"Necklace?" He frowned in confusion. He must not have realized he'd been playing with it. "Oh. Nah. It's just a pretty decoration," he said. "But like I said, I'll tell you how I did it if you release me."
"Not gonna happen."
His jaw hardened. "Then this conversation is over."
"Fine. Have it your way." Sighing, she stood. "I have to leave for a little while, anyway."
Before she could face Devyn again, she had to feed. Keeping the entire meal down would be nice, as well, but miracles were few and far between nowadays. At least her desperate body would quickly absorb those first few sips of blood before the roller-coaster ride of nausea began.
There was a flash of panic in Nolan's eyes. "Where are you going?”
“My fridge is empty, and I need to grocery shop."
That's what her live-in boyfriend used to say. Thankfully Nolan didn't search the kitchen for said fridge. She didn't own one. Besides, her statement wasn't technically a lie. She needed food. "Do you like wine?"
"Yes."
"Then we'll share a toast before I go." She crossed the small space into the kitchen, cutting her palm with the razor in her shirtsleeve as she walked. She held tight to every precious drop until she pulled a glass from the cupboard. The moment she opened her fingers, a pool of blood trickled from her and lined the bottom. Too slowly for her peace of mind, the wound healed, flesh weaving back together and finally sealing shut.
"What are we toasting?"
"Devyn's downfall." She filled the rest of the glass with her most expensive red. The thought of drinking blood would be abhorrent to him, she knew. It was abhorrent to everyone but her. But he needed something—besides sex—to heal him, or he might not last out the day. Hopefully her blood would do the trick and not turn him into a vamp or kill him outright, as most movies and books claimed.
She'd never shared her blood with anyone for those very reasons. While she would enjoy having another vampire running around, hunting with her, drinking with her, Aleaha was the only person she'd ever loved enough to attempt it on—but she'd also loved the girl enough not to do so. Too risky. Guess she'd find out what happened to people who drank her blood when she returned.
When she faced Nolan, she saw that he was sitting up, arm outstretched through the bar. Waiting patiently. She hurried over to him, careful not to slosh a single drop over the side.
"Aren't you going to have a glass?" he asked.
"Of course." Red wine was the only human beverage she enjoyed. Back in the kitchen she poured another tumbler full. She rejoined Nolan and they held up their cups in unison. "To Devyn's downfall."
Together, they drained the contents.
The red liquid slid down her throat, warm and smooth, but not what she needed. At least her stomach remained calm. "Glass, please," she said, holding out her hand. If he were to drop it and cut himself, well, that wouldn't be good.
Though he was scowling at her, he relinquished possession without incident. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." He eased back on the cot and stared up at the ceiling. "Will you at least leave me a game or something? Any more from the stupid voice in my head, and I'll welcome a lynch mob."
"I don't have any games. You should nap. Might help you heal."
"That's what I've been doing for four days, and as you can see, I haven't healed."
Guilt wound through her. She'd wanted to capture him, yes, but not torture him. "What if I switch on the TV?"
"Fine." He waved his hand in dismissal, but she noticed the action was stronger, less shaky than any he'd made before. Was her blood already working, or was he excited at the thought of watching television and simply didn't want her to know? "Whatever."
She almost laughed. A "Yes, Bride, thank you, Bride" wouldn't have been amiss. Men. After she'd angled the screen toward the cell and found him a decent station— As the Otherworld Turns was playing—she crossed her arms over her middle. "Do you need anything else?"
"Freedom would be nice."
"Besides that."
His gaze pursued her, lingering on her br**sts, between her legs. "How about your body?”
“Besides that."
A moment passed while he considered his other options. "You know what sounds really nice about now? Not just Devyn's downfall, but his head on a platter."
Slowly she grinned. "I'll see what I can do."
CHAPTER 6
For three days, Devyn kept Macy in his sights. He even escorted her throughout the city at all hours on the pretense of searching for Bride, never telling her that she was merely his bait. She'd been more than happy to join him. She had no idea he kept her on a deliberate path, planting her scent along select buildings and shops.
To his consternation, Bride never revealed herself, and he never felt her eyes on him. Didn't matter. One way or another, he would draw her out of hiding. He was determined. He'd give this one more day, then think of something else to do.
"Ready to move on?" he asked.
"No. I texted Breean when I realized where we were headed, so he's on his way here. Besides, we've just been going in circles," Macy said, frustration dripping from every word.
They were in front of his brand-new apartment complex, the top floor purchased for his and Bride's exclusive use, for the second time that day. They had been here twice yesterday and four times the day before. For some strange reason, he was struck by the urge to "think" about their next plan of action every time they reached this point. And yeah, he'd taken Macy inside a few times, straight to the door that would later become known as Bride's Surrender.
Now he studied her, this former model, now an agent, who was unintentionally aiding him. Sunlight bathed her, highlighting the delicacy of her deceptively innocent features—the girl had a temper and had once slit her own boyfriend's throat. Her skin was creamy and rich, but more than that... surely not... couldn't be. Except, the more intently he looked, the more he was sure he saw a second, startling layer to her. As though she wore a mask. Like Bride.
Devyn intensified his focus. Maybe he'd never looked closely enough to notice the nuances of her, but he was looking now. Finally seeing. At first glance, Macy's eyes were large, a mix of blue and silver. A cap of pale hair framed her face. Her nose was small, and her cheeks rounded, like a cherub's. Now he could see a wider set of green eyes. A longer nose, slimmer cheeks. Dark hair.
Bride, too, had dark hair. Bride had green eyes, as well, though hers were a brighter, lighter shade. Were the two more than friends, perhaps? Were they sisters? Macy wasn't a vampire, but then Bride, with all that sparkling energy and the ability to turn into mist, was definitely more than a vampire. As he'd already surmised. He just had to figure out what else she was. Couldn't be cyborg, as he'd hoped. Wires and metal couldn't change into water.