In three months, Im going to be Mrs. Corbin Blue, Pagan crowed. Can you believe it?
Hes so beautiful. All that silky white hair . . . those lavender eyes . . . and oh, those lips! So lush and red. Id say they were better suited for a woman, but they look too good on him.
Her sisters voice.
I know, Pagan said with a giggle. Hes absolutely perfect.
But arent you worried about his . . . the sister continued somberly.
His what? Pagan prompted.
Well, his infidelities.
His fiancée scoffed, and his admiration for her tripled. He and I have an open relationship. He tells me when hes going to be with someone else, and I extend him the same courtesy.
What! Youve been with other men? the sister gasped out.
He thinks so, yes.
But you actually havent? the girl insisted.
No.
But . . . why would you want him to think so? Isnt he jealous?
First, men want what other men want. Second, no, he isnt.
Was that bitterness in her tone?
But what if he falls in love with one of his affairs? the sister asked.
Blue? Fall in love? Pagan snorted. No matter how much he smiles and teases, that man is emotionally shut off. But, okay, lets say he does the impossible and falls in love. So what? Ill be his wife and the mother of his children. Hell never leave me.
A crack in the door allowed him to peer into the living room where the girls sat, sipping wine. Pagan wore a skintight dress that stopped just below the line of her panties. If she was even wearing panties. Most nights she wasnt. Her voluminous breasts practically spilled from her halter top, just the way she knew he liked. Her skin was a perfect golden brown, bronzed by a reverent sun. Sexy. A chic crop of platinum hair framed a face most men would only ever see in their wet dreams.
She wasnt under attack, as hed feared. He should leave. If he revealed himself, she wouldnt recognize him. Who would? He might be able to convince her of his identity, but she would insist on taking him to the hospital. He couldnt risk it.
Right now, the person responsible for his condition might assume he was dead. It would be better for Blueand Paganif that person continued to assume so.
Should have thought this through first.
Now, at least, he knew Pagan hadnt been targeted.
Where could he go?
Who could he trust?
Who had tried to kill him? And why?
And where were his friends? Had they survived?
They must have. He wouldnt believe anything else.
Darkness . . . weaving through his vision . . .
He had to get somewhere, and fast, before he once again lost consciousness. There was a good chance he wouldnt be waking up anytime soon.
No one playing for the Invaders knew of his other job. Only Michael, John, and Solo didno, that wasnt true. Evie knew.
Would she help?
Would he harm her when she irritated him? Because she would definitely irritate him. If he lost control of his abilities . . .
No other choice.
Blue labored to his feet, moaning as the agony became too much.
He heard a startled gasp. Whos in there? Pagan called, sounding worried.
Without a word, he climbed through the window into the daylight.
Three
EVIE STOMPED INTO HER bedroom and threw her purse in the general direction of her closet. Key to the basement, thats what she needed. But where had she put the bloody thing?
Light on, she said, the darkness instantly chased away by the overhead lamp. She
Screamed, and reached for the blade she always tucked inside her pocket.
A hideous creature sprawled on her lovely king-size bed. Whatever it was, it was male, and big. Really big, both wide and long, its feet hanging past the edge of the mattress. Its skin was red and blackno . . . that wasnt skin. That was blood and charred flesh. Its body was sliced to ribbons, and it was missing a hand. Several bones stuck out in the wrong places.
The scent of smoke wafted through the air, stinging her nostrils.
Evie, the creature said on a moan. Blue.
Shock slammed through her. He spoke with Blues voice, and even mentioned his name. And . . . and . . . he was peering at her with Blues eyes. That gorgeous lavender, usually framed by long black lashes that made him look as though he always wore eyeliner.
Blue? she gasped out. No way. Just no way.
Didnt know . . . where else . . . to go.
Hesitant, she approached the side of the bed. He watched her every movement, reminding her of a predator getting ready to attack. What would he do when she was within reach? Because it was him, she decided. Same height, same body mass. Same crackle of power so unique to the football playboy. A crackle that had rendered her blind to anything but lust for a few seconds of their first meeting.
I must say, Mr. Blue, youve looked better.
He might have snorted. Hard to tell while he was gurgling blood.
How did you get in here? An alarm should be screeching right now.
Window. Disabled . . . security. Inside and out. Sorry.
She craned her neck, zeroing in on the interior ID box. Sure enough, the lid had been pulled from the wall and the wires exposed, obviously cut and realigned. Thats going to cost a fortune to fix. But only because she would be doing the labor, and her time was mega money, and oh, wow, she really needed a moment to process what was going on.
Bill . . . me, he gritted. First . . . help me.
Sure, sure, she said. Ill ring the Arcadian chief of medicine at St. Anthony. Nice guy. Usually a three-month waiting time to see him, but for me hell make a house call. You will, of course, be responsible for your bill, as well as owe me a huge favor. Stop babbling.
No. You.
She got what he was trying to tell her, but wished she hadnt. For a year straight, this man had screwed with her anytime they were forced to work together. Nothing overt, and nothing that would compromise the end result of the workhis work, that is. Hed left her behind. Told her wrong places to meet, stuck her with all kinds of paperwork. Worst of all, hed always written a review of her performance.
The gist of every review? Miss Black stinks like arse.
Shed seen him a few times since Claire was killed, when shed acted as an asset. Hed always ignored her, as if she were unworthy of his attention, and made a big deal of making out with his date. Whoever that happened to be.
The suckwad treatment cut to the quick, even though she hated the guy. Like she really needed another male to drive home the point that she wasnt good enoughfor anything! And for a conceited man-whore to do it? A male willing to hump anything that moved? Bloody humiliating.
Ignoring? he said now. Typical.
I should make him beg. Fine, she huffed. Ill help you. For Michael. And information. Just be warned. Arcadians are not one of my thousands of specialties, and I will be keeping track of your behavior. Expect me to write a report. Babbling again.
She dragged her gaze over him, medical eye assessing the massive amount of damage, her mind at last computing just how weak he must be. His nostrils were black. He could have inhaled a lethal amount of smoke. She might have to place a tube in his trachea. It would deliver a higher concentration of oxygen to his lungs. Also, resuscitating fluid would definitely have to be dispensed. He might even need a transfusion. Clearly more than ten percent of his cells had suffered hemolysis, and that could lead to kidney malfunction.
If he were human. But he wasnt. Blimey. She truly had no experience with his race.
Im assuming you werent playing Throw Another Arcadian on the Barbie but were in the explosion that decimated Michaels house, she said, walking to her dresser and withdrawing her box of home brew, as she called it. Drugs shed . . . tampered with.
Yes. Woke up. Michael . . . gone. Everyone gone.
Great. He knew as much as she did. So much for trading her services for info. Youd fare better in a hospital, you know. Once more at his side, she stuck him in the arm. That should take the edge off your pain.
No hospital. Please . . . no. Too . . . dangerous. Star . . . bomb . . . could still . . . He went quiet, his head lolling to the side.
Unconscious? Or dead?
Had the anesthetic harmed him?
She felt for a pulse, frowned. He had no There! It was too slow, too light, but there. Relief flooded her.
Evie rushed into the bathroom and drew a bath. She gathered everything she would needor, rather, everything she had that would work. Scissors, IV tubes, and fluid bags shed once used to practice, as well as a medicinal liquid soap usually only loaded into an enzyme shower, and a bottle of antibiotics she kept on hand. She would treat Blue as she would treat a human, and hope it worked.
She stuffed one of the pills under his tongue, praying it would dissolve and help prevent sepsis. Then she cut away what remained of his clothing, and removed his shoes.
When he was stripped towell, cant say the skinraw meat, she loudly stated, Blue, I need you to wake up now.
His eyelids blinked open, and he moaned.
Dont be a crybaby, she said, being merciless to be kind . . . maybe. I have to get you into the tub, and while I may be strong, Im not a crane and cant carry you. She slid her arm underneath his shoulders, intending to help him rise, but he flinched away from the agony of the contact.
Dont touch! he roared.
Dont shout! Despite her calm appearance, she was kind of a mess inside and he was only making it worse. Be a dear and stand up on your own. I need you to walk into the bathroom.
Blue lumbered to his feet and stumbled toward the tub. She couldnt fathom the enormous amount of strength required for him to remain in an upright position while his leg was broken, and tried not to be impressed.
Good boy. Now climb in the tub, she said.
Wheezing, grimacing, he slowly sank below the waterline.
Guaranteed this isnt going to be the sponge bath of your fantasies, she said, crouching beside the stone tub to wash him with the soap and minimize the possibility of infection, but I have to do it.
Whatever . . . necessary, he hissed.
Her grin was devoid of humor. Give me a few minutes. Youll probably regret saying that.
* * *
Time ceased to exist for Blue. He lived only in moments.
There were moments he was utterly alone, lost to pain and darkness. There were moments he was trapped in a nightmare, when the meeting with Michael finished and he stood with John and Solo and they walked to the door, unaware their lives were about to be forever altered. There were moments a woman stroked him, and muttered to him, her honey-almond scent saturating him and her raspy voice delighting him.
He loved those moments.
Its been a week, she said now, and youve already grown a new layer of skinunscarred, of course, because youre the gold standard every man is measured against, and flaws arent allowed to stay. Gag. You grew a new hand, and a new head of hair. Soft fingers shifted through the strands. Its sickening.
He wanted to lean into her touch, her warmth, but his body refused to obey the mental command.
He hated his body.
You need a scar. Youre too pretty. Why wont you wake up?
I will. For you. And then Ill strip you and take you, and youll scream my name, again and again, and I wont stop until Im sated, and youre too exhausted to beg me for more.
And how are you causing my furniture to levitate? Stop that!
His power must be seeping out. He would have to do a better job of controlling it.
Who was she?
Hed gone to Pagans . . . and his fiancée had been with her sister. Yes. He remembered that much. The two talked about him, and Pagan mentioned becoming a mother. Hed thought shed understood kids would never be part of their arrangement.
Humans and otherworlders could procreate, but it wasnt easy. Still, Blue had taken measures to ensure it never happened. Plus he always wore a condom. He didnt need protection from disease, since humans couldnt pass anything to him; but in his early days, too many girls had come forward citing a rubber broke and pregnancy was the result. A lie on both counts, but the claims had scared him. No way did he want to raise a kid with a one-night stand. Or worse, a target. A simple little surgery negated the possibility of children.
Need to have a talk with Pagan. He would make her understand kids were out of the question, or they would part ways.
But the woman with him wasnt Pagan, he thought. Her scent was richer, and her voice sexier. She was thinner, yet somehow softer. Her tone wasnt as gentle, and he was glad. He wasnt easily breakable.
Yesterday I hacked into Michaels database and read your updated file, you know. And by read I mean skimmed. I wasnt that interested. Still, youve done some pretty impressive wet work.
Hells yeah, he had. Hed taken down his first target at the age of thirteen.
A male never forgot his first.
Blue had actually butchered the job, an up-close-and-personal grab-and-stab, getting himself grabbed and stabbed in the process. Somehow, even with his injuries, hed found the strength to pull through and finish. It hadnt been pretty, but the victory had tasted, oh, so sweet.
Hed learned a lot since then. Now his victims never saw him coming.
And maybe hed been born for this type of work, because he wasnt like Solo and John. Hed never felt a moments regret for doing what he considered a public service. The equivalent of a human taking out the trash.