A stiff shake of his head. “I could hear her voice in my head. Can hear her voice.” Another lick of his lips.
She ignored the urge to shift again, pulling herself from his gaze, however briefly. “Now? You can hear her now?”
“Yes,” he whispered.
That kind of bond required strength. Just how powerful was this woman? “What’s she saying?”
“I don’t know. Most times she speaks in a language I don’t understand.”
“Repeat something.” Maybe Noelle or Dallas would be able to translate. Not Ava, though. That much she knew. New languages had always been difficult for her. In fact, she was lucky she didn’t—always—butcher her own native tongue.
He opened his mouth, said a word she didn’t understand, no longer whispering, then grimaced. “I—I can’t tell you anymore. Hurts too much.”
“Hurts how?”
“How do you think? Bad.”
Was the queen somehow cognizant of what her victims said? Could she control them? Make them feel pain when they displeased her? “Okay, let’s backtrack a moment. Was the Schön queen gone when the agents burst into your home?”
“Yeah.” He once again spoke in that whisper, barely audible. Why? “She left right after the sex.”
“So what happened after the sex, before Mia and Dallas arrived?”
“She dressed and left, and I fell asleep.”
“That’s all?”
Color flooded his cheeks. “Yeah.” The creepy, whispering tone had thankfully been absent that time.
Liar. Had nothing else happened, he wouldn’t have blushed. “You might as well tell me,” she said. “I won’t leave until you do.”
“Oh, really? You want to know that badly?” Again, he licked his lips. Again, he started whispering. “Come over here and ask me nicely. I’ll tell you anything, everything.”
Oh, no, no, no. There would be none of that. “I’m not going near you, Johnny.”
Slowly he grinned, and damn if his teeth weren’t longer and sharper than she remembered. She almost flinched, but managed to remain in her seat, still and seemingly calm.
“Who said my name was Johnny?” Whispering, yet humming with power. The glassiness left his eyes, leaving clarity—and a fathomless knowledge he’d never exhibited before.
Goose bumps covered Ava from head to foot, and not the good kind, as possibilities whizzed through her mind. A split personality? Insanity? Or something far more sinister? Like—
“My name is Trinity, and I’m the queen you seek.”
Like that. Ava gulped.
“After sex, and before the agents arrived, I told Johnny that I would know all his thoughts, all his actions. I told him I would control him. I told him he would not be my last victim. I told him, or rather, I promised him your precious vampire would be next.”
Fifteen
Drip. Drip.
McKell lay in the heart of his cave, peering up at the rocky ceiling. It was so low, he wasn’t able to stand without scraping his skull and he had to crawl in and out. The side walls hugged him close, keeping him in a tight embrace. Almost like the coffins humans used to theorize about. As if he would actually sleep in a coffin. He wasn’t dead. He was very much alive. More so than ever before.
Drip. Drip.
Darkness surrounded him, the sun’s rays kept completely at bay. He always knew when the sun set, however. Or rather, his body knew. A burst of strength would overtake him. Nowadays, so would a burst of hunger. For one person, and one person only …
He’d lived in these caverns his entire life, knew which ones were used by other vampires—and therefore ruled by Manus, king of the vampires—and which were not. This one was not, had only one entry, and therefore only one exit, and did not descend deep enough to reach the city.
Situated a few hours from the human town as it was, in a wasteland with thick, stinging air, topside visitors were discouraged, as well. Actually, he’d never encountered another living being here. And as he could control people and time, traveling back and forth wasn’t a problem.
Here, he could relax, knowing the doorways wouldn’t find him. Or talk to him. He could sleep without worry. He could dream about digging into the vampire city directly below him—sometimes he thought he could hear the murmur of their voices—defeating Manus, and claiming the throne. Vampires respected might, after all. And if anyone could take down the powerful, mindreading Manus, it was McKell, the man who had led the army for centuries.
Would he, though? No. His men deserved peace. A lifetime with their families. Too many would die if war erupted, families torn apart. But oh, how he missed his men. Most days, he could ignore the sensation. The hollowness. But every time he came here, he was reminded. They’d fought beside each other, bled for each other, and some had even died for their fellow soldiers. That kind of loyalty didn’t fade just because a king proclaimed McKell a traitor.
Traitor. As if. He hadn’t killed Bride when he had been ordered. She’d looked up at him with those green, green eyes, so trusting, and he’d spared her. Where was the crime in that?
Truly, that wasn’t the act of a traitor. Yes, she was what the vampires called nefreti. All-powerful, as he’d told Ava. What he hadn’t mentioned to her was that the nefreti were utterly unstoppable when riled, their natural inclination for survival overriding even the smallest hint of compassion. And yes, a nefreti had killed Manus’s brother, so the royal family had every right to fear them. That didn’t mean all nefreti deserved to die.
And though he’d saved Bride and cast her to the surface world with every intention of finding her later and tricking the king into thinking she was someone else, though she had then chosen to live with another man, McKell still couldn’t regret his actions. Not in any way. Not when they’d led him to Ava.
Ava.
During the night, he’d trailed vampire scents as planned. He’d discovered a large group at a dance club, of all places. Mostly males, but a few females. He hadn’t entered, had merely watched from the shadows outside, next to human garbage cans, hoping to mask his own scent. He hadn’t attempted to question a single one, knowing the rest would run and he’d have no one to observe.
None had seemed to notice him as they left. Even the times he’d been “talking” to Noelle on the phone. Chattering baggage. As he’d studied the vampire females, there had been … nothing, no reaction on his part, and he had reeled.