Even the worst detective in the world would be able to unearth her location with little effort. Every time she turned a corner, she picked up a new stalker, until another crowd had formed. She was pretty sure she’d picked up a combatant, too.
Knox had told her she would feel a pulse of energy in the air, and she definitely detected a pulse. Had he tracked her? Or had another player found her?
If Knox were nearby, he would have revealed himself. Right? So, this had to be another player.
Decision time. Turn off the fumes to ditch her admirers, or let the pheromone continue to seep from her in order to ward off an attack?
“I love you,” someone said.
Then, “I want to have your babies.”
Still another said, “Marry me.”
Off. Definitely off. A million flavors coated her tongue, leaving a foul taste in her mouth. Oh, how she missed Knox’s whiskey and honey. Heck, she missed Knox, period.
Moving on. Celeste had exercised absolute control over her abilities. What she’d wanted, she’d willed. Focused, determined, Vale willed it off and...yes! The scent faded.
On alert, expecting the combatant to pop out at any second, she picked up speed. At first, the crowd trailed her. One by one they branched away, no longer enamored with her.
Relieved, she pondered the best way to contact Knox. The best way to get the sword and Rifters from him.
Someone bumped into her. As she stumbled, something small and hard slapped against her palm. Her fingers curled in reflex, holding on.
“Your sister says hi,” rasped an unfamiliar voice.
Nola? Heart rate spiking, Vale spun, intending to race after the deliveryman. Dang. He’d already disappeared in the crowd.
Her heart rate spiked again when she realized she held a cell phone. Truly from Nola, or a combatant pretending to be Nola, hoping to track Vale through GPS?
Trust no one.
But she smiled when she caught sight of the screen; a message from SotY waited. Sister of the Years, Nola’s moniker. No way anyone else could know that.
Paranoia disagreed. Zion could have tricked the information out of her, and Erik could have hacked a database to dredge up their message history.
Whimper. The message read: Sorry our convo got cut short. Do WHATEVER you need 2 do 2 survive, & don’t worry about me, ok? I’m good as pie & gonna stay that way. Lady Carrie’s girls 4ever! Oh, & don’t believe Z. I repeat. Do NOT.
The vernacular fit Nola to a T. But what did she mean, “don’t believe Z?” Z stood for Zion, obviously, but he’d never really spoken to Vale. Was he going to speak to her and tell her a lie?
Sounded ominous, but then, it was difficult to judge tone in a text.
With tears brimming in her eyes, Vale tossed the phone in a trash can without replying. Though she trusted Nola with her life, she wouldn’t/couldn’t/shouldn’t trust Zion.
Okay. Next move. Finding Knox.
No, wait. First she had to gear-up. Vale walked to the nearest electronics store, certain the combatant tracked her. Though she remained on alert, he—or she—never made a move against her.
Though nervous, she used the pheromone to get a 100 percent off discount on two phones, a laptop and a top-of-the-line prepaid data plan. What she didn’t feel? Guilt. The items would help her save the world.
Face it, she was basically a superhero.
Next she visited a clothing store to get new duds. Lastly, she stopped at a party supply shop to pick up a few surprises for Knox. Things they could use to celebrate their newfound partnership—the one she was going to pitch. He just had to say yes.
Still being tracked.
Her nervousness increased, invisible nails being drilled into her ribs, scraping her heart every time it beat. Unfortunately, she was also turned on. She wasn’t immune to the pheromone’s effects.
Concentrate. She needed to find a quiet spot to surf social media sites. Knox had picked up driving so easily. Why not internet surfing, as well? For all she knew, he was checking out her Twitter page right this very second. #KnoxOnWood #HardKnox.
Sacks filled with her purchases in hand, she headed to a nearby coffee shop. If she remained in a crowd, the combatant might not attack and—
“Hello, female.”
Knox’s voice came out of nowhere, deep and languid, sexy as heck, and she nearly launched out of her skin. On the plus side, the potent taste of whiskey and honey cleansed her mouth of the foul barrage.
Arousal redoubling, she whirled around and searched the sidewalks for him...the shadows... One blink, and he appeared directly in front of her. No one else seemed to notice or care.
Excitement coursed through her. Breathless, she said, “You’re my stalker.”
His eye sockets had darkened, his piercing blue gaze both chilling and smoldering. Rumpled black hair framed the gorgeous face that would forever haunt her fantasies.
He was shirtless, an eight-pack on magnificent display, but also smeared with dried blood. His leather pants were ripped. Had he come straight from battle, like a conqueror determined to claim his war prize?
Instant bliss-out. Her nipples hardened, and her stomach quivered. Hot need pooled between her thighs.
What is wrong with me?
The gloom cloaked his weapons—she knew he had weapons—but not the scabs and bruises that littered his torso.
He’d never looked better, or stronger or fiercer, and oh, frick, he turned her on more than the pheromone, just by standing there. He enthralled her.
Guard up!
He tilted his head to the side, giving her the look. Voice hoarse, he said, “Come with me.”
Safety first. “Do you plan to murder me in private or engage in a little convo?”
“I could have killed you a thousand times today, and no one would have known. What do you think?”
Excellent point. “By all means, then, lead the way.” As he strode down the sidewalk, she kept pace at his side. “So how’d you find me?”
“Easily,” he replied, his tone lashing like a whip.
Well, well. Someone was in a mood. “Did you adios the terrible trio forever?”
“No.” He ushered her into an abandoned alley, opened a shadowed rift and stood guard after they’d entered.
The rift closed, sealing them inside the bunker. Determined to clear the air before she lost her wits, Vale placed her bags on the floor and said, “Listen up, Knoxie. Things are going to be different between us this go-round.”
“You’re right.” Rage pulsed from him. “I got a glimpse of a future with you, and I would rather die.”
The unexpected rejection cut like a knife, the pain staggering. Buck up. This means nothing. He meant nothing.
She pasted on a sneer. “Oh, good. We’re on the same page. Give me Celeste’s sword and Rifters, and I’ll be on my way.” Screw an alliance.
He crossed his arms over his muscular chest. “Why don’t you enslave me with your scent and make me do it?”
Gulp. He knew. At the very least, he suspected. Best she come clean. “Look. I’m not wearing perfume. It’s a pheromone, and I’m producing it, just like Celeste. I think I’ll call it Lust Potion Number 69—trademark pending. You were right. When I absorbed her memories, I also absorbed her abilities.”
He pursed his lips. “I watched you. The pheromone superseded the will of others. An unforgivable offense.”
How dare he judge? “You supersede the will of others every time you make a kill. Your victims want to live, but you want them dead. Who wins?” She lifted her chin. “I did what I did to survive, and I’m not sorry. If you don’t like it, I’ll get lost and you can get bent. After you give me the sword and Rifters. Don’t think I’ve forgotten them.”
Her unruffled response clearly threw him for a loop. Jaw clenched, he said, “Did Erik or Adonis touch yo
u sexually?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Tell me.”
“Why, are you jealous?” Her cheeks reddened, and she wished she could snatch back the question. Giving him another opportunity to reject her—
“Jealousy seethes inside me,” he hissed. His usual masculine arrogance was stripped away, nothing but a veneer, leaving only primitive possessiveness.
Shock hit her first, then delight...then disappointment. He knew a little about her abandonment issues, and could have easily unearthed her sweet spot: being wanted by another person. He could be playing her.
He’d warned her. Never trust him.
But part of her believed he’d told the truth. His muscles were bunched with strain, his color high. The way he was staring at her, as if she belonged to him and him alone...
“No, they didn’t,” she said, tremors slipping down her spine. “And I didn’t want them to. They are mega old—like you. I prefer my dudes under a century.”
He relaxed, only to tense again. “From now on, you prefer me, and only me.”
Ugh. This Neanderthal routine was totally doing it for her, revving her motor. Why, why, why?
Move on! “By the way,” she said, “I spotted Rush before the cops nabbed me. He escaped in a hail of gunfire. He knows I killed Celeste and hijacked her abilities.”
Pensive, he fussed two fingers over the dark stubble on his chin. “That presents a problem.”
“Yeah, it does. For me. Now, give me what I came for, or you’ll get no more info out of me.”
He sneered, saying, “Decided to embrace your destiny as a cold-blooded murderer, did you?”
Okay, that really chapped her hide. “Did I have any other choice? I’m not going to let your king waltz in and enslave my people.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I’ll give you the Rifters, but not the sword. I’ll never willingly arm an enemy.”
“As long as you aren’t trying to kill me, I won’t attack you.” Here goes nothing. “In fact, despite your crappy attitude, I’d like to make a final-two alliance with you.”
The condescending POS arched a brow, all oh, you would, would you? “You think I’ll trust you to keep your word?”
“No.” And she wouldn’t trust him to keep his. “I expect you to fight me off if I’m dumb enough to attack. Or does the big bad wolf think he’s too weak to fend off the little lamb?”
“You, a lamb? You are more like a piranha.”
She fluffed her hair. “Thank you. Piranha eat wolves for breakfast.” Probably. If given the chance.
“You want to gobble me down, then?”
Awareness crackled between them, stronger than before, sparks showering over her. His gaze raked over her once, fast, then a second time, slow, very slow.
“I’d let you,” he rasped. Pupils expanding, chest rising and falling in quick succession, he took a step closer to her. “Would you let me return the favor?”
Breathe, just breathe. In, out. No, no. Mistake! The heady scent of his masculine musk, all those exotic spices, sent a thousand megawatts of heat through her, melting her bones. Careful. Reveal nothing.
“I’m going to make this real simple for you,” she said. “I don’t trust you, either, but I want you. If I’m going to risk everything to play nookie hookie with you, you’re going to meet my conditions without protest.”
“I’m the one who risks everything.”
Galling! She continued, anyway. “You are not going to feed me a bull-crap line about keeping my weapon to protect me. I don’t need a protector, Knox. I need my sword. If you refuse, we’re parting ways right here, right now.”
His hands fisted, as if he fought the urge to...what? Shake her? Grab her and kiss her?
Tell him everything. Clean the slate, start fresh. “In return,” she said, “I will be a good ally to you. I’ll never betray you. I won’t make a play for your head until we’re the last two players standing. And I’ll be honest with you...from now on.”
He flashed his straight white teeth, returning to his primitive animal-state. “You lied to me in the past?”
“Yes.” This next part could go very right or very wrong. “I don’t actually have a husband.”
He relaxed. “This, I know. You are divorcing.”
“No. I’ve never been married.” Before he could comment, she added, “In my defense, I didn’t know you, didn’t like you and feared what you planned to do to me. By the time I realized a fictitious husband wasn’t needed, you threatened to kill me if ever I lied to you.”
Between one blink and the next, his expression blanked. “How was a fictitious husband supposed to save you?”
Good question. “I guess I thought it would prove someone cared about my well-being and humanize me. And, if you’d decided to ransom me, you wouldn’t hurt the goods that were going to supply a big payday.”
A pause. Then, “Is there anything else you need to confess?”
Dang it, what thoughts were rolling through his head? “Yes, there’s something else. I think you’re a terrible host. I had to dig past thousands of layers of cynicism and malice to realize your personality doesn’t actually suck donkey balls.”
“Stop. Your compliments are going straight to my head,” he deadpanned. “Anything else?”
Her shoulders sagged. “That’s it. And you’re not going to punish me for the lie. You are going to teach me how to sword fight. Oh, and when it’s time to part ways, we’ll talk, not stab each other in the back.”
A minute ticked by in silence, a muscle jumping in his jaw. He was a mystery. The unsolvable riddle. An enigma.
She decided to forge ahead, anyway. “Lastly,” she said, “you will work with me to create a comprehensive plan of action.”
“I have a plan of action.”
“Let me rephrase. A good plan of action, with clear objectives.” She was going to put her business degree to use, after all. “We need to get ahead of potential problems and force circumstances to conform to our goals, remaining fluid.”
He arched a brow. “Our goals?”
“Well, yeah. Final two, remember?”
He stabbed his fingers through his hair, dark locks tumbling over his forehead. Locks she yearned to brush back. His mouth opened, closed, but no sound emerged.
Had she blundered? Was his desire for her strong enough to overshadow his objections?
In it to win it. She smoothed a shaky hand down her curves. “Say yes, and you can have all of this.” Please, say yes. Despite the shimmer of distrust between them, desire had left her aching and agonized.
The blank mask fell away, revealing blazing eyes that seared her soul. Suddenly he looked at her as if he could devour her in one tasty bite. As if he’d never wanted anything more. As if he would die without her.
No one had ever looked at her like that.
“I agree to your terms, valina.”
Shock and joy. Lust and anticipation. Nervousness. More emotion than she could handle.
“Wh-what does valina mean?” He’d used the term before, and at the moment, she could think of nothing else to say. “Because if you change one particular letter, you get a whole new word.”
“Which letter?” He pursed his mouth. “Never mind. I’ve figured it out.”
She almost—almost—snickered.
He hesitated, then admitted, “The sun that warms.”
Great! Now she wanted to sigh dreamily. I warm him? Well, good. It was only fair. He melted her.
“Now,” he said, all wicked seduction and secret fantasies, “you will agree to my terms.”
What more could he possibly want?
More important, how could she resist?
Gaze hot on her, he languidly discarded his weapons. Swords, daggers. The revolver. More daggers. The bow and arrow. Throwing stars.
Metal clanged to the floor, creating a macabre pile. Shivers of ever-intensifying need shook her.
He removed his belt, and she gasped. The tip of his erection extended above the waistband of his leathers, a bead of moisture glistening in the light.
Silent, he cupped the sides of her face. Mmm, his hands. Calloused and strong, so hot they burned through her scrubs.
He picked her up and carried her to the bed, then placed her on the mattress gently. She stretched out, their gazes tangled together. He came down on top of her, anchoring his hands beside her temples to hold up his upper body while the rest of them pressed together. An inferno of need blazed inside her, and she spread her legs in welcome.
The pheromone wafted from her, almost as thick as smoke, and she tried to will it off, like before, but failed. “I’m sorry...can’t control...”
“Here are my terms,” he said. “You won’t be with another man while we’re together. You won’t use the pheromone out of bed. And lastly, we will not have sex—penetration—until I’ve developed an immunity to the pheromone.”
What! “No penetration?” Great! Now she was a creep who whined when her crush wouldn’t go all the way.
He shook his head. “I want to know my desire for you is real.” He ran her bottom lip between his teeth. “Until then, we will do other things...”
CHAPTER TWENTY
CAN’T THINK. NEED TO THINK.
Great tides of desire submerged the eyaer. Knox had to build an immunity to Vale’s pheromone, and soon; his survival depended on it. The more he scented her, the less he cared about the outcome of the war.
Perhaps he should leave the bunker. Just for a little while. Just until he’d regained control of his thoughts. He had to care about the outcome of the war.
Stay! Strip her naked. Suck on those puckered nipples. Sip between her legs.
Yes, oh yes. He would do all of that. Leaving wasn’t really an option.
“Knox... I want you.”
“Kiss me.” Nearly crazed with lust, he fisted the hair at her nape and yanked her face toward his. A soft gasp parted her lips—lips he claimed in a frenzy of possessiveness, his tongue rolling against hers.
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