"Okay. See you-"

"Don't hang up!" he shouted.

Another beam soared past her, this one mere inches from her shoulder. She yelped, increasing her speed, feet pounding into the pavement. "Almost got me that time," she rasped. The burning started up in her chest, thorns ready to cut.

"Does stun effect you?"

"Yes." Unfortunately. "I'm almost there. Keep dodging."

"Brilliant plan. However did you think of it?" she asked dryly. "Don't answer. We'll talk when you get here."

"That sounded like good-bye, and I already told you not to hang up."

"Sorry, but I'm going to take the bastard out, and I can't do that one-handed." Click. As Bride ran, she stowed her phone and tore several razors from her sleeve. Her palms were damp with sweat, but she maintained a firm grip as she swerved behind another doorway.

This time, rather than race onward, she crouched on the floor. A quick peek, her gaze cutting through the darkness like a knife, and she saw that her attacker was male. Tall, lean but muscled. Sandy hair. Boyish good looks.

Tom, she realized, and her stomach rolled. Shy, horny Tom wanted her stunned? Why? He slowed to a leisurely stroll and raised his pyre-gun as he searched every doorway. "Come out, come out, wherever you are," he called. "I don't want to hurt you, Bride."

Bride didn't reply. She wasn't an idiot-hello, he so wanted to hurt her-and wouldn't give away her location by allowing him to follow her voice. Thank God she hadn't drunk from him that night. Afterward, he could have ambushed her while she'd writhed in pain.

Guess she owed Devyn a thank-you.

When Tom stepped around one of those thick metal poles, Bride jerked her arm forward, releasing one of her razors. It whizzed through the air and sliced the side of his neck. He howled, fired, free hand reaching up to staunch the blood.

The stun missed her by a mile. She used his distraction to her advantage and tossed another blade, aiming for his other side. It, too, sliced at his neck, drawing blood. Mmm, blood. So red ... so pretty. He didn't smell as pure tonight, had eaten over salted eggs and bread, but the dark red liquid still looked savory. He howled again, dropping his gun and covering the rest of his sensitive flesh.

"Damn it! I just want to talk to you," he growled.

"Then you shouldn't have shot at her," another, deeper voice said. A pissed-off voice. Devyn was here.

Her heart pounded against her ribs, her skin tightened, and her nipples beaded, relief and arousal blending. Every nerve ending in her body ached for another touch from him. Maybe I am an idiot.

"You can come out, sweetheart. Your human can't move; he's under my control. Nice shots on his neck, by the way. Very impressive aim. Next time sever the jugular, though."

Keeping a razor in hand and beaming at Devyn's praise, Bride pushed to a stand and strode from the doorway. Though she wanted to stop beside Devyn and breathe him in, she bypassed him for Tom's gun, still resting on the floor. She picked it up and sheathed it at her waist.

Devyn tsked under his tongue. "Thinking of using that on me?"

"Just adding it to my collection." And holding on to it for protection. One wrong move from him, and she would stun him.

Finally, she faced him. He'd pulled on a shirt but was otherwise the same as she'd left him. Sexy as hell in wrinkle-free slacks, hair in disarray, and amber eyes bright. He wasn't winded or sweating. He looked as if he'd stepped from the pages of a magazine, rather than having just sprinted a five hundred-yard dash.

"Let me go," Tom demanded. "I'm human. I have rights."

"Not anymore," Devyn said flatly.

Bravado faded. "Please. I didn't mean any harm, and I don't know how you're keeping me still like this, but I'm willing to forgive and forget. Just let me go."

"Do you know this man?" Devyn asked her, ignoring Tom. "Yep. Tom tried to pick me up the other day. The day I met you, actually."

One of Devyn's dark brows arched. "Heaven and hell, all in one day. Lucky girl. I take it you refused him?"

"I planned on having a drink with him, then caught Aleaha's scent and took off."

"With him?" Devyn chuckled. "Poor Tom." He eyed the man in question. Sweat had beaded over Tom's face. His lips were pulled into a frightened frown, and lines of tension branched from his eyes. "Denied the delectable morsel that is my Bride. I understand your pain, human. I, too, let her get away once. Now, what I don't understand is shooting at the woman days later." Every word was harsher, harder.

His Bride?

"You don't know what you're messing with, man," Tom said on a trembling breath as he tried to collect himself. "Just let me go, and we'll forget this ever happened."

"Oh, then please enlighten me as to what I'm messing with."

Tom's dark eyes skidded to Bride before returning to Devyn, the biggest threat. "She's a vampire. She'll suck you dry if given the chance. I know how to deal with them. I can protect you from her."

So. He knew she was a vampire. How many others knew? Was there already a mob after her, determined to stake her or bum her alive? "Why do you think I'm ... vampire?" She couldn't keep the fear from her voice. She'd gone to such pains to hide what she was.

Tom laughed cruelly. "Few weeks ago you were seen drinking from a bum in an alleyway just like this. You were followed, information gathered. When I questioned your ex-boyfriend, I learned some interesting things about your nightly habits. And guess what? I'm not the only one who knows about you. My friends plan to sell you to the highest bidder." He turned to Devyn. "Let me go, and you can have half the profits. You don't want a bloodsucker as a lover, trust me. We'll find you something else. Something sweet and pliable."

Something, he'd said, as if the women weren't living beings. She realized he'd never truly desired her, had just sought her capture and the profit that would have accompanied it. Bastard.

"No, thanks. I'd rather send your friends a message." Devyn slid a long, sharp knife from his side, the silver winking in the moonlight.

He'd turned down money and a slave. For her. Sweetest gesture ever. That didn't mean she'd sleep with him, but wow. She might maybe kinda sorta didn't despise him now. Like you did before.

"Wh-what kind of message?" Tom asked, gaze glued to the weapon. If he'd had control of his body, he would have trembled, shrank back. Maybe pissed his pants. There was an unholy gleam to Devyn, as if he relished what was about to happen. As if he could already smell the blood and gore and found it heady. "How are you holding me so still? Let me go. Please, just let me go, or you'll regret it."

"I can promise you, I'll do no such thing. I never regret." Devyn seemed to have forgotten Bride was even there, his full attention focused on his prey. And that's exactly what Tom was just then. Prey. Part of her suddenly wanted to leave Devyn to his torturing and race home. To safety. The other part of her wanted to find out who Tom's friends were, so that Devyn could destroy them, too.

In the end, she stayed. And she watched. Just in case Devyn needed assistance. Tom did a lot of crying, a lot of begging, but Devyn never relented. Merciless, cruel, he took his time, slicing, taunting, inflicting maximum pain without actually killing the human. At one point, Bride asked him if she should act as lookout and keep others from approaching, but he told her he'd taken care of that. Probably with his body-control ability.

Tom spilled blood-lots and lots of blood-and Bride's mouth watered for all of that beautiful crimson nectar. Her fangs were sharpened, cutting her gums. Still she smelled the spice, but it no longer mattered in any way. She was starving, and the human was a banquet. But she resisted. Barely. Now was not the time to gorge. Once this was done, she needed to be on her feet, not writhing and vomiting. She needed to go home and decide what to do now that others knew about her.

When Devyn cut off one of Tom's fingers, blood sprayed her directly in the face, dripping ... oh, yes, dripping ... begging her to taste, and she almost crumbled. Somehow, she managed to keep her tongue inside her mouth. A single taste would whip her into a frenzy; since her body always absorbed those first sips, it thought it could handle more and so it would demand more. She would drink and gulp and lap every drop from the sidewalk, unable to help herself.

Again she thought that she should leave, but Tom also began spilling lots and lots of secrets, so she remained in place, listening. Horrified. He and his friends had been slavers for years. They hadn't just planned to abduct her. They'd planned to abduct many women. Selling them for sex, torture, or whatever the winning bidder wanted. The rarer the species, the higher the price.

Apparently, vampires were now the pick du jour.

Names, though, Tom refused to give, and in the end Devyn carved him up piece by piece before cutting off his head and depositing it on the nearest street corner for someone to find and news stations to shout about. Tom's friends would see what had happened to him and know he'd been caught.

By then, it was an hour before sunset. Bride was covered in blood spatter, scared to her soul about slavers knowing who she was and where she lived, rubbing her chest to stave off the pain, and in awe of Devyn. Not once had he tired or hesitated. The very man who had probably charmed thousands of women out of their panties had been brutal, savage. Emotionless.

He turned to her, eyes as bright an amber as always but filled with uncertainty. "You're frightened."

"Yes." No reason to deny it.

He looked away from her. "Of me?"

She should be. Anyone who could take a life like that, hurt someone like that, was not a good enemy to have, and she'd challenged him several times already. She'd even vowed to make his life miserable. Yet right here, right now, she felt safer with him than anyone else in the world.

"No, not you. I'm afraid of the men who hunt me."

There was a beat of surprise before a slow grin spread over his face and he once again met her gaze. What a morbidly beautiful sight he was, Bride thought. He waved a dismissive hand. "When they see the news, they'll know. Mess with Bride McKells and die."

"That, or they'll come for revenge." A shudder rocked her.

His head tilted to the side in thought. "You could always room with me." The moment he spoke, his lips pursed, as if he wanted to snatch back the words.

"No, thanks. I've been protecting myself for years. I'll be fine." Most likely she'd have to move again, change her name again. Damn. She didn't want to do either. She liked her home.

He popped his jaw, an action completely at odds with the tender way he then brushed her hair behind her ear. "They won't come for you, not for days yet. When they find out about Tom, they'll meet and talk about what to do. You have time to think, to plan, so rest easy tonight. Or rather, today. We'll figure out how to handle them once Nolan and Aleaha are taken care of." He glanced up at the sky. "Much as I'm enjoying our time together, you had better go. I doubt you can tolerate the sun for long."

"You're right. It blisters my skin." It was a weakness she shouldn't have admitted to, but after everything he'd done for her, her defenses were down and the truth had simply slipped out.

"Until tomorrow, then."

She backed away, intending to leave as he'd suggested, but stopped herself before she'd even taken four steps. "Devyn?"

"Don't tell me. You want to kiss me good-bye." He sighed, waved her over. "Fine. I'll jump on that grenade. Get over here."

She rolled her eyes. "Why did you help me?" she asked. She had to know.

For a moment, she doubted he would answer. Then he shrugged. "You have Nolan. And you owe me three make-out sessions. I wasn't about to let you die and renege."

Whatever she'd hoped to hear, that wasn't it. "Uh, I owe you kisses. Not make-out sessions." She paused, nibbled on her bottom lip. "Will you get in trouble? For killing a human, I mean?" As an otherworlder, he had very few rights. Unfair, but the way of the world all the same.

His lips twitched. "Worried for me, sweetheart? Well, don't be. If I'm punished, I'll make you fuck me all better."

She spun around, giving him her back before he saw her smile. Fuck him all better, indeed. Incorrigible womanizer. "See you later, Devyn," she said, and strode away from him.

CHAPTER 9.

Dallas Gutierrez clutched a garbage bag as he pushed through the mess in his living room, bending down and picking up trash. Cleaning. Ugh. It was something he hadn't done in months. After his near-death experience, he'd just stopped caring about the state of his domicile. Why waste precious time doing something he hated? But Devyn liked clean and neat, and Devyn would arrive any moment. He knew it, sensed it.

They hadn't talked since yesterday morning, when Dallas had taken Macy and Breean to a motel to "search" for Bride. They'd even made plans to meet for coffee at eight a.m. today, a few hours away. But Devyn was on his way even now. Lately, Dallas knew all kinds of trivial things. They seeped into his head, not visions but whispers of coming truths.

He hated it. He didn't want to know things before they happened. Little or big. Last few months, a lot of his friends had stopped calling, stopped hanging out with him. They were afraid of him and what he could now do. Predict the future. Move at speeds the human eye couldn't see. Compel people to obey him with only a single voiced command.

The speed, he actually enjoyed. He'd secretly used it on the job once or twice and was a better agent because of it. Only problem was, he couldn't have one ability without the others. Okay, two problems. His control of each ability was sketchy. Maybe because he fought them so fervently. But he couldn't help himself. When he welcomed his visions with open arms, he saw loved ones die. When he forced people to do things they didn't want to do, the guilt ate at him for days. Therefore, he tried not to use either.

Finally, though, he'd caved and tried to force Nolan to stay in that alley, unmoving, compliant, because, unlike Devyn's, Dallas's ability wasn't a manipulation of energy but an exertion of will. And look what that had gotten him. Failure. That particular power had remained dormant, Nolan had continued to move, and Dallas had had a vision of himself, as he was now, in bed with a woman he hadn't seen in months. How?

Kyrin had offered to teach and train him, but Dallas couldn't bring himself to agree. The more time he spent with the Arcadian, the more he was reminded that his will was not his own. That he was really just a slave to another.

What am I going to do? He needed to decide, one way or another: welcome all of his abilities completely or suppress them, which Kyrin had said he could do if he ignored all three abilities long enough. Either way, he needed to decide now.

For the past few hours, another vision had been knocking on his brain, demanding entrance. He'd been fighting it, but fighting brought crack-your-skull-against-the-wall headaches. So ... embrace all? Or suppress?

Knowing the future brought both triumph and failure. Last time he'd almost killed his friend Jaxon trying to prevent a vision from coming true. But if he knew what was going to happen, he could possibly save a life one day.

Damn it. There were good arguments for both decisions.

He needed to do something. Well, you can't call an old girlfriend to come over and distract you. Because of what he'd seen in that alley, he'd already done that.

After griping him out for not calling in forever, she'd come over and they'd played naughty AIRagent and dirty otherworlder. He'd acted like the dirty otherworlder, and she'd had no idea how perfectly the role fit him now. Every day he lost a little more of his humanity.

Now she was asleep in his bedroom. He should have sent her home after the sex, but he hadn't wanted to be alone. How pathetic.

As he continued to clean, Dallas began sweating, panting, unable to catch his breath. His ribs soon felt as if they were comprised of glass and were cutting into his chest cavity. His temples ached unbearably. Just suck it up. He swiped up an empty sandwich wrapper, an image of-no. No! He shoved the image away with a mental hand, not booting it out of his brain but keeping it locked inside a box. He hadn't made a decision yet.

The action caused a sharp, agonizing pain to tear through him, and he dropped to his knees. He gritted his teeth, his jaw clenching so tightly that the joints threatened to snap out of place. Nausea rolled through his stomach. Just suppress already. Knowing the future changes the future, and not always for the better.

What if someone I love is about to be hurt?

He lumbered to his feet as the vision tried to claw its way free. He shook his head violently, and still another pain slashed through him, doubling him over. A moan slipped from him. Too much. It was too much. If he kept fighting, undecided, he was going to have an aneurism.

Not knowing what else to do, Dallas peeked through a crack in that box. The pain eased slightly. There were two visions, he realized, each vying for entrance. One, he'd ignored for hours. The other was brand-new. No wonder the knocking had intensified.

Don't do it. Don't let them in. Ignorance is bliss, and you won't be able to mess with the future. It's better to know. And this way, you can keep your super speed.

The two desires warred inside him until he was shaking, almost foaming at the mouth. Every nerve ending in his body was sharpening, desperate to cut through him and escape the pain.

Don't do it. You almost killed Jaxon, remember?

Do it, do it, do it. You're wiser now. You won't hurt anyone. How many times do you have to be reminded that you could save more lives- With a roar, he wrenched open the box. The first vision flew into his mind, colors taking shape, images forming. There was Devyn, standing in an abandoned alleyway, soaked in blood. It dripped from him-draining his life? In front of him was the vampire, Bride. She, too, was covered in blood. There were smudges around her mouth, as if she'd recently fed and had tried to wipe herself clean.

If that bitch had drank from Devyn ... Dallas's hands fisted. But guilt joined ranks with his anger, and he squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to tamp down both emotions. If I'd allowed the vision inside earlier, would I have been able to stop this? Was Devyn now hurt? Dead? They'd known there was a chance Bride would erupt when she learned that Devyn had "captured" Macy, aka Aleaha, but neither of them had taken it seriously. Devyn could lock the woman in place. Besides that, females simply didn't attack Devyn. Not with malicious intentions, anyway.

Maybe Bride had learned how to defend herself against Devyn's ability, as Nolan had done. In fact, Nolan could have told her what to do. Snarling, Dallas punched the wall, leaving a hole.

Devyn's alive. He's on his way here. You know that. The panic gradually receded, and Dallas watched inside his mind as Devyn reached out and tucked a lock of Bride's dark hair behind her ear. An action of affection. Bride nibbled on her bottom lip, her fangs sharp, and peered down at the ground, shy but intrigued. Dallas relaxed a little more. Whatever had happened between the pair had been consensual and perhaps nonviolent, despite the blood. But damn, he was going to have to talk to his friend about his bed partners.

Bride turned on her heel and marched away, disappearing into the shadows. Devyn was smiling that wicked, satisfied smile of his.

Not such a bad vision, after all, Dallas thought, shoulders slouching in relief. That image faded, making way for the second. Once again colors began to take shape. Moments later, the pier came into view. A metal bridge that stretched over what little water remained, inching its way to shore.

There was Devyn, a knife in his heart, his body prone, motionless, his eyes closed, blood all around him. Bride stood off to the side, a group of men flanking her. They were holding her in place as she cried and screamed and fought for freedom.

Every muscle in Dallas's body tightened. Devyn planned to tell Bride to meet him at the pier, but he didn't plan to actually go. Had his friend changed his mind?

Dallas shifted his attention, scanning the entire area. There was no sign of himself, Breean, or Macy. He then focused on the men holding Bride, memorizing their features, their clothing.