“All right. We’ve got enough pictures to fill a scrapbook. Let’s do this,” she said. “I wanna go home. I’m starved.”
“Fine. I’ll help carry. But FYI, you’re always starved,” Noelle muttered, frisking the vampire and tossing his weapons to the ground.
For some reason, the fury in his eyes increased from I-could-explode-and-kill-you-both murderous to I-could-explode-and-take-out-the-entire-world nuclear. As if removing his guns and knives was a far worse crime than capturing lifelong images of his shame spiral.
“Done,” Noelle said, unaware of the change. She slid her arms under his right armpit. “He’s now clean.”
Ava did the same to his left armpit, wholly aware yet unwilling to let it detour her. “What do you mean, I’m always starved? What are you trying to say?”
“Oh, sorry. I thought I made that clear. I was saying you eat too much, and maybe you should have rethought the miniskirt tonight.”
They hefted his big, heavy body up, and her biceps immediately began to shake.
“I look fat to you?” All hundred and twenty pounds of her? Most of which was muscle, if she were being (kind of) honest. Damn, that irresistible butterscotch. She ran her tongue over her teeth, even though she knew Noelle was prodding her only to energize her. “Oh, poor thing, I think one of your contacts has slipped. Let me help.” With her free hand, she slapped her friend on the back of the head. Hard.
“Ow! I don’t wear contacts, and you know it.”
“My bad.”
“From lover to fighter,” Noelle said with a dejected sigh. “Sad, really, that you let our romance die so quickly.”
Ava bit her lip to stop herself from laughing. What a great day this had turned out to be, she thought. And really, it was only going to get better.
How could it not?
Three
As the females tugged him through dirt and leaves, occasionally dropping him, tearing his pants, his skin, kicking him once out of spite because he “could stand to lose a few pounds,” McKell seethed.
Puny humans. Taunt him, would they? Take pictures of him in this hated state, would they? Take his weapons, would they? He, who didn’t share anything. Ever! And that wasn’t the worst of their crimes. Kiss in front of him and not finish what they’d started, would they?
They would learn the error of their ways. Soon. He would teach them, as they’d just taught him.
He hadn’t expected them to follow through with their “desire” to kiss each other. Much as he’d wished otherwise. Neither had smelled of lust, so he’d known the pretend affection was for his benefit. He’d expected them to lean in, then launch themselves at him just before contact. That’s what he’d prepared himself for. That’s when he would have frozen them in place and drank from them one at a time before sending them back to AIR, defeated and humiliated.
When they had kissed, he’d been momentarily blinded by lust of his own. The dainty hands of the tiny one, roving over the Amazon’s body … his blood had heated, singeing his veins. He’d suddenly wanted those hands on him. Roving over his body.
Suddenly? Liar. He’d imagined touching her since the first moment he’d spied her. Which had been a shock. Humans were food to him, nothing more, and a man didn’t play with his food. Honestly, he shouldn’t have wanted her—Ava, that was her name, and it was as soft and delicate as she appeared—in any way. Not even as sustenance.
He’d gorged only an hour before her arrival, and should have been satisfied for the next six days. But the moment she’d entered his camp, he’d smelled her—orchids, sunlight he’d loathed until that moment, and some kind of sugary candy completely unique to her—and his mouth had watered. His shaft had ached. He was absolutely certain he’d smelled something as decadent at some point in his long, long life, though he couldn’t recall when or what.
His reaction was explainable, though. He’d been without a vampire lover for months, so his body would have lusted after anything. So why didn’t you want the tall one who called “dibs”?
What a ridiculous question. He hadn’t lusted after the one named Noelle because she reminded him too much of his own kind, and right now he was furious with all vampires and would rather kill a bloodsucker than screw one.
He ignored the flaw between the two rationales. And what the hell was “dibs,” anyway? He’d visited this surface world many times before being kicked from the vampire caves, but he’d never heard the term. Was it some type of ownership? Probably. The females seemed to think he now belonged to Noelle.
Well, he belonged to no one. The only female he would have bound himself to was Maureen, known here as Bride McKells, but she’d chosen to give herself to another. To Devyn, king of the Targons. As if McKell weren’t good enough. As if he wasn’t a thousand times better than that bastard Targon scum. McKell had slaughtered entire vampire villages in less than an hour. With no aid! He was good enough for anyone.
Even Ava, who hadn’t wanted to do Noelle’s laundry to be with him. Laundry—the washing of clothes, for God’s sake—when there were hundreds of vampires who would have been willing to cut out their own hearts to even touch the dirt on his boots. Well, maybe not hundreds. Thousands was probably more accurate, he decided in the next instant, refusing to give in to self-deprecation. He was a prize, damn it!
Even still, now he just wanted to be on his own, left alone, with time to come to grips with the horrid topside eternity that awaited him. And in a hundred years or so, he should be able to say, “mission accomplished.” Maybe.
All he knew now was that he hated this world. The sun, burning his beautiful skin and ruining part of his day every damn day. The cloying scents of human food and perfume. AIR constantly trying to “chat.” Annoying.
“Come on, Noelle. Put your back into it!” Ava said, irritated.
“I am, damn it! But I can’t help it if I’m not strong enough to lug around this much dead weight.”
“You’re a hundred pounds heavier than me. You should be running laps around me.”
“A hundred pounds? You bitch! You better watch your back, because I will punish you for that whopper.”
Clearly, they despised each other. He’d dealt with humans all the many centuries of his life, stealing them from this surface and carting them underground to keep them as food-slaves. Most argued, yes, but only enemies had argued like these two, calling each other hateful names, complaining, kissing—uh, never mind that last one. That devastating kiss had no bearing on the situation. What did: he could use their dislike of each other to his advantage.