“You’re serious?”
“Why would I lie about butterscotch?”
“Dear God, you’re clueless. I meant, you’re serious about expecting me to shop for your woman’s treats? Won’t she like them better if you buy them?”
“No. They’ll still taste the same, and besides that, I don’t have any money. In fact, I’m going to need you to open me an account.” One of Ava’s requirements for a man had been “rich.” “I want enough money to last an eternity making this woman happy.”
Devyn scrubbed a hand down his face. “So I’m your sugar daddy now?”
“You took my woman,” he reminded the man. Yet the words tasted … wrong. He didn’t like referring to Bride as his woman anymore. She wasn’t. Never had been. Not really.
“She was never yours,” Devyn growled in his first real show of anger.
“I know. And I’m glad. I like the one I have. Now help me keep her.”
That drained the anger right out of the Targon. “Fine. I’ll make a few calls and have shit delivered, but I am not leaving you alone with Bride. And I’ll also open you an account, but that’s the last favor I’m doing for you.”
“Until I think of something else for you to do. Like buying me clothing.” He nodded, realizing he did indeed need new clothes. “I like what you’re wearing, though I’ll probably need a bigger size.” His gaze dropped to Devyn’s waist. “A lot bigger. And make sure to get me something for every day of the week.”
“Good Lord.” Devyn was shaking his head as he withdrew his phone and started making those calls. He stated his demands simply, expecting absolute compliance from everyone he spoke to. He probably got it, too. McKell admired his authoritative superiority.
McKell sat beside Ava, careful not to disturb her. He failed. She groaned and rolled toward him, as if she’d been waiting for him. He twined their fingers, not liking how cold her skin was, how slow her pulse.
Finally Bride returned to the bedroom, Noelle at her side. Noelle was still pale, a little shaky, but she was on her feet and still human. Relief flooded him. Ava wouldn’t be able to find fault with his choice for her. He hoped.
“Is she—” Noelle began.
“She’ll be fine,” he snapped. “What were you thinking, fighting vampires without me? Do you have any idea—”
“Lecture her later. I have business to attend to now.” Bride strode forward, shaky herself, and eased on Ava’s other side.
McKell held her arms down, just in case she awoke during the transfusion and tried to push Bride away. “Do it,” he gritted out. “Feed her.”
Bride unsheathed a knife from her side and slashed her wrist over a still-healing scab. Grimacing, she held the now dripping wrist over Ava’s pretty mouth. Closed pretty mouth. Bride dropped the knife and used her freed fingers to pry those lips apart.
He tensed a little more with every drop that slid home. Don’t blame me for this. Don’t you dare blame me. If she did, he’d … what? He didn’t know.
“We never would have worked out, you know,” Bride said. “You’re too bossy and, well, selfish.”
“And you’re not Ava.”
“Yes, there is that.”
An eternity passed while the vampire’s blood continued to drip, but soon Ava began to swallow on her own. Still another eternity passed while Bride straightened, withdrew her arm, and they waited. And waited.
Finally, Ava’s eyelashes fluttered open, and those dark eyes scanned the room, confusion in their depths. Several more minutes passed while she oriented herself. He waited, stiff.
“McKell,” she croaked out.
Hearing her voice, he knew beyond any doubt that she would be okay, that her throat was healing. “Leave,” he said.
Her brow furrowed. “But this is my house. Isn’t it?”
“Not you. Everyone else, leave.” He didn’t look away from her. “Now.” He wanted to explain what had been done to her without an audience. Meaning, he wanted to subdue her when she attacked him without an audience. She was going to blame him; there was no denying that now.
Footsteps sounded. A dog barked. From the living room, he heard Noelle say, “What’s Hellina doing here? Come on, baby.” Pause. “Come on.” Another pause. “Why’s she ignoring me? And why is she staring at the pulse in my neck?”
Bride and Devyn must have dragged her out, because the door finally snickered closed.
Ava watched him the entire time, rubbing her now scabbed-over neck.
“The vampires injured you,” he began, bracing himself. “Bride Targon gave you her blood to repair the damage.”
He waited for the explosion of temper.
“Oh, okay,” Ava said, gingerly sitting up and resting her weight on her elbows. The cut on her arm had yet to fully close, and she winced.
“That’s all you have to say to me?”
“Well, yeah.”
Perhaps she didn’t understand what had happened. “I fed you another vampire’s blood. In your mouth, down your throat. You drank it.”
“Yeah, and her blood has been given to many AIR agents already, so I know I can handle it.”
All his worry, and that was her reaction? He jackknifed to his feet and paced in front of the bed. “Since you can handle so much, let’s begin with your apology. But before you do, allow me to instruct you on everything you need to apologize for. You stunned me, left me in unfamiliar surroundings with unfamiliar people who could have tried to kill me.”
“Now listen—”
“I wasn’t done! Then you fought vampires. Even though you knew how dangerous they could be!” He was screaming now and couldn’t temper his voice. “You almost died. How dare you almost die, Ava! You did not have permission to do that.”
She blinked at him. “I need permission to die?”
“Silence!” Every time she spoke, his anger only intensified. “Your arm was mangled, and I thought you’d never be able to use it again. Your neck was savaged, and I thought you’d … I thought you’d …” He couldn’t even say the words.
“You did not,” was her only reply.
Anger … intensifying … He wanted her screaming back at him, concerned, worried, something. “The arm was almost a deal breaker, but I decided you could still please me with the other one.”