His teeth gnashed together. Again, he refused to acknowledge the flaw in his reasoning.
He put Ava’s bra and panties back on her, then reluctantly did the same for her … friend. Enemy. Whatever. That done, he pocketed Ava’s phone and again peered down at the curly-haired witch. Beautiful.
Shove your tongue back into your mouth, and finish what you started. He forced all thoughts of touching and tasting from his mind, and withdrew the gloss he’d stolen from her. Then, he began writing directly on her body.
When he finished, he was actually trembling from the effort to resist doing more to her.
In a few days, when he’d gotten his desires under control, he would find her again, he decided. He’d use her as she had planned to use him. Because, if he liked her scent, connoisseur that he was, other vampires would, too. They would be drawn to her, would want to drink from her. And rather than having to track them down himself, as he’d had to do before AIR had started gunning for him, distracting him, they would come to him.
Now they ran from him, scared of him. But if they were preoccupied with Ava, he would have no trouble grabbing them. Finally he could question them and discover how they lived here. How they survived in that wretched sun.
Yes, he liked this plan.
Ava wouldn’t, though, he thought, and he was grinning as he strode away.
“What the hell?” Ava gasped out. One moment she’d been inside the car, searching for her lipgloss, the sun fighting its way into the sky. She hadn’t moved, only a second had passed, yet now she was outside, the night thick and dark, an almost suffocating cloak.
And holy hell, the car was in shambles around her, claw marks slashing through the metal.
“We’re in our undies!” Noelle squeaked beside her.
Ava jackknifed to her feet, knees almost giving out as she peered down at herself. No top, no skirt, no shoes. Only her bra and matching panties.
Shit. She searched, but there was no sign of her clothes. “That tricky bastard! He did this.” And she floundered between admiration, humiliation, and horror. The strength required to destroy a car like that … immense. The intelligence required to outwit her … equally so. But God, the knowledge that she’d failed, choking.
What else had he done?
Frantically she patted her neck. Thank the Lord. No puncture wounds. Still. There was no question McKell had defeated her just as surely as he’d defeated the other agents sent after him. She’d been so cocky, so certain of her success. After all, she hadn’t lost a fight since Judy Demarko, the world’s biggest seventh-grade bully, had slammed her head into a brick wall and hacked off her hair—why did girls always do that to her?—while she was too dazed to move. All because Judy’s ex-boyfriend had asked her out. Well, and maybe because Ava had stashed Onadyn, an illegal alien drug, in Judy’s bag the day before, getting her kicked out of school, her reign of terror finally over. But that was merely speculation.
“I thought he could only stop time in short bursts,” Noelle said. She stood, as well, and tossed up her arms, the picture of exasperated female. “Yet he clearly stopped us.”
“Which means you thought wrong.” Ava, too.
“Thanks for stating the obvious. You’re lucky I don’t—” Noelle gasped.
“What?” Ava whipped left and right, scanning the forest for any sign of intruders. They were alone, the insects as quiet as they’d been around McKell. The scent of him lingered, though, as if he’d only just left. Warm, intoxicating … necessary.
Oh, hell, no. She hadn’t just thought that word. Necessary. She wiped it from her vernacular.
The gasp turned to giggles, and Noelle pointed to her chest.
“What?” she demanded again, looking down and seeing something golden—letters, she realized—smeared on her skin, just above her bra. She frowned, sniffed. Butterscotch. Mmm. Her stomach rumbled. “What does it say?”
Noelle just grinned at her.
She tilted her head, trying to decipher all four of those letters. When she did, she gnashed her molars in irritation. And more admiration, damn it, followed by a stupid wave of giddiness.
McKell had taken her lipgloss and spelled the word DIBS.
Four
The next morning, the gun range overflowed with agents, and Ava resigned herself to a half-hour wait. At least. But Mia arrived a few minutes later—two minutes early for their meeting, God bless her—and three stalls immediately cleared, the agents scampering away without meeting their commander’s eye. Now that was power.
Ava envied her.
Mia claimed the middle, and Ava and Noelle the sides.
In unison, they withdrew and loaded crystals into their pyre-guns, checking the chambers for obstructions while techs placed flame-resistant dummies at the end of the stalls.
Apparently, Mia was a multitasker and liked to conduct her chew-outs while at target practice. Only, as they fired golden beams at the dummies, soot forming where they hit, there was only silence.
Was Mia too pissed to speak?
Ava looked at the woman’s target. Three shots to the fake man’s chest. She looked at Noelle’s. Three shots to the face. Then she looked at her own. Three shots to the groin. No, Mia wasn’t pissed. Otherwise her dummy would have resembled Noelle’s or Ava’s. This was just business as usual. And wasn’t that a shocker.
Still. Ava knew this meeting would not end well for her. How could it? After last night’s failure, Mia would forbid her to approach McKell. To punish him as she craved. To assuage her curiosity and discover what he’d do next. To tamp down her need to peer into those violet eye and … what? She didn’t know.
She only knew the desire to see him again was strong. So, would she obey an edict to stay away? She didn’t know that, either. The man had her cell, and more than anything, she wanted it back. Liar.
Okay, okay. Most of all she wanted to get her hands on him and, uh, choke him. Yeah. Choke him. He’d been way too smug about his victory, writing on her chest like that, then leaving her practically naked. What a show-off. He should be ashamed. Poor sportsmanship always earned a penalty, and choking would be his.
“So …” she began, aiming at her target. Of course, she once again pictured McKell’s beautiful features as she squeezed the trigger. Had he truly been standing at the end of her stall, his stomach would have exploded that time. “We gonna kick this thing off or what?”
Because they were using pyre-guns, background noise wasn’t a problem. Pyres were as quiet as little church mice.