Only one blade hovered over his head, threatening his plans. Dallas's vision. He had to be careful. On guard. He might be confused by his current situation, but he wasn't yet ready for it to end.
"Two minutes, and we'll be there," he announced.
Dallas rubbed his hands together in glee.
"Someone told you that you don't really get to own the slaves," Bride said to the agent. "Right?”
“He's a danger junkie," Devyn explained.
Dallas shrugged sheepishly.
All too soon, the car slowed, easing to a stop. In front of them loomed a large warehouse, cars parked all around, humans and otherworlders meandering inside. The women who weren't slaves wore formal gowns. The men who weren't slaves wore suits like his. The slaves were as scantily dressed (or undressed) as Bride.
He pressed a button on the car's console, and all the doors slid open. Outside, a valet stood at the ready, helping him and Dallas out. Bride was ignored. Devyn should have allowed her to emerge on her own, that was the way of things in this sinful world, but he didn't. Couldn't. He'd touched her hand earlier, and it had nearly electrified him. He needed that again, if only for a moment.
Tentatively she placed her fingers against his. So soft, so smooth, so warm. Again, electrifying. She stood, her gaze scanning left and right.
He'd once brought Eden Black to a gathering just like this. He'd wanted other men to look at her— she'd been dressed very similarly to Bride—and envy him, but he wanted to kill everyone who glanced at Bride. She was his. Right now, she was his wife.
A wife he was taking into a lion's den. I'm seriously screwed up.
Because of Eden, he had killed a very important man in this seedy world. Everyone here knew it, and a few had tried to keep him out tonight. But he had placed the right amount of money in the right hands, so here he was.
He released Bride and moved beside Dallas, who was no longer smiling and radiating good humor. Dallas was frowning, eyes slightly pained. A vision trying to kick its way inside his skull? Or was Dallas simply in agent mode, determined to protect Devyn from the vampires who had killed him in his latest vision?
Together they strode forward, Bride trailing behind them. He couldn't see her, but he could feel the energy she emitted. It was the only thing that relaxed him. They wound around cars, bypassing people strolling leisurely. At the front door, two armed guards greeted him. Ell-Rollises. Tall, hideously muscled, and torturously ugly. They had scaly yellow skin, and no nose that he could see. Maybe that was why they smelled so bad.
The race made the perfect guard dogs, for they were completely susceptible to their owner's commands. Whatever was demanded of them, they performed to the letter. Nothing swayed them.
"Name?" one asked in a gravelly voice. "Devyn of the Targons. Two guests." The guard scanned the names on his computerized list and nodded. "Armed?"
He laughed. Silly question. "Of course I am."
"All weapons must be removed," the second alien told him firmly. "I meant I'm armed with cash, puppy. Now get out of my way." Both sets of beady eyes roved over him.
"Can't," the second said. "Not until you're cleared." He held up a small black box and, gazing at the screen, moved it over his body. An X-ray, Devyn was sure. But he wasn't armed in any fashion that could be detected.
"Clean," the guard said, then scanned Dallas and Bride. "Clean, as well." Both aliens moved aside.
Devyn strode into the building, certain the others followed him. He frowned. There was a strange vibration wafting through the air, a vibration that prevented him from locking on a single individual's energy, so he could manipulate their actions. It was the same vibe he'd gotten off Nolan, last time he'd tried to fight the otherworlder.
Well, f**k me, he thought next. They'd somehow done it on purpose to keep him in line. Smart of them. Wouldn't stop him from killing someone, though. His gaze shifted through the decadent world he hadn't realized until just then that he'd given up. He hadn't been in months, and hadn't wanted to come. Now he knew why. This wasn't where he belonged anymore.
The men were leering at the women, and the women— those who weren't peering dejectedly at their feet—were sizing the men up. There was more skin displayed here than usually found in his bedroom. Twelve rows with twelve seats each stretched in front of him. Only the front row was already occupied.
At the far wall was a platform with three lines of people, both male and female, all orherworlders of some sort. They were chained, their arms anchored to a beam above them, and robed. Anyone wanting a sneak peek could saunter onto the platform and part those robes, touch, even taste.
A wave of regret slammed through Devyn. Yes, regret. He'd thought living this way would keep him from regrets. Now, the truth hit him and hit him hard; he was looking at things as Bride must. He'd bought women who were traumatized by their treatment. Women who had been used and humiliated. Of course they'd been happy to leave with him.
Most likely they hadn't wanted him. Most likely they'd only wanted freedom from this.
Devyn couldn't help himself. He reached back, slid his arm around Bride's waist, and tugged her beside him. He needed to feel her, to know she was here and that she wasn't leaving him. Yet. He needed her goodness to mute his darkness.
She didn't protest as he'd expected. When would he learn that with her, he just needed to stop expecting? She always managed to surprise him. She even placed her palm on his lower back, under his jacket so no one could see, and grazed her nails over his shirt, tickling his skin to remind him of the pleasure they had shared together.
Pleasure he hadn't allowed himself to enjoy for an entire week.
Had they been alone, he might have snatched her up, ripped those pants off her, and pushed her against the wall while pounding inside the sweetness of her body. Respect be damned.
"I want to examine the merchandise," Dallas said coldly, every inch the buyer he was supposed to be.
Devyn knew he wanted to find the vampires. "This way." He released Bride and led them toward the stage, as whispers rose from the masses. Whispers about him, he was sure. What was he doing here? they wondered. Who was he with?
Before they could leave the sitting area, however, a tall, muscled warrior stood up and turned, as though he was aware of Devyn's every movement. Devyn stilled abruptly.
Though a year had passed, Devyn recognized the man instantly. McKell. The McKell. Power hummed from him in great waves, as though it was barely leashed.
Dread coursed through Devyn, Dallas's warning echoing through his mind. You'll begin a chain of events ...