“No, we’re not done. And let’s keep me out of this.” Any moment now, he would kick her out. That much was clear. How many more questions could she get him to answer before that happened? She gentled her tone. “So you guys had sex. Did you notice anything different about her?”

“Like what? Like did she have two vaginas?”

“Did she?”

“No,” he snarled. “She seemed human the entire time.”

One down. Only a thousand more to go. “So when did you realize you were infected?”

“When Mia and Dallas busted down my door last night. I woke up … hungry.” His gaze fell to her chest, where her heart pounded, and he licked his lips. “Yeah. Hungry.”

Ava shifted uncomfortably in her seat, caught herself, and stilled. “Is that hunger the only change you noticed?”

A stiff shake of his head. “I could hear her voice in my head. Can hear her voice.” Another lick of his lips.

She ignored the urge to shift again, pulling herself from his gaze, however briefly. “Now? You can hear her now?”

“Yes,” he whispered.

That kind of bond required strength. Just how powerful was this woman? “What’s she saying?”

“I don’t know. Most times she speaks in a language I don’t understand.”

“Repeat something.” Maybe Noelle or Dallas would be able to translate. Not Ava, though. That much she knew. New languages had always been difficult for her. In fact, she was lucky she didn’t—always—butcher her own native tongue.

He opened his mouth, said a word she didn’t understand, no longer whispering, then grimaced. “I—I can’t tell you anymore. Hurts too much.”

“Hurts how?”

“How do you think? Bad.”

Was the queen somehow cognizant of what her victims said? Could she control them? Make them feel pain when they displeased her? “Okay, let’s backtrack a moment. Was the Schön queen gone when the agents burst into your home?”

“Yeah.” He once again spoke in that whisper, barely audible. Why? “She left right after the sex.”

“So what happened after the sex, before Mia and Dallas arrived?”

“She dressed and left, and I fell asleep.”

“That’s all?”

Color flooded his cheeks. “Yeah.” The creepy, whispering tone had thankfully been absent that time.

Liar. Had nothing else happened, he wouldn’t have blushed. “You might as well tell me,” she said. “I won’t leave until you do.”

“Oh, really? You want to know that badly?” Again, he licked his lips. Again, he started whispering. “Come over here and ask me nicely. I’ll tell you anything, everything.”

Oh, no, no, no. There would be none of that. “I’m not going near you, Johnny.”

Slowly he grinned, and damn if his teeth weren’t longer and sharper than she remembered. She almost flinched, but managed to remain in her seat, still and seemingly calm.

“Who said my name was Johnny?” Whispering, yet humming with power. The glassiness left his eyes, leaving clarity—and a fathomless knowledge he’d never exhibited before.

Goose bumps covered Ava from head to foot, and not the good kind, as possibilities whizzed through her mind. A split personality? Insanity? Or something far more sinister? Like—

“My name is Trinity, and I’m the queen you seek.”

Like that. Ava gulped.

“After sex, and before the agents arrived, I told Johnny that I would know all his thoughts, all his actions. I told him I would control him. I told him he would not be my last victim. I told him, or rather, I promised him your precious vampire would be next.”

Fifteen

Drip. Drip.

McKell lay in the heart of his cave, peering up at the rocky ceiling. It was so low, he wasn’t able to stand without scraping his skull and he had to crawl in and out. The side walls hugged him close, keeping him in a tight embrace. Almost like the coffins humans used to theorize about. As if he would actually sleep in a coffin. He wasn’t dead. He was very much alive. More so than ever before.

Drip. Drip.

Darkness surrounded him, the sun’s rays kept completely at bay. He always knew when the sun set, however. Or rather, his body knew. A burst of strength would overtake him. Nowadays, so would a burst of hunger. For one person, and one person only …

He’d lived in these caverns his entire life, knew which ones were used by other vampires—and therefore ruled by Manus, king of the vampires—and which were not. This one was not, had only one entry, and therefore only one exit, and did not descend deep enough to reach the city.

Situated a few hours from the human town as it was, in a wasteland with thick, stinging air, topside visitors were discouraged, as well. Actually, he’d never encountered another living being here. And as he could control people and time, traveling back and forth wasn’t a problem.

Here, he could relax, knowing the doorways wouldn’t find him. Or talk to him. He could sleep without worry. He could dream about digging into the vampire city directly below him—sometimes he thought he could hear the murmur of their voices—defeating Manus, and claiming the throne. Vampires respected might, after all. And if anyone could take down the powerful, mindreading Manus, it was McKell, the man who had led the army for centuries.

Would he, though? No. His men deserved peace. A lifetime with their families. Too many would die if war erupted, families torn apart. But oh, how he missed his men. Most days, he could ignore the sensation. The hollowness. But every time he came here, he was reminded. They’d fought beside each other, bled for each other, and some had even died for their fellow soldiers. That kind of loyalty didn’t fade just because a king proclaimed McKell a traitor.

Traitor. As if. He hadn’t killed Bride when he had been ordered. She’d looked up at him with those green, green eyes, so trusting, and he’d spared her. Where was the crime in that?

Truly, that wasn’t the act of a traitor. Yes, she was what the vampires called nefreti. All-powerful, as he’d told Ava. What he hadn’t mentioned to her was that the nefreti were utterly unstoppable when riled, their natural inclination for survival overriding even the smallest hint of compassion. And yes, a nefreti had killed Manus’s brother, so the royal family had every right to fear them. That didn’t mean all nefreti deserved to die.

And though he’d saved Bride and cast her to the surface world with every intention of finding her later and tricking the king into thinking she was someone else, though she had then chosen to live with another man, McKell still couldn’t regret his actions. Not in any way. Not when they’d led him to Ava.

Ava.

During the night, he’d trailed vampire scents as planned. He’d discovered a large group at a dance club, of all places. Mostly males, but a few females. He hadn’t entered, had merely watched from the shadows outside, next to human garbage cans, hoping to mask his own scent. He hadn’t attempted to question a single one, knowing the rest would run and he’d have no one to observe.

None had seemed to notice him as they left. Even the times he’d been “talking” to Noelle on the phone. Chattering baggage. As he’d studied the vampire females, there had been … nothing, no reaction on his part, and he had reeled.

The thought of getting to know them on any level had even blackened his mood. The thought of exchanging blood with them had sickened him. The thought of kissing them had left a terrible taste in his mouth.

He couldn’t replace Ava. Wouldn’t replace her. To always hold his tongue, never speak his mind—hell, no. He wasn’t doing that again. So, Ava stayed. Forever. He would still interrogate as many vampires as possible and learn how to live in this crazy human world. He would still insist Ava help him. The more time he could spend with her, the better. But later dismiss her to mate with a female vampire? Again, no.

Once he’d made that decision, his entire outlook had changed. From brooding and murderous to happy and eager. He should have known from the beginning. Just thinking about Ava caused him to grin.

She’d meant to anger him earlier, when she’d mentioned “doing” someone else. He knew she wouldn’t, though. The way she had kissed him …

She had lost herself to the passion. She had moaned for more, clutching at him and rubbing against him. She wanted him. No one else would do for her, just as no one else would do for him. They might not like feeling that way, but they were helpless to change those feelings.

Thank God.

She simply enjoyed torturing him. Which was a good thing, he thought with a surge of satisfaction. A point in his favor. She enjoyed torturing Noelle, as well. And as she professed to love Noelle … did that mean she loved him?

Better question: Did he want her to love him?

He planned to stay with her, yes, but love was a huge burden to carry. Mainly because women became so clingy. He had to admit, though, that he liked the thought of Ava clinging to him.

And if she loved him, she would probably stop resisting his sexual advances. She might even allow him to drink from her anytime he wished. He could move into her home—after he made some improvements, of course—and sleep in her bed, with her in it, every day.

Yes, he wanted her to love him, he decided. Not just desire him. Not just enjoy him. He wanted her love. So. Rather than simply seduce her, he needed to romance her, as well.

Simple, easy, he thought. Yeah. Right.

Ava paced her living room, from the couch to the recliner and back again, her phone pressed to her ear. Finally the ringing ceased, and Mia answered.

“Snow.”

“Have you gotten the test results for McKell’s blood?” she asked, bypassing pleasantries. The sun had set a few minutes ago, so she knew McKell was on his way here. Tonight the vampire hunting truly began.

“Yeah,” was the dead-end reply.

O-kay. She’d known that already. After she’d left Johnny’s cell, she, Noelle, and Dallas had returned to Mia’s office. Her panic at Johnny’s—the queen’s—threat hadn’t yet faded. Still hadn’t faded. Might never fade, actually. McKell assumed he would remain unaffected by the virus, or at least he had when he’d encountered the infected human, but his contact had been minimal. A threat hadn’t wrapped itself around his neck like a noose, tightening, drawing him ever closer to the end.

Mia had already watched the interrogation feed, and had smacked Ava on the shoulder in a job well done. Then Mia had said, “Two great discoveries in one day. You’re becoming invaluable, Sans. Keep it up.”

“Two great discoveries?” Ava had asked. “Johnny was the first, yes, so what was the second?”

Mia had paled, smacked her on the shoulder again, and told her to go home and rest. Rest. As if that would be possible now, in the middle of a crisis, when it never had been before.

Ava had spent the last few hours thinking about ways to destroy the queen (nothing had come to her), how to protect McKell from further notice (nothing had come to her), and that second discovery of Mia’s. Finally, one answer had slid into place: McKell’s test results had arrived. Now, she wanted answers.

“And?” she demanded. If God loved her, even a little, Mia would tell her that McKell was immune, there was a cure, and the world was now safe.

“And I decided not to share them with you. You’re too close to him.”

She peered up at her ceiling. Why do you hate me so much?

No reply. She massaged the back of her neck. For once, she didn’t deny her relationship with a man. She liked the thought of being close to McKell. “I can get you more of his blood if you need it.” Maybe. Since that “McKell is next” announcement, she’d been feeling oddly protective of the jerk, wanting—fine, needing—him in top shape.

Why hadn’t he arrived yet?

“Then get me more.” Mia’s command promised retribution if she failed.

She stopped in the center of her living room, wishing she were at AIR and Mia were close enough to slap. “Not unless you share the results. That’s how this works.” Again, maybe. But this was a negotiation. She would say anything necessary to get what she craved.

“Actually, that’s not how this works at all. I’m your boss.” Such a hard, unflinching tone had probably never met with resistance. “You do what I tell you.”

She should back down before her ass was fired, but backing down had never been her nature. If it had, she would be stuck in the gutter, addicted to drugs and alcohol like her mother had been, bless her heart, occasionally whoring herself out as the need for a fix overrode any sense of degradation. Or as loser boyfriends requested bail money.

“Actually, Agent Snow, I don’t care who you are. You want the vampire’s blood, you give me the details I want.” On this, she would not waver.

There was a pause, tense and heavy, then a sigh. “You’ll make an excellent agent one day, Sans.”

Astonishing. She’d just refused to play nice, yet Mia had praised her. “Thank you.”

“But don’t think I’ll let you run over me every time you have a new case,” Mia continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “I like your determination, so I’ll give you a pass. This time. And just so you know, I’ve never given anyone a second pass.”

“Noted.”

Another sigh crackled. “Okay. Here it is. My official finding is … his blood is weird.”

Ava surged back into motion, but had lost track of where she was and plowed into her recliner, her toe instantly throbbing where she’d stubbed it. Cursing under her breath, she twisted, landed on the cushions, and balanced the phone between her cheek and her shoulder as she rubbed her toe.