Seduce the Darkness (Alien Huntress #4)(37)
Author: Gena Showalter

“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 br**sts. 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?”