"What's going on?" she demanded. "Why are you looking at me like I'm a monster? You're not going to turn into a vampire. Nolan didn't. And I didn't kill you. I just took a little too much blood. Blood you commanded me to drink. You should be thanking me for pulling away in time."

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.

Dallas almost hoped it wasn't. Mia would use the vampire until her veins were bone dry, and Devyn wouldn't like it. Might even leave AIR and Earth for good. That's the kind of guy he was. If he wanted something, he considered it his. Whether he planned to keep that something or not. And he didn't like when other people messed with his stuff.

More than that, Mia might even go on a hunt for other vampires, thinking to use them as well. Anything to protect her agents. Understandable, but dangerous. Already she was asking questions. Where are the others? How have they been able to hide for so long? Devyn had refused to answer.

"You want to prove your new allegiance to us," Hector said, drawing Dallas from his musings, "you'll tell us where your queen is gonna be and when, so that we can kill her."

Those silver eyes narrowed on them. "The death blow isn't yours to deliver. It's mine. I'd think the two of you would understand that."

He did. And he even thought Nolan meant to aid them this time. Unlike last time, when the otherworlder had promised to help them destroy his queen and the men she'd infected but had betrayed AIR instead, leading them straight into an ambush. Now, his eyes were alert, no longer glazed as if he were hypnotized, or a puppet, and they glowed with genuine hate. Didn't matter, though. They couldn't chance it.

Suddenly Hector straightened. His ears practically twitched. "Do you hear that?"

Dallas straightened, too, concentrating on the noises around him. There, at the door, he could make out a soft scratching. Like metal gliding and twisting against metal.

Someone was trying to disable the ID lock.

"B and E in progress," he said. "Stay here and guard Nolan. Nolan, keep your mouth shut." He was on his feet before Hector could protest, silently trekking to the door. Along the way, he withdrew his pyre-gun. "Let's try to keep everyone alive today, boys and girls."

Should he let the perp destroy the lock completely and enter so that he could immobilize him—or her—here? Or should he jerk open the door and just start firing?

Here, he could keep the damage contained. But that placed Nolan in danger and would also give any stragglers time to run away.

"—possible break-in," Hector was whispering into his cell. The agent had moved to the cage, in front of Nolan, with his profile to the window and the door. He sheathed his phone, palmed his weapons. One of his guns, the semi, was aimed at the door and the other, the pyre, at the window. Just in case.

Backup was on its way.

Let 'em in, Dallas thought then. Hector could keep

Nolan safe, and this way Dallas could protect any innocents lingering in the hallway.

He pressed against the wall and angled toward the door. A minute passed, then another. Had the perp failed? Given up? And who the hell wanted Bride? Her family? Had they found her? Were the McKell warriors here? Was this the beginning of his vision? Dallas fought a wave of dread.

Finally, the metal creaked open and a man Dallas didn't recognize pushed inside as if he owned the place, his own pyre-gun extended. Dallas blasted him, a blue beam seeping past his clothes. It didn't immobilize him, proving him to be human.

As another male pounded inside, then another, Dallas and the first male launched at each other.

"Shit," Hector cursed, drawing the newcomers' attention. He was immediately blasted with stun rays himself. None affected him, either. He squeezed off a round of bullets, nailing both men in the shoulders. They grunted, jerked, but didn't fall.

Dallas kicked his opponent in the stomach, propelling him into the wall. At the same time, he elbowed one of the bleeding men in the throat. Then he spun and head butted the other in the forehead. All three hit the ground in quick succession, their guns skidding out of reach.

"And that," he said, dusting his hands together, "is how it's done."

Except, the one he'd kicked gained his bearings, and grabbed Dallas by the ankles. With a tug, Dallas crashed to the concrete floor. Maybe his skull had cracked, maybe his brain was just rattling back and forth. Either way, a sharp pain tore through his head. He battled through it, said, "Don't shoot him," to Hector, and pulled himself to a crouch.

"Where's the vampire?" the guy snarled, kicking him in the stomach.

That these humans wanted Bride enough to break into her apartment could mean only one thing. They were the slavers Devyn hoped to kill. "She's not here," he said, forcing himself to his feet. "How 'bout you dance with me instead?"

Dallas swiped out his arm, a small dagger sliding from the cuff in his shirt. His fingers curled around the hilt a split second before his hand reached the human. Contact. The tip sliced just enough to send the guy into a panic.

There was a gasp, a gurgle as blood leaked from him at the same rate as his swift heartbeat, and the man dropped to his knees, clutching at the groove. "You'll be fine," Dallas told him. "Weak but fine. Now you're going to answer some questions."

"No, he won't."

The other two must have found a reservoir of strength, because they launched themselves at Dallas, roaring, pissed as hell, and determined to end him. Their fists hammered at his head, his stomach, and his groin. Their knees slammed into his lungs, jetting the air from his lips. Hurt like a son of a bitch, but again, he pushed through.

Dallas grabbed one by the arm, twisted, and snapped the bone in two. Amid howls of agony, he ducked, ramming his head into the stomach of the only one left standing, and running. Running until the human slammed into the wall, all the while those meaty fists slugging at him. Pictures fell from the wall and crashed onto the floor.

Dallas pulled back both arms and let them fly. Teeth scraped his knuckles. Then bone gave way.

Then cartilage snapped and blood gushed. The man slumped to the floor.

"Well done," Hector said, stowing his weapons and stalking over. When he reached the first guy, Cut Throat, he planted his boot directly on top of the wound and pressed. "What are you doing here, ass wipe? And don't even think about playing games with me, because there are three of you, and I only need one to get my answers."

Cut Throat struggled to breathe.

"No need for violence," Dallas said. He didn't want Hector slapped with a fine for unnecessarily hurting a human. An otherworlder wouldn't have mattered.

Dallas hated the double standard. Once, he hadn't minded it. Had thought it was for the best. Earth belonged to humans, after all. Since he'd acquired his own powers and realized the full sting of prejudice, though, his views had changed completely. Just because someone was different, that didn't mean they needed to be feared. Or put down.