Silence. Thick, heavy. Then Dallas laid his arm over his eyes and said, "It's Kyrin. Ever since he saved my life, there's been a desire to please him inside me—and it's not from gratitude! Anything he says, I feel compelled to do on a cellular level. Like the blood inside me knows it used to belong to him and wants to cater to his every whim."
"You're talking as though the blood is alive, as with the Schön."
"Maybe it is. I mean, if Kyrin told me to blow him, I'd blow him, even though I don't swing that way. And yeah, I know he'd never command me to do something like that, but still. I can't stand even the possibility of it."
"Shall I kill him for you?" Devyn's loyalty belonged to this man, not to the Arcadian. Dallas had broken several AIR rules for him, placing his own career and future in jeopardy. He'd even saved Devyn's life, jumping in the way and taking a blade meant for Devyn. Of course, the agent's new Arcadian blood had caused him to heal quickly, but that hadn't lessened the impact of the gesture.
More than that, Devyn liked him. Dallas had no inhibitions, and he was as open as Devyn was about his sexuality. Those blue eyes never judged him, and the man himself had been as desperate for a friend as Devyn had been. Mia, his last BFF, was now dating the very man responsible for Dallas's gifts—and torment.
"You'd do that for me?" Dallas asked.
"Of course." Yes, Devyn respected the enigmatic Kyrin and would hate to see him eliminated. And yes, anyone who could put up with the violent Mia Snow for more than a single bedding deserved his respect. But if Dallas wanted Kyrin gone, Devyn would take care of it, no questions asked. He owed him that much. At least.
Wasn't like he got all emotional about his kills. To be honest, he could eliminate almost anyone with no hesitation and no sense of remorse. He'd been that way since defeating his sexual shame. With its fall, his other emotions had seemed to crumble as well. He didn't cry. Ever, for any reason. He didn't become attached to people, places, or objects, in the sense that he craved them, needed them, and had to be with them. And he certainly didn't mourn when those around him kicked it.
Perhaps, though, he wouldn't tear the otherworlder's limbs from his body and choke him to death with his own hands, as was Devyn's custom. Perhaps, too, he wouldn't sneak up from behind and slice his throat. He was fond of doing that, as well. Maybe he would challenge the alien to a fight, win, of course, and then bury the body and pretend like nothing had happened. It was the only honorable thing to do, really.
"No," Dallas said on a sigh. "Don't kill him."
"Bummer. I had just come up with a gold star plan, if I do say so myself." Devyn knew why Dallas had declined his offer. Dallas still loved Mia like a sister, and Mia loved Kyrin. The agent would never do anything to hurt her, which meant he'd never do anything to hurt his new blood master, no matter how much it might beleaguer him. "You change your mind, you let me know and it's done."
Dallas straightened, some of the tension leaving him. He even gifted Devyn with one of his wry—so rare these days—smiles. "Just for that, I forgive you for being late."
"Does that mean you're not breaking up with me?"
Snorting, Dallas launched a pillow at him. "You could be so lucky."
The small square of material slammed into his chest. Devyn collected it and propped it behind his head, getting comfortable. But damn it, what the hell was still poking him in the back? Finally he reached back, fingers wrapping around ... a vibrator. He blinked at it. Large, pink, and beaded.
"Want to explain this?" he said, holding it up to the light and smiling.
His friend shrugged sheepishly. "Had a girl over and we had a three-way with it."
"Wait a second." Devyn tossed the device to the floor and peered over at. the agent in disbelief. "Back up. Two things shock me about your story. One, you actually brought a female into this dump? And two, you had a three-way yet you're still moody? Sounds like you need a few lessons in ménage etiquette."
Dallas shot him the bird.
"You wish. Okay, subject change before you start slobbering on yourself over the possibility. When do we start hunting Nolan?"
"Tonight. The others are out there now, and we're their relief.”
“Let's not wait. I'm bored."
"But I'm tired. I worked all night and haven't had a chance to catch any Z's.”
“Excuses, excuses. Man up, get off your ass and grab some weapons. We're going hunting."
CHAPTER 3
Finally they caught sight of the bastard.
Devyn remained in the shadows, back pressed against a wall of peeling red paint and metal. Fourteen days of flashing Nolan's picture to everyone they encountered, fourteen days of interviewing people who might have interacted with the poisonous alien. Fourteen days of passing out their cell numbers—and having to answer the calls of supposed sightings that were really women trying to date them—waiting for something, anything to break. Fourteen days of disappointment and failure. Until now. Nolan had come out of hiding to score a prostitute.
Fitting, that sex would be the man's downfall.
They had to be careful, had to treat this situation like they were patient admirers and Nolan a skittish virgin. (Devyn happened to be very good at that.) Nolan could cloak himself with invisibility and disappear in the blink of an eye. It was a skill that had almost gotten several AIR agents killed the last time they'd dealt with him, because it was nearly impossible to win a fight with a ghost.
Earlier, before he'd actually seen the little shit, Devyn had feared he'd already made a wrong move, alerting Nolan to his intentions and causing the Schön to follow him. Every so often, he'd felt as if someone was watching him, studying him. Waiting. Perhaps judging. That gaze had blistered him, seemingly alive with fury.
It was as that fury had grown that he'd begun to think that maybe it wasn't Nolan. Maybe it was the vampire. Bride. I'll come after you. I swear it, she'd shouted heatedly. Once, he'd even thought he'd caught sight of her. But she'd been blissfully, erotically naked, more curved than possible, all rose tinted skin, blood red ni**les, and dark hair.
Because he'd caught this wondrous glimpse on a crowded public street, he'd known he hadn't really seen her. He knew women. No matter their race, they didn't traipse around naked. (Much to his consternation.) There was simply too much shame involved. (Again, much to his consternation.)
After that, though, he'd begun to look for her. Which was odd. He'd already dismissed her from his mind. Hadn't he? But he couldn't deny that a true glimpse of dark hair now sent his pulse racing. Pale skin caused moisture to flood his mouth. Green eyes caused his c**k to harden painfully.