Seduce the Darkness (Alien Huntress #4)(15)
Author: Gena Showalter

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-with-out-Saying-Fuck 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 f**king 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.