Yet he had been of sound enough mind to stop and toss her to the floor. Now that was far more humiliating than being referred to as trash, she thought. She’d craved him like a drug, yet he had remained somewhat detached.

She would not let that happen again.

“So what’s he doing here?” Noelle asked, merely curious.

“He demanded I patch him up, and then decided he needed a nap.” Was her resentment showing?

“So you kissed him? ‘Cause, baby, your lips are red and swollen.”

Ava’s cheeks heated. Probably to the same shade of red as her lips. “You should see my tongue.” Now why had she admitted to that?

Noelle clapped excitedly. “Your tongue? Did he bite it? He did, didn’t he? Show me, show me! I wanna see.”

“No way.”

Noelle smashed her hands together, as if she were preparing to pray. “Please. Show me. I won’t laugh, I swear.”

“Fine.” Once Noelle started begging, she didn’t stop until she got what she wanted. Ava stuck out her tongue.

Noelle laughed. “Oh, my God. You have puncture wounds.”

The heat in her cheeks spread to her neck, her collarbone. “You said you wouldn’t laugh, Tremain.”

“I lied. You know I’m a liar, so you can’t hold me responsible. And he clearly likes to nibble. God, you’re so lucky! And to think, I gave him to you. Just gave him away, without sampling the goods myself.” She shook her head in disbelief. “I’m usually not such a dumbass.”

Ava had never been jealous of Noelle before. Had never wanted to hide a man from her friend. Noelle had given her so much over the years, she would have happily handed over her probably-traumatized liver if her friend asked. But just then, she wanted to wash all thoughts of McKell from Noelle’s mind. She wanted to place a blanket over the vampire’s head and never let anyone see him ever again. Except her.

All this jealousy, because of one kiss the vampire hadn’t really cared for?

Something was seriously wrong with her. As she’d already decided, she wasn’t going to let him kiss her again. Or drink her blood. After all, the reason she had demanded he refrain from drinking from her still applied. If he even glanced at her like he was thirsty, she might strip and beg him for more. Just as she’d begged while he had kissed her.

This way, he wouldn’t make a play for her vein. Which meant she would be able to keep her desires and hormones under control. She hoped.

“So … your kiss was so hot, he wasn’t afraid you’d phone AIR and have them swoop in for a pickup while he napped?” Noelle asked. “Good going, Sans. I’m impressed.”

“Thanks.” Though she wasn’t sure she could take credit. He simply wasn’t scared of Ava, AIR, or anything they could throw his way.

Except … he trusted her to keep her end of their bargain. So, yeah, Noelle was kind of right. In a way, he believed in her. Baffling. Why would he believe in her? She’d stabbed him, for God’s sake.

“Want me to kick him out?” Noelle asked.

Ava fell into the chair across from her friend. “No.” Maybe she was just as brain-damaged as McKell, but she liked the thought of him here. Especially in her bed. Later, after she kicked him out herself, she could lie down and pretend to sleep, wrapped in his lingering heat.

“Gonna say anything to Mia?”

“Not yet.” She explained her deal with McKell, her vampire-hunting aid in exchange for his willingness to speak with Mia, and Noelle grinned the entire time.

“Ava Sans. Are you in love? Because I have never—”

“No!” she screeched. She gulped and lowered her voice. “No, I’m not in love.” She liked to think she was open to the possibly of one day falling in love, but she couldn’t even spend an entire night with a guy. She always ran at the first sign of commitment. Hell, she ran before the first sign.

She’d never found anyone worth the, well, work that always came with coupledom. Work that would ultimately lead to failure.

Someone always walked away. That’s just how people were. Kids left their parents, husbands left their wives, and wives left their husbands. Boyfriends and girlfriends realized they weren’t right for each other, saw someone prettier, sluttier, smarter, wealthier—pick your poison—and cut their losses. No one stayed together until the bitter end. And who would want to? Bitter ends sucked. So why not get what you needed while the getting was good, and then say good-bye before a single bad memory took root?

“But you’ve never bargained with a bad guy before, either,” Noelle said, dragging her from those dark, hopeless musings.

“He’s not a bad guy.” Wait. What? “I mean, he’s a bad guy, he’s just—”

“Nope. No take-backs. You think he’s special.” Noelle’s grin widened. “And let’s be honest. Only a girl in love would say that a guy like McKell is as pure and warm as the sun outside.”

“Will you shut up? I never said anything about the sun. And why are you here, anyway?”

Noelle allowed the subject change without comment. “Two reasons. A few agents are meeting for beers in a little while, and I wanted you to go with me. But you’re busy, so I’m not even going to ask.” She stood and pointed to an overstuffed bag beside Ava’s chair. “Second reason. I brought you my laundry. You got McKell, after all. Oh, and please remember. Light on the starch. And do yourself a favor and look everything over before you head to Suds and Bubbles. I hid a prezzie for you in between the costumes.” With that, she let herself out of the apartment, leaving Ava alone.

With the laundry. And the vampire.

Dismissed again. By her best friend, no less. “He came to me, so I don’t have to wash a goddamn thing,” she called, knowing Noelle was long gone.

“Still talking,” McKell shouted from the bedroom.

“Still annoying me,” she shouted back.

Seven

Dallas Gutierrez tipped back his beer and surveyed the bar. It was dim, crowded with humans and otherworlders, a veritable rainbow of differences, and on every wall was a holoscreen showcasing some kind of sporting event. There were three pool tables, and only seven scantily clad waitress taking care of everyone’s needs. He wasn’t positive, but he was pretty sure he’d nailed every one of those waitresses at some point in the last few months.

He was positive his friend Devyn had, before marrying his Bride, of course. The alien king—who had once collected women of every species, color, size, and occupation—had gone through a “service industry” phase. Not to mention the thousands of other phases. Then he’d hitched himself to Bride a few weeks ago and while Dallas liked the powerful vampire well enough, he wished to God she’d stayed home tonight.

Seriously. All his friends were pussies, pairing off and shit, forgetting they had male friends and needed to do guy stuff. Which was no biggie, really. He didn’t care. Except for the fact that he fucking cared! He’d assumed Devyn would resist commitment forever. Like him. But nooo. Bride had to come along and ruin everything. Now Dallas was on his own. Every damn night. No one to talk to, no one to share his problems with.

God. He was the pussy now. Was he really jonesing to share his feelings?

It was just, sleeping around wasn’t fun anymore. He was tired of not knowing his partners’ names, of not caring enough to know their names. He was tired of everyone around him having someone they loved enough to spend eternity with, ditching him completely.

Eternity. Yep, that’s what Devyn and Bride had to look forward to. Which was why Dallas had asked his friend for one night. Just one damn night for the two of them to hang out like they used to. He specifically remembered telling Devyn to “leave the ball and chain at home.” So, of course, the bastard had interpreted that to mean his little wifey-poo needed to tag along and their sex toys, aka balls and chains, needed to remain in their bedroom.

Now the couple sat across from him. Cuddling. And a more sickening sight he’d never beheld.

Good thing he’d issued a few other invitations. Hope for the best, but plan for the worst, had always been his motto. He’d called two Rakans, two trainees, Mia Snow and Hector Dean. All had accepted. No, not true. He’d also called Jaxon Tremain, but the guy was currently on vacation with his wifey-poo. And that was probably for the best. Heads would have rolled otherwise, what with Noelle, Jaxon’s cousin, chasing that damn rabid vampire. She’d almost defeated the bloodsucking bastard, too, and that was a major turn-on.

No probably about it. Jaxon was gone, and that was for the best. Dallas’s libido would have been a harder blow than Noelle’s job. Shitty pun intended.

Dallas’s gaze shifted down the rest of the table. The Rakans were new hires, golden-skinned warriors with the ability to spirit-walk. Meaning, they could push their conscious minds out of their bodies, and watch and listen to all kinds of things without anyone the wiser.

Hector was bald, muscled, and had an arm sleeved with tattoos. He was friendly to guys, but ice-cold to women. Not in a gay way, but in an I’m-too-violent-for-the-weaker-sex kind of way.

Dallas liked him. Only one thing kept him from recruiting the agent as his new best friend, but he wasn’t going to think about that now. He’d punch someone. Namely Hector.

The trainees were—shit, Dallas had forgotten their names. They were brothers, and both in their early twenties. One was blond (supposedly), handsome, and cocky as shit, and the other was blond, ugly, and mean as shit. They were—

Uh-oh. His problem with Hector had just walked into the bar. Looked like he’d be thinking about her, after all. Again.

Dallas Junior twitched.

Down, boy.

Noelle Tremain sauntered up to their table, tall, elegant, and pure rebellion. She wore a pair of skin-tight jeans, boots that hit her knees, and a top made from what could only be dental floss. Brown hair hung to her shoulders, straight as a pin, in a chic cut that looked tousled rather than subdued and had probably cost her a fortune. Her gray eyes were bright yet guarded. Playful yet unwelcoming. She picked her friends with care.

Rich as she was, she probably had to. Lots of people would have loved to use her. His body was one of them. Don’t think like that.

“I know I wasn’t officially invited,” she said in her smoker’s voice, earning another twitch, “but I was positive no one would mind if I joined.”

She nudged a place for herself between the Devyn-Bride tangle of limbs and one of the in-training brothers before anyone could tell her to get lost. Not that anyone would have dared to do so. Girl was unpredictable in her tempers. And violent. God, was she violent. The thing he liked about her, though, was that a man never had to wonder where he stood with her. You pissed her off, she’d tell you. Hard. Usually with her knee. There was no making you guess, and no crying—on her part, at least.

“Where’s Sans?” the handsome brother asked with a leering grin. “At home in bed?”

The ugly one punched him in the back of the head.

Noelle offered the speaker a deadly grin. “One day, Dear John, you’re gonna wake up, and your penis is gonna be resting on the pillow next to you. Not that you’ll notice its absence, small as it is.”

Dallas laughed, and yep, there was another twitch.

Now he remembered, though. The guy’s name was Johnny Deschanel. He’d slept with Ava at the beginning of training, and had bragged every day since. What a moron. Every man with sense knew you didn’t tell your coworkers when you dipped your wick in the company ink. Then you never got to dip again.

Why had Dallas invited him tonight? Stupid.

Noelle propped her elbows on the tabletop and peered expectantly at Bride. “So what do you know about Victor McKell?”

Bride flicked the length of her black hair over one shoulder, hitting Devyn in the face. At least the conversation forced the couple to stop the embarrassing PDA. “I’ll answer when my shock wears off. This is the first time a strange female has ever sat down and spoken to me rather than my boyfriend.”

“Husband. I’m your husband. And darling, we had the exact same reaction,” the Targon replied in his silky smooth voice. Everything about him was smooth, really. Dark hair, inhumanly ocher eyes. Pale, glittery skin that carried the sheen of crushed diamonds. “Only, I was silent from agony. Does she not recognize my brilliant beauty?”

“I recognized,” Noelle said dryly. “I just thought your wife was prettier.”

Every man at the table sat up straighter, suddenly straining to hear the rest of the conversation. Girl-on-girl action—hot. Too bad she didn’t mean it. Dallas knew Noelle was into men. Oh, did he know.

Sometimes he could predict the future. Images would flash through his mind, some changeable, but most set in stone. And a few weeks ago, he’d seen himself in bed with Noelle. Naked, sweaty. Sated.

That vision had been of the unchangeable variety.

On one hand, go team Dallas. On the other, a man should have a choice about who he slept with.

Yeah, Noelle was gorgeous, and yeah, she turned him on. Stupid twitching cock. But damn it, she was his friend’s cousin, and Dallas didn’t do his friends’ family members. Ever. That was the only rule he lived by. The only standard he’d set for his bed partners. And yeah, that meant he was easy.

But the worst part? The other reason he didn’t want to sleep with Noelle? He’d also had a vision of her in bed with Hector Dean. Not at the same time as him, just to be clear. But if both of them slept with her, they would hate each other. He knew that, too.

Dallas could share, no problem. He didn’t want to be tied down, and never had. But female-avoiding Hector? Sharing when he finally let his guard down? Laughable.