The Alien Huntress Series

by Gena Showalter

  He’d once brought Eden Black to a gathering just like this. He’d wanted other men to look at her—she’d been dressed very similarly to Bride—and envy him, but he wanted to kill everyone who glanced at Bride. She was his. Right now, she was his wife.

  A wife he was taking into a lion’s den. I’m seriously screwed up.

  Because of Eden, he had killed a very important man in this seedy world. Everyone here knew it, and a few had tried to keep him out tonight. But he had placed the right amount of money in the right hands, so here he was.

  He released Bride and moved beside Dallas, who was no longer smiling and radiating good humor. Dallas was frowning, eyes slightly pained. A vision trying to kick its way inside his skull? Or was Dallas simply in agent mode, determined to protect Devyn from the vampires who had killed him in his latest vision?

  Together they strode forward, Bride trailing behind them. He couldn’t see her, but he could feel the energy she emitted. It was the only thing that relaxed him. They wound around cars, bypassing people strolling leisurely. At the front door, two armed guards greeted him. Ell-Rollises. Tall, hideously muscled, and torturously ugly. They had scaly yellow skin, and no nose that he could see. Maybe that was why they smelled so bad.

  The race made the perfect guard dogs, for they were completely susceptible to their owner’s commands. Whatever was demanded of them, they performed to the letter. Nothing swayed them.

  “Name?” one asked in a gravelly voice.

  “Devyn of the Targons. Two guests.”

  The guard scanned the names on his computerized list and nodded. “Armed?”

  He laughed. Silly question. “Of course I am.”

  “All weapons must be removed,” the second alien told him firmly.

  “I meant I’m armed with cash, puppy. Now get out of my way.”

  Both sets of beady eyes roved over him.

  “Can’t,” the second said. “Not until you’re cleared.” He held up a small black box and, gazing at the screen, moved it over his body. An X-ray, Devyn was sure. But he wasn’t armed in any fashion that could be detected.

  “Clean,” the guard said, then scanned Dallas and Bride. “Clean, as well.”

  Both aliens moved aside.

  Devyn strode into the building, certain the others followed him. He frowned. There was a strange vibration wafting through the air, a vibration that prevented him from locking on a single individual’s energy, so he could manipulate their actions. It was the same vibe he’d gotten off Nolan, last time he’d tried to fight the otherworlder.

  Well, fuck me, he thought next. They’d somehow done it on purpose to keep him in line. Smart of them. Wouldn’t stop him from killing someone, though. His gaze shifted through the decadent world he hadn’t realized until just then that he’d given up. He hadn’t been in months, and hadn’t wanted to come. Now he knew why. This wasn’t where he belonged anymore.

  The men were leering at the women, and the women—those who weren’t peering dejectedly at their feet—were sizing the men up. There was more skin displayed here than usually found in his bedroom. Twelve rows with twelve seats each stretched in front of him. Only the front row was already occupied.

  At the far wall was a platform with three lines of people, both male and female, all otherworlders of some sort. They were chained, their arms anchored to a beam above them, and robed. Anyone wanting a sneak peek could saunter onto the platform and part those robes, touch, even taste.

  A wave of regret slammed through Devyn. Yes, regret. He’d thought living this way would keep him from regrets. Now, the truth hit him and hit him hard; he was looking at things as Bride must. He’d bought women who were traumatized by their treatment. Women who had been used and humiliated. Of course they’d been happy to leave with him.

  Most likely they hadn’t wanted him. Most likely they’d only wanted freedom from this.

  Devyn couldn’t help himself. He reached back, slid his arm around Bride’s waist, and tugged her beside him. He needed to feel her, to know she was here and that she wasn’t leaving him. Yet. He needed her goodness to mute his darkness.

  She didn’t protest as he’d expected. When would he learn that with her, he just needed to stop expecting? She always managed to surprise him. She even placed her palm on his lower back, under his jacket so no one could see, and grazed her nails over his shirt, tickling his skin to remind him of the pleasure they had shared together.

  Pleasure he hadn’t allowed himself to enjoy for an entire week.

  Had they been alone, he might have snatched her up, ripped those pants off her, and pushed her against the wall while pounding inside the sweetness of her body. Respect be damned.

  “I want to examine the merchandise,” Dallas said coldly, every inch the buyer he was supposed to be.

  Devyn knew he wanted to find the vampires. “This way.” He released Bride and led them toward the stage, as whispers rose from the masses. Whispers about him, he was sure. What was he doing here? they wondered. Who was he with?

  Before they could leave the sitting area, however, a tall, muscled warrior stood up and turned, as though he was aware of Devyn’s every movement. Devyn stilled abruptly.

  Though a year had passed, Devyn recognized the man instantly. McKell. The McKell. Power hummed from him in great waves, as though it was barely leashed.

  Dread coursed through Devyn, Dallas’s warning echoing through his mind. You’ll begin a chain of events…

  The vampire had pale skin and vivid violet eyes. Black-as-night hair. A perfect face, wide shoulders, and a thick body built for war. His fangs were so long, they protruded over his bottom lip.

  Would this man, the first vampire Bride would see, appeal to her? Would she want to leave with the bastard? Good thing Devyn’s wishes weren’t the ones coming true. The entire place would have erupted into flame just then.

  He didn’t move aside and allow her to see the warrior. Not yet. If he were lucky, they’d get through this encounter without either Bride or McKell fully catching sight of the other.

  “Ah, hell,” Dallas muttered. “The countdown has begun.”

  Hell was just about right.

  “Devyn of the Targons.” McKell inclined his head in greeting. “I’d like to say it’s a pleasure.”

  “As would I.” He’d half admired the vamp and his cruelty until this moment. “But alas. I can’t without lying. What are you doing here?”

  “Many things. Since you told us of these auctions, we have come to buy back our own, as well as any meal that might strike our fancy.” His purple gaze strayed to the form behind Devyn’s back. Or tried to.

  Devyn reached behind and ensnared Bride’s arm, holding her in place so that she wouldn’t inadvertently reveal herself. He’d been to several auctions since returning the girls, but he’d never noticed a vampire in the bidding crowd. “Kind of takes you out of hiding, doesn’t it?”

  Giving up on seeing his “slave,” the bloodsucker once more met his stare. “We’ve already been discovered. There’s no longer any risk. Instead, we are now determined to show those who wrong us the error of their ways.”

  Threat received. And ignored. “Well, I hope you enjoy the show. Now, if you’ll excuse us…” He squeezed Bride’s hand, pulling her beside him as he passed the vampire, still never really giving the man a good look at her.

  He should have known she’d find a way to see who he’d been talking to. Suddenly she jerked backward, stilled, gasped in disbelief. Then she gasped again, in pure pleasure this time. “You’re here,” she said. “You’re really here.”

  Wonderful. Devyn swung around, a wooden blade in his hand. Wood—because the X-ray only checked for metal. He pressed it into his thigh, ready to strike at any time.

  McKell peered down at Bride’s tattooed wrist for several heartbeats, silent. Then his gaze swung up, locking on Bride’s face, seeming to drink her in. “It’s you,” he said. “It’s really you. This is a day I have dreamed of for so long I can hardly believe i
t’s finally here.” There was awe in his voice. Awe and determination.

  “What’s going on?” Devyn demanded, not liking the way they were looking at each other.

  McKell’s attention remained fixed on Bride. “I’ve been searching for you, Maureen. Searching for my bride.”

  CHAPTER 19

  Maureen.

  Is that my real name? Bride wondered. “My tattoo—”

  “Isn’t your name,” the vampire in front of her said. A real vampire. She’d known she would meet one tonight, but the fact that she had still managed to astound her. His teeth were longer and sharper than hers, and his skin was much paler. Was she the norm, or was he?

  Did it matter? All her life she’d been waiting for this moment, desperate to find another like her. This man, this other vampire, was proof that she wasn’t a simple anomaly, a mistake, a freak. He was proof that she belonged somewhere.

  “You knew me?” she managed to work past the lump in her throat. The world around her was fading, the vampire—a real, live vampire!—becoming her sole focus. “Before?”

  The warrior’s gaze softened, turning the violet to a gentle blue. “Of course. You were born to be mine. The tattoo is your mark. My mark. Proclaiming what you are. McKell’s bride.” He reached out, his thumb caressing the words in question.

  So. The tattoo was her title. Wow. Not that she wanted to marry this man. Or belong to him, whatever that meant in the vampire world. Her world. A tremor began in her hands and spread to her chest, her legs.

  “I have so many questions,” she said. “How did I get here? Was I sent away? Did I wander off? Do I have a mother?” Bride forced herself to stop, not wanting to annoy him into silence.

  Before he could answer a single question, someone passed their group from behind, and Devyn had to turn to avoid contact, which brushed his shoulder against hers and hers against McKell.

  “Sorry,” she muttered, tingling from where Devyn had touched her but feeling no different where McKell had. Kind of like when the warrior had traced her tattoo; there’d been no reaction. But at least the tingling from Devyn was like a jump start to her brain. Devyn. Auction. Crowd.

  “No apology necessary, sweet Maureen. I welcome your touch.” McKell scanned the area around them, even as Devyn growled low in his throat. “Now is not the time to talk, however.”

  “No, it’s not, and there’ll be no wishing it is,” Devyn said through clenched teeth. His hand settled on her hips, his fingers spreading until they encountered bare skin. It was a possessive claim, a show of ownership. “And her name is Bride. My Bride.”

  Clearly he wasn’t as happy as she was about this. He should be. McKell might be convinced to escort her to the underground, and Devyn could have his precious freedom back.

  She paid no attention to the sudden ache in her heart.

  McKell shook with the force of his sudden…fury? “You skirt the edge of death, Targon.”

  Oh, yes. Fury. Thankfully no one seemed to be paying them any attention, but that could change at any moment.

  Devyn moved her aside, though he didn’t release her, taking her place and putting himself nose to nose with the warrior. “She’s my wife. We’ve exchanged blood. You know as well as I that she can no longer drink from anyone else. That means she is forever out of your reach.”

  “Actually,” the warrior said, oh, so smug, “that’s not entirely true. She won’t die without you.”

  “Now your desperation is showing. I watched a female vampire die because she had lost her man.”

  “By choice, Targon. She died by choice. Do you really think we would have survived as long as we have if we couldn’t find a way around the blood sickness?”

  A hot breath hissed between Devyn’s teeth.

  There was a way around the sickness, Bride thought. One day she might be able to drink from someone else. Someone other than Devyn. The thought both delighted and saddened her. While she loved Devyn’s blood, she didn’t want to have to rely on him.

  “Maureen,” McKell said, “is mine.”

  “Boys,” Dallas said when Devyn made as if to grab the newcomer by the shirt. “Enough.”

  Devyn straightened, smoothed his suit. “Yes, no reason for upset on my part. I’ve seen your moves. You need a bit more practice before you’re ready for a tigress like Bride. And please, don’t take offense. It’s not an insult if it’s true.”

  A muscle ticked below McKell’s eyes as red bled into his irises. “Once we’ve weaned her off your blood, she will never again be able to see you. Never again be able to cross your path. What think you of that?”

  “I think you need therapy, poor man.” Devyn patted the top of McKell’s head. “Such delusions are probably dangerous.”

  To have someone else’s blood meant she wouldn’t be able to see Devyn ever again? Was McKell just taunting Devyn, or was that true?

  A vein looked ready to burst in McKell’s forehead.

  Again Devyn wrapped his arm around her, staking his claim. “You’re the one who’s been trying to buy her off the streets, yes?”

  McKell gave a stiff nod. “You’ll find that when it comes to my female, I will do anything to get her back. Anything.”

  Even kill you. The threat hung in the air, unsaid, but just as menacing. Bride tried to step between them, but Devyn was having none of that. She would have wished them apart, but was too afraid of the consequences.

  “Well, you should know that I’ll do anything to keep her,” Devyn said.

  Devyn wanted to keep her? That was news.

  “Perhaps we should let the girl decide.” McKell’s attention settled on her, and his gaze softened. He reached out to smooth a strand of her hair behind her ear.

  Devyn batted his hand away. “No touching. Ever.”

  McKell popped his jaw, his attention never veering from her. “My name is Victor. McKell is merely my classification.”

  “Warrior classification,” she said, and he nodded. “So I’m a warrior, as well? Or do vampire females take the classification of who they’re promised to?”

  He opened his mouth to respond, but a voice from the podium stopped him. “Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats.” The overhead halogens flashed on and off. “We’re about to begin, and as you can plainly see, we have a wonderful selection for you tonight.”

  “We’ll talk,” the vampire told her. “After.” And with that, he gave them his back as if they were no threat at all and settled in his seat.

  Devyn ushered Bride to the section of seats behind and across from the warrior. He eased into one of the plush cushion-covered folding chairs. When she attempted to do the same, he shook his head and pointed to the ground.

  The twig-and dirt-laden ground? Seriously?

  “Sit,” he barked, clearly at the end of his patience.

  Eyes wide, she plopped herself at his feet. Never had she heard so much anger in his tone. Not even when he’d first proclaimed them married. He seethed with the emotion, his muscles stiff and his face like granite. Because McKell thought he had a claim on her?

  Did he? She rubbed the tattoo on her wrist. Or rather, brand. She’d been given to him at birth, he’d said. That must mean marriages between vampires were arranged. In all her imaginings, she’d never thought her people would be so archaic. But clearly they were.

  What would her life have been like if she’d married McKell? She wouldn’t have met Devyn, that was for sure. Or maybe she would have. He’d once gone underground. Would they have met then? Would they have circled each other, have been challenged by the other, and ultimately have given in to the attraction? At this point, she couldn’t imagine not wanting him. Her desire for him was now such a big part of her life.

  “This sucks,” Dallas said as he settled beside Devyn, drawing her from her musings. “What if the auctioner doesn’t know who’s vampire? I never got a chance to study the prisoners.”

  “Just follow McKell’s lead.” Though Devyn spoke quietly, she could still detect the fury
in his voice. He wasn’t calming down.

  She wanted to soothe him, but didn’t know how. Then, a few seconds later, the auction began, and she forgot all about him. One at a time, the people were paraded along the parapet, their robes parted, their bodies displayed for all to see. Disgust welled inside her. It was cruel. Some of the people cried and blushed, even looked away from the crowd. Some of the people stared straight ahead, as if they’d already endured far worse horrors, and being studied and critiqued was nothing.

  To block the horror from her mind, she peered over at McKell. She didn’t have a good view of him, but enough of one to make out his strong profile. A slightly longer than normal nose, unlined skin, dark hair a bit shaggy. Not a bad piece of meat. Ick. Now I’m thinking like the buyers.

  Devyn’s palm flattened on her head, fingers digging into her scalp. “See something you like, love?”

  Love. He’d never called her that before, and that he did now had her trembling. Did he mean it? Did she want him to mean it? She tore her attention away from McKell and looked up at Devyn to study him. His gaze was on the parapet. His jaw was clenched, his eyes narrowed, but oh, the fire inside them was fierce.

  “Now I do,” she said softly, hating herself because it was the truth.

  His grip loosened, and he even stroked her hair. His expression smoothed out. Calm at last. “We have much to discuss, you and I,” he said.

  Much to discuss. As in their parting? As in why he hadn’t touched her in a week, but the moment someone else expressed an interest in her, he talked about her as if she were his favorite possession?

  Anger suddenly danced through her. Was that what it took to keep Devyn’s notice? Have someone else desire her? Well, she wasn’t playing that game. He either wanted her or he didn’t.

  Just then, McKell’s voice reverberated through the building. Surprised, she twisted yet again. His hand was in the air, which meant he’d just made a bid. Her attention swung to the stage. A tall, leanly muscled male with pale skin and snow-white hair stood proudly. He was one of those who refused to look away from the crowd. But he didn’t simply endure. He hissed and bared his teeth, yet she didn’t notice fangs.