He’d sensed her anxiety, she realized. No wonder he’d been so eager to talk about himself. He’d wanted to prove to her that she could rely on him. He was the sweetheart. “Thank you.”

“Welcome.”

He was soothing her, all of her. Gentling her. Oh, yes, she had a decision to make. To turn or not to turn being the most glaring. Though, after watching Johnny hit that window, she wasn’t sure that was a viable option. Yet that was the only way they could connect. Truly connect.

Forever.

Still such a scary word, but not as scary as the thought of losing him. Maybe she could do this. Maybe she could try. “So why were you kicked out of the underground?” she asked, picking up their conversation.

“For allowing Bride to live. For lying to the king about who she was. For bringing her back with the intension of wedding her.”

Bride again. Ugh. “You once said lying was for people who feared consequences.”

“Yes, and I feared being without her.”

Stomach … twisting … Old fear alert, old fear alert, her brain screamed. She couldn’t stop it, though. Bride had been his first choice. He’d lied for her, given up everything for her. So what did that make Ava? Second choice? Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God. Yes, old fears. They’d never really left her, she realized. They’d merely waited for their chance to pounce.

She was tired of them. So tired. Which meant she had to fight them.

She squared her shoulders. “Do you ever think about going back underground?”

He began tracing the veins in her hand again. “At first, yes. I think some of the army would follow me, did I ask, and attack the royal house. Which would need to happen for my successful return.”

“And now? Do you want to go back?”

“Now I know too many lives would be lost. Besides, I have no desire to rule the vampire world. Palace life …” He shuddered. “The balls, the deciding of everything for everyone. People constantly invading my space, touching my things. No. Unless …” He frowned. “Would you like to be a queen?”

“No.” Hell, no.

“You’re sure?”

A queen of vampires, each one with a special gift and lethal fangs? Her, just herself. “Completely sure.”

He pushed out a relieved breath. “Good.”

Had he been considering fighting his people? For her? “Are you sure the king won’t send that army of his to hunt you? The ones who wouldn’t follow you if you returned?”

“Not completely, but he knows I could destroy them all, and I doubt he’ll risk it. He hasn’t yet. Now tell me a secret,” he urged, leaning closer to her. “Something you haven’t told anyone. Even Noelle.”

The car stopped, and she peered out the window. Dallas’s building came into view, and disappointment sliced through her. “Yet another thing for us to do later,” she replied, and commanded the door to open. Not that she knew what to tell him.

“Very well,” he grumbled.

She emerged from the driver’s side and walked to the sidewalk, where Noelle and the others already waited. McKell exited, unfolding his big, strong body, and towering over everyone. Even Jeremy Deschanel, who was pale and tense. From worry about his brother? Had he even been allowed to see him?

Ava approached Jeremy and patted his shoulder in what she hoped was a comforting gesture. “He was given vampire blood,” she said, and Jeremy’s eyes widened. No, he hadn’t been allowed to visit, and he hadn’t been given an update. “There’s a chance he’ll heal.”

“So he’s alive?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.” His eyes squeezed shut. “Thank you so much. He’s an asshole, but I love him.”

Hard hands settled on her shoulders, tugging her away from Jeremy and into—McKell. His breath was leaving him in an angry rush and lifting strands of her hair. That pleased her. She’d just reacted to Bride; helped that he’d reacted to Jeremy.

“Everyone will remain outside,” McKell said in his calm, you’ll-do-it-or-die voice. “I don’t need your scents mingling with the ones already there.”

“Wait.” Ava circled her fingers around his wrist, holding him to her. “Noelle and I are in charge of tonight’s activities, so we’ll tell them what to do.” Her narrowed gaze swept over the trainees, and some of them glared at her resentfully. She’d made it, after all, and they hadn’t. “I’ve decided. You’ll all stay out here.”’

“I’ll keep them in line,” Noelle said with relish. “Oh, and here.” She handed Ava a digital info-pad as she faced him. “You’ll need this.”

“Give her any trouble,” McKell said, “and I will personally remove your fingers.” He pulled his necklace from under his shirt, the bones clinking together as they fell back to his chest.

“Now, then. I’m going with you,” Ava told him, grip tightening on the pad as she faced him.

He arched a dark brow, looking sardonic and amused at the same time. “One day you’ll have to learn to obey me.”

“Sorry, but that day isn’t today.” She urged him forward. Behind her, someone muttered, “He really is an ass, isn’t he?”

Ava stilled. Oxygen suddenly burned her throat, her muscles clenching in fury, red dots dancing through her line of vision. She whipped around, a knife in her hand, though she didn’t recall withdrawing it.

“Who said that?” she demanded through gritted teeth.

Noelle pointed to the male trainee standing beside Jeremy. “Little boy, you’re in trouble now,” her friend sang.

Following those red dots, which formed a path straight to her target, Ava stalked forward. Until McKell’s hard hands once again settled on her shoulders, stopping her.

She fought for release. “I will murder you.”

“No need, sweetheart,” McKell said, and he sounded happier than she’d ever heard him. “I’m not offended by the comment.”

Why was he happy? Not that his happiness would have prevented her from attacking. No, it was the “sweetheart” that calmed her. She’d never liked endearments before. They encouraged affection she rarely entertained. Yet … when he did it … rainbows and gumdrop trees always seemed to sprout in her mind.

“He needs to suffer,” she huffed.

“Later.” McKell spun her around and anchored his arm on her waist, forcing her into the building. Along the way, he maneuvered her to the left, into grass, and ushered her around—nothing. She was confused, but didn’t question him.

Dallas lived on the fourteenth floor, and Noelle’s digital pad gave them the pass-code to enter his apartment. Which was dirty as hell. Had gossip not warned her about the mess, she would have thought someone had broken in and trashed the place.

McKell grimaced. “The bitch has been all over this apartment. It reeks of her disease.”

“Did you smell her outside?”

“No. Nor did I smell her in the hallway. Which means she’s teleporting rather than using invisibility.”

Fabulous. “Can you follow someone who teleports?”

“No.”

Extra fabulous. “This was a waste of time, then.”

“Not necessarily.” He hustled her outside. Without a word, he helped her back into the car.

Noelle sputtered for answers as she shepherded the trainees back into their van. Answers McKell didn’t give. Not even when Ava demanded them. The car once again sped along the roads, and this time, Noelle followed them. They didn’t stop until they reached the bar where the queen had first appeared to Dallas.

Again McKell emerged, and again he tugged Ava along silently. Noelle and the trainees trekked a safe distance behind, acting as bodyguards rather than detectives. A few more blocks, another snaked corner, several instances of him frowning, pushing her away from what seemed to be a perfectly fine patch of air, and he stopped, looked around.

“This is where she approached Johnny.”

He kicked back into motion, sniffing all the while. Another block, three corners, four more pushes out of the way, constant mumbling about “stupid doorways,” and they reached another apartment building. Johnny’s. Ava knew because she’d been there. Which had her ducking her head and praying McKell’s sniffing ability wasn’t that keen.

Without any prompting, he led her to Johnny’s apartment and shouldered past the door. Clean, sparse, with not many personal effects. As if he wanted to be able to pick up and move at any time.

McKell walked through every inch, then returned to the bedroom. Ava wanted to do more than duck, but all he said was, “The queen teleported out of here, too, but her guards didn’t.”

She frowned. Johnny hadn’t mentioned guards, but then, maybe Johnny hadn’t seen them. “So these guards weren’t at Dallas’s place?”

“There were guards there, yes, but he injured them and they were carted to AIR, so their scents were useless. The ones that were here walked out. They were most likely invisible, since no one saw them, but they still had to walk out.” He grinned slowly. “Which means we can follow them. Straight to their queen.”

Twenty-six

Dallas sprawled in his hospital bed, healed enough to go home, yet not quite ready to leave. He’d had nothing to do but watch time tick away, then listen to the monitors beeping in tune to his heart; and when those started to bore him—like, within minutes—he’d only been able to think about his beautiful Schön queen.

His? He immediately chided himself. Never his. Bitch was a stone-cold killer. And while he usually admired that quality in a woman—he’d been known to date porn stars, emotionally bankrupt heiresses, and the coldest of ice princesses—he wasn’t a fan of rampant disease.

Here’s what he knew. Trinity was a woman who took what she wanted, damn the consequences. Proof: she infected men, kept the ones she liked, and discarded the rest, letting them fend for themselves and infect others. Proof: she ruined one planet and then quickly moved on to another one. Proof: she claimed to like Dallas, to desire him, yet she’d allowed him to be shot rather than take the rays herself.

So, if she was so selfish and self-indulged, that begged the question of why she hadn’t just infected him, since that’s what she so badly wanted to do. Only one answer made sense. She couldn’t. Physically, emotionally, whatever the reason, she needed his cooperation to act. Through seduction or manipulation, she needed him to say yes. Had to have that yes.

It was so clear now. Trinity was woman, disease—and followers. Three, as he’d suspected, but without that yes, she was stuck. Unable to harm him. Which meant he finally had what he’d been searching for: a weakness.

How could he exploit it, though?

If she would appear before him, solidify again, he could wear one of AIR’s Night-Night rings. The rings looked innocent, but when you moved the stone in the center, there was a tiny needle that—needle. The word chilled his blood.

Injecting her, even with so tiny a needle, could have devastating results. For him, for all of AIR. The rings weren’t like the darts, and didn’t cauterize the wound. If one little bead of her blood spilled—and it would, because the Schön disease always knew when an escape hatch, for lack of a better term, appeared, always knew when a new host was nearby …

Some of AIR’s finest had been infected that way while first testing the Schön.

A thought suddenly crimped his newest theory about Trinity needing a yes before doing her dirty work. The doctors hadn’t willingly agreed to be infected, yet they had succumbed.

Or maybe they had welcomed the virus. Unintentionally, of course. The virus was alien, alive, and could have whispered to them, tricked them.

“Up and at ‘em, I see.”

Dallas pulled himself from his contemplations to eye the speaker. Mia. She stood beside his bed, grinning, all her pearly whites showing. She was a walking contradiction, and years ago he’d thought himself in love with her. He’d promised himself he would never think about those dark years, when he’d watched her, wanted her, but she’d kept him firmly in the friend zone, and he’d never gone back on his word. Until now. He blamed the painkillers pumping through his system.

Noelle Tremain was a lot like her, he thought. Pretty, yet tough as fucking nails. Maybe that’s why he’d eventually sleep with Noelle and end his friendship with Hector. Maybe he’d be pretending she was Mia.

Thought you were going to stay away from Noelle from now on.

I bet she gives amazing TLC.

Even in his sad condition, his body reacted to that thought.

Don’t throw a love triangle into the cluster-fuck of your life right now. You’ve got too much to worry about. Hector had stopped by to see him multiple times, and Dallas had almost broken down and asked the guy what he thought of the new agent. He’d kept his mouth shut, though. They all had too much to worry about.

“Ignoring me?” Mia asked, fake grin fading. Yeah, he’d known it was fake. What he didn’t know was why. “Or has your abused brain finally given up and withered away completely?”

“Hey,” he said in greeting. “And the brain’s just fine, thank you.”

“Let’s see that chest.” Without waiting for his permission, she removed the bandage covering his wound. She whistled under her teeth. “That’s gonna leave the cutest little scar.”

If by “cutest little scar” she meant “mountainous crater,” then, yeah. It was.

A knock sounded at the door, and Dallas shifted his gaze. As if his earlier thoughts had summoned him, Hector entered.