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 bloodsucking 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."