The Alien Huntress Series

by Gena Showalter

  Devyn pounded back his third single malt, neat. He and Dallas had waited in that dirty alley until backup finally arrived. Twenty damn minutes after Nolan had been captured. Part of him had expected Bride to return, to taunt him a little more and demand the answers she’d once sought from him. She hadn’t.

  Now, twenty-four hours later, a group of them were at the house of Jaxon, one of the richest guys in the new world, gorging on his food, emptying his liquor cabinet, and trying to decide on the best course of action.

  “—telling you, she came out of the wall and looked like one big painted brick,” Dallas was saying. “Then she was naked, and yeah, you should want to kill yourself for not seeing those curves, and then she exploded but didn’t die. No, I didn’t see that part, but Devyn told me all about it. She even turned into a storm cloud of wrath and wrapped around Nolan before disappearing completely.”

  “I had the artist at AIR headquarters do a sketch of her.” Devyn drained his glass and refilled it. He didn’t stop at two fingers, but gave himself the entire hand before reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a mini-console. The small black box looked like nothing more than a miniature keyboard. But after he keyed in the proper code, a blue light seeped upward, forming a flat, steady square.

  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-without-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 fucking 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 smelle
d 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.

  Macy could change her appearance at will, one moment a luscious blonde, the next an exact replica of even the golden giant beside her. A golden giant who had paled, as well.

  Everyone inside this kitchen knew Macy was not really Macy. She was an otherworlder posing as the human model-slash-AIR-agent. But no one knew who she really was, who she’d been before taking over the dead Macy’s life. Hadn’t seemed important. Until now.

  This can’t be right. Pensive, Devyn stroked two fingers over his jaw. “Does the name Aleaha Love mean anything to anyone?” Though he asked the question of everyone, he kept his attention fixed on Macy. She’d been pale before, but now she became chalk white, the thin lines of her veins visible.

  Everyone but Macy and Breean shook their head no. Those two shared a heavy look, Macy fingering the locket hanging around her neck. Interesting. If Macy wasn’t Bride’s friend—which, Devyn would now bet his most prized possession, aka his cock, that she was—the two were involved somehow. Was the locket something Bride had given her? Something that reminded her of Bride?

  “Where’d you see this vampire?” Macy asked softly.

  “A few blocks from Dallas’s apartment.”

  “Hey, you didn’t tell me that,” Dallas said.

  “I didn’t think it was significant.” Until now. To test the foundation of his theory, he added, “She was just another woman in a long line of women. Unimportant and a bother. There was no reason to mention her at the time.”

  Macy tensed, as though offended.

  But then, so did Mia. “Insulting ass! Better watch your mouth before you lose your tongue.”

  “Females the world over would hunt you down and destroy you for such a travesty.” He traced his fingertip around the rim of his glass. “I say we find Bride and kill her.”

  Macy gasped and shook her head violently.

  Mia nodded in agreement.

  Devyn almost grinned. Oh, yes indeed. Macy was Bride’s friend. No doubt about it now.

  “We cannot kill her until we find out where she’s hidden the Schön,” Kyrin said.

  “No one will be killing her.” The words left Devyn with more force than he’d intended. “I was teasing, of course. I don’t want her killed.”

  Dallas punched him in the shoulder. “You’ve got a great sense of humor. Anyone ever tell you that? No? Well, that’s because I was lying, and your humor sucks ass. You don’t tell a room full of killers to kill someone and expect the target to walk away unscathed. Moron.” He drained his whisky sour and slammed his glass onto the tabletop.

  “Respect the wood or die,” Jaxon said. “Mishka will have my ass if anything happens to it.”

  Mishka was currently out on assignment. She was stronger, faster, deadlier, than anyone around her, and could crush a man with a single squeeze. He had to get his hands on a cyborg soon. A vampire cyborg would be even better. And as Bride was more than a vamp, it was entirely possible he’d get his wish.

  “Sorry,” Dallas muttered, properly shamed.

  Devyn patted his friend’s hand. “I love when our channels of communication are open like this.” He was fighting a grin. “I really do. Makes me feel so close to you. It’s heartwarming. I think there’s even a tear in my eye. But back to the vampire. She’s mine. I’ll take care of her.”

  Kyrin arched a brow at him. “Another morsel for your collection?”

  “Yes.” Truth.

  “Top brass won’t like it,” Dallas muttered, but there was laughter in his tone.

  “He’s right,” Mia said. “I don’t.”

  Macy wouldn’t like it either, judging by the fire now blooming in her blue eyes. “I’m sure I can convince you of the wisdom of my plan, Miss Snowball.” Even if she didn’t like it, she wouldn’t be able to stop it from happening. “I’ll give her to you when I’m done with her.”

  Like her man, she arched a brow. “Snowball?” Then she shook her head and waved her hand. “Give me Nolan, and then we can talk.”

  Done, he thought.

  “H—how are we going to capture her?” Macy asked on a trembling breath. She was gripping the edge of the table, her knuckles tight.

  Telling, how Breean reached over and squeezed her hand in comfort. The otherworlder knew, as Devyn had suspected.

  Most likely Macy planned to learn his intentions, find her friend first, warn her, and send her into hiding. Understandable. Devyn would do the same thing, were the situation reversed. That wouldn’t stop him from tricking Macy now, though. Nothing interfered with his objective. Ever. That would make him regret.

  “I have something she wants,” Devyn said with relish, “and I plan to dangle it under her nose until she finds me.”

  CHAPTER 5

  The pounding on the door woke her.

  Slowly Bride blinked open her eyes. Her vision was cloudy at first, but gradually it focused, and her apartment came into view. A single lamp burned, its golden glow providing a small circle of light. The window was still open, drifting a warm morning breeze inside and lifting her curtains. Thankfully, she was far enough away that the sunlight didn’t touch, and therefore burn, her sensitive skin.

  The well-worn couch, basket of folded laundry, and so-small-you-had-to-strain-to-see-it TV were where they had always been, though she was not. She was on the floor, trembling from cold and bone-deep hunger. Naked.

  What the—

  Devyn. The name was like an electric current inside her, and memories flooded her mind, heating her up inside and out. She’d found him, had watched that beautiful body stalk the streets of New Chicago, constantly fighting the urge to reveal herself and drink from him, savoring every delicious drop of blood he possessed, and then she’d stolen his captive, beating him soundly.

  Another pound of fists echoed at the entrance. “Amy. Amy, I know you’re in there!”

  Bride dragged herself to a sitting position. She swiped her tongue over her lips, her mouth as dry as dirt, her teeth aching. So hungry…

  “Finally,” a relieved voice breathed behind her.

  She whipped around, and had to massage her temples to assuage the sudden wave of dizziness. When the dizziness cleared, she studied her companion. He wore the same clothes she’d left him in: a button-down and slacks. They were wrinkled, stained with sweat. A plain copper necklace wrapped around his neck like a snake, tight, almost choking, causing his pulse to flutter wildly.

  Mmm, a snack…

  No. No, no, no. “You’re alive,” she said foolishly. And damn, her throat hurt. It was swollen and raw from disuse. Or had she screamed in pleasure as dream Devyn licked his way up and down her body?

  And just when the hell had she begun thinking of him as a sexual conquest? He was a means to an end. That was it.

  “Barely.” Her captive lay on the cot she’d provided for him, facing her, his skin grayish, his eyes sunken. There were small circular wounds on his neck, as if something had tried to bite its way free of his skin.

  Boom, boom, boom. “Amy!”

  Shit. Had the otherworlder shouted for help while she’d slept, and was the cavalry now here to rescue him?

  “How long have I been out?” If she was going to be arrested, it’d be nice to know how long Devyn had had to find her.

  “Four days.”

  Wow. Had she been human, she probably would have peed herself. Thankfully, that was not a bodily function she’d ever had to endure. She smacked her lips together, her mouth still as dry as a desert.

  Time to feed. Automatically her gaze returned to the otherworlder’s neck, and her still-aching fangs elongated. Blood…good…need…Waaaay past time to feed. He’s sick
. You’ll probably vomit after you drink him, anyway, weakening you all the more. Who cared? Her body always absorbed the first few sips before the sickness hit her, which was how she’d managed to survive, and she would be stronger. Right now, even the taste of blood would have been enough for her. So, so good…

  “Your eyes are glowing,” the otherworlder said, but he didn’t sound as if he cared.

  “Damn it, Amy. Rent’s overdue.”

  The voices snapped her out of the blood haze, and she blinked. Rent. Thank God. No arrest today. Maybe.

  “Now your eyes are back to normal.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Amy, I know you can hear me. I want my money, or your ass is outta here. Understand?” More banging. “I told you one more delayed payment and you were gone. Don’t tell me you don’t remember.”

  “Your name’s Amy?” her captive asked. “I thought Devyn called you Bride.”

  “Be there in a second,” she called, relieved that the otherworlder hadn’t shouted for help. For his cooperation, she gave him a reward. Honesty. “My real name is Bride, yes.”

  “I can see how the guy at your door confused that with Amy,” he said dryly. “I’m Nolan, by the way.”

  “I know. I heard.”

  “Hurry up, damn it!” the super repeated, this time grudgingly rather than furious. “I don’t got all day. I’m two seconds away from letting myself in, and it won’t be against the rules ’cause you’re so behind.”

  “I said I was coming!” Bride pushed to her feet, swayed. “Why didn’t you scream the roof down while I was out?” she asked Nolan.

  “And allow humans to stone me while I’m in this condition?” He snorted. “No, thanks.”

  “Just…be quiet while I deal with my super. Please. If you hadn’t already guessed, I’m not human, but he thinks I am and I let him think it because he’s more prejudiced than most. He’d rather shoot an otherworlder than look at one.” She turned and forced one foot in front of the other, closing the distance between herself and Nolan’s wallet. “Swear to God, he’s a piece of shit who would trade his mother for a beanburger.”