Awaken Me Darkly (Alien Huntress #1)(59)
Author: Gena Showalter

“Amusement, probably,” Kyrin said. “There was no way to save him.”

“We’ve got to call Jack. He needs to know about—”

A familiar, pungent scent filled my nose. “Sorry, angel. You are not ready, and too much do I fear for your life.”

The last thought to drift through my mind before darkness claimed me was that I was going to murder Kyrin and his damn sleeping potion.

“Bastard,” I shouted as I awoke.

Sunlight streamed through the burgundy curtains, illuminating the spacious decadence of Kyrin’s bedroom. Honey oak floors gleamed, the elaborate vanity glistened, and the sconces and jasmine-scented candles glittered.

I was sick and tired of being drugged when he wanted to move me.

I searched the room for Kyrin, but he was gone.

As soon as I found him, he was going to give me his phone unit so I could call the station house and tell Jack everything I’d learned—except for the part about Atlanna being a blood relation. I didn’t know if I’d ever broach that particular subject. And I’d probably leave out the part about sleeping with Kyrin, too.

I abandoned the warmth of the comforter and trekked to the bathroom. There, I brushed my teeth and hair and programmed the wall console for a shower. The water burst on, deliciously waiting for me. I was just about to step into the tub when a flash of gold caught the corner of my eye. Filled with a sense of dread, I scrubbed mist from the mirror.

That rat bastard!

My fists clenched as potent fury consumed me. If I’d had a pyre-gun, I would have found Kyrin and blasted his ass to ashes. He’d done it. He’d really done it. After every erotic thing we’d done together, after promising to trust each other, he’d returned the armband to my bicep, keeping me a goddamn prisoner here.

I jerked on the fresh blue sheath folded neatly on the sink rim. “Bastard,” I growled under my breath. “I’d thought he meant to free me permanently. But no, he meant to keep me here all along.”

I stormed through the mansion, pushed my way past his servants. They scrambled out of my way. Kyrin was nowhere to be found. A low growl worked its way past my throat. On top of everything else, he still thought to play detective on his own. His death would be my greatest pleasure.

I kicked and clawed the hidden door to his office, but the stupid thing wouldn’t budge. Did he think I’d be okay with this? That I would forgive him? What, give the little woman a few mind-shattering orgasms, and she’d be content to wait at home?

“Bastard,” I spat again.

Whipping around, I saw I was alone. Smart of the servants to hide. In my frustration, I might have accidentally hurt them. I stalked to the kitchen and withdrew a cooking blade from a wooden sheath. Before the day ended, I was going to hack this armband from my body. Then I would await Kyrin’s return. And I knew that with each second that ticked by and he remained absent, my fury would grow hotter.

“I’m going to skewer him alive,” I said, slamming down on a barstool. “I’m going to rip out his heart and feast on it for days. I’ll tie his intestines around his neck and choke him to death.” I jabbed the tip of the knife under the band.

“Oh, and just who do you intend to torture this way?” a husky female voice asked behind me.

I quickly jumped up and spun, knife braced and ready. When I saw who stood there, my jaw dropped open. Atlanna. I hadn’t sensed her presence, yet there she stood, a vision in creamy lavender cloth. My first thought was that of a hunter. I wished I had my pyre-gun. I wished I had a tape recorder.

My second thought was simply that of a daughter. I wondered what she thought of me as she examined me so intently.

Up close, her uptilted violet eyes, high cheekbones, and pixie nose were the epitome of perfection. Even the arch of her eyebrows dared not deviate from the flawlessness of her features. She resembled me, yet was so much more delicate.

Gold armlets snaked around her biceps, and bracelets adorned her wrists and ankles. Her glitter-soft white hair nearly reached the floor, and was plaited in several braids. Innocence enveloped her, glowed lovingly around her. Deceptively.

Two separate needs battled for dominance. I could run to her, accept her as my mother, and talk to her. Or I could use the blade I held in my hands and end the mess this Arcadian had created.

I did neither.

I simply stood conflicted, my heart rate increasing, my palms sweating. I was so filled with curiosity. What would my life have been like if I had remained with her as a child? Would I have known the love I’d always craved? Would I have killed innocent humans to please her?

I was supposed to hate her, and I did hate her on so many levels.

Take her into custody, the huntress in me cried. Question her. Find the missing men, if any of them are still alive. Find the babies. Still, I couldn’t force myself to move. To act as I’d been trained.

“Why are you here?” I managed.

“To see you.” Her fingers skipped down her braid. “Would you like me to leave?”

“I—No.” I shook my head. No matter my needs, that wasn’t an action I could allow.

She gave me a half smile, and amusement sparkled in her expression. “Holding that knife, you remind me of myself. So strong. So ready to conquer the world.”

“Except we use our weapons for different reasons.” There. I’d said it. It was the first step in forcing myself to think of her only as a murderer, not a mother.

“Killing is killing.” Slowly her smile faded, and she leaned her hip against the kitchen doorframe. A hint of anger stiffened her chin. “Which of us do you think has more fun with our victims?”

“Life isn’t always about fun.”

“Then what’s it about, hmm?”

“Doing the right thing.”

“Is the right thing admitting to my crimes? Fine. I did it. I killed the men you found. They had served their purpose, and I learned well not to leave fathers with their babies.”

I blinked at her cold confession, uttered so nonchalantly. I’d never—never—had an alien admit so blatantly to a crime. And yet her confession fit so perfectly with her other actions. Shocking. Uncaring. Bold.

“I’m glad I did,” she said. “It brought you to me.”

“You cannot mean to convince me that you killed them only to get to me. What about the babies?” I asked, keeping my tone as neutral as hers—a feat that required every ounce of strength I possessed.

She shrugged, waved a delicate arm through the air, and gave a light chuckle. “What about them?” Like a queen before her court, Atlanna strolled around the kitchen, touching and lifting certain items for her inspection, then haplessly dropping them back into place. Wrinkling her nose in distaste, she traced a fingertip over the counter. “I expected Kyrin’s home to appear more…I do not know. Rugged?”