The Alien Huntress Series

by Gena Showalter

  A muscle ticked below both of Manus’s eyes. “I was not always this way.”

  “Your brother’s death changed you.” He’d get no sympathy from her. “Yeah, I heard.”

  “Were you also told he was returned to me missing several body parts?” The words lashed from him. “Were you told his abductor targeted me next? That I spent a week as her prisoner?”

  “No,” she said, and made a mental note not to look for Fiona the nefreti, after all. “You seem to have been returned with all your parts, though.” Unfortunately. Fiona would have done Bride a favor if she’d cut off the man’s hands. Her jaw ached, damn it! And she didn’t need that on top of everything else.

  Manus nodded, the action stiff. “I was.”

  “No one has a perfect past, you know? No one lives as long as we do without suffering somehow.”

  “And what painful things have happened to you, little Bride?”

  She couldn’t tell him about her mother, so she said, “Having Devyn taken from me. I love him.”

  “Then you are truly hurting right now, and I am sorry for that. But I will not set him free. At one time, I was forgiving. At one time, I was merciful with my people. And what did that get me? A dead brother and seven nights of torture. I do not repeat my mistakes. I do not spare my enemies, and right now Devyn and McKell are my enemies.”

  “They would never hurt you.”

  “So you say. Yet I cannot read your thoughts, so how then can I trust you?”

  That’s what this was about? His inability to read her? “I wish for things, and I get them, all right? When you stepped into that room, I wished you couldn’t read me.”

  His brow furrowed. “Why?”

  “Would you like it if someone knew your every thought? I don’t think so.”

  “I couldn’t read you before I entered the room, yet I could read everyone else. Still.” His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t rebuff her. “Wish for me to read you.”

  And let him learn that she was nefreti? He’d kill her and Devyn without a qualm. “I wish that you could read me.” No I don’t, no I don’t, no I don’t. I wish that he is never able to read me. “Okay, done,” she lied. “Go for it.”

  He stilled, not even breathing that she could see. Invisible fingers seemed to brush at her mind, trying to get inside. He frowned. “I still cannot. Perhaps you did not wish hard enough. Try again.”

  She nodded as if she were obeying. “There.”

  His frown intensified, and he slammed a fist into his palm. “Still nothing. Are you sure your wishes come true?”

  “Not always. I only discovered the power a day ago, so I’m not exactly good at it.”

  He sat at the edge of the chair, fairly panting with excitement. “Can you wish a person’s death?”

  “No,” she said, because no way would she do that for him. “Why do you care, anyway?”

  “In all my many years, there has only ever been one other I could not read.” He settled back, excitement gone as if it had never been, disappointment in its place. “Can you guess who that was?”

  Dread snaked through her. “Your mom?” she asked hopefully, though she knew that wasn’t the answer.

  “A female named Fiona. My tormentor. She was nefreti.”

  Bride was proud of herself. She didn’t flinch. “What’s that?”

  “Someone with too much power. Someone who must die.”

  “And you think I’m a nefreti?”

  “No,” he said. “She hummed with so much energy, it was like a song in my blood every time she neared. That is not the case with you. However, none of my warriors can find her because she, too, can read minds. She knows when they are coming.”

  “What does that have to do with me?”

  “If I can’t read your mind, that must mean she cannot. That means I can use you against her. I just have to figure out how.”

  Three days passed with agonizing slowness. Bride was allowed to see Devyn only once a day to feed. She was blindfolded until she got there, ensuring the location remained hidden, and they weren’t allowed to speak to each other. A guard always accompanied her to ensure she behaved. She’d been told that for every word she uttered, Devyn would receive ten lashes.

  The silence was killing her. He was suffering, she could see it in his face. His amber eyes were dull, and bruises had formed under them. Every day he was dirtier and a whole lot shakier than the last.

  She realized now, he’d never had a plan. He just hadn’t wanted her hurt in a struggle. Whether he knew it or not, he loved her. Rather than bask in that knowledge as she should have been able to do, guilt was now her constant companion. Luxury for her, suffering for her husband.

  Whenever she would finish drinking, having tried not to take more than a few sips, Devyn would keep his head tilted, silently urging her to take more. Maintaining her strength was important for finding a way out, but she just couldn’t weaken him more than he already was. He would sigh, kiss her, hug her tight, and then gently push her out of the cell.

  Each time she tried to read his mind, or at the very least send her thoughts into his, but she was still capable of neither. Those powers supposedly belonged to her, damn it, but all she found were the thorns and fire. Trying to forcibly extract them was worse than when they sprang up from her emotions. It was like ripping her body in half.

  She wanted to tell him she was going to get him out of here, not to worry, that she stripped and camouflaged herself when everyone was sleeping and searched the palace for the dungeon, as well as whatever was quashing Devyn’s powers. She wanted to assure him that she would find it, whatever she had to do, but she wasn’t sure she would succeed, and the words always died in her throat. They weren’t worth ten lashes.

  After her meeting with Manus, she’d been given a spacious chamber with a large bed and lacy canopy. The walls were bare except for a painting of Manus. There was a marble vanity, which she now sat in front of, staring into the glass, wondering when to make her next move—and exactly what move to make.

  “Good.” Manus leaned against the room’s doorway, arms folded over the wide expanse of his chest. “You’re wearing the gown I had made for you.”

  Her eyes met his through the mirror, and her fingers clenched around the brush’s handle. “Yes.” As if she would deny his wishes. It was a velvet dress that matched the cape he always wore. Black with gold trim. The material clung to her curves, soft and luscious. At his request, her hair had been curled and now hung down her back in shiny ringlets. “Word on the street is, you’re single. Maybe we should find you a companion,” she said. So you’ll leave me the hell alone.

  He had come to her once a day to “chat,” mostly questioning her about fights she’d been in, how she’d hidden herself from humans for so long. To her surprise, he’d been a gentleman. Not because he liked her but because he thought to use her against Fiona, his enemy. Still. She didn’t want him getting any ideas about the two of them.

  She sighed, remembering his other visits. He’d also had her wish for a few things—a meal to appear, her clothes to change on their own—testing the limits of her powers. For the meal, a human servant had tripped over his own feet, propelling into the room, falling and breaking his neck at their feet. For the outfit switch, her robe had brushed a lamp and caught fire. Bride wasn’t too happy with this latest power and was now terrified of using it.

  “Why find another when you serve well enough?” he said. “Now, come. I have a surprise for you.” He held out his hand, waiting.

  Slowly she pushed to her feet and turned to face him. Her heart thundered with the need to best him, but she merely crossed the distance and took his hand. Cold steel, that’s what he felt like. “I want my husband released. McKell, too. They’re good men. I’ll take them to the surface, and you’ll never have to see them again.”

  “How many times must I tell you? I don’t want to discuss them.” There was no room for argument in his tone. He ushered her into the next chamber. His. It was as orna
te and lavish as hers, though it appeared uninhabited. The bedcovers were not rumpled, and clothes did not spill from the closet.

  Her heart only decelerated when they exited into the hallway and headed for the alabaster columns leading into the ballroom. “You never want to discuss them,” she muttered.

  “Because the subject angers me. Bad things happen when I’m angry. Remember?”

  Like she’d forget. “Figured out how you’re going to use me yet?”

  “No.”

  “What’s the holdup? ’Cause I’m willing to bring her to you in exchange for my man.”

  “I’ve thought of that. However, while I think you can find her without her notice, I do not think you can best her in a fight. And I cannot send troops with you, because she would sense them.”

  Bride refused to give in to despair. There had to be a way.

  A gaggle of voices greeted her ears. Then, the more she walked, the more those voices blended with the strains of music and clinking glasses. Even…moans? Usually all the entryways in the palace were open, easily accessible, but today—tonight?—the one into the ballroom was draped by more of that black velvet.

  Manus pushed the material aside and urged her forward. Hesitant, she entered. And gasped. Vampires were everywhere. They held goblets filled with blood as they drank and laughed and danced. Naked humans lined the far wall, a buffet of choices. Males and females of every size and color. When they were chosen, they stepped forward and offered whatever body part was desired.

  Hanging above them were Devyn and McKell. They were inside a cage, gripping the bars and staring over at her, as if they’d been expecting her. The princesses De-Ella and Jalyn were underneath them, laughing and throwing little pieces of human food at their feet.

  A whimper escaped her as her gaze met Devyn’s. Oh, my love. I’m so sorry. Her arm extended of its own accord, reaching for him, desperate to feel his skin against hers. Devyn reached out, too, but there was too great a distance between them.

  Manus grabbed her wrist. “This way.”

  “No.” He wanted to take her from Devyn? The rage she’d been suppressing these past three days boiled up, overflowing, burning…sizzling. It was like acid in her veins. And yep, there were those burning thorns, as eager to cut at her as always. “I will stay here.”

  “We aren’t leaving the room,” the king told her, exasperated. “You have my word.”

  Still the rage churned, free now and unwilling to hide any longer. Her gaze never left Devyn’s as she stumbled her way to the dais, where two empty thrones waited. Manus motioned for her to take the one next to his, and she did, her motions jerky, clipped.

  “What are you doing to them? Why are you treating them like this?” Two proud men, imprisoned, objects of ridicule. I have to do something. Today. But what? She was strong, but she couldn’t defeat the hundreds of vampires in this room. Not at the same time. And not without getting Devyn killed. As his safety was the only nonnegotiable part of her escape strategy, that wasn’t an option.

  Manus tapped his fingers impatiently against the arms of his throne. “I called this gathering together to show you a softer side to this great city and its people. Look how much fun they are having.”

  “Yeah. At Devyn’s expense.”

  “As well it should be. He is a traitor.”

  “No. He’s not.” There was so much rage now, it seeped from her voice, hummed from her skin. The thorns sharpened, cutting deep and hard, and warmth spilled between her breasts. She glanced down and saw that she was actually bleeding, crimson soaking the material of her robe.

  “Why do you like him so much?” Manus asked, unnoticing.

  She dabbed at the blood, her hand shaking. “Why do you care?”

  “I don’t. I’m merely curious.”

  “Well, for one, he would give his life for mine.” Not that a man as self-absorbed as the vampire king would understand that.

  “You are sure of this? The Devyn of Targonia I know is always greedy for the next female to bed.”

  “He was. Once,” she said. “And yes, I’m sure.” Look what he’d done for her already.

  “I could prove that, you know? I could let him die for you.” Manus clapped his hands and commanded the night’s entertainment to begin. “I mean, if I were to leave him out for Fiona, a sacrifice, if you will, and she were to do to him what she did to my brother, you would do anything necessary for vengeance. You would find a way to slay her.”

  She ignored the new string of dancers on the floor. “I would find a way anyway, to save him from such a fate. But you know what? Now you’ve reached the limit. That’s the second time you’ve threatened him, and I won’t stand for another.” The pain…oh, the pain…it was eating her up, consuming her. Killing her.

  For the first time in her life, she embraced it, didn’t try to fight it. More and more blood spilled from the wound in her chest. “The first I allowed to intimidate me. This one, I will not. This one, you will pay for.”

  He laughed. Actually laughed. “Already I can hear death in your tone. Perhaps I am finally on the right path.”

  How dare he calmly speak of Devyn’s possible torture. How dare he even consider using the man she loved like that.

  She sat there, panting and sweating and bleeding. “You. Will. Not!” The last was said on a scream as the rage exploded inside her. It was a bomb, destroying everything in its path, even the thorns. It destroyed who she was, what she was, dousing that inner fire with flames of its own, melting her, making her into a new creature.

  “Oh, do calm down,” Manus said without facing her. “I have not decided to venture down that road yet.”

  Her pain—gone. Her strength—unparalleled. She felt it sweep through her, a strength so potent she could taste it on her tongue, feel it singing in her blood, vibrating in her bones. She was drunk on it, dizzy.

  “No. No!” Manus said, and she heard the fear in his voice. Her body is vibrating like Fiona’s, he thought. She is nefreti. How could I not have known?

  Bride could read his mind.

  Still she sat, now as motionless as stone, gripping the throne, silent. A sea of other thoughts filled her head, rolling through her, some violent, some sweet, some hungry, all drifting from the dance floor. She was inside the head of every vampire present.

  They were maddening, almost deafening, but she managed to ignore them. Her hands were hot, so hot, anything they wanted theirs for the taking. And they wanted vengeance.

  “Guards,” Manus shouted, his voice trembling. Because of the noise, no one heard him. He jumped up, meaning to run from her.

  “Quiet,” she told him, and his lips pressed together. “Sit.”

  His expression was shocked and horrified as he fell into his throne.

  No longer was her ability to make wishes come true muted. No longer would there be consequences. Anything she wanted, she could have. The knowledge was there, screaming from Manus’s thoughts as he recalled his time with Fiona. She could stop time, as McKell did. She could create fire with her bare hands. She could erase memories and suppress another’s powers.

  “Bride. Bride!”

  Devyn. She recognized his voice and turned toward him. Colors winked around him, twinkling stars of crimson and azure. His energy, she thought, awed. So lovely. So pure.

  Love, love, love, he thought, his voice already so much a part of her that she had no trouble distinguishing him from the others. Thank God you’re all right. I’ll think of a way out of this, I swear I will. If that bastard touches you…

  No thoughts for his own comfort. No regrets for the torment he currently endured. All his thoughts belonged to her, for her. He truly did love her. Saw her as a cloud of bliss in the bleakness that was his life.

  I’ll get us out of this, she projected at him.

  His eyes widened. He’d heard her, she knew he had.

  And now to save him. Her gaze narrowed on Manus. As she studied him, she saw that his energy pulsed erratically, scattering all the o
ther energy around him. Except hers. Hers was too strong. This was how he’d stopped Devyn, she realized. Through a potion that bounced particles off of each other.

  Vampires, she had come to learn, loved their potions.

  You will pay. She reached inside his chest with a mental hand and squeezed. Squeezed so tightly the previously unused powers inside her recoiled. Still she held firm.

  He gurgled out a pained breath, rubbed frantically at his chest, his skin growing paler by the second. He gazed at her, unsure about what was happening. He wanted to speak, but she hadn’t released his tongue from her wish for quiet.

  What’s going on, love?

  Devyn’s voice hit her in a rush, laced with panic and frustration.

  Everything’s fine, don’t you worry. I love you, she told him, never releasing her hold on the king.

  I love you, too, but how are we reading each other’s minds?

  Surprise, your wife is one of the most powerful people in the world. I’m going to handle everything, and then we’re going home.

  Will you be in danger? he asked.

  No. I freaking rock right now.

  Well, let me have a little of the glory, at least, he projected dryly.

  No way. I want to tease you about this for years to come.

  Manus was gasping now, and people were starting to notice. Two vampires even approached the throne. “My king?” one asked.

  So what exactly are you planning? Devyn asked.

  You’ll see.

  —make her stop. The king’s thought intruded into her mind. The closer he came to death, the louder his projections. So important. Can’t die. Can’t fail Terreck.

  He’d loved his brother. Loved him more than his own life, and when his brother had been taken from him, he’d wanted to die himself. Then Fiona had come to him, taunted him. He’d wanted her head. Still wanted it, and would do anything to get it. Even lie. He didn’t want to kill McKell and Devyn, wouldn’t kill them. But he would keep them here, use them, to gain what he wanted.

  With the realization, Bride released her grip on his heart.