He was pissed off, though. That much was clear. His violet eyes were stormy, and his lips were turned down in a fierce scowl. That just made him sexier, Ava thought. And she’d had all that sexiness on top of her. Just a few minutes ago, at that.
He’d kissed her with abandon. He’d tasted of butterscotch, as if he’d sucked on several candies before sucking on her. His hands had moved over her with utter possession, teasing and taunting and demanding a response. Without a doubt, he’d owned her. Whatever he’d wanted, she would have done. Would have begged to do.
She shivered, remembering.
His long, thick fingers had sunk inside her, and she’d felt penetrated to her soul. Writhing against him had been her only option. Stopping would have killed her. Had they been anywhere but a car, two guys in the backseat, she would have demanded he fuck her. Hard, possibly forever. Shocking.
Forever still wasn’t for her. But God, she’d wanted him. Even after he’d given her the most intense orgasm of her life, she’d wanted more of him. Wanted more even though he’d made her work for that orgasm, following his naughty fingers, silently pleading for contact.
She’d hoped to do the same to him. Torment him before finally allowing him release. Only, they’d reached their destination first, and she was still peeved about that. Not embarrassed at having been caught by her friend, as she should have been, but upset that she hadn’t gotten to finish him.
Now, McKell—Victor—was probably in pain. Surely cursing her name. He’d shown her paradise, and she’d shown him hell. That was what embarrassed her most. Like she was an incompetent. Like she couldn’t pull her sexual weight.
Just then, his gaze lifted, found Ava, darkened—she shivered again, knowing the passion that still lurked inside him, hungry, unsated, waiting—and then swiftly moved away, scanning the entire room in less than a heartbeat.
What did he think of the teardrop chandelier? The tiny angels painted on the walls? The beaded pillows, the precious china locked in intricate hutches?
“I’m to question them here?” he demanded.
Noelle frowned. “Apparently the torture chamber has become the new storage closet. This is our fourth dining room, unnecessary, and will have to do. So what’s wrong with it, anyway? Looks perfect to me.”
He pointed to the plush white carpet. “Blood is red. Soon the rug will be, too.”
As if hearing and understanding his meaning, both unconscious vampires moaned.
Fangs peeking out from his top lip, McKell then pointed to the two chairs Noelle had pushed together. “And those … those just look comfy.”
True. Both had cobalt velvet cushions at the back and rear, and swirling flowers had been carved into the wood. Real wood, with a glossy maple finish. They were gorgeous. What a shame to ruin them. But Noelle had never cared about family heirlooms like those probably were.
“If you don’t have the stomach for torturing, just say so and get out,” Noelle said. “Don’t blame the furniture.”
“Not have the stomach for torturing?” His color deepened with fury. “Just watch and learn, little girl.” After he threw the vampires into the chairs and tied them down, he slapped them into wakefulness.
They blinked open their eyes, revealing glazed, glassy irises. Ava fell into the couch that had been moved in front of the chairs, and Noelle plopped beside her. Would it have been bad to ring a servant for popcorn?
“What’d they do to deserve this, anyway?” her friend asked. “Kill someone you love? Burn your apartment down?”
“Nah. They just have information about successful vampire living.”
“Those bastards! Wait.” Noelle’s features scrunched in confusion. “What?”
“McKell doesn’t know how to live in the sunlight, and they might.”
“Suggestion,” Noelle said, raising her hand like a schoolgirl. “It’s called sunblock, and it’s sold at any local grocery.”
“The chatter can end anytime,” McKell snapped without looking at them.
Noelle rolled her eyes, and Ava drummed her fingers against the armrest. Both vampires had been watching and listening to the byplay, she realized, forgetting McKell entirely. Otherwise they would have been screaming. Still.
“She makes a good point,” Ava said.
“Ava.”
“Well, have you tried it?”
“Woman.” He whipped around and finally faced her. “I didn’t interrupt your work at the bar. Please don’t interrupt mine.”
“Sorry,” she muttered. Torturing was his job? Why did that add to his already off-the-charts sex appeal? “I won’t say another word.” She even pretended to twist a lock over her lips and toss the key aside.
He nodded and returned his attention to the men. Before he even said another word, their expressions became mulish.
“I know who you are,” one said, “and I know what you can do. But I’m not telling you shit.”
“Me, either,” the other agreed.
McKell flicked her an irritated glance, as if their refusal was her fault. Like she’d ruined his street cred or something. She blinked innocently.
“My God,” Noelle gasped. “That voice … it washes over you, consumes you. Mama wants a taste.”
“Concentrate on McKell, not—” What were their names? “Not them.” She’d just call them One and Two. “That’s what I do.” Wait. She didn’t like the thought of Noelle relying on McKell. For anything, even this. “Concentrate on me.”
“Help us,” One began, gaze locked on Noelle. There were flickers of light in that onyx gaze, stars in a silken sky. “You have only to—”
McKell punched him so hard Ava thought she heard the guy’s brain rattle against his skull. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if you force me. Here’s rule number one. You will focus on me, and only me. Speak to the women again, and I’ll cut out your eyes.”
Both vampires trembled, nodded.
“I’m concentrating on you, but I still want to help him,” Noelle whispered to her.
Ava squeezed her knee, ready to fight her if she tried to stand.
“Now, then.” McKell rubbed his hands together. “I want answers, that’s all, and answers are easy enough to give, yes?” They trembled under his scrutiny. “So let’s begin. You’ve been here two years. Your skin is smooth, unburned, and you seem to have money.”
True. They were clean, their clothing unsoiled, a soft leather, and their hair had just the right amount of product. “Maybe they steal,” Ava suggested.
“Ava!” This time McKell didn’t face her, but his voice still wrapped around her, tightening, becoming a vise grip. “I thought your mouth was sealed.”
“Sorry,” she muttered, shoulders sagging.
“Maybe we steal,” One said mockingly.
Two nodded with a smug grin.
Ava was surprised McKell didn’t start hitting again. And wow, she really was undermining him. She’d spoken, and the vampires had lost their fear.
“Do you go out in the daylight?” The words sounded as if they’d been pushed through a meat grinder, rather than McKell’s throat.
“No,” Two said.
“You’re lying,” McKell replied.
One lifted his chin. “Prove it.”
McKell shrugged. “That, I can do. We can wait until morning, and I can toss you outside, tie you down, let you stay there. For hours. Maybe you’ll burn, maybe you won’t. Either way, I’ll know the truth.”
Both vampires paled. At the thought of being burned? Or at the thought of proving beyond a doubt that they’d learned how to endure the sun’s rays? She frowned, mind buzzing. Why would they care about the latter?
“You found us in a nightclub. At … what? Night.” One’s eyes narrowed, though he couldn’t quite conceal his defiance. “Anyone with sense would realize we’re telling the truth and can’t go out in daylight.”
Anyone with sense? A spark of anger bloomed in Ava’s chest. McKell had been nothing but patient. Kind of. Yet One had the nerve to call her man senseless? She pushed to her feet before she realized what she was doing, withdrew a blade from the holster around her waist, and marched over to vampires.
She couldn’t help herself. She stabbed One in the leg.
He howled.
McKell looked at her, and she thought she saw a spark of pride in those purple specks. “Thank you,” he said, surprising her.
“My pleasure.”
Noelle clapped. “I give you an eight-point-nine for form. Had to deduct for faulty finish. You didn’t twist the hilt.”
“As if you could have done any better,” McKell told her without looking away from Ava.
Ava rose on her tiptoes and placed a swift, hard kiss on McKell’s lips. He’d defended her skill, the delightful man. Even if she had forgotten to twist the hilt like any decent agent would have done. He was grinning as she returned to the couch.
When One’s howling finally ceased, tears streaming down his face, McKell said, “So. I’ll ask again. Do you have any trouble in the sunlight? And before you answer, you should know that I’ve heard rumors. Everyone in the underground has. It can be done.”
One gulped.
McKell continued, “Do you think I immediately killed every vampire I hunted and found living here? No. I returned them to the caves and … chatted with them.”
“Time out,” Noelle said, hands forming a cross. “If you chatted, why don’t you already know the answer?”
Good question. Ava imagined he was very good at chatting.
He sighed, as if he’d already resigned himself to more interruptions. “Everything I was told, I’ve tried. None of it has worked. Which means I was lied to. And it’s too late to get the truth from the liars.”
Because he’d killed them. Nice.
“That might be why I’m especially vengeful when lied to now,” he finished, pointed gaze on the vampires.
“We’re … we’re not telling you what we know,” Two rushed out, pallid now. “We can’t.”
“If you think to keep the truth from me because I was once the enforcer of vampire laws, think again. Those laws no longer apply. I’m as much an outlaw as you. Tell me, and live.” McKell withdrew the blade from One’s leg and thrust it into Two’s. More howling ensued. “Don’t, and die.” He twisted the hilt, and the howling became pleading.
McKell glanced back at Ava. To ensure she watched? She nodded her approval.
“Nine-point-nine,” Noelle said.
He frowned. “Why was I deducted?”
“You waited too long to do the twisting.”
His frown deepened, but he gave no reply. Ava was surprised, though, that he wasn’t chastising Noelle for such an “honest” critique. Most men would have. They would have thought the girl was insensitive or crazy. Yes, she’d heard both descriptions before. Many times. And Ava had put the ones who’d said so in the hospital.
But McKell—for the most part—just went along with them, as if what they did and said was normal. And that … delighted her. Seriously? It delights you? Now she was the one frowning. She wasn’t supposed to like him more with every minute that passed. She was supposed to be growing tired of him. Like she had with every other man in her life. Before they could grow tired of her.
McKell faced the vampires. “Stop blubbering. You’re an embarrassment to our kind.”
“But that … that hurts,” Two sniffed.
“Which you can blame on yourself. I gave you a choice, didn’t I?”
More blubbering, more sniffing, and Ava shook her head. McKell was right. That was embarrassing for all vampirekind.
With a swift jerk, McKell withdrew the knife. As predicted, blood dripped onto the carpet. “Let’s try this one more time. How do you—”
There was a knock on the door, distracting him. He glanced at Ava. She shrugged, a don’t-look-at-me gesture. She and Noelle had done much worse than a little torturing over the years, so everyone here kind of expected such behavior.
Noelle sat up ramrod-straight and growled. “Just a sec,” she called to the intruder. Then, to those in the room, “I told everyone to stay away, but clearly someone didn’t listen and needs to be fired.”
Another knock.
“What?” Noelle shouted.
No one replied, but the metal door did slide open. Mrs. Tremain, the ironfisted matriarch of the wealthiest family in New Chicago, marched inside on a cloud of expensive perfume. “What is going on in here? Who is screaming?”
As always, her expression was stern. No telling what kind of treatments she did to her face, but it was unlined despite her fifty-something years. She wore a starched button-up shirt and a pencil skirt. She was thin. Too thin. And when she spied the bleeding vampires, she merely arched a barely-there brow.
Her gaze narrowed on McKell, who still clutched the dripping knife. “Who are you?”
“Mother,” Noelle said, exasperated. “We’re kinda busy here. Come back later.”
Mother Tremain straightened her spine as though she’d been slapped. “What’s going on?” she demanded again. “Who is that man? Are we being robbed?”
Ava despised the way she annunciated the beginning of each new sentence.
“Help us,” One suddenly begged.
“Please,” Two pleaded.
Mrs. Tremain’s gray eyes glazed over, and she took a step forward. “Yes. Yes, I’ll help you.”
