The Alien Huntress Series

by Gena Showalter

  That’s my girl. “I guess I proved that by marrying you.” Now why had he said that?

  She snorted. “We aren’t married, moron.”

  “Yes, we are.” Stop, stop, stop. “Why don’t you tell me what you did for a living before scoring a sugar daddy?”

  Another snort, but once again she twisted into him. This time she rested her head on his shoulder and began circling one of his nipples with her fingertips. “Are you sure you want to know?”

  “Yes.”

  “I stole, okay. I wasn’t lazy or anything,” she assured him. “I was just afraid to take a job and spend time around humans. One, their smell sometimes makes me sick, and two, I was afraid they’d notice the differences in me, start to question what I was. Three, I believe I’ve mentioned that the sun is uncomfortable for me.”

  “Are you any good at stealing?”

  “Hello. I’m the best.”

  “Guaranteed you aren’t better than me, but do continue with your story.”

  “You steal things?”

  “The hearts of women across the uni—verse. Ow!” There at the end, she had pinched his nipple. “No more of that, or you’ll owe me a new one.”

  She kissed it better, and he had to press his lips together to stop his groan. “I started stealing full time to feed Al—Macy,” she said. “She was just a kid, left on the streets like a piece of garbage. I’d never needed food, but she did, so I learned to get it for her. I’d done some stealing for myself throughout the years, clothes, shoes, that sort of thing, but time hadn’t been of the essence, so I’d never really honed my skills. I just waited until an opportunity presented itself. With Macy, I couldn’t wait and I wasn’t always successful. Had a few run-ins with the law until I learned the best methods. After we were separated, I kept it up so I wouldn’t be rusty when she returned. And well, I liked owning pretty things. What about you? What kind of childhood did you have?”

  “I was pampered,” he said, each word measured. He prayed she left it at that. Not even Dallas knew about Devyn’s parents, about the humiliating time spent inside that darkened cell. About his shame.

  She gave his nipple another kiss. “That tells me nothing. Pampered doesn’t mean happy.”

  No, it didn’t. But that kiss, so sweetly offered, without any demand for repayment, soothed the bleakness of his memories as nothing else ever had. Even sex. “I was also…repressed.” Okay, that was enough of that. He quickly changed the subject, least he crumble and tell her everything. Would she be horrified if he did? Agree with his father that he was a bad, naughty boy in need of neutering? “How often do you need to feed?”

  “To maintain top strength, I need to feed once a day, but I’ve gone weeks without eating before. Well, without eating a full meal.”

  And she’d starved. That would not happen again. Not while she was with him. “You’ll feed once a day, and that’s that.”

  “You won’t be able to keep up. Who could? So I can—”

  “Hell, no, you won’t,” he interjected. “I’ll keep up.” The thought of her drinking from anyone else roused the beast inside him. The thought of her enduring hunger pains because she didn’t consider him able to give her more had the beast roaring. “Besides, you can’t keep anyone else’s blood down.”

  She huffed. “That’s not true. I told you, the first sips are absorbed before I sicken.”

  “Don’t even try it, Bride.” His teeth were so clenched he had trouble getting the words out. He might not want forever from her, but he damn well wanted right now. “I swear to you now, I will kill anyone you drink from.” Before she could comment, he sat up and tugged her with him. “We need to shower. Come on.”

  He stood, pulling her alongside him. Thankfully, she didn’t protest. He linked their fingers and ushered her toward the stairs.

  “We should put some clothes on, at least,” she muttered halfway up.

  “Why? We’re alone. I gave the servants the day off.”

  Her eyes widened as she peered up at him. “You have servants?”

  “We have servants, and yes. Eight of them.” They were all Arcadians, given to him by Kyrin en Arr.

  “Have you slept with any of them?”

  The question had held simple curiosity rather than anger. Did she not mind the thought of him with others? He popped his jaw. He’d just threatened to kill anyone she drank from, yet she couldn’t rouse a spark of jealousy?

  “I’d never had an Arcadian before, so I took four to bed the very first week I moved in.”

  She laughed. Actually laughed. “God, you’re a slut.”

  Serioulsy. Where was the jealousy? Why hadn’t she demanded he fire the women immediately? “You’re okay with that? Me, with four different women, one after the other? Women who still live in this house with me?”

  “Why would I care? You’re not sleeping with them now. Knowing you, you’re already tired of the race. And as we already agreed, I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

  Maddening, that’s what she was. “I’ll give you a tour later.” She didn’t deserve one now. At the top of the staircase, he veered right, passed the first four doorways, and stopped at the end of the hall. A quick thumbprint ID, and the last entrance opened. “This is our room.”

  Bride gasped when she stepped inside, and he bit back a smile. Just the reaction he’d been hoping for, he thought, suddenly filled with pride. The master suite was spacious, with a large bed covered in silk—real silk, not that fake shit—and mahogany furniture. There were mirrors on every wall, and portraits of naked females frolicking with each other.

  Bride inhaled deeply, closed her eyes. “It smells wonderful in here.”

  Not as good as you. He released her hand but wasn’t able to sever all contact, so he wound an arm around her lower back, spreading his fingers wide to touch all of her that he could. His pinkie sank between her cheeks. She didn’t protest. She wasn’t so maddening, after all.

  “Bathroom is this way.” He had to lead her to keep her from running into things because she kept her head turned, studying the room in wonder.

  The bathroom was already open, and just as spacious. There was a claw-foot tub, a porcelain sink, and a shower stall with two waterspouts.

  Again, Bride gasped in wonder. “My God. That’s not…it isn’t an enzyme stall.”

  “No.”

  She faced him, trembling hands on his chest. His cock, already thickening and desperate for another go at her, brushed the cleft between her legs. “Real water comes out?”

  “Yes.”

  Her eyes closed, and an expression of utter ecstasy consumed her features. “I haven’t had one of those in sixty years or so.”

  “Let’s not make you wait a second longer, then,” he said huskily. He walked over to the stall and worked the knobs. A gust of water burst from the nozzle, stopped, and then a continuous spray emerged. Soon steam wafted, surrounding them.

  Bride didn’t have to be commanded inside. She pushed Devyn out of the way and stepped into the water. A delighted laugh chimed from her as the water pummeled her, splashing into her hair and soaking its way down her body.

  Never had Devyn seen a more beautiful sight. She was an angel, a siren, and a goddess, all wrapped in Temptation’s skin. Her joy was palpable, and he had given this to her, he thought, his pride intensifying.

  Water was expensive, but damn if he wouldn’t spend his last cent buying it for her from this moment on. Until you tire of her, right? He stepped inside, and hot droplets beat against him, massaging his tired muscles.

  Their eyes met, and she gradually lost her grin. Her gaze slid to his penis. She gulped. Shivered.

  “Ready for round two already, Bradley?” Her nipples beaded, and the pulse at the base of her neck fluttered.

  “Been ready. I’ve just been waiting for you to catch up.”

  She gave another of those delicious laughs.

  His cock jerked in reaction. “Have you ever had sex in water?”

&n
bsp; “No. So let’s change that, shall we?”

  A few blissful hours later, Bride found herself standing in front of her—old?—apartment door, Devyn at her side. He’d made love to her inside the shower, slowly, tenderly, but with an air of urgency she hadn’t understood but had felt herself. She couldn’t seem to get enough of him. How foolish was that? Soon her supply would be cut off, whether by Devyn or herself, and she’d have to do without him. Wanting more was dumb.

  To be honest, she just couldn’t see them lasting much longer. They liked each other now, sure, and the sex was amazing. Soon, though, someone else would come along and catch his notice. When that happened, she would leave. Bride absolutely refused to hang where she wasn’t wanted. That feeling of inadequacy…she shuddered. She’d experienced it only briefly, but that had been enough to assure her she never wanted to feel that way again. Ugh. Just ugh.

  She would have to keep an emotional distance between them for when the inevitable break came, and yet somehow still allow herself to touch and taste him and experience the heaven that was his body. Might be difficult. The man definitely knew how to steal female hearts.

  He rasped his knuckles against the metal.

  “I don’t understand why we have to knock,” she grumbled. “It’s my apartment.”

  “Actually, it’s ours. I get fifty percent of your assets.”

  “Touch my books, and I’ll cut off your hands.”

  “Ha! You need my hands more than I do.”

  A dark-haired, dark-skinned man opened the door, saving her from replying. She’d seen the gorgeous agent before, knew who he was, but had never spoken to him.

  He flashed her a bright, white smile as he leaned against the frame. His ice-blue eyes glowed merrily. “Don’t think we’ve met officially. I’m Dallas, the big guy’s best friend.”

  “Bride…” What was Devyn’s last name? Bride suddenly wondered. Did he even have one? And would he want her to use it? Stop. You aren’t really married to him. “McKells. Bride McKells.”

  “Just Bride,” Devyn said with a growl.

  Dallas’s grin widened. “Come in, come in. Macy’s waiting.”

  Macy was here? Bride pushed past the agent without another word and sailed inside. It was her place, anyway, and she could do what she wanted. Sure enough, Macy was inside the kitchen, fixing dinner. Sandwiches. Someone must have gone shopping.

  When her friend spotted her, she stopped what she was doing and rushed forward, features dark with concern. “Thank God. I’ve been so worried about you.”

  Bride hugged her tight. “I’m fine, I promise. How are you?”

  “Fine.” Macy pulled back and studied her. “I hear you’re married. Is that true?”

  “No,” she said with a determined shake of her head.

  “We’re still hammering out the details,” Devyn said from behind her.

  She almost stomped her foot. “There aren’t any details to hammer out.”

  “So anyway, it’s our lucky day,” she heard Dallas tell Devyn, who subsequently ignored her. “Nolan finally gave up his queen’s landing point.”

  She and Macy shared a look of understanding, then quieted, listening to the men while pretending they were cleaning the kitchen.

  “Yeah, but do we trust him?” Devyn asked.

  There was a rustle of clothing. Dallas must have shrugged. “Mia’s got a crew staking out the place now, ready to stun her. Nolan was stunnable that first time, too, remember? Anyway, you didn’t let me finish. I went ahead and interrogated the human slavers.”

  Bride spun around, no longer content to pretend not to listen. The human slavers. She’d forgotten about them. “What did they say?”

  Macy moved to her side and gripped her hand. One of them was trembling, but she couldn’t tell which. Perhaps they both were.

  Devyn jabbed a finger into Dallas’s wide chest, again ignoring her. “I told you I would handle them.”

  Far from intimidated, Dallas grinned. “And Mia told everyone in the building to keep you out of their cells. She didn’t want their heads on the evening news. Anyway, I interrogated them in a manner you would have approved of and got the date and time of their next auction. A week from tomorrow. Bride’s potential buyer is going to be there, because two other vampires have been caught.”

  Other vampires had been caught? They were to be sold? Enslaved? Bile rose in her throat.

  Macy’s arm wound around her, offering comfort.

  “You know something else. Tell me,” Devyn commanded.

  Dallas paused, his expression hardening. “Here’s the thing. Remember the vision I had?”

  A clipped nod from Devyn.

  “Moment I heard about the auction, something dark clicked inside me, and I knew, knew. If you go, you’ll start a chain of unstoppable events that will not end well for you.” Another pause, mouth grim. “Maybe they’ll even lead to the pier.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Bride wondered about Dallas’s comment while soaking in Devyn’s tub later that evening. What chain of events? What was supposed to happen at the pier? She’d asked Devyn, but he’d distracted her with sex, the slut, and she’d gotten no answers.

  When Dallas had spoken in that grim tone, his baby blues solemn, she’d experienced an overpowering flood of dread. Both men were certain something bad was going to happen to Devyn at the pier. She was sure of it. But what?

  After a while, she gave up trying to figure it out on her own. Her brain seemed to be on hiatus, anyway, steam wafting around her, soft music playing in the background. A girl could get used to this.

  Devyn strode into the bathroom, spotted her, and grinned slowly, wickedly. “What do we have here?”

  Bubbles fluffed the surface, hiding the sudden hardening of her nipples. “Get that look off your face. We are not going for round four.” Or would it be round five? “I’m relaxing.” And God, it was divine. The water was warm, soothing, lapping fantastically at her skin.

  Rather than leave, he perched at the edge of the porcelain. “I should join you. It’s still our honeymoon, you know.”

  “We’re not married, but I am going to enjoy this while I can.” She sank deeper into the liquid paradise. Her hair was anchored in a knot on top of her head, so she didn’t have to worry about soaking it. “Actually, I just changed my mind. We are married. I’ll take this house, and therefore this tub, in the divorce settlement. What are you worth, anyway?”

  He dipped in his hand and flicked several drops on her face. “A lot.”

  “Excellent,” she said with a grin. “Half of a lot will be very nice.”

  “Diabolical woman,” he muttered. “Thinking of leaving me already when I came bearing a gift.”

  “A gift?” She straightened, clapped excitedly. “For me? Really?”

  “No, for my other pseudo-wife.”

  “Let me see, let me see.”

  Grinning, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a small black box. It couldn’t be, she thought. Surely wasn’t…he flipped the lid, and her eyes widened in shock. Not a ring—she was not disappointed—but a…she leaned closer. A necklace charm, she realized. An emerald, like the one she’d given Macy. Only bigger. And shinier.

  “I noticed you returned hers,” he said, no longer sounding as confident as he had before. “If you don’t like it, I can—”

  “I love it. Give me!” She snatched the box before he could put it away and clutched it to her chest. It was the sweetest, most thoughtful present she’d ever received. Her chest was aching, and it had nothing to do with the thorns or the fire. “Thank you.”

  His gaze met hers, a gleam she couldn’t read in his eyes. He coughed, clearing his throat as if he were uncomfortable. “You’re, uh, welcome. I’ll get you a chain for it. I just didn’t have one handy.”

  “Thank you for that in advance.” She bit her bottom lip. “I don’t have anything for you.”

  “Don’t worry,” he said, flicking a little more water on her face. Those amber eyes were pra
ctically sparkling with sensual intent now, whatever else had been resting there gone as if it had never been. “I’m sure I’ll think of some way for you to repay my amazing generosity.”

  Her body instantly reacted, her stomach quivering, her blood heating. She was beginning to love his inflated ego and insatiable appetite. “Ah, yes. That wouldn’t happen to involve my wifely duty in your bed, would it?”

  He didn’t whisk her from the tub and carry her to said bed or even slip into the tub with her, as she’d halfway expected. Rather, he tilted his head, his lips dipping into a frown. The desire in those magnificent amber eyes even died.

  He pushed to his feet. “I have some things to do.” His voice was flat, faraway. “You’ll be fine on your own.”

  O-kay. What had she said? “Sure you can’t join me?” she found herself asking. She might have told him there’d be no sex while she was relaxing, but she hadn’t meant it. Not really.

  “I’m sure.” He left her without another word.

  Wifely duty, she’d said. Wifely duty.

  Which meant, Devyn had a husbandly duty. According to his father, that duty involved respecting her body, mind, and soul. You don’t follow your father’s rules anymore.

  For the moment, she was his wife, and he did want to do right by her. That had become clear when she had not used his last name while introducing herself to Dallas, as was custom for humans. Her cheeks had even darkened with color. She hadn’t known how to introduce herself, hadn’t known her place in his life, and had most likely been embarrassed by that. That embarrassment had shamed him, even though he didn’t know her place in his life. He’d thought, She is my responsibility right now, and I have failed her.

  He didn’t want that proud woman embarrassed in front of anyone. Even himself.

  He didn’t know what to do with her. Didn’t know what he felt about—or for—her. All he knew was that he didn’t want her thinking she meant nothing. Every moment he spent in her presence, he liked her more. When they’d returned from her apartment, he’d spent an hour thinking of ways to make her smile and laugh. That’s when he recalled the emerald charm he’d purchased after meeting her. He hadn’t realized at the time, but he’d bought it because it had reminded him of her eyes.