Seduce the Darkness (Alien Huntress 4)

"Well, yeah. I'd really like to get to know you."

"Get to know you." Code for "fuck your brains out and never call you," perhaps. God, when had she become so cynical? Since her last boyfriend had dumped her for being moody and secretive, and her rebound hadn't called her, she supposed. "Why didn't you try and get to know me last night? Since you noticed me, I mean."

He swallowed, even missed a step and tripped forward. Thankfully he righted himself before he fell. "I was there with someone else and couldn't get away. But she was just a friend, honest."

Just a friend. Right. And I wouldn't like to nibble on your carotid.

Bride twisted to the side to avoid slamming into a woman in a hurry, a woman whose heels clacked faster and faster against the pavement in a booming rhythm that made her cringe. After a decent meal, she would be able to control the volume in her ears.

Her gaze slid back to Tom. Why not? she thought. He was young, but he probably wouldn't put up a fight when she came at him with fangs bared. He might actually like it. Kids were kinky these days.

Of course, that would mean avoiding him for the rest of his life.

She could erase the memory of her eating habits from his mind if she only drank from him once. But if she were to go to him for a second helping, his mind would begin to build an immunity against her "forget me" suggestions. He would remember her and what she'd done, and word about what she was would leak. Spread. That's why she'd never been able to drink from her boyfriends, and why she'd had to sneak away every night from her only live-in to find a meal. That's also why he'd considered her secretive and ultimately booted her from his life.

Eating from the same buffet was a mistake she'd made a few times before the war, and each time she had been chased by cross-holding, holy-water-throwing, stake-wielding fanatics. Ironically enough, the war had saved her, wiping out the very people who'd wanted her dead.

"I'm thirsty," she said. "Wanna get to know me over a drink?" Funny, Bride. Very funny.

"Hell, yeah!" His eyes darkened, those chocolate irises overshadowed by the dilation of his pupils. "Anything you want, anywhere you want it."

If he only knew... "Great. I—" A familiar scent suddenly drifted to her nose, and she stilled. Frowned.

Tom noticed and backtracked, his smile fading. "Everything okay?"

Bride closed her eyes as she inhaled again, sorting through the sea of fragrances and locking in on her. Slowly she exhaled, then inhaled again. Sure enough. There it was.

It was a fragrance she'd encountered only a few times the past two decades, a blend of aged pine and smooth morning sky. A fragrance that belonged to her childhood friend, Aleaha Love, a girl— woman now—she hadn't seen in sixteen years. A friend she had wept for, missed, needed, and never stopped searching for.

Finally, blessedly, Aleaha was nearby. Had to be.

"Sorry. Maybe we'll do that drink later." Despite Tom's protests, despite her growing hunger, Bride leapt into a sprint, dodging people, shoving them out of the way when necessary. Her heart slammed against her ribs, as fast and hard as the high heels she still heard drumming inside her head, and sparked a burning pain in her chest. Calm down. You know better.

"Hey," someone snapped.

"Watch it," another growled.

At one time, she and Aleaha had been inseparable, relying on each other for survival. Bride had protected and provided for the girl, and Aleaha had staved off the loneliness. Because Bride was a vampire and Aleaha a shape-shifter, both of them had feared being captured, studied.

Tortured. Didn't help that they'd been poor and dirty, as disposable as garbage. They'd had to live in the shadows.

One day several policemen had chased them for sneaking inside the homes of the rich and stealing food. Bride had hidden the younger girl, leading the cops away from her. But when she'd returned, there'd been no sign of Aleaha. Not there, not anywhere.

Now Bride's gaze swung left and right, scanning the masses for any hint of her friend. Not that she expected to see her. One touch, and Aleaha could assume the identity of anyone, her appearance becoming theirs. Where are you, Leah Leah? Swiftly Bride breathed in and out, the scent of pine and sky intensifying. She was on the right path.

Excitement pounded through her, and the burning in her chest increased. The few times she'd encountered her friend's scent, it had never been this potent, and she'd soon lost the trail. Was this the day she'd meet with success?

So many times she'd imagined presenting Aleaha with all the things they'd dreamed about but Bride had been unable to give her. Fancy clothes, soft shoes, and so much food the girl's stomach would burst. She'd imagined whispering and laughing in the dark with the only person who knew what she was but loved her anyway. Just like they'd used to do.

She'd imagined showing Aleaha the new tricks she'd learned, the different abilities that had revealed themselves, one by one, springing from a place deep inside her. A place protected by thorns and fire, so that she couldn't get past it to see what else lurked there. But she'd tried, oh, had she tried. Many times. And every time, the pain had almost killed her. Finally, she'd given up and now left that turbulent place inside her alone.

Unless she experienced any emotion too strongly, that is. Then the thorns and fire sprang up on their own. Too much pleasure brought pain (not that it detoured her). Too much pain brought more pain. Too much sadness, too much anger, too much happiness—pain, pain, pain. Which is why you need to, what? Calm down. Being incapacitated held no appeal.

Aleaha's wonderful smell was so strong now, she discerned two scents wrapped together, both somehow familiar ... she was almost upon the source ... but there was no longer any women in sight. Was Aleaha guised as a male? Where could she— Bride crashed into a solid, unmoving wall of muscle, air gushing from her parted lips. She stumbled backward, hit someone else and bounced forward, nailing the wall of muscle and brawn yet again.

That second time, her knees gave out and she tumbled to her ass. As she sat there, panting, she realized Aleaha's scent was now all over her. Had she truly found her? Bride's excitement became as hot as fire in her veins.

The man—Aleaha?—turned, his lips curled into an annoyed frown. Down, down he gazed, a lock of dark hair falling over his forehead. When he spotted her, his eyes widened and his frown lifted into a what-have-we-here grin. Bride's excitement drained, as did the burning. There was no recognition in that gaze, no ethereal outline of Aleaha beneath that face. But what a beautiful face it was.

Bride, always a lover of art, experienced a wave of feminine appreciation. His eyes were bright amber, honey mixed in cinnamon and fused by fire, surrounded by decadent black lashes. His skin looked as if it had been dipped in a pot of opalescent glitter. That glittery skin should have made him appear weak, girly. It didn't.