He nodded, offended that his ability to protect his woman was in question. "While on the surface, you might have heard of a head being found. Without its body."

Now the corner of McKell's lip twitched, his anger fading. "Appropriately, then. Now go dress, child." He waved a hand toward the entrance on the far right. "I shall be waiting."

That commanding tone had to chafe at Bride's independent nature, as did the "child," and Devyn almost grinned. "There's something else. You mentioned that the king's ability is mind reading."

McKell nodded, his expression suddenly wary.

"I suspected as much, last time I was here. But if he reads minds, how are we to prevent him from learning what we know of Bride?" As he spoke, he rubbed her back to assure her that no matter what, they would do what was needed to keep her safe.

"The king can only read direct thoughts. While in his presence, in the palace really, you must be careful not to think of what you've learned here. I told you the truth only to warn and prepare you. If he even suspects, we are all doomed." A heavy sigh. "He is not the same man you knew, Targon. Remember Fiona, the nefreti I mentioned? She abducted his brother, tortured him in the most vile of ways, and when she tired of him and returned the prince, he committed suicide. The king has not been the same since."

Devyn wouldn't offer sympathy he didn't feel. He had not liked the prince, had considered him loathsome, always grabbing at the female servants, even hitting them. The bastard had probably deserved everything the one called Fiona had done to him.

"If the king is a mind reader, keeping me isn't an option for you, McKell," Bride piped up. "No way the two of us can keep our secrets from the king forever."

He shrugged, unconcerned. "As I explained, memories can be erased. Once we have been bonded, we will remain in my home until it's done."

Bride gasped. "As if."

Devyn stiffened. No one would be screwing with his female's mind. "You risked a lot, bringing her here.”

“I have craved her return for over eighty years. Imprisonment and death would be small prices to pay for having her here." There at the end, his voice had turned husky. "Go on now. Change."

Devyn's lips pulled back in a scowl. He didn't mind the vampire paying those prices, but he did mind Bride paying them.

"But I have so many more questions," Bride said with a pout. "And I will answer them as I show you the rest of the underground."

With those words, Devyn realized the warrior's purpose, the reason he'd allowed Devyn into the underground without a fight and with utter confidence of success. McKell hoped to lure Bride into staying with the one thing Devyn could not give her: a city of vampires. The warrior hoped she would spurn Devyn's affections, beg the king to allow her to stay, and then discard Devyn and his blood.

A sense of urgency filled him, a need to show Bride what he could give her. He pushed to a stand, dragging her with him. "She will change, but I will go with her."

McKell scowled at him. "You will stay here with me, and I will answer any questions you have about the care one must take with vampire mates."

Bastard. Offering something so tempting. "My bad. Perhaps I didn't make myself clear. Where she goes, I go."

Whatever the vampire saw in his expression caused him to nod stiffly.

Devyn turned, automatically locking his enemy in place. A growl sounded behind him. He didn't release his hold until he and Bride were inside the bedroom.

Then he waited, doing nothing, expecting McKell to storm inside, fangs bared. It never happened. Another shocker.

Bride spun in a circle, her gaze eating up their new surroundings, and he could only pray she liked his home better. It came with him, after all.

He took stock, as well. There was a bed of pillows and furs, two lace ribbons at the head and foot, perfect for a little game of bondage. An intricately carved vanity, a mirror, and all the things a woman could desire to pamper herself. A desk made of stone, weapons lining the wall—did the vampire not fear Devyn would take them?—and a closet filled with robes of every color.

The entire enclosure reeked of the warrior.

Devyn popped his jaw in irritation. "He wanted you in here without me so that you'll smell of him when we visit the palace."

"I don't understand why we need to visit the king. I'm not going to let him decide for me.”

“Have you made a decision, then?"

"About what?" she asked, pretending to be clueless.

About me. About us. He didn't say that, however. There was another way to learn the answer he craved without sounding like a whiny, needy puss. "Visiting the king is the only way to keep McKell from coming after you." Devyn drew her into his arms. "Are you happy you came here?"

"Yes. I needed to know what it was like.”

“And?" He kissed the top of her head, desperate to have his lips on her. Anywhere on her.

"It's not like I imagined it. The way that girl was treated ... the king wanting me dead ... destroying my mother..." She shuddered.

"So ... you won't stay here?”

“No. Probably not."

Thank God. "We need to figure a few things out, then. Like what to do if the king says you belong to the warrior, I honestly thought he'd side with me because we're already bonded, already married." And yeah, he'd even thought there was a possibility the king would try and force Devyn to stay here; to keep Bride safe, he'd deemed the chance worth it. Not once had he ever thought the king would try and separate them. Until now. McKell's confidence...

"If he does, I'll just wish him into a pile of ash," she said. "And if that doesn't work?"

"I'll keep wishing until something does." She returned his embrace and rested her head in the hollow of his neck. Her breath was warm against his skin. "Devyn," she said, and there was a hesitance to her tone he'd never heard before. "My mother is dead, and there's no way to return my memories of her. I don't even know her, but right now I miss her terribly."

"I'm sorry, love. So sorry." He ran his hands up and down her spine, offering what comfort he could. "My own mother was more concerned with her lovers than her child, so while I'd willingly give you my memories, I don't think you'd want them."

"Oh, Devyn. I'm sorry." Her grip tightened around him. "You should have been fawned over. I bet you were adorable."

"Were?" he asked with mock offense.

She uttered a warm, rich chuckle. "Braggart. Macy says I'm becoming just like you.”

“And you're the better for it."

That earned him another chuckle.

He kissed her temple. "Your mother wanted you alive and happy. More than anything else, even her own life." He cupped her chin and drew back, studying her. "You can do that for her. You can give her that."

"Yes."

Tears sprang in her eyes, turning them to liquid emeralds, and her bottom lip started trembling. Those tears ... He was struck with the urge to fight the Grim Reaper himself, anything to give her

back her mother. He couldn't exist, knowing Bride was hurting. It destroyed him, more than the darkness ever had.

What was worse, he couldn't tell her how much he thought he maybe might kinda sorta love her. Not yet. Not here. She might not believe him, thinking he said the words, those three earth shattering words, simply to convince her to leave with him, which could in turn make the contrary female angry enough to stay.

He'd never said "I love you" before. Not to his parents, and not to one of his many lovers. When he finally admitted his feelings, he wasn't sure what he'd do in the face of doubt.

How did she feel about him? She trusted him, desired him, but did she love him? "You're killing me," he said. "You know that, right?"

"So the big strong warrior can't stand a woman's tears?" With a shaky grin, she wiped her eyes with the back of her wrist. "I'll make a note of it for the next time I want my way and you're acting like an ass."

"I knew you were smart, but this... recognizing how big and strong I am. Brilliant."

Grinning, she pulled away from him and trekked to the closet, where she flipped through the robes. "This is what the females wear all day?"

"Oh, yes."

"Well, come help me pick something."

Devyn happily closed the distance between them. Rather than reach around her and grab a green robe to match her eyes as he'd intended, he cupped her breasts. "My advice? The sexier the better."

Her head fell against his shoulder, and she moaned. Her nipples hardened, deliciously abrading his palms. "Are you doing this to cover me with your scent?"

"That's merely a bonus. I'm doing this because I can't not do it." He kissed her exposed neck as his hands delved to the waist of her pants, unzipped the clasp, and sank past her panties. "It's been too long since I last had you."

"You should wait a bit longer," she said, but she didn't push his hand away. "We should wait."

He ground his erection into her lower cheeks. "I won't tell McKell if you won't." It was difficult, but he kept some of his attention on the doorway. Any disturbance in the energy there, and he would kill whoever walked through the door.

"If his ears are as tuned as mine, he'll hear."

"Then you'll just have to be quiet this time, won't you, love?" He sank two fingers inside her, his palm rubbing her just right.

She groaned in pleasure.

"A sound. For shame. But how wet you are. So ready for me, hmm?"

"Yes," she admitted on a wispy catch of breath. "Need you. Now." Up and down her chest rose. Back and forth she writhed.

He hadn't planned on taking her here, but he couldn't stop himself from undoing his pants and allowing his erection to pop free. He ripped the material gaping at her waist—she didn't need it anymore—stripping her luscious lower body. He kicked her legs apart, and then he was inside her, all the way home.

Trembling, she cried his name. She even reached up and back, clutching his head, placing them cheek to cheek. In and out, he pounded, driving hard and fast.

"Bite me, love."

"No." A gasp, a groan of want. "You need the blood."

"You need the strength."

"Drink a little. Just a little ..." Temptation, so hard to resist.

Her head turned, gaze latching onto his pulse. She licked her lips. "Well... maybe.”

“Do it. I need it. I need your teeth in me. Shall I beg? I will. I'll beg and plead and—"

With a hoarse moan, she bit him, those fangs sinking deep, that hot tongue caressing his vein and drawing the blood into her mouth. Oh, the pleasure. He rolled her clitoris between his fingers, increased the pace of his thrusts, sweating, hungry for climax, on fire at every point of contact, euphoric, on edge, desperate.

She released him as she came, fangs emerging, fingers curling around the closet frame in front of her, nails scraping stone. Every muscle in her body tensed as her inner walls began milking him, squeezing tight. He roared, not even trying to be quiet, his hot seed jetting into her.

They stood there panting for several minutes, sated, floating on a tide of bliss. Finally reason returned, and he forced himself to pull out of her. He used one of the robes to clean them both and tossed the material to the floor.

Bride pivoted and faced him, though not really looking at him. Like butterfly kisses, she ghosted her fingertips over the puncture wounds in his neck. "Shall I try and heal them with my blood?"

she'd never offered before, and he realized it was because she'd still, on some level, feared turning him into a vampire. "No, leave them." He wanted the king to see. To know. "I'll wear them with pride, for they prove I fed my woman."

Her expression, already glazed with residual passion, softened. "Devyn, I—"

"No, don't say it." Now wasn't the time, whether she meant to discuss her feelings or ask him to slow things down. He kissed her hard and long, enjoying her sweet flavor. "Dress. I'm sure McKell is angry with us."

Her head tilted to the side, ears twitching. "He's pacing."

"And you're right. I'm angry," the warrior snarled. He and Bride shared a smile. "Dress," Devyn told her.

Once more she spun toward the closet. She didn't bother flipping through the colors again, but snatched up the green. "Your favorite, yes?"

Knew his preferences already, did she? Adorable female.

She dressed slowly, her movements exaggerated for his benefit. When she finished, the silky material floated over her curves, leaving one delectable shoulder bare. "How do I look?"

"Breathtaking, as always," he said, surprised by the way his voice broke. "Here. Let me." He picked a gold belt from the array hanging on the wall and wrapped it around her waist, cinching the material. There was a brush on the desk, and he grabbed it. The next five minutes he dedicated to smoothing out the tangles he had caused in her hair.

She let him. He knew she needed time to mentally prepare herself for the tour they were about to take. A tour she'd waited her entire life for, but one that would not be with her family. He simply enjoyed the moment, savoring the way the dark waterfall glimmered in the light. He could have done this for hours. Days.

Finally he forced himself to set the brush aside. McKell's footfalls had grown thunderous. "Ready?" Reluctantly she nodded.

"Don't forget, love. I'll be with you every step of the way. Hand in hand, they rejoined McKell.