Thank her? He could think of several things he'd like to do to her, but none of them ended with the words thank and you, and all of them involved his hands manacled around her neck.
"I am a monster, aren't I?" she said next, tears filling her eyes. "You're repulsed by me now." Oh, those goddamn tears. Once again they sparked an ache in his chest.
Damn her. He would not soften. What she'd done was reprehensible. "I'm the one who should be crying. Right now the freedom I fought so hard for is gone. Everything I value is no longer available to me. And life as I know it, life as I've enjoyed it for so long, is over."
Her mouth fell open. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about regrets, sweetheart. I regret that I ever met you." He scoured a hand down his face. The action wasn't violent enough, so he slammed his fists together. "God, I can't believe you did this."
"Did what?"
"Congratulations," he snarled. "You married a rich man."
CHAPTER 15
Dallas drained the last of his beer and chucked the bottle on the floor. Bride was gonna be pissed when she returned home and saw what he'd done to her place. Maybe Devyn would hire a few naked hookers to clean up like he'd done for Dallas. Dallas laughed at the thought.
"What's so funny?" the agent next to him asked.
Hector Dean. A hard-ass agent who knew how to have fun. He had a shaved head, arms sleeved with tattoos, and eyes like a snake's.
Currently they were lounging on the couch and watching TV—a TV that Nolan could see but couldn't watch. They had to keep an eye on him at all times, but the only way to see him, as well as the TV, was to angle the screen toward the couch and away from Nolan, who was pouting about it.
Not that Dallas cared. He'd stopped watching a while ago, but still hadn't turned the thing off. Nolan didn't deserve any luxuries.
Dallas balanced a laptop on his thighs, punching buttons, scrolling, typing, re-creating his vision to study it further. What he'd realized so far: there were eighteen McKell warriors, as Devyn had called them. The knife used to kill the Targon was made of titanium. And Devyn's body was positioned nine feet from the edge of the pier.
None of these things aided Dallas. What good was finally accepting his abilities if he couldn't use them to his advantage? "Well?" Hector prompted.
What had the agent asked him? Oh, yeah. "I was just thinking of Devyn and Bride." Hector whistled. "Boy is wasted, that's for sure, and I never thought I'd see a guy like him fall."
"Me, either." Right now Bride was holed up at AIR headquarters, and Devyn was close to her, unable to stray too far—and not by force. It was surreal. Impossible to figure out, therefore not worth thinking about. Back to the killing. Would Bride's people hear about her confinement and come gunning for her freedom? Is that how they'd catch Devyn unaware?
"Bride's just as ... wasted did you say? Over Devyn," Nolan grumbled. He lay on his cot, tossing a ball against the bars and catching it as it bounced back to him. "Maybe I'll steal her from him. She thinks I'm handsome, and her blood is divine."
Every morning they gave Nolan a bag of Bride's blood, hoping to keep the disease at bay. So far, it had seemed to work. "Just try romancing Bride," Dallas told him. "Devyn will cut off your head. That's his preferred method of punishment for guys who mess with his woman." His woman. Odd words when used in conjunction with Devyn. Words he'd never thought to utter.
"We're talking about Devyn, king of the Targon army and prince of a thousand bedrooms." The ball buzzed to the bars, back to Nolan. "He'll be over her in a few days, and I can be there to pick up the pieces of her heart."
"No. You'll still be locked up," Hector said. "Maybe," was Nolan's only response.
Dallas didn't glance up from his laptop as he flipped off the alien. "You will."
Most likely Nolan was right, and Devyn would walk away from Bride soon enough. But Dallas had never seen the otherworlder like this. On edge, belligerent. Past few nights, Devyn had been staying at Dallas's place and had drunk himself into a stupor. Guy hadn't dated—except for that once—and hadn't had any females over.
With a sigh, Dallas brought the conversation back to the blood issue. "You craving everyone's blood, or just Bride's?"
Nolan shuddered. "Just Bride's. Not because I like the taste, but because of the way it makes me feel. Besides, yours would give me heartburn, I'm sure. You smell like stale beer."
"You're lucky you're alive—most of AIR wants you dead." Hector leaned back on the couch. "And you would be, if not for your improved health and the desire for answers."
"And Mishka," Nolan added smugly. The woman had been here every day, seeing to the otherworlder's comfort and amusement. "When's she due to arrive, anyway?"
Dallas shrugged. "Hour, tops. Thinking of winning her, too?”
“Always."
That earned a laugh from Hector. "Keep talking like that and maybe she'll kill you herself. She's bat shit crazy for Jaxon."
"You don't know women, Agent Dean. I can win anyone I desire, whether they are mated or not."
Now he sounded like Devyn. Everyone who spent time with the Targon did eventually. People couldn't help but want to emulate him.
Hector stood and stalked to the mini-fridge they'd set up in the kitchen. "I may not know women, but I do know weapons, and I'm happy to introduce you to a few of mine."
Truth. Hector, too, reminded Dallas of Devyn in a lot of ways. Oh, Hector wasn't an unrepentant womanizer. Far from it. Dallas had never seen the guy with a woman or heard of someone special in his life. In fact, Hector, as fun-loving as he was, was pretty distant with the female agents. But he was emotionless when it came to killing, doing his job without hesitation or guilt.
"Let's talk about something productive," Dallas said. "Why don't you tell us where your queen's going to land?" Aka, what wormhole would she use to enter Earth. There were too many to cover all of them.
Thunk. Catch. Thunk. "Let me out, and I'll show you where I landed."
Hector reclaimed his seat on the couch, a bag of syn-chocolate cakes in his hands. "Not gonna happen again."
"The virus is no longer controlling me. I'm not going to betray you."
Mia wanted to take a sample of his blood to make sure of that, but the last time they'd taken Nolan's blood, the doctors and nurses who'd handled the specimens had had to be put down like animals.
Pretty soon, though, if Nolan maintained his current health, Mia was going to cave and do it. Dallas knew it. They needed to know if the parasite was dead. They needed to know if Bride's blood was the cure.