He plucked a few strands and drew them to his mouth, running the tips along the seam. "A slave auction."
"A slave auction?" Her eyes widened with equal measures of incredulity and disdain, and she jerked the hair from his clasp. "That's barbaric!"
"Yes, at a slave auction. That's two questions I've answered, which means you owe me two kisses."
"I only asked—damn it! I did ask two." She pressed her lips together in a mulish line. "I'll be more careful with my phrasing."
Pity.
"I'm assuming, despot that you are, that you bought them. And that's not a question! If you raped them—" He rolled his eyes. "As if I need to resort to rape."
That deflated her anger. "Then why buy women? Never mind. Don't answer that. I don't want to pay the toll for it."
Toll. As if kissing him was a punishment. Silly girl. She would soon learn. He'd become skilled at many things since he'd given over to the dark side and embraced his decadent nature. "What's your full name?"
She opened her mouth to tell him, then shut it with a snap. "If I answer that, you have to deduct one of the kisses I owe you."
"But darling, how else am I to tell you everything I know about your people if I don't know everything about you?"
She had started to nod her head in agreement when she caught herself. He'd almost had her. "Nice try. I'll answer and you'll deduct, or I just won't tell."
Never had he enjoyed a sparring/bargaining match more. "Fair enough."
"My name is Bride ... McKells." She held up her wrist, and he studied the black tattoo. No fancy font, just her name.
"McKells. Warrior class," he said, thinking back to the guards who'd escorted him through the underground world of the vampires. First, they'd thought to punish the two vampire females for leading him to the doorway to their world, killing them alongside Devyn. Then, they'd decided to place the decision in their king's hands. So they'd surrounded Devyn and forced him deeper and deeper into the city, not knowing he could have destroyed them all in seconds. And he would have. Dark, confined spaces didn't agree with him. Except, he'd never had sex in a cave and had decided to remain for several nights.
In the end, the king had thanked him for escorting the females back into their fold, for they were of royal blood. The king—Manus, yes, that was his name—had been fierce, jaded, yet fair. While the McKell, the leader of the vampire army and the crudest among them, the most bloodthirsty, had petitioned for Devyn's execution, citing that they couldn't have anyone running around on the surface knowing where the vampires were hidden, the king had once again surprised his people and invited Devyn to stay for as long as he desired.
Devyn suspected the vampire king was a mind reader. That, or a psychic like Dallas, and had sensed Devyn would do them no harm and could even be relied on as an ally.
He told Bride none of that, however. She hadn't asked, and the information would cost her. "Any more questions for me, pet?" He hooked a finger under the strap of her bra and glided back and forth.
Though she was trembling, she latched on to his wrist, stopping him. "Where do the vampires live? Will you take me to them? Can they do the things I can do? How do they drink blood and keep it down?"
Okay. She had a lot. He tackled them one by one. "Underground. No. No. I don't know. That's three more kisses, plus the one you already owed me. Notice I didn't charge for the answer I didn't know. Now. You can't keep blood down?"
A muscle ticked in her jaw. "Not a full meal, no. Subtract one of those kisses, please, and then tell me how they live underground."
While he'd visited the vampires, he'd come across only one who'd had trouble digesting the blood she'd consumed. He'd been told the poor female's husband had died, and therefore, she would die. Or maybe she had refused a ... repression of something? He hadn't been paying the best of attention.
"Are you married?" The moment he spoke, he experienced a killing rage. Bride ... married ... out of his reach ...
"No," she said after a disgusted snort. "Have you ever been married?”
“No."
The rage vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving him shocked and confused. How... odd. He'd never reacted that way before. Clearly the disappointment of potentially losing this challenge was once again the culprit for his riotous behavior. "I thought you drank a lot before coming to me."
"I did. But I also threw up most of it. I'm living off a few sips a day. End of subject." Actually, it wasn't. "Do you want my help?"
"I do not. Not with the drinking. So tell me about the underground."
Infuriating woman. "The underground ..." Devyn shook off her hold and ran his hands up her sides, stopping beside the swell of her br**sts. She didn't protest, didn't pull away. "It's a city, much like ours. Dark and murky, water dripping down the rocky walls of their caves. They are self-sufficient, with roads and shops and bars. They only enter our world twice a year, where they capture humans and use them as food for the rest of the year before killing them and getting more. Only a select few are sent here during the hunts, so I'm not sure how you ended up here, raised ... alone?"
"Yes. Except for Aleaha." There was so much hurt in the words, he was momentarily speechless. "And FYI, you just lost another kiss."
He wasn't worried. He'd get it back. He just ... He didn't like that hurt. He much preferred her angry, excited, and triumphant. Clearly she felt abandoned by her people. By Aleaha. "I wonder how you reached the surface. And no, that wasn't a question."
"I don't remember," she answered anyway. Her fingertip traced a circle over his breastbone, just beside his heart. He doubted she realized what she was doing. "I don't remember my mother or my father or if I even had a mother or father. I don't remember anything about my life before waking up on the streets of New Chicago."
"So you were young. Again, not a question.”
“Yes. And thirsty. So damn thirsty."
So why couldn't she digest the blood anymore? Better question, would she be able to tolerate his blood?
He leaned forward and brushed a gentle kiss between her br**sts. He'd meant to offer comfort, to tempt her, as well as finally planting the tiny tracking bug he had waiting on his tongue. Mostly, he aroused himself. Needing to taste her, desperate for it, he flicked out his now-bare tongue, running it over the edge of her bra and then, when she failed to protest, her skin.
She sucked in a breath, tangled her hands in her hair, and held him in place. "Wh—what are you doing?"