The vampire had pale skin and vivid violet eyes. Black-as-night hair. A perfect face, wide shoulders, and a thick body built for war. His fangs were so long, they protruded over his bottom lip.
Would this man, the first vampire Bride would see, appeal to her? Would she want to leave with the bastard? Good thing Devyn's wishes weren't the ones coming true. The entire place would have erupted into flame just then.
He didn't move aside and allow her to see the warrior. Not yet. If he were lucky, they'd get through this encounter without either Bride or McKell fully catching sight of the other.
"Ah, hell," Dallas muttered. "The countdown has begun."
Hell was just about right.
"Devyn of the Targons." McKell inclined his head in greeting. "Id like to say it's a pleasure."
"As would I." He'd half admired the vamp and his cruelty until this moment. "But alas. I can't without lying. What are you doing here?"
"Many things. Since you told us of these auctions, we have come to buy back our own, as well as any meal that might strike our fancy." His purple gaze strayed to the form behind Devyn's back. Or tried to.
Devyn reached behind and ensnared Bride's arm, holding her in place so that she wouldn't inadvertently reveal herself. He'd been to several auctions since returning the girls, but he'd never
noticed a vampire in the bidding crowd. "Kind of takes you out of hiding, doesn't it?"
Giving up on seeing his "slave," the bloodsucker once more met his stare. "We've already been discovered. There's no longer any risk. Instead, we are now determined to show those who wrong us the error of their ways."
Threat received. And ignored. "Well, I hope you enjoy the show. Now, if you'll excuse us ..." He squeezed Bride's hand, pulling her beside him as he passed the vampire, still never really giving the man a good look at her.
He should have known she'd find a way to see who he'd been talking to. Suddenly she jerked backward, stilled, gasped in disbelief. Then she gasped again, in pure pleasure this time. "You're here," she said. "You're really here."
Wonderful. Devyn swung around, a wooden blade in his hand. Wood—because the X-ray only checked for metal. He pressed it into his thigh, ready to strike at any time.
McKell peered down at Bride's tattooed wrist for several heartbeats, silent. Then his gaze swung up, locking on Bride's face, seeming to drink her in. "It's you," he said. "It's really you. This is a day I have dreamed of for so long I can hardly believe it's finally here." There was awe in his voice. Awe and determination.
"What's going on?" Devyn demanded, not liking the way they were looking at each other.
McKells attention remained fixed on Bride. "I've been searching for you, Maureen. Searching for my bride."
CHAPTER 19
Maureen.
Is that my real name? Bride wondered. "My tattoo—"
"Isn't your name," the vampire in front of her said. A real vampire. She'd known she would meet one tonight, but the fact that she had still managed to astound her. His teeth were longer and sharper than hers, and his skin was much paler. Was she the norm, or was he?
Did it matter? All her life she'd been waiting for this moment, desperate to find another like her. This man, this other vampire, was proof that she wasn't a simple anomaly, a mistake, a freak. He was proof that she belonged somewhere.
"You knew me?" she managed to work past the lump in her throat. The world around her was fading, the vampire—a real, live vampire!—becoming her sole focus. "Before?"
The warrior's gaze softened, turning the violet to a gentle blue. "Of course. You were born to be mine. The tattoo is your mark. My mark. Proclaiming what you are.
McKell's bride." He reached out, his thumb caressing the words in question.
So. The tattoo was her title. Wow. Not that she wanted to marry this man. Or belong to him, whatever that meant in the vampire world. Her world. A tremor began in her hands and spread to her chest, her legs.
"I have so many questions," she said. "How did I get here? Was I sent away? Did I wander off? Do I have a mother?" Bride forced herself to stop, not wanting to annoy him into silence.
Before he could answer a single question, someone passed their group from behind, and Devyn had to turn to avoid contact, which brushed his shoulder against hers and hers against McKell.
"Sorry," she muttered, tingling from where Devyn had touched her but feeling no different where McKell had. Kind of like when the warrior had traced her tattoo; there'd been no reaction. But at least the tingling from Devyn was like a jump start to her brain. Devyn. Auction. Crowd.
"No apology necessary, sweet Maureen. I welcome your touch." McKell scanned the area around them, even as Devyn growled low in his throat. "Now is not the time to talk, however."
"No, it's not, and there'll be no wishing it is," Devyn said through clenched teeth. His hand settled on her hips, his fingers spreading until they encountered bare skin. It was a possessive claim, a show of ownership. "And her name is Bride. My Bride."
Clearly he wasn't as happy as she was about this. He should be. McKell might be convinced to escort her to the underground, and Devyn could have his precious freedom back.
She paid no attention to the sudden ache in her heart.
McKell shook with the force of his sudden ... fury? "You skirt the edge of death, Targon."
Oh, yes. Fury. Thankfully no one seemed to be paying them any attention, but that could change at any moment.
Devyn moved her aside, though he didn't release her, taking her place and putting himself nose to nose with the warrior. "She's my wife. We've exchanged blood. You know as well as I that she can no longer drink from anyone else. That means she is forever out of your reach."
"Actually," the warrior said, oh, so smug, "that's not entirely true. She won't die without you.”
“Now your desperation is showing. I watched a female vampire die because she had lost her man."
"By choice, Targon. She died by choice. Do you really think we would have survived as long as we have if we couldn't find a way around the blood sickness?"
A hot breath hissed between Devyn's teeth.
There was a way around the sickness, Bride thought. One day she might be able to drink from someone else. Someone other than Devyn. The thought both delighted and saddened her. While she loved Devyn's blood, she didn't want to have to rely on him.
"Maureen, "McKell said, "is mine."
"Boys," Dallas said when Devyn made as if to grab the newcomer by the shirt. "Enough."