He found himself curious about her past, about what had shaped her into the strong, vibrant woman she'd become. A woman who knew nothing about her own race, but a woman who was desperate to know everything. A woman who loved her missing friend with a loyalty that astounded him. Most people turned their back on their loved ones the moment their own lives were placed in danger. Bride plowed through that danger with no thought to her own safety.

He liked that. He liked her. She'd entered the apartment smug and eager, just as he would have done were the situation reversed. Would she have reacted as he had, though? He'd sensed the emotions pulsing off her, and they'd short-circuited his brain, causing great waves of arousal to sweep through him. Dark and carnal and consuming. Blood had left his head, then his limbs, and flowed straight into his cock. It had yet to leave.

"I'm not stripping," she finally said, breaking the silence. Each word dripped with quiet rage. "But I hope you feel free to do so."

"Oh, I do." And he would. Maybe. He hadn't yet decided how far to take this round. Her reactions would dictate his. "But ladies first."

Devyn pushed mental fingers into her mind, clasping onto the energy required for movement. As each time before, hers was spellbinding, enough to drown him with power. For a moment, she resisted, doing her best to shove him out and reclaim her rightful property. But he'd been doing this for so long, it was as simple as breathing. People, objects, it didn't matter. If he could hold the energy, he always prevailed.

The more people he controlled, the harder it was to force individual movements. Usually he'd resort to locking them in place or moving them in the same direction, as he'd done in that alley. It was just

him and Bride now, however, and she was his to do with as he pleased.

"Take off your shirt." He didn't need to say it aloud to make it happen, but he wanted her to hear his voice and feel her body respond accordingly, unable to stop herself. Hopefully, it would become habit and she would later do what he wanted without his having to exert any energy of his own.

Her eyes narrowed further as her fingers gripped the hem of her shirt and yanked it over her head. The material lifted her hair, and that amazing black silk tumbled back down, landing on the smooth expanse of her shoulders ... covering her bra ... probably tickling her stomach.

She retained a tight grip on the material. "Is this the way all AIR agents act? Like dirty perverts?”

“I'm only an agent when I feel like being an agent. Right now, I only want to be a dirty pervert."

Her nostrils flared in renewed—and far more potent—anger, her eyes bright with sudden ... pain? "Well, does this make you feel powerful, forcing a defenseless woman to your will? Revealing a body she'd rather hide and shaming her?"

For a moment, only a moment, he paused as his own sense of shame washed through him. Bride's words were nearly a mirror of his father's. Bodies should- never be revealed, the man had always said. It's degrading ... disgraceful.

Devyn scowled, shoving at the memory and the emotion until both left him. There was nothing degrading or disgraceful about nudity. It had taken him centuries to realize that, to not hate himself for his love of the female form.

Bride didn't believe it, either, he told himself. How could she, when she'd traipsed the streets naked? This was simply her way of fighting back with the only weapon she currently possessed: her intelligence.

"You have no qualms about exposing those decadent curves and that delicious femininity. I know this because you gave me the peep show of a lifetime in public."

She returned his scowl.

"Now be a good girl and drop the shirt for me."

When the fabric hit the floor, there was a clank. He arched a brow in question.

"Razors," she said, chin lifting in challenge. "Check if you want. Maybe I'll luck out and you'll cut yourself."

"Typical vampire. Desperate for my blood." If only she would have lied. He could have punished her. Perhaps made her bend over for a spanking. He did enjoy giving those. "Were the razors for me? Did you plan to mar my pretty face?"

"I carry them with me everywhere I go, moron, and I never said you were pretty."

"I'm exquisite, then. Come now, you can't deny it," he added when she opened her mouth to protest. "Your hard nipples speak for you." Or spoke of the coldness of the room, but whatever. "Tell me, have you ever cut someone with them?"

"My nipples?"

He barely managed to hide his grin. Imp. "No. Your razors.”

“Yes." She'd sounded offended that he'd had to ask.

Adorable. He enjoyed her more with every second that passed. "Who?”

“Like I remember all their names."

"Did you do it for sport or defense?" Not that he cared. He'd bedded sadists before. Had actually gone through an all-sadist-all-the-time phase. No longer were they his favorite type, though. He'd grown tired of the hitting and the biting and the scratching. Blah, blah, blah, boring. But as he'd already decided to have this woman no matter what, he'd man up and endure if she needed to hurt him to climax. "Well?"

Her chin lifted another notch, and she stared down at him through the exotic fringe of dark lashes. "None of your business."

"Hint taken. You don't want to talk, you want to finish stripping. Well, who am I to argue with a determined woman? Stand and take off your pants. They're too binding anyway."

She was on her feet, tugging at the stretch pants, and growling low in her throat a second later. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"We'll work on our communication later." For his own amusement, he forced her hips to wiggle as she slid the tights to her ankles. White panties, plain but the perfect match to her bra. Nice. Unexpected. He would have bet a Sweet Munchkin on red lace. He liked the innocence of the white, though.

"Enjoying yourself?" she snarled.

He propped his elbow on the arm of the chair, then rested his chin in his hand, one finger rubbing over his jaw. "Very much so."

Once again her eyes followed the motion of his fingers. He almost smiled. Imagining slicing him or kissing him?

"Have you slept with Aleaha?" she asked.

"No. I just discovered her. Would it bother you if I had?"

"No." She ran her tongue over her wonderfully sharp teeth. "I don't care who you've been with because I'm never going to be among their numbers. I just didn't want to think of my friend heartbroken over the likes of you."

"The likes of me. What a sweet thing to say, as I know you meant that in the very best sense." He reached behind him, pulled his shirt over his head, and tossed it aside. "Have you slept with Nolan?"

Her mouth dropped open, her gaze zeroing in on his new tattoo, then his nipples. They were small and brown, perfect for licking. Or so he'd been told. When her focus lowered to the ropes of muscle lining his stomach, then his navel, she gulped. The reaction pleased him because for once, he didn't

have to wonder what thoughts were dancing through her head. Just then, she wanted him. "No answer for me?" he asked huskily.

"I, uh, what did you ask me?"

Keep looking at me, pet. Keep wanting me. "If you'd slept with Nolan.”

“Oh. Well, I already answered that earlier."

He knew that, but repetition was the best way to catch a lie. To his consternation, she switched her attention to just over his head. And not his favorite head, either. Determination pulsed from her.

"Better him than you, though," she said.

If he were a lesser man, he might have crumbled at that point. Being shot down for a dying, contagious criminal ... it was disgraceful. "Just so you know, his disease is really another life form, an otherworlder a part of yet separate from him, who will invade your body if given the chance, turning you into a cannibal if you fail to infect others. That would mean I'd have to kill you without enjoying you, and I really want to enjoy you."

"First, Nolan explained that to me. Second, I've never been sick. And third, do you always give little Devyn what he wants? Even when the girl in question isn't interested?"

"What a silly question. The girl is always interested." But no one had ever fought it like Bride. Well, except for Eden, but he suddenly couldn't recall why he'd desired her. "Now be a good girl and walk over here and sit on my lap."

The muscles in her legs bunched and strained as she struggled against his mental hold. And for a moment, she actually managed to remain in place. She shouldn't have been able to do it, no one should have, but he would be lying if he said her strength didn't make him proud. All too soon, his will prevailed and she was gliding toward him. Sweat beaded on her skin, glistening like diamonds in the golden lamplight. "Pretty," he said.

"You're a bastard, you know that?" she choked out as she stopped just in front of him.

"Wrong. My parents were mated when I was conceived." And considering his father's dislike of nakedness and arousal, it was a miracle he'd been conceived at all. He'd wondered over the years if his father really was his father. With the number of lovers his mother had had—lovers the king had not been able to keep out of the queen's bedroom, no matter how hard he'd tried— anyone male could have created him. "Now sit."

Finally Bride was there, resting on his lap, her ass pressed against his thigh. He craved deeper contact. Did she? "Place your hands on my chest and straddle me."

The heat of her palms nearly scorched him. And when her knees were anchored to the back of his chair, her legs riding alongside his, her panties hovering just over his straining erection, he moaned. His hands settled on the flare of her hips. How perfect she was, smooth and pale like cream.

"I'll kill you for this," she said.

As her gaze was glued to the pulse at the base of his neck, her words slurred as her tongue pushed against her fangs, her pupils dilated, and her expression hungry yet somehow soft, the threat lacked true menace. "You'll kill me with pleasure, is my bet." Just to see what she'd do, Devyn released his mental hold on her hands. She didn't shift them away, but continued to gauge the erratic rhythm of his heart. "I hate to break it to you, pet, but the fact that you want to kill me that way isn't a surprise. I suspected. Bet you're even damp right now."

"Argh!" She balled her fingers into a fist and pounded at his chest like it was a punching bag. "Can you take nothing seriously?" When she realized she'd moved on her own, she blinked down at her hands, wiggled her fingers.

He barely had time to register the wickedly satisfied gleam in her eyes before she'd slapped him. The force of skin zipping over skin stung, but that didn't stop his grin from forming.

When she reached up to do it again, Devyn grasped her wrist, preventing the action. Rather than take control of her next movements with his mind, he brought her palm to his mouth and tenderly kissed her hammering pulse. She allowed it. A shiver rocked her, and her core brushed his penis.

"Do you want to continue our conversation or get right to the loving?" he asked, trying to cut back another moan.

There were several beats of silence. He couldn't guess what thoughts were rolling through her mind. He knew what he wanted her to think, though: she shouldn't want to want him, but want him she did.

Women loved temptation ... forbidden fruit. Devyn was both of those things, and he knew it. He was a blatant womanizer, shameless, unapologetic, and totally lacking in moral fiber. Many had tried to tame him, and every one of them had failed. He simply wasn't tamable, though he did love for women to try.

"I want to continue the conversation," she finally said, the words like velvet-covered steel. Pity.

She licked her lips, the pink tip of her tongue swiping back and forth and giving him all sorts of ideas. That tongue, circling the head of his cock. That tongue, laving his testicles. That tongue, riding up and down his shaft.

"Do you give yourself to so many women because you're trying to fill a void?" she asked. "Were your parents mean to you or something?"

"There is no void," he snapped. He was what he was, and there was no more to it than that. That she'd pegged his parents was irrelevant. "Now enough of that." He wouldn't let her ruin the mood he'd gone to such pains to set. "Are you thirsty? A proper host always sees to the comforts of his guests." He angled his head, giving her a better view of his throbbing pulse.

Again, she paused. Again, she licked her lips. "No, thanks." Trembling, slurred again. Her palms flattened on his chest, her nails digging deep. "I had a lot to drink before I came."

Tendrils of something dark swept through him, and he gripped the arms of his chair to prevent himself from gripping her and shaking her. Who had she drunk from? A man? Had she slept with him, too? Vampires often fed and loved at the same time, each act increasing the pleasure of the other.

The thought of this challenging female sinking those teeth into someone else, the thought of that wet sheath riding a cock other than his, should not have bothered him. Didn't bother him, he assured himself. He had not been jealous a day in his life, and he wouldn't start now. That would have meant he desired more than a few sweet hours with Bride, and he didn't. He was merely disappointed, for he'd hoped to be the one to feed and sleep with her tonight, and now he'd have to wait.

"Fine, then." The grinding force of his tone surprised him. "We'll jump right to the questions. Where's Nolan?"

"You told me you didn't need to know that anymore. I agreed to continue our conversation because I thought we were going to talk about the vampires."