked me with his fingers, rubbing deliciously—without ever entering me—until I climaxed twice more. “That was three orgasms,” I gasped when I was able. “I’m going to give you an extra one because of the naughty thoughts I’m having.” I would have laughed if I’d had the strength. “Am I forgiven for teasing you?” he asked, his chin resting on my pubic bone, his breath fanning my stomach. God, yes. I nodded. I thrummed and pulsed from the force of my last orgasm as he climbed up my body and entered me. Hard. Swift. Expertly. I wound my hand around his neck and drew his head to me. Our lips met, our tongues clashed. He tasted hot, like me, like himself. Like pure passion. A taste I already craved like an addiction. His hands coasted to my hips, gripped them and urged me higher, to take him deeper. His teeth nipped at my lips. I nipped back. We were fierce and growling with our need. “It shouldn’t be this good,” he said hoarsely, darkly. As he spoke, one of his hands moved to my breast and pinched the golden nipple between his fingers. His hips began a rotating dance that

increased my pleasure. I came again, squeezing his back, gripping him. His orgasm quickly followed mine. He bit the cord of my neck to contain his roar. So good, so good, so good, my mind chanted as I floated to the stars. Afterward we lay together, silent. He rolled to my side, keeping me cradled in the strength and torridity of his arms. A sensuous spell wrapped around us. I could have stayed there forever, I think. And that scared me. Business, remember. I swept my hair from my sweat-beaded face. “Did Jonathan say anything else to you?” I asked, getting back on track. Lucius didn’t speak for several minutes, and the wall clock ticked away. Finally he said, “After he made the offer to help me, he started acting strangely.” “Strangely how?” “He wouldn’t meet my gaze and hurried me out of his office. He’s up to something, I’m sure of it. Something more than acquiring you for me.” “Any idea what?” He pushed out a frustrated breath. “I think something’s going down. I think another girl is going to be taken. He got a call and, well, I listened from the two-way. He talked about needing a girl for one of his associates while flipping through a file of pictures. I tried to find out more, but he

never brought it up again.” So. Another girl could very well be taken. I couldn’t let that happen. Not when there was something I could do. “I can find out what he’s doing,” I said hesitantly. Lucius’s gaze sharpened on me. “How?” My next words froze in my throat. I’d kept this part of myself secret for so long. Even Michael didn’t know. Telling someone now was difficult. It exposed me, made me vulnerable. Lucius wouldn’t hurt me, would fight to protect me. I knew that deep down. I never would have slept with him otherwise. But… “I can spirit-walk,” I said, glancing away from him. His head tilted to the side as he studied my features. “I don’t understand.” “My spirit leaves my body and roams free on another plane or dimension. I’m like a ghost. No one can see me, but I see them. No one can hear me, but I hear them. I’ll spirit-walk to Jonathan’s, watch him, listen to him, and he’ll never know.” For a long while, Lucius continued to study me. He stared down at me, his ice-blue gaze unreadable. Then he said, “You’ve done this to me.” His tone was devoid of emotion, as well. I didn’t try to deny it. “Yes.” “At Jonathan’s.” “Yes,” I said again. “How did you know?” I’d

suspected then that he’d sensed me, but the thought had been laughable. Then. Not any longer. “I smelled you. No one smells like you, like rich, warm honey…” He paused. “And sex.” I expected him to be angry at what I’d done, but he surprised me by adding, “Smart trick. Can you take your weapons?” “I take whatever is strapped to my body.” “Does Michael know any of this?” Looking away, I shook my head. His expression became pensive. “Why not? What’s the downside?” I hated admitting to weakness of any kind, but he had to know. “If I’m gone too long, my body grows weak. Plus, while I’m gone my body is left completely vulnerable to attack. Someone can hurt me, kill me, and there’s nothing I can do about it. No way I can fight.” He paused, tense as my words churned inside his mind. “So if the room your physical body is in catches on fire—” “I burn with it.” Pause. Then, “Is your spirit ever in danger?” “Only if my body is hurt.” Silence surrounded us as he pondered everything I’d said. Finally, he nodded. “Then do it. We need to know what’s going on.” “If someone comes to the door—” “I know what to do.”

Yes, he knew exactly what to do. He’d kill if he had to. He’d create a distraction if he had to. No one would get into this room without his approval. “Where can I find Jonathan?” Lucius named several places. I nodded, leaned toward him, and placed a soft kiss on his lips. “No worries,” I told him. “I know what to do, too.” “You just get back here in one piece. Understand?”

Chapter 18

After I dressed, I lay back atop the yellow sheets and closed my eyes. A deliciously naked, but awake Lucius rested beside me. Not even his sultry scent could distract me from my unease. I was nervous about doing this in front of him. The fact that I felt his intense blue stare boring into me didn’t help. Just do it. Deep breath in, deep breath out—more of Lucius’s scent. Concentrate. Another deep breath gradually released. Save the girl. That’s what mattered. Very slowly, my mind faded to black. My body relaxed into the mattress. My energy centered inside my stomach, swirling and pushing for release. My spirit began to rise up, up, and then I was standing beside the bed, looking at myself. And Lucius. His bare skin glowed in the moonlight. My hair draped over him like a blanket, playing peekaboo with his nipples. The golden hue of my skin complemented the bronze of his. As he lay beside me, his big, hard body could have completely engulfed and overshadowed my smaller, seemingly delicate one. But it didn’t. I looked protected by him. Even…loved?

I shied away from that thought, though a sense of rightness lingered. He fingered several strands of my hair between his fingers. “Be careful,” he whispered. The huskiness of his voice sent a shiver through me. I shouldn’t have, but I did relish his concern for me. Unbidden, I reached out for him, for his heat. I allowed my fingers to caress his chest. Sometimes, with intense concentration, I could actually bring an object into this enigmatic realm with me. Now, however, my fingers simply coasted through him. He sucked in a breath, and his muscles jerked under my touch. I forced myself to step away, to leave the house altogether. I had a job to do. Because I was not bonded to Jonathan in any way, I had to find him on my own, without any invisible tug. When I spied a sedan on the side of a dim road, I slipped inside. The driver, an older male human, tapped his foot impatiently against the floorboards as he waited for the car to finish changing its own flat tire. Soon we were flying down the highway, listening to songs about beer and nasty women and pickup trucks. When the man swerved down a different exit than I needed, I simply propelled myself through the car door, like mist leaving at morning’s first light. I floated to the ground and treaded over two

miles through forest before finally reaching my destination. Most of the inside lights were out, making the home appear dark and littered with shadows. Anticipatory, I slipped over the bridge and past the front door. That anticipation dimmed after a thorough search of every room. Jonathan was not home, nor were any servants up and around, but I did catch a glimpse of his wife. She lay on a lacy bed better suited for a fairy princess, and I watched as the shell of a woman sucked back a mutated form of Onadyn as if it were her favorite candy. As the drug worked its way through her body, her mind flew higher and higher, as if she were being asphyxiated. A few days of that, and she’d be dead. Shaking my head, I caught a ride to one of the other places Lucius had mentioned, a dim, smoky private bar. Gyrating music blared from every corner. There were about thirty occupants, a dozen or so men interspersed with naked, dancing women. Some of the women were other-worlders. A Mec, like EenLi, with glowing greenish skin that proclaimed her arousal, slid provocatively up and down a pole. She had no breasts, only a flat chest that appeared softer than silk. Strangely enough, the human men couldn’t get enough of her. They constantly petted her skin as if they were addicted to her touch. But I’d finally found my man.

Jonathan sat alone, drinking golden liquid from a crystal glass. He watched the dancing women silently, his expression pensive and drawn. One woman, a Delensean with blue hair, azure skin, and four arms, approached him, a seductive pout to her cerulean lips. He growled and shooed her away with a stiff wave of his hand. I claimed the seat in front of him and studied him, this enemy of mine. His clothes were wrinkled, and lines of tension bracketed his mouth. Here, he wasn’t the smooth, stylish man he’d been at the party. He remained where he was for the next hour. Why was he here? Was he waiting for someone? He never spoke to anyone, only raised his index finger every so often to signal his need for another drink. After he finished his fourth glass, the wall clock flashed five A.M. A look of determination settled over his features, and he very calmly stood and strode from the building. I blinked in surprise, but followed him. A car and driver waited for him out front. “Home,” he told the driver, his first word of the night. He settled in the plush back seat, and I slipped in beside him—just as the door closed on half of my ghostly form. A slight tingle worked through me, my spirit’s only reaction. The car eased into motion. Jonathan stared out

the window the entire drive, and the closer he came to his estate, the deeper the lines of anxiety around his mouth became. What the hell was wrong with him? Damn it, I wanted inside his head. Once he reached his home, I followed him as he pounded up the stairs and into a bedroom. Not his wife’s, I noticed, but his own, a room with masculine decor in dark shades of greens and blues. I hadn’t had time to study it last time I’d been here. The large four-poster bed had blood red silk sheets, and there were mirrors on the ceiling. A harness hung in the far right corner, and a clear plastic carpet covered the floor below it—to prevent any bodily fluids from staining his pristine floor. So he liked harsh sexual games. How surprising. He didn’t change clothes, but remained in his striped slacks, tie, and jacket. He strode straight to the phone beside the bed, lifted the receiver, and said, “Wayne.” My heart galloping in my chest, I hurried to his side. “Wayne” was a human name EenLi often used. I didn’t hear the person on the other end answer, but in the next instant Jonathan said, “I changed my mind. Forget the woman you told me about earlier. She won’t work.” Silence. I cursed under my breath because I couldn’t hear the other voice. “Just get the Raka.” A pause. Then, “Hunter is

willing to pay whatever it costs. Get it done. Soon.” I rubbed my hands together and grinned. He didn’t want the other girl. Good. They were planning my abduction for Lucius. Even better. Everything was falling into place. EenLi said something that made Jonathan chuckle, made his shoulders relax. “No,” he said. “Make sure she’s unharmed. For every bruise your men put on her, for every tiny scratch, the price for her dwindles.” I didn’t doubt that the “no harm” came straight from Lucius. The men disconnected, but I waited for something more to happen. I watched as Jonathan stripped naked, humming happily under his breath. He wore a smug smile as he climbed into his bed. I hoped the phone would ring, but it didn’t. A few minutes later, Jonathan began snoring. I walked to the edge of the bed and gazed down at him. His features were completely relaxed in sleep, giving him a boyish, innocent quality. How deceptive. How easy to kill just then. Unfortunately, we still needed him. I made my way outside. The moon had already begun its descent, giving way to the sun. I quickened my step, focusing my mind’s eye on Lucius and my own body. Very soon, I felt my spirit being sucked back, closer and closer. I lost my foundation, saw

sparkling white lights. Soon I caught a quick glimpse of the ambassador’s house, an even quicker glance of my bedroom and Lucius pacing around the bed, Luc trailing his every step, before my body and soul collided. Click. For a moment, I saw only darkness. Then my eyelids popped open. Lucius must have sensed my presence because he was suddenly right beside me, glaring down at me. Luc jumped up and propped herself at the foot of the bed, watching our interaction. “Where. The hell. Have you been?” Lucius gritted out softly, menacingly. “What took you so goddamn long?” “He wasn’t at home. I had to search for him.” His eyes flashed with furious fire as he lowered his head closer to me, so close our noses touched. “Do you have any idea—any fucking idea—what I’ve been imagining?” I returned his glare with one of my own. “That I was doing the job I told you I’d do?” “Not quite,” he grumbled. “That I’m a capable woman?” “Damn it, Eden.” His warm breath whipped over my face. “This isn’t about your silly need to prove you’re as strong and capable as I am.” “Silly!” was all I could get out. “Silly?” “In case you didn’t notice, it’s dawn. I expected you an hour ago. At least. You would have worried

had I been gone so long, and don’t try to deny it.” When I remained stubbornly silent, he added, “Wouldn’t you?” “Yes. Are you happy?” I shoved him off and jolted up. “Yes, I would have worried about you.” Satisfied with that, he dropped beside me and pulled me down. “Tell me everything that happened.” “Jonathan called EenLi,” I said, relaxing into the curve of his side. “They’ve set up the abduction for me, and Jonathan canceled the order for the other girl. I don’t know why. He just said she wouldn’t work.” “When?” His tone became hard as granite. “Where?” “They didn’t discuss details. It was apparent they had spoken about me before.” Lucius rubbed his neck, his expression darkening. “I don’t like this.” “Like what? This is what we’ve been waiting for.” “I don’t like the plan. Letting them take you.” “Why the hell not? It’s a good plan. And right now it’s the only way to save the other slaves EenLi has taken. It’s the only way to find out how he’s using solar flares as portals.” “You could get hurt.” I rolled my eyes. “Aren’t you the man who told me he’d kill me if I got in his way? Aren’t you the

man who cares about no one and nothing?” “That was before,” he mumbled, looking away from me. I knew the feeling. I shouldn’t have had sex with him the first time, and damn well shouldn’t have again. But I had, and there was no going back. I couldn’t pretend to dislike him anymore. I liked him. Too much. “Damn it.” He jumped to his feet. “We should never have gotten involved, because I can’t stop worrying about you. I won’t return here,” he said. “It’s too dangerous.” He reached inside his pants pocket and withdrew a small syringe. Sparkling red liquid swirled inside. He handed it to me. “We don’t know when they’ll strike, and I can’t be with you when they do.” “Is this the isotope?” “Yes. Inject it into your leg. I’d do it, but…” He didn’t want to hurt me. I tried not to soften toward him yet another degree. I wrapped my fingers around the vial, jabbed the needle into my thigh—suppressing a wince at the sharp sting—and pushed. Burning warmth spread from my leg, branching throughout the rest of me. I glared up at Lucius as I shoved the empty syringe into his palm. “Done.” “Thank you.” I dropped my head in my hands. “This has all happened much faster than I imagined,” I said, and

we both knew I meant more than the case. I didn’t know how to deal with Lucius right now, though. With us. “Too fast?” He chuckled, but the sound lacked any hint of humor. “Maybe. But from now on, we think about the case. Nothing else. Your life could depend on it.”

Chapter 19

Two days passed without a single abduction attempt. Two angst-filled days. I spent them accompanying the ambassador on her rounds, translating idle chatter and more indepth conversations about discrimination, while projecting a carefree facade. I’d seen Lucius only once, at a party hosted by one of the ambassador’s friends of a friend. He’d remained a safe distance from me but had watched me the whole evening. His gaze had been a living entity, reminding me of the way he’d kissed and caressed me, the way he’d brought me to climax so many times. I’d forced myself to ignore him, to think only of the case. The following day, I received another message from Colin and used the cell unit Lucius brought me to read it to him. The conversation was short and sweet. “I have a friend working on solar flares, and he told me he’s begun experimenting with small, inanimate objects to find out just what type of magnetic device would be most conducive to molecular transference within a solar flare. So far he’s had no luck.”

His frustration crackled over the line. “I was hoping for more by now.” “I know. But he did mention that a small, molecule-based magnet would work best. It offers photomodulated magnetization, can store data, and offers magnetic shielding and induction. And, unlike metal-based magnets, it can be deposited as a thin, transparent film or even inserted within another object.” “Yeah, but can something so small generate enough power to transport a body astronomically?” “I’ll ask.” “Let me know if you learn anything else.” And that was it, the end of our conversation. I disconnected and lay in bed, moonlight bathing me. Agent Luc was already asleep in the bathroom. I didn’t want to take a chance that she’d be hurt when I was taken. When would I be taken? I hated waiting. A cricket hummed a lazy tune, and a cool, dewscented breeze wafted through the open windows. I was making it easy for my abductors. I was also prepared. I wore silver sleep pants and a clinging silver top. They allowed easy movement, but were difficult to pull off. Of course, I had two knives strapped to me—one at the small of my back, the other on the inside of my thigh. My hair clips were too aberrant for bed, as was the anklet. Part of me expected Lucius to arrive at any moment, but he

stayed true to his word and didn’t visit. I glared up at the domed ceiling. Men! Who understood them? Not me, certainly. Well, that’s not true. I’d once thought I understood them. They needed sex, food, and water to survive, and their every action hinged on whichever need took prominence. Lucius was…different. He worked hard, kept his mind on the prize. He did what was necessary for success, despite his own needs and wants. I respected that. I respected him. He was the best agent I’d ever come across. A partner I hadn’t wanted, but couldn’t deny had been the best thing to happen to this case. Had I not been so lost in my thoughts, I never would have been caught so unaware. A hand whipped out from the darkness and pinched my nose closed. Panic rocked me at first, and I instinctively grasped at the hand to push it away. I even opened my mouth to suck in a breath. The man, whoever he was, dumped a tart liquid down my throat the moment I parted my lips. I tried to spit it out, but he smothered both my nose and mouth, forcing me to swallow. “There you go,” he said, his voice low and soothing. I didn’t recognize his voice. “Sleep now,” he added gently. “We won’t hurt you.” Finally, EenLi’s men had arrived. I almost laughed through my fading panic. “What did you give me? Poison?” I demanded of

my attacker, as any sane woman would. I kicked at him and, like a scared little female, scooted toward the headboard. A black mask concealed his features, but he couldn’t hide the strength and size of his frame. Only slighter shorter than Lucius, he filled out his black military fatigues menacingly. “I gave you an opiate to help you sleep,” he said. “We don’t want to kill you, I promise.” That showed exactly what he knew about Rakas. Not a damn thing. I was impervious to opiates and most other human drugs. He would have had better luck with a nice aged Scotch or rich brandy. “I’ll scream,” I said, making my words slur. He chuckled. “Screaming won’t matter, little girl. We drugged everyone else inside the house, too. They’re sleeping the night away.” “You…bastard.” I pretended relaxation, however, and after a few seconds, gave a grade A performance of falling unconscious. Contrary to what Lucius said, my acting did not suck, thank you very much. EenLi’s men agreed with me. “That was easy,” one of them said. If the man decided to rape me, I’d have a miraculous awakening, however, and show them just how sweet I could be. There were some things I would not do for my job.

Shockingly, he softly kissed my forehead, a gentle, innocent pressing of lips against skin. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, Jonathan had made it very clear I wasn’t to be harmed in any way. EenLi had probably sent his sweetest abductors. What a lovely oxymoron. “Look at this gold,” he whispered. “Pretty,” another man said, awed. I didn’t recognize his voice, either. “Do you know how much money we’d make selling her skin?” “You won’t be hurting her. We’re to deliver her as we found her. We’ll be cut into tiny pieces and sold if we harm her.” “I know, I know.” He sighed. “But…maybe we could cut off some of her hair. Maybe a few strands,” he rushed on. “Nothing that would be noticed.” “No.” “Why not? We—” “No. Now shut up. We’re running out of time.” Strong arms slid under me and lifted. I let my head loll, but not before I caught a whiff of expensive, musky cologne. The scent could not have masked dirty flesh or rotting clothes. No, whoever carried me was clean and well groomed, obviously nicely paid and not the cheap labor EenLi usually used. Cologne pushed out a breath. “Let’s get out of

here.” I was gently carried to the balcony, the same balcony Lucius had first used to enter my room. Of course, I’d removed the extra pins when I learned my abduction was being planned, making entry into my room easy. Being an agent, I’d stalked and hunted victims. I’d never been one myself. Letting these men cart me away warred against every instinct I possessed. My mind wanted me to fight, to prevent this from happening. To kill. How could I allow these men to make me a slave? There was no better way to find and destroy EenLi and save the others he had enslaved. I knew it, and took what comfort I could in the fact that these men hadn’t patted me down and didn’t know about my blades. Most likely, they hadn’t considered that an other-worlder interpreter—and a peace-loving Raka, at that—would be armed. The two men took turns holding me as they harnessed themselves to a wire, then I too was strapped in and braced against one of them. Cool night air slithered around me as I was lowered to the ground. “Careful, careful,” said a rough voice from the window. “I am careful,” the man holding me replied. “You’re letting her dangle. Grip her tighter.” Wind kicked up, and my body shook

precariously. I, too, almost shouted an order to be held tighter. “Screw you,” he said, his voice hard with rebellion. “If I hold her any tighter, I’ll cut off her air and she’ll die.” The bastard squeezed my breast (purposefully) as he tightened his hold to make a point. Feigning a muscle spasm, I slammed my fist into his balls (also purposefully). He howled in pain, a tortured squeak that echoed in my ears. “Bitch,” Smashed Balls growled when he caught his breath. I think he meant to backhand me, but Expensive Cologne stopped him with a menacing, “Hurt her, and I’ll kill you myself.” My captor cursed under his breath. I could hear the wheels turning inside his mind as he decided whether slapping me around would be worth his death. “She busted my nuts.” “She’s fucking asleep, you ass-wipe. Let’s just get her out of here before you alert security.” “Security is napping.” “With all your howling, they won’t sleep much longer.” Pause. “Damn it, now you’re holding her too tightly. She’s turning blue.” “Do you hear her complaining?” Smashed Balls snapped. “She’s asleep, asshole.” Another burst of wind circled us. “She can’t complain. Release your death

grip.” “You should have fucking carried her down yourself.” When the ground touched my feet, I put no weight on my legs, instead letting them buckle as if I were slumbering peacefully. My captor had to brace my entire weight. He grunted. “She’s heavier than she looks.” “Or you’re weaker than you look.” “Get down here and hold her yourself. And I hope like hell she slams a fist into your nuts,” he added softly. I heard the click of metal as Expensive Cologne reached the ground. He liberated me, hefting me into his arms. Immediately he began running, causing my neck, arms, and legs to bounce up and down. They were being paid to keep me unharmed, but at this rate they were going to break me in half. Finally, the three of us reached the getaway vehicle. About that time, a shout sounded in the distance. Lights turned on and illuminated the area. “See what you did?” Cologne growled. “Fucking hell,” Smashed Balls bellowed. “Drive, just drive.” I was chucked unceremoniously into the back seat and left in a heap as the two men jammed themselves beside me. The sound of squealing tires erupted. I almost sighed. My abduction was a success.

For all of us.

Chapter 20

The car ride proved to be long and tedious. The men, now three in number because of the driver, talked and laughed about my fate. “He’s going to do her hard,” one of them said. They were talking about Lucius, who was to be my new master. My reaction? Mental eye-roll and gag. The fact that Lucius had already “done” me pretty damn hard didn’t factor into the picture. “Lucky bastard,” the driver muttered. Rough, scratchy fingers began stroking my jawline, and I almost jerked away from the unwanted touch but managed to restrain myself. Those fingers shifted, tugging at my hair. Several strands popped free, and I watched through cracked lids as the man stealthily slipped them inside his pocket. His movements brought a breeze of clashing scents: excitement, fear, and…roses? How odd. Why did he smell like roses? “I’d like to take her for a ride.” The driver laughed crudely. “Yeeehaaaw, baby. Yeehaw.” “Who cares about riding her? She’s solid gold.” Awe dripped from Ball’s words. “We could sell her ourselves and split the money. We’d make a shitload more than what we’re being paid now.”

“Yeah, and we’d also turn up dead in a matter of days.” Cologne. “That kind of puts a damper on spending.” Driver: “Exactly. Don’t even joke about selling her. Wayne would kill us with his Mec voodoo.” Balls snorted. “I’m not afraid of that otherworlder bastard.” The undertone of apprehension in his voice belied his brave claim. Honest to God, I’d be doing the universe a favor if I slit each one of their throats. And I just might do it once I offed EenLi. How long did they expect me to sleep? How long did I have to listen to this crap without reaction? I kept my lashes cracked slightly open, trying to catch glimpses of the landscape outside. First I saw only night sky, but trees soon came into view. Their branches were bare. Finally the car eased to a stop. Cologne gently lifted me out and carted me into a small, dark building. A residence? A business? I couldn’t tell. There were no surrounding houses, no signs. No telltale sounds. Moonlight danced upon the roof, spilling over and dripping onto the dry, brittle grass. “Get her inside and put her with the others,” the driver said. “I know what to do.” With the others? That meant they hadn’t been sold yet. They could be saved. Excitement unfurled inside me.

My captor pushed the front door open with a booted kick, not bothering with an ID box. Great security. Inside, I heard the creak of old wood, then the grate of rusty iron. My arms and legs flopped up and down as Cologne descended a flight of stairs. The air became cold and dank, musky. In the distance, I heard the rattle of chains and female moans. My excitement fizzled when I realized I, too, would be placed in chains. I, too, would be made a slave. How could I willingly, no matter the reason, allow this to happen? I asked myself again. If something went wrong…If Lucius… No. No! I would not panic. This was the plan. I’d willingly—wholeheartedly—agreed to this, knowing what would happen. Lucius wouldn’t fail. I wouldn’t fail. I had my knives, and I knew how to defend myself. I was going to be okay. This was the only way to find EenLi. This was the only way to find what magnetic device he used for interworld travel. This was the only way to save all the others who had been taken as slaves. I would not back out now. “How long do you think she’ll be here?” Balls asked from behind Cologne. “Not sure.” “Do you think we could—” “No.” “You didn’t even hear what I—”

“No.” Balls stalked in front of Cologne. Scowling, he inserted a key inside a lock then pushed open metal doors. The hinges screeched in protest. “Out of my way, bitch.” Balls kicked a woman who huddled on the floor. More chains rattled together. Feet shuffled; women whimpered. My determination to see this through intensified. I’d failed to save the two humans EenLi and his men had raped inside that warehouse, but I would save these women. “Why can’t you leave them alone?” Cologne growled. “You’re going to bruise them.” “We’re not to harm the Raka. These bitches don’t matter.” “They’re to be sold, too. They matter. Maybe I need to talk to Wayne about your attitude.” Balls shuddered. “You do that, and I’ll kill you.” I was laid on a cold floor. My wrists were taken in a warm, callused clasp before being clamped in cold shackles. The heavy metal bit into my skin. So much for keeping me unharmed. My wrists would be raw within the hour. “Let’s go,” Cologne said. “We’ve got to call Wayne and let him know she’s here.” Balls hesitated. I think he was considering squeezing my breasts or between my legs, but he thought better of it. The two men left, their bickering voices fading into the distance. I didn’t

reveal my wakefulness, however. I remained exactly where I was, still and quiet, listening, waiting. I felt curious stares boring into me. How would the women react to me? What would they say? Minutes later, my patience was rewarded. “I hate that man,” a woman spat. “We all do,” several chimed in dispiritedly. Footsteps slapped against the concrete floor; chains dragged and rattled. The scent of roses drifted to my nostrils just before a warm leg pressed against mine, offering me body heat. Roses. Like Balls. I knew what that meant. “Poor thing,” said the woman who justifiably hated Smashed Balls. “We’re all poor things,” another, more embittered female voice retorted. “Have you ever seen so much gold?” “They’ll cut it off her soon enough,” Embittered said. “If they don’t screw it off her first.” They sympathized with me, already saw me as one of them. A slave to be raped and sold. That was good. I moaned to let them know I was “waking up.” Instantly conversation ceased, and a heavy silence grew. I slowly cracked open my eyes then, and eased to a sitting position. The chains were heavy, weighing down my wrists and ankles. The woman beside me watched my every movement, her big blue eyes widening. She was a pretty little thing with delicate bones and long shiny blond hair.

“Hello,” she said warily. I cast my gaze through the cell—and that’s exactly what it was, a ten-by-ten prison cell— cataloging and memorizing every detail. There were five women, no men. They were young, about eighteen to twenty, and human, dressed in costumes usually seen on the streets of Whore’s Corner. Like me, they had their wrists and ankles chained. The length of our binds allowed for a stroll around the entire cell. Just not out of it. A table piled high with meats, bread, and pitchers of water took up one wall. At least the ladies weren’t meant to starve. There was even a toilet on the opposite end of the cell, but no screen or door for privacy. The only heat provided against the cold dank air was a multitude of thick blankets—all of which were taken. Not that I needed one. I’d endured worse things than cold air. My search continued, and I spotted the far wall etched with a multitude of lines. The number of days they’d been here? A wave of anger rocked me, that these girls were so young, so innocent. I hoped like hell the isotope I’d injected was doing its job, helping Lucius track me here. Did he even know I’d been taken yet? Hopefully I wouldn’t have to wait for my “sale.” I wanted to do some killing ASAP. “Don’t be scared,” the blonde said, her tone

gentle. “Has anyone told you why you’re here?” “We’re being sold to other-worlders as slaves,” Embittered informed me. She was the only redhead. “Other-worlders?” I forced myself to gasp— forced myself not to scoot closer in anticipation of her answer. “On other planets?” The timid one gulped and nodded. I clasped my throat, as if in fear. “How?” “It’s not painful,” she rushed to assure me. “They’ll strap a collar around your neck that somehow produces a wind. One minute you’ll be on Earth, and the next you won’t, but it doesn’t hurt. I promise.” A necklace…God, a necklace! Excitement rushed through me, more potent than before, and oh, so exhilarating. Romeo had strapped on a necklace before heading for the clearing. It all made sense now. According to Colin, for any type of interworld travel to be possible, a magnetic strip had to be held close to the body. What better way to hide a magnet close to the body than jewelry? “Do you still have the necklace?” I asked. “No.” She shook her head, dancing pale tendrils of hair around her shoulders. “Why?” The metal door ground open, and a man stalked inside our cell, saving me from a response. The women immediately hunched toward the wall, cowering. Even the redhead, who had showed the most spirit, backed away in fear. I hadn’t seen this

man before. He had dark hair, a plain face. He was tall, well muscled, and radiated a menacing air. I arched a regal brow. He tossed a blanket at me. “Don’t get sick,” he commanded, “or I’ll make you sorry you were ever born.” “Believe me, the smell of your breath is already making me sorry I was born.” Several feminine gasps filled my ears. His green eyes narrowed. “Better watch how you talk to me, girl. I can make your stay here seem like a trip into hell.” He smiled smugly. “Just ask the others.” “Oh yeah?” I didn’t like how fearful the women were of him. It made me think he’d done bad things to them, horrible things. It made me want to hurt him. “Well, I can chop off your balls and feed them to you. What do you think of that?” Growling low in his throat, he moved toward me. Only three steps in, he remembered his boss’s orders not to harm me and stopped. He stood in place, fists clenching, emerald eyes sparking with the need to teach me a lesson. To subdue and overpower me. Finally he stormed out of the cell, slamming the door shut behind him. The women stared at me in silence for a long while. The blonde finally gasped out, “He could have killed you. Raped you. Beaten you. He…likes

that,” she admitted, a shameful edge to the words. Color brightened her cheeks, so vivid she appeared feverish. “Yes,” I said with a nod, “he could have done all of those things, but he would not have emerged unscathed.” I wanted so badly to help them and take away their pain. I couldn’t. Not yet. So I did for them what I could. I tried to teach them what to do if the bastard ever came near them again. “Never let a man see you cower. If he knows he’s stronger than you, he’ll always attack. It’s male nature. Fight them. With words, with your fists. Slam your palm into his nose. Poke his eyes. Don’t be afraid to hurt him. He isn’t afraid to hurt you.” “But…but…” “You may lose,” I said, “but I swear to you he’ll always think twice before he comes after you again.” “Unless he kills you,” the redhead added. She sounded wistful. Whatever was required, I was getting these women out of here.

Chapter 21

I didn’t have a long wait until my summons. Within an hour, two men entered the cell to get me. Expensive Cologne and Smashed Balls. How lovely. A reunion. “Time to go, sweetheart,” Cologne said. Curiously eager, he unchained me and tried to help me to my feet. I slapped his hand away and stood on my own. He frowned when he spied the puffy red scuff marks on my wrists and ankles. “You should have told me you have such delicate skin,” he scolded. “When should I have told you? Before you abducted me? While I was sleeping?” Idiot. “There’s going to be trouble for this,” he muttered. “Too bad for you.” Frowning, he shook his head. “I liked you better when you were asleep.” “Well, I never liked you.” He might be the kindest of all of the guards, but that didn’t make him any less of a slaver. He sighed and waved me over. “Come on.” “Why?” I remained where I was. “Where are

you taking me?” “Shut your mouth!” Smashed Balls shouted. “You don’t ask questions. You just follow orders.” Still I remained stubbornly in place. “We need to get you cleaned up.” Cologne motioned with his fingers again. “Come.” “They’re taking you to the bathroom to give you a shower,” the blonde whispered. “They like to watch,” the redhead added defiantly, her voice loud and echoing. Balls stomped a menacing step toward her, his intent to slap her evident by the raising of his palm. Eyes narrowed, I jumped in front of him. His arm stilled. “I’m ready.” I straightened my shoulders. “Lead the way.” He flicked the redhead a you’ll-pay glare and spun on his heel. I followed him out of the cell, and Cologne took up the rear. They were so confident in their abilities and strengths that they didn’t blindfold me or even try to hide their identities. Idiots, I thought again. Though I remained on alert, I cast my gaze over my surroundings. Without a doubt, we were underground. Water dripped from the ceiling and dirt lined the floors. The only light sprang from thin bulbs that hung from equally thin wires. My mind raced with strategies. They planned to watch me shower; I planned to thwart them. But

how? They could overpower me by sheer numbers. They could even stun me with a pyre-gun, then clean, molest, or rape me without my being able to protest. That raised the question of why hadn’t they stunned me already. Why hadn’t they stunned me to bring me here? Time, I realized in the next instant. A stun lasted twenty-four hours. They must need my cooperation for…what? My hands clenched at my sides, but I never slowed my step. I lifted my chin, remaining alert as we entered the foyer of the home. Cologne and Smashed Balls stopped to chat with the three men cleaning and vacuuming, preparing the room for…a visitor? For Lucius? Would he arrive soon to purchase me? My knees almost buckled in relief with the possibility. EenLi would be here, too. Having watched him for weeks, I knew he oversaw all transactions personally. This could all be over in a matter of hours. The possibility was so wonderful that it seemed too good to be true. Surreal, even. Amid the men’s chatter about what the women in the cell needed, I finished my study of the room. There was a spacious living area off to the side, complete with couch, a large holoscreen, and several plush velvet chairs. Empty beer bottles littered a rectangular coffee table. Though there were no windows, lace curtains draped a section of the wall, giving the illusion of glass.

Very domestic and cozy. Strong male hands gently pushed me forward. “Walk,” Cologne said, his conversation with the others finished. I followed Balls down the hall. Plain, dingy yellow walls closed in around me. They were devoid of any decoration, probably so that the slaves wouldn’t have access to a makeshift weapon. There were four doors at the end of the hallway. One of them led into a small, cramped bathroom, which was the room we entered. It had brown plaster walls, a splintered floor. An enzyme spray hose slithered from the far wall, and a toilet pushed against the side. In front of me, Balls stopped, turned, and folded his arms over his chest. He was very thin, and his skin looked dry and flaky. He was also balding. No wonder he had such an attitude problem. “Strip.” He smiled slowly, evilly. “Then shower. And make sure to clean yourself real good, or I’ll have to clean you myself.” I heard the rustle of Cologne’s shirt as he too crossed his arms over his chest. That really pissed me off. Of all the men I’d encountered in this house, Cologne seemed the most gentle, the most concerned for the women. Yet he too was willing to humiliate me so he could get his rocks off. Turning to the side, I gave both men my profile. Unconcerned. “I’ll strip when both of you leave.”

Balls arched his brows in smug amusement. He had wanted me to resist. Wanted to scare me. “Strip. Now. Or I make you do it.” “Leave. Now,” I replied. “Or I make you do it.” Cologne sighed, and the sound drifted through the small bathroom. “We’re not going to hurt you. Just watch.” “Just violate my privacy, you mean.” “This is your last chance. Strip on your own,” Balls said, “or strip with our help.” One, I didn’t want them to see my weapons. And two, getting naked most likely meant rape. No, thank you. A cold sweat broke out over my skin. Not good. Unlike humans, my sweat made me more attractive. The beads of moisture made my flesh look like polished, dewy gold. Glittery. Like a fairy. I didn’t want to be attractive at this moment. I wanted to appear mean and ugly, capable of any evil deed. Knowing the other women had endured this, yet had had no way to prevent it, turned my fear to protectiveness. “If you help me undress,” I said slowly, carefully, “there will be a fight. A to-thedeath fight. Understand?” “Raka, you’re a woman.” Wearing an expression that begged me to understand, Cologne stepped toward me. “You can’t hurt us.” Balls moved toward me, as well. They were trying to close me in, to threaten and intimidate me

with their strength. “But I’ll get hurt, and that will make me damaged goods. See, I talked to the girls. I know why we’re here. We’re being sold as slaves. Your boss wants top dollar for me, doesn’t he?” Silence reigned as they considered my words. I didn’t know how long or often I could get by with that particular threat, but I’d use it as long as I could. Thankfully, it worked. “You win,” Cologne said on a resigned sigh. “What!” Balls shouted. “There are no windows here. The only exit is the door. We will be here, waiting, and if you try to escape, we will punish you. Whether it decreases your value or not. Do you understand?” “Coward!” Balls slammed his fist into his open palm. “We’re not walking away. Hold her, and I’ll cut those fucking clothes off her body.” Anticipating an attack from him, I bent my knees slightly and centered my energy. He never moved toward me, however. Cologne grabbed him by the arm and flung him outside the bathroom. The smaller man crashed into the wall and slithered into a heap on the rotting wood floor. “You will not always get your way,” he said to me. “It will be best for you if you realize that quickly.” With narrowed eyes, he strode from the room and shut the door behind him. “You have

fifteen minutes. Get clean and put on the clothes resting on the toilet lid.” I glanced at the toilet. A sheer pink sheath draped the lid. I lifted the material between pinched fingers. Pantaloons and a halter top. They were dressing me like a harem slut. Wonderful. Frowning, I turned on the shower by punching the labeled buttons. Hot spray instantly misted the porcelain tub. I didn’t climb inside, however. I spent most of my fifteen minutes watching the door and finding ways to hide my blades under the new sheer outfit. Only once did someone try to sneak inside. As the knob turned, I said, “Do it and die.” The door remained firmly shut after that, not opening until I knocked and said, “All done.” In the end, I only managed to conceal one knife. I wrapped it around the back shoulder strap of the top’s internal bra. The other, well, I had to chuck it between slabs of wood on the floor. I would have liked to study my reflection in the mirror. I’m sure I appeared dainty and fragile, a sex slave desperate for her master’s attentions. The low-riding bottoms started at the flare of my hips, and my shirt—if it could be called that—ended just under my breasts. My two guards were frowning when they opened the door, but their eyes widened and their mouths dropped when they spied me. Balls even

reached out to trace his finger over my collarbone, but I gripped the offending appendage and twisted. He yelped and used his other hand to slap me. I felt a sharp sting, and my head snapped to the side. Slowly, I faced him with narrowed eyes and wiped at my now throbbing lip. Warm wetness greeted my fingers. A gleam of horror entered his brown eyes. “You tell anyone I did that,” he said quietly, menacingly, “and I’ll kill you.” Oh, how I wanted to slit his throat just then, but I did nothing. I nodded as if I cared about the warning. He backed off, pivoted on his heel, and strode away. “You okay?” Cologne asked, his concern unwanted and unneeded. “I’m fine.” “Time to go, then.” He nudged my shoulder, a demand to move. My gaze bore into Balls’s back as I followed him into the living room the guards had been cleaning earlier. The moment I stepped inside and saw what awaited me, I froze. My abrupt stop caused Cologne to ram into my back, shoving me forward. He tried to help me regain my balance, but I slapped his hands away. When I steadied my feet, my pulse leapt and my blood alternately heated and chilled. This was it. My sale. The cleaning crew was gone, and in their place was Jonathan Parker, Lucius, and another

man, an other-worlder I didn’t recognize. My gaze locked with Lucius’s. I was beyond happy to see him. He gave an almost imperceptible nod of his head before his eyes narrowed on the bruise on my lip. Fighting a smile, I forced my attention elsewhere. The other-worlder seated next to him was a Targon, the most feared race of warriors ever to come to Earth. Our government would do anything to have a few of them fighting for us. They were a tall, built race, to be sure, but that wasn’t their main worth. Their telekinetic abilities surpassed even the Arcadians. This one was handsome, as muscled as any man I’d ever seen. He had dark hair, eerie amber eyes. Light, light skin. He was wearing a gold necklace with a dull, ugly stone in the center. My gaze narrowed on it. Was it used for interworld travel? When would EenLi arrive? A wave of impatience crashed through me, and I wasn’t sure how I would react when I saw the bastard. “I’m so glad everyone could make it,” a heavily accented voice suddenly proclaimed. EenLi. Heart drumming erratically, I quickly scanned the room. Where was he? I didn’t see—I sucked in a breath. There, on the large holoscreen above the couch, was EenLi’s smug, smiling, ugly face. He glowed bright pink. He was very happy with

himself. Disappointment nearly felled me, nearly dropped me to my knees. I’d expected him here, to see to the details of this sale in person. Damn. Damn! His bald head gleamed brightly in the fluorescent lighting. That same lighting made his large, pupil-less white eyes and pink skin appear translucent. Very eerie. And completely at odds with his cowboy shirt and the red bandana tied around his neck. I desperately wanted this bastard dead. He was evil incarnate, and he deserved to die. I felt as if I’d been waiting forever, and now it seemed I had to wait even longer. Technology allowed for many things, but we still couldn’t assassinate a man through a television. Damn this, and damn me! Lucius and I were now at a major disadvantage. If either of us acted, we wouldn’t get EenLi and we’d blow our covers and most likely be killed in the ensuing crossfire. And there would be crossfire. Guards were posted all through the house; the moment they heard gunshots or screaming, they’d rush inside this room. If Lucius and I were killed, the women below would be sentenced to a life of rape, humiliation, and servitude. I couldn’t let that happen. I exhaled a breath, fighting past my disappointment, not knowing what to do at this

point. I cast my gaze at the men sitting on the couch, noticing little details I’d missed before. Each man held a cigar and a glass of Scotch. How quaint. A real bonding moment for them. “You,” I said to Lucius, trying to act shocked and horrified when the image of him gave me my only sense of peace. If EenLi knew I was an agent, I didn’t want him to suspect who I was really working with. I leveled a faux pleading gaze on Parker, even tried to rush to him before Balls grabbed my arm and stopped me. “Jonathan, you have to help me. I’ve been abducted, and—” “I know, darling.” He sipped at his Scotch as cigar smoke curled in front of his face. “You shouldn’t have been such a naughty girl.” I uttered an I’m-so-scared gasp while I mentally pictured his demise. Rot in hell, you son of a bitch. “Touch my property again,” Lucius ground out, his dark, slitted gaze shooting blazes of fire at Cologne and Balls, “and I’ll cut off your hands.” He slammed his glass and cigar onto the table, causing a loud boom. Both guards instantly jumped away from me. I really, really liked it when Lucius went all commando. From the screen, EenLi laughed. The sound of his voice echoed from nearby speakers. “Patience, human,” he said. His skin pinkened further. “She’s

not yours yet.” With a simple wave of his fingers, he commanded the guards to return to me. “Keep her still.” Hesitantly, the men gripped my forearms and held me in place. As I stood there, those on the couch surveyed me. “I want to know who struck her,” Lucius demanded. “She was to be brought here unharmed.” Beside me, Balls trembled. There was only silence. “Who struck you?” Lucius repeated, an edge of danger in his tone I’d never heard before. “We did ask that she be unharmed,” Jonathan reiterated with a frown. “I demand reparation.” Lucius. EenLi lost his grin. “Answer us, girl. Who struck you?” I motioned to Balls with an accusing tilt of my chin. “He did.” “Bitch!” Balls screeched, nearly jerking my arm from its socket. He gazed imploringly at EenLi. “She’s lying. I swear she’s lying.” “She speaks the truth,” Cologne interjected firmly. “No, no, I didn’t touch her. I—” “I saw him do it.” Cologne again. Realizing he could not continue to refute the charges, Balls changed his tactics. “I’m so sorry, Wayne.” He released me and dropped to his knees.

Tears streamed down his eyes. “I didn’t mean to hurt her, I swear. She tripped and ran into my hand. That’s all that happened. Please don’t hurt me. Give me another chance.” Unconcerned, EenLi nodded to Cologne. Amid Balls’s cries for mercy, my guard withdrew an electro-gun from the back waist of his slacks. Shock thundered inside me as I realized what I was looking at. My mouth dropped open. The body of the gun was clear, making the flashes of electricity visible inside. This type of gun was not on the market yet because Michael, who was its creator, had yet to perfect it. Even I had yet to use one. Was there a traitor in our midst? The idea turned my blood to ice because it raised another, more terrible question. Did EenLi know Lucius was an agent? No, I assured myself. However he’d gotten the electro-gun, I didn’t think he knew who Lucius was. He would have killed my partner immediately. Balls began sobbing. Eyes bright with resignation, Cologne unhesitatingly placed the barrel at the other man’s temple and pulled the trigger. To us, it appeared nothing happened. No flash of light. No emission of sound. Balls’s body shook and shuddered as electricity poured through him. His nostrils soon rimmed with black, and steam rose from his ears. Then he collapsed facefirst on the carpet.

Colgone holstered the gun. EenLi and Jonathan nodded in satisfaction. Lucius’s expression was blank as he crossed his arms over his chest, discreetly putting his fingers within reaching distance of his weapons. What the hell had we gotten ourselves into?

Chapter 22

No one bothered to move the body. The scent of charred human flesh blended with the odor of cigar smoke and expensive Scotch as the meeting continued. Cologne took up residence behind me and gripped my shoulders to once more hold me in place. I didn’t protest. I was ready to get this “purchase” over with. “Jonathan, Hunter, Devyn,” EenLi said with another evil grin. “Let the bidding begin.” At his words, I didn’t panic. So they were having a bidding war for me. Lucius and I had suspected that might happen. My gaze traveled to his. Yes, he was supposed to buy me, then purchase our way to another planet for “legal” reasons. Once we had that information, we were to kill EenLi. Now, there was a very good chance someone else would purchase me. Lucius appeared relaxed, totally calm, as if he knew exactly what to do. Good. I knew he’d do everything in his power to win me, and if he didn’t, he’d do what needed to be done. As would I. I trusted him. Fully and completely, I realized. And I was pretty sure he trusted me. “Turn around,” EenLi commanded me in an

imperious tone. My cheeks reddened at being treated like one of his “cattle.” Every man present was watching me, studying me, looking for flaws. The Targon rubbed his jaw, his expression blank, as his gaze raked over me. Cologne’s grip on me tightened. “Do it.” If I didn’t turn for them, I would be forced. And there would be no more reprieves for me under the guise of keeping me un-bruised. I saw that knowledge in EenLi’s now glowing red eyes. You want to get the sale over with, remember? I lifted my chin and turned. Slowly. Giving them all a chance to look their fill at my sheer, pink-clad curves. I felt the heat of their gazes touching me everywhere, stripping me. How many times had the other women endured this? How many times had they been forced to display their bodies for men they despised? My hands shook with the force of my humiliation. And beneath it all, a new sense of respect and admiration for the five women locked below grew within me. They were survivors. Yes, I would save them; my determination increased all the more. No matter what was required of me. When I faced the men again, EenLi was smiling happily from the screen, his ugly face stretched into a toothy monstrosity. Red faded to pink. “I’m

almost tempted to keep the little agent for myself,” he said. “She’s powerful under all that delicacy.” So. He did know that I was an agent. It was probably why he was here on the holoscreen and not in person. I was only surprised he wasn’t gloating about capturing me. “Whatever your price,” Lucius said, his rough, gravelly voice claiming me, “I’ll pay.” “And I’ll double that.” Jonathan. Lucius hissed in a breath. “What did you say?” “You heard me.” Jonathan became defensive. “I want her, too. You didn’t think I helped you out of the goodness of my heart, did you?” He tapped his cigar ashes on Lucius’s expensive Italian loafers. “Please tell me you aren’t that stupid.” My partner snarled low in his throat—and I didn’t think it was mere pretense. “I can’t believe you’re going through with this. She’s mine. You knew I wanted her.” “We’ll see about that, won’t we?” Jonathan arched his brows, his expression haughty. Deadly silence filled the room, slithering along the walls like a snake ready to strike. Come on, boys. Just buy me already. Leaning forward, Lucius said darkly, “Are you sure you want to take me on?” Jonathan laughed nervously and assumed a feigned casual pose, legs stretched, hands linked over the lapels of his dark blue jacket. “You can

have her when I’m done with her.” “Neither of you will have her.” The Targon had remained silent until that point, and now his deep timbre echoed off the walls. As he studied me, he caressed the gold band he wore around his neck, his fingers circling the ugly brown stone in the middle. “I’ll take her,” he said, as if that settled the entire matter. “Numbers, gentlemen.” EenLi rubbed his hands together like a greedy child. “I need actual figures.” “One million.” Jonathan. “Two.” The Targon. “Five.” Lucius. He relaxed in his seat, growing more assured of his victory. Whatever monetary capital was needed, he would pay. Or pretend to pay, I should say. The Targon countered. “Five million Earth dollars, plus two Targon warriors.” “Done.” Grinning, EenLi clapped his hands. “The woman is yours.” “No.” In a dark, fluid motion, Lucius jumped to his feet. EenLi’s eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “I will find you another Raka, Hunter.” “I want this one.” He pointed to me. “She’s mine. She was promised to me. Find him another.” “Actually, she was promised to me.” Jonathan gripped his cigar so tightly it snapped in half. “Please tell me you were not foolish enough to

think I’d save her for you, Jonathan,” EenLi said, repeating the man’s earlier words to Lucius. “I already own your soul. What need have I to keep you happy?” To Lucius he said, “I respected your father, and I will be happy to work with you in the future to secure you another Raka. As for this one, a better offer came along.” “She’s mine, goddamn you,” Lucius growled. “This is bad for business. What will your other clients say when they realize you aren’t a man of your word?” Another silence erupted, this one heavier than the last. EenLi’s skin pulsed a dark crimson. “Do not make me your enemy.” His lips pressed together, providing only a tight slit for his words. Lucius stalked toward the screen. “Let’s talk about this.” “No.” As I listened, I realized EenLi had always meant to sell me to the Targon. What better way to gain an alliance with such invincible warriors? After losing Mris-ste and discovering he himself was a government target for elimination, EenLi probably saw this as his opportunity to acquire an impenetrable shield. Or two. “I want to talk,” Lucius insisted. “Man to man. Face to face. “Ha. You’re angry enough to try and kill me

right now.” I knew what he was doing, trying to draw EenLi out, and I approved. However, I didn’t want to be taken from this building until the women below were safe. I’d have to put up some kind of fight, perhaps race down there. Then…what? I guess we’d find out. I stealthily inched my fingers toward the small blade strapped to my back. The Targon eased to his feet, his eyes watching my every move. I’d never seen eyes like his. Like molten flames of gold, glowing hotly, almost hypnotically. His clean-cut features were lit with amusement. “Come to me,” he said, even his voice layered with a hypnotic quality. Oddly, I was compelled to obey. Something deep inside me heard and responded to his voice, wanting to do everything in my power to please him. The rest of the room faded until I saw only the Targon. My thoughts scattered, realigning around his beautiful image. “Come,” he said again. Focus, Eden. Focus. Do not listen to his voice. Think only of what you need to do. Fight. Yes, I needed to fight, to save the women. With that thought, I snapped out of his spell. Where was he vulnerable? His neck? His chest? I’d never killed a Targon before. “Come,” he said for the third time.

I moved toward him, sliding my blade out of its strap. I used my wrist and arm to shield it from his view. Lucius jumped in front of me and faced the Targon. “Since Wayne is refusing to meet with me, I’ll deal with you. Let me buy her from you. I’ll pay you whatever you want.” “She is no longer for sale,” the other-worlder said with a hint of irritation. “You’re not taking her off this planet.” I touched my fingers to Lucius’s back, silently letting him know I knew what I had to do and would do it. He didn’t step aside. I knew he’d felt my touch, however, because his muscles clenched at first contact. The Targon raised his brows. “If you plan to stop me, human, I suggest you not even try. People tend to get hurt when they annoy me.” “Now that our business is concluded,” EenLi interjected, as someone approached his image from behind. “I will leave you alone to collect your prize. I expect those Targon warriors on my doorstep tomorrow morning, Devyn.” The holoscreen went blank. Jonathan reached toward Lucius, but Lucius grabbed his arm and twisted, snapping the bone. Jonathan howled in pain and dropped to his knees. Then Lucius sprang at the Targon. Without ever moving an inch, the other-worlder somehow forced

Lucius to the ground beside Jonathan. I too sprang forward, my knife raised and ready for insertion. But in the next instant, my feet froze in place and the knife dropped from my hand. I couldn’t move. Could barely breathe. “Do not panic, little Raka.” The Targon sent me a gentle smile. “I’ll release you from the paralysis soon enough.” The bastard was controlling me with his mind. Panic coiled inside me, but I fought against it, trying to erect some sort of shield against him. His power proved too strong, however. Still grinning, he flung a gold torque at me. Like a snake, the band wrapped itself at the base of my throat, not tight enough to choke, just tight enough to ensure it stayed in place. I flicked a horrified gaze down; an amber gem stone winked up at me. I wanted so badly to tear at the band, but couldn’t. I returned my gaze to Lucius, staring helplessly at him, just as horrified. Since hitting the carpet, he’d had yet to move. “What did you do to him?” I demanded. “He merely sleeps,” the Targon said. Proving the other-worlder’s words, Lucius moaned. His eyes opened, and he weakly raised his head. When he spied me, he attempted to crawl to me, to protect me. “I think he needs to sleep permanently,” Jonathan said, whipping out an old gun. I couldn’t

do anything but scream, locked in place as I was, as he fired. A bullet lodged itself just below Lucius’s left shoulder, causing his entire body to spasm. In his heart? Cold rage slashed inside me. The Targon removed his focus from me and frowned down at the now-bleeding Lucius. His inattention released me from paralysis. I immediately picked up my blade and, without a second’s thought, hurtled it at Jonathan. The sharp metal sliced into his throat. His eyes widened, and he gurgled as his knees gave out and he sank to the ground. I leaped forward and was just reaching for the blade when a dark cloud covered my mind. Sinking…sinking…I fought past it, cutting with mental claws. Unexpectedly, the fog lifted. “What’s happening?” I asked, dazed. The Targon blinked in surprise. “You have mental shields, though they are not very strong.” He sighed, and I froze in place once again. He withdrew a small vial from his pocket, pushed my hair out of my face, and forced the contents down my throat. I choked it back, but it was too late to spit out the bitter liquid. I knew the moment the taste of it hit my tongue that it wasn’t an opiate like Cologne had given me. This man had done his homework on Rakas. He knew the human medicine called antihistamine, when mixed with alcohol, knocked us out every

time. When lethargy hit me, it hit swiftly and full force. The last picture to drift through my mind was of Lucius, covered in his own blood.

Chapter 23

The image of Lucius’s strong vibrant body, bloody and lifeless, slammed past a black fog of lethargy and into my mind. “Lucius!” I screamed. The sound of his name echoed all around me. “Welcome to Targon,” whispered through my mind. Targon. No. No! My eyelids popped open. My breath was coming in short, erratic pants, like I’d just run a marathon uphill. I searched for another person, but saw no one. Had I been dreaming…a nightmare, perhaps? No. I bit my bottom lip, creating a sharp sting and a bead of blood. Lucius had really been shot. I remembered the auction for me and the booming sound of Jonathan’s gun being fired, remembered the metallic smell of human blood. Lucius, I thought, a wave of panic overtaking me. I had to get to him. He was now injured and defenseless in a house full of EenLi’s guards, and no one knew he was there but me. I would not allow myself to think of him as…No, I wouldn’t. The women, too, were helpless. I had to save them. I jerked upright, taking the soft white comforter

draping my body with me. My gaze shot throughout the room. Unfamiliar. Wide and open. White gauze billowed from the many windows and doors. I was seated on a white pallet of velvetlike cushions. There were no guards posted that I could see. Where the hell was I? Targon… I wasn’t sure if the isotope I’d ingested had traced me here, and there wasn’t time to find out. An other-world rescue seemed impossible, anyway, since we did not have all the facts about solar flares. No, I’d have to free myself. Quickly. God, I needed to get home. I shoved my way out from the covers and stood. My legs were shaky, making me wonder just how long I’d been asleep. At least the Targon hadn’t stripped me. He’d left me in the pink harem costume. I reached up, but the necklace he’d thrown at me was gone. I needed it to pass through a solar flare. Where was it? Breathing a deep inhalation of sweet, flowery air, I scanned the spacious room again. Would he have hidden the necklace in a fruit bowl? No. Empty. A drawer…maybe he had tucked it inside. I bounded forward, but skidded to a stop when I heard him speak. “I am so happy you are, at last, awake,” his rich, sensual voice said from behind me. I spun around. The Targon leaned against one of

the large entryways, white lace dancing from the windows and over his bare legs. His eyes swirled with a life all their own; his dark hair flowed around his shoulders, the sides hooked behind his ears. I could see that his ears were pointy, like the magical Fae in children’s stories. He wore some type of black Scottish-looking kilt and no shirt. “Give me the necklace and take me back,” I demanded. He tsked under his tongue. “We haven’t been properly introduced. You are Eden Black, otherworlder interpreter and government agent. I am Devyn Cambrii, king of this land.” King. The freaking king. I knew a little about Targon history. A king was appointed not by birth but by telekinetic strength. A thousand tiny knots twisted my stomach. I was weaponless, and my opponent had the power to freeze me in place. How the hell could I fight him? “Please,” I said, the word escaping through scowling lips. “Take me back.” “It has taken EenLi over a year to find me a Raka,” he replied. “I’m sorry, sweet angel, but the only place I will be taking you is my bed.” My fists clenched at my sides. “And if I refuse?” His lips twitched, and amusement twinkled in his too-amber eyes. “Your refusal will not be a problem.” No, it wouldn’t, I thought darkly. He’d already

proven his ability quite nicely. If he decided to freeze me and rape me, there would be nothing I could do to stop him from doing so. I refused to show him an outward reaction to that comment, however. If he thrived on female fear, he might become aroused. “Why a Raka?” I asked to keep him talking. I lifted my chin. “There’s nothing special about my race.” “Oh, I beg to differ.” “Because of the gold?” He chuckled richly. “I am not human. Gold means nothing to me.” “Then why?” “I’ve never tasted a Raka. There are so few of you on Earth because those silly humans are greedy. And outsiders are not allowed on the planet Raka. Which is a shame, really. I could have feasted for months had I been allowed entry.” His voice lowered one octave. “I’ve wanted to taste a Raka for a long, long time.” I arched a brow, feigning nonchalance. “Tasted in passion? Or as dinner?” He laughed again, his features softening. The woman in me appreciated his masculine beauty, his male sensuality. But he wasn’t Lucius. I would have no man but Lucius. In our short time together, I’d learned to respect and like him. I’d desired him constantly. He meant something to me. What, I

didn’t know. I just knew that he did matter. “Passion, of course,” the Targon said. “I’ve sampled women from across the galaxies. I’m in need of something different. Something unique.” He straightened and slowly moved toward me. “Stop,” I shouted, bending my knees and preparing for battle. Surprisingly, he did. He remained a safe distance away as his gaze traveled the length of me. “I only wish to know if you are as soft to my touch as you look. Surely you will not deny me a simple touch.” “I deny you the right to even breathe in my direction.” “Your resistance is adorable, so I will grant your request and not touch you. For now.” “Thank you,” I said, my tone dry. “You are welcome.” He grinned at me. “I am glad to add you to my collection.” “Your collection?” “Oh, yes. I love women, you see. I love their softness, their complexities, their scents, and have decided to sample a woman of every color, race, and size.” “And it doesn’t matter to you that some of these women might not desire you?” “They may not desire me…at first.” His grin widened. “I always change their minds.” “I don’t want you,” I gnashed out. “I want another.”

The Targon merely shrugged. “You, too, will change your mind.” He sounded so confident, so completely certain of my capitulation. Watching me through those too-amber, amused eyes, he renewed his path toward me. “I could begin changing your mind right now,” he said, but he switched directions and stopped at a bureau. He lifted the white stone fruit bowl. Having searched it, I knew only small, azure spheres were inside. I didn’t move when he closed the distance between us, though my every instinct demanded I attack. He merely brushed past me. Our bare shoulders met, skin to skin, his surprisingly cool, mine hot with desperation to leave. He eased atop the mound of pillows. The scent of exotic spices followed him and lingered in the air. He leaned back, assuming a lazy, seductive pose, and patted the seat beside him. “Is this part of changing my mind?” “So suspicious, little Raka.” He popped a fruit into his mouth and chewed. “Alas no, this is a getting-to-know-you moment. If you prefer, we can jump ahead. I am not picky. Come to me.” I considered refusing his demand. I didn’t want to get to know him better; I didn’t want to sit next to him and play his silly game of seduction. The need to get to Lucius and the women intensified with every second that passed. Damn it! I’d never felt more helpless.

“Come,” Devyn said, his tone firmer and harder than before. The amused sparkle faded from his eyes, going flat with expectation. I approached him and sank onto the pillows beside him. “That’s better,” he said, reaching into the bowl and withdrawing a sphere. His stark white teeth sank into it, consuming half. “You will eat.” When he attempted to slip the rest past my lips, I ripped it out of his hands and tossed it across the room. I grabbed a piece of fruit without Targon germs and shoved it into my mouth. The sweet, sweet flavor made each of my taste buds shoot to life. I found myself reaching out for another. He sighed, pieces of his amusement having returned. “We will have to work on your stubbornness. It is an honor to eat with the king, you know.” “I have to go back to Earth, Devyn.” “This is to be your home.” I leaned forward, beseeching with my eyes, my voice. “Please. Give me the necklace and take me back. I have a man, a mission, and I must get back.” Devyn reached out and sifted my hair through his fingers. The gold strands were beautiful draped over his pale skin. “The man who was shot. Hunter, I think was his name. He is your man, yes?” “Yes.” I clenched the pillows, wadding the

material between my fists. “How did you know?” His huge shoulders lifted in a shrug. “The way you looked at him; the way he looked at you. I’m curious, though. If he is your man, why was he there to buy you?” I ignored the question. “He’s hurt. You saw Jonathan shoot him. I have to help him, get him medical care.” “He is not hurt, angel. He’s dead.” Everything inside me frosted with ice. Cold, hard ice. Strong, vital Lucius was not dead. I would have known it, felt it. We were connected in a way that I didn’t understand, but now accepted—and was grateful for. I could not, would not, believe he was dead. He possessed too much life, too much strength. He was indestructible. Please let him be indestructible. “How do you know that?” I said softly, my jawbone so tight it could snap at any moment. “I saw the blood just as you did. He is human, and humans cannot lose so much blood.” “Humans can survive with blood transfusions. That’s why I have to get to him.” “If there was any life left inside him, EenLi would patch him up and sell him as a slave. This I promise you.” Yes, I thought, hope melting the ice. Ever the businessman, EenLi would not let a prime specimen like Lucius die when he could be bringing in a

profit. “I cannot let him become a slave. Nor can I allow the other women who were imprisoned in that house to become slaves. I have to go back. I’ll do anything you ask if you’ll just take me back.” “What does this man give you that is so special, so different from what I can give you?” Devyn’s tone was hard. “He’s…mine.” It was the only answer I had at the moment. Hands fisted, he shoved angrily to his feet. He glared down at me. “I will not send you back, because I am not willing to give you up. I have had enough talk of dead men and enslaved women.” We’d see about that. He might be telekinetic, but perhaps if I worked quickly enough, I could defeat him. I kicked out my leg and connected with his ankles. He toppled backward, dropping the fruit bowl with a clang. Blue spheres scattered across the floor as I sprang on top of him, using my weight to cut off his air, my knee in his windpipe. “I’ll kill you if I remain here,” I vowed. Far from being intimidated, he grinned. “I see I will have to bring my guards back. I had hoped you would appreciate the privacy.” I fought a wave of defeat. “You aren’t even winded, are you?” “No.” A wicked gleam flittered over his amused expression. “I can put you to sleep with only a blink of my eyes, and then I can do whatever I

want to you.” I jerked back my elbow, making a fist along the way. As my hand flew closer to his face, his grin only grew wider…and the muscles in my arm stiffened completely, holding me in place before I ever reached his nose. “I like your spirit,” he said, the words laden with excitement. “You will be my finest possession.” I grated my teeth together so forcefully, I could have made powder. “Let me tell you something, Targon. I will never willingly give myself to you, and if you try and force me, I will carve you into little pieces and feed you to your people.” His lips dipped into a pout. “It will not be force. You are my slave—” “It will be force. Hunter is the only lover I desire.” That angry spark lit once more in Devyn’s tawny gaze. “You are my property, and I will not allow you to think of another man.” “I’ll think of him and desire him and long for him for the rest of my life,” I said, pricking his male pride. “Every time you touch me, I’ll pretend it’s him. That he’s the one giving me pleasure.” Growling low in his throat, he shoved me off him and jumped to his feet. I jumped up, as well, my arm muscles released from his spell. We faced off. “You are more than you seem, Raka,” he bit out,

“and I admit I was beginning to like that. You have the courage of a warrior, but you are as foolish as every other woman, and that I do not like. I am king here, and you will learn not to fan the flames of my anger.” “Please,” I said then, desperate. How could I make him do what I wanted? “Please what? Please touch you? Please be merciful?” “Please send me home.” A heavy pause erupted, our breathing the only sound. Then he grabbed my hand and tugged me down a wide, open hallway, as white and pure and mocking as a virgin’s bedsheets. At the far end was a bedroom, as open as the rest of the house and just as white. Pillows littered the floor, and a pool occupied the far end. He tossed me onto the pillows. When my back hit, air whooshed from my lungs. I hopped up immediately, panting for breath. “I told you not to ask to be returned again. And so, your training will begin now.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Training to do what?” “Pleasure me, of course.”

Chapter 24

Devyn’s gaze remained locked with mine as he stripped out of his only clothing, the black kiltlike skirt. He posed before me wearing nothing more than a smug smile. His skin was pale. His dark hair hung around his shoulders in disarray. He made a striking picture, handsome and strong. I wanted no part of him. Unfortunately, he was determined to have every part of me. My blood boiled at his arrogance and intentions, at his sheer selfishness, and I forced my energy to center. I would have to attack him; surprise would be my only avenue against this Targon. I drew in a deep, cleansing breath. Hold…hold…His attention deviated from me. I was just about to pounce on him when I noticed the two naked alien women entering through the side doorway, one with thick, silky blue skin, the other with white skin—and five arms. What was going on? Devyn waved them over. “Come, ladies.” The first, the pretty, pale-skinned blonde with too many arms, clapped and giggled. The second, the exotic azure one, licked her lips. Both

possessed lean bodies and sculpted muscles. “Watch us,” Devyn told me. “And learn.” My mouth almost dropped in shock. He didn’t mean to rape me, but merely wanted me to watch how others pleased him? I shook my head, unsure I had heard him correctly. “Do not think to leave, either, while I am distracted,” he said, admonishment ripe in his tone. In the next instant, my knees buckled of their own accord and I fell onto the pillows. My muscles froze in place. I tried to fight against the paralysis, to no avail. Damn him. The two women reached him, eagerly scratching their hands over his body and leaving amber welts in their path. The five-armed woman was able to cover a lot of ground. Not even trying to be gentle, they nipped at his chest with their teeth, drawing little beads of gold blood. They pinched his nipples and tightly squeezed and pumped his erection. The Targon groaned with rapture. His eyes closed. This is it, I thought. My only chance. I couldn’t move my body, but I could still move my spirit. I concentrated on a spot just beyond his shoulder, focusing my energy inward. I had to risk leaving my body vulnerable. This might be my only chance to find the necklace he’d used to send me here. Soon my spirit broke from my body, leaving it cold, forgotten, and I was looking down at myself.

My eyes were open, and I appeared to be watching the straining, writhing trio. Good. The only thing that gave me away was my blank, unmoving expression, but I doubted Professor Sex and his apprentices would notice. There was no furniture in the room, nothing to search, so I abandoned it. I didn’t know how long Targon sex lasted, so I quickened my step. Thankfully, there were no closed doorways. Devyn hadn’t lied when he claimed he’d dismissed his guards. There were no males of any kind—that I could see—inside. There were only women, a handful of humans ranging in size and color, and all of them were naked. Inside another bedroom, I searched a vanity. Found nothing. I came to a wooden chest. Searched and found nothing but sex toys. Every piece of furniture, every knickknack I stumbled upon, I searched. And found nothing. My frustration grew with every second that passed. Finally, however, I came to a hallway that appeared different than the rest of the house. It was narrow and closed. At each section of the wall was an armed guard. This was it. I knew it. Felt it. The weapon-heavy men (also in kilts) stood sentry to whatever lay beyond the far door. In my spirit form, doors proved no obstacle. I brushed past the scantily clad man in front of the steel-like entrance. Where our bodies intertwined, I tingled. He must

have felt it too, because he jumped. “What was that?” he demanded, gripping his long, sharp blade. His narrowed gaze darted left and right. “What?” the man next to him asked, stiffening. Silence, then, “My mistake.” “Bracken,” someone muttered. English translation: idiot. I slipped through the door…and gasped. Inside the new room was what looked to be a doorway straight into the heavens. Black velvet sky, brilliant pinpricks of stars. It swirled. Beckoned. Was it some type of portal? Did the Targons not need to wait for solar flares? I wanted so badly to touch the liquid, but resisted the temptation. For now, at least. I couldn’t risk world travel without my physical body. Besides, if it was a portal, I could end up on a worse planet than Targon. I needed that necklace! I looked around. Towering columns stretched to the domed ceiling, and white stone glistened all around me, leading up, up, up a staircase. At the top rested twelve pedestals. Curious and anxious, but most of all hopeful, I climbed the stairs. When I saw what lay inside each display case, I laughed. The necklace was here! I’d found it. Actually, I’d found eleven others, as well. Each necklace boasted a different stone, though all were roughly the same size. Did the stone

matter? I wondered. What if the stone held the magnetic force? What if the stone decided which planet to carry its wearer? Which stone would take me to Earth? I studied each. Blue, red, violet, green, amber. I paused, a memory surfacing. The amber stone had brought me here, which meant amber represented Targon. Nodding, I continued my search. Brown, gray…My attention abruptly returned to the brown, drinking in every detail. It was dull, a bit jagged, flat in color. Devyn had worn it during the auction. Nearly jumping up and down with my exhilaration, I concentrated a mass of energy between my hands. The air soon swirled and sizzled, growing heavier, denser. My spirit, too, began to burn. Burn, burn. I grimaced, but didn’t stop. When the air held sufficient weight, I used the clustered molecules to lift the necklace from its perch and hover between my hands. Instantly alarms erupted. I quickly guided the energy and necklace high above me, and prayed no one looked up. A legion of guards stormed the chamber. They raised spears and blades, and their gazes shot throughout the room. Thankfully, they couldn’t see me. I cast a longing glance to the dappled pool and raced out the open door, taking the path I’d traveled to get here. All the while, the necklace

hovered above me. Along the way I must have navigated a wrong turn, because I didn’t enter the room that held my body. Damn it! I raced onward, rushing into every room I found, rushing past the guards headed toward the necklace room. Finally—thank God—I found my body. The king and women were gone, but my body was just where I’d left it. I entered quickly and discovered that my muscles were still frozen. The necklace fell from the air and landed on the pillow beside me. If I could move, I could escape amid the confusion. I could hide the necklace. I just had to move! I struggled and fought for what seemed an hour, all the while remaining immobile. The king at last remembered my presence and strode back into the room. His amber eyes were narrowed as he knelt in front of me. “How did you do it?” he asked, the words stilted, halting. Even my lips refused to move. “Answer me,” he growled. I glared up at him and flicked my gaze to my mouth. Realizing I couldn’t speak, he finally released me from the paralysis. “Do what?” I scooted away from him. The action sent a sharp ache all the way through me. “How did you steal the torque? My Earth torque is missing, woman, and only you have an interest in

it.” “I’ve been right here.” Hoping I appeared nonchalant, I covered the necklace with my butt. “You saw to that. How could I have stolen anything?” He reached out, intending to search me. I kicked his chest, and he stumbled backward a few feet. A mere second later, I found my arms and lower body frozen again. Dark fury exploded through my veins. I hated how easily he subdued me. His hands roved over my every curve and hollow, but he found nothing. His frown deepening, he scooped me up and set me aside. That’s when he saw the gold band. Scowling, he lifted it and shoved it in my face. “How did you get this?” When I remained silent, he added, “I didn’t immobilize your mouth this time. Answer me.” A wave of helplessness joined my fury, swirling together in an escalating tempest. How could I win against such powerful telekinesis? The answer hit me with the force of pyre-fire. I couldn’t fight him like this, but I could fight him another way. Vulnerability be damned. My lips twisted in an evil smile. “Why don’t I show you?” I centered quickly, and my spirit sprang from my body. In seconds, I was behind him. I focused energy between my hands, then shoved it at him, nailing him in the head. He crashed sideways, but fluidly jumped to his feet. Scowling, he spun away

from my body and toward my spirit. When he failed to see what had hit him, his eyes widened. “What’s going on?” Next I shot a burst of energy dead center between his legs, hitting his precious penis with enough force to drop him to his knees, groaning in pain. He looked back at my body, then whipped back to search the center of the room. “How are you doing this?” he demanded. Now that my emotions had been released, I couldn’t hold back. I gathered clusters of energy and continued to toss them at him. Over and over, with all the fury and helplessness raging inside me. He fell, and I used the thickened air to gather his knife. The sharp blade hovered in the air. As his eyes widened, I inched it closer to his neck. He stilled, not daring to breathe. “How does it feel to be helpless against another’s powers?” I taunted. The words were a whisper of wind, but he understood. He opened his mouth to yell for help. “Call your guards,” I said, pressing the knife even closer, “and it will be the last sound you ever make.” His voice gurgled to quiet. “That’s better.” Keeping the knife steady with one hand, I used my other to gather enough energy and tug off the gold band anchored at his neck. “The moment you release me, I’ll be able to kill

your body. A spirit cannot live without a host.” “That’s true,” I admitted. “How long do you think you can hold me like this?” “As long as it takes. Are you an honorable man, Devyn?” From the corner of my eyes, I saw him reaching up, intending to grab the knife and throw it away from him. “Uh, uh, uh,” I said, and pushed more energy toward him, digging the tip a little deeper into his neck. A drop of amber-colored blood formed. A growl of frustration parted his mouth, but his hands stilled. “Are you an honorable man?” I asked again. “Yes, damn you.” “Then vow to me here and now to send me home at the next solar flare, and I will let you live.” “No.” “No? I can kill you now, reenter my body, and escape this place.” “You would never make it past my guards. They were chosen for their telekinetic abilities, as well as their sadistic natures. When they spot you, and they will, they will make you regret the decision to leave me.” “I bet you thought I’d never be able to hold a blade at your throat, either.” Silence.

“You’re not going to kill me,” he finally said. Sweat dripped from his temples. “You’re a woman and a Raka. Your people might be rare, but I know you are peaceful. Sensual. Violence is used only by the ruling class.” “Maybe I’m part of the ruling class, because you see, Devyn, I’m more than a government agent. I’m an assassin. I’ve killed countless people, and killing you will be no hardship. Why do you think I let EenLi capture me? Why do you think my man was trying to ‘buy’ me? So I could kill EenLi and destroy his slave ring.” The Targon stiffened. “I’m willing to let you live, however.” The moment I’d met those women in the cell, my goal had ceased to be proving my own worth or being known as the best. My goal had changed to one of savior. The women, Lucius. And I’d make a deal with the devil himself to do so. “What do you say, Targon? Your life for a ticket home.” “Do I get to bed you for my troubles?” “No. I will let you kiss my feet, though.” He snorted. One of his hands tangled roughly in his hair as he considered my offer. Obviously, no one had ever gotten the best of him, and he didn’t know what to make of me—a true threat or a novel amusement. Had I been here on vacation, I might have enjoyed the king’s antics. “What do you say?” I demanded. “I’m growing

impatient.” “I paid good money for you,” he whined. “So I’ll pay you back.” “You cannot pay me back the two warriors I gave up for you.” “What if I promise not to cut off your penis? Will that help alleviate your sense of loss?” He gulped. “We have ourselves a deal, Raka.”

Chapter 25

Though I remained on alert, I released my energyhold on the knife and necklace and they clanged to the floor. I quickly reentered my body and popped to my feet. Devyn stayed true to his word and didn’t call for his men, nor did he try to kill me. He merely pushed to his feet, then dusted off his kilt (or whatever the hell that skirt thing was called). All the while, a dark expression tightened his handsome features. I gathered the fallen items and faced him directly. “You got something to say?” “I am very angry about this.” “You’ll get over it. How long until the next solar flare?” At first, he didn’t answer. He shoved a hand through his hair and stared up at the ceiling, before finally expelling a long breath. “A solar flare isn’t needed. Come,” he said, the single word whipping out with the force of a bullet. He spun on his heel. I followed after him, still not dropping my guard. “What do you mean, one is not needed?” “Solar flares are only needed to travel from Earth, not Targon. Here we use the Skyway.” The gel-like pool, I realized. I tucked that

information away, knowing I’d have to give a full report to Michael. When Devyn and I strode into the narrow hallway that led into the white stone room where I’d found the necklaces, the guards posted at the walls stood at perfect attention. I was so agitated, so ready to be home, my limbs were shaking. “Open,” Devyn said. Two of the men immediately complied, prying the doors apart. Devyn and I slipped inside. As the doors closed behind us, Devyn said, “This human of yours.” His tone displayed a complete lack of interest, but I knew better. He didn’t turn to look at me. “What makes him so special? And do not tell me he is yours. There is a reason, something that sets him apart.” I leapt up the stairs two at a time, the king right on my heels. This man was taking me to Lucius and the enslaved women, so I was feeling generous toward him. “He stirs something inside me,” I answered. “He fires my blood in a way I don’t understand.” “I could do the same. I promise you.” “Perhaps. Perhaps not.” A pause. Then, “What if I am taking you back to Earth simply to kill your human and get him out of my way? If he’s not already dead,” he added. He took the necklace I still held and wrapped it around his neck.

“He’s not, and you know I’ll kill you if you hurt him.” I had placed a lot of trust in this one selfcentered man. But I was prepared to kill him at any time—if he didn’t kill me first. I was willing to take the chance, though. “I want you for my own,” he said. “I haven’t tried to hide that fact.” “You do have some pride, don’t you?” “Not really.” A wicked twinkle entered his eyes, and he grabbed my hand, jerking me to a stop. Light from the Skyway caressed his face, illuminating his pale skin. His dark hair wisped over his forehead. “Why don’t we strike another bargain, you and I, hmm? I’ll give you my royal oath to help you save your man if you’ll give me a single night with you.” I flipped my hair over my shoulder with a flick of my wrist. “We made a bargain already. I didn’t knife you, and now you’re taking me home.” “Ah, but I can do more than simply take you home. I can save your man…and take you to EenLi.” He was deadly serious, no hint of teasing in his expression. The wicked twinkle was gone. I stood, watching him, bathed in indecision. Trust him. Not trust him. Either way, he’d just offered me something I couldn’t turn down, no matter the price. “Deal,” I said, the word a hard knot in my

throat. He nodded. “The deal must be sealed in blood.” He kneeled, dragging me down with him, and unsheathed a blade from his side. I tensed, but didn’t move as he sliced the silver tip down his bare chest. Amber blood dripped down his rippled muscles. “Give me your arm.” Tentative, I stretched my arm toward him. He clasped my wrist and slipped the blade over the skin, cutting. Not deep, just enough to draw blood. He lifted my wrist and meshed it against the wound in his chest. I could feel his heartbeat, a rapid bump, bump. “You have my vow of aid, Eden Black. Your man and your enemy will be mine to give you.” He motioned to me with a tilt of his chin. “Now you.” “You have my vow, Devyn,” I said, shaking inside. If there were any other way, I’d take it. But there wasn’t, and I knew it. “One night with me.” After the words were spoken, the air around us thickened, became as dappled as the Skyway. A living force. I blinked and gazed around in shock. I even reached out, sliding my fingertips over the jelly-like air. It was as cool and ephemeral as a dream. “To break either vow means death,” he said, standing. He pulled me up beside him. He watched me for a long while, then nodded. “The bargain is now struck. Come.”

We zigzagged through several more hallways and finally hit the top of the stairs. My arm burned, but I ignored the slight pain. Devyn grabbed my hand and tugged me toward the pool. “I need a necklace, too,” I said, dragging my feet to slow him. “Just hold on to me, and you will be fine.” He flicked me an unreadable glance. “There is still time to change your mind.” “No.” “Very well,” he sighed. “What happens if—” I wanted to know what would happen if we became separated, but he pulled me inside the oddly dry jelly before I could finish my sentence. I was sucked into a vacuum. My feet lost their solid anchor, and my heartbeat quickened, nearly exploding inside my chest. Screams erupted, winding around me like ivy leaves reaching for the sun. Too-bright stars buzzed past my head. A terrible wind kicked up, shoving me from every angle. I had to fight to remain upright, and clutched desperately at Devyn’s hand. Round and round we began to spin, stars winking and flashing at me. The wind became so violent, the Targon was ripped from my grip. “No!” I screamed. “Devyn!” He wore the necklace. I needed him to reach Earth. Didn’t I? Without him…Blindly I groped the air

with both hands, searching for him. For any type of anchor. Instead of finding him, I felt everything still. The screams ceased abruptly. The lights faded. My feet hit a solid foundation. I swayed. My pulse continued to hammer, but I regained my equilibrium. I opened my eyes. And gasped. I stood in an open forest of tall, green trees. Cool air enveloped me, not dry but humid. Crickets chirped a lazy tune, and moonlight dripped hazy rays on the grass. I sucked in a breath, inhaling familiar scents of pine and dirt. Of Earth. Golden tendrils of hair were glued to my temples, and I pushed them back with shaky fingers. I’d made it. I’d truly returned. I scanned the area for the Targon. He wasn’t here. I couldn’t concern myself with him right now. I had to find a phone. Had to call Michael. I sprinted through the trees, my determination giving me swift wings. Gnarled limbs whipped at my face, and stones and twigs attempted to trip my feet. I ran for over an hour, toward the buildings I saw towering on the horizon. Breath burned my throat and lungs, but I never slowed. When I reached the first building, I realized they were homes. Only one glowed with internal lights. I ran to the front door and slammed my fists against the thick oak entrance. When no one answered, I

banged harder. “Stop that racket,” someone shouted from above. “I’m trying to sleep.” My gaze followed the sound, and I found myself staring up at a silver-headed man with a wrinkled, irritated face. “I need to use your phone.” “You need to learn how to shut up. I’m tired.” Scowling, I grabbed a rock from the colorful, blooming garden and broke the window. I didn’t have time to pick the lock or mess with the ID box. Their security system erupted in a series of highpitched beeps. I reached through the shattered glass, cringed when a sharp piece sliced my skin, adding another wound, and ripped the lock system from the side wall. The door opened of its own accord. I shoved my way inside. The silver-headed man was racing down the steps, and now he had a civilian pyre-gun in hand. “I’m armed,” he shouted, “and I will shoot to kill.” I moved swiftly, met him halfway, and tripped him down the stairs. He squeezed off a shot, but the stream of fire whizzed past my shoulder. As he fell, I wrenched the gun from his hands. By the time he reached the bottom, I had the barrel pointed at his heart. “Where’s your phone?” I demanded, my aim steady and sure. “Don’t hurt me,” he cried.

“Just tell me where your phone is, and you’ll be fine.” Tears streamed down his cheeks as he pointed a shaky finger to a nearby table. I hated that I had terrified the human, but I didn’t have time for niceties. “You move and you die. Understand?” A sob racked him, but he nodded. Keeping the pyre-gun directed on him, I walked backward to the table. With one hand, I punched Michael’s number into the unit. The silver-headed man never moved a muscle. “This is Black,” my boss soon answered. How wonderful it was to hear his voice. “Michael, Lucius has been shot.” “Eden?” Shock and happiness and relief mingled in his tone. “My God, Eden, tell me it’s you. You’ve been gone three days without a word. We lost your signal, and I thought—” “I’m fine, but I don’t have a lot of time.” Three days had passed, yet only one had passed on Targon. “Have you spoken to Lucius? Has he checked in?” “Last he checked in, he told me you had been abducted as planned and he was going in to buy you. After that, we never heard from him again. We’ve been searching for him but haven’t caught a trace. We had your location locked, and even checked there. Nothing. What’s going on?”

“Jonathan Parker shot him.” “Is he de—” “No!” I shouted. I still wasn’t ready to consider the possibility. “I think EenLi has him now and means to sell him as a slave. There are five women, too, meant to be put up for sale. Has EenLi been spotted at all?” “No, but Jonathan Parker was found dead.” “I know. I killed him. Michael,” I said, my voice shaky. “I need you.” “Where the hell are you, sweetie? I’ll be there as fast as I can.” “Where am I?” I demanded of the man at the foot of the stairs. My urgency made me sound fierce, lethal. His already pale face went white at my renewed attention, and he gaggled out a few unintelligible sounds. “Tell me where I am,” I said gently. “Please. I’m not going to hurt you.” My gentleness lifted him out of his terror-filled shock. “New Mon-montana,” he stuttered. “New Montana,” I told Michael. “Can you get my signal now?” “Let’s see.” A moment passed, the sound of his breathing and the clicking of computer keys the only sound. “Got you now,” he said with satisfaction. “We’ll get you home, baby, we’ll get you home.”

“No. I need you to take me back to New Dallas. Back to the house they kept me in. EenLi is still here, I know it, and that means Lucius is here, too. They might still be inside. We’ve got to save him, Michael. The others, too.” “We will,” he said, hearing my panic. “We will. I promise you.” The sound of police sirens penetrated the background. Their blue and red lights soon followed. “Just get here as fast as you can,” I said and left the house the same way I’d come.

Chapter 26

You enlisted the aid of a Targon?” Michael growled. His familiar voice boomed from the headphones covering my ears and was like a soothing spell from a voodoo priest. I gazed out the experimental hovercraft’s window, drinking in the dark, almost velvet sky and diamond-glistening stars. The vehicle’s engine was small and quiet, emitting only a slight hum as the twenty-three-million-dollar machine soared through the air. I’d already explained to him how the solar flare worked, and about the necklace. I told him about EenLi’s man having an electro-gun. He had listened in stony silence. I wasn’t sure how I felt that the first thing he’d reacted to was my involvement with the Targon. “Do you realize,” he continued, speaking into his small black mouthpiece, “that the Targon king, whatever the hell his name is, could right now be warning EenLi about you? Your cover could be completely blown.” My cover was blown, but I didn’t point that out. “Saving Lucius matters. Saving the women matters. Nothing else.” And after Devyn’s vow, I didn’t

think he’d betray me. That vow had seemed so… official. So life-threatening, just as he’d claimed. “Maybe Devyn has told EenLi I’m here and after him, maybe he hasn’t. Either way, I’m hunting him down.” Michael expelled a frustrated breath through his teeth. “All right,” he said. “I’ll let you go to the building, but you’re taking Ren and Marko with you. They’ll—” “No. I go alone.” I was willing to use the Targon. He had powers that could work to my advantage. I wouldn’t be taking humans—especially not Michael’s agents. After seeing EenLi with that electro-gun, I knew there was a very real possibility Michael had a leak. I couldn’t risk EenLi going underground again. I explained this to Michael, but he shook his head. “EenLi and I worked on that gun together. There isn’t a leak. You’re taking my men, and that’s final.” Maybe there wasn’t a leak. I still wasn’t willing to risk it. “I guess that means I quit.” At last I turned and faced him. His expression was hard, resolute. I think he had more gray hair than the last time I’d seen him. “Now try and give orders.” Something cold and hard glistened in his eyes— a glint that had never been directed at me before. “You’re willing to give up your place within the agency, to give up everything you and I have

worked toward, just to save Lucius on your own?” “That’s right,” I answered without hesitation. “It’s safest that way.” “Well, guess what? The man you so desperately want to save, the government didn’t pay him to be your partner. I paid him to keep you safe. Me personally. And he failed.” “Excuse me?” “He was to keep you from EenLi and kill him himself. He was to protect you and bring you home unscathed. He did none of those things. He failed.” My stomach clenched as his words sunk in and brought a memory to the forefront of my mind. Once, when I’d first met Lucius, he’d said something about being paid by Michael. At the time, I’d thought nothing of it, that it had been a slip of the tongue. A mix of shock and anger poured through me. Lucius should have told me. He’d had plenty of opportunities while we were in bed together. I didn’t like that he’d lied to me. Still, that didn’t change how I felt about him. I’d punish him for lying, of course, but first I’d save his life. “You want me to be mad at him, and I am. But I’m also mad at you. You paid him, Michael. Do you really trust me so little?” My voice was quiet. Hurt. “Do you really see me as so incapable?” When he realized the darkest heat of my anger wasn’t directed at Lucius, but at him, he

experienced his own wave of shock. “I love you. I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep you safe. Please. Take a few of my men with you.” That was it. That was all he had to say to me. Sadness beat through me. “I know you love me, Michael, but I see now that you’ll never see me the way I want—need—you to. As a woman of strength and courage—a woman who can successfully complete any task. The way Lucius sees me,” I said, and realized it was true. He’d told me he was proud of me, that I’d done a good job. He’d released me into the lion’s den, so to speak, and trusted me to find my way out. “My resignation stands,” I said. “I go alone.” His nostrils flared and his cheeks flushed, obvious signs he was angry at my lack of capitulation. “If you’re no longer an agent, you have no business going after Lucius. I’ll take you home. You need the rest, anyway.” “Take me to New Dallas,” I snapped, “or I swear to God I’ll join EenLi and become his righthand woman.” I’d do it, too. I’d do whatever was necessary for Lucius and the women. “When I was a little girl, you used to count to three when I refused to do your bidding. And if you made it to three and I didn’t act, I’d be punished. Not that you’d ever see the punishment through.” “Don’t be this way, Eden.” “One.”

“Please. Just let it go.” “Two.” “Why are you doing this?” “Thre—” “Fine.” Michael’s lips thinned, but he nodded stiffly. “I’ll take you to New Dallas. I’ll send you straight into the heart of danger alone.” He knew I never made empty threats. “Just don’t cry foul when I send my guys after you. You’ve been warned.” Motions stiff, he punched a button on the side of his headset, switching his communication link to the pilot. When he returned the link to me, I said, “Give me the map to the house where I was held.” He did, and a little while later we landed in New Dallas. I hurriedly changed into the standard agent attire Michael had brought me—black pants, shirt, boots, and weapons, lots and lots of weapons—then stole a black duffel bag loaded with even more weapons and necessities from the hovercraft. I left the private airstrip on foot without another word to or from Michael. The moment I was out of hearing distance, I knew he commanded two of his men to dog my steps. To protect me, I thought, scowling. When it came to EenLi, they’d do more harm than good. Alert him, perhaps. Frighten him away. Feigning nonchalance, I drew the men into a darkened alley. Unfortunately, the pyre-gun in my

bag only stunned and immobilized other-worlders. Fortunately, the bag also held a new prototype for a human pyre-gun. I’d practiced using the weapon only once before, and now prayed I didn’t accidentally fry up Michael’s men like a Fourth of July barbecue. When they sneaked their way into the alley, I aimed and fired. A thin red beam erupted, freezing the first man in place. The second drew his gun, but I’d already shifted my aim. I squeezed the trigger, emitting another thin red beam. It hit him dead center in the chest. “Sorry, boys,” I said, pushing their frozen bodies into the shadows. I turned on their cell units so Michael could track them when they didn’t check in. Alone now, I entered a busy street lined with cars. I picked the most expensive and heavily secured because I knew how to reprogram it. Luck was on my side. The black luxury sedan was covered in shadows. Kneeling down, I opened my duffel bag. After withdrawing the proper tools, I used a mini wire cutter to rearrange the ID pad, then inserted a new control chip. Standard issue. The driver’s-side door opened automatically. I then reprogrammed the command unit to my specifications, and the car roared to life. Quick. Easy. I followed the map Michael had given me and

drove within a mile of the house, unwilling to risk hidden cameras and security by stopping too close. I parked the car in a thicket of trees and emerged. I didn’t bother with the duffel bag. Everything I needed was strapped to me. Weighed down as I was with weapons, I had to move slowly through the forest. Slivers of moonlight guided me. Too bad the air was warm and dry. Finally, the old house came into view. It appeared like an average home—well kept, gray stone. Not too big. A rush of emotions overtook me: fury, hope, dread. For an instant, I flashed back to the first mission that had brought me to EenLi. I’d gone in alone then, too. I’d also failed. But I wouldn’t fail now. Too much was at stake. Though the lights were out, making the isolated residence appear empty, I didn’t relax my guard. My gaze constantly soaked in the details of my surroundings. It wouldn’t do to trip a wire or motion detector and alert the inhabitants of my approach. Pyre-gun in one hand, blade in the other, I entered the house. No alarm sounded. I moved through the shadows, searching every room, every corner—even the dungeon. The sentinels were gone; the women were gone. Lucius was gone. “Damn it,” I snarled. I leaned against a corner

wall in the living room—the very place my auction had been held—staring down at the blood dried on the carpet. Lucius’s blood. There was a large pool of it that blended with Jonathan’s, making the air reek with a metallic tang. Where was Lucius? Where had the women been taken? Think, Eden, think. Where would EenLi have gone from here? Most likely the same place he’d been hiding all these many weeks—a place we had been unable to discover. A board creaked. My hands clenched around my weapons. Instinctively I sank deeper into the shadows and slowly turned to find the source of the noise. “Eden,” a familiar male voice said. “I know you’re there. I can smell your woman’s scent.” My mouth pulled in a scowl. I didn’t relax my hold on the gun. “How did you get here so quickly, Targon? I had to take a hovercraft.” “I knew where to land.” He entered the living room completely. Moonlight flooded through the far window and bathed him in light. “You won’t find anyone here.” “I know.” I, too, abandoned the shadows as I reholstered the pyre-gun. “Do you know where EenLi is?” He grinned, a familiar expression of smugness. “Of course I know where he is. I am his best

customer.” I stepped toward him. “You swore to help me, and I’m holding you to your word. Take me to him.” His grin widened, stretching across his entire face. So handsome. So in need of a beating. “You also promised me one night. We failed to work out a few details, though. Like who would get their reward first.” So, he wanted to rebargain. I pretended to soften, to sink into his body. His arms instantly wrapped around me. I let my blade slide past my wrist cuff until my fingers circled the handle, and then I inched the sharp edge toward his penis. “By all means, let’s rebargain.” “Ah, Eden, you are so predictable. If you’ll notice, I’m wearing a metal shield this time.” I scowled as I sheathed the knife. Intimidation wouldn’t work with this man, this sex fiend. “Will you help me for a kiss?” “Just one?” “With tongue,” I snapped. “Now?” “Now.” I stood on my tiptoes, but let him come to me. “Deal.” Slowly, so slowly, he lowered his head. Our lips met, soft and gentle. He didn’t give me his tongue. No, he made me give him mine. I cupped his cheeks and angled his head, then swept my

tongue into his mouth. His arms locked around my waist, holding me captive in his embrace. He tasted hot and virile. He was strong; he was all man. But he wasn’t Lucius, and he didn’t make me burn for more. He pulled from me with regret and trailed his fingertip over the seam of my lips. “I must be losing my touch.” “EenLi,” I prompted. “He is at his warehouse, and if your human is alive he will be at the warehouse, too, soon to be sold as a slave.” Frowning, I shook my head. “They are not at the warehouse. We have control of it.” “Yes, I heard about that. Too bad you didn’t seize his other one.” Breath whooshed out of my lungs. I’d never thought, not once, that EenLi might have another warehouse. I felt stupid; I wanted to scream. And dance. This was it; I was at last on the right course. “Where is it?” My voice was raw, hoarse with emotion. Devyn sighed, and his warm breath fanned my cheek. “Why, next door to the first. Isn’t that the way of it? Hide under your enemies’ nose, and they’ll never find you? There’s a big sale tonight, a sale I originally planned to attend.” Yes, this was it. I practically hummed with the force of my fervor. “I need you to take me to that

sale.” “And I need you to promise me another kiss.” I didn’t hesitate. “Done.” “I love bargaining with you, sweet.” He leaned down until his lips brushed my ear. “But you know what? I would have taken you to the sale,” he said, drawing out the words and giving them a proper Texas accent, “for free.”

Chapter 27

Devyn kept a car in this world, so I left the one I’d stolen and climbed into his—a sleek red Jaguar parked in back of the home. As we drove to EenLi’s second warehouse, my stomach tightened and my blood heated. Soft classical music poured from the speakers, which surprised me. I’d expected Devyn to like gyrating rock, fast and hard, the way he wanted his sex. Minutes dragged by as we sped down the highway. More minutes dragged by. Even more passed without a word. “What did you think of my kiss?” he asked me. I think he asked just to cut through the silence. Maybe to relieve my tension. “It was…good.” “Good? Good!” His amber eyes gleamed with affront. “I expect to hear words like magnificent. Wondrous. Unequalled. Not good.” “It was missing something, okay? Don’t be a baby.” “It was missing nothing.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Mind if I give you a piece of advice, Devyn?”

“Yes.” He still sounded offended. “I do mind.” “Don’t force your way into a woman’s life. The kiss would have been a whole lot better if I’d wanted to give it to you.” “There would not have been a kiss if I hadn’t pushed you for it.” He shifted in his seat. “You will not think I am missing something when we have our night together.” I gave no reply. I didn’t know what to say, really. I’d give him his night because I’d promised it to him. That didn’t mean I’d enjoy it or be an eager participant. At last we reached our destination. We slowed, then stopped altogether. There was a long, long line of cars ahead of us, awaiting the valet, I supposed. Facing the window, I cast my gaze to the dusty, spacious warehouse. A crowd of people, otherworlder and human combined, ambled inside, nearly busting the building at its seams. “We have the other warehouse under surveillance. Why aren’t agents all over this place?” “Your surveillance cameras are easily rigged. Isn’t that the reason they were outlawed without license?” My lips dipped in a frown, and I tangled a hand through my hair. “All right. This is what we’re going to do,” I told Devyn on a sigh. “When we get inside, I want you to pretend to be eager to take

part in the auction. I also want you to pretend to be my master.” “Pretend?” He caressed his thick fingers over the program box and grinned at me. “Yes, damn it. Pretend,” I said, purposefully mistaking his meaning. “You can act, can’t you?” The car eased forward a bit. “Oh, I know I can. But can you? You will have to act the part of my slave.” His enjoyment irritated me. “I will.” I hated to rely on him so much, but it couldn’t be helped. I couldn’t do this without him, and we both knew it. Not successfully, at least. First Lucius, now Devyn. I’d always been a woman who prided myself on getting the job done right all on my own. Admitting I needed help left a bitter taste in my mouth. Right now I was too concerned with saving the man I loved to give a shit. Loved? I almost groaned. I did, I realized. I loved him. Somehow, during this mission, he’d become everything to me. He was smart, resourceful. Intense. Sarcastic. He was everything I’d needed in my life, but hadn’t known until just now. The car moved another inch. “Once Lucius and the others are safe, I’ll need you to get me close to EenLi. He will be here tonight, won’t he?” “He has attended every auction in the past, so I expect him to be at this one. Are you going to kill

him?” “Yes,” I answered without hesitation, relish dripping from my tone. Devyn’s head tilted to the side as he considered my words. “I do not think I want him dead.” “Why the hell not? He’s evil.” “Yes, but he supplies my women.” I rolled my eyes. “Why do you enslave women like that? You’re a handsome man. Females of every race would willingly come to you if you only asked.” One of his brows arched. “You wouldn’t. You didn’t.” Good point. “I’m an exception to the rule.” “Not for long,” he said cockily. As he spoke, he reached over and traced a fingertip over my thigh. His skin was callused and surprisingly cool, a sweet contrast to the heat outside. “Get your hand off me before you don’t have a hand to remove. Your night hasn’t started yet.” His mouth stretched wide in a grin, but he did as I’d asked and removed his hand. “Touchy, touchy. You should be rejoicing, little Raka. One day soon, if not this very night, you’re going to be lying in my arms. Where is your joy? Your words of thanks?” “Your other women got to scratch you and draw your blood. That’s the only thought giving me joy right now.” “Silly woman.” His grin slowly faded. His

expression became deadly serious. Gone was the man of easy humor, and in his place was the king of Targon. I didn’t know what had brought about the change, but I could guess. He’d actually begun to enjoy the intrigue and danger of this mission, and he wanted to win. “When we get inside,” he said, his tone as cool as his touch had been, “you need to walk two steps behind me. You will sit at my feet when I take a chair.” His gaze flicked over my black pants and shirt. “You’ll need something sexier to wear. I would never bring my slave out in public like that. What happened to your pink clothing?” “I trashed it. And I have nothing else to wear.” “Then strip,” he said, as if it was a perfectly natural thing to demand of me. Scowling, I ripped off my shirt and threw the material in the back seat, leaving me in my bra. It was black, not particularly sexy, but it did showcase my golden skin in a nice way. Several blade handles poked above the waist of my pants. Without the shirt, my guns were also visible. I had to remove most of them. “Take off the pants,” Devyn ordered. “Go to hell,” I said, but withdrew my knife and cut the legs off of the pants until I wore the tiniest scrap of material—barely covering the curve of my ass. “Much better. Now release your hair from

confinement.” I ripped the band from my hair, and the silky strands instantly fell over my shoulders, down my back. “I cannot wait to have you,” he said on a breath of desire. Well, he was just going to have to. Our car finally moved to the front of the line and stopped. A cowboy-clad human opened my door, and I emerged. The midnight air boasted the scent of hay and car fumes. The human’s eyes drank me in, his expression lighting with awe. I don’t think he even realized he was reaching out to me, to caress a hand down my bare stomach. I stepped aside, not wanting his fingers anywhere on me. Devyn came around the car and moved in front of me, looking sexy as hell in his moss green kilt and white shirt. His glossy brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail. His amber eyes were alive. Without a word, he began walking, expecting me to follow. I did. The crowd parted automatically for him as we entered the building. I felt many stares but I didn’t acknowledge them. My boots bit into the dirt floor. Devyn stopped several times to speak with an acquaintance, and I used the time to search for EenLi. He was nowhere that I could see, and that caused shards of frustration to cut through me. What if he did not attend?

I was soon led to a group of folding chairs lined up in front of a scaffold. My heart thundered in my chest. Atop the scaffold were the “slaves.” Their hands were tied over their heads and anchored to a wooden beam. They wore gauzy white robes, easily parted and removable for viewing. I saw the five women from the cell, and my knees almost buckled in relief. Their expressions were pale with fear, but they were alive. There were six other women, as well, but I didn’t recognize them. Nor did I recognize the strong, muscled men bound beside them. My gaze darted to the others, the ones in back, but I couldn’t see them all. Lucius, Lucius, my mind chanted as I searched for him, praying he was here. My muscles kept a viselike grip on my bones. The Targon king claimed a seat on the first row. Recalling his words to me, I stiffly sank down at his feet. God, I didn’t want to. I wanted to stand, to scream, to act. Patience, I reminded myself. Patience. He patted my head. “Good girl,” he said, obviously enjoying himself. My new position did not change my actions. I continued to scan the slaves. The one at the end of the scaffold was partially hidden by shadows and the two men who were inspecting him. The slave’s legs were extended, his robe parted, and I could see his bronzed skin. For a minute, my lungs refused to

draw in a breath. I gulped, willing the men to move out of my line of vision. Sweat beaded on my forehead. My shaky hands clutched at the dirt beneath me. Move, my mind screamed. Patience proved too elusive, so I gave up the effort to find it. Finally the men ambled off the scaffold, giving me a clear view of the slave. My lungs jolted into motion, and at last I sucked in a breath. I nearly jumped to my feet and raced up those wooden stairs. He was here. Lucius was here. And he was alive. Relief and joy pounded through me so potently, I could have wept. His features were blank and pale; his fake scar was gone, and I was willing to bet his contacts had been removed. His robe covered his shoulder and chest, so I couldn’t see his wound. His clothes weren’t bloody, so that meant he’d been bandaged up. “I told you he would be here,” Devyn said. A woman approached Lucius, parted his robe, and gazed at his nakedness. Her large frame blocked my own viewing. Lucius passively accepted her perusal, which wasn’t like him. What was wrong with him? I didn’t want to, but I switched my attention to Devyn. “See the woman at the end of the scaffold?” Without looking down at me, he nodded. “Get her to move. Please.”

In the next instant, the woman yelped and tumbled off the edge as if she’d been propelled by a great gust of wind. I jolted to my feet, hoping to gain Lucius’s attention. His gaze was moving listlessly over the crowd, then…our eyes locked. Relief, hope, joy, fury, all washed over his face —all the emotions I felt—and he snapped out of his passive haze. He jerked against the ties at his wrists, shaking the entire scaffold. “Take me to him,” I whispered, looking down at Devyn. “Please.” “Of course. A favor for a favor,” he said. He stood, eyes straight ahead. “You will follow me on your knees, slave.” I bent down and crawled after him. Sand and rocks dug into my skin. I even crawled up the splintery steps. I endured it without comment, knowing where it was leading me. When we reached Lucius, Devyn stopped and grinned over at him. “We’re going to buy you,” he said. “You will belong to us.” Lucius had eyes only for me. “Is she—” “She is fine.” I nodded to let him know it was true. “She has bargained much to get you free. I hope you appreciate her.” Lucius’s brow wrinkled in curiosity, but Devyn didn’t explain. He walked away, back to his chair,

and I had to follow him. I wanted to run back to Lucius, almost did in fact. Devyn sensed it and locked me in place with his mental shield. As my heart thumped and my blood rushed, I tried to tell Lucius with my eyes that everything really was going to be okay. “Eden,” the Targon said suddenly, “my calves are aching from those stairs. Massage the muscles for me.” I leveled him my deadliest glare. He gave an almost imperceptible nod to Lucius and released me from the frozen stun. Free to move, I began kneading my fingers into his calves. I used so much force, he hissed in a breath of pain that he tried to cover with a cough. “This isn’t a game,” I growled quietly. Lucius looked at Devyn, then at me, and a light of understanding dawned in his eyes. Furious, he bucked against his chains, causing a trickle of blood to run down his arms. “Put him to sleep,” I beseeched, stopping my massage and giving the Targon my full attention. “Please, put him to sleep like you did before. The guards will subdue him if this continues.” With another stiff nod, he gazed over at Lucius, and within seconds Lucius’s muscles were relaxing. His head lolled forward as he sank into a deep slumber. “Thank you,” I whispered. “Thank you.”

“Do you see? I’m not such a bad man, Eden.” “Do I owe you another kiss?” I couldn’t keep the aggravation from my voice. He frowned. “I am capable of giving free gifts.” Just then, the murmurs of the crowd quieted. The people began to part, and whispers of “EenLi” surfaced. My head whipped up, and I scanned the building. My eyes narrowed as deep-seated loathing filled me. EenLi had just entered the warehouse.

Chapter 28

Everyone hurriedly claimed their seats while EenLi climbed the stairs and meandered his way to center stage. As he walked, he waved and winked at the crowd as if he were a superstar and everyone here was his devoted fan. Full cowboy regalia covered his thin Mec body. Cowboy hat, vest, chaps. He looked ridiculous. Smiling, he held up his hands in a gesture for utter silence. My hatred grew and festered, bubbled over and spewed. I could throw my dagger at his throat, but I didn’t want a long-distance kill this time. I wanted up close and personal, so there would be no doubt of his death, no mistake. “Can you put everyone to sleep?” I quietly asked Devyn. If the crowd, guards, and EenLi passed out cold, I would blithely walk onto the stage and stab EenLi in the heart. Not that he had one. Devyn thought about it for a moment. “One at a time, but yes, I could do it.” “Do it,” I said, the words lashing from me. “Now. Please.” “No.” “Please.”

“Where is the fun in that? I came all this way, wasted money and two warriors, and I expect a show guaranteed to amuse me.” I bit my tongue until blood seeped down my throat. “Welcome,” EenLi said, hushing our conversation. “Welcome, everyone. A.I.R. thought they could close us down, but here we are.” Cheers erupted. After a sufficient length of time, EenLi waved again for silence. “I am honored to have everyone here, especially such honored guests as the king of Morevv and the king of Targon.” His gaze paused on Devyn. “I see you brought your new slave, Devyn.” The Targon nodded regally, his fingers stroking my hair. “That I did, but one can never have enough servants.” “I hadn’t expected you to tame this one so quickly.” “Who said she was tame?” Devyn winked. The crowd laughed. I glared up at EenLi, not even trying to dampen the disgust and loathing in my eyes. His skin glowed a bright shade of blue and pink—he was enjoying himself. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, returning his attention to the crowd. “You have a wide variety to choose from today. Are you ready to begin?” Another round of cheers.

“Then so we shall.” EenLi stepped to the side as one of his new Targon guards brought forth the first victim, a young, pretty girl of no more than fifteen. Her body trembled, causing locks of her carmine hair to spill forward. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she bit back a sob when EenLi parted her robe, revealing her still-developing nakedness to the onlookers. She didn’t fight. I doubted any of them would. They’d probably been threatened by unimaginable horrors if they so much as uttered a single protest. “A virgin to tempt any man,” EenLi boasted. And so the bidding began. One by one, men and women were sold to the highest bidder. I wanted Devyn to buy them all, but he only bought the virgin, as well as the women who had been locked inside the cell with me. Perhaps because I’d squeezed his thigh until he’d hissed out a price. Then, finally, Lucius’s turn arrived. He still slept peacefully. “Look at this prime piece,” EenLi said. “He will be good for manual labor, as well as bedroom labor.” “Buy him for me,” I whispered up to Devyn. “I believe I’ve done quite enough for you,” he said, prim now. “I’ll give you two nights instead of one, plus the two kisses I owe you.”

The king’s eyes swirled vivid amber, and he immediately placed his first bid. Someone else, a white-headed Arcadian female, countered. On and on they bickered. EenLi’s gaze remained narrowed on Devyn, as if he couldn’t quite figure out what was going on. In the end, Devyn won the battle. He put the Arcadian to sleep, effectively ending her bidding. And so, the auction was over. “Thank you for coming,” EenLi told everyone. “If you didn’t win or didn’t find what you were looking for, please contact me. I usually hold private auctions, but because of a recent upheaval we had to do things a little differently this time around.” The people around me stood. “If you put everyone to sleep, I’ll give you three nights,” I said, desperate to keep anyone from leaving. I didn’t want a single “slave” to be dragged out that door. I would set them free—or die trying. “I might be tired of you after two nights.” Devyn uttered a breezy yawn. “The heat in here is stifling. Should we collect your humans and leave?” “You vowed to take me to my enemy.” “And so I have. You see him, do you not?” “What is it you want from me?” I asked, more desperate now than before. “The same devotion you give your human. Your vow to eagerly accept me when I take you.”

“Done,” I said, though we both knew I lied. His gaze darted to the warehouse’s only door. “No one seems to be leaving yet. They’re lingering.” “So? Put them to sleep before they decide to stop lingering.” “First I want to thank our host for a wonderful evening.” Yes, I thought darkly. Let’s thank him properly, shall we? I should have protested, should have insisted Devyn do my bidding, yet the thought of finally, at long last, coming face-to-face with EenLi proved too intoxicating. Devyn rose. When he moved past me, I followed behind him like a good little slave. We climbed the steps, me on my knees. My gaze lingered on Lucius’s sleeping form until I rammed into a large piece of splintered wood. EenLi was in deep conversation with another Mec. When he noticed Devyn, he waved the Mec away. “I made quite a profit from you this evening,” he said with a grin. “That you did,” Devyn responded. I reached behind my back to slide my knife from the waist of my pants…only to realize my knife was gone. My blood ran like ice in my veins. How Devyn had removed it, I didn’t know. Bastard. He knew I’d been planning to kill EenLi, here and now. Why had he stopped me? Did he mean to betray

me? No, I thought. Devyn wanted his nights with me; he wanted me willing. He’d given me his vow. That meant…what? “Eden, rest your head on my leg like a good little girl.” I did so without hesitation, and he sifted his fingers through my hair. “How did you train her so quickly?” EenLi’s white gaze raked over me, lingering on my breasts, between my legs. “She’s a delectable little morsel, isn’t she? Perhaps I should have kept her for myself. I just didn’t expect her to be so docile so quickly.” “I have the most…persuasive training techniques.” The two men shared a hearty laugh. “Thank you for the warriors.” EenLi said, all business now. “They are proving to be very useful already.” “Excellent.” He paused. “There’s something I need to speak with you about. In private.” “Now is not the time, I’m afraid.” “Make the time.” Devyn’s tone was hard, promising retribution if his request wasn’t met. EenLi’s skin glowed a light red, meaning he was only mildly perturbed. His white eyes narrowed. “Very well. Shall we adjourn to my office?” “That won’t be necessary.” One by one, the people inside the warehouse began dropping to the

dirt. Snores soon abounded. I jumped up, unable to hold myself back a moment longer. This ended now. Knife or no knife. “What’s going on?” EenLi demanded, a look of confusion flittering over his face. His red skin turned to a dark, molten yellow. “I believe you have unfinished business with my slave,” the Targon answered and stepped back. “Not a slave,” I said, moving forward. “Assassin. You see, I plan to do to you what I did to your partner, Mris-ste.” The Mec’s color changed again, once again glowing that deep, dark red. “So it was you. I suspected Michael, not his daughter.” He backed a step away from me, one of his hands slowly slipping inside his pockets. “Give me the knife,” I demanded of Devyn without ever turning my attention. “No,” was his reply. I stomped my foot. “I’m doing you another favor, Eden. I once had an enemy I despised with the same intensity you have for EenLi. I know that if you kill him too quickly, you will always regret it. Fight him. Beat him. Make him pay.” In the next instant, EenLi whipped out a gun. Devyn tsked under his tongue and mentally swept the weapon across the room. It hit the floor with a thump. EenLi gasped, and I slowly stalked toward

him. With every step I tried to center my energy, but that proved impossible. Too many hot emotions clamored for release. “Targon,” he said, casting the king a nervous glance. “Help me, and I will—” “This is between you and the Raka,” Devyn said. He grinned. “Enjoy, both of you. I know I will. Is there any popcorn? I love Earth popcorn.” He continued to mutter about the popcorn as he hopped off the stage and sat in a chair. I sprang. EenLi leapt to the side, but I managed to kick his shoulder. As he stumbled, he growled low in his throat. We circled each other. His white eyes continually darted toward the door, and I knew he planned to run. Realizing he could go nowhere without me following, he tried another tactic. “Do you think I knew nothing about you, Eden?” There was an evilness to his tone, a darkness that made me shudder. “I know more than you think.” I didn’t respond. I just edged closer. “I took great pleasure in enslaving you,” he gloated. “You, a trained assassin. You, Michael Black’s beloved daughter. Closer. Closer. Like a tiger moving in for the kill, I circled him. “I’d hoped the Targon could control you,” he said. “And I liked that Michael would never see you again, that he would always wonder what

happened to you.” I went low and kicked his ankles. Contact. He fell with a whoosh, but sprang up quickly. He pulsed with the barest hint of blue. “Why do you want to kill me so desperately, hmm?” “For the pleasure of it.” “You should want to destroy the one who killed your parents. Why do you think Michael took you in? He’d been assigned to kill your father. But your mother got in the way, so he killed her, too.” Fury boiled inside me, hotter, hotter. I sprinted toward him and jumped, spinning midair, crunching the heel of my boot into his nose. It snapped, and black-hued blood sprayed across the platform. “Liar,” I lashed out. EenLi stumbled to his feet, blood and spittle trickling down his face, onto his lips. He struggled for air as his skin turned a mottled hue of purple. “I used to work for him. Did he tell you that?” I knew what EenLi was doing. Offering a truth to make his lie appear believable. “I don’t believe trash like you, EenLi, so save your breath.” I hopped from foot to foot, and I moved toward him. No more playing. He ran to one of the sleeping guards and grabbed a weapon. His eyes gleamed with victory as he aimed the pyre-gun, but I was already on him. I kicked the gun from his hand, and it flew across the room.

I punted him in the chest. He swung at me as he tumbled down. His fist connected with my jaw, and my head whipped to the side. He was up and on me before I could blink, pushing me down and trying to choke me. I rocked back and wound my legs around his neck. With one hard jerk, he was sailing backward. I used the momentum to gain my footing and leapt to an upright position. I lunged for him as he, too, jolted to his feet. My head butted into his stomach, causing him to double over as his breath whooshed from his mouth. Straightening, I beat my fists into his face like I was a machine, over and over, again and again. He fell onto the wood. I fell with him, never pausing. Blood flung left and right with every blow. Devyn called from below, “Here.” His words reached my haze of destruction. “I’m getting bored. Finish it,” and he tossed me a knife. I caught the hilt midair. EenLi gurgled something, perhaps, “No, please,” and tried to crawl away. I grabbed his head and positioned my knife. Then I slit his throat the way I’d wanted to from the beginning. When his eyes glazed, I dropped his head with a thud. It wasn’t enough, though. Devyn had been right. It wasn’t enough. I wanted EenLi to suffer longer. I wanted him to suffer for eternity. “Nicely done,” the Targon said.

“Give me your phone,” I commanded, wiping the Mec’s black blood onto my pants. He did so without another comment. As I strode to Lucius’s slumped, sleeping form, I dialed Michael. When he answered, I told him where I was. “I know where you are,” he barked. “I tracked you with the isotope. You’ll notice I trusted you enough not to send my men in.” “Bring a van and medical supplies.” A pause. A hiss of breath. “Are you hurt? What’s—” “I’m fine, Lucius isn’t. Hurry.” I hung up on him. I’d never done that before, but I didn’t know what else to say to him right now. I tossed the phone back to Devyn and knelt beside the only man who had ever made me feel complete. I caressed my hands over his heartbeat. My shoulders slumped with relief when I felt a steady, even thumping. He would live. EenLi was dead, the slaves were free. We had won. So why did I feel so lost? A lone tear slithered its way down my cheek.

Chapter 29

I didn’t allow Devyn to awaken Lucius. I used my lover’s slumber to my advantage and parted his robe, checking his body for more injuries. His left shoulder sported a thick white bandage, and he had an assortment of bruises across his chest. Other than that, he appeared fine. Winding one arm around his waist, I used the other to cut the bonds at his wrists. His weight immediately hit me, and I eased him to the ground as gently as I could. God, I’d missed him. I traced a fingertip over his stubbled jaw. This man had believed in me when my own father hadn’t. He might have lied to me about his reasons for becoming my partner, but in the end he had believed enough in me to let me work without trying to shield me or keep me safe at home. Without any prompting from me, Devyn cut down the rest of the sleeping slaves. When he reached a curvy blonde, he glanced over at me. “We bought this one, didn’t we?” “You can’t keep her,” I replied on a strangled laugh. “You’re keeping that one,” he said, motioning to

Lucius with his chin. “Yeah, but he’s willing to be kept.” He looked at the blonde, then back at me. “This one might be willing, too. I just need five minutes alone with her.” I shook my head. “You can ask her if she wants to spend five minutes with you, but you can’t force her.” He pouted. Michael and ten other agents burst into the warehouse moments later, pyre-guns drawn. When they realized everyone was sleeping, they lowered their weapons but remained on alert. “Over here,” I called. Two agents reached me before Michael. “Take this man to a medic, then to my apartment.” I gave them the address, and they nodded. Together, they lifted Lucius into their arms. He moaned, the sound one of pain. “Careful,” I snapped. “He’s injured.” “Take him to my house,” Michael interjected. “I’ll have our doctors patch him up there.” “Take him to a medic, then to my apartment, or I’ll introduce both of you to my knife.” They looked fearfully to Michael, because they knew I’d do it. He gave an abrupt nod. “Do what she says.” As the men tromped off with Lucius, I faced my father. Our gazes met, locked. We still had business

to settle. “Everyone on the scaffold was kidnapped by EenLi to be sold as slaves. There are a few on the ground, as well.” “And EenLi?” he asked. I stood, shrugged. “Dead. By my hand.” His shoulders relaxed, and he ran a hand over his ragged features. “Then it’s over.” “Yes.” “I’m proud of you, Eden.” He reached out and squeezed my shoulder. “I don’t tell you that enough.” “You’re proud, yes, but do you finally believe in me?” “I’ve always believed in you.” I brushed away his hold. “You paid men to look out for me, Michael. You never trusted me to do it on my own.” “I was scared for you. There’s a difference.” He rubbed his temples. “Let’s get you home. You can write me up a full report in the morning. We’ll have breakfast and then you can get started on your next job. I’ve already got one lined up—” “I told you I don’t work for you anymore.” “We both know you didn’t mean it.” When I didn’t say anything, he kicked sand with the tip of his shoe. “Fine, if you don’t want to work for me, you don’t have to. Claudia Chow has been worried about you and has been calling me for two days. You can always go back to her and continue being

her interpreter.” I wasn’t going to do that, either. I didn’t know what I was going to do, actually. Biting my lip, I stared down at my boots and tried to prepare myself for the conversation I was about to start. Bringing it up was harder than killing a target but if I didn’t do it now, I wouldn’t. Just say it. “EenLi mentioned something about my parents. You and I never talk about them, but I need to know if you ever found out who killed them.” He didn’t say anything. And as the moments ticked by, guilt washed over his still handsome features. I blinked over at him. “Michael?” “Eden,” he began before cutting himself off. “I’m so sorry. So sorry. I’ve wanted to beg your forgiveness for so long, but I couldn’t bring it up. I just couldn’t.” In that moment, I realized it was true. EenLi hadn’t lied. Deep down, I think I’d expected Michael to tell me EenLi had done it. But no, Michael had actually dealt the death blows. A sharp pain lanced through my chest, and I almost moaned. He’d never told me; he’d kept it secret all these years. Hadn’t trusted me to love him anyway. To forgive. With the realization, something inside me snapped, released. Anger and impotence for all the years I hadn’t talked about my parents because I’d

assumed Michael didn’t want the reminder that he wasn’t my biological father. I backhanded him. His head whipped to the side. Slowly he faced me, rubbing his now-bleeding lip. “I deserved that,” he said calmly. I stared into his face, the face I loved and had worshiped for so long. “Tell me why.” “They were a job, sweetie. Only a job. They might have loved you, protected you, and treated you as a precious treasure, but they still sold drugs. Drugs that killed humans. I did what I had to do, what I was paid to do. How many parents have you killed?” he asked quietly, darkly. Pointedly. Low blow. So low. My knees almost buckled as his words slammed into my mind, echoing over and over. The truth was, I didn’t know the answer to that question. The most likely answer was many. Many. I didn’t know how many parents, brothers, sisters, aunts, and uncles I’d killed over the years. Perhaps I hadn’t let myself consider the possibility. I’d always embraced my job—just as Michael did. “Eden, I—” He reached for my hand. I slapped his wrist. “Save it. I can’t talk to you right now. I’ll forgive you, yes, and I even understand, but I just can’t talk to you right now.” I turned away from him then and helped the other agents separate EenLi’s men from the slaves and auctiongoers. The guards would be kept alive for another day or two and questioned, just in case

there were any other humans stashed away. Then they would be killed. I didn’t know what would happen to the auction bidders. At this point, I just didn’t care. Michael worked alongside me, silent and brooding. He loved me. I knew he did. And that made the torment inside me even worse. Devyn worked with me, too. Michael ignored him, most likely still upset that I’d enlisted the king’s help instead of his. Lord, I felt so raw. I needed Lucius. His strength. His comforting arms. When we finished clearing out the warehouse, I pulled Devyn aside. “Will you drive me home?” His wrapped an arm around my waist and gave me a comforting, brotherly squeeze. “Of course.” I walked out of the building without a backward glance. I felt Michael’s gaze boring into my back. Dawn would arrive soon. At last the air was cool, but it smelled of loneliness and despair. Or perhaps that was me. I was shutting down. This was all too much. My legs felt tied down, my shoulders too heavy. My neck protested the weight of my head. I had to force one foot in front of the other until I reached Devyn’s Jag. I plopped inside ungracefully as he settled into the driver’s seat. “Do not worry about the nights you owe me,” he said. “I will come back when you are better rested.” I leaned back and closed my eyes. “I’ll give you

your nights, Devyn. You more than earned them. But you know what? I don’t think you’ll claim them. You’re a man of honor, and you know I love another man.” Silence. Silence that lasted a long, long time. “Damn you,” he finally muttered. I was close to breaking completely, and I didn’t want it to be here, with this man. I wanted Lucius. Devyn drove me to my apartment building. Finally. Home. When he reached the building, I trudged out of the car, and the door shut with a snap. The air was cooler than it had been all week —more fragrant, less dry. The window eased down with a quiet whoosh. “Eden,” Devyn called. I don’t know what he planned to say, but I spun around and reentered his car. I owed Devyn everything, yet he was getting nothing in return. He truly did possess too much honor to hold on to me. Without a word, I leaned into him and brushed my lips against his. Softly at first, then I increased the pressure. When his mouth parted, I swept my tongue inside. Again I tasted his warmth, his masculinity. It didn’t last long, only a few seconds before I pulled away. I watched Devyn lick his lips, savoring my taste. “Thank you for everything.” “I hope we meet again,” he said, his amber eyes

glowing. “And I hope your human is worthy of you.” “He is,” I said. I knew this one thing for sure. “He is.”

Chapter 30

Bandaged and medicated, Lucius was sleeping soundly in my bed. I showered, the dry spray washing away the horrors of the night. Clean at last, I curled into bed beside him. His warmth seeped into me. A tear rolled down my cheek, followed quickly by another. Down, down the golden droplets fell until I was sobbing, shaking, convulsing. I sobbed until my eyes swelled shut, sobbed for the family I had lost, both my parents and Michael, sobbed for the things I had done. While I had probably destroyed families, I had also rid the world of evil. People slept peacefully because of the kills I had made. I had to be content with that knowledge. And know that Michael had done the same. Finally, I drifted off to sleep. When I awoke, the surroundings were unfamiliar to me at first. It seemed like an eternity since I had gazed at this room, and it took me a minute to recall that I was inside my new apartment. The canopied bed, the coffee-colored walls. Lucius was still asleep, was still beside me. I lumbered off the mattress and stumbled into the kitchen, where I fixed myself a glass of sugar

water. I drank deeply. I was just refilling my glass, with every intention of dumping the contents in Lucius’s face to wake him up, when he raced into the kitchen, a wild glaze in his ice-blue eyes. He stilled when he spied me. “I now own you,” were the first words out of my mouth. “You’re bought and paid for.” “My God, Eden. I nearly killed myself with worry about you.” “I know the feeling.” He stalked toward me, and his hard expression was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Something I couldn’t read glowed in those electric eyes of his. My heart thumped in my chest as he jerked me into his embrace. “I thought I’d lost you,” he said roughly. Rawly. He pushed me to arm’s length. “Where the hell have you been? What happened?” “I—” His gaze went to my mouth. “Explain later. I’ve missed you too much.” Then he was kissing me. We didn’t make it to the bed. We just pulled off each other’s clothes and went at it on the selfwarming kitchen tile. I couldn’t touch him enough. My hands were all over him, and his were all over me. We strained and moved together, and when he entered me, I screamed with the force of my climax. His soon followed mine. And this time, we

let the walls reverberate with the sounds of our pleasure. In the aftermath, we lay together, panting. I explained what had happened to me after the sale. I even told him about Michael killing my parents. His arms tightened around me. “I didn’t know,” he said. “I’m so sorry, baby.” “That’s cookie to you.” I brushed aside the pain inside me and smiled playfully. “And I’ll get over it. I need time, that’s all. Michael’s a good man, and he loves me.” “He loves you a hell of a lot. Maybe not as much I do, but he loves you all the same.” I jolted up and spun to face him. He’d offered the words so casually, I was afraid I’d misunderstood. “What did you say?” His gaze bored deeply into mine. He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “I love you. I have for a while.” A weight lifted off my shoulders, and I suddenly felt lighter than air. I felt my mouth curl into a wide grin. “Well, I love you, too.” “Maybe now you can stop trying to prove yourself all the time.” He cupped my face in his hands. “I know how great you are. There’s no one better.” His words touched me, freed me somehow. I had his love. I’d closed this case and killed my target. I had proved myself. I was a success. “You’re pretty

amazing yourself, you know that?” With a gentle tug, he urged me on top of him. “What did the Targon mean, that you’d made a bargain with him to free me?” “I kissed him,” I said. “Twice. And I’m not sorry. I would have given him everything to save you.” “Hell, I would kiss him too if it meant saving your life. Just make sure it doesn’t happen again. You’re mine.” I loved hearing those words. You’re mine. “I’d believe you,” I said, biting my lower lip and forcing an expression of desolation. “Except…” “What?” he asked, frowning. “Except what?” “I don’t know your real name.” I stroked his abdomen…then his cock. “Tell me, and I’ll let you come.” I squeezed him. Tight. “Phineas Gaylord Hargrove,” he said on a moan. “Now what the hell does the F stand for?” “Wait.” My hold on him loosened. “Did you say Phineas? Phineas Gaylord? You’re kidding me, right? Trying to get me to tell you my deepest secret?” “It’s the truth,” he growled. “That’s my name, so put your hand back where it was.” I laughed until my side hurt. Now I knew why he’d guarded his name so zealously. He sat up and tapped his fingers against the tile. “I believe you have something to tell me, and I’m

tired of waiting.” “Fine. I’ll tell you. I bedeviled Michael so relentlessly, he added a middle name when he adopted me, making my name Eden Fucking Black.” Lucius gave a husky bark of laughter. “You’re shitting me.” “I wish I were, Phineas.” He tried to level me with a glare, but his eyes were sparkling too much. We both burst into another round of laughter. But once the amusement subsided, we sank into a heavy silence. There was still something nagging and dragging between us, but I was loath to bring it up. “Where’s Agent Luc?” I finally asked, staying on safe ground by avoiding what we really needed to discuss. “Safe. We can go get her, later. First, I have a confession to make.” Lucius did what I’d been unable to do; he brought our troubles out into the open. “Michael paid me to guard you. He—” “I know,” I said, relieved that he’d finally told me. “Don’t be mad,” he rushed on. “I realized early in the case that you could take care of yourself.” “I’m not mad.” I intertwined our fingers and squeezed. “I’m grateful.” He stared at me for a long while. “Okay. Where’s the Eden Black I know and love? I

expected another knife at my throat.” I snorted. “Maybe I should be mad at you. I wanted a piece of EenLi myself.” “Maybe I’ll give you the next one. No, wait.” I nestled my head into the hollow of his neck. My hair spread over his chest like a golden curtain. “I left the agency. As of now, I’m unemployed.” His fingers caressed the length of my spine, making me shiver. “Maybe we should start our own company.” “Maybe.” “Definitely. Tell me again about the Targon. I didn’t like the way he looked at you during your auction, and I still don’t like that he actually had his lips on you. I’m thinking he’ll be our first target.” I laughed. I just couldn’t help myself. I might be jobless, but right now, in Lucius’s arms, life had never seemed more ripe with promise.

Up Close and Personal with the Author

YOU CALLED YOUR PARENTS “ASS KISSERS” IN THE DEDICATION OF AWAKEN ME DARKLY. DID YOU MEAN TO DO THAT? First, I’m sorry mom and dad! No, that was a total accident—although my mom tells me it must have been a Freudian slip. Thankfully, they found my mistake amusing. I had no idea I’d done it until my friend and fellow author, Jill Monroe, called me and mentioned it. Talk about being horrified! I’d meant to call my parents “ass kickers.” KICKERS. K-I-CK-E-R-S. And no, I’ll never live this down. HOW COME MIA SNOW DIDN’T MAKE AN APPEARANCE IN THIS BOOK? Have no fears, I do plan to bring Mia Snow back into play. In fact, she and Kyrin make an appearance in the third alien huntress book, Savor Me Slowly. Let’s just say Mia and the star of that book do not get along. Eden Black and her man will be there, too. TELL US MORE ABOUT THIS NEXT BOOK. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE…

Miska Le’ace, a woman whose DNA has been spliced and honed by scientists, making her an empath and gifting her with superhuman strength, is recruited by Alien Investigation and Removal agents to find and stop the alien wreaking havoc in near future New Chicago. Also, Jaxon can’t resist her…. WHY DON’T YOU WRITE THESE ALIEN HUNTRESS BOOKS FASTER? I also write paranormal romances, contemporary romances, and young adult books, so I promise you that I’m writing all the time, as fast as I can. I’ve even forgotten what spare time and vacation mean. WHAT DO YOU LIKE BEST ABOUT WRITING THE ALIEN HUNTRESS BOOKS? Creating this world where the good guys aren’t always good and are sometimes worse than the bad guys. It’s exciting, thrilling, and I’m never bored. There’s something absolutely wondrous about weaving the right words together and breathing life into a story, into people. WHO ARE AUTHORS?

SOME

OF YOUR

FAVORITE

I love a plethora of authors. P. C. Cast, Karen

Marie Moning, Jill Monroe, Kresley Cole, Linda Howard, Jennifer Crusie, Susan Elizabeth Phillips, Janet Chapman, MaryJanice Davidson, Susan Grant…. I could go on and on. Books—not just my own—are my passion. Reading is one of my favorite things to do. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN ABDUCTED BY AN OTHER-WORLDER? No. But if there truly were an other-worlder, like Devyn, I might voluntarily go. However, I’ve been told by a certain friend (who shall remain nameless for now—oh, what the hell: Kelli) that Devyn is her property and I’m to keep my hands off. WHERE DO YOU GET YOUR IDEAS? If I told the truth—from the voices inside my head (they’re characters so it’s okay, I promise!)—I’d be committed, so I’ll stick with my standard answer: everywhere. No conversation around me is safe, no action is exempt. God, I love my job!

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He’d switched off all the lights but one, the lamp on the nightstand washing him in magical gold.

For a moment, she couldn’t breathe. Her heartbeat picked up speed, wild, primal. She was naked. He could see every inch of her, every flaw. But her feet were rooted in place, preventing her from striding back into the bathroom for a towel. “What are you doing here?” she croaked. His hot gaze slid over her, down…down…then back up again, landing on her hardening nipples and staying. His pupils dilated, and he swallowed. “I came to, uh, talk.” “My breasts are flattered,” she forced herself to say, “though I doubt they can answer any of your earlier questions.” Red stained his cheeks, and his eyes snapped up to hers. “You’re the one walking around naked.” “You’re the one sneaking into other people’s rooms.” He pushed out a sigh as conflicted as hers had been in the shower. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have looked.” He meant it; the embarrassment was proof of that. “I don’t regret it, though,” he added.

PRAISE FOR THE ALIEN HUNTRESS SERIES Enslave Me Sweetly

“Showalter first demonstrated her skill at blending sizzling romance and nail-biting suspense set in a convincing futuristic society in Awaken Me Darkly. She now continues the rollercoaster-like adventure in an equally entertaining tale that will please a wide cross section of readers.” —Booklist “This well-written book will appeal to all readers.” —Romantic Times Awaken Me Darkly

“Mia Snow is perfect as the alien hunter with the secret.” —Booklist “It’s hard to resist such a heady mixture of speculative fiction, romance and chick lit.” —Romantic Times “Sizzles with intrigue….Similar to Laurell K.

Hamilton’s Anita Blake written…. Amazing.”

series….

Brilliantly

—Fresh Fiction “A fantastic read…. Fascinating characters…. Gena Showalter has created a very interesting world that readers will enjoy visiting over and over again.” —A Romance Review “The final spin will shock…. Mia is a fabulous ‘bad girl.’” —The Best Reviews

MORE PRAISE FOR GENA SHOWALTER

“One of the premier authors of paranormal romance. Gena Showalter delivers an utterly spellbinding story!” —Kresley Cole, USA Today bestselling author of Wicked Deeds on a Winter’s Night “Talented.” —Romantic Times “Wow…Gena Showalter always takes us on a fantastic ride….” —Merline Lovelace, USA Today bestselling author “Gena Showalter’s sparkling voice shines…the perfect canvas for her sizzling and enthralling paranormal imagination!” —Deidre Knight, author of Parallel Attraction “Scorchingly erotic, sinfully seductive….” —Jaci Burton, author of Wild, Wicked, and Wanton and Hunting the Demon “Sizzles with sexual tension!!!”

—Sharon Sala, New York Times bestselling author

ALSO BY GENA SHOWALTER

Awaken Me Darkly Enslave Me Sweetly

Pocket Star Books A Division of Simon & Schuster, Inc. 1230 Avenue of the Americas New York, NY 10020 www.SimonandSchuster.com This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Copyright © 2008 by Gena Showalter Copyright © 2008 by Gena Showalter All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020 First Pocket Star Books paperback edition January 2008 POCKET STAR BOOKS and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc. POCKET STAR BOOKS and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc. ISBN-13: 978-1-4165-5329-8 ISBN-10: 1-4165-5329-0

eISBN-13: 978-1-45165-196-6 Visit us on the World Wide Web: http://www.SimonSays.com

To Kelli McBride— Devyn is coming for you, baby! To Jill Monroe— Sonic is on me! To Kresley Cole (and Slurpie)— a thousand thank-yous wouldn’t be enough! To Christy James— keep beating up the girls who don’t like me!

Contents Acknowledgments Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13

Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

A huge thank-you to Pat Rouse for all that you do.

CHAPTER 1

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. The disturbing clatter whined inside Jaxon Tremain’s mind, playing without permission or welcome. He laughed bitterly. He didn’t know how long he’d been locked up in the dank little cell. A week? An eternity? Perhaps an endless dirt nap loomed in his future. Yeah, undoubtedly. He should be glad. It would be another endless ticktocking, except there would be no pained awareness, no crazed waiting for death to —finally? blessedly? regrettably?—come. Survived worst, he thought, trying to comfort himself. Once, he’d been shot and burned with a pyregun. An accident during training, but his shoulder still bore the fire-seared scars. Another time, he’d been undercover, ratted out, then weighed down with steel beams and tossed into a muddy manmade river. Water and grime had filled his mouth, stinging like acid down his throat, into his lungs. When he’d miraculously fought his way free, he’d been surprised to find his skin still intact, muscle still glued to bones. Once, he’d been stabbed in the kidney. A straight cut, all the way through, severing one of his favorite organs. Foolishly, he’d turned his back on a suspect one second too long and adios, old friend.

Sometimes that’s all that was needed. One second. The words echoed in his mind. One second was a single tick. Or tock. He laughed again, but the laughter soon turned to gagging and the gagging to coughing, the coughing to choking pain. “I’m going insane,” he muttered when he calmed. Not that the words were understandable. “Tickity, tockity, tickity, tockity.” How many more were left for him? Couldn’t be many. Being an Alien Investigation and Removal agent for New Chicago certainly has its perks, he thought dryly. ’Cause when an agent needed help breaking his nasty breathing habit, he got help. Since Jaxon’s abduction, a group of aliens had whaled on him so many times he’d lost count. They’d probably whale on him a thousand times more, fists flying at him in tune with that fucking clock. Tick, tock. Another laugh. Yep. Insane. The otherworlders had beaten him because he’d refused to answer their questions. Even when screams had erupted inside his mind, loud and discordant, mortality in every pitch, he hadn’t caved. Remembering the screams, he shuddered. Perhaps all the men and women he’d killed over the years had risen up, their souls fused with his as they finally made themselves known, determined to be heard at last.

Now, at least, the screams were buried somewhere deep, replaced by that damn clock. A small price to pay, he supposed. Unfortunately, his body’s suffering had only intensified. He’d been punched in the mouth until his teeth shredded his gums. His tongue was the size of a baseball, so big he couldn’t even move it to ensure he was still the proud owner of all those pearly whites. His nose was broken, yet somehow the scent of urine still taunted him, blending with the metallic aroma of dried blood and sweat. His, a thousand others. His eyes were swollen, leaving only tiny slits. Not that there was much to see. Murky darkness failed to live up to its promise of sweet oblivion, revealing four barred walls, a plastic-lined floor to better clean any gore, and old-fashioned metal chains that continually sliced into his wrists and ankles like razors. Those chains rattled as he shifted to a more comfortable position against the bars. Big. Mistake. He winced as intense pain ripped through him; his air supply ground to a tormented halt. Several ribs were broken and any type of movement just cracked them farther apart and made inflating his lungs an impossible chore, hundreds of needlesharp pricks cresting. Concentrate on something else, something

enjoyable. Well, there was a bone protruding through his left arm and his right ankle was snapped back so far it was a miracle his foot hadn’t fallen off. That was better, right? Survived worse, he reminded himself. Dated Cathy Savan-Holt. A stick banged against his cage. Jaxon stiffened with the realization that he was no longer alone. His vision was blurred as he scanned the small enclosure, quickly landing on the intruder. Hate filled him. Hate—so helpless, a victim—frustration and a twinge of fear. The Delenseans had returned. Not the party-loving race we always thought they were. Jaxon wondered if they’d come for interrogation or round eight of human piñata. Maybe both. He’d noticed the six-armed bastards sometimes liked to multitask. Either way, Jaxon had probably reached the end of the line. Bye-bye, breathing habit. The other-worlders had to be tired of his lack of cooperation. They had to know his lips were sealed no matter what they did to him. I led a good life. Kind of. As a trust-fund baby whose grandparents and parents had helped rebuild the city after the war and still had their fingers in several security businesses, he had more money than God, had traveled the world, and had friends who would die for him. Some already had. But he’d

remained unattached to any semblance of home and hearth, distanced from nearly everything around him. That distance seemed foolish now. More banging. “Scared?” a heavily accented voice taunted. Metal creaked against metal as the door opened. Darkened as the cell was and swollen as his lids were, Jaxon could only make out a shadowy outline. “You’re kidding, right?” He barely managed to work the words past his enlarged tongue, wasn’t even sure the bastard could understand him. “I’ve missed you, been counting the minutes till you returned and all that shit.” “You sound terrible. Like a drunk.” “Fuck you.” “Now that I understood.” A pause, a laugh. “You know, you weren’t this brash when I followed you all those weeks. Undetected,” the alien added smugly. “You were always so reserved, so stoic. Not a single curse ever passed your lips.” Yes, Jaxon was known for his patience and manners. He’d taught himself to exude both. Forced himself to exude both, actually. Sometimes he could even pretend the serenity came naturally, that he didn’t have to fight for it every second of every day. “No explanation?” About what? What had they been discussing?

Oh, yeah. His lack of etiquette. “Amazing what having your toenails ripped off will do to a guy’s personality.” Actually, this was the real him. The sarcasm he usually repressed, and the potty mouth he usually flushed before a single bad word could escape. Safer that way. For everyone. Right now, however, he didn’t give a shit what he acted like or what the consequences were. “Want me to show you? Prove it?” “Tsk, tsk, tsk.” Not a hint of anger laced the alien’s tone. He was too cocky for that, too assured of his power. “So brazen you are. So foolish.” “Shoulda abducted Dallas, then. He’s the smart one.” Under normal circumstances, Jaxon would never have uttered another agent’s name. But this group of Delenseans had been studying A.I.R. for weeks. Undetected, he inwardly mocked. They practically knew more than Jaxon. Everything from day-to-day operations at headquarters to where the agents lived and what their hobbies were. They’d taunted him with the information. Chuckled like every word had been a gut-busting joke. Even now, there was a sound track of their jeers in his ears: Five o’clock sharp, Dallas arrives. He drinks a cup of coffee, talks to Kitty. Ghost shows up, usually eight minutes late. He has a new girlfriend and has trouble leaving her. They’d been able to take Jaxon from his own home quickly, expertly. Easily. As he remembered,

embarrassment heated his cheeks. What kind of agent allowed himself to be taken from home? Answer: a bad one. Now there was a joke. No way could he have been prepared, though. Shockingly, the blue-skinned aliens had mastered molecular transport. Something humans hadn’t yet done, though they’d been working on it for a long time. Must be an innate ability of the race rather than technology. Still. Mortifying how quickly he’d been taken by the unadvanced race. One minute Jaxon had been lounging on his couch, drinking beer and watching virtual play-offs, and the next three Delenseans surrounded him, grinning like they’d just received swallow-it-all blow jobs. The next, he’d been here. “Sleeping?” the alien asked, breaking the silence. “Yeah. Maybe you should go. Let me rest.” “And maybe Dallas is already on my To Be Captured list.” Again, the bastard sounded smug. “I’m sure he’ll love the accommodations. You’re such a good host, Deli. Maybe I’ll invite you to my home sometime. Show you my toys.” Rather than rile him, Jaxon seemed to amuse him all the more. “Call me Thomas. We’re going to be on much more…intimate terms, you and I.” Jaxon didn’t have to rack his brain to interpret that little gem. Rape, the one thing they hadn’t done yet. Don’t give him a reaction. You slept with

Cathy, remember. Nothing worse. “Deli, man.” He was careful to enunciate every syllable, wanted the words understood. “Hate to hurt your feelings, but you’re not my type.” The alien shrugged. “I will be soon enough, I’m sure.” He drew in a slow breath, held…held—god, the pain—then released it just as slowly. In, out. In— he stilled, frowned. Thoughts of rape receded, drowned by an intoxicating awareness. What was that delicious fragrance? He inhaled again; his nostrils twitched. And then he knew. The Delensean wasn’t alone. The otherworlder emitted a whiskeylike scent, yet Jaxon smelled something sweet and heady. Something floral. His blood heated and his skin pulled tight. His stomach clenched. His shaft even twitched in its first show of interest since his imprisonment—and long before. Jaxon blinked in surprise. Weak as he was, the reaction should have been impossible, yet his body was acting like the fragrance was laced with undiluted pheromones. That must mean— Woman. Human? Alien? Does it matter? Enemy, definitely. He’d always enjoyed the scents women slathered over their bodies, but this one seemed so much more everything than anything else he’d ever

encountered. The perfume was utterly feminine and wholly alluring, like a drug. Illegal. Enthralling. He could have basked in it for hours. “Brought you a present this time,” Thomas said. He chuckled, as if remembering another of his lame-ass jokes. “I hope you like her.” A second shadowy figure stepped around the other-worlder, not moving closer to Jaxon but staying at a distance so that she could most likely study him. A long moment thundered by in silence. He could tell that she was tall for a female. Probably five nine or five ten. Blonde, if the bright halo glowing around her head was any indication. “His eyes are practically sealed shut,” she said, her voice husky and rich. Sexy. Jaxon’s blood heated another degree, shocking and angering him. What kind of moron lusted after his executioner? And there was no doubt in his mind that’s what she was. Why else would she be here? Tick, tock. A muscle under his eye spasmed. That annoying counting had begun yet again. Damn it. What would it take to get rid of it? Death? “Is that a problem?” Thomas asked her. “You know I like to see their eyes when I work.” This time, there was a princess-whine in her tone that might have been amusing in any other situation. She made him think of a little girl who’d asked Santa for a pony but had found a kitten under the tree instead. The kitten wasn’t what she’d

wanted, so the kitten wouldn’t to be tolerated. “My apologies, Marie,” Thomas said, and damn if he didn’t sound like he meant it. “The agent provoked our wrath.” Sincere remorse from Thomas? Marie must frighten him. Interesting. Marie sighed angrily and stretched a hand toward Thomas. “We’ll discuss this later. Was he given a truth serum?” “Of course. He told us his name was Minnie Mouse and he lived on Nightmare Lane.” “Training people to fight such drugs should be illegal,” she muttered. “My tools, please.” Don’t speak; don’t you dare speak. “You don’t need any tools, honey.” The words left on a determined burst, unstoppable, meaning to prove his fearlessness. But leaving it at that would have proven the opposite, so even though he wanted to remain silent, he purposefully added, “Come sit on my lap and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.” He expected her to gasp, to stomp over and slap him. Maybe part of him hoped to goad her into beginning whatever she had planned. Nothing was worse than waiting, not even the electric-shock nipple clamps they’d used earlier, and those had provided a bitch of a hurt. Marie merely gave another of those pouting sighs and said to Thomas, “Yes, I see what you

mean. His attitude is quite maddening. Though that doesn’t excuse your behavior,” she added. “You invited me here. As your guest, I expect my desires to be heeded.” “Of course. His face will not be touched again.” “Good. What has he told you so far?” “Outside the lies, nothing. No matter what we’ve done to him,” Thomas said, obviously perplexed, “he’s told us nothing about the virus.” “That’s because he knows nothing,” Jaxon muttered. Another lie, of course. He knew a lot more than even his boss assumed. And as Marie and Thomas muttered between themselves, some of the memories began flickering through Jaxon’s mind. “You and you alone will work this one,” Jack Pagosa had said, handing him a sealed golden folder. Jack’s usually ruddy face had been pale, his eyes constantly darting to the office door as if he expected someone to burst inside at any moment, gun in hand. His thick salt-and-pepper hair stood on end, his hands plowing through it every few seconds. “Why me?” Jaxon had asked as he’d plopped into the seat in front of his boss’s desk, immediately wanting to snatch back the words. He knew why, and no one liked to hear they were being given a job simply because they were the last option, the only person available.

Mia Snow, Jack’s right-hand agent, was busy training New Chicago’s newest recruits, young girls fresh from boot camp. And Mia’s partner, Dallas, had been unstable ever since his recovery from a near-death experience. Jack popped a handful of antacids, chewed, swallowed audibly. “Not why you’re thinking, obviously. One, you’re the calmest man I know. And two, you can get answers out of a dead man.” More antacids. “Oh, yeah. And the fewer people who know those answers, the less chance of panic. This is all very hush-hush.” Later that night, when Jaxon opened the folder and began reading, he hadn’t felt calm. He’d felt panicked. Seemed a new alien race had snuck their way onto the planet. Government was calling them Schön. Beautiful in German. There’d been a few sightings here and there, and their numbers seemed to be small. No more than eleven, so no big deal. After all, a new alien race seemed to arrive every fucking day. Not that he was bitter or anything. What brought the Schön under A.I.R. scrutiny, however, was the fact that they excreted some kind of toxic liquid. The liquid not only killed, it did something far worse. These otherworlder men were, apparently, so lovely to gaze upon, human women were throwing

themselves at them. And every woman who did so ended up in the hospital with grade-nine hallucinations, losing touch with reality more and more every day until finally developing a hunger for human flesh they couldn’t suppress. Jaxon had interviewed them in both the beginning and ending stages of the sickness. His stomach rolled with the memory. He hadn’t told anyone what he’d learned and wasn’t going to until he’d processed the information himself. Panic? Jack had no idea. After the interviews, well, the women had needed to be put down like animals and Jaxon had been the one to do it. He’d hated himself for it, still hated himself, but there’d been no other recourse. Those females would have eaten their own young —literally—if they’d been allowed to live. He should be on the streets right now, hunting the Schön. Until they were destroyed, more and more victims would surface. Didn’t take a psychic to figure that out, just a person with half a brain. Jaxon qualified. Right now, he felt like only half of his remained. If he didn’t get out there soon… You know Jack. He’s got someone on the streets already, doing what you were supposed to be doing. Jaxon tried to take comfort in that. “What thoughts tumble through your mind, hmm?” Jaxon blinked, the woman inside his cell coming

into gradual focus. He must have drifted, because he hadn’t heard her move, yet she was now crouched in front of him. Her long legs straddled his and she was gently cupping his cheeks in her soft hands. One of her palms was warm, the other cool and silky, as if it were covered by some kind of material and ice was packed underneath. Though his vision was murky and distilled, he was quite certain he’d never been closer to perfection. Her eyes were mesmerizing onyx and framed by midnight. Her skin was pale and smooth, lickable cream. Her nose perfectly sloped. Her cheekbones a work of art. Her lips a fantasy come to life. Plump, red, luscious, the kind of lips a man usually had to pay for to enjoy. Her scent was stronger now, all the better, and he thought he caught a hint of jasmine. Wild, exotic. Like the woman herself? Like it mattered. Much as he wanted to, he didn’t delude himself. She was a professional torturer and killer, had probably studied the human body so that she knew every sensitive place and the best ways to enforce maximum pain. “You won’t even give me a tiny little hint?” she beseeched, her long lashes fluttering, beckoning him deeper into the black sea of her gaze. “I don’t want to hurt you.” “Hint?” He played stupid. Sadly, it was not a difficult task. “Hint about what?”

What was she wearing? Finally, a silver lining to his ravaged face. He couldn’t see clearly enough to discern her clothing, which meant, in his mind, she was wearing lingerie. Black, like her eyes. With sheer lace. She had small breasts, but they were soft and pink-tipped. Despite his condition, his dick lengthened, thickened, hardened. Marie gave a sweet little gasp, as if she felt that hardness, but didn’t move away. “I didn’t expect such a response from you. You’re surprising me at every turn, Jaxon Tremain.” She spoke as if she were weaving a spell, soft and melodic, her voice lulling him, drawing him in and holding him under. What would she sound like during orgasm? Damn, where were these thoughts coming from? He heard Thomas groan impatiently, but he didn’t care. “You should unchain me,” he told Marie, using his most seductive voice. “We should go on a date.” A pause, a frown. Her head tilted to the side as she studied him more intently. Frown deepening, she reached for his left wrist, caught herself, and stilled. She gulped and licked her lips. “And what would we do on this date?” Jaxon imagined he heard a wistful note in her tone. “We’d have lots and lots of fun.” “Oh, really.” Her frown softened at the edges,

adding all kinds of sexy to her expression. “My type of fun or yours?” He knew what she was asking: pain or pleasure. “Mine, but I’m sure we could incorporate some of yours if you asked me nicely.” “Marie, this is—” Thomas interrupted. Her entire body stiffened, and her chin whipped to the side as she pierced the alien with a fierce glare. “Shut it, Thomas. You’ve already pissed me off once. Want to make it twice?” Silence. Jaxon latched onto the chance to examine her more closely. In profile, her chin had a stubborn jut to it and her ear was studded with multiple diamonds. She had shoulder-length hair, straight as a ruler, and he wished he had the strength to reach up and sift the pale velvet strands through his fingers. Wished he had the good fortune to have the strands spread over his thighs while she sucked him dry. Like you can handle that right now, idiot. “I’m losing you again.” Facing him once more, Marie stroked her fingers over his cheeks, careful, so careful of his bruises. “Blood loss affecting your concentration, sweet?” “Sorry. What?” She uttered a warm chuckle. “An apology, after everything that’s been done to you. How surprising.” Another chuckle. “You were about to give me a hint. About the Schön, their virus, and

the women they’ve infected.” When he pressed his lips together, her warmth vanished. Tick. Christ! Not the clock. Shut up, shut up, shut up. “You look like you’re in a lot of pain, Jaxon.” Her voice was all business now. “Tell me what I desire, and the pain ends. The agony stops. You have my word.” As they had every other time he’d been asked, fifteen years of fieldwork and a year of training kicked into gear. Always deny. A single detail can blow an entire case. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Tock. There was a heavy pause. “Would you know if I cut off one of your testicles and you had to watch Thomas eat it?” Violent as the question was, she asked it with the sweetness of an angel. One of her brows arched as she waited for his answer. “Ouch.” How many times had she performed that little operation? “Nope. I’m afraid that wouldn’t jog my memory. How could it? I don’t know anything.” Tick. “Is it bad that I was hoping you’d say that?” She didn’t wait for his response. “Thomas, be a dear and hand me Damocles.” “Mmm, excellent choice,” the alien said happily. A few seconds later, metal whistled against synleather, and then Thomas was grinning and

clomping to Marie’s side. Now Jaxon arched a brow. Or rather, hoped he did. Most of his facial muscles were currently unworkable. He hoped he looked interested rather than terrified. “Damocles? You name your weapons?” “You mean you don’t?” she asked in surprise. She gripped the hilt of a sword, and he could see sharp, curved steel glistening from the only bulb hanging from the ceiling. At least it was clean, no rusty, metallic aroma wafting from it. “No,” he said. “Never have.” “A shame, since they can be a person’s best friend.” “Or worst enemy.” She tapped the end of his nose with her free hand, the one uncovered. Warm. “Had you been armed at your home, you might not have been taken. Best friend.” At the patient censure in her tone, he barked out a laugh. “Lesson learned, believe me.” “Sadly, it’s too late.” Ticktock, ticktock. For some reason, all of his emotions drained from him. He should have been more afraid than ever. Should have been trembling, pissing his pants. Something. Instead, the only emotion that returned and stayed was a curious sense of relief.

Finally, the beatings would stop. The rape wouldn’t happen. And maybe the afterlife would pair him with an angel who looked just like Marie. Minus the penchant for killing, of course. When did you become such a pussy? Fight this! Fight her. “Last chance to tell me what I want to know,” she said, pressing the cold steel to his neck. One second passed. Another. When he continued to remain silent, she nicked the skin until a bead of blood trickled. Thankfully the ticking did not resume. Odd, though, since these were most likely his last moments on Earth. She pressed harder. He gave no reaction to the sting. Hell, a little prick was nothing compared to what he’d already endured. Slowly she lowered her hand, gliding the blade over his bare chest, cutting skin along the way. She reached his navel, twirled paper-thin slices all around, then stopped right between his denim-clad legs. Thomas, who’d remained at her side, chortled with glee. Probably had a hard-on. God, I hate making him happy. Jaxon swallowed a sudden rise of anger. Not so relieved anymore. His fight reflex sparked to life, blending with the anger and warring with his need for closure. Sweat poured down his chest. “Well,” Marie prompted. The tip nicked his

pants and pressed between his balls. “Anything to say?” Closure won. Without him, these people would never be able to find the Schön. And if they couldn’t find the Schön, they couldn’t use them as a weapon against humans, or whatever else they were planning. Jaxon closed his eyes and said good-bye to one of his favorite body parts. I love you little guys. We had some good times together. “Last chance, Jaxon.” His gaze met Marie’s, locking, clashing. Unflinching. “I told you. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her lush lips rose in an exquisite smile, lighting her entire face. Just then she was the perfect blend of good and evil, innocence and absolute wickedness. His traitorous heart skipped a beat in total, masculine appreciation. Her teeth were straight and white, the pink tip of her tongue peeking out the center as if she were nibbling on it. “That answer just saved your life,” she said, and then her arm lashed to the side and she stabbed Thomas in the stomach. Blood sprayed Jaxon’s face as Marie moved her blade in and out. The alien jerked and gasped in pained shock. Jaxon could only watch, morbidly awed, utterly confused. That death blow had been meant for him. Hadn’t it?

Smile becoming dark, lethal, Marie rose on her knees, twisting her wrist to drive the blade even deeper while hacking at every organ she could reach. “Enjoy hell, you sick fuck. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” Thomas collapsed in a motionless heap, convulsing to his death, and all Jaxon could do was stare over at him, wondering what the hell was going on.

CHAPTER 2

Mishka Le’Ace—aka Marie—stuffed her hands into the dead alien’s pants pocket, searching for the key to Jaxon’s chains. Thomas had a deathly fear of ID scans, which would have been needed to open and close a good pair of lasercuffs. A.I.R. could, theoretically, capture the signal and hunt him down. Not that she’d ever seen it done. But fears were universal, unreasonable, and sometimes uncontrollable. Usually she whined about the lack of technology, practically begging Thomas to try it. Today she was thankful for his continued refusal, for it saved her a hell of a lot of time. Rather than disable wires, burning both her and Jaxon, all she had to do was insert a piece of metal and twist her wrist. When her fingers curled around the key, she tugged it out and rushed to the agent she’d been sent to rescue. Or kill. Everything had hinged on his ability to keep a secret. Amazingly enough, he’d kept his mouth shut. She’d expected him to break the moment she placed the blade to his dick. But he hadn’t, shocking her to the core, and now she would save him. She wondered what he knew, what surreptitious things danced inside his head. Had to be valuable,

perhaps life-altering, otherwise she wouldn’t have been pulled from another job for a simple extraction. “Think you can walk?” she asked him. “Who are you?” His words were slurred, barely understandable. Anger, confusion, and uncertainty pulsed from him. “I’m your new best friend, honey.” Within seconds, she had his ankles and wrists free and was jerking him to his feet. “Your boss sent me.” Kind of. A hiss of agony escaped him, and he quickly bent one leg at the knee, keeping his foot elevated. “Broken,” he grunted. She glanced down…down…damn, he was tall. Finally she saw the ankle in question and winced. Broken, yes. Ravaged, most definitely. That ankle was going to make her job more difficult. “Gonna make me carry you out, then?” The words were a challenge, meant to goad him into hopping out if he had to. “Fuck you,” he said. At least, that’s what she thought he said. Hard to tell. Her gaze slid over the rest of him. He was well over six feet of pure muscle and brawn. Could she carry him? She was strong. Her creators had made sure of that, but… His head angled toward her, and his discolored, mutilated lips edged into what might have been a frown. Le’Ace was machine, animal, a bit human—

though many would disagree about the last, and all three parts of her sensed his affront. In this, at least, he was predictable. Alpha male that he was, he couldn’t handle a blow to his masculinity. But it was something else in a long line of somethings that she hadn’t expected from him. Alpha. His file had said “gentle” and “unflappable.” Even “calming.” The man glaring down at her was none of those things. Guarded, determined, easily razzed. Yeah, he was those. “Well,” she insisted. “Much as I’d like to take you up on your offer, you didn’t really answer my question. Shall I carry you?” “What do you think?” he asked in that damaged voice. “Never mind. You might try. No. I’ll walk.” “Good boy.” She released him. He swayed to the side and would have fallen if she hadn’t grabbed him again. Le’Ace sighed. Nope, he wouldn’t be walking. The spirit might be willing, but his flesh was too weak. What was the best way to handle the unpredictable Jaxon and the upcoming battle with his other captors? Her mind raced with options. There weren’t many. All the while Jaxon stared at her, disquieting her, clearly trying to take her measure. “I guess I need to switch to plan B,” she muttered. “What’s plan B?”

“I haven’t decided yet. All I know is the ending.” “And that is?” “We get out safely.” “I don’t trust you,” he gritted out. “This could be a trick.” Great. He was going to be difficult. Part of her was relieved. Finally, he was acting like the humans she dealt with on a daily basis. Which meant she knew how to handle him. “Could be a trick,” she told him. “Only time will tell.” Leaning sideways, she tilted him toward the crumbling wall. Weak and damaged as he was, he could do nothing to stop her. She propped him there, made sure he was steady, then strode to her bag of tools and towels. Statistical read of the surrounding area, she demanded to know from the chip implanted inside her brain. A chip that monitored her activities as well as the energy pulses of everyone around her. She cleaned her bloody hands with a rag. Thankfully, the chip was programmed to only give knowledge when she asked. Otherwise, constant streams of information would bombard her at all hours of the day and night. The reply was instantaneous, not a voice, but a sudden realization. Four Delenseans and two humans. Upstairs. Likelihood of attack within the next few

minutes? Eighteen percent. No hostility detected. Good. Warn me if someone approaches. Sensors on…now. Le’Ace reached back into the bag, withdrew a syringe and a bottle of black-market rinaloras. “What are you doing?” Jaxon demanded. “Helping you. No need to thank me.” She couldn’t believe how much stamina he possessed. Anyone else with those types of injuries would be dead or sobbing. He had teased her; he now refused to back down. She could only imagine what he’d act like when fully healed and almost wished she’d be allowed to find out. Truly, she’d never encountered a man quite like him. So strong, so irreverent, utterly capable, unerringly honorable and loyal, yet a little dirtyminded. Where was the reserved and respectful man A.I.R. touted him to be? Perhaps the torture had changed him, she mused, but she wouldn’t have placed money on that. He’d been gone eight days. That wasn’t enough time to transform a trained agent drastically, no matter what had been done to him. After all, he’d endured similar torture before and hadn’t morphed into irreverence incarnate. Was she being given a glimpse at the real man, then? If so, that begged the question of why he usually

hid who he really was. And why he was now revealing his true colors. She was intrigued, and she hated being intrigued. He was a job. He could not be anything else. Her owner would not allow it. Fucker. Once she had Jaxon safely tucked away, she’d call Estap, her boss and current owner, and Jaxon would be picked up. Most likely, she would never see him again. “Marie,” he snapped. “You’re drifting now. Do you name your needles?” “No.” Slowly she turned to him. She held the now full syringe in the light, checking for air bubbles. “And look. My name is Mishka, but everyone calls me Le’Ace.” The moment the words left her, she cursed under her breath. She shouldn’t have told him that. Her real name was privileged information, and he wasn’t privileged. So why had she just blurted it? Why did she suddenly long to hear this amazing man say it? Just once? “What kind of name is that?” he asked. Sooo not the response she’d secretly craved. She ran her tongue over her teeth in an effort to hide her irritation. “Appropriate.” She was her creators’ ace in the hole. “What the hell are you doing?” he asked. “Answer me this time, at least.” “Or what?” When he offered an angry hiss in reply, she sighed and said, “I’m putting you to

sleep, okay?” Anyone else she would have left down here, awake—why waste good drugs?—then she’d go upstairs alone and dispatch the enemy. Jaxon, however, she didn’t want to leave suffering. Besides, weakened as he was, she suspected he still might be able to drag himself into hiding while she was distracted. “I said I’d walk,” Jaxon said, determined. “I won’t fight you.” “Your ankle is wrecked, and I can’t take the chance you’ll remain calm.” Just as determined as he was, she approached him. “I’ll get you out of here, don’t worry. And just think, when you wake up, your wee fairy Cathy might very well be at your side, kissing your brow, sprinkling you with her magic dust.” He tensed, his broken body somehow the picture of absolute menace. “How do you know about Cathy? I haven’t seen her in months.” One of her shoulders lifted in a shrug as she stopped in front of him. Only a whisper separated them. “I know a lot about you, and I know a lot about Cathy. You called her fairy, she called you agent.” Le’Ace had liked nothing about Cathy and almost everything about Jaxon. Brave, loyal, fearless. Rare qualities in a man, as she well knew. “When I take a job, I learn everything I can about everyone involved. What I don’t know is how you spent a year of your life with that girl. Five minutes

in her presence and I wanted to slash my own wrists. Every word out of her mouth is a complaint. She’s condescending and frigid.” The last sentence had barely left Le’Ace when she realized Jaxon had curled his black-and-blue fingers around her gloved wrist in an effort to prevent her from moving her arm, keeping the syringe a safe distance away. He shouldn’t have been able to move so quickly or without her knowledge. His touch shouldn’t have so entranced her, but it did. He couldn’t know that the arm he held was mostly machine and he couldn’t have stopped it with a bulldozer. He couldn’t know she allowed the touch, unable to force herself to pull away. “Let’s talk about this,” he said. “No time.” Usually Le’Ace hated being touched and would only endure it when ordered for a job. Because when her boss commanded her to do something, she did it without hesitation. Always. The little chip in her brain allowed nothing less, the consequences for disobeying too severe. Just thinking about the chip’s capabilities swept a wave of bitterness through her. I’m just a pawn. She hadn’t been ordered to let Jaxon handle her, but she was somehow more helpless than ever. There was warmth in his touch. Warmth and inexorable strength that seeped past her glove, the metal—all the way to her marrow. For a moment,

she entertained the fantasy that he could defeat her demons and finally free her. Wishful thinking only led to disappointment. That she knew well. “You’re drifting again,” he muttered. Shit! She never drifted when in the presence of another. Yet she had with him, several times. There was something calming about him, just like his file claimed. Her eyes narrowed on him. “If I’m worrying about you trying to hurt me or trying to escape me,” she found herself telling him, even though she’d told him they did not have time to discuss this, “I won’t be able to fight your captors to the best of my ability.” “You’re not fighting them alone.” Concern? For her? Totally unnecessary, a first, and absolutely surprising, but sweet. She frowned. “Believe me, it’s better this way.” She flexed the coils in her metal wrist, a silent command for release. His fingers spread but he did not let go. “You don’t want to drug me, Le’Ace.” He said her name as if it were a prayer, and she shivered. Not again. Earlier he’d told her that she should unchain him and his voice had been mesmerizing. Like now. Some deep, hidden part of her had reacted, wanting to give the man whatever he asked for. Like now. Again, she found herself asking the chip: is he

alien? Zero possibility. Only human chemistry detected. What was he, then, that he could compel another’s actions with this voice? What was he, that he could heat her blood and entrance her body? “I may not want to, honey, but I’m going to.” Her free hand hung at her side, and she worked her fingers over one of the rings she wore, exposing the tiny needle under the enlarged diamond. “I’m not letting go. I’ll stay here, like this, all night.” “You don’t have to let me go,” she said. Act. Do it. She didn’t. She stared up at him. I need a tune-up; I’m slipping. What would it be like to kiss him? The question flooded her unexpectedly, rising from the same hidden place affected by his voice. Desire swirled and mixed with her blood, infusing throughout her entire body. This has to end, before you do something stupid. Forcing herself into action—fast, no pause—she lifted her arm and jabbed the ring into the thick vein fluttering at the base of his neck. His eyes widened, and he hissed. “I’m sorry,” she told him. “Just so you know, I don’t name my rings, either.”

“You…bitch.” His eyelids flapped closed, open, closed. “The syringe contains the painkiller and antibiotic solution, nothing more. The ring has the sleeping aid.” “Tricked me,” he accused, his voice all the more slurred. “Saved you.” His muscles were loosening, his lids now sealed shut. He fought the intoxicating slumber to the last, trying to hold on to her, tight, so tight, but finally he drifted off, chin falling to his collarbone, fingers disengaging, and arm falling to his side. Again, she was amazed by his fortitude. Le’Ace gently eased him to the floor, careful of his broken bones. “I really am sorry.” So much strength. A shame to take it away, even for a little while. Sighing, she jabbed the syringe into his upper arm, emptied it, then tossed it aside. She wanted to linger, to study him more fully. Truly, he was a puzzle, a sexy puzzle at that, and leaving a puzzle unsolved was abhorrent to her. Just a job, she reminded herself. Had to be that way. She was no good, tainted, and had more baggage than a world traveler. She was bad for men, because the longer she stayed with one, the greater chance there was of being forced to screw him over. She’d been raised in a lab, had never had a

boyfriend. Hell, had never wanted one. If she were ordered to kill him, or worse, if she were ordered to fuck someone else while dating him… She hated those jobs the most, vomited every time they were over. Enough. If she continued down memory lane, she’d end up screaming uncontrollably, current job forgotten, the past a whirling vortex of misery, sucking her into darkness. Scowling, Le’Ace popped to her feet and strode away from Jaxon and back to her bag. Thomas and company had known her as Marie the Executioner, one of her many aliases. They’d trusted her implicitly, for she’d done many jobs for them over the years, always with success. To sustain the identity, she’d had to. A murder here, a torturing there. “Marie” was privy to the information the government couldn’t get any other way—such as Jaxon’s kidnapping and location—so she’d done everything required for the identity with a happy, I’m-loving-this smile. Well, Marie had been privy. No one would trust her now, but the sacrifice had been deemed worth it before she’d ever stepped foot onto the compound. Her bastard of a boss had wanted Jaxon alive if possible. Not for Jaxon, of course, but for himself. Estap desired the very secrets Jaxon had so far kept hidden.

If Thomas hadn’t broken him, she doubted Estap could. Which meant she was saving him now only to, perhaps, kill him later. Statistical reading. No change. Excellent. She withdrew several pieces of her guns from a strip of black cloth. While Thomas might have trusted her, he hadn’t allowed any type of guns inside his home. Like ID scans, they scared him. She’d had to disassemble both of hers and hide the sections between her knives. After slapping them together, she checked the detonation crystal in her pyre-gun and the magazine in her Glock. Good to go. She set them on top of the bag and sheathed a blade at each wrist, under her shirtsleeves, then two at her waist. Finished, she once again palmed the guns. With one last glance at Jaxon—his chest was moving steadily with deep, even breaths—she strode from the cell. Has anyone else entered the home? Negative. Four aliens and two humans to take care of, then. Not bad numbers. She eased up the stairs and shouldered open the door that led to the first floor of the home. A quick visual scan showed the room was empty. The furnishings were old and well used but clean, and all the windows were heavily curtained.

Location of the occupants? All six are still in the southeast quadrant. Southeast quadrant meant the kitchen. Good. A contained area. Turn sensors off. Sensors off…now. She didn’t want her mind screaming they were near as she approached; she wanted clear thoughts, total concentration. Le’Ace quickened her steps through the living room and down the hall, bypassing another staircase and a door that led to a well-tended pavilion. The double doors to the kitchen came into view, and then, suddenly, she was there. She stopped, squared her shoulders, and quietly placed her hands on the wooden planks, guns flat. She listened. Laughter, shuffling paper. Slow and easy, like this is any other day. Forcing her expression to soften, she pushed the planks open. Silent, confident. Thick smoke instantly billowed around her, a cloudy haze. Perhaps later, she’d think of this as a dream. Unreal. Laughter still resounded, louder now. Unnoticed, she dropped her arms to her sides, behind her back. “Gentlemen.” Five men stood at immediate, surprised attention —three aliens, two humans—and faced her. Only five. That meant one alien was missing. Damn.

Where had he gone? With the precision of a CPU, she sized up each of her targets in less than a second. They surrounded a poker table. The male farthest from her was Jacob, Thomas’s right-hand man. His skin was a lighter blue than Thomas’s, and he had seven arms rather than the standard six. Every race had its oddities, she mused. Right now, two of his hands held cards, one held a beer, one a cigar, two massaged his shoulders, and one clutched a knife that was pointed at her. Jacob relaxed and lowered the weapon to the table. “Everything all right, Marie?” He’d lived on Earth all his life, so he sounded completely human. The others also held cards, beers, and knives. She hadn’t worked with them nearly as much, so they weren’t as comfortable with her and didn’t lower their blades. “Yes,” she said. “Everything’s fine. Where’s your friend? The tall male I saw you with this morning?” “Bathroom.” “Upstairs or down?” she asked. “Up, I’m sure. In the guest room.” Jacob’s face scrunched in confusion. “Why does it matter?” “Doesn’t. Are you expecting any more guests today?” “No. Tell me what’s going on. Where’s Thomas?” “In hell. Tell him hello for me.” Both of her arms

lashed up, wrist crisscrossed over wrist as she hammered away at the triggers. Boom, boom, boom. Slowly she uncrossed her arms, blasting every inch of the room in a steady rhythm. Bullets slammed through one-half of the room and pyrefire through the other, bright beams of yellow and orange that blistered. Just a dream, just a dream. All five men jerked in pain. Some screamed, some moaned. Knives, beer bottles, and cards clattered to the floor in a discordant dance. Blood splattered from the wounds caused by the bullets and flesh sizzled from the fire. She would have gagged, but sadly, she was used to the sickening smell. Only when every man had collapsed, expressions frozen, did she relax her fingers. Without the roar of the Glock, there was deafening silence. And as the smoke continued to waft, the deadly scene retained that faraway, distant-from-reality feel. Sensors on. Energy levels? Four extinguished. The fifth? Far right. Weak, but still alive. Le’Ace checked the Glock’s magazine. One bullet left. She loaded it into the chamber, lifted the barrel, aimed, and fired. Boom. The bullet plowed directly between the man’s eyes, brain tissue jetting

behind him and onto the wall. He defecated as his body spasmed a final time, and this time she did gag. Above her, heavy footsteps sounded across a hallway. Le’Ace closed her eyes for a moment, wanting the job done. Now. But reality, like dreams, was often rebellious. Likelihood of attack? Twenty-three percent. Target seems to be in the process of hiding. Increase ear volume. A second later, she heard the hinges of an upstairs bedroom door creak open. Step, step, step. Pause. Swoosh. Step, step, step. Thirty-two percent. More footsteps. Thirty-eight percent. Thirty-nine percent. Forty-six. Swiftly rising. No longer hiding but approaching. Gear for confrontation. Le’Ace sheathed the empty Glock at her waist and pushed herself flat against the wall. Adrenaline zinged through her bloodstream, her heart a vibrant drum inside her chest. So far, the job had gone smoothly. Yet, over the years she’d noticed that every job came with at least one complication. This must be it. Closer and closer those footsteps came. There was another pause, long and heavy. A muttered curse. And then, as if the Delensean had changed his mind about checking on his friends, the

tiptoeing steps moved farther and farther away. Thirty-one percent and swiftly declining. Her teeth gritted together. Damn him. He was going to make her play chase. Pyre-gun extended, she moved slowly and silently out of the kitchen. Her gaze darted left, then right. Clear. Above, a door eased shut, a lock turned. Her ears caught every minute sound as he hid. Just get it over with. Le’Ace sank into the shadows underneath the staircase. She kept her pyre-gun at the ready and used her free hand to reach into her boot and withdraw a small, thin box. She’d trained her fingers to work the device without the use of sight, so they flew to the proper buttons and pressed. A clear holoscreen soon dappled a small patch of air directly above the keyboard, slowly solidifying into a square. Black lines and blue lights flashed over the surface as the wireless system scanned the house for body heat, movement, and voice. Each light finally congealed into a single dot, pinpointing the alien’s location in the room at the end of the upstairs hall. He was in the middle of the room. She knew the house, knew there was a bed in that location. He must be crouched under it. How can I do this? Play evil cat to his innocent mouse? You know your orders, Le’Ace, common sense

piped up. No survivors. Besides, he wasn’t innocent. Every man in this house had taken a turn using Jaxon as a punching bag. And judging by the extent of Jaxon’s bruises, they’d enjoyed every moment of it. Some of her self-loathing and reluctance faded. She switched the scanner off and returned it to her boot. Up the stairs she quietly moved, gun steady. Down the hallway, eyes alert. She wondered what Jaxon would have thought if he’d been here, watching her. Would he have been impressed or disgusted? Praised her or lectured her for being cold-blooded? Men could do any dark deed, and it was for the good of mankind. Yet with the slightest hint of a woman’s malevolence, no matter the reason, she was utterly wicked. Eve with the apple. Pandora with her box. Jaxon had an impressive kill list—over sixty predatory aliens—though he usually opted to deliver a deathblow only as a last resort. He preferred to capture. He would lecture me, she decided. Perhaps interrogate me to find out why I’m like I am. Interrogation. He was, his file said, a master at it. Through sugarcoated words, or pounding anger and intimidation, he got what he wanted. That drugging voice and lazy nonchalance had probably helped him a time or two, as well, coaxing victims to willingly spill their darkest secrets.

If otherworlders reacted with even half the intensity she had, they’d tell him anything and everything he wanted to know and smile while doing it. A few more minutes with him and she might have caved. Admitting it was difficult; she despised weakness in herself. She’d scolded Thomas for letting Jaxon’s eyelids puff, because Marie was a sadistic bitch who liked to see every flicker of pain, but Le’Ace had been disappointed for another reason. She knew his eyes were blue, but photographs and holoimages could not capture a man’s raw masculine intensity. She would have loved to see just how intense a man he really was, even though she suspected seeing those eyes of his would have weakened her more than a bullet to the brain. A whimper echoed in her ears, cutting into her thoughts. Stop thinking about Jaxon and get this done. She was so close to finishing she could taste it. At the closed doorway, she paused, listened. No movement. He was still under the bed, then. Go time. One. Two. Three. With a hard kick, the hinges shattered and the door burst open. From under the bed, just as she’d assumed, there was a gasp, another whimper. Her gun was already raised and aimed, so she simply squeezed the trigger.

A split second later, yellow-orange flames were incinerating a hole in the mattress and melting several of the springs. Realizing he would catch fire if he remained in place, the Delensean yelped and rolled from underneath. One of his arms snagged on the carpet and became trapped under his body, pinning him in place. He struggled, flicking her horrified glances. “D—don’t. Please,” he begged, as if he hadn’t done worse things over the years. She knew better. “Have to.” Once again she applied pressure to the trigger. There was no recoil; the bright yellow beam simply jetted out and slammed into the alien. He screamed a sound of such agony, even she cringed. Over and over his body convulsed, his legs kicking. Where the beam hit him, his shirt had burned away and she could see a hole where his heart should have been, the jagged ends sizzling. Had he left Jaxon alone, she might have cut his throat to quickly end his misery. Since he hadn’t, she remained in place. When he stilled, she asked, Energy level? Extinguished. Done. It was done. She breathed a sigh of relief. Her arm fell to her side, the gun suddenly heavy, a thousand-pound weight. A bead of sweat trickled between her breasts, down her stomach. Mission complete, and

she hadn’t sustained a single injury. Injury. No, not complete yet, she thought. One last thing to do. A sense of urgency suddenly bloomed inside her and she raced back to the underground cell. What would she find? Had Jaxon somehow managed to escape her? Had he died? Thankfully, he was exactly where she’d left him and still breathing. She released a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding, tension easing. Another success. She popped out the tiny earpiece attached to the left strap of her bra and pushed it into her ear. At the moment of contact, her boss’s number was dialed. “Outcome?” he asked in lieu of saying hello. No niceties for her. “Successful.” “Good. That’s good.” “I’m extracting now and will contact again when settled.” “No. There’s been a slight change of plan.” She stifled a groan, her gaze shifting once more to Jaxon. What were they going to command her to do to him? He’d already endured so much and wouldn’t be able to withstand much more. Compassion, Le’Ace? You know better. “Yes?” “Two more infected females were captured. They were muttering about Earth being next. Next for what, they didn’t know or they wouldn’t tell us.

Jaxon is the only person who was able to get answers from the others, though I’m willing to bet he’s been selective about what he’s shared. You can break him.” “The plan?” she asked, careful to keep the dread from her voice. “Whatever it takes, win him over. Get me answers.” Whatever it takes. A phrase she’d heard a hundred times before. Usually it sickened her. Today, she could not squelch a thrill of excitement. More time with the enigmatic Jaxon? Hell, yes. She’d take it. Stupid girl. What would Jaxon force her to do for those answers? As she thought of him, though, her adrenaline levels spiked a lot higher than they had during the gunfight and ensuing chase, causing her limbs to shake. Her brow furrowed. What kind of reaction was this? She hadn’t experienced one like it before. She frowned. “What about the Tutor case?” “You’ll return, just later than we originally intended.” That meant starting all over with the disgusting Tutor, a man who didn’t trust easily. That meant more flirting and more dirty talk, all with a man she despised with every fiber of her being, just to regain his confidence and win her way back into his life. He had to wonder where she was and what she was doing. She’d left so suddenly, without explanation,

because she couldn’t chance being detained. “Jaxon is injured, sir, barely able to talk.” Had her voice just quivered? “Doctor him,” was the reply, “and make him talk. I told you, use any means necessary.” “And if I refuse?” she asked, though she already knew the answer. Hopefully the question would hide her anticipation. And anyway, sometimes she lived to antagonize him. Sometimes she despised her boss more than she despised the thought of being killed. “Acting human again, Le’Ace?” She popped her jaw. He hadn’t been her first owner, every one of them was now dead. Sadly, not by her hand. But this bastard knew she’d been constructed in a dish and therefore didn’t consider her anything more than an object, a machine. “You know I hate when you do that, and you have to know I’m staring at your control panel right now.” His tone was silky and smooth, daring her. A few times over the years she’d watched him interact with others, people he considered his peers. He’d treated them with affection, lavishing smiles and praise. Genuine, too. That’s what had amazed her most, since he’d never shown her anything but contempt. Her, he taunted. He used. He threatened. “One press of a button, and you’re dead.” “Yes, one press of a button and your billiondollar android is gone. No more dirty work being

done for you. No more whoring for you. Don’t forget that.” A sharp pain suddenly ripped through her head, and she groaned. She’d known better. Defiance was met with suffering, every damn time. Don’t beg for mercy, don’t you dare beg. The pain continued, savaging her mind, burning away the hatred and resentment she harbored for her boss. Or burying it so deep it no longer mattered. Relief was her only concern as black spots winked over her vision. Her heart convulsed as though a hand had reached inside her chest and squeezed. Her lungs closed off. Much longer and her skull would burst. Much longer— “Stop,” she finally begged. It didn’t. The ache spread, her legs throbbing as if knives were sliding in and out of the bones. Don’t make another noise. Don’t say another word. She pressed her lips together, and tears filled her eyes. Any second she would pass out. Too much, it was too much. The pain— “Please.” She couldn’t stop the word from escaping. As suddenly as it appeared, the pain ceased. She was panting, she realized a moment later. Sweat was pouring from her, causing her clothes to plaster to her body, yet her blood felt cold as ice inside her veins. “You were saying, Le’Ace?”

She pinched the bridge of her nose and ground her teeth, willing herself to calm. Always calm. Numbness was her only friend. She knew that, wouldn’t forget again. She hoped. “You’ll have your answers. Sir.”

CHAPTER 3

Jaxon. Wake up for me, honey.” The husky, familiar voice tugged at him, dragging him from contented sleep to agonizing hellfire. Strangely, he didn’t mind the pain because the voice belonged to the woman in his dreams, the angel-demon who wanted to both fuck and kill him. Mmm, being fucked to death didn’t sound half bad just then. Pleasure, release, then ultimately, eternal peace. Could a man truly ask for more? “Jaxon.” This time the voice sounded fuzzy, convoluted, as if the single word had been shoved through a pool of water and had done a tap dance with a school of fish before registering in his brain. Jaxon tried to pry his eyelids apart, couldn’t. No matter what he did, he couldn’t fucking open them and only managed to hurt them all the more, the skin seeming to tear in thousands of tiny places. What the hell? Don’t panic. Think. First, where was he? Something soft cushioned his back. A bed? Warm breath caressed his neck. The woman? Yes, yes. She was beside him. A memory suddenly played through his mind: brass knuckles drilling into his eye socket, cracking the bone. He frowned. Had she fought him?

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Eyes.” “I didn’t understand. Say that again.” “Eyes.” “Oh, your eyes. Your lids are glued together. Your corneas were damaged and every time you opened them, you made them worse.” He shifted toward her, craving more of her warmth, more of her exhalations against his toosensitive skin. Nausea instantly churned in his stomach, threatening to spew past his raw, constricted throat. He swallowed the disgusting burn of it before breathing in and out to steady himself. What’s wrong with me? One of his arms and one of his ankles blazed as if they’d been dipped in lava and the raw wounds sprinkled with salt. His sides throbbed as though they’d been pinned to the bed with boulders. “You’re grimacing again. Still in too much pain to talk?” A pause, a sigh. “I’ll help.” Another warm exhalation floated over his face. Something sharp slid into the base of his neck, and then his entire world blackened. The peace returned. Oddly, he would have preferred to stay with the woman.

“Jaxon, you ready to wake up now?”

There was the voice again, a little more insistent and impatient this time. Frustrated, perhaps, and a bit concerned. How long had he slept? Felt like days, stiff as his body was. He did a mental sweep, found that he was naked except for something heavy on one of his arms, one of his legs. The woman must have realized the direction of his thoughts. “Your arm and ankle have been set and both are healing nicely. You’ll have full use of them again, though you might have a limp. You also have some internal injuries and a liver the size of New Texas. Like to toss back the hard stuff, do we?” Not anymore, he wanted to tell her, but his tongue and throat were still too swollen to move. No, not true, he realized a moment later. He was able to move his tongue over his teeth. All of them were in place, thank God. One corner of his mouth twitched as a smile attempted to form. The woman—Le’Ace, he thought. Yes, that was her name. Different and mysterious, just like the woman herself. She chuckled softly. “A little vain, Jaxon?” Le’Ace. The name echoed inside his mind. She was a devil and a beauty. A savior and a killer. “Just like to eat,” he managed. Her chuckle became a rich laugh. The sound was decadent yet a little raw, as if she didn’t laugh

very often. “Sorry to tell you this, Vain, but your nose was broken and now has a slight bump.” “Always had a bump.” “Ah. Well, I’m glad. I like it.” He’d always been a bit self-conscious about his nose. A few times, he’d even considered plastic surgery to shorten it. The only thing that had stopped him was the thought that he’d just break it again and cause a bigger bump. But now, with that husky “I like it” ringing in his ears, he vowed never to consider the option again. “Where am I?” He wanted to open his eyes, but his lids were still glued together. Trying to pry them apart was still agony, he realized, wincing. He forced his facial muscles to relax. “You’re in my bedroom. I’ll answer any other questions you might have soon enough, I promise. First, I need to talk to you about the Schön. I know you didn’t want to discuss them while Thomas was present, but he’s dead now. All of your captors are. We’re alone.” “No,” he said, succinct but meaningful. She continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “I’m an agent just like you. We’re partners now. You can tell me. It’s okay. Jack wants you to tell me.” Before the incident in Thomas’s cell, he’d never met this woman, never even heard of her. So, partners? He seriously doubted it. Granted, foggy as he was, he wasn’t the brightest bulb in the lamp and

could be wrong. Still. He wasn’t the dullest bulb in the lamp, either, and would give nothing away. “No,” he repeated. “My answer will not change.” “Why?” she asked stiffly. “Because.” There was a long pause. “If you’ll call Jack, he’ll verify everything I’ve told you.” And give her Jack’s number and location if she didn’t already have them? “No.” “We’re in this together.” A hint of frustration seeped from her tone. “Me and you.” “Again, no. We’re not. End of conversation.” Every part of his body throbbed; he couldn’t move, even upon threat of death. Friend or enemy, she could do whatever she wanted to him, and he wouldn’t be able to stop her. Though he didn’t have the use of his eyes, he took stock of his surroundings with his other senses. Except for his shallow inhalations and the woman’s gentle ones, there was silence. Her breath floated over his chest as though she hovered beside him, yet no part of her body touched his. A soft mattress still cushioned him, so he most likely hadn’t been moved since the last time he’d awoken. Jasmine coated the air, sultry and drugging. He couldn’t recall noticing the fragrance last time he’d been awake, but he remembered it from

the prison. He must have been near death to have missed it before, because the scent once again infiltrated his senses, the sole reason he drew his next breath. Yes, a drug surely. “Jaxon, are you listening to me?” “No,” he replied truthfully. Two stiff fingers probed at the wound on his shoulder, and he hissed. “Listening now?” she asked. She didn’t wait for his response. “How can I help you stop those otherworlders and how can I help the women they infect if I’m left in the dark?” Those fingers softened and gently slid around one of his nipples, then the other, then over his rib cage, where they lingered for several heartbeats of time before delving to his navel. Still gentle, still soft. The touch aroused him as surely as the scent had. Combined, they were irresistible. Almost electric. Her body turned toward him, closer…closer, and one of her breasts pushed into his side. Her nipple was hard as a rock. He licked his lips, hungry for a taste. Diabolical woman, doing the one thing Thomas hadn’t thought to do: seduce him. Jaxon’s muscles tightened in awareness, and his cock even twitched. He hadn’t slept with a woman in months. After Cathy, only a few had caught his interest, but none of them had tempted him to put any real effort into

the bedding. And a man with a scarred face and too-long nose had to put effort into it, no matter how much money he possessed. So he’d mostly gone without. Would Le’Ace stroke him off if he asked? Would she cup his balls, maybe suck them into her mouth? Would she straddle his waist and ride him? Would she be wet for him? The sexual questions poured through his mind, unwelcome but erotic, leaving him tense and steeping him in anticipation. If only he had the strength to actively participate, he thought with a self-deprecating grin. He’d like to pleasure her. “What?” she asked with genuine curiosity. Her hand fluttered away from him. Jaxon lost his grin, realizing in a single instant that he was grief-stricken without her touch. Odd. I don’t even know her. He wanted her, yes, but want did not usually stir such deep-rooted emotion. “Jaxon?” “Nothing’s wrong,” he muttered. Damn, but he wanted to see her face, her expression, the glint in her eyes. Maybe she didn’t want him. Maybe that hard nipple meant nothing. Maybe he’d have to work for her desire. Why did the thought of working for her desire not dissuade him, as it had with others these past few months? Why did the thought of working for her desire arouse him on yet another level?

What kind of lover would she be? Loud and responsive or quiet and tender? Either way, he suspected he’d have a good time. A woman who killed as expertly as she killed could take everything he had to give and demand more. He wouldn’t have to worry about hurting her or offending her if wicked thoughts slipped out of his mouth. “Did the infected women mention anything about what the Schön were planning when you interviewed them?” she asked as if the conversation about the otherworlders had never ended. Disappointment swept through him. “Whatever you ask me, the answer is going to be the same. No. Understand? No!” He thought she might be gnashing her teeth. “You’re stubborn,” she said with a regretful— admiring?—sigh. “I need to think about this a little more, maybe approach it another way. So you’re going to have to take another nap.” “A nap won’t help. And no matter what approach you take, I’m not going to change my mind.” She chuckled, and the sound of it was a little cruel. “Oh, sweetie, don’t make promises you can’t keep. You’re not going to remember this conversation, so you’ll have no way of knowing what will and will not work.” “Impossible.”

The bed rocked. A moment later, cold, round pads with gelled bottoms were placed on his brow and temples. Each of them vibrated. His arms were weak, shaky, and pinned. He could think of no way to remove them. “I’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this.” “What are you doing, Le’Ace?” “Good night, honey. We’ll talk again in a few days.” The vibrations became pulses and the pulses seemed to sink past his skin and into his skull. They were warm and only growing warmer…hotter. His thoughts blurred into darkness. “Le—” Her name had been on the tip of his tongue, a taunting whisper inside his mind, but now it was gone. “What’s happening?” “Shhh. I wish it hadn’t come to this, but I can’t fail. I’m sorry. Just relax. It will be easier for you if you relax.” His entire form suddenly jerked, his every vein, muscle, and bone seizing in pain. He would have roared, but once again he couldn’t use his tongue. It, too, was anchored in place, glued to the roof of his mouth. A black web wove through his mind, spun by a laughing spider, thick and inexorable. “Stop!” he wanted to roar. Couldn’t. Suddenly the darkness burst into a thousand pinpricks of light, freeing his tongue, and he was able to speak. Yet all that escaped was a gurgle; the

sound was agonizing, dripping with rage and pain. Then those pinpricks of light congealed into one solid mass, and that mass wiped at certain corners of his mind like glass cleaner being smeared over a dirty window with a spiked washrag. Nothing was left but blood. The gurgle became a moan and the rage became desperation. But soon that, too, eased, and his body sagged into the mattress. I’m sorry, so sorry, he thought he heard a woman mutter, and then he slept, knowing nothing more.

“Jaxon, baby. Wake up.” Jaxon struggled through a thick cloud of lethargy, only to be dragged under again and again. Each time, he fought his way free. Had he ever been so tired? So weak? Finally he managed to pull himself to full cognizance and stay. He rasped, “Just need a little more rest, sweetheart.” Sweetheart? The word rumbled inside his mind, foreign for some reason. He did not usually call women by pet names. That implied a closeness he always fought to avoid. Didn’t he? He frowned, trying to recall where he was and who he was with. His mind was curiously blank. Then a single musing crystallized: You’re home. You’re with your wife.

He was married? No, couldn’t be. He would remember. Wouldn’t he? Another musing suddenly claimed his attention, this one an image. A tall, dark-haired beauty with sun-kissed skin and bright blue eyes smiled up at him with absolute adoration. She had freckles on her nose. He remembered he liked to count them. The image shifted, and the dark-haired beauty was straddling his waist, pumping up and down on his swollen shaft. Sweat glistened on her skin like fairy glitter. Her pretty lips parted, and a moan of pleasure slipped from her. The image shifted yet again, remaining the same except for a few small details. The woman grinding on his cock had short blonde hair, pale-as-milk skin, and no freckles. There was a bloodthirsty glint in her dark eyes. She wore a black glove on her right arm. “Jaxon?” The blonde faded away, evaporating like mist and revealing the brunette again. The brunette was his wife. He knew it. He also knew she adored him. The realization shouted through his head, seemingly drilled there as it obliterated every other thought. What intrigued him most, however, was the sudden knowledge that she loved giving him blow jobs. He found himself grinning at that. I’m a lucky man. He stretched his arms over his head, losing his

smile as his muscles screamed in protest. “What’s wrong with me?” His eyelids fluttered open. Bright light seeped from the windows and made him wince, made his eyes water. “You don’t remember?” his wife asked, concerned. Tabitha. Her name was Tabitha. How could he have forgotten her name, even for a second? He lived and breathed for Tabitha; he would be lost without her. “No,” he said. “I don’t.” He turned his head until a murky figure came into view. He blinked once, twice, his vision gradually clearing. Dark hair, lovely face. Freckles. One, two, three…nine freckles on her nose. His chest tightened with a swell of emotion. She’s mine. This woman is mine. She sucked in a breath. “Your eyes. They’re… lovely.” She sounded surprised, and a moment passed as her words echoed around them. “I just meant,” she added after a nervous laugh, “that I’m never sure if they’re going to be silver or blue. They change with your mood. Today they’re silver and that’s my favorite.” Then he’d just have to find a way to keep them silver. Anything for his Tabbie. Jaxon studied her, this woman who had captured his heart. Her head was propped on her gloved elbow—gloved, like the vision of the other woman, the blonde—and she was peering down at him.

Concern bathed her, coloring her cheeks the prettiest shade of rose. His memories were a pale comparison to the reality of her. Sweet, sweet Tabitha. The long length of her dark-as-night hair cascaded down her shoulders and tickled his chest. Her skin was so luminous she practically glowed. Her eyes were blue, flecked with lavender and framed by feathered black lashes. Those eyes weren’t warm and inviting, though. They were a little cold, a little determined, and a complete contradiction to the concern she radiated. That seemed important, but he couldn’t reason out why. “Why are you wearing a glove?” he asked hoarsely. “My poor baby,” she cooed. “That crack to the head must have done more damage than we thought.” She stroked his chin, her touch light, comforting. The scent of jasmine and female spice drifted from her and should have acted as an aphrodisiac. Did act as an aphrodisiac, and yet, it also chilled him to the bone. Why? “I’m just glad you’re alive.” She hadn’t answered his question, he realized, but he didn’t press her. Something continued to grate in the back of his mind, something terribly wrong with this situation. Yet, at the moment,

nothing seemed more important than simply enjoying Tabitha. His gaze slid over his wife, past her neck where her pulse hammered wildly. Was she excited? Aroused? She wore a white lace nightgown with thin straps that revealed the creamy expanse of her shoulders. For some reason, he couldn’t recall what her breasts looked like. Whether they overflowed in his palms or fit perfectly. Whether they were tipped by little pink berries or darker rosebuds. Flat stomach or curved? Lean legs or shapely legs? He should know his own wife’s body. The arm closest to her was wrapped in a cast, so Jaxon used the other to reach over to her, wincing in pain and trying to brush aside her hair. Before he made contact, she jerked away. He frowned. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing. You startled me, that’s all.” Slowly she leaned toward him. Contact. Sighing contentedly, he sifted several strands of those dark tresses through his fingers. Silky. That fit his memory. But her ear was bare, and he frowned again. He’d expected earrings, he realized. Lots of them, silver and round. “What are you thinking about?” Her warm breath fanned his face, minty fresh and a little intoxicating. That, too, was familiar. His arm dropped to his side, the muscles

relieved. “You. I’m thinking about you.” Slowly her lips lifted in a smile. “I’m glad.” She only wanted to make him happy, he thought. She cared about him, would die for him. She’d even helped him pick up the pieces of his shattered life when Cathy left him. Shattered life? His brows pulled together in confusion. What the hell? That wasn’t right. Cathy had left him, and he’d been grateful. Cathy had been high maintenance to an unbearable extreme. “What are you thinking?” she’d asked a thousand times a day. “Why didn’t you answer my call?” “I didn’t want syn-chicken, I wanted syn-fruit!” God, I was dumb, dating her so long. He liked to tell himself he’d stayed with her to build and fortify —and then refortify—his inner resilience. What failed to kill a man would only make him stronger and all that shit. But he knew the truth. Or at least, he thought he did. Cathy hadn’t pushed for more from him than he’d wanted to give, hadn’t cared about his ungodly hours or his emotional distance. And, to be honest, a warm body was a warm body and a man had needs. So he’d tolerated her bouts of obsession until she’d left. After that, there’d been no warm body at night, but he hadn’t cared. The only pleasure he’d experienced had come from his own hand, but he’d

hadn’t cared about that, either. He’d been happy, not shattered. “You were chasing a group of aliens,” Tabitha continued, petting his chest and shoving Cathy from his mind, “and they ambushed you. Beat you pretty badly.” Yeah, he remembered fists flying at him, connecting, and booted feet pounding into his middle. He remembered laughter and taunts, blood and pain. And rape? He shuddered, not even wanting to delve down that path. Just in case. Some things were better off buried. “Damage?” “A lot. Broken arm, broken ribs, broken ankle. Concussion.” “How long have I been out?” “You spent a few weeks in the hospital. When you were discharged, Dallas and Mia helped get you here. Here is home, by the way. You’ve only been here a few days, but already you look better.” She shivered in cold. And concern? “I thought I’d lost you. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.” “I’m here. I’m fine.” He reached up again and caressed her cheek. For a second, only a second, panic filled her eyes and she flinched. Then her expression smoothed, and she was once again staring down at him, innocent, relieved. Damn it, something wasn’t right. For the life of him, though, he still couldn’t pinpoint what. Maybe because everything seemed out of place, wrong.

That scent, that glove. Why did they bother him? “In your sleep, you were muttering about a virus,” Tabitha said. Shit. Shit! “Was probably afraid I’d come down with a cold. You know a man in pain is nothing more than an overgrown baby.” Her lush, red lips edged into a frown. He recognized that frown, though it had no place in his memories. “No. You also mentioned something about the…Schön. Yes, that’s it. The Schön. Who or what are they and what do they want with you?” He never, no matter how sick, how drugged, would have mentioned a case so blatantly. He’d been trained to keep quiet, even under the direst of circumstances. Actually, before he’d even been accepted as an agent, A.I.R. had tested his ability to keep quiet. He’d been given a folder and told to read it, which he’d then done. Afterward, he’d been questioned for hours. He’d stayed quiet and he’d been beaten. Still, he hadn’t revealed a single thing he’d read. He’d been drugged—nothing. Locked up—nothing. Why would his wife lie? How would she know even those details? The answer popped into place like a light had been switched inside his mind. And with the light, false shadows were chased quickly away. She wasn’t his wife. Genuine memories sprang to the surface, and he

gasped in pain as the implanted ones were dislodged. Delenseans, the cell, the slaughter. No wonder he didn’t know this woman’s body. He’d never had the pleasure of sampling it. She’d claimed to be an A.I.R. agent, as well as his partner. She’d drugged him, tried to trick him. His lips peeled back from his teeth, and he scowled up at Le’Ace. His hand dipped to her neck. The action hurt, but he didn’t let go. He jerked her forward. He was growling low in his throat, unable to halt the sound. All hint of emotion faded from her eyes. “Where’d I mess up?” she asked flatly. “The happy-to-give-blow-jobs memory. Sweet, but not altogether realistic. Tabitha. Unless, of course, you want to prove otherwise.” Her lids narrowed to tiny slits. “Fuck you.” “That’s what I’m trying to get you to do,” he said cruelly. “We can play hubby and wife in truth.” A look of hurt bloomed in her eyes, surprising him, nearly softening him. She’s still trying to pull my strings, damn her. That hurt wasn’t real. Couldn’t be. The woman was cold-blooded to the extreme. Seconds later, she was scowling at him, solidifying his belief. “You should be thanking me for what I’ve done instead of complaining. I saved you when I could have killed you. I cared for you

when I could have hurt you. I wiped your memory when I could have probed your brain in ways the Delenseans would have flinched at. Now, tell me where?” Where’d she mess up, she wanted to know. “I wouldn’t have mentioned a case, even in my sleep,” he answered, then asked a question of his own. “Where are we? And don’t even think about lying. We’re exchanging information right now, but that will stop the moment you utter another lie.” Her shoulders relaxed somewhat. “We’re in one of my safe houses.” “How long?” “I didn’t lie about that. You were hospitalized and kept in a coma for a little over three weeks. When you were stable, we brought you here.” “We? Who’s we?” “That, I can’t tell you.” “Am I being monitored?” Something dark flashed in her eyes. He studied them intently, only then seeing the round edges of the contacts where a hint of green lurked underneath blue. “Well?” “Only by me,” she said, and he knew she was lying. Again. He desperately wanted to question her further, but also knew he’d receive no more answers. A part of him recognized her for what she was: an agent to the core. She would be as closemouthed as he was.

The only difference was, he knew what side of the law he worked. “I guess our conversation is over,” he said. “It had never really begun.” True. “Take off the wig. I want to see the blonde.” Surprise flashed over her expression, quickly masked. “That wasn’t my natural hair, either.” Not blonde, not brunette. “Are you a redhead?” “No.” What the hell did that leave? “Show me the real you, for Christ’s sake. I want to see who I’m dealing with.” Both of her brows arched. They, too, were colored black. “If I do, will you tell me what I want to know?” “No.” She slid one of her hands up his chest. Felt good. Too good. But he knew what she planned to do next. He released her neck to grab her wrist. She gasped, tried to pull away. He held tight. Scowling, he ripped the ring from her index finger. “I’m not going back to sleep.” “Fine.” She wrenched from his clasp and held both hands up, palms facing him and flat. “No nappie-poo. But you have to tell me about the Schön, Jaxon.” Oh, really? “I don’t have to do anything.” A muscle ticked under her eye as she moved to

crouch on the end of the mattress. All of her body’s delicious warmth, gone. Her heady scent, weakened. He mourned the loss, and wondered if she would always affect him in such a way. “When you were hospitalized,” she said, “two more women had already been infected. Since then, six others have been found.” “Are they still alive?” “Some of them.” “You should kill them,” he said, his tone as flat as hers had been earlier. “Why?” He liked that she didn’t balk at his callous words and was tempted to answer. Not that he would. She pushed out a frustrated sigh. “Every single one of them is babbling about Earth being next. Next for what? Do you know?” “Maybe they’re planning a surprise party for us. If you bring the beer, I’ll bring the wine.” A murderous yet quiet rage filled her eyes. Her lips thinned. But when she spoke, she was all business, calm and affable. “Listen, I need answers. I can help you, and you can help me.” “First, why don’t you tell me exactly who you are and who you work for?” A pause. She ran the pink tip of her tongue over the whiteness of her teeth. “Trust me. You don’t want to meet my current boss.” “Current” boss. Did that mean she changed

bosses frequently? “We’re on the same side, Jaxon. I swear it.” “Funny, but I’ve never seen you at A.I.R. headquarters before.” Her hard stare pinned him, practically blazing all the way to his soul. “You’ve never heard of shadow operatives?” Yeah, he had. And yeah, she was menacing enough to work in that dark, murky field. After all, she’d stabbed Thomas without a qualm. “Get Jack in here. Or Dallas or Mia. Let me talk to them.” For a long while she said nothing, simply continued to stare over at him with a decadent mix of green and golden fury blazing from her eyes. Green? Golden? He looked more closely, more intently. Sure enough, one of her contacts had slipped completely and he could see the hazel iris underneath. Hazel, not totally green as he’d supposed. Pretty. His cock twitched under the covers, and he frowned. He still desired her? Seriously? She clearly planned to keep him away from his coworkers. She was bloodthirsty, cruel, obviously higher maintenance than even Cathy, and could weave a web of lies without blinking. She’d saved his life, yes, but she’d also attempted to wipe his memories and give him new ones. Worse, feral as she was proving to be, she would probably knife him if he

continued to refuse her. Nope. None of that affected his cock. The little shit was still growing and hardening, still preparing for penetration. “What the—” Le’Ace stared down at the sheet, her cheeks reddening. Her gaze jerked back to his face. She scowled. “You had better get used to the idea of talking to me,” she snapped. “Neither of us is leaving here until you do.” Why did he suddenly feel like grinning?

CHAPTER 4

Dallas Gutierrez suffered from headaches. Every day he endured at least three crack-your-skullagainst-the-wall, suck-your-brain-out-of-your-ears pounders. Everyone assumed he was still recovering from a pyre-gun injury. Everyone was wrong. While lying helpless in a hospital bed, he’d been purposely fed Arcadian blood. Alien blood. That had happened several months ago, but pieces of him were still dying and being reborn Arcadian. Anymore, he wasn’t certain what parts of his humanity remained. If any. Now he healed faster than an injury could take root. A good thing, yes. He was faster than ever, sometimes slipping into some sort of hyperdrive, unable to slow until his body simply collapsed from fatigue. Not a bad ability, sure. Sometimes he’d speak, issue a command, and people who usually told him to go fuck himself would instantly obey, as if pleasing him were their only reason for living. Another cool little trick. But sometimes he saw things. Things that hadn’t happened yet. Bad things, horrible things. Things that made him want to throw up blood and tear out his eyes with his fingernails. Dallas scrubbed a hand down his tired face. Last

night, he’d seen something far worse than his previous doomsday visions. He’d seen his friend, Jaxon Tremain, sobbing and begging for his life. Don’t do it. Please don’t do it. God, no. Tears had streamed down Jaxon’s face, agony had gleamed in his eyes, and he’d dropped to his knees. Seemed innocuous. A man begging. So what. But calm, reserved Jaxon would beg for nothing, not even his own life. So that raised the question: what horrific circumstance had pushed him to that point? Dallas’s stomach tightened. The image is wrong, has to be. Jaxon hadn’t cried when his arm had nearly been blown off during a gunfight. Hadn’t even cried when his dad died. Yet Dallas’s visions had so far proven one hundred percent infallible. Only thing he didn’t know was if it had already happened or if there was still time to stop it from happening. “Tell me again what those government officials told you,” he commanded his boss, Jack Pagosa. Jack sat hunched behind his desk, elbows propped on the surface. He always looked like Santa Claus on ’roids. Thick white beard. Bright red, round cheeks sculpted by milk, cookies, and fried syn-chicken. Wide shoulders and a bowl-fullof-jelly-and-fatty-meat belly. Jack always wore flannel, no matter the occasion. Today’s choice was blue and green, a match to his shrewd eyes.

Dallas had worked with him for over eleven years and trusted him implicitly. The man could have had Mia, Dallas’s partner and best friend, kicked out of A.I.R. when he learned she was half Arcadian, half human and had worked against agents to save her lover. He hadn’t. He’d promoted her. “Jaxon was abducted by aliens,” Jack said, his voice grim. “Delenseans. He was being held in their version of lockup. He was then rescued by some government operative and is now being treated, deemed critical.” “Why was he abducted? Ransom? And why can’t we see him, now that he’s been rescued by our fucking government?” “Don’t know.” Jack’s eyes slid away from Dallas, a tell-tale sign of lying. When he realized what he’d done, he immediately brought his gaze back to Dallas. What did Jack know? Before Dallas had a chance to insist on the truth, a knock sounded at the door. Frowning, Jack pressed a button. The office’s only door glided open and Hector Dean, agent and resident prankster, stepped inside. Every few days, the man shaved his head, intentionally and not as a dare, keeping his scalp to a tanned shine. Both of his arms were sleeved in tattoos and his eyes were golden, like a snake’s.

Despite the rough look, he was a good man. Dallas nodded at him in greeting. Hector nodded back and said to Jack, “I need to speak with you about a case.” “Can it wait?” “How long?” was the irritated response. “Just—” Jack waved his hand through the air. “Give me five minutes. Good?” “Make it a quick five minutes.” Hector stepped back and the door closed in front of him automatically. “What’s that about?” Dallas asked. “We heard a rumor a group of alien warriors are headed our way.” Alien warriors were always headed their way, it seemed. “Why can’t we see Jaxon?” Dallas asked again. Jack scrubbed a hand over his face. “You’ve asked me these questions a thousand times before, Dal. I have the same answers now as I had every other time. I suppose they’ve got him quarantined in case his captor’s exposed him to something toxic.” “That’s bullshit.” Dallas slammed a fist against his knee. His leg wanted to jerk in reflex, but he held it steady, pressing his heel into the tiled floor. “Even in quarantine, we should be able to suit up and see him. Look into his room, at the very least. They won’t even tell us where he’s being held.”

“True, but there’s nothing we can do about it. Look, they had me call a temporary number, okay? He probably doesn’t even remember, but I talked to him and he sounded drugged out of his mind. I asked him for answers, and he refused to give them. Now those damn officials won’t let me tell him hello. Said I made things worse.” “Something’s going on here, Jack. Something more than they’re telling us.” Something more than you’re telling me. Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. “Probably. But again, the reins of control aren’t ours, so our hands are tied. He’s safe. He’s being cared for. You have to accept that and drop it.” “Drop it?” Hardly. “He’s been missing for four weeks. Four fucking weeks! None of us have been allowed to see him. If he’s quarantined, fine. I’ll bow on that point and won’t ask to see him again. But why won’t they let me call him? He’s like a brother to me.” “I don’t know, okay? I just don’t know.” Jack’s stare was hard, angry. Dallas slinked back in his seat, extending the long length of his legs. He rubbed two fingers over his jaw, considering his next options. He didn’t want to use his new abilities on Jack. Didn’t want to use them on anyone, really. Hell, Dallas didn’t even know if he could. Not intentionally. They came and went of their own accord, leaving chaos

in their wake. Besides, to try and use them was to give over to his alien side. The dark side, he thought dryly. Did he really want to do that? He didn’t have to think about it. Yeah. For Jaxon, he would do anything. Since the shooting, not many people wanted to hang with Dallas. Most feared him, kept their distance. He’d changed, he knew it, but there was nothing he could do about it. Only Mia, Jack, and Jaxon treated him the same as they always had. Jaxon was honorable, a better man than Dallas, and deserved all the help Dallas could give. If Dallas had to dabble in the dark arts, he’d dabble in the dark arts. And there was no better time than the present. Concentrate. He closed his eyes, drew in a slow breath. Jack snorted. “Taking a nap, Gutierrez? That’s not what I pay you for.” He didn’t open his eyes. “I need a moment to think.” “Think at your desk.” “Jack,” he growled. There was a pause. A sigh. “Fine. Whatever.” Papers shuffled, a cabinet rolled open. “Sometimes you’re a pain in my ass,” Jack muttered. “I should kick you into next week.” Dallas tuned out the background noise and

reached deep inside himself, not stopping until he found the shadowy corner where he’d tried to bury each of his new abilities. They swirled and churned, bright lights in a world of black. He didn’t know which was which, didn’t know which to unleash. If he accidentally kicked into hyperspeed, Jack would not be able to see or hear him, so he’d be of no use to Jaxon. You aren’t alien, a tiny voice spoke up. You arrest and slaughter otherworlders for doing this. It’s against the law. He quickly squashed the voice. For Jaxon, he reminded himself. Anything. Jaxon would do no less for him. Not knowing what else to do or how to choose, Dallas simply cut the tether restraining all of the lights. Immediately they shot through him, pinging from one corner to another and heating his blood to boiling. His muscles spasmed painfully, forcing a groan from his clenched teeth. “Dallas? You okay, man? Listen, I know you’ve been having a hard time since the accident. You’ve lost Mia to the training camp, Jaxon to rogue aliens, and the other agents are leery of you. I know that has to hurt. Your eyes changed from brown to blue in a single night, man. That freaked them out a little. Give them time. They’ll forget soon enough and maybe start to believe you used to wear contacts.” Every bone in Dallas’s body seemed to expand,

stretching his skin tightly. Jack continued, unaware. “Hell, I might even start to believe it. God knows you won’t talk about the truth and that’s fine. I don’t need it. You’re a good agent, one of my best. You’ve never let me down. I trust you. So trust me on this, okay? Drop the quest for answers about Jaxon. He’ll return to us soon enough.” Dallas’s throat was constricting, grabbing every breath that tried to enter or escape and holding tight, choking the life out of him. His ears rang, a banshee’s wail. “I’ve hired a new girl,” Jack continued, still oblivious to the pain surging through Dallas. “Macy Brigs. I think you’ll like her. Not as sassy as Mia, but—what’s wrong with you?” I’m on fire. I’m going to die in a burst of flames. Breathe, he needed to breathe. Dallas’s eyelids popped. He was still sitting in the chair, still visible, which meant he hadn’t kicked into hyperdrive. The spasms suddenly eased, and his muscles relaxed. His throat finally opened, and he sucked in a gulp of air. Thank God the flames ebbed to a crackle. Jack’s lips parted on a gasp. “Your eyes… they’re glowing.” He’d succeeded. He knew it, felt the power deep inside. “Bark like a robodog.” His voice was

layered with threads of energy that thickened the air. He could feel the pulse of it, the hum. “Arrf, arrf.” No hesitation from Jack, no snorting or laughing or asking why. Not even as a joke would serious Jack usually have done such a thing. Yes, Dallas had done it. He should have been ecstatic, but it was a hollow victory. “Jack, you will tell me everything you’ve been ordered not to tell about Jaxon.” Wait. A good agent knew to cover his tracks. “And once you’ve spoken of it, you’ll forget what you told me in this office.” Jack stilled, his breathing slowed. His turquoise eyes glazed over, as if he’d been pumped full of drugs or hypnotized. Then, he began talking. He told of a new alien species, of a virus and infected women. He told of a race between otherworlders and humans to capture the men responsible, for otherworlders could use the virus to destroy humankind. Dallas listened, his stomach filling with jagged shards of lead. Shards that cut, made him bleed internally. “Why won’t the government let us see Jaxon?” “I honestly don’t know.” Jack sounded like a robot, voice monotone, devoid of any type of emotion. “I’ve requested his return on three separate occasions and was finally told to shut my

mouth or lose my job.” No wonder we monitor this power and destroy those who use it. Dallas could have forced his boss to share his darkest secret. Could have forced his boss to kill every agent in the building. Such power could be addicting. “Call Mia.” As he spoke, his blood began to cool and his hold on the mesmerizing intonation faded… slipping from him…finally gone completely. No! He gripped his chair, feeling a bit light-headed and a lot weak. With those ghostly hands, he reached inside himself a second time, but couldn’t find a single light. They’d winked out, vanished. For the moment? Or the rest of his life? The puppet-glaze disappeared from Jack’s eyes. He shook his head, as though trying to clear his thoughts. Tense, Dallas waited for his boss to snap at him, fire him, something. But the conversation was never mentioned. Jack had truly forgotten it. “You look pale,” Jack said, frowning over at him. Determination pushed Dallas onward. “Tell Mia to return.” Together, they could hunt Jaxon down. They could do what those government officials probably deemed unnecessary: save him. “Please.” “No.” Jack gave another shake of his head. He rummaged through his top drawer and withdrew a bottle of antacids. “She volunteered to teach at the

academy. You know that, just as you know she’s using their database to try and hunt down other halflings, as well as her brother. She won’t appreciate being summoned, and when that woman gets angry, bad things happen.” Jack shuddered and shook a half dozen or so of the little pills into his mouth, chewed, swallowed. “She’d kill us all if Jaxon dies and she wasn’t even told of his capture. Give her a choice, at least.” Jack’s frown deepened. “Look. The truth is, I don’t need pressure from her, too, and that’s exactly what I’ll get if she comes back.” Dallas arched a brow and pinned his boss with a get-real stare. “You’ll also get a bullet in the brain if she finds out you kept this from her.” Sadly, he wasn’t joking. Mia was the epitome of violence. After the upbringing she’d had, Dallas understood that, even sympathized. While she’d calmed down since falling in love with Kyrin en Arr, king of the Arcadians, she was still a frightening enemy to have. A pause, another sigh. “Fine. I’ll call her and tell her what’s going on. I can’t promise you anything, though, so don’t get your hopes up. She’s been as unpredictable as you lately.” Probably because they were both bonded to the same Arcadian, but Dallas didn’t mention that. No one but Mia, Dallas, and Kyrin, the alien

responsible, knew. Dallas preferred to keep it that way. No reason to solidify what everyone probably already suspected, thereby intensifying their distrust of him. “Just to prepare you,” he said, “I’m not giving up. I will find Jaxon.” Jack stared at him for a long while. There was a mix of pride and regret in his eyes. Finally, he ran his tongue over his teeth. “You’re stubborn, have I ever told you that? Kicking you into next week wouldn’t be good enough.” He turned and flipped through the numbers on his holoindex. When he found what he was looking for, he muttered, “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” He picked up his cell unit and pushed a series of buttons. “I just sent you the number for a new agency. It’s run by two former shadows. Eden Black and Lucius Adaire. They once worked for the government agency that has Jaxon and might know a way around some of the red tape. You did not get their number from me. Understand?” This was one of the many reasons Dallas loved his boss. “Understand.” “Now get out of here. You’ve caused my ulcer to flare.” Grinning, Dallas pushed to his feet. Immediately he regretted the action and lost his smile. Another headache slammed past his temples and straight into his brain. The pain was so excruciating, his

knees buckled and he fell straight back into the chair. Shit, once again he couldn’t breathe. Jack might have asked him a question, but all he could hear was the loud roar of blood in his ears. The office around him faded, his eyesight completely gone. He was suddenly trapped inside his own mind, no way out. Shouldn’t have cut that cord. He laughed bitterly, or he thought he did; no sound emerged. Images began flashing through his head. He saw a beautiful, golden-skinned Rakan and a human male who looked capable of murder, holding a bucking Jaxon down. Dallas was screaming at them, then racing away a moment later. This hadn’t happened yet, he realized. He’d done no such thing. The Rakan and the human were covered in soot and seemed weakened, but still they held firm. Someone stood off to the side. Watching? Dallas couldn’t see the person, only knew that he or she was there. At the far end of a hallway was a brunette. She, too, was dirty. Bleeding. She was crouched on her knees, her eyes glazed, as if she were drugged. Her features were conflicted. Decisions, decisions sang through his mind. Then he realized the brunette had a decision to make. What, he didn’t know. Next he saw petite, dark-haired Mia holding a gun to the brunette’s head. “She’s going to kill

you!” Mia yelled to Jaxon. The brunette laughed as if she hadn’t a care. “She’s right, Jaxon.” Jaxon continued to buck wildly, screaming and screaming. Those screams echoed through Dallas’s mind, making him cringe, nearly making him gag. Jaxon finally battled his way free, dislodging the weakened couple and grabbing a gun. The brunette grabbed one, too. Mia fired, Jaxon fired, the brunette fired. The faceless someone in the corner fired. One of the killer beams slammed into Jaxon. After that, Dallas’s mind short-circuited and blackened. He slumped over, panting, trying to focus on the here and now. What. The. Hell?

CHAPTER 5

Frustration was like a cancer inside of Le’Ace, eating at her, consuming her inch by inch. Every day her boss contacted her and asked about her progress with Jaxon; every day her answer was the same: I’ve made none. The words were almost a foreign language on her tongue. She’d never had to utter them before and despised uttering them now. Failure would earn her nothing but pain. Pain she desperately wanted to avoid. Yet she hadn’t pushed Jaxon for more. Every time she considered her options—cut off one of his fingers, try to wipe his brain again, shackle him to the bed—she talked herself out of it. Why? The answer eluded her, same as success. He was a man. Only a man. Nothing special. She recognized the lie immediately. His courage was something to be in awe of, and his internal fire something to envy. What was she going to do? He was healing nicely. And yet, he’d seemed to have morphed into a different man entirely. He was polite, reserved, never spoke out of turn, never voiced a dirty word or innuendo as he had in Thomas’s cell. He was the man she’d read about in his file. And she didn’t like it, wanted the old Jaxon

back, though she couldn’t name why. The only thing consistent about him was that he refused to answer any of her questions. Of course, he didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want to do. He had freedom of choice. She was as jealous about that as she was frustrated with his lack of cooperation. Her entire life, she’d never had a choice. Actually, no. That wasn’t true. She had one choice, always: life or death. Bad as it was, she wasn’t sure why she held on so tightly to her life or why she continued to obey Estap time and time again. Death would have been easier. But she did hold on, she did obey, always watching those around her, wishing she could experience half of what they did. Love and passion, laughter and companionship. Just once. Le’Ace bit back a snort. She’d scaled mountains, engaged in gunfights and knife fights. She’d trekked through land mines, navigated burning buildings, and jumped from planes and moving cars. Hell, she’d even taught teenage girls how to do the same, a definite testament to her strength. But she’d never possessed the courage to stand up and say “No, I won’t do that” or “Kill me, I don’t care.” Not for long. She’d never had the courage to even take a lover, in truth. Someone she desired. Someone her boss hadn’t told her to fuck

for intel or to create a sense of trust. Someone she didn’t need to steal from or secretly kill, as only a woman on top of a man could kill. She’d been too afraid. Now somehow someone was tempting her to forget her job, her fears, and simply enjoy. It was the “for once” she’d always craved, but she was at a loss. Jaxon’s audacity is a novelty, that’s all. Right? That would explain why the more she watched him, the more her body reacted to him, hungered for him, even though her mind knew better. Not that she could do anything about it. For her, passion could equal nothing but agony. When she was called away, and she would be, she would leave. If she were told to kill him, she would kill him. No question. No hesitation. Tears? Maybe. She thought she might miss him. And if they did get together, there was no way in hell he’d want her back if she were ordered to sleep with someone else while they were separated. Much as she might want to, that wasn’t something she’d lie about, pretending she’d been faithful just to keep him. Unless ordered, she thought bitterly. How do I handle this? Over the years she had chased many humans and aliens. She had tortured, and she had coldly, brutally executed. In those situations, she’d known what to do. With Jaxon, she was completely out of

her element. Why? she wondered again. Why was he different? His stubbornness, perhaps, his strength. If he had a weakness, she hadn’t found it. These past few days, he hadn’t even seemed to have a man’s needs. He hadn’t touched her again, not since they’d lain side by side in bed and she’d pretended to be his wife. He kept his distance as if she were poison. What if I’d really been his wife? The thought zipped through her and she couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t stop the hot pang of longing that followed it, scorching her soul-deep. Would he look at her with all that fire and passion again? Tenderness, even? Oh, the tenderness had nearly slain her before. No one had ever looked at Mishka Le’Ace that way. People regarded her warily, analytically, fearfully. But not then, not Jaxon. When he’d turned those gorgeous silver eyes on her, all soft and affectionate, she’d wanted so badly for the pretend memories she’d planted in his head to be real. More wishing, you stupid girl? You know what wishing brings: a whole lot of nothing. With a sigh, Le’Ace leaned against the living room wall and watched as Jaxon pushed himself out of the wheelchair she’d procured for him and

stood, holding the parallel bars she’d installed only that morning. He refused to allow her to help him, insisting on doing his own physical therapy. His color was good, at least, only traces of yellow and azure remaining on his jawline. Most of the swelling had gone down. His face still wasn’t handsome, would never be handsome, but it was utterly fascinating to her. A white, jagged scar ran along the right side of his face. An old scar he’d obviously received well before his beating. Now there were several new ones beside it, pink and puffy like kitten scratches. His silver eyes were framed by short, thick lashes. His nose was a little too long and a lot harsh, crooked, and his cheekbones were sharp as glass shards. Overall, a savage face. Except there was something beguiling about him, something curiously calming. Sometimes, when she looked at him, a sense of peace would float through her, relaxing her shoulders, beckoning her to simply enjoy him. The relaxation never lasted long, though, because desire was always close on its heels. “I want a phone, Le’Ace.” His deep voice snapped her out of her musing. How long had she been staring at him, silent? Warmth blossomed in her cheeks. “There aren’t any landlines in the building.” “Is your cell broken?” “No.”

“Let me use it.” Emotionless, unconcerned. “Nope. Sorry,” she said, hating to deny him. “Why?” He gripped the bars so tightly his knuckles bleached. Not so unconcerned, after all. Slowly, so slowly, he dipped his weight to his bare feet. A grimace contorted his features, but he remained in place. “You shouldn’t have cut off the cast,” she admonished. So badly she wanted to go to him, help him, but she knew he’d brush her aside. “Why can’t I use your cell?” he demanded as if she hadn’t spoken. “A phone call could be traced.” “I’ll make it quick.” “You know as well as I do that a trace takes less than a second.” He inched forward, one baby step at a time. “What would be so bad about a trace? If we’re friends, partners, as you claim, A.I.R. employees are our allies.” Well, let’s see. The New Chicago agents wouldn’t know her, wouldn’t trust her, and would try to take Jaxon away from her. Oh, and there was the little matter of violating a direct order. Jaxon was to have no contact with his friends. That way, he would feel isolated and cling to Le’Ace. In theory, at least, she mentally added with a frown. He had yet to cling. With every minute that passed, he seemed to draw farther and farther away

from her. “I think you’re afraid my friends will storm inside this house and stab you.” That was the most inflamed response he’d made in days, and she took heart. She didn’t know why his reserved, stoic persona irritated her so much, but it did. “Please,” she replied, just to provoke him. “Your friends couldn’t find me if I mailed them a map and marked our location with a glowing red X.” One of his hands suddenly slipped on the bar, dislodging him. His forearm slammed into the wood, and he grunted. She was beside him a second later, unable to stop herself, gripping his hips and jerking him upright. The muscles underneath her palms clenched, and Jaxon’s shoulders stiffened. But he managed to regain his balance and push out a breath. “You can let go now,” he said, and there was embarrassment in his tone. She wanted to linger. First touch in days, her body screamed, want more, more, more. He was shirtless, and she watched a bead of sweat travel from his shoulderblade to the waist of his shorts. Nine scars branched from his spine. She wondered how he’d gotten them. He had wide shoulders, and they were the perfect frame for the perfect chest she knew he possessed. She knew he had rope after rope of

muscle and that each was a feast to her greedy gaze. He was strength and total masculinity, roughhewn and sun-kissed. The body of a god with the face of a warrior. Didn’t get any better than that. “I said you can let go.” She released him and backed away. Obviously he was a strong and capable man. Any hint of weakness had to mortify him. “Anyone else would still be in bed, Jaxon. You endured multiple beatings from multiple people and sustained injuries that would have killed anyone else.” He ignored her and continued his exercise. Would a thank-you for the compliment have been too much to ask? She resumed her position at the wall and studied him once again. Lines of strain bracketed his eyes and mouth. His skin was paler than it had been a moment ago. “How’d you get the scar on your cheek?” “Rogue alien,” he answered dismissively. Truth? Lie. Le’Ace ground her teeth. “How?” “Rogue alien.” “Fine. Whatever.” His energy level? Fifty-three percent below optimum. Fifty-three percent below, and he was still trucking forward on those bars? The man was more determined than she’d realized. She sighed. Perform a perimeter check.

A pause. All is clear. Good. The home sat in the center of a heavily wooded, government-owned forest. Not many people knew of its location, but those who did wouldn’t mind storming inside for a surprise peek at her progress. Bastards. Her gaze circled the spacious room, trying to view it as Jaxon might. Faux wood floor, scuffed but polished to a glossy shine. Dark brown synleather couch and loveseat, both scratched in various places. Walls painted a stark white. Not wonderful, but not terrible, either. “What’s your home like?” she asked him. He didn’t glance in her direction, just kept plowing ahead. Finally he reached the end. Slow and easy, he turned to beat a pain-filled path back to the start. “Well?” “I’m sure you already know.” Yes. She’d seen pictures of the enormous fortress his grandparents had given him. The green manicured lawn was edged by an intricately designed wrought-iron fence, which led to a large azure fountain. At night, when that water pulsed into the air every few minutes and tumbled back into the dappled base, the home itself looked like a glittering fairy tale of dream and starlight. White stone seemed to stretch straight into the sky, wrapping around an acre of land like a glowing

crescent moon. The stuff of storybook adventures, surely. What impressed her the most, however, was the RSS. A robotic security system used artificial intelligence to systematically learn a home owner’s behavioral patterns and adjust itself without need for reprogramming. It armed and disarmed automatically, all the while making accommodations for those added into its memory bank. For her to get inside, Jaxon would have to introduce her into the system or she’d blow the alarms by stepping a single foot onto the property. Not that she couldn’t get around that with time and effort. Perhaps one day, if she were ever allowed a vacation, she’d do so. “Do you enjoy living in such a large place?” she asked. “Has its perks.” He offered no more, no less. Polite, distant. “And what do you consider a perk?” “This and that.” She pushed out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t like you like this.” One of his brows arched. “Like what?” “So reserved. I prefer you passionate and funny. We were married once. Remember?” She added the last as a joke. A sense of humor had never been something she cared to exhibit, but she was

desperate to break through the man’s invisible wall of resistance. Finally Jaxon ceased moving. His gaze lifted to hers, and the silver fire in his eyes pierced her. “What are you doing, Tabby?” “Trying to make conversation.” Trying to know you better. Trying to smother the longing inside me. “Well, you can stop. Unless you want to tell me how the Delenseans can zap themselves from one location to another in seconds, what they wanted with the Schön, who your boss is, and what you plan to do with any information I give you, we have nothing to say to each other.” Her teeth once again ground together. “Most of that is not information I can share.” “Most of what I know, I can’t share.” Damn him! “Tell me what you can share, at least,” he offered. Fine. She’d give him a little. Hopefully, in return, he’d give her a lot. “Molecular transport is possible. But you knew that, right?” He nodded. “I just didn’t know the Delenseans knew how. They’ve always seemed so…” “Stupid?” He gave another nod. “A lot of them are, and the rest, well, they use it as a defense mechanism.”

“What did Thomas want with the Schön?” Careful, careful. “The Schön destroyed the Delenseans’ planet and now some of the Delenseans want what anyone would want: revenge.” A moment passed in silence. She said no more. Just waited. He flicked her a glance, his expression hard. “That’s all you can tell me?” “Yes.” “Then, again, we have nothing to say to each other.” “I gave you something, now you give me something.” “Nothing to give.” “You owe me information!” “No, I don’t.” That bastard! Totally not what she’d expected from him. Should have. Classic male behavior. She’d given, he’d reneged. No wonder she avoided relationships like most women avoided fat grams. Part of her did understand, though. After everything she’d done to him, drugging him, trying to wipe his memory, she’d deserved that. And yet, for a woman who prided herself on being cold and hard, Le’Ace was amazed by the hurt mixed in with her anger and empathy. She looked down to escape those probing eyes, eyes now watching her. Eyes that seemed to bore

straight into her soul. What a sight she must be. Her boots were caked with mud; she hadn’t bothered to clean them. She’d been too busy installing the stupid wooden rods for Jaxon so he could better regain his strength. Her hair, her real fucking hair that he’d wanted so badly to see but had not yet commented on, was probably windblown and tangled, her jeans and plain gray Tshirt wrinkled and dust-speckled. “Le’Ace,” he said with a sigh. Did he know he’d hurt her? Did he care? “Look,” she said, “I’m glad we agree about something. Conversation is just another form of torture, so I won’t try and subject you to it anymore.” Thankfully, her voice was calm, unemotional. “Don’t try to escape, okay? The doors open with my ID scan, but we both know you’re capable of disabling the wires. Do it and wheel yourself out if you insist on being a jackass, but I’ll be right behind you and I’ll be pissed. You remember what happened to Thomas when he pissed me off, right?” With that, she pivoted on her heel and strode from the room.

Jaxon cursed under his breath the moment he lost sight of her. Le’Ace didn’t know it, but escape wasn’t on his

to-do list. One, the wheelchair seriously slowed him down, but he was even slower without it. She’d catch him in a heartbeat. Two, he was determined to find out exactly who she was, whom she worked for, and what she wanted with the Schön. Until then, he was staying put. At least he’d gotten a few answers. The Delenseans had wanted revenge, and he knew there were other species out there that had been destroyed by the Schön. Would the people of Earth soon have to take a number to exact their own revenge? Le’Ace could have told you more. Shoulda been nicer to her. Idiot. No, he thought in the next instant. She didn’t want him nice. He’d been nice to her, polite as a Sunday school teacher, but she’d complained. She wanted him to be himself, he realized. She wanted the sarcasm, insults, perverted humor, and all. If he would have acted the way his instincts demanded, she might have slipped and accidentally revealed a secret. He almost snorted. To be honest, there was no way he would have noticed if she’d slipped. Hell, he wouldn’t have noticed if she’d presented a slide show with charts and diagrams outlining everything he wanted to know. When he looked at her, all he heard was the pounding of his heartbeat. When he looked at her, all he saw was luscious female.

All he wanted was sex. Today she had strawberry-blonde hair, highlighted by flecks of amber and flaxen. The multihued tresses suited her to perfection. They were long with a hint of curl, cascading like a radiant waterfall. A few times, he’d almost reached out and fisted them, desperate to know if they were real or another wig. He suspected real, and that thrilled him. “Take off the wig,” he’d once told her. “I want to see the blonde.” “That wasn’t my natural hair, either,” she’d replied. “Are you a redhead?” “No.” He hadn’t understood at the time, had thought she was merely being evasive. Her answers now made sense. She wasn’t a redhead, blonde, or brunette. She was a mix of all three colors. That thick mane would look amazing spread over his pillow. She would look amazing. A wave of desire swept through him, blistering. She’d removed the contacts. Her eyes were hazel, as he’d suspected, a breathtaking mix of green and golden brown. His wife’s freckles had been washed away, leaving smooth, pale skin. Lickable, like cream. You thought that about the freckles. He thought that way about all of her.

Jaxon scowled. I don’t even like her, yet I’m panting for her. She was fire and she was ice. She was determination and she was uncertainty. She was distant, yet sometimes she gazed at him as if she wanted to jump straight into his skin. Those times, she radiated so much vulnerability he was staggered. Those times, he wanted to wrap her in his arms and hold her close. How would she have reacted if he’d tried? She didn’t seem to like being touched, had only allowed it three times. Once in the cell, once when they’d lain in bed together, and once on the bars. None of those touches had been tentative or truly sexual in nature. Yet, none had been confident, either. She’d stroked his face, his chest; held him and nothing more. She’d even flinched the few times he’d tried for more. His scowl eased into a frown. Why hadn’t she attempted to use sex as leverage? He liked to think otherwise, but he might have caved, might have told her everything if she’d been sliding down his swollen shaft. To have all of her energy, all of her intense focus over him, under him…sweet Jesus. She had to know she weakened his resolve. Physically, everything about her appeared tailormade for sex, for him, which made resisting her mentally difficult. She walked into a room and his

blood heated, searing and scorching everything in its path. All he thought about anymore was stroking her, tasting her. Fucking her. Hard and hot and dirty, for hours and hours, in every way she would allow. Maybe some ways she’d need coaxing. The blows to his head, on the heels of Le’Ace’s mind warp, must have seriously screwed with his intelligence level. Sitting here, thinking like this, wasn’t good. He needed to mend the damage he’d done to their relationship instead of lusting after her. Mending it was the only way to get answers. Grim, he forced his legs into action. Slow, steady. The muscles were stiff and sore; his left ankle was a mass of agony and his right arm felt as if it had been wired straight into an electrical socket in hell, but he didn’t allow himself to give up. Soon, sweat poured down his chest and back in tiny rivers. When he reached the end of the bars, he twisted and let himself fall. His ass thumped into the wheelchair and jostled his still-healing ribs, and for a moment he lost his breath. A surge of dizziness assaulted him. Infirmity sucked major ass. Grinding his teeth, he propped his elbows on the handles and allowed his head to drop into his upraised palms. If she wouldn’t try to seduce him, perhaps he should try to seduce her. Women softened after sex, became emotionally

entangled. At least, that’s what he told himself to rationalize taking an enemy to bed so eagerly. God, I need help. “Le’Ace,” he called, wheeling himself around. A minute ticked by, and there was no response. “Le’Ace.” Again, no answer. “Le’Ace!” Nothing. “Tabitha.” Nothing. “Mishka.” The moment he spoke her real first name, he blinked, stilled. Mishka. Delicious, sinful, and mysterious, like the woman herself. The name rolled perfectly from his tongue, something to savor in the dark of night. “Mishka.” Yet again, no answer. Ignoring him for spite? Cathy had played that game several times over their year-long association. Perversely, he’d enjoyed the quiet and hadn’t tried to soothe her. He didn’t feel the same about Le’Ace. He wanted her in front of him, and he wanted her talking. For answers, he assured himself. Liar. Scowling, Jaxon wheeled his chair down the hall.

CHAPTER 6

An enzyme shower required less than three minutes. Le’Ace remained in the stall for ten, the cool mist seeping past her skin and scrubbing her inside and out. But no matter how long she stayed there, no matter how clean she washed, she would feel dirty. Always dirty. That never changed. Didn’t help that she’d left Jaxon in the living room only to receive a call from her boss, Estap. Another job already awaited her. Something quick and easy, she’d been told. Yeah. Right. For the past three nights, one of the Schön had been spotted inside a bar downtown; tonight, she was to enter that bar and wait for him. If he showed up, she was to catch his attention and engage him in conversation. At least she hadn’t been ordered to sleep with him. Yet. Jaxon wanted nothing to do with her, yet she’d hoped to spend the evening with him. He might have dismissed her, but she was still drawn to him, craved him. Just being near him was preferable to anything else. She pressed her forehead against the cold gray tile and flattened her palms against her temples. While one of her hands boasted pretty, olive-toned skin, the other gleamed silver. The alien metal had

been melted and poured over her arm, disintegrating the skin before hardening into a thin yet nearly indestructible shield. She hadn’t wanted it, had begged to be left alone. Her body had never been her own, however, so she had been given the metal arm despite her protests. Guess that’s what happened when a person was created and raised in a lab, their DNA sculpted and honed purposefully. Nothing was their own, nothing was their choice. “Life is good,” she muttered. Except for the people hired to train her in combat and seduction, doctors and scientists had been her only companions the first few years of her life. They’d experimented on her constantly. How much pain could she endure? How long could she go without sleep? Without food and water? How long could she remain in one place, crouched and quiet? Because she’d lived that way from infancy, she hadn’t known any better. She’d thought every child was subjected to that kind of torture. Only when she’d begun leaving the lab for jobs had she realized what she’d been deprived of. Affection, respect. Choice. By then, however, the chip had been surgically implanted in her brain and there’d been no way to escape. Not alive. They could track her anywhere. They could press a button and kill her instantly.

Little wonder hate was sometimes a living entity inside her. The knowledge of her helplessness was always in the back of her mind, driving almost all of her actions. What she wouldn’t give for a single moment of peace. A moment for her and her alone, finally experiencing what the rest of the world took for granted: pleasure. She inhaled quickly, exhaled slowly. The men she’d been with had come in all shapes and sizes, species, and backgrounds. Some had been sadistic, some merely interested in getting off, while some had genuinely sought to please her. None had, for she’d hated them all equally. They’d been a job and she hadn’t chosen them. Handsome or ugly, evil or good, they’d sickened her. Jaxon, though, she thought she might have chosen on her own. They’d only been together a few weeks. Days, if only counting the time he’d been awake. But he attracted her in so many ways. His scars were proof of his intimate relationship with pain and that pain was a bond between them, whether he realized it or not, though most of her scars were internal. His courage and determination were awe-inspiring; she wished she were more like him. Was he attracted to her in return? Sometimes she would swear that he was. There was a heat in his eyes, a white-hot pulse of desire

just under his skin. Other times, he gave her that blank stare. She sighed. If Jaxon loved a woman, Le’Ace suspected he would do everything in his power to protect her, would guard her with his life. Would cherish her as if she were a precious treasure. Her stomach fluttered with the thought. In jealousy? In sexual desire? In longing, she realized then. So much longing. Had anyone ever treated her that way? “Hell, no.” She breathed in the scentless spray, feeling it prickle through her nose, down her throat. She could have added fragrance like a normal human, but the scent would have clashed with the “natural” aroma her creators had added. “Jaxon is not meant for you. Get him out of your mind. You have work to do.” With another sigh, she turned off the spray and stepped from the stall. Bypassing the body dryer, she stalked from the bathroom still damp. Shock stopped her short. Jaxon had wheeled himself into her bedroom. Had her thoughts conjured him? He sat on the edge of her bed, the wheelchair discarded and in the corner. He was facing her, his silver eyes intense and boring into her. His nostrils flared when he spotted her. Something utterly primal flashed in his expression, there one moment, gone the next. He’d switched off all the lights but one, the lamp on the nightstand washing him in magical gold.

For a moment, she couldn’t breathe. Her heartbeat picked up speed, wild, primal. She was naked. He could see every inch of her, every flaw. But her feet were rooted in place, preventing her from striding back into the bathroom for a towel. “What are you doing here?” she croaked. His hot gaze slid over her, down…down…then back up again, landing on her hardening nipples and staying. His pupils dilated, and he swallowed. “I came to, uh, talk.” “My breasts are flattered,” she forced herself to say, “though I doubt they can answer any of your earlier questions.” Red stained his cheeks, and his eyes snapped up to hers. “You’re the one walking around naked.” “You’re the one sneaking into other people’s rooms.” He pushed out a sigh as conflicted as hers had been in the shower. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have looked.” He meant it; the embarrassment was proof of that. “I don’t regret it, though,” he added. Most men wouldn’t have bothered offering an apology at all, so she didn’t mind the addition. Did that mean he liked what he saw? Warm shivers trekked down her spine, spreading to her limbs. “I tried to talk to you fifteen minutes ago. You told me we had nothing to say to each other.”

“I lied. What happened to your arm?” Shit! She jerked her right arm behind her back, hiding the silver metal. “Rogue alien,” she said, repeating his lie to her. His eyes narrowed, dangerous slits. “Why—” “Listen,” she said, cutting him off. “You picked a bad time for conversation.” She strode to her dresser as if she hadn’t a care, barely managing to keep her hands at her sides when she passed him. The need to reach out, sift her fingers through his hair, glide her palms over his shoulders and chest threatened to consume her. “I have somewhere to be. You’ll get to spend the evening all by your lonesome like you probably wished.” He sucked in a breath. “What?” she said, spinning to face him. As though entranced, he licked his lips. Suddenly she wanted that tongue inside her mouth, thrusting deep and hard. “Your back,” he finally said. Damn it! She turned away, flicking the long length of her hair over her shoulder, hiding her tattoos and the embarrassing scars underneath them. “What about it?” she asked with pretend nonchalance. “The artwork is lovely. Truly lovely.” There was arousal in his tone. Rich, dark, husky. Is he lying? she found herself asking the chip. Increased body temperature suggests he

speaks the truth. Her eyes widened, and her knees nearly buckled. He truly liked what he saw, then. That delighted her on a primitive level. “Thank you.” This time, there was no masking her emotions with that pretend nonchalance. This time, her shock and pleasure rang in both breathless syllables. She grabbed her glove and slid it in place, covering her arm from fingertips to armpit. “Why are you leaving?” The words themselves were clipped, though he tried to smooth the harsh tone with a smile. His eyes gleamed. Shit. She was looking at him again, though she didn’t recall turning, providing him with another full-frontal view. Scowling, she focused on the drawer of underwear and selected black silk. “My boss called. I’m needed elsewhere tonight.” Jaxon clicked his teeth together. “Where?” “Out.” “Why the black lace?” “I like it.” “Where. The hell. Are you going?” There was no missing his fury. She’d expected joy. “Out,” she repeated, stepping into the material and gliding it in place. “Where?” he snarled. “Who will you be with?” “Why do you care?” Hands suddenly shaking, she anchored a matching bra in place. “Never mind. We’re not discussing this, Jaxon. No reason

to. We’re not lovers, we’re not even friends.” She could only imagine the names he’d call her if he knew the truth about her. Whore. Slut. Men were such hypocrites. They could sleep with thousands and they were gods. More than one and a woman was forever tainted. Le’Ace didn’t need his condemnation added to her own. “Obviously, you’ll be with a man. A boyfriend?” “No.” She whipped around, knowingly facing him this time. When he came into focus, she gasped. The reserved mask he’d worn all these many days was gone completely. He appeared savage, capable of inflicting unbearable pain. And doing it with a menacing smile. Their gazes tangled, two swords drawn and thrust together. Another hot shiver moved through her. She swallowed the lump growing in her throat. “Come here.” He spoke quietly, yet there was absolute command in his voice. She could have walked away; he wouldn’t have been able to follow her. But she stepped toward him, desperate to be near him, and unable to breathe when she finally stood between his spread knees. Her mind screamed for her to run. What are you doing? This is wrong. He might offer pleasure now, but he’d offer disdain later. His hands lifted and settled on her waist, holding her in place. She gasped at first contact, his skin so

hot it seared her to the bone. Why had his touch never disgusted her? Why did she always crave more? “Wh-what do you want?” Stuttering Le’Ace? “I’ll tell you what I don’t want. I don’t want you to leave.” Truth? Affirmative. She blinked in surprise. “I—I must.” His grip tightened, his fingers digging deep. “Kiss me first.” While she yearned to obey, commands were not something she would tolerate. Not from him. “Do not tell me what to do. Ever.” His eyes blazed, an inferno staring up at her. “That was not a command. Damn it, it was a fucking plea.” Everything inside her softened. “A kiss won’t change anything,” she replied on a wispy catch of breath. “I still have to leave.” “I don’t care, all right? Since the first moment I saw you, I’ve wondered what you taste like. I have to know.” Truth? Affirmative. She gulped and his hot gaze followed the movement of her throat. Tentatively she settled her hands on his shoulders. His muscles bunched underneath her palms, thrilling her. Several seconds

ticked by, but she didn’t lean down, didn’t take his lips. She was suddenly more afraid than she’d ever been before. What if she did it wrong? What if he found no pleasure with her? Her pulse kicked into a wild, uncontrollable dance. You know how to kiss. This is silly. But this was the first time she’d ever cared about a man’s enjoyment. This was the first time she’d been wet and shaky, eager for it. “Mishka,” he breathed. His arms lifted and his hands tangled in her hair. Her knees almost buckled. He hadn’t called her Le’Ace, which would have preserved a bit of distance between them. He’d called her by her first name, the first man to ever do so. Lost, she leaned down and softly pressed her lips against his.

Jaxon could have come at the first hesitant brush of their mouths. Her jasmine scent held the faintest trace of spice, enveloping him as her fingers clenched on his shoulders, nails sinking sharply. She would have scored his skin if he’d been bare-chested. And he would have liked it. Might have even begged for more. He’d jerked on a T-shirt while she’d been in the

shower, suspecting it would be needed as a shield. Not because he feared her strength, but because he feared his lack of resistance. He could not seduce her if she seduced him, which she was dangerously close to doing. Not much time with her; don’t waste it. “I want to kiss you deeper.” True. “Harder.” She gulped. Nodded. He pressed his lips to her again, applying a tiny bit more pressure. Her lips remained locked together, so he ran his tongue along the seam. His eyes closed in surrender, his will to resist gone. So soft, so sweet. He hadn’t lied to her; he didn’t want her to leave. He wanted her to stay here. With him. Not because he had questions for her, and not because he’d gone months without sex. He wanted her to stay because the thought of another man looking at her, touching her, kissing her like this, nearly sent him into a rage. Those goddamn marriage memories must be screwing with his head. Nothing else explained the fact that at that moment he didn’t give a shit about who or what she was. He didn’t even care that she wanted something from him, was using him. She was a woman, and he was a man. Here, now, pleasure mattered. Nothing else. “Open your mouth for me,” he told her gently. Don’t scare her away. “Please.”

She trembled, her legs brushing his inner thighs. Dear God. Then, slowly, she obeyed his commandplea. He thrust his tongue inside and moaned in heady pleasure. She tasted better than he could have dreamed, a decadent blend of mint, woman, and need. His cock jerked, straining against his jeans, and he had to fight off the intensifying need to climax. He couldn’t stop kissing her, though. Not now, perhaps not ever. “Good?” she asked, breathless. “Exquisite.” A shiver moved along her spine. He followed the delicious reaction, fingers tracing every ridge. I’m caressing those tattoos. The very thought heated him. The colorful array of flowers painted into her skin: lilies, roses, orchids, and lush emerald leaves were raised in places, he noticed. Scars? Probably. He brushed them again, offering comfort. She shivered again. And that’s when he realized that she shivered when aroused. He replayed the last hour in his mind and countrd the number of times she’d shivered. Three. Thank God. He would rather have been stabbed than rejected by her. Right now she was his and everything about her was surprising him.

She had a robotic arm, yet that beautiful artwork decorated her back, her spine acting as a trellis to all kinds of vibrant foliage. She could kill a man without blinking, yet looked like a nervous teenager at the mention of a kiss. That nervousness surprised him most of all and filled him with determination to move slowly, gently, even though his body demanded he throw her down, pin her, take her as hard and fast as possible, branding himself into every inch of her. Staking a claim. He tilted his head for deeper contact and her tongue moved tentatively against his. He groaned. Slow and easy. Don’t scare her, he reminded himself. The hesitance could be an act on her part, but he didn’t care. One of his hands eased from her lower back and up her side, until his palm met the swell of her breast. Small, as he’d once imagined, but perfect. Firm yet soft. His hips arched forward of their own accord, seeking the very core of her as he turned his wrist and cupped that delectable mound. “Jaxon,” she panted as she pulled away. He almost grabbed her neck and jerked her back. He needed more of her lips, more of her taste. Would die without them. Slow and easy, remember? His hand returned to her waist. “Too much too fast?” Rather than answer, she licked her lips. When he

saw the pink tip of her tongue—I’ve touched it, I’ve tasted it—his erection swelled to the point of pain. “Maybe,” she finally said, “Will you just, I don’t know. Will you pretend like this is my first kiss?” Her gaze fell to his chest. “Will you tell me what you’re going to do before you do it?” He froze, saw vulnerability claim her for a split second, and frowned as a thought arose. “Are you a virgin, Mishka?” Stranger things were possible, he supposed. She shook her head, long hair tickling his thighs. “I just, I don’t know,” she said again. Twin red circles tinged her cheeks, and she started to pull away completely, severing all contact. “Never mind. Forget I said anything. I shouldn’t have done this. I—” “Be still. Please.” He tightened his grip. “I’ll pretend anything you want,” he told her softly. And he would. Whatever her reasoning, he would do it. A game—fine. Liked to role-play—even better. Except, as he sat there staring up at her tormented features, neither explanation settled well with him. With her uncertainty, her reluctance to touch, and now a need to pretend, he began to suspect something dark and sinister had happened to her. “Mishka, were you raped?” She stiffened. Didn’t speak. He shouldn’t have asked, but he was now pretty

certain she had been. Fury welled inside him. Calm, stay calm. He could rage later, privately. “Brace your knees on the edge of the bed, baby, one on each side of me. But only if you want to,” he added. Please want to. He’d never begged a woman for sex, but he just might do it now. She nibbled on her bottom lip, leaving a sheen of wet and red, as if she’d sucked on a syn-fruit and juice had dribbled. God, he wanted to be the one to nibble. Wanted to glut himself on her. Her gaze darted from him to the mattress, from the mattress to him. For a moment, he thought she meant to leave him. Then she did as he’d asked and the needy core of her settled over his throbbing erection. Both of them hissed in pleasure-pain. As if she couldn’t stop herself, she rubbed her breasts against his chest. He had to see them again, those small, pink-tipped beauties. “I’m going to remove your bra. Stop me if I do anything you don’t like. Okay?” “Okay.” Slowly, tentatively, she straightened her spine. He lifted his arms, just as unhurried. Before he reached the material, she captured his hand and twined their fingers. Buying time? The contrast of their skin, deep tan against cream, proved to be a lovely sight. Giving her the time she needed, he spent a long while simply basking before drawing her wrist to his mouth and

placing a soft kiss. Both actions surprised him, for they spoke of affection, something he had no business feeling. “Ready now?” he asked. She nodded, then blinked in surprise at her own admission. Some of the hesitation vanished from her, replaced by thrums of eagerness and curiosity, shock and pleasure. She shivered. He’d watched her fasten the bra from behind, so he reached around her. Her skin broke out in sensitive little bumps everywhere he touched. When the clasp was undone, he paused. “Ready?” he asked again. Rushing and frightening her was suddenly more abhorrent to him than leaving her and spending the next few hours in a state of pained unsatisfaction. “Yes,” she whispered. He blazed a slow path to the upper straps, hooked them on his fingers, and slid them off. The bra floated down and pooled between their bodies, leaving her breasts bare. Christ. In that moment, he converted to a new religion: the worship of Mishka Le’Ace. Her nipples were pink and hard as he remembered, little berries he planned to sample over and over again before the night was over. “Would you like it if I removed my shirt?” he asked her. Blessedly, she gave another nod.

Though he would much rather knead her breasts, suck them, he gripped the hem of his shirt and lifted. He tossed the material to the floor before flattening his hands on her back and urging her forward. She did not resist. When her soft breasts met the hardness of his muscles, he closed his eyes and groaned. He resisted the urge to roll her onto her back, to claim and possess. “I’m going to lick your nipples.” “Yes.” His tongue flicked over one hard bud, then the other. Delicious. Perfect. He could have stayed there forever, worshipping, but she soon stopped writhing, even stiffened. Okay, no breasts. Not yet. “I’m going to kiss your mouth again.” She’d nearly erupted last time he’d kissed her. “When I do, I might touch between your legs.” Maybe she’d like that as much as the kiss. “Yes. Okay.” He gripped the back of her neck and drew her forward. Her mouth opened instantly, her tongue rolling around his, desperate, eager. An eternity passed as they kissed, lost in each other. “More?” he asked, panting. “Yes.” The word was little more than a groan. “I’m hot. I ache.” The words were as potent as a fist on his cock. “That’s good, but I want you hotter, achier.”

“Make me come. Please.” The last was uttered so hesitantly, he doubted she’d ever said it before. “It will be my pleasure.” Their lips met again. Softly, gently. His tongue stroked inside, her heady flavor filling him as before, yet somehow it was a whole new experience. She opened for him completely, feeding from him. Her head tilted, silently asking him to go deeper, to take more. He obeyed without question, cupping her cheeks and rolling his tongue over hers. A groan escaped her, and her hands slid up to grip his scalp. Motions jerky, as if she couldn’t control herself, she rocked against his erection. The actions nearly undid him, but he didn’t stop her. He tried her breast again, kneading, the nipple stabbing into his palm. When he pinched, she gasped. “Too painful?” “Good. I liked.” Her head fell back, exposing her neck and the wildly thumping pulse at the base. “More.” He licked at the pulse while pinching both nipples. Mishka was soon shaking, nails drawing blood. “Are you wet for me?” “I think so.” He thought so, too. The sultry fragrance of her arousal was wafting around them. Slowly, he trailed

his fingertips downward. Her stomach quivered, and he stopped to pay homage to her navel, dipping inside with his thumb. Then, he was moving again. Finally he reached the hem of her panties. Black lace, just as he’d imagined the first time he’d seen her. They molded her breathtaking curves to perfection. Her waist was perfectly spanned, her legs long and lean as they tapered down, and the fine little triangle of hair between them was the same multihued color as the hair on her head. “So pretty,” he praised. “Jaxon,” she beseeched. He circled her clitoris over the panties, and she gasped. The material was damp, just as he’d suspected. Sweat trickled down his temples as he found the edge and worked his fingers under. Christ! He touched her, skin to moist desire, and every muscle in his body clenched as if he’d just hooked himself to an electric generator. “Oh, God.” He spread her, and Mishka cried his name. He sank one finger inside her. God, she was tight, hot. “Okay?” he asked, strained. “More. Please more.” He pumped that finger in and out, then worked in a second. “Ride my hand, baby. Up and down. You decide the pace. All right?” Immediately her hips arched forward, sliding him deeper. She pulled back a moment later, then

arched forward again. Holy lord, she was so wet she had already drenched his hand. The knowledge filled him with possessive male pride. I did this. She desires me. Craves my touch. Soon she was rocking against him in a steadily increasing rhythm, panting his name, tugging at his hair, pinching his back. “That’s it. That’s the way.” His cock ached to replace his fingers. His skin was on fire, his blood like lava. Any moment, he expected to explode. Worth it, he thought, looking at her enraptured expression. So worth it. Her eyes were closed, the long lashes casting decadent shadows on her cheeks. Her teeth were biting at her lower lip, so sharp they were drawing blood. Every few seconds, little moans escaped her. “Next time, I’m going to lick you where I’m touching you. I’m going to fuck you with my cock rather than my fingers.” As he spoke, he worked her clit with his thumb. Her movements became all the more frantic, all the more uncoordinated. Finally she stilled, calm before the storm. Shocked. Then she screamed and her inner walls clamped down on his fingers, holding them captive. In that moment, pleasure bombarded him. She was too hot, too wet, too sensual and erotic. She was a fantasy come to sizzling life. Hot seed jetted from him, the most intense orgasm of his life

ripping through him though he’d never penetrated her. Sweet Christ. Good, so good. Too good. He was panting, releasing groans of his own. Lost. He only snapped out of the blissful daze when she collapsed against him, her shoulders sagging and her head falling onto his shoulder. She stayed like that for a long while, on his lap, legs spread, his fingers still inside her. He couldn’t have moved if someone had placed a gun to his head. Satisfaction had never been so complete. Which was odd and wrong. So very wrong. He’d actually come in his jeans. “That was so good—” she whispered in his ear. “I want to do it again and again. I want—” A phone suddenly beeped. Mishka stiffened and glanced at the nightstand. Dread curling through him, but not overshadowing his total sense of satisfaction, damn it, he followed the direction of her gaze and saw the standard cell unit every agent carried. “I have to go,” she said, voice broken. “No. You’re staying here.” With me. She pushed away from him, forcing his fingers out of her. He fisted them, her arousal glistening. He wanted to lap it up, but didn’t allow himself the luxury. “You don’t understand,” she said, gathering her bra. Her legs were so shaky she almost toppled. He pounded the fist into the mattress. “Then

explain it to me.” The phone beeped again. She stalked to it as she dressed. “I’m a puppet, and my strings are being pulled. Okay? Get it now?” Before he could respond, she swiped up the phone and barked, “I’m on my way.” She paused, listening. “Yes.” Pause. “I know, damn it. I said I’m on my way.” She hung up. She braced herself, as if expecting a punishing blow. Jaxon watched her, confused. “I’m going with you.” “No, you’re not.” She stomped to the closet and flipped through the clothes, finally settling on a tight black dress. His jaw clenched. “What did you mean, you’re a puppet?” “I do what I’m told or I suffer, all right? Happy now?” After she shimmied into the dress and strapped several blades to her thighs, she tugged on knee-high boots. She stuffed those with a gun and three throwing stars. He didn’t know why, but seeing her armed aroused him. Anything would, nowadays. “Leave this house, and I’m coming after you. I swear it.” “You won’t be able to find me.” At least she didn’t mention the wheelchair. “Wanna bet?” Her eyes narrowed on him, and she anchored

her hands on her hips. “Do I need to knock you out?” “Try. See what happens.” He was pissed enough to fight her and tie her to the bed. Exasperated, she tossed her hands in the air. “This is why I avoid men and relationships.” With a shake of her head, she grabbed a brush and jerked the bristles through her hair. When all the tangles were gone, she wrapped the silky tresses into a twist and held it in place with sharp little blades. “If you think that orgasm gives you the right to dictate my actions, you’re wrong.” “Don’t forget the ring,” he snapped, ignoring her words and motioning to the ring she’d used to knock him out before. “You might need it.” Her cheeks flushed as she tugged it onto her index finger. “This isn’t the only ring you should fear.” She grabbed the other two, telling him about them as she shoved them in place. “This one will make you vomit your guts. And this one will make you hallucinate until you peel the skin from your bones.” “I guess I should consider myself lucky you only knocked me out,” he replied bitterly. “Yeah.” Deadpan expression, deadpan tone. “You should.” He hated fighting with her for reasons that had nothing to do with work. Obviously, she hated fighting with him, too,

because she sighed and added, “Look. There’s no reason to argue. I have to go and you have to stay. That won’t change. So do you want to tell me how the women are infected by the Schön or should I just find out firsthand?” His eyes widened, a haze of red fury dotting his vision. “You’re hunting the Schön tonight?” She stiffened, didn’t reply. “You are staying here. Get me?” He was on his feet a moment later. He swayed, cringed, but didn’t fall. She turned away from him. “Right now, I’m faster than you. You’re not going to stop me and we both know it.” A pause, heavy and cracking. “Why do I feel like you manipulated me into this? That you let me see your pleasure, then asked for information to save you?” He laughed bitterly about his own gullibility. “And here’s a better question. Why am I letting you get away with it?” She had no response, didn’t even try to defend herself. “When was your last period?” he asked. “Uh, excuse me?” “Just answer the damn question.” “I don’t have periods.” The revelation so startled him, some of his anger eased. “Why?” “Just the way I was designed,” she said, her

voice monotone. Something softened inside of him. “Can you have children?” Her fingers curled into fists. “Why are you asking me these questions? The answers are none of your goddamn business!” Rather than anger him, her outburst softened him all the more. “Don’t let one of those aliens kiss or penetrate you, okay? Do you understand? Has nothing to do with me and you.” The truth as well as a lie. “Just don’t.” She nodded, fingers slowly uncurling. “Listen. I’m not going to be with someone else tonight. But some other night, I can’t promise not to be. I do what I have to do to survive, Jaxon. Don’t you?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. She simply stalked out of the room.

CHAPTER 7

Le’Ace hoped her I’m-a-naughty-girl-and-I’m-notwearing-any-panties expression was solid as she strode into the crowded bar. I’m the sex kitten of your dreams, she tried to project. I’m eager for companionship and willing to do anything for a little attention. Male eyes glided to her, landed, and stayed. Of course, the very attention she sought, she hated. But she forced herself to grin as the glistening barrage of strobe lights cascaded from the ceiling, illuminating her from head to toe. Grinned all the wider as those masculine eyes perused her up and down and lingered on her breasts, between her legs. Could anyone tell she was a trembling mess inside and on the verge of total meltdown? Three seats were available at the bar. She settled in the one at the end, giving herself a crescentmoon view of the entire room. She ordered a beer. God, she’d had an orgasm. Not her first, but every other climax had come in the dark of night, while she lay alone in bed. And even then, during those rare times she touched herself intimately, her actions were more hate-filled than pleasurable, sweating male faces constantly flashing through her mind, taunting her.

With Jaxon, however, she’d considered nothing but the moment, the man. Felt nothing but satisfaction. She was confused by what had happened. She was angry that it had never happened before, upset Jaxon might not want her again since she’d left so abruptly, and already hungry for another taste of that sweet, sweet desire. A cold bottle pressed against her knuckles, bringing her back to present. She paid the bartender, enraged at herself for her distraction and her inability to stop it. Sure, Estap had other agents in the bar and they were her “protection.” Yeah, right. They were her tethers. Bastards. Part of her prayed her target stayed home tonight. She only wanted to talk to Jaxon. The other part of her just wanted to get this over with, knowing she’d be called back again and again until she’d met with the otherwolder. She scanned the area. None of the men milling around the bar even roused a single spark inside her. Perhaps it was because her six senses knew Jaxon now. Her fingers knew the texture of his skin, and her nose recognized his masculine scent. Her mouth knew his decadent flavor, and her eyes recognized his rugged appeal. The computer chip connected with his emotions, his highs and lows, rasping the man’s enjoyment of her every sound

and movement. The fact that she was in a bar and on the prowl for another man revolted her. Guide me, she commanded the chip. Obviously, she would not get the job done on her own. Expression contorted in a grimace. Shit. Relax, just relax. She sipped her beer. Think of something positive. Jaxon’s expression as he’d touched her: absolute possessiveness, utter maleness. His touch, oh God, his touch. He’d known exactly how to touch her, when to press hard, when to be gentle, where she needed stimulation. The more he’d tasted her, the more his voice had deepened, grown husky and wine-rich. You’re distracted. Again. Alert me if anyone approaches, she commanded, and allowed herself to drift. Her entire life, she’d despised having other people’s hands on her. She’d hated putting her hands on other people. Yet, Jaxon she had craved from the first, yearning for him to touch her, being surprised and delighted when he did, and longing to touch him. She didn’t understand how any of this was possible. Didn’t understand how she could want him even now. This is why I don’t do relationships. Already she felt guilty about leaving him behind. What was Jaxon thinking? Did he hate her? Her hands clenched at her sides. You can’t do

this. You can’t travel this path. Time to put your mind on the task at hand. Male approaching in three, two… Le’Ace straightened her spine, instantly on alert. “Another beer?” the bartender asked her impersonally. She glanced at her bottle. Empty. Nibbling on her bottom lip, she studied the man waiting for her answer. Human. Mid-thirties. Junkie. He was shaky, track marks riding up both arms, and in desperate need of a fix. She filed that information away, knowing that she would be able to buy his help if needed. “Ma’am,” he said. “Yes. Another beer.” A few seconds later, another ice-cold bottle was in her hand. The bartender flittered to the other end of the counter to help another patron. Le’Ace dismissed him and surveyed her other companions. Again. She could not remember anything she’d seen. Some were dancing, some were playing pool. Some were copping feels of themselves, others, in shadowed corners. No one stood at six feet five, had multicolored hair, and glowing emerald eyes like her Schön. Human-alien ratio? Twenty-three humans in front, six in back. Five aliens in front, two in back. In back? What’s in back? She was ashamed that

she’d done little recon for this mission. That kind of shoddy work could get a girl killed. Three rooms. A bathroom. How do you know and what are they doing? Building has been here a long time and is in the system. As for the men, their excitement levels are high, the air thick with illegal cigarette smoke. Two weapon signals detected, probably Glocks. Eighty-seven percent chance they are playing poker. Was the Schön back there, then? Le’Ace wondered. The thought had barely formed when the front door opened and the Schön strode in. Did I magically summon him? She knew it was him, and her jaw nearly hit the bar as she looked him over. Her boss had tried to snap holopictures of the male, but the otherworlder’s image had never appeared. Her boss had then tried to describe him to her. “Beautiful,” he’d said. “Stunning.” Neither word did the alien justice. Every female gaze latched onto him, desire suddenly saturating the air. The Schön was stacked with muscle. His features were human but his skin was not. His skin looked like polished copper, metallic, not a single pore. Le’Ace had often wondered why so many aliens possessed such humanoid appearances. She’d even read up on the subject and had come to believe

they’d all been created in the same place, once upon a millennia or two. Something must have separated the people into groups, however, sending them to different, far-off places where they evolved to fit their new climates. How they reached these new planets, well, she figured they’d used the same wormholes they’d used to find Earth. She wished to God they’d just stayed home. When they’d first come over all those years ago, a violent blood war had erupted. Many people had died, both human and otherworlder. The planet had descended into chaos and panic, a lot of the world’s food, water, and animals nearly obliterated in the process. Finally, for survival of the species, a tentative peace was reached and the world ceased to be what it once was: exclusive. Most everything had had to be rebuilt. Hence the New World, the need for A.I.R. and brute force. Hence the need for Le’Ace. Back on track, woman. Is he armed? she asked the chip. Yes. Some type of gun, though the make and model are unclear. Her target surveyed the room until he spotted his own prey, his gaze zeroing in on a young human woman whose nipples appeared hard enough to cut glass. The woman was staring at him and drool seeped from the seam of her bright red lips. Le’Ace watched as the Schön stalked toward

the woman. Determined, she shoved at the man who’d been sitting beside her and told him to leave. He frowned. Until he had to look up…up…up at the alien who now stood just in front of him. Rather than challenge the otherworlder for the girl’s attention, he laughed nervously and beat a hasty retreat. While Le’Ace was struck dumb by his mesmerizing appearance, her body did not react to him as every other woman’s had. Odd. Did he, perhaps, exude something, an undetectable scent, that drugged women? Lured them? If Le’Ace approached him, would he be able to sense her lack of interest? The alien slid into the now unoccupied seat beside the human woman. He leaned forward and sniffed her neck. Dark eyes closed in ecstasy, heavily coated lashes fanning ribbons of black on her cheeks. The pair spoke for a moment, but even with her superattuned hearing, Le’Ace could not make out the words. The wild thump of rock music boomed too loudly. She drew in a deep breath. Okay. I can do this. Running her tongue over her teeth, she hopped to her feet and grabbed her beer. Her dress had ridden up her thighs, but she didn’t push it down. As long as her weapons were concealed, she didn’t care how much skin she revealed. Get in, get out. She squared her shoulders and

stalked forward. The alien sensed her approach and slowly angled his head toward her. His eyes glowed that vibrant green, pulsing with what seemed to be thousands of pinpricks of light. Those lights seemed to pierce her all the way to the soul, probing for information. “Hey,” Le’Ace said to the human woman, and it was not a friendly greeting. The woman’s attention never left the alien. She continued to peer at him as if he were God and he’d come for her deliverance. Without a word, Le’Ace reached out, grabbed the woman by her bleached-blonde hair, and jerked. There was a yelp, and then the seat was empty and the woman was sprawled on the floor. The Schön smiled at Le’Ace. “You belong to me,” Le’Ace told him. “I don’t share.” “Sit,” he replied. His voice…he did not speak with one voice but with two, and there was no trace of an accent. One voice seemed to be deep, commanding, while the other was huskier. Lulling. She tried not to frown. How is that possible? Two beings detected, yet only one body is visible. Shit. Two? He was actually two beings inside of one body? Again, how was that possible? “Sit,” he said again.

“Bitch! Fucking whore!” The human had since stood. She was panting and eying Le’Ace through narrowed lids. One hundred percent chance of attack. No shit. She set her beer on the table. With a shriek, the woman leapt at her. Not wanting to reveal the depth of her skill, Le’Ace allowed her opponent to grab her hair and scratch her neck. She even gave a startled cry, as though she were not used to such pains. But as she was propelled backward, she retained a firm grip on the girl and stealthily opened one of her rings. As they hit the floor, she jabbed the girl in the stomach. A shriek rumbled in her left ear. For several seconds, they rolled around in a bid for dominance. Le’Ace played her role of inexperienced cat fighter to perfection, only ripping hair and scratching. But then, suddenly, the girl froze. “Oh my God.” Horror blanketed that pretty face and she jackknifed to her feet, hand covering her mouth as she raced for the bathroom. Le’Ace stood and pretended to sway. The Schön reached out and latched onto her arm to steady her. She had to force herself to remain still, every instinct in her body screaming for her to rip from his too hot, too tight hold. “Sit,” he said again. This time, she obeyed, settling beside him. She

waited for him to begin a conversation, but several minutes ticked by and he remained silent. Other women would fawn over him, she supposed, desperate to know more about him. “What’s your name?” she asked, doing her best to sound breathless and aroused. “You may call me Nolan.” Nolan. A human name. Old English. No real significant meaning. “I’m Jane.” As she spoke, the cell phone strapped to her ankle vibrated. Breath caught in her throat but she hid it with a cough. Oh, no. No, no, no. Jaxon had just left the compound. She’d programmed the phone to alert her if any of the doors or windows to the outside were opened and a body passed through them. “Something wrong, Jane?” the Schön asked. She wanted to leap from the table and hunt Jaxon down. In that wheelchair, he wouldn’t get far. And she’d find him, wherever he went, because she’d placed a tracking wire inside one of the wheels. Plus, she’d taken the only car and disabled the motorbike. There was a mile-long trek from the compound through the surrounding woods. He didn’t know the code to the gate, so he couldn’t make it to the public road. Did that lessen her concern? No. He could be hurt or tracked by the wild wolves and deer being raised in the area to repopulate the animal

community. He knows how to take care of himself. “Nothing’s wrong,” she finally said, then rubbed at the scratches the human had given her. “My neck hurts. That was a pretty gruesome fight. I hope I didn’t hurt her.” She was babbling, trying to mask her fear for Jaxon. Nolan’s fingers pressed gently against her chin and lifted her head, giving him a view of her injuries. The lights in his eyes glowed brighter, illuminating the table with eerie green. “You fought for me,” he said, no hint of his emotions seeping through that freaky double voice. “Yes.” Good or bad in his opinion? “I liked that.” Thank God. “I’m glad.” He released her and frowned. He even leaned back in his seat and studied her. Had she done or said something wrong? Did he suspect the truth? I need to blush like I’m pleased with his perusal. Heating cheeks now. Even as the chip informed her of the increased blood flow, her face warmed. She didn’t need a mirror to know twin spots of color now dotted her cheekbones. Nolan’s head tilted sideways. “You blush as though you are reacting to me, yet your pulse did not quicken at my touch. Your pupils did not dilate.”

That observant, was he? Time to step up her game. Cringing inside, she reached out and traced a fingertip along his jawline. His skin was like fire, burning like flames crackled just below the surface. “Maybe you didn’t touch me the way I wanted,” she said. Shit. Do I sound seductive or terrified? Both. One of his brows rose. He had a small bump in the middle of his nose, she noticed. The only imperfection he possessed. Well, that and his lips were not as lush as Jaxon’s. Jaxon. His parting words played through her mind. Do not let them kiss or penetrate you. The Schön’s saliva and ejaculate must pass the virus to humans. Le’Ace had never been sick, had never even come down with a cold. She’d been told the scientists had placed some sort of particles in her bloodstream that constantly renewed, always keeping her healthy. For a moment, she wondered if those particles were strong enough to fight whatever disease Nolan possessed. Probably. But that didn’t lessen the fear, the what-if. Jaxon would probably tell her not to risk finding out. Thinking about that virus made her nervous and thinking about Jaxon made her excited, both of which quickened her pulse the way the alien had wanted.

He sniffed the air, as if he could smell her sudden change. “And how did you want to be touched?” he asked huskily. She licked her lips. “Lower.” For a moment, she thought his pupils dilated like he’d expected hers to do. Then she realized he didn’t have pupils, only those strange lights. The lights had fused, darkened, forming pupil-like circles. “I am not used to aggressive women,” he said. Le’Ace read between the lines. Humans usually fell at his feet, taking whatever he offered. Now he desired a challenge. “Does that mean I make you nervous? Poor baby. Why don’t I order you a drink and help relax you a bit?” He chuckled softly. “Amusing, too.” He signaled for the waitress, who rushed to his side as if she’d been waiting for just such a summons. “Vodka. A bottle and a glass.” Excellent. Le’Ace planned to steal his glass so that his saliva could be analyzed. The waitress began to pant, sweating, practically on the verge of orgasm as she asked, “Iced?” “No. That is all.” Gasping with increasing fervency, the waitress clomped off. She had to stop at a nearby table and clutch the edge as she reached her climax. Le’Ace could only shake her head in wonder. The bottle and glass arrived a few minutes later,

and the waitress was all smiles. She tried to massage Nolan’s shoulders, but he shooed her away. She pouted the entire trek away from him. Le’Ace would have sworn there were tears in her eyes. Nolan filled the glass halfway and scooted it to her. While he looked too sophisticated to drink straight from the bottle, that’s exactly what he did, draining the contents in seconds. He set the empty bottle on the table and slid it to the edge, out of their way. If the waitress tried to take it, Le’Ace might trip her. A bottle would be harder to steal than a glass, but she wasn’t leaving without it. Nolan studied Le’Ace intently as she sipped. “Are you human?” he asked. “Are you?” He uttered another of those soft chuckles. His breath was laced with the vodka, warm and intoxicating. “I will take that as a no. I sensed not. The people of this world are not very forgiving of others, are they?” “No, they aren’t.” She didn’t try to hide her bitterness. “Does that make you angry?” Might explain why he was here, killing innocent women. “No. I understand their fear of the unknown.” Truth? No lie detected. Interesting. He wasn’t pissed at humans and

their sometime intolerance for those who were different. He leaned toward her, whispering, “What are you looking for tonight, hmm?” “A man. Pleasure.” Is he aroused by that thought? Yes. “What are you looking for tonight?” As she stroked her fingertips over her glass, she closed the rest of the distance between them and kissed his cheek. “I think I’ve found what I was looking for,” he said. He reached up and his fingers curled around the back of her neck. His other hand settled on top of her thigh. Hot, so hot. She swallowed back bile and pasted a serene smile on her face. “I’m glad.” “Not as glad as you will be.” He moved in to kiss her mouth, but then, suddenly, he stilled. Sniffed. His gaze lifted from her to just over her shoulder, and he frowned. His head tilted to the side in that strange way of his. “Do you have a man?” he asked. “No.” “He does not seem to feel the same way.” “He? I don’t—” She stiffened, only then feeling the sizzling gaze boring into her back. Not possible. Not fucking possible. Slowly she turned in her seat, dread flooding her. Sure enough.

Jaxon stood in the doorway, scowling. His gaze was locked on her like the barrel of a gun. He radiated undisciplined fury as his gaze lowered to Nolan’s hand on her neck. Le’Ace’s eyes widened and her blood instantly heated, searing her inside and out. She was on her feet a second later, Nolan’s hands falling away. She should have cared that Jaxon had just ruined her night’s objective. She should have cared that the situation couldn’t end well. Not for anyone involved. She didn’t. All she cared about was the fact that Jaxon was here. He limped toward her, determination in every step.

CHAPTER 8

Dallas eyed the people he’d invited to his home and could only shake his head in trepidation. More than I bargained for, that’s for sure. Damn, this was messed up. His fatal vision had already begun to play out. The knowledge burned in his bones, prodded at his soul. And he was the cause. He’d called Mia Snow and she’d returned, just as he’d known she would. The woman didn’t have many friends, and those she had she protected ferociously. But she’d brought an arsenal (good) and her alien lover (not so good). Dallas had Kyrin’s Arcadian blood flowing inside him, and every time he neared the otherworlder he wanted to fall on his goddamn knees and obey the motherfucker. How screwed up was that? Right now, the couple was sitting on the couch. Petite, dark-haired Mia lounged on tall, whitehaired Kyrin. They were glaring at the other agents Dallas had invited, as well as freaking snuggling. Dallas had to swallow back a little bile at that. Eden Black sat across from them. She was an alien, a Rakan, and an assassin all rolled into one. She looked like an angel. Was utterly stunning. Golden from head to toe: golden hair, golden eyes,

golden skin, with features so perfect they rivaled Dallas’s. Hey, it wasn’t bragging if it was true. Though he’d never met the Rakan before, Dallas had seen her holding a bucking Jaxon down, and he had been screaming at her. He’d assumed she was the enemy Now he was forced to reevaluate the vision. Maybe she’d been holding the man down to save his life. Jack trusted Eden. More than that, Dallas had made some. inquiries about her. Supposedly, she was the pampered daughter of an arms dealer. A cover, he knew. She worked in the shadows as a killer and a tracker. Those who’d worked with her swore to her dedication and her honor. Eden, too, had brought a man to this meeting— another person Dallas had never met but had seen in his mind. Lucius Adaire, Eden’s partner and fellow assassin. Unlike Eden, the man was not stunning. He was ferocious. Seriously, the dude looked like he ate full-grown adults for snacks and weapons for meals. Multicolored, violent tattoos decorated his neck and sleeved both his arms. His eyebrows were pierced and his eyes were so black they blended with his pupils. But again, Dallas had heard good things about him. With the assassins was a man Dallas hadn’t seen, in person or in his mind. Devyn. A self-professed

king of some sort, though no one would say of what or where. Devyn was as tall and muscled as Lucius, with brown hair, amber eyes, and very pale skin. No, not pale, he thought next. Just shimmery, as if he’d been dipped in fairy glitter. Women probably loved the look, but Dallas could only grimace and be glad it wasn’t him. While Lucius looked capable of murder, Devyn glowed with irreverence and dry amusement, as if everything around him were a private joke meant only for him. Dallas could feel some kind of supernatural power radiating from the man. What power, though, he didn’t know. All he knew was that he was going to have to trust these people. “We done sizing each other up?” Mia asked in her usual kiss-my-ass tone. “I’m not,” Eden told her flippantly. Two alpha females, both determined to lead. Normally, Dallas would have enjoyed the battle. Today, he wanted everything nice and orderly, so he could stop the bad part of his vision from happening. “Mmm, catfight,” Devyn said, his grin widening. He leaned back in the cushioned recliner and twined his fingers behind his neck. Dallas scrubbed a hand over his face, his temples already beginning to ache. “Look. This is about Jaxon. Have your pissing contest later,

okay?” Silence. He’d take that for agreement. He settled more deeply into his stiff, uncomfortable foldout chair and kicked his legs onto the coffee table. All eyes were on him. For once, he’d acted like a polite host and given his comfortable furniture to his guests. Fine, they’d beaten him to them. “I’ll play the message again.” He reached out and pressed the series of buttons needed to start his voice mail. “I only have a minute.” Jaxon’s deep voice echoed through the room. “She’s in the shower. I’m fine. Recovering. My abductors are dead. Something more is going down, though. Until I find out what, I’m staying put. If any human females are captured and placed in lockup, do not allow agents inside their cells.” Pause. “Spray’s off. Shit. Talk again soon.” Another round of silence. “She?” Mia finally asked. “Shit? Since when does Jaxon cuss?” “Where’d you trace the call to?” Lucius asked, unconcerned by Mia’s irrelevant questions. Dallas shrugged. “Signal was rerouted through New China and what remains of Singapore. Look, here’s what I’ve been able to discover so far.” He explained about the abduction, about the blue Delensean skin cells found at Jaxon’s house, and

about the mysterious case Jaxon had been assigned a week before his disappearance. “Jack didn’t give details about the case?” Mia asked. “Only that Jaxon’s unique skills were needed.” “Unique skills.” Mia tapped a nail on her chin. “So he had to interrogate someone.” Dallas shrugged. “Or several someones.” “And Jaxon didn’t talk about the case with either of you?” Eden asked. “No,” they answered in unison. Jaxon’s secretiveness was highly unusual. Since Jaxon and Dallas were close as brothers, they helped each other out; they had each other’s backs. So, to Dallas’s mind, there was only one reason Jaxon would have kept quiet: the knowledge would have put Dallas in danger. “I did a little investigating on my own,” Dallas admitted. He’d broken into Jack’s office. “Have any of you heard of a race called the Schön?” Lucius groaned. “Your man’s in trouble if that’s the case he’s working. Definitely explains his desire to keep agents away from captured female humans.” “Why?” Mia straightened. “Who the hell are they and what are you talking about?” “You want to explain or should I?” Lucius asked Eden as he massaged her neck. “I will.” Expression grim, Eden swept her

golden gaze over the room’s occupants. “I was raised on Earth, but I had a Rakan tutor who taught me about my planet, my people, and their history. According to him, Raka was a peace-loving planet ruled by one man. One of his rules was that aliens were not allowed to enter and citizens were not allowed to leave. That didn’t stop a few from trying, however.” “Uh, do I really need the history lesson?” A sense of urgency was rushing through Dallas. Eden had answers. He wanted them, not tutoring. Lucius’s black eyes narrowed on him. “You better watch your tone.” “And yeah,” Eden told him. “You do.” “Fine. Sorry.” He waved his hand through the air. “Continue.” She settled against Lucius’s chest. “A few weeks ago, several Rakans crossed the wormhole from their planet to ours. This happened in New Dallas. They saw my picture on the news. Since I was at an alien rights gala and obviously integrated into society, they hunted me down, wanting to do the same. They told me of war and disease.” Dallas’s stomach clenched. “And?” “They asked for my help. The Schön had suddenly appeared on Raka, infected its women and some of its men with disease, and then left as suddenly as they’d appeared. There were few survivors.”

Great. “What kind of disease? What was their purpose?” “The men couldn’t tell me much about the disease. They’d never been exposed to sickness before and had no way of handling it. No doctors, no hospitals, no medication. What they could tell me was that the Schön seemed to need their women. As the females died off, the Schön weakened.” The otherworlders were here for survival, then. Dallas wondered why Jaxon would keep that from him. When it came to aliens, survival was the standard reason for their move here and better than the usual alternative: world domination. Had to be something more. Something they were missing. “I reported all of this to my boss,” Eden continued, “and was told to leave it alone and forget it. Speaking of bosses, who’s been in touch with yours? Who’s been feeding him information about the abducted agent’s rescue and recovery?” “Senator Kevin Estap.” She paled, golden skin bleaching to an ashen yellow. “What?” Dallas demanded, straightening. “Do you know him?” A nod. “He runs special operations. Dangerous missions no one else will take.” “Jaxon might be in more danger than we

thought,” Kyrin said, speaking up for the first time. Lucius fingered one of his eyebrow piercings. “Was he hooked into the isotope tracking system before his abduction?” Dallas and Mia looked at each other, then the paid killer. “What’s that?” he asked. Eden and Lucius shared a look, too. “They really keep you guys in the dark about some things, don’t they?” the male agent muttered. Mia threw her arms in the air. “Just tell us, for God’s sake.” Amusement sparkled in Lucius’s dark eyes. “You and Eden should mud wrestle.” Eden slapped his arm. “Someone would have injected a glowing red liquid into Jaxon’s bloodstream, and you would have been able to monitor his whereabouts for a few months, pinning his location every minute of every day. Since neither of you know what I’m talking about, I think it’s safe to say he wasn’t injected.” “Listen,” Lucius interjected. “If Senator Estap is involved, your friend has been in contact with Mishka Le’Ace. She is Estap’s right hand.” “Well, that explains the she.” Mia uttered a stream of curses. “Le’Ace. Damn. Jaxon’s in big trouble.” Eden’s attention whipped to Mia. “You know her?” Fury skirted over Mia’s pretty features. “Yeah.

She was my instructor once, and we’ve taught at the same A.I.R. training camp.” There was so much hate in Mia’s tone, Dallas felt sorry for the woman. Mia’s enemies always died painfully. “You?” Golden hair swayed as Eden nodded. “Oh, yeah. Bitch shot me in the leg.” “Then that bitch is going down,” Lucius muttered, and Eden’s golden lips lifted in a slow, satisfied smile. Dallas thought of the brunette in his vision. “What does this Le’Ace look like? A rockin’ brunette who likes to cut and shoot things?” “She’s a blonde,” Mia said at the same time Eden said, “She’s a redhead.” “Obviously she changes her appearance,” he replied dryly. But he’d bet his savings Le’Ace was the woman he’d seen. With the Estap connection, Dallas doubted it could be anyone else. “Obviously.” Eden cuddled against her man’s side. “Your brunette. Does she have tattoos up her spine that cover surgical scars?” “I don’t know. I only got the barest glimpse of her face and it was perfection.” One of Eden’s seemingly delicate shoulders lifted in a shrug. “That sounds like her.” Wait. A niggling thought struck Dallas. “How old is this woman? If she was Mia’s instructor when Mia was a teenager, she’d have to be pushing, what? Forties? Fifties?”

“Yeah, but age doesn’t matter. She doesn’t age physically,” Eden said. His brow wrinkled in confusion. Everyone aged. Well, Kyrin didn’t. Damn. “Is she alien?” “No. I don’t think. I can’t explain what she is. Science was never my thing.” “Why’d she shoot you?” Dallas asked. “Don’t know that, either. We were on a mission. One of many that we’d been paired together for. We were on the same team with the same objective.” Eden frowned. “Don’t ask for details because I can’t give them. Anyway, we were successful. On the drive back to headquarters, she pulled over, shot me, and left me to die.” Lucius’s arms banded around the Rakan’s waist and squeezed tightly. He kissed her temple, even ruffled her hair. While his actions were gentle, Dallas could see the lethal gleam in his dark eyes. Yeah, the Le’Ace woman was going to suffer for her past sins. “She’s hard-core,” Mia said. Eden gave another nod. “She’ll kill anyone. Age, race, gender, nothing matters. Nothing bothers her.” Great. Most likely, Jaxon was with the little viper. “Either of you happen to have her address?” Dallas asked. “Do you have a map of the city?” Eden asked, rather than answer him.

“Course.” Dallas pushed to his feet, strode out of the living room, and into his office. Not much of a trek considering how small his apartment was. After he found the holocam, he strode back into the living room. He placed the small black box in the center of the coffee table and pressed the series of buttons required. A large blue glowing triangle crystallized above it, multicolored lights pulsing within. Red lines indicated streets, while tiny black balls indicated houses and buildings. They had only to tap a certain place on the seemingly liquefied screen to highlight and magnify it. Everyone crouched around the table. “All right. Here, here, and here,” Eden said, tapping as she spoke. “Senator Estap uses all three locations in this city as safe houses. There’s probably more, but those are the only ones I’ve visited personally.” “An apartment downtown, a compound on the outskirts, and a flat stretch of land in the middle of nowhere?” Mia asked skeptically. Eden snorted. “Believe me, the land isn’t flat and it’s in the middle of more security than you’ve ever encountered. It’s a laboratory.” “Guess we’re splitting up, then.” Dallas rubbed his temples, the dull ache from earlier returning. And growing. “Think Jaxon is being kept under lock and key

because he’s infected?” Eden asked thoughtfully. Could be, and the idea scared him shitless. “Did you say only infected women died on Raka?” “You wish. Some of the men did, too.” Lucius shook his head. “Remember, baby. Only a few men actually died from the disease. Most died because the infected women ate them.” Mia’s jaw dropped. “Ate them? As in, had them for a meal?” “That’s right.” Eden clapped her hands as the memory slid into place. “The girls became cannibals and the men became food.” Just got better and better. “That little gem would have been nice to know earlier.” He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying without success to ward off that ever-intensifying ache. “Are you all right?” Kyrin asked him, his tone concerned. “I’m fine.” “You look pale,” Mia observed. “I’m fine. Just worried about Jaxon.” There was a pause. Dallas doubted they believed him. He sounded weak, even to his own ears. Kyrin was suddenly at his side, gripping his shoulder as he toppled over, unable to stop himself. Dizziness washed through him, a river that flowed from his mind to his feet, and only Kyrin’s hold kept him upright. “May I speak to you privately?” Kyrin asked

him. “No.” Come on. Be a man. He planted his heels into the stone floor and pushed until he found purchase. “Let’s gear up and go get our boy.” Another pause. “Dallas, you will escort me to the kitchen and we will chat privately.” The command slithered through his mind, and Dallas’s feet were moving before he could stop them, obeying of their own accord. Like falling, he couldn’t stop himself; all he knew was that the ache in his head eased with every step. Fury took its place. When they reached the kitchen, Dallas whirled on the otherworlder. “What the hell was that about?” Unrepentant, Kyrin shrugged. “You have my blood. Therefore, I am your blood master.” Hell, no. He opened his mouth to snap a reply, but Mia stormed into the kitchen, doors waving behind her. Dallas pressed his lips together. Like he wanted a witness to this master-slave shit. Kyrin faced her, expression resigned. “Mia.” “The word leave escapes your mouth and we’ll throw down.” She hopped onto the counter and glared over at them. “Pretend I’m not here if it makes you feel any better.” “Women,” Kyrin muttered, turning back to Dallas.

Fine. Mia wanted to watch, he’d let her watch. “You are not my goddamn master, asshole. You were given human blood to save your life. Does that mean you have a blood master?” “Some of my blood remained in my body when I was drained. As my blood is dominant, my blood soon overshadowed the human.” “Whatever. But you do not control me. Understand?” For several minutes, Kyrin remained silent. His violet eyes—eyes the exact color Dallas’s had changed to—glowed. “Drop to your knees.” Dallas was on his knees in the next instant. He scowled, fury sweeping through him anew. He tried to stand, but couldn’t force his body into action. His muscles were completely fossilized. One of Kyrin’s dark brows rose. “Believe me?” “Yes,” he gritted out, the admission abhorrent. “Stand.” Dallas stood, his fist already inching backward, flying forward. His knuckles slammed into Kyrin’s nose, breaking the cartilage on contact. Even as the alien’s head whipped to the side, blood spraying, Mia was shoving Dallas to the ground and pinning his upper body with her knees. “Do not hurt him,” she growled. “The Arcadian is mine.” Kyrin’s nose snapped back into place. Blood dried, evaporated, leaving no trace of the injury. “I

only wanted to tell you that I know you are confused. If you have any questions about your transformation, I’m here to help you.” Dallas gripped Mia’s thighs and pushed her off his shoulders and to his stomach, allowing his throat to breathe. “Get off me. I don’t want to hurt you.” “You will not hurt her.” Dallas’s arms fell uselessly to his sides, and Mia grinned smugly. “You can’t hurt me,” she said. “I hope both of you rot in hell,” Dallas told the couple. “Those headaches you’re having,” Kyrin said. “They appear because you’re fighting your visions. Stop fighting them and the headaches will go away.” Stop fighting them? Yeah right. He shook his head. “All they show is pain and death.” Mia trudged off him completely, smile gone. Concern radiated from her as she held out a hand to help him up. “I had no idea you were having visions. Why didn’t you tell me?” “You haven’t exactly been around lately,” he grumbled, sitting up on his own. Bright color spotted her cheeks. “You know why I left.” Yeah. He knew. She had half brothers and half sisters out there and she was determined to find them. “Whatever. Doesn’t matter.” Kyrin, too, held out a hand to help him up.

Once again, Dallas moved on his own. He stood, a little unsteady. Kyrin sighed and dropped his arm. “You blocked a vision in there. When you did, it flowed into me. Want to know what it was?” “No.” Because deep down, a part of him already knew. Having it confirmed by the otherworlder might change his mind, turn him into a coward, keeping him home and away from Jaxon. That he could not allow. The alien told him anyway. “You’re about to start a domino effect. You leave here to save your friend, and your life will be changed forever. And not for the better.”

CHAPTER 9

Jaxon battled a rage unlike any he had ever experienced before. All because of one woman. Le’Ace had made several critical errors tonight. The first: she’d left her phone on the nightstand while she showered, allowing him to call Dallas. The second: allowing him to remove one inner wire and reroute the others to more easily track her. The third: disabling the motorbike and thinking he would not be able to fix it. The fourth and most grievous mistake: she’d kissed him and left him for another man. Jaxon might have stepped into her bedroom with every intension of softening her, using her, and ultimately tricking her into revealing information, but she had stepped out of the bathroom naked, skin glistening with moisture, and he had softened. Emotionally, that is. He’d hardened physically. Sexual hunger for her and no other had been his only concern. And when she’d so rawly asked him to pretend it was her first kiss, looking as vulnerable as a teenager and as needy as someone dying of starvation, the Schön case had ceased to exist for him. Either she was a stellar actress, which, as Marie, she’d proven to be inside the Delensean cell, or she

had been a victim of violence at one point. Jaxon suspected the latter. He’d interviewed enough victims to recognize the signs: the hesitance, the haunted gleam in the eyes, the utter shock at finally reaching orgasm. To survive, I do what I have to, she’d told him. That bothered him, too. Why did she feel she was in danger? What vile things did she think she had to do to survive? What did she think would happen to her if she didn’t do these things? Why did she need to get close to the Schön when females were clearly in danger from them? Why did she place herself so willingly in jeopardy? The answers eluded him. As he leaned against the cane he’d brought along for the ride, his gaze slid over her. Her chest rose and fell erratically, as if she couldn’t quite catch her breath. Her legs trembled, as if her slight weight were nearly too much to balance. Her skin was pale, all color washed away. Her nipples were not hard. So. Leaning into that fucking alien scum hadn’t aroused her. Jaxon’s death grip on the cane finally loosened. Until that fucking alien scrum reached up and touched her arm. A surge of jealousy. A lance of possessiveness. He experienced both and was pissed at himself, at Le’Ace. He stopped in his tracks, knowing he’d murder the bastard if he kept going. Only when she

brushed the man’s hand aside did Jaxon relax. He’d never tasted anyone so sweet. Never touched anyone more perfectly suited for his hands, his body. Right now, she was his. He would not share, not even for a case. Calm again, Jaxon lumbered forward, forcing his expression to remain neutral even as his ankle and wrist screamed in pain. He spotted three men who had to be Le’Ace’s accomplices. Two were playing pool and one was flirting with the bartender. Their eyes were too sharp, their attention too focused on what was happening around them, and not in front of them, for them to be anything else. Le’Ace kicked into motion and met him halfway. They stood in the center of the bar, the only two people left in existence. Her emerald green eyes flashed with panic. And relief? “What are you doing here?” she whispered fiercely. He glared down at her, trying to squelch his own sense of relief. “You’re not the only one who’s good at their job.” “Well, great going. You’ve placed yourself in danger.” “So have you.” “You’ve blown my cover, asshole.” Without looking away from her lovely, angry features, he shifted his focus to his periphery and thereby the alien. “Your target isn’t going

anywhere. He’s already sent three women away so he can watch you. You’ve snagged his attention. Mission accomplished.” Her eyes slitted, hiding her irises so that all he could see was blazing black. “My mission was to learn about him. Now he’s wondering who the hell I am, and he won’t tell me a damn thing.” Unless she seduced him? The implication drifted from the undercurrents of her voice, and Jaxon saw red. “You want to learn about him? Fine. Take me to his table, introduce me as your brother, and then shut the hell up. I’ll get answers. But if you touch him, even one more time…” The haze of red deepened, intensified, and he had to press his lips together before he started howling. “He won’t believe you’re my brother,” she snapped. “He’s not an idiot.” “Then tell him I’m your man, I honestly don’t give a fuck.” Jaxon’s sense of reserve was completely gone, leaving no filter for his words. “Let’s just get this shit done.” She sucked in a breath. Not in anger, but in… what? Arousal? She shivered then, and he knew. Oh, yes. Arousal. That would mean…surely not. That would mean she liked it when he let go, when he stopped pretending to be something he wasn’t. He’d suspected earlier, but having it unequivocally confirmed was as delicious as her kiss. “I told him I’m single,” she said, all hint of her

anger gone. “Now tell him you lied.” “No.” Several minutes ticked by, and the sounds around them began to seep into his awareness. Laughter, chatter, a wild hammer of rock music, bottles clinking together, and footsteps in and out of the building. His healing corneas were still sensitive, so he appreciated the muted light forming a dreamlike haze. Obviously, Le’Ace didn’t want him near her target. To protect Jaxon? Or her own interests? Hell, the other-worlder was pretty enough to draw a man’s interest. Maybe Le’Ace wanted him all to herself for reasons that had nothing to do with her assignment. He didn’t arouse her, remember? “You know what?” he said. “I have a better idea.” He stalked around her and toward the alien as best he could. Damn wounds. He’d never been more conscious of infirmity or hated it more. Deciding to play the enraged boyfriend even though she’d claimed to be single, he scowled down at the Schön. “She’s mine,” he said, and there was enough truth in his tone to fool even himself. She’s mine for the time being, he had to remind himself. “I realized this,” his opponent said patiently, calmly. There was even an edge of intrigue in his odd, multilayered tone. Jaxon’s first instinct was to arrest the bastard

here and now. He knew the evilness this race was capable of, had seen it firsthand, and had been forced to kill humans because of it. More than that, he liked being in total control of a situation, and having this creature in lockup would give Jaxon at least a little control. Out here, in the open, there were too many variables. However, he understood the need for reconnaissance before an arrest. He understood that sometimes the only way to gain answers was to watch, wait, and trick. More important than capturing this man was finding out where the rest of the Schön were hiding, how they operated, what weapons and skills they possessed. The last was the big one. Some aliens could move at hyperspeed. Some could dominate humans with only a thought. Some could even walk through walls. And, weak as Jaxon still was, he didn’t want to risk losing the battle to subdue the alien or losing a chase, thereby alerting the suspect that A.I.R. was now on his trail, possibly sending the bastard underground. “You are in pain,” the alien said, and motioned to one of the empty chairs. “Sit. Please.” So polite, so unconcerned. Not the reaction he’d expected. Jaxon allowed confusion to show on his features. “I came over here to kick your ass.” The alien smiled, but the expression was not

smug. Merely amused. “I guessed,” he said, not stating the obvious: Jaxon didn’t look capable of fighting with his zipper in order to pee, much less the hulking giant. “However, nothing happened between me and your woman. I was in need of conversation and she provided it.” Your woman. Those two words stroked his sense of possessiveness, easing his anger. “You wanted more from her, though.” Rather than reply, the alien waved the waitress over and ordered a round of beers. “Last chance to sit. Allow me to buy you a drink. You look as though you could use it.” If he pushed much more, the Schön might leave. Doing his best to appear weary as well as pacified, he finally sat. Then, he kicked out a chair and motioned for Le’Ace to take it. She was still standing in the center of the bar, watching him, and she had yet to mask her shock. I’ve tasted her. I’ve held her, pleasured her. The distracting thoughts formed before he could stop them. She was a vision of femininity in her tight black dress and gloves. “She likes to play hard-to-get,” he told the alien, his voice stiff. “But I am her man.” “I do not doubt you.” The Schön offered him another smile. “My effect on women is powerful and can sway even the most devoted. She would not have come to me otherwise. I knew that from

the beginning.” He had, had he? How? Le’Ace joined them in a huff, settling beside Jaxon and crossing her arms over her chest. He supposed she’d opted to play the upset girlfriend who liked to pout. “Nolan, meet Jay. Jay, Nolan. Everyone knows I’m Jane. Now we’re all introduced…” They should go their separate ways, he finished for her in his mind. Smart move, though, working their names into the conversation so he wouldn’t accidentally blow her cover. Well, more than he already had. He turned away from her and focused on “Nolan.” A fake name if ever he’d heard one. As fake as Jay and Jane. “A fight?” the alien asked before he could reply, motioning to his cane. “Motorbike accident.” “Ah.” Jaxon eyed the otherworlder intently, not even trying to hide his curiosity. “What race are you? I can’t place you.” Yes, he knew the answer. He simply wanted to know if Nolan would admit it. A rude question, but the alien didn’t appear offended. “Your people call me Schön.” Again, not the response Jaxon had expected. He shrugged to hide his surprise. “Never heard of it.” Nolan gave a shrug of his own. “That does not

mean we do not exist.” The beers arrived. The waitress, a hard-looking bleached blonde with smeared lipstick and large breasts not held up by a bra, paused to caress Nolan’s jawline. “Is there anything else I can get you?” “No, thank you.” The woman sighed in disappointment, her expression almost trancelike. “Leave us,” Nolan said, and she did. Jaxon swallowed a gulp of beer, eyeing Nolan over the rim. “Been here long?” “Only a few weeks,” was the reply. “Having fun?” Something almost sad coasted over the Schön’s pretty face. “No. Leaving one’s home is never fun.” “Why come here, then?” Jaxon posed the question as simple curiosity, yet he was on high alert. Was Nolan telling the truth or acting? And if he was acting, why? Did he suspect something? Nolan’s eyes met his. They were illuminated by hundreds of tiny stars, stars that seemed to be dulling with every second that passed. “Sometimes a location change is the only way to survive.” Survival. “Was your planet dying or something?” Le’Ace asked as she leaned forward, propping her elbows on the tabletop. She appeared enthralled by Nolan’s

words. “Or something.” Nolan mimicked Jaxon’s earlier swig and tossed back the contents of his bottle. “Tell me about the two of you. I am most interested in all things dealing with love.” “I don’t love him,” Le’Ace said, staring down at her hands. There was a twinge of uncertainty in her voice, a shake that told of inner torment and confusion. “I can’t.” Well played. Perhaps she was a good enough actress to fool him in bed; perhaps she had never been sexually assaulted and just liked to pretend. Jaxon knew she didn’t love him, but the uncertainty in her voice, as if she possibly could love him but didn’t want to, was masterful. “She saved my life,” Jaxon said. He stayed as close to the truth as possible. Less chance of a slipup that way. “Pulled me from the wreck, made sure I got medical attention.” Nolan frowned. “So you have not known each other long?” “Sometimes it only takes a second,” Jaxon said. Sadly, the words were not a lie. One look at Le’Ace and he’d become an obsessed man. From the beginning, it hadn’t just been her delectable appearance that drew him, but her complexities, the mystery of her. Nolan’s frown eased. “You speak true.” Surprised?

“You have a girlfriend?” Le’Ace asked the alien, once again staring at him as if she were enraptured. Jaxon’s punishment, he supposed, for not claiming to love her. “Jane,” he warned. She batted the long length of her dark lashes innocently. “What?” “Trying to make me jealous is not wise.” “Trying?” She laughed, and the sound of it was airy, though she could not hide the sharp gleam in her eyes. Nolan, too, laughed. “You will never be bored with her, will you?” “No.” She was as high maintenance as a woman could be, more so than Cathy, yet he wasn’t running in the opposite direction this time. He constantly ran toward her, trying to piece together the puzzle of her. “Unfortunately.” Nolan’s grin grew wider and wider, until it stretched over his entire face. “I had wondered how long it would take A.I.R. to come to me. I had wondered what agents they would send after me. I am pleased with their selection.” At the mention of A.I.R., Jaxon stiffened, unable to control or stop the action. Nolan knew then. Had known all along. Le’Ace, too, had stiffened and stilled. Jaxon could deny it, could act confused. In the next instant, however, he decided Nolan was too intelligent to believe him. He’d have to attack. As

he stealthily reached for the knife strapped to his waist, he said, “Why are you here? Why aren’t you running from us? You intentionally sought us out, didn’t you?” Nolan pierced him with a look of pure determination. “Why am I here? Let’s just say I’m weary of my life and my brothers’ actions. Why aren’t I running? The same reason applies. Did I intentionally seek you? Yes.” “Your brothers?” Jaxon asked, tackling one thing at a time. “By race?” A nod. “They are the other men you are after. The men killing your women.” “And you, what? Want to help us find them?” Le’Ace laughed without humor. “What I want to do and what I am going to do are not the same. So yes, I will help you.” Le’Ace rolled her eyes. “Please. I might have been stupid enough to think I’d tricked you, but I’m not stupid enough to believe you’re going to help us out of the goodness of your decayed heart.” “Prove you want to help us. Start by answering some of our questions,” Jaxon said, ignoring Le’Ace’s outburst. He would rather do this without her, but knew there would be no getting rid of her. “Why are you infecting our women?” Nolan released a mournful sigh. “We cannot help ourselves.” The table shook as Le’Ace slapped her hands on

the surface. “Bullshit.” Jaxon shot her a dark look. Calm down, he projected. Now she ignored him. “Tell us where the others are, these brothers of yours. That’s the best way to help us.” Nolan laughed bitterly, revealing teeth that looked a little sharper than they had a moment ago. “You think it’s that simple? You think you can waltz into their midst and take them captive?” “Yes.” Jaxon gripped the hilt of his blade and slid it atop his knee. He twisted his body ever so slightly, positioning himself just in front of Le’Ace. If Nolan made a move in her direction, the alien would die. No question, no hesitation. But a moment later, Jaxon realized Le’Ace had done the same. That she’d had her earlier outburst so that she could better reach into her boot and withdraw a knife. She was subtly moving in front of Jaxon. To protect him. There was no time to ponder his unadulterated response of shock and pleasure. Nolan pushed to his feet. Jaxon and Le’Ace did the same. No longer trying to hide his blade, he allowed the silver to flash against the bar’s light. Le’Ace one-upped him, aiming a pyre-gun at Nolan’s heart. She fired. The blue stun beam flew over the alien’s shoulder as he ducked.

Nolan laughed. “We’ll meet again. Of that I have no doubt.” He stepped backward, toward the wall. “Stop,” Le’Ace shouted, firing again. He managed to avoid the second azure beam, as well. When his back met the silver stone, he simply disappeared. There one moment, gone the next.

CHAPTER 10

That certainly went well,” Le’Ace said as she tossed her weapons onto her nightstand. Normally, she cleaned them and placed them carefully in their holders whether she’d used them or not. They were her best friends, her only friends. This time, however, she was simply too pissed to care. Silent, stoic, Jaxon hobbled to the bed and fell onto the edge. She hated that stoicism more than ever. Wanted to smash the unemotional mask into so many pieces he’d never be able to adopt it again. She’d much preferred his vehemence inside the bar. He’d been so wonderfully human, as human as she’d always wanted to be. He braced his hands on his knees and watched her. He’d occupied that exact position before, she remembered, and seeing him there again morphed threads of her anger into arousal. He hadn’t been stoic then. He hadn’t been silent. He’d been wild and tender, a pleasure giver. He’d been desire. “You have nothing to say for yourself?” She wanted to stomp her foot like a child and barely restrained the urge. “Why don’t you tell me what you thought you could accomplish, hmm? Following me to the bar was stupid!” Still, he remained quiet.

“There were cameras there, Jaxon. There were agents watching and recording our every move.” “I know,” he finally said. His flat tone did not betray a hint of his emotions. Frustration clawed at her as she began to pace in front of him. Back and forth, back and forth, until he was a dark slash at her side. “Do you have any idea what kind of punishment I’ll be given for this?” His back straightened, and his stare became a hot brand, probing. “Punishment?” Of course he’d latch onto that little admission, the one thing she didn’t want to explain. “One, I allowed you to escape. Two, I allowed the otherworlder to fucking disappear. Yes, I’ll be punished.” “Well, you couldn’t have stopped the otherworlder, and we both know he would have disappeared whether I’d been there or not. He knew exactly who and what you were in a single glance. Now, what do you mean punished? By whom? Your boss? Daddy?” The single word dripped with sarcasm. “What can he do? Spank you?” She scrubbed a hand down her face, the bands of her rings digging into her skin. Jaxon had no idea. Had no concept of what could—and would— be done to her. Part of her suddenly wanted to tell him. The other part of her demanded absolute

silence. Always silence. To speak of the things she’d endured over the years was to share her deepest humiliation with another. “Le’Ace,” Jaxon said. Now he sounded concerned. “Who will punish you? What will they do?” The resonance of her own breathing, shallow and rough, filled her ears. For a moment, she lost touch with reality. Present bled into past, images flashing through her mind. A dark, dank cell. Loneliness. Pain. Needles. Tests. Oh, God, the tests. There’d been so many. As a little girl, she’d spent every spare moment praying for a brother or a sister to rescue her. Parents, not so much. Her first bosses had been, in essence, her fathers. They had created her from carefully selected DNA—human, animal, alien, she wasn’t sure what parts of her were what—merging the bits and pieces they desired and discarding the rest. As she’d grown, they’d done their best to discard her character weaknesses, as well. They’d hoped for perfection, someone cold yet malleable. When she’d demonstrated anything less than what they desired, she’d been locked up to “think about” her actions, or sent on a job they knew she would despise. It was part of her conditioning, she’d always been told. The best part: they thought she should thank them for putting her back on the

right path. A bitter laugh escaped her. Once, she’d been ordered to bring a target in for questioning. He’d fired at her; she’d fired back, meaning to nail him in the shoulder. He’d tripped, realigning his body, and ended up taking the blow straight to his heart. He’d died on the way to the hospital. For that “crime,” she’d been ordered to screw information out of her next target. That way, she wouldn’t accidentally kill him. Once, she’d jumped from a building while chasing an other-worlder and twisted her ankle, slowing her down. Because of that, the alien escaped her. When she returned to the lab, Le’Ace was forced to learn how to fight and track otherworlders with broken bones. And yes, the only way to learn was to have her bones broken and be thrown into the wild. What would Estap do to her for this? Of all her owners, he was the worst. She didn’t have proof, but she knew Estap’s father had killed her creators to take over her “care.” They’d died too close together, too many accidents to be written off. Estap Senior had been a top-level government official and had stumbled upon her file, deciding she would be an asset. At the time, Estap Junior had been low-level, trying to work his way up. When his father died, she’d discovered she’d been left to him in the will. Like a house or a car.

Immediately she’d been put to work to advance the bastard’s career. He’d tasked her with killing innocents who stood in his way. He’d had her steal his future wife’s savings so the woman would be more inclined to marry. And now, here Le’Ace was. Still a pawn. Would Estap tell her to kill Jaxon for getting in the way? Remove her from this case completely? Command her to find Nolan and allow the alien to infect her so that she could be studied? Viruses and bacteria did not live long inside of her, bless those implanted particles. But again, she found herself wondering if Nolan’s virus would overpower them. She found herself wondering if she would be infected, tested, observed. Breath caught in her throat, burning, blistering. Black and gold spots winked over her vision. The erratic pants in her ears became discordant bells. A goddamn panic attack, she realized as her diaphragm shuddered, petrified. “Le’Ace!” Jaxon barked. His voice boomed past the blood-roar. “Mishka!” “I’ll be all right in a moment,” she managed to push out her swollen throat. Dizziness slapped at her mind, her thoughts soon spinning out of control. Death, destruction, pain, darkness. Breathe, goddamn it. In. Out. “I just…I haven’t…done this in a long time. I just…need a moment.” Overriding system block. Emotional

overload. You must calm. No shit. But knowing what she needed to do did not help. Panic continued to cascade through her, intensifying, growing, blooming. Her limbs shook so forcefully she felt as if she were having a convulsion. Her mouth dried, leaving giant balls of cotton. Her blood froze, yet her skin heated to a blaze. Vaguely she thought she heard Jaxon call her name again. Then again. Calm. Now. “I…can’t.” She couldn’t breathe anymore, not even a slight puff. Why do I fight death? Why? The world would be a better place without me. There’d be no more pain, no more jobs. No more Jaxon. Something strong and warm suddenly banded around her waist—Jaxon, she realized. Sweet Jaxon. But it was too late. Panic had already battered down every defense she possessed, consuming her. Her skin continued to heat and her blood continued to freeze, and the two temperatures created a wild storm inside her. Shutting down in five…four…three…two… Her entire world blackened into nothing.

Jaxon carried Mishka’s limp body to the bed and gently laid her down. His own ravaged body had reached its limits, but he paid it no heed. A few

minutes ago, he’d wanted nothing more than a nap, ten thousand painkillers, and his hands wrapped around this woman’s pretty neck. All three needs had vanished the moment he’d seen Mishka pale. Mishka. He’d called her by her first name only a few times, yet it was now branded soul-deep and he could think of her no other way, even though he’d tried. Le’Ace was too distant, too impersonal. When she’d paled, her skin had become so pallid he’d seen the blue veins underneath. So many veins, more than most humans possessed. Terror had glowed like twin stars in her beautiful eyes. Lines of tension had branched from her mouth. And then she’d begun wheezing, as if she couldn’t breathe. What had caused such an intense reaction? Concerned, he stretched out beside her and propped his head on his elbow, staring down at her. With the softest of touches, he smoothed the strawberry-blonde tresses from her sweat-glistened face. Her lush lips were pursed, and there were four teeth marks in her bottom lip where she’d clearly chomped. Her lashes were devoid of mascara, yet so long they cast those spiky shadows on her perfect cheeks. She’d never replaced the earrings, so her lobes were bare. Golden lamplight shone over her, illuminating

the purity of her skin. Thankfully, color was already returning, leaving a sweet rose blush. He placed her at twenty-five or twenty-six, making her roughly six years younger than him. She possessed no age lines, no spots from the increasingly damaging sun. Then, his gaze caught on a small imperfection and Jaxon’s mouth edged into a frown. There, along the back of her left temple, was a white, puckered scar. Not a surgical scar, but one delivered by a serrated blade. That pissed him off royally because he knew exactly what she’d gone through. He had a similar scar on his left hip. What kind of violence had she endured throughout her short life? More than him, most likely, for this strong, courageous woman hadn’t blinked an eye at killing Thomas. She hadn’t seemed to give a shit about meeting Nolan, who could turn her into a cannibal with a single kiss. And yet, the thought of punishment nearly destroyed her. Her features had been drawn, her body tense. Like a warrior in battle who knew the deathblow was coming. Mad as he’d been with her earlier, he wanted to violently, coldly murder whoever had caused this reaction in her. Obviously, the…man? woman? people? Obviously, they had punished her before. Severely. I do what I must to survive. Her words once again echoed through his mind.

What had she been forced to do to avoid this fearinducing punishment? And why did she allow them to hurt her? Passively accepting castigation seemed completely out of character for her. Unless they were so strong she had no defense against them. He’d toyed with the idea of her being a victim of sexual abuse before, nearly discarded it as she’d lied to Nolan; now Jaxon reevaluated the notion. Had she been sexually abused as punishment? Physically abused? The hand at his side curled into a fist. He’d had a normal childhood. Well, as normal a childhood as the richest kid in the city could have. His family had loved him, perhaps too much. They’d spoiled him, given him anything and everything he desired. By the age of five, he’d developed a sense of entitlement. If he’d seen something he wanted, whether it belonged to someone else or not, he had taken it. By whatever means necessary. When he’d hit puberty, he’d begun plowing through girls like they were sexual tissue, his to use and toss at a whim. They’d let him, too. His cheeks had been smooth, not scarred, and his money had made him popular. He’d had no care for anyone but himself. No concern for other people’s feelings. Then, one night, he’d walked into his bedroom and found one of the girls he’d slept with and callously bragged about hanging from his ceiling.

She’d snuck inside his parents’ house and killed herself. To teach him a lesson, her note had said. He’d ruined her life, now she would ruin his. She’d succeeded. Since then, the guilt had been a constant reminder that there were consequences for his every action. There were consequences for his every uttered word. That very night, he’d begun burying the wildest parts of his personality, morphing from talker to listener, user to used, baddoer to do-gooder. A few months later, he’d even begun training to become an A.I.R. agent. Not the camp Mia sometimes taught at, but through his father’s military friends. Sleep deprivation, starvation, and intense combat sessions had helped further his change. Then, upon his acceptance into the elite force that patrolled the streets of New Chicago, the victims he’d interacted with had hammered the final nail in the coffin of his old self. Their pain, their endurance, their courage had humbled and shamed him. He’d wanted to be a better person. What had Mishka endured to shape her into the woman she was? he wondered again. “No one’s going to hurt you,” he assured her, even though he knew she couldn’t hear. “I’m here. I’ll protect you.” As if she did indeed hear him, her features smoothed and her color deepened. So badly he

wanted to kiss her, but he didn’t. Not without permission. He remained in place, waiting for her to revive. He didn’t have to wait long. A few seconds later, her eyelids popped open and a gasp slipped from her lips. Bolting to a sitting position, panting, she quickly scanned her surroundings. “It’s just you and me,” he assured her. She stiffened, didn’t turn to look at him. “I passed out.” “Yes.” “You caught me? Carried me to the bed?” “Yes.” Be gentle with her. He’d once thought her tough, but now he suspected she was more fragile than any other woman he’d dealt with before. “Will you tell me what panicked you so badly? Please.” Still she did not face him. “Nothing good will come of telling you.” “How do you know? Have you talked about this with someone else?” “No,” she admitted hesitantly. “Then try me.” “You first. Tell me something about you. Something humiliating.” The rosy waves of her hair tumbled down her back like a waterfall of silk. He reached out and sifted his needy fingers through them. “All right,” he said.

Finally she twisted and eyed him. There was shock in her gaze. Shock that was soon hidden as her eyes narrowed. “I’ll know if you’re lying.” He didn’t see how, but he said, “Which means you’ll also know if I’m telling the truth.” He settled on his back and locked his hands behind his head to keep from dragging her into his aching body. She wasn’t ready for that kind of contact. Right now she resembled a snake ready to sink poisonous fangs into its prey. “What would you like to know about? One of my former girlfriends or my job?” “Both.” She flattened a hand on the mattress, the tips of her fingers brushing his hip. He had to bite his tongue to hold back a plea for more. He couldn’t hide the twitching of his cock, though. Being near her, breathing in her sweet scent, aroused him more than being inside another woman. Why, he still didn’t know. But there it was. “I went undercover once,” he said. “I was chosen because I’m good at getting answers out of the most closemouthed of people.” She pffed. “That tidbit is in your file, but I have to admit I haven’t seen this so-called ability of yours. You learned nothing new from the Schön.” Jaxon didn’t respond; he didn’t want to draw attention to the fact that he would soon have Mishka revealing her darkest secrets. Secrets she’d probably never shared with another. How was that for skill?

“You want to hear this or not?” She gave an imperial wave of her hand. He wanted to kiss the pouty expression off her face. “As you probably know, some species, for whatever reason, are purely sexual.” She gave a very stiff nod as her gaze darted away from him. More telling than she realized. “I was sent into an interspecies bondage club. As a submissive.” He paused to give his words time to sink in. “My target liked human men, so I allowed myself to be used by her to gain access into her fortress of a home.” Once again, Le’Ace stopped breathing. This time, however, it had nothing to do with panic but with…hope? Hope that someone might understand her? Might care, might sympathize? She hadn’t given permission yet, but he reached out anyway and curled his fingers around the base of her neck. With a tug, he had her lying beside him, her head buried in the hollow of his neck. She didn’t protest. No, she snuggled closer. “You screwed her?” she asked. “Yes.” “Were you disgusted with yourself?” “Yes, but not because I felt violated or anything like that. I went home and threw up because I had liked it, found pleasure in it. I let a criminal use me

in every way you can imagine and I came. Over and over again.” “Truth,” she breathed, her shock mixed with wonder. “Have you acted as a submissive since? Of your own volition?” “No. Actually, I reverted to old habits and slept with as many women as possible. Prostitutes mostly, women who let me be in complete control. A bit later, I met Cathy. She was as feminine a female I could find, all into pink and glitter and ruffles, and very unassuming in bed. I think that’s one of the things that drew me to her and kept me by her side for so long. She didn’t remind me of my shameful behavior.” “Do I?” Mishka asked without missing a beat. “No.” And that was the truth. Not because she was unassuming, but because, with her, Jaxon so badly yearned to stake a claim. To possess. Nothing else seemed to matter. He’d take her however he could get her. If she wanted to tie him up and whip him, he’d agree. If she wanted lights out, missionary, he’d agree to that, too. “This is the only time I’ve even thought about the bondage club since meeting you. To be honest, you’ve been my single focus.” Silence surrounded them for a long while. She was thinking, lost in her thoughts. He waited. She began drawing circles on his chest. If he’d had the power, he would have stripped away his

shirt with a single thought. As it was, he could feel the heat of her fingers like a live wire, sending tiny flickers of electricity through him. Then she spoke. “I live because I’m allowed to live. I’m a slave.” Next, a horrendous story of subjugation, her own sort of bondage—a computer chip that controlled whether she lived or died and the man who pulled her strings—flowed from her. Jaxon listened in horror, in fury, in helplessness. By the end, he was seething with the emotions, drenched in them. What she told him was worse than anything he could have imagined. Those men had treated Le’Ace like an animal. They had controlled her actions like puppeteers. They’d threatened, they’d punished, they’d exploited. One still did. Jaxon’s arms tightened around her, pulling her so close her heart was positioned just above his, beating in sync. He didn’t know what to say. Knew there was nothing he could say to make up for the wrongs done to her. The wrongs still being done. “Mishka,” he said, wanting to try. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I always am.” She chuckled, the sound a little shaky. Trying to comfort him? He sighed, the breath causing several strands of her hair to lift. On his next inhale, they fell onto his chin, tickling. “Is there any way to remove the chip?”

“Not without killing me.” “How do you know?” “They told me.” “And you trust them?” She did not have an answer. “Any way to steal or disable the control panel?” “I’m sure there is, but I haven’t found it. And believe me, I’ve looked.” “Are they monitoring you right now?” he asked. “I never know. With only a glance, they can see where I am but they can’t really tell what I’m doing.” “That isn’t right. What about—” “Jaxon, stop. Just stop, okay? You can’t save me. Besides, that’s not why I told you. You’re just the first man I’ve…I’ve…I don’t know. You affect me. I don’t know why. I’d love for it to stop. Shit, I could barely do my job tonight.” She uttered another of those rough chuckles. “Before you got there, you were all I could think about. And when you got there, all I could think about was getting you the hell out so you’d be safe. But you know what? While I desperately want the madness to end, at the same time I think I would be devastated if it did. What the hell is wrong with me?” What she said devastated him. But before he could respond, her cell phone began vibrating on the nightstand. Both of them stiffened. She raised up, stared

down at him. Her eyes glassed over, and he knew. “My boss,” she said, paling again. Her tormentor.

CHAPTER 11

Le’Ace withdrew from the warmth and firmness of Jaxon’s body. Hardest thing ever. She stood, swiped up her cell from the nightstand, and stalked to the bathroom, kicking the door closed behind her. All without a word. Jaxon made no move to stop her. A good thing, too. Vulnerable and raw as she currently felt, she might have clawed him a new eye socket. Now he knew her deepest shame. And yet, his treatment of her hadn’t changed. Wait. That wasn’t true. His treatment had changed. From anger to gentleness, almost…tender. How could she preserve any distance with him now? She’d always wondered how humans fell in love, how they remained emotionally close to each other in this world of chaos and despair, and now she knew. They shared their pasts and showed each other their internal scars, basking in the misguided belief that they’d protect each other from future pain. No one can protect me. Not really. Here was proof. She braced her free hand against the cold tile wall and held the phone to her ear with the other. Dread, terror, and resolve beat strong fists inside her chest.

“Yes,” she said. Neutral tone. Good. She’d play this like she played everything else with Estap. Calm, cool, uncaring. She’d been trained well. Only time her training tanked was when Jaxon was involved. “You failed,” Estap told her. “How so?” I hate you. “I got you closer to answers than anyone else, even though the alien knew who I was the moment he stepped into the bar. He’d been waiting for me, asked for my help.” A crackling pause, laden with tension. “I was told the injured A.I.R. agent showed up. Did I or did I not tell you to keep him hidden?” “You told me to see to his care and learn his secrets.” “Semantics. Why did you allow him to leave the compound?” “I underestimated him.” Truth. “Trust me, that will not happen again.” A few seconds—an eternity—passed in quiet, the only sound Estap’s even breaths. He did this on purpose, she knew. He wanted her nervous, squirming. Bastard. Satisfaction was not something she’d give him. “I think you’re attracted to him,” Estap finally said. Her heart skipped a beat. “Please. He’s ugly.” Even uttering the lie was abhorrent to her. “You know my thoughts on this matter, Le’Ace.

Attraction equals distraction.” She didn’t mention that Estap was married, that he often “conferenced” with his secretary, and that every one of his business trips included “decompression” time in his hotel room with an escort. He’d simply point out that he was human, she was not. She also didn’t mention that she’d followed him a few times, taken holophotos, and anonymously mailed them to his wife. Not that it had done any good. The wife hadn’t left him. “Nothing to say, Le’Ace?” “I told you. I’m not attracted to him.” She couldn’t bring herself to call him ugly again. “I was told he scared the Schön away,” Estap said, his chastisement clear. “You were told wrong. He didn’t scare the otherworlder away. I did.” Estap sputtered, having clearly been in the middle of a drink. He coughed, clearing his throat. “You? Why?” “To prevent a public brawl. Sir.” “My agents could have prevented a brawl,” he said tightly. “You had other things to do.” An irritated sigh followed the words. “Did you learn anything during your brief conversation?” As if he didn’t already know. One of his agents had to have been recording the entire exchange. “He calls himself Nolan, and he’s intrigued by love.

He claims he doesn’t like what his brethren are doing, and he’ll contact me soon with a way to stop them.” “I doubt he’ll return to the bar.” “No. He won’t.” She was positive about that. Nolan wasn’t stupid. He had to know that conversation would not be next on the agenda. Capture would. Estap’s men were probably working on a way to neutralize the dematerializing process even now, locking the otherworlder in place. “Was Nolan spotted outside the bar after he disappeared?” “No. He vanished from our scanners completely, as if he’d dissolved into another dimension rather than a wall.” Another dimension? “Is that a realistic possibility?” Hell, anything was possible in this new world, she supposed. “We’re looking into it.” Which broke down to, You do not have clearance for that type of information. She rolled her eyes. “My next move?” “I’m going to think, confer with my colleagues, and will have new orders for you in the morning.” What, no punishment? No further chastisement? She dared not hope. “Have you learned anything else from the agent?” Estap asked. No, she dared not hope. Her shoulders sagged.

“Only that the toxin is passed from Schön to human through bodily fluids.” “As we suspected. We found something in Nolan’s saliva. The glass that was brought into the lab, well, the other-worlder’s spit was so acidic it had already eaten through the rim. Opened the door to a thousand more questions. Like why the saliva hadn’t burned the victims.” A crackling pause. “You’ve tried everything in your power to persuade Jaxon to talk?” Had she screwed him? That’s what he really wanted to know. Bastard, she thought again. “Yes,” she lied. “I don’t think he knows anything else.” “Very well. We have no more use for him, and he’s well enough to return to his home.” She chewed on her bottom lip, his implication clear. This is what I should want for Jaxon, but I’m not ready to let him go. The dread, terror, and resolve she’d experienced earlier returned full force, causing her legs to shake and her heart to drum erratically. Cool, calm, uncaring, she reminded herself. Showing emotion to this man was like placing a weapon in his hand and standing still while he aimed. “I’ll make sure he’s ready.” The words were firm, unwavering. “Two of my men will arrive at seven a.m. You’ll turn the agent over to them and then come to me.” “Of course.”

“As close proximity as you were in with the Schön, I’ll want a full medical workup on you.” Probes, monitors, needles. “Of course,” she repeated, proud of herself. “Until morning, then. Oh, and Le’Ace. We spotted something disturbing while you were inside the bar. My agents were able to photograph it.” Had she missed something? “Sir?” “It’s impossible for me to explain. I’ll download the image to your chip and we can discuss it tomorrow when you arrive. I know that downloading is painful for you, and it distorts your reality, but I know you’ll find it worth it this time. As you’re looking at it, you might try and remember that he’s expendable. You’re not.” With that, their connection severed. Her arm fell to her side, the nearly weightless phone suddenly obscenely heavy. As if Estap cared about her at all. And there at the end, his tone had been a little too smug, a little too amused. Her dread intensified. A moment later, a warm tingle rushed through her brain and heated her scalp. Her vision blurred, sharp claws scratching at her hair, her skull. She swayed, reached out, and tried to balance herself against the wall. Nausea churned in her stomach. One wrong move, and everything inside would spill out. She stilled and waited.

The holophoto flashed front and center in her mind, consuming the entirety of her focus. The pain in her head eased, and she gasped. Her knees buckled. She hit the floor with a whoosh. The bathroom mutated into the club, tiled walls became painted metal. Drinking patrons were dancing and laughing around her. Smoke billowed. She saw herself, the photo obviously taken seconds after she’d spotted Jaxon in the club’s doorway. Her lips were parted, her skin flushed to a deep rose. Her nipples were hard and peeking through her shirt, and her hand was flattened on her stomach, as if trying to calm a fit of nerves. Or arousal. But it was her eyes that drew her attention. Oh, her eyes. Absolute longing glittered in their depths, so much longing it was almost painful to see. She knew beyond any doubt that the photo was a warning. He’s expendable. You’re not. Obviously Estap knew she cared about Jaxon. There was no hiding it, not after this photo. If she messed up again, Jaxon would die.

Though he wanted to storm the bathroom, Jaxon waited on the bed. He expected Mishka to emerge angry, to stomp around a bit, maybe yell in frustration. He was prepared to soothe her, hold her, listen, and give her anything she needed.

When the door creaked open twenty minutes later and she strolled out calm, unemotional, his brow puckered in confusion. “Everything okay?” “Everything’s fine.” She didn’t look at him, even when she stopped at the dresser and lifted one of her knives from the first drawer. “Why don’t you go back to your room and get some rest? I could use some myself.” So cold. So distant. So uncaring. He didn’t like it. Watching her intently, he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the mattress. Having sat still for so long, his muscles had tightened; they refused to loosen and throbbed even after he stilled again. “Does that weapon have a name?” “No.” “So you lied about naming them?” “Marie names her weapons. I don’t.” And they were different. Marie was cold, Mishka was burning hot. He would never confuse the two again. “What did your boss say to you?” A heavy pause, a slight tensing. Then, “He reminded me of my objective.” When she said no more, he prompted, “And that is?” “To do what I’m told, when I’m told. Anything else will just destroy me, little by little.” As she spoke, she lifted a rag and began polishing the blade. Her motions were smooth and practiced.

“That’s no kind of life, Mishka.” Her shoulder blades rolled together as she tensed. “I prefer Le’Ace.” “No, you don’t,” he snapped, furious with her total lack of sentiment. She’d gone into the bathroom a human, with all the emotions and frailties involved, but she’d emerged an android. Callous. He much preferred the vulnerable woman. What he wouldn’t have given for a knife, her boss, and five minutes in a room. Cutting out the fucker’s organs and forcing him to eat every dripping piece might, might—appease this growing sense of hatred. “You don’t know me. Don’t pretend you know what I do and do not want.” “I’ve had my fingers inside of you. I’d say I know you well enough.” At that, she stopped breathing. Her fingers clenched so tightly around the weapon’s handle, the metal under that black glove could have cracked. Then, a moment later, she returned to her task, concentrating so profoundly he realized she might be using the action as a survival mechanism. An ordinary action to soothe a raging mind. “What do you want from me?” she asked him, distant again. “Hugs? Kisses? Love?” She snorted. “I’m incapable of the last.” His gaze raked over her. The dress she wore barely covered the sweet curve of her ass. An ass

he’d balanced on his lap, an ass he’d kneaded. She’d moaned and writhed, lost in the pleasure. “I seriously doubt that.” “You need to leave.” Over and over her hands continued to slide along the blade. Her gaze never wavered from it. “Now.” That concentration, no matter the reason for it, would not help her. “Come over here and make me.” “Jaxon.” “Scared?” Any other woman he would have left alone. Why couldn’t he walk away from Mishka? “This is a dangerous game to play.” “Ask me if I care.” Finally she whipped around, eyes narrowed, knife hanging at her side but pointing toward him. Mission accomplished. Concentration broken. She bared her teeth in a scowl. “You do not want to mess with me right now. I can make your last beating seem like a massage.” Don’t smile. “Prove it.” He heard grinding and knew she was gnashing her molars. Slowly she raised the knife. She turned the tip away from him, however, and slashed the top of her glove. The black material floated to the floor, leaving her silver skin visible. “You want me to be human, therefore you fool yourself into thinking I am. But I’m not. Not really.”

“A metal arm does not a machine make.” “That’s not the only part of me that is machine.” “What else?” A frustrated grunt slipped from her pursed lips. “Look. Does it really matter? I’ve killed animals. I’ve killed women. I’ve killed children. I’ve been gentle with you so far and haven’t crushed you as I’m fully capable of doing. One flick of this metal wrist, however, and I can snap your neck.” He knew he treaded on dangerous ground, but that didn’t stop him. “You don’t want to snap my neck,” he said. “You want to kiss it. You want to kiss and suck me and that scares you.” Her jaw dropped. Her gaze slid between his legs, clearly searching for an erection. When she saw that he was indeed hard, she gulped. “You have three seconds to leave this room, Jaxon.” “One. Two. Three,” he supplied helpfully. Rather than her anger being roused another degree, a tormented curtain fell over her features. “Why are you doing this to me?” His chest constricted painfully. He’d wanted emotion, and here it was. He just hadn’t expected it to slap him upside the head. She’d lived a terrible life, had done horrible things. He wanted the pain gone; he wanted pleasure to take its place. He didn’t know how this woman had sunk under his skin, but she had. He hated seeing her like this almost as much as he hated seeing her unemotional.

“Why?” she insisted. “I don’t like seeing you upset,” he said, opting for honesty. “Why?” “I don’t know.” “Well, stop. Please.” The only other time she’d said the word please and meant it was during their kiss, when she’d desired more from him. He opened his mouth to say something. What, he didn’t know. There was a blur of moment, and then Le’Ace was pushing him to his back and straddling his chest, her knife at his throat, cold and menacing. Automatically the mattress widened, adjusting to their weight and length. “I told you this isn’t a game,” she growled. “No, you told me it was a dangerous game.” “Whatever! This is life and death. They’re separating us tomorrow, all right? We will not see each other again.” His eyes narrowed menacingly. “What?” “You heard me.” “No one but us can decide that,” he growled as he gripped her thighs. “Someone can and he did.” “No, the fuck he didn’t. He won’t.” She didn’t say another word, yet she radiated such grim determination that she didn’t need to speak. The thought of being without her, the

thought of never seeing her again ignited a dark thunderstorm of emotion inside him. Fury rained the hardest. “You’re going to obey blindly, without hesitation? You’re going to let this man dictate your life?” Her eyes lost all hint of gold, going pure emerald as they beseeched him to understand. “If I don’t, I die. You know that. I wasn’t lying about the computer chip in my brain.” He refused to give up and scrubbed a hand down his face. “Why does he want to separate us?” “I didn’t do my job. Therefore, I’m off the case.” A moment passed. This could be a manipulation on her part to finally get him to talk. In that instant, however, he couldn’t have been less concerned. Hell. No. They weren’t keeping him from Mishka. He would see her again. “You need to know what I know about the Schön? Fine. I’ll tell you.” Eyes widening, she shook her head. “Don’t. Don’t say another word. Whatever you say to me, I will repeat, and I hate my boss so fucking much right now I want to fail.” He couldn’t let her go. Not yet. “The Schön can smell when a woman is fertile.” He settled his palm on her thigh again, the heat of her skin like a brand. “I asked about your period earlier because fertility

is what they crave, what they need.” A shallow breath emerged from her. “Stop. Just stop.” “Stop talking or touching?” “B-both?” A question when she’d meant it as a statement. So telling. He almost smiled. Her feminine core was positioned in the middle of his chest. When he slid his fingers to the edge of her panties, she moaned. A bead of moisture wetted his shirt. Shit. He moaned. “They don’t want halfling children,” he said. “Halflings aren’t even possible.” She spread her knees wider in invitation. “Our scientists have tried. Only reason I’m possible is becasue I’m a machine.” He wouldn’t take her over the edge. Not yet. No fast, easy orgasm for her this time. They were both going to work for it. Otherwise, she’d walk away from him afterward, emotionless mask back in place. He knew it, felt it. So he clasped her hips, fingers digging in and holding steady. “Our scientists failed, but other species’ scientists have not. Halflings are possible.” Mia was proof of that, though only a rare few knew it. “But like I said, I seriously doubt that’s what the Schön are after. I don’t think they care about the babies they create at all.” “Then what?” Mishka wiggled on him, rubbing

her clit against his sternum. Her head fell back, hair tickling his stomach. Her lips parted on a blissful sigh. He squeezed her waist until she stilled. God, his blood was burning his veins, turning everything to ash. His erection throbbed, desperate for a single touch. A stroke. “What I learned through the women is that the Schön can’t experience orgasm unless there’s an egg to receive their seed. That’s why they keep the women for several days if conception doesn’t happen right away. There’s still a possibility of it, which means they can still experience orgasm.” Her brows arched into her hairline, curiosity blending with the rosy glow of her arousal. “All this, infecting human females, killing them, for sex?” “I think. Could be more to it, but that’s all I’ve found out so far.” Sweat trickled from his temples and onto the pillow below him. “Every infected woman I’ve killed has been pregnant.” He hated himself for every death, too. So needless. Don’t think about that. Not here, not now. Mishka didn’t judge his actions, his despicable admission not even fazing her. “Why keep this to yourself? Why not tell us right away? Measures can be taken. Birth control hormones in the city’s food supplies, warn women not to sleep with anyone resembling a Schön, things like that. So I ask again.

Why?” “Because—” “Why!” As he hesitated again, she pressed the blade deep and leaned into him. Their noses touched, her sweet breath caressing his cheeks. “Because.” Just say it, put it out there. “One, you saw the women in the bar. Once they see a Schön in person, they only care about fucking him. Two, I said that Schön could only come with a fertile female. I said nothing about infected females being unable to spread the disease on their own.” “What do you mean?” “I had to kill an infected male. Husband of one of the victims. No one knows, but he bore all the beginning signs. Sunken eyes, graying skin.” Mishka’s lids closed, blocking him. Jaxon continued. “Lastly, I don’t think the disease can be stopped. I think it’s going to spread. And spread. And I doubt there’s anything we can do about it.” Slowly her eyelids opened, and hope stared down at him. “Why do you think that? Surely there’s something we can do.” “Ever played dominos?” “No, but I know what they are.” “Think of every citizen on Earth as a domino. We’re all lined up. Some have already fallen and they’re quickly knocking others down. They, in turn, knock others.” He paused. “One of the

women I killed looked human, but she wasn’t. She’d actually come with a group of men from Raka, a planet the same infection had just destroyed. Nearly every citizen had already fallen. One by one. The more they tried to stop it, the faster it spread. I think…I think our downfall has only just begun.” “I don’t know what to say to that. I need to think.” Mishka’s blade eased from his neck. She frowned. Tried to move away from him. He grabbed her neck and rolled, pinning her underneath him. “There’s nothing we can do about it right now. Think later.”

CHAPTER 12

Le’Ace peered up at Jaxon. “We’re not doing this,” she said flatly. Inside, though, she trembled with eagerness. She ached. She desired. But she was too cowardly to allow herself to have it. Physical pain she knew how to handle. Pleasure? Not so much. The aftereffects were too difficult to deal with. Fire blazed in his silvery eyes, liquefying the irises and making them swirl with longing. “We’re not doing what?” His hands anchored beside her temples, enveloping her in a hard embrace. Her nipples hardened, reaching for his muscled chest, his heat. “This. You and me. Sex.” Can’t, you know you can’t. Tomorrow they would part, and she would not be allowed to see him again. Giving herself to him here and now would be bliss in exchange for a lifetime of anguish, yes. After the orgasm he’d given her earlier, there was no question she would like what he did to her now. Yet she suspected, deep down, that giving herself to him would also bring another layer of chaos into her life. Already she wanted him as her own. Was obsessed with him, really. Any more want and she might die inside, little by little, every time she wondered where he was, who he was with, and what the hell he was doing.

She cut off a bitter laugh. Why are you tormenting yourself? Even if they could sustain a relationship after this, he wouldn’t want her. Not permanently. “Are you sure?” he finally asked, his voice seduction incarnate. The hard length of his cock rubbed between her legs. “I feel fully functional.” Le’Ace hissed in a breath as she fought another wave of sensual hunger. “That doesn’t mean anything. I’m the only woman around. Of course you want me.” Hot prongs of jealousy and possessiveness sliced at her. When they parted, would Jaxon fall straight into the arms of another woman? Fall into pretty, petite, unbearably whiny Cathy’s arms? Le’Ace bared her teeth at him. He blinked in surprise. “What?” “Nothing.” The single word was snapped and baring teeth of its own. Leaning down, Jaxon gently kissed her temple. His lips burned, imprinting on her DNA, proclaiming her to be Jaxon’s woman. “All you have to do is tell me to leave and I’m gone. And I don’t want you because you’re the only one around. I would pick you out of thousands.” A stinging retort refused to form. One minute ticked by, then another. His body fell more heavily onto hers, hard, uncompromising, and her knees opened wider,

providing a cradle. His rugged scent encased her, seeping into her nostrils, then her lungs, then infusing with her every cell. “What am I to you?” she asked tightly. There was a painful pause. He looked up, away from her and at the headboard. “I won’t lie to you and tell you I love you. I just, I honestly don’t know what you are to me.” “I’m not your girlfriend.” The words were not a question and they were not for Jaxon; they were a reminder to herself. Not you, never you. His head tilted to the side and his gaze returned to her. Intent, he studied her. “Do you want to be?” Yes. Her hatred for Estap intensified as she said, “No. Of course not.” The sides of his jaws clenched and unclenched, as though he were chewing on something distasteful. “There’s disgust in your tone. I’m that abhorrent to you?” Her stomach churned into thousands of tiny knots. Did I just hurt his feelings? Eighty-eight percent chance his affront is genuine. His corticotropin and epinephrine levels have spiked. “Well?” he snapped. She could say yes. If she did, she wouldn’t have to find the strength to kick him out of her bedroom; he’d get up and walk on his own. They wouldn’t have sex, and she wouldn’t have to worry about the

consequences of being with him. She wouldn’t have to wonder, day after day, what he thought of her. She’d know beyond any doubt that he hated her. Something he saw in her expression must have softened him, because he said gently, “Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours. Tell me what you’re feeling.” He stiffened. Closed his eyes for a moment and moaned. “Good God. I just realized I’m Cathy.” “I don’t understand.” He gave a wry shake of his head. “I’ve got a beautiful woman underneath me, and I’m asking to discuss our feelings and future. Hell, I want to discuss them. I’m pathetic.” Do not melt. Do not freaking melt. “Look, Jaxon, it’s not you. Okay? It’s me. I can’t do relationships.” “Like I haven’t heard that one before. Like I haven’t said it before.” Shaking his head, he began to withdraw from her. Unable to stop herself, she wound her arms around his waist and held him in place. His hard muscles leapt underneath her palms, as if reaching for her, needing more. She couldn’t allow herself the pleasure of this man’s most intimate touch, but she couldn’t hurt him and send him on his way, either. “I never told you my secret,” she said. She licked her lips, heart hammering inside her chest.

Was she really going to do this? He merely arched a brow. “If I were with you, I would not be able to remain faithful.” Her cheeks heated with humiliation. Say it. Tell him the rest. “When I’m ordered to pleasure a target, I do it.” Only seconds ago, she hadn’t wanted to hurt him, had decided to open up to save him the pain of rejection. Yet here she was, throwing her words at him like a weapon, trying to cut him all the way to the bone with them. Better to see fury in his eyes. She did not want to see disgust. Or worse, pity. Jaxon didn’t recoil and his expression didn’t change. He just continued to study her. “Why?” he asked. A moment later, his eyes widened and the fury she’d wanted to see danced over his harsh features. “The chip.” But the fury was not directed at her; it was directed at Estap. “Tell me,” Jaxon demanded. Her lips pursed, and she nodded. “Yes. The chip.” “That’s rape.” At her temples, his hands fisted the sheet so tightly her head was momentarily lifted. “Who is this asshole?” His voice was taut, and she suspected he asked only because he needed a moment to calm himself. Le’Ace wouldn’t name names. If Jaxon showed up on Estap’s doorstep, she would be the one to

suffer. She really would be ordered to kill him. So she said, “Once, I was controlled by a group of scientists and a government official. I was like their pet. Only I wasn’t fed treats and cuddled.” “And I bet you think the negative treatment was your fault, huh?” He asked the question casually, probably unaware of her secret shame. Part of her did consider the things she endured her own fault. “I stopped fighting them. I—” “You stopped fighting only to survive, sweetheart. They hurt you when you fight, yes?” Sweetheart. The endearment rocked her to the core. Over the years, she’d heard many men call their women sweetheart. Every time, her chest had ached. Jealousy had spilled through her blood. Now she was on the receiving end of that moniker and it was as wonderful as she’d always suspected. “That doesn’t make you weak or mean you were asking for it. That makes those men sadistic motherfuckers who deserve to die.” Pushing out a hard breath, Jaxon tangled his hand in his hair. “No wonder you hate to be touched.” He’d noticed? Something warm spread through her chest. “I let you touch me, and I wasn’t ordered to do so.” “Still. Damn it!” Curse after curse exploded from his lips, not screams but whispers, and somehow all the more powerful because of that.

“Every time they commanded you to do it, it was goddamn rape.” His gaze bored into her, hot and probing. “You are not going back to those bastards, do you understand?” Not giving her time to answer, he growled, “Give me their names.” “The men?” “Yes. All of them.” “They’re dead.” “Someone controls you now. He called you. You’ve admitted it. I want his name.” “You’re going to what? Hunt him down? Kill him?” “Hell, yes. Slowly and painfully. I’ll start by flaying the skin from his bones and I’ll finish with helping him bite off his own cock. Name. Now.” Jaxon’s vehemence was like soothing balm to her corroded emotions. So many times over the years, she’d entertained the notion that her creators really had wiped her of her humanity. Now she could feel a well of tenderness, soft as butterfly wings. Yet the tenderness was actually killing her, she realized, breaking her down little by little, stripping her of the shell she needed to survive the cold world she lived in. I’m cruel. I’m hard. I have to be. Tears burned in her eyes. With a groan, Jaxon dropped his head. His temple pressed against hers, the most comforting of touches. “Don’t cry, baby. Please don’t cry.”

“I’m not,” she managed brokenly. “I’m half machine. Sometimes my parts leak.” He uttered a hoarse chuckle, but the dark humor didn’t last long. He pulled back and peered down at her intently. “We have until morning. I’ll think of something, okay? I won’t let you go with that man.” Impossible. She knew that. “You can’t take me with you. My location can be tracked anywhere, anytime.” The very technology that made her nearly indestructible was also responsible for her agony. “Well, I’m not leaving without you.” If only. “Be reasonable.” One of them had to be, anyway, though she might wish otherwise. “We’ve known each other a few days. That kind of dedication is stupid.” “Is it? And we’ve known each other a few weeks.” “Yes, it is. And you were asleep for most of those weeks so they don’t count.” “Well, I’m awake now so I’m going to make today count.” As he spoke, he leaned closer, so close his mouth almost touched hers. Almost. He remained a hated whisper away. Suddenly panting, she licked her lips. Shove him off. You cannot afford to do this. “Sleeping together isn’t going to change anything.” “Maybe. Maybe not. But it will damn well make

us feel better.” His warm breath caressed her nose, her cheeks. A shiver danced through her. He grinned. “I like it when you shiver.” His hands closed around her face, slowly, slowly, then he was cupping her jaw. “I want to make you forget every other man.” The silver in his gaze heated, steel being forged into something sharp and strong. “I want to make you like it.” His voice was husky, a sensual promise layered with inexorable yearning. In that instant, resistance proved hopeless. She might not recover when they parted—so what. Thinking of him with other women in the coming weeks and being consumed by jealousy—no biggie. Right now, the decision to be with a man was hers and hers alone. Yes or no, she decided. There was freedom in that realization. There was joy. Hope that she could have something pure, something right. Lord, hope was a dangerous emotion. In the end, it might very well be hope that destroyed her. Still. She could be with Jaxon and she could belong, if only for a night. Tomorrow she could regret. Yes, tomorrow she would worry. Tonight, she would live. “You already know I like it with you. I’ve never minded your touch,” she told him softly. “I don’t know why.”

His pupils dilated, black nearly overshadowing silver. “I know why.” “Well, clue me in.” Up, up traveled her arms, then they snaked around his neck. Her fingers tangled in his hair. The silky strands were short yet long enough to tickle her knuckles. He sucked in a breath as his cock jumped against her stomach. “Hold everything. I blacked out for a moment. What were we talking about?” Surely not. Surely her lips were not lifting in a smile. Amusement in bed? How odd and amazingly wonderful. She rarely ever laughed. Rarely ever had reason to. Humor, like choice, was another thing that had been denied her, she realized. “You were about to tell me why I like to touch you.” A sheen of sweat layered his skin and desire practically hummed from his tense body. Obviously, he was fiercely aroused. But he didn’t swoop in and crush their lips together. He was going to take his time, she suspected. He was going to treat this like it was her first time, just as he’d done with their kiss. She melted all the more. Practically purring, he nuzzled his nose against her cheek. “I can’t think of the right words. I think I’m just going to have to show you.” Please. As though he’d heard her unspoken plea, he slowly lifted his head.

Their gaze locked together, fused by fire and need. Her nipples hardened further, rubbing against the soft material of her dress. Moisture flooded between her legs. Had she been standing, she would have fallen. “Ready for me?” Suddenly incapable of speech, she nodded. One of his hands slid up her side, over her ribcage, and stopped at the curve of her breast. His thumb brushed back and forth, gentle, so gentle. She twisted slightly in an attempt to move that thumb to her aching nipple. His lips were drawn over his teeth, tight and strained. His eyes were narrowed on her mouth. “If I do anything you don’t like, all you have to do is say stop.” Swallowing, she found her voice. “I’ll like. Swear.” Never had she throbbed like this. Never had she felt less in control of her body, but she didn’t panic as she’d always feared. She reveled. This was Jaxon. This was her choice. “Spread your legs for me, baby. Wider.” She obeyed, causing the hem of her dress to ride up to her hips. Jaxon’s long, hard cock pressed against her clitoris. She gasped. He moaned. In the midst of that moan, he finally, finally settled his lips atop hers. His tongue swept inside her mouth, hot and tasting of total passion. When she met the erotic roll of his tongue with a

roll of her own, he angled his head for deeper contact. So deep she felt him inside her fantasies. And as decadent minutes ticked past—more, I need more—his kiss became her only means of survival, feeding her body and soul, his breath filling her lungs. “Your mouth is heaven, you know that?” he whispered. “And my God, your body…” He cupped the small globe of her breast. “Perfection.” She’d been built for war more than seduction, so his words soothed a bruised feminine ego she’d always kept well hidden. Her creators had told her they’d weighed the pros and cons of big breasts and the cons had won. While men might think the bigger the better, big would have gotten in her way during fights and escape attempts. Jaxon gently pinched her nipple, and she gasped at the heady sensation, a lance of pleasure speeding from the hardened bud to her wet, needy core. “I have to see. Can I see?” His voice was strained, almost broken. “Yes.” After a final lick into her mouth, he rose. Inch by inch, he peeled the dress from her shoulders, collar, until the black material bunched under her bra. For several seconds, he simply drank in the dark lace against her flushed skin. Arousal glowed from his features. “Next time, you’ll have to leave the bra on.”

Now he sounded drunk. “The contrast of the black against your pale, rosy skin is living art. Exquisite.” His praise, dear lord, his praise. But there wouldn’t be a next time. Couldn’t be. She said nothing, however, unwilling to spoil the moment. “What about this time? What are we going to do with the bra?” “Has to come off.” He worked the clasp and drew the lace from her, freeing her breasts. The bra soared over his shoulder, and his eyes latched onto her puckered nipples. “So pink. So mine.” “Yes.” “Last time, you didn’t like when I kissed them.” “I liked,” she said, “I just…” “What?” Normally she did not like attention to her nipples. “They’re too sensitive, too easily turned into pain receptors.” “I’ll be gentle. I swear it.” When his dark head lowered and his tongue softly flicked the tip of each peak, she found herself writhing against his erection. The heat. The intensity of the pleasure. Too much, yet not enough. She needed more. Her nails sank into his scalp. “Don’t stop.” “Won’t. Swear to God.” “Lick again.” His tongue immediately coasted over one before switching to the other, flicking back and forth. A

moan escaped her. “Like that?” “More.” Using teeth this time, he softly grazed them. Drew them into his mouth one at a time and sucked, applying just the right amount of pressure. Again, she moaned. The ache between her thighs was constant now, not pulsing and offering her those few, sweet seconds of relief. No, there was no relief for her. Only desperation and fire. “Jaxon,” she gasped. “I’m going to strip you, baby. All right?” “Yes, yes.” Please. She wanted his fingers inside her. She wanted him pumping, sliding, wanted them connected. She wanted him to be a part of her. He fisted a handful of the dress, and she said, “I’ll help.” “Hell, no. Grab the bedpost.” “Wh—what?” “Grab the bedpost.” He didn’t wait for her to obey, but gently clasped her wrists and lifted, curling her fingers around the rail. In this position, her back was arched and her breasts were straining toward him. He sat up, crouching on his knees. “So beautiful.” When he looked at her like that, she felt beautiful. She didn’t feel like an object, a machine, a thing to be used. She was simply a woman.

He kneaded her breasts, thumbs moving over her nipples just as his mouth had done, before once again gripping her dress and shimmying it down her waist, over her legs. A moment later, it joined her bra on the floor. Un-ziiip. He tossed one of her boots. A smile curled his lips when he spied the knives strapped to her calf. Velcro was pulled apart, blades removed, and a clink, clink sounded as they, too, were tossed onto the floor. Un-ziip. Off came the second boot. Jaxon’s grin widened as he removed another cache of artillery. A gun, a throwing star, another blade. Clink, clink, clink. “How many weapons do you carry at a given time?” “As many as I can hide.” When needed, she would pin her hair back with retractable knives, carry drugs in her rings, as Jaxon well knew, and use the underwire in her bra as an electrical conductor. “Will I find anything under those sexy little panties?” He glided his palms up her legs and sank his fingers underneath the waistband of the lace. “Just me.” He groaned. “You’re going to kill me. You know that?” With a tug, the panties were removed. He sucked in a heated breath, his gaze boring into her wet folds. “God, you’re hot.” She gulped at the raw desire emitting from him.

He rubbed at the erection straining against his jeans. “Soon I want your hand here.” “Take them off,” she commanded. “Not yet. Moment they’re off, I’ll be inside you.” She didn’t understand the problem. “That’s where I’d like you to be.” His head fell back, and he released another groan. Without the magnetic pull of his gaze holding her captive, she was able to look down. His cock was so long and thick, she could see the swollen head peeking from his pants. Moisture glistened there. “Jaxon,” she beseeched. “Not yet.” He reached behind him and tugged off his shirt. His chest was tanned, his nipples tiny and brown, his stomach roped with steel. Only a slight smattering of dark hair and several white crisscrosses of scars marred the perfection, but she loved them. Her palms were tracing every line before she realized she had even moved. “Your touch makes me burn,” he said hoarsely. “I’ve already proven I can come from it alone.” His tone held the barest hint of self-castigation. “I’m going to lick you with my mouth.” “Please, yes. I liked making you come.” It had given her a sense of pride. “I want to taste you. Will you let me?” As he spoke, he gripped her legs and raised them onto his

shoulders. “Say yes.” “Yes.” No hesitation. This was an act she had not allowed her targets to perform. Ever. There was something so personal about it, so intimate, even more so than sex. Jaxon, she wanted to do it. Was desperate to have him licking deep, tonguing her. A heartbeat later, his tongue was on her, flicking over her clitoris. Her hips shot off the mattress and her hands tangled in his silky hair. “So good,” he said, the words causing a vibration to shoot through her. “Like honey.” Stars winked behind her lids. And when he slid a finger inside her, another teasing her other opening, she shuddered deliciously. His tongue never stopped working her, urging her toward satifaction, but never letting her come. Every time her body stiffened, about to fall over the edge, he paused, waited for her to calm, to still. Then he started all over again. He used his tongue, his teeth, and even hummed to shoot more of those vibrations through her. “Too much,” she finally gasped. Sweat beaded over her, she couldn’t catch her breath, and she was utterly desperate for release. The strain was telling on him, too, but he said, “You can take more.” A second finger joined the first, stretching her wider. “I want you mindless. Thinking only of me.” “I am.”

“Prove it.” “Jaxon. Jaxon, Jaxon, Jaxon,” she chanted. My Jaxon. “Don’t ever forget.” “Won’t.” Can’t. He paused. She nearly shouted. “I vow to you here and now, Mishka, that I will never hurt you. You can trust me.” With those words, that erotic vow, there was no stopping her orgasm. Not this time. Pleasure slammed through her, more intense than anything she’d ever experienced before. A scream ripped past her lips, a sultry concerto of freedom and bliss. When she quieted an eternity later, Jaxon was naked and crawling up her body. Glistening sweat dripped from him. He wasn’t smiling, didn’t look capable of gentleness any longer. He looked savage. His silver eyes pierced her as he gripped his cock and moved to penetrate her. “Ready?” “Yes.” Rather than surge forward, he stilled, the tip teasing her. Absolute agony claimed his features. “Shit. I don’t have a condom.” “I don’t have any here.” She reached between them and curled her own fingers around the thick base. The heat, the strength captivated her. He hissed out a breath. “Hell, yes.” “I can’t get pregnant, but…”

“Move your hand on me. Up and down. Just like that.” His eyelids closed. “But what?” As she worked him, her knuckles brushed her clit, intensifying her renewed desire. “I’ve never let a man enter me without one. I can’t catch anything, but I never wanted to chance it. I never wanted such close contact.” His hips pumped forward, the lines of strain around his mouth deepening. “Do you want it now?” Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound emerged. Did she? “It can be like last time if you prefer, but I want to be inside you. I want to feel you, all of you.” Oh, yes. She wanted. “I—I think I would like that, too.” She’d chosen him. She wanted him. She craved everything he could give her. “Yes.” “Thank God. Will you roll over for me?” he asked. Her eyes widened, her hand stilled. Give a man her back? He peered down at her. He gave a quick, almost pained smile. “I won’t hurt you. Trust me. Please.” She’d never even considered giving a man her back. Such a thing required trust, just like he’d said. Trust me. The thought both alarmed and excited her. This was Jaxon, the man who’d given her more pleasure in two days than anyone else had over the

entire, seemingly endless span of her life. And after Jaxon’s bondage confession, part of her wondered if he hoped to spur her into fighting and exerting her will on him. As she gazed up at him, studying, contemplating, she saw desire so intense it was practically a separate entity. No. He didn’t want her to fight. He just wanted her. Though she had no idea what he planned to do, she twisted until she lay on her stomach. The sheet was warm from their body heat, a little damp from their sweat and arousal. Jaxon sat up and straddled her, his knees caging her hips. He smoothed her hair from her back and traced his fingers up her spine. Goose bumps formed, and she shivered. “I know I’ve told you before, but the artwork is exquisite.” “Thank you.” The many surgeries she’d endured to “make her more efficient” had left countless scars. She hadn’t been able to see them unless she contorted herself in a mirror, but she’d known they were there, which made them a constant reminder of what she was. The feminine flowers had helped combat that, and all remaining insecurities were somehow banished by Jaxon’s praise. “I wish you hadn’t been hurt.” Leaning forward,

Jaxon laved his tongue over each ridge of her spine, might even have traced some of the petals. The hot, wet heat against her skin acted as another brand, leaving an invisible tattoo: Jaxon’s woman. He kissed her neck; he kneaded her ass. He whispered all the things he wanted to do to her in her ear, told her how beautiful she was, how strong, how sweet, how he was going to bury his cock deep inside her. Soon she was writhing again. Soon she was desperate for him again. “Raise to your hands and knees for me.” Without question, she lifted. He gripped her hips, pulling her against him so that his chest pressed into her back. “Ready, baby?” “Yes,” she whispered. “Tell me if you want me to stop. It might kill me, but I’ll stop.” His erection pressed into her. Not sinking, not yet. One of his hands snaked around her and dipped into her core. Oh, God. “Don’t stop.” In…farther and farther, so slowly, he sank into her. She was so wet it was an incredible glide. “Damn, you feel good.” He reached the hilt, and she moaned. He felt amazing. He filled her completely, stretching her deliciously. Without the condom, it was like being caressed by velvet-covered steel. More, she wanted more.

When his fingers circled her clitoris, taking her a step closer to that satisfaction, she moaned. And moaned. And moaned. “Next time I’m going to sink inside you deep and hard, pounding.” Every word was spoken with a gentle, torturous slide. “I’m going to have your legs on my shoulders and I’m going to work my dick until you’re screaming my name.” Everything he said, she pictured in her mind. Him, over her, straining. Her, lost in the bliss of his body. Just like that, she tumbled over the edge a second time. Her core clamped around his cock, her back arched. He continued to work her, prolonging her orgasm and intensifying it another degree. Just like he’d wanted, she screamed his name over and over again, unable to stop herself. So good, so good. He never increased his rhythm, only dragged the pleasure out for a wondrous eternity. “Mishka,” he gritted. And then he roared, hot seed jetting inside her. His arms tightened around her, locking her close. His warm breath panted over her neck. “Mine,” he said. “Mine.”

CHAPTER 13

Jaxon traced a fingertip over Mishka’s tattooed spine. He’d never been one to linger after the pleasure was sated, but this time, with this woman, he wanted to stay. Could think of no place else he’d rather be. All of his protective instincts were engaged, his sense of indignity on her behalf sharpened to a razor point. Surely that explained his softening toward her. Surely that explained his need to hold her and never let go. His need to guard her from the demons that plagued her. His need to move her into his home. Surely that, and not love. Because Jaxon didn’t do love. Love complicated things, made a person accountable for the other’s thoughts, emotions, and suicide attempts. Jaxon frowned. The last had slipped into the equation of its own accord. Suicide attempts. For years, the fear of driving another woman to extinguish her own life had colored his every second, every action. And for the first time, he realized why he’d always chosen shallow women. They did not care about deeper emotion. Abhorred it, really. They wouldn’t sink into a spiral of despair if he hurt their feelings. Mishka wasn’t shallow, but he knew she

wouldn’t crumble, no matter what he did or said. She was strong, inside and out. Perhaps the strongest female he’d ever met. A smile played at his lips. Her right arm wasn’t the only thing comprised of unbendable, unbreakable titanium. Or whatever the metal was. Her inner core was, as well. He highly doubted she’d try to take her own life just because a man hurt her. She might kill the man, though, and Jaxon found that he liked that about her. His arms tightened around her, and she purred her contentment. Currently she was draped over his chest, asleep and utterly relaxed, her warm breath caressing his nipples, strawberry tresses splayed over his shoulder. Relaxation drifted just beyond his grasp. What am I going to do? His mind abandoned the topic of love and strength in favor of survival and safety. He needed to hide Mishka from her boss, but how? The chip allowed her to be tracked. There was only one solution, obviously: cut that fucking chip out of her brain. Never again would her boss dictate her actions. Even the thought of the bastard doing so filled Jaxon with rage. He would have to research the world’s top surgeons. If there was a chance, even a slight one, that the chip could be removed without killing her or making her a vegetable, he thought she would take it, no

hesitation. Killing her. The two words echoed in his mind. Killing her. Killing her. Did he want her to have surgery if there was a chance she would die? He didn’t ponder the answer. He thought he already knew what it was, and he didn’t like the kind of person that made him. Selfish, greedy, callous. Damn it! He craved action, consequences something to be considered only in hindsight. Now he felt helpless, and the consequences of his actions could actually destroy a person he, what? Cared about? Yes, he cared for Mishka, he realized. Not love, never love, but there was caring. He couldn’t deny that. Being with her had rocked him. Every time surprised wonder had flickered over her lovely features, his own pleasure had intensified. He’d never come so hard. “Jaxon?” Mishka suddenly said, her voice filled with worry. He turned his head and looked down at her. She hadn’t moved, hadn’t even stiffened, but her eyes were wide open and glistening with panic. His heart skipped a beat. “What’s wrong?” “I can’t move. My body is frozen in place.” His brow puckered in confusion. “Frozen?” “Yes,” a smug, unfamiliar voice said. “Frozen.” Stiffening, Jaxon searched the hazy bedroom, sifting through the golden moonlight and shadows.

He found a tall, excessively muscled man. No, not a man. An alien. Those amber eyes were too bright to be human. Glittery skin, handsome face women probably drooled over. “Who are you?” Jaxon demanded as he slowly, stealthily reached for one of the knives on the nightstand. If this alien tried to hurt Mishka, Jaxon would kill him. “He’s the man who’s going to save your ass.” At the new voice, Jaxon stilled. “Dallas?” His best friend and fellow agent stepped into a lone beam of moonlight. Familiar brown hair and sun-kissed skin came into view. Dallas was tall and lean and covered in black from neck to toe. His eyes were glowing just as brightly as the alien’s, only Dallas’s were azure and filled with shock. “Now isn’t this cozy?” Dallas’s gaze had shifted to Mishka, and the shock quickly morphed into anger. “Wrong hair, right face. Freaking great.” His attention returned to Jaxon. “Not exactly how I thought to find you, cavorting with the enemy.” Frowning, Jaxon gripped the sheet and jerked it over Mishka’s nakedness. “Why can’t she move?” “I won’t let her,” the stranger said with a grin. “She’s very pretty. May I have her when you’re done?” Jaxon fought a homicidal urge as jealousy roared to life. Mine, his mind screamed. “Stop whatever you’re doing. Now.”

“Uh, no. She has murder in her eyes. I don’t trust her to behave like a good little girl.” “Dallas,” Jaxon growled. “Tell your buddy to stop.” “Sorry, my friend, but I agree with Devyn. She’s bad news. Now, do you want to tell me what’s been going on? We’ve been worried about you.” The lights suddenly switched on, even though no one had moved an inch. Jaxon figured the otherworlder bastard had used his obviously considerable mind powers to control it. “Free the girl,” Jaxon said, “and I’ll tell you everything that’s been going on.” “Jaxon,” Mishka said. The sharpness of her voice cut like a dagger. He tightened his arm around her in a silent demand for silence. She didn’t know Dallas or the man’s lightning-fast temper. One wrong word and he feared Dallas would turn a weapon on her. If that happened, Jaxon wasn’t sure what he’d do. Dallas was his best friend. They’d known each other for years, had fought together, had killed for each other. But Mishka was…he still didn’t know what she was to him. “Just let her go, all right?” “Did you hear that?” Dallas asked the alien, his tone layered with incredulity. “Yes. I’m standing right here,” was the confused reply.

Dallas rolled his eyes. To Jaxon he said, “Aliens. They never get our sense of humor.” His eyes slitted with menace. “I yell at Jack. For you. I call Mia. For you. I call assassins. For you. I form a crew and let them mess up my house to save your ass. I spend hours breaking into this hellhole. I—” “I broke into it,” Devyn interjected. “You watched me work.” “Whatever. The point is, we go to all this trouble because we thought you were dying, being tortured, the usual fare, but here you are. Naked. In bed. Pleasured.” A low growl emerged from Mishka. Okay. Off the subject of sex, like, now. “I called you,” Jaxon said. “I told you I was fine.” Now Dallas frowned. “For all I knew, you made that phone call with a gun to your head, every word forced.” Shit. Yeah, Dallas had a point. “Mishka, tell the nice men you aren’t going to hurt them if they free you.” “I’m going to peel the skin from that alien’s bones and make a coat. I’ll wear it when I invade his planet and slaughter his entire family.” Dallas’s mouth fell open. Devyn’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head, though his amusement lingered. Jaxon rubbed a hand down his face. “Let’s go to the living room,” he suggested.

“You are not leaving me in here,” Mishka growled. “Not like this.” Sighing, he slid from underneath her and threw his legs over the side of the bed. The sheet slipped from his waist, revealing every inch of him to the men. Unabashed, he said, “Go. I’ll be there in a minute.” Dallas turned on his heel, but he didn’t leave. “Thanks for the peep show,” he grumbled. “I need to sandpaper my corneas now.” “Damn it, Dallas. Just go. I need a minute alone with her.” “Do not release her,” Dallas said to Devyn before stomping from the bedroom. Devyn remained in place. “I was told the little woman was a viper in angel’s skin. While I would love to challenge her to a naked duel, I will do as Dallas has so sweetly requested and, with a heavy heart, take her energy molecules with me, leaving her unable to move.” He gave them a final nod and followed the same path Dallas had taken. Jaxon remained on the edge of the bed, his elbows on his knees, his back to Mishka. “You couldn’t play nice? Even for a few minutes?” “There was only a sixteen percent chance of being released,” she snapped, “so there was no reason to play nice. They would have seen it as weakness, anyway, and used it against me later.” “They don’t have to be your enemies.” He

pushed to his feet, his still-healing muscles burning and protesting. Using the wall as a crutch, he worked his way to the dresser. There, he withdrew a white shirt and a pair of white panties. Slowly he limped back to the bed. When he reached the edge, he didn’t move. Couldn’t. He could barely breathe as he drank her in. Her strawberry blonde hair was splayed over the pillows, a silky, decadent frame of femininity. Rose stained her cheeks, bright and sensual. The sheet did little to hide her curves, the outline of her nipples beseeching him to touch, to lick. “Don’t look at me like that,” she snapped. His eyes lifted to hers. He saw anger mixed with arousal. “Like what?” “Like I’m the only reason you’re breathing.” Her lids fluttered shut, blocking her emotions from his view. Blocking him from her view. She’s exaggerating. He had a million things to live for, but she wasn’t—couldn’t be—one of them. For all the reasons he’d considered earlier and a million more. I do what I have to do to survive, she’d once told him. He was pretty sure she’d kill him if ordered and damn afraid she’d sleep with another man if ordered, too. Even as a toddler, he hadn’t liked sharing his toys. While he wanted desperately to save her, that didn’t change the here and now.

“Don’t just stand there! Scratch my neck. It itches,” she said, cutting into his thoughts. He obeyed, careful not to scratch too hard and leave a mark. Her skin was hot, as if lava flowed through her veins. From anger? Or the thought of his touch? “Better?” “Yes. Thank you,” she said reluctantly. “Welcome.” Silent now, he tugged the shirt over her head and through her arms. His knuckles accidentally grazed the side of her breast. Both he and Mishka moaned, reminded of what they’d been doing only a few hours ago. The panties, well, he hooked them over her ankles and pulled them up her legs without ever dislodging the sheet. One glance at his new favorite place and he might forget the two men waiting for him. “That bastard Devyn better free me or I will hunt him down.” “I’ll talk to him.” “But you’ll talk business with him first, won’t you? Business you don’t want me to overhear.” Jaxon didn’t deny her words, but he didn’t confirm them either. “Need anything else before I leave you?” Her gaze pierced him like twin laser beams, glinting with panic and fury. “Leave me?” “The room,” he assured her. “Only the room.” Slowly the panic faded so that only the fury

remained. “Leave the compound if you want. It’s not like I care.” Oh, she cared. But she was probably as confused as he was about the link between them and the likelihood of successfully being together. Leaning over, he flattened his palms against the mattress. He nuzzled the tip of his nose against hers. “I won’t be long.” She licked her lips, as though imagining a kiss. “Carry me in there with you.” “No.” “Why the hell not?” “You’ll tell your boss what you hear.” That wasn’t the real reason, but he doubted she’d like hearing he didn’t yet want to make a choice between his friends and his woman. “You’re lying,” she bit out. “I’m not.” “And I won’t tell,” she vowed. “You won’t be able to help yourself. You told me that.” Several seconds ticked by, each more tensionfilled than the next. “I won’t forget this,” she said softly, fiercely. He sighed. “I know.” He kissed her neck, exactly where he’d scratched her, and then he limped from the bedroom. He knew the betrayal in her eyes would haunt him for eternity.

Alone, still frozen in place, Le’Ace silently fumed. Jaxon had truly abandoned her. Had let his friends basically chain her, rendering her helpless. He knew her past, knew she despised being controlled, but he hadn’t fought for her rights. Did you expect him to? You were a piece of ass to him, nothing more. That’s all she was good enough to be, and she knew it. All she would ever be. A nonentity, a piece of garbage to be tossed aside at will. After the tender way Jaxon had held her, she’d thought—hoped?—he saw her as something more. When will you learn? Her stomach clenched painfully. He’d lied to her and left her. Why couldn’t he have been different? Why couldn’t he have seen some kind of worth in her? Better this way, she assured herself. Made things easier. When Estap’s men came for her, she would happily leave. Mad as she was at Jaxon, she wouldn’t dream of him, wouldn’t fantasize about him, wouldn’t crave him every second of every day to come. Yeah, right. Just do your job. That’s all you have. All you can ever have. Her eyes narrowed as determination coursed through her. She’d recognized Dallas from the A.I.R. files she’d read. The other, the alien, she

hadn’t been able to place. But she would. Magnify hearing, she commanded the chip.

CHAPTER 14

You should kill her,” Dallas said, lounging on the dark brown sofa. Cold words from a man who usually loved cold women. “She is not up for discussion,” Jaxon said darkly, pacing in front of his friend to work the stiffness from his ankle. “Now who’s the otherworlder and how does he fit into the equation?” Dallas ignored him. “Mia hates Le’Ace. That is Le’Ace, isn’t it? And if Mia discovers you’re sleeping with the woman, Mia will kill you.” “Mia hates everyone. Besides, isn’t she out of town?” “Not anymore. She left the training camp. For you.” Jaxon scrubbed a hand down his face, only then realizing how often he’d done so in the last few days. “Well, Eden hates Le’Ace, too,” Devyn supplied helpfully. Jaxon stopped and glared at him. The alien had one shoulder propped against the far white wall, his skin so pale it nearly blended in. “Who the hell is Eden? And seriously, who the hell are you?” “Two hells.” Scowling, Dallas slapped his hands against his thighs. “What’s gotten into you? I’ve known you a long damn time, and you’ve never

cussed. Not that hell is a cuss word, but you’ve never said it before.” Devyn arched a black brow, his amber eyes glowing with even more amusement. Did nothing anger the man? “Eden is a freelance assassin, and I’m her friend. Sometimes I aid her with cases.” “That doesn’t help me.” Jaxon again scrubbed a hand down his suddenly tired face. “Are you sure we can trust him, Dallas? He’s obviously a Targon warrior.” And Jaxon knew that Targons were capable of extreme telekinesis. He’d even heard rumors that one Targon could freeze an entire city in place—and hack the citizens down, one by one. Good men to have as friends, bad men to have as enemies. Devyn preened like a peacock, back straightening, lips lifting smugly. “Actually, I’m king of the Targon warriors.” Jaxon’s eyes widened and he whipped sideways to stare at Dallas. “Is he serious?” “Yeah. And yeah, I know he’s irritating as hell,” Dallas added, “but he’s also pretty cool. Once you get past the world-size ego. Now, tell me what’s gotten into you. Did the beating cause brain damage? I’ve never seen you so stressed. First time I’ve ever seen you naked with the enemy, too, but we’re not talking about her so I won’t mention that fact.” Enemy? Yeah, he supposed they should have

been enemies. Technically they worked for the same side of the law. Her boss, though, had twisted her into something unpredictable, something dangerous. God, he wanted to murder the man. You have the skill to do it. That he didn’t dismiss that rogue thought as he should have, shocked him. Instead, he set it aside to be pondered later. I’m seriously fucked up. “What do you want us to do with the woman we’re not going to discuss?” Dallas asked. His hands curled into fists. “Nothing. I’ll handle her.” “But—” “She’s mine. How many times do I have to say it?” Dallas raised his palms in a show of surrender. “Fine. Whatever. Just make sure you do something to incapacitate her on a kinda-sorta-maybe permanent basis. I, uh, have a feeling she’s going to…” His voice trailed off, and he swallowed. Jaxon frowned over at him. “What?” Past few months, Dallas had been having premonitions, he supposed was the word. The man knew things before they happened, not that he’d admit it. “Don’t drive on Main,” Dallas had told him a few days after returning to work after his neardeath hospital stay. “Why?” Jaxon had asked.

“Just don’t.” A few hours later, every news station in the city had buzzed about the eight-car pileup on Main. Seemed a sedan’s sensors had misfired and it had flown over a bridge and onto Main. Neither Jaxon nor Dallas had ever spoken of the incident, but it had settled between them like a fat pink elephant in a purple tutu. Dallas tugged his earlobe. “Look, she’s going to bring you and everyone in our little rescue party down. One by one, we’ll topple. Because. Of. Her.” “And how’s she going to do this?” he asked, not wanting to believe it. Surely Dallas was wrong. Surely it was Dallas’s dislike of Mishka, and not precognition, coloring his perception of the future. Jaxon didn’t want to believe otherwise. “She’s going to shoot you,” was all Dallas said. “I can put her to sleep for a few days,” Devyn suggested. “No.” Jaxon had betrayed her enough, taking her freedom of choice like he had. Any more, and she might never forgive him. “Forget about her, okay? She’s not going to shoot me.” He hoped. “Now let’s talk about the case Jack had me working.” For the next several minutes, Jaxon explained about the Schön, their virus, and the women they’d infected. He told about his experience with Nolan inside that bar. And then, finally, Jaxon spoke the

secret he’d been hiding since the beginning. “Testing the virus will require keeping the victims alive, perhaps keeping their babies alive, and both could very well cause it to spread at an accelerated rate.” “That why you killed them?” He nodded. “Once the body dies, the virus dies, because it cannot live without a living host.” “Are you sure?” Dallas asked, leaning forward and propping his elbows on his knees. “You aren’t a doctor, and you aren’t a scientist. What’s more, Jack told me you made him promise not to allow either in the cells with the women. Why?” “Each of the women I killed were given a message to deliver. Their lovers apologized for what they’d done and explained what I just told you. That testing makes everything worse.” “Could be a lie,” Devyn said. “I know that. But the only way to determine that is to test the blood of a living victim. I had to weigh the pros and the cons and ultimately decided to kill the victims before testing could be done.” Jaxon looked from one man to another, not even trying to hide his torment. “If the Schön were telling the truth, we can’t test it without severe consequences. If they were lying…” He sighed. “I don’t know what to believe, really. The past few weeks haven’t yielded any new information.” He plopped into the nearest seat, his gaze

snagging on the parallel bars Mishka had erected for him. Seeing them made his chest ache. She had been so thoughtful and concerned with his care. He pulled his attention to the scuffed wooden floor. Overall, the compound wasn’t terrible but it wasn’t inviting, either. The walls were too white, almost blinding, and the furniture sparse. The air held no scents of home, no baked breads or pies, no fruits or perfumes. Only cleaners. No, wait. Frowning, he inhaled deeply. He caught a hint of Mishka’s erotic fragrance. Spice and warm, feminine skin. His body instantly reacted. Arousal beat through him, eliciting images of Mishka underneath him, straining against his mouth, legs spread wide, female core wet and eager. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from moaning. He wondered how much time she’d been forced to spend here, who she’d been forced to stay here with—his rage sparked—and if she even liked the place. Her bedroom boasted a comfortable bed, feminine dressers, and a colorful carpet. Mishka. Bed. Arousal flicked brighter than the rage. “Jaxon. Dude. Snap out of it.” Fingers waved in front of his face, and Jaxon blinked. When he focused, he saw that Dallas was standing in front of him. Devyn was beside him, grinning like the madman he probably was. They’d

approached him, yet he’d had no idea they’d even moved. Some agent he was. “What?” he said, defensive. “You left us.” Dallas. “You also grew hard.” Devyn. “Didn’t realize you were attracted to me. I’m flattered. Truly. I do prefer women, though. I know, I know. You’re disappointed. No need to say it. I’m very handsome.” Jaxon’s cheeks burned. He frowned. “Just back the hell off.” Both men were grinning as they returned to their seats. Jaxon studied them. Even though Dallas was smiling, lines of strain now bracketed his eyes. Jaxon’s frown deepened. “You okay, man?” “I’m fine. You mentioned a bar a bit ago. You talked to the otherworlder there, yes?” Jaxon nodded. “Did you happen to get a recording of his voice?” “No.” Mishka probably had, but he didn’t mention that. At the moment, he doubted she’d be inclined to help them. Dallas sighed. “Would have made things easier, but we can still work with what we’ve got.” He stood, slid a thin black tracer from his back pocket, and strode to the coffee table. There, he knelt and flipped the tracer open so that both ends were flattened against the table’s

surface. He pressed his thumb into the center and a bright yellow light scanned his print. A moment later, a keyboard appeared just in front of him. Not solid, but merely as bright a light as the scan. His fingers flew over it, tapping against the wood. “Name of the bar?” “Big Bubba’s.” More tapping. “Date and time you were there?” He answered. Even more tapping. Then a blue screen crystallized over the black tracer, forming a four-by-four square. A map of the city appeared next, followed by eighteen red dots. “All right,” Dallas said, hands falling to his sides. “Here’s what we’ve got. At the time you gave me and in the vicinity of the bar, there were twentynine alien voices recorded. Eighteen are in the middle of a conversation right now.” Sometime after a group of aliens had first come to this planet through interworld wormholes, it was discovered that most alien voices acted as human DNA did, leaving otherworlder prints behind. Their voices possessed a frequency human voices did not. That’s why there were voice recorders and amplifiers set up all over the city, constantly documenting the different wavelengths. Those recorders had come in handy during the human-alien war that had erupted all those years ago, helping track down enemy camps and watch certain locations to ensure aliens never breached

them. Of course, that had not been one hundred percent effective. Predatory aliens had quickly learned to be quiet before, during, and after raids, which hid their location as if they were shrouded in shadows and magic. Magic, he thought. Perfect word, reminding him of the way Nolan had simply disappeared through that wall. If only more was known about their uninvited visitors. Different species, different powers, all kept as secret as possible. The best defense was a good offense and all that shit. “I’ll call Mia and Eden and let them know what’s going on,” Dallas said. “Each of us can scout a different location.” Devyn crossed his arms over his massive chest. “Wait. There are only fourteen dots now.” Dallas waved a dismissive hand through the air. “Don’t worry. The other locations were recorded. We’ll search whether they’re there or not. I anticipate lots of frustration and failure, but right now these are the only leads we’ve got.” Okay, then. That was settled, which meant the time had come to make a decision about Mishka. She’d made it clear they were to part ways in the morning and that’s what she wanted. Or so she’d claimed. Maybe she didn’t want it; maybe it was being forced on her. If she defied her boss, she would be punished. If

Jaxon forced her to go with him, he would be taking yet another decision from her. Jaxon wanted her with him, though, whether she wanted it or not and whether she could be tracked or not. He wanted to protect her, wanted to find a way to save her. Deep down, she had to crave those things. But as afraid as she was of her boss, he knew he’d have a hard time getting her to admit it. Still. He had to try. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Release the girl from stun,” he told the Targon. Devyn frowned. “Are you sure?” “Yes.” Dallas said, “No. She stays frozen. And that’s nonnegotiable.” With a shrug, Devyn said, “You take the fun out of everything, Dallas. It is done. She’s free.” That easily? Jaxon thought, surprised. Dallas growled. “You traitor! I told you no. She’s dangerous.” Jaxon expected Mishka to rush into the living room, guns blazing. She didn’t. In fact, a minute passed in silence and calm, and then another. “Mishka,” he called while Dallas and Devyn continued to argue. “Mishka!” Finally, she stepped into the room. Relief poured through his veins. Relief and awe. Her glorious hair was tied back in a ponytail. She wore a black shirt rather than the white one he’d left her in, and black

syn-leather pants covered her legs. Her expression was blank, and her hands were shockingly free of weapons. Her gaze remained locked on him, as if the other two men weren’t even present. Dallas stopped yelling at the Targon and strode toward her, menace in every step. Jaxon moved in front of him, blocking his path. “Don’t ask,” Mishka told him. “I’m not going with you.” Reading his mind now? A muscle ticked below his eye. No longer did she look like a well-loved woman. She was Marie, an assassin, cold and uncaring, beauty carved in stone. “At least give me a chance to help you,” he pleaded. She shook her head. “And have one more thing to be disappointed about? No thanks.” “Maybe I won’t disappoint you.” Slowly she approached him, her strides graceful and fluid like the machine she considered herself to be. When she stopped, she was only a breath away. And when she took that breath, her nipples brushed his chest. Behind him, Dallas tried to push him away. Jaxon shrugged out of his hold, grabbed Mishka’s arm, and dragged her into a corner. He could feel his friend’s narrowed gaze boring into his back. Awareness kindled inside him.

“We both knew this couldn’t last,” she said casually. So dismissive. Blood roared savagely in his ears. “I did not consider you a coward until just now.” A flicker of outrage darkened her eyes, but it was quickly extinguished. “Tell yourself that we’re over because I’m a coward if that makes you feel better. But the truth is, I’m not trying to make it work because I’m done with you. You served your purpose. I have no more need for you.” Though he didn’t believe her, her words still managed to cut deep. But he was used to difficult opponents and refused to back down. For some reason, this battle seemed more important than any he’d ever faced before. “You like me more than you should. You’re scared, probably even think you’re protecting me by walking away from me.” She laughed, and it was not a pretty sound. From the corner of his eye, he noticed both Dallas and Devyn closing in on his sides. He held out his hands to ward them off. “No.” Mishka reached up and caressed a fingertip over his cheekbone, down his scar, and along the column of his neck. Where she touched, he tingled. “Good-bye, Jaxon,” she said sadly. He didn’t have time to reply. Something sharp dug into his vein. His eyes widened as realization set in. Furious and shocked, he slapped her hand away. “Mishka.”

“You’ll thank me one day.” “Goddamn it! You drugged me again.” The words were slurred, far away. “You should have believed me when I told you I was bad for you.” A black web began to fall over his vision. Thickening, connecting. His muscles weakened and dizziness assaulted him in increasingly intense waves. He swayed. “Stay with me,” he managed. Even to his own ears, the plea was little more than a whisper. “Don’t go.” “Get him out of here,” Mishka said coldly, just before his world crumbled to nothingness.

CHAPTER 15 A week later

Three more infected women had been found and were currently the residents of sector twelve at A.I.R. headquarters. Despite Jaxon’s warnings to Jack to wait, those women were being studied and tested in hopes of finding a cure or, at the very least, a vaccine. Jaxon cared, but not as much as he should have. Some government official named Senator Kevin Estap had sent the doctors and scientists, desiring to work with A.I.R., not against (or so he claimed). Jaxon suspected Estap was Mishka’s boss. How else would Kevie boy have known so much about the case? Yet everyone denied knowing Mishka. Jaxon cared, but again, not enough. Actually, the doctors acted ignorant about everything. The Schön, the virus, the effects of both. Jaxon was surprised they knew how to dress in the morning and feed themselves throughout the day. They said they were there to “gather samples” and had no concrete conclusions about anything. How was that for working together? So far, Jaxon had talked to two of the women. He’d learned nothing new. So far, he knew of two planets that had been

destroyed by the Schön: Delenseana and Raka. Was Earth to be the third? What’s more, would testing those infected women begin a chain reaction of sickness and demise that couldn’t be stopped as he suspected? He was afraid of the answers, but he still couldn’t bring himself to care as he should. As an agent, a paid hunter, a night stalker, he’d seen terrible things. Children slaughtered, women beaten, men raped. Bodies drained of blood, organs stolen and sold on the black market, death in every incarnation. He’d eliminated those responsible to the best of his ability, sometimes forgoing food and sleep, always killing when needed. As Mishka had once said, weapons could be a man’s best friend, and his best friends helped keep the world safe. But how was he to fight an insidious monster that struck silently and without warning? How was he to fight a virus? Doctors and scientists could, perhaps, find a cure as they hoped. But how many would die in the process? Countless, most likely, but once again Jaxon just didn’t care enough. He sighed. Right now he sat at his desk, elbows propped up, head in his upraised hands. Upon his return to the real world he had been debriefed, examined, sent to a shrink, and reactivated for duty. Not that it had done him any good. Nolan had not

contacted him, and his search for the Schön had failed. The worst, though, was that Mishka had not contacted him, either, and she’d removed the tracking device from her phone so he could no longer pinpoint her exact location. That was where most of his concern lay. Mishka’s absence. He’d searched for her, called every government contact he had. Nothing. He was tormented with questions. What was she doing? Who was she with? What were they doing together? Then he’d begun to think she was in danger of being ordered to fight the Schön as long as the virus-carrying bastards were out there, so he’d stopped looking, was now concentrating on the aliens. But not looking for her was killing him. Jaxon hungered for her, dreamed of her, had to have her again. Couldn’t think about his job the way he should and didn’t consider the victims— past, present, or future—the way a good agent needed to do. She was his biggest concern. He needed her back in his arms. He needed to be inside her again. He needed to know she was safe, not rotting somewhere in pain and punishment. He just flat needed. Mine. Every instinct in his body screamed it. True or not, he could not function much longer without her. She’d knocked him out, yes. She’d sent him away as though she didn’t want him, yes.

Deep down, he knew she’d done it to protect herself and him. That, he understood. Might have even done it himself were the situations reversed. But that didn’t mean he was going to let her get away with it. “This what Jack pays you for? Meditating?” Jerked from his torturous musings, Jaxon glanced up. Mia Snow stood in his doorway, lovely as always. Her black-as-night hair was pulled back in a ponytail and her ballerina features glowed healthily. A tiny thing, she radiated an I-couldbreak-at-any-moment aura. Funny thing was, she could snap a man’s neck with a simple twist of her wrist. Kind of like Mishka. Frowning, he rubbed his chest to tamp down the sudden ache. Would he see her again? His jaw clenched. He’d see her again; he’d make damn sure of it, one part of him vowed. Forget her, the other part of him beseeched. Truly, he didn’t need her in his life. He had friends who didn’t delight in drugging him into a stupor. Friends who didn’t lie to him, who definitely wouldn’t shank him in the jugular if ordered. Of course, those friends hadn’t given him the greatest orgasm of his life. Those friends didn’t look at him as if he were part hero, part villain and their life hinged on his touch. Forget her? He wasn’t sure he could and didn’t

like the idea of trying. “What?” Mia splayed her arms. “I’m that terrible a sight?” He was scowling, he realized, and forced his features to relax. “Sorry. It’s not you.” The glint in her fierce blue eyes sharpened like a sword for attack. “Thinking about her?” No need to ask who “her” was. “Yeah. So?” Mia crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m disappointed in you, Jaxon. You’re letting your dick lead you around.” “And that’s a bad thing?” he asked, arching a brow. Slight catch of breath, as though surprised, then, “When you want to live to see another day, yeah, it’s a bad thing. She’ll kill you without blinking, without hesitating, and probably laugh while she’s doing it.” “She’s not that bad.” “Says the man who hasn’t seen everything she’s capable of.” Mia ran her tongue over her teeth. “I’ve seen her do things that would make your skin crawl.” “Drop it, okay?” He wouldn’t share Mishka’s secrets, wouldn’t tell anyone why she acted the way she did. They’d pity her, and Jaxon thought he knew Mishka well enough to know that she’d prefer their fury over their sorrow. “You find out anything about your Arcadian-human halflings?” he

asked, changing the subject. Mia was determined to track those like herself, part human, part alien, and help them if needed. She’d spent most her life feeling different, disconnected from everything and everyone, and scared of her differences. She hated the thought of others suffering as she had. She shrugged and allowed the subject change. “I’ve got a few leads.” “And your brother?” Dare, Mia’s much-loved and fully human half brother, had been thought dead for years, murdered by aliens. Come to find out he’d been saved from another species of aliens, taken and used by Mia’s Arcadian mother, who had hoped to one day trade him for Mia. “Same old, same old. He’s alive, he’s hiding from me, and hates me.” She shrugged again, expression curtained by hurt. A hurt she quickly hid. “I’ve tracked him twice and both times he ran from me without saying a word.” There was a heavy pause. “Le’Ace is bad for you, you know?” “I’m headed to sector twelve,” he said, ignoring that last bit. “Jack’s allowing me to interview the newest woman inside her cell, rather than from a partition. I have orders not to kill.” He was babbling, he knew, but it kept Mia quiet. “Way to ignore the question.” Quiet for a little while, at least. “Drop it.” “So it’s okay to pry information out of me but I

can’t pry it out of you.” “That’s right.” He stacked the folders on his desk. Didn’t need to, but wanted his hands busy. “If there’s anything new to learn about the Schön, I’ll learn it.” Rather than leave, Mia strode deeper into the small office and dropped into the chair in front of his desk. Determination pulsed from her. “First, I’m going to tell you a little story.” Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “This can’t wait?” “No. Now shut it and listen.” Stretching out her legs, she slid down the chair, propped the back of her head on the back, and stared up at the ceiling. “Once upon a time—” she began. He groaned. She continued without reservation. “There were two teenage girls. Both had daddy issues. One spent a lot of time in a locked closet, alone and afraid, until finally running away from home at the age of sixteen. One was taken from home when she confessed to being raped by her own father.” Just then he realized she was telling a story about herself. He knew a little about Mia’s past, about the abuse and isolation she had endured at her father’s hands, and knew she’d run away to escape it. “These two girls never should have met, but they were both recruited to join a special boot

camp. They became roommates, helped each other study and train. They soon learned they were to become A.I.R. agents.” She glanced at him, and he nodded to let her know he was listening. “For several months, the world was finally a happy place for both girls. They had purpose, friends, and safety. Or so they thought. One day, one of them was taken from the camp for actual field training. She showed the most promise.” Mia, he thought. “There, she met a very cute otherworlder boy. Like any girl would when charmed, she developed a crush on him and the two stayed in secret contact.” Dread tightened his stomach. “What she didn’t know was that the otherworlder was using her, pumping her for information about the camp and A.I.R. When the truth was learned, the girl’s instructor was sent to deliver punishment. Everyone thought the girl would be whipped or maybe even have her memory wiped and sent from the camp. But this instructor busted into her room, raised a pyre-gun, and fired.” Not Mia, then. Mia’s gaze fell back to Jaxon, hard, distant. “Elise died in my arms.” To hold a dying friend, to know there was nothing to be done, was torture. “I’m sorry for your

loss, Mia, I am. But I don’t understand what this has to do with Mishka.” “Don’t you?” Mia’s voice rose an octave. “She killed Elise. She held that gun, her face devoid of emotion, and she squeezed the trigger while I begged her not to. Afterward, she walked away as if she’d merely come inside the room to invite us to dinner.” Again he frowned. “She would have been a child, like you.” “No. She was an adult.” “That’s impossible.” His brow furrowed in confusion, and Mishka’s flawless face flashed inside his mind. Unlined skin, youthful blush. “Mishka can’t be more than thirty. If that.” Mia popped her jaw. “She’s older than you think. A lot older.” “Impossible,” he said again. “If she were thirty when you were in school, she would be forty or fifty now.” “She was an instructor at the school several years before my arrival.” “No.” He shook his head. “Had to be someone else who shot your friend, someone who looked just like her.” “She’s a machine. She ages differently. Look at Kyrin. He’s hundreds of years old and he looks like he’s in his prime.” “No,” was all Jaxon said. He didn’t know what

else to say. Mia shrugged as if she didn’t care whether he believed her or not, but the action was stiff. “Just think about what I said.” He found that he could think of nothing else. If it had been Mishka, would he care? She wouldn’t have delivered that deathblow because she’d wanted to; she would have been ordered. That he knew without asking. Most likely she’d been torn up inside, had probably sobbed afterward, had probably seen that girl’s dying face in her mind a thousand times in her dreams. The vulnerable woman he’d held in his arms last week, moaning her surprised delight at every heated touch, had not found joy in death and destruction. “You better head to interrogation before Jack pops a vessel,” Mia said, changing the subject. “No one’s been able to get a word out of the girls but you. Oh, and guess what? I’m going to watch from the two-way.” “To make sure I tow the line?” “You know it.” “Just like old times,” he said. Only he’d had to watch her back then. Her lips curled into a slow smile. “Pretty much the same. If we lived in Bizarro World, that is, and sometimes I think we do. Ready?” He stood but didn’t move around the desk.

There was a slight twinge in his ankle, but it was so minor he was able to ignore it. “You aren’t officially on duty for another month.” “So. I’ve taken an interest in your case. Consider me your new shadow.” Great. “Let’s go, then.” Side by side they strode from the office and down the bustling hallways of A.I.R. Jaxon nodded to Dallas as he passed him. They hadn’t been on the best of terms since leaving the compound. Dallas refused to discuss what he and Devyn had done and said to Mishka after Jaxon had passed out. Jaxon would have asked Devyn, but the temperamental other-worlder had not made a reappearance. Jaxon suspected Dallas and the team he’d put together—Mia, Kyrin, Eden Black, Lucius Adaire, and Devyn—were planning something. About the Schön, about Mishka, about both, he didn’t know. None of them trusted him with mission details. And they were right not to. If they thought to hurt Mishka, well, he thought he might just fight against them. “You and Dallas should kiss and make up,” Mia suggested. “With tongue. I mean, really. It’s the least you can do.” “When he tells me what I want to know, I’ll plant a fat wet one right on his mouth.”

She rolled her eyes. “Liar. Not nice to get my hopes up like that. You didn’t used to be this much of a bastard.” “So I’ve heard,” he muttered. As they pounded out of the main sector and into an elevator, he knew the security system was taking their measurements, body heat, and electrical chemistry, making sure they belonged. A minute passed, the walls jostling slightly. Ding. The double doors opened, and they entered the foyer of the prisoners’ cells, a sort of holding room in case someone somehow escaped confinement. Two guards looked down from a raised glass partition as he and Mia endured retinal and hand scans. He’d submitted to so many over the years, they were second nature to him, as much a part of him as breathing. “Weapons on the table, Agent Tremain,” one of the guards said. Two at a time, he withdrew his blades, guns, and stars and laid them on a nearby tabletop. Though he thought he could have managed it, he didn’t try to sneak one in. Risking this interview—not gonna happen. Buzz. The door opened and they were soon moving along another hallway. He frowned. The air was quite a bit colder than usual. Cold enough to chill his face and arms and cramp his lungs. “Must be trying to slow the growth of the virus,”

Mia said. With as little as was known about it, the cold might help it spread, but Jaxon didn’t speak his fear aloud. Wouldn’t do any good and might actually cause panic. A lab coat, gloves, and mask hung on the wall beside his target’s cell. He donned each item while Mia entered the room beside his. A room that provided her with a two-way mirror and sound track of everything that happened in the cell. Jaxon mentally flipped through everything he knew about the victim. Patty Elizabeth Howl. Twenty-three. Had a boyfriend of one year, was in school to become an alien radiologist. Generally happy since being placed on antidepressants five months ago. Source of depression unknown. She was pretty, short, and a little plump. Usually, she did not sleep around. From the corner of his eye, Jaxon saw a man exit one of the other rooms. Though he hadn’t met the man, Jaxon knew he was a doctor. This wing of the cellblock had been emptied except for the women and those in charge of their care. Also, the man was wearing the same coat, gloves, and mask as Jaxon. He held a tray of red-filled vials. Blood? Probably. Jaxon fought a wave of trepidation. At the very least, the women should have been taken to a laboratory and the tests done there. Safer that way.

But there was no better security against alien powers than at A.I.R., and if the women proved to be bait for the Schön, there was a better chance of capture here. Jaxon waited until the doctor had passed him before entering Patty’s prison. The door closed behind him automatically, and he took a moment to study the scene. White walls, white floor: both speckled with blood. He frowned. She must have scratched herself. Even as he watched, dry enzyme jetted from tiny holes in the tiles, cleaning and sterilizing the foundation. A toilet and a cot were the only furnishings. Patty was sitting on that cot, rocking back and forth, arms crossed over her middle. She’d torn at her clothing until all that remained were bloody tatters. Her dark hair stood in tangled disarray, some of the strands having been ripped out in chunks. There was a sickening gray tint to her skin, as if she were dying inside and the rot had just begun seeping from her pores. “Hello, Patty,” he said, using his gentlest tone. Since his return, he’d found it harder and harder to adapt his relaxed, calm mask. He didn’t know why. No, not true. He just didn’t want to accept the reason. Mishka liked the real him, and he wanted to be the man she liked. Pull yourself together, asshole. He blew this

meeting, he wouldn’t get another chance. Guaranteed. He veiled his eyes with patience as surely as he’d veiled his nose and mouth with the covering. Patty gave no reaction to his presence. He remained by the door. The others had attacked him, coming at him like bullets from a gun stopped only by the glass that had separated them. “I came to check on you, see how you’re doing.” Her attention did not waver from the ground. “Is there anything I can get you? Anything that will make you more comfortable?” Silence. “I talked to Joe,” he said truthfully. The interview with Patty’s boyfriend had taken place earlier this morning. No new information had been discovered, but it had given Jaxon the link he needed to bridge the gap between himself and Patty. “He misses you.” She swallowed. Finally. A reaction. Now he had a starting place and knew what to do: establish a common bond. “If my girlfriend contracted a life-threatening disease, I’d want to die myself. She’s my life.” He told himself the words were a lie, but he couldn’t stop an image of Mishka from flashing through his mind. Every muscle in his body tightened. Not now. “Joe knows you weren’t yourself when you attacked him. He

knows you didn’t mean to hurt him.” Nothing. “At least tell me how you’re doing, Patty, so I can tell Joe. He’s so worried. He’s not sleeping. He’s not eating. I’m afraid he’ll get sick. So tell me, how are you?” “How do you think I am?” she muttered, the words slurred. “Home, home, want to go home.” “I want to help you get there,” he said, doing his best to hide his relief. She was talking. “I want you back with Joe. First, you have to answer some questions for me. Okay?” She stilled, not even breathing that he could see. Then her lids lifted slowly and she was staring right at him, her dark eyes seeming to swirl with vast tomes of knowledge. More knowledge than any twenty-three-year-old should possess. “Same questions you asked my friends?” Her voice was layered now, both high and low, like Nolan’s had been. Jaxon blinked in surprise. Friends? To his knowledge, none of the victims knew one another. They didn’t live next to one another, didn’t work in the same buildings, didn’t frequent the same salons. And since becoming A.I.R.’s “guests,” they damn sure hadn’t had any contact with one another. “Which friends?” “The girls here.” “How do you know I spoke with them?”

She smiled, and the sight of that smile was a little freaky. Too sharp teeth in a saliva-filled mouth. “They told me.” “How?” The women had not been allowed to leave their rooms. Except for their doctors, they had not been allowed visitors. More than that, the walls were soundproof. No way the women had been able to talk through them. The light in Patty’s eyes dimmed, leaving them suddenly vacant. “Who are you?” Once again, the words were slurred, no longer layered. Jaxon’s brow furrowed. What. The. Hell? “My name is Jaxon. I came to help you.” “Am I dying?” She didn’t wait for his answer. “He’s sorry. He didn’t mean to do it.” He? The otherworlder? “Do what?” “Hurt me.” “I’m sure he didn’t. What’s his name?” A tremor racked her, and she drew her arms tighter around her stomach. So tight the blue lines of her veins swelled. “Patty. Who is ‘he’?” “I’m not gonna tell,” she said in a singsong voice. Protective of the one responsible for her current position? Most likely. None of the others had been. And that Patty was, a woman who had only spoken to him because he’d mentioned her love for her boyfriend, seemed odd. “If I know who he is,

maybe I can find him and bring him to you.” Jaxon’s warm breath created a sheen of moisture underneath the mask, uncomfortable and constricting. “Would you like that?” “He gave me a baby,” she said as if Jaxon hadn’t spoken. “Yes.” Gentle, gentle. A quick body scan upon arrival had revealed that little gem. Just like the others. “I know.” “It’s a boy.” “That’s wonderful, but how do you know?” She was only a few weeks along and none of the other women, also pregnant, had given any indication that they even knew their situation. “He told me.” “Who is ‘he’?” Jaxon found himself asking again. “He talks in my mind. Like the others.” Who talked in her mind? The Schön or the baby? Who were the others? The other victims? “What do they tell you?” “I’m hungry,” she said, once again ignoring his question. Maybe she hadn’t heard it. Her expression was lost, her trembling more violent. “Want to eat.” “Answer my questions and I’ll bring you anything you want, I promise. Joe told me you like chocolate chip cookies. I have a box at my desk.” “No cookies.” She licked her lips, then smacked

them together with a ravenous growl that had nothing to do with cookies. Slowly her gaze rose, just like before, and latched onto him. “No cookies.” Great. She stilled, a predator who had just spotted prey. She was gearing to attack. Sighing, he turned and the door opened automatically. He stepped into the hall, heard Patty screech. He cringed and turned again. She was racing toward him, teeth bared, saliva dripping from them. The doors locked together before she reached him. Part of Jaxon wished he’d snuck a gun inside that cell. He suspected the doctors were going to let each woman go to term with her pregnancy. He suspected the sick babies were going to be tested, mere pincushions. The thought sickened him. He could hear their excuses now: For the good of mankind. “Jaxon,” Mia said, suddenly beside him. He hadn’t heard her approach. He didn’t face her, but continued to stare at the door. “Yes?” “I think we found Nolan’s voice signal.”

CHAPTER 16 Two days before

I know, honey, but something’s come up. I need an hour, maybe two, okay? Then I’ll be home.” Pause. A warm smile. “You’re a tough negotiator, you know that? All right, all right. Forty-five minutes and no longer. I’ll be home then.” Pause. “Love you, too.” Kill me. Hearing Estap goo-goo with his wife always sickened Le’Ace. “Talk again soon.” Senator Estap hung up the phone and faced Le’Ace, his soft expression hardening into something menacing. She’d always marveled that he could morph from loving husband to fierce master in a matter of seconds. Though she despised him with every fiber of her being, she had to concede that he wasn’t an ugly man. Didn’t have horns, fangs, or a devil’s tail. He was average height, lean, with thick brown hair and intelligent hazel eyes more brown than green. She had hazel eyes, and she hated that they shared the trait. He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands over his middle. Dressed in a very expensive double-breasted suit, he radiated wealth and power.

The years had (unfortunately) been kind to him. His skin was smooth, mostly unlined, and glowed healthily. There were only a few strands of gray in his hair, but she knew he’d had those chemically added to give him a more distinguished air. Truly, she would have loved to kill him. Savagely. Painfully, slowly. People would find pieces of him in different corners of the world for years. One fear stopped her, however: what if her control panel, wherever it was, fell into the hands of someone worse? Estap had never commanded her to sleep with him or blow him. Someone else might do that and more. “Did you enjoy rehabilitation?” he asked her. Rehabilitation, aka punishment. She was seated across from him. Over the years, he’d changed offices many times, but their positions had always remained the same. Always he sat behind the desk and always she sat across from him like a naughty schoolgirl. “What do you think?” she asked in return. “I think you hated every minute.” She shrugged, refusing to give him the reaction he craved. “Wasn’t too bad.” His gaze sharpened. No emotion. Reveal nothing. After leaving the compound, she’d been escorted to a laboratory where she’d been strapped

down. Scientists had attempted to “clean” the chip and remove any feelings she might harbor for Jaxon. Emotions promoted rebellion, after all, and Estap couldn’t have his pet gearing for revolt. She’d fooled everyone into thinking the procedure worked, that she’d forgotten most of her time with Jaxon and everything that happened between them in private. And they’d believed her because, to them, she was merely another computer to program. Press a button and voilà. They didn’t want to acknowledge that her memories were stored in her brain, like a human, and not in the chip. Then they might have to question their treatment of her. “Why am I here?” she finally asked. Estap kicked up his legs, resting his ankles on the desk’s surface. “I have a job for you.” “I’m listening.” She remained still, not shifting in her seat, not even blinking. To reveal her dread was to invite his satisfaction. “We’ve tracked the Schön who calls himself Nolan. Remember him?” “Yes.” Every scientist she’d seen the past week had asked her that question. “We think he revealed his newest location on purpose, and we think he did it to draw you to him. We think he’s ready to talk to you again.” “And the A.I.R. agent you told me about?” she

asked, managing to keep her tone neutral even though she was shaking inside. Estap paused, his gaze cutting into her like a laser. “We will not bring him back into the equation unless absolutely necessary.” Both a blessing and a curse. “What equates necessity?” He stiffened. His tongue slid over his teeth. She thought he meant to ignore her question. Instead, he replied, “Nolan’s infatuation with love may cause him to seek you and the agent together rather than separately. If that’s the case…” She could hope, at least. She missed Jaxon terribly. Not a day had gone by that she hadn’t thought of him, yearned for him, ached for him. Not a day had gone by that she hadn’t regretted the way she’d sent him away. He hadn’t betrayed her, hadn’t abandoned her. Even though he’d left her frozen in that bed, he’d actually meant to save her as promised. As she’d suspected, sending him away had been the hardest thing she’d ever done. But she’d had to do it. Or so she’d told herself. A clean break was always easier. Easier. Yeah. After she knocked him out, Dallas had launched at her with a roar. She’d been distracted, trying to ease Jaxon’s body gently to the ground, and so the agent had managed to tackle her unaware. She’d lost her breath.

“If you killed him,” Dallas had snarled as they’d rolled around in a bid for dominance, “I’ll rip out your fucking heart.” “He’s sleeping!” she’d shouted. The otherworlder, Devyn, had watched the entire exchange with a grin on his handsome face. Their attention had turned to Jaxon, then, to look him over. She’d sneaked from the room and into the caves below before they decided to freeze her in place and take her with them. Each step farther away from the man who’d pleasured her and held her so tenderly had been agony. Tears had streamed from her eyes and when she’d watched them leave the compound from the underground monitors, she’d crumbled to the ground and sobbed like a baby. She’d cried so hard, in fact, that the chip had eventually shut her down completely in an effort to compose her. Jaxon was everything she’d ever desired for her life, yet something she could never have because she would ultimately destroy him. Yet he already meant more to her than anything else ever had. Even, she suspected, her own life, which she had done despicable things to protect. She wanted more of him. If ordered to hurt him, she knew she would not be able to do it. She’d rather endure the physical punishment and pain Estap would heap on her.

Actually, she would willingly and happily endure both to be with Jaxon again. Did he think of her? Did he remember her with fondness or was he furious with her for sending him away unconscious? A pang of regret and hope sparked inside her chest again, a potent blend of torment. Maybe she could sneak to his house. Maybe she could explain. Maybe— “—listening to me,” Estap said, his hard voice biting through her thoughts. She blinked, trying to clear her head. “I’m sorry,” she lied. She would find a way. Just one more time. She had to see him one more time. “I was considering the best way to approach Nolan.” “I’ve considered that for you.” Estap sat up, grabbed a folder, and tossed it at her. “I think you’ll like what I’ve decided.” Yeah. Right. Dread overshadowing all other emotions, she caught the file and flipped it open. She did not look at it, though. No, she kept her attention on Estap. He would explain; he liked the sound of his own voice. “Since he’s fascinated with love and we do not want to involve the A.I.R. agent unless absolutely necessary”—neither of them had spoken Jaxon’s name aloud, she suddenly realized, but had been referring to him as the agent—“you will approach him as if you have not been able to get him out of

your mind. You will tell him you love him and that you want to be with him.” Like that would work. Idiot. “Sir, I think the Schön are only attracted to women who are fertile. That is something I can never be.” Estap motioned to the papers in her lap. “Look at the file.” Automatically, her gaze lowered. Her eyes widened as she scanned the contests. Medical records, photos. “A man was infected with the virus?” “Yes. I think it’s safe to say he wasn’t ovulating.” The man in question had gray-tinted skin with patches of black. Rot, she guessed, as his body was slowly dying. His eyes were sunken, his pale hair falling out in chunks. He’d probably been a strong man once. He possessed big bones that were capable of holding large amounts of muscle mass. Now he looked emaciated. Thirty-six. Married. Two children, ages nine and five. “Where is he now?” she asked. “He’s being held and isolated at K. Parton Laboratories.” The very lab she’d just vacated. “Alive or dead?” “Alive.” “To your knowledge, did he have contact with

the Schön or any of the infected women?” “We don’t know. We haven’t been able to connect him with either and we haven’t been able to get any answers out of him.” Anger laced Estap’s tone. He was not used to failure. Why did he want the information so badly? He had no interest in saving human lives, of that she was certain. She could think of only three things that did interest him: money, power, and control. What did he plan to do with the Schön? “Have you considered allowing the A.I.R. agent to talk to the man? His file lauds his ability to gain answers.” “Yes, we’ve considered it,” was the only reply. Which told her nothing, but she did not press the issue. “You should bring in all of the people the victim has been in contact with. Perhaps one of them managed to pass the virus to him.” “He’s gay. Like I said, though, we can’t connect him with the Schön or the female victims. That doesn’t mean he didn’t get it from one of them, it just means we can’t rule out other means.” She rolled that through her mind. “Okay, so. There’s a chance he had sexual intercourse with one of the Schön, thereby passing the virus onto him. Which would mean that fertility isn’t an issue. That doesn’t mean Nolan will be attracted to me or even want me.” “No, it doesn’t. However, because Nolan

expressed remorse about the deaths of those women, we think that if you inform him that he can screw you without having to worry about killing you, he might be more inclined to accept you.” Her stomach twisted. No. No! Don’t say a word. “Is that my mission or do you want me to bring him in?” Estap shrugged. “Your ultimate goal is to discover the location of his so-called brethren. However necessary. If you do, you are to kill as many as possible. If you can’t, you are to bring Nolan in.” Sweat trickled down her back. “Bringing him in might prove impossible. The man can disappear at will.” “As to that.” Estap punched in a code at the left side of his desk and the top right drawer opened. He withdrew a thick, dull necklace. The links appeared stiff and unbendable, leaving no gaps. “This should help.” Estap held out his hand and she claimed the necklace. Heavy, unbendable, as she’d thought. Warm. “Where did you get it?” “I have connections. A.I.R. doesn’t even have one of those, as it’s still in the experimental stages.” What the hell was inside it, then? “Am I supposed to wear it?” “No. You’re supposed to collar him. We’re hoping that the electromagnetic pulses from the

metal will keep his body from dematerializing.” Ah. She nodded in understanding and placed the necklace on top of the folder. Sometimes the only way to distract or relax a man enough, or to even get close enough to him, was to get naked with him. Just like Estap wanted. If she slept with another man, she would lose Jaxon forever. You’ve already lost him. Logically, she knew that. But hope was a silly thing, just as she’d always known, and she didn’t want to completely destroy the dream that maybe, one day, she and Jaxon could be together again. Would be together. That hope could only lead to disappointment, but she had no other reason to get herself out of bed each day. “What kind of time frame am I operating under?” she asked. “Everything needs to be done yesterday.” “Understood.” One day I’m going to cut out your heart. The thought swam through her mind, and she nearly grinned. His lips thinned into a grim line. “Do not disappointment me this time, Le’Ace.” An underlying threat of punishment hung in the air. As if she didn’t know. As if she didn’t live with the knowledge on a daily basis. “I won’t.” After I cut out your heart, I’ll cleave the head from your body.

Estap’s phone buzzed, disrupting the uneasy silence that had developed between them. Frowning, he glanced at the number and waved his fingers at the door. She was dismissed. You’re going to die begging for the final blow. The phone buzzed again as she stood. Like this, she was at eye-level with all the plaques and photos adorning his walls. He’d attended private school and an Ivy League college. He’d been military, considered a brave solider and natural leader. No one else knew what lurked underneath his confident, affable persona. To him, she was nothing, a fly. A rug to wipe his feet upon. The phone buzzed again. She hadn’t moved, she realized. What was wrong with her lately? Never before had she withdrawn into her mind so much, losing touch with her surroundings. She turned on her heel. There were two exits in Estap’s office. One led to the lobby and his administrative assistant, aka current lover. The other led down a private corridor, hiding those who passed through from prying eyes. As always, she took the private exit. “Senator Estap,” she heard, and then his voice faded completely. The hallway was empty, silver, and narrow, and her footsteps echoed a kind of drumbeat of doom.

Jaxon would be searching for Nolan, too. They might even cross paths like she craved. Could she handle it? Bigger question: what would she be doing if— when—he showed up?

CHAPTER 17 Three days later

The plan to capture Nolan was finally in motion. Jaxon sat in the corner of a bustling restaurant, shadowed by faux green plants and the constantly opening and closing kitchen door. Waiters and waitresses buzzed back and forth. Chattering voices echoed, melding into one loud tolling bell. Murky light flickered from candles, and those candles seemed to be the spacious building’s only source of illumination. Not expensive or exclusive, but not a cheap dive either, the Pearly Gates fed an eclectic mix of human and alien, young and old. Only thing the patrons had in common that Jaxon could tell was that they were middle class. If he had to guess, he’d say the bulk of people worked construction, in education, or were in the military. Jaxon blended in perfectly. He wore a cropped black hairpiece, very armed forces. He wore enough rubber makeup to cover his scar and slightly realign his facial features so that, hopefully, Nolan would not recognize him without careful study. His shirt was cut off at the shoulders to reveal the “God and Country” tattoo he’d colored in a few hours ago.

Beside him sat Mia. He watched the front door, and Mia watched the kitchen while they pretended to be a couple, like any other couple, eating dinner out because they were too tired to cook after a hard day’s work. Dallas and Devyn had a table on the other side of the restaurant. Jaxon planned to tease Dallas about being the alien’s best girl later. Eden, golden Raka that she was, drew too much attention, so they’d left her inside the surveillance van with Kyrin, who also drew too much attention. Kyrin had money, probably more than Jaxon, and was the former king of his world. Women would have recognized the otherworlder and fawned over him, and then Mia would have whipped out her pyre-gun and killed them all. The woman had a temper. Lucius scouted the sidewalks and surrounding area. The former government assassin might be able to expertly alter his appearance, but there was no hiding the I’d-rather-kill-you-than-talk-to-you gleam in his eyes, which would have scared all the little kids. “Give me a test vocal,” Eden said in his ear. “We had static and lost the signal for several seconds.” While he could hear her clearly, he knew no one else could. Well, no one but Mia, Dallas, and Devyn, who wore tiny, hidden earpieces as well.

“What do you want to drink, sweetheart?” he asked Mia, leaning into her like a devoted husband. “Dr. Chatty, you’re clear,” Eden said. “I’d love a Coke,” Mia told him. “Ballerina Barbie, you’re clear,” Eden said. Jaxon pressed his lips together to cut off his smile. A spark of fury blazed in Mia’s bright blue eyes. He waved the waitress over and placed their drink order. “Know what you want to eat?” the woman asked. “We need a few more minutes, don’t we, Barbie?” he said, and the woman padded away in exasperation. They’d been difficult customers. Mia pinched him under the table. Eden had given everyone in their group nicknames; Jaxon figured Mia deserved hers. Once, years ago, a new recruit had strutted through the A.I.R. doors telling everyone to call him Mad Dog. Mia had immediately named him Kitty, and that’s the moniker that had stuck. So if Eden wanted to call her Ballerina Barbie, he’d climb on board that train and do it, too. In his ear, Jaxon heard Dallas say, “I’m freakin’ starving, man.” “Chuckles, you’re clear.” Devyn replied, “I’m so hungry I could eat that woman over there.” He pointed to a busty brunette. As if sensing his scrutiny, the woman glanced up

and caught the alien’s attention. Devyn waved. Returning the gesture, she bit her bottom lip. She was a pretty thing with dark hair and dark eyes, and she radiated sensuality. The man in front of her, probably her boyfriend, followed the direction of her gaze and scowled. Dallas popped Devyn in the back of the head. Frowning, Devyn returned his attention to where it belonged. “What?” “Pay attention to your own date, asswad.” “Casanova, you’re clear,” Eden said. “Recording…now.” Jaxon’s ultimate goal was to capture Nolan. However, he had no idea how to trap the alien and prevent him from dematerializing. That being the case, he planned to record this particular Schön’s voice, no static, no question it was him like before, enabling Jaxon to follow him until the end of time. If he so desired. Drinks arrived a few minutes later, and he and Mia placed their order, purposefully choosing the items requiring the most bake time. “He’s come here four nights in a row. What if he decides to skip tonight?” Mia asked with a smile, as though she were commenting on the weather. “He won’t skip.” At least, Jaxon didn’t think so. “He knows how to hide. Obviously. He revealed his location. He’s decided it’s time to talk.” “At least we know he’s not recording us,” she

muttered. That had been Jaxon’s first thought, actually. Nolan might profess to want to help, but it was hard to trust a species responsible for the destruction of several planets. And so Jaxon and the others had spent hours casing the building, using their tools to search for illegal cameras and microphones. They’d found nothing. “I can’t wait to meet him,” Mia said, stroking her butter knife like she would her lover. “Remind me never to piss you off.” Mia leaned into him, her mouth right at his empty ear so that none of the other agents could hear her. “The only thing you could do to piss me off is date the murdering whore.” He nearly snapped his fork in half. “Say that again, and I’ll stab you.” The words emerged through a tight smile. “Where has your loyalty gone? Answer that, at least.” He merely glared at her. Once the Schön were destroyed, Jaxon had already decided to devote all of his time and energy to finding and freeing Mishka. He was tempted to go after her now, the case forgotten, but his reason for not doing so still stood. He didn’t want her ordered near the Schön. His fake smile turned feral and he couldn’t help it. Mishka’s safety came before her freedom.

Whether that was wrong or not. Mishka was his. She belonged with him, and he belonged to her. Every day that passed, that knowledge became clearer. He wanted her moved in, her clothes in his closet, her toothbrush beside his on the bathroom counter. He wanted to wake up to her every morning and make love to her in every room in his house. “Relax,” Mia muttered. “I’ll leave your girlfriend out of this.” “She’s been through a lot, okay? Things you don’t know, don’t understand. So don’t talk about her.” “Whatever. Do you love her or something?” Was this love? He still didn’t think so. He told himself he couldn’t love a woman who could be ordered to kill him, who could do it without hesitation. But that seemed to matter less and less. He told himself he couldn’t love a woman who could be ordered to fuck a million other men right in front of him. But that, too, seemed to matter less and less. Underneath the orders to kill and to fuck was an emotionally scarred woman who craved affection and acceptance. What every human craved. She’d been denied both from infancy. She probably feared those orders as much as he did, which was why she had pushed him away and denied herself. As always, thinking about Mishka’s dire

circumstances filled him with fury. Not with her but with her boss. Fucking Estap, he thought darkly. I know it’s you. You’re the one. No one else had their hands in the cookie jar. Soon. Oh, yes, soon they would have a reckoning. “Uh, yo, Dr. Chatty,” Mia said dryly, drawing his attention. “You going to pay attention anytime soon?” He shook his head and looked over at her. She was smearing butter over a piece of bread that had not been on the table a few minutes ago. The waitress must have brought it. I’m a sucky agent. “Sorry. What were you saying?” “I asked you if you love her, decided I didn’t want to know, then told you that you’re a lame-ass date.” “But you love me anyway,” he told her, and he knew it was true. When the time came, he’d set her straight about Mishka without betraying Mishka. To hurt Mishka was to hurt him, and that’s all there was to it. “I loved the old you,” she said. “This new you I’m not so sure about.” “Please. You’d be lost without me. Only five men on this planet can stand you, and I happen to be one of them.” Her lush, red lips edged into a genuine smile, lighting her entire face. “Damn, but you’re right.”

She possessed a delicate beauty, soft, almost fragile. His first year on the force, Jaxon had asked her out. She’d turned him down flat-out with a disgusted “Hell, no” that made him laugh every time he remembered it. She was good for controlling his ego, if nothing else. The double doors pushed open. Jaxon clasped Mia’s hand and leaned back in his seat—relaxed, casual—pulling her knuckles to his mouth as if he hadn’t a care. As if she were the center of his world and he had no other thought but romancing her. Would this be Nolan? A fiftysomething human male sailed inside, a thirtysomething human female at his side. When would Nolan get here? A moment later, the waitress arrived with their food. Heaping bowls of pasta alla Pecoraro. The scent of hearty sauce drifted to his nose, and he inhaled deeply. His mouth watered, though he wasn’t hungry. “Can I get you anything else?” “We’re good,” he said, and the waitress wandered off. Mia forked a bite, chewed, swallowed. “This is tasty shit. I’ll be coming back for sure.” He agreed. This was his first time here, but it wouldn’t be his last. “So,” she said after consuming another bite. Her

gaze shifted to the kitchen door, and he knew someone was exiting. When she continued speaking without pause, he knew it was merely a member of the staff. “Your girl gave you some weird information I’m not sure I understand.” He knew the girl in question was the infected human he’d interviewed. “I’m not sure I understand, either.” Unless the virus somehow allowed infected humans to communicate with one another through their minds. Seemed impossible. But impossible things happened every day. Aliens, once considered something of myth and fiction, now walked the Earth. Dallas had once been resurrected from the dead. Mia had a steady boyfriend who didn’t want to kill her. Only way to confirm the possibility of mind-talk, however, was to join the infected and thereby the conversation. No thanks. If the women could communicate with each other, could they also communicate with the Schön? And if they could, what were they telling the aliens about A.I.R.? So many questions, so few answers. Two waiters holding large trays of food passed him. Jaxon performed a quick, stealthy scan of the restaurant, looking for anything out of the ordinary. All was still in order. People were still eating, drinking, and laughing. There was a line of patrons

winding to the ladies’ bathroom, and there was a small mass congregated in front of the doors, waiting for a table. “I think we’ve spotted him,” Eden suddenly said in his ear. Both Jaxon and Mia stiffened, looked at each other. “If it’s him, he just turned the corner down the street and is heading your way.” “You sure?” Mia asked, though she directed the question at Jaxon as if they were still in the middle of a stimulating conversation. “I was told to watch for an alien that was handsome beyond belief and tempted me to leave the love of my life, so yeah, I’m pretty sure.” The last was uttered with a dreamy sigh. “I’ll kill him,” Lucius growled in the background. He must have gone back to the van, Jaxon thought. Eden gave a delighted little laugh. “He’s not alone, kiddies.” “How many?” Jaxon asked, a ball of dread sinking to the pit of his stomach. “Three. Two human men and a human female.” Under the table, his hands curled into fists. No. Fuck no! She wouldn’t have; she couldn’t have found Nolan first. “Describe,” he managed to grit out.

“Tall, muscled and—” “Not the men.” His gaze latched onto Mia, who was watching him intently as she forked another mouthful of pasta. She did not look smug. She looked murderous. “A prostitute, from the appearance of her. Thin, wearing a napkin instead of a dress and a fake-fur jacket, even though it’s summer. Booted heels the size of a mountain. Without them, she’s probably… five ten, five eleven. With them she’s a giant. Short black hair, cut like a boy’s. Tan skin. Dark eyes, I think.” Wrong hair, wrong eyes, wrong skin tone. Right height. And he knew well how gifted Mishka was at disguises. “Rings?” Pause. “Three on one hand. Two on the other. I might not recognize the woman, but I recognize the rings.” Shit. His dread intensified. “Entering the restaurant in five. Four. Three. Two.” The doors swung open and yep, in stepped Nolan. He looked the same as before, too handsome to be mortal, only there were dark shadows under his eyes. He had his arm slung around the prostitute’s shoulders, his big body blocking her from Jaxon’s view. Every nerve ending he possessed was on alert as he waited.

Move! Nolan spoke to the hostess. Earlier, they’d hidden a mic there. “We now have his voice in the database,” Eden said excitedly. “Maybe we can use it to track the others. Maybe there are similarities in their voice frequencies.” Crackling static, then, “He’s requested his usual table in the center.” Jaxon watched as two human males took residence behind Nolan, their expressions leery, guarded as they scanned. Hired protection? Nolan had to know A.I.R. would be here. That’s what the alien wanted, after all. Also, he had to know two humans would mean nothing. Pyre-fire would cut through them like a knife through silk. Nolan didn’t glance around or seem concerned in the least as the hostess led him deeper into the restaurant. That worried Jaxon. Could mean the alien knew something he didn’t. What? Nolan kept the prostitute hidden, shielding her by keeping her slightly behind him and to the side. Purposefully? Women turned to stare at him. Even the hostess was not immune. She cast him lingering glances over her shoulder. Her nipples were hard, her limbs shaky. Several times she tripped over her own feet and bumped into tables. Then, the group reached their table and Nolan moved out of the way.

Jaxon found himself staring at Mishka. His heart slammed against his ribs, bones nearly cracking. She laughed up at something Nolan had said, revealing perfect white teeth. Teeth Jaxon had licked past to get inside her mouth. Jealousy blended with shock and arousal. “Don’t,” Mia suddenly said, obviously sensing his need to stand and tackle Nolan. More, his need to gather Mishka in his arms, hold her tight, and never let go. How long had the two been together? What had they discussed? What the hell had they done?

CHAPTER 18

Le’Ace claimed her seat at Nolan’s table. Jaxon’s hot gaze bored into her, igniting all kinds of physical reactions. Reactions she couldn’t hide. The pulse thundered in her neck. Like the waitress’s, her nipples hardened to tiny points. Her skin flushed. Though Jaxon had thickened his jawline, probably with rubber, lengthened his nose to a hawklike beak, and changed his eye and hair color, she’d recognized him the moment she’d stepped inside the restaurant. Her knees had almost buckled, her breath had caught in her throat, and heat had blossomed inside her chest to an unbearable degree. He exuded a unique masculinity that she and the chip would probably always be able to pinpoint, no matter where they were or who they were with. More than that, there was no hiding the savage, possessive vibe he was now throwing her way. Only one man had ever looked at her like that. “You’re shaking,” Nolan said at her side, and he truly sounded concerned. He settled in his chair, his “friends,” men he’d plucked off the street and paid with jewels he’d stolen from the now fallen planet of Raka to guard him, remaining at the far wall to scope the building unimpeded. “Is he here?”

He. Jaxon. Gulping, she moved her gaze from one hand to the other. Sure enough. They were shaking like leaves in the wind. Control the goddamn shaking, she commanded the chip. The tremors are your body’s way of releasing emotion. If they cease, the emotion will spike. Proceed with the cessation? She ground her teeth together. No. “Yes,” she told Nolan, supplying information he already possessed. “He’s here.” Perhaps it would have been better if the memory wipe had worked. Being without Jaxon caused the very world she’d fought to build to crumble, just as she’d expected. Only, the reality was much more devastating. Nolan’s sensual lips lifted in a slow smile. “Finally.” “I’m counting five other agents.” His smile did not fade. “I only counted four.” “You’re forgetting the van parked down the street. There has to be at least one other agent inside. Probably two or three.” “Ah, the van.” He nodded, thoughtful. “That’s right.” “We’re probably being recorded right now.” He shrugged, unconcerned. Cocky little shit. He viewed himself as invincible, women his to command. But that mindset had a fatal flaw: Le’Ace. Oh, he knew her identity and knew she belonged to Jaxon. He

simply considered his appeal greater and assumed she would eventually fall for him. Although, she suspected, he didn’t want his appeal to be greater. He wanted her to prove she loved Jaxon. That’s what everything came down to for Nolan. Love. He’d known who she was since she’d approached him three days ago. But then, her disguise wasn’t, and had not been, for his benefit. She had many different personas in this town, and she had to be careful which ones she showed in public. If the wrong person saw her as Marie or Clarisse or Tess or any number of other women, she could be followed, shot at, or even be forced to retire an identity she’d spent years erecting. She sighed. Nolan expected her to convince Jaxon to help him or ultimately save him herself. Unless he’d tricked her, which was always a possibility. “What can I get you to drink?” their waiter asked. She wanted a shot of vodka to steady her nerves. Can I handle it? You’ve lost three pounds in the last week. You haven’t eaten today. That much alcohol will render you vulnerable and ineffective. “Min-water,” she said, disappointed. After Nolan placed his order, she leaned forward and said to the waiter, “Don’t look, but there’s a

gentleman behind you with a ‘God and Country’ tattoo and a pretty brunette at his side. Know who I’m talking about?” The man nodded. “Take him a flaming cock’s tail, compliments of me.” With a nod, the waiter was off. “The brunette,” Nolan said, tracing a finger over his water glass. “Who is she?” “Just another agent,” Le’Ace lied. “Are you jealous of her?” Jealous of Mia Snow, bitch extraordinaire? “Yes,” she admitted. There was no reason to lie about that. “I know her. She and I have history.” And it wasn’t pretty. Mia hated her and had every right to do so. Long ago, Le’Ace had been ordered to execute Mia’s friend to show the other A.I.R. recruits the consequences of betrayal, intentional or not. Le’Ace had made the mistake of reading the girl’s file first; the troubled past, the sexual abuse, had tugged at her heart, for she’d understood the girl’s need to love and be loved and how easily that need could lead someone astray. She had begged her boss at the time, Estap’s father, to spare the girl. He’d refused so she’d begged some more. In the end, her continued refusal earned her severe punishment. He’d used the chip to shoot painful

electrical pulses through her brain, and those pulses had laid her flat for days. By the third day, she’d practically begged to kill the girl. Some nights Le’Ace still cursed her weakness and the fact that she’d given in so quickly, so easily. She should have fought harder, should have died rather than do another evil deed. Not too late. The stray thought seemed innocent. She knew it wasn’t and blinked in surprise. All these years, she’d done everything necessary to stay alive, even knowing the world would be a better place without her. But she’d lived because she’d hoped for a single moment of love, a single moment of peace. As of a week ago, she’d experienced the first. With Jaxon. There was no denying that any longer. He’d held her in his arms and he’d pleasured her beyond imagining. He’d given her joy in a lifetime of pain. She’d felt loved, though he probably didn’t love her. She’d felt cherished. She could die happily now. And she could take Estap with her. The realization rocked her. After fighting so diligently, could she at last give up? “You all right?” Nolan asked, cutting into her thoughts. Later. She’d think about death and Estap later. The world would be better without them, that much she already knew. “Fine,” she managed, her voice shaking just as badly as her hands. “I’m fine.”

“May I join you?” Hearing Jaxon’s deep voice caused her heart to stop beating and breath to once again catch in her throat. Slowly she turned her head. And then, suddenly, she was looking straight into his eyes. Goose bumps broke out over her skin; her mouth dried. His lids were narrowed to thin slits. “Thanks for the drink.” Voice: now stiff, formal. “I hope it won’t offend you that I’m refusing it.” He clanked the drink onto the table, red liquid sloshing over the rim, and brushed it forward with his fingers. “Not at all,” she managed. “Will you join us?” Silent, he plopped into the only other chair at the table. She glanced over her shoulder. Mia Snow was watching her openly now, loathing all over her pinched expression. “Nolan knows who you are,” she said, turning back and trying to mask the tension crackling between her and Jaxon. He nodded. Shadows and light from the table’s centerpiece candle flickered over his face, twining and dancing, making him appear harsh and uncompromising. Not like the gentle lover she knew him to be. “I figured that.” “I liked the other look better,” the otherworlder said, peering at Jaxon’s new nose with disgust. “Why would you do that to yourself?” “What are your intentions toward him?” Le’Ace

asked, ignoring the alien. She knew Nolan expected her to show concern. “What do you think?” Jaxon growled. He refused to glance at her, and the answer to his question refused to form inside her mind. All she could think about, all she truly wanted to know, was whether or not he’d missed her, if he still wanted her with him, and if Mia had poisoned him against her. “Both of you are here for a reason,” Jaxon said. “Someone want to clue me in or should I start guessing?” The most feminine part of her hated the distance now between them, even while she knew it was for the best. Even though she wanted to destroy it, throw herself at him, and beg for his affection. What did you expect from him? You’re toxic to him, his career, his life, and he has to know it. “I still want to help you,” Nolan said. “Then why did you disappear last time?” Jaxon’s mouth pulled in a tight frown. “Why did it take you so long to resurface?” Losing his jovial air, Nolan leaned forward and slapped his palms on the table. Fury radiated from him and swirled like crystals in the glowing depths of his eyes. The candle teetered back and forth; the silverware banged together. “You have no idea how difficult this is for me. The men you want to kill are my friends, my brothers, the only link I have to my

own race, and I’m about to betray them.” Jaxon did not soften. “How difficult it is for you? Humans are dying and you are the one killing them.” “I don’t want to, damn you!” Anguish colored his face. People were staring, but Le’Ace allowed the exchange without interruption. She needed the two men working together somewhat civilly, which meant they needed to hash some things out. If that had to happen in a public place, so be it. No one knew what they were talking about, anyway. She just wanted Jaxon off this case and safe, as soon as possible. “I’d be an idiot to trust you,” Jaxon said. “For all I know, this is just a scheme to mislead A.I.R.” “Uh, here are your drinks,” the waiter said, placing the glasses on the table. When the young human wandered off, Jaxon said, “We need to move this conversation to someplace less public.” “No,” Nolan said. He rubbed his chin with two fingers, his only ring glinting in the light. He guarded that ring as if it were a national treasure, she’d noticed, though it was a copper color and appeared worthless. “Listen, I’m tired of the destruction. I’m tired of the death. I do want to help you. I’ve sat back for too long and done nothing, hoping there was, well, hope for our kind.”

Jaxon rolled his eyes. “And now, what? You know better?” A grim nod. “Oh, yes. I know better.” Le’Ace wondered what had happened to destroy his hope. He’d never said. A moment later, she couldn’t think at all. Jaxon finally looked at her. Sweet lightning, the things that silver gaze did to her. Her body lit up in flames, fire licking at her skin. “Well?” he said. Clearly he wanted her opinion on everything that had been said. Somehow she managed a casual shrug. She had no real answers for him. Already he’d gotten more out of Nolan than she had the last three days. With her, Nolan had spoken of his desire to make things right, nothing more. When Jaxon returned his attention to Nolan, her chest lurched sharply, leaving an ache as insistent as the pulses in her brain could be. For one brief moment, there’d been heat in his eyes. Heat and need and all-consuming desire. Wishful thinking on her part? “Tell me where your brethren are.” Jaxon crossed his arms over his middle. To reach for his weapons? “If you’re so determined to help, that is.” Nolan’s eyes were bleak. “Having their locations won’t help you. Yet. You have no idea how to keep them once you find them.” He tugged at his shirt collar, revealing a dull necklace.

Cheeks heating, Le’Ace sank a little lower in her seat. Bastard. He just had to brag. “See my gift from the She-Devil?” he asked proudly. “Yes.” Jaxon gave the necklace a cursory glance, and Le’Ace noticed he didn’t have to ask who the She-Devil was. “So.” “So. It was supposed to lock me in place. It didn’t and won’t. I doubt your people have anything that will work.” Jaxon’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You possess a lot of knowledge about Earth, its people, and its technology. In fact, your English is perfect. Especially considering the fact you’ve only been here a few weeks.” Nolan shrugged. “We study planets before we enter them.” Planets, plural. More proof the Schön had visited other planets. “How?” “There are ways,” was all the alien said. “Television, computers, people.” Ways that would help A.I.R. study other planets and their people, too, she was sure. If they weren’t already. “I’m not sure I want to help you with anything. So far, I feel nothing but contempt for you,” Jaxon remarked. “As I feel the same for myself.” Nolan gave another shrug.

Good actor or truly sincere? He’d stayed away from the other Schön he supposedly planned to betray because of their actions, yet he himself had taken a lover and passed the virus to a human. She’d nearly killed him when she’d seen the woman stride from his bedroom. Instead, Le’Ace had held a knife at his throat, he’d cried and babbled, and she’d listened. Those tears had not affected her, and she had moved her wrist to slice. Then, he’d uttered the only words capable of staying her hand: I’ll help you and your love. You and your love. Jaxon. Just like that, she’d befriended the alien, just as Estap had wanted. Her reasons had been her own, however. Jaxon. Always Jaxon. “You got something else to say to us?” she asked Nolan. The waiter appeared again, ready to take their order. Le’Ace waved him away. “First, I want a guarantee of lifetime protection from A.I.R.,” Nolan said. “Not going to happen,” Jaxon responded promptly. Le’Ace shook her head. Had he forgotten how to lie? “Why would I offer you protection,” he continued, “when I’m not sure you can deliver the kind of information I want?”

Ah, the bluff. She should have known he’d have an angle to work. Nolan shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “They’ll soon scatter. You have a week, perhaps two, before it will be too late to stop them.” Two bluffs at war. Whose would win? “Why will they scatter?” she asked, determined to trip him up if he was indeed exaggerating. “Many reasons,” Nolan said. “One you can probably guess. They know you’re on their trail and want to evade you. They’re still studying, searching for answers to a question we all share. They’ll take all they can from New Chicago, then move on to learn more.” Jaxon’s shoulders squared. “And what’s the question they want answered?” Silent, Nolan sipped his water. A minute ticked by, then another. He never replied, just continued to drink his beverage as if he were alone. “Can the victims talk to each other through their minds?” Jaxon asked, moving on. Nolan’s eyes widened, shock in their lighted depths. “They can’t, no.” She blinked. What does he mean? Unknown. There might be a hidden meaning to his words. “They can’t,” she said, “but someone else can?” Grim, Nolan nodded.

“I don’t understand,” Jaxon said. “Think about it.” Nolan leveled a hot look at him. “Once they are infected, what else is inside their minds?” “Only the…no way.” Jaxon shook his head. “Oh, yes.” As if he couldn’t yet process that information, Jaxon quickly moved to his next question. “Why do they only choose fertile women?” A sad, wistful aura overcame the alien. “I thought you would have figured that out by now. And women are not the only victims.” “Nolan, you know I hate it when you evade and you know I’ll pick him over you in a fight, just like he’ll pick me.” She told herself she made the claim because Nolan believed she and Jaxon were in love. Both of them, not just Le’Ace. She withdrew a blade from her boot and pressed the tip between the alien’s legs. “Answer him.” Nolan laughed, his eyes twinkling. “I wish you were not taken. Woman, you do amuse me.” What the hell? Jaxon was the only other man who had laughed while she held a weapon on him. When Jaxon did it, she wanted to join in his amusement. When Nolan did it, she wanted to cut deeper. He was just so smug. “Answer him.” Damn it. “Please.” “You are a lucky man,” Nolan told Jaxon.

Jaxon remained silent, features growing cold. What did that coldness mean? No reaction. Don’t think about it. “They do not need fertile women to pass the virus. Sex does that, no matter the gender or the circumstances. Fertility is merely a bonus, an aphrodisiac.” Jaxon nodded encouragingly. “Go on. I’m listening.” God, she admired him. Poised, strong, unbreakable, unflappable. He was utterly magnificent. I’ve touched him, kissed him. For one night, he was mine. Why did he look at me with such coldness? Not going there, remember? “Each of us, my brothers and I, have the virus within ourselves.” Nolan sounded ashamed. “The only way to control it is to”—he gulped—“give it to others, releasing bits of it from within ourselves and keeping its levels at a minimum.” There was crackling silence as she and Jaxon absorbed that. Nolan continued, “Those who are infected can maintain their own life if and only if they pass it on. And on. And on. Our women were already sparse, so they were used by many of us. They didn’t last long. It’s why we’ve had to move from planet to planet. We refused to teach them, so they don’t know what to do, how to save themselves.”

Le’Ace removed the knife from his thigh, too close to stabbing him already. His announcement inflamed her. “Ever heard of masturbation, you sick bastard?” “Believe me, that does not work.” “Why not? If all you need to do is ejaculate to control the virus, making yourself come should do the trick.” Nolan tapped a finger to his chin. “How can I explain this properly?” The question was for himself, his gaze ceilingward. “While you think about it,” Jaxon said, “why don’t you explain how studying the disease helps spread it? We have labs, ways of containing—” Nolan was shaking his head again, more insistently this time. “The only word that comes close to describing the virus is to say that it is alive. There, that should answer both of your questions. It is alive, able to communicate with itself even while living inside different hosts, and it will not leave a host for masturbation. Ever. There is no other host to be found that way. Having blood drawn, however, does provide another host. Ultimately.” “How?” she and Jaxon asked in unison. She glanced at him, but he was watching Nolan. “The virus may not be able to stay inside a body when forced out through a syringe, but it can sense another living being. The person drawing the blood, the lab technician…the virus will find a way inside

the person. If your doctors have drawn samples, they are now infected, for the only way to destroy the virus is to kill the host without bloodshed.” Le’Ace tilted her head to the side, studied him. “That means you must be killed.” “Yes,” he said on a sad sigh. “And yet you are fighting to live.” The moment she spoke, the words and their meaning hammered inside her brain. She gave a little laugh. What a hypocrite I am. She’d always done the same for herself: live, even though others were hurt because of it. “There are things you wish to experience before you die. That is why you seek protection.” Surprise brightened the pinpricks of light in his eyes; he nodded. “Yes.” “Your life will destroy others,” she said, knowing she was speaking about herself, as well. No more, she thought. Earlier, she’d considered allowing herself to be killed; now she knew she must. There was no other option for her. There never had been. She’d been foolish to ever think otherwise. She didn’t let herself ponder it further, didn’t let herself experience a single flicker of emotion about it. Not here, not now. “Love,” Nolan said sadly. “I dream of a single taste.” As had she.

“Once I have known love, I can die a happy man.” Her gaze sought Jaxon. He was still watching Nolan, though she thought perhaps his peripheral attention was focused solely on her. Love. She had finally found hers, the one man destined to steal her heart. Now that the end loomed near, she could admit it wholeheartedly. She loved him. She did. He’d given her everything. In return, she would do everything in her power to help Jaxon with this case. She owed him that much. Then…yeah. Then.

CHAPTER 19

Jaxon remained in night’s shadows as Mishka escorted Nolan and his two guards to an upscale apartment complex. First they’d walked the busy sidewalks, then they’d caught a cab, and now they were walking again, striding past a spiked white gate. Only the guards seemed on alert. Nolan and Mishka were too busy chatting. Damned irritating, that’s what it was. The gate closed behind them automatically, and they soon disappeared inside the towering building of lovely red brick and mortar. Well, metal painted to look that way. After the human-alien war, most homes and businesses had been rebuilt to better withstand fire, bombs, and strange alien powers. Though he, Mishka, and Nolan planned to meet again in the morning, Jaxon knew Mishka would leave Nolan tonight and come to him. At least, she had better. He glanced at the soft green glow of his watch: 9:27 P.M. He’d give her fifteen minutes before going in. If, during that time, Nolan touched her or she touched Nolan, Nolan would take his last breath tonight. Five minutes, and Jaxon was going in. He didn’t trust Nolan and didn’t want Mishka alone with the disease-carrying bastard. Especially now that he knew a fertile female was not needed

to spread that living virus. “I can get you in the building,” Eden said in his ear. The van and all the other agents had followed him. Easy enough, since he’d allowed himself to be injected with that tracking isotope a few days ago. “Not yet.” He propped his shoulder against the wall beside him. The little side street bustled with apartments and shops. People meandered on the walkways, neon signs flashed, and cars purred past. “Just kill them both.” This time, it was Mia’s hard voice in his ear. “Waiting around is dumb. We’re not going to learn anything new, and we’re probably being set up.” “I know what I’m doing,” he lied. He’d removed the rubber from his nose and jaw, cleaned the makeup off his face. Not because Mishka and Nolan had recognized him, but because he wanted nothing in the way when he claimed Mishka’s mouth. And he would claim it. Hard and hot and insistent. First, of course, he would demand answers. The job had to take precedence over desire. Stupid job. What would her reaction be when he kissed her? Would she want him to kiss her? He’d never really had to work for anything. Well, except for females and sex, and those only because of his scars. He’d taken to A.I.R. like a baby took to breast-feeding. Natural instinct, as if

he’d been born for it. Yet it hadn’t mattered. He could have been fired, and it would not have destroyed him. The women hadn’t mattered, either. They had left him, and he’d been happier for it. Now, someone did matter. She was not easy, was proving to be the biggest challenge of his life, and none of his worth could buy her. But he was unwilling to move on. He had to have more of her. For once, he was absolutely prepared and happy to do the work. For her. She’d probably reject him a thousand times; after all, self-preservation had been beaten into her. That just meant he had to pursue her a thousand and one times, he told himself. Victory would be his. “Well, well, well,” Mia said, tone heavy with disgust. The white gate groaned open, and Jaxon snapped from his musings. Suddenly Mishka was there, only a few yards away. She had not changed clothes, had not removed the wig, and still looked like an expensive hooker, short hair slicked back to a high gloss. She remained in place, searching the darkness. His heart galloped, his blood heated, his dick swelled, completely unconcerned about its potential audience. When it came to Mishka, he should have been used to that uncontrollable reaction. He wasn’t. His mouth watered for her; he’d been without

her too long. He thought, fuck answers. Her first. Questions later. Stepping from the shadows and into a beam of light, he strode to her, his long steps eating up the distance. Her eyes widened when she spotted him. Not in surprise because she’d known he would follow, but in arousal. Yeah, she wanted his kiss. Without a word, he crowded her into the side alley and against the building’s wall. She allowed it without protest. Shadows swallowed her as he meshed his body into hers, lips swooping down, hot, so hot. At first contact, she gasped his name. Her arms slid up his chest and wound around his neck. Their tongues thrust together, rolled, desperate to appease the addiction they’d been denied the last week. Her feminine flavor filled his mouth, fired his arousal another degree. He cupped one of her breasts and realized she wore a padded bra, so delved under the scooped neck of her dress to touch actual flesh. Instantly her nipple hardened against his palm. He hissed at the sharp, decadent agony. “Fuck.” “Yes, please.” Her knee hooked around his waist, drawing him deeper into the sweet cradle presented. Her fingers tangled in his hair, nails scouring his scalp. Over and over his tongue plundered. He could not get enough of her. More. He had to have more.

Had been starving for this, for her, and now wanted to gorge. “Did he touch you?” he growled, only when he had to pull back to breathe. “No.” “Did you want him to?” “No.” She answered without hesitation, but there was self-loathing in her tone. Why? “Only you,” she added. Only you. The words echoed in his mind, defusing the blistering core of his fury and helplessness at seeing her with the otherworlder and being unable to do anything about it. Lips hovering just above hers, he whispered fiercely, “You are mine.” “Jaxon, I—oh, God.” As though his claim on her pushed her over the edge of control, she arched her hips against his dick, rubbing, sliding up and down. “I…I’m…” “Doesn’t matter. You’re not going to shove me from your life again.” Panting, she chewed on her bottom lip. “Just kiss me again. Please.” “Tell me what I want to know first,” he insisted. “I know why you did it, and I understand. But I won’t tolerate it again.” “I won’t shove you away. Can’t. I’m too weak when it comes to you.” He kneaded her breast, wanting so badly to rip

apart his pants and sink inside her wet heat, pounding and deep. “We’re going to be together.” “Oh, God. Jaxon! You’re making me ache so badly.” Her eyelids closed, her lips parted on a raspy gasp, and he thought perhaps her nails drew blood in his scalp. “—idiot male,” he heard Mia say in his ear, obviously still disgusted. “Five minutes,” he barked at her. “What? Oh.” Mishka’s gaze latched onto the tiny piece in his ear and her cheeks heated. “Five minutes?” Mia said. “Damn, boy. Didn’t know you were that fast a worker.” With his free hand, he jerked out the earpiece and tossed it to the ground. Not caring about privacy for himself but knowing Mishka would not want anyone else to see or hear her more than they already had, he did something he’d never done before. He purposely destroyed A.I.R. property by stomping on the earpiece and smashing it into little pieces. “Just you and me now,” he said. “Good.” She rubbed herself on him, soon becoming lost in the pleasure, unconcerned about anything else. He moved his gaze over the surrounding area. Her protection came before his desire. Thankfully, no one paid them the least bit of attention. No one was headed in their direction.

Still, they needed to move this reunion somewhere else. In a few minutes, he mused as she hit just where he liked. The other agents had things under control, and the thought of releasing Mishka, even for a second, was abhorrent to him. He returned his attention to her and drank in the desire glowing from her lovely face. Eyelids at halfmast, lips red and slightly swollen from the pressure of his, his moisture still glistening on them. Leaning in, breathing in her erotic scent of pure pheromone and jasmine, he licked his way along her jawbone, down the column of her throat. “Miss me?” “So much.” He flicked the tip of his tongue back and forth over the erratic beat of her pulse. Then he plumped the breast he held and licked the upper swell. A tremor raked her. “You’re not mad at me?” she asked. “I treated you horribly. I—” “I had just left you bound to a bed. I treated you horribly.” Unwilling to release her breast but needing the dress and bra out of his way, he turned his wrist until both pieces of material anchored underneath and hooked below, baring her completely. Sweet Jesus. Her nipple was as pink and ripe as he remembered, begging to be sampled. Unable to resist, he sucked the little bud into his mouth. She

cried out in ecstasy, then whimpered, and he nearly came in his pants. First time he’d touched her like this, she hadn’t trusted him enough to enjoy it. Now she trusted him; now she enjoyed. The knowledge increased his own pleasure. Her head thrashed from side to side, her cheeks so flushed they were practically neon signs. “Jaxon,” she gasped out. “Let’s take the edge off you,” he whispered. As he nibbled on her earlobe, he finally released her breast. He could have cursed at the loss of that perfect little mound, but consoled himself with the fact that he was about to enter paradise. His fingers glided down the flat plane of her stomach to grip the hem of her dress. Up, up he lifted it, until the line of her blue panties was revealed. Ignoring the knives strapped to her thigh, he slid a fingertip along the material. Her knee fell from his waist and she planted her feet as far apart as she could get them and still remain standing. An invitation. This desire was for him, only him. Not his money, not to convince him to forget a crime she’d committed, not to distract him. Pride filled him. I did this. I made her ache. Nothing else mattered at the moment. Not the place, not the agents waiting, nothing. “Hurry, touch me,” she moaned. “It’s too much.”

“I’ll make it all better.” Already her panties were so wet they soaked his hand. His swollen shaft jerked, all the more desperate to be inside her. Not yet, not here. Knowing he was pushing himself to the limit but caring about her more, he slid two fingers under her panties, through the slick, wet heat, and all the way home, thumb pressing against her clitoris. She belted out a scream, but he captured the sound with his mouth, resuming their kiss as if it had never ended. Again and again their tongues stroked together. Passion was a wildfire, spreading, scorching everything in its path, and the kiss became all the more fervent. Their teeth scraped, and then she was biting down on his lower lip, so consumed with need she’d lost control. All the while he pumped his fingers in and out of her. When her climax hit, it hit hard. She clutched at him, pinched his shoulders, scratched and bucked. Her inner walls clamped down, holding him captive. “That’s it, sweetheart.” His dick throbbed as he pulled his hand away. Get. Inside. Her. “Do you have a room nearby?” There was so much arousal in his voice, the words emerged slurred, as though he were drunk. “Well, isn’t this just sickening?” At the sound of Mia’s voice, Mishka stiffened

and Jaxon’s head whipped to the side. Seeing Mia, Dallas, Eden, Lucius, and Devyn lined up at the end of the alley, he pushed Mishka behind him while she righted her clothing. Should’ve known they wouldn’t give him five damn minutes alone. “Get lost,” he snapped. The average person would not have been able to see him. But agents were trained in the dark and saw better than most, shadows mere curtains to be swept aside. The agents in front of him could make out every detail, he knew. From the sweat beading on his brow to the trickle of blood flowing from his lip and down his chin. “She’s playing you, Jaxon,” Mia said. “Why can’t you see that?” The fires of his desire morphed into fires of fury. “I seem to recall that a few months ago you were screwing a murder suspect, Mia, so you can shut the hell up and back off.” “Kyrin was not and is not a murderer!” “You didn’t know that at the time,” he reminded her. “I knew in my heart.” “Well, I know in my heart that Mishka is not the coldhearted bitch you think she is.” Mishka stepped beside him. He glanced down and nearly cursed. No longer was she the sweet lover he’d held and pleasured. She stood there, cold and emotionless, completely discounting his claim.

She’d palmed a blade, which glinted at her side. “Let’s finish this,” she said to Mia. Mia smiled and revealed a blade of her own, more than happy to comply.

Le’Ace was shaken deeply, unequivocally. One moment she’d been looking at Jaxon, filled with yearning and need, and the next she’d been in his arms, coming with breathtaking abandon. Now sated, still trembling, she had to fight Mia Snow. If she didn’t, the agent would continue to badmouth her to Jaxon. Had she already told him what Le’Ace had done to Elise? Probably. And yet, here he was, standing proudly beside her. Defending her honor. Against his friends! The knowledge delighted her because it meant a man actually believed in her. A good man. Smart, sensual, and strong. “Going to stand there all night?” Mia taunted. Jaxon wound his fingers around her wrist, his touch warm, electrifying. “I don’t want you to fight.” Rising to her tiptoes, she kissed him softly on his scarred cheek. “I want you, and this is the only way to have you. She’s your friend, so I won’t hurt her. Too badly,” she added smugly. Always quick on the anger trigger, Mia lost her grin. “Bitch, you are so going down.”

Stiffening, Jaxon ran his tongue over his teeth. “Okay, sweetheart. Just make sure she can walk afterward. Despite everything, I do still love her like a sister.” With that, he released Mishka’s wrist. “You interfere,” he told the others with a menacing undertone to the words, “and I will not hesitate to hurt you.” All but Eden held up their hands, palms out. They were confident in Mia’s strength and cunning, but then, they hadn’t seen Le’Ace in action yet, poor bastards. “I wish there were another way,” Jaxon said to her, conflict and regret in the undertones. “I know,” she told him softly. “I’ll make it fast.” Then, “Mia, let’s do this.” She moved forward. Mia did, as well. They met in the middle of the alley. Getting Mia off her back was necessary, but deep down Le’Ace knew she was also doing this to impress Jaxon. Over and over, he had proven himself worthy of admiration. Over and over, she had not. She’d knocked him out twice; she’d run from him. She’d avoided him. Now she would fight for what she wanted. And she wanted Jaxon, for what little time she could have him. “Anyone else aroused by this?” the one called Devyn asked with a laugh. “You need to shut it, you pervert,” Eden grumbled, but there was affection in her tone.

“This is a long time in coming,” Mia said. They stood toe to toe, boots touching. Neither lashed out. Yet. “Yes,” she said, looking down, one brow arched. “I had forgotten how short you are.” “I’ve dreamed of killing you.” The agent’s eyes flickered with sapphire anticipation. “I’m sure you have.” “Final words?” “Yeah. You talk too much.” A pause as her words registered. With a roar, Mia attacked, arm sweeping in a wide arch toward Le’Ace’s neck. Le’Ace bowed her back and the blade whooshed a single inch from contact. Infuriated by her failure, Mia didn’t realize she’d left herself wide open until Le’Ace slammed her metal hand into the agent’s temple, knocking her sideways. Kyrin, the Arcadian lover, scowled and stepped forward, but Jaxon withdrew a pyre-gun and shot him with a bright blue stun beam, freezing the alien in place. It didn’t hurt him, just immobilized him. “Thanks,” Le’Ace threw over her shoulder. “Welcome.” Mia had righted herself, had growled at Kyrin’s condition, and was already launching forward for another attack. While Mia was dressed for combat in pants and military boots, Le’Ace was not. Her fashionable boots with mile-high heels left her with

a distinct disadvantage, so when Mia’s shoulder plowed into her stomach, she lost her balance. She did manage to grab hold of Mia’s arm, however, and they toppled to the dirty ground. Mia was on top and seemingly in control. For a moment. Le’Ace twisted, smashing Mia into the concrete. The agent lost her breath and bashed her skull. Probably saw stars. Even winded as the agent was, Le’Ace had to grip Mia’s hand to stop her blade from cutting something important. While she could have applied enough pressure to break Mia’s wrist, she didn’t. She simply squeezed veins, tendons, and muscles until they spasmed and the knife dropped involuntarily. Clank. With her free hand, Le’Ace punched Mia in the lung. Cough. As Mia tried to regain her oxygen levels, Le’Ace straddled her, pinning her shoulders. One punch to the face, two. Contain force, she told the chip. No bone breakage. Another punch. This time, she felt her muscles loosen so that, upon impact, the blow was softer. Arching her back, Mia managed to work a foot between them and kick Le’Ace off. They were both on their feet a moment later, glaring at each other. Blood poured from Mia’s nose and mouth. “Want more?” Le’Ace asked, hiding her need to

pant. “Fuck you.” Mia launched forward. Le’Ace feigned left then attacked right, twirling her blade so that the hilt hit Mia rather than the tip. She’d been aiming for the temple, but Mia twisted, causing Le’Ace’s strike to land in the upper shoulder. “Turn faster next time,” Dallas called helpfully. “Finish up, sweetheart,” Jaxon said. “I need to talk to you. Alone.” Alone time with Jaxon. Best motivation ever. “Two minutes and I’ll be ready.” Mia was grinding her teeth, growling low in her throat. A patent stillness of a predator came over her, eyes narrowed, jaw clenched. Then, suddenly, she was gone. No longer in front of Le’Ace, no longer in sight. Le’Ace blinked in confusion. Looked left, looked right. Nothing. Something slammed into her head from behind. Gasping, she saw stars. They winked brightly behind her lids as she swung around, ready to engage. But…no Mia. Where the hell was she? Another fist connected with the back of her skull. She stumbled to the side, heels causing her to slide. She blinked rapidly to halt the blaze of lights behind her lids. What’s going on? The alien has engaged hyperspeed.

Alien? Mia was alien? Another fist. This time Le’Ace couldn’t catch herself and landed on her ass, head swimming dizzily. Slow her down! Can’t. Speeding you up… Gradually the world around her screeched to a halt. Le’Ace no longer heard the incessant chatter of the people on the nearby streets. Insects stopped singing. Cars stopped humming. What she did see was Mia in front of her, arm swinging toward her face. Reaching up, Le’Ace caught the agent’s fist in her hand. Stood in a single, fluid motion. Their gazes clashed together. Mia’s eyes widened in shock. “You can see me?” While everything else seemed to be at a standstill, Jaxon and the agents included, she saw and heard Mia perfectly. “Yeah, I can.” And then she shot her arm forward—crack the bone this time, just a little—and slammed her metal knuckles into Mia’s sternum. The agent flew backward with a pained gasp. She hit the ground, propelling into the pretty red wall. Paint chips crumbled and dust formed a plume in the air. Her shoulders slumped, dark hair tumbling in every direction. Her eyes closed as she fought to breathe. She did not get up.

Return to normal. Ceasing hyperspeed. Like that, the world around her kicked back into motion. The chatter was restored, a car honked. Le’Ace inhaled deeply, sucking in the sweet scent of victory. “I’m ready.” Satisfied, she brushed her hands together and strode to a shocked Jaxon.

CHAPTER 20

Thirty minutes later, they were alone in a hotel room. A king-size bed with bright white covers dominated the small enclosure, but they didn’t fall onto it as Le’Ace had thought they would. Well, had hoped they would. She sat nervously on the edge and Jaxon leaned against the far wall, much as he’d done when she’d found him outside of Nolan’s apartment. Apparently “talk” was not code for “have sex” in Jaxon’s world. More was the pity. “What are your friends doing?” she asked just to break the silence. He shrugged. “Kyrin is, hopefully, out of stun and caring for Mia. Watch out for him, by the way. Mia’s the love of his life, and I could see murder in his eyes when you managed to knock her down. The others are either monitoring Nolan from afar or sneaking inside his apartment.” “And you have the night off?” “I’ve taken it off, yes.” “So what’s on your mind?” Her hands dug into her thighs as she tried to hide her nervousness. Silent, he studied her for a long while. Not a single hint of his emotions played over his face. “Are you wearing a camera, Mishka? A mic? Are you recording this for Nolan?”

Her mouth fell open. A moment passed before she had the presence of mind to snap it closed. “No! I can’t believe you’d ask me that. Not just because it’s highly insulting but because you had your hands all over me earlier.” “Prove your innocence. Take off your clothes.” A commander expecting his orders to be obeyed, he crossed his arms over his chest. She blinked over at him. “Excuse me?” “Take off the coat, then take off the dress.” Who the hell did he think he was? How dare he accuse her of such a thing? She should leave. But she couldn’t force her body to obey, so she remained on the bed, glaring up at him, chin raised. “You can go to hell.” “You came, I didn’t,” he replied wryly. “Believe me, I’m already there. Now take off the coat and dress and prove you’re clean.” Her eyes narrowed. “Are you wearing a camera? After all, Mia Snow, spawn of the devil, is your sidekick. She could have convinced you to betray me.” Now his eyes narrowed. Didn’t like turnabout, did he? “Take off your clothes,” she told him. “Prove you’re clean.” Gaze never leaving her, he reached behind his head and gripped his shirt. The material swooshed off with a single jerk, leaving his muscled chest

bare except for the straps holding his weapons in place. Such a splendid sight, all that muscle and steel mixed together. He dropped the shirt and motioned to her with a nod of his chin. “Your turn.” She pushed to her feet, unsteady though they were. Irritated as she was with him, she also experienced hot thrums of renewed desire. With a shrug of her shoulders, the coat slid onto the mattress. Her fingers hooked around the top straps of her dress, unlatching front from back, and gave a sharp tug. Off fell the dress, leaving Le’Ace in a bright blue bra-and-panty set. She’d worn it, just in case Jaxon showed up. “The boots,” he said. His voice broke a little. She licked her lips. “First take off your pants. No telling what you’re hiding under there.” The words escaped on a wispy catch of breath. Her nipples hardened, abrading the cerulean lace. Pupils dilating, he kicked off his shoes. Slowly his hands moved to his waist. Twist. The button opened, the pants crumpled to the floor. Black briefs hugged low on his hips and stopped midthigh. He stepped out of them. Several more blades were strapped to his lower limbs. Bending down, he drew several silver squares from the pockets of the pants and tossed them onto the bed. “Condoms, because I know you like

them,” he said, then looked pointedly to her boots. Soon he would be inside her. “I don’t need them. Not with you.” As her blood continued to heat, she showed her profile and extended one nearly bare leg onto the edge of the mattress, dislodging the coat and causing it to tumble. Jaxon hissed, and the sound of it was pained. “So pretty,” he said with undercurrents of so mine. Feminine power raced through her, an aphrodisiac to her starved senses. She unzipped one boot, tossed it aside, and gave the other the same treatment. A shiver cascaded down her spine as she turned back to him. No longer emotionless, he wore desire like a cloak. It enveloped him, tightening the lines of his face, hardening the cock straining under the briefs, which happened to be peeking well above the elastic band, the tip glistening. Moist heat pooled between her legs. “Gloves,” he said raspily. Usually she hid the metal with a fervency that boarded on certifiable obsession, since it served as a reminder that she was not fully human. Jaxon, however, seemed to delight in everything about her. Even that. As if her differences made her special. Something to cherish. She peeled the gloves from her arms and

dropped them. “A-as you can see, I’m not wearing a camera or a mic.” Had that truly been her voice? All shaky and needy and wispy? He shook his head. “You could be hiding something under the lace.” “I’m not.” “I’ll need to do a body search to be sure.” His eyes gleamed brightly. Her knees almost gave out. In that moment, she knew he had never suspected her of recording him or trying to trap him. He’d been playing. Teasing. Two things that had been absent from her life. Her lips edged into a slow, genuine smile. Desire darkened his eyes, the silver melting into liquid. “C’mere.” She shook her head, only then realizing she still wore the short, dark wig. That just wouldn’t do. Le’Ace wanted to be with Jaxon as herself, not a part she had to sometimes play. Ripping the wig, pins, and netting from her scalp stung, but she did it, and soon her own strawberry-blonde tresses were flowing down her back. She finger-combed until most of the tangles were gone. Jaxon groaned. “You’re killing me.” “Then come here.” He was in front of her a second later, his body heat coiling around her sensitive skin. His breath fanned her face as he reached up and traced his thumbs over her jaw, her cheeks. “I missed the hell

out of you.” He drew her metal arm to his mouth and placed a soft kiss on her wrist. “Can you feel that?” “Not physically.” But she felt the gesture all the way to her tattered heart. To him, she was only a woman. His woman. She wasn’t a machine. I love this man and I don’t have much more time with him. Think only in the here and now. Smiling wickedly, she dropped to her knees. His eyes widened. “What are you doing?” “Taking the edge off for you, like you did for me.” She hooked her fingers in the elastic band of his underwear and tugged. The material did not want to move past his powerful thighs, forcing her to rip the sides. “Besides, you’re not the only one who needs to do a full-body search.” Jaxon’s long, thick cock sprang free. “You don’t have to do that,” he said brokenly. No, she didn’t, but she could hear desire and perhaps desperation in his voice. She wouldn’t have walked away for any reason. At eighteen, she’d been trained to do this. A human male she’d never met had arrived and placed several rubber cocks in front of her. He’d then proceeded to instruct her on the best ways to move her mouth, her tongue, and when to scrape lightly with her teeth. Where to place her hands, when to pull away.

She had never enjoyed the act. Once, a man had gotten a little too…grabby, trying to force himself so far down her throat she couldn’t breathe. In retaliation, she’d bitten him hard enough to draw blood and suspected he had problems getting hard even now, all these years later. She’d been punished for that, of course. An entire day in a sickbed, head pounding as if it would explode, praying it finally would explode and put her out of her misery. Jaxon, though, she wanted to please this way. She wanted to taste. “You don’t have to,” he repeated, his hands in her hair, sifting through the strands. “I know, but I crave it.” His breaths became short, choppy. “Who am I to stop you, then?” he asked with a crooked half-grin. She licked the head, tasting salty precum, and he groaned a sound of utter torture. Encouraged, she opened wide and sucked him deep. He released another groan, this one hoarse and raw, almost savage. “God, baby. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.” Up, down, up she moved. He was careful to remain still, his hands loose. He allowed her to decide how deep, how fast, and that freedom allowed her own desire to intensify. Training was soon forgotten, his cock so thick and hot it was all she could think about. Her tongue laved the head

with every upward glide, her teeth scoured the base lightly, and her fingers pulled at his balls. Careful, gentle. Don’t hurt. “Shit, baby, you’re so good.” Soon this cock would be inside her, pumping and sliding. Soon it would fill her up, be a part of her. She groaned as she shifted on her knees, the ache between her legs painful. She arched her back, rubbing her pearled nipples against his thighs. That pushed Jaxon over the edge. His hands tightened on her head and hot seed jetted into her mouth, down her throat. He roared and roared and roared, and her sense of feminine power increased. I did this. I gave him ultimate pleasure. When the hot stream stopped, she stood to shaky legs. Almost fell. Jaxon caught her and hefted her up. He carried her to the bed and tossed her onto the mattress. Twice she bounced before settling atop the covers. She nibbled on her bottom lip and peered up at him, her blood blistering her veins. Fevered, that’s what she was. Jaxon loomed over her, watching her as sweat trickled down his face and chest. Without a word, he climbed into bed beside her. Immediately she curled around him, unable to remain in place. Her hips undulated against his, and she gasped when her clitoris hit his pelvic bone. Pleasure zoomed through her. Yes, there. She arched forward again, but Jaxon caught her

by the waist and held her still. She whimpered. “Two minutes of recovery,” he said. “After a man comes, he’s like a woman for two minutes, completely in touch with his feminine side. If you can hold out, I’ll make it worth your while.” Two minutes? Surely an eternity. “You’re going to have to distract me or I’ll attack you.” Sadly, she was not lying. The fire in her blood was too hot for her to ignore. Deep breath in, deep breath out. “Tell me how you got the scar. Or if you’d rather not, tell me—” “I’ll tell you anything.” One of his hands traced a heated path along each of her vertebras. “I was a wild teenager, drinking, doing drugs, sleeping around. Girl I knew killed herself because I’d hurt her, and I cleaned up for a little while. But one night in college I slept with a girl at a party and we both passed out in the bed. Someone found us and told her boyfriend, who stormed over and cut me while I was too wasted to fight him.” A lance of pleasure zinged from her core, and she realized she’d been moving against him again. Be still. Otherwise he might think his gruesome story turned her on. “Plastic surgery would fix it.” Jaxon shook his head. “I’ve had several surgeries. This is as good as it gets. Does it bother you?” The question was calmly stated, but she sensed its importance to him. “Are you kidding? I told you

how much I love that scar. It’s a testament to your strength and courage.” “I’m glad you think so.” His hands tightened on her. A moment later, she was lifted and straddling him. Her hair cascaded down her arms, the ends brushing his chest. She blinked in surprise, even as she moaned in bliss. “Two minutes are up.” He licked his bottom lip in hungry anticipation. “I’m a man again.” She would have laughed, but sure enough, his penis strained between his legs and pressed against her wet, needy core. Her eyes rolled back in her head at the decadent sensation of man against woman, hardness against softness. “Thank God.” His gaze lowered to the lace still shielding her wetness from view. “Want to keep your panties?” “Destroy them.” The sides were ripped a split second later, and he jerked the material out from under her. Skin to skin contact followed. Both of them stiffened at the delicious agony. But she needed more. Le’Ace unhooked her bra, shimmied out of it. “Need a taste of those pretty little nipples.” He rolled her to her back and laved a nipple into his mouth. Cold sheets at her back, hot man on top. “Brace your feet on the bed and drop your knees.” Trembling, she obeyed. Her fingers threaded through his hair, urging him on, even though she

was totally exposed to him, vulnerable and at his mercy. “So pretty. So good.” He sucked a little harder as his fingers coasted down her stomach, through the fine triangle of hair, and sank two deep… deeper…“I’m never letting you go. I can’t. I crave you more than is probably healthy. Someone should probably lock me up, because I’m surely stalker material. Anyone who hurts you, I’ll kill.” “Jaxon!” She begged him for more and he eagerly gave it to her, working yet another finger inside. He would always give her more, she knew. Whatever she desired, Jaxon would provide. I’ll do the same for him. Her heart pounded frantically. Stars winked over her vision, reminding her of the blow Mia had dealt her. Only this time, the blow was desire and it was so much more potent. An all-consuming force. Good versus evil, right versus wickedness, for surely she would die without release. Surely she would become all the more addicted to Jaxon. “So wet, so hot. Ready for me, baby?” “Yes.” Yes, yes, yes. His fingers pulled from her; she cried out at the loss. She was empty without him, hollow and bereft. How had she existed so long without him? Never again. For as long as she lived, she wanted to be with him. Despite pain, despite punishment. How

many days did she have left? Weeks? Didn’t matter. Eternity would not have been long enough. “Hurry!” “How hard can you take it?” “As hard as you can give it.” A split second later, he plunged inside her to the hilt, stretching her, filling her. Her hips rose to meet him, to take him even deeper. “Damn,” he said, sliding out only to pound back in. Sweat poured from him and dripped onto her. Silver eyes flashed down at her. Her knees squeezed at his sides. Her nails sank into his back, drawing blood. “You’re not leaving me again,” he gritted out. The bed shook with the force of his claiming. “Say it.” “Not leaving.” Except in death, she vowed. “Good girl.” The head of Jaxon’s cock pressed exactly where she needed with every forward ram. He’d been made for her, this man. A perfect fit. “You’re mine.” “Yours.” That would be true now and always, no matter what happened. “Jaxon, oh God, Jaxon.” Over and over he rocked into her. “I’m going to take you in every way imaginable. I’m going to burn away the memory of everyone else.” Her head thrashed from side to side. Any moment now…

“Raise your arms.” The moment she obeyed, her back arched of its own accord and he leaned down to suck her nipple. Release slammed into her as savagely as Jaxon, pouring wave after wave of pleasure in her. His lips meshed against hers, and he swallowed her screams. Her inner walls milked him; her tongue dueled with his. Then he, too, was climaxing and she was swallowing his roar.

They lay together in silence for a long while, heartbeats calming, skin cooling, bodies too sated to do much more. Though Mishka had tried to roll away from him a few times, Jaxon mused. He’d pulled her back into his side every damn time. He’d meant what he’d said. He wasn’t letting her go. He’d never before enjoyed holding a woman afterward. They tended to talk. And talk and talk. They wanted to share their feelings and listen to his. Freaking nightmare-ville. With Mishka, the holding was almost as good as the sex. Almost. She was relaxed, at ease, soft and pliant. He wanted to hear her feelings, wanted to tell her his. Had from the beginning. Did he understand the reasons for it? No. Did he care? No again. He might be a pussy right now—might? Ha! —but he was a satisfied pussy, so again, he didn’t care.

“Want me to show you the inside of Nolan’s house?” she asked sleepily. “I don’t want to leave this bed until morning.” “You don’t have to.” Confused, he turned his head and peered up at her. She’d propped her rosy cheek on her upraised hand, both balanced by her elbow. The long length of her lashes cast spiky shadows on her cheeks. God, she was lovely. Her strawberry tresses tumbled to his chest in absolute disarray. He brushed several strands from her mouth and hooked them behind her ear. “What do you mean?” Grinning, she held up her bra with her free hand. “Camera.” He barked out a laugh, even as he reeled inside. That grin of hers was carefree and real, her entire face lit with her amusement. “So you did have a camera.” “Yeah, but I didn’t take any pictures of you.” “Shit,” he said, still grinning and shaking his head. “I had no idea. You’re a better agent than I am.” “No, I just have the right tools.” Her smile widened. “The camera’s in the center of the bra, and that’s why my dress was so low cut. So men would stare at my cleavage and the camera could easily capture their eye patterns for retinal scans. If necessary.”

He scrubbed a hand down his face. No telling what kind of expressions he would have been wearing if the thing had been turned on. “Let’s see what you’ve got.” “It isn’t much.” She scooted from him and laid the bra on the bed. Lines of concentration formed around her mouth as she twisted the underwires. She was adorable when she focused. As with any holocamera, a blue screen materialized above the lens. “All right,” she said. “This is Nolan’s entryway.” Normal enough, with open spaces and a wrought-iron bench, though there were family portraits on the walls. Human portraits. Jaxon frowned. “You sure this is Nolan’s place?” “The apartment belonged to one of the victims,” Mishka explained. “Not one I know about, because this address isn’t in any of my files.” “No. Estap has kept her identity and a few others to himself.” “Bastard,” he said, meaning Nolan and Estap. “Yeah.” “Did Nolan kill her?” “He says no.” Jaxon arched a brow. “You believe him?” She shrugged and pressed the wire. “I haven’t figured him out yet.” Another picture appeared. “Okay. This is the living room.”

He studied the brown syn-leather couch, matching love seat, and concrete floor with a red and orange rug. “Homey.” “Yeah.” A cell phone suddenly buzzed. He recognized the fast-fast-sloooow pattern, which meant it was his phone, not Mishka’s. He frowned at the carpet, where his pants lay. More buzzing. “Probably Dallas. Or Mia.” Mishka stiffened and he didn’t have to guess what thoughts were running through her mind. They wanted him to leave her. Lock her up. Something. “I’ll call her back.” Soon he was going to have to talk to his friends about their treatment of his woman. Mishka came first. That’s the way it had to be. That’s the way he wanted it. He wanted them to like her, but if they couldn’t, if they refused, he… he didn’t know what he would do. Relaxing, Mishka twisted the wire again. “Bedroom.” He saw a queen-size bed with a bright red comforter, a stone vanity, and a dresser painted with flowers and vines. “What’s the bubbly plaster in the wall from?” Her gaze sharpened on the photo. “What bubbles?” “There.” He pointed to the wall beside the closet, nearly hidden by shadows.

She messed with the wire until the wall came into better focus. Her frown deepened, a mirror of his. “I don’t know. Not from a punch or kick. It’s too thin.” “Looks like someone plastered a hole, didn’t know what they were doing, and let the mold get too hot around the edges before it dried.” “Think he’s hiding something there?” “Could be.” “I wasn’t in there long enough to study it. He didn’t like me in the apartment, so I had to sneak in. And unless I’m with him, he doesn’t leave. So I had to walk in, snap some shots, and walk out fast.” “I want an inside look.” His cell buzzed again. Mishka sighed. “Answer it,” she said, devoid of emotion. “They wouldn’t be calling back if it wasn’t important.” He pressed a kiss to her lips and lumbered from the bed, hating the tension humming from her. He dug for the unit. Though he didn’t recognize the number, he held the cell to his ear. “This is Agent Tremain.” “And this is Senator Estap,” the voice on the other end proclaimed. “We have something to discuss.”

CHAPTER 21

Two-hour flight from New Chicago to New D.C. in a cramped ITS, an ionic transport system that ran on vibrations of subparticle strings of energy—no problem. Two burly guards greeting him at the airport, pyre-guns hidden below their coats as they frisked him and removed his weapons—whatever. Forty-five-minute drive to a palatial office building in the heart of the city—fine. Ten-minute walk along the streets—why not twenty? Being forced to leave Mishka behind—a killing offense. He’d finally found her, only to be dragged away. The person responsible would pay. He’d told her he’d been called away, that he’d be gone for a few days, and her face had washed of emotion and feminine softness. She’d paled, losing the rosy glow of satisfaction, and her naked body had stiffened. Where are you going? Why are you going? she’d asked, almost desperate. I’ll talk to you about it when I get back. Ha! I’m coming with you. No. Sorry. Yes, damn it! What’s going on? Miss me while I’m gone, ’cause I’ll damn sure miss you. Just trust me and stay here. And don’t kill

my friends, okay? And don’t go inside Nolan’s without me. He’d dressed, kissed her—not that she’d kissed him back—and left with only one backward glance. That glance had nearly destroyed him, though. She’d been sitting cross-legged on the bed, hair tumbling around her shoulders, nipples peeking through the strands. Her hazel eyes had been glacial. All he’d wanted to do was gather her in his arms and hold her close. Damn, I’m worse than a woman. On the way to the airport, he’d called his friends and told them to work with her, not against her, and had warned them to play nice or else. They’d hung up on him. He didn’t think they’d attack her, but he couldn’t be sure. Jaxon scowled. Estap would soon be hurting. The bastard’s fate had been sealed years ago when he’d decided to use Mishka. Only the little details had been in question: how quickly, how painfully, and when death would come. During the flight, Jaxon had had time to think. How quickly—a few weeks hovering on the edge of death wouldn’t be enough. How painfully—there would soon be a new definition for the word suffer. The senator’s screams would echo long into eternity. When—the sooner the better. “We’re here.” Jaxon’s scowl faded and his lips curled in a slow

smile. One of the human guards beside him saw the smile and frowned, brow furrowing in confusion. “What are you so happy about?” “Future’s looking good, that’s all.” They stepped from the warm morning light illuminating the sidewalk and into an abandoned alley, past a door painted to look like a wall, and inside the building. He soon found himself inside an empty, narrow corridor, blocked by another door. He didn’t think this had been their original destination. The two men had been driving north when they’d gotten a call. A terse exchange and a “Yes, sir” later, and the car had been reprogrammed and turned south. “Your prints aren’t loaded into the ID, so don’t think you can come back without permission,” guard number one said as he slapped his hand against an etched box. A light scanned his prints. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” A door slid open, revealing yet another corridor. “Plus, we’ve got cameras all over the place,” number two proclaimed. “You’d never get in undetected.” Wanna bet? “Am I here to chat with you or the senator?” The men shared an irritated look before stomping forward, a silent command for him to follow. As he strode behind them, he studied the

walls. Bare, silver, and made from the same material as a pyre-gun, a nearly indestructible alien metal. At the back, front, and middle were tiny holes. The cameras, he was sure. Public places weren’t allowed cameras without a license. Too many images had been spliced and doctored, and too many people had been incriminated for misdeeds they hadn’t committed. Government officials automatically received a license for their “protection.” Too bad for Estap that Jaxon had learned long ago how to disable them, since many criminals used them without permission. A left, right, left, and short elevator ride later, one of the guards muttered, “Good luck,” and pressed his thumb to the ID pad. The elevator opened into yet another hallway. Jaxon’s shoulder was given a little push. Quick as a snap, he grabbed the guard’s hand and twisted one of the fingers before the man could rip away. There was a pained gasp, a howl. “No touching,” he said calmly. “Understand?” “Yes, yes.” He released the man and maneuvered his way past the only door, into a spacious, well-furnished office. Plush blue carpet and real wood shelves greeted him. The scent was amazing, very woodsy. Behind him, he could hear the other guard drawing a gun.

“Put that away,” an irritated voice said. “For God’s sakes, he’s my guest and the broken finger was deserved. You do not push my guests.” Camera in the elevator, too, then. The door closed, blocking the guards from view. Silence. Jaxon studied his host. Estap sat behind a massive oak desk. An expensive antique that probably cost more than most people earned in a year. Average height, lean build. Thick brown hair, not a strand out of place. Intelligent hazel eyes, smooth, sun-kissed skin. Black suit. Red tie. He recognized the sense of entitlement radiating from the senator, as if the world owed him. As if citizens were beneath him and laws were not meant for him. That was me at one time. “Have a seat. Please.” Estap waved to the chair just in front of him. Jaxon sat, gaze roving over the rest of the office. Plaques and certificates of achievement adorned the walls. Family photos were scattered in between. Thirtysomething wife with bright red hair, freckles, and a happy smile. Was Mishka’s control panel hidden in here? “You had a smooth flight, I hope.” “Yes.” He said nothing else, hating the senator more with every breath he took. A sigh. “You’re probably wondering why I brought you here,” Estap said, leaning back in his

chair and folding his hands over his middle. “Not really.” Estap blinked in surprise. “Le’Ace or the Schön. Or both.” A tense pause, then, “You are correct.” Estap leaned forward, pinched a folder and tossed it to Jaxon. “We found a male victim. I wanted you to question him, find out who he’d had contact with, but he decided to eat his doctor’s heart for breakfast and kill himself after.” Though Estap spoke of murder and suicide, his tone was dry, slightly amused. “We tried to remove the virus from his system. No luck. We tried to kill the virus. Again, no luck. It was like the damned thing anticipated our every move and worked to prevent it.” “Have any of the victim’s family members exhibited any signs of the virus?” “He wasn’t married, but no, his male lover has not.” Jaxon flipped open the folder. Pictures of the now dead man stared up at him. Familiar graying skin as the disease rotted him from the inside out, patches of missing hair, sunken eyes. “Did you check him for recent sexual activity?” “Yes.” “And was he active?” “Yes.” “And did you ask the lover for an exact date for

the last time they’d had sex?” Estap shifted, crossing one leg over the other. “Yes. He refused to answer. Said it was personal.” “Nothing is personal during an investigation. Have someone ask again and again until he answers. If it wasn’t recently, you can conclude that the vic cheated. And if he cheated, it’s safe to bet it was with a Schön. What about your doctors?” Jaxon asked, looking up. “Have they exhibited any signs?” Estap licked his lips nervously. “Two. Having seen the other victims, however, they chose to kill themselves immediately rather than suffer.” Or had they been murdered? “What do you know about the virus?” “We suspect it’s alive. An alien being with a separate consciousness from the Schön, searching for a host. We believe that taking blood from a victim is like signing your own death warrant.” “We can’t not study it.” He showed no mercy. “Tell your doctors goodbye, then.” Hazel eyes narrowed menacingly. “What do you suggest we do?” “Lock them up, isolate them, and observe. But do not take blood, do not send people into their cells. Meanwhile, A.I.R. will hunt and kill the Schön without spreading the virus.” Estap snorted. “You expect me to sit back and

do nothing? When A.I.R. has done such a poor job?” Jaxon pierced him with a dark smile. “You haven’t done any better. Sir.” Another bout of silence ensued. A tactic, Jaxon knew. He’d used it often enough himself during interrogations as a means of making his target uncomfortable, intimidated. How many times had Mishka been here? Had Estap berated her? Called her names? Hit her? No reaction. “I’ll be honest with you, agent,” Estap said, finally breaking. “There is one way to study the infected blood.” “And that is?” “Le’Ace.” At her name, Jaxon’s stomach clenched. No fucking reaction. “Oh, really?” “She’s immune to everything.” Calm. “Are you sure?” “Sure enough. There’s always a chance for failure, though.” “You’d be willing to sacrifice her?” A shrug. He’s testing me. Gauging my responses. “Whatever you think is best.” Bastard. You are so going to die. “She’s a machine, agent, no better than an animal.”

I will not use the knife hidden inside my belt, I will not use the knife hidden inside my belt. Not yet… A slow smile lifted Estap’s lips, as if he knew Jaxon’s every thought. “My great-grandfather was part of the team that created her, you know. Each of the five scientists used pieces of themselves to form her DNA, as well as machines, aliens, and animals, as I mentioned. She was to be the first in a new breed of warriors. A killer, a seducer. Their winning ace.” Their puppet. Meditating didn’t help; breathing didn’t help. Jaxon still wanted to attack. Mishka had never really known kindness. As a child, her smiles had probably been snuffed out, her humor treated as a liability, and love deemed forbidden. From birth, she’d been isolated, trained, and used. What would she have wanted to be if she’d been raised by loving parents? A doctor? Painter? Candy maker? Did she allow herself to dream of something more, something better? Or had she given up on independence completely? Probably. She never spoke of it, not even as an afterthought. He couldn’t return the childhood she’d lost, but he could give her a future free of enslavement. He would. And he would love her, all the days of his life. Love.

He loved her, he realized. He wanted her with him every damn minute of every damn day. He wanted her to talk to him, share her feelings, listen to his, hold him, delight in him the way he delighted in her. From the beginning, he’d been drawn to her as he’d never been to another. She captivated him, enthralled him, made him so hot the desire was like a fever. Her happiness came before his own; her life came before his own. She was a part of him. A part he could not live without, a part more important than his heart or his lungs. How it happened, he didn’t know. But every breathless sigh, every heated glance and courageous word out of her mouth had pulled him deeper and deeper under her spell. He’d leave his job, his friends, give up every penny in his accounts if she asked it of him. Willingly, happily. More than that, he would slay her dragons. Again willingly, happily. “Are you listening?” Estap asked him. What had he missed? “Continue,” he said, not really answering. The senator gave him a mulish frown. “They added the chip when she was six years old and began exhibiting signs of disobedience. As she grew and their control over her strengthened, the five fathers, if you will, wanted to use her in different ways. They fought over her, and one by one they

died. Accidentally, of course. My father took over her care. Still with me, Agent Tremain?” He didn’t trust himself to speak, so he nodded. “Good. Bear with me just a little longer, and you’ll understand why I’m telling you all of this. You see, her records were destroyed, leaving no evidence that she’d ever existed. But in the destruction, a chance to re-create or fix her was destroyed, too. Now do you understand?” “No. Spell it out for me.” “You want to kill me. Don’t try to deny it, I can tell. Well, guess what? Kill me and you kill Le’Ace.” “What do you mean?” Each word was measured, clipped. “The chip in her brain.” Jaxon nodded. “Yes, go on.” His teeth gnashed together. There’d been too much eagerness in his voice. “Well, the control chip is inside me. I had it implanted a few years ago when I realized she was planning my downfall. The moment my life is extinguished, hers will be, too. Understand now?” Oh, yes. He did. Fucking bastard. There was no doubt in Jaxon’s mind that the senator had done what he claimed. What better hiding place? What better mode of control? A red haze fell over his vision. Slaying Mishka’s dragons would slay her. He

popped his jaw, mind already churning with other possibilities. One way or another, Estap would fall. Only the semantics had to change. “She’s beautiful, so I understand why you desire her,” the senator continued, unconcerned by the murderous rage building inside of Jaxon. “But she’s a whore and a cold-blooded—” The rest of the sentence ended on a pained gasp. Jaxon had jumped to his feet, flew over the desk, and was now choking the life from the bastard. His fingers were squeezing the man’s windpipe so tightly the muscles were spasming against his palms, the bones groaning. Tanned skin leeched of color, and Estap’s arms flapped for an anchor. His eyes bugged. “She’s a better person than you’ll ever be.” “You’ll…kill…her…” Fuck! Panting with the force of his fury, Jaxon released the senator and stepped away. He held his hands up, as if in surrender. Control was his best friend right now. Estap sank back into his chair, but he had to grip the edge of the desk to keep from sliding all the way to the ground. He hunched over, sucking in labored breath after labored breath. “You… bastard.” Hate glared up at him. “You’ll pay for that.” Hand shaky, Estap picked up the phone and

dialed. Jaxon didn’t try to stop him. He knew what was coming. A moment later Estap gritted out, “You are to kill Agent Jaxon Tremain. Do you hear me? Cut his fucking throat!” He slammed the phone back in its cradle and smiled darkly. “Like her now, Agent? Next time you see her will be your last.” “Afraid to take me yourself?” Scowling, color returning, Estap slapped a finger against a black button at the corner of his desk. The doors opened, and the guards stepped inside. “Get him out of here. Don’t touch him, don’t even bruise him. His precious Le’Ace will do that for us.”

CHAPTER 22

Three days. Jaxon had been gone for three days. And after Estap’s call, that couldn’t be good. Could it? Where is he? Le’Ace wondered for, what, the thousandth time? Four hundred and ninety-seventh time, actually. Oh, shut the hell up! She hadn’t wanted to, but she’d stayed away from Nolan. Because Jaxon had asked her to. His friends were breathing down her neck—literally— and Nolan called her every day. Every day she put him off. The otherworlder was getting nervous, probably thinking she meant to betray him. She did, but still. If he fled…Her hands curled into fists. He won’t. Eden and Lucius were his new shadows, following his every move. Not that he left the apartment much. Visible, that is. Besides, Jaxon would return soon. Wouldn’t he? Jaxon. Damn it. Where was he? Four hundred and ninety-eight. Her nails bit into the calloused skin on her palm. She’d assumed the phone call Jaxon had received all those days ago had come from his friends, so she hadn’t eavesdropped. She hadn’t wanted to hear

what the little shits had to say about her. But all of his friends were here, with her. She’d allowed them to lock her up in their safe house, thinking she could win them over. Not going to happen, she’d soon realized. Mia accused her “good behavior” of being faked to lower their guards. I just want Jaxon. His friends didn’t know where he was, either, and they enjoyed taunting her with the fact that they could track him but weren’t going to. He’d asked for privacy, and they trusted him. Like her, they were giving him whatever he wanted. Le’Ace wasn’t sure how much more worry she could withstand, however. Mia, who had recovered supernaturally fast from her injuries, loved to stomp into this dreary cell and tell her that Jaxon was too good for her. Kyrin always hovered behind her, glaring at Le’Ace as if he wanted to kill her. Dallas loved to visit, too. He would look at her, never speaking but studying her, as if trying to work something out in his mind. The other two agents, Eden and Lucius, brought her food but never stayed to chat. Devyn, the Targon king, brought her sexy lingerie that she refused to wear and always stayed to chat. He liked to talk about sex: his favorite positions, what a fantastic lover he was and would be if she’d just

say yes. Egotistical beast that he was, he always managed to amuse her. Le’Ace sighed and fell back on her cot. A white ceiling glared down at her. She could have broken out of this room at any time. Disabled the ID pad, busted the walls, called Estap for backup. But she’d hadn’t. She continued to wait. And wait. Jaxon, where are you? Four hundred and ninety-nine. Enough! Estap, that bastard! For whatever reason, he now wanted her to kill Jaxon. Three days ago, he’d called, demanding her to oversee the agent’s assassination. She’d told the agents, and they’d accused her of lying to send them on a wild chase, entrapping them somehow. Their distrust raked her nerves raw. Very soon she was going to tire of staying here. She was going to leave, and they wouldn’t be able to stop her. At least, she tried to soothe her frustration by telling herself that. Where was Jaxon? Estap hadn’t followed up to check and see if she’d obeyed, and he hadn’t hurt her with the chip for not reporting her success. Odd. Why? She’d always wondered what she’d do if ever ordered to slay someone she loved. Now she knew. Take any punishment, however severe, for disobeying. She would not, could not hurt Jaxon in

any way. He’s my man. She needed to warn him of the impending danger. Estap was not an easy enemy to have. What if Estap had already eliminated him? Before a panic attack could spring to life, Le’Ace—no, I’m Mishka—Mishka forced herself to calm. Jaxon was strong, courageous, and well able to take care of himself. He was smarter than Estap, a fighter to his very soul. Jaxon would soon return. And then, yes then, she would make sure the senator met with an unfortunate “accident.” Maybe he’d slip into a wood chipper. Maybe he’d catch Nolan’s disease. Who knew? Death was so unpredictable. “What are you smiling about?” At the sound of Mia’s voice, Le’Ace stiffened. She rolled to her side, tucked her hands under her cheek, and stared over at her nemesis. Mia leaned against the door frame, casual in black leather and an invisible cloak of confidence. Her black hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail. As always, Kyrin was in the hall, waiting behind her like a guardian angel. He was tall with white hair and beautiful violet eyes. He reminded her of Jaxon in a lot of ways. Quiet strength, banked power. Wholly seductive. “Let me save you the trouble of telling me why you’re here,” Le’Ace said. “I’m not good enough for Jaxon. He deserves someone better. He’s

changed since meeting me, and not for the better. Does that cover everything?” The pretty agent’s nostrils flared. “I don’t know why I expected you to care that you’ve made him into something harder, more cynical.” “You mean someone with a smart mouth who doesn’t let you walk all over him? Did you ever think that maybe Jaxon had never showed you the real him? That I helped free him?” The moment she spoke, Le—Mishka, I’m Mishka now, remember? —realized the truth of her words. She had helped him. Less and less he donned that falsely polite mask. Less and less he sought to hide the complex man he truly was. “Well?” Mia’s lips pressed together in a mulish line. “Can we at least try to get along?” she suggested. “For Jaxon’s sake?” “No,” was the instant reply. “Like it or not, I’m part of his life right now. And I’m not the woman you once knew.” Mia laughed without humor. “You’ll never change. I did a little digging since locking you up. Found where you were staying while working with Nolan. Found your notebook.” Every bit of warmth drained from her cheeks. “That’s right. I saw your list. Thirty-eight ways to kill Jaxon. Slitting his throat while he sleeps was my favorite. Poisoning the food in his house while he’s out on assignment was my second choice,

though.” She closed her eyes. Shit! She’d made that list to protect him. If she knew how an enemy, an alien— Estap—might try to hurt him, she could help him prepare against it. She could take measures to stop it from happening. She opened her mouth, closed it. Really, there was no way to defend herself. Not with this. She’d tell Jaxon and he’d…what? Her stomach churned. Would he believe her? Don’t think about it now. Keep your defenses up or Mia will flay you alive. “I was always polite to you when we were both teaching at the training camp because we had to set an example for the students,” Mia said. “There aren’t any impressionable young minds here right now, so you’ll get nothing from me but contempt.” Polite? Whatever. Mia had antagonized her at every opportunity. A cutting remark here, flipping her off there. “Some friend you are.” Fury glazed over Mia’s blue eyes. “I’ve been his friend a lot longer than you have. I’ve bled for him, killed for him.” “So have I!” “Mmm, catfight,” a male voice said. Mishka cursed under her breath. Great. Dallas. The agent stood beside Mia, towering over her. Mishka noticed the way he kept himself an inch or so in front so that he could shield the woman if necessary and protect her.

How had the bloodthirsty Mia Snow earned the respect of two such powerful men? “Come to join the fun?” Mishka asked him dryly. His amused expression faded, revealing the lines of tension bracketing his eyes and fanning to his temples. He looked tired and stressed. “I’ve been thinking about you. About what to do with you.” That grim tone said more than his words. “And?” She eased up, dropped her bare feet over the edge of the cot and onto the cold tile floor. If he pulled a gun, she’d have to hurt him. And she didn’t want to hurt him. Jaxon would be upset. Kyrin closed the distance between him and Mia and wrapped an arm around her waist. Mia leaned into him, as if she knew she belonged there and knew she would not be met with resistance. Mishka had to look away. Her chest hurt. One day Jaxon might hold her like that. So easily, so casually. “And?” she repeated. “You have to die,” Dallas said. He didn’t pull a weapon, just stood there, watching her reaction. She revealed nothing because she felt nothing. He wasn’t the first man to want her dead. “Why?” “Your list, for starters.” She swallowed. Again, no way to defend herself. “Thanks for the reminder.” “Second, I see things. Visions, and—” “Dallas!” Mia snapped at him. “Don’t. She can’t

be trusted. She—” He placed a gentle hand on the agent’s shoulder, and Mia quieted. They looked at each other, silently communicating. They loved each other, that much was obvious. Not as lovers, but as longtime friends. Buddies. Brother and sister. They were comfortable with each other, affectionate and protective. A pang of envy shot through Mishka. “I sometimes see the future,” Dallas continued, turning back to her, “and what I’ve seen concerning you is not good. Especially since the other visions I’ve had have not been wrong.” Dread squeezed at her stomach all the more intently, but she said, “I place no value on visions.” One of his dark brows arched. “Really? So it doesn’t bother you that I think Jaxon is going to die trying to save you?” The ominous words echoed in her mind. Jaxon is going to die trying to save you. No. No! She did not place any value on visions, but the mere thought of Jaxon being hurt nearly felled her. In all her imaginings of the future, Jaxon lived a long and happy life. Without her, yes. Without another woman, well, yes. Mishka did not like to entertain the idea of him with someone else, loving the faceless woman, waking up with her every morning. But never had she considered him dead. Never.

Truth in the agent’s claim? Ninety-seven percent chance he believes what he said. No, she thought again. She shook her head violently, whipping strawberry-colored strands of hair against her cheeks. “I’ll protect him. I won’t let anything happen to him.” I’m going to die. Not him. “You may not have a choice.” Her eyes narrowed to tiny slits, his warning playing through her mind yet again. “You said you think he’ll die. You think or you know?” A muscle ticked under his eye. “Think. I haven’t seen him take his final breath.” Her shoulder straightened, hope beaming bright rays inside her. “What did you see? Exactly?” “Him, begging for your life. Him, fighting to get to you. You, shooting him in the heart.” “He’s not going to suffer a single scratch,” she said, because she still couldn’t believe otherwise. “I won’t let him.” But part of her feared Dallas’s words all the way to her bones, and she floundered with what to do. They just want to drive me away, and they would do and say anything to make it happen. True, so true. “I’m going to help him with this case, and then I’m going to disappear. Okay? None of you will have to see me again. Until then, leave me the hell alone.”

“Mishka!” “Jaxon?” Surprise, relief, and joy shot through her like rockets. Her eyes widened and she popped to her feet. Jaxon was here! Her heart pounded inside her chest, and every nerve inside her body suddenly tingled. He was back! He was alive and well. For the moment, Dallas’s warning faded to the back of her mind. Only one thing mattered just then: being in her man’s arms. “Where is she?” He sounded closer. “Jaxon!” She raced toward the door just as he shoved past Dallas and Mia. He spotted her and opened his arms. She plowed into his strength. She wanted to kiss him but she ended up shaking him. “Don’t leave like that again!” He cupped the back of her neck and pierced her with his gaze. She noticed worry lines around his mouth. His muscles were tense underneath her hands. “Are you okay?” he asked before she could do the same. “Yes. Now.” “I was going crazy without you. I couldn’t find you at the hotel, almost went to Nolan’s but decided to check here first. Did they hurt you?” They. She didn’t have to ask who they were. “No. They showed up at the hotel about an hour

after you left and escorted me here.” His eyelids closed briefly, and he sighed. “Thank you for not killing them.” “You’re welcome.” He jerked her closer, hugged her, and squeezed the breath right out of her. And then their lips met in a heated kiss. No preliminaries. One of his hands tangled in her hair, the other cupped her jaw, angling her head for deeper contact. She held on to him, afraid to let go. Desire swept through her, hot and hungry. He tasted as decadent as she remembered, was her anchor in the midst of a storm as she’d always craved, and gave her a sense of wholeness she’d never found with anyone else. How had she ever lived without him? He lifted his head and simply stared down at her, silver eyes intense. “God, I missed you.” “What took you so long?” she asked, nuzzling her cheek against his neck. His pulse was strong and fast. Dallas had to be wrong. No way this powerful man could be destroyed. He traced the tip of his thumb over her lips, and she shivered. “We’ll talk about that in a bit,” he said. He turned toward his friends, keeping Mishka snuggled at his side. “You locked her up?” No longer was his voice tender and loving. He sounded mean, like he could coldly murder anyone who stepped into his path.

Unrepentant, Mia squared her shoulders. “Seemed like a good idea. She wrote a list, detailing all the ways to kill you.” He shrugged, unconcerned. Just like that. He trusted her, she realized with shock and awe. He didn’t even have to hear her reasoning. Mia shook her head in disgust. “Where have you been?” “I’ll explain later.” “It is later! We’ve been waiting. You left without warning. What else were we supposed to do? Let her go back to the otherworlder? Who has contacted his brethren, by the way. Not that you asked or even seemed to care.” A muscle ticked below Jaxon’s left eye, causing his scar to dance. “She’s mine, and I will not tolerate poor treatment of her. Understand?” Mute, Mia scowled at him. Dallas rubbed at his temples, as if warding off an ache. “Why don’t I go with my instincts anymore?” he muttered. “Just lift my gun and shoot.” Jaxon growled low in his throat. “Look,” Mishka said. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Just tell him about Nolan so we can all get back to work.” Dallas just shook his head in frustration and stomped off. He cared about Jaxon, she knew that. But no matter what his visions told him, she wasn’t

going to let Jaxon get hurt. She’d die first. Facing Jaxon and ignoring Mishka as if she wasn’t even in the room, Mia said, “Eden snuck into Nolan’s apartment. She used X-ray goggles. That bubbly plaster in the bedroom wall is being used to hide something, a book of some sort, but she couldn’t get to it without letting Nolan know she was there.” “Did he do his disappearing act?” Mia nodded. “Twice. Lucius was able to monitor his body heat, though, and learned something interesting. Nolan doesn’t go to another planet or even to another parallel, as we first suspected. He doesn’t even molecularly transport. He just becomes invisible.” “But I watched him walk through a wall,” Jaxon said. Now Mia shook her head. “No. That’s what he wanted you to think. All he did was disappear in front of a wall, bit by bit. He stayed in the club the entire time, is my bet. Might even have followed you home.” Shit, Mishka thought, impressed. Sneaky bastard. “We’re not sure who he’s playing,” Mia said. “Us or his brethren.” “We need to find out what his ultimate goal is,” Mishka said. “No shit,” Mia muttered.

Jaxon stiffened. “Don’t,” Mishka told him, knowing he was about to yell at the agent. Slowly he relaxed, and she fought a smile. She loved how protective he was of her, how he rushed to her defense. He’s mine. For now. The stray thought brought a frown. Don’t think like that. “If Nolan can’t transport, that means he can be locked away.” Jaxon stroked a finger along the stubble of his jaw. “Which means the others can be locked away, too.” Mia gave another nod. “Any more victims?” Yet another nod from Mia, this one grim. “Two civilians. Jack has them and he’s ceased all testing since three of the doctors became infected. Also, one of our own succumbed. Jaffee. She was dating one of the doctors.” Mishka kissed Jaxon’s neck. “I’m sorry.” He massaged her shoulder in acknowledgment. “I need a few hours with Mishka. Alone. And then —” Mia growled. “You’re putting another halt to the case to screw your murdering girlfriend?” He released Mishka and was in Mia’s face a moment later. “First, there’s not much we can do until we find the other Schön. And we can’t find them until Nolan makes a move. Right now, he’s not moving. Second, don’t talk about Mishka like

that. I will retaliate. She’s endured more than you’ll ever know. She suffered for your friend, did you know that? She—” “Jaxon,” Mishka said. “Don’t. Please.” He ran his tongue over his teeth and quieted. He didn’t want to, she could tell, but he did it. For her. Suddenly Kyrin shoved Mia behind him, violet eyes glaring hotly at Jaxon. “I will retaliate, as well. You do not yell at Mia.” “Bring it on.” Mishka had always wanted someone to fight for her, and now a man was doing it. Truly, Jaxon had made all her dreams come true. But now she realized that it would be better for him to not fight for her. He could lose his friends, people he cherished. Now his happiness came before her own. When she died, she did not want him left with nothing. “Jaxon, they didn’t hurt me.” She stroked a hand over his spine. “They fed me, gave me shelter, and were even mildly entertaining.” The stiffness did not leave his body. “You deserve better.” Okay. Seriously. She loved this man. “I wanted to be here. I knew you’d show up sooner or later.” His shallow breaths became more even and deep. Huffing with indignation, Mia pushed her way

back to front and center and glared at Jaxon. “Look at the trouble she’s causing already. I wouldn’t doubt if she caused this strife on purpose. And that list—” “Isn’t important. I need her for the case, so I’m taking her,” Jaxon said, getting them back on track. “She’s our best chance for success, and you know it. Just give me a fucking couple of hours. I have something to show her and then she’ll be able to convince Nolan to lead us directly to the other Schön.” Something to show her? What? “You know how to reach me,” he continued. “Call me if anything happens.” “Yeah? I should call you if she tries number eleven? Injecting a virus into the tip of your penis so no one will find the puncture wound and know what happened?” “Yeah.” “Fine,” Mia snapped, “but you’re stupid to trust her. She’s been in touch with her boss since you left. He ordered her to kill you. Did you know that?” With that, Mia and Kyrin stomped off, their footsteps echoing in the hall.

CHAPTER 23

I’m not going to kill you,” Le’Ace assured him, a sort of desperate panic in her voice. She gripped his shirt. “I’m not even going to try, I swear. I made the list because I was planning how best to protect you, to fortify your vulnerabilities. As for Estap—” “I know, sweetheart.” Jaxon glanced over at Mishka, and his heart swelled in his chest. At the word sweetheart, her red lips had parted on a gasp and tears had misted her hazel eyes. God, she was lovely. His friends hadn’t let her bathe; her hair hung in tangles, and dark circles formed half-moons under her eyes, but she was still the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. Strong, courageous, and loving. Yeah, he could see it in her gaze. The woman loved him. Her face glowed with the emotion, softening her features with all kinds of sexy. More than that, she wouldn’t have given herself to him otherwise. She wouldn’t have waited here with people who hated her. He knew her skills; she could have escaped at any time and killed everyone in residence. She was probably scared right now. Not of him, but of Estap. She probably expected punishment and pain. Yet still she remained in place, unwilling

to hurt Jaxon in any way. “You trust me?” she asked, incredulous. “I mean, I realized you did when you didn’t care about the list, but…” “But you need to hear me say it. I understand. Absolutely I trust you. No question. I see your heart, woman, I know who you really are.” He drew her closer, so close their chests pressed together. He cupped her cheeks and traced his thumbs over her smooth skin, wishing he could give her the world. Would give it to her, in fact. “Come on. I need to show you something.” She swallowed. “You mentioned that already. What?” “Sweetheart, you’re just going to have to trust me. It’s a surprise.” Her eyes misted again. Obviously she liked being called by the endearment, so he was going to make sure he called her sweetheart at least fifty times a day. “I don’t understand what’s going on.” “You will,” he promised. He twined their hands together and tugged her from the cell, up a flight of stairs, and into the main area. His friends were congregated in the living room, where they’d set up observation. Snack wrappers and empty cups littered the floor. Eden and Lucius manned the computers. Devyn lounged in a chair, flipping through a holocopy of Kink magazine, it

looked like. Not that Jaxon had a subscription or anything. Mia and Kyrin sat on the love seat and Mia was outlining Jaxon’s “dumb-ass behavior.” “Call my cell if anything changes,” Jaxon told them. “Will do,” Eden said, flashing him an amused grin. Her skin and hair were so golden they glittered in the light. A honey scent wafted from her, and that scent apparently affected Lucius in a big way. The man’s cheeks were flushed and he was shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Jaxon knew the feeling. He’d like nothing more than to whisk Mishka away for heart-pounding, sweat-dripping sex, her pleasure screams in his ears, her nails in his ass, her legs on his shoulders. Afterward, he wanted to hold her, talk to her. Soon… He’d missed her more than anything he’d ever missed before. Outside, the sun shone brightly and he had to blink against its harsh rays as they stepped past the garage’s bared walls. The midday air was warmer than usual, beading sweat over his body. Cars sped down the surrounding streets, flashes of color quickly gone. To the right, he could see the gates to Nolan’s building. A group of people were leaving, talking and laughing. Jaxon helped Mishka into his SUV and buckled her in. After giving her a swift kiss, he settled in the

driver’s seat and programmed their location. Automatically the car jostled into gear and onto the road, its sensors and navigation system in control, freeing him to face his woman. He lifted her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist. Her pulse hammered. He couldn’t keep his hands off her, had to be touching her, had to know she was near and she wouldn’t float away like a dream. “I didn’t mean to be gone so long. I’m sorry.” Her lashes lowered, casting shadows over her cheeks. “You don’t owe me an explanation.” “Yeah. I do. We’re in what I like to call an exclusive give-and-take relationship. That implies certain rights. You have a right to know where I am and what I’m doing, just like I have a right to know about you.” White teeth nibbled on her bottom lip. “All right. Where were you?” “With Estap,” he admitted, expecting an explosive reaction. “What!” Her mouth fell open, and her gaze snapped to his. “What did he want? What did he say to you? Did he hurt you? That dirty piece of—” “He wanted me to interview an infected human,” Jaxon said, fighting a grin, “but that human died while I was in flight. And Estap said a lot of shit, most of which I ignored.” “Oh, my God. You pissed him off. That’s why he

called me.” A statement, not a question. Jaxon nodded. Her lips edged into a slow smile, though there was panic in her eyes. “I wish I could have been there. Did you punch him? Tell me you punched him. Lie if you have to, but tell me!” Excitement had blended with her panic, radiating from her, and Jaxon just couldn’t resist a moment longer. He had to hold her in his arms. He unbuckled her and tugged her into his lap. She had to straddle him to fit into the small alcove his big body and the seat provided. His cock jumped in response, reaching for her, wanting to be inside her. “Can anyone see us?” she gasped out as she settled against him. “Tinted windows. And yeah, I punched him.” Moaning, she closed her eyes in ecstasy. She gripped his shoulders, her strawberry tresses falling like a curtain around them. “Tell me more.” “His lip busted and two of his teeth fell out. Blood poured, and he cried like a baby.” “God, that’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.” Mishka arched against Jaxon’s swollen shaft, pressing hard before flitting away. Both of them groaned at the intense surge of pleasure. “More.” Jaxon palmed her breasts. Her nipples were so pearled they stabbed at his palms. “I kicked him in the stomach.”

Up and down she moved against him, rubbing… tantalizing. “I’m so wet.” “You want to come?” “Yes. Please.” He unsnapped her pants and delved a hand past her panties, right to her very center. Hot and wet, just as she’d claimed. He hissed in a breath. She cried out his name, practically ripped open his jeans, and wrapped her fingers around his cock. Their lips met in a heated clash, tongues thrusting, bodies undulating. She tasted so sweet, like passion and eternity. He pumped two fingers inside her as she rode his shaft with her hand, up and down, up and down. More, he needed more. He pulled from the kiss and bent his head, sucking one of her nipples through her shirt. Her inner walls squeezed at him, encouraging him to do more, take more. Another finger slid inside her, and his thumb circled her clit. “I want this inside me,” she gasped, working the head of his penis. Round and round. “Shit,” he managed to get out. “Don’t stop.” “Want to make love,” she pouted. “Here?” “Here.” He had her pants on the floorboard one second later, and his dick inside her two seconds later. Besides Mishka, he’d never taken a woman without

a condom. Just like before, her heat and wetness proved to be paradise. And yet, never had something been more erotic, more satisfying. This was home. The car turned a corner and they shifted to the side, but he never stopped pumping deep, hard, fast. She undulated against him, nipped and bit at his face, jerked at his hair, completely lost in her desire. When their orgasms hit, they hit with the strength and force of his thrusts. Jaxon reclaimed her lips, swallowing her screams as he shot inside her, over and over again. Until he was empty, his strength depleted. She slumped against him, and he realized their hearts were racing in sync. What could have been a minute or an eternity later, the car eased to a stop. Cursing under his breath, panting, he glanced out the window. They’d reached their destination. “We’re here.” Mishka’s head lifted, and she gifted him with a luminous, satisfied smile. He wanted to curse again when she pulled away from him, but he didn’t. They were on a time crunch. Instead, he tugged his shirt off and used it to clean them both up. As she shimmied back into her pants, he righted his own. Tonight, I’ll linger over her, he vowed. “Where are we?” she asked. “My house.”

Eyes wide, she faced him. “Really? You brought me to your home?” She asked as if she didn’t deserve to be there. “Of course.” “Why?” “That’s the surprise.” He commanded the car door to open and it obeyed. Out he climbed before lifting Mishka to the ground beside him. Up, up, up she gazed. “Wow. The pictures didn’t do it justice.” He looked the house over, trying to see it through her eyes. Tall and winding, the four-story mansion boasted red brick, pristine and well kept. The lawn was manicured and green, the trees scattered throughout real. There were no other houses in sight, since he owned the surrounding hundred acres. “It’s a family home. My grandfather gave it to me.” “I love it.” He was glad, since he planned to move her in as soon as possible. “Come on.” He looped an arm over her shoulder and ushered her up the steps, past the porch, and through the French double doors, which opened the moment the sensors registered his identity. The entryway boasted intricately carved beige walls, with red velvet vanity chairs positioned around a cherrywood half-table. Four columns led

to the wide, winding staircase. To the left and right, swirling gold and black carpet formed a path into the front and rear drawing rooms, both of which led into never-used formal dining rooms. Mishka ground her feet into the wood floor, trying to slow him down. “Hold on. I’m looking.” He brought his stride to a casual gait. She eyed the crystal chandelier and the portraits of his family hanging throughout. Her brow furrowed. “There are none of you.” “No. My mother has the ones of me as a kid, and I haven’t had any done since moving out on my own. Like I really want to look at my ugly mug every morning.” “That’s ridiculous. You’re not ugly.” “You sound like my mom.” “Fuck that,” she muttered. He barked out a laugh. “Okay, now you sound like my woman.” A rosy blush colored her cheeks. “Much better.” Finally he managed to get her up the polished steps and past the square center hall. He bypassed the second-floor drawing room where he kept his poker table and virtual game center. When they hit the third floor, where most of the bedrooms were, he stopped, nervousness blooming inside him. Concerned, Mishka peered up at him. “What’s wrong?”

He cupped her cheeks, and her palms settled over his bare chest. “Before I show you what I brought you here to show you, I want you to know it’s going to be okay. You have nothing to fear.” Her eyes widened. “Jaxon, what’s going on?” “I would never do anything to hurt or endanger you.” Now or never. “You know that, right?” “Yes.” He swallowed—now or never—and led her into the last room on the right. He stopped. A queensized bed occupied the center of the room. Two men wearing lab coats stood beside it, studying several monitors that beeped and flashed. “Oh my God. Is that…is that…?” Slowly Mishka walked forward, until she stood at the edge of the bed. “How? What?” She covered her mouth with a shaky hand. “Jaxon, you shouldn’t have done this. His men will come after you.” Jaxon approached her. She didn’t turn to look at him, her gaze glued on the unconscious Estap. The senator’s face was swollen and discolored from the beating Jaxon had given him. His naked body was covered only by a white sheet, and there were electrodes placed over every pulse point. Jaxon motioned to the doctors to leave, and they strode from the room without protest. “I killed the two guards who escorted me, and I made damn sure it looked like I’d boarded my plane home. No one knew I was there at the time of his disappearance.”

“Why aren’t news stations screaming about him?” “I forced him to call his wife before I took him. He told her he was going away for a few weeks. As for other government officials, they can look for him, but they’ll never find him.” “My God, Jaxon.” The words were barely audible, yet he managed to catch the trepidation in them. “Give me your knife.” That time she’d sounded hard, determined. She didn’t wait for his permission. She grabbed the blade at his waist and swirled it by the hilt. “We’ll kill him and destroy any evidence linking the two of you together. We’ll —” “No.” He latched onto her arm. She’d already raised the knife, but her attention whipped to him, eyes narrowed. “You don’t have to do anything. I’ll do it. I won’t have you imprisoned or sentenced to death.” “Killing him will kill you.” A moment passed before his words sunk in and her fury and fear turned to confusion. “Explain.” “The control chip is inside him. Without his living, beating heart, it will fade to nothing. You will fade to nothing.” As he spoke, her skin drained of color. He hated telling her this and causing her worry, but she deserved to know the truth. “I should have known. That bastard!” She

ripped free of Jaxon’s hold, dropped the blade as if she didn’t dare hold it a second more, and punched the unconscious man in the face. Cartilage snapped and blood oozed from his nose. Jaxon jerked her backward, pinning her arms at her sides. She struggled against him, and it took all of his strength to hold her in place. She would have escaped, he suspected, if she hadn’t been concerned about hurting him. “We need him alive, sweetheart. For the time being, at least. I’m afraid taking it out of him will cause it to shut down.” Gradually she stilled. She was panting with the effort required to control her emotions. “I’ve got men searching the world for the best surgeons. We’re going to bring them here and they’re going to operate on you and remove the chip. Estap will never be able to control you again, I swear it. And once the chip is gone, you can kill him however you wish.” She turned in his arms and buried her face in the hollow of his neck. Tremors slid down her spine. “Surgery will kill me. The chip is now a part of me, another organ needed to function.” “Your creators told you that, yes?” She nodded. “Well, I think they lied. They wouldn’t want you to remove it, so they had to scare you about taking it out.” Now she shook her head. “That’s almost too

good to believe. I mean, all my life I’ve lived in fear of the chip and its removal. Not only because I was told I would die without it but because, at times, it was my only friend. My savior.” “I’m your friend now, sweetheart.” “Yes. You are.” Pause. “How did you get him?” she asked, voice shaky. “I watched him for a day, then snuck back into his office. After I’d roughed him up a bit, I dragged him through his own secret tunnels. I had him on my private jet that very night.” “Jaxon,” she said, and warm breath fanned his chest. “You shouldn’t have done this. You risked your life for mine.” “And I’d do it again.” “You shouldn’t have done it the first time. What if I die during surgery? I hate to bring that up again, but you would have risked you life for nothing.” “You are not going to die!” Just the thought sent him into a tailspin of panic. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Nothing. For a slightest chance to set you free, I’d do anything.” She was shaking her head before he got out the last word. “Don’t talk like that. If anything happened to you, I don’t know what I’d do.” He kissed the top of her head. “Nothing’s going to happen to me. I’m invincible.” Her arms tightened around him. “Dallas says you’re going to die because of me.”

“Dallas is a moron.” He leaned down and kissed her temple this time. “Sweetheart, I finally found something worth living for. No way in hell I’d allow myself to be killed now.” Her gaze lifted to his. “No way I’d allow you to be killed.” There was an unholy, determined edge to her voice that increased his nervousness. Before he could question her about what she was planning, however, his cell phone rang, startling him. Frowning, he withdrew it from his pocket and held it to his ear. “This is Tremain.” “Nolan’s on the move,” Eden said. Jaxon stiffened. Mishka’s eyes widened as if she’d heard every word. “Seriously, he’s been homebound nearly the whole time you’ve been gone. Now you return, and suddenly he’s running. Coincidence?” Eden pushed out a breath. “He’s invisible, so you won’t be able to see him. I’m sending his signal to your phone, so you will be able to follow him, at least. Give me two minutes.” The line went silent. Heart thumping erratically, he stared down at Mishka, not yet ready to leave but knowing they had to. The sooner they found and killed the Schön, the sooner they could get to work saving her. She smiled sadly, as if she knew something he

didn’t. “Let’s do this.”

CHAPTER 24

A sense of foreboding overcame Dallas, dark and shattering as he donned his weapons. This was it, the start of his vision. Doomsday, as he’d dubbed it. He chuckled without humor. Could he stop the next dreaded events from unraveling? Every day a little more of the future had played through his mind—it was the only thing he saw anymore—and always with the same outcome. Jaxon begging for his own life, Jaxon bleeding, Jaxon facing the barrel of the woman’s, Le’Ace’s, pyre-gun. Jaxon…dead? I should have killed her when I had the chance. Should have killed her when I read her list. Finally, last night, Dallas had seen this very scene unfold: Mia pacing his bedroom, prompting him to hurry. And now, here she was. Pacing. “Hurry,” she demanded. He stilled, cringed, gazed down at the guns and knives lying on his bed. Another chuckle. He should have locked Jaxon up. Should have killed Le’Ace as instinct urged. Regrets sucked. “She’s going to get him killed,” he said softly. “Or do the deed herself.” Mia raked a hand through her hair. “But he won’t listen to reason. You’ve seen the way he is with her.”

“Why didn’t I take her down when I had the chance?” “Because you love Jaxon and that would have hurt him.” Sighing, she plopped on the edge of the mattress. “Yeah.” Goddamn it, yeah. “Did you see her face when he arrived? She was cold as ice for three days, then he shouts her name and I would have sworn I saw love and tenderness in her eyes.” “Merely a trick,” Mia scoffed as she lifted his gun and checked the detonation chamber for him. A beam of light hit the center crystal, shining bright rainbow beams in every direction before she rotated the stone to lock it in place. “That woman isn’t capable of love, I promise you.” “Why didn’t you kill her, then?” “I’m a softy, that’s why.” He chuckled, and this time there was true amusement in the sound. “Yeah, I’ve always thought that about you.” She drew in a breath, slowly released it. “Look, I knew he’d hate me if I did it without first proving how despicable she really is. I tried to do that. I told him stuff I’ve never told anyone else. I told him about the list.” “Let’s show it to him.” “Like that will help. He doesn’t listen anymore, doesn’t care. The only brain he’s using is the one inside Little Jaxon, and it’s not too bright.”

Dallas sheathed the serrated blade at his waist and faced his best friend. “Could I be seeing the vision wrong?” Only recently had Mia admitted to him that she herself suffered from visions. So if anyone could help him, it was Mia. A few months ago, she had predicted the death of one of her friends. Unfortunately, Dallas had been the one to die. He’d been resuscitated, of course, and then given Kyrin’s blood. All of which had changed his life. And now, here I am, in the same predicament Mia once found herself in. He knew one of his friends was going to die, but didn’t know how to stop it. At least he knew which friend. “No,” she finally said. “They always come true. That’s never stopped me from trying to stop them, though. Kyrin, too. A few weeks ago, he dreamed I would fall into a freshly dug grave and break my ankle, so he actually paid men to visit every funeral held and stand guard. But he didn’t count on kids going into the cemetery and having a little fun. I chased them, fell. Kyrin was pissed.” “I didn’t know you broke your ankle.” She shrugged. “I heal just as quickly as you now.” Did that mean she’d ingested Kyrin’s blood or that she was becoming more alien every day? He shoved away the question. Didn’t matter, really,

because he’d love her no matter what. Right now, Jaxon mattered. Keeping him alive mattered. “Why do we have the visions if we can’t use them to our advantage?” he asked, sliding the last knife into the side of his boot. She looked up at him, grim. “I wish I knew.” “We have to have them for a reason. I can’t believe otherwise.” “So what are you going to do?” Frowning, Mia handed him the pyre-gun and pushed to her feet. “Le’Ace can’t shoot him if she’s dead. So I’m going to do what I should have done in the beginning.” Determination rushed through him, as hot and dark as his earlier foreboding. “I’m going to kill her first. And I won’t let the thought of Jaxon’s hatred stop me this time.”

While Jaxon’s SUV wound along New Chicago’s streets, Mishka hooked his cell unit to her favorite toy, an isotonic receptor. The first locked on Nolan’s voice, providing his location, and the second locked on his muscular contractions and the heat each movement generated, the isotonic dye pulsing like a heartbeat. Now, whether he was silent, invisible, and/or still, she’d have his location pinpointed. “Five minutes,” she said, “and we’ll be right on top of him. He’s stopped moving.”

Jaxon leaned back in his seat and stared up at the car’s roof, pondering. “Wonder what he’s doing, if he’s meeting anyone.” He’d jerked on a Tshirt before they’d left, covering his gorgeous chest. “Our staying away was probably a good thing. He’s nervous by nature, and being cut off from physical contact with us probably forced his hand. Now he’ll reveal his true intentions. Betray us or drop his brothers in our laps.” Jaxon flicked her a grim glance. “Either way, he has to die.” “I know.” Surprisingly enough, Mishka thought she’d miss the otherworlder. He reminded her a lot of herself, searching for something, craving something he shouldn’t have, for having it meant destroying it. Nolan with disease, Mishka with what? Not Estap, not anymore. Destroy Jaxon by dying during surgery? You’re going to kill Jaxon, Dallas had told her. She couldn’t shake the prediction from her mind. Even before she’d known what Jaxon had done for her, she had been unwilling to hurt him. He was her reason for breathing, her reason for living. She’d once thought about allowing herself to be killed once this case was finished. Had prepared for it, even, to save Jaxon. Now she didn’t have to. Senator Kevin Estap no longer controlled her. She was her own woman, made her own decisions. Only

problem was, little worries were now popping up. Could Jaxon be happy with her, long-term? What if she couldn’t give him everything that he wanted, needed? “Do you want children?” The words blurted from her before she could stop them. His brow furrowed in confusion. “You just threw me. Do I want children to what?” “Never mind.” She pretended to busy herself with the IR. “That was a dumb question.” A moment passed in heavy silence. God, I’m stupid. Of course he wanted children. All men did. They wanted their family line to continue. And while Mishka could give him devotion, love, protection, and adoration, she could not give him kids. If she survived the surgery, would he come to resent her? One day leave her? Pick another woman over her? She’d never had to worry about those things before. Never cared about a man, never wanted to be with one. Warm fingers suddenly cupped her jaw and angled her head. Jaxon was peering at her intently, his silver eyes liquid with understanding. “No,” he said. “No what?” “No, I don’t want children.” “You’re lying,” she said, not daring to hope.

“I’d never lie to you. Wait. I take that back. I’d never lie to you unless it would get you into bed.” When she saw that he was grinning, hope proved stronger than doubt and flourished, despite her fight against it. “But why?” “Why would I get you into bed? I can’t believe you have to ask.” A laugh bubbled from her. “You know what I mean.” His eyes darkened with desire. “I love it when you laugh, and you don’t do it enough. But why don’t I want children? Because I want you all to myself, and the little monsters would get in the way.” “Be serious.” “I am. If, after fifty or sixty years together I can bare to share you, which isn’t likely, so I hope you don’t become too optimistic, but if, at that time, you decide you want them, then we’ll adopt.” Fifty or sixty years together. She chewed her bottom lip, falling in love with him all over again. Her pulse hammered wildly, every beat of her heart for him. He’d given her so much already, kept giving her more, and now she wanted to give him something. What, she didn’t know. What did he desire more than anything? “Jaxon, I—” The car eased to a stop in front of a grocery store, drawing her attention.

“We’re here,” he said. He stiffened, morphing from lover to agent in mere seconds. He turned, eyes narrowing on their surroundings. The sun waned in the sky, evening creeping up. At least fifty people milled throughout the area. “I don’t see your friends.” “Surely they’re around somewhere.” Call them, she almost said, then remembered she was using his phone. Lucius suddenly appeared beside the car and rapped his knuckles on Jaxon’s window. Seeing him, Jaxon unlocked the doors and the agent entered. His big body consumed the entire backseat. “Took you long enough,” the guy muttered. He’d bleached his hair and pierced his brow since the last time Mishka had seen him. There was a python tattooed around his neck. He was as comfortable in disguise as she was, she supposed. “Where are the others?” Jaxon asked. “Eden and Devyn are waiting in back, just in case the little shit decides to take off that way.” “Can Devyn freeze him?” she asked, recalling the way the otherworlder had frozen her. “Even if he’s invisible?” Lucius shook his head. “He’s afraid to try. Even with the scanner, he can’t see him to lock on him, but if he freezes everyone in the area and Nolan proves immune, Nolan will know we’re here and

probably take off again.” “So how are we going to see him? I know we can watch him move on the phone, but we don’t know what he’s doing with his hands, who he’s talking to, what he’s picking up.” Jaxon pushed out a heavy sigh. “Give me a minute and I can tell you what he’s doing.” I hope. She rarely used the ability needed to do so. Both men stared at her. “How?” Jaxon asked. “The chip.” I need to see body heat. Switching to infrared vision. Instantly the world around her began to fade. When only darkness remained, red lines began to blink and spread, forming vertical, moving blurs. Some were dark red, some were light. Some winked in and out, some stayed in constant place. Different species emitted different temperatures. Ignore everything human. Except the human next to me, she added, praying it was possible. Concentrating only on aliens and the one human. Most of the blurs disappeared. She glanced in Jaxon’s direction, happy to see red. Can you link with the IR and focus on any Schön, ignoring all other otherworlders? Attempting. Several heartbeats of time ticked by and nothing happened.

“Mishka?” Jaxon asked. “I’m trying to lock on him.” All but one of the blurs suddenly disappeared, and it was a blazing, bright red. Nolan was hot, literally. Link complete. “I’ve got him,” she said, “and he’s alone. You and Nolan are the only things I can see.” Nolan stood at the corner of the building, able to observe the parking lot, as well as everyone who entered and left the grocery store. “He’s not doing anything but—” Even as she spoke, Nolan’s line shifted, moved to the right. “Wait. He’s leaving, Jaxon. Do you have your surveillance gear?” “Yes.” He sounded leery. “Good. Wear the earpiece. I can guide you to him, tell you if he picks anything up or takes something from someone, and you can follow him.” “I’m not leaving you in the car.” Was he afraid Lucius would try to hurt her? “It’s the only way. I’ll be a hindrance, bumping into buildings and people, drawing all kinds of attention.” “If you’re helpless out there, you’ll be helpless in here.” Yeah, he was, she realized. Sweet man. “As long as I’m helping catch the Schön, your friends aren’t going to attack me. Besides, Lucius can drive the car.”

“Will be my pleasure,” the man in question said. “I’ll take care of her.” There was a muttered curse, a hiss, and a squeak of syn-leather as Jaxon turned to grab the earpiece. His warm lips meshed into hers, gone all too quickly, before he slapped the receiver in her hand. Then he, too, was gone. “Can you hear me?” his voice boomed through the car, even though he whispered. “Loud and clear.” His red outline appeared in her field of vision. “Nolan has now left the corner and turned right. You’re twenty feet behind him.” Lucius’s hard body brushed her shoulder as he claimed the driver’s seat. “Did you get all that?” Mishka opened her mouth to respond but heard Eden’s voice echo from his earpiece. “Yes.” “Where are they now?” Lucius asked. Mishka watched as Jaxon closed in on Nolan. “Le’Ace?” Lucius said. “Yes?” “Where are they now?” Oops. He’d been talking to her that time. “Head east. He’s still walking. Jaxon, you’re about fifteen feet away now. Back off just a little.” She heard Lucius’s fingers move over the car’s console, pressing buttons. “Initiate manual operations.” There was a grind as several panels opened up,

and then the car was easing backward, to the right, forward. Mishka was highly curious about the man beside her. How he’d met Eden, how two assassins had made their relationship work, but held her questions. Now was not the time. “Nolan has turned right.” The SUV picked up speed, and then they, too, were swerving right. She shifted in her seat, somehow managing to balance the two pieces of equipment in her lap without seeing them. Jaxon’s red line was closing in on Nolan’s. The two men walked a straight track for a bit, then Nolan turned left. Left again. Mishka relayed all of this. “Where the hell is he going?” Lucius muttered. “He’s stopped,” she said suddenly. “He’s waving his arms. You’re almost on him. Back off a little.” One second, two. “We’re in an alley,” Jaxon whispered. “The end is blocked.” “This can’t be good,” Lucius said. Metal glided from a syn-leather pouch, whooshing. “Bastard wouldn’t have entered a closed alley without a reason.” Her heart sped into hyperdrive. Sweat beaded on her skin as apprehension slithered through her. She’d asked the chip to show her all Schön while sitting still and in the contained area. There’d been no one but Nolan to latch onto. What if the chip

needed to rescan every time she moved to find the others? Use the infrared to reveal any other otherworlders in the surrounding area. Increasing scope of infrared. A moment later, eight other red lines appeared. All were amazingly bright and flanked Nolan’s sides. All were approaching Jaxon. Her stomach twisted painfully. Dear God. He had no idea. “Jaxon, they’re here,” she shouted. “The other Schön are here and they’re coming after you. Start firing.” A car door opened, and she heard Lucius jumping out. His footsteps hammered into the pavement. I need to see, she thought desperately. Returning vision to normal. As the world came back into focus, Mishka leaped out of the car. The equipment fell to the ground and shattered. Uncaring, she was hot on Lucius’s heels. Evening had arrived, and the daylight had dimmed substantially. There were a few cars whizzing behind her, but no people meandering along these dirty sidewalks. She couldn’t see the otherworlders now. Blue pyre-beams suddenly lit up the alley just in front of her. She heard Jaxon grunt, curse, and then more beams appeared. A killing haze fell over her, and she palmed her gun and two knives. No one hurt her man and lived to tell about it.

For that alone, the Schön would die.

CHAPTER 25

Jaxon, down. Lucius, down. All in a matter of seconds. An invisible enemy was an undefeatable enemy. Or so Mishka allowed the Schön to think. Though she wasn’t able to see them anymore, she knew they’d glommed on to the men like locusts. They didn’t speak, but they could not control the erratic pants of their breathing as they knocked the mystified men down and held them down, guns and knives whipping from their grasps and skidding across the pavement. “Get out of here!” Jaxon shouted to her. Worried, angry. Helpless. “Grab them,” she called, “hold them steady.” He tried. He really did. His arms flailed, though, sometimes grasping nothing but air. Mishka crouched and fired around Jaxon’s body, only daring to use stun beams. Just in case. The thought of Jaxon being harmed by fire, her fire, scared her. And after Dallas’s warning…“I’ll shoot them one by one if necessary.” “Go!” “No.” “Keep firing,” Lucius commanded. She did. But as she fired, Jaxon and Lucius

began to disappear in spurts. An arm, a leg. Head. Pieces of them were there one moment but gone the next. Gone, there. There, gone. What the hell is happening? Aliens attempting to shield them from view. Likelihood of success? Ninety-four percent. Shit. She squeezed the trigger in quick succession. Blinked in shock. One of her blue beams must have slammed into an alien, because suddenly his cloak of invisibility disappeared, revealing a Schön warrior who’d be frozen in place for the next few hours, not dead but unable to move. His hands were gripping one of Jaxon’s wrists, as if he’d been pinning it down. She would have stunned Jaxon and Lucius to prevent invisibility, but stun did not work on humans, a defense against accidentally freezing agents. So Mishka returned to firing at the hidden aliens, knowing they would come for her and attack her as they were attacking the men. Her vision blurred on a rush of dizziness. Her nostrils suddenly stung. Her blasts did not slow, her finger hammering away, but she had to close her eyes for a moment. Even with her lids shut, the world seemed to spin. Reaction to the stress? No. Foreign substance detected in the air. Most likely a sleep aid. Sleep aid? Hell, no! Stop breathing.

Blocking airways now. Instantly her lungs ceased inflating, and her throat closed. Having trained for this, experienced it, she did not panic. She knew the reservoir of oxygen stored inside her would slowly seep out, keeping her lucid for another ten minutes. If she remained calm. Determined, she opened her eyes. The men were not so lucky; unlike her, they had to breathe. They ended up sucking breath after breath of the drug into their systems. Soon Jaxon and Lucius stilled, their bodies relaxed and slumped. A moment later, they disappeared completely. They never reappeared, not a single part of them. Determination blending with fiery rage, Mishka scowled. Where were they? You won’t hurt them with stun. She fired like a woman possessed, managing to freeze and materialize three other Schön. Two were a few feet away from her; the third was mere inches from her face. She expected the impact of the aliens, but was somehow surprised when it came. Her feet were swiped out from under her, and her back pushed down. The ground seemed to swallow her up in less than a single blink, heavy bodies fighting to keep her pinned. They struggled for what seemed an eternity.

Mishka could have broken free, but in the end decided not to. She couldn’t kill all of the otherworlders while they were invisible, and she knew it. She couldn’t save Jaxon while he was invisible; she knew that, too. What she wouldn’t allow was Jaxon to be taken from her. Obviously, the Schön didn’t plan to kill them. They could have done so already. Since they hadn’t, they must plan to capture and relocate. To stay with Jaxon, she’d have to be captured herself. Then, when they reached their destination, the Schön would feel safe, they would materialize, and then she could kill them and save Jaxon. Not a great plan, but the only one she had at the moment. As she half struggled, feigning weakness, her fingers were pried apart, her weapons confiscated. Cold, wet spray bathed her face. The sleep aid. Mishka pretended to sputter, though without oxygen no sound emerged. To cover that, she pretended to sink into the dark unconscious. The aliens never spoke, but they did move away from her. A minute passed, followed by another. Her heart slammed nervously in her chest. Inactivity had never been her strong point. What are they doing now? Agents being gathered. Stunned otherworlders being gathered. Now approaching you…

Intent? Capture, most likely. No weapons aimed at you. Strong arms banded around her and lifted her into an equally strong chest. Warm breath trekked over her cheek. Another wave of dizziness hit her, this one stronger than before. Her supply of oxygen had dwindled significantly because of her increased adrenaline, which increased the speed of her circulation. I need to breathe now. Initiating breathing. Nolan’s spicy scent instantly filled her nose as she dragged in a deep breath. Nolan. Just his name intensified her anger. That stupid shit, how dare he do this! Don’t stiffen, don’t react. If Jaxon had not been involved, she would have reached up and choked the life from the double-crosser. Later, she promised herself. Part of you expected this. Part of her, though, had hoped otherwise. Footsteps echoed in her ears, and then she was being jostled forward. Was she now invisible? she wondered. And if she was, would she now be able to see her opponents? Slowly she cracked open her eyelids, allowing only the slightest bit of reality to intrude. Buildings glided past her, but she could not see a single Schön. Not even Nolan. More than that, she could not even see her own body. How did they not bump into each other?

A possible answer drifted through her mind as soon as the question formed. Practice. Or maybe their race possessed special sensors that allowed them to simply know where the others were. Maybe they could see past the shield of invisibility. Then another possibility hit her. The virus they possessed was alive and victims could communicate within one another’s minds. Perhaps that virus let them know where every invisible, infected body was. If Estap knew, he’d want to harness the mindspeak ability for Earth soldiers. Once scientists figured out how, he’d take all the credit himself, of course. Bastard. When this was over and if she survived having the chip removed, she was going to plunge her dagger into his jugular. Watch him slowly bleed to death, unable to breathe as death claimed him. He doesn’t matter right now. Only Jaxon mattered. Always Jaxon. She hated that she couldn’t see him and reverted back to infrared. Relief rushed through her as she spied the outlines of two otherworlders carrying the two agents. The agents were limp, but they still emitted great waves of body heat, which meant they were alive and well. Record coordinates, she commanded the chip. Mapping location switch. Now all she had to do was wait…

Jaxon came awake slowly, his mind groggy, his body limp and weighed down with cold, heavy chains. Damn, this is familiar. At least he wasn’t bombarded with agonizing pain. “That’s it, baby. Open your eyes for me.” “Mishka?” “I’m here.” Her soft, sweet voice lulled him all the way out of slumber. His eyelids popped open, but several moments passed before he could see through the murky darkness surrounding him. Small barred doorway, crumbling stone walls, shaggy brown carpet. Where was—There! Thank God. Mishka. As beautiful as ever. He was chained to a bed and she was chained to a wall. She was alive. Dirty and bruised, but alive. They faced each other, both sitting down, arms raised and legs stretched out. Her lips lifted in a happy grin, and relief cascaded down her face when their eyes met. “Finally,” she said. “Sleeping Beauty awakens.” His relief was just as visible, he knew. “The beast, you mean.” “My beast.” Sweet woman. “How did this happen?” He remembered following an invisible Nolan, firing his weapon, and then being tossed to the ground like a

rag doll, unable to see who—or what—had attacked him. Lucius had appeared, had fallen. Then, nothing. Jaxon’s mind showed only a black screen. “They planned it and were waiting for you. Nolan practically gift wrapped us before he led us to his friends.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. Anger. He’d been betrayed. Heat bloomed in his cheeks. Embarrassment. He’d been outsmarted and overpowered. In front of his woman. “Did they hurt you?” Powerful fury laced the question. His now narrowed gaze roved over her, searching for injury. She wore the same clothing she’d worn earlier. Dirty black shirt, dirty black pants. There were fresh scratches on her left cheek and bruises on her hand, but other than that she looked the same. Healthy glow to her skin, hazel eyes bright, strawberry tresses tangled. The thought of anything happening to her had him swallowing bile. I failed to protect her. She could protect herself, yes. That filled him with pride, yes. But he wanted, needed to be man enough for her. She deserved nothing less than the very best. “No,” she said. “They carried us here, about a ten-minute walk from that alley. Nolan insisted we be placed together. I think he didn’t want us to worry about each other. They’ve got Lucius in the

cell next to us.” “Anyone else?” She shook her head. “Just the three of us.” “Eden was screaming commands at Lucius in my ear, telling him to pull back or she’d join the fight and kill him herself,” he said, the memory sliding in place. “She didn’t show up?” “If she did, it was after we left. I never saw her. And just so you know, there were nine aliens in the alley. That’s how many we’re up against now.” “Three against nine. Not bad odds.” Jaxon tugged at the chains, and the lumpy mattress underneath him bounced. “This remind you of anything?” “Only one of the best days of my life,” she said with another grin. “The day I met you. And no worries, okay? I can get us out of this. Easy.” “How?” “Watch.” Her metal wrist seemed to shrink in size, and his eyes widened. “There are grooves in the metal,” she explained, “that are able to collapse into each other, readjusting the width.” She slid her hand free. The chain slapped against the wall as she waved her fingers and grinned. “See.” Then she turned to her bound wrist and placed a silver finger in the hole. Once again the metal realigned. She twisted. Clink.

She worked on her ankles. Another clink, followed quickly by another. And just like that, she was completely free. That’s my girl. “Remind me never to tie you up in bed.” “For you, I’d pretend to be helpless and—” Suddenly her shoulders stiffened. Her head tilted to the side, expression pensive as if she were listening to a conversation. “Nolan’s coming.” Jaxon listened. He didn’t hear anything. Mishka slipped her hands back into the chains, though she left the circles wide enough to pull herself free again without any adjustment. A few seconds later, Jaxon’s ears twitched as a soft pitter-patter of footsteps finally reached him. How had she heard that? The footsteps grew in volume until Nolan was standing in front of the bars that replaced the door. To his credit, he did not appear smug. He appeared sad. “So,” Nolan said. “You are awake.” “I thought you wanted to destroy your brethren for their sins,” Jaxon said darkly. The alien’s fingers curled around the bars, stark against the blackened metal. He still wore his ring. “I lied. Part of me did, anyway.” He looked to the ground. “I’m sorry, so very sorry. I just want to live. You understand that, don’t you?” “Yes,” Mishka said, “but did you have to take us

down with you?” “Yes,” Nolan said on a sigh. “I did. I’m only surprised you trusted me, even a little.” “Why did you help defeat us?” Jaxon barked. Another sigh. “Every time we are forced to travel to a new planet, we must first regain our strength. The only way to do that is through sex and the releasing of the virus. As we regain our strength, we look for ways to destroy our biggest threat so that the rest of us can come over.” Dear God. There were more of them. “Here,” Nolan continued, “our biggest threat is A.I.R.” “So you, what? Pretended to want to help us to learn our identities?” Nolan nodded. “Yes. But you ignored me for days at a time, did not introduce me to anyone else, and kept disappearing so that we could not follow you. Your technology is more advanced than that of the other planets, and we did not know what else to do.” “Why not simply kill us?” Mishka asked. Nolan’s features actually blanched. “We aren’t monsters. We wanted to offer you choices.” Choices? “Like what?” Jaxon asked. “’Cause the only thing I’m willing to agree to is your absolute surrender.” “Not going to happen,” Nolan said. He scrubbed a hand down his tired face. “We can infect you and

teach you how to survive with the virus. We will be brothers, then, and you will fight with us rather than against us.” Mishka arched a brow. “Why didn’t you teach the people on the other planets how to survive?” “And have more competition for females?” “Why us?” Jaxon asked. Nola smiled, sadness clinging to the edges. “You’re strong, smart. When this planet falls, and it will, you will help us find other worlds, other women.” “No, thanks.” Mishka shook her head. “Next.” Anger flittered over the otherworlder’s face. “We can kill you.” “I thought you weren’t monsters,” Jaxon said. Nolan’s shoulders squared. “Death would be your choice. Therefore, it would not be murder.” “Next,” Mishka said. “We can use you as bait to draw out other agents. Agents we will capture and offer the same choice,” Nolan said. “Someone will choose to join us.” “Next.” “That’s it,” Nolan gritted out. “Those are your only options.” “You could forcibly infect us,” Jaxon said. “So why don’t you?” Anger finally fading, Nolan gazed down at his feet and kicked a mound of dirt. “You are warriors.

Like us. We do respect that.” “And?” Mishka insisted. “There’s more than simple respect. I can tell.” Jaxon knew she could have killed Nolan at any point during the conversation, but she was as hungry for answers as he was. “Taking choice from a warrior is dishonorable and wrong. I know because my choice was taken.” Nolan rested his forehead against the bars. “One day a woman lovelier than anything I had ever seen arrived on our planet. She was like your sun, bright and glorious, blinding to all else. We could not help ourselves. We worshipped her, did anything she desired. And in return, she infected us. One by one. You see, she is the original host, the first carrier.” Is. Not was. Jaxon’s stomach clenched. “She’s still alive?” A nod. “She’s coming here, isn’t she?” Mishka asked. Another nod, this one shamed. “As soon as A.I.R. is weakened, she will come. That is another of the reasons we have not killed you outright. As much as we despise her and hope to never see her again, we are helpless against her. She speaks and we obey. But you are not so compelled.” “We can kill her for you,” Jaxon suggested. Hope curtained Nolan’s expression for the briefest of moments. Then he shook his head. “When she dies, we die. Or so she says. I want her

dead, but I do not want to die. I want to live. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. To live and be happy. To love. Like you.” His arms fell to his sides. “Think about all I have said. Please.” He backed up a step. “Nolan?” Mishka said, stopping him. He appeared weary as he said, “Yes?” “I’m sorry.” There was true sincerity in her tone. “About?” “This.” She was standing at the bars in the next instant, having moved so fast she’d been nothing more than a black blur. Her arms reached through the bars and latched onto Nolan. The alien’s eyes nearly bugged as she squeezed his neck, one of her rings digging deep. Jaxon knew she could have snapped his neck, could have killed him instantly, but she merely sought to put him to sleep. Nolan struggled, trying to rip her hands away. Mishka held tight. Finally, the otherworlder’s wheezing stopped and he slumped to the dirt-laden floor. She released him with a mournful sigh. “Sure he’s not faking?” Jaxon asked her. “Our drugs may not work on otherworlders.” “I’m sure. His body chemistry and his vitals have calmed completely.” “Good. Unlock me, sweetheart. They can communicate through their minds, and if he told the others you were free, they’ll be down here soon. And we need all the time we can get to free

Lucius.” Expression pensive, she rushed to his side and began working at his chains, her metal finger acting as the key. While she worked, her ears twitched as if she were listening to a conversation he could not hear. “They’re not gearing for attack. They’re…” She frowned. “They are watching a movie, I think. A dreadful one, at that, with a gunfight and shitty dialogue. ‘I don’t know how much longer I can hold them, Tyler. You must, you’re our only hope.’ They’re laughing about it, at least.” Humor burst through him, and he rubbed at his now free wrists. He knew she’d relayed the bit of conversation for his benefit. “Probably hope to learn all of our secrets through our programming.” “We’re going to have to kill them. Even Nolan.” “I know.” “I just couldn’t do it. Not to him, not yet. I’m pissed at him, but anyway”—she waved her hand through the air—“after we’ve killed the others, we can question Nolan about the queen.” “I know,” he repeated. And he did. Nolan wasn’t too bad a guy. Not great, but not as horrible as some Jaxon had encountered. Still, the Earth’s safety, Mishka’s safety, came first. Always. Ultimately, they would kill him. “Stupid of me to wait,” she whispered. “No, compassionate. It’s a good goal, finding love. No one should die without knowing it.” He

paused, his mind churning with all the things that could go wrong. “We have to kill them without making them bleed and we have to kill them fast enough that they aren’t able to disappear on us.” “Yes.” She unsnapped his ankles, and he rubbed those, too. “Mia and the others should be here soon, but I’m afraid they won’t have any more luck against the invisibility than we did. Any ideas? I mean, right now we’re pretty much weaponless.” “Right now we are.” His brow rose in question as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. “Give me ten minutes. If I can’t put a pyre-gun in your hand in ten minutes, I’ll give you a blow job later in apology.” “Baby, you need motivation to succeed, not fail.” A laugh bubbled from her, delighting him. “Besides, I’d rather you just moved in with me.” Obviously not the response she’d expected. “Wh-what?” “I love you, and I want you living with me.” Reaching down, he grabbed her arm and hoisted her up. “Marriage, too, but I figured I’d shove that little gem at you once I’d gotten you addicted to hot-water showers and chocolate.” Chocolate. She’d read about it. Sweet and delicious, a rare treat since most cocoa plants had

been burned, the fields wiped out during the human-alien war. “I—I—you love me?” Jaxon tugged her to the bars and she crouched, working on the tumbler. Her hands were shaking. “I thought it was obvious when I didn’t shove my foot so far up Estap’s ass it had to be removed surgically,” he said. “Instead, I saved him for you.” She nibbled on her lower lip, silent. “Say something. I’m dying here.” “I’ll say something,” Lucius’s voice echoed from the next cell over. “That ten minutes is ticking, sweetheart. Do I get to reap the rewards, too?” The lock fell open and Mishka straightened. Jaxon ran his tongue over his teeth, though he knew Lucius wasn’t serious. The man was too in love with Eden. Otherwise, Jaxon would’ve had to kill him. Violently. “You can tell me how much you love me later,” Jaxon said. “Let’s go kill us some Schön. Just don’t be surprised when I kick those pyre-guns out of your hands.”

CHAPTER 26

Mind on the task at hand, mind on the task at hand. Hard to concentrate, though, when one simple phrase kept drifting through Mishka’s mind: He loves me. Earlier he’d mentioned keeping her, perhaps adopting children one day. But love? In all her wildest dreams, she’d never considered such a possibility. Hoped, yes. But a strong, intelligent man choosing her above all else? Of his own free will? A miracle! She unchained Lucius, knowing she sported a stupid grin. Jaxon and I will spend the rest of our lives together. Rest of our lives. Okay, that phrase managed to overshadow the other. How long did they have? How long did she have? Would his life end here as Dallas thought? No, she couldn’t let herself think like that. The Schön had overpowered them once; the bastards wouldn’t do so again. She would make sure of it. Part of her wanted to take the Schön all by herself. A few weeks ago, she would have. Would have put Jaxon and Lucius to sleep or rechained them and left them in the cells. What happened afterward, the consequences of her actions, would not have mattered. But now, everything mattered. She could kill a few of the otherworlders on her

own, but probably not all. They could use their invisibility and escape or overtake her. They could get to Jaxon, kill him before she realized they’d left the room. And if they left the building and decided A.I.R. no longer deserved a choice about the disease, Jaxon, if he survived today, would be at risk for infection. None of those options appealed to her. The Schön had to die, and the best way to ensure that was to fight them as a team. Without her toys, she did not know the layout of the building or the position of the aliens. Yet she needed to sneak quietly and invisibly and confiscate a few pyre-guns. “Once I’ve gotten my hands on the weapons, I think our best course of action is to set the pyreguns to stun,” she said, “flip out the lights so they can’t see us, either, and start shooting. Stun won’t affect either of you, and hopefully they won’t be able to see you.” “What about you?” Jaxon asked. She shrugged as if it didn’t even bear considering. “I have alien parts. If I get hit, I’ll freeze.” “And I won’t be able to see you to know it, which means I won’t be able to protect you.” He raked a hand through his choppy hair. “Since we don’t have the guns, don’t know where they are, and can’t guarantee we’ll get them, I guess I

shouldn’t get too worked up about the possibility.” “I still have eight minutes and eleven seconds.” She said the last over her shoulder, striding from the cell and into the hallway. Someone else’s home, a human most likely, since pictures adorned the walls. Two women in their early twenties. Pretty. Arms wrapped around each other. A good chance they were sisters, since they both possessed the same sloping nose. A good chance they were already dead. What a waste. “Follow me, but don’t talk. Okay?” Neither responded. Good. Increase ear volume. Percentage? Fifty. The sounds of that movie already blasted through her mind, making her cringe. Louder and louder…The hammer of multiple triggers, the shuffle of footsteps, the fall of a vase. More of that discordant laughter. She frowned. Should a movie gunfight last this long? And were there female Schön? Because that time, Mishka had definitely heard a few women. Louder. Filter out the movie if possible. Increasing to sixty percent. Filtering… Under the currents of gunfire, laughter, and grunting, she could suddenly hear Jaxon and Lucius breathing behind her. Could even hear the slide of sweat from their skin. The whoosh of it, the drip as it hit the ground. Gunfire. Laughter. Yes, female laughter. Muted

now. That drifted from the TV, she realized, because there was a hint of static. The gunfight, however, did not fade. It wasn’t coming from the TV. “—can’t see them,” Mia snapped. “—they’re on me,” Dallas grunted. “Duck!” Eden shouted. “Your friends,” Mishka said. The sound of her own voice nearly felled her. Too loud. She quickly bypassed the small kitchen, the equally small living room with threadbare furniture. The front door loomed ahead, closed, locked. No Schön. No gunfight. “Your friends are here,” she said, trying to keep panic from her voice. “Battle has already been engaged.” “Damn it.” From Lucius. “Where?” Jaxon. Absolute panic covered both of their faces, and they didn’t even try to hide it. Lucius for Eden. Jaxon…for her? Sweating, she easily picked the lock, shoved open the door, and peered out into the hall. “We’re in an apartment building. They probably killed the other tenants, because I don’t hear any other conversations.” So badly she wanted to cover her ears. More and more, the sound of her own voice was like booming thunder. “Do you hear them? See flashing from under the doors?” “No,” they said in unison, and she cringed.

Jaxon’s strong arm wrapped around her waist and he dragged her down the hall, to the elevator. “Up or down, sweetheart?” he whispered, and that saved her from vomiting. “Don’t know,” she whispered back. They’d have to experiment. “Go down one.” He pressed a button. The doors slid closed. Lucius stood behind the left side, ready to attack anyone who tried to throw themselves inside the elevator when it next opened. As the metal box descended, however, the fight grew the tiniest bit quieter. “Up,” she rushed out. “We need to go up.” The elevator stopped on the floor he’d first requested, and the doors opened. No one appeared. No one attacked. Jaxon pressed another button. Soon they were rising, past the floor they’d occupied and to the next one. When they reached it, she cried out. The fight was so piercing now she could no longer discern individual sounds. Just a constant stream of loud. Return volume to normal. “There,” Jaxon said. She opened her eyes. When had she squeezed them shut? Jaxon had already ushered her out of the elevator. They were pressed into a corner in an empty hallway. Blue flashes edged from the crease at the bottom of the door at the far end. Lucius was already halfway to the room,

creeping along the wall. Like a phantom, he blended with the shadows. “You good?” Jaxon asked her. “Yeah. But someone needs to stay here in case they try to escape.” He opened his mouth to say something. What, she might never know. “I’ll do it,” she said, obviously surprising him. “I’m going to change my vision, so that I can see the Schön even if they’re invisible. They’re brighter than humans this way, but I won’t have time to judge brightness. I’ll simply fire at whoever comes out that door.” “Noted. Just be careful.” He planted a hard kiss on her lips, slipping his tongue inside her mouth for an all-too-brief taste. And then he was gone, creeping right behind Lucuis. Staying here was going to be the hardest thing she’d ever done, she realized. Already she wanted to tag behind him, watch him. Guard him. He’s strong. He can protect himself. Knowing didn’t stop the worry, though. He was her man, her love. He flicked her a heated glance before concentrating on the doorway. Both he and Lucius claimed a side. They were going to kick it in and throw themselves into the heart of battle. He would be all right, she once again assured herself. Switch to infrared vision. She heard the creak of metal and the grunt of

man as the world around her once again darkened to nothing. This time, she didn’t have the flash of a single red light to break up the black. Jaxon and Lucius were already inside the room. “Thank God,” Mia said between grunting. She must be fighting an alien while speaking. “We followed your signal, but couldn’t find you.” “We can’t see them.” Eden. Grunting, as well. “I managed to tag a few with pulse beams, but those disappeared too.” “Le’Ace?” Dallas said, panting. “Hall,” Jaxon replied. “Don’t go out there. She’ll attack. Now throw me a goddamn weapon.” Glass shattered. A table overturned. At least, she thought it was a table by the thump followed quickly by teetering bowls. Mishka saw a red light peek from the door. It disappeared as she fired, then reappeared a moment later. She crouched, ready. The light never approached her. Instead, something skidded across the floor and sailed into her boot. “Gun,” Jaxon said. “Your ten minutes are up.” The small light disappeared. If she hadn’t been so nervous, she would have grinned as she palmed the weapon. Straightening, she weighed the weapon. Pyre. Having trained in the dark, she pressed her thumb against the internal dial and knew it was locked on stun. Good. Several minutes ticked by. More grunting, even a

scream. Curses. Glass breaking, crunching. Sweat trickled down Mishka’s body. What was going on? The longer she stayed in place, the more intense her feeling of helplessness. There was a growl. Dallas, she thought. Jaxon cursed. Someone crashed against something solid. A red blur darted from the doorway. Le’Ace aimed and fired. The bright red line froze in place. Alien. One down. How many more to go? Had any of them managed to hurt Jaxon? Was he still unscathed? Panic rising. Breathing too uneven. Deep breath in, deep breath out. The darkness, the sounds of battle, she hated them both more with every second. Someone screeched, cutting into her thoughts. She tensed. The aliens began muttering in a language she did not understand, a language she had not heard before. Panic must have settled inside of them, as well, for they’d managed to remain quiet, keeping them from A.I.R. detection until now. If not for the isotope inside of Jaxon, Mia and her friends might not have found them at all. “You bitch!” Mia’s voice. Then, a red blur stepped into the hall and Le’Ace fired. Could be Mia, could be someone else. The blur managed to jump out of the

way. “Not going to get me that easily.” Mia, then. Not a Schön. Still, Mishka didn’t relax. No, she geared for more. “I don’t want to hurt you, Mia.” Jaxon, where are you? “Too bad.” The red inched a few steps closer. “I want to hurt you. Will hurt you.” “We have a job to do.” “Yeah, but I doubt we’re on the same team.” Jaxon! She didn’t call his name, didn’t want to distract him. But she needed his interference. He would not forgive her if she killed his friend. Mia was too quick to stun, however, so that left no other option but physical confrontation. Mishka couldn’t risk switching back to normal vision to fight, gauging where her punches landed so she didn’t cause too much damage. If one of the Schön left the room, she had to know it. “You froze Devyn. He was trying to help us!” “Accident. I can only see color, not features,” she said, even though she knew it exposed a weakness. “He was warned.” “Was Elise?” The words were edged with hate. “Do you seriously want to do this here? In the middle of a battle?” “They’re the enemy, you’re the enemy. No better time.” She leveled the gun. “I’m sorry I killed Elise. I live with regret every day, every night.”

“Even if you spoke true, that wouldn’t be enough.” Another inch. “Have you never done anything you regret? Never done something bad for what you thought was a good reason? Have you ever been forced to do something you didn’t want to do?” “You killed her,” she said, obviously unwilling to consider Mishka’s words. “And you’ll kill Jaxon if you’re allowed to live.” “Never.” Another inch. “Dallas saw it! I read the list.” “He saw wrong! You are wrong. Now stay where you are or I will be forced to hurt you even though we need you.” “Try.” Mia’s relish was like a living thing in the hallway. Mishka didn’t have time to respond. One moment Mia was at the opposite side of her, the next she was in her face, knocking the pyre-gun out of her hand and slashing a blade at her throat. On instinct, she arched backward. The blade still managed to nick her, stinging. Immediately she turned, kicked out, but Mia was already out of range, red outline moving to the left…quickly. Mishka struck, fist flying forward. Crunch. A hiss of breath exploded from her. She’d hit the goddamn wall. With her human hand! Because she couldn’t see the little details of Mia’s body, she was

afraid to hit her with metal. At this speed, one wrong move might kill the agent. Mishka whipped her head from side to side, seeing only a vast expanse of darkness. Where the hell was she? Mishka turned, took stock. Again, only darkness. The wall, behind her, she knew. Stay focused. The elevators were a few feet over. No light there. Ceiling— Her ankles were kicked out from under her, and she tumbled to her ass. Breaking through a momentary suspension of shock, she punched forward in case Mia thought to close in and go for her face. Only air greeted her, whooshing mockingly. Feminine laughter. “How does it feel, being helpless?” Blur to the right. No time. A fist slammed into her temple. Blur to the left. Another fist to the temple. Her brain rattled inside her skull, and stars winked over her eyes. “Never helpless,” she growled. Seeing the blur race behind, Mishka popped to her hands, legs kicking backward. Contact. Mia propelled into the wall and gasped. “You’re not going to kill me, and you’re not going to kill him!” “I love him.” “You love yourself.” Mia was panting. Tiring? The blur moved again, faster this time.

A sharp sting sliced through the back of Mishka’s leg as she stood. She didn’t have to see to know she’d been cut. Then the blur twisted, some of the heat remaining behind and forming a vortex of twinkling stars. “If you loved him, you’d walk away from him.” Walk away? She knew herself well enough to know she didn’t have the strength to do so. As long as she was alive, she would do everything in her power to be with him. Circumstances be damned. He was a drug, her drug, an invisible tether seeming to stretch from him to her, always pulling at her. No, there could be no walking away. “I can’t.” “Selfish. His friends will never accept you, which means he’ll end up giving them up to make you happy. Maybe he’ll grow to resent you, maybe he won’t, but either way the loss will kill him. Even if you don’t.” “Maybe he needs better friends,” she said, even though panic rose inside her. Hot, dark, consuming. She had trouble drawing in a breath. If his friends wouldn’t accept her, Jaxon would give them up. He loved her that much, she knew he did. And without his friends, his job would be the next thing to go. She didn’t want him giving up all that he loved. Adrenaline levels too high. Consider this later. A red light shot from the door down the hall. Mishka stiffened. Alien?

“Someone’s coming,” she said. “Sure. I believe you.” That light closed in, arms stretched forward for attack. Mishka pushed to her feet, but Mia kicked them out a second time. As she fell, the runner reached the agent. There was a grunt, a shuffle. The pair tangled together and fell, a blur of color. Mishka crawled along the hallway, patting for her gun. All the while she kept her gaze glued to the door. Once, the combating pair tripped over her, but Mia managed to hold her own. “Mishka?” “Jaxon!” Relief poured through her. She saw his red light, crouched, still, not as bright. Concern blended with her relief. “Are you—” Another light crept behind him. “Look out!” Even as she shouted, he was slammed into the ground.

CHAPTER 27

Jaxon had hoped for the attack, had prepared for it. When the Schön slammed into him, knocking him to his stomach, he simply shifted the gun in his grip so that the barrel faced backward and fired. The weight on his shoulders didn’t ease, but the struggling and grasping at his clothes stopped. Satisfied, Jaxon pulled up his knees, dislodging the other-worlder and sending its frozen, now visible body to the floor. Devyn was locked in place a few feet in front of him, and Kyrin was frozen a few feet back, both otherworlders having been pegged by stun during the battle. Mishka was on her hands and knees, blood dripping from her face and arms. Her eyes were glazed over, the irises completely black. Like a starless, midnight sky. Her skin was pale, several blue veins visible. The sight of her like that nearly stopped his heart. “Jaxon?” she said. “I’m fine, sweetheart. Don’t move, okay?” He lifted his arm, aimed the pyre-gun. Mia was clearly battling one of the invisible bastards. Her body was contorting as she twisted and rolled to keep a firm grip on the alien who was trying to fight his way into the elevator.

“Mia, fall back,” he commanded, and she obeyed instantly. He squeezed the trigger. A blue beam erupted. The Schön suddenly materialized, rooted in place. He was on his stomach, legs obviously pushing forward, hands reaching for the elevator doors. His beautiful face was contorted with fury. Briefly closing his eyes, Jaxon sagged against the floor. Done. It was done. He’d been thrown all over that apartment, slapped at, punched, kicked, and bitten, but he was alive. “It’s over,” he said. “All nine are stunned.” “Sure?” Mishka asked. “Sure.” The black faded from her eyes, returning the hazel he so adored. She blinked rapidly before focusing on him, looking him over, searching for injuries. When she found none, she slowly grinned. He returned the grin with one of his own. Desperate to hold his woman, he rose and marched forward. He’d doctor her up, gather her in his arms, and never let go. “Not another step.” Jaxon halted, stomach tightening, grin falling away. “Mia. What are you doing?” “What you obviously can’t.” A scowling Mia stood in front of the elevators, pyre-gun aimed at Miskha’s head. “Don’t move,” he told Mishka. He held up his

free hand, palms out. In his other, he still clutched his gun. His insides clenched, twisted with sickness. He was shaking. “Put the gun down, Mia. The Schön are taken care of. For now, we’ve won. It’s time to clean up and go.” “She has to die.” As his fingers tightened on his weapon, his gaze flicked to Mishka. She’d remained in place as he’d told her to. A ray of emotions played across her lovely face: concern, hope, dread, agony, confusion. There was a knife a few inches from her knee. He gave it a pointed glance in a silent bid for her to pick it up. Whether she understood his command or not, she did not obey. “Mia, please,” he said. “Don’t do this.” “I have to. You can’t see past her pretty face to the monster inside.” Her arm was steady, her expression cold. Every drop of moisture in his mouth dried up. He licked his lips, dropped to his knees. “Put the gun down. I’m begging you. Put it down.” “Maybe this is for the best. Don’t beg for me,” Mishka told him brokenly. “Get up,” Mia screamed. Now her arm trembled. “Don’t you dare beg! Not for her. Get up!” “Don’t do this,” he continued. “Please don’t do it. God, no. I love her.”

“She’s going to kill you. If I let her live, she’ll kill you. I can’t let that happen. You’re my friend, the brother of my heart.” “She won’t hurt me. As you can see, she didn’t work with the Schön. She helped us.” “This time. This time she helped. What about next time?” Stubborn as she was, Mia wouldn’t listen to him. The realization hit him, and he aimed, arm lashing up. For him, there was no other choice. But Eden and Lucius were on him seconds later, pinning him down before he could get off a single shot. “Don’t make me hurt you,” Lucius said. “They said this might happen, but buddy, you don’t aim at agents.” Bucking, shouting curses, Jaxon managed to maintain a firm grip on the gun. “Don’t hurt her, Mia. She’s mine. I love her.” Never had Jaxon experienced such panic. His own friends were conspiring against him. They refused to trust him, saw only what they wanted to see. “She’s not going to hurt me. Let her go. We’ll talk. I’ll explain. Please!” “I saw it,” Dallas said from the corner. “I saw her shoot you. Her hair was brown then, but this is it. Has to be.” “Wrong!” His muscles strained as he fought. Eden and Lucius proved stronger, though, as he’d already lost a lot of blood. He’d been in such a

hurry to defeat the Schön and get to Mishka, he hadn’t stayed in place and simply fired his gun. He’d barreled his way through the room, been thrown into glass and walls. Several of his ribs were broken, he knew that, and two of his fingers. “She’s innocent.” From the corner of his eye, he saw Dallas clutch his bleeding side. “Hold him down, damn it,” the agent gritted out. “I’ll kill every one of you if you don’t let him go,” Mishka’s cold voice proclaimed. “Why don’t you help,” Lucius growled to Dallas, ignoring both Jaxon and Mishka. “Mia,” Dallas barked, “do it!” “No!” Jaxon screamed. “No!” “Let. Him. Go,” Mishka said. Now there was so much fury in her voice, it was like a separate entity in the hallway. “You’re hurting him.” He didn’t care about himself. Only her. He was nothing without her. Had nothing, wanted nothing. An eternity stretched. “I can’t do it,” Mia finally growled, disgusted with herself. “I can’t.” “This is what I saw.” Dallas limped forward. “This is when she aims. We have to kill her now.” Horror filling him, Jaxon watched as his friend lifted a pyre-gun. He wanted this to be a dream, a nightmare he’d awaken from at any moment. But he knew it wasn’t. Knew time would be his enemy

or his greatest friend. He worked a leg free and brought it forward, then kicked Lucius in the head. The agent grunted as he sailed backward. Infuriated, Eden raised a fist. Jaxon rolled away, already lifting his gun to the biggest threat: Dallas. “No!” Mia shouted, switching her aim to Jaxon. Finally Mishka dove for the knife. The next few seconds seemed to pass in agonizing slowness. Mishka tossed the knife at Mia, and it sank into the hand clutching the weapon. Mia gasped and dropped the gun, but not before squeezing off a single shot. Amber fire blazed past Jaxon’s head, singeing the hairs on his right side. Never ceasing her fluid movements, Mishka grabbed the fallen gun and fired at Dallas. Dallas and Jaxon fired, too, one right after the other. Dallas at Mishka. Jaxon at Dallas. As Jaxon dove forward and twisted, taking the beam meant for Mishka, the blue beam he’d squeezed off slammed into Dallas and froze him in place, leaving him motionless but conscious of everything happening around him. When the amber beam slammed into his shoulder, he grunted. Mishka screamed in concern. Just like that, it was over. Finally. Though both of his shoulders were blistered and burning, Jaxon turned to the two agents left standing. He didn’t drop the gun. “Touch the girl

and I’ll kill you.” “We’re going to gather the Schön,” Eden said calmly. “All right?” He backed up, keeping the gun high. The agents slowly stood, keeping their empty hands in sight. He was panting, losing focus. Dizzy. Still he kept moving. A blue stun beam erupted behind him, its light illuminating everything for a split second. “Mishka?” “I’m okay.” She was at his side in the next instant, arms wrapping around him. Tremors moved through her. “Took care of Mia. Now let’s take care of you.” Finally he dropped his arm, relieved, happy and sad. The weapon clattered to the ground. He looked at his woman, saw tears streaking down her cheeks. “Don’t cry,” he said softly. “Told you. I don’t cry. I leak.” “I love you.” “I love you, too.” She buried her face in the hollow of his neck. “I was so scared. Mia almost convinced me to give you up so you wouldn’t lose your friends, but they shot at you, so now I’m forcing you to give them up! Either that or I’ll kill them.” “Don’t ever leave me, and I’ll be a satisfied man.” “Never.” He chuckled, squeezed her with the last of his

strength. “Sweetheart?” “Yes?” She looked up at him, tenderness softening her dirty features. “Catch me.” His entire world blackened.

Dallas was immobilized by stun. Stupid alien blood. Months ago, stun would not have worked on him. Now he’d have to learn to avoid it. What disturbed him most, however, was that he was responsible for shooting his friend. All along, it was me. Me. Should have known. Should have guessed. Horror slithered through him, nearly choking him. Le’Ace hadn’t been the one he’d seen in his vision, hurting Jaxon. Dallas had been. He’d been the mysterious stranger standing in the corner. Maybe because he’d become a stranger to himself. He wanted to curse, to rail. He’d been the one to fire the killing shot. All because he hadn’t trusted his friend. That was what the vision had hoped to show him, he now realized, ashamed of himself. If he’d trusted Jaxon, Jaxon wouldn’t have been shot. Mia might not have tried to kill the girl, and all would have been well. Was it too late? He watched as Le’Ace gently laid Jaxon on the floor and began ripping at his clothes, studying his body for injuries. There was love and concern on her face, as well as absolute determination.

She wasn’t Jaxon’s killer; she was his savior. I almost destroyed that. Still might, if Jaxon failed to recover. What kind of friend am I? Dallas had managed to change pieces of the vision. How? Kyrin had once predicted that Dallas’s life would be changed forever if he tried to save Jaxon. Dallas had thought Jaxon worth the chance. Still did. And yet, deep inside, Dallas knew this wasn’t the end for him. Knew this wasn’t what Kyrin had meant. Something more was going to happen. What, he could only wait and see. Maybe next time he’d get it right. The thought offered no comfort.

CHAPTER 28

Backup had arrived long ago and carted Jaxon to emergency surgery to repair the damage the pyreguns had inflicted. As Mishka waited, she stitched her own wounds like she’d had to do a thousand times before. Paced. No one tried to talk to her, though the lobby filled with people. Jack, his boss. A few other agents. She probably looked capable of murder. Finally, through the windows in the double doors, she saw Jaxon’s bed being wheeled to a room. She was pushing past the doctors and nurses, at his side and finally calming mere seconds later. “Hey,” Jaxon said when he saw her. His lips lifted in a slow smile. His eyes were glazed from drugs and his voice scratchy, his shoulders wrapped in gauze, but she’d never been happier to see him. “Hey, yourself.” Her voice shook so badly the words were almost imperceptible. People buzzed around them, checking his monitors and pretending she wasn’t there. “How you feeling?” she asked. Thankfully, her voice was smoother this time. “Mortified. I passed out in front of my girlfriend.” “Fiancée,” she corrected. A pause. His eyes lit with inner fire. “Really?”

“Really. You’re not getting rid of me. Ever.” “And the chip?” “Like you said, we’ll find the best surgeons and have it removed. I love you too much to die on the table.” His eyelids closed, that smile lingering on his lips. “Get up here.” She didn’t ask for permission from the doctors, simply crawled up beside him and rested her head on his stomach, away from his injuries. One of his arms banded around her, his IV tubes rubbing cold against her skin. “Schön?” he asked tiredly. “Dead. Except for Nolan. He’s in isolation. Eden came in an hour ago and told me they have the book that was in his apartment, as well as his ring. It was a decoder. The book chronicles everything he told us about that queen. There are pictures, drawings, so we’ll know her when she arrives, at least.” “Still coming?” Mishka nodded. “Nolan can, apparently, sense her. He says she’s getting closer.” Jaxon fell asleep a moment later, his head lolling to the side, his chest rising and falling evenly. Content just to be near him, Mishka stayed where she was. She must have fallen asleep, too, because sometime during the night, she opened her eyes and

Mia was there, standing beside the bed. She’d bandaged her hand and showered. “Touch him and die,” Mishka said. “I will not tell you again.” Dallas limped through the doorway and stopped beside Mia. His features were drawn tight, his eyes flat. He did not look like the upbeat, vivacious agent she’d once read about, nor the sarcastic agent she’d met all those days ago. He was the man Jaxon had once tried to be: unemotional, unruffled. He and Mia shared a look and then said in unison, “I’m sorry.” They shared another looked and sighed. They sounded gruff but sincere. “Here it is, flat out,” Mia said. “I’m not apologizing for failing to trust you. Considering everything that happened and that goddamn list, which I still don’t understand, by the way, that was a good decision on my part.” “Identify weaknesses so you can eliminate them.” She stared pointedly. “Isn’t that standard agency procedure?” Mia’s mouth fell open. She closed it with a snap and glared at Mishka. “Fine. That’s great. Smart, even. But like I was saying, I’m not apologizing for that.” A pause, most of her aggression melting. “I’m apologizing because you love him, I saw it every time you looked at him, and I wanted to rip him away from you. Tit for tat, you could say.”

“My reasons for apologizing were a bit different, but whatever.” Dallas shrugged. “I shot at you.” Mishka relaxed, but only slightly. “It’s fine,” she said, obviously surprising them. She’d done worse. How could she blame them for these minor occurrences? “All of it.” “No, it isn’t,” Jaxon said. When had he awoken? She hadn’t felt him move. “You almost killed her.” Hesitant, Dallas stepped forward. “You can’t beat me up about it more than I’m doing to myself.” “I could try.” Dallas squared his shoulders, half accepting, half belligerent. “Try, then.” Mishka didn’t want to be responsible for a rift between Jaxon and his friends. She loved him too much for that. Propping her weight on her elbow, she leaned down and nibbled on his ear. “Forgive them. Please. Think of the fun we’ll have torturing them mercilessly with their guilt.” His gaze locked with hers. “Can I tell them the truth?” After a moment’s hesitation, she nodded. “Sure, why not?” His lips twitched but his eyes were hard as he stared over at the pair. He told them about the chip, how she’d been controlled by it. For once, she wasn’t ashamed, guilty, or angry that someone might pity her. The present and future would no

longer be spoiled by the past. She wouldn’t allow it. By the time Jaxon finished, Mia and Dallas were pale. Shamed. Mishka took pity on them, but only because they’d always had Jaxon’s best interests at heart. “How’s the hand?” she asked Mia. “Healing,” the agent said, then added dryly, “Thanks for not slicing the bones to powder.” “My pleasure.” “I know you could have done a lot worse. Bitch,” she muttered. Mishka tried not to smile. Coming from Mia, the word was a compliment. Sometimes. “I have a policy not to hurt ballerinas more than necessary.” Mia ran her tongue over her teeth, but remained silent. She turned to Dallas. “No side effect after stun?” “Besides the personality change?” he asked, his voice as dry as Mia’s had been. At least there was emotion now, self-deprecating as it was. “Besides wanting to kill you one moment, then kill myself instead the next?” “Yeah. Besides.” “Nope.” They shared a grin. “Good,” she said, and kissed Jaxon’s lips. “Does this mean we’re all friends now?” “Hell, no,” Mia said. “I’m not painting your

nails or shopping with you. This just means we’re not going to try and kill each other.” “That’s all I ever wanted.” Mishka eyed Dallas again. “So. Since you two are friends, does that mean she paints your nails?” “Sadly, yes.” Dallas uttered the words deadpan. Jaxon laughed. “Get out of here, guys. You can send her flowers or something.” They argued about the flowers (who would do the sending) and the nail painting (what color looked best on Dallas) the whole way out. Mishka looked up at Jaxon, who was smiling up at her. However, he couldn’t hide the concern in his eyes. “You tamed me, my friends—kind of—and the Schön. Only one thing left for our happily ever after.” Yes, she thought. The chip. As soon as he recovered, they’d have to deal with that damn chip. Four and a half weeks later

Jaxon had Mishka moved into his—their—house, a ring on her finger, and now, his wife, fresh from surgery. Twice he almost lost her. Twice her heart stopped beating and the doctors had to bring her back. Twice he almost died himself. He would rather have her with him, dependent on Estap’s survival, than live a single day without her, he realized all too soon yet all too late. He

hated himself for pushing her to have the surgery. But after sixteen hours of hell on Earth, watching from a glass partition as his wife’s hair was shaved and her head freaking sawed open like a melon, he finally felt like he could breathe again and wasn’t in danger of vomiting his intestines. The doctors predicted a long but hopefully full recovery, even though the chip had been embedded deep and was connected to things it shouldn’t have been. She might have memory problems, but with her past she might appreciate that. As long as she didn’t forget him, he was happy. God, was he happy. He stopped hating himself when she began to rouse, her swollen eyes opening. She lay on a clean bed, monitors strapped all over her body, and he climbed in beside her, oh so careful. This was the complete opposite of all those weeks ago, when he’d woken up in the hospital and she’d been beside him. “Jaxon,” she said, the word slurred. She was groggy, but happiness shone in her eyes. “I’m here, baby.” “How do I look?” He peered over at her. Her eyes were swollen, her forehead discolored, and her head wrapped in a thick white turban. “Never better.” And he meant it. No matter what she looked like, she was beautiful to him. Her lips twitched, as more and more sleep and

exhaustion receded. “You don’t mind the shaved head?” “Hell, no. You’re sexy and tough as shit. Only downside is that there’s nothing for Mia to braid if you girls ever decide to do a sleepover.” “Ah, you’re so sweet.” “No, I’m honest. I’m also a man in love, and once you’re up and around I’m going to prove it. Over and over again.” That twitching became a full-fledged smile, though her head lolled to the side as if it were too heavy for her to hold in one place. “The gang is currently in my living room, watching TV, eating every crumb in the house, and waiting to hear how you are.” Jaxon traced a fingertip down the firm plane of her stomach. He was going to spend the rest of his life making this woman happy, making her smile and laugh. “But I want you all to myself.” As he touched her, her monitors began to beep a little faster, a little louder. “Estap still in his coma?” she asked. “Yes.” “When I’m at full strength, I’m going to give you his head as a present. You can do whatever you want with it. That should prove my love for you.” Jaxon chuckled softly. “My sweet killer, a softy down deep.” Slowly she raised a hand and brushed it over his

jawline. As she peered at him, she frowned. “What?” He wanted her smiling. Always. “I just asked the chip the likelihood of us staying together.” Old habits. He hoped she did not come to regret losing the chip. “And?” he asked gently. “Silence. That’s weird. I cannot remember a time when there was not a voice inside my head, giving me the answers I needed.” “Well, I can tell you the answer to this one. I’m not a math whiz, but there’s a one hundred percent chance I’m never letting you go.” Her frown melted away, and she gifted him with that smile he’d so craved. “God, but I do love you. I think I’m going to like coming to you rather than the chip.” Now he smiled. “I’m glad.” “You gave me ecstasy when all I’d ever known was sorrow,” she said. “In return, I’m sorry to say I think I’m going to be high maintenance like Cathy. I’ll probably even cling.” “Cling to me all you want, then cling to me some more.” Gently, so gently, he kissed her. “I’ll never be able to get enough of you.” She chuckled, and the sound warmed his heart. Life, he thought, was so damn good.

“You smell like sex.”

Devyn leaned down toward Bride, moonlight caressing him as though it couldn’t help itself. Maybe it couldn’t. “The dirtiest kind of sex, at that—which just happens to be my favorite.” His thumb traced her palm. A shiver slid the length of Bride’s spine. He was flirting with her, wickedly so. Though she had no desire to flirt back—really—she forced herself to say, “Wow. Already we have something in common.” One thing she knew about men. They were more likely to help a woman if they thought they’d get something in return. “That’s my favorite kind, too.” That put a surprised sparkle in his amber eyes. “Isn’t this just my lucky day, then?”

PRAISE FOR THE ALIEN HUNTRESS SERIES Savor Me Slowly “Gena Showalter doesn’t pull any punches in this hot, hard-hitting science fiction romance. With Savor Me Slowly she shocked me and scared me and turned me on, sometimes all on the same page. I’m so glad she took the characters to their sensual and emotional limits—and beyond!” —New York Times bestselling author Susan Sizemore Enslave Me Sweetly “Showalter first demonstrated her skill at blending sizzling romance and nail-biting suspense set in a convincing futuristic society in Awaken Me Darkly. She now continues the roller-coaster-like adventure in an equally entertaining tale that will please a wide cross section of readers.” —Booklist “This well-written book will appeal to all readers.” —Romantic Times Awaken Me Darkly “Mia Snow is perfect as the alien hunter with the secret.” —Booklist “It’s hard to resist such a heady mixture of speculative fiction, romance and chick lit.” —Romantic Times “Sizzles with intrigue…. Similar to Laurell K. Hamilton’s Anita Blake series…. Brilliantly written…. Amazing.” —Fresh Fiction “A fantastic read…. Fascinating characters…. Gena Showalter has created a very interesting world that readers will enjoy visiting over and over again.” —A Romance Review “The final spin will shock…. Mia is a fabulous ‘bad girl.’” —The Best Reviews MORE PRAISE FOR GENA SHOWALTER

“Gena Showalter delivers an utterly spellbinding story!” —Kresley Cole, USA Today bestselling author of Wicked Deeds on a Winter’s Night “Wow…Gena Showalter always takes us on a fantastic ride….” —USA Today bestselling author Merline Lovelace “Gena Showalter’s sparkling voice shines…the perfect canvas for her sizzling and enthralling paranormal imagination!” —Deidre Knight, author of Parallel Attraction “Scorchingly erotic, sinfully seductive….” —Jaci Burton, author of Wild, Wicked, and Wanton and Hunting the Demon “Sizzles with sexual tension!!!” —New York Times bestselling author Sharon Sala

ALSO BY GENA SHOWALTER Awaken Me Darkly Enslave Me Sweetly Savor Me Slowly

Pocket Star Books A Division of Simon & Schuster, Inc. 1230 Avenue of the Americas New York, NY 10020 www.SimonandSchuster.com This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Copyright © 2009 by Gena Showalter All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020 POCKET STAR BOOKS and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc. The Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau can bring authors to your live event. For more information or to book an event contact the Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau at 1-866-248-3049 or visit our website at www.simonspeakers.com. ISBN-13: 978-1-4391-6364-1 ISBN-10: 1-4391-6364-2 eISBN-13: 978-1-45165-196-6

To Lauren McKenna, whose amazing insight blew me away. This book couldn’t have been possible without you. To Kelli McBride. He was always yours. Except for the few times he was mine. But mostly he was yours. And mine. Fine, he’s all yours. To my three Walters: Jill Monroewalter, Kresley Colewalter and PC Castwalter. Pillow fight, anyone? To Deidre Knight, who’s always in my corner.

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE CHAPTER

1

CHAPTER

2

CHAPTER

3

CHAPTER

4

CHAPTER

5

CHAPTER

6

CHAPTER

7

CHAPTER

8

CHAPTER

9

CHAPTER

10

CHAPTER

11

CHAPTER

12

CHAPTER

13

CHAPTER

14

CHAPTER

15

CHAPTER

16

CHAPTER

17

CHAPTER

18

CHAPTER

19

CHAPTER

20

CHAPTER

21

CHAPTER

22

CHAPTER

23

CHAPTER

24

CHAPTER

25

PROLOGUE

Devyn de bon ci Laci, prince of the Targonia Royal House, drew his knees to his bare, dirty chest for warmth. Though he told himself over and over to stop, his shivering didn’t cease. He was fifteen summers, yet every time he was shoved into this cell, he felt like a child again. Lost, forgotten. You are a prince, and have been promised to Princess Mika since birth. You disgrace our family every time you even glance at another female. His father’s voice filled his head, the disappointment and disdain as fresh as before, and still enough to destroy him. He’d learned at a very young age to lower his gaze when anything female stepped into a room he occupied. He’d learned to hold his breath so that he wouldn’t smell their sweet scents, learned to inch away from them so that they could not even brush his shoulder with their delicious warmth. But sometimes, he was ashamed to admit, even the thought of those things brought the traitor between his legs to attention, aching, filling, silently begging for contact. Any contact. Even the rasp of clothing would make him moan, desperate. “Shameful,” he muttered, echoing the reproach he’d heard too many times to count. A reproach that always preceded being sent here to “consider

the depth of his betrayal.” For this newest indiscretion, he’d been as careful as always. He’d been reading in the library—a text of newly discovered worlds—wishing he were far, far away. Wishing he were anyone other than who he was, when a servant his age, but very female, had entered. Servants were not supposed to talk to him, weren’t even supposed to look at him, but she’d noticed him and had gasped in surprise. He’d glanced up. Rather than race from the room as was the custom, she’d stayed. Rather than pretend he hadn’t spotted her, he’d stared, breath trapped in his lungs, skin hot and tight, mouth watering. His pants, already too tight, had strained against his growing manhood. How pretty she’d been, her skin suns-kissed, her dark eyes heavily lashed, her breasts straining against her robe. When her lush, pink lips had curled in greeting, his heart had nearly beaten its way from his chest. He’d wanted to rush to her, put his hands all over her body, lick her and kiss her and thrust into her the way a prince was only supposed to thrust into his wife. But she wasn’t his wife, would never be his wife, so his guard, never far from his side, had pushed her from the room and called for his father. How long ago had that been? How long had he been here, trapped in this cell? He’d lost track of

the days. All he knew was that he was cold, enveloped by a sphere of thick darkness, denied any sound but the ring in his ears, and alone, forbidden to know the touch of another. In the last, he was greatly familiar. But to lose his other senses, as well…it was a torment beyond comprehension and one he’d sworn never to endure again. No matter what he had to do to avoid it. Devyn laughed bitterly. I am a failure, even in that. Hinges creaked, the first noise to greet his ears in so long he nearly moaned in pleasure. But to moan would have invited more punishment, so he pressed his lips together. A second later, a small beam of light shoved its way inside his cell. Devyn blinked against it, his eyes tearing in pain yet also rejoicing. Finally! “What do you have to say for yourself?” his father asked, devoid of emotion. Always devoid. Still the sound was welcome, quieting that frantic ring. “I’m sorry. So sorry.” He strove for a calm tone, as unfeeling as he was supposed to be. “I should not have looked at her. I knew better, and I know I’m dishonorable for the way my body reacted. I tell you now, it will never happen again. I swear it.” “That’s what you said last time.” “I didn’t feel this…shame before.” A lie. The shame never left him.

That earned him a nod of approval. His first. It warmed him. “The little whore was tossed into the streets where she belongs,” his father said harshly. “She’s lucky I didn’t kill her.” “Yes, Father.” He knew better than to say anything else as he drew his knees tighter against his chest. His nakedness would offend, earning him another punishment, even though his clothes had been ripped from him before he’d been forced in here. “Do you wish to be a good king? A good husband our people can respect and admire?” “Yes, Father.” Another lie. He did not want to be king. He did not want to be prince. He wanted to be free. The desire was an ache inside him. An ache he’d learned to ignore. “Then you, more than any other, must control your baser urges, Devyn. Otherwise you are no better than an animal.” There was a pause, a hardening of his father’s stance. “Otherwise, you are no better than your mother.” His mother, another female he wasn’t allowed to see or touch. But sometimes he heard her, laughing gaily in another room, feet shuffling as though she were dancing. Always he shouted for her in his mind, but she never heard him, never called for him, never tried to sneak a hug. “Yes, Father.” A sigh crackled between them, and then a bundle of clothing was flying through the air. Each piece

slapped against his face, tickling his faithless skin, his arms too weak to lift to catch them. “When I discovered how you had thrown yourself at that servant”—his father’s tone was sneering—“I summoned the princess. Finally she has arrived. You will be wed today. And so help me, if you ever look at another female, if that beast between your legs ever shows itself in public again, I will kill you myself. I’d rather you were dead than a disgrace.”

CHAPTER 1

Bride McKells meandered along the crowded street in the pulsing heart of New Chicago, moonlight and multihued shop lights blending together to create a sparkling canvas of dream and shadow. Chaos and calm. Red brick buildings stretched at her sides, each fairly new, no clear, breakable glass or blinkand-it’s-in-flames wood in sight. A shame. She loved peeking into shops and imagining owning whatever was being sold just as much as she loved the smell of pine. Neither of which she would be enjoying anytime soon. Windows were now made of dark “shield armor,” and wood was scarce. After the human-alien war, everything had had to be rebuilt for strength and durability, even while resources had been limited, the world a shell of its former self. Good-bye extraneous use of pretty glass and sweetly fragranced timber. Now, almost eighty years later—eighty years in which Bride had barely aged—everything was comprised of unattractive, dirt-scented stone. Not a bad smell, but when paired with the reeking public…Ugh. Every day it worsened. Perfumes and body odor, flowery laundry soaps and car exhaust. And food. Oh, God, the food, the spices. Her too-sensitive nose wrinkled in distaste.

McBean burgers, fried chicken, and the everpopular syn-milk…the list could go on and on. Mind on the task at hand, or you’ll puke. Already bile rose in her throat, burning. Deep breath in, hold…hold…deep breath out. Men and women, both human and nonhuman, bustled in every direction, some in a mad rush to reach their destination, some as unhurried as her. Only difference was, they were shopping for clothes and shoes. Bride was looking for her next meal: warm blood from a live, jugular tap. Unfortunately, tonight’s buffet was lacking. As usual. All those smells…Back to that already, are we? The bile threatened to spill over. She supposed, to a human, finding a tasty meal among this stretch would be the equivalent of picking between oversalted pasta, the charred nibblets left in the bottom of an oven, or stale toast seasoned with week-old mayonnaise. Again, ugh. But hungry as she was, weak as she was becoming, she needed to feed. Soon. No matter how crappy the buffet. Lately, though, she couldn’t eat indiscriminately without severe consequences. Most blood—human or otherworlder, it didn’t matter—now left her writhing in a dirty alley, vomiting and moaning in pain for hours. Why, she didn’t know. She only knew it had started about a month ago and had yet to abate.

If she’d known another vampire, she would’ve asked what was going on. But did she know another vampire? Nooo. Except for movies and books, she’d never even seen another of her kind. She hated—hated!—not understanding her own body. Just one bloodsucker. That’s all I need. Were they dead? Was she the last? Her earliest memories were of herself, alone, always alone, walking the streets of New Chicago, just like she was doing now, the words “Bride McKells” tattooed on the inside of her wrist, lost, hungry, starving actually, stumbling and finally falling against the pavement. A human male had scooped her up without a word—intentions unknown, even now—and Bride’s gaze had locked on the vein fluttering along the column of his neck. Her mouth had watered, her teeth had sharpened, and the next thing she’d known, she’d bitten him, gulping back every drop of crimson nectar she could. He had collapsed, but she hadn’t released her hold on him. He had spasmed and gasped and fought, but still she’d maintained her grip. Only when he had stilled, his vein as dry as an empty cup, had she moved away. Her strength—instantly restored. Her eyesight— unbelievably perfect. Her hearing—exponentially better. Her sense of smell—too strong, sickening, but filterable. Her touch—ultra sensitive. Her guilt—raging.

She’d been a child in mind and body, perhaps no more than eight human years, starving, tired, desperate, and feeling utterly abandoned. Yet even with her limited understanding she’d known, beyond any doubt, that she’d just wrongly killed a man. And sadly, he hadn’t been the last. Several years had passed before she’d learned to control her urges, to disengage before swallowing that final, life-taking gulp. Now, nearly a century later, she should have been a wrinkled hag, doddering and senile, but she looked twenty-one and was stronger than ever. The people around her had aged, of course; most had even died. A few years ago, she’d had to fake her own death and come back as someone else. She could have traveled somewhere else, but hadn’t. The only person she’d ever loved was here, somewhere. So here Bride would stay. “Hey,” a male suddenly said, keeping pace beside her. Startled, she flicked him a glance and sized him up in less than a second. Sandy-colored hair, brown eyes. Young, probably early twenties. Several inches taller than her. Clean shaven. Looked about as dangerous as a stuffed animal. But if he was anything like her, he sewed razors into his shirtsleeves and pant pockets, proving just how deceiving looks could be. “Sorry to rush at you like that. ’Cause I know it’s

un-cool to approach a woman who’s alone at night, but I’m not creepy or anything,” he added, palms raised as if that proved his innocence. “I swear.” She quickened her steps, preferring a murderer to the sales pitch she suspected was coming. “Sorry, I’m broke.” And sadly, that was the truth. “I’m not selling anything,” he said. “Swear to God!” “All salesman say that—right before they reveal an item I just can’t live without.” That never changed, no matter the era or season. “Okay, maybe I am trying to sell you something, but it’s not what you think. Honest.” It never was. She sucked in a breath, preparing to use her voice voodoo and compel him to leave, when she caught the vaguest hint of grilled chicken, cloned of course, and white rice. Nothing else. No spices. No other scents to clutter up her nose and burn her belly. Bride cast him another quick but assessing glance. Clearly, he was fresh from an enzyme shower, not a speck of dirt on him. His heartbeat was strong, his energy levels high. The moisture in her mouth increased. Maybe she’d be able to keep him down. The thought was heady. Appearances are deceptive, remember? Maybe he’d make her sicker than ever. Only one way to find out. She softened her expression. “So what are you trying to sell me,

hmm?” “Well…me. Only, I’m available free of charge.” Twin pink circles painted his cheeks, and his pulse kicked up another notch. Desire wafted from him, barely discernible, but there all the same. “I, uh, noticed you back at Sid’s and thought I’d introduce myself.” “I wasn’t at Sid’s tonight.” Last night, sure. It was her favorite hangout, a local bar that catered to sensitives—otherworlders who were as overwhelmed by smells as she was. No perfumes were allowed. No illegal cigarette smoke. She was a regular, and the otherworldly patrons assumed she was a human with a fetish. Yeah, that made them leery of her, but she let them assume it. While humans and aliens might cohabitate, that didn’t mean they were comfortable with each other yet. But better to be feared than hunted. If nothing else, old vampire movies had taught her that. “I know you weren’t there tonight, but I saw you yesterday and then again as I was walking out tonight and you were, uh, passing by. So I ran after you,” he admitted with a self-deprecating grin. “Impulse. Gets me every time. I’m Tom, by the way.” Points to Tom for being brave enough to approach her. She hadn’t been asked on a date in months and had begun to think something was wrong with her. But…wait. She hadn’t noticed him

last night and wondered why he hadn’t approached her then, if he’d been interested in her. Why now? Because she was on her own, seemingly helpless? So suspicious! “What are you doing hanging out at Sid’s? You’re not the usual patron.” His cheeks reddened again. Ah. Trying to nail otherworlder ass. Should have known. A classic pastime for today’s youth. No wonder his scent was so unassuming. He’d picked up a sensitive before and knew how to go about it. “And you decided to come after me, huh?” “Well, yeah. I’d really like to get to know you.” “Get to know you.” Code for “fuck your brains out and never call you,” perhaps. God, when had she become so cynical? Since her last boyfriend had dumped her for being moody and secretive, and her rebound hadn’t called her, she supposed. “Why didn’t you try and get to know me last night? Since you noticed me, I mean.” He swallowed, even missed a step and tripped forward. Thankfully he righted himself before he fell. “I was there with someone else and couldn’t get away. But she was just a friend, honest.” Just a friend. Right. And I wouldn’t like to nibble on your carotid. Bride twisted to the side to avoid slamming into a woman in a hurry, a woman whose heels clacked faster and faster against the pavement in a booming rhythm that made her cringe. After a decent meal,

she would be able to control the volume in her ears. Her gaze slid back to Tom. Why not? she thought. He was young, but he probably wouldn’t put up a fight when she came at him with fangs bared. He might actually like it. Kids were kinky these days. Of course, that would mean avoiding him for the rest of his life. She could erase the memory of her eating habits from his mind if she only drank from him once. But if she were to go to him for a second helping, his mind would begin to build an immunity against her “forget me” suggestions. He would remember her and what she’d done, and word about what she was would leak. Spread. That’s why she’d never been able to drink from her boyfriends, and why she’d had to sneak away every night from her only live-in to find a meal. That’s also why he’d considered her secretive and ultimately booted her from his life. Eating from the same buffet was a mistake she’d made a few times before the war, and each time she had been chased by cross-holding, holy-waterthrowing, stake-wielding fanatics. Ironically enough, the war had saved her, wiping out the very people who’d wanted her dead. “I’m thirsty,” she said. “Wanna get to know me over a drink?” Funny, Bride. Very funny. “Hell, yeah!” His eyes darkened, those chocolate irises overshadowed by the dilation of his pupils. “Anything you want, anywhere you want it.”

If he only knew…“Great. I—” A familiar scent suddenly drifted to her nose, and she stilled. Frowned. Tom noticed and backtracked, his smile fading. “Everything okay?” Bride closed her eyes as she inhaled again, sorting through the sea of fragrances and locking in on one. Slowly she exhaled, then inhaled again. Sure enough. There it was. It was a fragrance she’d encountered only a few times the past two decades, a blend of aged pine and smooth morning sky. A fragrance that belonged to her childhood friend, Aleaha Love, a girl— woman now—she hadn’t seen in sixteen years. A friend she had wept for, missed, needed, and never stopped searching for. Finally, blessedly, Aleaha was nearby. Had to be. “Sorry. Maybe we’ll do that drink later.” Despite Tom’s protests, despite her growing hunger, Bride leapt into a sprint, dodging people, shoving them out of the way when necessary. Her heart slammed against her ribs, as fast and hard as the high heels she still heard drumming inside her head, and sparked a burning pain in her chest. Calm down. You know better. “Hey,” someone snapped. “Watch it,” another growled. At one time, she and Aleaha had been inseparable, relying on each other for survival.

Bride had protected and provided for the girl, and Aleaha had staved off the loneliness. Because Bride was a vampire and Aleaha a shape-shifter, both of them had feared being captured, studied. Tortured. Didn’t help that they’d been poor and dirty, as disposable as garbage. They’d had to live in the shadows. One day several policemen had chased them for sneaking inside the homes of the rich and stealing food. Bride had hidden the younger girl, leading the cops away from her. But when she’d returned, there’d been no sign of Aleaha. Not there, not anywhere. Now Bride’s gaze swung left and right, scanning the masses for any hint of her friend. Not that she expected to see her. One touch, and Aleaha could assume the identity of anyone, her appearance becoming theirs. Where are you, Leah Leah? Swiftly Bride breathed in and out, the scent of pine and sky intensifying. She was on the right path. Excitement pounded through her, and the burning in her chest increased. The few times she’d encountered her friend’s scent, it had never been this potent, and she’d soon lost the trail. Was this the day she’d meet with success? So many times she’d imagined presenting Aleaha with all the things they’d dreamed about but Bride had been unable to give her. Fancy clothes, soft shoes, and so much food the girl’s stomach would

burst. She’d imagined whispering and laughing in the dark with the only person who knew what she was but loved her anyway. Just like they’d used to do. She’d imagined showing Aleaha the new tricks she’d learned, the different abilities that had revealed themselves, one by one, springing from a place deep inside her. A place protected by thorns and fire, so that she couldn’t get past it to see what else lurked there. But she’d tried, oh, had she tried. Many times. And every time, the pain had almost killed her. Finally, she’d given up and now left that turbulent place inside her alone. Unless she experienced any emotion too strongly, that is. Then the thorns and fire sprang up on their own. Too much pleasure brought pain (not that it detoured her). Too much pain brought more pain. Too much sadness, too much anger, too much happiness—pain, pain, pain. Which is why you need to, what? Calm down. Being incapacitated held no appeal. Aleaha’s wonderful smell was so strong now, she discerned two scents wrapped together, both somehow familiar…she was almost upon the source…but there was no longer any women in sight. Was Aleaha guised as a male? Where could she—Bride crashed into a solid, unmoving wall of muscle, air gushing from her parted lips. She stumbled backward, hit someone else and bounced

forward, nailing the wall of muscle and brawn yet again. That second time, her knees gave out and she tumbled to her ass. As she sat there, panting, she realized Aleaha’s scent was now all over her. Had she truly found her? Bride’s excitement became as hot as fire in her veins. The man—Aleaha?—turned, his lips curled into an annoyed frown. Down, down he gazed, a lock of dark hair falling over his forehead. When he spotted her, his eyes widened and his frown lifted into a what-have-we-here grin. Bride’s excitement drained, as did the burning. There was no recognition in that gaze, no ethereal outline of Aleaha beneath that face. But what a beautiful face it was. Bride, always a lover of art, experienced a wave of feminine appreciation. His eyes were bright amber, honey mixed in cinnamon and fused by fire, surrounded by decadent black lashes. His skin looked as if it had been dipped in a pot of opalescent glitter. That glittery skin should have made him appear weak, girly. It didn’t. It somehow added to his I’ll-kill-anyone-anytime-anywhereand-laugh-while-doing-it air. Clearly, he was an otherworlder. Though which race, she didn’t know. Whichever one, she had to wonder if they were all like him: perfection wrapped in dazzling and sprinkled with every

woman’s fantasy. What would his blood taste like? Would she be able to keep him down? Her mouth watered, and her fangs elongated. He had a wonderfully sloped nose, sharp cheekbones, and a stubborn jaw. His dark brows were slashes of menace, yet tempting all the same. His lips…a portal to heaven, surely. They were lush and pink and promised unimaginable pleasures without saying a word. He knew it, too. He radiated utter confidence, absolute strength, and that I’ll-doanything wildness. As she stared up at him, his smile took on a wicked edge, knowing and sure. He was nothing like shy but horny Tom, the boy-man she’d just abandoned. Dressed completely in black, this man seemed every inch the night warrior. Ready to slash your throat without a moment’s notice. In his case, looks were not deceiving. Without a doubt, he was dangerous. “Well, well. Aren’t you a pretty thing?” he said, offering her a hand. That voice…deep and raspy and just roused from bed, as perfect as his face and body. As people buzzed beside them—the females staring at him in openmouthed wonder, the males giving him a wide berth—Bride tentatively accepted his aid. His warm fingers curled around her wrist, and he easily hefted her up. When she gained her bearings, she realized he’d

tugged her forward so that they were only a few inches apart. He did not release her hand. Her smaller height placed her gaze right at the steady pulse in his neck, and her mouth once again watered. Concentrate. Bride raised her chin and forced herself to look him in the eye. “You smell like my friend Aleaha Love. Do you know her?” Wait. What if she’d changed her name? He could have been with her and not even known it. “I smell like a woman, hmm?” At least he didn’t sound insulted. Merely amused. “Yes.” “Well, you smell like sex.” He leaned down as if he intended to share a secret with her, moonlight caressing him as though it couldn’t help itself. Maybe it couldn’t. “The dirtiest kind of sex, at that. Which just happens to be my favorite.” His thumb traced her palm. A shiver slid the length of her spine. He was flirting with her, and wickedly so. Though she had no desire to flirt back—really—she forced herself to say, “Wow. Already we have something in common.” One thing she knew about men. They were more likely to help a woman if they thought they’d get something in return. “That’s my favorite kind, too.” That put a surprised sparkle in his amber eyes. “Isn’t this just my lucky day, then?”

“You never answered my question. Do you know Aleaha Love?” “I know many women, but their names escape me right now. I so want to solve this mystery and become your hero. Perhaps your friend and I use the same perfume.” “She doesn’t wear perfume, and I doubt you do, either.” Even though so much time had passed since Bride had seen Aleaha, she knew her friend would never douse herself in any kind of body spray. Aleaha had to be as desperate to find Bride as Bride was to find Aleaha. She couldn’t believe otherwise. Aleaha was the one person who would never have walked away from her willingly. They’d become family, relied on each other. “Perhaps, then, it’s a coincidence that we smell the same.” “Perhaps.” Her shoulders slumped. He could very well be a shape-shifter like Aleaha, and all shape-shifters could very well produce the same fragrance. “I didn’t expect you to agree. Darling, coincidences don’t just happen. We need to put our heads together and think up some kind of explanation for this extraordinary occurrence. I do my best thinking in bed. You?” She laughed; she just couldn’t help herself. The man was incorrigible. “Another thing we have in common. Thinking in bed. Alone.” Letting him

assume a little some-some was possible was one thing. Outright agreeing to it was another. “Alone.” He tsked under his tongue. “Now that’s just silly.” His gaze fell to her mouth, and his pupils dilated. “What race are you, darling?” She felt what little warmth resided in her cheeks drain away and finally tugged her hand from his. Had he seen her staring at his pulse? Had he sensed the growing hunger in her? “I’m human. What race are you?” “Targon.” He chuckled, the most erotic chuckle she’d ever heard. “But seriously, pet. What race are you?” “I’m human,” she insisted, then returned to the only subject that mattered. “My friend. You smell like her.” Bride had heard of Targons. They were a warrior race—big surprise—and all of them possessed brown hair and eyes. Or so she’d heard. If that was true, Aleaha wasn’t a Targon. She had green eyes. “Why?” One of his brows arched, and she feared he meant to rebuke her again. Then he shrugged as though he didn’t care what they discussed. “I’ve just left a female’s bed. Two females, actually. But neither used the name Aleaha, I don’t think. Someone shouted ‘Oh God’ several times, but that’s not helpful to you, is it? Anyway, I digress. I’m ninety percent certain I’d remember your name, if you were so inclined to give it.”

She wondered how she’d laughed at his flirtation a moment ago. The man was frustration incarnate. “Think back. Are you sure you didn’t cry out their names in the heat of passion?” “I’m sure. But I can describe their birthmarks and wax preferences. Hair and eye color would be a bit harder, since I wasn’t paying attention to that area.” Disappointed, Bride shook her head. Having him describe his partners wouldn’t do any good, since Aleaha could look like a thousand different people. “Did you stop and eat anywhere afterward? Maybe rub up against the person sitting next to you?” “No and no. Now, your name,” he continued smoothly. “I hinted before, but you didn’t give it to me. I guess I’ll have to be direct. Tell me.” “I’m Bride.” Damn it. Why had she given him her real name? Why hadn’t she told him Amy, her new identity? “Can you take me to the women? I’d like to see them for myself.” “So persistent. I like that. By the way, my name is Devyn. Not that you asked.” His lips edged into a frown, but another spark ignited in his eyes. This one, if she wasn’t mistaken, was of curiosity. “Why didn’t you ask for it?” “Because I didn’t care to know it.” So much for flirting for the info. “Now. Can you. Take me. To the. Women?” Careful, or your irritation with him will drive him away.

His frown intensified, but then, so did his curiosity. “Yes. I can. Will I? No. I won’t. So let’s discuss something else. Like why you didn’t care to know my name. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m gorgeous. Everyone wants to know my name. Everyone.” Great. He was one of those. Conceited, narcissistic. Too bad he’d already used up her patience. There’d be no pandering to his ego. She reached up and fisted his shirt. It was soft, almost as if it were made from cotton rather than the synthetic blends most people were now forced to wear. He must be wealthy. “Take me to the women,” she said. “I need to see them.” “Are you jealous of them?” he asked hopefully. “Do you want to kill them for having a go at me? Darling, we just met. That’s silly. It’s the girls after you that you should want to slay.” He brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, leaving a trail of fire. “Not that I’ll be able to find one as lovely as you.” Frustrating man. “Of course you won’t find anyone as lovely as me,” she said, adding dryly, “No one compares to me. I’m all you’ll be able to think about for the rest of your life. You’ll be heartbroken that you let me get away, and perhaps you won’t ever recover. Now that we’ve got that established, let’s talk about those women you were

with. If you won’t take me to them, fine. At least tell me where you left them. I’ll check them out myself.” One corner of those gorgeous lips twitched, as though he were fighting a grin. Of course, he ignored her demand. “You forgot to mention that all the women I’ve been with were merely practice for the day I met you.” “That’s so obvious I wasn’t sure it needed to be stated. Now. Where did you leave the women?” His head tilted to the side as he studied her, those lips still twitching. “You don’t desire me, do you?” “No.” Truth. He was gorgeous, as he’d said, the egotistical bastard, but his attitude grated. Of its own accord, her gaze dropped once more to his neck. Well, maybe she desired his blood. He wasn’t human but he was equipped like one, his vein fluttering faster than before. The hunger she’d battled all day increased exponentially. You can’t drink him here. Too public. Besides, you’re with him for a reason, remember? Perhaps she could force him to tell her where the women were. Even if they were gone, their scents would have lingered. For a while, at least. And if Leah had been there, and the scent still remained, Bride could follow her trail. “I’ve lost you, darling,” Devyn said, his amusement intensified for some reason. “What? Oh, sorry.” When she pulled herself

from her musings and focused on him, a gasp escaped her. No longer did the night sky and golden moon frame his erotic face. Somehow he’d moved them both to an empty side street. To her knowledge, they’d never taken a step. Silver stone stretched all around them, lines of gang graffiti warning them away. “How did you do that?” she asked. “Do what?” He blinked, acting harmless, those long lashes like feathered fans. “Move us.” As if he didn’t know. Rather than try and deny it, he waved his fingers, saying, “Magic. Now, why don’t we go somewhere cozy and get to know each other, hmm? We’ll have sex and discuss your friend.” Her second offer of the day, though this one was more blatant. She wouldn’t run away from this one, however. “How long ago did you leave those women?” He uttered a long-suffering sigh. “I lied when I told you I liked persistent women. I’m this close,” he pinched two of his fingers together, “to spanking you. Would you like that?” “Enough!” Exasperated, Bride reached up and cupped his jaw, forcing his gaze on hers. “Listen, you. You’re going to do everything I tell you to do.” There was power in her voice now, soft thrums that wafted between them. “You’re going to—” “Wait.” He frowned again. Even stiffened. But

his eyes didn’t glaze over, and his muscles didn’t slacken, as was supposed to happen. “Say that again.” Fru-strat-ing. “Stop talking and listen to me. You will—” “Do everything you tell me to do. Yes, I know. You’re a vampire, aren’t you?” he asked, and there was disappointment in his tone. First, why wasn’t he obeying her? Second, he knew what she was without seeing her bare her teeth? Disappointment wasn’t the usual reaction she received. Terror, yes. Awe, sometimes that, too. Intrigue, even. Third, now would be a good time to beat feet. He knew what she was and could try and stake her. Bride remained rooted in place, though, fury sprouting, growing, burning through her. She would face him and she would hurt him if necessary, but the bastard was going to tell her what she wanted to know. “Like I told you, I’m human. So just tell me where you left those women, damn it! I mean them no harm. I only want to talk to them.” “I’ve had a vampire,” he said, ignoring her. Again. He wrapped his fingers around her wrists and lowered her arms away from his body. “I’m afraid you’ll have to look elsewhere for dinner.” Wait. He’d had a vampire? That meant there were others out there. That meant she wasn’t alone. Her mouth fell open as excitement returned and

blended with her fury, this time billowing through her on a cloud of astonishment. Each emotion was so strong, the thorns in her chest sharpened, joining the fire, but she hardly noticed them. There were others out there! Blood drinkers, just like her. People who could tell her why she now sickened when she drank. People who could teach her how to use her powers without weakening. “You’re not going anywhere,” she told Devyn, once again grabbing onto his shirt. Her nails cut past the material and into skin. “I have questions, and you are going to answer them.” “It would have been my pleasure, if you had been what I’d thought. I collect different species of women, you see, and like I said, I’ve had a vampire. A few of them actually. I don’t need another.” Again, he jerked from her hold. One step, two, he backed away from her, almost upon the crowd. “A pity. I enjoyed your resistance.” “What do you think you’re doing? You’re staying here.” Jaw clenched, Bride moved toward him. Her voice of compulsion obviously didn’t work on him, but she’d grown up on the streets and had had to learn how to defend herself. Taking him down wouldn’t be a hardship. “Tell me about the vampires of your own free will or I’ll force you. Then I’ll drain you.” He arched a brow. “I thought you were human?” “Now I’m just pissed.” She kicked out her leg,

knocking his ankles together. He stumbled to the side, and she reached out and captured the back of his neck, using his momentum to swing and bash him against the brick wall. Breath whooshed from him, his eyes going wide with shock. “Now you listen to me, you piece of shit.” She slapped her hands at his sides, getting right in his face. “I’ve had enough of your flirting and denials. You will tell me what I—” “Stay still,” he said, and every muscle in her body locked down. “Sorry, darling, but even though you took me unaware and I’m highly impressed, this restaurant is closed. Besides that, you can’t force me to do anything I don’t want to do.” She couldn’t move. Her body couldn’t freaking move. “What the hell?” she shouted, trying with all her might to uproot her feet. It was as if her boots had been glued to the pavement. “What did you do to me?” “It’s a little trick of mine. But don’t worry.” Grinning, he ducked under her arm. “You’ll be able to move soon enough.” “I need to talk to you, damn it, and ask you some more questions. Questions you will answer.” “I only answer questions when the one doing the asking is naked, and as we won’t be getting naked anytime soon…” Another of those disappointed sighs. “If I wasn’t in a hurry, you might have been able to make me forget I prefer variety. As it is, I’m

late and have to go. But do dream of me, darling.” That dirty, rotten bastard! How dare he! “Leave, and I’ll come after you. I swear I will.” “Won’t do you any good, I’m afraid.” And with that, he disappeared amid the churning crowd. Bride was unable to follow and all the madder for it. He’s going down, she thought darkly. In every possible way.

CHAPTER 2

Devyn, king of the Targons, released the delightful woman from stun the moment he was too far to sniff out and find. It was difficult. Her energy molecules were like nothing he’d ever encountered before. Glimmering, almost overpowering… probably addictive. Already he craved another taste of them. But he prevailed, letting them go with only the slightest twinge of remorse. The ability to force bodies to obey their every mental command was one of the reasons his people were so prized as warriors here. They could literally stop an army in its tracks and slit the soldiers’ throats before a single fist or sword was raised. Most humans were frightened by the skill. Some, like the agents of AIR, Alien Investigation and Removal, liked to utilize it for their own gain. The vampire, well, there’d been fire in her eyes. The girl had wanted answers—and perhaps his blood—in a bad way. His skill, not so much. He grinned. She’d been hungry for answers, yes, and he’d denied her…there at the end she’d wanted to gut him, he was sure of it. Only once before had a female resisted him with such fervor. Only once before had a female radiated such fury at him. Only once before had a female gotten the better of him and manhandled

him with such force. That another had intrigued him, on all counts. What’s more, this one had mentally left the conversation a few times, and he’d wondered what thoughts drifted through her head, distracting her. Women simply did not dismiss him like that. Not since his father had died and he’d gone a little wild, doing everything he’d ever fantasized about doing to the females in his household—and so much more. It might have been fun, bedding the vampire despite her origins, he thought, then shrugged. Nah. The more time he spent with her, the more she would have become like everyone else. You sure? First moment he’d seen her, he’d meant to leave her without engaging her. Everything about her was designed to blend into a crowd. From her mousy brown hair to her unassuming hazel eyes. From her pale skin to her average height and curves. Until he’d begun to see beyond the mask. As he well knew, some races were able to “glammor” themselves, hiding their beauty with the commonplace so that no one would pay them and their actions any heed. The more he’d looked at Bride, the more he’d seen the truth of her. She was a mélange of colors. She possessed long, jet-black hair, and her eyes were like dazzling emeralds. Her skin was dusted

with rose, and her lips were a brilliant scarlet. A lush and dewy, ripe-for-a-kiss scarlet. And the energy swirling inside her…it was stunning, as bright as the sun and unlike anything he’d ever encountered. That’s what had gained his notice and convinced him to stay. That delectable energy, snapping and sizzling around her. Then she’d rebuked him, hadn’t even wanted to know his name. In that moment, he’d become determined to win her. A challenge had seemed like a nice change of pace. Then he’d discovered she was a vampire. Devyn sighed. He hadn’t lied to her. He’d already had a vampire, two actually, and more of the same held no appeal to him. If only The Voice hadn’t given her away, he might have continued to convince himself she belonged to a race he’d never before come across. But her sweet timbre had gone low and husky, a hypnotic hum pulsing from every word, beseeching him to listen, to do everything she asked. Unfortunately for her, he’d encountered The Voice before, and hers was weaker than most. When Devyn discovered an ability that could potentially bring about his downfall, he worked and trained until he learned to defeat it. Exactly what he’d done with The Voice. It had taken months, but his mind was now immune to secret suggestion. Oh, the expression on her face when she realized

he would not be doing as she’d wanted. Priceless. He chuckled, remembering. What was she doing topside? Vampires lived underground, hidden from the rest of the world. They only emerged twice a year to collect food— aka humans—and not even their exiled were sent to the surface to live. Because of this, most people still considered them the stuff of myth and nightmare. Devyn only knew about them because he’d once participated in slave auctions, buying females for his collection. And no, he’d never forced his purchases to sleep with him. Anyone reluctant to be with him, he set free. So far, though, there’d been only one who’d rejected him. Eden Black, a golden-skinned Rakan and the woman he’d remained on Earth for, hoping to bed at least once. The woman who loved him— like a goddamn brother. His chuckle was wry this time. One day that would change; she would leave her lover and seduce Devyn. He was sure of it. Until then, he would simply continue to play with the vast supply of females here to distract himself. Bride, with her don’t-touch-me attitude, was a lot like Eden, he realized. Maybe he should have bedded her. He could have pretended he’d finally won Eden’s affections. He frowned. I’ve had vampires, and I don’t want anymore, remember? Even if I’m pretending they’re something else.

One of the auction traders had managed to snag two bloodsuckers who’d been on the hunt, and high bidder that he’d always been, Devyn had acquired them. Actually, the two had worn those glammored masks of plainness, and no one else had been interested in them. But they’d dropped those masks for him and him alone, which was how he’d learned such things existed. They’d spent several weeks with him, and they’d told him much about their society. Very archaic, he thought, much like his own world had been. There was a royal family, and everyone else lived to serve them. Those who broke the rules were harshly punished. He wondered if the current vampire king knew of Bride’s whereabouts. Surely not. Living among the mortals was forbidden because it could leak the secret of their existence, bringing humans and otherworlders to their door. Perhaps war. If little Bride was discovered, she would most likely be killed for placing her brethren in danger. Oh, well. It wasn’t his problem. Devyn turned a corner, his friend’s apartment building coming into view. One of the newer structures, it boasted sturdy stone and metal that could withstand fire and air strikes long enough for the people inside to evacuate safely. Not much to look at, but the people of Earth cared more about safety than aesthetics now. After they’d fought the

war of the species, he couldn’t blame them, though he did prefer the open beauty of his own planet, Targonia. A planet he could return to, and often did, but one he no longer ruled. Thank God. Oh, he still had his title, still had his army, but as interplanetary travel had become more prevalent, his people had been introduced to life without a monarchy. Some had wanted to leave, travel the galaxies through interworld wormholes, while some had wanted to stay, but all had wanted to govern their own lives. So he’d let them, because he’d been tired, so tired, of ruling. Of being an example of all that was “pure.” Not that they’d seen much of his purity those last few years. Now, he spent most of his time here on Earth. Helping AIR. At one time, an alien aiding the very people who policed them would have been laughable. But over the past year, the powers that be had realized the only way to control certain dominant races was with, well, certain dominant races. AIR liked having Devyn on their side, and they paid him very well. Though the money wasn’t the reason he stuck around. He didn’t need it. Being king came with certain privileges, and one of those was the cash to set himself up on whatever planet he desired in the style he was accustomed. He stuck

around because of the agents he worked with. Eden, of course, was included in their numbers. For the first time in his vast existence, he was treated as an equal. No one lived their life based on what he said or did. No one was scandalized or humiliated by the actions of him and his “beast.” No one bowed to him—except the females, when he asked. Excluding Eden Black. And probably Bride. Damn it. He had to stop thinking about her. She was gone, out of reach. Here, he wasn’t a leader, an example, or a marital prize. He was simply a man who enjoyed sex, fighting, and freedom. In that order. Sex. The single word elicited an image of blackas-night hair, eyes of brilliant green fire, lips stained red with blood. Every muscle in his body hardened. Did no good, trying to keep her from his mind. Why’d the little firecracker have to be a vampire? Variety was the only thing that kept him sane, the only thing that kept the pain of his palace days, of being denied everything, beaten to the back of his mind. He stomped up the steps and entered Dallas’s building, the cool night air giving way to warmth and laden with the scent of lemon cleaner. There was a lounge area complete with two chocolatecolored couches and a matching chair, a coffee table and a cream-colored rug. Not the wisest of choices, as the pale fabric was

already stained with dirt. Dirt. He shuddered. He was a clean freak and wasn’t ashamed of it, even though he knew the preference stemmed from the frightened, cowed, utterly repressed boy he’d once been. Behind the half-moon desk of monitors, the security guard nodded, clearly expecting him, allowing him to pass without a word. As he pounded up the stairs to the fifth floor—no cramped elevator for him, thank you—he enjoyed the burn in his thighs. Physical exertion of any kind was always a pleasure. A pretty girl, probably in her early twenties, stopped and gaped when she spotted him. She was human, with pale hair and brown eyes. A little plump, but he liked and welcomed all shapes and sizes, all colors and consenting ages. If he hadn’t sampled the race before, that is. Sadly, it was becoming harder and harder—not in the literal sense, unfortunately—to find new bed partners. “Hi,” she said, a little breathless. He nodded in greeting, but didn’t smile, didn’t flirt. No reason to lead her on. Like vampires, even lovely, colorful, tease-just-right vampires, he’d already had his fill of human females. They were boring. “Whacking off,” as Dallas would say, was more fun. Her gaze bored into his back all the way down the hall. Maybe that was because he’d frozen her in

place. He never gave his back to a person without doing so. It was habit now, from his palace days when rebels would have done anything to cleave his head from his body. Or maybe it was because she was imagining him naked and would have raced over to flirt with him if allowed. Either way, he freed her only when he was in front of Dallas’s door and she had his profile. Dallas Gutierrez was already standing in the opened entry, eyes narrowed, arms stretched out to block Devyn’s forward progress. He was a handsome man with dark hair, dark skin, and eyes so pale a blue they were almost translucent. He wasn’t quite as tall as Devyn, but was just as bulked with muscle. “You’re late,” Dallas said, clearly irritated. “The girls have already left.” “I know. I ran into Macy, Mishka, and Mia a few blocks down. And my God, that’s a lot of M’s.” Apologizing would have meant he regretted where he’d been and how long he’d taken, and he didn’t. “Security call and let you know I was on my way up?” “No.” There was a wealth of resentment in that one word. Which meant Dallas’s psychic abilities were growing stronger—abilities the agent had only recently acquired and despised with every ounce of his being. The more powerful his abilities, the less

breakable his bond to the alien responsible for them. A while back, Dallas had been shot with pyrefire. There’d been a hole in his chest, his skin and organs charred and unable to regenerate. Kyrin en Arr, an Arcadian king, had sliced his own wrist and fed Dallas his blood. That blood had saved Dallas’s life, causing his body to supernaturally heal. And now, Devyn knew, as he saw a future he’d never been able to see before, Dallas feared the blood inside him was turning him into an alien. “Aw, you sensed me,” Devyn said to lighten the mood. “I’m touched. I wonder if that means we’re meant to be together forever.” “Fuck you.” “Proof we aren’t really meant to be together, I suppose. My mate would never talk to me like that.” Dallas bared his perfect white teeth in a scowl. “Can you take nothing seriously?” “There’ll be time enough for serious when I’m dead.” Truth. His father had ruled for two hundred years, concerned only with his reputation, bound by the opinion of others. And his father had died, not a laugh line on his face, mourning all that he’d missed, all that he could have had. On the flip side, his mother had lived for her own happiness, no one else’s, and she had died with a smile on her face, her merriment imprinted on

every wall in the palace. At that time, Devyn had been more like his father. Joy had had no place in his life. Only duty. Only honor. He’d wed the female that had been chosen for him. He’d attended meetings and ceremonies, on time and dressed as benefiting his station. He’d led the army but had never fought with them, his precious, stainless life too important to risk injury. He’d sat on his throne and issued judgment for crimes, deciding who would live and who would die when he’d never truly lived himself. He hadn’t played games, and after all the punishments he’d endured, he hadn’t so much as looked at another woman after his marriage. Not even when said wife viewed sex as the same filthy pastime his father had. She’d vomited the first and only time he’d placed his ugly “thing” inside her. So he’d kept his desires in his pants, thinking, what kind of example would I set, pledging my life to one yet lusting after another? When he’d seen the regret in his father’s eyes as the once rigid, sanctimonious man gasped his final breath, saying, “Everything I could have done…,” Devyn’s entire outlook had changed. He’d severed ties with his frigid queen. Divorce, it was called here. He’d begun training with his men and truly leading them. Sometimes, when his dick had hardened, he’d stroked it. Sometimes he’d even lain with the servants—however filthy that made him.

Occasionally shame had come gunning for him, for the things he’d done to himself, for the things he’d done to his lovers, but he’d come to see that shame as his enemy and had fought against it with all his might. The more things he’d done and the more women he’d taken, the more he had realized the bliss of diversity. A desire to sample anything and everything had overtaken him. Now the shame no longer plagued him. Not even a little. He did what he wanted, when he wanted it. Bed two sisters at the same time? Why not? String a female up and whip her as she begged for orgasm? Sure. Go at it in public? Any time, any where. He would not die with a single regret. “You reek of determination,” Dallas said, cutting into his musings. “What the hell are you thinking about?” “The past.” “That’s never good.” No, it wasn’t. “Gonna make me stand here all night?” He loved human slang and used it every chance he got. Made him feel more like a man, his royal parentage a distant memory. “Maybe. You’d deserve it.” Being late because you were enjoying a threeway wasn’t a crime. It was a reason to celebrate. Perhaps Dallas the Somber needed a three-way of his own.

“I predicted you’d be here,” Dallas said, “and here you are. There was nothing in my vision about you lingering. I can shut the door in your face and not change the future in some terrible way.” “Really, it doesn’t get any better than predicting my presence. Your luck must be changing.” Usually the agent’s visions were bleak. Like the time he’d seen a woman—a half-human, half-machine cyborg —killing their friend Jaxon. When he tried to change the outcome, it had been Dallas who’d almost killed him. Since then, Dallas’s mood had been harsh, black, the man hard as shit to please. The only silver lining was that Devyn had found something new to bed: a cyborg. Mental note: be on the lookout for a blackhaired, green-eyed, half-machine woman. Even a brown-haired, hazel-eyed one would do, killing two female birds with one long, hard stone. “You’re doing it again,” Dallas said on a sigh. “Winking in and out of the conversation. Only this time you’re smiling like an idiot.” “You would be, too, if you were imagining what I am.” Dallas rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to know what’s in your head. If I hadn’t seen the dirty, downright nasty way you fight, I’d think the only things you were capable of doing were having sex and thinking about sex. Now, I want to know why you were late.”

“I was tied up.” Again, truth. He’d allowed his partners to anchor his wrists and ankles to the bedpost. They’d liked the thought of having him at their mercy, and he’d liked the girls doing all the work. Not that he’d been helpless. That, he would never allow. But he’d let them think he was vulnerable, and they had pleased him for it. The agent studied him and shook his head in exasperation. “You might as well return to your women. Like I said, the girls have already left.” They’d agreed to meet today and discuss the latest threat to New Chicago. Damn if there wasn’t always a threat. “You know I never return to a woman once I’ve had her. So let me in and tell me what was decided during the meeting. Meanwhile, I’ll entertain you, there’s no denying that, and you’ll stop acting pissy. It’s win-win.” Another sigh. “You don’t deserve it, but fine. Come in.” Dallas moved to the side. “You’re as vengeful as a woman, you know that?” Devyn said as he passed him. There was a growl, and Devyn’s lips twitched. So easy to provoke, his friend was. The apartment was as messy as always. Well, except for the time Devyn had paid two hookers to clean it. Naked. But the spotlessness hadn’t lasted long. Wrappers and beer bottles were scattered throughout, along with dirty clothes and weapons. The leather couch Devyn had bought Dallas could

barely be seen under the chaos. Grimacing, Devyn kicked his way to the kitchen and grabbed a beer. He didn’t pop it open until after he’d plopped into the recliner. Something hard dug into his back, but he didn’t bother to move it. He’d only encounter something else, he was sure. Dallas fell into the seat across from him and propped his ankles on the small stone table, dislodging a computer notebook and sending it to the floor with a thwack. He didn’t bend down and pick it up. Messy as he was, Dallas usually took more care with his equipment. Something more than simple anger at Devyn’s tardiness was at work here. Had to be. Devyn’s gaze sharpened on him. There were lines of strain around Dallas’s eyes and mouth, and his T-shirt and jeans were wrinkled, stained, and cut. He’d lost a little weight. His hair hadn’t been brushed in a week. Maybe a month. Guilt joined the beer, swimming laps inside Devyn’s veins as he gulped back a few swigs. While he’d spent the last two hours fucking himself stupid, his closest friend had been stressing about something. “Tell me what’s going on, and I’ll fix it,” he said. It was a vow. Though he only lived for his own pleasure nowadays, he couldn’t walk away from a friend in need. He would regret it, and Devyn never did anything he would regret.

Dallas scrubbed a hand down his face. “I’m not sure you can fix this.” “Tell me, anyway.” “Remember Nolan?” “Of course.” Nolan was a new breed of alien called the Schön. They were beautiful and deadly, and they had come to Earth, destruction hot on their heels. Everyone they’d bedded, everyone their blood had come into contact with, had soon become cannibals. Once-loving humans had morphed into flesh-eating murderers. They’d also died slowly and painfully, the virus eating through them. AIR had managed to capture Nolan and kill several of his brethren—as well as everyone infected—and that should have been the end of it. But “should have” meant nothing. Now the queen of the Schön, the woman responsible for the virus and the greatest source of its power, was on her way to this planet. When she would arrive, no one but Nolan knew, and he wasn’t talking. AIR only knew that she would come, and she would kill. Already she had destroyed several worlds, for the more people she infected through sex and bloodletting, the longer she lived, keeping the disease at a minimum inside her own body. Same with her army. Same with Nolan. If they didn’t pass the disease on to someone else, and then someone else, and then

someone else, they too became cannibals. It was a vicious cycle. “You ready for this?” Dallas asked. “Lay it on me.” “Nolan escaped AIR.” Okay. No, he hadn’t been ready for that. “Shit. How long ago?” Dallas glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. “About fifteen hours.” “And no one realized until this afternoon when Mia called the meeting?” “That’s right.” “How is that possible?” The guy had been locked in a state-of-the-art facility, complete with fingerprint IDs, retinal scanners, and weight-and heat-sensitive tiles, all of which should have caused the alarms to screech to life the moment he stepped outside his cell. Again, “should have” sucked ass. “God only knows. He’s out there, probably screwing his way to good health while infecting innocent women, who then infect their lovers. If that’s the case, this thing is going to spread fast. So fast we might not be able to stop it.” Devyn placed the now-empty beer bottle atop the stack of unfolded laundry beside him. “Think the Schön will want revenge against Jaxon and Mishka?” Mishka, the cyborg Devyn wanted a go at but wouldn’t make a play for because he did not poach

his friend’s females, ever, had befriended and betrayed Nolan, all to protect Jaxon. Saving the world from that sadistic disease by locking Nolan away had been a side benefit. “Revenge?” Dallas shrugged. “He didn’t seem the type, you know? He was more concerned about falling in love before he died than truly hurting others. I mean, I got the sense that he didn’t enjoy infecting his lovers and only did it to survive.” Love. Devyn barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. Love could be found in the arms of anyone, anywhere, if only people would abandon the silly idea of monogamy. What was the point of giving yourself to only one? Boredom, that’s what. “I’m guessing a patrol has been sent out to look for him,” he said. “Correct. So far, no sighting. Who knows? Maybe I’m wrong, and he’s not out there screwing everyone he meets. Maybe he’s keeping to himself, hoping to die with a little dignity. You know, without an AIR audience. Or maybe he caught a solar flare home.” Solar flares were what opened the wormholes that allowed the travel between the planets. That was how Devyn so easily moved between this one and his own. “There’s been no new case of infection.” “None that have been reported, at least.” One thing Devyn knew about those in power: they kept secrets. Many women could have been infected by

Nolan and eliminated by the government already. And one thing Devyn knew about men: they liked to have sex. Nolan needed sex more than most, not just for pleasure but for survival. He was sleeping around, keeping himself strong, no doubt about it. There would be no dying with dignity. “Nolan didn’t return to his planet,” Devyn said. “It was wiped, remember? All of its people were either infected or killed. And then, of course, the infected traveled to Eden’s planet, Raka, wiped it, then ventured here. We have to catch him, and we have to kill him this time.” Dallas shook his head. “We can’t kill him. He’s the only one who knows about the Schön queen we’ll soon be fighting. Speaking of, I wish there was a way to send the bitch a message. Come here, and we’ll hang you with your own intestines.” Devyn, too. “We’ve questioned Nolan repeatedly. Hell, I even tortured him. He never broke and managed to keep every one of his secrets. And the fault was not mine. I’m a damn good torturer.” It wasn’t something he usually enjoyed, but he’d been the only one for the job. Touching Nolan hadn’t been an option. Spilling his blood hadn’t been an option, either. The disease inside his body was alive, with a will and agenda of its own, and it only left a host when another was nearby. Devyn had not wanted to become one of those

hosts. As he could force objects to move in the same way he could force people, manipulating their energy, he’d been able to shatter every bone inside Nolan’s body without ever setting foot in the room. “It’s time to end him,” he added, “before he begins a pandemic.” Dallas scoured a hand down his tired face. “That’s what we decided, as well.” Wait—what? “Then why the hell’d you hassle me about keeping him alive for his secrets?” “Mishka spent an hour trying to talk us out of killing him. She cried, Dev. Real damn tears.” The agent leaned his head against the back of the couch, staring up at the ceiling. No one was tougher than Mishka, who had once had a chip in her brain. A chip that had forced her to do things she hadn’t wanted to do. Murder people she loved, have sex with people she didn’t. Only recently had it been removed. “I wanted to cut out my heart and give it to her. Now you waltz in here, late, and state as pretty as you please the very thing we had to fight her for.” “One, I’m late for everything but what really matters. And two, had I been here, we both know her tears wouldn’t have affected me.” Tears never affected him. It was almost like he was missing the sensitivity gene or something. For sex, he could pretend like he cared that he’d upset a female. But actually care? No. Emotions, he’d learned from

ruling his people and being responsible for their fates, were foolish. Wasted, even. “Now, why don’t you tell me what this is really about.” Silence. Thick, heavy. Then Dallas laid his arm over his eyes and said, “It’s Kyrin. Ever since he saved my life, there’s been a desire to please him inside me—and it’s not from gratitude! Anything he says, I feel compelled to do on a cellular level. Like the blood inside me knows it used to belong to him and wants to cater to his every whim.” “You’re talking as though the blood is alive, as with the Schön.” “Maybe it is. I mean, if Kyrin told me to blow him, I’d blow him, even though I don’t swing that way. And yeah, I know he’d never command me to do something like that, but still. I can’t stand even the possibility of it.” “Shall I kill him for you?” Devyn’s loyalty belonged to this man, not to the Arcadian. Dallas had broken several AIR rules for him, placing his own career and future in jeopardy. He’d even saved Devyn’s life, jumping in the way and taking a blade meant for Devyn. Of course, the agent’s new Arcadian blood had caused him to heal quickly, but that hadn’t lessened the impact of the gesture. More than that, Devyn liked him. Dallas had no inhibitions, and he was as open as Devyn was about his sexuality. Those blue eyes never judged him, and the man himself had been as desperate for a

friend as Devyn had been. Mia, his last BFF, was now dating the very man responsible for Dallas’s gifts—and torment. “You’d do that for me?” Dallas asked. “Of course.” Yes, Devyn respected the enigmatic Kyrin and would hate to see him eliminated. And yes, anyone who could put up with the violent Mia Snow for more than a single bedding deserved his respect. But if Dallas wanted Kyrin gone, Devyn would take care of it, no questions asked. He owed him that much. At least. Wasn’t like he got all emotional about his kills. To be honest, he could eliminate almost anyone with no hesitation and no sense of remorse. He’d been that way since defeating his sexual shame. With its fall, his other emotions had seemed to crumble as well. He didn’t cry. Ever, for any reason. He didn’t become attached to people, places, or objects, in the sense that he craved them, needed them, and had to be with them. And he certainly didn’t mourn when those around him kicked it. Perhaps, though, he wouldn’t tear the otherworlder’s limbs from his body and choke him to death with his own hands, as was Devyn’s custom. Perhaps, too, he wouldn’t sneak up from behind and slice his throat. He was fond of doing that, as well. Maybe he would challenge the alien to a fight, win, of course, and then bury the body and

pretend like nothing had happened. It was the only honorable thing to do, really. “No,” Dallas said on a sigh. “Don’t kill him.” “Bummer. I had just come up with a gold star plan, if I do say so myself.” Devyn knew why Dallas had declined his offer. Dallas still loved Mia like a sister, and Mia loved Kyrin. The agent would never do anything to hurt her, which meant he’d never do anything to hurt his new blood master, no matter how much it might beleaguer him. “You change your mind, you let me know and it’s done.” Dallas straightened, some of the tension leaving him. He even gifted Devyn with one of his wry—so rare these days—smiles. “Just for that, I forgive you for being late.” “Does that mean you’re not breaking up with me?” Snorting, Dallas launched a pillow at him. “You could be so lucky.” The small square of material slammed into his chest. Devyn collected it and propped it behind his head, getting comfortable. But damn it, what the hell was still poking him in the back? Finally he reached back, fingers wrapping around…a vibrator. He blinked at it. Large, pink, and beaded. “Want to explain this?” he said, holding it up to the light and smiling. His friend shrugged sheepishly. “Had a girl over and we had a three-way with it.”

“Wait a second.” Devyn tossed the device to the floor and peered over at the agent in disbelief. “Back up. Two things shock me about your story. One, you actually brought a female into this dump? And two, you had a three-way yet you’re still moody? Sounds like you need a few lessons in ménage etiquette.” Dallas shot him the bird. “You wish. Okay, subject change before you start slobbering on yourself over the possibility. When do we start hunting Nolan?” “Tonight. The others are out there now, and we’re their relief.” “Let’s not wait. I’m bored.” “But I’m tired. I worked all night and haven’t had a chance to catch any Z’s.” “Excuses, excuses. Man up, get off your ass and grab some weapons. We’re going hunting.”

CHAPTER 3

Finally they caught sight of the bastard. Devyn remained in the shadows, back pressed against a wall of peeling red paint and metal. Fourteen days of flashing Nolan’s picture to everyone they encountered, fourteen days of interviewing people who might have interacted with the poisonous alien. Fourteen days of passing out their cell numbers—and having to answer the calls of supposed sightings that were really women trying to date them—waiting for something, anything to break. Fourteen days of disappointment and failure. Until now. Nolan had come out of hiding to score a prostitute. Fitting, that sex would be the man’s downfall. They had to be careful, had to treat this situation like they were patient admirers and Nolan a skittish virgin. (Devyn happened to be very good at that.) Nolan could cloak himself with invisibility and disappear in the blink of an eye. It was a skill that had almost gotten several AIR agents killed the last time they’d dealt with him, because it was nearly impossible to win a fight with a ghost. Earlier, before he’d actually seen the little shit, Devyn had feared he’d already made a wrong move, alerting Nolan to his intentions and causing the Schön to follow him. Every so often, he’d felt

as if someone was watching him, studying him. Waiting. Perhaps judging. That gaze had blistered him, seemingly alive with fury. It was as that fury had grown that he’d begun to think that maybe it wasn’t Nolan. Maybe it was the vampire. Bride. I’ll come after you. I swear it, she’d shouted heatedly. Once, he’d even thought he’d caught sight of her. But she’d been blissfully, erotically naked, more curved than possible, all rose-tinted skin, blood red nipples, and dark hair. Because he’d caught this wondrous glimpse on a crowded public street, he’d known he hadn’t really seen her. He knew women. No matter their race, they didn’t traipse around naked. (Much to his consternation.) There was simply too much shame involved. (Again, much to his consternation.) After that, though, he’d begun to look for her. Which was odd. He’d already dismissed her from his mind. Hadn’t he? But he couldn’t deny that a true glimpse of dark hair now sent his pulse racing. Pale skin caused moisture to flood his mouth. Green eyes caused his cock to harden painfully. And each time his body reacted to thoughts of her, he remembered the way she’d rebuffed him. How she’d wanted no part of his (magnificent) body. Not sexually, at least. His desire to see her, really see her, had increased. If he put the vastness of his sensual knowledge

to work, would he be able to tempt her to his bed? He just didn’t know, and every fiber of his being sparked with the challenge of finding out. He was going to have to find her, he decided. Surely she’d succumb, just like everyone else, and he’d stop thinking about her. Exactly as he’d done with everyone else. Life was too precious to waste wondering if Bride’s eyes would sparkle like emeralds when she came. If her nipples were really blood red. If she had any tattoos, birthmarks, or scars. The scars he might enjoy kissing all better. Or was kissing boo-boos an Earth custom she would hate? Had she been raised here on the surface? Or had she escaped the underground to avoid punishment for something? If so, why? And did that mean she would make love like a naughty little criminal? He had to know. The sooner he found her, he thought, the better. He’d use the databases at AIR, of course, but would they be able to lead him to her? All he had was her first name. And what a strange name it was. Bride. Who had named her? Why had they named her that? Was she mated? “Can you believe the balls on this guy?” Dallas muttered. They were on opposite sides of the alley, yet Devyn heard him as if he’d spoken directly beside him. They were both wearing sweet little headsets that allowed them to communicate quietly

and privately no matter the distance between them. They were dressed in black from head to toe, and even though Devyn knew his friend’s exact location, he had trouble making him out in the sea of red and shadow. Helped that clouds covered the moon, and the closest streetlights offered only a minimal glow. “Yeah, I can. I’d be doing the same thing.” He spoke in a whisper so low not even the wind could pick it up. “No, you wouldn’t. If he screws her, she’ll die. You’re pretty fucked in the head, but you wouldn’t knowingly kill a woman.” Not necessarily true. Many times during his marriage he’d imagined cutting his wife’s heart out with a spoon and eating it in front of her. “Can I approach him now?” Devyn couldn’t wait to finish off the Schön. He wanted to be looking for the vampire, and that he wasn’t…“Huh, huh, huh? Please.” “Worse than a child.” Dallas sighed. “I told you. That’s not how AIR works. There are too many civilians around. We can’t protect them and take Nolan. We have to wait for backup.” “AIR can suck it. How much longer before we get to give up on backup? ’Cause at this rate, they’ll never get here. The pimp is almost done giving the price list. Nolan’s growing impatient, and very soon he’s going to lead the female inside,

where we’ll have to involve a shitload of other civilians. We have to take him here.” Would have been easier if at least one of the others had arrived, yes. Devyn didn’t mind admitting that. Breean could move faster than the eye could see. Mishka was stronger than ten men combined. Kyrin could heal with a drop of his blood, and Mia was just plain mean. Eden and Macy, well, they were good soldiers, but Devyn preferred them as eye candy. But damn it, this inactivity was driving him insane. Of course, none of the other agents would have been necessary if Devyn’s own ability worked on the Schön. Unfortunately, there were some people that were immune to his telekinesis, able to move normally when he attempted to control them with his mind. It was strange, though. Most that had been raised here on Earth, no matter their race, he could lock on and control. Outside of Earth, it was iffy. Their energy frequencies were usually too jumbled. “Someone should be here,” he griped. “What the hell is holding them up? You made the call half an hour ago.” “What do you want to bet Mishka’s the culprit? She wants Nolan alive.” “Then she should be here to save him from our wrath.” “She would be, if she thought we were

competent. To her, you’re a slut and I’m a bad shot.” “Right on both counts.” Devyn’s lips curled into a smile. It had been the last time they’d battled a Schön that Dallas had turned on Mishka, squeezing off a few rounds in her direction. Yes, he’d wanted to kill her, thinking he would be saving Jaxon from her evil intentions, as his vision had led him to believe. That’s when he’d hit Jaxon instead. “Doesn’t matter, though. We have to act. Nolan’s pale, unsteady on his feet, and perfect for plucking.” “If we fail…” “We won’t.” “You’re not the psychic in this relationship. If he opens fire on civilians, our heads are gonna roll.” “And that would be a damn shame, pretty as I am. Give me a minute and let me see if I can move people away from us.” Pissed him off that he hadn’t thought of this sooner. He blamed Bride. Damned red nipples. Devyn propelled mental fingers out of the alley and down the connecting streets, grabbing onto every pulse of energy he could and commanding each body they belonged to, to perform the same act: turn north and keep moving one foot in front of the other. Pulling the strings of that many humans tired him, but he fought through the lethargy until they were a good distance away. “Done. No civilians

will be hurt in the making of this war zone.” “You’re scary, you know that?” Dallas said with quiet affection. “I know. It’s hardly fair to others that I’m a triple threat. Pretty and talented.” “That’s only two, moron.” “I thought it’d be rude to mention my cock.” Dallas chuckled. “All right. Here’s the deal. Despite Mishka’s belief, I’m the better shot, so I’ll do the firing. You and Mr. Happy just sit there and look pretty.” A given. But he would be wearing heat-sensitive goggles just in case Dallas missed and Nolan did his invisible thing and tried to run. “Next time at least try and challenge me.” Dallas uttered another of those raspy chuckles. “Oh, and before I forget, I think you should stun him rather than kill.” “Planned on it,” Dallas said. That was good; they were agreed. But…“Why not kill?” Devyn knew why he wanted the little shit alive but frozen, but he doubted his reasons were the same as his friend’s. Dallas didn’t like to show it, but killing bothered him. Devyn could tell. The knowledge was always there, dulling the light in those baby blues. That was why Devyn had wanted Dallas only to stun. When the bastard was immobile, Devyn could

move in and finish him off. Still not a drop of the Schön’s blood could be spilled. Not without causing that pandemic. So he’d have to content himself with something simple, like stomping on the guy’s trachea. “I mean, we both know it needs to be done,” he added when there was no reply. “We even agreed to do it. I’ve been looking forward to it.” Did his eagerness mean he had a skewed sense of right and wrong? No. Something needed to be done about the Schön’s treachery, before it was too late, and to Devyn, taking his life would be the same as taking out the trash. “Why?” he repeated. “Mishka, man. I still remember those tears…I was thinking we could take him in and have Mia gas him.” Since Jack Pagosa, the iron-fisted ruler of AIR, had retired a few weeks ago, Mia had taken his place and now called the shots. “I don’t think so. Too big a chance for another escape.” Just as Devyn reached up to pull his goggles over his eyes, he saw Nolan stiffen. Sniff the air. Both he and Dallas stopped breathing, suspended in an oh-shit moment of internal begging. Please don’t disappear and run. Please, please don’t disappear and run. A moment passed. Nolan remained just as he was. “I’m pretty sure he’s on to us. Initiating battle…

now.” Dallas fired, blue beams lighting up the alley. The prostitute, tired-looking and dirty, screamed and fell to her ass. The pimp broke into a mad dash out of the alley and never looked back. Nolan was smarter, though, even sick as he clearly was with his grayish skin and sunken eyes, and dove to the side, the beams soaring just over his shoulder. “Mishka was right,” Dallas breathed, already firing again. “I’m bad.” Again, Nolan rolled out of the way, his body twisting unnaturally. This time, he withdrew his own pyre-gun and started hammering at the trigger. Good thing Devyn had moved the innocent out of the way. The otherworlder’s beams were yellow, which meant he was shooting to kill. One touch from them and flesh would melt, muscle would turn to ash, and bone to lava. Not everyone would be as lucky as Dallas and have an Arcadian swoop in to the rescue. Devyn dropped to the ground, finally jerking the goggles in place. His vision tunneled to pitch, then two slashes of red became visible in front of him. Nolan and the girl. He kept his gun on stun. If the girl was human, it wouldn’t affect her. If she was alien, she would freeze in place for about twentyfour hours, able to see and hear everything around her but unable to move. No fun, but better than dying. He fired at both slashes. One, he hit. One, he

missed. Didn’t take a genius to realize he’d hit the girl. She scrambled behind a Dumpster, even though the beam had knocked her back against the wall, absorbing into her body. She was human, after all. That might add a few complications. Humans tended to throw fits about this kind of thing, whereas aliens didn’t want to make waves and draw attention to themselves. Especially where AIR was concerned. “Shit, man,” Dallas panted through the earpiece. “This is bad.” “I know.” How the hell was Nolan able to anticipate the timing and direction of the beams and move before they nailed him? That was not a skill the otherworlder had possessed the last time they’d fought him. Dallas continued to fire, though his shots were all over the place, as if he didn’t know where to aim. Nolan must have gone invisible. With the goggles, it didn’t matter. Devyn saw his every move. Watching him was like watching a fluid, lethal dance of ducking, rolling, and gliding. “Twelve o’clock,” he instructed the agent. Dallas aimed, fired. Missed as Nolan again dodged. Over and over they repeated the process. Devyn supplied the coordinates, Dallas fired, and Nolan darted safely away. Dallas couldn’t wear his goggles while Devyn wore his, because someone had to keep an eye on real life.

“What now?” Dallas demanded. “Do we approach?” “Not yet. Fast as he’s moving, he’s not winded enough and could dart past us. We’d lose him along the city streets. Right now he’s feeling pinned, and that’s to our advantage.” Nolan stopped at the side of the building, his elbows jerking back and forth as though he were pulling on a door. He was, Devyn realized. Probably hoped to escape the area without having to rush the agents aiming at him. “He’s trying to open a door.” “I already melted the ID pad,” Dallas shouted. “It’s not gonna open, Nolan, no matter what you do. So why don’t you just surrender peacefully and come with us?” “I need a woman, and you weren’t giving me any,” the otherworlder growled as he zigzagged through the cramped space. “I’ll die if I go back.” Whaaa. Had Nolan always been such a whiner? AIR’s cells were well lit. The otherworlder hadn’t been stripped and shoved into a cold, black hole. Hadn’t been denied all sensory perception. “We can’t let you run wild.” Dallas must have been following the sounds of the alien’s hoarse inhalations, because his shots were mere inches from their target. “You infect people. Innocents.” “I didn’t pick an innocent this time. I picked a

woman who’s already dying.” “Yeah, and how many people would she have taken with her if you’d infected her?” Dallas asked. “No more than she already was.” “But those people would have infected more, and the people they infected would have infected more.” “Try and run, I dare you.” Devyn narrowed his focus on the backside of the alien’s glowing red form. Maybe, if he aimed at a piece of him rather than trying to nail him in the center, he’d actually hit the center if Nolan dodged the right way. A lot of ifs, but worth a chance, at least, ’cause damn. He was losing, and he hated to lose. “The closer you are to us, the harder it will be to dodge us”—he hoped—“and we all know it.” Kind of. Nolan paused, teetered to the left, as if he knew another shot was coming. Devyn squeezed the trigger, angling the barrel of the gun at the last second. Finally. Contact. Nolan slammed into the wall and slid to his ass, the beam soaking into his side. But there wasn’t time to congratulate himself on a job well done. Nolan didn’t freeze. He shook his head and pushed to his feet. How. The. Hell? “Damn it!” Devyn was the one to curse this time. “It didn’t work. Stun has never not worked.” He glanced over at his friend, seeking guidance.

What should he do? But rather than ask, he sucked in a breath. Where there should have been only one red light, one body, there were two lights. Two bodies. And he couldn’t tell which one was Dallas. Who the hell? He ripped off the goggles, stilled. Only one body greeted him. Dallas’s. His friend was looking at Nolan, firing one shot after another, and hitting the otherworlder dead center in the chest. The otherworlder had given up on invisibility and was looking down at his own body in wonder, as if he couldn’t believe he was withstanding stun either. Devyn drew the goggles back over his eyes, focusing just behind Dallas. Once again, there were two slashes of red, indicating two people. One seemed to be inside the wall. Again, he tore the goggles off. Again, only Dallas was visible. Another invisible Schön? No, couldn’t be. They couldn’t become part of an object. Could they? He was afraid to freeze whoever it was, afraid the man—or woman?—would be killed or stuck in the wall for twenty-four hours, and Devyn would have to wait to get to him. Or her. More than that, a dead person couldn’t answer questions, and Devyn suddenly had a million. More than losing, he hated mysteries. “No matter what I do, keep your attention on Nolan. Also, move away from the wall,” he told

Dallas quietly. “You’ve got a shadow.” “Need cover?” Dallas inched to a stand and eased to the center of the alley. “Please.” “Let’s talk about this, Nolan,” his friend said to the otherworlder to mask Devyn’s actions. “Surely we can work something out.” “Yeah, like my death.” “You’re the one who escaped.” “I told you. It was that or die. I’m not ready to die, damn it!” With Dallas out of the way and approaching Nolan, Devyn inched toward the wall. Strangely enough, the red light seemed to be coming toward him, as well. Keeping his gun trained with one hand, he once again shoved his goggles out of the way with the other. Sure enough, the wall was moving. Then a woman’s shape began to take form, though her skin was the exact pattern of the red brick behind her. Even her hair boasted that dusty red as it fluttered in the breeze. His eyes widened, and his breathing quickened. Bride. Here she was, right in front of him, blending into her surroundings like a chameleon. He hadn’t known such a thing was possible, had never seen it done before. Slowly the bricklike pattern faded, leaving the pale nakedness he thought he’d glimpsed this morning but had convinced himself was nothing

more than a mind trick. How wrong he’d been. She had indeed been following him, watching him. Idiot. Fool. You pride yourself on your knowledge of the opposite sex. You should have figured out the truth. “Told you I’d find you,” she said smugly. She rubbed between those magnificent breasts, as if something pained her. “Lucky you, I caught sight of you this morning, talking to a group of models leaving a photo shoot. Big surprise. Moment I heard there were models in the area, I knew you’d be nearby.” Knew him so well, did she? Well, he might have heard about the model shoot himself, and that might have been why he’d gone to that side of town, but he’d been asking those women about Nolan, not screwing them blind. So there. You are indeed a fool. “Come on,” she said with a laugh and darted around the corner, away from the action. “Let’s play.” Devyn followed, calling, “Stop.” He hated leaving Dallas alone with Nolan, but it couldn’t be helped. Bride had trailed him all day. Had heard his conversations about Nolan. She now knew things she wasn’t supposed to know. Things the public couldn’t know. Thankfully, she stopped, faced him. Her skin and hair were now silver, the color of the stone behind

her. “What? You’re eager to talk now?” she asked, and this time her voice was as smooth as silk. “It is my lucky day, pet,” he said, because he didn’t know what else to say. Shock was pounding through him, sharp and potent. Shock…and desire. She was here, and she was naked. “We’re together again at last. Did you dream of me?” “If by dreams you mean night terrors, then yes.” He should stun her, he thought, brain finally kicking into gear. Yes, stun. Hello, Dev. He doubted AIR would mind if he froze her and chained her to his bed. As long as she wouldn’t be spilling secrets, they’d be happy. Without alerting her to his intentions, he aimed, squeezed the trigger. Blue beams illuminated the front of the building. Like Nolan, she dodged out of the way. Damn it! How were they doing that? Clearly, Devyn needed to learn how to do it so that he could combat it when others did it. A sexy chuckle escaped her. “I’ve evaded more pyre-fire over the long years than you can possibly imagine.” “Oh, really?” He fired again, even as his mind latched on to all the energy inside her. He’d controlled her body once; he could control it again. “A naughty girl, were we?” Again, she dodged. Again, she laughed. Until…

he paralyzed that energy, and thereby her body, and she ceased moving. Dear God, the power inside her…it was a beacon to him, a shimmering drug of light and dominance. For a moment, he simply luxuriated in all that electric strength, letting it wash through him, intoxicating him, making him feel invincible. There was just so much of it, each particle more astounding than the last. Surely it was enough to win ten thousand wars without breaking a sweat. And yet, he already craved more. Hungered for it. Never had another person’s energy affected him like this. Not even a vampire’s. Bride had to be something more. But what? “Think you’ve got me now, do you?” she said, drawing his attention. Now was not the time to bask or ponder. “Think? Silly girl. I know so.” “You should have taken me to the women, like I asked. Now you’re going to give me the answers I sought, and a whole lot more, or you’ll never see the otherworlder again.” An empty boast, but cute all the same. “I do like your spirit.” “Then you should love this.” Before his eyes, her body seemed to explode, to break apart, a black mist shooting from where she’d stood. He lost his hold on her and wanted to sob. “Bride,” he called, but the thick mist was

moving…faster…faster…swirling together and heading back around the corner. Once again, Devyn followed her. “Dallas, man, duck!” he shouted, when he saw that she meant to slam into his friend, who was still engaged with Nolan. As before, Dallas obeyed without hesitation. The mist soared over him. Rather than stop, turn, and go back for him, the mist continued to move forward, surrounding Nolan. Still swirling, now thickening. Dallas fired his weapon, but the beams darted straight through and hit the back wall. Made sense. There was nothing to absorb it. “Bride, don’t touch him. He’s infected. You could die. Bride!” The mist never ceased whirling. Never even slowed. Wind velocity increased, dancing his hair around his head. With it came a desperation he didn’t understand, a fury he did, and a sense of excitement he couldn’t deny. Nolan tried to beat his way free, but the mist held tight, raising him up, a tornado that couldn’t be stopped, and freezing him as Devyn and Dallas had been unable. “What should we do?” Dallas rasped in his ear. “What the hell should we do? I don’t even know what the hell is happening.” He had no answer. And then, it didn’t matter. The mist—and Nolan—arrowed forward, out of the alley and around the corner, not even a red glow

remaining. Bride was gone. Devyn tossed his goggles to the ground, his heart pounding like a racehorse in his chest. I lost. I really lost. “We have to find her,” Dallas said, his tone grave. “Before Nolan seduces her, and she becomes a carrier of his disease.” “We will.” Devyn gazed at the wall Bride had stepped from and almost rubbed his hands together. Game on, he thought.

CHAPTER 4

Bride released the otherworlder from her swirling hold the moment she had him inside the cell she’d erected in her apartment. She’d had to leave her only window open so that she could soar through it, as well as the cage door swung wide, because she couldn’t ghost through solid objects. Then she spun around his waist until everything emptied from his pockets, lifted his wallet just as she’d lifted his body, and darted out of the cell, spinning so that a breeze shut the metal bars, locking them. The wallet fell to the ground as she stilled and forced her body to piece itself back together, each drop of moisture expanding, forming some part of her, bonding to another, and solidifying. When her feet touched the cold concrete floor, her knees buckled and she dropped. Air gushed from her lungs, and her bones rattled. She ached, God, did she ache. Her blood was thick, sluggish, her muscles shaky and weak. Black dots wove through her vision, creating a tunnel-like effect. As excited as she’d been to have finally found Devyn, she’d been battling the fires and the thorns all day; her chest, already raw, now felt like it had been scraped with a blade, doused with acid, and used as a punching bag. “Who are you?” the man asked from behind her,

clearly nearing panic. “What are you?” She didn’t have the strength to stand. Didn’t even have the strength to angle her head and glance back at him. This always happened. Anytime she broke herself down to the equivalent of a puddle of water and then fit herself back together, she lost days of her life, unable to do anything but lay where she landed. And weak as she’d been lately, it would probably take her longer to recover. Oh, well. It had been worth it. The shock on Devyn’s face when he’d realized who stood before him…the stuff of dreams. She almost, almost, managed a laugh. “While I like the view, could you maybe face me?” Thankfully, he was calming down, breathing in and out, relaxing. “I’d like to see the face of my rescuer, say thank you…maybe talk to you about releasing me from the cage? I have money. I can pay you.” Of course he liked the view. Of course he was calming. She was naked. While she could camouflage her skin and hair to look like the things around her, she hadn’t yet learned how to manipulate her clothing. Which meant she had to do all her hunting bare-assed as the day she was born. If she’d been born the traditional way, that is. How the hell were vampires created? By draining humans and then feeding them tainted blood? You’re veering. Stupid weakness. “Already

have…your wallet,” she managed to work past the swollenness of her throat. The syn-leather was inches from her hand, and far enough away from the cage that he wouldn’t be able to reach it. “Food. Drinks. For you.” There was also a small basin of precious, very expensive water, but she’d wanted him to have everything he needed for survival while she recovered. “You’ll be…fine.” “Thanks, truly, but that’s not enough for me. I need a woman.” There was a ring of desperation in his tone now. “I need sex.” That’s what he’d told Devyn. That without a woman, he would die. Well, too bad. She wasn’t sleeping with him. He’s infected, Devyn had shouted. You could die. The thought didn’t scare her; she’d never been sick a day in her life. Over the years, disease after disease had struck the people around her, but never her. She’d never even sneezed. But while she didn’t fear for herself, she wouldn’t allow the man to sleep with someone else, either, spreading his illness. How, then, was she to keep him alive if he was telling the truth? “Take care…of…yourself.” “I would, but it doesn’t work that way.” “Why…not?” She blinked until her eyes remained shut. Stay awake. You can do it. Slowly she pried her lids apart. Her irises burned. Silence. Lulling, drugging silence. Beckoning her to sleep. Sweet sleep. Still she resisted.

Then, “Please. Just let me out!” The bars rattled. He must be shaking them. “Not yet.” So badly she wanted to return to the alley, taunt Devyn for what she’d taken from him, demand answers about vampires, and finally learn what the bastard knew about Aleaha. That would have to wait, though. Either he’d find her, or she’d find him when she was able to move again. Until then…Her lashes fused together, practically glued this time. A shallow breath shuddered from her, taking the rest of her energy with it. Sweet sleep, she thought again. She couldn’t fight it any longer. Didn’t want to fight it, really. As always, she would dream of her friend and the carefree summers they’d once shared. But as her mind drifted into slumber, it wasn’t Aleaha who claimed center stage. For once, it was a man. Devyn—wild, wicked, and wanton. A smug grin lifted his lips—just as it had when he’d frozen her in place and assumed victory was his. He gazed at her with lust in his eyes, reaching for her, determined to possess her, body and soul…

Devyn pounded back his third single malt, neat. He and Dallas had waited in that dirty alley until backup finally arrived. Twenty damn minutes after Nolan had been captured. Part of him had expected Bride to return, to taunt him a little more and

demand the answers she’d once sought from him. She hadn’t. Now, twenty-four hours later, a group of them were at the house of Jaxon, one of the richest guys in the new world, gorging on his food, emptying his liquor cabinet, and trying to decide on the best course of action. “—telling you, she came out of the wall and looked like one big painted brick,” Dallas was saying. “Then she was naked, and yeah, you should want to kill yourself for not seeing those curves, and then she exploded but didn’t die. No, I didn’t see that part, but Devyn told me all about it. She even turned into a storm cloud of wrath and wrapped around Nolan before disappearing completely.” “I had the artist at AIR headquarters do a sketch of her.” Devyn drained his glass and refilled it. He didn’t stop at two fingers, but gave himself the entire hand before reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a mini-console. The small black box looked like nothing more than a miniature keyboard. But after he keyed in the proper code, a blue light seeped upward, forming a flat, steady square. Colors began to weave through the azure— peach, black, green, red. A female form took shape. And then Bride was there, as lovely as he remembered and ripe for the plucking. Her baffling

level of kinetic energy wasn’t visible and that was a shame. Or maybe not. The agents might have become as obsessed with her as he feared he was becoming. After all, he’d spent the last day thinking of nothing but her. He wanted to know where she was, what she was doing, and exactly how long she could resist if he laid on the charm. “She’s nude.” Dallas leaned forward, elbows propped on the kitchen table—despite the fact that it was made of real mahogany and he was rude as shit—for a closer inspection. “Of course she’s nude, dummy. That’s the last outfit I saw her wearing. Anyway, that woman, our new target, is a vampire, and her name is Bride.” Macy Briggs choked on her beer, and her boy toy—new agent and otherworlder Breean—slapped at her back, his expression concerned. “Vampire?” Mia said when she quieted. “Those actually exist?” “What, you think someone’s imagination was rich enough to create them on their own?” Normally such a smooth-as-silk voice would have been enough to send blood rushing south, thickening and hardening his cock. Today only those thoughts of Bride could do so. She’d bested him. Actually bested him. Last person to do so had been his father. Well, and Eden. Oh, yeah. And Bride, first time they’d met. Still.

He wasn’t gonna let it happen again. Game on, he thought once more. She wanted to play, then they would play. He would use every sensual weapon at his disposal. He would show no mercy. He couldn’t. Besting that little she-devil might just be the greatest challenge of his life. She was smart—she’d found him. She was powerful—she could do that misting thing. And she wanted nothing to do with him sexually—a lie, surely. He was desirable, damn it. No matter what was decided here, he was going to find her, and he was going to chain her to his bed as he’d wanted to do in that alley. She’d tell him everything he wanted to know: Nolan’s location, how she’d done those things, her favorite sexual positions. Once she talked, the pleasure could begin. Oh, yes. Those luscious curves would belong to him until he tired of them. He’d sate himself on her, make her scream and beg for more, give it to her— if he was so inclined—and then start all over again. Of course, he’d have to figure out how to keep her there. No chains could hold her. And whether she could break his mental hold on her body or not, he was practically drooling at the thought of touching that energy again. His gaze veered to the electronic composite of her, and his blood heated, burning through him with

a desire he both loved and hated. There was a way to find and capture her. Had to be. You’re as good as mine, he thought, punching a few numbers and causing her image to fade. No need to sport a hard-on for the rest of the meeting. “Vampires are like…cousins to my race, for lack of a better word.” The pronouncement came from Kyrin en Arr, Mia’s boyfriend or husband or whatever they called themselves. Kyrin was also Dallas’s blood master, the Arcadian who’d saved his life. “Vampires are aliens?” The pronouncement came from several people at once. “Yes.” Kyrin nodded. “They’ve just been here longer than anyone else. A long time, actually. But they are the reason the rest of us knew to come over.” “Why didn’t you tell me?” Mia said, exasperated. “Sweet, there are hundreds of races here. I answer any questions you have for me, but unless I know what information you seek, I can’t provide the answers.” Her expression softened. “Well, from now on it’s safe to say I want to know everything.” “How the hell did she find you? This vampire girl, I mean,” Jaxon said. He was a calm, by the book (or so it had seemed) agent who never lost his temper (or so it had seemed). Then Mishka had

entered his life, and the real Jaxon had come out swinging. Boy had a temper and cussed worse than Mia I-Can’t-Finish-a-Sentence-without-SayingFuck Snow. No wonder Devyn liked Jaxon so damn much. “You’re not exactly in the local database.” “I’d met her before, so she knew a wee bit about my personality. I made the mistake of going to a girl-on-girl photo shoot. Apparently she was waiting there.” “Ah. Say no more.” “Wait. Let’s backtrack a little. So you’ve actually met one? Other than this Bride person?” Mia asked him. She’d recently chopped her black hair to her shoulders, and the cut framed her pretty face perfectly. A devil in angel’s skin, that’s what she was. But she’d wanted a new look to celebrate her recent promotion to commander. “A fucking bloodsucker?” He shrugged, downed the last of the Scotch. “If by met you mean bedded, then yes.” Dallas rolled his eyes. “Is there a race you haven’t bedded?” “Yeah. Eden Black’s.” Eden was a Rakan, and Rakans were golden from head to toe. Golden hair, golden skin, golden irises, all of which made them look like living jewelry. Rakans reportedly smelled and tasted like honey when aroused, a fact that intrigued him greatly. When she’d left him—without allowing him to

sample her goods—he’d tried dousing a few of his lovers in honey and pretending they were Rakan, but imitation was never as tasty as the original. Imitation was also sticky. “Breean’s a Rakan,” Dallas said with a laugh. “Give him a go.” The man in question scooted back in his chair, the legs scraping against Jaxon’s kitchen floor. “No one but Macy may bed me.” He’d only recently come to Earth and hadn’t yet learned the art of sarcasm. Poor guy. “Breean, honey, they’re kidding.” Macy was pale, her hand shaky as she poured the rest of her beer down her throat. “Now, tell us more about this…Bride, did you say? Why’d she follow you?” “Yes, Bride.” What was wrong with her? Normally, she was unflappable. One mention of the name Bride, however, and she’d choked. Now, she couldn’t stop trembling. “I ran into her a few days ago, and maybe there’s a…small chance that I pissed her off.” The “maybe there’s a small chance” earned him several snorts. Macy rubbed her neck in agitation. “Are you feeling well?” he asked. “Just a slight stomachache.” She chewed her bottom lip, refusing to face him. “I’ll be fine.” He knew women and knew when they were lying, knew when they were uncomfortable and

when they were hiding something. Macy was all of those. Did she know Bride, perhaps? The moment the question drifted through his mind, he froze, another possibility taking shape. Could Macy be Bride’s mysterious friend? No, surely not. But…Bride had smelled her friend on him, and Devyn had just run into Macy. Macy never wore perfume—at least, he’d never noticed it on her—just as Bride had claimed her friend wouldn’t. And when he’d offered to describe the women he’d been with, Bride had shaken her head no, as if the descriptions couldn’t help her. She’d needed to see them, up close and in person. Why? There was only one reason he could think of. Macy could change her appearance at will, one moment a luscious blonde, the next an exact replica of even the golden giant beside her. A golden giant who had paled, as well. Everyone inside this kitchen knew Macy was not really Macy. She was an otherworlder posing as the human model-slash-AIR-agent. But no one knew who she really was, who she’d been before taking over the dead Macy’s life. Hadn’t seemed important. Until now. This can’t be right. Pensive, Devyn stroked two fingers over his jaw. “Does the name Aleaha Love mean anything to anyone?” Though he asked the question of everyone, he kept his attention fixed on Macy. She’d been pale before, but now she became

chalk white, the thin lines of her veins visible. Everyone but Macy and Breean shook their head no. Those two shared a heavy look, Macy fingering the locket hanging around her neck. Interesting. If Macy wasn’t Bride’s friend—which, Devyn would now bet his most prized possession, aka his cock, that she was—the two were involved somehow. Was the locket something Bride had given her? Something that reminded her of Bride? “Where’d you see this vampire?” Macy asked softly. “A few blocks from Dallas’s apartment.” “Hey, you didn’t tell me that,” Dallas said. “I didn’t think it was significant.” Until now. To test the foundation of his theory, he added, “She was just another woman in a long line of women. Unimportant and a bother. There was no reason to mention her at the time.” Macy tensed, as though offended. But then, so did Mia. “Insulting ass! Better watch your mouth before you lose your tongue.” “Females the world over would hunt you down and destroy you for such a travesty.” He traced his fingertip around the rim of his glass. “I say we find Bride and kill her.” Macy gasped and shook her head violently. Mia nodded in agreement. Devyn almost grinned. Oh, yes indeed. Macy was Bride’s friend. No doubt about it now.

“We cannot kill her until we find out where she’s hidden the Schön,” Kyrin said. “No one will be killing her.” The words left Devyn with more force than he’d intended. “I was teasing, of course. I don’t want her killed.” Dallas punched him in the shoulder. “You’ve got a great sense of humor. Anyone ever tell you that? No? Well, that’s because I was lying, and your humor sucks ass. You don’t tell a room full of killers to kill someone and expect the target to walk away unscathed. Moron.” He drained his whisky sour and slammed his glass onto the tabletop. “Respect the wood or die,” Jaxon said. “Mishka will have my ass if anything happens to it.” Mishka was currently out on assignment. She was stronger, faster, deadlier, than anyone around her, and could crush a man with a single squeeze. He had to get his hands on a cyborg soon. A vampire cyborg would be even better. And as Bride was more than a vamp, it was entirely possible he’d get his wish. “Sorry,” Dallas muttered, properly shamed. Devyn patted his friend’s hand. “I love when our channels of communication are open like this.” He was fighting a grin. “I really do. Makes me feel so close to you. It’s heartwarming. I think there’s even a tear in my eye. But back to the vampire. She’s mine. I’ll take care of her.” Kyrin arched a brow at him. “Another morsel for

your collection?” “Yes.” Truth. “Top brass won’t like it,” Dallas muttered, but there was laughter in his tone. “He’s right,” Mia said. “I don’t.” Macy wouldn’t like it either, judging by the fire now blooming in her blue eyes. “I’m sure I can convince you of the wisdom of my plan, Miss Snowball.” Even if she didn’t like it, she wouldn’t be able to stop it from happening. “I’ll give her to you when I’m done with her.” Like her man, she arched a brow. “Snowball?” Then she shook her head and waved her hand. “Give me Nolan, and then we can talk.” Done, he thought. “H—how are we going to capture her?” Macy asked on a trembling breath. She was gripping the edge of the table, her knuckles tight. Telling, how Breean reached over and squeezed her hand in comfort. The otherworlder knew, as Devyn had suspected. Most likely Macy planned to learn his intentions, find her friend first, warn her, and send her into hiding. Understandable. Devyn would do the same thing, were the situation reversed. That wouldn’t stop him from tricking Macy now, though. Nothing interfered with his objective. Ever. That would make him regret. “I have something she wants,” Devyn said with

relish, “and I plan to dangle it under her nose until she finds me.”

CHAPTER 5

The pounding on the door woke her. Slowly Bride blinked open her eyes. Her vision was cloudy at first, but gradually it focused, and her apartment came into view. A single lamp burned, its golden glow providing a small circle of light. The window was still open, drifting a warm morning breeze inside and lifting her curtains. Thankfully, she was far enough away that the sunlight didn’t touch, and therefore burn, her sensitive skin. The well-worn couch, basket of folded laundry, and so-small-you-had-to-strain-to-see-it TV were where they had always been, though she was not. She was on the floor, trembling from cold and bone-deep hunger. Naked. What the— Devyn. The name was like an electric current inside her, and memories flooded her mind, heating her up inside and out. She’d found him, had watched that beautiful body stalk the streets of New Chicago, constantly fighting the urge to reveal herself and drink from him, savoring every delicious drop of blood he possessed, and then she’d stolen his captive, beating him soundly. Another pound of fists echoed at the entrance. “Amy. Amy, I know you’re in there!” Bride dragged herself to a sitting position. She

swiped her tongue over her lips, her mouth as dry as dirt, her teeth aching. So hungry… “Finally,” a relieved voice breathed behind her. She whipped around, and had to massage her temples to assuage the sudden wave of dizziness. When the dizziness cleared, she studied her companion. He wore the same clothes she’d left him in: a button-down and slacks. They were wrinkled, stained with sweat. A plain copper necklace wrapped around his neck like a snake, tight, almost choking, causing his pulse to flutter wildly. Mmm, a snack… No. No, no, no. “You’re alive,” she said foolishly. And damn, her throat hurt. It was swollen and raw from disuse. Or had she screamed in pleasure as dream Devyn licked his way up and down her body? And just when the hell had she begun thinking of him as a sexual conquest? He was a means to an end. That was it. “Barely.” Her captive lay on the cot she’d provided for him, facing her, his skin grayish, his eyes sunken. There were small circular wounds on his neck, as if something had tried to bite its way free of his skin. Boom, boom, boom. “Amy!” Shit. Had the otherworlder shouted for help while she’d slept, and was the cavalry now here to

rescue him? “How long have I been out?” If she was going to be arrested, it’d be nice to know how long Devyn had had to find her. “Four days.” Wow. Had she been human, she probably would have peed herself. Thankfully, that was not a bodily function she’d ever had to endure. She smacked her lips together, her mouth still as dry as a desert. Time to feed. Automatically her gaze returned to the otherworlder’s neck, and her still-aching fangs elongated. Blood…good…need…Waaaay past time to feed. He’s sick. You’ll probably vomit after you drink him, anyway, weakening you all the more. Who cared? Her body always absorbed the first few sips before the sickness hit her, which was how she’d managed to survive, and she would be stronger. Right now, even the taste of blood would have been enough for her. So, so good… “Your eyes are glowing,” the otherworlder said, but he didn’t sound as if he cared. “Damn it, Amy. Rent’s overdue.” The voices snapped her out of the blood haze, and she blinked. Rent. Thank God. No arrest today. Maybe. “Now your eyes are back to normal.” “That’s good.” “Amy, I know you can hear me. I want my money, or your ass is outta here. Understand?”

More banging. “I told you one more delayed payment and you were gone. Don’t tell me you don’t remember.” “Your name’s Amy?” her captive asked. “I thought Devyn called you Bride.” “Be there in a second,” she called, relieved that the otherworlder hadn’t shouted for help. For his cooperation, she gave him a reward. Honesty. “My real name is Bride, yes.” “I can see how the guy at your door confused that with Amy,” he said dryly. “I’m Nolan, by the way.” “I know. I heard.” “Hurry up, damn it!” the super repeated, this time grudgingly rather than furious. “I don’t got all day. I’m two seconds away from letting myself in, and it won’t be against the rules ’cause you’re so behind.” “I said I was coming!” Bride pushed to her feet, swayed. “Why didn’t you scream the roof down while I was out?” she asked Nolan. “And allow humans to stone me while I’m in this condition?” He snorted. “No, thanks.” “Just…be quiet while I deal with my super. Please. If you hadn’t already guessed, I’m not human, but he thinks I am and I let him think it because he’s more prejudiced than most. He’d rather shoot an otherworlder than look at one.” She turned and forced one foot in front of the other,

closing the distance between herself and Nolan’s wallet. “Swear to God, he’s a piece of shit who would trade his mother for a beanburger.” “Uh, you might want to dress before you greet him,” Nolan said when she bent down. “And yeah, I’d guessed about the nonhuman thing. So what are you?” “Alien,” she lied. “Like I said, I know.” As she stood, her gaze drifted along her body. She was pale, as always, and spotted with red where her skin had pressed into the concrete. Her nipples were hard. Was that what Nolan saw when he looked at her? Was that what Devyn had seen when she’d stood before him? The real her? Or did they see the image she projected? Long ago, the ability to cloak herself with nondescript features had risen from the thorns and fire inside her, preventing people from picking her out of a crowd. She did it without thinking now; it was just a part of who she was, like breathing. But sometimes, as weak as she’d become this past month, she feared the shield was down and she simply couldn’t sense it. Cheeks heating, she grabbed the robe she’d draped over the couch just in case she’d been unable to walk to her room after imprisoning Nolan. Good thing. “Sorry for the show.” “Don’t be. Back to my question. What kind of

alien are you?” Don’t be. It was something Devyn would say, and it caused her heart to race. Surely she wasn’t missing the bastard. “I’m the kind that’s from another planet.” No way she’d cop to vampire. Even otherworlders would fear bloodsuckers. How could they not? She was a parasite. “I’m a—” What sounded good? she wondered, peering at her feet “—concre…sha. Concresha.” “Never heard of them.” Of course not. She’d just made it up. “Doesn’t mean they don’t exist.” “Amy!” Fully covered now, she walked to the door and pressed the code to open it a mere crack. Mr. Guise immediately tried to push his way inside. He growled at her. “Open it wider and let me in, little girl.” “You don’t need to come in to collect your money.” “Well, I want to talk to you.” “So talk.” After a moment’s pause, he backed away. Even chuckled darkly. “I know you don’t have no money, so I thought we could work off the debt another way, if you know what I mean.” She rolled her eyes. He’d been trying to get her into bed for a year. He was a balding, greasy perv. The perviness and the grease she could have

overlooked, but not the comb-over. Or, to be honest, the stench of rot that always accompanied him. But hungry as she was, even Guise was starting to look good. His pulse was slow but steady, a tasteme beat. “No need for me to take one for the team.” Her tongue was so swollen the words were slurred. “I can pay you properly.” She hoped. She flipped open Nolan’s wallet and gasped. So much money. So…pretty and green. It was more than she’d ever seen in one place. “Just think about it,” Guise said, reaching his pudgy fingers through the crack and sifting them through her hair. “You could spend your money on something like food or clothes.” “Tempting, but no.” Her fingers shook as she thrust the bills at him. She kept her lashes fused, just in case her eyes were glowing again. Usually, she could control it. Only when she was reaching the starvation point did it happen automatically. “That should take care of the rest of the year.” He looked down at the wad of bills, then up at her, then the bills. “But…but…” More satisfied than she’d been in a long time, even when she’d bested Devyn, she pressed the button to close the door in his stunned face, then jabbed her thumb against the ID to engage the lock she’d had installed—a lock Guise could not open at will. She was grinning widely as she turned and

pressed her back into the metal. “You’re pretty when you smile,” Nolan said weakly. Her gaze shifted to him. Once, he’d probably been handsome. His bone structure was total perfection, his body tall and packed with just the right amount of muscle. But now, ashen and bruised as he was, he just looked pitiful. “Thank you, and thanks for the loan, by the way.” A choking sound bubbled from his throat. A laugh? “Please, you won’t pay me back.” No, she wouldn’t. She couldn’t work during the day, her skin was too sensitive, and she couldn’t hold a job at night since she needed to hunt. She had to steal what money she could. “Thanks for the gift, then.” “You’re welcome.” He sounded sincere. “Listen,” she said. “You seem like a nice guy despite the fact that you had AIR gunning for you. I want you to know that I don’t plan to hurt you.” His gaze locked with hers, grim but determined. “If you don’t want to hurt me, you have to let me go.” Did she look stupid? “Do you have a terribly infectious disease?” “Yes,” he said, shocking her. She hadn’t expected him to answer honestly. “Then you understand that I can’t let you loose on the streets.” She rubbed a hand over her

forehead and sighed. “I need to take a shower, but maybe we can talk afterward, okay? I’ll tell you my plans for you.” “I’d like that.” “I’ll hurry.” In her bedroom, Bride brushed her teeth, rushed through an enzyme shower, and quickly dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. Took her ten minutes. Ten minutes she used to breathe deep and get her hunger under control. Finally she dragged a chair in front of Nolan’s cage, her fangs retracted. He hadn’t moved an inch. “I’m back. Now, before I tell you what’s to be done with you, why don’t you tell me why Devyn wants you?” His eyes, once most likely a vibrant blue, were now dull and glazed with pain. “Do his plans affect yours?” “Yes.” If Devyn didn’t want him as much as she suspected he did, she would have no use for him. “At least you’re honest.” The shoulder not pressed into the cot lifted in a weak shrug. “Devyn wants me because I need sex, and I need sex because Devyn wants me.” O-kay. Great. That explained everything. “Let’s try a different angle. Maybe break it down for me like I’m a five-year-old child.” “Nope. I answered you, whether you realize it or not. Now you have to answer something for me. Why did you take me from that alley?” Easy enough. “Devyn has something I want. A

few things, actually.” And he would give them to her. First, he would take her to the women he’d bedded that day. Would do no good to go to the place he’d sexed them up. The scent was long gone, she was sure. If neither of them was Aleaha, she would make him take her to everyone he’d been around that day. Then, he would tell her everything he knew about vampires. Maybe even introduce her to the ones he knew. “And you plan to trade me for these things?” Nolan asked. She played with the hem of her shirt, but didn’t shrink from his gaze. “Yes. In a perfect world I would have captured him and put him in the cage, but this isn’t a perfect world, and I had to make do with what I could.” She was grumbling. “Why didn’t you? Lock him up, I mean?” “Nope. Your turn to answer something. Did Devyn plan to kill you, or simply capture you?” “I don’t know. My guess is capture. My queen is on her way to this planet, and Devyn, along with the rest of AIR, is desperate to know when and where she’ll arrive.” Then Devyn wanted him back for more reasons than she’d realized. Did life get any better than this? “Your disease—” “Is deadly, yes. If that’s what you planned to ask. AIR expects me to let it eat away at my body,

destroying me. They don’t understand that I just want to live. Like everyone else, I just want to live. And…love.” His voice dripped with sadness. “I’ve never fallen in love, and that’s something everyone deserves a chance to experience.” “I’ve been alive a long, long time. Trust me, you’re better off without the emotion. It just leads to hurt.” “Nevertheless.” Well, she’d warned him. That’s all a girl could do. “Your turn to answer,” he said. “Why didn’t you just lock up Devyn?” “Originally, that was my plan. That’s why I erected the-cage. But as I was watching him stalk you, I realized that if he can freeze me in place, he can also force me to move the way he wants, so he’d just have me unlock the cage, defeating the purpose of bringing him here. I didn’t relish the idea of being at his mercy in my own home.” “Smart girl. So if you could lock him up without having to worry about his taking over your body, would you let me go and lock him up in my place?” She thought about it; she really did. Because, God, it was tempting. This guy could help her. Devyn hadn’t been able to manipulate his body the way he’d done hers, and with Nolan’s help, Devyn probably wouldn’t be able to manipulate hers anymore. But in the end, she couldn’t do it.

Couldn’t free this otherworlder, no matter the reason. By his own admission, he was infected with something dangerous and contagious, and she couldn’t willingly unleash that upon the unsuspecting world. A girl needed to eat. With the thought, her shoulders slumped. Why couldn’t she eat like before? “No need to answer,” he said with a sigh. “I can read the decision in your eyes.” Perceptive man. “So how’d you dodge those pyre-beams? I can do it, sure, but I’ve been doing it for a long time. Which also means I’ve seen a lot of aliens over the years. I’ve never seen one move like you. And yeah, I could still see you when you shed your color.” He regarded her intently for a moment, as though an internal battle was raging inside his mind. Finally, his shoulders lifted in another shrug. “Don’t let my weak appearance fool you. The disease I told you about? It’s a being inside of me, a parasite that grows stronger while my health declines. It told me when and where to move.” A being that spoke to him? Poor guy needed a psychiatrist, she thought, then blinked. He’d dodged those beams, something she had already admitted she’d never seen another person do. And while he did appear near death, he didn’t look crazy. “Did this being also help you absorb those stun rays rather than lose control of your body?”

Slowly he grinned and glided a trembling finger along the necklace he wore. “That was all me, baby.” That grin lit up his face and erased the grayish tint to his skin, offering a glimpse of the devilishly handsome man he’d been before. “How? The necklace?” “Necklace?” He frowned in confusion. He must not have realized he’d been playing with it. “Oh. Nah. It’s just a pretty decoration,” he said. “But like I said, I’ll tell you how I did it if you release me.” “Not gonna happen.” His jaw hardened. “Then this conversation is over.” “Fine. Have it your way.” Sighing, she stood. “I have to leave for a little while, anyway.” Before she could face Devyn again, she had to feed. Keeping the entire meal down would be nice, as well, but miracles were few and far between nowadays. At least her desperate body would quickly absorb those first few sips of blood before the roller-coaster ride of nausea began. There was a flash of panic in Nolan’s eyes. “Where are you going?” “My fridge is empty, and I need to grocery shop.” That’s what her live-in boyfriend used to say. Thankfully Nolan didn’t search the kitchen for said fridge. She didn’t own one. Besides, her

statement wasn’t technically a lie. She needed food. “Do you like wine?” “Yes.” “Then we’ll share a toast before I go.” She crossed the small space into the kitchen, cutting her palm with the razor in her shirtsleeve as she walked. She held tight to every precious drop until she pulled a glass from the cupboard. The moment she opened her fingers, a pool of blood trickled from her and lined the bottom. Too slowly for her peace of mind, the wound healed, flesh weaving back together and finally sealing shut. “What are we toasting?” “Devyn’s downfall.” She filled the rest of the glass with her most expensive red. The thought of drinking blood would be abhorrent to him, she knew. It was abhorrent to everyone but her. But he needed something—besides sex—to heal him, or he might not last out the day. Hopefully her blood would do the trick and not turn him into a vamp or kill him outright, as most movies and books claimed. She’d never shared her blood with anyone for those very reasons. While she would enjoy having another vampire running around, hunting with her, drinking with her, Aleaha was the only person she’d ever loved enough to attempt it on—but she’d also loved the girl enough not to do so. Too risky. Guess she’d find out what happened to people who drank

her blood when she returned. When she faced Nolan, she saw that he was sitting up, arm outstretched through the bar. Waiting patiently. She hurried over to him, careful not to slosh a single drop over the side. “Aren’t you going to have a glass?” he asked. “Of course.” Red wine was the only human beverage she enjoyed. Back in the kitchen she poured another tumbler full. She rejoined Nolan and they held up their cups in unison. “To Devyn’s downfall.” Together, they drained the contents. The red liquid slid down her throat, warm and smooth, but not what she needed. At least her stomach remained calm. “Glass, please,” she said, holding out her hand. If he were to drop it and cut himself, well, that wouldn’t be good. Though he was scowling at her, he relinquished possession without incident. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome.” He eased back on the cot and stared up at the ceiling. “Will you at least leave me a game or something? Any more from the stupid voice in my head, and I’ll welcome a lynch mob.” “I don’t have any games. You should nap. Might help you heal.” “That’s what I’ve been doing for four days, and as you can see, I haven’t healed.” Guilt wound through her. She’d wanted to

capture him, yes, but not torture him. “What if I switch on the TV?” “Fine.” He waved his hand in dismissal, but she noticed the action was stronger, less shaky than any he’d made before. Was her blood already working, or was he excited at the thought of watching television and simply didn’t want her to know? “Whatever.” She almost laughed. A “Yes, Bride, thank you, Bride” wouldn’t have been amiss. Men. After she’d angled the screen toward the cell and found him a decent station—As the Otherworld Turns was playing—she crossed her arms over her middle. “Do you need anything else?” “Freedom would be nice.” “Besides that.” His gaze pursued her, lingering on her breasts, between her legs. “How about your body?” “Besides that.” A moment passed while he considered his other options. “You know what sounds really nice about now? Not just Devyn’s downfall, but his head on a platter.” Slowly she grinned. “I’ll see what I can do.”

CHAPTER 6

For three days, Devyn kept Macy in his sights. He even escorted her throughout the city at all hours on the pretense of searching for Bride, never telling her that she was merely his bait. She’d been more than happy to join him. She had no idea he kept her on a deliberate path, planting her scent along select buildings and shops. To his consternation, Bride never revealed herself, and he never felt her eyes on him. Didn’t matter. One way or another, he would draw her out of hiding. He was determined. He’d give this one more day, then think of something else to do. “Ready to move on?” he asked. “No. I texted Breean when I realized where we were headed, so he’s on his way here. Besides, we’ve just been going in circles,” Macy said, frustration dripping from every word. They were in front of his brand-new apartment complex, the top floor purchased for his and Bride’s exclusive use, for the second time that day. They had been here twice yesterday and four times the day before. For some strange reason, he was struck by the urge to “think” about their next plan of action every time they reached this point. And yeah, he’d taken Macy inside a few times, straight to the door that would later become known as

Bride’s Surrender. Now he studied her, this former model, now an agent, who was unintentionally aiding him. Sunlight bathed her, highlighting the delicacy of her deceptively innocent features—the girl had a temper and had once slit her own boyfriend’s throat. Her skin was creamy and rich, but more than that…surely not…couldn’t be. Except, the more intently he looked, the more he was sure he saw a second, startling layer to her. As though she wore a mask. Like Bride. Devyn intensified his focus. Maybe he’d never looked closely enough to notice the nuances of her, but he was looking now. Finally seeing. At first glance, Macy’s eyes were large, a mix of blue and silver. A cap of pale hair framed her face. Her nose was small, and her cheeks rounded, like a cherub’s. Now he could see a wider set of green eyes. A longer nose, slimmer cheeks. Dark hair. Bride, too, had dark hair. Bride had green eyes, as well, though hers were a brighter, lighter shade. Were the two more than friends, perhaps? Were they sisters? Macy wasn’t a vampire, but then Bride, with all that sparkling energy and the ability to turn into mist, was definitely more than a vampire. As he’d already surmised. He just had to figure out what else she was. Couldn’t be cyborg, as he’d hoped. Wires and metal couldn’t change into water.

“What?” Macy asked, shifting uncomfortably. “You’re staring.” He forced a flirtatious chuckle. “You’re pretty, is all.” “Macy,” a male voice called. Both of them turned. “Breean,” she said with relief. “You made it.” The golden giant’s pace increased. When he reached the agent, he pulled her away from Devyn’s side and into his arms. Devyn sighed. Possessive, jealous men were a nuisance. He hadn’t been that way over his shrew of a wife, and he wouldn’t be that way over one of his many lovers. Ever. To show possessiveness or jealousy was to stake a claim over a specific female. And to stake a claim was to give up the right to enjoy other females. He shuddered. Macy twisted in her man’s arms, facing Devyn. “Like I was saying about going in circles. No matter what route you take, we always end up here. I’m not stupid. There’s a reason. Tell me.” Very well. He’d give her a reason. It wouldn’t be the truth, but it would be a reason. “You caught me. I’m thinking of buying property on this side of town and was using company time to scout the area.” Best lie he could come up with, but he delivered it smoothly. Lying was second nature to him, maybe because it was just another form of flirting.

The only thing he refused to lie about was what he would do to those who wronged him or his friends. When he made a threat, he saw it through. No hesitation. That, he’d learned from his father. A lesson he’d actually taken to heart. Better that people feared and respected him than underestimate and attempt to hurt him. “Devyn!” Macy said. “I can’t believe you. You’ve been wasting my time for your own gain.” That’s it. Get angry. Maybe the stronger her emotions were, the stronger her scent would be. Bride would finally catch a whiff and start running, as desperate to reach the girl as she’d been when they’d first met. Maybe more so, now that she was so smug about capturing Nolan. Devyn had been sleeping in the new apartment every night, waiting. Alone. Maybe tonight would be the night they were reunited. “My bad.” Dallas, his partner in this delicious crime, was due to— Ring, ring. Perfect timing. As if he didn’t know who was calling, he glanced at his cell’s ID and tried not to grin. “I have to take this,” he told Macy. “You know how Dallas gets when I ignore him.” She nodded stiffly, her irritation with him clearly undiminished. “He’s such a pouter.” Macy’s power of observation was greater than Devyn had assumed.

Doing his best to appear grave, Devyn flipped open his cell and placed it to his ear. “Devyn, king of the Targons and prince of pleasure, speaking. How may I help you?” “Funny,” Dallas said. “You’re sounding chipper.” Of course he was. Macy—and now Breean by association—were his puppets. Which meant, Bride would soon be his puppet. Only, he would enjoy pulling her strings. And then wrapping those strings around her wrists and ankles and anchoring her to a bed. And then licking her entire body. And then slipping and sliding inside of her while she shouted his name. “You couldn’t have,” he said for Macy’s benefit. “Again? Seriously? And you’re on her trail now? Tell me, is she wearing the same outfit as last time?” “You mean skin?” Dallas barked out a chuckle. “Macy right beside you?” “Affirmative.” “Ohhh, affirmative he says. You know I love it when you talk shop.” To Macy, Devyn said, “Dallas thinks he found the vampire. Again. I can’t leave—did you see that skyscraper?—but he’d love some backup. You interested?” “Yes,” she rushed out. “Is he sure this time? Last two nights, we tailed humans. They looked like her, or rather, what you described, sure, but I’m tired of

failure.” “You sure this time?” Devyn asked Dallas. “Affirmative.” That did have a nice ring to it. “He’s not, but he doesn’t want to take a chance.” Devyn allowed some leeway, just in case they needed to relive this scenario tomorrow. “He’s happy to go alone, though, if you—” “No! No, we’ll go. Find out where we should meet him and then tell him not to do anything until we get there. He does remember what happened the last time the two of you acted alone, yes?” Devyn relayed the message and rattled off their coordinates. Paused. “No worries, Mace,” he told the agent. “He’s nearby and is happy to pick you up again.” Breean was frowning. His eyes were narrowed, but he remained silent. “I thought they’d see through you in a heartbeat,” Dallas said in his ear. “I guess I have to choke down another of those Sweet Munchkins.” There was disgust in his voice. Rather than use money, they wagered with pastries. Out-of-date, stale, not-fit-for-the-homeless pastries. Loser had to eat one in front of the winner. “Sometimes you’re scary brilliant, have I told you that before?” “I’d argue the word sometimes, but yeah. You’re right.” Another laugh. “I’ll be there in two.” Click.

Sure, he could have let the couple walk away and not sent them with Dallas to track this latest “sighting,” but he didn’t want the girl’s scent spread too far and wide. Hopefully, being inside a vehicle prevented such a thing. Thinking about the spreading of Macy’s scent had him wondering how long Bride had been searching for her. Weeks? Years? If so, why hadn’t Bride smelled her until now? He’d tried to subtly question Macy about her own past, but the girl had been tight-lipped. She had to be, he supposed. With an ability like hers, she’d probably been hunted most of her life. Devyn pocketed his phone. “Like I said, Dallas is nearby and will be pulling along any…minute. Ah, there he is.” A black van with tinted windows eased to the curb. Because of the tint, Dallas couldn’t be seen, but Devyn imagined his friend grinning from ear to ear. Made him want to grin himself, thinking of Dallas happy and amused. It was much better than imagining the agent wallowing in self-pity over that whole blood master issue. Macy stepped toward the van, the sun stroking the brass of her necklace and glinting in his eye. The necklace. Oh, oh. Devyn jerked her into his body for a hug, stealthily removing and pocketing it. How could he have forgotten about his insurance policy? Well, hopefully it was an insurance policy.

“Good luck, darling.” “Uh, thanks, Dev.” Awkwardly, she patted his back. Breean growled low in his throat, and for a moment Devyn feared he’d been found out. But the warrior merely tugged the female from Devyn’s clasp and ushered her into the waiting van. With the passenger door open, Devyn was able to catch a glance of Dallas in the driver’s seat. The agent was indeed grinning, white teeth gleaming. He wore a hat that shadowed his eyes, camo pants, and a camo shirt that revealed the new (and scabbed-over) skull-and-dagger tattoo on his right forearm. Devyn had a matching tattoo on his own arm. They’d drunk too much last night and had thought the identical marks would be funny. They weren’t. “Nice outfit,” Devyn said with a grin of his own. “Planning on hunting the clones on government land while you’re out and about?” Clones. Animals. “Maybe.” He was also chewing gum. “You guys ready to chase down a bloodsucker or what?” “Let’s do this,” Macy said, slapping Dallas’s head rest. There would be hell to pay when this was over and the truth revealed. Macy would be pissed that he’d used her to capture her friend, which would piss off Breean, which would in turn piss off Mia,

because Breean was a powerful warrior and her new favorite. Devyn could call things off now and prevent the reaming he would surely receive. Without pause, he shut the door and waved them off. He was whistling as he strolled inside the building.

Bride slunk through the unfamiliar apartment, remaining in the shadows. Her eyes cut through the darkness with the precision of a knife, taking everything in and weighing her options. Thankfully there wasn’t any furniture, so she didn’t have to worry about knocking anything down. The air was musty, as if the room hadn’t been occupied for some time. Where are you, Leah Leah, and why did you come here? Aleaha’s scent was all over the building and had led directly to this room. After Bride had caught the familiar fragrance a few blocks down, she’d given up her fruitless search for that bastard playboy Devyn and concentrated on her friend instead. She was embarrassed to admit she almost hadn’t switched gears. The urge to find Devyn, to gloat about her victory, to spar with him again, was strong. Besides, she was almost positive he couldn’t be as decadently handsome as her memory painted him. Couldn’t be nearly as witty or flirtatious. Yet

only when she’d smelled his scent mixed with Aleaha’s had she finally changed her objective. What were the two doing together? Were they lovers, as she’d first thought? Did they live together? Devyn’s flirtations had seemed so practiced, Bride hadn’t thought him capable of commitment. Not that having Aleaha as a semipermanent or even permanent lover equaled commitment. But if they were together, he was definitely a cheater and Aleaha needed to know. In and out Bride breathed, as quietly as possible. There was a window, but it was closed, blocking out the night’s symphony of racing cars, pedestrians braving the streets, and criminals hiding in corners. The deeper she maneuvered through the apartment, the weaker Aleaha’s scent of sky and pine became and the stronger Devyn’s, like sun-dried sheets and rain. Damn it! Her grip tightened on her daggers. A halfway strong grip, too, now that she’d eaten. Well, some. As before, she’d kept down the first few sips but had thrown up the rest. Mind on the task at hand. You more than anyone know the price of inattention. That’s how those policemen had caught her sneaking inside those mansions all those years ago. That’s why she’d had to hide Aleaha. Why she’d lost Aleaha. Okay. So. Time to regroup. Aleaha had been here, but she hadn’t stayed for long. Ten minutes,

tops. Was little Devyn not as skilled a lover as he clearly liked to believe? Was he a slam-bam-thankyou type? Bet there was a piece of furniture here. A bed. Proof of his priorities. There was a fire in Bride’s blood, burning her veins, scorching each of her organs. A fury that had nothing to do with the thought of Devyn sleeping with her friend and everything to do with her friend’s future happiness. Really. Clearly Devyn was the kind of guy who left only heartbreak in his wake. That fury also poked and prodded at that molten, thorny place inside her, the place her powers were buried, the intense heat of its flames making her anger seem comprised of ice. She had to stifle a pained moan. She knew better than to let herself become too worked up. When she did, those flames spread and those thorns grew branches, each destroying her bit by bit. If she wasn’t careful, she would soon be praying for death. I’m calm. I’m happy. After all, I found Devyn. She would finally get to gloat. Remaining smashed against the wall, Bride angled her body and peeked down the hall. Empty. Darkness. Silence. Devyn’s scent—stronger than ever. There were two doorways. As she breathed deeply, her heart pounding erratically in her chest, she tiptoed forward. He was here. He had to be.

She passed the first doorway, giving the bedroom only a cursory glance. Empty, as well. Finally she reached the farthest entrance and paused. The door was closed. Was Devyn inside? Sleeping, holding some little tramp in his arms? Waiting for her? She’d warned him, told him she would be coming for him, and he was obviously a warrior, used to strategy and battle. He was even working for AIR in some capacity. An agent, perhaps? He was daring enough. Nervousness joined the lingering thrums of fury. Lord, she’d picked a hell of a target. One that could lock her away or kill her, no questions asked, she thought, a cold sweat beading over her skin. You knew the consequences. You came here anyway. Don’t wuss out now. Answers are worth any risk. He had to be expecting her, had to know she’d find him again. So how should she do this? Bust inside, knives at the ready? Sneak inside and try to catch him unaware? There was no time to reason it out. In the snap of fingers, her mind separated from her body, her limbs no longer hers to command. Of their own accord, her fingers released their grip on the blade hilts and the weapons thumped to the ground. One of her arms reached out and pressed the button that opened the door. Her feet moved one in front of the other, forcing her to enter the

darkened space. He was awake, and he was controlling her. She’d known this could happen, but had come anyway. Worth the risk, she reminded herself, gritting her teeth and trying with all her might to petrify her muscles and lock herself in place. If only she could fight past the thorns and the flames to see what other abilities were buried inside her, rather than waiting every few years for one to spring up on its own. She suspected the others were strong, stronger than Devyn’s, desperate to explode, to overtake her. But she just couldn’t get to them, even now, when they probably would have saved her. “You certainly took your time,” a familiar voice said huskily. Without a rustle of clothes or a single movement, the overhead light switched on, golden beams chasing away the shadows. “Black becomes you, pet. It’s like you’re enveloped by storm clouds.” And there he was. Sitting in a plush leather chair in the far corner, Devyn was relaxed, sipping a glass of amber liquid. His dark hair was mussed, as though he’d run his hands through it a few times. His eyes, the exact color of his drink, glittered dangerously. Like her, he wore a black T-shirt and black pants. A large king-size bed was the only thing between them. A bed with black silk sheets and velvet-

covered chains attached to the head and footboards. Her jaw clenched even as her nipples hardened, her mind momentarily lost in the naughty things that had probably happened in that bed. Oh, no you don’t. She would not allow her body to ready. He’d think her desire was for him. And it wasn’t. Really. “Where’s Aleaha?” Her voice trembled, mortifying her to her soul. “I know you’ve been with her.” He finished off his drink. “Please. Have a seat.” With a tilt of his chin, he motioned to the bed. “We have much to discuss.” Rather than force her to obey, he released his hold on her. “You’re not going to compel me to do it?” “Now that would be rude, wouldn’t it?” Devyn, her freeze ’em and leave ’em guy, was concerned with being rude. Laughable. But she had something he wanted, so of course he would play the I’m-your-friend card. Her eyes widened. That’s right. She had Nolan. She was in control right now. No need for her powers, after all. Smiling smugly, she sauntered to the bed and plopped onto the edge, facing him. His gaze fell to her lips, and he inhaled sharply. Was he thinking of kissing her? “I want them all over me,” he said. Holy hell. The answer to her question: yes. “The

chains are a bit much, don’t you think?” she said, ignoring his comment but unable to hide her breathlessness. “It’s not like they could keep me down if I decided to leave.” It was a reminder of her victory over him, meant to put him in his place. He didn’t back down. “True.” Nor did he sound concerned. “I have a feeling you’ll willingly lock yourself up, though.” She would have snorted, but couldn’t quite manage it. If ever there was a man who could convince a woman to play kinky bondage games, it was probably this one. But no matter what, she couldn’t give herself to Devyn. The moment she did, he would lose interest in her. His kind always did. And she needed his interest. It would, hopefully, keep him malleable during their negotiations. What makes you think he’s truly interested in you, anyway? I’ve already had a vampire, he’d once said, as though the thought of bedding another bored him. Maybe his interest in chaining Bride up and ravishing her stupid was feigned. Intended to soften her. “Aleaha,” she said. Her friend was the main reason she was here; she wouldn’t forget. “Where is she?” “Does the name Macy Briggs mean anything to you?” he asked, once again ignoring her.

Was he serious? “Macy Briggs the model?” “She doesn’t model anymore, but yes.” “No. Should it? Oh, wait. Let me guess. She’s one of the women you screwed that day.” The last lashed from her, harsher than she’d intended. “I thought you couldn’t recall their names.” “Sheathe the claws, darling. I’ve had a model and wasn’t impressed. Macy isn’t my type, so no, I haven’t had her.” “How sad for you.” One day a woman needed to put this man in his place. Grind up his heart and scatter the pieces all over New Chicago. The female population would be the better for it. I would be better for it. “So tell me, did you fuck Nolan?” Again, he didn’t sound concerned. That…irritated her. But only because it meant he didn’t want her as she’d supposed, so she wouldn’t be able to use his desire against him. Really. “No. Near death isn’t my type.” “That’s good. Did he bleed on you? Spit on you?” “No.” “You’re sure?” She laughed without humor. “I think I’d remember.” Unless she’d been asleep when he’d done it. Her shoulders sagged. “Why?” “You’ll catch his disease if you come into contact with any of his bodily fluids.”

A shudder rocked her. Whether Devyn was telling the truth or not didn’t matter. Just the thought of possible contamination had her vowing to keep her distance from the imprisoned otherworlder. She’d never been sick a day in her life, true, but that didn’t necessarily mean she was immune to everything. “Tell me where he is.” Finally, emotion. Whitehot anger, barely leashed. Devyn didn’t care about her escaping his clutches or who she slept with; he only cared about where she’d placed his enemy. “You never should have taken him. You placed yourself and everyone around you in danger.” She had no loved ones, no family or friends. “Don’t worry. I’ll tell you where he is. After.” One of his brows arched in question, but he didn’t look surprised by her announcement. After all, she’d already warned him. “After what? I bed you?” “Please,” she said dryly. “Now you’re begging. We’re on the right track.” She gritted her teeth, that burning pain flickering in her chest. Stay calm. “After you’ve taken me to Aleaha. After you’ve answered my questions about vampires. After you’ve apologized for leaving me immobile on that street. Only then will I tell you where Nolan is.” Now his brow crinkled adorably. Wasn’t fair! Everything he did was a seduction. A temptation.

“One, if you want to see your friend, you’ll pay my price. Two, why would you want answers about vampires from me? I’m not a vampire. And three, I never apologize.” Deceptively casual, Bride leaned back on her elbows, placing her hands near her waist, where she’d stashed several other blades. “One, you’ll take me to Aleaha or you’ll never see Nolan again. I shouldn’t have to repeat that one over and over. Nor should I have to tell you that I will not be paying you anything. Two, because you’ve clearly met a vampire before, and I haven’t. And three, we’ll see about that.” Not surprisingly, he ignored everything she’d said. “I like this new pose.” His hot gaze perused her, lingering on her breasts, between her legs, perhaps imagining licking her, sucking, biting. Or was that just wishful thinking on her part, idiot that she clearly was? When his eyes locked with hers again, his pupils were dilated, black overshadowing amber. Perhaps not so wishful, after all. “Lovely. Stay just…like…that.” Then he shrugged. “Or don’t. Whatever.” Argh! First he’d seemed to want her. Then he hadn’t. Then he had. Now he didn’t again. Which was it? “Let’s start with the easiest. The vampires. Who are they and where do they live?” He traced a fingertip over the seam of his lips, and her entranced gaze followed the movement.

Her own lips even puckered, suddenly wanting to press into his. “You’ve truly never met one?” “No,” she said raspily. How was he affecting her this way? Making her crave things she shouldn’t? “I haven’t.” “That means you were raised here.” Attention never leaving her, he set his now-empty glass at his feet and straightened. “Interesting.” By “here,” did he mean New Chicago? Had vampires simply settled in another state? “Yes, I was. I’ve never left New Chicago.” “A new twist.” He scrubbed two fingers over his stubbled jaw, the very picture of intrigued male. “Perhaps we can trade information.” “Men must like that game.” Nolan had wanted to play, too. “Good thing for you, I’m all for it, as long as you don’t ask me about the otherworlder.” “Oh, I won’t, pet. There’s no need. Not anymore.” Leaning forward, Devyn tossed something at her. “You’ll simply bring him to me.” Bride caught it by reflex alone and held it up to the light. A necklace. Obviously cheaper than Nolan’s with dull, scratched metal links and a scuffed emerald stone hanging from the center. Breath froze in her throat, frosting up her lungs. “This belongs to Aleaha.” She knew because she’d stolen it and given it to her one Christmas. “I know.” Her lashes lifted, and she leveled a piercing glare

at her tormentor. “You have her.” A statement, not a question, laced with disbelief, fear, and grim expectation. “Oh, yes. But the question is, what am I going to do with her? Which in turn raises another, more important question. What am I going to do with you?”

CHAPTER 7

Devyn had relished his words, every last one of them, eager to watch Bride’s reaction to them. What was he going to do with her? Anything he wanted. First, Bride’s mouth floundered open and closed, not a sound leaving her. Then she pushed out a heavy breath, as if she were trying to calm herself down. Then she narrowed her eyes at him, murderous intent glowing in their emerald depths. “Where is she?” Bride demanded. Gone was any hint of her earlier breathlessness. Breathlessness that could have sprung from desire…or anger. “We’ll get to that,” he said smoothly. She wound the links around her neck, the motions jerky. “What have you done with her?” Devyn kicked his feet out, crossing them at the ankles. Why, I sent her to a motel room fifteen miles from here, where she has been watching another room for any sign of you. “Again, we’ll get to that. I believe I once mentioned that I only converse while naked.” Those lush red lips parted on a gasp, and he almost laughed. He’d known he would enjoy this, but the depth of his enjoyment surprised him. She was everything he remembered, yet so much more. Beautiful, witty, and oh, so charming. She was also

a fighter by nature. Proof: she’d hunted him down. Twice. Proof: she’d captured Nolan when he and Dallas had been unable. Proof: she sat on the edge of his bed, the chains surely taunting her, but she didn’t run away. He found himself curious about her past, about what had shaped her into the strong, vibrant woman she’d become. A woman who knew nothing about her own race, but a woman who was desperate to know everything. A woman who loved her missing friend with a loyalty that astounded him. Most people turned their back on their loved ones the moment their own lives were placed in danger. Bride plowed through that danger with no thought to her own safety. He liked that. He liked her. She’d entered the apartment smug and eager, just as he would have done were the situation reversed. Would she have reacted as he had, though? He’d sensed the emotions pulsing off her, and they’d short-circuited his brain, causing great waves of arousal to sweep through him. Dark and carnal and consuming. Blood had left his head, then his limbs, and flowed straight into his cock. It had yet to leave. “I’m not stripping,” she finally said, breaking the silence. Each word dripped with quiet rage. “But I hope you feel free to do so.” “Oh, I do.” And he would. Maybe. He hadn’t yet decided how far to take this round. Her reactions

would dictate his. “But ladies first.” Devyn pushed mental fingers into her mind, clasping onto the energy required for movement. As each time before, hers was spellbinding, enough to drown him with power. For a moment, she resisted, doing her best to shove him out and reclaim her rightful property. But he’d been doing this for so long, it was as simple as breathing. People, objects, it didn’t matter. If he could hold the energy, he always prevailed. The more people he controlled, the harder it was to force individual movements. Usually he’d resort to locking them in place or moving them in the same direction, as he’d done in that alley. It was just him and Bride now, however, and she was his to do with as he pleased. “Take off your shirt.” He didn’t need to say it aloud to make it happen, but he wanted her to hear his voice and feel her body respond accordingly, unable to stop herself. Hopefully, it would become habit and she would later do what he wanted without his having to exert any energy of his own. Her eyes narrowed further as her fingers gripped the hem of her shirt and yanked it over her head. The material lifted her hair, and that amazing black silk tumbled back down, landing on the smooth expanse of her shoulders…covering her bra… probably tickling her stomach. She retained a tight grip on the material. “Is this

the way all AIR agents act? Like dirty perverts?” “I’m only an agent when I feel like being an agent. Right now, I only want to be a dirty pervert.” Her nostrils flared in renewed—and far more potent—anger, her eyes bright with sudden…pain? “Well, does this make you feel powerful, forcing a defenseless woman to your will? Revealing a body she’d rather hide and shaming her?” For a moment, only a moment, he paused as his own sense of shame washed through him. Bride’s words were nearly a mirror of his father’s. Bodies should never be revealed, the man had always said. It’s degrading…disgraceful. Devyn scowled, shoving at the memory and the emotion until both left him. There was nothing degrading or disgraceful about nudity. It had taken him centuries to realize that, to not hate himself for his love of the female form. Bride didn’t believe it, either, he told himself. How could she, when she’d traipsed the streets naked? This was simply her way of fighting back with the only weapon she currently possessed: her intelligence. “You have no qualms about exposing those decadent curves and that delicious femininity. I know this because you gave me the peep show of a lifetime in public.” She returned his scowl. “Now be a good girl and drop the shirt for me.”

When the fabric hit the floor, there was a clank. He arched a brow in question. “Razors,” she said, chin lifting in challenge. “Check if you want. Maybe I’ll luck out and you’ll cut yourself.” “Typical vampire. Desperate for my blood.” If only she would have lied. He could have punished her. Perhaps made her bend over for a spanking. He did enjoy giving those. “Were the razors for me? Did you plan to mar my pretty face?” “I carry them with me everywhere I go, moron, and I never said you were pretty.” “I’m exquisite, then. Come now, you can’t deny it,” he added when she opened her mouth to protest. “Your hard nipples speak for you.” Or spoke of the coldness of the room, but whatever. “Tell me, have you ever cut someone with them?” “My nipples?” He barely managed to hide his grin. Imp. “No. Your razors.” “Yes.” She’d sounded offended that he’d had to ask. Adorable. He enjoyed her more with every second that passed. “Who?” “Like I remember all their names.” “Did you do it for sport or defense?” Not that he cared. He’d bedded sadists before. Had actually gone through an all-sadist-all-the-time phase. No longer were they his favorite type, though. He’d

grown tired of the hitting and the biting and the scratching. Blah, blah, blah, boring. But as he’d already decided to have this woman no matter what, he’d man up and endure if she needed to hurt him to climax. “Well?” Her chin lifted another notch, and she stared down at him through the exotic fringe of dark lashes. “None of your business.” “Hint taken. You don’t want to talk, you want to finish stripping. Well, who am I to argue with a determined woman? Stand and take off your pants. They’re too binding anyway.” She was on her feet, tugging at the stretch pants, and growling low in her throat a second later. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” “We’ll work on our communication later.” For his own amusement, he forced her hips to wiggle as she slid the tights to her ankles. White panties, plain but the perfect match to her bra. Nice. Unexpected. He would have bet a Sweet Munchkin on red lace. He liked the innocence of the white, though. “Enjoying yourself?” she snarled. He propped his elbow on the arm of the chair, then rested his chin in his hand, one finger rubbing over his jaw. “Very much so.” Once again her eyes followed the motion of his fingers. He almost smiled. Imagining slicing him or kissing him? “Have you slept with Aleaha?” she asked.

“No. I just discovered her. Would it bother you if I had?” “No.” She ran her tongue over her wonderfully sharp teeth. “I don’t care who you’ve been with because I’m never going to be among their numbers. I just didn’t want to think of my friend heartbroken over the likes of you.” “The likes of me. What a sweet thing to say, as I know you meant that in the very best sense.” He reached behind him, pulled his shirt over his head, and tossed it aside. “Have you slept with Nolan?” Her mouth dropped open, her gaze zeroing in on his new tattoo, then his nipples. They were small and brown, perfect for licking. Or so he’d been told. When her focus lowered to the ropes of muscle lining his stomach, then his navel, she gulped. The reaction pleased him because for once, he didn’t have to wonder what thoughts were dancing through her head. Just then, she wanted him. “No answer for me?” he asked huskily. “I, uh, what did you ask me?” Keep looking at me, pet. Keep wanting me. “If you’d slept with Nolan.” “Oh. Well, I already answered that earlier.” He knew that, but repetition was the best way to catch a lie. To his consternation, she switched her attention to just over his head. And not his favorite head, either. Determination pulsed from her.

“Better him than you, though,” she said. If he were a lesser man, he might have crumbled at that point. Being shot down for a dying, contagious criminal…it was disgraceful. “Just so you know, his disease is really another life form, an otherworlder a part of yet separate from him, who will invade your body if given the chance, turning you into a cannibal if you fail to infect others. That would mean I’d have to kill you without enjoying you, and I really want to enjoy you.” “First, Nolan explained that to me. Second, I’ve never been sick. And third, do you always give little Devyn what he wants? Even when the girl in question isn’t interested?” “What a silly question. The girl is always interested.” But no one had ever fought it like Bride. Well, except for Eden, but he suddenly couldn’t recall why he’d desired her. “Now be a good girl and walk over here and sit on my lap.” The muscles in her legs bunched and strained as she struggled against his mental hold. And for a moment, she actually managed to remain in place. She shouldn’t have been able to do it, no one should have, but he would be lying if he said her strength didn’t make him proud. All too soon, his will prevailed and she was gliding toward him. Sweat beaded on her skin, glistening like diamonds in the golden lamplight. “Pretty,” he said.

“You’re a bastard, you know that?” she choked out as she stopped just in front of him. “Wrong. My parents were mated when I was conceived.” And considering his father’s dislike of nakedness and arousal, it was a miracle he’d been conceived at all. He’d wondered over the years if his father really was his father. With the number of lovers his mother had had—lovers the king had not been able to keep out of the queen’s bedroom, no matter how hard he’d tried—anyone male could have created him. “Now sit.” Finally Bride was there, resting on his lap, her ass pressed against his thigh. He craved deeper contact. Did she? “Place your hands on my chest and straddle me.” The heat of her palms nearly scorched him. And when her knees were anchored to the back of his chair, her legs riding alongside his, her panties hovering just over his straining erection, he moaned. His hands settled on the flare of her hips. How perfect she was, smooth and pale like cream. “I’ll kill you for this,” she said. As her gaze was glued to the pulse at the base of his neck, her words slurred as her tongue pushed against her fangs, her pupils dilated, and her expression hungry yet somehow soft, the threat lacked true menace. “You’ll kill me with pleasure, is my bet.” Just to see what she’d do, Devyn released his mental hold on her hands. She didn’t

shift them away, but continued to gauge the erratic rhythm of his heart. “I hate to break it to you, pet, but the fact that you want to kill me that way isn’t a surprise. I suspected. Bet you’re even damp right now.” “Argh!” She balled her fingers into a fist and pounded at his chest like it was a punching bag. “Can you take nothing seriously?” When she realized she’d moved on her own, she blinked down at her hands, wiggled her fingers. He barely had time to register the wickedly satisfied gleam in her eyes before she’d slapped him. The force of skin zipping over skin stung, but that didn’t stop his grin from forming. When she reached up to do it again, Devyn grasped her wrist, preventing the action. Rather than take control of her next movements with his mind, he brought her palm to his mouth and tenderly kissed her hammering pulse. She allowed it. A shiver rocked her, and her core brushed his penis. “Do you want to continue our conversation or get right to the loving?” he asked, trying to cut back another moan. There were several beats of silence. He couldn’t guess what thoughts were rolling through her mind. He knew what he wanted her to think, though: she shouldn’t want to want him, but want him she did. Women loved temptation…forbidden fruit.

Devyn was both of those things, and he knew it. He was a blatant womanizer, shameless, unapologetic, and totally lacking in moral fiber. Many had tried to tame him, and every one of them had failed. He simply wasn’t tamable, though he did love for women to try. “I want to continue the conversation,” she finally said, the words like velvet-covered steel. Pity. She licked her lips, the pink tip of her tongue swiping back and forth and giving him all sorts of ideas. That tongue, circling the head of his cock. That tongue, laving his testicles. That tongue, riding up and down his shaft. “Do you give yourself to so many women because you’re trying to fill a void?” she asked. “Were your parents mean to you or something?” “There is no void,” he snapped. He was what he was, and there was no more to it than that. That she’d pegged his parents was irrelevant. “Now enough of that.” He wouldn’t let her ruin the mood he’d gone to such pains to set. “Are you thirsty? A proper host always sees to the comforts of his guests.” He angled his head, giving her a better view of his throbbing pulse. Again, she paused. Again, she licked her lips. “No, thanks.” Trembling, slurred again. Her palms flattened on his chest, her nails digging deep. “I had a lot to drink before I came.”

Tendrils of something dark swept through him, and he gripped the arms of his chair to prevent himself from gripping her and shaking her. Who had she drunk from? A man? Had she slept with him, too? Vampires often fed and loved at the same time, each act increasing the pleasure of the other. The thought of this challenging female sinking those teeth into someone else, the thought of that wet sheath riding a cock other than his, should not have bothered him. Didn’t bother him, he assured himself. He had not been jealous a day in his life, and he wouldn’t start now. That would have meant he desired more than a few sweet hours with Bride, and he didn’t. He was merely disappointed, for he’d hoped to be the one to feed and sleep with her tonight, and now he’d have to wait. “Fine, then.” The grinding force of his tone surprised him. “We’ll jump right to the questions. Where’s Nolan?” “You told me you didn’t need to know that anymore. I agreed to continue our conversation because I thought we were going to talk about the vampires.” “We were. I changed my mind. If you want answers of your own, you’ll give me what I seek. Where’s Nolan?” “My apartment,” she gritted out. “Where’s Aleaha?” “A motel. Where’s your apartment?”

“Not telling. What motel?” “Not telling.” They stared at each other for a moment. “Well, that was informative.” He sighed, making sure the warmth of his breath trickled down the valley of her breasts. Whether she allowed much more intimacy this night, she would not leave this room unscathed. His scent would be imprinted on her every cell, and she would think of him every time she breathed. Goose bumps broke out over her skin. “Let’s back away from the topic of Nolan and Aleaha for a moment. As planned. Tell me about the vampires you’ve met.” With her demand, the way to have her, at least somewhat, presented itself. He almost purred with satisfaction. “And what will you give me in return, hmm? You’ve already proven you won’t give me the answers I seek.” She eyed him warily. “What do you want?” “A kiss.” “Where?” “So suspicious.” He tsked under his tongue. “I meant my cock, of course.” A choking sound bubbled from her. “No way. Hell, no. Never. I’ll die first.” “Darling, that’s just silly. You can’t possibly know that for sure until you try it. But I can honestly tell you no woman has ever died from

giving me a blow job. They’ve come close to dying of pleasure, yes, but in the end they did survive, I assure you.” He sighed. “If you’d rather, you can kiss me on the mouth. Though I can’t guarantee you won’t nearly die of pleasure from that, as well.” “You are the most egotistical man I’ve ever met.” Even as she spoke, her gaze dropped to his lips, lingering…savoring? “It’s beyond frustrating. I don’t know how to deal with you.” “Should I pretend I’m ugly?” “No. You should…oh, I don’t know.” Her head fell back, her back arching as she peered up at the ceiling, as if imploring the heavens for support. Her core brushed his penis yet again. Sweet fire. “I’d think my honesty easier to deal with than another’s lies.” She blew out a breath. It trickled over his skin the way his had done to hers, branding him with her scent, orchids and midnight tempests. “Maybe you’re compensating for something.” Before he could toss her on the floor and yell at her for even considering such a foolish thing, she added, “Fine, I’ll give you a kiss on the mouth for every question you answer, but you don’t get to touch me while I’m doing it.” Slowly he relaxed. “Very well, I won’t touch you unless you beg.” Something he was (almost) confident he could make her do.

“Like that’ll happen.” At least her confidence didn’t seem to match the level of his. “Just so you know, you only get to collect when I’m satisfied with your answers. And you can’t lie,” she added in a rush. “Deal. Don’t worry, I’ll be keeping score inside my head, and I’m very good at math. Example: Devyn plus Bride minus clothes plus a hard, flat surface multiplied by roaming hands equals greatest pleasure ever. When shall we begin?” Her jaw had dropped during his equation, but she quickly collected herself. “Let’s start now.” Those inky locks cascaded down her arms, brushing his stomach as she faced him dead on. “Where did you meet the vampires?” He plucked a few strands and drew them to his mouth, running the tips along the seam. “A slave auction.” “A slave auction?” Her eyes widened with equal measures of incredulity and disdain, and she jerked the hair from his clasp. “That’s barbaric!” “Yes, at a slave auction. That’s two questions I’ve answered, which means you owe me two kisses.” “I only asked—damn it! I did ask two.” She pressed her lips together in a mulish line. “I’ll be more careful with my phrasing.” Pity. “I’m assuming, despot that you are, that you

bought them. And that’s not a question! If you raped them—” He rolled his eyes. “As if I need to resort to rape.” That deflated her anger. “Then why buy women? Never mind. Don’t answer that. I don’t want to pay the toll for it.” Toll. As if kissing him was a punishment. Silly girl. She would soon learn. He’d become skilled at many things since he’d given over to the dark side and embraced his decadent nature. “What’s your full name?” She opened her mouth to tell him, then shut it with a snap. “If I answer that, you have to deduct one of the kisses I owe you.” “But darling, how else am I to tell you everything I know about your people if I don’t know everything about you?” She had started to nod her head in agreement when she caught herself. He’d almost had her. “Nice try. I’ll answer and you’ll deduct, or I just won’t tell.” Never had he enjoyed a sparring/bargaining match more. “Fair enough.” “My name is Bride…McKells.” She held up her wrist, and he studied the black tattoo. No fancy font, just her name. “McKells. Warrior class,” he said, thinking back to the guards who’d escorted him through the

underground world of the vampires. First, they’d thought to punish the two vampire females for leading him to the doorway to their world, killing them alongside Devyn. Then, they’d decided to place the decision in their king’s hands. So they’d surrounded Devyn and forced him deeper and deeper into the city, not knowing he could have destroyed them all in seconds. And he would have. Dark, confined spaces didn’t agree with him. Except, he’d never had sex in a cave and had decided to remain for several nights. In the end, the king had thanked him for escorting the females back into their fold, for they were of royal blood. The king—Manus, yes, that was his name—had been fierce, jaded, yet fair. While the McKell, the leader of the vampire army and the cruelest among them, the most bloodthirsty, had petitioned for Devyn’s execution, citing that they couldn’t have anyone running around on the surface knowing where the vampires were hidden, the king had once again surprised his people and invited Devyn to stay for as long as he desired. Devyn suspected the vampire king was a mind reader. That, or a psychic like Dallas, and had sensed Devyn would do them no harm and could even be relied on as an ally. He told Bride none of that, however. She hadn’t asked, and the information would cost her. “Any more questions for me, pet?” He hooked a finger

under the strap of her bra and glided back and forth. Though she was trembling, she latched on to his wrist, stopping him. “Where do the vampires live? Will you take me to them? Can they do the things I can do? How do they drink blood and keep it down?” Okay. She had a lot. He tackled them one by one. “Underground. No. No. I don’t know. That’s three more kisses, plus the one you already owed me. Notice I didn’t charge for the answer I didn’t know. Now. You can’t keep blood down?” A muscle ticked in her jaw. “Not a full meal, no. Subtract one of those kisses, please, and then tell me how they live underground.” While he’d visited the vampires, he’d come across only one who’d had trouble digesting the blood she’d consumed. He’d been told the poor female’s husband had died, and therefore, she would die. Or maybe she had refused a…repression of something? He hadn’t been paying the best of attention. “Are you married?” The moment he spoke, he experienced a killing rage. Bride…married…out of his reach… “No,” she said after a disgusted snort. “Have you ever been married?” “No.” The rage vanished as quickly as it had appeared,

leaving him shocked and confused. How…odd. He’d never reacted that way before. Clearly the disappointment of potentially losing this challenge was once again the culprit for his riotous behavior. “I thought you drank a lot before coming to me.” “I did. But I also threw up most of it. I’m living off a few sips a day. End of subject.” Actually, it wasn’t. “Do you want my help?” “I do not. Not with the drinking. So tell me about the underground.” Infuriating woman. “The underground…” Devyn shook off her hold and ran his hands up her sides, stopping beside the swell of her breasts. She didn’t protest, didn’t pull away. “It’s a city, much like ours. Dark and murky, water dripping down the rocky walls of their caves. They are self-sufficient, with roads and shops and bars. They only enter our world twice a year, where they capture humans and use them as food for the rest of the year before killing them and getting more. Only a select few are sent here during the hunts, so I’m not sure how you ended up here, raised…alone?” “Yes. Except for Aleaha.” There was so much hurt in the words, he was momentarily speechless. “And FYI, you just lost another kiss.” He wasn’t worried. He’d get it back. He just… He didn’t like that hurt. He much preferred her angry, excited, and triumphant. Clearly she felt abandoned by her people. By Aleaha. “I wonder

how you reached the surface. And no, that wasn’t a question.” “I don’t remember,” she answered anyway. Her fingertip traced a circle over his breastbone, just beside his heart. He doubted she realized what she was doing. “I don’t remember my mother or my father or if I even had a mother or father. I don’t remember anything about my life before waking up on the streets of New Chicago.” “So you were young. Again, not a question.” “Yes. And thirsty. So damn thirsty.” So why couldn’t she digest the blood anymore? Better question, would she be able to tolerate his blood? He leaned forward and brushed a gentle kiss between her breasts. He’d meant to offer comfort, to tempt her, as well as finally planting the tiny tracking bug he had waiting on his tongue. Mostly, he aroused himself. Needing to taste her, desperate for it, he flicked out his now-bare tongue, running it over the edge of her bra and then, when she failed to protest, her skin. She sucked in a breath, tangled her hands in her hair, and held him in place. “Wh—what are you doing?” “Enjoying you. And now you owe me three kisses.” See. Got it back. “Damn it. Diabolical man.” An endearment, surely. As he arched toward her,

he gripped her ass and pumped her forward, grinding their bodies together. She moaned; he hissed and turned his head, lips locking on one of her nipples. The syn-cotton or whatever material it was that shielded her didn’t deter him. He sucked and laved it like the treasure it was, the little pearl teasing him. “Don’t you want to ask me about Nolan?” she rasped. To distract him? Because she didn’t have the strength to pull away herself? “Yes. Four kisses now, and you will pay up.” He spread his fingers over her ass, two closing in on a place she probably didn’t want him, but one day would if he had his way, the others inching toward her clitoris. If she bowed her back, he could thrum her to release. She’d beg and plead, drip in his hand. And oh, wasn’t that a delightful image? “Take your kisses now, then. Do it!” She yanked at his hair, tugging several strands from his scalp. Slowly he lifted his head, meeting her heated gaze. Passion had wrought a rosy glow to her cheeks. Her eyes glittered brightly, dangerously; they were seductive. Tempting him. Her lips were damp and swollen from where she’d chewed them. Breath sawed in and out of her mouth, choppy and shallow. “You want your kisses, pet?” “Want? No. But I never welsh.” So, she still thought to deny him, did she? His

eyelids slitted. If he kissed her now, with her core so close to his cock, he would take her all the way —they both knew it—and if he had her delicious little body now, she would tell herself he’d forced her. She would convince herself it had been for answers, not desire. Afterward, she would avoid him, build a resistance to him. Think of him only in her nightmares. He would tolerate none of that. Whenever Bride thought of him, he wanted it to be because of sex, passion, and pleasure. Not shame and regret. Never shame. Never regret. He wanted her to remember this time, his words, his touch with a smile on her beautiful face. He didn’t want her remembering her duty and frowning. More than that, he wanted her to run to him if he so desired in the future, not away from him. “I’ll collect my kisses, don’t worry, but I won’t do it here and I won’t do it now. I’ll let you know when and where. Promise.” Those sharp nails of hers dug into the base of his neck. “This is the last time I’ll allow myself to be caught alone with you. Take them here or forfeit.” Just as he’d suspected, she thought to avoid him. Well, too bad. She’d see him again, and she’d kiss him again and then do a whole lot more. Devyn reclaimed his hold on her mind and forced her to straighten and stand, to walk backward, away from him. He didn’t have the strength to walk away from

her himself. Not this time. Already his body mourned the loss of her. Mourned? Surely not. “Let me go, damn it!” “Listen closely, pet. I forfeit nothing. You’ll kiss me when I tell you, or you’ll be in breach and I’ll be entitled to simply take what I want. And now that that’s settled…tomorrow night at midnight, you’re going to bring Nolan to the pier. I’ll bring Aleaha, and we’ll trade.” Immediately she shook her head, but there was hope in her eyes. “I don’t trust you.” Smart woman. No way in hell would he be at the pier tomorrow. “Do you want to see Aleaha or not?” She bit her tongue, probably drawing blood. To keep from biting him? “You know I do. And if you’ve hurt her, I swear to God I’ll cut off your balls and feed them to you.” “Kinky. But like I was saying, if you want to see her, you’ll bring Nolan to that pier.” “Where I’ll find all of AIR waiting for me. No thanks.” “You’ll come, or you won’t see her again. It’s as simple as that.” He shrugged, as if he didn’t care what she decided. “Oh, and a little side note. I’m gonna need your cell number.” She laughed, her smile so bright it was as though the sun had just bathed her. “No way I’ll give it to

you.” “Then take mine. I bought a new number just for you.” Devyn forced her to remain still as he stood and stepped around her. He bent down and grabbed her tights, reaching inside the slim pocket and tugging out her cell. “If I could move, I’d slap that out of your hand. Stop controlling me, damn it!” “Learn how to stop me yourself.” He’d known she had a phone because he’d felt the energy kicking off it. Quickly he deleted every number in her address book and programmed in his own. “There. You’ll have no trouble scrolling and finding me.” “Do you get a new number for all your girls, or am I just special?” “You’re special, sweet.” There was a ring of truth to his tone that surprised even him, and he frowned. He released her from stun and handed her the pants, the phone stashed back inside the pocket. “Call me tomorrow at noon. I want to talk to Nolan and make sure he’s still alive.” She yanked the pants from him and jerked them on. “I’ll expect to talk to Aleaha.” “Sounds fair.” If he’d truly planned to call her, that is. As it was, he’d have her at his mercy before lunch. “Any tricks tomorrow, and I’ll slice Aleaha’s throat like a melon.” A lie, but she didn’t know that.

Her hands fisted at her sides. “You’re going to regret the day you met me. I’ll make sure of it.” “I look forward to your attempts.” So badly he wanted to force her to strip again. So badly he wanted to finally sink inside her, pounding hard into her tight, wet sheath. And she would be wet when he took her. Dripping, as he so desperately wanted. He’d make sure of it. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow night,” she said softly. Deadly. “Dream of me.”

CHAPTER 8

Everything Devyn had told her about vampires raced through Bride’s mind as she snuck home, doubling back, taking wrong turns, careful to avoid any AIR agents that might be following her. Devyn was just the type to tell her he’d meet her for an exchange tomorrow while having someone lying in wait for her today, ready to steal Nolan rather than trade for him. Plus, it was better to think about the vampires and her possible family link—she was part of a warrior line?—than to think about Devyn’s nicknames for her—pet, sweet, darling—and how they melted her heart—so foolishly, since he most likely used them with everyone. The way she’d wanted to trace his skull-and-dagger tattoo with her tongue. The way he had kissed her bra, her skin. The way he’d touched her, and the way she’d wanted to beg for more. Beg! Something she despised and had sworn never to do again. Too many times, she’d had to beg for food for Aleaha, and too many times, people had waved her away as if she were a pesky fly. But for more of those naughty hands, that hot tongue, that decadent scent…more of everything he had to give…maybe. Who are you? Never maybe. Always no.

And what about Aleaha? Devyn had found her. How? Bride fingered the necklace she now wore. She’d been searching for years with no success. Devyn had learned the girl’s name, and boom. He had her. How was he treating her? Bride was tempted to lie in wait for him. To follow him to where Aleaha was being kept. Except, his warning echoed through her mind continually. Any tricks tomorrow, and I’ll slice her throat. Any tricks…tomorrow. He’d said nothing about tonight. Hello loophole. Nervous, excited, hopeful, she backtracked once again, heading toward Devyn’s building. Was he still there? He didn’t live there, that much she knew. The closet had been empty. So had the fridge; she would have smelled the food. Speaking of food, what did he eat? He smelled divine, no hint of human spice. And what did his blood taste like? She was so curious about him, this man she’d encountered thrice, touched twice, made out with once—kind of—and now dreamed about. What made him tick? How did he live his life? Had he ever been in love? Not that the answers mattered. Really. He was her enemy right now. If he’d hurt her friend, his throat would be ripped from his gorgeous body and tossed into a gutter, she thought, nails digging into

her palms. Physically hurting women didn’t seem like Devyn’s style, she reminded herself, and her muscles relaxed. Most likely he’d screwed Aleaha stupid. That was more his MO. The bastard. How many hearts had he broken over the years? Did he even care about the destruction he left behind? Not that it matters. Another reminder. It was late Sunday night, and the streets were nearly deserted. Only a few people bustled past, a little woozy on their feet from too much alcohol. The moon was high, golden, and full. It was the kind of night she usually loved. She could meander freely, air cool on her easily heated skin, drunks ripe for the plucking. Not that she could keep beersaturated blood down anymore, either. Even that upset her delicate stomach. Devyn had seemed surprised and angry that she couldn’t keep an entire meal down. Those beautiful amber eyes had given him away. Why the anger? He knew something she didn’t, most likely. Hell, he knew a lot of stuff she didn’t. If she had to trade more kisses for the answers, fine, she’d suck it up like a big girl and do it. If he treated Aleaha well. Everything hinged on that. Everything but the fact that she was going to drink from him. One way or another. As far as she was concerned, he owed her. The closer she came to Devyn’s apartment, the more she felt a pair of eyes burning into her back.

Bride’s heartbeat kicked up a notch, even as she tensed, slowed, scanning the area. One thing movies and books had gotten wrong was the fact that vampires were dead. At least, she wasn’t. She had a working heart; she breathed. The only difference between her and humans—besides her abilities—was her need for blood rather than food. Vamps could be otherworlders, she supposed. Or even genetically altered humans. Either way, she could be killed. She’d come close a few times over the years. Purposefully she rounded a corner, heading into a back alley that led to a maze of doors and walkways. While it was a good place to hide, it was also a good place to test her possible shadow’s intentions. There were no shops here, nothing a normal person would want to see or need. There was no reason to follow her here unless she was a target. Boxes lined the buildings, the homeless sleeping inside them. No one should—footsteps resounded behind her. Okay. She was being followed; she was a target. Devyn? AIR? Or someone else? Don’t turn, don’t let whoever it is know you know they’re there. Bride breathed deeply, in and out, trying to sort through the deluge of scents. Urine, waste, dirt, un-washed bodies, rotting food. A clean body, lightly cologned. Not Devyn. She would have caught a whiff of his clean-sheets-and-

rain fragrance, mingled ever so slightly with Aleaha’s sky-and-pine smell, no matter what surrounded her. It was probably someone he knew, though. Grinding her molars, she swiped another corner and picked up her pace, grabbing her phone and flipping it open. She didn’t have any trouble finding Devyn’s number because it was the only one in memory. That dirty little shit! She didn’t have any friends, but she collected numbers to restaurant deliveries. Not for the food, but for the delivery boys. The footsteps picked up pace, too. With a press of a button, Devyn’s number was dialed. She held the phone to her ear, snaking into an open doorway, zigzagging through a building, and sprinting out the other side. “Miss me already, darling?” Devyn’s sexy voice purred on the other end. “Couldn’t keep your word and wait until tomorrow, could you? Had to sic your AIR buddy on me tonight? Is it the blue-eyed one? What’s his name? Dallas? He’s cute, so I might call and thank you tomorrow. He won’t, though. That, I promise you.” A heavy, crackling pause. “You’re being followed?” “Oh, look. Devyn’s acting innocent. Must be a fun new game.”

“Where are you, Bride?” There wasn’t an ounce of humor in his tone. That…scared her. “And help your friend find me? Sorry. I’m not gonna tell.” “That’s not my friend.” There was static on the line as he spoke, as if he was talking and running at the same time. “Where are you?” Was he telling the truth? Only person she’d ever truly trusted was Aleaha. Too many others had betrayed her, lied to her, and let her down. Course, most of those sins came courtesy of her exboyfriend. He’d been so sweet at first. A real doll. But because of her late-night jaunts, he’d begun to think she was cheating on him. He’d become resentful, jealous, hateful, and had decided to teach her a lesson and cheat on her. A glowing blue beam soared a few inches to her right, and she gasped as she dove around a metal pole. “Shit! Whoever it is just tried to stun me. Sure it’s not AIR?” “Yes. Now give me your goddamn location.” The anger in his voice was enough to make her shudder. If the person chasing her was AIR, then that person could just as easily phone him and tell him where she was. He could have her location whether she gave it to him or not. The rationalization eased her objections, and Bride finally spouted off her coordinates. “I’m on my way.”

“Okay. See you—” “Don’t hang up!” he shouted. Another beam soared past her, this one mere inches from her shoulder. She yelped, increasing her speed, feet pounding into the pavement. “Almost got me that time,” she rasped. The burning started up in her chest, thorns ready to cut. “Does stun effect you?” “Yes.” Unfortunately. “I’m almost there. Keep dodging.” “Brilliant plan. However did you think of it?” she asked dryly. “Don’t answer. We’ll talk when you get here.” “That sounded like good-bye, and I already told you not to hang up.” “Sorry, but I’m going to take the bastard out, and I can’t do that one-handed.” Click. As Bride ran, she stowed her phone and tore several razors from her sleeve. Her palms were damp with sweat, but she maintained a firm grip as she swerved behind another doorway. This time, rather than race onward, she crouched on the floor. A quick peek, her gaze cutting through the darkness like a knife, and she saw that her attacker was male. Tall, lean but muscled. Sandy hair. Boyish good looks. Tom, she realized, and her stomach rolled. Shy, horny Tom wanted her stunned? Why? He slowed to a leisurely stroll and raised his

pyre-gun as he searched every doorway. “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he called. “I don’t want to hurt you, Bride.” Bride didn’t reply. She wasn’t an idiot—hello, he so wanted to hurt her—and wouldn’t give away her location by allowing him to follow her voice. Thank God she hadn’t drunk from him that night. Afterward, he could have ambushed her while she’d writhed in pain. Guess she owed Devyn a thank-you. When Tom stepped around one of those thick metal poles, Bride jerked her arm forward, releasing one of her razors. It whizzed through the air and sliced the side of his neck. He howled, fired, free hand reaching up to staunch the blood. The stun missed her by a mile. She used his distraction to her advantage and tossed another blade, aiming for his other side. It, too, sliced at his neck, drawing blood. Mmm, blood. So red…so pretty. He didn’t smell as pure tonight, had eaten oversalted eggs and bread, but the dark red liquid still looked savory. He howled again, dropping his gun and covering the rest of his sensitive flesh. “Damn it! I just want to talk to you,” he growled. “Then you shouldn’t have shot at her,” another, deeper voice said. A pissed-off voice. Devyn was here. Her heart pounded against her ribs, her skin tightened, and her nipples beaded, relief and

arousal blending. Every nerve ending in her body ached for another touch from him. Maybe I am an idiot. “You can come out, sweetheart. Your human can’t move; he’s under my control. Nice shots on his neck, by the way. Very impressive aim. Next time sever the jugular, though.” Keeping a razor in hand and beaming at Devyn’s praise, Bride pushed to a stand and strode from the doorway. Though she wanted to stop beside Devyn and breathe him in, she bypassed him for Tom’s gun, still resting on the floor. She picked it up and sheathed it at her waist. Devyn tsked under his tongue. “Thinking of using that on me?” “Just adding it to my collection.” And holding on to it for protection. One wrong move from him, and she would stun him. Finally, she faced him. He’d pulled on a shirt but was otherwise the same as she’d left him. Sexy as hell in wrinkle-free slacks, hair in disarray, and amber eyes bright. He wasn’t winded or sweating. He looked as if he’d stepped from the pages of a magazine, rather than having just sprinted a fivehundred-yard dash. “Let me go,” Tom demanded. “I’m human. I have rights.” “Not anymore,” Devyn said flatly. Bravado faded. “Please. I didn’t mean any harm,

and I don’t know how you’re keeping me still like this, but I’m willing to forgive and forget. Just let me go.” “Do you know this man?” Devyn asked her, ignoring Tom. “Yep. Tom tried to pick me up the other day. The day I met you, actually.” One of Devyn’s dark brows arched. “Heaven and hell, all in one day. Lucky girl. I take it you refused him?” “I planned on having a drink with him, then caught Aleaha’s scent and took off.” “With him?” Devyn chuckled. “Poor Tom.” He eyed the man in question. Sweat had beaded over Tom’s face. His lips were pulled into a frightened frown, and lines of tension branched from his eyes. “Denied the delectable morsel that is my Bride. I understand your pain, human. I, too, let her get away once. Now, what I don’t understand is shooting at the woman days later.” Every word was harsher, harder. His Bride? “You don’t know what you’re messing with, man,” Tom said on a trembling breath as he tried to collect himself. “Just let me go, and we’ll forget this ever happened.” “Oh, then please enlighten me as to what I’m messing with.” Tom’s dark eyes skidded to Bride before

returning to Devyn, the biggest threat. “She’s a vampire. She’ll suck you dry if given the chance. I know how to deal with them. I can protect you from her.” So. He knew she was a vampire. How many others knew? Was there already a mob after her, determined to stake her or burn her alive? “Why do you think I’m…vampire?” She couldn’t keep the fear from her voice. She’d gone to such pains to hide what she was. Tom laughed cruelly. “Few weeks ago you were seen drinking from a bum in an alleyway just like this. You were followed, information gathered. When I questioned your ex-boyfriend, I learned some interesting things about your nightly habits. And guess what? I’m not the only one who knows about you. My friends plan to sell you to the highest bidder.” He turned to Devyn. “Let me go, and you can have half the profits. You don’t want a bloodsucker as a lover, trust me. We’ll find you something else. Something sweet and pliable.” Something, he’d said, as if the women weren’t living beings. She realized he’d never truly desired her, had just sought her capture and the profit that would have accompanied it. Bastard. “No, thanks. I’d rather send your friends a message.” Devyn slid a long, sharp knife from his side, the silver winking in the moonlight. He’d turned down money and a slave. For her.

Sweetest gesture ever. That didn’t mean she’d sleep with him, but wow. She might maybe kinda sorta didn’t despise him now. Like you did before. “Wh-what kind of message?” Tom asked, gaze glued to the weapon. If he’d had control of his body, he would have trembled, shrank back. Maybe pissed his pants. There was an unholy gleam to Devyn, as if he relished what was about to happen. As if he could already smell the blood and gore and found it heady. “How are you holding me so still? Let me go. Please, just let me go, or you’ll regret it.” “I can promise you, I’ll do no such thing. I never regret.” Devyn seemed to have forgotten Bride was even there, his full attention focused on his prey. And that’s exactly what Tom was just then. Prey. Part of her suddenly wanted to leave Devyn to his torturing and race home. To safety. The other part of her wanted to find out who Tom’s friends were, so that Devyn could destroy them, too. In the end, she stayed. And she watched. Just in case Devyn needed assistance. Tom did a lot of crying, a lot of begging, but Devyn never relented. Merciless, cruel, he took his time, slicing, taunting, inflicting maximum pain without actually killing the human. At one point, Bride asked him if she should act as lookout and keep others from approaching, but he told her he’d taken care of that. Probably

with his body-control ability. Tom spilled blood—lots and lots of blood—and Bride’s mouth watered for all of that beautiful crimson nectar. Her fangs were sharpened, cutting her gums. Still she smelled the spice, but it no longer mattered in any way. She was starving, and the human was a banquet. But she resisted. Barely. Now was not the time to gorge. Once this was done, she needed to be on her feet, not writhing and vomiting. She needed to go home and decide what to do now that others knew about her. When Devyn cut off one of Tom’s fingers, blood sprayed her directly in the face, dripping…oh, yes, dripping…begging her to taste, and she almost crumbled. Somehow, she managed to keep her tongue inside her mouth. A single taste would whip her into a frenzy; since her body always absorbed those first sips, it thought it could handle more and so it would demand more. She would drink and gulp and lap every drop from the sidewalk, unable to help herself. Again she thought that she should leave, but Tom also began spilling lots and lots of secrets, so she remained in place, listening. Horrified. He and his friends had been slavers for years. They hadn’t just planned to abduct her. They’d planned to abduct many women. Selling them for sex, torture, or whatever the winning bidder wanted. The rarer the species, the higher the price.

Apparently, vampires were now the pick du jour. Names, though, Tom refused to give, and in the end Devyn carved him up piece by piece before cutting off his head and depositing it on the nearest street corner for someone to find and news stations to shout about. Tom’s friends would see what had happened to him and know he’d been caught. By then, it was an hour before sunset. Bride was covered in blood spatter, scared to her soul about slavers knowing who she was and where she lived, rubbing her chest to stave off the pain, and in awe of Devyn. Not once had he tired or hesitated. The very man who had probably charmed thousands of women out of their panties had been brutal, savage. Emotionless. He turned to her, eyes as bright an amber as always but filled with uncertainty. “You’re frightened.” “Yes.” No reason to deny it. He looked away from her. “Of me?” She should be. Anyone who could take a life like that, hurt someone like that, was not a good enemy to have, and she’d challenged him several times already. She’d even vowed to make his life miserable. Yet right here, right now, she felt safer with him than anyone else in the world. “No, not you. I’m afraid of the men who hunt me.” There was a beat of surprise before a slow grin

spread over his face and he once again met her gaze. What a morbidly beautiful sight he was, Bride thought. He waved a dismissive hand. “When they see the news, they’ll know. Mess with Bride McKells and die.” “That, or they’ll come for revenge.” A shudder rocked her. His head tilted to the side in thought. “You could always room with me.” The moment he spoke, his lips pursed, as if he wanted to snatch back the words. “No, thanks. I’ve been protecting myself for years. I’ll be fine.” Most likely she’d have to move again, change her name again. Damn. She didn’t want to do either. She liked her home. He popped his jaw, an action completely at odds with the tender way he then brushed her hair behind her ear. “They won’t come for you, not for days yet. When they find out about Tom, they’ll meet and talk about what to do. You have time to think, to plan, so rest easy tonight. Or rather, today. We’ll figure out how to handle them once Nolan and Aleaha are taken care of.” He glanced up at the sky. “Much as I’m enjoying our time together, you had better go. I doubt you can tolerate the sun for long.” “You’re right. It blisters my skin.” It was a weakness she shouldn’t have admitted to, but after everything he’d done for her, her defenses were

down and the truth had simply slipped out. “Until tomorrow, then.” She backed away, intending to leave as he’d suggested, but stopped herself before she’d even taken four steps. “Devyn?” “Don’t tell me. You want to kiss me good-bye.” He sighed, waved her over. “Fine. I’ll jump on that grenade. Get over here.” She rolled her eyes. “Why did you help me?” she asked. She had to know. For a moment, she doubted he would answer. Then he shrugged. “You have Nolan. And you owe me three make-out sessions. I wasn’t about to let you die and renege.” Whatever she’d hoped to hear, that wasn’t it. “Uh, I owe you kisses. Not make-out sessions.” She paused, nibbled on her bottom lip. “Will you get in trouble? For killing a human, I mean?” As an otherworlder, he had very few rights. Unfair, but the way of the world all the same. His lips twitched. “Worried for me, sweetheart? Well, don’t be. If I’m punished, I’ll make you fuck me all better.” She spun around, giving him her back before he saw her smile. Fuck him all better, indeed. Incorrigible womanizer. “See you later, Devyn,” she said, and strode away from him.

CHAPTER 9

Dallas Gutierrez clutched a garbage bag as he pushed through the mess in his living room, bending down and picking up trash. Cleaning. Ugh. It was something he hadn’t done in months. After his near-death experience, he’d just stopped caring about the state of his domicile. Why waste precious time doing something he hated? But Devyn liked clean and neat, and Devyn would arrive any moment. He knew it, sensed it. They hadn’t talked since yesterday morning, when Dallas had taken Macy and Breean to a motel to “search” for Bride. They’d even made plans to meet for coffee at eight a.m. today, a few hours away. But Devyn was on his way even now. Lately, Dallas knew all kinds of trivial things. They seeped into his head, not visions but whispers of coming truths. He hated it. He didn’t want to know things before they happened. Little or big. Last few months, a lot of his friends had stopped calling, stopped hanging out with him. They were afraid of him and what he could now do. Predict the future. Move at speeds the human eye couldn’t see. Compel people to obey him with only a single voiced command. The speed, he actually enjoyed. He’d secretly

used it on the job once or twice and was a better agent because of it. Only problem was, he couldn’t have one ability without the others. Okay, two problems. His control of each ability was sketchy. Maybe because he fought them so fervently. But he couldn’t help himself. When he welcomed his visions with open arms, he saw loved ones die. When he forced people to do things they didn’t want to do, the guilt ate at him for days. Therefore, he tried not to use either. Finally, though, he’d caved and tried to force Nolan to stay in that alley, unmoving, compliant, because, unlike Devyn’s, Dallas’s ability wasn’t a manipulation of energy but an exertion of will. And look what that had gotten him. Failure. That particular power had remained dormant, Nolan had continued to move, and Dallas had had a vision of himself, as he was now, in bed with a woman he hadn’t seen in months. How? Kyrin had offered to teach and train him, but Dallas couldn’t bring himself to agree. The more time he spent with the Arcadian, the more he was reminded that his will was not his own. That he was really just a slave to another. What am I going to do? He needed to decide, one way or another: welcome all of his abilities completely or suppress them, which Kyrin had said he could do if he ignored all three abilities long enough. Either way, he needed to decide now.

For the past few hours, another vision had been knocking on his brain, demanding entrance. He’d been fighting it, but fighting brought crack-yourskull-against-the-wall headaches. So…embrace all? Or suppress? Knowing the future brought both triumph and failure. Last time he’d almost killed his friend Jaxon trying to prevent a vision from coming true. But if he knew what was going to happen, he could possibly save a life one day. Damn it. There were good arguments for both decisions. He needed to do something. Well, you can’t call an old girlfriend to come over and distract you. Because of what he’d seen in that alley, he’d already done that. After griping him out for not calling in forever, she’d come over and they’d played naughty-AIRagent-and-dirty-otherworlder. He’d acted like the dirty otherworlder, and she’d had no idea how perfectly the role fit him now. Every day he lost a little more of his humanity. Now she was asleep in his bedroom. He should have sent her home after the sex, but he hadn’t wanted to be alone. How pathetic. As he continued to clean, Dallas began sweating, panting, unable to catch his breath. His ribs soon felt as if they were comprised of glass and were cutting into his chest cavity. His temples ached

unbearably. Just suck it up. He swiped up an empty sandwich wrapper, an image of—no. No! He shoved the image away with a mental hand, not booting it out of his brain but keeping it locked inside a box. He hadn’t made a decision yet. The action caused a sharp, agonizing pain to tear through him, and he dropped to his knees. He gritted his teeth, his jaw clenching so tightly that the joints threatened to snap out of place. Nausea rolled through his stomach. Just suppress already. Knowing the future changes the future, and not always for the better. What if someone I love is about to be hurt? He lumbered to his feet as the vision tried to claw its way free. He shook his head violently, and still another pain slashed through him, doubling him over. A moan slipped from him. Too much. It was too much. If he kept fighting, undecided, he was going to have an aneurism. Not knowing what else to do, Dallas peeked through a crack in that box. The pain eased slightly. There were two visions, he realized, each vying for entrance. One, he’d ignored for hours. The other was brand-new. No wonder the knocking had intensified. Don’t do it. Don’t let them in. Ignorance is bliss, and you won’t be able to mess with the future. It’s better to know. And this way, you can keep your superspeed.

The two desires warred inside him until he was shaking, almost foaming at the mouth. Every nerve ending in his body was sharpening, desperate to cut through him and escape the pain. Don’t do it. You almost killed Jaxon, remember? Do it, do it, do it. You’re wiser now. You won’t hurt anyone. How many times do you have to be reminded that you could save more lives— With a roar, he wrenched open the box. The first vision flew into his mind, colors taking shape, images forming. There was Devyn, standing in an abandoned alleyway, soaked in blood. It dripped from him—draining his life? In front of him was the vampire, Bride. She, too, was covered in blood. There were smudges around her mouth, as if she’d recently fed and had tried to wipe herself clean. If that bitch had drank from Devyn…Dallas’s hands fisted. But guilt joined ranks with his anger, and he squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to tamp down both emotions. If I’d allowed the vision inside earlier, would I have been able to stop this? Was Devyn now hurt? Dead? They’d known there was a chance Bride would erupt when she learned that Devyn had “captured” Macy, aka Aleaha, but neither of them had taken it seriously. Devyn could lock the woman in place. Besides that, females simply didn’t attack Devyn. Not with malicious intentions, anyway. Maybe Bride had learned how to defend herself

against Devyn’s ability, as Nolan had done. In fact, Nolan could have told her what to do. Snarling, Dallas punched the wall, leaving a hole. Devyn’s alive. He’s on his way here. You know that. The panic gradually receded, and Dallas watched inside his mind as Devyn reached out and tucked a lock of Bride’s dark hair behind her ear. An action of affection. Bride nibbled on her bottom lip, her fangs sharp, and peered down at the ground, shy but intrigued. Dallas relaxed a little more. Whatever had happened between the pair had been consensual and perhaps nonviolent, despite the blood. But damn, he was going to have to talk to his friend about his bed partners. Bride turned on her heel and marched away, disappearing into the shadows. Devyn was smiling that wicked, satisfied smile of his. Not such a bad vision, after all, Dallas thought, shoulders slouching in relief. That image faded, making way for the second. Once again colors began to take shape. Moments later, the pier came into view. A metal bridge that stretched over what little water remained, inching its way to shore. There was Devyn, a knife in his heart, his body prone, motionless, his eyes closed, blood all around him. Bride stood off to the side, a group of men flanking her. They were holding her in place as she cried and screamed and fought for freedom. Every muscle in Dallas’s body tightened. Devyn

planned to tell Bride to meet him at the pier, but he didn’t plan to actually go. Had his friend changed his mind? Dallas shifted his attention, scanning the entire area. There was no sign of himself, Breean, or Macy. He then focused on the men holding Bride, memorizing their features, their clothing. “—on, my man.” A warm hand patted his cheek. “Wake up for me. Your visions have never taken this long before. What’s going on? You know I hate mysteries.” Everything winked out of focus, and Dallas almost roared. He clawed at his mind, at the dark box, desperate to learn everything he could, but nothing reappeared in the first and the second was now empty. Okay. Fine. Dallas would write down everything he remembered about the vision, and he would reason it out, share the details with the players involved, and then do whatever was necessary to stop it from happening. He wouldn’t make the same mistake as last time. He wouldn’t assume he knew what had brought about the events or who had caused Devyn’s…death. No. No! Devyn would not die. There was no longer any question about whether to embrace or suppress. Dallas would embrace and ensure his friend lived. “Wake up for your sweet Devyn.” Another pat,

this one harder. “That’s a good boy.” Slowly Dallas blinked open his eyes. He was still panting, still sweating, but was no longer in pain. Devyn loomed over him, concern darkening his usually bright eyes. Just as Dallas had seen him in his first vision, Devyn was covered in blood. It stained his skin, his clothes. “Okay?” he managed to work past his spasming throat. “Me?” The otherworlder looked surprised by the question. “Why—oh. The blood. No worries. It’s not mine.” Thank God. “Vampire decide…to eat…in front…of you?” “Nothing like that. I’ll explain in a bit. You want to tell me what’s going on with you?” Not yet. “How’d you…get in?” “I peeked over your shoulder last time you disabled your alarm. Memorized your code.” Smiling despite the pain, Dallas rubbed his temples. “You are such a good friend.” “I know.” Devyn helped him to a sitting position and remained crouched in front of him. “I hope you don’t mind, but I sent your woman on her way. She was shaking you, screaming for you to wake up, and pissing off your neighbors.” Dallas propped his elbows on his knees, hating the way he trembled. “Not safe for her to walk the streets alone.”

“That’s why I called her a cab. And be prepared. If you see her again, you’re going to get an earful. First she passed out when she saw me, then she woke up and threatened to call the police. I told her if she was going to hang around you, she’d have to get used to seeing me because fainting at the sight of my beauty was going to piss you off, and I’d rather cut out her eyes than piss you off.” “And that didn’t go over well? Women. I’m sure the coat of blood you’re wearing had nothing to do with her reaction to you.” Devyn searched his face. “Your color is returning. Good. You’re going to be fine.” “I’m the psychic, but yeah, you’re right.” “I’m going to shower. Make us a pot of coffee— real, not artificial, if you’ve got any of the stuff I bought you left over—and we’ll talk when I’m done.” He didn’t wait for Dallas’s response but stood and strode toward the back of the apartment. Dallas, too, stood but he stumbled his way into the kitchen. He had just enough beans for a full pot. As he prepared it, he anchored his phone to his ear and dialed Mia. She answered on the second ring. “Dal, you shit, this better be good. It’s my night off.” “Yeah, it is. Good, I mean. I need a sketch artist as soon as possible.” “Why?” “I’ll share the details the moment I understand

them.” “Uh, you tell me or you don’t get a damn thing.” Jack, their former boss, would have agreed with Dallas right away. Female bosses sucked. “Think of this as an early birthday present, then. It’s all I want.” A sigh crackled over the line. “Bastard. Your place or the station?” Okay. Maybe female bosses weren’t so bad. Jack would have told him to fuck himself for his present. “My place.” “Two hours?” “Perfect.” “Fuck you, I’m going back to sleep. Call me when you’re ready to talk, and that better be no later than forty-eight hours, or I swear to God I’ll kick your ass into next week just like Jack always threatened.” Click. Dallas was grinning as he slid his cell over the counter, the scent of caffeine thickening the air, frivolous and decadent. He gathered two cups, the last remaining scoop of real sugar, and a can of dried milk. Devyn liked his caffeine sweet, but refused to drink anything with synthetics. Dallas would have called him a girl, but Devyn would have viewed that as a compliment. The smell of dry enzyme soap drifted to him, alerting him to Devyn’s arrival. He turned. And sure enough, there was his friend, bent over and

resting his elbows on the counter. The blood was gone, his hair perfectly combed. He wore Dallas’s favorite “Size Dental Appliances Here” with an arrow pointing down T-shirt and a pair of his jeans. “You gave me that shirt as a gift. Taking it back?” “I’ll return it. It’s just the only thing you own that’s made from real cotton. My skin deserves the best.” “You’re such a snob.” “I’d say I’m smart for treating myself with luxuries, but whatever. Now, tell me what the hell was going on with you when I walked in.” The coffee machine beeped, and Dallas filled the two mugs. He dropped a spoon in Devyn’s so that the otherworlder could stir his own shit and handed it to him. “I had a vision and was trying to sort through it. Must have gone a little too deep into my brain.” “I guessed that. What I want to know is what you saw. And why have Mia send a sketch artist over?” “You have ears like Mishka, man.” The girl could hear a feather land on a mattress from two miles away. Devyn shrugged. “Start talking.” Dallas leaned back against the counter and sipped at the hot java for strength. First, he told his friend about the blood.

“That’s nothing,” Devyn said. “I killed a human.” Dallas blinked at him, at the casual way he admitted to murder. “Wait. I couldn’t possibly have heard you right. Did you just say you killed a human?” “Yeah. He was a slaver. Tried to abduct Bride to sell her on the black market.” “And you killed him? Dude, you’ve bought women on the black market.” Again Devyn shrugged, but there was something in his eyes. Something Dallas had never seen before and couldn’t place. “There are others out there who know about her, but no matter how much I tortured him, he wouldn’t give me their names. Probably because he knew he was going to die either way. Either that, or there weren’t actually any others. Only time will tell.” There wasn’t an ounce of remorse in his friend’s tone. No one could kill as ruthlessly or as uncaringly as Devyn. The man saw each of his actions as a necessary duty and never looked back, never regretted. Maybe that was why they got along so well. Dallas had enough regrets for both of them. “Mia know?” “Not yet, but she will. I left the guy’s head on Main.” Dallas’s eyes widened. Devyn had made the

announcement while lifting and studying one of Dallas’s small black computer maps. “Tell me. Do you polish your titanium balls every night before bed, or do you just hang them in your trophy case?” “Polish,” Devyn said deadpan, tossing the map aside. “Damn. Mia’s gonna go ballistic. You know that, don’t you?” Still the otherworlder remained unconcerned. “I’ll handle her.” “Not without me.” No way was Dallas going to let Devyn go down for this. Because Devyn was an otherworlder, he didn’t have the same rights as Dallas. If necessary, he’d take total blame. Most they’d do to him was slap his wrists. They could send Devyn away, kick him out of AIR, or even execute him. “Anyone see you?” “Probably.” What would it take to actually ruffle Devyn’s feathers? Something catastrophic, surely. “So why the hell’d you leave his head outside for anyone to find?” “It was a message.” He arched a brow. “And that would be that Devyn of the Targons is a psycho?” Devyn laughed. “No. Mess with Bride and suffer.” Now Dallas’s brow furrowed in question. “You into her or something? I mean, really into her?”

Devyn loved and left his women like they were no more important than a fast-food meal. To him, they weren’t. Devyn’s gaze sharpened, a play of emotions flashing through those amber depths. Readable emotions. Lust, tenderness, anger, disbelief. “For now. She’ll lose her appeal soon enough.” Oh, oh, oh. What was this? Finally, a reaction. And over a woman. Inconceivable. Odd as it was, though, it wouldn’t last; it couldn’t. Still. This just wasn’t Devyn’s style. A frightening thought suddenly occurred to Dallas. When Bride lost her appeal and Devyn dropped her—Devyn always dropped the women, they never dropped him—would she wallow in fury? Entertain thoughts of revenge? Would she pay someone to hurt him? Stab him at the pier? He drained the rest of his coffee. “Well, like I was saying about the visions…I had two. And the second one involved you, the female, and a knife through your heart.”

CHAPTER 10

As the first rays of sunlight glowed from the sky, Bride entered her apartment, quietly closed the door, and pressed the lock pad, engaging the ID scan on the outside. She rested her forehead against the cool metal, her eyes closed, breathing deeply, in and out, in and out. Her stomach was twisted with renewed hunger, her mouth dry. She was shaky, tired. In the background, the TV hummed softly. The air was as clean and sterile as always, the purifiers she used running at top speed. The only scent she detected was…apples? Her brow wrinkled, and she drew in another breath, holding it while she studied the aroma. Sure enough. Apples. She hadn’t smelled them in more than sixty or so years, but she’d never forgotten their sweetness. Once, she’d been casing a neighborhood, trying to decide which house to rob. The war had not yet erupted, and the world had been a different place. Trees had been lush, real fruit available for purchase on every street corner. And cheap, God, had they been cheap. The pennies she’d stolen from her foster parents had been enough to buy all the apples she’d wanted. Not to eat but to smell. She’d even dabbed the juice on herself, her own

version of perfume. Would have been a perfect memory if not for the taint of the foster parents. Ugh. Demons in human skin, that’s what they’d been. The authorities had plucked her off the streets, placed her in the system. She’d looked about thirteen years old—no telling how old she’d really been, though—with a “sun allergy,” so no one had wanted to adopt her. She’d bounced from home to home, her refusal to eat earning her doctor visits and sometimes forcefeedings that caused her to puke her guts out. Only once had she been caught drinking blood, and it had earned her the beating of a lifetime. If she’d been human, she would have died from it. The couple responsible had called her “unholy,” “evil,” and “perverted.” She was taken away from them and moved to her final foster home. Sadly, the one before had not been the worst. The husband, her “caregiver,” had snuck into her room one night, holding her down, intending to rape her. Before he’d even removed her PJs, out had come her fangs, and she’d drained him dry. It was the first killing she’d ever enjoyed. No telling how many other innocent children he’d hurt. But much as she’d been proud, happy with her actions, she’d also been scared. She would be deemed a murderer, probably sent to jail. So she’d run, and once again the streets had become her home.

Then the otherworlders had begun arriving, seeming to appear out of nowhere. Panic had spread far and wide, and her crime had been forgotten. As a “human,” she belonged; she was someone to protect, no matter her past. No human had left home without a weapon of some sort, and Bride had watched innocent otherworlder after innocent otherworlder gunned down. But what no one had known was that some humanoid races had been here a while and had already integrated themselves into society. They’d taken exception to the murders of their brethren and started fighting back. What terrible, dark years those had been. Hardly anyone had had a home; they’d all been destroyed in fires, raids, and bombings. Money hadn’t mattered; there’d been nothing to buy. Not everyone had been equipped for such a life, and some had died from the elements. The too-cold winters, the too-hot summers. Bride had spent years living that way and had thrived. When a treaty was reached between the species, rebuilding happened fast, humans and otherworlders working together. Not fully trusting each other—that might not ever happen—but using each other’s skills and resources to get the job done. “You going to stand there all morning?” Slowly she turned, facing the cell. Nolan stood at

the bars, his fingers tight around the metal, a grin on his beautiful face. Her jaw dropped in shock. Yes, he was beautiful. His skin was tan, no hint of gray, no sores. And he glowed. His cheeks had filled out and were no longer sunken. His eyes were bright, like shining silver stars. That apple scent wafted from him. With the realization, a tempting question drifted through her mind: if he smelled like apples, how delicious would he taste? Her gums actually throbbed as her fangs lengthened, sharpened. She was halfway to the cage before she caught herself. He’s diseased. You can’t drink him. Maybe I could. I’ve never been sick. Not worth the risk, remember? Damn it! Another vampire would have known whether or not she could catch such an illness. Most movies and books claimed it was impossible. They also claimed vampires exploded in the sun, and she never had. So what was fact and what was fiction? “I’m alone all night, bored out of my mind, dripping with energy, and finally you show up but you won’t say a word.” There was a pout to his voice now. “This is a new form of torture, right?” Bride found her voice, forcing the words past a slightly swollen tongue. “You look good.” Understatement of the year. His beauty actually rivaled Devyn’s, though he didn’t make her heart

race. “I feel good.” He grinned, and it lit his entire face. “Better than I’ve felt in years, actually.” So. Her blood had helped him. What else had it done? Defeated his disease, or just muted it for a while? Had it turned him? Again, another vampire would have known. I hate being the lone wolf. Or rather, lone fang. “Any unusual cravings?” His brow wrinkled in confusion, as if he couldn’t follow the thread of the conversation. “Like what?” Like blood. “Have you wanted to drink something you wouldn’t normally want to drink?” “I’m still lost.” “Never mind.” If he began craving blood, she’d know it. He would stare at her neck, sweat when he couldn’t get closer to her pulse; he would pale. What would Devyn think of this development? Would he and his agents want to study her? Poke and prod her? Poke and prod Nolan? “Thank you for once more not shouting for help and bringing my neighbors rushing inside,” she said. Before, he hadn’t wanted to be mobbed. In his former condition, he wouldn’t have survived. Like this, he could have charmed his way free. That he hadn’t was a blessing. He snorted. “Why would I want them to release me? I want more of that wine you gave me. And no, that’s not an unusual craving. I love wine. But this wine…” He closed his eyes as if just the

thought was ecstasy. “My stomach settled the moment I downed it. What kind was it? What brand?” “Uh, it’s just a little something I make myself. I’m almost out, so let’s hold off on more for a while.” Bride slouched forward and flopped onto her couch, keeping Nolan’s cell in view. He’d been by himself and on his best behavior, so she owed him. If he wanted company, she would be his company, no matter how fatigued she suddenly was. “What do you put in it?” “Can we not talk about that right now? I feel like I’m dying.” “You hurt? That why you’re covered in blood?” Oh, shit. The blood. She’d forgotten about it. No wonder the few people she’d passed on the streets had given her weird looks. She needed to wash it off, but standing seemed like an impossible dream. Her thighs were shaking, the muscles bunched and knotted. Too much adrenaline crashing, she supposed, and not enough neck sucking. “I’m not hurt. Just tired.” “I take it you found Devyn,” Nolan said hopefully. “Yes.” Her eyelids fluttered closed, open. He clapped, a smile lifting the corners of his lips. “Wow. I didn’t think you’d do it. Hurt the otherworlder, I mean. But look at you. Covered in

the blood of your enemy. I’m misty-eyed. Honest.” Wait. What? He thought she’d killed Devyn? “I found him, but I didn’t hurt him. This isn’t his blood. Someone tried to abduct me, and Devyn actually helped me neutralize him.” A moment passed in silence. Then Nolan popped his jaw, irritation replacing his joy. “He helped you?” “Yes.” “So now you think he’ll never hurt you, right?” “No, of course not.” Maybe. “I recognize that look.” His tone was grave. “You’re smitten.” “I’m not smitten.” She was, she really was. “That’s ridiculous.” Devyn might have pissed her off by forcing her to strip in front of him, but he’d also rushed to her rescue. Why had he done that? she wondered for the thousandth time. She’d taken Nolan from him, outsmarted him in front of his friend Dallas, and threatened to cut off his balls if he hurt Aleaha. Yet still he’d come, still he’d decapitated her enemy. Because she was the only one who knew where Nolan was, as he’d claimed? No, couldn’t be. He wouldn’t have killed Tom like he had if he’d only wanted Nolan’s location. She didn’t understand him. He was a seducer and a warrior, charming yet callous, self-involved yet kind. Back at the apartment, he could have forced

her to lie on that bed, spread her legs, and welcome him inside, but he hadn’t. He’d given her the sweetest of kisses, the gentlest of touches, and sent her on her way. Why? He didn’t care about her. She was one of a thousand, perhaps a million, to him. A novelty. Forgettable. Right? I want to be more to him. The desire drifted through her, and she laughed bitterly. What the hell? No way. No damn way would she allow herself to care for him and dream of the impossible. Enjoy him, yes. She owed him three kisses, and she would give them to him. Because she was honorable, not because she craved them more than her next breath. But give him more than that? Hell, no. She valued herself a little too much to willingly be used and discarded. “Bride?” She blinked and pulled her hazy focus to Nolan. “Yes?” He sighed. “Thought you’d fallen asleep.” Fallen into stupidity, more like. “Almost. Like I said, I’m tired. If you want to keep me awake, tell me something interesting. Like how you were able to bypass Devyn’s mind control of your body.” A calculating gleam filled those silver eyes, making them sparkle like diamonds. “Give me another glass of that wine, and I’ll tell you.” Argh! “What happened to waiting till

tomorrow?” “That was your dumb idea.” She dragged herself up, stumbling along the way to the kitchen, and prepared him another glass. She was only able to squeeze a handful of drops from her palm. After she’d passed the concoction over, she flopped back on the couch, her fatigue a thousand times worse. “God, I don’t even have the strength to smack you for making me move,” she muttered. Nolan downed every drop of the wine, then licked the bottom of the cup. “So. Good.” “Don’t forget what you owe me.” “Very well. I told you that the disease inside me is alive. Well, it’s able to learn and study and change to best defend itself. When the disease is most active, I’m weak and it’s in control of me. During the battle in the alleyway, it somehow rewired my energy molecules, for lack of a better explanation. They were sporadic and swirling, so Devyn could never lock on them and force me to his will.” Bummer. No way would she allow herself to be infected just to beat Devyn. “Feel like sharing some details about your previous captivity?” Because, if she wasn’t careful, the same thing would happen to her. God, what had she gotten herself into? “Sure, why not? Beats sitting here in silence.” “How long were you locked up by AIR?”

He shrugged. “About a month. Maybe longer. Hard to keep track of day and night when you aren’t allowed outside.” Bride maneuvered to her side, resting her hands under her cheek. “Are there others like you?” “Not here. Not any longer. AIR killed them.” “And yet they saved you.” “Like I told you before, I know when and where my queen will land, so to speak.” He eased onto the cot and peered over at her. “Do you love her?” No. Wait. “You’ve never been in love.” Shame darkened his eyes before he lowered his lashes, blocking the emotion. “I despise her. She is the one who infected me.” “Why help her, then? You’re putting the people on this planet at risk for someone you hate.” “I know.” Whisper soft. “But the…thing inside me will not allow me to betray her. Even the thought of it causes pain a thousand times worse than any I’ve ever known.” Like the thorns and fire inside her? “If AIR ran tests on your blood and found a cure, would you help them over your queen?” He was shaking his head before the last word left her mouth. “It cannot be studied. Were I to cut myself right now, I would bleed, but the disease would stay inside of me because another host is not nearby.”

“Oh.” “Yes. Oh. Finding new hosts is the only way to keep it from building up inside of my own body.” She could hear the regret and torture in his voice. He hated what he was, what he did. “I know you want to fall in love before you die, but is that a strong enough reason to place the whole world in jeopardy?” “I could kill myself, yes.” He laughed bitterly. “But that wouldn’t stop my queen from coming. That wouldn’t stop her from creating others like me. Wouldn’t stop your world from crumbling. So why not live while I can?” Good point, in a twisted way. “All right. Well. Think of it this way. To love a woman is to condemn her to the same death you will one day suffer.” “I know.” Again, whisper soft. Yet he still planned to do it. Selfish bastard. “I don’t want to talk about love anymore,” he said. “Tell me what happened between you and Devyn. He wants me back, I know he does. What did he ask you to do with me?” She sighed. “I’m supposed to take you to the pier tomorrow night—wait, I guess that would be tonight, since it’s already sunrise—and trade you for my friend.” If she worked the situation right, Aleaha might be sitting with her on this very couch by the end of the day.

Nolan laughed, and this time there was genuine amusement in the undertones. “A setup, no doubt.” “I agree.” Why else wouldn’t Devyn have tailed her? He’d let her go so easily, without fighting for her location. That seemed completely out of character. Not that she knew everything about him. But the intensity of his determination to get what he wanted wasn’t hidden. It was there, etched into every sensual line in his face. “Are you going to take me?” Nolan asked. “I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do.” And she had very little time to figure it out. But she would. And she would win.

Devyn leaned back in his chair, gazing up at the ceiling, lost in thought. When Bride had called him, he’d heard the panic in her voice and gone running. He’d decided to kill her pursuer even before he’d learned the man’s purpose. He’d wanted her safe, no matter the cost. But when he’d learned Tom’s purpose, rage had bloomed inside him, eating at any mercy he might have harbored. He’d had no right to feel that way. In the past, he’d frequented slave auctions with a wad of cash and a grin. And he hadn’t been undercover or on a mission. Oh, no. He wanted to sample a morsel from every race, and sometimes buying a female was the only way to acquire something new. But

the thought of the proud Bride on display… standing on a platform, naked for all to see…to touch… His teeth ground together. Was this how possessive men acted and thought? If so, why was he thinking and acting this way? It made no sense. He was a hedonist who adored variety. Yes, Bride challenged him more than any other. Yes, Bride exuded all that sparkling energy. She was resourceful, a fighter, a survivor, powerful, and had he mentioned witty? She was flirtatious and sarcastic. And strong. She’d been covered in the human’s blood, staring at his open wounds with naked desire in her eyes, wanting to drink him dry, but she had resisted. Hadn’t even licked her lips clean. But surely, despite all of that, he would desire someone else soon. Surely his interest in Bride would fade rather than continue to grow. As it was, he could hardly wait to see her again. Because of the small, nearly imperceptible tracker he’d planted on her bra, he’d been able to follow her movements on his computer. He’d known where she was when she called him. He’d headed out immediately, even though he’d needed her to confess where she was. Otherwise, smart girl that she was, she would have suspected the tracker and removed it. She’d gone in circles for half an hour and would have lost a tail if she’d had one.

Eventually, though, she had gone home. Now he had her current location. An apartment a few blocks from Dallas’s. In case Devyn had been unable to lick her and just in case she’d bitten him, he’d also injected an isotope tracker into his own bloodstream. She’d never gone for his neck, though. Why? Because she often sickened after drinking, as she’d told him? How long since she’d had a full meal? Would she have been able to keep down his blood? He’d wondered before but now the question was a plague inside him. He liked the thought of a piece of himself, any piece, inside her. Might happen soon. In just a few hours, the sun would be shining brightly and Bride wouldn’t be able to run. He’d have her. Dallas would have Nolan. If Nolan was with her, that is, but Devyn was willing to bet that he was. Smart little Bride would have kept the otherworlder close. A shame Bride was involved in this for Macy rather than Devyn’s cock. Hopefully, he was well on his way to changing that. There at the end, she’d arched into him. He grinned, remembering, and wanted to beat his chest like the warrior kings of old. Feeling her rub against him, even slightly, had been the sweetest victory of his life. Even better, there was more to come. Would she fight him harder than before or finally give in?

He didn’t like that a soon-to-be lover had seen the dark coldness inside him as he’d ruthlessly tortured and killed that human, but it couldn’t have been helped. There’d been a primitive need inside him to prove to Bride that he could protect her from any threat. That he would do whatever was necessary to ensure her safety. Like possessiveness, it was not something he’d ever experienced before, and he’d been absolutely unable to ignore it. Was she frightened of him now that she’d had time to think about what he’d done? Before, she hadn’t seemed to be. For a moment, just before he’d rendered the deathblow to the human, he’d actually thought pride shimmered in her lovely emerald eyes. As if he were already her man and it was his right to look after her. He’d liked it. What would he have to do to engage her interest fully? God, I’m a mess. Devyn lifted the beer he’d stolen from Dallas’s fridge and drained half the contents in a single gulp. Dallas. The perfect friend. Only Dallas knew what he’d done, what he planned to do, but Dallas wouldn’t rat him out. Rather, Dallas was going to help him. They’d spent an hour talking and gazing at the holographic images the sketch artist had rendered of Devyn’s supposed murderers. Only one face had been familiar to him, and it had indeed been a McKell vampire. The McKell vampire, in fact. The

leader of the whole blood-sucking army. Which meant, if Dallas’s vision was correct— and they always were—the McKells were going to come for Bride. Probably sneak her underground. And they were definitely going to try and kill Devyn. Was she someone’s bride, and just didn’t know it? Was that the reason for her name? If so, why had the husband let her get away? Why hadn’t he searched the ends of the earth for her? Too late now, Devyn thought darkly. At the moment, she was not up for grabs. His murder, he wasn’t worried about. Now that he knew an attempt was coming, he’d always be on his guard. No one would get the better of him. Besides, there’d been other attempts—royals were always targets, and playboy royals who broke hearts like others broke bread most of all—but he’d always come out ahead. It was the idea of Bride returning to the underground, forever out of his reach, that disturbed him. Infiltrating that dark, gloomy world without permission would be impossible. They had a millennia of security down there, and they’d never grant him permission to steal one of their own— even if he swore to bring her back when he was done with her. Therefore, he had to keep her aboveground. He should have taken her tonight, should have

scratched his itch sooner rather than later, instead of trying to prolong the enjoyment and make her crave him the way he craved her. Stupid—and a mistake he wouldn’t make again. Or rather, for a third time. When they were next together, he would take her. Finally sate himself. The thought made him grin. Just a few more hours, lovely Bride, and you’ll be mine.

CHAPTER 11

This place is a dump. Sure she’s got him here?” Devyn flicked Dallas an irritated glance. He was in front of Bride’s door, disabling the ID scan, twisting wires and realigning them. “As if I’m ever wrong.” At least, that’s what he told himself he was irritated about. The affront to his tracking skills, and not the fact that his friend had insulted Bride’s living space. Not everyone could afford luxury. “Now, keep your voice down.” “You’re already in control of her body.” “Yes, but she’s sleeping.” All that sparkling energy was static. “I don’t want you to wake her.” She would be frightened, and too easily Devyn remembered the fear she projected while standing on that street, knowing slavers were after her. The green in her eyes had dulled, and her skin had turned so pallid he’d seen the blue of her veins. And then she’d trembled. When that woman trembled, it should be in pleasure. Only ever in pleasure. “By the way, this place is not a dump.” Damn it! Why had he added that? “I just…I guess when you told me vampires were real, I assumed they lived in eerie castles and stole their victims’ money so they’d never have to work. Does she even have a job?” “I’m not sure.” And he didn’t like that he didn’t

know. Didn’t like that he wanted to know. Why did he need to know? What value would it have? Footsteps suddenly pounded, a body turning a corner. There was a rustle of clothing and a breeze of stale beer and sweat. A pause, a muffled curse. “What’cha doing trying to get inside Amy’s apartment?” The human had stopped and now stood at the end of the hall, beefy arms crossed over a protruding middle. His expression was suspicious. Dallas flashed his AIR badge. “Amy, you say?” “A common name to help her blend,” Devyn muttered. Oh, yes. She was a smart girl. His admiration spiked. Yet again. “She done something wrong? Or are you guys ex-boyfriends wanting a tag team?” The newcomer was sneering as if the thought both disgusted and titillated him. “Well, good luck. She don’t give it away to nobody.” “Back away and forget you saw us, understand? And take a shower, for Christ’s sake. You could clear a sewer.” “No. You will stay,” Devyn commanded, and the man obeyed, helpless to do otherwise because Devyn had mentally locked on his energy. Dallas groaned. “We don’t have time for this.” Devyn ignored him, pivoting and moving away from the doorway and toward the human. “The fact that you know she won’t give it away leads me to

believe you’ve tried to get some from her.” Fright filled the man’s beady eyes. If he’d had control of himself, he would have run. Or fainted. “I—I never hurt her.” But he’d put his greedy fingers on her, Devyn was sure. Why hadn’t she compelled him away with The Voice? Why hadn’t she drained him dry? Not for one moment did Devyn think she harbored an attraction for the tag-teaming moron. Which meant there were only two possibilities. Either she was too kindhearted to hurt him or too unsure of her powers. Again, the fact that he didn’t know her enough to figure her out irritated him. “I’d be doing the world a favor if I killed you,” he said. The fear sparked into panic, but the panic didn’t last long. It was soon replaced by bravado. “You’re a damn dirty alien. You can’t hurt me without AIR jumping all over your ass.” “AIR’s behind me. You saw the badge. And the only thing I’m likely to get for my next action is a pat on the back.” With that, Devyn reached a mental hand inside the man’s chest and squeezed his heart. Pain contorted his pudgy features, and he gasped. His cheeks burned a bright red, and his eyes clouded over. Devyn enjoyed the sight, more so than usual, and he couldn’t deny it. “St-stop. Please, stop.”

“Dev,” Dallas said. Fine. When Devyn released his hold, the human sank to the floor, clutching his chest. “Enjoy your heart attack,” he said, and then, because he hadn’t wanted to leave the guy alive but was doing so for Dallas, he punted the little shit in the stomach. Air whooshed, and blood even gurgled. “Have a friend call you a paramedic. And if you ever touch Br—Amy again or suggest such a thing to someone else, or hell, even breathe in her direction, I will return and finish what I’ve started.” No response. But then, he hadn’t expected one. Devyn spun on his heel. Dallas had his arms crossed over his chest. “What?” Devyn said, all innocence. “He annoyed me.” “So nearly killing him was necessary?” “Completely.” A roll of his friend’s baby blues. “Are you sure you’re not in loooove with Bride? ’Cause, dude, you’re like a knight in crotchless armor right now.” Devyn bared his teeth in a scowl. Laughing, his friend held up his hands in surrender. “Fine. You hate her. Now, can we do what we came to do, please?” “Of course.” Devyn stopped in front of the ID box and frowned, only now realizing why he hadn’t been able to work it as easily as usual. Someone had beaten him to it—recently, it looked like—but

they had plugged the wrong wires into the wrong outlets for it to open, forced or not. Was the human still writhing on the ground the culprit? Or was it Tom, before the beheading? The other slavers, after the beheading? Devyn had told Bride not to worry about them, and he’d meant it. Because he’d known he would be coming for her in just a few hours. But what if someone had been waiting for her? What if she wasn’t sleeping, as he’d assumed, but…Urgent now, he twisted a few more ends together, and boom, the metal slid apart of its own accord. Dallas had already pulled a gun and now moved in ahead of him, arms extended, barrel aimed, ready to take down any threat. No pyre-guns today. They were using semiautomatics. What the street gangs used. Devyn had been nailed in the thigh with a slug a few months ago, and it had hurt like a son of a bitch. If Nolan had to be subdued, he’d wish to God he’d been stunnable and the bullets unnecessary. They’d just have to be careful not to touch him while he was bleeding. Devyn moved in behind his friend, not bothering with a weapon, and closed the door. If he pointed the gun, he’d fire without hesitation, and Dallas wanted a chance to question the otherworlder one last time before killing him. “Your vamp’s on the couch,” Dallas whispered. “Asleep, just like you said. And damn. You were

right. There’s Nolan.” Thank God. He relaxed and studied his surroundings. In the far corner was a ten-by-ten cage. Nolan lay on a cot, softly snoring, more at peace than Devyn had ever seen him. The living room and kitchen were hooked together, no doors or walls separating them. There was a couch, a chair, and a coffee table, all perched on a dark red rug. That’s all that would fit the small space. The furniture was worn but well cared for, the metal polished to diminish the scratches; the cushions were covered in a violet material. Orange, blue, and yellow pillows were scattered throughout. So many colors. Like a rainbow. There wasn’t a kitchen table, but then, she didn’t need one. There were no pots or pans, only a few glasses and wine bottles on the counter. There wasn’t a fridge. She didn’t even try to pretend she needed to eat, which meant she didn’t have guests over. The thought both delighted and saddened him. Everyone needed friends. Even reprobates like him. There was only one door, and it was beside the kitchen. There wasn’t a hallway; the apartment was too small for even that. How did she live so cramped? Silently Devyn moved forward and peeked into the room. Her bedroom. Again, small and crammed. There was a twin-size bed with bright green covers

and a scuffed dresser. Books were scattered in every direction. Real books, the no-longer-available paper kind rather than the accepted computerized versions. Grinning, he bent down and lifted two. A Hunger Like No Other, featuring a half-vampire heroine. And Marked, again featuring a vampire heroine. A quick glance showed that a few of the other titles were supposedly nonfiction. Vampires: The Real Story. Vampires: They Are Among Us. She hadn’t stolen money, furniture, or clothing. She’d stolen books. They were more valuable, but he didn’t think she’d done it for the cash. She truly had no idea about her heritage and was searching for information by whatever means possible. Devyn dropped the paperbacks and stood. In the living room, Bride still slept peacefully, her figure unmoving. Dallas stood over her, his expression confused. Frowning, Devyn approached him, though his gaze returned to the vampire and remained. Bride was still covered in blood. It matted her hair, smudged her cheeks, and ruined her clothes. She hadn’t showered when she’d arrived but had slipped straight into sleep. How tired she must have been, yet she’d never revealed it to him. He felt a stirring of pride. That’s my girl. His frown deepened. Not his girl. Only his to use. For a little while. That’s the way he preferred it.

Always. Remembering how she’d swiped up Tom’s pyre-gun, he bent down and confiscated it, sheathing it at his back. “I expected…I don’t know,” Dallas whispered. “Something more.” “What do you mean?” He couldn’t keep the offense out of his tone. “With her clothes on, she’s so…plain. Not that that’s a bad thing. But she’s like a different person than the one I saw in the alley and then the composite. Less, I don’t know, vibrant.” Plain? She was as effervescent as the colors she surrounded herself with. A shining jewel among a sea of dull. “You’re blind.” “To be honest, each time I saw her I didn’t look any higher than her lovely breasts. And really, she’s the first girl you’ve ever shown more than a cursory interest in, so I guess I expected perfection.” “My taste is exquisite.” Bride was beyond lovely, with a face and form most men could only ever dream of seeing. “Better than ever.” Nolan moaned softly in his sleep, and Dallas whipped around, gun extended. He moved toward the cell, paused, sucked in a breath. “Fuck me. Look at him, Dev.” The agent no longer whispered. There was too much shock in his tone. Devyn straightened and glanced over, not wanting to leave his perch beside Bride. Now that he had her within arm’s reach again, he planned to

keep her there. “What is it?” “He doesn’t look sick. And if he doesn’t look sick…” He’d had sex. Devyn’s eyes narrowed on the otherworlder, taking in the clear skin, the even rise and fall of his chest. His gaze swung to Bride, still sleeping peacefully. Had they…they must have. It would also explain her fatigue. His hands curled into fists. There were no bruises under her eyes, no grayish tint to her skin. Teeth grinding, he reached down and shook her, no longer caring if he frightened her. “Bride.” When she gave no reaction, he shook her again. Harder. “Bride!” Slowly her eyelids fluttered open, hazel irises glazed. Hazel, no longer bright emerald. Either her mask was firmly back in place, or she’d somehow lost her vibrancy. A moment passed while she oriented herself. When realization struck, she gasped. Jerked upright. Dark hair tumbled down her arms and back. Devyn leaned down, placing them nose to nose. “Did you sleep with him?” “Wh-what?” She scrambled backward, only the arm of the couch stopping her. She reached behind her, probably meaning to grab the gun, but came up empty. Devyn moved with her, never letting more than an inch separate them. “Did. You. Sleep. With.

Him?” The words snarled from him. Her gaze roved wildly. Searching for a way out? Trying to figure out what had happened? “What are you talking about? How did you find me? How did you get in here?” “I’m going to ask you one more time, and you’re going to answer, or I swear to God I’m going to kill him in front of you. And you know I don’t make threats. I make promises. Did you fuck Nolan?” Confusion flittered over her a split second before she shook her head. “No. Of course not. He’s diseased.” Devyn remained in place, studying her, gauging the truth of her words. The rage inside him…he’d never experienced so much. And for what? The thought of a woman in bed with another man? It was laughable. He never promised monogamy, and he never demanded it in return. He didn’t stick around long enough. Seriously. What the hell was wrong with him? “She’s telling the truth,” a grave voice said from behind him. Nolan had awoken. Dallas rubbed his finger over his gun’s trigger. “Try something, and your brains will end up on the wall. This isn’t stun, asshole. This is copper.” Nolan kept his gaze on Devyn. “It was the wine. She gave me two glasses of wine, and within an hour of drinking each, I felt healthier than I had in years.”

“Try again,” Devyn snarled. “Wine can’t kill a disease as strong as yours.” Nolan raised his chin. “Hers can, and I want more.” “It wasn’t wine, you sellout,” Bride gritted. With a shaky hand, she smoothed the hair from her cheek and hooked it behind her ear. “Not exactly. I, well, I mixed my…blood with it.” All three men stared over at her in astonishment. She straightened her shoulders. “Well, it helps me heal, and he was so near death, I thought I’d give it to him and see what happened. He didn’t turn into a vampire, though,” she rushed out. As if anyone cared about that. Her blood. Her vampire blood had taken a dying man and propelled him into health. That, Devyn could believe. The hottest fires of his rage seeped from him. “What are you doing here, Devyn?” she demanded. He splayed his arms. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m winning the game we were playing.” It was like a bomb detonated in her eyes, hazel scattering and leaving only emerald fury. Mask gone, he thought with a grin. “I knew it! You tricked me. Lied to me. Told me to meet you at the pier, and then you followed me.” “Nope.” He shook his head. “I didn’t follow you, and I didn’t have anyone else follow you. Try again.”

“Then how…” Her features scrunched adorably as she pondered what could have happened. A moment passed. She gasped. “Somehow you tagged me with a GPS, didn’t you, you bastard?” “Yep.” A slow smile curled the corners of his mouth. “Your bra. Remember the way I licked you…?” Red bloomed on her cheeks, the prettiest blush he’d ever seen. “You are such a cheater.” “That hurts, darling. Really it does.” He tugged a long, thin black case from his back pocket and popped the lid, revealing a syringe of glowing crimson liquid. Bride would have leaped from the couch, but he held her down with his mind. “And how did I cheat? There were no rules.” She glared up at him. “Let me go, damn it.” “Not yet. See, with this baby I’ll know where you are every second of every day for the next three months. I see you’re wondering what it is. Well, it’s my pleasure to tell you. This is an isotope tracker, and all I’ll have to do to find you is log on to my computer.” He jabbed the needle into her thigh, and her mouth fell open on a pained gasp. “Sorry for the sting,” he said. “Ask nicely, and I’ll kiss it better.” “You shouldn’t have done that.” A look of utter concentration descended her features. Determination. “Soon you’ll wish you hadn’t.”

He’d seen that expression on her before, seconds before she’d exploded into mist. “Don’t you dare think about misting and leaving. I have your friend, remember?” The determination fell away, vulnerability taking its place. She fingered the necklace she still wore. “You’ve treated her well?” “Of course. Treating women well is a hobby of mine.” Sparks of anger returned to her eyes, but she never again looked as if she would mist. “So what are you going to do to me?” “We’ll get to that.” The fact that her blood had healed Nolan—permanently? temporarily?—would be of great interest to AIR. They’d take her from Devyn and turn her into a pincushion, no doubt about it. He wasn’t ready for that to happen. “Nolan, tell us about the changes in you.” His attention never veered from Bride. The otherworlder was happy to obey. “I’m no longer clouded by the disease’s thoughts. I can think clearly for the first time in years.” So. Did that mean the disease was completely gone? “You’ve lied and screwed us before.” Dallas swiped his gun against the cage, rattling the bars. “No way you expect us to trust you now.” Nolan lifted his wide shoulders in a shrug. “Trust me or not. Doesn’t matter. But I know I’m free.

The queen, she—” He pressed his lips together, waited, then scrunched his brow. “I think I can talk about her,” he said on a shocked gasp. “I know she’s…infected the last of her captives…” His eyes widened. “That didn’t hurt! I can. I can talk about her. She’ll come to New Chicago within the week. Exactly where and when, though? I no longer sense her, so I’m not sure.” Yep, truth or not, AIR was going to want Bride’s blood. Devyn looked over at his friend. “Give me an hour,” he said. “And do whatever it takes to find out anything else he knows about his queen and her vacation here.” Knowledge was power, and Devyn liked power. Dallas flicked a good-luck glance at Bride, then nodded. Without another word, Devyn released her from his mind-hold. He picked her up and anchored her on his shoulder while she hit, bit, and kneed him, and then he carried her into the bedroom and kicked the door shut behind him. The true fun was about to begin.

CHAPTER 12

What the hell are you doing? Put me down!” Bride slammed her fists against the solid wall of Devyn’s back. The hot silk of his skin was evident under the material of his shirt, causing her arms to tingle. A dangerous tingle. A tempting tingle. Something she should not feel for the enemy. “Anything you say, darling.” He dropped her flat on her ass. “You know I live only to please you.” Air whooshed from her lungs, and when she caught her breath she glared up at him. “You’re such an ass.” He clutched his chest, just above his heart. “Oh, how you wound me. I gave you what you wanted, didn’t I?” “A dramatic ass, at that.” Biting the inside of her cheek, Bride popped to her feet. She could have misted—though she needed open space to leave a room—and could have hurriedly stripped and camouflaged her skin, but she didn’t. Not only because his reminder that he held Aleaha still rang through her, but also because curiosity and something else, something she refused to name, flooded her. “If you brought me in here to rape me…” One of his brows arched, and there was a definite sparkle in his eyes. “It wouldn’t be rape,

and we both know it. Last night you were all over me, practically dripping in my hand.” Her teeth clenched. “You’re an exaggerator, too.” He shrugged. “You don’t have to worry about giving in to my wicked advances. Not yet. Right now you’re going to strip and shower, and then we’re going to talk.” She raised her chin. “Like hell.” “You will. I’ll force you if necessary. And Bride,” he said, his voice dipping huskily, “I hope it’s necessary.” Of course he did. He was the only person on the planet who could see through a threat like that successfully. The only person who could possibly make her enjoy the fact that her will had been ignored. “I don’t need to be clean to talk to you.” “Yes, you do. Right now the sight of you upsets me.” She’d been in the process of reaching behind her, feeling her dresser for a weapon. She had them stashed everywhere, just in case. But his words enraged her, and she ended up grabbing the first thing she encountered. A book. A paperback, at that. She hurled it at him, anyway, and the spine slapped against his cheek. He blinked in surprise, rubbed his cheek, and glanced down at the book. “That was childish.” “Well, your perfect face was upsetting me.”

“Finally. You admit how perfect I am.” Gently he toed the book aside. “First rule of thievery, sweetheart. You shouldn’t abuse items you work hard to steal.” “I didn’t steal it.” Why she told him the truth, she didn’t know. His opinion didn’t matter. “I saved it.” Once again he arched a brow, his gaze sharpening. “You were able to save it because you’re human, and humans live for hundreds of years without aging?” “You know I’m not human,” she grumbled. Misting in front of him had pretty much ruined her “I’m human” argument. “Now stop distracting me.” “I can’t help myself. I’m perfect, remember?” Argh! Infuriating man. “I will shower, but only because I really need one.” The grumble had become churlish. “But I’ll do it with my clothes on.” So there. Oh, God. I really am a child. “Clothes off,” he said. “On. And that’s that.” “I recommend that you strip.” He sounded almost pleasant now, a sure sign his patience was at an end. The sweeter he seemed, she was coming to understand, the more violent he was feeling. Exhibit A: he’d been smiling when he’d taken Tom’s head. “Fine. I’ll strip. But you and your stupid T-shirt have to leave.” She pointed to the door. Not for a

second did she think he’d actually do it. It was worth a shot, though. “Hell, no,” he said. Big shocker. “I plan to enjoy the show. And my T-shirt isn’t stupid. It’s a public service.” “Size Dental Appliances Here” with an arrow to his cock, meaning women could feel free to suck him. “Devyn.” “Bride. Last chance to act on your own.” She stared over at him, taking in his determined expression, the hard line of his body. If she pushed, he really would force her to do as he wanted, and she would lose control of her own actions. If she gave in, she could dictate what angle to show him —and how badly to tantalize him with what he would never have. “Fine,” she said, and sighed. “You want a show, I’ll give you a show.” He would watch, and he could want, but she would not give. The last was a reminder to herself. He gave another of those surprised blinks. Expected her to continue to balk, had he? Chin lifting in challenge, she slowly shimmied out of her clothing. First the boots. She chucked them at him, and he easily sidestepped. Second, she removed her pants. Third, her shirt. His pupils dilated as she unsnapped her bra and let the syn-cotton float to the ground. The matching panties quickly followed, leaving her completely bare. Well, except for

Aleaha’s necklace, but that didn’t count. “I was afraid I’d imagined them, those blood red nipples. My new favorite color, by the way.” “Thank you,” she replied, pleased, though she was sure she wasn’t the first to hear such a compliment. That gave him pause. “Not embarrassed by my scrutiny?” The question was almost…hesitant. “No.” Despite what she’d told him while he’d forced her to strip that first time, nudity didn’t bother her. How could it, when she had to traipse the streets of New Chicago naked but camouflaged while she hunted? Besides, she liked her body. “No reason to be. Of the two of us, I’m the closer to perfection.” His lips twitched. “The only way to know for sure, of course, is to study you.” She stood there, in the silence, in the cool air, allowing him to examine every inch of her. And examine he did. His ocher gaze leisurely pursued her, lingering on her small but firm breasts and those bright red pearling nipples, the tiny patch of black hair between her slender thighs, a startling contrast. “Now for the rest,” she said, and slowly turned in a circle. “Am I still hurting your eyes?” “No,” he rasped. When she faced him again, his expression was strained. He even reached out. Got you, she thought. Fighting a grin, she backed

away, shaking her head. “No, no, no. You don’t get to manhandle these perfect goods.” At first, he acted as though he hadn’t heard her, and stepped closer. Then a muscle ticked in his jaw, he stopped, and his arm fell to his side. “First, it’s rude to brag about your beauty, and second, it’s rude to deny a man the right to touch that beauty.” “How cute. Etiquette lessons from a man who told me I would want to slay all the women he slept with after me.” “It’s true.” She had to fight yet another grin. “I want you,” he said, the words guttural. “Uttered to thousands, I’m sure.” “I can’t deny it.” His honesty pleased her. “That doesn’t mean you won’t enjoy yourself.” Goose bumps spread, a silent plea for what he promised. Touch after glorious touch, sensation after glorious sensation. Heat. The forbidden. He’d give it to her, too. All of it. “All you have to do is ask,” he said, “and it’s done.” You’re stronger than that. “Excuse me, but I have a shower to attend to. I’m just so very dirty.” Trembling, she glided from him and entered the enzyme stall. She didn’t bother shutting the door. He would have opened it, she was sure. Silent, Devyn followed. He didn’t enter, though. He pressed a shoulder against the frame and peered

inside as she programmed the spray to hit her at every angle. Then she turned back to Devyn, letting him watch as the mist formed around her, creating a dreamlike haze. That dry vapor dusted over her, sinking inside, cleaning her inside out, and wiping away any memento of the brutal murder the man in front of her had committed only a few hours ago. Even her hair was cleaned, her scalp tingling deliciously. “So you’re telling me that my watching you like this doesn’t…shame you?” he asked. Again with the hesitance. What did that mean? “That’s right,” she said. “Why would it?” “Before, you told me that I was making you reveal a body you’d rather hide.” “All part of the game, tiger.” He cleared his throat, but couldn’t hide the relief in his eyes. “Ever bathed in water?” “Oh, yes. A long time ago, before the war.” Now the wonderful liquid was too expensive to waste on something like bathing. “Did you like it?” “What do you think?” His gaze fell again to her nipples, his lids unbelievably sexy at half-mast. “I think you did. And I can imagine you standing under the stream, hair dripping, skin glistening.” He licked his lips, as if he could already taste the droplets on her. “Invite me in.” His voice sounded as though it had been

pushed through a grinder, savage with the force of his arousal. Like every other woman of his acquaintance, she was sure, Bride found her resolve to resist weakened against his appeal. Foolish, but there it was. But unlike all the others, she would not give in to her desires. Old as she was, as long as she’d been around, she’d learned how to suppress her own needs. Wasn’t that difficult, really, since the thorns and the fire plagued her even during sex. Pain always blended with her pleasure, her climax both a blessing and a curse. “Beg,” she told him. He wouldn’t do it; she knew he wouldn’t. She also knew it would horrify him to think that that’s what she wanted. He would back down. He rolled his eyes. “Invite me in, Bride.” “I told you. I will when you beg.” That air of nonchalance melted away, just as she’d predicted, and the muscle in his jaw started ticking again. “I don’t have to beg for a woman.” She grinned sweetly. “Then you’ll never have this one.” There was a beat of silence. “We’ll see.” Angry, determined. Oh, yes, they would. He grabbed the bar above him, back arching just a bit. The movement caused his T-shirt to ride up, revealing a patch of glittery skin and hard muscle.

His jeans were tight against his erection, the tip straining above the waist and glistening with a bead of moisture. “Is denying us both your way of punishing me for besting you?” he asked. He was mouthwatering, but she forced herself to shrug indifferently. “Maybe just a little.” “I can make you forget that you lost. Swear to God.” “I’m sure that you could. Just as I’m sure I could make you forget your own name.” That caused his nostrils to flare. “You’re that good, are you?” “Someone once told me it’s rude to brag.” Though she was already clean, the spray continued to fall around her. She didn’t switch it off. Her head tilted to the side as she studied him more intently. “Question. Do you ever worry about the hearts you’re breaking? Or children being conceived with some random stranger?” He shrugged, as indifferent as she had pretended to be. “If I break a woman’s heart, I showed her a good time while doing so. And children? No. I never worry about them. One, it’s rare for two different species to procreate, and two, I take precautions so that I don’t have to.” She laughed, but there was no humor to the sound. “Precautions aren’t foolproof, you know. They’re—”

“Indeed foolproof,” he interjected. “The drug I take comes from my planet. It’s a remedy that has worked for thousands of years, killing the little swimmers before they can leave my body. Why the question? Do you want me to give you a baby?” “Hardly.” Look how raising Aleaha had turned out. The shower finally ended, but Bride still didn’t exit. The drops of mist faded, removing all pretense of a dream. Reality was stark, but so much better. She could see Devyn clearly, the disarray of his hair, the tension tightening his mouth. In intensified desire? “Enough talk about love and kids,” she said. Because sometimes she did ache for those things, but never would she reveal such a thing to this man. “What are your plans for me, Devyn?” His lips twitched into that half-smile she was coming to love. “First, I’m going to fuck you.” So crudely put. Such a sexy smile. Both clouded her mind with thoughts she couldn’t afford and weakened her knees. “I will not sleep with you.” Another reminder. For both of them. And hell, was that really her voice? Low and raspy? “I believe we discussed that you need to be punished for betraying me, setting me up, and following me.” He tsked under his tongue. “I never said I wanted to sleep with you. And please, feel free to spank me.”

“Go get a paddle, and I will.” “Certainly. Then it will be my turn to punish you. It’s only fair to mention that you stole a prisoner from me.” “You’re keeping my best friend, my only friend, from me.” Now his eyes narrowed, top and bottom lashes fusing. Wow. His humor had faded so quickly, lightning fast, it was shocking. It shouldn’t have been, she supposed. He did it often, switching from one extreme to another in seconds. “You’ll get to see her, don’t worry.” “When?” “Soon.” “When?” she insisted. He bared his teeth in a scowl. “Today.” Today? The single word echoed through her mind, and joy burst through her. So much joy she barely noticed the sting in her chest. Aleaha Love, in her arms, warm, sweet, real. Breathing her in, hearing her lilting voice. If not for the slight twinge of disbelief threading through her, Bride would have started dancing. “Really? This isn’t another trick?” “No trick. Now come here.” He crooked his finger at her. Happy as she was just then, it was harder to fight his appeal. “No. You come to me.” Just to taunt him, she cupped her breasts and pinched her

nipples to redden them further. Mistake. A lance of pleasure streamed through her, and she moaned. Devyn expelled a ragged breath. “You’re killing me. Let me take over.” “No.” She traced her fingers down the plane of her stomach and straight to the core of her, fingers wiggling suggestively. Careful, easy. This is for his benefit, not yours. She watched him through slitted lids. There was a determined gleam in his eyes, and for a moment, she thought he might enter the stall despite their byplay. He didn’t. “You owe me a kiss,” he said. The words hissed through his teeth, a demand. “And I’m collecting. Now. Don’t even think about denying me.” “I won’t.” She couldn’t. He’d already painted the picture of the two of them in her mind, his lips on hers, their tongues dancing. Gulping, she dropped her arms. Stepped toward him before she could stop herself. A kiss, only a kiss. She owed it to him, but she wouldn’t allow anything more. She couldn’t. He backed away from her. She paused, frowned. “Is this another game?” “No.” “Well, do you want the kiss or not?” “Yes. So come get me.” She stepped forward, but he once again backed away. This time she followed. He stopped at the

edge of the bed and sat. “No variety,” she now tsked under her tongue. “I expected better of you.” Too easily did she remember the last time he’d had her in that position. She’d straddled him, felt his erection pulse against her core, and she’d wanted to ride him. She’d wanted to forget that a quick bedding accomplished nothing but momentary gratification. That it meant nothing to either person involved, yet ruined all their further dealings. He pursed his lips in question. “Last time you had me sit in your lap, too. I’d think a man of your experience would know how to —” There wasn’t time to finish her sentence. He’d jolted from the bed, grabbed her by the waist, and flung her around. She landed on the bed, bouncing up and down. He was on her a second later. “You want variety?” Again, there was no time to reply. He flipped her over and positioned her on her hands and knees, naked ass in the air and pointed toward him. Perhaps she shouldn’t have antagonized him. There had been fire in his eyes, and every muscle pressed against her was hard, velvet-covered steel. She could smell him, a wildness to that rain scent. A wildness that teased her nose, heated her blood. He leaned over her, propping his weight on one hand while the other clasped her chin and angled

her face closer to his. Immediately he swooped in, his tongue plunging past her teeth and deep into her mouth. His flavor was sweet and smooth and hot, branding her tongue. As his erection rubbed between her cheeks, he released her chin and cupped her breast, rolling the nipple between naughty fingers. The kiss continued. Desire pumped through her, heart hammering against her ribs. Her fangs elongated, and if he wasn’t careful, they would cut his tongue. She would taste his blood, and it would be good, so good, she knew it would, and then she would bite him, suck him, drain him. The urge was already there… She tried to pull back, just a little, needing some time to calm down, but he wouldn’t let her. He thrust that tongue deeper, harder. And when it scraped one of her sharp canines, and a bead of blood did indeed form, sliding down her throat, it was heaven. Sweet, calming, warming her stomach and spreading…spreading…all over her, branding her organs, her every cell. Strengthening her. Nothing had ever tasted so succulent, somehow soothing her hunger. “Beg for more,” he panted. More of his kiss? More of his blood? Desperately she wanted both. “No.” Even as she spoke, she was biting at his lips, trying to draw him back to her mouth to take what she wanted.

“Beg, damn you.” “No!” He flipped her over. He was still clothed, so the soft material of his pants rubbed against her skin as he plunged his tongue back inside her mouth, taking over, claiming her. His hand slid down her body, and he delved two fingers inside her hot, wet core without asking permission. Moaning, she arched into the touch, sending him deeper. His thumb circled her clit, making her quake. All the while, he continued the kiss, just as before, his addictive flavor consuming her. All the while she bit at his tongue, taking more of his blood. Loving it, savoring it. “Beg.” He pressed her clitoris, hard, and she shuddered. The touch wasn’t enough to send her over the edge; it was just enough to make her reckless. Achy, needy. Her chest burned, and those thorns cut at her, but still she clung to him, nails deep in his back, hips writhing, head thrashing. “You beg me.” A third finger joined the play. In and out, in and out, they moved, mimicking the motions of sex. “I’m not the one who needs to come.” “Yes, you are.” To prove it, she reached between their bodies and cupped his thick, straining erection. He sucked in a breath.

Her gaze latched onto the pulse hammering wildly at the base of his neck. God, she wanted to bite him. Wanted, needed, more of his blood. It was powerful, addictive, those little tastes no longer enough, her hunger no longer soothed. Would she be able to keep down more than a few sips? Only one way to find out… Time to stop this. She was too close to falling. “This is more than a kiss.” She sounded drugged, her tongue swollen. “Only promised you a kiss.” “Beg me, and it can be a lot more, whether you promised or not.” A bead of his sweat dripped onto her, hot and sultry. “I won’t beg. I won’t.” Take what you want. Whether the demand was for her or him, she didn’t know. He pulled his fingers out of her. She nearly cried. Every nerve ending in her body was sensitized, waiting, ready to experience climax, and he’d pulled away! The thorns sharpened with her outrage, and she suddenly wished she could rip them out and use them on him. “Beg,” he said. “Fuck you,” she snarled. He breathed in and out, ragged, shallow, his eyes shooting fire at her. “That’s what I’m trying to do!” “Well, you’re not trying hard enough.” With a growl, he swooped back in, tongue plunging, teeth scraping hers. The heel of his hand

returned between her thighs, offering more of that delicious pressure while his fingers dove back into her. “Do it, then. Take what you need.” “I will.” Trembling, writhing, hurting, she bit down on his tongue once more, unable to stop herself, sucking, swallowing every bit of blood she could. The climax hit her, slamming bone deep, soul deep, her muscles twitching, body grinding, hurting, thoughts splitting apart, flying. A scream ripped from her. A scream of pleasure and pain. Heaven and hell. Wonder and regret. She clawed at his back, shredding his shirt. She thrashed, she writhed even harder, she cried some more—but she didn’t beg. “Are you hurt?” he asked when she quieted, his tone broken, the cracks filled with disbelief. “Kind of,” she managed, not really wanting to explain. “But it’s good, it’s good. Don’t stop.” He jerked his fingers from her—bastard, not done flying!—and tore at the denim covering his cock. Palm wet from her arousal, he gripped himself, hips pistoning back and forth, hand moving up and down. The glitter of his skin brightened, became blinding, a white light that signaled the end of life. Death by pleasure. Now just as desperate to watch his pleasure, Bride leaned up and nicked his jugular, drawing only the slightest heavenly bead and rubbing whatever pleasure-chemical her teeth produced

into the tiny wound. He stiffened, stilled, a roar splitting his lips and echoing in her ears. On and on he shook, seconds blending into minutes, minutes to a necessary eternity. Finally, both of them collapsed. His weight smashed her into the mattress, but she didn’t care. His skin ceased its glowing, and she gazed up at him, dazed by what had just happened. Lines of tension still branched from his eyes, and his lips were set in a mulish frown. But his eyes, oh, his eyes. They were pure amber fire, glowing like his skin had, lighting up the room. His breath sawed in and out, and sweat still poured from him. As she watched, he lifted his hand, bringing his fingers to his mouth. Their combined essence gleamed there. He licked away every drop, completely uninhibited, and it was the most erotic thing she’d ever seen. “Delicious,” he muttered, briefly closing his eyes and savoring. Do not relax your guard. Well, any more than you already have. “Your friend might burst in any second, thinking I killed you.” “Nope. He knows I can take care of myself.” Devyn anchored his fists beside her temples, locking her in place. Concern was seeping into his expression. “Are you embarrassed by what happened?” She frowned. Again, he was concerned about

shaming and embarrassing her. Why? “Should I be?” “You came. On my fingers.” And that was a bad thing? “What about you? Are you embarrassed about the way you came? I mean, you masturbated on me.” Twin circles painted his cheeks, but he shook his head in denial. How odd. Something about his reaction was off here, but she just didn’t know what it was or what it meant. Still, she couldn’t help but be proud of herself. A man of his experience had come without sinking inside her. He must have been intensely aroused. “Do you regret what happened?” he asked. “Do you question all of your lovers like this?” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Do you. Regret what. Happened?” Did she? Now she knew his taste and already hungered for more. She would never again be able to look at him without thinking of the pleasure they had shared. That angered her. But regret it? “No.” She didn’t. “Good. Because you owe me two more kisses, and I have every intention of collecting. Soon.” He rolled beside her and drew her into his body, holding her close, fingers playing with her hair, then tracing paths of fire down her arms. She tried to disengage, but he tightened his grip.

His chest was firm and slick against hers. “I don’t owe you a damn thing. This little excursion paid you in full.” He stiffened. “This little excursion counts as one kiss. One. I still remember my name, and I believe you promised I wouldn’t.” “You are so annoying.” He sat up and stared down at her. “No. I’m confused. I have no idea what to do with you. You confound me at every turn.” Frowning, he scooted to the edge of the bed and gave her his back. “Get dressed. I’ll take you to see Aleaha.”

CHAPTER 13

Devyn was baffled by himself. Bride hadn’t begged him to bring her to climax, but he’d done it anyway. He’d been helpless to do otherwise. He hadn’t been able to walk away. Yeah, after his father died and he’d conquered his guilt, he’d taken any female who had even opened her legs and touched himself any time the desire struck. He’d been the one begging, but back then, he’d had no control. He’d hated himself for that weakness and had learned restraint. Iron restraint. Restraint that had not broken until today. Restraint Bride did possess. She had wanted his blood, but she had only grazed his neck. She’d contented herself with little beads from his tongue. She’d wanted sex, but she’d contented herself with his fingers. Such willpower… He was disgraceful. He’d left his clothes on, hoping to dull his own desires. That plan had failed. As it was, he’d almost died from the pleasure. He suspected actual skin-to-skin contact really would kill him. What a way to go, though, right? As many women as he’d been with over the years, and as much control as he usually displayed, he shouldn’t have reacted to this one so intensely.

His body didn’t seem to understand that. He’d smelled her sweetness, seen her lean curves, and had craved everything she had to give. He’d had to taste those lush lips, had to hold those soft breasts, caress that smooth stomach, finger that hot, wet sheath. What was it about her that so entranced him? He needed to figure it out so that he could combat it. He’d once thought it was the challenge of her, but Eden Black had turned him down time and time again, and he’d let Eden go without a single regret. Maybe it was the way she constantly surprised him. He’d expected her to hide her body; she’d flaunted it. He’d expected her to cave under his sensual assault; she’d flourished. The braggart had even made him laugh. What was next? Making him drool for her? Well, he was a king. He drooled for no one! “Don’t leave this room,” he growled, standing and adjusting his clothes. Then, for good measure, he stalked to the door, opened it a crack, and called, “If she leaves this room, shoot her.” Behind him, Bride gasped. He didn’t turn and face her. He stepped into the shower stall with his clothes on and pressed the code for a thorough cleaning. He’d come in his pants. How mortifying. At least she hadn’t mocked him about it. Hadn’t even seemed to mind. He’d wanted to sink into a black

hole when he’d realized what he’d done. The enzyme spray settled on his skin and clothes, burrowing deep and scrubbing away the evidence of his too-eager desire. When he reentered the bedroom, Bride was exactly where he’d left her, only she’d pulled on a fresh pink T-shirt and a pair of jeans. They looked good on her. Made her look young and innocent. Macy’s necklace still circled her neck. There was a rosy blush to her skin, a determined gleam in her emerald eyes. Her cheeks were fuller than he’d ever seen them, and that stopped him short. She’d kept his blood down, he realized. He nearly grinned in satisfaction. She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off with a raised hand. “Did my blood make you sick?” He already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear her admit it. “No.” There was no stopping his grin this time. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. “Guess that means you need me, huh?” “Don’t go thinking you’re special,” she said. “I only had a few sips, and I can keep such a small amount down no matter who I drink from.” His grin morphed into a frown. “Do you want more?” “No,” she said, but glanced at his pulse. A lie. She wanted more, she just didn’t want to

want it. As soon as the hottest fires of her hunger returned, she would have to take more. And there’d be only one vein available to her. His. “You ready to go?” he asked, unable to mask the return of his satisfaction. She nodded hesitantly. “I want to see Aleaha, but it’s daylight. I can’t go outside without blistering.” Silent, he eyed her. Then he sighed. He hadn’t thought of that. He wasn’t used to considering another’s wants and needs. “Very well. I’ll have her brought here.” She crouched forward, her legs tucked under her and her weight on her knees. Her hands twisted the denim of her jeans. “By someone you trust not to hurt her, right?” “Believe me, the woman bringing her here would never harm her.” Macy, he knew, wasn’t into selfinflicted pain. Bride frowned in confusion but nodded. In her mind, Aleaha was still a prisoner. Devyn made the call. The moment Macy/Aleaha answered, he said, “I’ve got her. No question this time. We’re at the Legacy Apartments, top floor.” He hung up before she could reply. “She’ll be here in half an hour, is my guess. Which means we’ve got thirty minutes to burn. You and I are going to talk.” He had a feeling Bride would mentally shut him out the moment she saw her friend free and happy.

“Your blood helped Nolan, so AIR is going to want to test it,” he told her. “No.” She shook her head violently. “They won’t lock you up.” Yet. He wouldn’t let them. “But helping them is the only way to save your life. You did commit a crime.” “No!” He splayed his arms in helplessness. “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice, sweetheart. You took something that belongs to them, and anyone else would have fried for it by now. But I know them. Because of your healing blood, they’ll bargain with you.” Another shake of her head, inky hair flying. “I don’t need to bargain. You’re forgetting my abilities.” Before his eyes, her skin changed color, her arms turning bright green to match the comforter around her, her face turning gray to blend with the stone wall framing her. Even her hair lightened to that silver shade. Only her clothing gave her away. “Don’t mist,” he growled. Slowly her skin and hair returned to normal. “I’m not going anywhere. At least for now. I want to see Aleaha.” He relaxed. “What if I told you Aleaha is an AIR agent? Would you be so quick to deny the agency’s desires?” She laughed, and it was like bells were tinkling

merrily. “Aleaha is not AIR. No way.” That laugh…His cock twitched. “Why? Because she’s a shape-shifter?” Bride tensed, stilled. “That’s right. I know what she is. She took the form of an AIR agent, liked the job, and remained on the team.” Her nails elongated, becoming little claws that dug into her thighs and drew blood. “If anyone hurt her when they found out what she was, I will hunt them down and drain them.” Such loyalty. He’d already admired her for it, but that admiration grew. “They like having her on.” That mollified her somewhat. “If you captured a favored AIR agent, they would have come after you. Are you now being chased?” “We’ll get to that in a minute. First, take your nails out of your legs.” If anyone was going to hurt her, it was going to be him. Only when she obeyed did he continue. “Help AIR, Bride. Willingly give them some of your blood for testing, and I’ll find you a vampire to talk to.” She opened her mouth. Shut it. Bit her lip and rubbed at her necklace as she considered his offer. “Why should I? If my blood cured Nolan, AIR will take more and more from me until there’s nothing left. I’ll die and won’t be able to question the vampire. And if it doesn’t help him, they’ll have no use for me. They’ll lock me away or stake me, and

I still won’t get to question the vampire.” He rolled his eyes. “You’ve read too many books. They won’t stake you.” “You didn’t see the human-alien war. I did. I was there. Innocents were slain in the streets simply because they were different. I possess powers that would scare the shit out of every single agent. They will never be comfortable with me.” Good point. Not that he’d tell her. “Who knows? They might try and recruit you. They did me.” She uttered another of those sweet, sultry laughs. “Me? Working for AIR?” She shook her head again. “Show me where the underground doorway into vamp world is, and I’ll think about aiding them.” “Nope. Sorry. Your people live by a code of rules, and the most important of those rules is to never leave the underground. It’s to keep humans from finding them. To them, you broke that rule, or someone broke it for you. Either way, it’s a crime punishable only by death.” More than that, Devyn still had the composites of the McKell warriors in his pocket. Dallas’s vision made him think they would come to the surface for her. But they couldn’t come for her if they didn’t know about her. “Clearly you visited and left the underground, yet you weren’t killed.” “The king had his reasons,” was all Devyn said.

Her teeth ground together, those sharp little fangs slashing at her gums. “How are you going to find another vampire if they’re forbidden from coming up here?” His stare became piercing. “Twice a year, several do come topside. For food. Sometimes those hunters are caught and sold at slave auctions.” The words settled between them like heavy stones, dragging them into the dark, thick mire of memory. “I’m not going to a slave auction,” she bit out. “Not as a slave to be sold, no.” Every muscle in her beautiful body tensed. Was she pissed? Jealous? He wanted her to be jealous. Which was odd. He truly did despise jealousy in his lovers. He never allowed it or tolerated it. But Bride wanted so little from him, gave so little, he was latching on to every scrap she threw his way. Looks like you’ll be wiping away drool, after all. His jaw hardened with the thought. Hell. No. He was desired and craved throughout the galaxies. He was not a whipped schoolboy panting after a specific piece of ass. “You’re angry,” she said with surprise. “Why?” There was a sudden, frantic knock at the front door, and as it echoed through the bedroom, Bride paled and scrambled from the bed. She didn’t bolt from the bedroom, though, but stood unsteadily, eyeing the exit with trepidation.

“What’s wrong?” he found himself asking, anger forgotten. Do not approach her. Do not put your hands on her. “Do—do you think that’s Aleaha?” He nodded, hoping that would soothe her. “I’m sure of it.” “She’s early, and I’m not ready.” Bride licked her lips, still not budging from that spot. “What if… what if she ran from me, all those years ago, and has been hiding from me?” Her uncertainty reminded him of the boy he’d once been. The boy who had put on his best clothes and snuck into his mother’s wing of the palace to give her a birthday present. The boy who had knocked on his mother’s door, hoping, praying for a smile, even a hug, when he gave her the picture he’d drawn for her. The boy who’d had to throw the gift away, because his mother had looked at it, thanked him, and placed it back in his hands before shutting the door in his face. “She likes you, sweetheart. I swear it. She’s been searching for you, intending to save you from my wrath.” More knocking. “Coming, coming,” Dallas shouted from the living room. “Why did it take me so long to find her, then? Why did I only recently discover her scent?” She looked so vulnerable, Devyn’s heart actually

swelled in his chest, aching, grinding against his ribs. He was at her side before he realized he’d moved, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her close. She rested her head in the hollow of his neck, her tremors vibrating into him. Her night-wild scent wafted to his nose, and he breathed deeply. The silk of her hair tickled his chin. He’d never held a woman like this. Just held her, an offer of comfort with no expectation of sex. As her hands gripped his back, as though she wanted to step inside him, be a part of him, he wondered why he’d resisted such a thing. This was paradise. “Yo, Dev,” Dallas called. “Macy’s here, and she’s about to claw my face off for holding her back.” “Then say good-bye to your face. We’re not ready.” A frowning Bride drew back. “Macy?” “Remember. Aleaha took Macy’s identity. Just be glad her boyfriend, Breean, isn’t here. You’d have to endure an interrogation before touching her.” The frown faded, leaving her vulnerable again. “Does Breean know who she really is? Does he treat her right? Is he rich?” “Yes, he knows, and yes, he does. He loves her. And why do you care if he’s rich?” “We promised each other we’d never marry

anyone who was poor.” “He’s rich.” I’m richer, he wanted to add, but didn’t. His finances didn’t matter, as he’d never remarry. “Are we ready now? Macy will be happy to see you.” If Macy turned him into a liar and did not welcome Bride the way she deserved, he was going to kill her. Slowly, painfully. “Yes.” “Send her in, Dal,” he finally called. Even as he spoke, he moved away from Bride. His arms tingled where they’d been in contact with her. The door flew open, and Macy raced inside. When she spotted Bride, she gasped and stopped. Her hands tented over her mouth. Bride gulped, then nervously licked her lips. Devyn had watched her take down a human slaver. She hadn’t flinched or betrayed a hint of nerves when he’d killed said slaver in front of her. But now, she was eaten up with worry. Over a friend who might not love her anymore. His chest started aching again. And when tears filled her eyes, he almost fell to his knees. Tears had never affected him. How could they? Giving in to them would mean he was involved, not just with his body but with his mind. It would mean he harbored affection for the crier— affection he didn’t understand or condone. But here, now, seeing Bride’s emerald eyes liquefy…he was struck with the urge to do anything and

everything in his power to ensure she never had reason to cry again. What the hell? “Did you hurt her?” Macy suddenly demanded of him. “No,” he said. “And I won’t.” Maybe. “And before you ask, no, she’s not a prisoner.” Yet. The women looked at each other. Both remained silent, as if they were too afraid to speak. “Hello, Aleaha,” Bride finally said, gaze intense. “You’ve grown.” A trembling Macy nodded. “Hello. You’re just the same.” When one of those tears splashed onto Bride’s cheek, Devyn stepped toward her, meaning to comfort her again. But with a joyous cry, Macy suddenly ran past him and threw herself into Bride’s arms. “It’s you. It’s really you.” Bride’s gaze met his for a split second, wonder in their depths. Then she was hugging Macy with all her might, crying harder, laughing, twirling. “I can’t believe I found you. I’ve been looking so long. So damn long. I only stumbled on your scent a few weeks ago.” “I’ve been looking for you, too! I was afraid something had happened to you.” “Where did you go that night?” They were talking over each other, but somehow he understood every word.

“One of the officers had hung back while the others chased you,” Macy explained. “He found me and dragged me to their car. I escaped before they could lock me up, but someone else grabbed me and knocked me out. I woke up in a plane with other kids being carted God knows where. I had to take the identity of a guard, but managed to free the kids before working my way back to New Chicago. I looked for you but couldn’t find you. I was afraid my scent had been buried underneath all the new identities I’d taken, and I guess I was right. You only just started smelling me again, and I only just let myself be me again. Well, me and Macy. Breean helps me.” “Oh, Leah,” Bride said, and Devyn had never heard her use such a gentle, loving, fiercely motherly tone. “I’m so sorry! Did anyone hurt you? Tell me their names, and I’ll find and kill them.” “I’m fine, I’m fine. But what about you?” Macy cupped Bride’s cheeks and studied her face. “Like I said, you’re just the same, just as lovely.” “And you’re ten times as lovely. Look at all that dark hair, those bright green eyes. And you have the breasts you always dreamed about having.” The two shared a laugh. So she could see the woman underneath Macy’s skin, Devyn realized. Impressive. “When I learned Devyn had found you, I almost died. I’d been searching, had no luck, and suddenly

he was on the hunt to bed you. Did he hurt you?” Macy demanded. “No.” Her cheeks flushed to a pretty pink, and she flicked him a glance. He shrugged, sheepish. He’d never made a secret of his desires. “Oh,” Bride said. “I have your necklace.” She removed it and anchored it around Macy’s neck. The two women returned to their conversation, and he continued to watch them, strangely happy with the way things had turned out. His phone vibrated, and he dug it out of his pocket. The number belonged to Breean. He was moaning inside as he answered. “I knew you would do the right thing,” Breean said without preamble. “You knew I had Bride?” “I knew you were close to finding her and using my woman to do it. But I let you, because the end result was all that mattered.” “And if I had betrayed her?” “I would have killed you.” It was stated so simply, Devyn knew the big guy had already planned it out. Just in case. Couldn’t blame him, really. “You would have tried,” was all he said. Breean chuckled. “You underestimated me once before, my friend, and I locked you up.” That he had. In the end, Devyn had still won.

“You know, I’m starting to like you. We should hang out more.” Breean choked, his breath crackling over the line. “I won’t bed you. Now or ever.” Devyn rolled his eyes. “As if you’re handsome enough to win the likes of me.” The thought of being with someone else, however, slipped into his mind and refused to leave. Bride was affecting him, and he didn’t like it. Perhaps if he bedded another woman, he’d stop thinking of Bride so intently. Perhaps he’d stop this cursed softening. Once more, tears would no longer affect him, and jealousy would no longer delight him. Yes. That’s what he’d do. Just as soon as he turned Bride over to AIR.

CHAPTER 14

Bride hadn’t seen Devyn in days. Three days, eight hours, and twenty-seven minutes, to be exact. Three days, eight hours, and twenty-seven minutes she’d spent inside AIR headquarters. Though she’d committed a crime by stealing Nolan, she wasn’t a prisoner; they’d oh, so nicely asked her to stay as Devyn had told her they would. They recognized her abilities and wanted her happy, but they also wanted easy access to her. Had she insisted on leaving, they would have caved on the issue, she was sure, but she hadn’t. She stayed for Aleaha, who visited her every day. Or rather, Macy. That was the name her friend now used, so that was the name Bride needed to call her. By citing Macy as the reason for her compliance, she hopefully made Macy look good to those in charge. Wasn’t like it was a hardship to stay. She had a comfortable bed, a small dresser with her changes of clothes, a portable enzyme shower, and a fridge and microwave for bags of plasma. Yeah, she was a pincushion, poked and prodded every few hours. It wasn’t such a bad deal, though. The agents were surprisingly friendly and had honored her request for them not to wear perfume around her. So…why hadn’t Devyn checked on her? She knew the answer to that, she thought,

fuming. He’d had her. He’d won. Like she’d suspected, once a man like him got his target in bed, he became tired of her. The bastard. God, what a fool she was. She should have resisted harder. She paced the length of her cell, her boots digging into the tiles. There’d been talk about him. She knew Devyn had taken some stupid female out on a date. A date! With the otherworlder, there was only one way that could have ended. In bed. Naked. Doing the things she and Devyn had done in her bed. Only more. Doesn’t matter. You knew it would end this way. Still, her fangs and nails were elongated, and what little blood coursed through her veins was like white lightning, sizzling, raising the fine hairs on the back of her neck and razing her chest. Think of something else before you combust. She knew several AIR agents had moved into her apartment to keep track of Nolan, too afraid to transport him. How was he? Still healthy? She hoped so. He wasn’t a bad guy. The only door to her cell slid open, and three female agents strode inside. One of them clutched a plastic basket filled with needles, tubes, and bandages. “Time for another withdrawal already?” she moaned. She should tell them no more needle sticks for a while, but she did want them to find out if her

blood was indeed a cure for Nolan’s virus. If Al— Macy were ever infected, she wanted the cure available immediately. “Yep, we’re here for a little more juice,” one of the girls said. “Sorry.” A pause, a frown. “You look paler in person than you do on the monitors. Plasma not to your liking?” “No.” At this rate, she’d be drained by the end of the week. The plasma had sickened her more than usual, and she’d been unable to absorb even those first few little mouthfuls. Every day she edged closer to starvation, and these women with their strong pulses weren’t helping. They were a mouthwatering temptation, her tongue swelling for a taste. Don’t drink from Macy’s coworkers. Don’t you dare drink from Macy’s coworkers. “I’d offer to feed you,” the second girl said, “but Mia said we couldn’t. She doesn’t want our blood masking the effects of yours.” Bride strode to the chair and table that had been set up for this type of thing. The woman with the basket moved in front of her, red hair fluttering around her chin; the other two moved behind Bride. They were the guard dogs, she suspected, just in case she went feral. They were all young, no older than thirty, and pretty in their own ways. What surprised her, though, was the fact that they didn’t seem disgusted

by her need for blood. They had shrugged off her dislike of the plasma and would have offered themselves if possible. Where was the horror she’d always dreaded? “I haven’t seen you guys before,” she remarked. Everyone who visited her was female, but never the same one twice. She’d begun to wonder if there were any male agents besides Devyn and Dallas. “There’s a waiting list to meet you,” one of the girls behind her said. “We finally got our turn.” A waiting list? For her? “Why?” “Devyn,” they said in unison, and then they sighed dreamily. Just hearing his name, the moisture in Bride’s mouth increased. “I’m Ann, by the way,” the redhead said. “The brunette is Claire, and the blonde is Madison.” As she spoke, she wrapped the self-tightening tourniquet around Bride’s arm and cleaned the inside of her elbow. “What’s Devyn got to do with everyone wanting to meet me?” “He decorated your cell,” Madison said, her tone making it clear that should have been obvious to Bride. “Everything here, he picked out.” “He did what?” She had thought it odd that AIR had spent so much money on a real oak dresser and a mattress made from true feathers, but she’d never suspected Devyn’s involvement.

Ann lifted a butterfly needle. “We were set to buy the cheapest stuff we could find—sorry, but it’s true—when he told us not to bother, that he’d buy what you needed with his own money.” Why would he do such things? She was nothing to him. He was already dating other women. Not that he’d ever taken Bride on a date. And not that she would have said yes if he had. Really. Ann pushed the sharp needle into her vein, blood slowly, too slowly, filling the tube attached to the other end. “Dallas told me he heard Devyn call you sweetheart.” “Yeah. So.” Devyn had an endearment for everyone. “He’s only ever called me darling,” Claire said. “Me, too. Darling this and darling that. He calls Eden Black pet, and he’s obsessed with her, but he’s never called her sweetheart.” Bride’s teeth and nails sharpened dangerously. “Obsessed with her? Why?” “She’s Rakan, and he’s never had a Rakan.” Sounded like something Devyn would say. I want to kill Eden Black. “But, anyway, he tortured that human for you.” Claire stepped around the table and eyed Bride questioningly. “Even cut his head off.” “Yes. But only because I had something he wanted.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her tone.

Madison, too, veered around and faced her. “Honey, he pursued me for a week—that’s the most I could resist him, and the most time he’d give me. He’d already moved on to someone else when I threw myself at him to regain his attention. Anyway, during that week he heard my partner berate me, call me names. Believe me, I had something he wanted, too, but he didn’t kill Tate for me. Didn’t even yell at him.” Wait. “You’ve been with Devyn?” Smiling happily, Madison nodded. So did Ann and Claire. Bride’s eyes widened. “All of you have been with him?” “Nearly every female agent in AIR,” Ann said, and she didn’t sound upset. “Why that…that…man-whore!” Bride had known he was promiscuous, but damn. Was there no one he wouldn’t screw? Probably not. Besides Bride. Her, he pleasured with his fingers and his mouth but didn’t penetrate. Why hadn’t he taken her? She’d been willing. Much as she would have liked to deny that, she couldn’t. The tourniquet loosened on its own, and Ann tugged it from Bride’s arm. She withdrew the needle with one hand and placed a bandage over the puncture wound with the other. “So tell me. What was he like? With you?”

All three women leaned in close, their heartbeats suddenly a roar in her ears. Bride squirmed in her seat, sweating, now having trouble catching her breath. Her gaze locked on Ann’s pulse, and even more moisture flooded her mouth. The agent’s skin appeared soft, her vein full. One little nibble wouldn’t— Argh! No. “Bride?” one of them said. She blinked, bringing them back in focus. No blood. Not now. They were still staring at her, waiting. Waiting for information about Devyn. She knew they wanted to compare her experiences with their own so they could feel better about how he’d treated them. Fine. She’d give them all the gory details. “He nearly blinded me with that glowing skin thing,” she said stiffly. “I mean, really. How annoying is that?” “He glowed?” Claire asked, brow puckering. The three women shared a strange look, as though silently asking each other if Devyn had glowed for them. Each one shook her head no. He hadn’t glowed for them? “Tell us more,” Madison pleaded. The words tumbled from her before she could stop them. “He tried to make me beg for it, but I refused. He gave it to me anyway, but he wouldn’t let me leave afterward. And when I tried to walk

away, he tightened his hold. Talk about frustrating!” See, she wanted to shout. He’s not a prize. He was domineering and too determined to have his way. One by one, the women straightened. They shared another look. A look of wonder, this time. “What?” she demanded, wiping at the sweat on her brow with the back of her wrist. Her hand was trembling. Ann was the first to shake off the awe. “He held you? After he finished with you?” “Yes.” Why were the lights in the cell suddenly winking on and off? Light, dark, light, dark. And why didn’t the agents seem to notice? “He couldn’t get his clothes on fast enough with me,” Madison said with a pout. “Two seconds after he came, he thanked me and rolled from the bed,” Claire said. “He was out the door a minute after that.” Both females sounded like they stood at the end of a tunnel, their voices thick and distant, slowed. “He did me up against a wall and patted my head when he was done. Then he walked away and never looked back.” Ann sounded closer, but no less slurred. “’Course, I couldn’t chase him because I was boneless, completely sated.” She paused. “Bride, are you okay? Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look terrible.” They watched her with expectation, waiting for her reply. About Devyn? About her health? She

didn’t know what to say. Clearly they thought it was a miracle that Devyn had stayed with her after his climax, but they couldn’t know that he’d had nowhere else to go. That he’d been waiting for Macy. That he hadn’t trusted Bride to stay put. He didn’t like her, not the way they thought. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have gone on a date with another female. He would have been here, claiming his kisses. Feeding her that delicious blood. Blood…Need blood. “Bride?” Dizziness flooded her mind, her thoughts breaking apart, unable to realign themselves. Where was she? What was happening to her? She pushed to shaky legs, but they were too weak to hold her weight, and she crashed into the cold concrete floor. A sharp pain exploded in her temple, and the world around her blackened completely.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart.” Word of Bride’s collapse had spread through AIR quickly, and Devyn had come running. Though he’d forced himself to remain outside headquarters these last three days, he’d never strayed far from the building. Not even for the date he’d called a halt to half an hour into. He’d taken an agent to dinner, but before

the appetizer had even arrived, he’d tossed a wad of cash on the table and left. Hadn’t been right. Hadn’t felt right. Bride was being drained, and he was out having fun. Well, not fun. He’d been miserable, unable to charm or flirt with his intended partner for the night. He didn’t know who he was anymore, or what he wanted. No, not true. He wanted Bride. It was as if, when she’d kissed him and come on his fingers, she’d changed him. As if she’d somehow planted stronger seeds of obsession in his brain, and those seeds were now growing. He didn’t know how to act anymore. Didn’t know what to do with her. He found himself thinking about her at the oddest moments. Like when he was on a date with another woman. Like when he was in the car and reached a traffic light flashing green. Like when he’d cut his fingertip and wiped the blood away. What claimed the bulk of those thoughts was the fact that there’d been pain mixed with her pleasure. When she’d climaxed, she’d screamed, and it had not only been because of his exceptional skill. He wanted to know why she’d hurt and how to prevent it next time. For there would be a next time. “Bride,” he said more firmly. She was too pale, too still. He knew beyond a doubt she hadn’t eaten in days. He’d kept tabs on her, and also knew she’d

thrown up her one and only bag of plasma. “Wake up, and I’ll let you slap me around. You know you want to.” A moan slipped from her, soft, barely discernible. Of course the thought of hurting him physically had been the thing to rouse her. Her lashes fluttered open, casting flickering shadows on her cheeks. Those hazel irises were glazed, dull, but when they latched on to the pulse at his neck, they lit, swirled, once more like living emeralds, glowing. He’d moved her to the bed, and he was stretched beside her, his head resting on his upraised palm. “You need to eat, sweetheart.” Desperately her hands pushed at him. “Get away from me.” The words were slurred, thick. Her gaze never left his neck. “You have to get away from me.” “Drink from me. Hurry, or dinner’s gonna get cold.” “Go. Please, go.” “Not until you drink. It’s an all-you-can-eat buffet tonight.” “I said go!” He tsked. “I don’t know why you’re so stubborn about this. You’re hungry. I’m willing. Maybe you’ll be able to keep it all down. Which wouldn’t surprise me. It’s mine, after all, so there’s clearly none better.” “I don’t want your blood,” she said, trying to

scramble away herself. She didn’t, did she? His eyes narrowed. They’d see about that once he prodded her temper. “Guess what? I took a female on a date. An agent. A sixarmed Delensean. I haven’t had one of those in years. The prospect of having one again amused me.” “I know,” she snarled, some of her color returning. “You picked her up immediately after leaving my bed and dropping me off here.” “I can’t deny it.” “Did you sleep with her?” No longer was she trying to get away. Now she was leaning into him, nails clawing past his shirt and at his skin. “No, wait. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. I just want you to leave.” “You’re right. I should leave. I should go on another date. Maybe with a Rakan this time. I’ve never had one of those, you know. I’ve heard they’re the best, though, so I really should make an effort to—” With a roar, she was on top of him, pinning him to the mattress, her fangs in his neck, cutting deep, his blood flowing into her mouth. There was a sting, then only warm pleasure. He could hear her swallowing, purring as the flavor met her tongue. Finally. “That’s a good girl. Take everything you need.” Her lower body ground against his.

Already he was hard as a rock, arching up to meet her thrusts. “Just so you know, I didn’t sleep with that agent.” A mewling sound escaped her, and her teeth gentled on his neck. When she tried to disengage completely, he petted her hair with firm strokes, holding her in place. “Nope. I’m enjoying this. Because I was such a good boy on my date, you have to see to my needs. That means you don’t get to stop yet.” On and on she continued to drink, her purrs growing louder, her body writhing faster…faster, using him, taking what it needed, propelling her higher. Devyn gritted his teeth against the bliss, determined not to come like this again. A difficult task. She felt so good against him, she smelled like the sweetest flower, was finally doing something he’d commanded her to do. Spots of color began to cloud his vision; she was taking a lot of blood, but still he didn’t push her away. She needed it, and he had it to give. Even enjoyed the giving. “More,” he said, the word barely audible. “Everything.” A hoarse cry slipped from her as she wrenched her mouth away. Up and down her chest moved in quick succession, her hard nipples abrading his chest. Exquisite, he thought. A trickle of crimson slid down her chin. Her lips were red, dewy. Her eyes no longer glowed, but her skin was so rosy it

was like the petal of a rose. “How’s your stomach?” he asked. Wow. He sounded halfway to the grave. “I—it’s fine.” She blinked in astonishment. “It’s actually calm.” “I was…right then. Better than…most.” “Devyn?” she said with concern. He didn’t have the energy to form another word. “Devyn,” she repeated, determined this time. “I’m sorry, so sorry. I didn’t mean to take so much. I didn’t mean…I’ll make it better. Okay? All right?” Slowly she leaned down and kissed him. Drops of his own blood seeped into his mouth. No, not his, he thought then. Hers. She’d swiped her tongue across her fangs, cutting the delicate tissue, and was feeding him that healing blood of hers. Damn, damn, damn, was the next thought to hit him as some of his strength returned. He shoved her away from him and scrambled from the bed. He was panting, trembling, but he managed to maintain his balance. “Devyn?” she said uncertainly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take so much. You just tasted so good, and it had been so long…I’m really, really sorry, but I made it better. I did. You’re already stronger. See?” He scrubbed a hand down his face. She knows nothing about vampires, he reminded himself. She had no idea the magnitude of what she’d just done.

Or did she? His gaze intensified on her. She sat up, smoothing her hair from her face with a wobbly hand. She wore an expression of concern and remorse. No, she didn’t know. Her ignorance didn’t make it any better, though. He’d come in here to check on her and give her blood. And okay, yeah. He’d wanted to see and kiss her, but he hadn’t come for this. Maybe he should have warned her never to do it. Maybe he should have— No. No! He wouldn’t take the blame for this. “What’s going on?” she demanded. “Why are you looking at me like I’m a monster? You’re not going to turn into a vampire. Nolan didn’t. And I didn’t kill you. I just took a little too much blood. Blood you commanded me to drink. You should be thanking me for pulling away in time.” Thank her? He could think of several things he’d like to do to her, but none of them ended with the words thank and you, and all of them involved his hands manacled around her neck. “I am a monster, aren’t I?” she said next, tears filling her eyes. “You’re repulsed by me now.” Oh, those goddamn tears. Once again they sparked an ache in his chest. Damn her. He would not soften. What she’d done was reprehensible. “I’m the one who should be crying. Right now the freedom I fought so hard

for is gone. Everything I value is no longer available to me. And life as I know it, life as I’ve enjoyed it for so long, is over.” Her mouth fell open. “What are you talking about?” “I’m talking about regrets, sweetheart. I regret that I ever met you.” He scoured a hand down his face. The action wasn’t violent enough, so he slammed his fists together. “God, I can’t believe you did this.” “Did what?” “Congratulations,” he snarled. “You married a rich man.”

CHAPTER 15

Dallas drained the last of his beer and chucked the bottle on the floor. Bride was gonna be pissed when she returned home and saw what he’d done to her place. Maybe Devyn would hire a few naked hookers to clean up like he’d done for Dallas. Dallas laughed at the thought. “What’s so funny?” the agent next to him asked. Hector Dean. A hard-ass agent who knew how to have fun. He had a shaved head, arms sleeved with tattoos, and eyes like a snake’s. Currently they were lounging on the couch and watching TV—a TV that Nolan could see but couldn’t watch. They had to keep an eye on him at all times, but the only way to see him, as well as the TV, was to angle the screen toward the couch and away from Nolan, who was pouting about it. Not that Dallas cared. He’d stopped watching a while ago, but still hadn’t turned the thing off. Nolan didn’t deserve any luxuries. Dallas balanced a laptop on his thighs, punching buttons, scrolling, typing, re-creating his vision to study it further. What he’d realized so far: there were eighteen McKell warriors, as Devyn had called them. The knife used to kill the Targon was made of titanium. And Devyn’s body was positioned nine feet from the edge of the pier.

None of these things aided Dallas. What good was finally accepting his abilities if he couldn’t use them to his advantage? “Well?” Hector prompted. What had the agent asked him? Oh, yeah. “I was just thinking of Devyn and Bride.” Hector whistled. “Boy is wasted, that’s for sure, and I never thought I’d see a guy like him fall.” “Me, either.” Right now Bride was holed up at AIR headquarters, and Devyn was close to her, unable to stray too far—and not by force. It was surreal. Impossible to figure out, therefore not worth thinking about. Back to the killing. Would Bride’s people hear about her confinement and come gunning for her freedom? Is that how they’d catch Devyn unaware? “Bride’s just as…wasted did you say? Over Devyn,” Nolan grumbled. He lay on his cot, tossing a ball against the bars and catching it as it bounced back to him. “Maybe I’ll steal her from him. She thinks I’m handsome, and her blood is divine.” Every morning they gave Nolan a bag of Bride’s blood, hoping to keep the disease at bay. So far, it had seemed to work. “Just try romancing Bride,” Dallas told him. “Devyn will cut off your head. That’s his preferred method of punishment for guys who mess with his woman.” His woman. Odd words when used in conjunction with Devyn. Words he’d never thought to utter.

“We’re talking about Devyn, king of the Targon army and prince of a thousand bedrooms.” The ball buzzed to the bars, back to Nolan. “He’ll be over her in a few days, and I can be there to pick up the pieces of her heart.” “No. You’ll still be locked up,” Hector said. “Maybe,” was Nolan’s only response. Dallas didn’t glance up from his laptop as he flipped off the alien. “You will.” Most likely Nolan was right, and Devyn would walk away from Bride soon enough. But Dallas had never seen the otherworlder like this. On edge, belligerent. Past few nights, Devyn had been staying at Dallas’s place and had drunk himself into a stupor. Guy hadn’t dated—except for that once— and hadn’t had any females over. With a sigh, Dallas brought the conversation back to the blood issue. “You craving everyone’s blood, or just Bride’s?” Nolan shuddered. “Just Bride’s. Not because I like the taste, but because of the way it makes me feel. Besides, yours would give me heartburn, I’m sure. You smell like stale beer.” “You’re lucky you’re alive—most of AIR wants you dead.” Hector leaned back on the couch. “And you would be, if not for your improved health and the desire for answers.” “And Mishka,” Nolan added smugly. The woman had been here every day, seeing to the

otherworlder’s comfort and amusement. “When’s she due to arrive, anyway?” Dallas shrugged. “Hour, tops. Thinking of winning her, too?” “Always.” That earned a laugh from Hector. “Keep talking like that and maybe she’ll kill you herself. She’s batshit crazy for Jaxon.” “You don’t know women, Agent Dean. I can win anyone I desire, whether they are mated or not.” Now he sounded like Devyn. Everyone who spent time with the Targon did eventually. People couldn’t help but want to emulate him. Hector stood and stalked to the mini-fridge they’d set up in the kitchen. “I may not know women, but I do know weapons, and I’m happy to introduce you to a few of mine.” Truth. Hector, too, reminded Dallas of Devyn in a lot of ways. Oh, Hector wasn’t an unrepentant womanizer. Far from it. Dallas had never seen the guy with a woman or heard of someone special in his life. In fact, Hector, as fun-loving as he was, was pretty distant with the female agents. But he was emotionless when it came to killing, doing his job without hesitation or guilt. “Let’s talk about something productive,” Dallas said. “Why don’t you tell us where your queen’s going to land?” Aka, what wormhole would she use to enter Earth. There were too many to cover all of

them. Thunk. Catch. Thunk. “Let me out, and I’ll show you where I landed.” Hector reclaimed his seat on the couch, a bag of syn-chocolate cakes in his hands. “Not gonna happen again.” “The virus is no longer controlling me. I’m not going to betray you.” Mia wanted to take a sample of his blood to make sure of that, but the last time they’d taken Nolan’s blood, the doctors and nurses who’d handled the specimens had had to be put down like animals. Pretty soon, though, if Nolan maintained his current health, Mia was going to cave and do it. Dallas knew it. They needed to know if the parasite was dead. They needed to know if Bride’s blood was the cure. Dallas almost hoped it wasn’t. Mia would use the vampire until her veins were bone dry, and Devyn wouldn’t like it. Might even leave AIR and Earth for good. That’s the kind of guy he was. If he wanted something, he considered it his. Whether he planned to keep that something or not. And he didn’t like when other people messed with his stuff. More than that, Mia might even go on a hunt for other vampires, thinking to use them as well. Anything to protect her agents. Understandable, but dangerous. Already she was asking questions.

Where are the others? How have they been able to hide for so long? Devyn had refused to answer. “You want to prove your new allegiance to us,” Hector said, drawing Dallas from his musings, “you’ll tell us where your queen is gonna be and when, so that we can kill her.” Those silver eyes narrowed on them. “The death blow isn’t yours to deliver. It’s mine. I’d think the two of you would understand that.” He did. And he even thought Nolan meant to aid them this time. Unlike last time, when the otherworlder had promised to help them destroy his queen and the men she’d infected but had betrayed AIR instead, leading them straight into an ambush. Now, his eyes were alert, no longer glazed as if he were hypnotized, or a puppet, and they glowed with genuine hate. Didn’t matter, though. They couldn’t chance it. Suddenly Hector straightened. His ears practically twitched. “Do you hear that?” Dallas straightened, too, concentrating on the noises around him. There, at the door, he could make out a soft scratching. Like metal gliding and twisting against metal. Someone was trying to disable the ID lock. “B and E in progress,” he said. “Stay here and guard Nolan. Nolan, keep your mouth shut.” He was on his feet before Hector could protest, silently trekking to the door. Along the way, he withdrew

his pyre-gun. “Let’s try to keep everyone alive today, boys and girls.” Should he let the perp destroy the lock completely and enter so that he could immobilize him—or her—here? Or should he jerk open the door and just start firing? Here, he could keep the damage contained. But that placed Nolan in danger and would also give any stragglers time to run away. “—possible break-in,” Hector was whispering into his cell. The agent had moved to the cage, in front of Nolan, with his profile to the window and the door. He sheathed his phone, palmed his weapons. One of his guns, the semi, was aimed at the door and the other, the pyre, at the window. Just in case. Backup was on its way. Let ’em in, Dallas thought then. Hector could keep Nolan safe, and this way Dallas could protect any innocents lingering in the hallway. He pressed against the wall and angled toward the door. A minute passed, then another. Had the perp failed? Given up? And who the hell wanted Bride? Her family? Had they found her? Were the McKell warriors here? Was this the beginning of his vision? Dallas fought a wave of dread. Finally, the metal creaked open and a man Dallas didn’t recognize pushed inside as if he owned the place, his own pyre-gun extended. Dallas blasted

him, a blue beam seeping past his clothes. It didn’t immobilize him, proving him to be human. As another male pounded inside, then another, Dallas and the first male launched at each other. “Shit,” Hector cursed, drawing the newcomers’ attention. He was immediately blasted with stun rays himself. None affected him, either. He squeezed off a round of bullets, nailing both men in the shoulders. They grunted, jerked, but didn’t fall. Dallas kicked his opponent in the stomach, propelling him into the wall. At the same time, he elbowed one of the bleeding men in the throat. Then he spun and head-butted the other in the forehead. All three hit the ground in quick succession, their guns skidding out of reach. “And that,” he said, dusting his hands together, “is how it’s done.” Except, the one he’d kicked gained his bearings, and grabbed Dallas by the ankles. With a tug, Dallas crashed to the concrete floor. Maybe his skull had cracked, maybe his brain was just rattling back and forth. Either way, a sharp pain tore through his head. He battled through it, said, “Don’t shoot him,” to Hector, and pulled himself to a crouch. “Where’s the vampire?” the guy snarled, kicking him in the stomach. That these humans wanted Bride enough to break into her apartment could mean only one

thing. They were the slavers Devyn hoped to kill. “She’s not here,” he said, forcing himself to his feet. “How ’bout you dance with me instead?” Dallas swiped out his arm, a small dagger sliding from the cuff in his shirt. His fingers curled around the hilt a split second before his hand reached the human. Contact. The tip sliced just enough to send the guy into a panic. There was a gasp, a gurgle as blood leaked from him at the same rate as his swift heartbeat, and the man dropped to his knees, clutching at the groove. “You’ll be fine,” Dallas told him. “Weak but fine. Now you’re going to answer some questions.” “No, he won’t.” The other two must have found a reservoir of strength, because they launched themselves at Dallas, roaring, pissed as hell, and determined to end him. Their fists hammered at his head, his stomach, and his groin. Their knees slammed into his lungs, jetting the air from his lips. Hurt like a son of a bitch, but again, he pushed through. Dallas grabbed one by the arm, twisted, and snapped the bone in two. Amid howls of agony, he ducked, ramming his head into the stomach of the only one left standing, and running. Running until the human slammed into the wall, all the while those meaty fists slugging at him. Pictures fell from the wall and crashed onto the floor. Dallas pulled back both arms and let them fly.

Teeth scraped his knuckles. Then bone gave way. Then cartilage snapped and blood gushed. The man slumped to the floor. “Well done,” Hector said, stowing his weapons and stalking over. When he reached the first guy, Cut Throat, he planted his boot directly on top of the wound and pressed. “What are you doing here, asswipe? And don’t even think about playing games with me, because there are three of you, and I only need one to get my answers.” Cut Throat struggled to breathe. “No need for violence,” Dallas said. He didn’t want Hector slapped with a fine for unnecessarily hurting a human. An otherworlder wouldn’t have mattered. Dallas hated the double standard. Once, he hadn’t minded it. Had thought it was for the best. Earth belonged to humans, after all. Since he’d acquired his own powers and realized the full sting of prejudice, though, his views had changed completely. Just because someone was different, that didn’t mean they needed to be feared. Or put down. “What are you going to do?” Hector asked. Letting Hector see his powers, know beyond any doubt that he was different and no longer just speculate about it, didn’t sit well. Hector was one of the few people who didn’t complain about working with him. Would that change?

“You’ll see.” Now that he’d accepted his abilities, was letting them do what they wanted, when they wanted to do it, using them shouldn’t be a problem. As he peered down at the men, he reached inside himself to the box containing his powers, no longer locked and shoved into the shadows. He clasped onto the mind control, which was twinkling like a star. The moment he touched it, its energy exploded through him and he cried out. Almost fell to his knees. It was so strong, weighing down his shoulders, shooting through his body like a boomerang, vibrating in his bones. “Dallas?” Hector said. Dallas held up a hand to ward him off, and they stood like that, in silence, for several minutes. Finally, things settled, and he was able to refocus. Hector was watching him with concern, though the agent didn’t voice that concern. He wouldn’t, either. He wouldn’t want the humans to think Dallas was about to crumble. Dallas crouched in front of the guy he’d cut, the only one still conscious. “Tell me why you’re here.” The moment he spoke, the guy’s eyes glazed over and he started talking, unable to stop himself. “The vampire. We want to sell her. We already have a buyer. A man. He was looking for a female vampire with a tattoo on her wrist. We were to capture her, stun her if at all possible, and take her

in uninjured. But she killed Tom, my brother, and we decided to rough her up a bit before delivering her to her new master.” So. They were slavers, just as he’d suspected. What he liked least about all he’d heard was that they had a buyer ready to go. “Tell me who wants her.” “I don’t know his name.” “Who does?” “My boss.” Dallas learned what he could about the boss and then said, “Sleep.” Once again the guy couldn’t help but obey. He looked over at Hector, who was eyeing him with confusion and wariness, and opened his mouth to explain what had just happened, but pressed his lips together before a single word escaped. Hector would freak if Dallas forced him to do something. Accident or not. He closed his eyes. Focused. Tried to push the power back into its box, but it refused. It was free, now swirling through him in a frenzy and tickling his vocal cords. Not knowing what else to do, he whipped out his cell and typed Hector a text. Can’t speak. Power. No automatic off switch. Hector’s phone beeped, and the agent pulled it out with a frown. Read the text. Paused. Nodded stiffly.

Lost another friend, Dallas thought, turning back to the couch. He would have gone to Nolan’s cage and commanded Nolan to tell him everything he wanted to know, but the otherworlder had immunity to that power, as well. It seemed to Dallas that he—or anyone—only had to use their abilities against Nolan once for Nolan to learn how to combat them. First the voice, then Devyn’s energy thing. “It’s okay, man,” Hector said, suddenly beside him and patting his shoulder. “Your secret is safe with me.” He held out his hands, spreading his fingers. A white glow started at both sets of fingertips and spread up to his tattooed wrists. Brighter and brighter the glow became, until Dallas was squinting. Then the glow seemed to break apart, de-atomizing Hector’s hands. Dallas swung wide eyes to Hector. Hector lowered his arms, and the glow faded. “I’m human. Stun doesn’t affect me, never has, but even as a kid I could do this. I can reach into someone’s body and pull out their organs, one by one. For a long time, I couldn’t control it, and people died. I don’t know why I’m like this, but maybe more humans than we know or want to admit have strange abilities they can’t explain. I mean, it’s not like they’d advertise them, you know. Not after the way everyone reacted to the otherworlders.” He paused, giving Dallas time to

absorb his confession. “I’m telling you because I don’t want you to think I’ll run and tattle. I know your secret, and now you know mine.” Never had Dallas been more stunned. Psychic that he was, even he couldn’t have predicted what had just happened. “Backup has arrived,” he heard Mishka say a split second before she and Eden Black pushed their way inside the apartment. He and Hector jumped apart guiltily. Both agents had their guns raised and ready for action. But they stopped and peered at the sleeping humans. “Wow,” Mishka said, looking to Dallas. “You started without us.” Behind them, the bars of Nolan’s cage rattled. Dallas didn’t have to turn to know Nolan had rushed to the front to get a closer view of Mishka and to listen to what was being said. “Slavers tried to take the vampire,” Hector said. “Dallas was nailed in the throat and can’t talk. Ask me your questions.” He didn’t have the heart to tell Hector that Mishka and Eden already knew about him. At least a little. But grateful as he was, he nodded in thanks and crossed his arms over his chest as Hector explained what happened. “Human slavers, huh?” Eden ran a hand through the length of her golden hair. Gold from head to toe, the woman was mouthwateringly gorgeous.

“We have no jurisdiction over them.” Mishka bent down and slammed her fist into the closest guy’s cheek. Because her arm was comprised of solid metal, his bone instantly shattered. She dusted her hands together, job well done. “I don’t care if we have jurisdiction or not. We’re not giving them to the local PD.” Everyone had taken up the Devyn, king of the Targons, way of fighting dirty, Dallas supposed. “Oh, oh. I just had an idea. The way I hear it is the vampire is aiding AIR,” Eden said. “The fact that they were trying to kidnap her means they were trying to shut down an AIR investigation. That gives us all the jurisdiction we need.” “I love the way your mind works and could kiss you for it. Actually, I will kiss you for it.” Mishka pressed her lips to Eden’s. It was brief, without tongue, but damn, it was sexy. Dallas moaned. It was the only way to stop himself from begging for more. “Kyrin was right behind us,” Mishka said. “We’ll let him take out the trash.” “Devyn know about this?” Eden asked. “I heard about what he did to the last slaver that tried to get Bride.” She shuddered, but she was grinning. “I’ve got to meet this woman. She’d kept the little slut from harassing me, and I owe her, well, a kiss.” Please let me be there for that, Dallas thought. “I haven’t told him,” Hector replied. “Haven’t

had a chance.” “Hey, speaking of Devyn.” Mishka stepped on the chest of each human as she walked inside the apartment. “You hear the latest news about him?” Dallas shook his head, dread suddenly rushing through him. Had the vampires found Devyn? Hurt him already? Damn it. Dallas had tried to examine the vision he’d had with an impartial eye, searching for all the clues before acting and making things worse or causing things to happen because of his own actions. “Brace yourself,” Eden said with a delighted laugh. “Devyn told Mia he wanted Bride released from AIR custody. For good. No one was to touch her again. No more tests, even. And in return he would bring in as many vampires as he could get his hands on.” Okay, that wasn’t so bad, Dallas thought, relaxing. He didn’t know how his friend was going to find the vampires, but whatever. They’d do what needed to be done. Behind them, Nolan laughed. “I guess this means Bride isn’t ready for me to soothe her broken heart. Yet. Anyone wanna bet how long before she is?”

CHAPTER 16

Married? No way in hell. Bride had tried to question Devyn immediately after his silly announcement, but he’d glowered at her and snapped, “Not another word from you,” before dragging her out of the cell. He’d left her in the hallway as he spoke to his pretty boss in hushed, urgent, angry tones, received a curt nod, and then had grabbed Bride up again and ushered her to his car. Silence had reigned the entire moonlit drive to… his home? Had to be. It was a sprawling estate on the outskirts of town, smelled of delicious pine, and boasted gold and marble fixtures, a crystal chandelier that glistened like a thousand raindrops, and a winding staircase that probably reached heaven. The furniture gleamed as though freshly polished. The onyx floor sparkled as though newly waxed. The walls were the perfect shade of pink, almost as if they were flushed, excited to see Devyn again. “Kyrin en Arr, an Arcadian king, sold this place to me so he could move into the city with his girlfriend,” he said, finally breaking the silence. They were in the living room, alone, surrounded by

the very wealth she’d dreamed of as a child. As he spoke, his cell phone rang; he ignored it. “Do you like it?” He wanted to engage in small talk? Now? “Yes. But it’s girly, not the kind of place I would have pictured you living.” He stopped at the bar and poured himself a Scotch. He downed it like liquid candy. “What can I say? It’s the best.” And he only owned the best? Not surprising, superior as he was. She plopped on the edge of a velvet chair, the material soft against her pants. What would it feel like against her skin? Don’t go there. “Okay, I can’t stand it anymore. You were joking, right? We can’t possibly be married. We didn’t say vows or anything.” He didn’t face her, but poured himself another drink. His phone rang again, and once again he ignored it. “Afraid we are, sweetheart,” he said bitterly. “Good news is, you married a very wealthy man. Isn’t that what you always wanted?” “Yeah, but I also wanted to, I don’t know, like my husband.” Her stomach knotted. “You can’t be right about this. You just can’t be.” He kept his back to her. He was lucky she didn’t stalk over there and club him in the head. “How do you know about vampire mating customs, anyway? Have you married one before?”

There was a boom as he slammed his glass into the counter. “First thing the king asked me when I returned two of his cousins to their underground home was whether I’d given them my blood. I said yes. Second thing he asked me was whether or not I had drunk from them. When I informed him that I hadn’t, he slapped me on the back and told me it was a good thing, else I would have been living the rest of my life down there with my wife.” Or wives, since he’d had two. Or would he only have been mated to the first woman he drank from? God, this was confusing. “Well, I wasn’t raised there, so I’m not going to live according to their customs. Same with you. You’re from another planet, for God’s sake. You don’t have to abide by vampire customs. Right?” “Actually, I do.” Yet another call came in, its shrill ring making her jump. “We do. If you want to stay alive, that is.” “First, aren’t you going to answer that?” Without looking at her, he jerked out the phone and pressed it to his ear. “What?” She could hear Macy’s frantic voice on the other end. “She’s fine. She’ll call you in a few hours.” Click. He pressed a button and slid the device across the counter, away from him. Bride’s hands curled into fists. “I would have liked to talk to her.”

“Too bad.” What an ass. “Second,” she said, picking up their conversation where it had left off, “what were you talking about? If I want to stay alive, I’ll stay married to you? We aren’t even married, so I can’t stay married to you!” “Just…be quiet, damn it.” He plowed his fingers through his hair and rested his forehead in his upraised palms. “I’ve been thinking about this since you told me about your eating problem, and I have a theory.” Silence. He raised and drained another glass of Scotch. The bottle was empty, so he couldn’t pour another. Finally, he turned to her. His eyes were glowing, sparking with angry fire. He blamed her for this and had yet to forgive her it. Well, he could suck it! It wasn’t like she’d known what she’d been doing. Wasn’t like she’d wanted to marry him. “You have a theory?” He gave a clipped nod. “You were able to keep all of my blood down.” Yes, and because of that she was thinking clearer than she had in months, was stronger than she’d ever been, and despite the fact that her nerves were on edge, there was no sting or burn in her chest. She was keeping the thorns and the fire at bay. None of those wonderful things were worth this, however. “I knew I should have resisted you,” she

grumbled. “As if you could.” That sounded more like the Devyn she knew, and she found herself relaxing in the chair. “Your theory.” “Perhaps, as slowly as vampires age, your body had finally reached sexual maturity, and in order for a sexually mature female to sustain herself, she must drink from her mate. The blood you were ingesting before me was not from your mate, therefore your body rejected it. That means you can only take from your husband. That means you’ll only ever be able to take from your husband.” “First, I was able to keep your blood down before we mated, as you called it. Second, as you yourself said, I was unable to keep the bulk of other blood down before I met you. And third, if you’re right, that would mean we were fated to be together, and I don’t believe in fate. Not like that.” “I’m not talking about fate.” His eyes were grave. “I think you saw or sensed me a month ago, wanted me, and paired us in your mind. From that moment on, your body would have accepted only my blood.” “My God. Just when I think you can’t get any more egotistical, you go and prove me wrong.” He didn’t respond, just waited. “This is crazy.” Yes, crazy. But as she thought

back to their first meeting, she remembered how she’d smelled two scents on him, both of them familiar. One had been Macy’s. The other, his. Again her stomach twisted painfully. His cell phone buzzed, disrupting the uneasy quiet. He checked the ID, muttered a curse, then placed it at his ear. “Yeah?” A moment passed. His expression hardened. “Don’t kill them.” Another pause. “Yeah, I’d love some. Tomorrow, though.” There was a heavy tension-laden pause. “Later.” He closed the phone and shoved it in his pocket. As wonderfully as her ears were now working, she’d heard every word on the other end. Apparently three other slavers had entered her apartment, and Dallas had wanted to know if Devyn desired “a little alone time with them.” But when Dallas had said, “Now let’s talk about your promise to Mia,” Devyn had replied, “Later,” and hung up on him. “What did you promise Mia?” He blinked at her. “Excellent hearing, I see.” Had the other vampires not heard as well? Even sated with blood? “You’re stalling. Tell me.” “I’m not stalling. I’m refusing to answer. Learn the difference. Right now we’re in the middle of a discussion. A discussion we will finish.” Her eyes narrowed on him. “We’re finished now.

I’m not married to you. And if you’re right and I need to drink from a man, a husband, to survive, I’ll find someone else.” She never saw him move, but he was in her face a moment later, his nose pressing into hers, his warm breath fanning over her skin. “Maybe I’ll let you. But not now. Not today. Today you’re mine. You made sure of that.” “Fuck you,” she growled up at him. “Yes. You will. Many times, I’m sure.” He grabbed her knees and pried her thighs apart, jerking her forward while inserting himself in the V. “You can’t tell me some part of you isn’t happy about this.” She gasped, but didn’t pull away. “Believe me, happiness is not what I’m feeling right now.” A muscle twitched below his eye. “Well, then. I guess that makes you more like my first wife than I’d realized.” Wait. What? “You’ve been married before?” “Yes. But again, not by choice.” Her confusion was only growing. “Then why—” “No more talking. I’ve never been this angry in my life, and you’re going to help me calm down.” He arched into her, his erection brushing against her core. “Do you know how you’re going to help me calm down, sweetheart?” “I can guess.” She hated how breathless she sounded. How needy.

“No objections?” “No. I’m angry, too.” Before the last word had emerged, his lips were meshed into hers and his body was pushing her backward, against the lounge. His cock was long, hard, and thick, rubbing between her thighs, insistently this time, making her wet, hot. Her hands were in his hair before she could stop them, her tongue thrusting against his. His decadent flavor filled her mouth, drugging her, luring her deeper into the darkness of his passion. Just then, she couldn’t make their current situation or the future matter. Right now he was with her, in her arms, hers for the taking, kissing her, touching her just right, and she’d been without him for days, an eternity surely, craving him, hoping for this very thing. He’d lose interest in her afterward. He wouldn’t be able to help himself. That was just who he was. He’d forget the whole marriage thing, and then, so could Bride. Her life could return to what it had been. Only, now she had Macy. His fingers pried at the waist of her pants. When the tie refused to loosen, he ripped it in half and shoved the material to her knees. He had to pull from the kiss to work them to her ankles, and she moaned at the loss. “Not done with your mouth, sweetheart. Don’t worry.”

“Hurry.” She didn’t want to come to her senses and talk herself out of this. She wanted him pumping inside her, deep and hard and forever. No, no. Not forever. Today. Only this once. “I ache for you.” One boot, two, were discarded, the pants finally free of her body, and then Devyn returned, pinning her down, tongue wild against hers. “I want you. Have to have you.” She tugged at his shirt, jerking it over his head before dropping it on the floor. She traced her fingers over his skull-and-dagger tattoo. Such soft, warm skin. “I’m not going to beg you for it.” “No need. That’s not on the menu until tomorrow.” She almost laughed. She did plant her heels on the edge of the lounge, widening her knees and inviting him closer. With a groan of surrender, he sank against her, the fabric of his pants wonderfully abrasive against her, the panties she wore doing little to shield her. “Have you thought of me these past few days? Doing this? Touching you?” He kissed his way down her throat. “I was too busy.” “Bride.” It was a warning. He placed his lips just over her hardened nipple, his warm breath teasing her even through her bra, as if he wouldn’t give her greater contact unless she told him what he wanted

to hear. As if she’d admit to imagining the two of them together like this. “Why do you care?” “I don’t.” “I didn’t think so. So shut up and finish undressing me.” His eyes, already hot, became searing. He gripped her panties and jerked them down her legs. He bunched the hem of her shirt and tugged upward, her hair falling around her in tangles as the material left her. The bra he simply ripped in half, the front clasp no more resistant than a whisper. Then she was bare. His gaze drank her in, his pupils dilating. His fingers inched up her naked thighs and spread her for his view. “Wet,” he praised. “Pretty.” “Inside. Now.” Never one to obey, he lowered his head and licked her. She cried out, her back arching, hips shooting straight in the air. Reaching back, she grabbed the edge of the chair. It was either that or fist his hair and hold him down. Strong as she was feeling, she was afraid of breaking his neck. If she broke his neck, he wouldn’t be able to finish this. “Better than honey,” he said, his voice tickling her. “Better, even, than your energy.” As he continued to lick and suck and nibble at her, he kneaded her breasts, attacking her from every angle. “Oh, God,” she gasped when his

wicked tongue flicked and circled in a naughty rhythm she’d never before experienced. But then she thought, How do I compare to all the others? and a little of her excitement died. Did she taste as good as the others? Did she taste as good as Ann, Claire, and Madison, the three agents he’d been with and discarded? The beautiful agents? Did she excite him as much as the others? For the first time in her life, Bride was selfconscious and unsure about her appeal. And she didn’t like it! Was he thinking of someone else even now? Wishing she were as violent or as sweet as someone else? Her hips ceased their frantic gyrations. Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea. Maybe she should stop him. Maybe she should leave. Then he did that thing with his tongue again, sinking it as deep inside her as it could go while his teeth scraped at her clitoris and she groaned at the heady pleasure. Maybe she could stay for a little while longer. He inserted a finger, stretching her, his tongue now dancing over her. Her nipples were hard, straining. Good, so good. She wanted his mouth on them, too. She wanted his mouth everywhere at once, his hands enjoying her, playing her like an instrument. “Yes, yes, yes.” She released the chair to grip his head and hold him against her; she couldn’t help

herself. He could live with a broken neck, which meant he could finish. “More, give me more.” He did, one hand once again kneading her breasts, the other still pumping inside her. Two fingers now, filling her up, propelling her higher. The fact that the thorns and fire were not plaguing her added to her enjoyment. Were Devyn’s hands enjoying her, though? Had they enjoyed other women more? Women who were softer? Lusher? Her grip loosened, the hottest flames of her passion cooling. Why was she doing this to herself? Why did she care what he thought? Things were different now, she realized. Before, when she and Devyn had made out, she hadn’t truly pondered the idea of him with other women because he hadn’t mattered to her. His opinion hadn’t mattered. She could have left him. Now, despite everything, despite what she’d told him, she liked him. “Bride,” Devyn snarled, his breath hot against her damp folds. “Devyn,” she said. She didn’t know how else to reply. He growled low in his throat, pulled from her, and straightened. He unsnapped his pants and kicked them off, leaving his body as bare as hers. His erection was so swollen and long it reached over his navel. His stomach was so deliciously

corded with muscle, her mouth watered. His skin was glowing brightly, her desire glistening around his mouth. As she watched, he swiped his tongue over his lips, licking at the essence of her. His eyes closed, his mouth lifting in a half-smile as though he savored the taste. “D—Devyn,” she repeated. He was on her a second later, cock at her entrance and probing. Then he was thrusting deep, all the way inside, and they were both moaning and groaning and panting at the bliss. He pulled out, sank deeper, and she clawed at his back. He pulled out again, sank to the hilt, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, locking her ankles together. What did he prefer, though? For his women to keep their legs off him and wide? For them to drape their legs over his shoulders? “Bride!” Despite his savage tone, he gently cupped her cheeks, forcing her attention on him. “Are you trying to piss me off?” She shook her head, incapable of speech. What was his problem? He was getting laid, wasn’t he? Or was her leg placement as bad as she’d assumed? He growled low in his throat, once more bringing her focus to his face. “Don’t look away from me. Understand?” This time she nodded. Slowly he thrust forward. It was heaven, it was hell, it was everything and nothing because she

needed more. Had to have more. Would die without it, but would die with it. Too much, too good. Nothing compared. His eyes glowed, hypnotizing her, holding her captive. And when he moved inside her again, slowly, so agonizingly slow, she cried out, the sound echoing around them. “So beautiful,” he said. “You are so beautiful. And my God, do you taste sweet. You’re so wet. Clasp me just right. And did I ever tell you how addictive your energy is? It’s raw, savage, powerful, and every time I even brush against it, I find myself hard as a rock.” His words were as electrifying as a caress, and she found herself drowning in him, all that he was, her fangs elongating. “Devyn, Devyn, Devyn,” she chanted. She’d already taken a lot of his blood, shouldn’t take more, shouldn’t want to give him more of her own. As if sensing her thoughts, he angled his head to the side. “Drink,” he commanded. Helpless to do otherwise, she sank her fangs into his neck and gulped him back. The instant his blood hit her tongue, she climaxed, pinpricks of white lightning exploding behind her eyelids. Every muscle in her body clenched and unclenched on her bones. It was the first orgasm she’d ever had that wasn’t mixed with pain, and it was paradise. Pure and perfect and shattering. “Devyn!”

A roar split his lips, and then he was kissing her again. No, not kissing. Biting her tongue and drawing her blood, sucking that blood down his throat. Taking her inside him. Just like that, Bride climaxed again, and this time Devyn joined her, shaking, jetting hot seed inside her, skin now so bright the room looked swallowed by the sun. He released her jaw to grab onto her hips, squeezing so tightly her bones might snap, but she didn’t care. He stilled and then collapsed on top of her. She lost her breath and would have complained, but he quickly rolled to the side and locked his arms around her so that she couldn’t move away. In the ensuing silence, Bride finally did regain her senses. She glared up at the ceiling, gasped when she saw a lovely mural of angels flying through the heavens, and fought to compose herself. “Devyn,” she began. “I know. It was wonderful. Now let’s just enjoy the afterglow in silence.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “You took more of my blood, you idiot.” “I’m not going to turn into a vampire, so what do you care? You nearly drained me again, and I needed to replenish.” Argh! “That’s not what I meant. Last time you had my blood, you ended up married. Remember?” “So taking more doesn’t really matter, now does

it?” he said, his tone devoid of emotion. “It’s not like you can marry me again.” At least he wasn’t yelling at her this time. “And anyway, we’re not married.” “You just said we were.” “Oh, just shut up and enjoy the afterglow.”

CHAPTER 17

Never had Devyn had to work so hard to give a woman an orgasm. To his consternation, Bride’s mind had drifted several times while he’d had his mouth on her. And during some of his best moves, at that. Okay, fine. They hadn’t been moves. He’d been operating on instinct alone, unable to think rationally, only to feel. To give and to take. And just when he would think, Yes, this is it, she’s with me, she would stop writhing, stop moaning. He’d wondered what he was doing wrong and how the hell he could make it better for her. He did not fail, damn it. Not at sex. Still. Never had he doubted himself so much, and never had success been so important. He would have spent hours, days, weeks, on this lounge with her. Whatever it took. There was no way he would have let Bride leave him disappointed. His pride couldn’t have withstood it. More than that, he remembered what it had been like before, when she’d come on his fingers. Even angry as he’d been, there at the beginning, he’d needed that again. When she had finally fallen over the edge, he’d felt like king of the universe rather than the king of his own world. Her eyes had closed, her lashes

casting shadows over her cheeks, and her teeth had sunk into her bottom lip. She’d arched her back, sending him deeper inside her, and she’d clawed at his flesh, lost in the bliss. She’d panted his name, raspy and sweet, and it had felt like an embrace inside his ears. This time, her cries had not been laced with pain, so he’d relished them all the more. Everything about her body pleased him. Her taste especially… Once he had thought he wanted to taste a Rakan more than anything else in the world because they were supposedly like honey. But who cared about honey when nirvana was available? He’d had Bride all over his face, down his throat, in his stomach, and it still hadn’t been enough. Already he hungered for more. What was he going to do? He hadn’t wanted another wife. He still didn’t. But the fury was gone, and he did like the thought of having Bride in his house, at his beck and call. He grinned at that. Bride, catering to his every whim. As if she’d really do what he told her to do when he told her to do it. Contrary female. So what was he going to do with her? What would happen when he tired of her or turned his attentions to someone else? And he would, he just knew it. He always did. Not that he’d ever wanted a woman this intensely. Or for this long. Bride would still need his blood. Would die without it

now, if the information he had was correct. “We’ve been laying here for, like, ever,” Bride said, cutting into the silence. “I’m not a pansy like someone I know but out of courtesy won’t name and in need of a nap. I just want to go home.” “For now, this is your home. And I am not a pansy. The nap was for your benefit.” Of course, he ruined the boast by yawning. She twisted in his arms, facing him. Her eyes were luminous, her lips soft and redder than usual. Strands of hair were plastered to her temple. “Sure you want to venture down that road of conversation right now?” Meaning, she was going to argue about it. “Cut me some slack, sweetheart. I’m having trouble remembering my own name.” At that, she grinned, slowly but sweetly. “I don’t know how you do it, Brad, but you’re the only person on earth who can infuriate me one moment and have me laughing the next.” Brad indeed. “It’s called animal magnetism, darling, and I have more than most.” “Oh, please.” “See. It even has you begging for more.” She slapped his shoulder, but her grin didn’t slip. Just then, it was as if they were friends as well as lovers. He…liked it. Liked her relaxed and teasing. Too bad he was about to ruin the mood. “Want to tell me where you were mentally while I had my

face between your legs?” That pretty grin faded, and he suddenly felt like punching something. “No,” she said, cheeks pinkening. “I don’t. Do you want to tell me what happened to your first marriage? Not that you’re married again,” she added hastily. At least she hadn’t tried to pretend ignorance about her disappearing act. “We’ll exchange information, all right? I believe you remember the rules.” At first, she gave no response; her gaze simply searched his face. Looking for what, he didn’t know. Finally, she nodded. “No bullshit about ladies first. This was your idea, so start talking.” “Fine. My wife.” The shrew was his second least favorite subject. The first, of course, was his father. “We were betrothed at birth and married at the age of fifteen. We—she’d been raised to view sex as dirty, so we didn’t get along. I left her.” A glossedover version, but the truth just the same, and easier to say than he’d expected. “Now it’s your turn.” Moaning, Bride flopped to her back and threw her arm over her forehead. “You wanted to know where I was mentally while you were…you know.” She sighed. “Well, you’ve been with a lot of women.” “I’ve never tried to deny it,” he said as dread slid into his veins. He could guess where she was heading with this, and it didn’t bode well for him.

“Well, I was feeling totally inadequate. How could I not, well, wonder how I compared to the others?” Yep. His sigh mirrored hers. He’d gone through this with a few others, and he’d laughingly told them that no one compared to them. They had been words to soothe, to delight, and to move on to the loving. Here, now, he didn’t want to utter such a claim. For once, he feared he might actually mean it. And if she realized that he meant it, would she then assume their marriage was forever? Probably. He couldn’t let Bride wallow in feelings of inadequacy, though. That would be cruel. When have you ever cared about being cruel? He just liked her confident, he told himself. She was more fun that way. “You confuse, fascinate, irritate, and delight me,” he said, “and I swear to God the only thing I was thinking about while tasting and touching you was you.” A moment passed as she absorbed his words. She raised her chin and hooked her arms behind her head, raising one leg to study her onyx-painted toenails. “Well, of course you were only thinking of me. I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you.” That’s my girl. “I guess I proved that by marrying you.” Now why had he said that? She snorted. “We aren’t married, moron.”

“Yes, we are.” Stop, stop, stop. “Why don’t you tell me what you did for a living before scoring a sugar daddy?” Another snort, but once again she twisted into him. This time she rested her head on his shoulder and began circling one of his nipples with her fingertips. “Are you sure you want to know?” “Yes.” “I stole, okay. I wasn’t lazy or anything,” she assured him. “I was just afraid to take a job and spend time around humans. One, their smell sometimes makes me sick, and two, I was afraid they’d notice the differences in me, start to question what I was. Three, I believe I’ve mentioned that the sun is uncomfortable for me.” “Are you any good at stealing?” “Hello. I’m the best.” “Guaranteed you aren’t better than me, but do continue with your story.” “You steal things?” “The hearts of women across the uni—verse. Ow!” There at the end, she had pinched his nipple. “No more of that, or you’ll owe me a new one.” She kissed it better, and he had to press his lips together to stop his groan. “I started stealing full time to feed Al—Macy,” she said. “She was just a kid, left on the streets like a piece of garbage. I’d never needed food, but she did, so I learned to get it for her. I’d done some stealing for myself

throughout the years, clothes, shoes, that sort of thing, but time hadn’t been of the essence, so I’d never really honed my skills. I just waited until an opportunity presented itself. With Macy, I couldn’t wait and I wasn’t always successful. Had a few run-ins with the law until I learned the best methods. After we were separated, I kept it up so I wouldn’t be rusty when she returned. And well, I liked owning pretty things. What about you? What kind of childhood did you have?” “I was pampered,” he said, each word measured. He prayed she left it at that. Not even Dallas knew about Devyn’s parents, about the humiliating time spent inside that darkened cell. About his shame. She gave his nipple another kiss. “That tells me nothing. Pampered doesn’t mean happy.” No, it didn’t. But that kiss, so sweetly offered, without any demand for repayment, soothed the bleakness of his memories as nothing else ever had. Even sex. “I was also…repressed.” Okay, that was enough of that. He quickly changed the subject, least he crumble and tell her everything. Would she be horrified if he did? Agree with his father that he was a bad, naughty boy in need of neutering? “How often do you need to feed?” “To maintain top strength, I need to feed once a day, but I’ve gone weeks without eating before. Well, without eating a full meal.” And she’d starved. That would not happen again.

Not while she was with him. “You’ll feed once a day, and that’s that.” “You won’t be able to keep up. Who could? So I can—” “Hell, no, you won’t,” he interjected. “I’ll keep up.” The thought of her drinking from anyone else roused the beast inside him. The thought of her enduring hunger pains because she didn’t consider him able to give her more had the beast roaring. “Besides, you can’t keep anyone else’s blood down.” She huffed. “That’s not true. I told you, the first sips are absorbed before I sicken.” “Don’t even try it, Bride.” His teeth were so clenched he had trouble getting the words out. He might not want forever from her, but he damn well wanted right now. “I swear to you now, I will kill anyone you drink from.” Before she could comment, he sat up and tugged her with him. “We need to shower. Come on.” He stood, pulling her alongside him. Thankfully, she didn’t protest. He linked their fingers and ushered her toward the stairs. “We should put some clothes on, at least,” she muttered halfway up. “Why? We’re alone. I gave the servants the day off.” Her eyes widened as she peered up at him. “You have servants?”

“We have servants, and yes. Eight of them.” They were all Arcadians, given to him by Kyrin en Arr. “Have you slept with any of them?” The question had held simple curiosity rather than anger. Did she not mind the thought of him with others? He popped his jaw. He’d just threatened to kill anyone she drank from, yet she couldn’t rouse a spark of jealousy? “I’d never had an Arcadian before, so I took four to bed the very first week I moved in.” She laughed. Actually laughed. “God, you’re a slut.” Serioulsy. Where was the jealousy? Why hadn’t she demanded he fire the women immediately? “You’re okay with that? Me, with four different women, one after the other? Women who still live in this house with me?” “Why would I care? You’re not sleeping with them now. Knowing you, you’re already tired of the race. And as we already agreed, I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you.” Maddening, that’s what she was. “I’ll give you a tour later.” She didn’t deserve one now. At the top of the staircase, he veered right, passed the first four doorways, and stopped at the end of the hall. A quick thumbprint ID, and the last entrance opened. “This is our room.” Bride gasped when she stepped inside, and he bit

back a smile. Just the reaction he’d been hoping for, he thought, suddenly filled with pride. The master suite was spacious, with a large bed covered in silk—real silk, not that fake shit—and mahogany furniture. There were mirrors on every wall, and portraits of naked females frolicking with each other. Bride inhaled deeply, closed her eyes. “It smells wonderful in here.” Not as good as you. He released her hand but wasn’t able to sever all contact, so he wound an arm around her lower back, spreading his fingers wide to touch all of her that he could. His pinkie sank between her cheeks. She didn’t protest. She wasn’t so maddening, after all. “Bathroom is this way.” He had to lead her to keep her from running into things because she kept her head turned, studying the room in wonder. The bathroom was already open, and just as spacious. There was a claw-foot tub, a porcelain sink, and a shower stall with two waterspouts. Again, Bride gasped in wonder. “My God. That’s not…it isn’t an enzyme stall.” “No.” She faced him, trembling hands on his chest. His cock, already thickening and desperate for another go at her, brushed the cleft between her legs. “Real water comes out?” “Yes.”

Her eyes closed, and an expression of utter ecstasy consumed her features. “I haven’t had one of those in sixty years or so.” “Let’s not make you wait a second longer, then,” he said huskily. He walked over to the stall and worked the knobs. A gust of water burst from the nozzle, stopped, and then a continuous spray emerged. Soon steam wafted, surrounding them. Bride didn’t have to be commanded inside. She pushed Devyn out of the way and stepped into the water. A delighted laugh chimed from her as the water pummeled her, splashing into her hair and soaking its way down her body. Never had Devyn seen a more beautiful sight. She was an angel, a siren, and a goddess, all wrapped in Temptation’s skin. Her joy was palpable, and he had given this to her, he thought, his pride intensifying. Water was expensive, but damn if he wouldn’t spend his last cent buying it for her from this moment on. Until you tire of her, right? He stepped inside, and hot droplets beat against him, massaging his tired muscles. Their eyes met, and she gradually lost her grin. Her gaze slid to his penis. She gulped. Shivered. “Ready for round two already, Bradley?” Her nipples beaded, and the pulse at the base of her neck fluttered. “Been ready. I’ve just been waiting for you to

catch up.” She gave another of those delicious laughs. His cock jerked in reaction. “Have you ever had sex in water?” “No. So let’s change that, shall we?”

A few blissful hours later, Bride found herself standing in front of her—old?—apartment door, Devyn at her side. He’d made love to her inside the shower, slowly, tenderly, but with an air of urgency she hadn’t understood but had felt herself. She couldn’t seem to get enough of him. How foolish was that? Soon her supply would be cut off, whether by Devyn or herself, and she’d have to do without him. Wanting more was dumb. To be honest, she just couldn’t see them lasting much longer. They liked each other now, sure, and the sex was amazing. Soon, though, someone else would come along and catch his notice. When that happened, she would leave. Bride absolutely refused to hang where she wasn’t wanted. That feeling of inadequacy…she shuddered. She’d experienced it only briefly, but that had been enough to assure her she never wanted to feel that way again. Ugh. Just ugh. She would have to keep an emotional distance between them for when the inevitable break came, and yet somehow still allow herself to touch and

taste him and experience the heaven that was his body. Might be difficult. The man definitely knew how to steal female hearts. He rasped his knuckles against the metal. “I don’t understand why we have to knock,” she grumbled. “It’s my apartment.” “Actually, it’s ours. I get fifty percent of your assets.” “Touch my books, and I’ll cut off your hands.” “Ha! You need my hands more than I do.” A dark-haired, dark-skinned man opened the door, saving her from replying. She’d seen the gorgeous agent before, knew who he was, but had never spoken to him. He flashed her a bright, white smile as he leaned against the frame. His ice-blue eyes glowed merrily. “Don’t think we’ve met officially. I’m Dallas, the big guy’s best friend.” “Bride…” What was Devyn’s last name? Bride suddenly wondered. Did he even have one? And would he want her to use it? Stop. You aren’t really married to him. “McKells. Bride McKells.” “Just Bride,” Devyn said with a growl. Dallas’s grin widened. “Come in, come in. Macy’s waiting.” Macy was here? Bride pushed past the agent without another word and sailed inside. It was her place, anyway, and she could do what she wanted. Sure enough, Macy was inside the kitchen, fixing

dinner. Sandwiches. Someone must have gone shopping. When her friend spotted her, she stopped what she was doing and rushed forward, features dark with concern. “Thank God. I’ve been so worried about you.” Bride hugged her tight. “I’m fine, I promise. How are you?” “Fine.” Macy pulled back and studied her. “I hear you’re married. Is that true?” “No,” she said with a determined shake of her head. “We’re still hammering out the details,” Devyn said from behind her. She almost stomped her foot. “There aren’t any details to hammer out.” “So anyway, it’s our lucky day,” she heard Dallas tell Devyn, who subsequently ignored her. “Nolan finally gave up his queen’s landing point.” She and Macy shared a look of understanding, then quieted, listening to the men while pretending they were cleaning the kitchen. “Yeah, but do we trust him?” Devyn asked. There was a rustle of clothing. Dallas must have shrugged. “Mia’s got a crew staking out the place now, ready to stun her. Nolan was stunnable that first time, too, remember? Anyway, you didn’t let me finish. I went ahead and interrogated the human slavers.”

Bride spun around, no longer content to pretend not to listen. The human slavers. She’d forgotten about them. “What did they say?” Macy moved to her side and gripped her hand. One of them was trembling, but she couldn’t tell which. Perhaps they both were. Devyn jabbed a finger into Dallas’s wide chest, again ignoring her. “I told you I would handle them.” Far from intimidated, Dallas grinned. “And Mia told everyone in the building to keep you out of their cells. She didn’t want their heads on the evening news. Anyway, I interrogated them in a manner you would have approved of and got the date and time of their next auction. A week from tomorrow. Bride’s potential buyer is going to be there, because two other vampires have been caught.” Other vampires had been caught? They were to be sold? Enslaved? Bile rose in her throat. Macy’s arm wound around her, offering comfort. “You know something else. Tell me,” Devyn commanded. Dallas paused, his expression hardening. “Here’s the thing. Remember the vision I had?” A clipped nod from Devyn. “Moment I heard about the auction, something dark clicked inside me, and I knew, knew. If you go, you’ll start a chain of unstoppable events that will

not end well for you.” Another pause, mouth grim. “Maybe they’ll even lead to the pier.”

CHAPTER 18

Bride wondered about Dallas’s comment while soaking in Devyn’s tub later that evening. What chain of events? What was supposed to happen at the pier? She’d asked Devyn, but he’d distracted her with sex, the slut, and she’d gotten no answers. When Dallas had spoken in that grim tone, his baby blues solemn, she’d experienced an overpowering flood of dread. Both men were certain something bad was going to happen to Devyn at the pier. She was sure of it. But what? After a while, she gave up trying to figure it out on her own. Her brain seemed to be on hiatus, anyway, steam wafting around her, soft music playing in the background. A girl could get used to this. Devyn strode into the bathroom, spotted her, and grinned slowly, wickedly. “What do we have here?” Bubbles fluffed the surface, hiding the sudden hardening of her nipples. “Get that look off your face. We are not going for round four.” Or would it be round five? “I’m relaxing.” And God, it was divine. The water was warm, soothing, lapping fantastically at her skin. Rather than leave, he perched at the edge of the porcelain. “I should join you. It’s still our honeymoon, you know.”

“We’re not married, but I am going to enjoy this while I can.” She sank deeper into the liquid paradise. Her hair was anchored in a knot on top of her head, so she didn’t have to worry about soaking it. “Actually, I just changed my mind. We are married. I’ll take this house, and therefore this tub, in the divorce settlement. What are you worth, anyway?” He dipped in his hand and flicked several drops on her face. “A lot.” “Excellent,” she said with a grin. “Half of a lot will be very nice.” “Diabolical woman,” he muttered. “Thinking of leaving me already when I came bearing a gift.” “A gift?” She straightened, clapped excitedly. “For me? Really?” “No, for my other pseudo-wife.” “Let me see, let me see.” Grinning, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a small black box. It couldn’t be, she thought. Surely wasn’t…he flipped the lid, and her eyes widened in shock. Not a ring—she was not disappointed—but a…she leaned closer. A necklace charm, she realized. An emerald, like the one she’d given Macy. Only bigger. And shinier. “I noticed you returned hers,” he said, no longer sounding as confident as he had before. “If you don’t like it, I can—” “I love it. Give me!” She snatched the box

before he could put it away and clutched it to her chest. It was the sweetest, most thoughtful present she’d ever received. Her chest was aching, and it had nothing to do with the thorns or the fire. “Thank you.” His gaze met hers, a gleam she couldn’t read in his eyes. He coughed, clearing his throat as if he were uncomfortable. “You’re, uh, welcome. I’ll get you a chain for it. I just didn’t have one handy.” “Thank you for that in advance.” She bit her bottom lip. “I don’t have anything for you.” “Don’t worry,” he said, flicking a little more water on her face. Those amber eyes were practically sparkling with sensual intent now, whatever else had been resting there gone as if it had never been. “I’m sure I’ll think of some way for you to repay my amazing generosity.” Her body instantly reacted, her stomach quivering, her blood heating. She was beginning to love his inflated ego and insatiable appetite. “Ah, yes. That wouldn’t happen to involve my wifely duty in your bed, would it?” He didn’t whisk her from the tub and carry her to said bed or even slip into the tub with her, as she’d halfway expected. Rather, he tilted his head, his lips dipping into a frown. The desire in those magnificent amber eyes even died. He pushed to his feet. “I have some things to do.” His voice was flat, faraway. “You’ll be fine on

your own.” O-kay. What had she said? “Sure you can’t join me?” she found herself asking. She might have told him there’d be no sex while she was relaxing, but she hadn’t meant it. Not really. “I’m sure.” He left her without another word.

Wifely duty, she’d said. Wifely duty. Which meant, Devyn had a husbandly duty. According to his father, that duty involved respecting her body, mind, and soul. You don’t follow your father’s rules anymore. For the moment, she was his wife, and he did want to do right by her. That had become clear when she had not used his last name while introducing herself to Dallas, as was custom for humans. Her cheeks had even darkened with color. She hadn’t known how to introduce herself, hadn’t known her place in his life, and had most likely been embarrassed by that. That embarrassment had shamed him, even though he didn’t know her place in his life. He’d thought, She is my responsibility right now, and I have failed her. He didn’t want that proud woman embarrassed in front of anyone. Even himself. He didn’t know what to do with her. Didn’t know what he felt about—or for—her. All he knew was that he didn’t want her thinking she meant

nothing. Every moment he spent in her presence, he liked her more. When they’d returned from her apartment, he’d spent an hour thinking of ways to make her smile and laugh. That’s when he recalled the emerald charm he’d purchased after meeting her. He hadn’t realized at the time, but he’d bought it because it had reminded him of her eyes. He’d given it to her and gotten the reaction he’d craved. He’d thought to spend a few hours basking in that reaction. In bed, of course, naked and straining for release. Then…Wifely duty. Husbandly duty. Though she no longer showed any signs of it, her previous insecurity still haunted him. He had caused it. He had destroyed her delightful selfconfidence. Before, he’d even made her cry—and he’d wanted to die! Had he not been so angry, he might have. When he’d decided to ignore his guilt and shame all those years ago, he must have muted all his other emotions. No wonder female tears hadn’t bothered him. No wonder he could kill so easily. Now that Bride was in his life, now that he had another wife, the guilt was returning, so his other emotions must be making themselves known, as well. Damn this. He had to give Bride something to prove he wasn’t the barbarian she assumed. It was his husbandly duty. And he knew of only one way

to show her that he did respect her, he did value her, and he would care for her properly while they were together. Devyn stripped and jumped into the pool in his backyard. He swam lap after lap, not stopping until he was panting, sweating even though the water was cold. To respect a female, a male did not press his baser urges on her. He did not press his baser urges on anyone.

“I’m telling you, Macy, after that bubble bath, everything changed between us, and by the end of the week, what I knew would happen, happened,” Bride said into the phone. Devyn was gone, again, doing God knew what. “What’s that?” her friend asked. “Devyn’s grown tired of me.” She tried to keep the pout from her voice. They hadn’t slept in the same bed. Not once. She slept in his room, and he crashed in the bedroom next door. “He feeds me once a day, but that’s it. That’s the only time he touches me.” She’d tiptoed inside his chosen chamber that first night, meaning to slide in beside him and have a little fun. He’d been hard as a rock, yet he’d picked her up and carried her back. And he hadn’t stayed with her! He’d immediately stomped back to the other room.

“Oh, Bride. I’m sorry. Is he seeing someone else?” “I don’t think so. I mean, he’s churlish, like he’s not getting any at all. Even from himself, if you know what I mean.” She flung herself on the mattress, the beads on her harem costume clinking together. She, Devyn, and Dallas were due to attend the slave auction in just a few hours, something she was both nervous and excited about. Finally, she would meet another vampire. “Plus, he’s not the kind to cheat. Yeah, he’s a slut, but he’s also brutally honest.” “What are you going to do?” “I’ve offered to leave. Several times. He just hands me wads of cash and tells me to buy something pretty.” “Do you?” her friend asked with a laugh. “I horde it, of course. But that’s not all he’s done. He even bought me a bowl of apples and cherries because I mentioned I liked their smell. I don’t understand him!” “Maybe he doesn’t understand himself.” Maybe. “Let’s just…I don’t know, let’s talk about something else. My blood pressure is rising.” Sadly, the thorns and fire were no longer content in the shadows. They’d reappeared a few days ago, probably because she’d never been so frustrated in her life, and hadn’t let up since. Even now she had to rub her breastbone to ease the ache.

“Nolan is still doing well,” Macy said. “Hasn’t relapsed at all.” “Has he been declared healed?” “Not yet. AIR had to kill the last doctors who tested him, so no one’s willing to volunteer to take his blood this time.” “Understandable.” Downstairs, a door closed. Every muscle in her body stiffened. “I’ve got to go,” she said. “Devyn’s back.” Macy’s sigh crackled over the line. “You know that I love you, right?” “Of course. How could you not? I’m amazing.” “Now you sound like him,” her friend said with a laugh. “You know that you’ll always be in my life, right? No matter what happens to the two of you.” Bride fingered the emerald even now dangling at her throat. “Just as you’ll be in mine. I love you, Leah Leah.” “See you tonight, Bridey Boo.” They hung up, and Bride tossed the phone on the nightstand beside a glass of water. She liked to dip her fingers in it, just to remind herself that she had access to it. She stood just as Devyn strode inside the room. He looked gorgeous in a black shirt and jeans, his hair disheveled by the wind. He stopped short when he spotted her, his gaze hot as it raked over her mostly bare body. Then he turned, giving her his back. “Good. You’re ready.”

As usual lately, his voice was emotionless. Who would have thought she’d actually miss his un-abashed obsession with sex? So badly, she wanted him to walk to her, take her in his arms, and—her eyes widened as he quickly stumbled toward her and threw himself at her. They fell into the mattress, and a gasp of delight escaped her. His muscled weight was divine. “Finally,” she purred, wrapping her limbs around him. “I don’t know what changed your mind, but I’m grateful.” Frowning, he straightened, severing all contact. He looked behind himself. “What just happened?” he demanded. Frowning herself, she eased up. “What do you mean?” “It was like hands were on my back, shoving me forward. I couldn’t stop myself.” “Wait. So you didn’t want to have a quickie?” “Can you be serious for just a minute?” he snapped. Now he was accusing her of being lax. Priceless, she thought darkly. Just freaking priceless. “I wasn’t behind you, so you can’t blame me. I was standing there, all innocent, thinking how nice it’d be to touch you again”—a mistake she wouldn’t make again—“and then you were racing toward me.” “No one pushed me, but I was shoved at you.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, his biceps bulging. “You were wishing me over, and over I came. That’s what you want me to believe?” “Yes. It’s not like I can be two places at once. It’s not like I—” Oh, oh, oh, she thought suddenly, excitedly. The thorns and the fire had been insistent lately, just as they’d been insistent each time a new power had revealed itself. “What?” Devyn asked. “Now you look like you just won our war.” “We’re still warring?” Had another power really freed itself? she wondered. Fairly humming at the possibility, she glanced at the nightstand beside the bed. “I wish I was holding that glass of water.” Next thing she knew, one of the table legs was splintering, breaking, and then the table itself was plunging toward her, the glass was sliding off it, and she was frantically leaning over and reaching out. Her fingers snaked around the base before the cup hit the floor and shattered—along with the table— water sloshing out the sides. “All right. How did you do that?” Another demand from Devyn, but this one was gasped. Grinning, she balanced the glass on the wooden remains of the tabletop. “Every few years, I gain a new ability. Like misting and cloaking myself. I didn’t think I was due for another for a while yet, but tada! Looks like I can now make my wishes come true. How cool is that?”

Clearly Devyn did not share her happiness. He ran his tongue over his teeth as he eyed the remains of his table. “Looks like there are also consequences for your wishes.” True. Some of her excitement waned. “Wish for something impossible,” he said. “Wish for a vampire to appear in this room.” Testing her, was he? “Fine.” Bride closed her eyes, wished for a tall, strong, gorgeous vampire male to appear. Naked. Expectant, she opened her eyes. No one appeared. A minute passed, then another. She wished again. Still no one appeared. Her grin faded. “So there are limits, as well,” Devyn said thoughtfully. “Guess so,” she grumbled. “Well, there’s no time to figure them out now. We need to leave. So just keep your thoughts and wishes to a minimum for the time being. That shouldn’t be too hard.” Her jaw dropped. “You did not just call me ditzy. Because if you did, I’d be wishing all your hair fell out.” “Like that would detract from my appeal,” he said, marching into the closet. “Maybe you should stay here tonight.” They were the same words he’d given her this morning during her feeding, when he mentioned going himself, then again when he’d tossed her the

sequined bra and see-through pants all purchased female slaves supposedly wore to these things. “I told you. I want to go.” If she didn’t, she feared he would buy the vampires and give them to AIR before she’d had a chance to talk with them. “That little wishing thing could get us into trouble.” He emerged from the closet, and whitehot breath caught in her throat. “Wow,” she said. He wore a black-and-white pin-striped suit, no wrinkles, a silk tie, and leather shoes. “Good?” he asked, spinning. “Not bad. I guess.” For the first time all week, his lips did that twitching thing she so adored. Her heart skipped a beat. “You know I’m hot.” “Whatever.” “Anyway. Like I was saying, you should—” “I promise. I won’t wish for anything.” Yet. But only because he was right. She didn’t know the consequences or the limitations. Next time she was alone, however, she would find out exactly what this new ability could do and exactly what it couldn’t. And she planned to have a lot of fun while she did so. “Fine. Let’s go.” Devyn led her to a bright orange modified Scorpion HX in the garage. It was very old, a classic, and too gorgeous to be driven. He claimed the driver’s seat, and she settled into

the passenger seat, soaking up the leather smell. Rather than start the engine, he peered at her expectantly. “Slaves don’t get to sit up front with their masters.” He pointed behind him. “It’s back there for you.” “But I’m not really a slave. And what’s more, there’s no backseat.” “You are tonight. And there’s an extended trunk.” If only she was a slave. A game of master-slave might have been fun. Not that I’m wishing for it. “I’ll be more comfortable back there, anyway,” she said, shimmying through the space between the driver and passenger side. She had to hunch over to fit. He’d had the car updated with self-steering and programmed it to stop at Dallas’s apartment. Though he didn’t have to concentrate on the road, he faced forward, silent, the entire drive there. As the vehicle slowed and idled just in front of the building, she saw that Dallas was already outside. He claimed the front seat. “You look nice,” she told him, and he did. He wore a suit identical to Devyn’s, only a lighter color, because Devyn had bought it for him. They were the epitome of wealth, while she was the tart du jour. Her hair was loose and curled wildly down her back. She’d stained her lips with

the cherries Devyn had given her. Dallas turned. His eyes widened as they scanned her. “Is my tongue hanging out? Because damn, you look good enough to eat. Seriously, I would buy you up in a heartbeat if you were for sale.” “Attention straight ahead,” Devyn growled. Dallas grinned, but he didn’t obey. He winked at her. “The view’s better back here.” “Everyone’s going to be staring at me and my ridiculous costume when we arrive, anyway,” she said. “And no, Devyn, that’s not a wish.” “No one will be staring at you,” he replied. “’Cause I’ll be dressed just like all the other female slaves,” she said, mimicking his earlier lofty tone. “No. Because they’ll be staring at me. They won’t be able to help themselves. Have you not seen the suit?” Dallas laughed and finally focused on Devyn. “So what’s my motivation for this role?” “I told you.” Devyn flicked him a glance. “You’re a rich businessman, my friend, and looking for a little poptart. When I told you about the auction, you simply had to come along.” “You plan on buying anyone yourself?” Bride asked him. “Can’t. Everyone knows my penchant for variety, and it would seem odd if I purchased more of the same.”

“And how long have I owned Bride?” Dallas asked. “Like you can afford me,” Bride said with a snort. “Have you not seen the bra?” Once again, Devyn programmed the car. Autopilot kicked on, and they eased onto the road. Sensors knew when to stop and turn, so Devyn was able to spin in his seat and peer back at her. “You’re a vampire, but that’s not obvious, so it won’t seem odd that I’m with you.” She shrugged. She hadn’t been concerned with what anyone else thought about the two of them together. He pursed his lips. “So you’re good to go?” What was wrong with him? “Yeah. For myself. Do you think Macy will be okay?” The other agents were going to be there, as well, simply hidden in the shadows, surrounding the building, watching and protecting. “I know she will be,” Devyn assured her gently, his irritation melting away. He reached back and clasped her hand, then drew it to his mouth for a kiss. His gaze never left her, was filled with fire and want. He’s touching me again! Joy burst through her, potent and sweet. “Should I close my eyes?” Dallas asked with a laugh. All too quickly Devyn released her and turned

away. Bye-bye joy. “We’re almost there,” he said. “Bride, you are not to leave my side. Understand? And you aren’t to speak unless I ask you a question.” “I’ll be a good girl, Daddy, I promise.” She didn’t like being told what to do, but submitting made sense. She’d never been to one of these things before and didn’t know what to expect. Well, except for perverts. Better she remain near Devyn than fang someone for getting grabby. “This is getting kinky,” Dallas said, wiggling his eyebrows. “Dallas,” Devyn said, ignoring his friend’s comment, “you are only to bid on vampires. Male or female.” “Great,” the agent said dryly. “My luck they’ll both be males, and I’ll seem gay and lose my street cred with the ladies.” Looking tired all of a sudden, Devyn scrubbed a hand down his face. “If that’s the worst that happens, I’ll consider this a perfect night.”

Devyn was on edge. He’d gone to a lot of trouble to make Bride look as if she belonged at his side, so as not to disgrace her more than would be necessary, and she didn’t seem to care. More than that, he didn’t like taking her to a slave auction and giving

her a glimpse of his past. A past that had bruised her confidence once already. When this was over, would she finally leave him? Probably. With her newest ability, she could do anything she wanted. And he knew she still wasn’t completely on board with the marriage. Was he? I don’t want to examine myself right now. He wanted to examine her. He gave her money, but she didn’t spend it. She hid it throughout the house. He stayed away from her bed, but she didn’t seem to realize the great honor he paid her. How long before she left him? How long did he want her to stay? He’d probably hoped, on some level, that if he reverted to his old ways and cut off all sexual contact, he would grow tired of her faster. That hadn’t been the case, however. He wanted her more now than ever. And he’d wanted her too damn much before. Part of him now wanted to give her the world and watch her face light up. Like when he’d given her the necklace and then that basket of fruit. For the latter, her eyes had widened, teared, and her lips had curled into a half-smile. She’d even placed her hand over her heart. He’d felt like a conqueror, powerful and capable of anything. Over silly little pieces of fruit.

He didn’t know what to make of himself. He didn’t know how to handle these…feelings. His mouth curved into a grimace. Yes, feelings. He had them. For her. What exactly he felt, though, he didn’t know. Whatever it was, it made him want to kill someone. Tonight, he might have his chance. If he was lucky, he’d run into the guy who had placed an order for her. Devyn planned to take his head. Then he was going to buy the vampires that were on sale and give them to Mia. Of course he would allow Bride to question them first and learn all that she wanted about her people. Then boom, done, his obligations to AIR would be over. Bride would be safe, and Mia would be pacified. Total win/win. Only one blade hovered over his head, threatening his plans. Dallas’s vision. He had to be careful. On guard. He might be confused by his current situation, but he wasn’t yet ready for it to end. “Two minutes, and we’ll be there,” he announced. Dallas rubbed his hands together in glee. “Someone told you that you don’t really get to own the slaves,” Bride said to the agent. “Right?” “He’s a danger junkie,” Devyn explained. Dallas shrugged sheepishly. All too soon, the car slowed, easing to a stop. In

front of them loomed a large warehouse, cars parked all around, humans and otherworlders meandering inside. The women who weren’t slaves wore formal gowns. The men who weren’t slaves wore suits like his. The slaves were as scantily dressed (or undressed) as Bride. He pressed a button on the car’s console, and all the doors slid open. Outside, a valet stood at the ready, helping him and Dallas out. Bride was ignored. Devyn should have allowed her to emerge on her own, that was the way of things in this sinful world, but he didn’t. Couldn’t. He’d touched her hand earlier, and it had nearly electrified him. He needed that again, if only for a moment. Tentatively she placed her fingers against his. So soft, so smooth, so warm. Again, electrifying. She stood, her gaze scanning left and right. He’d once brought Eden Black to a gathering just like this. He’d wanted other men to look at her —she’d been dressed very similarly to Bride—and envy him, but he wanted to kill everyone who glanced at Bride. She was his. Right now, she was his wife. A wife he was taking into a lion’s den. I’m seriously screwed up. Because of Eden, he had killed a very important man in this seedy world. Everyone here knew it, and a few had tried to keep him out tonight. But he had placed the right amount of money in the right

hands, so here he was. He released Bride and moved beside Dallas, who was no longer smiling and radiating good humor. Dallas was frowning, eyes slightly pained. A vision trying to kick its way inside his skull? Or was Dallas simply in agent mode, determined to protect Devyn from the vampires who had killed him in his latest vision? Together they strode forward, Bride trailing behind them. He couldn’t see her, but he could feel the energy she emitted. It was the only thing that relaxed him. They wound around cars, bypassing people strolling leisurely. At the front door, two armed guards greeted him. Ell-Rollises. Tall, hideously muscled, and torturously ugly. They had scaly yellow skin, and no nose that he could see. Maybe that was why they smelled so bad. The race made the perfect guard dogs, for they were completely susceptible to their owner’s commands. Whatever was demanded of them, they performed to the letter. Nothing swayed them. “Name?” one asked in a gravelly voice. “Devyn of the Targons. Two guests.” The guard scanned the names on his computerized list and nodded. “Armed?” He laughed. Silly question. “Of course I am.” “All weapons must be removed,” the second alien told him firmly. “I meant I’m armed with cash, puppy. Now get

out of my way.” Both sets of beady eyes roved over him. “Can’t,” the second said. “Not until you’re cleared.” He held up a small black box and, gazing at the screen, moved it over his body. An X-ray, Devyn was sure. But he wasn’t armed in any fashion that could be detected. “Clean,” the guard said, then scanned Dallas and Bride. “Clean, as well.” Both aliens moved aside. Devyn strode into the building, certain the others followed him. He frowned. There was a strange vibration wafting through the air, a vibration that prevented him from locking on a single individual’s energy, so he could manipulate their actions. It was the same vibe he’d gotten off Nolan, last time he’d tried to fight the otherworlder. Well, fuck me, he thought next. They’d somehow done it on purpose to keep him in line. Smart of them. Wouldn’t stop him from killing someone, though. His gaze shifted through the decadent world he hadn’t realized until just then that he’d given up. He hadn’t been in months, and hadn’t wanted to come. Now he knew why. This wasn’t where he belonged anymore. The men were leering at the women, and the women—those who weren’t peering dejectedly at their feet—were sizing the men up. There was more skin displayed here than usually found in his

bedroom. Twelve rows with twelve seats each stretched in front of him. Only the front row was already occupied. At the far wall was a platform with three lines of people, both male and female, all otherworlders of some sort. They were chained, their arms anchored to a beam above them, and robed. Anyone wanting a sneak peek could saunter onto the platform and part those robes, touch, even taste. A wave of regret slammed through Devyn. Yes, regret. He’d thought living this way would keep him from regrets. Now, the truth hit him and hit him hard; he was looking at things as Bride must. He’d bought women who were traumatized by their treatment. Women who had been used and humiliated. Of course they’d been happy to leave with him. Most likely they hadn’t wanted him. Most likely they’d only wanted freedom from this. Devyn couldn’t help himself. He reached back, slid his arm around Bride’s waist, and tugged her beside him. He needed to feel her, to know she was here and that she wasn’t leaving him. Yet. He needed her goodness to mute his darkness. She didn’t protest as he’d expected. When would he learn that with her, he just needed to stop expecting? She always managed to surprise him. She even placed her palm on his lower back, under his jacket so no one could see, and grazed her nails

over his shirt, tickling his skin to remind him of the pleasure they had shared together. Pleasure he hadn’t allowed himself to enjoy for an entire week. Had they been alone, he might have snatched her up, ripped those pants off her, and pushed her against the wall while pounding inside the sweetness of her body. Respect be damned. “I want to examine the merchandise,” Dallas said coldly, every inch the buyer he was supposed to be. Devyn knew he wanted to find the vampires. “This way.” He released Bride and led them toward the stage, as whispers rose from the masses. Whispers about him, he was sure. What was he doing here? they wondered. Who was he with? Before they could leave the sitting area, however, a tall, muscled warrior stood up and turned, as though he was aware of Devyn’s every movement. Devyn stilled abruptly. Though a year had passed, Devyn recognized the man instantly. McKell. The McKell. Power hummed from him in great waves, as though it was barely leashed. Dread coursed through Devyn, Dallas’s warning echoing through his mind. You’ll begin a chain of events… The vampire had pale skin and vivid violet eyes. Black-as-night hair. A perfect face, wide shoulders,

and a thick body built for war. His fangs were so long, they protruded over his bottom lip. Would this man, the first vampire Bride would see, appeal to her? Would she want to leave with the bastard? Good thing Devyn’s wishes weren’t the ones coming true. The entire place would have erupted into flame just then. He didn’t move aside and allow her to see the warrior. Not yet. If he were lucky, they’d get through this encounter without either Bride or McKell fully catching sight of the other. “Ah, hell,” Dallas muttered. “The countdown has begun.” Hell was just about right. “Devyn of the Targons.” McKell inclined his head in greeting. “I’d like to say it’s a pleasure.” “As would I.” He’d half admired the vamp and his cruelty until this moment. “But alas. I can’t without lying. What are you doing here?” “Many things. Since you told us of these auctions, we have come to buy back our own, as well as any meal that might strike our fancy.” His purple gaze strayed to the form behind Devyn’s back. Or tried to. Devyn reached behind and ensnared Bride’s arm, holding her in place so that she wouldn’t inadvertently reveal herself. He’d been to several auctions since returning the girls, but he’d never noticed a vampire in the bidding crowd. “Kind of

takes you out of hiding, doesn’t it?” Giving up on seeing his “slave,” the bloodsucker once more met his stare. “We’ve already been discovered. There’s no longer any risk. Instead, we are now determined to show those who wrong us the error of their ways.” Threat received. And ignored. “Well, I hope you enjoy the show. Now, if you’ll excuse us…” He squeezed Bride’s hand, pulling her beside him as he passed the vampire, still never really giving the man a good look at her. He should have known she’d find a way to see who he’d been talking to. Suddenly she jerked backward, stilled, gasped in disbelief. Then she gasped again, in pure pleasure this time. “You’re here,” she said. “You’re really here.” Wonderful. Devyn swung around, a wooden blade in his hand. Wood—because the X-ray only checked for metal. He pressed it into his thigh, ready to strike at any time. McKell peered down at Bride’s tattooed wrist for several heartbeats, silent. Then his gaze swung up, locking on Bride’s face, seeming to drink her in. “It’s you,” he said. “It’s really you. This is a day I have dreamed of for so long I can hardly believe it’s finally here.” There was awe in his voice. Awe and determination. “What’s going on?” Devyn demanded, not liking the way they were looking at each other.

McKell’s attention remained fixed on Bride. “I’ve been searching for you, Maureen. Searching for my bride.”

CHAPTER 19

Maureen. Is that my real name? Bride wondered. “My tattoo—” “Isn’t your name,” the vampire in front of her said. A real vampire. She’d known she would meet one tonight, but the fact that she had still managed to astound her. His teeth were longer and sharper than hers, and his skin was much paler. Was she the norm, or was he? Did it matter? All her life she’d been waiting for this moment, desperate to find another like her. This man, this other vampire, was proof that she wasn’t a simple anomaly, a mistake, a freak. He was proof that she belonged somewhere. “You knew me?” she managed to work past the lump in her throat. The world around her was fading, the vampire—a real, live vampire!— becoming her sole focus. “Before?” The warrior’s gaze softened, turning the violet to a gentle blue. “Of course. You were born to be mine. The tattoo is your mark. My mark. Proclaiming what you are. McKell’s bride.” He reached out, his thumb caressing the words in question. So. The tattoo was her title. Wow. Not that she wanted to marry this man. Or belong to him,

whatever that meant in the vampire world. Her world. A tremor began in her hands and spread to her chest, her legs. “I have so many questions,” she said. “How did I get here? Was I sent away? Did I wander off? Do I have a mother?” Bride forced herself to stop, not wanting to annoy him into silence. Before he could answer a single question, someone passed their group from behind, and Devyn had to turn to avoid contact, which brushed his shoulder against hers and hers against McKell. “Sorry,” she muttered, tingling from where Devyn had touched her but feeling no different where McKell had. Kind of like when the warrior had traced her tattoo; there’d been no reaction. But at least the tingling from Devyn was like a jump start to her brain. Devyn. Auction. Crowd. “No apology necessary, sweet Maureen. I welcome your touch.” McKell scanned the area around them, even as Devyn growled low in his throat. “Now is not the time to talk, however.” “No, it’s not, and there’ll be no wishing it is,” Devyn said through clenched teeth. His hand settled on her hips, his fingers spreading until they encountered bare skin. It was a possessive claim, a show of ownership. “And her name is Bride. My Bride.” Clearly he wasn’t as happy as she was about this. He should be. McKell might be convinced to escort

her to the underground, and Devyn could have his precious freedom back. She paid no attention to the sudden ache in her heart. McKell shook with the force of his sudden… fury? “You skirt the edge of death, Targon.” Oh, yes. Fury. Thankfully no one seemed to be paying them any attention, but that could change at any moment. Devyn moved her aside, though he didn’t release her, taking her place and putting himself nose to nose with the warrior. “She’s my wife. We’ve exchanged blood. You know as well as I that she can no longer drink from anyone else. That means she is forever out of your reach.” “Actually,” the warrior said, oh, so smug, “that’s not entirely true. She won’t die without you.” “Now your desperation is showing. I watched a female vampire die because she had lost her man.” “By choice, Targon. She died by choice. Do you really think we would have survived as long as we have if we couldn’t find a way around the blood sickness?” A hot breath hissed between Devyn’s teeth. There was a way around the sickness, Bride thought. One day she might be able to drink from someone else. Someone other than Devyn. The thought both delighted and saddened her. While she loved Devyn’s blood, she didn’t want to have to

rely on him. “Maureen,” McKell said, “is mine.” “Boys,” Dallas said when Devyn made as if to grab the newcomer by the shirt. “Enough.” Devyn straightened, smoothed his suit. “Yes, no reason for upset on my part. I’ve seen your moves. You need a bit more practice before you’re ready for a tigress like Bride. And please, don’t take offense. It’s not an insult if it’s true.” A muscle ticked below McKell’s eyes as red bled into his irises. “Once we’ve weaned her off your blood, she will never again be able to see you. Never again be able to cross your path. What think you of that?” “I think you need therapy, poor man.” Devyn patted the top of McKell’s head. “Such delusions are probably dangerous.” To have someone else’s blood meant she wouldn’t be able to see Devyn ever again? Was McKell just taunting Devyn, or was that true? A vein looked ready to burst in McKell’s forehead. Again Devyn wrapped his arm around her, staking his claim. “You’re the one who’s been trying to buy her off the streets, yes?” McKell gave a stiff nod. “You’ll find that when it comes to my female, I will do anything to get her back. Anything.” Even kill you. The threat hung in the air, unsaid,

but just as menacing. Bride tried to step between them, but Devyn was having none of that. She would have wished them apart, but was too afraid of the consequences. “Well, you should know that I’ll do anything to keep her,” Devyn said. Devyn wanted to keep her? That was news. “Perhaps we should let the girl decide.” McKell’s attention settled on her, and his gaze softened. He reached out to smooth a strand of her hair behind her ear. Devyn batted his hand away. “No touching. Ever.” McKell popped his jaw, his attention never veering from her. “My name is Victor. McKell is merely my classification.” “Warrior classification,” she said, and he nodded. “So I’m a warrior, as well? Or do vampire females take the classification of who they’re promised to?” He opened his mouth to respond, but a voice from the podium stopped him. “Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats.” The overhead halogens flashed on and off. “We’re about to begin, and as you can plainly see, we have a wonderful selection for you tonight.” “We’ll talk,” the vampire told her. “After.” And with that, he gave them his back as if they were no threat at all and settled in his seat.

Devyn ushered Bride to the section of seats behind and across from the warrior. He eased into one of the plush cushion-covered folding chairs. When she attempted to do the same, he shook his head and pointed to the ground. The twig-and dirt-laden ground? Seriously? “Sit,” he barked, clearly at the end of his patience. Eyes wide, she plopped herself at his feet. Never had she heard so much anger in his tone. Not even when he’d first proclaimed them married. He seethed with the emotion, his muscles stiff and his face like granite. Because McKell thought he had a claim on her? Did he? She rubbed the tattoo on her wrist. Or rather, brand. She’d been given to him at birth, he’d said. That must mean marriages between vampires were arranged. In all her imaginings, she’d never thought her people would be so archaic. But clearly they were. What would her life have been like if she’d married McKell? She wouldn’t have met Devyn, that was for sure. Or maybe she would have. He’d once gone underground. Would they have met then? Would they have circled each other, have been challenged by the other, and ultimately have given in to the attraction? At this point, she couldn’t imagine not wanting him. Her desire for him was now such a big part of her life.

“This sucks,” Dallas said as he settled beside Devyn, drawing her from her musings. “What if the auctioner doesn’t know who’s vampire? I never got a chance to study the prisoners.” “Just follow McKell’s lead.” Though Devyn spoke quietly, she could still detect the fury in his voice. He wasn’t calming down. She wanted to soothe him, but didn’t know how. Then, a few seconds later, the auction began, and she forgot all about him. One at a time, the people were paraded along the parapet, their robes parted, their bodies displayed for all to see. Disgust welled inside her. It was cruel. Some of the people cried and blushed, even looked away from the crowd. Some of the people stared straight ahead, as if they’d already endured far worse horrors, and being studied and critiqued was nothing. To block the horror from her mind, she peered over at McKell. She didn’t have a good view of him, but enough of one to make out his strong profile. A slightly longer than normal nose, unlined skin, dark hair a bit shaggy. Not a bad piece of meat. Ick. Now I’m thinking like the buyers. Devyn’s palm flattened on her head, fingers digging into her scalp. “See something you like, love?” Love. He’d never called her that before, and that he did now had her trembling. Did he mean it? Did she want him to mean it? She tore her attention

away from McKell and looked up at Devyn to study him. His gaze was on the parapet. His jaw was clenched, his eyes narrowed, but oh, the fire inside them was fierce. “Now I do,” she said softly, hating herself because it was the truth. His grip loosened, and he even stroked her hair. His expression smoothed out. Calm at last. “We have much to discuss, you and I,” he said. Much to discuss. As in their parting? As in why he hadn’t touched her in a week, but the moment someone else expressed an interest in her, he talked about her as if she were his favorite possession? Anger suddenly danced through her. Was that what it took to keep Devyn’s notice? Have someone else desire her? Well, she wasn’t playing that game. He either wanted her or he didn’t. Just then, McKell’s voice reverberated through the building. Surprised, she twisted yet again. His hand was in the air, which meant he’d just made a bid. Her attention swung to the stage. A tall, leanly muscled male with pale skin and snow-white hair stood proudly. He was one of those who refused to look away from the crowd. But he didn’t simply endure. He hissed and bared his teeth, yet she didn’t notice fangs. “—stronger, faster, deadlier,” the auctioneer was saying. “Word of warning, though. You’ll have to be careful with him. He’s a biter.”

A wave of laughter rose from the crowd, sickening her further. The bidding speed increased, hands flying in the air. “Look at these eyes,” the announcer said. “Dark blue. Like sapphires. Come on, ladies. You love jewelry, you know you do. Get tired of the man, and you can wear his eyes.” “How are they holding him if he’s so strong?” Bride whispered. “Drugs, perhaps,” Devyn said. “Not allowing him to drink, maybe.” McKell placed another bid. “Now,” Devyn said to Dallas. Dallas shouted out such an astronomical sum that the crowd instantly quieted. The auctioneer gasped. McKell twisted in his seat, glaring. “Sold,” the auctioneer proclaimed with a grin. And on and on the auction continued. McKell never bid again, but he did stiffen when a young female was brought forward. Her skin was not as pale as the vampire male’s had been, but her hair was just as white, and Devyn instructed Dallas to bid. Once again, he won. Finally, it was over, the last otherworlder purchased. Devyn and Dallas, along with the rest of the crowd, pushed to their feet. Neither of them helped Bride stand. Her eyes were dry, even though she wanted to cry for all those who had been sold

and what they would soon endure. She committed the faces around her to memory, thinking to track them down and free their “slaves” the moment she was able. Or better yet, she’d use Devyn’s money and pay someone else to do it right away. “Warrior that he is, he’ll have his men try to take them,” Devyn said quietly to Dallas. “Be prepared.” “And where will you be?” the agent asked behind his hand. “Evading him and keeping Bride safe. Tell Mia I’ve met my end of the bargain.” The bargain. Bride’s blood was no longer to be tested, in exchange for as many vampires as Devyn could get his hands on. Two, as it turned out. The sickness in her stomach churned. No way would she let that male and female be used as pincushions, their bodies drained. She’d offer herself back to AIR on a platter if necessary. She, at least, wasn’t traumatized. The two men looked at each other, nodded in silent understanding, and then Dallas was moving to the stage to collect his winnings. “You’re coming with me, and I don’t want to hear a single protest,” Devyn said stiffly. He didn’t glance down at her, nor did he jump into motion. What was he waiting for? “Yeah, well, you’re going to hear a lot of

protests.” She kept her body angled away from him, as if she were talking to herself. McKell was still in his seat, facing the parapet. “The auction’s over, you have your booty, so I’m done being a slave. The power is going to your head. And not the one I want! Or wanted. I don’t anymore. And just so you know, we can’t let these people be taken to God knows where, God knows what done to them.” “We can, and we will. If I know AIR, and I do, they’ll free those they can before the new owners ever set foot into their cars.” She relaxed at that. “What about the vampires?” “You were treated well. They will be, as well.” “How can they be treated well if they’re locked up for the rest of their lives?” A muscle ticked below his eye. He had no answer. “AIR can have them for a week, then I want you to reclaim our property,” she said, determined. “What’s yours is mine, remember?” “We’ll talk to Mia about it.” We will. Not I will. Because of that, she was able to nod in agreement. “Now for the other subject I’m sure you don’t want to discuss. I want to question McKell about my people.” As though McKell had heard her, he stood. Faced them. “You’re right. I don’t.” Finally Devyn jolted into motion. He gripped her hand and dragged her

toward the exit, winding around people and chairs. “You can question our property, as you called them, at AIR. McKell will just try and take you underground.” Her heart drummed in her chest. “But what if I want to see the underground?” Did she have family there? “You could be sentenced to death for living topside. Remember? Therefore, you can’t go. You can’t risk it.” He paused for a moment, flicked her a glance over his shoulder. “If that wasn’t a factor, though, you would still want to go?” “Yes.” Bride felt a pair of intense eyes boring into her back and knew who watched her. Still, she couldn’t help herself. She twisted. Sure enough, McKell was watching her through narrowed lids. His hands were clenched into fists, his posture straight as a board. He wasn’t following, though. He stood in place. “I’ve dreamed of having a family my entire life.” “Even though that family gave you to a man at birth? It’s not tradition, you know. That isn’t something that happens to all newborn females.” “Oh.” Why had they done that to her, then, if it wasn’t tradition as she’d first assumed? Payment? They just hadn’t wanted her? She fought a surge of depression. “Yes,” she said softly. The only way to gain the answers she sought was to ask those who had been involved. “I’d still want to go.”

As they stepped outside, the musty, perfumed air inside the building gave way to the cooler, cleaner air of the night. She breathed deeply. There was a hint of car exhaust, but that was better than a gaggle of bodies that reeked of food. “Since I can’t go underground, I want to talk to McKell.” He hadn’t seemed to mind her questions. Had seemed eager to answer them. “Have I told you lately how irritating you are?” Devyn increased his speed. Her feet tripped over themselves as she struggled to keep up. “I’m a joy to be around, and you know it. Now where are you taking me?” He’d already bypassed his own vehicle. “Whatever I end up doing, and I’m changing my mind about every three seconds, I couldn’t do it in there,” he said. “They’d erected some sort of energy scrambler so that I couldn’t control any of the bodies.” Note to self: buy an energy scrambler. Not that Devyn had controlled her movements since making her strip in that apartment, the bastard. He tangled his free hand through his hair, clearly agitated. He stomped from the parking lot entirely, heading toward a fenced-off forest area. Government property. “Uh, Devyn.” “Not now.” “Then when? When we’re arrested?” The more they walked, the quieter the night became and the

sweeter the air. Trees. Mmm. Again she inhaled deeply, savoring their scent. Finally Devyn stopped; they had reached the fence. He spun, gripping her shoulders, gaze frantic, a little wild now. “Are you with me, Bride?” She blinked up at him in confusion. “I’m standing here, aren’t I?” He shook her. “Do you like McKell more than you like me?” Did she—what? Her mind could barely process his words or what he wanted from her. “Who said I liked either of you?” “I’ll get you the answers about your family,” he said, his intensity unwavering. “I’ll even get you inside the underground if you want to visit, and I’ll keep you safe. But you are not to engage the vampire. Do you understand? He’s determined to keep you for himself.” And his point? “People don’t always get what they want, now do they?” Another shake. “Bride. Be serious. Tell me you’re not attracted to McKell.” Her brain rattled in her skull, and a shocking thought seemed to pop free. “Devyn, are you… jealous?” This was more than simply wanting her because another man found her attractive. Devyn was too desperate. Desperate in a way she’d never seen him. “No, of course not.” His hands fell from her, but

his scowl remained. “I just don’t want you giving yourself to anyone else while you’re married to me. For now, you’re mine. I’ll kill anyone who touches you,” he added. Uh, hello jealousy. She wanted to grin but didn’t. He didn’t deserve to know how happy he’d just made her. “Since you’re so jealous, why have you ignored me this past week? Why have you slept in a different bed?” “I’m not jealous, I said.” Eyes narrowing, Devyn backed her up until a boulder stopped him. “I stayed away because I wanted you to know that I respect you.” “Give me a minute to work past your jealousy and figure out what you just said.” She gasped as the coldness of the rock met her shoulders and thighs. “Nope. Still don’t understand. What does denying me have to do with respecting me?” He pushed his nose into hers. “Do you know what it’s like to be locked away? To be alone, left in the dark, forgotten, the silence deafening?” Silent, she shook her head. “I do. As a boy I was locked away for exhibiting even the smallest hint of desire. I was told sex was dirty and shaming. For a long time, I even believed it. I got over it, but with you, I felt those old thoughts resurfacing, and I was so afraid of—” Overcome, emotions bubbling over, Bride threw her arms around his neck and slammed her lips into

his. He hadn’t left her alone because he’d stopped wanting her. He’d left her alone because he’d been afraid of shaming her. She’d show him the error of that, she thought, thrusting her tongue into his mouth. At first, he didn’t respond. Then he moaned. He smashed his weight into her body, and his tongue plundered deep, taking, giving, leaving her weak with pleasure. “More,” she said. It had been too long. Far too long. Despite the openness of their surroundings, despite any danger, waiting even a moment longer seemed silly. “Nothing you do to me is shameful, swear to God. Well, besides letting me suffer from withdrawals. You gave me a taste of you, then took it away.” He gave a hoarse chuckle. “Well, the first taste is always free. You have to pay for the rest.” “Name your price.” “You. Just you.” His hands lowered, working at the harem pants. Didn’t take much. He had them at her ankles in seconds, and ripped open his own pants. His erection sprang free. Then he was gripping her thighs, shoving them apart, anchoring them on his waist and plunging inside her. Her head fell against the cold stone, her back arching to take him even deeper. One of his hands kneaded her breast, thrumming the nipple through the fabric of her bra. “Never deny me this again,” she said. “Understand?”

He nipped at her chin and pumped into her, in and out, fast…faster…“You’re all I think about. All I want anymore.” Every forward glide took her to new heights. Every backward slide spun her mind out of control. He was touching her everywhere, even her soul. “Devyn,” she moaned. “You’re…you. You make me hot, you make me laugh, and you make me angry. You look at me with those emerald eyes, and all I want to see is happiness inside them. You confuse me, you arouse me, you make me want to be better.” “There’s no one better,” she said, and hurtled over the edge, groaning, gasping, crying out his name again, holding on to him, determined never to let go. And when she leaned up and scraped her teeth over his neck, he shuddered, and his grip tightened. She wouldn’t do it, wouldn’t take his blood and weaken him when they were within a hundred yards of the auction house. But she couldn’t help but rasp his skin, laving it with whatever chemical she produced. Just like that, he came, sinking to the hilt, propelling her over again. “Bride. My Bride.” She tangled her hands in his hair and forced him to look at her, to see the truth in her eyes. “Yours.” But for how much longer? The shudders left him and he stilled, continuing

to pant, to hold her close. “I’m not ready to let you go.” “Then don’t. We can stay here all night.” “Hear footsteps.” That got her attention. Yelping, she jerked from him, separating their bodies. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” As she shakily righted her clothes, she blushed at the wetness between her legs. “’Cause I didn’t want to.” More leisurely, Devyn fastened his pants. He remained in front of her, blocking her from anyone’s view. He was grinning, back to his usual cocky self. “McKell,” he said with relish, and then he turned, clearly ready for combat. McKell reached them. His violet gaze took in their rumpled clothes, her swollen lips and quickly rising chest. His nostrils flared. If his sense of smell was anything like hers, he scented the sex wafting from them. “I should cut you down where you stand,” the warrior told Devyn. As he spoke, an army of vampires arrived, surrounding them. Gasping, Bride moved forward and held out her arms to shield Devyn. Without her razors, she felt naked, but that didn’t mean she was helpless. “No one moves,” she commanded. Devyn was having none of that, and shoved her behind him. She was having none of that, and moved beside him. “Figured you’d follow,” he told the vampire. His

grin became all the more evil. “Glad you did.” McKell gave Devyn an evil grin of his own and moved forward, closing the distance between them. He stopped after only three steps and frowned, then scowled. “Bastard. Using your ability against me. Well, let’s see if you can use it against us all. Incapacitate him,” the warrior growled to his men. “Leave him alive, though. My female needs his blood. For the moment.” The vampires, too, moved forward. They, too, froze. “Does that answer your question?” Devyn asked smugly. Then he surprised her. Rather than strike and kill, he said, “I will let you and your men live, McKell. And in return, you will take us to your king. If you can guarantee that she won’t be punished for living on the surface. Since you planned to take her with you, I’m assuming you’ve already thought of a way to bypass the death sentence.” McKell blinked, clearly startled—and just as suspicious. “I don’t understand.” Neither did she. “Yeah, what’s going on?” Here was a man who could and did kill without hesitation or regret. A man who clearly wanted to do so now. Yet he didn’t. He was demanding to be taken underground. For her. “She belongs to me,” he continued, “and yet you feel she is your property.” Devyn raised his chin,

the picture of a determined male. “I don’t want you chasing her for the rest of your too-long life, and she wants answers about her people. So let’s take care of both matters at once. We’ll petition your king and allow him to decide. You can tell her what she wants to know along the way.” And if the king decided in McKell’s favor? she wondered. Hell, no. “I’m happy to go underground, but there won’t be anyone deciding my fate for me.” “She will not be sentenced to death,” McKell said, ignoring her. “As she was born here on the surface, the daughter of captured vampires”—his gaze shifted left and right to his men, pleading with her and Devyn not to contradict him—“her time here could not be helped.” Devyn nodded. “It’s settled, then.” “Settled,” the vampire said. “It’s awesome that you two are in agreement, really it is. But do I get a say in this?” she snapped. “Did no one hear me say that no one picks my man but me?” Again, neither paid her any heed. Jeez. Was it the sequins? Put on a slave costume, and suddenly no one took you seriously. “I’ll go underground, because I want to go, but that’s it,” she said. “That’s all I’m promising.” Devyn must have released the vampire from stun, because the warrior stepped backward and

nodded, saying, “Do not think this will end happily for you, Targon.”

CHAPTER 20

The buzzing of his phone woke Dallas. Blinking against the harsh morning light, he rolled over and blindly reached for his cell. He knocked over a glass on his nightstand. When his fingers finally scraped the cell, he latched on and dragged it to his ear. “Agent Gutierrez,” he rasped. “Get your lazy ass up,” Hector proclaimed from the other end. “Nolan escaped.” Blood freezing in his veins, Dallas jackknifed up, the urge to sleep hammered out of him with the agent’s words. “How?” “Seduced one of the female agents sent to watch him.” “That shitbag.” He popped to his feet and strode into the bathroom. His still tired muscles screamed in protest. “She sick?” “Not yet, but she’s been locked up and is being watched. I’ve got Nolan’s location, and I’m on my way to get you. Can you be ready in ten?” “Make it eight.” Though he had questions, he hung up and took care of business. He brushed his teeth, dressed, grabbed his shades, and was out the door in five. He’d planned to spend the morning thinking about his vision of Devyn, and how McKell, whose face he had indeed seen in it, had

managed to stab his friend. If he had to, he’d plant himself at the pier and wait for the vampires to arrive. The moment the idea struck, he nodded. Yes, that’s exactly what he’d do. Once Nolan was taken care of, he’d find a spot and camp out. He wouldn’t have seen Devyn’s death if there was nothing to do about it. Dallas was as certain of that as he was that without intervention, Devyn would die. He refused to believe the visions were simply to prepare him for what lay ahead. The way he’d botched the vision about Jaxon and Mishka was proof things could be changed— and for the better. If he worked them right. The streets were lined with morning traffic; the sun was bright as people cruised the sidewalks at top speed. A few were carrying cups of syn-coffee, and the scent wafted to his nose, making his mouth water. His stomach even rumbled. How long since he’d eaten? Hector pulled to the curb and stopped. Ignoring his hunger, Dallas slid into the kind of sedan every AIR agent used and shut the door with a push of a button. “How do you know where Nolan is?” was the first question he voiced. Hector programmed the car, and it eased onto the road before kicking into high gear, weaving in and out of traffic. “Remember how your friend Devyn injected himself with that isotope tracker?”

“Yeah.” “Well, get this. The vampire drank from Devyn, and Nolan drank from Bride, who was also injected, so had twice the normal amount. It’s like that old game my grandparents used to play, degrees of separation or something like that. They’ve all got the tracker in their system now, and we’ve pegged all three.” He motioned to the laptop resting in the back seat. “See for yourself.” “We tried the tracker on Nolan once before,” Dallas said. “The virus inside him ate the isotope. We were never able to pull him into the system.” “Proof the virus is gone, I guess, ’cause we’ve got him now.” Finally, something in their favor. Dallas snatched it up and studied the blue screen above the keyboard. There were three black dots. Two were on the move, together, and one was stationary and in the opposite direction. Wasn’t hard to figure out who was who. It was a relief to see that Devyn and Bride were still alive, though God knew what they were doing. After last night… Never had Dallas seen the Targon more pissed. There’d been none of his usual charm, none of his nonchalance. He simply hadn’t liked other men looking at Bride. And when the McKell had staked a claim on her…shit. Bastard was probably already dead. Who would have thought Devyn the Seducer

would fall for one specific female? Not Dallas, that was for sure. But no longer did he think Devyn would tire of the vampire. Not when his features softened every time he looked at her. Not when he sought her comfort above his own. “As suspected, the little shit lied to us,” Hector said. “He’s not headed to the location he gave us.” “Of course not.” But was he intending to help his queen or kill her? They’d soon find out, he supposed. Right now, something else weighed heavily on his mind. “So have you been to AIR this morning?” “Yeah.” “See the new vampires?” “Oh, yeah. Both are alive and healthy and regaining their strength.” Good. He’d thought he would have trouble with McKell, Devyn’s new nemesis, after the auction, but no one had tried to stop him from taking the two vampire slaves. The moment he’d gotten them in the car and out of the parking lot, Ghost and Kitty, also AIR agents, had flanked him and escorted him into headquarters. No one had given chase, or even seemed to follow. More shocking, the vampires hadn’t complained. Hadn’t fought him or tried to run. Their eyes had been glazed, though, so he supposed they’d been drugged. At the station, they’d been placed in lockup, separate cells, and given bags of plasma.

Unlike Bride, they’d drained the bags and hoarsely begged for more. Dallas had been the one to enter the male’s cell. The vampire had been weak and shaky, but hadn’t made use of the cot, the room’s only piece of furniture. He’d stood in the corner, better able to see every angle of the cell, his white hair hanging in his face, parted only enough to give Dallas the barest glimpse of hate-filled blue eyes. How you doing? he’d asked. How do you think I’m doing, human? I’m in a cage. We aren’t going to harm you. Bitter laugh. That’s what my last owner said, just before his guards held me down. And just so you know, I’ll slaughter you and your people the way I did him and his if you think to make me your whore. As Devyn had told him how Bride camouflaged herself before bursting into tiny bits of mist, he’d been half afraid the warrior would do something similar, but it hadn’t happened. Be at ease. That’s not why you’re here, you have my word. There’s a virus being passed around my people, one that only vampire blood seems capable of defeating. We just want to take a little of yours and test it. The explanation was ignored. Tell me about Starlis. It was a command laced with need. Certainly. Tell me who that is first.

That pale jaw clenched. The female you bought. Starlis. Pretty name. She’s fine. Next door to you. He shouldn’t have admitted that, but wanted the warrior to relax. Not that he would have been able to do so, had the situation been reversed. Nothing will happen to her, either. It better not. Because if you hurt her…Claws curled into a fist and cut the warrior’s palm. Were they lovers? Brother and sister? Like I said, we only mean to test your blood. That desire will cost you. You should have spoken to our king rather than purchase us. The word purchase was sneered. Your king is hidden from us. We don’t know how to find him. Red lips had lifted in eerie amusement. Don’t worry. He’ll now find you. It was a threat everyone at AIR had taken seriously. Security was being beefed up, the black ops and field agents called in. The sedan eased to a stop, and Dallas pulled himself into the present. He’d hated leaving those vampires locked up, but hadn’t known what else to do. AIR needed their blood. Hell, mankind needed their blood. Hector exited without a word, and Dallas quickly followed suit. Warm morning air enveloped him. There were several cars around them, agents outside them and staring into a government-

protected forest. The same one Dallas had been next to last night, just on the other side. Coincidence? “Weapons are in the trunk,” Hector told him. He swung around back and popped the trunk. Sure enough, there were enough guns and blades to take down an army. He sheathed the smallest and sharpest of the knives and holstered two pyre-guns. He even pocketed an extra crystal in case one of the guns misfired. He wasn’t taking any chances this time. “’Bout time you joined us,” Jaxon said, striding to his side. The agent palmed a mini-grenade, measured its weight, and gently placed it in his side bag. “Thought we were going to have to win this battle without you.” “Not likely,” he said with a snort. “I’ve got skills you can only dream about.” That earned him a laugh. “Just keep yourself alive, my man, and I’ll be happy.” What was with everyone doubting his abilities? He’d screwed up once. Okay, twice. Big deal. “As you know, I can do things other people can’t. I can move faster than anyone here.” Besides Mia, but she wouldn’t leave Kyrin’s side. “I’ve finally given over to my dark side, so I know I can handle this.” He said it with confidence, his psychic knowledge assuring him of success. He also said it without a hint of disdain.

He’d always thought he’d feel more alien, the more he accepted his powers. He’d even expected to feel regret. Instead, he felt more like himself than he had in months. “I can scout ahead and see what we’re dealing with,” he added. “Let everyone know what’s going on before they get there.” Having heard the conversation, Hector came up beside him and held up a computerized map. “Our boy is here. It’s a straight shot, dead center, and impossible to miss; he’s in a circular clearing, the only clearing, where helicopters land.” Dallas nodded. “You guys circle the entire area if possible and slowly close in. I’ll give a shout if he goes invisible, so you’ll know to wear your infrareds and watch for him.” Jaxon slapped him on the shoulder, his scarred face still etched in concern. “Got your own infrareds?” His gaze scanned the trunk. When he found a pair of goggles, he nodded, grabbed them up, and fitted them around his neck. “Now I do.” “Nolan’s been here ten minutes and hasn’t moved from his spot,” Hector said. “We think he’s waiting for her.” Her. The queen. The one responsible for the cannibalistic disease. Selfish bitch that she clearly was, she screwed men without a care, damning them to either death or life as a killer while saving herself. Nolan had mentioned her unparalleled

beauty, but no other power. What would he be up against? “Thought he couldn’t sense her anymore,” Dallas muttered. What a liar Nolan was. Once again he scanned the trunk, looking for anything else he might need. He saw a case of bright blue syringes and lifted one into the light. “My own special blend,” Hector said proudly. “It’s four different sedatives for four different races mixed together, but it’s not approved by AIR, so using it could get you into trouble. Some ingredients will probably work on more than one race, so there’s a possibility of overdose.” “Work on the Schön?” “Only one way to find out.” Dallas pocketed two of the syringes, then closed the trunk and peered into the thick trees. If he got in trouble for using the sedative, he’d deal. “Electricity turned off on the fence?” Jaxon shook his head. “But it will be for ten seconds. Soon as I see you close in, I’ll throw the switch. We can’t leave it off, though, just in case Nolan makes a run for it. Don’t want to make it easier for him, you know.” Dallas flashed both agents a confident smile. “Don’t wait till I’m close to the fence to switch it off, because you may not see me reach it. Click it now.” With that, he leaped into a sprint. As he ran, he opened himself up to the power inside him,

swirling and ready to be used. Instantly he propelled into hyperspeed. A quick glance behind him showed that his friends now seemed to be moving in slow motion, barely achieving an inch per second. He reached the fence and scaled it, only cutting himself once. A minor scratch in his thigh, but it burned like hell. It was just as he was releasing the metal that the electricity kicked back on. A shock moved through him, but didn’t slow him as he started running again, feet flying over grass and rocks. He maneuvered around trees, their trunks and branches blurring into a haze of brown and green. As quickly as he was closing the distance, he was still able to see the things in front of him clearly, as if his vision tunneled ahead and his mind planned his actions accordingly, dancing him out of harm’s way without incident. Soon he reached the clearing. There was no reason to question whether or not he’d reached the right spot because Nolan was there, arms crossed over his chest as he waited. There were knives in his hands. To aid the queen in case of trouble, or to kill her? Dallas had to wonder again. He didn’t slow but circled the area, too fast to be seen, keeping Nolan in sight as he debated what to do. Nolan had told Bride that the virus had helped Nolan dodge stun rays last time, but it had been

Nolan himself who had absorbed the stun without actually freezing. Therefore, stun still wouldn’t work. He could kill him, he supposed. There was no dousing pyre-fire. But no. No longer was Nolan better off dead. Not when a cure for his disease might be floating through his system. He was a very valuable lab rat right now. Dallas couldn’t challenge him straight out, though, because the guy could go invisible, and then Dallas would have to fight him with infrareds, only able to see Nolan, oblivious to everything else around them. And if Nolan ran, the infrareds would be useless because Dallas couldn’t give chase with them on. He’d slam into tree after tree. Closing in as they were, his friends could catch the bastard— maybe. Maybe wasn’t good enough. A sheen of sweat broke out over his skin. He was going to have to knock the otherworlder out with Hector’s cocktail. Or try to. While he waited for the stuff to work, if it worked, he’d have to pin Nolan down, never releasing him, never giving him the chance to escape. A bright yellow and violet light suddenly hit the center of the clearing, as if the sun were throwing off heat missiles. The wind picked up, rustling leaves together. A soft whistle pierced the air. Nolan straightened, stiffened.

Shit, out of time, Dallas thought. I have to incapacitate him before she arrives. He launched forward, fingers tightening around one of the syringes as he closed in on Nolan. The moment he reached him, he shoved the needle straight into the man’s neck and pushed. The warrior fell, shocked, the empty syringe buried deep. His body spasmed as Dallas kept him in a bear hug. Hot breath sawed in and out of his throat and lungs. His limbs shook. “Mistake,” the otherworlder gasped. “Big mistake. You won’t be able to defeat her without me.” But he didn’t get up, and his eyelids closed. Every muscle in his body slackened. Easier than Dallas had thought. As Dallas released him, his own strength drained, as if he too had been injected with a sedative. He knew he hadn’t. What the hell? He crawled to his knees, certain he wouldn’t be able to stand and hold his own weight. Hurry, he wanted to shout to the other AIR agents. Something’s…wrong… “You want to defeat me?” a soft voice said from behind him. Dallas twisted to face the new speaker and groaned at the dizziness that assaulted him. That dizziness failed to dim the radiance of his visitor, and his jaw dropped. Standing before him was a goddess, an elfin queen. She had long pale hair

tucked behind her pointed ears, chocolate eyes too big for her face, which somehow made her even lovelier, and heart-shaped lips. Her skin was several shades lighter than Dallas’s, but still sun-kissed. She wore a long white robe that draped one shoulder and fell over her slender body in waves. There seemed to be true concern on her face. True sadness at the thought that someone wanted to destroy her. This woman couldn’t be Nolan’s queen. His tormentor. The one responsible for the obliteration of several worlds and the death of the humans foolish enough to bed Nolan and his brethren. “I’m sorry I had to drain you,” she said, and she sounded as if she meant it. “I didn’t want you to hurt me as you hurt my servant.” Behind her were four warriors, all as handsome as Nolan, with the same bright eyes and symmetrical features. Each was heavily armed, watching impassively, ready to act when ordered. Her servant. She was indeed Nolan’s queen. Though everything inside Dallas screamed not to hurt so exquisite a creature—no wonder Nolan had been torn—he drew on a stubborn reserve of strength he hadn’t known he possessed and whipped out his pyre-gun, thumb quickly setting it to kill, and started shooting. Better that they all died in this circle, even himself, than that they were unleashed on the world.

The men fell, new holes burned in their chests, their hearts scorched and unworkable, but Dallas’s pyre-fire never touched the girl. Woman. Whatever she was. Killer. Monster. Yes. A lovely monster… gliding toward him, a frown on her delicate face. Irresistible, he thought. Mine. Every time he’d aimed at her, the barrel moved away of its own accord, as though they were both magnets and couldn’t line up together. Or perhaps he switched his aim before pulling the trigger. He didn’t want to hurt her. What would it feel like to touch her skin? To shift her hair between his fingers, those locks that reminded him of rays of sunshine? “You didn’t kill me, so I’m not going to kill you,” she said in that lilting voice of hers. The word yet slithered between them, unsaid but there all the same. “I need to get settled, anyway. But when my need is upon me, I will find you. Very soon, I hope.” She reached out and traced a fingertip along his cheek, his jaw. Each point of contact crackled as if ice crystals bloomed. “So strong…so handsome…” He wanted to flinch, but couldn’t force himself to move. The world was going dark…so dark…her beauty fading from his view. A scream lodged in his throat. Don’t leave me. Stay. The desire shocked him. She was evil, yet he wanted her near him, touching him some more. That cold was as

addicting as a drug. “Dallas, man. Wake up. Good job, man. You got him. You got Nolan.” “Wh-what?” He blinked open his eyes. He was lying flat on his back—when had he fallen?—and the pale blue of the sky came into view, thick clouds hanging in a line. He angled his head, peering at the clearing. It was empty. “Where is she? Where are the bodies?” Hector frowned. “What she? The queen? Was she here? And what bodies?” “The girl, yes, the queen. The guards. Four guards. I shot them. Burned them.” “There weren’t any bodies when I got here, and they didn’t go invisible because half of us were wearing our infrareds and there was no body heat in the area. And if you’d shot them, we would have seen the line of your fire.” Slowly he sat up, fighting the return of the dizziness. “They were here. I swear to God they were here.” Hector patted his shoulder. “You were out like a coma victim when we came through the trees. Sure you didn’t dream it? Your weapon is holstered, and it hasn’t been fired.” “It wasn’t a dream,” he insisted. “Okay, okay.” Concerned, Hector slid an arm around his waist and hefted him up. “Mishka and Jaxon are taking care of Nolan. Let’s get you to

medical.”

CHAPTER 21

Bride expected treachery. An attack against Devyn. Something. But it never came. In silence, they drove to a canyon three hours away. It was a dry, barren wasteland with no resources humans needed to survive. There, they scaled down…down…into a shadowed valley of sandstone and dirt, the air almost like acid in her nose. Boulders abounded, each identical to the last. Devyn kept an arm around her waist, holding her up. He probably thought she would have tumbled into the waiting void below if he’d released her. Wasn’t like she was clumsy, but she had stumbled a few times. Not her fault, though. She was distracted, having to guard her thoughts to keep herself from wishing she was already underground. Why was Devyn making this trip? He’d said he wanted her. He’d even been jealous of McKell. But that wasn’t reason enough to put himself in danger like this. And he was in danger. McKell clearly hated him. Devyn had proven he could handle the vampires, yes, but that didn’t stop her worrying for him. He was only one man. What was worse, however, was that the worry didn’t stop her from being glad that he was here. She wasn’t ready to say good-bye to him. They’d just started having sex again.

Sure that’s the only reason you’re happy to be with him? Shut up. There were more important things to consider. What if the vampire king tried to pawn her off on McKell? She did not want another forced marriage—she wouldn’t stand for it. The vamp was friend material, that was all. There was no raw, animal need, as there was with Devyn. Finally, McKell stopped at a boulder, no different from any of the others, and nodded. His men marched forward and rolled it aside, their muscles bunching and straining. Four guards waited on the other side, each armed with pyre-guns and spears. Bride tried to step in front of Devyn, but he restrained her with his mind, the bastard. Oh, yes. She was finding one of those energy scramblers. The guards gave their profiles when they saw McKell, deferring to his superior rank. The warrior motioned for her and Devyn to follow him. They entered without hesitation, sharing only the briefest of looks. Hers, tension-filled. His, darkly resolved. What are you planning? she wondered. Bride’s eyes widened as she focused on her surroundings. This could have been her home, she thought. It was murky, but no match for her eyesight; she saw everything perfectly. The walls

were painted black and jagged, multiple smears of crimson throughout. Like finger marks, where nails had dragged in protest. And the smell…utterly divine. Pine, water, blood, with no taint of spices or food. She smiled as she savored. That’s when McKell turned back to check on them. When he saw her, his gaze softened. Her smile faltered. She liked him, but didn’t want to encourage him. Had jealous Devyn noticed the exchange? She flicked him a glance. His eyes were closed, and he was feeling his way forward with his free hand. A frown tugged at the corners of his lips, and lines of tension marred the perfection of his face. He couldn’t see in the dark, she realized. He’d known it would be this way, yet he’d come anyway. Sweetest. Man. Ever. How had she ever thought him detached? He hated the dark, but still he’d come. Only one reason a man would do something like that. Did he…was it possible he…no, couldn’t be. Not Devyn. Devyn did not fall in love with his women. She’d known that from the beginning. Well, if he were going to pick someone to fall in love with, he couldn’t do better than Bride. There you go, thinking like him again. Well, it was true. She was loyal, pretty, smart, strong, and overall fantastic.

Wait, wait, wait. Do you want him to love you? No. Yes. Maybe. Argh! McKell stopped, forcing everyone else to stop as well. Devyn bumped into her and grunted. A moment later, a light flared to life. He held some sort of glowing stick that chased away the worst of the darkness. Where he’d gotten it, she didn’t know. Did he carry one with him everywhere he went? “We will journey to the palace,” McKell said. “I really want a tour,” Bride said. This should have been her home, and she wanted to see every nook and cranny before she was forced to tell the king to fuck himself if he tried to force her to do something she didn’t want to do. “Bride,” Devyn said on a sigh. “What?” “You know.” She did? “A tour, yes,” McKell said, his voice raspy, his gaze glued to her. “The king does not allow an audience until morning. We will tour the city, then wait in my home and finally talk.” Oh. Oops. Had she just made a wish come true? “No.” Devyn shook his head. “We’ll see the city, then wait in the king’s palace.” “Or give us the tour whenever,” she said helpfully, hoping to circumvent any disaster her kind-of wish might have caused.

McKell narrowed his eyes at the Targon. He moved, so swiftly no one, not even Bride, could register, and stopped in front of them. Time ground to a halt, everything around them ceasing to exist. The guards stopped breathing, and water no longer trickled. “I can manipulate time in shorts burst, so listen carefully. What I have to say cannot be uttered near the king or even near another vampire clan. There is a reason Maur—Bride was sent from here. If it’s learned she has returned, she will be hunted. Killed.” And then he was back in place, time once more ticking by. A low growl echoed from Devyn’s throat. “You told me she was safe. We will be discussing why she’s not. Now.” Once again, time ceased, and McKell was in their faces. “I will not do this again, Targon. If I did not think I could protect her, I would not have brought her here.” His offense doubled with every word. “No one will recognize her as the girl she once was.” “Your men—” “Are loyal to me. We have fought together, bled together. We will die together. But, no, they do not know. I will not tell them. You are not to tell them, either.” Devyn nodded stiffly, satisfied with that. “I hope you boys are having fun, talking about

me as if I’m not here, ’cause I’m loving it,” she said. McKell returned to his stance before them, time kicking back into motion. “One thing, vampire,” Devyn said for all to hear, “She’s my wife, as I’ve told you again and again, and you would do well to remember that. Don’t forget what I’m capable of. Oh, and perhaps you should know, I texted the coordinates of your entrance to my friends at AIR. If they don’t hear from me in twenty-four hours, they will descend.” It was a lie—their phones didn’t work, they were too far out—but McKell clearly didn’t know that. Red bled into his pupils, into the violet irises, the whites. Once more, time stopped. This time, however, even Devyn seemed to be frozen. Only Bride and McKell were aware. The vampire launched forward, fist swinging and connecting with Devyn’s eye before she could protest. Bride snarled low in her throat. “Do that again, and I will personally slit your throat while you sleep. I’m the only one allowed to abuse him.” The vampire cracked his neck left, right, then settled back in his spot. “My apologies, sweet bride.” Time restarted. Devyn rubbed his eye, glaring suspiciously at McKell. “The king allowed you to live the last time you

were here because he trusted you to keep our secrets,” McKell said as if nothing had happened. “What will he say when he learns of this treachery?” Bride shifted, suddenly nervous again. “You risk giving away your location every time you enter the surface world. How is that any different? Besides, you said the world already knows vampires exists.” “No, the underworld knows of our existence. Criminals. Slavers. But they don’t know how to get to us. If word spreads, human fanatics will arrive on our doorstep. War will erupt. And if that happens, we will know who to blame.” A muscle ticked in his jaw, and he whipped around. “Enough of this. Come. There is a drop. You can fly, I presume?” Fly? “No, I can’t.” No, not true, she thought next, but didn’t rescind her claim. She could fly, but only as mist. Misting wasn’t something she would do here. She would have to strip, then piece herself back together. She would be too exhausted to defend Devyn from attack. McKell twisted to face her again, searching her features. “You do not tease? You cannot fly?” “No.” Could all other vampires? Fabulous. Already she was lacking. Confusion flittered over the warrior’s face. “Very well. I will catch you.” With that, he stepped into a gaping hole and disappeared from view.

“We’ll be fine,” Devyn said. He kissed her temple. “I’ve never failed at anything and won’t start now.” “But how will you—” “I’m probably the most powerful, gifted man in the universe. Of course I can do this.” “Sorry if I’m not convinced. I need your game plan.” “Energy, love. Energy. Just as I can command other bodies to obey me, I can command the air to slow us.” She nodded, drew in a breath, and stepped to the hole. She looked down. So much darkness, so thick…even with her superior eyesight, she couldn’t see a bottom. Couldn’t hear a sound. “I’ll meet you down there, and I’ll be the one to catch you,” Devyn said, and then he disappeared. I can do this. I can. Closing her eyes, she stepped forward. Gasped. The ground vanished, and she was falling fast, falling down. Her arms floundered for an anchor as her heart raced in her chest, beating against her ribs. Up sprang the thorns and the fire, and her stomach twisted into a thousand tiny knots. She fought past her rising panic. Fly, damn you, fly. A sense of numbness suddenly blanketed her feet and spread up, into her legs, her hips, her arms. With the numbness came a sensation of heaviness, and she thought to drop faster, harder, like a stone

in water, but instead she slowed. Her eyelids popped open, and she gazed around her in confusion. It wasn’t her body that was heavier, she realized, it was that the air around her had thickened. She wanted to laugh. I’m flying. I’m truly flying. And Devyn was responsible, the sweetie. A light appeared at her feet, and she saw that he was already on the ground, waiting for her. He could see her without the glow stick, so his hands were empty as he opened his arms; she floated herself straight into them. “Thank you,” she said with a grin. “I didn’t know something like that was possible.” “Actually, you did. You’ve been bedded by me, so you’ve flown to the heavens on several occasions.” The other vampires landed behind her, in the air one moment and standing the next. “This way.” While McKell’s tone was stiff, he didn’t protest Devyn’s hold on her. Maybe he was learning. He stalked away, forcing them to follow or be left behind. Devyn had to push her forward to spur her into motion. This new section of the cave was spacious, with walls so high she didn’t have to duck and didn’t feel cramped. There were shops built into the sides, with doorways and windows and signs, everything human shops possessed. No one was

about, however; the makeshift streets were empty. “Where is everyone?” she asked. “Sleeping,” McKell answered. How very human of them. “How do they know day versus night?” He rounded a corner, fingers brushing the pole of a muted streetlamp. “We have a lighting system of our own, one that mirrors the surface.” They trekked down a long walkway, took several more turns, bypassed what was obviously the palace, with its intimidating size, consuming three entire walls, squished through thin slices of rock, and finally came to an iron fence decorated with interwoven circles and squares. McKell unlocked it with a single wave of his hand and trudged forward. Again, she and Devyn followed. The guards, however, did not. They posted themselves in front of the gate. Bride soon found herself walking straight into another cave, this one separated by thin strings of beads. Or rather, bone? she wondered. The pieces were small and the same creamy white as bone, a marrowlike substance in the centers. Inside were animal-skin rugs, a lounge and couch made from stone and draped in thick, dark fur, and a long, thin table that stretched in the center of the room. The table was the size of a twin bed and sat low to the ground. Is that where McKell slept? “Sit, sit. Let’s fortify ourselves before we begin.

Are you thirsty?” he asked. Before she could answer, the warrior clapped his hands. A human girl raced through a far entryway, the beads blocking it clanging together behind her. The scent of food— fruits and nuts, no meats or spices, thank God— came with her. “Feed my guest,” he instructed. The girl was dressed in…peach-colored leather? No, Bride realized upon closer inspection. Flesh. She gagged, barely managed to cover the motion with a hand to her mouth. The girl wore human flesh that had been cured into leather, and the material wrapped around her breasts and hips. Dear God. They must recycle their food when they finished with it. This one had been tattooed around her neck, wrists, and ankles. Like shackles. The design was intricate, distinctive, with the same swirls and points that Bride had seen on the iron fence. The human kept her head bowed, her eyes lowered, as she lay upon the table and stretched out her arm in offering to Bride. “No, thank you,” Bride said gently. Revulsion swam through her as she eased onto the floor beside the table, her legs suddenly too weak to hold her. A tremble moved through the girl, as though she feared the rejection would earn her a punishment. “Is she not to your liking?” McKell asked. “I can’t drink from anyone but Devyn,” she

reminded him. He was silent for a moment. “Who knows? This girl might be the exception. You should try her. She’s very sweet.” His motions were clipped, a direct contrast to his gentle tone, as he latched onto the girl’s other arm and lifted it to his lips. He bit down, hard, but the girl didn’t seem to notice. On and on he drank. First, the girl paled. Then her eyelids drifted closed. Her head lulled to the side as she sank into unconsciousness. Eyes at halfmast, McKell disengaged and leaned back, his back propping against the lounge. His lips were stained crimson. “Sure you don’t want to give her a try?” Bride swallowed back intensified revulsion. It helped that Devyn was beside her, tracing little circles along her back, reminding her of his presence, his strength. Did everyone have slaves like this? “I’m sure,” she said. “At this rate, the girl will be dead by the end of the day.” There was no way to hide her disgust. The warrior frowned. “By the time my hunger returns, she’ll be completely replenished.” “How often do you eat?” “Once a week. Every vampire here drinks once a week. Don’t you?” Once a week? Lucky. “No, I eat every day. Sometimes I was forced to go longer, but my hunger always returns with the descent of the sun.”

His frown deepened, his brow puckering. “Interesting, but no cause for concern. Probably has to do with being raised on the surface.” He sighed. “You have other questions, I’m sure.” “Many questions, actually.” And she was more than ready to get started on the asking of them. “Where are my parents? Do I even have parents?” The warrior nodded. He cast Devyn a smug glance, as if to say, See, I can give her what you cannot. “Vampires give birth just as humans do, though it is much harder for us to do so, as our aging process is so gradual. And you do have parents, yes. Or did. They’re dead, I’m afraid. Your mother died of sickness. You father died soon after her in a hunting raid.” Dead. Her shoulders dipped. She didn’t know them, and so didn’t mourn them, but she did mourn the loss of the dream of them. “Is that why I was sent from this place? Because there was no one to take care of me?” “No. Had they died and left you alone, there would have been a fight for you. Babies are rare and considered precious here. They were killed after sending you to the surface.” So she’d been sent away. Ouch. Wouldn’t have stung so much if she’d accidentally wandered off. So many nights she’d imagined a candy-flowersand-balloons family reunion. Her parents would have laughed with joy upon seeing her, swept her

into their arms, and proclaimed their undying love for her. Instead, they had willingly parted with her. McKell noticed her upset and sighed. “Do not judge them too harshly. You exhibited signs of the”—he leaned forward, and when he next spoke, he whispered as if what he said was a curse —“nefreti.” A grim shudder swept through her. “What’s that?” she found herself whispering back. An Egyptian queen? His lips thinned, as if even thinking of it were painful to him. “They are vampires who are far more powerful than anyone should be. Rather than have a single extraordinary ability, as is customary, they have all extraordinary abilities. They are uncontrollable, unstoppable, and because of that they are deemed a threat to the royal family, to everyone really, and killed the moment they are recognized.” Devyn palmed one of those wooden daggers he’d taken to the auction before the last word left the warrior’s mouth. He tossed it in the air, as if he hadn’t a care. “I don’t think it needs to be said that if you touch her, I’ll slice you from end to end.” “So suspicious.” McKell shook his head. Thankfully he didn’t erupt at the sight of that weapon. “I didn’t bring her here to kill her. I’m the one who helped send her to the surface, after all, ensuring she lived. Because she had been deemed

my bride, I visited her often and already loved her as my own.” There at the end, he eyed her expectantly. “I don’t remember you,” she admitted. “I don’t remember anything about this place.” Another sigh. “No, I don’t guess you would. Your mother took the memory of your time here from you, so that you would never return.” So. That’s why Bride had had no idea who or what she was. “She could have just told me to stay away. I might have listened.” “We were unwilling to take that chance.” Even knowing it had been done for her own good failed to lessen the sting. She wanted to grab the dagger now resting on Devyn’s thigh and stab something. “Everyone assumes you are dead,” McKell said. “As commander of the king’s army, I was the one ordered to kill you. Because of my reputation, everyone assumed I would do it. And I meant to. But I couldn’t. Even then, you…affected me. So we branded you, your mother and I, and we sent you to the surface. As I said, she died soon after.” “Of sickness. What kind of sickness? I’ve never been sick, so I assumed other vampires would never sicken, either.” He shrugged. “Perhaps sickness wasn’t the right word. She…are you sure you wish to know?” “Yes. And just so you know, I’m about two

seconds away from assaulting you for the information.” Though it was clear he didn’t take her threats seriously, he said, “She died of starvation.” Bride heard the underlying meaning of his words. Her mother had refused to eat. As she clutched her stomach to settle the sudden churning, Devyn pulled her tight against his body. I was loved, after all, she thought. The revelation soothed the hurt she’d been harboring, but also brought a wealth of despair. Her mother had loved her, but had killed herself after sending Bride away. “I want to remember her,” she said softly. “I’m afraid I cannot help you with that. She didn’t just bury your memories; she erased them. That was her ability. And I know what you’re thinking. Why didn’t she just erase the memory of you from the people here? There are too many people, and each day your powers would have grown. She would have had to remove their memories every day for the rest of your life. One day, she would have missed someone, and word of your presence would have leaked.” She splayed her arms. “If I have all abilities, shouldn’t I be able to erase memories? Shouldn’t I be able to stop time?” “One would think so.” He arched a brow. “You can’t?” She shook her head, wondering if she’d been

sent away for nothing. Then she thought of the thorns and the fire. The place that hurt her to even brush with mental fingers. The place that sprung up with strong emotion. The place that held many other powers. No, she hadn’t been sent away for nothing. McKell rubbed two fingers over his stubbled jaw. “Your father was able to suppress the powers of others. Perhaps he suppressed some of your more destructive abilities to help you cope with life above.” Her father. A man she couldn’t even picture, but a man who had wanted only the best for her. A pang of longing had her swallowing back a whimper. “What other abilities are there?” Devyn asked. “Mind reading, for one, which just happens to be the king’s ability.” “Mind reading isn’t destructive,” she said. It was cool. Would have been cooler if she could actually do it. Maybe one day… “But then again,” McKell said with a shrug, “perhaps not all nefreti can do all things. We’ve never had the chance to study them because they are destroyed so early. Besides the first few, of course, who showed us their powers when they slayed the last king and disappeared. Well, and Fiona, but she lived on her own for many years before revealing herself. And now that we know of

her, we cannot catch her.” Fiona. Bride wanted to meet her, talk to her. “What gives them away? The nefreti, I mean.” “The atomizing. Only a nefreti can do it. You and your mother were shopping one morning as I and my army passed. You were so excited to see me that you ran to me, and as you ran you broke apart, particles forming in your place. You swept the rest of the way to me before putting yourself back together in my arms. Too many people saw, or we would have simply hidden you down here and claimed you had died.” Oh, the horror her mother must have experienced that day. “Do you have a photograph of her?” “Somewhere. Maybe. Because of your taint, everything she owned was burned.” A sudden blast of hate bombarded her as she imagined her mother, her poor, sweet mother, who had just given up her only child to save her, watching all of her belongings being destroyed. “Your king—” “Thought he was protecting his family,” McKell interjected before she could threaten the bastard’s life. “He is not a bad man, Bride. Neither am I.” No, he wasn’t. Except for his treatment of food, that is. Well, and his bitch-slap to Devyn. “Darling,” Devyn said, his tone pure sugar, “he’s trying to court you. Isn’t that sweet. I, of course,

know you’re too smart to soften.” Something clear, yet thicker than saliva, dripped from one of McKell’s fangs. Bride would have laid good money on poison. “Keep pushing me, Targon. See what happens.” “I will, thank you.” “Should I step out?” Bride said, throwing up her arms in exasperation. “Maybe let you two have some privacy for your pissing contest?” McKell lost the worst of his anger—she knew, because his fangs dried—and looked to Devyn. “Is she always like this?” “Yes.” The two nodded at each other in sympathy, the tension broken. What next? Bonding over beers and future conquests? Perfect. Just perfect. You brought this on yourself. She only hoped the king appreciated her finer qualities. Otherwise…No, she wouldn’t think about otherwise. Everything was going to work out.

CHAPTER 22

Is this love? Devyn wondered. He must love her, or he wouldn’t willingly be in the dark underground he’d vowed never to return to. A seemingly spacious world, but one he perceived as very cramped. Before and now. But Bride had wanted to come, and he’d been struck with a consuming need to give her what she desired. Even this. He’d also hoped that if he brought her here, letting her see the vampire way of life, she would realize she could have—and would want—a life with him on the surface. A life with no regrets. Not just days, weeks, or months, as he himself had always assumed. But…forever? Maybe. He knew he didn’t want to let her go. He knew he wouldn’t let her be with someone else. He knew no one else appealed to him. And he knew the biggest obstacle to getting what he wanted was McKell. Obstacles must be eliminated. Always. No matter the method used. The warrior’s solicitousness was throwing him for a loop—not that Devyn trusted the man. Even a little. But damn if he didn’t believe the male truly adored Bride. Still. That adoration was irritating. Bride belonged to Devyn. She filled a void inside him that he’d always denied; she made him see that

there was a better way to be. And just when he’d realized it, someone had decided to try and take her away. Figures. He shouldn’t be surprised that McKell hadn’t yet struck at him, though. According to Dallas’s vision, that would happen at the pier. Unless…An unsettling thought took root. Because he knew what would happen at the pier, Devyn could very well have changed the future by deciding to come here, thereby forcing McKell to try and stab him in this new location. Shit. He hadn’t thought of that when he’d decided taking Bride underground was the best way to acquire the answers she sought while at the same time keeping them together— without a knife in his heart. McKell can’t kill you, he reminded himself. Yet. For the moment, Bride needed his blood. Devyn’s hands curled into fists. He didn’t like that there was a way to wean Bride from his vein. Wasn’t going to happen. When they returned home, Devyn planned to take the necessary steps to ensure Bride wanted to stay with him. They’d marry in truth, by Earth standards as well as Targon. He would build an office for her books. Or rather, pay someone to build it. He would purchase a water bed, and he would sleep in it with her. No longer would he allow his father’s voice to speak inside his head, stopping him from claiming

his woman. As Bride had said, there was nothing shameful in what they did. The knowledge had never been more real to him. Bride wasn’t a whore, as his father would have called her. What she did to Devyn was beautiful; therefore what he did to her was the same. They could be together, be themselves, and still respect each other. How had he ever convinced himself otherwise? He didn’t want her to change from the smartmouthed bloodsucker she was. And she clearly didn’t want him, flirtatious narcissus that he was, to change. After the auction, she’d almost attacked him. He smiled, remembering. “You look smug,” McKell said with a frown. Bride faced him. His beautiful Bride. “You do,” she said. “What wheels are spinning in your head, Bradley?” He blew her a kiss before turning to McKell. “What happens to Bride if I die before she’s weaned off my blood? Not that I’ll allow such a thing,” Devyn said, partly to remind the vampire of who Bride belonged to, and partly to learn the ways of his wife’s people. As he liked being the best at everything he did, this marriage would be no exception. He would care for her properly in all ways, even if he was dead. McKell ran his tongue over his fangs, his narrowed eyes on Devyn. “We have a potion for such matters. Once she drinks it, she will be unable

to go near you, or the effects will mutate and she will die.” “Okay, next option,” Bride said. “There is also the possibility of bonding with someone else,” McKell replied. “It’s actually the preferred method, as it holds no danger.” “Next,” Devyn said this time. McKell shrugged. “That’s it.” Then Devyn would live forever. He’d planned to anyway, but this conversation had just solidified his determination. “I have a question,” Bride said. She was still at his side, leaning into him, tensing every time she heard something unpleasant. “Can I turn other people into vampires with my blood? I mean, I haven’t yet, but it’s still a fear I have.” McKell regarded her strangely before comprehension dawned and he shook his head. “You’ve been reading surface books, I see. We have some of those ourselves because we like to be up-to-date on beliefs, in case we need to intervene or make them believe something else.” “Yes, I’ve been reading. It was the only way I knew to learn about myself. I had no vampire tutor, no one I could ask.” Now hold everything. “Not to call you a liar, love, but you are a liar. You’re forgetting someone who did, in fact, answer many of your questions.” “Yes, and I had to pay dearly for the

information,” she said with a half-grin. “Are you referring to the little striptease I forced you to perform? Well, you’re welcome. I haven’t forgotten how much you enjoyed yourself.” She rolled her eyes. “Like I was the only one.” With a growl, McKell tossed a stone into the wall, and plumes of dust wafted around them. “Do you not care to hear what I have to say?” Did it make Devyn a bad person that he was enjoying the man’s anger? “Please continue,” Bride said with a wave of her hand. “It would take significant amounts of your blood for a significant amount of time to change a human or otherworlder into a vampire.” McKell’s ears perked, and his back straightened. “The city is awakening, and we must prepare. I have clothes for you, Bride. They are yours, no one else’s. The moment I decided to look for you, I purchased them for you. They’re in my personal quarters.” No way was she going into the man’s bedroom alone. “First, you should know that the humans you hired to find her, the slavers, hoped to rape and torture her before handing her over to you.” The patient stillness of a predator came over McKell. He breathed in and out, slowly, measured, as if to steady himself from a deep rage. “My apologies, Bride.” That rage crackled in his tone. “They will be dealt with, I assure you.”

“They already have been,” Devyn said, smug again. “I take care of my own.” McKell flicked his tongue over a fang. “Appropriately?” He nodded, offended that his ability to protect his woman was in question. “While on the surface, you might have heard of a head being found. Without its body.” Now the corner of McKell’s lip twitched, his anger fading. “Appropriately, then. Now go dress, child.” He waved a hand toward the entrance on the far right. “I shall be waiting.” That commanding tone had to chafe at Bride’s independent nature, as did the “child,” and Devyn almost grinned. “There’s something else. You mentioned that the king’s ability is mind reading.” McKell nodded, his expression suddenly wary. “I suspected as much, last time I was here. But if he reads minds, how are we to prevent him from learning what we know of Bride?” As he spoke, he rubbed her back to assure her that no matter what, they would do what was needed to keep her safe. “The king can only read direct thoughts. While in his presence, in the palace really, you must be careful not to think of what you’ve learned here. I told you the truth only to warn and prepare you. If he even suspects, we are all doomed.” A heavy sigh. “He is not the same man you knew, Targon. Remember Fiona, the nefreti I mentioned? She

abducted his brother, tortured him in the most vile of ways, and when she tired of him and returned the prince, he committed suicide. The king has not been the same since.” Devyn wouldn’t offer sympathy he didn’t feel. He had not liked the prince, had considered him loathsome, always grabbing at the female servants, even hitting them. The bastard had probably deserved everything the one called Fiona had done to him. “If the king is a mind reader, keeping me isn’t an option for you, McKell,” Bride piped up. “No way the two of us can keep our secrets from the king forever.” He shrugged, unconcerned. “As I explained, memories can be erased. Once we have been bonded, we will remain in my home until it’s done.” Bride gasped. “As if.” Devyn stiffened. No one would be screwing with his female’s mind. “You risked a lot, bringing her here.” “I have craved her return for over eighty years. Imprisonment and death would be small prices to pay for having her here.” There at the end, his voice had turned husky. “Go on now. Change.” Devyn’s lips pulled back in a scowl. He didn’t mind the vampire paying those prices, but he did mind Bride paying them. “But I have so many more questions,” Bride said

with a pout. “And I will answer them as I show you the rest of the underground.” With those words, Devyn realized the warrior’s purpose, the reason he’d allowed Devyn into the underground without a fight and with utter confidence of success. McKell hoped to lure Bride into staying with the one thing Devyn could not give her: a city of vampires. The warrior hoped she would spurn Devyn’s affections, beg the king to allow her to stay, and then discard Devyn and his blood. A sense of urgency filled him, a need to show Bride what he could give her. He pushed to a stand, dragging her with him. “She will change, but I will go with her.” McKell scowled at him. “You will stay here with me, and I will answer any questions you have about the care one must take with vampire mates.” Bastard. Offering something so tempting. “My bad. Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear. Where she goes, I go.” Whatever the vampire saw in his expression caused him to nod stiffly. Devyn turned, automatically locking his enemy in place. A growl sounded behind him. He didn’t release his hold until he and Bride were inside the bedroom. Then he waited, doing nothing, expecting McKell to storm inside, fangs bared. It never

happened. Another shocker. Bride spun in a circle, her gaze eating up their new surroundings, and he could only pray she liked his home better. It came with him, after all. He took stock, as well. There was a bed of pillows and furs, two lace ribbons at the head and foot, perfect for a little game of bondage. An intricately carved vanity, a mirror, and all the things a woman could desire to pamper herself. A desk made of stone, weapons lining the wall—did the vampire not fear Devyn would take them?—and a closet filled with robes of every color. The entire enclosure reeked of the warrior. Devyn popped his jaw in irritation. “He wanted you in here without me so that you’ll smell of him when we visit the palace.” “I don’t understand why we need to visit the king. I’m not going to let him decide for me.” “Have you made a decision, then?” “About what?” she asked, pretending to be clueless. About me. About us. He didn’t say that, however. There was another way to learn the answer he craved without sounding like a whiny, needy puss. “Visiting the king is the only way to keep McKell from coming after you.” Devyn drew her into his arms. “Are you happy you came here?” “Yes. I needed to know what it was like.” “And?” He kissed the top of her head, desperate

to have his lips on her. Anywhere on her. “It’s not like I imagined it. The way that girl was treated…the king wanting me dead…destroying my mother…” She shuddered. “So…you won’t stay here?” “No. Probably not.” Thank God. “We need to figure a few things out, then. Like what to do if the king says you belong to the warrior. I honestly thought he’d side with me because we’re already bonded, already married.” And yeah, he’d even thought there was a possibility the king would try and force Devyn to stay here; to keep Bride safe, he’d deemed the chance worth it. Not once had he ever thought the king would try and separate them. Until now. McKell’s confidence… “If he does, I’ll just wish him into a pile of ash,” she said. “And if that doesn’t work?” “I’ll keep wishing until something does.” She returned his embrace and rested her head in the hollow of his neck. Her breath was warm against his skin. “Devyn,” she said, and there was a hesitance to her tone he’d never heard before. “My mother is dead, and there’s no way to return my memories of her. I don’t even know her, but right now I miss her terribly.” “I’m sorry, love. So sorry.” He ran his hands up and down her spine, offering what comfort he

could. “My own mother was more concerned with her lovers than her child, so while I’d willingly give you my memories, I don’t think you’d want them.” “Oh, Devyn. I’m sorry.” Her grip tightened around him. “You should have been fawned over. I bet you were adorable.” “Were?” he asked with mock offense. She uttered a warm, rich chuckle. “Braggart. Macy says I’m becoming just like you.” “And you’re the better for it.” That earned him another chuckle. He kissed her temple. “Your mother wanted you alive and happy. More than anything else, even her own life.” He cupped her chin and drew back, studying her. “You can do that for her. You can give her that.” “Yes.” Tears sprang in her eyes, turning them to liquid emeralds, and her bottom lip started trembling. Those tears…He was struck with the urge to fight the Grim Reaper himself, anything to give her back her mother. He couldn’t exist, knowing Bride was hurting. It destroyed him, more than the darkness ever had. What was worse, he couldn’t tell her how much he thought he maybe might kinda sorta love her. Not yet. Not here. She might not believe him, thinking he said the words, those three earthshattering words, simply to convince her to leave

with him, which could in turn make the contrary female angry enough to stay. He’d never said “I love you” before. Not to his parents, and not to one of his many lovers. When he finally admitted his feelings, he wasn’t sure what he’d do in the face of doubt. How did she feel about him? She trusted him, desired him, but did she love him? “You’re killing me,” he said. “You know that, right?” “So the big strong warrior can’t stand a woman’s tears?” With a shaky grin, she wiped her eyes with the back of her wrist. “I’ll make a note of it for the next time I want my way and you’re acting like an ass.” “I knew you were smart, but this…recognizing how big and strong I am. Brilliant.” Grinning, she pulled away from him and trekked to the closet, where she flipped through the robes. “This is what the females wear all day?” “Oh, yes.” “Well, come help me pick something.” Devyn happily closed the distance between them. Rather than reach around her and grab a green robe to match her eyes as he’d intended, he cupped her breasts. “My advice? The sexier the better.” Her head fell against his shoulder, and she moaned. Her nipples hardened, deliciously abrading

his palms. “Are you doing this to cover me with your scent?” “That’s merely a bonus. I’m doing this because I can’t not do it.” He kissed her exposed neck as his hands delved to the waist of her pants, unzipped the clasp, and sank past her panties. “It’s been too long since I last had you.” “You should wait a bit longer,” she said, but she didn’t push his hand away. “We should wait.” He ground his erection into her lower cheeks. “I won’t tell McKell if you won’t.” It was difficult, but he kept some of his attention on the doorway. Any disturbance in the energy there, and he would kill whoever walked through the door. “If his ears are as tuned as mine, he’ll hear.” “Then you’ll just have to be quiet this time, won’t you, love?” He sank two fingers inside her, his palm rubbing her just right. She groaned in pleasure. “A sound. For shame. But how wet you are. So ready for me, hmm?” “Yes,” she admitted on a wispy catch of breath. “Need you. Now.” Up and down her chest rose. Back and forth she writhed. He hadn’t planned on taking her here, but he couldn’t stop himself from undoing his pants and allowing his erection to pop free. He ripped the material gaping at her waist—she didn’t need it anymore—stripping her luscious lower body. He

kicked her legs apart, and then he was inside her, all the way home. Trembling, she cried his name. She even reached up and back, clutching his head, placing them cheek to cheek. In and out, he pounded, driving hard and fast. “Bite me, love.” “No.” A gasp, a groan of want. “You need the blood.” “You need the strength.” “Drink a little. Just a little…” Temptation, so hard to resist. Her head turned, gaze latching onto his pulse. She licked her lips. “Well…maybe.” “Do it. I need it. I need your teeth in me. Shall I beg? I will. I’ll beg and plead and—” With a hoarse moan, she bit him, those fangs sinking deep, that hot tongue caressing his vein and drawing the blood into her mouth. Oh, the pleasure. He rolled her clitoris between his fingers, increased the pace of his thrusts, sweating, hungry for climax, on fire at every point of contact, euphoric, on edge, desperate. She released him as she came, fangs emerging, fingers curling around the closet frame in front of her, nails scraping stone. Every muscle in her body tensed as her inner walls began milking him, squeezing tight. He roared, not even trying to be quiet, his hot seed jetting into her.

They stood there panting for several minutes, sated, floating on a tide of bliss. Finally reason returned, and he forced himself to pull out of her. He used one of the robes to clean them both and tossed the material to the floor. Bride pivoted and faced him, though not really looking at him. Like butterfly kisses, she ghosted her fingertips over the puncture wounds in his neck. “Shall I try and heal them with my blood?” She’d never offered before, and he realized it was because she’d still, on some level, feared turning him into a vampire. “No, leave them.” He wanted the king to see. To know. “I’ll wear them with pride, for they prove I fed my woman.” Her expression, already glazed with residual passion, softened. “Devyn, I—” “No, don’t say it.” Now wasn’t the time, whether she meant to discuss her feelings or ask him to slow things down. He kissed her hard and long, enjoying her sweet flavor. “Dress. I’m sure McKell is angry with us.” Her head tilted to the side, ears twitching. “He’s pacing.” “And you’re right. I’m angry,” the warrior snarled. He and Bride shared a smile. “Dress,” Devyn told her. Once more she spun toward the closet. She didn’t bother flipping through the colors again, but

snatched up the green. “Your favorite, yes?” Knew his preferences already, did she? Adorable female. She dressed slowly, her movements exaggerated for his benefit. When she finished, the silky material floated over her curves, leaving one delectable shoulder bare. “How do I look?” “Breathtaking, as always,” he said, surprised by the way his voice broke. “Here. Let me.” He picked a gold belt from the array hanging on the wall and wrapped it around her waist, cinching the material. There was a brush on the desk, and he grabbed it. The next five minutes he dedicated to smoothing out the tangles he had caused in her hair. She let him. He knew she needed time to mentally prepare herself for the tour they were about to take. A tour she’d waited her entire life for, but one that would not be with her family. He simply enjoyed the moment, savoring the way the dark waterfall glimmered in the light. He could have done this for hours. Days. Finally he forced himself to set the brush aside. McKell’s footfalls had grown thunderous. “Ready?” Reluctantly she nodded. “Don’t forget, love. I’ll be with you every step of the way.” Hand in hand, they rejoined McKell. The warrior stood at the entryway, arms crossed

over his middle. “I could destroy you without you ever realizing what happened.” “Hey, now,” Bride said. “None of that, remember?” McKell spun on his heel and stomped from the cave. “Come. Before I forget myself.” Just as before, he and Bride followed. Guards were still posted at the gate, and when they passed, the men fell into step behind them. Though only a few hours had ticked by, the city they next entered was nothing like the city they’d first encountered. This one pulsed with life. Vampires meandered in the streets, their robes dancing almost magically at their ankles. Some were alone, some were paired, while others strode in groups. It was like any other city on any other planet. No one wore those glammored masks, so all that beauty was nearly blinding. Shops were filled with clothing, food for vampires to buy for their human slaves, a bar that served the thirsty. Bride wasn’t looked at twice. Devyn was regarded with hostile curiosity by the males and eye-fucked with naked desire by the females. Nothing had changed, he mused. One woman stopped directly in front of him and invited him to her home for breakfast. He, of course, was to be the meal. She was pretty, with Bride’s pale skin and bright, vivid eyes. But her lips were not as lush, her hair not as dark.

“Sorry, darling,” he said, not slowing but continually stepping around her. “While I’m sure you are indeed a delicious little treat, I’m taken.” After trying a bit longer, and still meeting with rejection, the female flounced away in a huff. Devyn glanced over at Bride, unsure of what he’d find. She was shaking her head. “Sorry, love,” he told her. “But what can I say? I’m irresistible.” “No, you’re a ho. But the good news is, I’m okay with that.” And he’d once wanted jealousy from her, he thought. This was so much better. Acceptance for who and what he was. Because she knew he would always return to her? “You would never have to wonder about my affections,” McKell said, keeping pace at Bride’s other side. “Since I began my search for you, I have given myself to no one.” His voice had lowered, less substantial than even a whisper, so that only the three of them could hear. Sneaky bastard. Devyn glared at him. I’m going to cut out your tongue and give it to my maids to clean my toilets with. “Stay with me, and this could all be yours.” The warrior spread his arms to encompass the city. “You would never have to hide who and what you are again.” “Wouldn’t I?” she asked meaningfully. She was

nefreti, hunted for her abilities. Deemed too dangerous to live. That’s my girl. “You would be safe,” the warrior said, “safer here than you could ever be up there. I would make sure of it. Besides, what makes you think the king would allow you to leave, placing our secrets in the hands of war-hungry humans?” “She has lived on the surface for a long time and never revealed herself to the humans,” Devyn replied. “She would not do so now.” McKell snapped his too-sharp teeth at Devyn, eyes glowing bright red. Devyn gave him a pinkie wave and a smile. “Not another pissing contest,” Bride said on a moan. “Come on, be a good boy, McKell, and take me to my mother’s home.” McKell frowned at her. “I told you. It was destroyed.” “That wouldn’t stop me from taking her,” Devyn told him. There was a beat of silence, McKell clearly struggling to rein in his temper. “Very well,” he finally said. After waving his men away, he changed directions completely, heading back toward his home. They skirted two shops and rounded three corners, and soon stood in front of a wall of loose rock. There were no people present, as though the area itself was somehow tainted.

“Here you are.” Bride hesitantly, shakily stepped forward and traced her fingers over a few of the crumbles. “This was a doorway?” “Yes.” McKell nodded. “Tell me what was inside.” “A home very much like mine. When you entered, there was a main meeting area and three doorways that branched into rooms. One was for your parents, one for you, and one for the food.” “What was my mother’s name?” she asked softly. “Ellen.” “Ellen,” she repeated. “She was beautiful, a lot like you. Same dark hair, same red lips, though you have your father’s eyes. His name was Dominick, and he was a soldier like me. His strength was legend.” Her shoulders drooped a little. “I wish I remembered them.” In the distance, a clatter of bells rang. When the last echo faded, a strained apprehension settled over their little group. McKell was the first to break through it. He cleared his throat. “The king is ready for visitors. Come, if we hurry, we might be able to beat the crowd.” Dread tightened Devyn’s stomach as he reached for Bride. Once again, she was trembling. By

coming here, he had placed their fate in the hands of a fierce king he apparently no longer knew. And all because he’d wanted to do what was right for a female. His female. Last time he’d tried to please a woman, that dark day on his mother’s birthday, he’d spent weeks nursing a broken heart. God only knew what would happen this time.

CHAPTER 23

Dallas didn’t even have to knock on the metal door in front of him. Kyrin was already there, standing in the entryway, waiting. Dallas wanted to believe the otherworlder was there because he’d called ahead, which he had, but he knew better. Mia’s man was as attuned to Dallas as Dallas was to him. “I am glad you’ve come,” Kyrin said, shutting the door behind him. Silent, Dallas strode into the living room. Mia, lounging on the couch, flipped off the TV when she spotted him. He’d never seen her so relaxed. AIR was her life. Well, it had been until Kyrin found her. She smiled a contented smile. “Took you long enough. Idiot.” His lips curled in response. She’d always been ballsy. “What can I say? I recognize that I need help.” “You’ve been using your powers,” Kyrin said from behind him. He nodded. “Not as well as I’d assumed I would, but I’ve accepted that they’re a part of me. That’s something, right?” “Sit, sit.” Kyrin’s arm, with pale skin that reminded him of Devyn’s Bride, stretched past him, motioning toward the nearest chair.

His nerves were a little raw as he obeyed. Kyrin hadn’t meant his words as a command, but that’s exactly how Dallas’s body took them, planting one foot in front of the other until Dallas was at the chair and easing down. He faced his audience with narrowed eyes. “Sorry,” Kyrin muttered. The otherworlder settled beside Mia, who snuggled up next to him without shame or hesitation. Hadn’t pegged her for a cuddler. Amazing what love did to people. “Before you guys begin,” Mia said, “why don’t you tell us what happened in that clearing. The full story, not the condensed version in your report.” He nodded, grateful for the reprieve. “Yesterday when I pegged Nolan with the night-night cocktail, he passed out, and a woman spoke from behind me. I turned, fell to my knees because my energy was completely drained, and there she was. An angel. There were guards behind her, and I shot them all. Didn’t stun them, but killed them. I heard and smelled the sizzle of their flesh.” Dallas drew in a deep breath before continuing. “She promised to come back for me. I could feel the power radiating off her. It was like she had me in a trance. I wanted to shoot her, but I couldn’t force my fingers to work. Then she was gone, the men were gone, and Hector was standing over me, telling me I must have imagined it.”

The queen was part of the reason he’d finally decided to take Kyrin up on his offer of training, to prepare himself for the day she returned. And he knew, knew, she would return. Kyrin frowned. He rubbed his smooth jaw with a finger, pensive. “You shot the men, but there was no sign of them when you awoke.” “Right.” “And we were only minutes behind you, so there would have been no time for her to drag them away.” “Right.” But she’d been real, damn it. “She could have walked through the wormhole again,” Mia suggested, “taking the men with her.” God bless her. Then Kyrin had to ruin it. “To my knowledge, otherworld travel is only possible through solar flares. There wasn’t another solar flare after she stepped through.” Dallas’s shoulders slumped. “So you’re saying I dreamed her, too? Or maybe had a vision of her?” “It’s possible, I suppose. Have you ever seen yourself in a vision?” He shook his head. “I’m always a shadowy figure. Faceless.” Once again Kyrin tapped a finger against his chin. “You don’t see yourself because your decision about what to do hasn’t yet been made when you see the future.”

“Well, I saw myself clearly in this. I was an active participant.” “I doubt this was a vision, then.” With a sigh, Kyrin leaned back on the couch. “Not a hallucination, either. We aren’t prone to those. Our minds are too locked on what could happen in the future to give way to fantasies.” One small thing in his favor, at least. “My best guess is that you spoke to this woman, and she has a power very similar to Nolan’s. Not invisibility, because we would have seen her with the infrareds. Perhaps she can travel from one location to another with only a thought. My queen had that ability, as well.” Which would mean that Dallas now had a very powerful enemy. A powerful enemy he was insanely attracted to. A woman who slept with legions of men to save herself, killing them. A woman who had nearly controlled him with the same force Kyrin possessed over him. A woman who could ruin his entire life, taking everything he loved from him. “We’ll have to place you under surveillance,” Mia said, “in case she returns.” He gave a reluctant nod. Wouldn’t be his favorite thing, being watched constantly, but it was better than the alternative. He didn’t trust himself with Nolan’s queen. “Wow,” Mia said. “I thought you’d fight me on

that one.” “I’m not an idiot. Not all the time,” he said, and she laughed. “I understand now how she so entranced Nolan, and why he refused to give her up.” Mia’s gaze sharpened on him. “You didn’t have sex with her, did you?” “No.” Had she remained, he might have let her seduce him, though, and he didn’t like that. Made him feel weak. “One thing we know. Her powers are vast, to have wiped away any hint of her presence like that,” Kyrin said. “But there have been no new reports of the virus, so that is in our favor.” Mia snuggled deeper into her man’s side. “When you guys are done with your training, I want a composite made of her.” “That is code for us to get started,” Kyrin told him with a grin. “So tell me what brought you to this point.” At this second order, Dallas shifted uncomfortably. “First,” he said, “there’s Devyn. About a week ago I had a vision of him being murdered at the pier. Then, this morning, that image wiped itself from my mind as though it was no longer a concern.” At the word murder, Mia jolted upright. Probably arming herself mentally and figuring out the best way to watch the pier to save Devyn’s ass.

“It’s not. Valid, I mean.” Kyrin patted her leg, and she gradually returned to his side. “You managed to change the future.” “So not all visions are set in stone?” That was news to him. Every vision he’d had before had come true. “Not all, no. The more you allow the visions to dance through your mind, the more types of visions you’ll receive, and the easier it will be for you to know what is changeable and what is not.” Kyrin arched a black brow. “Were you given a new vision to take the other’s place?” “Yes.” And the new one had pissed him off as much as the first, though it hadn’t been nearly as bleak. “I saw Devyn chained inside a small, dark cage. He was cut up and bleeding. There was murder in his eyes.” Worse, Bride had been nowhere to be seen. “There were two men beyond the bars, and they were eyeing him like he was the tastiest treat they’d ever seen.” Clearly, they were vampires. Which meant, to Dallas, that Devyn had gotten—or would get— himself captured by the warrior McKell. Kyrin’s head tilted to the side. “Tell me. Were the edges of this vision as real and colorful as the vision itself? Or were they faded, tapering into nothingness?” Dallas frowned as he closed his eyes and replayed the scene of Devyn’s captivity through his

mind. He’d never paid attention to the edges of a vision before, only concentrating on the happenings. His frown deepened when he noticed that the edges were of the solid variety. “No fading. What does that mean?” There was a regretful sigh. “That means at this point, that vision is not changeable. It will happen, and there’s nothing that can be done to stop it. Devyn has already chosen the path that set him on that course and the pieces have already fallen into place.” Damn. How many layers were there to the visions? He’d never had a clue, never suspected there was more to think about than what he was seeing. He’d just thought that what he saw was what was going to happen. “We’ve gotta get him out. He doesn’t do well in confined spaces. Good news is, I can pinpoint his exact location. He injected himself with the isotope tracker a few weeks ago. Just in case Bride drank from him, he wanted to be able to track her.” Mia’s grin returned. “God, I love that isotope. I’m thinking of implementing a Mandatory Injection Monday the first of every third month.” She tapped her chin with a blunt-tipped fingernail. “And maybe I’ll have everyone we arrest injected, as well. I mean, it’s how we finally nailed Nolan. It could save us a lot of time if another escape is ever made.”

Since Nolan’s recapture yesterday, Dallas knew that Mia had broken down and tested the otherworlder’s blood. Seemed there was no trace of the disease. Miracle of miracles, it was gone as if it had never been. So Mia had then tested the blood of the new vampires, but theirs had lacked the strong healing qualities of Bride’s. Which meant that their blood wouldn’t kill the disease. Only Bride’s would, it seemed. Devyn would flip when he found out. If—when —Dallas got him out of that cage. “As for Devyn, we’ll gather the troops and do a quick in-and-out,” Mia said. “He won’t be in that cage long.” It was a vow. She knew how much Dallas had come to love the irreverent shithead, and she loved Dallas enough to want him happy. If it weren’t for Kyrin, Dallas would have jumped up and kissed her. “I pulled up his location this morning. It’s the same as it was last night. At the canyon about three hours from here.” Her brow furrowed in confusion. “The canyon? Why did he go to the canyon? It’s unlivable.” He explained how Devyn had taken Bride and run from McKell. “No way. He wouldn’t have run from the warrior.” She shook her head. “Running isn’t his style.” “You haven’t seen how he is with Bride. It reminds me of”—he shuddered—“you guys. He

wanted to protect her.” “Exactly,” Mia said, nodding as if he’d just proven her point. “To protect her, he would eliminate a threat, not evade it.” Huh. That made sense. Dallas leaned back in the chair. Shit. I’m keeping her safe, Devyn had said, and Dallas had just assumed the big guy had meant to hide out for a bit. Just then Dallas felt like the idiot Mia had called him for ever assuming otherwise. But Devyn had purposefully given him that impression. Why? The answer immediately slammed into him. Devyn had known Dallas would follow him, intending to fight the vampire army side by side, most likely losing the slaves he’d purchased in the fray. Goddamn it! “Can I force a vision?” Kyrin frowned. “What do you mean?” “Can I somehow tap into Devyn’s life and see what’s going on right this very second?” “You can, yes.” There was no time to rejoice, because the Arcadian added, “With practice.” “Then I’ll start practicing now.” Determined, he closed his eyes and summoned his friend’s image. There was Dev, laughing over at him. He’d probably just complimented his own beauty or the size of his cock. Dallas’s lips twitched. Come on, you can do it. Find Devyn. Over and over he attempted to force his mind to open, to plug in and

reveal. His lids squeezed tight with the force of his concentration, but the image never shifted, never became a real-life play-by-play. Frustration was like a knife inside him. “Stop,” Kyrin said, and he did, helpless to do otherwise. His eyelids popped open, his mind blanking. He gritted his teeth. “Do not order me around.” “You came to me for help. Therefore, I will do whatever I wish, and you will obey me in all things.” Yes, he would. He wouldn’t be able to help himself. Furious, he popped to his feet. “I’m not your servant or your slave.” Pale blue eyes—eyes so like his own— narrowed. “But you are my student. Sit.” Though he was still fuming, Dallas sat, unable to do otherwise. “If you do not want to follow my commands, learn to fight the impulse to follow them.” “How?” he gritted out. “Practice, as I said.” Dallas pinched the bridge of his nose. Was that the otherworlder’s answer to everything? Mia threw a pillow at him. “Get over yourself. He’s being generous, giving you so much of his time. Time he could be spending with me.” Kyrin clasped her hand and brought it to his lips for a kiss, though his attention never wavered from

Dallas. “Have I answered all of your questions, agent?” “Pretty much.” “Good.” Kyrin stood. “Mia and I have set up a training mat. I’d like to—” “Hell, no.” That might have been the reason he’d come here, but sometime during their conversation things had changed. “I’m ready to go after Devyn and save him from that cage.” Oh, yeah. And kill the people who had placed him there. Kyrin shook his head, the picture of resolve. “You’ve accepted your abilities, but you have no idea how to truly use them to your advantage. You’ll give me an hour or two of your time. Devyn will survive for that long. And then I will help you save him.” “Bastard!” Scowling, Dallas popped to his feet. The “you’ll give me” had sealed his fate. He would stay here for “an hour or two,” practicing as he’d been commanded. Unless…Kyrin had said he could fight the urge to obey. Once more he concentrated. Tried to force one foot in front of the other to leave. He visualized the front door, saw himself walking out of it, but he fucking didn’t move. His muscles were bunched, locked down on his bones, his brain refusing to send the signals needed for movement. “Are you able to summon your powers easily?” the otherworlder asked him. “Can you turn them

off whenever you wish?” “Sometimes.” He’d been able to race into the clearing, but he hadn’t been able to bend Nolan’s queen to his will. Stopping, though, once he’d started? Not really. “That, too, will change when I am through with you. You’ll summon and stop them at will.” “And just how long until you’re through with me?” he couldn’t help but ask with dread. “Perhaps a year.” His jaw dropped. “A year? You’re kidding me?” Mia rolled her eyes. “You’ll learn that Kyrin here doesn’t have a sense of humor.” “You’ll thank me for that,” Kyrin said, confident. “Thank you.” The words were out before he could stop them. Mia choked on a laugh. Kyrin sighed patiently. “There is much to do, I see. More than I’d anticipated.” “Devyn—” “Will be fine, like I said. The vision you had was the future. He’s not yet in the cage.” Had Kyrin always been this much of an ass? “We can keep him from the cage, then. If we act now.” “Trying to change a vision set in stone is impossible. Doing so will only hurt you. I believe you’ve experienced that already. Devyn is going to be locked up, one way or another.”

CHAPTER 24

To Devyn, the vampire palace had not changed in any way. He saw the same smooth onyx walls covered in merry murals of humans dancing in all their antique finery, same Victorian furniture stolen from the surface—walnut marble tabletops, white lace telephone chairs, and slag-glass lamps. Same ceiling comprised solely of crystal, like an endless chandelier or a rocky midnight ocean, the lights from below bouncing off the jagged shards and splashing colors in every direction. Same shields and spears decorating the walls. Same alabaster columns and statues of royalty positioned throughout. There was a line of robe-clad women, males dressed in white shirts and black pants, much like McKell, all leading into the throne room. Guards were stationed throughout, armed with spiked whips. None of the vamps had ever said anything to him, but he knew the whips were designed to slash through skin and vein while gripping bone, preventing the injury from healing. The subsequent blood loss weakened the captured vampires, enabling the whip to hold them in place. He could have used one of those whips on Bride when he’d lured her to his apartment, he supposed, but even

from the beginning his goal had not been to hurt her. Should have known then what she would come to mean to me. As he stood in the foyer, Bride and McKell at his sides, he tried to see the palace as Bride might: for the first time, as a home she should have grown up in, a home that had been denied her. It was beautifully dark, utterly sultry. “The crowd beat us,” McKell said on a sigh. Bride spun in a circle, clearly awed. “Why do they wish to speak to the king?” The warrior watched her with smug fondness, and Devyn could practically hear his thoughts: Score one for team McKell. “Many reasons. To gain permission to mate. To settle disputes with neighbors. Often a human is involved, and there has been a forbidden sampling.” She stilled, disgust replacing her awe. “Do they have to ask permission to bathe, too?” Devyn fought a grin. Score one for team Devyn. Raised on the surface as she’d been, she was used to doing what she wanted, when she wanted to do it. “Come,” McKell said through clenched teeth. “There’s no reason for us to wait in line. We will visit the king when the crowd thins.” “Why don’t we just cut to the front?” Bride pointed toward the doors to the throne room. “I want to get this over with.”

“That is not allowed. Not even for one of my station.” McKell ushered them through an arched doorway and up a flight of stairs, comprised of the same crystal as the ceiling, only these had been ground down and polished to a glistening shine. On the second level, they turned a sharp corner, a yawning chamber coming into view. There, the furniture was made entirely from human bones, and Bride couldn’t hide her revulsion. Score two for team Devyn. There were only three occupants. One was draped from head to toe in black, face obscured as she stood patiently in the far corner. The other two were more scantily dressed, their robes half the length of Bride’s and completely transparent. He could see the outline of their nipples as they jumped from the—femur?—settee they’d been lounging on. “Devyn,” one of them called happily. She had long pale hair, chocolate eyes, and curves so dangerous they could never be fully explored. The other clapped her hands and smiled. This one had a short cap of red curls and dimples when she smiled. She was taller, thinner, but no less desirable. “You came back to see us!” Beside him, Bride moaned. “Great. Conquests.” McKell chuckled. Devyn glared at him. They were tied once again, it seemed. Two to two. “You don’t play fair.”

His enemy shrugged, no less amused. “I play with what toys I have. I sent a few of my men to alert the princesses of their favorite Targon’s arrival. They couldn’t wait to see you again, and I knew you’d be just as eager to renew your acquaintance.” Devyn faced the two vampires he’d had before Bride. The two he’d bought, bedded, and returned to their people. They were racing to him, then throwing themselves in his arms, planting little kisses over his face and neck. To deny them would have been rude and perhaps life-threatening, as they were of royal blood, cousins to the king—a king he needed on his side. Still, Devyn un-tangled himself from their arms and stepped back. They frowned at him, confused. When it came to touching and sex, he’d never told them no before. “Is this a new game?” one of the girls asked. What were their names? “I’m married now,” he explained. He racked his brain, and the answer finally popped into place. “Princess Deanna and Princess Wendy, this is Bride of the Targons.” Bride nodded in acknowledgment. “Nice to meet you.” The two females ignored Bride, speaking only to each other. “Last time he called me Demi.” “I was Elsie.” Giggling, they turned to him and shook their

heads in a strange sort of unison. “Such a silly man. I’m De-Ella.” “And I’m Jalyn.” “Wow. You really are bad with names,” Bride said between coughs, as if that would keep anyone from hearing her actual words. “My apologies, ladies,” he told them, trying not to laugh. De-Ella playfully batted his shoulder. The slap would have sent any other man to his knees. She was an older vampire, and therefore stronger than most. “You’re role-playing again. That’s so cute.” “It’s a gift.” “One I truly enjoy,” Bride said. Finally they looked at her. Really looked at her, up and down, every inch. Confusion consumed both of their features. “You married this person?” Jalyn asked. Bride stiffened. “Hey, now. This person doesn’t take too kindly to being insulted.” McKell drew her aside. “Come. Let’s leave them to their reunion.” “No.” Devyn threw out an arm, blocking her escape. “She stays.” “Yeah,” Bride said. “This person will stay.” “She can’t join us,” De-Ella said with a pout. “We already have a fourth. A present for you, actually.” Grinning wickedly, Jalyn motioned the cloaked

female over. Hesitantly the woman obeyed, her hips rocking more suggestively than she probably realized. Dread burned through Devyn like acid. “This is Tadeam.” De-Ella pinched the hood and slowly lifted it, first revealing a length of golden hair, thick and shiny. Then golden skin. Then a lovely golden face. The slave’s eyes were downcast, but he knew they would be golden, too. “Something you’ve never ever ever tasted before but always wanted.” Yep, she was exactly what he’d suspected. A Rakan. The one race he’d been denied all these years. The race he’d tried to buy time and time again but failed. Eden’s race. What he’d always thought he’d wanted. He sucked in a breath and caught the scent of honey and spice. It was true, then. Rakans smelled like honey when they were aroused. De-Ella and Jalyn must have primed her before bringing her here, thinking it would send him into a frenzy. Before Bride, it would have. Now, it did nothing for him. He’d tasted heaven already. He’d entered paradise. Variety was no longer what drove him. Bride was. She was the world he now revolved around. The one he sought to please, to protect, to pleasure. She had shown him what his life was missing. Then, with her smile and her touch, she’d patched him up and made him whole.

“Remember when you painted us gold and had us pretend we were Rakans?” De-Ella traced a finger along his collarbone. “We had the McKell on the lookout, and when he found her, he bought her for us. Just in case you returned. Manus told us you would.” Manus, the king. So. He’d known all along that Devyn would return. But had he known why? “Ladies.” Bride rubbed at her chest as if pained. “I tried to be nice, but you ruined it. Now I don’t like you. You are going to back away from my husband.” Her husband. It was the first time since their unexpected mating that she’d said it, and his heart swelled. Mine. She’s mine. Husband was a title he’d once endured, detested, suffered through, and when he’d finally shed it, vowed never to take it up again. Now, for the second time in his life, he was a husband. This time he preferred the title to that of king. Before, she’d displayed no hint of jealousy. Not even toward the princesses. Not until they’d insulted her had she even displayed anger. But knowing him as she did, she thought variety was his weakness. This entire situation had to be abhorrent to her. The girls regarded Bride as queens would a peasant. As if she were beneath them. Had they always been so snotty? Devyn found he couldn’t

remember. He’d slept with them, many times, but hadn’t noticed anything else about them. Hadn’t cared to. Jalyn’s chin rose. “Who do you think you are?” McKell stepped forward. “She is Bride, a vampire, found on the surface at an auction. She is mine.” “Actually,” Devyn said, “she’s mine.” “Well, I’ve never seen her before.” The pronouncement came from De-Ella, as if her lack of knowledge lowered Bride’s value. Had they always been this oblivious, as well? “That’s because she was raised on Earth.” “Then send her back,” Jalyn snapped. “She bores me.” “Well, then. Let me entertain you with a story.” Smiling evilly, teeth completely bared, Bride ambled toward her. “Stop me if you’ve heard this one. There once was a girl who wiped the floor with two vampire princesses. They screamed and begged for mercy, but no one helped them. The end.” “Don’t come any closer.” Jalyn drummed her nails against her arms. “If I must, I’ll call for the guards.” McKell bent in a formal bow. “I’m right here, Princess.” “Take her away, then.” Clearly assuming her orders would be obeyed, Jalyn cast a sultry gaze at

Devyn. “As that’s settled, it’s time to see to you…” De-Ella reached out and fisted his shirt. “Just give us five minutes, and we’ll remind you what you liked most about us.” “I. Will. Not. Be. Ignored. Time to show you the story,” Bride said, and it was the only warning she gave of her intentions. One moment she was beside Devyn, seemingly calm as could be, and the next she had her arms locked around De-Ella’s waist, both women soaring through the air. They crashed into the wall, De-Ella’s head and back taking most of the force. When she realized what was happening, Jalyn shrieked and launched into the fray. The three rolled on the floor, punching and biting at each other, clawing and cursing. “Bitch,” he thought he heard Bride growl. She raked her nails across De-Ella’s cheek, and blood welled. Pride lanced through him. De-Ella grabbed a clump of her hair and jerked. Rage joined the pride, and he growled. “You’ll pay for that,” Bride snarled before latching onto the vampire’s wrist and crushing the bone. More pride. There was a howl of pain. “I’ll kill you! Do you hear me? I’ll kill you!” Jalyn elbowed her in the stomach. More rage. Scowling, he clasped onto their energy molecules, freezing all three in place. They were tangled together, Bride’s eyes bright red and

filled with the same intense agony he’d seen the first time she’d climaxed for him. He was moving forward, determined to break them up and ease whatever was troubling Bride. The few punches she’d taken wouldn’t cause that amount of suffering. “No. You mustn’t. She must prove her strength.” McKell’s clamped onto his shoulder, stopping him. “If she doesn’t, if you step in, they will be considered the victors, and to the victor goes the spoils. All that is hers will then belong to them. Including you.” As if. “I’d think that would make you happy,” he said, shaking off the warrior’s hold. “I won’t deny it. But Bride’s life here would be miserable.” “She won’t be living here,” Devyn said. “If you’d like me to communicate that through interpretive dance so that you better understand, I’m happy to perform.” One second Devyn’s left eye felt fine, normal, and the next it felt tender and swollen again, as it had when he’d first entered the cave. As many times as he’d been hit in his long life, he knew the sensation. And he’d definitely been hit. He’d never seen McKell move, which meant the bastard had stopped time. Damn if he didn’t admire the vampire for it. “You don’t know she’ll return to the surface,”

McKell said as if nothing had happened. “You’ve seen me, right? Trust me, where I go, she’ll go.” “How does she stand your ego?” McKell waved a hand through the air. “Never mind. Don’t answer. Just think of it this way. If the king gives her to you, and she ever wishes to return here, which she might, she will be teased and insulted and tormented. They will never leave her alone. Nor will their friends. She will be fair game to the males, considered weak and in need of a master.” For any other lover, he would have laughed, even enjoyed the show. Catfights were fun, after all. “It’s two against one.” More than that, Bride was hurting. “Yes, and next time it will be five against one. Unless she proves herself.” Devyn drew in a breath, then slowly released it —and the women. The fight resumed as if it had never paused. Bride swung her leg around and kicked De-Ella in the stomach. He wanted to cheer. She spun and elbowed Jalyn in the jaw. He did cheer. The older De-Ella possessed a speed Bride hadn’t yet achieved and raced behind her, grabbing her around the middle and sinking her teeth into Bride’s exposed neck. When Bride reached behind to grab the vampire by the head and perhaps snap her neck, Jalyn

seized her wrist and twisted, perhaps breaking the bone. “That will teach you to challenge your betters, little Bride.” Devyn stepped forward again, then managed to catch himself. His hands were clenched into fists. His teeth were digging into his bottom lip. She’s a fast healer, he reminded himself. She’ll be fine. Bride wrenched free of Jalyn’s hold, and even though her hand was damaged, she grabbed DeElla’s head as she’d first intended and jerked. The vampiress soared over her shoulder and slapped into the ground. Bride stomped on the woman’s trachea exactly as he’d once wanted to do to Nolan even while dragging a shocked Jalyn to her and viciously sinking her fangs into the woman’s neck. She sucked so savagely, the vampire could not even struggle because struggling only anchored Bride deeper. Soon Jalyn went limp, and her eyes closed. Bride dropped her, spit out the blood, and lowered that gleaming red gaze to De-Ella. Pride, much greater than before, swam through him. She’d done it. Two against one, and she’d kicked major ass. Oh, yes. That’s my girl. “Do we understand each other?” Bride said, rubbing her chest. “Y-yes.” She stomped to Devyn, and halted only when she was a whisper away. The hand at her chest never

ceased moving. “Thorns,” she said. She sounded more animal than human—or rather, vampire—just then. Looked it, too. Blood was smeared over her lips and chin, and her fangs were longer and sharper than ever. “Thorns?” He didn’t wait for her response, but cupped her jaw, fingers spanning up and tracing over her cheeks, thumbs wiping the blood from her mouth. “Explain, and I’ll kiss it better.” “Actually, you won’t touch her again without my permission,” a hard voice rang out from behind him. A hush fell over the room. Devyn and Bride turned. Paling, McKell bowed submissively. DeElla lumbered to her knees. Jalyn was still out cold. The king had arrived.

CHAPTER 25

Bride struggled to regain control of herself. There was a haze of red behind her eyes, a throb in her neck and knuckles, and a burn in her lungs. The thorns surrounding the source of her buried abilities were savagely scraping against her, harder than ever before. Despite the newcomer’s demand for Devyn to keep his hands to himself, he reached out and twined their fingers, his thumb caressing her wrist in comfort. That helped enough that she was able to subdue most of her pain. “Majesty,” he said respectfully, inclining his head in greeting. The vampire king, she realized. There was something she needed to do…something important…She drew a deep breath in through her nose, held it…held it…released it slowly. Her muscles eased their vise grip on her bones, and her gaze cleared. What did she need to—blank her mind! Yes, that was it. Blank her mind because the king, Manus, was a thought reader. “Majesty,” she said, curtsying as she’d seen women do in movies. Her legs shook. When she straightened, the ruler of her people came into view. He was tall, taller even than Devyn, with pale, shaggy hair and eyes of black

velvet. They would have been devil eyes, if not for the thick frame of lashes around them. His lips were stained red, as if he’d just eaten. His features were perfect, carved from marble and as pale as his hair. He possessed muscle stacked upon muscle, but that was not what gave him such an air of strength. It was the magic humming from him, so vibrant she could actually hear it singing in her ears. And her ears liked it. Wanted more. “Your defiance is showing, Targon,” the king said to Devyn. There was a slight lifting of his lips. That was it, the only hint of his amusement. His features were too hard to reveal anything else. “And it’s as lovely as the rest of me, I’m sure.” Devyn, at least, sounded fully amused. “You haven’t changed, I see.” Blank mind, blank mind. “Rise.” Manus waved his fingers to punctuate his command. “All of you. Then someone must explain why I was not greeted properly.” McKell straightened. He, too, seemed carved from marble just then. “We had every intention of seeking you out, Highness. We were simply waiting until the line thinned.” Manus wore a cape of black-and-gold velvet, the material thick and plush. It billowed at his feet, though he didn’t move. “There’s been much thought about the Targon’s arrival, but only a few have wondered at the girl with him, a stranger to

our land. I didn’t believe it, of course, because everyone in this room knows visitors are forbidden.” There at the end, his voice had hardened menacingly. “Who and what is she?” “She is vampire,” McKell said. “Meant to remain here.” You little shit, Bride thought, wanting to slam her fist into his teeth so that he’d have trouble talking for a while. “Is she?” Those obsidian eyes slid to the puncture wounds on the female Bride had bitten. “Raised on Earth, found by the Targon. You both want her, and you both expect me to declare who she will stay with. You both expect to be chosen.” Silence. Thick, heavy. Bride gulped, no longer quite so confident of her ability to tell this man where he could roast. Mind blank. “Step forward, Bride of the surface.” Though she despised him for what he’d done to her mother—mind blank, damn it—she only hesitated for a second. Devyn released her reluctantly, giving her a final squeeze. In this underground, the king’s word was law. He decided who lived and who died. Who stayed and who was allowed to leave. When she was a few inches away, she stopped. He was just so big. His body consumed her personal

space. Mind blank. But even as she commanded it, thoughts swam through her head. If he tried to hurt Devyn, she would tear this place apart. He frowned down at her. Oh, God. He heard. Beads of sweat broke out over her brow, and she stepped backward before she could stop herself. I wish he couldn’t hear my thoughts. And she didn’t care what the consequences were of that. “Be still,” he commanded. He reached out and placed his fingertips at her temples. His skin was dry and cool. His frown intensified. “Have you no opinions?” “Excuse me?” “Your mind is blocked to me.” It was? Her wish had worked? Don’t smile. “Huh. Interesting,” was all she said, as deadpan as possible, but she thought, How’s this for an opinion? Your people and their eating habits suck. And I don’t mean that literally. No reaction. She couldn’t help herself. She smiled. Sparks of white suddenly dotted the darkness of his eyes. “Your smile is lovely. However, I do not like your ability to keep me out.” His head tilted to the side. “But generous as I am, I will allow it.” Wow. Finally she’d met someone more assured of his own goodness and superiority than Devyn. “Thanks.”

“Guards,” he called, and Bride stiffened. He didn’t look away from her as a flood of armed vampires marched into the room. They lined the wall, awaiting their king’s command. “Before we get to know one another, your companions must be dealt with.” “Whatever you’re planning, I won’t allow it,” she said, violently shaking her head, backing away. “Silence.” The king’s mouth, hard already with disapproval, hardened further. “Targon, you purchased two vampires from an auction and gave them to your friends at AIR. That is a crime against my people. A crime you knew better than to commit.” “I was going to bring them back. Eventually,” Devyn said, unrepentant. “That hardly matters.” The king turned to McKell. “Thank you for projecting the information. However, your plan to ruin the Targon in my eyes has backfired, for you revealed your own involvement, as well. You allowed my people to be imprisoned without a fight.” McKell opened his mouth to protest. “No. Not a word from you.” With a nod to his guards, the king added, “Take them to my dungeon, where they will stay until I decide what to do with them.” “No! Don’t you dare move,” Bride cried. They ignored her, marching forward, closer…

closer…“Devyn, stop them.” “Can’t,” he gritted out. “Their energy is scrambled.” “No!” Bride shouted. I wish Devyn was safe. I wish Devyn was safe. He remained in place, a target of those armed soldiers. “Please, no.” Her bravado was gone. “I’m begging you.” She hadn’t begged for anything since losing Macy. Not even Devyn’s touch. Now, helplessness bombarded her. “Please. Allow Devyn and me to return to the surface. Please.” The men didn’t pause, so she crouched, fangs bared, ready to fight them all if necessary. Devyn would rather die than be locked away, and she would rather die than let him. “No one touches the Targon,” she stated flatly. “He’s mine.” “No harm is to befall the female,” the king told his men, who reached their circle. Bride grabbed hold of one and flung him away. She did the same to another, and then another, until someone grabbed her—Devyn, she realized, catching his wild scent. “Do not fight this.” He released her and willingly stepped back amid the guards, allowing them to tie his wrists behind his back with a whip. McKell’s, too. What are you doing! she wanted to shout. Why are you so accepting?

“As to why your ability doesn’t work, Devyn,” the king said. “I’ve been inside your mind before and learned how you do it. I have taken certain measures to ensure you are never so powerful in my palace again.” “Let him go, or I swear to God I will destroy you.” Her mouth was so dry, her tongue felt swollen. The thorns inside her had seemingly sprouted thorns of their own, scraping at her, stinging. She had to calm down. “He didn’t do anything wrong. I just wanted to see my birthplace and learn about my people. I can bring you the vampires. Just let him go. I wish you would let him go. Please.” “Too late,” the king replied. “AIR now knows we exist. The damage is done.” “They would have found out anyway! Your people have been attending auctions. In fact, AIR probably already knew, since they monitor that kind of criminal activity.” “Hush, love, and go with him,” Devyn told her. He even smiled at her when her gaze met his. “I’ll be fine.” White-hot tears burned her eyes, blurring her vision. No, he wouldn’t be fine. He would be in torment. My fault. This is all my fault. “I’ll go with him if he lets you return to the—” “Go with the king,” he interjected, steel in the words. “Do not worry about me.”

Did Devyn have a plan? Of course he did, she thought next, finally calming. It probably involved seducing a female guard, but that was okay. Freedom was the only thing that mattered. “Fine,” she said, lifting her chin. Maybe, while she was with the king, she’d remove his heart—if he had one—and set it on fire. Just in case Devyn’s plan, whatever it was, fell through. “If, at any time, she harms me in any way,” the king told the guards, as if he could read her mind after all, “kill the Targon.” Bride nearly screeched in frustration and helplessness. Defeated before she’d even begun. No way would she risk Devyn’s life. What the hell was she going to do now?

Bride was escorted to a room of black velvet. The walls were draped with it, the floor covered in it, and what little furniture there was—two chairs facing each other—were dripping with it. All that soft darkness made her feel like she was floating through a night sky, no end to her torment in sight. The king motioned her to the chairs. “Majesty,” she said, striving for a calm tone as she sat. “Please, call me Manus.” He claimed the other seat; then, with a wave, he dismissed the guard. They strutted from the room, leaving her alone with

their sovereign. I never should have come here. Being parted from Devyn was torture. Not knowing what was being done to him was agony. Thinking of him in a dark hole was anguish. Worse, it was her fault. She’d wanted to come here. She’d wanted him with her. But she would have given up both for Devyn’s safety. I love him, she thought then. I love Devyn. Somehow, some way, he’d become the most important thing in her life. He was her home now. Not this place. Yes, she loved that there were other vampires here. Yes, she loved the darkness and the sweet scents and the closeness she felt to her mother. She loved that every question she’d ever had about what she was could be answered. Here, she wasn’t different, she wouldn’t be staked. But none of those things meant more to her than Devyn. The thought of being without him…she shuddered. “I brought you here so that we may chat in private,” the king said, breaking the silence. “I want Devyn released immediately. Then I’ll chat with you.” “He is not up for discussion,” was the harsh reply. “Do not mention him again.” Or what? Bastard. “Are you used to getting your way?” “Of course.” As if that settled things, Manus

leaned back, crossed one ankle over his knee, and studied her. “Tell me about your life on the surface.” “If I do, will you have Devyn released?” She never saw him move, but the next thing she knew, her brain was rattling against her skull, her teeth were cutting into her gums, and she was propelled off her chair and onto the floor. There was a trickle of warmth at the corner of her mouth, and she knew it was blood. Shaking with anger, burning with the force of it, she wiped the smear with the back of her wrist and glared up at the king. “You slapped me.” “I warned you not to mention the Targon, and yet you persisted.” He was perched on his chair, in the same relaxed pose as before. “Persist again, and see what happens.” It was a challenge. She’d always liked sparring with Devyn. Even from the very beginning. This man? Not so much. “Devyn told me you were a great guy,” she said, climbing back into her chair. “I see our definitions of great differ.” A muscle ticked below both of Manus’s eyes. “I was not always this way.” “Your brother’s death changed you.” He’d get no sympathy from her. “Yeah, I heard.” “Were you also told he was returned to me missing several body parts?” The words lashed from him. “Were you told his abductor targeted me

next? That I spent a week as her prisoner?” “No,” she said, and made a mental note not to look for Fiona the nefreti, after all. “You seem to have been returned with all your parts, though.” Unfortunately. Fiona would have done Bride a favor if she’d cut off the man’s hands. Her jaw ached, damn it! And she didn’t need that on top of everything else. Manus nodded, the action stiff. “I was.” “No one has a perfect past, you know? No one lives as long as we do without suffering somehow.” “And what painful things have happened to you, little Bride?” She couldn’t tell him about her mother, so she said, “Having Devyn taken from me. I love him.” “Then you are truly hurting right now, and I am sorry for that. But I will not set him free. At one time, I was forgiving. At one time, I was merciful with my people. And what did that get me? A dead brother and seven nights of torture. I do not repeat my mistakes. I do not spare my enemies, and right now Devyn and McKell are my enemies.” “They would never hurt you.” “So you say. Yet I cannot read your thoughts, so how then can I trust you?” That’s what this was about? His inability to read her? “I wish for things, and I get them, all right? When you stepped into that room, I wished you couldn’t read me.”

His brow furrowed. “Why?” “Would you like it if someone knew your every thought? I don’t think so.” “I couldn’t read you before I entered the room, yet I could read everyone else. Still.” His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t rebuff her. “Wish for me to read you.” And let him learn that she was nefreti? He’d kill her and Devyn without a qualm. “I wish that you could read me.” No I don’t, no I don’t, no I don’t. I wish that he is never able to read me. “Okay, done,” she lied. “Go for it.” He stilled, not even breathing that she could see. Invisible fingers seemed to brush at her mind, trying to get inside. He frowned. “I still cannot. Perhaps you did not wish hard enough. Try again.” She nodded as if she were obeying. “There.” His frown intensified, and he slammed a fist into his palm. “Still nothing. Are you sure your wishes come true?” “Not always. I only discovered the power a day ago, so I’m not exactly good at it.” He sat at the edge of the chair, fairly panting with excitement. “Can you wish a person’s death?” “No,” she said, because no way would she do that for him. “Why do you care, anyway?” “In all my many years, there has only ever been one other I could not read.” He settled back, excitement gone as if it had never been,

disappointment in its place. “Can you guess who that was?” Dread snaked through her. “Your mom?” she asked hopefully, though she knew that wasn’t the answer. “A female named Fiona. My tormentor. She was nefreti.” Bride was proud of herself. She didn’t flinch. “What’s that?” “Someone with too much power. Someone who must die.” “And you think I’m a nefreti?” “No,” he said. “She hummed with so much energy, it was like a song in my blood every time she neared. That is not the case with you. However, none of my warriors can find her because she, too, can read minds. She knows when they are coming.” “What does that have to do with me?” “If I can’t read your mind, that must mean she cannot. That means I can use you against her. I just have to figure out how.”

Three days passed with agonizing slowness. Bride was allowed to see Devyn only once a day to feed. She was blindfolded until she got there, ensuring the location remained hidden, and they weren’t allowed to speak to each other. A guard always accompanied her to ensure she behaved. She’d

been told that for every word she uttered, Devyn would receive ten lashes. The silence was killing her. He was suffering, she could see it in his face. His amber eyes were dull, and bruises had formed under them. Every day he was dirtier and a whole lot shakier than the last. She realized now, he’d never had a plan. He just hadn’t wanted her hurt in a struggle. Whether he knew it or not, he loved her. Rather than bask in that knowledge as she should have been able to do, guilt was now her constant companion. Luxury for her, suffering for her husband. Whenever she would finish drinking, having tried not to take more than a few sips, Devyn would keep his head tilted, silently urging her to take more. Maintaining her strength was important for finding a way out, but she just couldn’t weaken him more than he already was. He would sigh, kiss her, hug her tight, and then gently push her out of the cell. Each time she tried to read his mind, or at the very least send her thoughts into his, but she was still capable of neither. Those powers supposedly belonged to her, damn it, but all she found were the thorns and fire. Trying to forcibly extract them was worse than when they sprang up from her emotions. It was like ripping her body in half. She wanted to tell him she was going to get him out of here, not to worry, that she stripped and

camouflaged herself when everyone was sleeping and searched the palace for the dungeon, as well as whatever was quashing Devyn’s powers. She wanted to assure him that she would find it, whatever she had to do, but she wasn’t sure she would succeed, and the words always died in her throat. They weren’t worth ten lashes. After her meeting with Manus, she’d been given a spacious chamber with a large bed and lacy canopy. The walls were bare except for a painting of Manus. There was a marble vanity, which she now sat in front of, staring into the glass, wondering when to make her next move—and exactly what move to make. “Good.” Manus leaned against the room’s doorway, arms folded over the wide expanse of his chest. “You’re wearing the gown I had made for you.” Her eyes met his through the mirror, and her fingers clenched around the brush’s handle. “Yes.” As if she would deny his wishes. It was a velvet dress that matched the cape he always wore. Black with gold trim. The material clung to her curves, soft and luscious. At his request, her hair had been curled and now hung down her back in shiny ringlets. “Word on the street is, you’re single. Maybe we should find you a companion,” she said. So you’ll leave me the hell alone. He had come to her once a day to “chat,” mostly

questioning her about fights she’d been in, how she’d hidden herself from humans for so long. To her surprise, he’d been a gentleman. Not because he liked her but because he thought to use her against Fiona, his enemy. Still. She didn’t want him getting any ideas about the two of them. She sighed, remembering his other visits. He’d also had her wish for a few things—a meal to appear, her clothes to change on their own—testing the limits of her powers. For the meal, a human servant had tripped over his own feet, propelling into the room, falling and breaking his neck at their feet. For the outfit switch, her robe had brushed a lamp and caught fire. Bride wasn’t too happy with this latest power and was now terrified of using it. “Why find another when you serve well enough?” he said. “Now, come. I have a surprise for you.” He held out his hand, waiting. Slowly she pushed to her feet and turned to face him. Her heart thundered with the need to best him, but she merely crossed the distance and took his hand. Cold steel, that’s what he felt like. “I want my husband released. McKell, too. They’re good men. I’ll take them to the surface, and you’ll never have to see them again.” “How many times must I tell you? I don’t want to discuss them.” There was no room for argument in his tone. He ushered her into the next chamber. His. It was as ornate and lavish as hers, though it

appeared uninhabited. The bedcovers were not rumpled, and clothes did not spill from the closet. Her heart only decelerated when they exited into the hallway and headed for the alabaster columns leading into the ballroom. “You never want to discuss them,” she muttered. “Because the subject angers me. Bad things happen when I’m angry. Remember?” Like she’d forget. “Figured out how you’re going to use me yet?” “No.” “What’s the holdup? ’Cause I’m willing to bring her to you in exchange for my man.” “I’ve thought of that. However, while I think you can find her without her notice, I do not think you can best her in a fight. And I cannot send troops with you, because she would sense them.” Bride refused to give in to despair. There had to be a way. A gaggle of voices greeted her ears. Then, the more she walked, the more those voices blended with the strains of music and clinking glasses. Even…moans? Usually all the entryways in the palace were open, easily accessible, but today— tonight?—the one into the ballroom was draped by more of that black velvet. Manus pushed the material aside and urged her forward. Hesitant, she entered. And gasped. Vampires were everywhere. They held goblets filled

with blood as they drank and laughed and danced. Naked humans lined the far wall, a buffet of choices. Males and females of every size and color. When they were chosen, they stepped forward and offered whatever body part was desired. Hanging above them were Devyn and McKell. They were inside a cage, gripping the bars and staring over at her, as if they’d been expecting her. The princesses De-Ella and Jalyn were underneath them, laughing and throwing little pieces of human food at their feet. A whimper escaped her as her gaze met Devyn’s. Oh, my love. I’m so sorry. Her arm extended of its own accord, reaching for him, desperate to feel his skin against hers. Devyn reached out, too, but there was too great a distance between them. Manus grabbed her wrist. “This way.” “No.” He wanted to take her from Devyn? The rage she’d been suppressing these past three days boiled up, overflowing, burning…sizzling. It was like acid in her veins. And yep, there were those burning thorns, as eager to cut at her as always. “I will stay here.” “We aren’t leaving the room,” the king told her, exasperated. “You have my word.” Still the rage churned, free now and unwilling to hide any longer. Her gaze never left Devyn’s as she stumbled her way to the dais, where two empty thrones waited. Manus motioned for her to take the

one next to his, and she did, her motions jerky, clipped. “What are you doing to them? Why are you treating them like this?” Two proud men, imprisoned, objects of ridicule. I have to do something. Today. But what? She was strong, but she couldn’t defeat the hundreds of vampires in this room. Not at the same time. And not without getting Devyn killed. As his safety was the only nonnegotiable part of her escape strategy, that wasn’t an option. Manus tapped his fingers impatiently against the arms of his throne. “I called this gathering together to show you a softer side to this great city and its people. Look how much fun they are having.” “Yeah. At Devyn’s expense.” “As well it should be. He is a traitor.” “No. He’s not.” There was so much rage now, it seeped from her voice, hummed from her skin. The thorns sharpened, cutting deep and hard, and warmth spilled between her breasts. She glanced down and saw that she was actually bleeding, crimson soaking the material of her robe. “Why do you like him so much?” Manus asked, unnoticing. She dabbed at the blood, her hand shaking. “Why do you care?” “I don’t. I’m merely curious.” “Well, for one, he would give his life for mine.”

Not that a man as self-absorbed as the vampire king would understand that. “You are sure of this? The Devyn of Targonia I know is always greedy for the next female to bed.” “He was. Once,” she said. “And yes, I’m sure.” Look what he’d done for her already. “I could prove that, you know? I could let him die for you.” Manus clapped his hands and commanded the night’s entertainment to begin. “I mean, if I were to leave him out for Fiona, a sacrifice, if you will, and she were to do to him what she did to my brother, you would do anything necessary for vengeance. You would find a way to slay her.” She ignored the new string of dancers on the floor. “I would find a way anyway, to save him from such a fate. But you know what? Now you’ve reached the limit. That’s the second time you’ve threatened him, and I won’t stand for another.” The pain…oh, the pain…it was eating her up, consuming her. Killing her. For the first time in her life, she embraced it, didn’t try to fight it. More and more blood spilled from the wound in her chest. “The first I allowed to intimidate me. This one, I will not. This one, you will pay for.” He laughed. Actually laughed. “Already I can hear death in your tone. Perhaps I am finally on the right path.”

How dare he calmly speak of Devyn’s possible torture. How dare he even consider using the man she loved like that. She sat there, panting and sweating and bleeding. “You. Will. Not!” The last was said on a scream as the rage exploded inside her. It was a bomb, destroying everything in its path, even the thorns. It destroyed who she was, what she was, dousing that inner fire with flames of its own, melting her, making her into a new creature. “Oh, do calm down,” Manus said without facing her. “I have not decided to venture down that road yet.” Her pain—gone. Her strength—unparalleled. She felt it sweep through her, a strength so potent she could taste it on her tongue, feel it singing in her blood, vibrating in her bones. She was drunk on it, dizzy. “No. No!” Manus said, and she heard the fear in his voice. Her body is vibrating like Fiona’s, he thought. She is nefreti. How could I not have known? Bride could read his mind. Still she sat, now as motionless as stone, gripping the throne, silent. A sea of other thoughts filled her head, rolling through her, some violent, some sweet, some hungry, all drifting from the dance floor. She was inside the head of every vampire present. They were maddening, almost deafening, but she

managed to ignore them. Her hands were hot, so hot, anything they wanted theirs for the taking. And they wanted vengeance. “Guards,” Manus shouted, his voice trembling. Because of the noise, no one heard him. He jumped up, meaning to run from her. “Quiet,” she told him, and his lips pressed together. “Sit.” His expression was shocked and horrified as he fell into his throne. No longer was her ability to make wishes come true muted. No longer would there be consequences. Anything she wanted, she could have. The knowledge was there, screaming from Manus’s thoughts as he recalled his time with Fiona. She could stop time, as McKell did. She could create fire with her bare hands. She could erase memories and suppress another’s powers. “Bride. Bride!” Devyn. She recognized his voice and turned toward him. Colors winked around him, twinkling stars of crimson and azure. His energy, she thought, awed. So lovely. So pure. Love, love, love, he thought, his voice already so much a part of her that she had no trouble distinguishing him from the others. Thank God you’re all right. I’ll think of a way out of this, I swear I will. If that bastard touches you… No thoughts for his own comfort. No regrets for

the torment he currently endured. All his thoughts belonged to her, for her. He truly did love her. Saw her as a cloud of bliss in the bleakness that was his life. I’ll get us out of this, she projected at him. His eyes widened. He’d heard her, she knew he had. And now to save him. Her gaze narrowed on Manus. As she studied him, she saw that his energy pulsed erratically, scattering all the other energy around him. Except hers. Hers was too strong. This was how he’d stopped Devyn, she realized. Through a potion that bounced particles off of each other. Vampires, she had come to learn, loved their potions. You will pay. She reached inside his chest with a mental hand and squeezed. Squeezed so tightly the previously unused powers inside her recoiled. Still she held firm. He gurgled out a pained breath, rubbed frantically at his chest, his skin growing paler by the second. He gazed at her, unsure about what was happening. He wanted to speak, but she hadn’t released his tongue from her wish for quiet. What’s going on, love? Devyn’s voice hit her in a rush, laced with panic and frustration. Everything’s fine, don’t you worry. I love you,

she told him, never releasing her hold on the king. I love you, too, but how are we reading each other’s minds? Surprise, your wife is one of the most powerful people in the world. I’m going to handle everything, and then we’re going home. Will you be in danger? he asked. No. I freaking rock right now. Well, let me have a little of the glory, at least, he projected dryly. No way. I want to tease you about this for years to come. Manus was gasping now, and people were starting to notice. Two vampires even approached the throne. “My king?” one asked. So what exactly are you planning? Devyn asked. You’ll see. —make her stop. The king’s thought intruded into her mind. The closer he came to death, the louder his projections. So important. Can’t die. Can’t fail Terreck. He’d loved his brother. Loved him more than his own life, and when his brother had been taken from him, he’d wanted to die himself. Then Fiona had come to him, taunted him. He’d wanted her head. Still wanted it, and would do anything to get it. Even lie. He didn’t want to kill McKell and Devyn, wouldn’t kill them. But he would keep them here, use them, to gain what he wanted.

With the realization, Bride released her grip on his heart. He was panting, sweating. So was she. Determined to finally end this, to leave and return above with Devyn, she rose. “Stand,” she told him. It was a command, and not something he could ignore. As before, there was power in her voice. Utter compulsion. It was not something he would be immune to later. No, this voice would continue to control everyone who heard it, no matter how many times they heard it. The king stood, hate bleeding into his eyes. Nefreti bitch. “Yes. I am.” Anything you speak will happen. Will become fate. Anything. Yes, she realized, the ability to sift truth from lie making itself known. His thoughts were true. You’ll destroy the world, you know that, yes? You’ll destroy your lover. He was…right. She knew it, the future suddenly playing through her mind. She would return to the surface with Devyn. One day they would fight, as couples always did. She would say something she didn’t mean. He would be hurt irrevocably. Horror flooded her. She couldn’t allow that to happen. Which meant, she couldn’t go with him. Oh, God. She couldn’t go with him.

Guards pounded toward her, their thoughts converging on her. Must save the king. Kill her before it’s too late. How could this have happened? She held out her hand, only that, but every single one of them went flying backward, slamming into walls and other people. There were gasps, muttered curses, then everyone stopped what they were doing and eyed her with the same horror she felt. She could sense her ability to camouflage taking over, changing the color and texture of her skin and hair. Could feel her muscles trembling, wanting to break apart, mist and fly. To escape it all. Not yet. Just a little longer. Get the whips, someone thought. Perhaps all of them were thinking it. Have to get the whips. Only way to stop her. “No one move,” she shouted, and even Devyn and McKell ceased moving. Soon Devyn’s skin paled, turned blue. She frowned, not understanding what was happening. Devyn? Can’t…breathe… “Breathe!” she rushed out. “Everyone breathe.” Oh, yes, she was a menace who would inevitably hurt him. When his color returned, she faced the king, tears forming and streaming freely down her cheeks. “Devyn and McKell are going to leave, and you are going to let them. You are not to chase them. Ever. You are to leave them alone. If you

even think of hurting them, you will suffer a pain like none you’ve ever known.” I’m not sure I like this. The thought hit her, louder than any before it, and so clear it was as if the woman was standing beside her. Bride cast her gaze through the crowd, searching…one of her new abilities allowed her to search faces with the precision of a computer, honing in. There, in the far corner, was a shadowy figure. She couldn’t see the woman’s face, it was cloaked, but she recognized her for what she was. A nefreti. Her powers matched Bride’s in strength, in beauty, the aura around her as bright as the sun. You are Fiona, Bride said. The one the king searches for. Yes. She was also someone who could stop Bride and hurt Devyn. You don’t like what I’m doing, fine. Tell me what to do. I’m open to anything as long as the two men in the cage are free and unharmed. Rather than tell her what to do, Fiona showed her scenes from the past, a dark, turbulent past between two people who wanted to hate each other but couldn’t stop the lust. Fiona’s abduction of the prince, then the king. Fiona’s treatment of both. The first she had indeed tortured, but the king she had seduced. “She’s still out there,” Bride told the king

without turning away, “still watching you. You can feel her, but you can’t read her and you can’t stop her. But I can read her, and she can read me. She’s been an outcast her entire life because of what she is. Everyone thought she was dead, killed as a child as ordered. But they couldn’t do it, and sent her away. Throughout the years, she remained in contact with her sister, her twin. She loved the girl more than anything. Until your brother killed her. She retaliated. And somehow in the process, she became connected to you instead. Now she needs you to survive and has asked me not to kill you.” His eyes rounded, though the hate in them didn’t fade. “I will spare you this day. But I say again, if my husband’s life is threatened in any way, I will destroy you without any hesitation.” He will not, Fiona told her. I will make sure of it. Thank you. The cloaked figure disappeared from view. “You two.” Bride pointed to the guards closest to the ropes that held the cage suspended in the air. “Gently lower the men.” Their eyes glazed as they rushed to obey, and soon the cage was settled on the ground. “Open it.” Only I have the key, the king projected. “Then give them the key.” It was another command he couldn’t resist.

He removed a necklace from around his neck and tossed it at the guards. Weak as his throw was, the key thumped to the ground several feet from them. One guard strode forward, swiped up the key, and returned to the cage. Metal scraped against metal, then the door was flung wide. So close to victory. Just a few minutes more. “Devyn, McKell,” she said. Come on, love, Devyn said inside her mind. He still couldn’t move. She hadn’t freed him from her “no one move” command. Let’s get out of here and go home. I’m so proud of you. I’ll even let you tease me about being a damsel in distress. I…can’t. God, even thinking it was torture. I have to…stay. What are you talking about? Of course you— She blocked his voice—charmer that he was, he could convince her to do anything, even leave with him, and she would never be able to forgive herself when she destroyed him—and closed her eyes, sending her mind through the entire underground. Because of the thoughts of the vampires around her, still gazing at her with that horror, she knew it as intimately as she knew the surface. Knew where guards lurked. Knew where traps lay. Any and every threat, she eliminated. And then she faced Devyn, determined, soulsick. “You may speak. Go,” she said, heart breaking inside her chest. “McKell will lead you to the

surface, and neither of you will return here. Ever. You will not send anyone after me.” She could have erased herself from his mind, but in this heartbreaking moment, she couldn’t force herself to do so. Both of their bodies obeyed, heading toward the entrance to the hallway that would take them to the opening to the surface. Devyn peered at her over his shoulder, clearly trying to force himself to stop. “Come with me,” he called. She shook her head, her chin trembling too much to reply. “Bride,” he growled. “I can’t,” she shouted, finding her voice. “Look at me. Look at what I can do.” And of course, he and everyone else in the room was helpless to do anything else, the compulsion in her voice forcing them to obey. That caused a sob to gush from her. “McKell,” he shouted, panicked, desperate. “There has to be a way to contain her powers again. Tell her there’s a way.” The warrior had never appeared so sad. “Her father was most likely able to do it because Bride trusted him inside her mind and allowed it. I know Bride trusts you and would allow you to do it, but you wouldn’t know how. You could cause more harm than good, lock up too much.” “No.” Devyn violently shook his head. “We’ll

find a way, Bride. I swear it. Kyrin once told me the Arcadians are like cousins to the vampires. He has powers of the mind. Strong powers. Let him try.” Hope bloomed. Let him try…it was a lifeline she desperately wanted to clutch. Then she shook her head. You’re doing it. Letting him convince you. What if Kyrin failed? How many people would she hurt? Would she destroy Devyn’s friends? Make Devyn himself do a million things he didn’t want to do? He would grow to hate her. That precious love would wither and die. “No.” So badly did she want to reach for him, her hands were burning. And if she reached for him, she knew she would summon him to her, propelling him to her side with enough force to knock the air out of his lungs. “I’ll stay here. I’ll make sure no one comes for you.” “Bride!” There was true fear in his voice. “I don’t care about that. They can chase me the rest of my life, and I’ll be okay with that. It’ll be fun. A game. But I can’t live without you. Please!” Her heart shattered like glass against a hammer. She didn’t want to live without him, either, but to keep him safe, she would do it. “Go!” she screamed. “Just go!” McKell obeyed. Devyn compressed his lips into a mulish line and managed to hold his ground. She felt him push mental fingers inside her mind, knew those fingers

were trying to latch on to her energy and control her, but she easily swatted them away. That swat sent him to his knees with a pained groan. His head lifted, his eyes narrowing. A vessel had burst in his forehead, and a bruise was already spreading from temple to temple, even down his nose. “I’m not leaving,” he gritted out. “We’ll battle this out if we have to, but love, you’re stuck with me.” Suddenly the doorway burst open—even though McKell hadn’t reached it yet. Over forty AIR agents rushed inside, pyre-guns raised. They didn’t stop to see who their targets were, they just started firing. Blue beams, stun. Bride could have stopped them with a word. She could have danced through the crowd, faster than they would have been able to see her, plucking their guns from them. But she didn’t. She heard their thoughts, a jumble at first and hard to sort through, but she managed it. They didn’t plan to kill the people here, or even take them all above. They planned to leave them, to let them live as quietly as they wished, form some sort of truce with them, and get Devyn the hell out. She pivoted on her heel. She would leave them to it. She needed to find someplace to hide, someplace she would not endanger anyone but could monitor things. Perhaps Fiona would help

her, after all. “Dallas, shoot Bride,” Devyn called, “and fucking keep shooting her!” A second later, beams slammed into her, one after another, freezing her in place. She could still feel her power, but it was unusable at the moment, held captive as her body continually absorbed stun ray after stun ray. Damn that Devyn. The battle continued to rage behind her, blue beams constant, feet scampering, people shouting. She saw it through her mind, through the thoughts of others. Panic, so much panic. Fear, so much fear. Who are these people? the vampires wondered. What do they want, what are they going to do? They smell so good, their blood rushing through their veins swiftly, sweetly. Hmm, the hunger is too much. Why can’t I move? I need to feed. Soon the AIR agents had each of the vampires locked by stun. The battle had been easier than they’d anticipated. Because I already did the work, she wanted to shout. And this was how they repaid her? Footsteps echoed behind her, then beside her, louder, and then Devyn was standing in front of her. He was grinning smugly. “You commanded me to follow McKell, just not when I had to do it. Still, that’s what I’m gonna do, but I’m taking you with me. I told you I’d find a

way.”

Devyn paced the confines of his bedroom. It was a mess. Wrinkled clothes littered the floor, and there were food wrappers on the dresser. Bride perched at the edge of the bed. He and Dallas had rigged a pyre-gun to the wall across from her, and it fired a continual beam directly into her chest. It had been like this for over forty-eight hours. He could see the rage in her expression every time he glanced at her, but he could also see the hope. Every day Kyrin came over and dug inside her mind, trying to bury the worst of her powers. So far, no luck. But if this worked…He sighed. Please let this work. “I can’t free you yet, you know that.” He was babbling as he paced, but he couldn’t stop himself. “Your powers are too great; even you can’t control them. Plus, you’ll leave me. To protect me from yourself,” he added with a shake of his head. Who would have guessed his love life would come to something like this? Holding a female captive? “And that’s just ridiculous, love. There’s nothing you could do to me that I wouldn’t like. You’ve met me, right?” A knock sounded at the door. “Enter,” he called, already knowing who it was. Sure enough, Kyrin stepped inside. Tall and

leanly muscled, white hair in disarray around his shoulders as if he’d just come from Mia’s bed. I want to leave a woman’s bed. My woman’s bed. “Why isn’t it working yet?” he snarled. Ever-patient, Kyrin stopped and leaned against the dresser. He pushed his hands into his pockets. “Her powers are layered, and those layers are protected by some sort of barbed wire. Getting through it is painful.” “Teach me to do it, then.” Devyn didn’t care about pain. Not when it came to Bride. “That would take years.” “Never mind.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Just take the pain like a man, you pussy, and get this done.” “I will. But when was the last time you slept?” There was no anger in Kyrin’s tone. “I haven’t. Not since returning.” He’d only eaten the snack cakes Dallas had brought him. And he’d only showered each day because Macy had come to sit with Bride and talk to her, to remind her of how much everyone loved and missed her. “You must take care of yourself,” Kyrin said. “Bride will be angry when she is freed. Believe me, I’ve been inside her mind, and I know of what I speak. An angry Bride will not make for a happy Devyn.” Another knock sounded at the door, saving Devyn from a reply.

A second later, Macy soared inside. She spotted Kyrin and stopped. “How is she today?” “The same,” Devyn said, the words choking from him. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. He was a king, for God’s sake. All of his desires should be granted immediately. “Damn,” Macy said, tossing her purse on the floor beside the door. “I was hoping for better news.” Kyrin squared his shoulders, straightened. “I’ll push through today. No matter what, all right?” “Yes, yes.” Devyn nodded to punctuate his words. “Thank you.” As Kyrin pulled a chair toward the bed, careful to remain out of range of the stun, he said, “Remind me of what powers you want her to keep.” “She likes to mist. She likes to camouflage herself.” And he had fantasies of chasing her around town and catching her. “She likes speaking inside my mind.” At least he hoped she’d liked that. He’d liked it because he’d felt closer to her, had even felt her love for him. Kyrin sat and cupped her chin, forcing her head toward him. At that point, he lapsed into silence. He always did. The two sat like that for hours, still as statues. And with every hour that passed, Devyn became more agitated. Desperate. Macy paced right

alongside him the entire time, as nervous as he was. Bride had become the center of his world. He was nothing without her. If he had to obey her every word for the rest of his life, he would. If he had to let her control his body, he would do that too. Anything was better than being without her. That, he’d learned inside his underground cell. He could endure anything as long as she was with him. He stopped at the far wall and banged his head against the stone. “Hey, man.” Dallas slapped his shoulder, startling him. Damn. He needed to be a little more aware of his surroundings. He hadn’t heard his friend enter. What kind of guard was he for Bride? “Hey.” “Hey, Dallas,” Macy said. “Mia’s downstairs,” Dallas told them. AIR was in the middle of peace talks with the vampires. They’d handed over the two vampires purchased at the auction and now wanted more of Bride’s blood. Mia hoped to use it to cure the Schön queen, if ever they captured her, as well as any people the queen infected. “Tell her to leave.” No way would they take a drop of Bride’s blood without her permission. “Sure, sure. Any progress?” his friend asked. “Not that I can see,” he grumbled, motioning to the two at the bed with a tilt of his chin. “Shit.”

“Yeah. I know.” Dallas was just as agitated as he was, but for different reasons. More and more the agent was dreaming of that queen, Devyn knew. Craving her even. So far, though, she hadn’t visited the agent. At least Dallas was gaining control over his powers, something Kyrin was helping him do. Why couldn’t the Arcadian help Bride faster, damn it? “So, anyway,” Dallas said. “I came bearing news about Bride.” Devyn grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. “What do you mean?” Had Dallas seen Bride’s departure from his life? A tortured moan escaped him, and he almost fell to his knees. If she left, he would follow her. It was as simple as that. “Calm down. Jeez.” A huge grin split his friend’s face. “First vision I ever had that didn’t make me want to puke my guts out, and it was of Bride biting your neck. She’s going to be okay, man. Gonna wake up soon. Rushed right over to tell you, soon as I saw it.” “Turn off stun,” Kyrin said, his voice raw, hoarse, right on cue. Devyn rushed to the gun anchored in the wall and tore it loose. The bright blue beam faded. A moment later— “Devyn.” Her voice. He spun, his heart drumming erratically. “Bride.”

He strode to her, everything else forgotten. He pushed Kyrin out of the way—the otherworlder fell back weakly—and crouched in front of her. He cupped her face, not at all surprised to see that he was trembling. “Love, can you hear me? Are you all right?” She blinked a few times, emerald irises clearing. “Yes and yes,” she said, sounding fatigued. “Hungry, though.” “Everyone out,” Devyn commanded without looking away from her. There was a stream of laughter behind him, clothes rustling as Dallas helped Kyrin stand. “I love you, Bride,” Macy called. “Love you,” Bride managed. Footsteps echoed, and then the door was shutting. Devyn gathered Bride in his arms and settled atop the mattress. “Tell me everything, and then you can eat. What’s been happening? How are you?” He couldn’t stop touching her. The soft skin he so loved, the silky hair his fingers always itched to sift through. “After Kyrin made it past the thorns, we had to go through the powers one by one and decide which ones could roam free and which ones needed to be suppressed. I never thought we’d finish. Some of them didn’t want to be contained again and fought us. But guess what? I can now scramble my energy so you can’t control me, as well as absorb

stun without any adverse effects. Well, one stream of stun, not the continuous stream you paralyzed me with, you bastard.” “You’re welcome. So what you’re telling me is that there’ll be no forced stripping?” Could she hear the pout in his voice? She kissed the base of his neck. “Not from me, but I bet I can make you do it. I’m still pretty much all-powerful.” He grinned, his first in days. “Is that a reminder that you saved my ass in the underground?” “Maybe.” Her warm breath tickled him. It was a sensation he’d been dreaming of for a week. “Mmm, you smell good. You always smell good.” “God, I missed you.” “I missed you, too.” He rolled, pinning her beneath him. He meant to yell at her a bit, but had to kiss those lush lips first. The moment he did, he had to taste that sweet flavor. On and on the kiss continued, hot and needy and a promise of love he freely gave. Finally, he forced himself to pull back. “If you ever again try to leave me…” He let his anger and hurt shine through. Shaking as violently as he was, she reached up and caressed his jaw. “Hate to break it to you, but you’re stuck with me. I’m now stronger than you are. And just so you know, you won’t even be able to force me out with a crane.”

He barked out a laugh. “As if I would try. I’m a man who deserves the best, and I’ve finally found her.” Her gaze fell to his neck, and she licked her lips. “Now, what about this hunger of mine…” He didn’t hesitate. He guided her to his vein. Immediately her teeth sank inside, and she moaned. He groaned in bliss. “Oh, have I missed this.” She sucked, and he rubbed himself against her, unable to stop himself. He’d imagined having her back in his bed so many times, it was like a dream come true to actually have her there. “For me, too,” she said after she finished drinking. “What is?” “It’s like a dream come true.” He blinked. “I didn’t say that aloud.” “Oh.” She shifted uncomfortably as she nibbled on her lower, bloodstained lip. “Secret’s out, I guess. I kept the mind-reading thing. Kyrin tried to bury it, but I nearly scratched his mental eyes out.” “I’m glad,” Devyn said, laughing. She peered up at him, unsure. “Really?” He nodded. “That way, you’ll know what position I want you in without having to be told.” As he spoke, he planted little kisses along her face. “Pervert.” “Fine, fine. You’ll also know how much I love you even when I’m flirting outrageously with

someone else.” “Slut.” Grinning, she tangled her hands in his hair. “I love you so much.” “And I love you. Now and always.” He licked at her lips. “We are going to have some amazing children. The best this world has ever seen.” Her entire body stilled as she stared up at him. “Children? You want to have kids with me?” “Oh, yes. You and no other. You’re the only one worthy of my seed,” he teased. “Oh, my dear, sweet Bradley. I’m going to make you very happy you said that,” she said, rolling him over and straddling his waist. She was true to her word.

Love Gena Showalter? Click through for a peek at her next exciting Alien Huntress novel

DARK TASTE OF RAPTURE

Coming in mass market and eBook from Pocket Books September 2011

DARK TASTE OF RAPTURE PROLOGUE Two men stood in the middle of a shadowed, barren field. Both were human. One was tall, muscled, had dark hair, and a busted-up face. His synthetic cotton shirt was torn, his jeans dirty, and his boots scuffed. There were telltale weapon bulges under his arms, on his wrists, and his ankles. Clearly, he was the bodyguard. The other wore a perfectly tailored silk business suit, his Italian loafers freshly polished. His sunkissed hair was expensively coifed, and the only bulge he sported was the one in his pocket, where he kept his wallet. Clearly, he was the money. As acrid wind shrieked a languid song, dancing thick dirt granules in every direction, Money radiated impatience mixed with glee—until two other men materialized a few feet away, and the impatience vanished. The newcomers had appeared in a blink, without walking a single step. A white-haired Arcadian—an

otherworlder with the ability to teleport, among other things—and another human, this one wearing a suit, as well, only his was ill-fitting and made from a cheap synthetic fiber. The human’s arms were cuffed behind his back. He smelled of pungent fear and urine. Poor bastard must have pissed himself. Without a word, the Arcadian pushed the trembling male to his knees. Night’s about to get interesting. The rust-colored sky appeared swollen; the storm-drenched clouds ready to burst. In the center, the sun was a hemorrhaging hook of gold, offering only a fraction of light. That hardly mattered to the witness. From high in the gnarled trees surrounding the field, his gaze cut through the gloom as easily as a knife through flesh. “You think you can encroach on my territory?” Money snarled down at the kneeler. Another gust of wind created the perfect background music, an eerie soundtrack that bespoke of haunted houses and banshee wails. “N—no. I just . . . I . . . I’m so sorry. I never meant—” “You never meant to offer New Chicago’s elite prettier girls? Better prices?” “No. No. You have to believe me. I only thought . . . hoped—” “You thought . . . hoped . . .” Money sneered.

No question, he was a man used to getting what he wanted, when he wanted it. He held out his hand, and Bodyguard smacked the butt of a pyre-gun onto his palm. “Well, your thoughts and hopes just got you killed.” “No!” Kneeler sobbed like a baby. “Please! Don’t do this. I’ll leave New Chicago. I won’t ever come back. I swear!” Money nodded to the Arcadian, who jerked his T-shirt over his head and stuffed the material in Kneeler’s mouth. Kneeler shook his head, perhaps to dislodge the cloth, perhaps to attempt another plea for mercy. Either way, he failed. “You were right, you know,” Money said, smug now. “You won’t ever come back.” A blaze of yellow light erupted from the barrel of the gun, arrowing out and nailing Kneeler in his chest. A muffled scream of agony pierced the air. As Kneeler toppled to the ground, twitching, dying as his organs fried to a crisp, Money returned the gun to Bodyguard and wiped his hands in a job well done.

CHAPTER ONE Alien Investigation and Removal Training Camp Day One Trainee after trainee emerged from the autobus. Some were in their late teens and had just graduated from AIR High, but most were in their early twenties, male, and obviously overwhelmed by the line of instructors watching unabashedly as they carried their bags to their new digs—a rundown, luxuries-are-a-thing-of-the-past bunkhouse in the middle of an isolated valley. Isolated, and ugly. There was dirt, dirt, and more dirt, with the occasional knotted, naked tree to spice things up. The only thing that wasn’t a complete eyesore was the obstacle course woven throughout the entire mile-long stretch, with its tall but thin brick walls, elevated beams, and man-made holes and pools, but by the end of the day, everyone here would hate the course so much they’d want to burn it down and dance on the ashes

rather than look at it. The few females to disembark, well, they were in their early twenties, too, and just as overwhelmed. Except for the last two. They just appeared eager. Poor, dumb kids. They’d learn. Thirteen years ago, Agent Hector Dean had ridden in that bus himself. Everyone on it had been yelled at, demoralized, and slapped around, all in an effort to weed out the pussies. What those two girls didn’t know, but should, was the yelling, the demoralizing, and the slapping were just precursors for what was to come. Poor, dumb, about-to-be-traumatized kids. Hector didn’t have to check the roster to learn the identities of his eager beavers. He’d memorized the stats of all twenty-nine recruits, and recognized the pair from their photos. Ava Sans and Noelle Tremain. Ava, a twenty-three-year-old fluff of femininity who was barely five nothing in a pair of heels. She had curly brown hair and chocolate brown eyes. She was cute in a Sunday schoolteacher kind of way, which was ironic because she had a rap sheet with more pages than the Bible. She’d grown up in Whore’s Corner, the poorest part of New Chicago, with a drugged-out mother and more stepfathers than fingers. Hector could relate. Not about the multiple dads, he’d just had

the one, and a fucking terrible one who’d enjoyed watching his young sons prize fight, but about the drugged-out mom living in Whore’s Corner. The WC was where Hector had been born, chewed up, spit out, and reformed into the man—or weapon—he is today. Moving on. Noelle, also twenty-three-years-old, she was a tall, reed slender slice of elegance, with lighter brown hair that was straight as a board, and eyes of the lightest gray. The product of old money, she’d grown up in the wealthiest part of town, in a giantass mansion, with doting servants to attend her every whim. Hector could not relate. She was as lovely as a cameo and appeared to be as untouchable as a goddess, which was also ironic. She might have a shorter rap sheet than Ava —most likely because her money had bought her a cleaner file—but every one of her arrests had stemmed from touching someone. Violently. He didn’t mind admitting he’d been somewhat impressed with her before he’d seen her. A former delinquent himself, he knew the gals and guys who’d get down and dirty when necessary, uncaring whether they were hurt—or worse—always made the best agents. Now he had to reevaluate. She looked like a tasty after-dinner treat ready to throw a tantrum

over everything, not a potential badass. He watched as she stretched her shoulders, her white T-shirt pulling tight over the plump rise of her breasts, the golden sun lancing down and worshipping flawless skin that somehow boasted a post-orgasmic flush. Hector stopped caring about relating and realized he wanted to do a little touching of his own. Oh, hell, no. Attraction wasn’t something he allowed himself to feel, even in the smallest degree. Touching wasn’t something he allowed himself to do, ever. The one and only girlfriend he’d had, he’d accidentally killed. Goddamn mutant arms, he thought with a snarl. Strong emotion literally fired them up, atomizing both into some kind of hot, molten steel that burned through bodies, ripped out organs, and hell, destroyed anything. Even a woman he only wanted to pleasure. So, lessen learned. He and females were not a good mix. Friend and fellow agent Dallas Gutierrez stood on Hector’s right and moaned as if in pain. “Sweet damn, but those legs are long enough to wrap around me like a pretzel. And God, I love pretzels. Anyone know when we break for lunch?” “That’s my cousin, dickwad,” Agent Jaxon Tremain said from Hector’s left. Had Whacky Jacky been next to Dallas, he would have drilled his knuckles in the guy’s bicep. “Watch your mouth.”

“By watch my mouth do you mean I should invite your cuz back to my place for a game of Hide the Magic Wand, or my new personal fave, Puff on the Magic Dragon?” Dallas asked conversationally. “And I know what you’re thinking. I’m really into wizardry these days. Well, you’re right.” Hector gave a rusty bark of laughter. He hadn’t observed Dallas in this good a mood in a long time. A low growl escaped Jaxon. “I meant I’d scoop out your liver with a spoon, you idiot!” “Sterling silver or plastic?” Hector asked. In their line of work, details were important. Besides, he liked being part of their banter. Considering the fact that his work friends were his only friends, and he rarely socialized after hours, this kind of thing made him feel connected, like a part of the team. Team. Something he’d never thought to be a part of, as dangerous as he was, but collaboration was a very important part of AIR. Sometimes the only thing that saved your neck was the man guarding your back. Dallas groused, “I remember the days when you were actually nice.” So did Hector. Once upon a time, Jaxon had been so by-the-book he could have been the book. Then he’d met his wife, Mishka, and the pretty little assassin had somehow infected him with asshole-itis.

Jaxon liked to say she’d helped him accept his “true self.” And he actually said it with pride and affection, rather than revulsion, as if being yanked out of the shithead closet was a good thing. No one was pulling Hector out, and that was that. He was the way he was for a valid, life-saving reason, and that reason wasn’t ever going to change. Therefore, neither was he. “You won’t be remembering anything,” Jaxon growled, “if you say one more goddamn word about my—” “Jaxy!” The argument must have drawn Noelle’s attention because she clapped her hands and twirled. Then, with a carefree laugh, she tossed her overstuffed duffel at Ava, raced across the distance, and flung herself into Jaxon’s open arms. Clapping? Twirling? Seriously? Maybe her record was exaggerated rather than cleaned, because damn, in that moment, the little girl innocence radiating off her was astounding. Sadly, that wasn’t the turnoff it should have been. With those lush breasts and right side of dangerous curves, she was still one hundred percent woman. Don’t go there. AIR was his life, saving innocents his only goal. He’d spent a good portion of his childhood locked in a cage and had been forced to listen as his only brother was beaten to

death. He never wanted anyone else to suffer that kind of tragedy. More than that, he never wanted to cause another tragedy. Noelle, no matter how hot, was off limits. During camp, and forever after. “I missed you.” As she pulled back to look Jaxon over, she giggled like they were all at a pillow fighting sleepover. Giggled, yeah, but there were hints of smoke in her voice. The naughty kind that made him think of sex. “You get handsomer— more handsome? Whatever! You’re prettier every time I see you.” “You, too, honey,” Jaxon said. “You, too.” “Just for that, I’m willing to forgive you for not calling, writing, or letting me crash at your place when I was being chased by the law.” The agent chucked her under the chin. “You’re supposed to be aiding the law, Elle.” Elle. The nickname didn’t fit her. It was too cutesy. Which, he supposed, should have fit the china doll in front of him. Actually, it did fit, except for those hints of smoke. “Oh, I’ll aid the law, all right,” she said with a flare of determination. “Just as soon as I’m given a badge.” Hector did his best to cut off his snort. He failed. As if she would last through a single week of training. Before seeing her live and in person, he would

have bet she’d soar to the top of her class. After seeing her live and in person . . . not just no, but are you fucking kidding me no. Whether she was truly violent or just a poser, no one he knew wanted a partner like her. Those silvery-gray eyes flipped in his direction, narrowed briefly, swept up and down his body, as if seeing past his clothes and memorizing every detail. Then she looked away, dismissing him as if she’d found him to be substandard. All right, then. She didn’t find him attractive. Good. That’s actually what he preferred, because it saved him from having to deal with unwanted advances. In fact, he kept his head shaved to a glossy shine for just that reason. He was a man willing to do anything to discourage feminine attention. Because yeah, females could be vanity hounds and most preferred their dates to have hair. Black, blond, red, it didn’t matter, as long as the locks were thick and lustrous. And here was a news flash for little Miss Giggles: when he allowed his to grow, it was dark brown, nearly jet, with hints of gold, and worthy of a fucking lion. Not that he was feeling defensive or anything. Besides, even if he’d had hair, Noelle wouldn’t have wanted him. Most females found him a little too intimidating to speak to, much less someone to consider hooking up with. And soft, pretty girl

Noelle had to like soft, pretty boys. That’s just the way the world worked. “Ava,” Jaxon said to the Sunday school cutie who’d just ambled over to their group. Her duffel, as well as Noelle’s, sagged from her arms, weighing her down. “Good to see you again.” “Yeah, you, too.” She returned the nod, curls bobbing around her face. So. Ava and Noelle were friends. And long enough for the shorter girl to have met extended members of Noelle’s family. Interesting. With their vastly different backgrounds, Hector never would have paired them. Then again, Noelle enjoyed treating Ava like a servant. And Ava took it. Huh. Why were they here again? Ava leaned over to Noelle and whispered, “Are you meaning to sound like such a douche?” Noelle winked at her. If Hector hadn’t been so focused on the pair, he would have missed the byplay. Now his attention sharpened. So . . . there were times Noelle didn’t sound like a douche? Could the bubblehead thing be an act, then? If so, what was her purpose? And why hadn’t Jaxon, her blood-kin, recognized the difference? That last question had Hector shaking his head, dismissing his suspicions. Jaxon was sharp, one of the best and most observant agents out there, and

he would know his own cousin better than a friend/servant would. Dallas cleared his throat, the universal sign for make-the-damn-introductions-already. Jaw clenched, Jaxon made them. Dallas first, then Hector. No one tried to shake anyone’s hand, thank God, but at least Ava met his gaze. Noelle peered somewhere over his shoulder. After pinching Dallas’s cheek as if he were the sweetest toddler she’d ever seen. Stupid shit enjoyed the fondling, giving her a high-wattage grin of encouragement. “You both know I can’t show you preferential treatment while you’re here,” Jaxon said, uneasy. His scarred face paled in the sunlight, becoming almost waxen. “Right?” “Of course we do.” Finally removing her attention from Dallas, Noelle patted the top of Jaxon’s head with the sugary tolerance usually reserved for the brain damaged. “But that’s okay, because everyone else will.” Uh, that would be another are-you-kidding-no. No one got preferential treatment in this shit box. Hector was kicking things off this first week, and would then hand the reins of control over to Dallas, who would run things for a week before handing the reins to Jaxon for his week. Jaxon would then hand the reins to Ghost, as well as a female agent named Phoenix for their hell week.

Then, Ghost and Phoenix would return the reins to Hector, and he’d have to endure another seven days. He’d make damn sure Ghost and Phoenix knew these two were to be ridden harder than everyone else. Ridden . . . harder . . . Damn. Now he was Freuding himself. Arm-wise, that was the first sign of trouble. Dallas, he didn’t have to worry about. Boy would know what to do. It was the principal of the thing and all. “I can guarantee you’ll get the gold star treatment from me,” Dallas said, bombing Hector’s expectations into the oblivion. “After you answer a question for me. Do you like pretzels?” Ava rolled her eyes and muttered something unintelligible under her breath. “Oh my God, yes!” Noelle’s grin was all white teeth and that damn innocence. “I love pretzels! They’re just so yummalicious.” Yummalicious? “I’m so glad you said that,” Dallas began. “Because—” Jaxon reached around Hector and slugged Dallas in the jaw. “Ow! What was that for?” the agent grumbled, rubbing the already swelling discoloration. “Just be happy I don’t have a spoon.” The scowl

wiped from Jaxon’s face as he gave Noelle his full concentration. “Don’t pay him any attention. Just . . . go get settled, honey. Orientation starts in an hour.” He gave her a gentle push in the direction she was supposed to go. Noelle stopped at Ava’s side and slung her arm over the girl’s shoulders. “All right. We’ll go. We know you guys have important stuff to do. I just want to say thank you. You’ve done your best to make us feel welcome, and we’re just so grateful.” Were those tears in her eyes? Shit. They were. Deep down, he’d known she was a crier. How . . . pathetic. And even disappointing. “Take your bag already,” Ava snipped at her. “It’s, like, two hundred pounds heavier than mine.” “Impossible. I merely brought the essentials. Clothes, my favorite boots, face cream, makeup, a few books to read, a couple cans of caviar, lingerie, and my coffee pot. Plus a few other things a girl like me just can’t live without but can’t mention in mixed company because it would be indelicate. You know, because they’re sexual.” There at the end, she whispered, the hints of smoke blending with echoes of midnight. Worse, at “lingerie,” Hector and Dallas had stood a little straighter. At “sexual,” they’d moaned. Jaxon punched them both in the back of the head. Hector always ignored his attractions, yeah, but

come on. Now images of the elegant Noelle wearing a trashy, barely-there scrap of lace and a take-a-bite-out-of-me grin were seared into his brain. And wouldn’t you know it? His arms began to burn, his hands to itch. The second and third signs of trouble. If this kept up, his arms would begin to glow and the tattoos etched from his shoulders to his fingertips would crackle. The final oh, shit signs that meant he was nearly too late to stop the ensuing carnage, that his skin, muscle, and bone were about to mutate into fiery mist and melt everything he touched. A transition that would last several hours, until the heat finally lost steam and died down. Problem was, he couldn’t masturbate his sexual desires away because he’d fry off his cock. And he couldn’t take pills because they scrambled his cognitive process, preventing him from solving his cases. So, when sexual frustration became too much for him and his arms, he called a hooker for a blowjob. That way, the girl stayed on her knees, mostly out of reach, and he got off without having to worry about torching an entire town. Another problem made itself know. He couldn’t —wouldn’t—call Happy Endings while he was here. That would mix the secret, seedier side of his

personal life with the crucial business side, and he would never do that. AIR was the one pure thing in his life; he refused to taint it. For any reason. “I think I just heard someone groan from inside the bag.” Ava shouted the words as she fumbled with the zipper. “You have a body in here, don’t you? Well, you’re not framing me again, and that’s that.” Noelle stepped away from her, palms up and out. “Darling, just carry the thing already. You’ve been whining about needing to step up your exercise program for a long time, and I’ve decided to help you. You’re welcome, by the way.” “I never asked—oh!” Ava stomped a foot. “I’m going to murder you in your sleep.” Noelle gasped, intense waves of hurt wafting from her. “I can’t believe you just threatened me like that. I . . . need a moment to collect myself. Excuse me, everyone.” Sniffling, she walked away without taking her bag. Frowning, Hector rubbed at the abrupt ache in his chest. What the hell? He actually cared that she’d been threatened? Ava followed after her friend, dragging both bags and mumbling under her breath about taking douchieness too far. The three agents watched them go. Each for a different reason, Hector was sure. Jaxon, to make sure they entered the bunkhouse without any

trouble. Dallas, to see his pretzel’s perfect ass sway, and Hector because he just couldn’t seem to stop himself. “Girl’s bunk is upstairs, honey,” Jaxon called. “There’s an entrance to the right, so you won’t have to go through the guy’s area.” “Oh, thanks,” Noelle returned without looking back—and without moving to the right. Funny, there hadn’t been a trace of hurt remaining in her tone. Ava finally managed to unload Noelle’s stuff— by drop kicking it into the girl’s path and causing her to stumble. Laughing, now free of her burden, Ava darted ahead of her. When Noelle righted herself, she swept up the nylon and raced forward, too, chuckling all the way. No more baby giggles for her, but a grown woman’s amusement. The change was startling, but understandable. She’d been nervous around them. At the last moment, she shoved past Ava and reached the door to their new home first. The two disappeared from view. Okay, then. His final impression? Take the “yummalicious” then add the giggles, multiply the cluelessness and the split second change of emotion, subtract the chuckling and the wink, and you most likely had a recipe for dumb as a box of rocks. Pretty as a cameo, yeah, that hadn’t changed, but she was still dumb as a box of rocks.

No doubt about it now. Her record was exaggerated. Kinda like when the scrawny kid in class paid the bully to protect him. At the moment, Hector wasn’t even sure Noelle Tremain could fight off a piece of lint. “How many strings did you have to pull to get her here?” he asked Jaxon. The guy sighed, all kinds of weariness bubbling in the undertone. “Too many.” Thought so. “And why does someone like her want to do this?” AIR agents worked long hours, made gruesome discoveries, and constantly waded through the darkest dredges of humanity. All of which had been lifesaving for Hector, but rich, pampered Noelle didn’t need any saving, did she. “She said something about putting her kung fu skills to good use.” Jaxon shook his head at the ridiculousness of his words. “I laughed, so she finally admitted the truth. That she wants a chance to carry a badge and tell people what to do, then shoot them if they disobey her.” That, Hector believed. “You are such a sucker.” Good news was, there weren’t enough strings anyone could pull if she screwed up. And she would. Probably before orientation ended. The thought of never looking at that pretty face again caused an ache of . . . something to smolder in his chest. The same ache he’d experienced when she’d reacted to Ava’s threat.

He ignored that something, whatever it was, with the same determination he usually ignored his lusts. I’ll have you gone by the end of the day, Tremain. Guaranteed.