Savor Me Slowly (Alien Huntress #3)(27)
Author: Gena Showalter

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 f**king 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, white-haired 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.