It somehow added to his I'll-kill-anyone-anytime-anywhere-and-laugh-while-doing-it air.
Clearly, he was an otherworlder. Though which race, she didn't know. Whichever one, she had to wonder if they were all like him: perfection wrapped in dazzling and sprinkled with every woman's fantasy. What would his blood taste like? Would she be able to keep him down? Her mouth watered, and her fangs elongated.
He had a wonderfully sloped nose, sharp cheekbones, and a stubborn jaw. His dark brows were slashes of menace, yet tempting all the same. His lips ... a portal to heaven, surely. They were lush and pink and promised unimaginable pleasures without saying a word. He knew it, too. He radiated utter confidence, absolute strength, and that I'll-do-anything wildness.
As she stared up at him, his smile took on a wicked edge, knowing and sure. He was nothing like shy but horny Tom, the boy-man she'd just abandoned. Dressed completely in black, this man seemed every inch the night warrior. Ready to slash your throat without a moment's notice.
In his case, looks were not deceiving. Without a doubt, he was dangerous.
"Well, well. Aren't you a pretty thing?" he said, offering her a hand. That voice ... deep and raspy and just roused from bed, as perfect as his face and body. As people buzzed beside them—the females staring at him in openmouthed wonder, the males giving him a wide berth—Bride tentatively accepted his aid. His warm fingers curled around her wrist, and he easily hefted her up.
When she gained her bearings, she realized he'd tugged her forward so that they were only a few inches apart. He did not release her hand. Her smaller height placed her gaze right at the steady pulse in his neck, and her mouth once again watered.
Concentrate. Bride raised her chin and forced herself to look him in the eye. "You smell like my friend Aleaha Love. Do you know her?" Wait. What if she'd changed her name? He could have been with her and not even known it.
"I smell like a woman, hmm?"
At least he didn't sound insulted. Merely amused. "Yes."
"Well, you smell like sex." He leaned down as if he intended to share a secret with her, moonlight caressing him as though it couldn't help itself. Maybe it couldn't. "The dirtiest kind of sex, at that. Which just happens to be my favorite." His thumb traced her palm.
A shiver slid the length of her spine. He was flirting with her, and wickedly so. Though she had no desire to flirt back—really—she forced herself to say, "Wow. Already we have something in common." One thing she knew about men. They were more likely to help a woman if they thought they'd get something in return. "That's my favorite kind, too."
That put a surprised sparkle in his amber eyes. "Isn't this just my lucky day, then?" You never answered my question. Do you know Aleaha Love?"
"I know many women, but their names escape me right now. I so want to solve this mystery and become your hero. Perhaps your friend and I use the same perfume.
"She doesn't wear perfume, and I doubt you do, either." Even though so much time had passed since Bride had seen Aleaha, she knew her friend would never douse herself in any kind of body spray. Aleaha had to be as desperate to find Bride as Bride was to find Aleaha. She couldn't believe otherwise. Aleaha was the one person who would never have walked away from her willingly. They'd become family, relied on each other.
"Perhaps, then, it's a coincidence that we smell the same."
"Perhaps." Her shoulders slumped. He could very well be a shape-shifter like Aleaha, and all shapeshifters could very well produce the same fragrance.
"I didn't expect you to agree. Darling, coincidences don't just happen. We need to put our heads together and think up some kind of explanation for this extraordinary occurrence. I do my best thinking in bed. You?"
She laughed; she just couldn't help herself. The man was incorrigible. "Another thing we have in common. Thinking in bed. Alone." Letting him assume a little some-some was possible was one thing. Outright agreeing to it was another.
"Alone." He tsked under his tongue. "Now that's just silly." His gaze fell to her mouth, and his pupils dilated. "What race are you, darling?"
She felt what little warmth resided in her cheeks drain away and finally tugged her hand from his. Had he seen her staring at his pulse? Had he sensed the growing hunger in her? "I'm human. What race are you?"
"Targon." He chuckled, the most erotic chuckle she'd ever heard. "But seriously, pet. What race are you?"
"I'm human," she insisted, then returned to the only subject that mattered. "My friend. You smell like her." Bride had heard of Targons. They were a warrior race— big surprise—and all of them possessed brown hair and eyes. Or so she'd heard. If that was true, Aleaha wasn't a Targon. She had green eyes. "Why?"
One of his brows arched, and she feared he meant to rebuke her again. Then he shrugged as though he didn't care what they discussed. "I've just left a female's bed. Two females, actually. But neither used the name Aleaha, I don't think. Someone shouted 'Oh God' several times, but that's not helpful to you, is it? Anyway, I digress. I'm ninety percent certain I'd remember your name, if you were so inclined to give it."
She wondered how she'd laughed at his flirtation a moment ago. The man was frustration incarnate. "Think back. Are you sure you didn't cry out their names in the heat of passion?"
"I'm sure. But I can describe their birthmarks and wax preferences. Hair and eye color would be a bit harder, since I wasn't paying attention to that area."
Disappointed, Bride shook her head. Having him describe his partners wouldn't do any good, since Aleaha could look like a thousand different people. "Did you stop and eat anywhere afterward? Maybe rub up against the person sitting next to you?"
"No and no. Now, your name," he continued smoothly. "I hinted before, but you didn't give it to me. I guess I'll have to be direct. Tell me."
"I'm Bride." Damn it. Why had she given him her real name? Why hadn't she told him Amy, her new identity?”
“Can you take me to the women? I'd like to see them for myself."
"So persistent. I like that. By the way, my name is Devyn. Not that you asked." His lips edged into a frown, but another spark ignited in his eyes. This one, if she wasn't mistaken, was of curiosity. "Why didn't you ask for it?"
"Because I didn't care to know it." So much for flirting for the info. "Now. Can you. Take me. To the. Women?" Careful, or your irritation with him will drive him away.