Obsession

I slid a hand to her chest, my palm resting just below her breasts. The tips of my fingers brushed the heavy swells. Very distracting. To most the move looked like one of pure dominance, and in a way, it was. But it was also necessary.

I inhaled.

Fed as I was off the Luxen, taking from a human would be like getting a cheeseburger off the dollar menu when you just had filet, but…damn. Serena’s taste —the heightened emotions and adrenaline pumping through her—was exquisite.

Warmth poured into me. Unlike with Luxen or hybrids—humans mutated by the Luxen—I didn’t pick up any memories or emotions. With them, one never knew what you were going to get. Usually it was something the Luxen or hybrid was stressing over, a memory they kept rehashing. The one I just killed had been smart. When I’d fed, the Luxen had thought about a TV show he’d watched the night prior, which meant the Lite-Brite was probably a fucking gold mine of information. Too late for that. But with Serena there was silence. Nothing was coming off her except warmth and softness and sunlight. Yeah, that’s it. She tasted like sunlight.

I wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her close as I continued to feed. She had been stiff in my arms, like she had locked up every muscle, but hadn’t tried to fight me off. Not that she could if she tried, and if I hadn’t showed up when I had, the Luxen would’ve easily killed her.

Humans were so fragile.

Serena let out a breathless sigh against my mouth and then deflated like a paper bag in my arms.

Thick lashes fanned her pale cheeks. A faint blue shadow had appeared under her eyes, and I knew that if I continued, that hue would spread through her. No doubt it already shaded her lips.

If I continued, I would kill her.

Stopping would be going against my nature. Arum were killers. And I didn’t hide from what I truly was, even if I was the DOD’s bitch boy. No matter how many leashes they put on me, or any Arum, I would always be what I was—part of a race that had been bred to kill.

But last time I checked, I wasn’t supposed to kill her.

With supreme effort, I lifted my mouth and broke the connection. Her head flopped back so quickly I caught her by the back of the skull before she cracked her neck.

“Shit,” I said, staring down at her. She was going to be out for a very, very long time.

…

Waking up was like climbing through quicksand. Every time I clambered to the top, coming close to opening my eyes, I was dragged back down. My body refused to get up and move around, and I slipped back into the kind of deep sleep that dreams couldn’t penetrate, until oblivion finally loosened its grip on me.

My eyes felt like they’d been sewed shut and when they finally fluttered open, I immediately winced against the harsh brightness. Turning my head, I swallowed, surprised by how dry my throat was. As my vision adjusted, my heart kicked into overdrive.

Where in the hell was I?

I was definitely not in my apartment. Everything in the room was far too nice and pricey. The bureau in the corner, which matched a standing mirror, looked like a priceless heirloom. A chaise lounge against the off-white walls was covered with fluffy pillows.

I turned my head, frowning.

Delicate white curtains billowed gently in the warm, rolling breeze from an open sliding glass door. I could see potted flowers in an array of colors beyond the door.

More evidence I wasn’t where I should be, because I had a thumb of death when it came to plants. It was some kind of raised deck, because it was at level with thick, leafy tree branches. The chirps of birds were a soft chorus. No sounds of cars. No people yelling or laughing.

Pushing up, I fought back a wave of dizziness and tugged the covers off—where were the rest of my clothes? I stared down at my bare legs, dumbfounded. My jeans were gone. It was just the old tee shirt and my polka-dotted panties.

“What the hell?” I whispered in a hoarse voice.

Throwing my legs off the bed, I stood on wobbly knees. NOT GOING TO PANIC. NOT GOING TO PANIC. The last thing I remembered was standing and talking to Hunter after he killed the… alien.

Hunter was also an alien.

Aliens were real.

“Oh my God.” I pushed the tangled mess of hair out of my face.

My gaze darted around the opulent bedroom. First, I needed to find my pants and then a weapon—possibly a nuclear level weapon.

Had Hunter kissed me?

No? Yes. Kind of? My brain needed to shut up, because it wasn’t spewing out anything helpful. Spying two sets of doors, one across from the bed and the other by the chaise lounge, I tried the one across from the bed first.

Locked.

Jesus. A bedroom door that locked from the outside. Nice. I hurried to the other door and discovered a bathroom…that was bigger than my bedroom back in the apartment. Enough room for me to lie down and make bathroom angels in without touching a single thing. It was ridiculous—garden tub and a separate, standing shower with expensive-looking tile.

Heart pounding and feeling sick, I quickly shut the bathroom door and backed up, sitting on the edge of the tub. Okay. It was obvious that I’d been taken somewhere, most likely by Hunter. Whatever he had done to me had knocked me out and for God knows how long. Add that to the fact that he was an alien, and I really couldn’t consider myself safe.

But he had saved my life.

Or had he?

I didn’t understand the why of any of this. Hell, I didn’t even know where I was.

Pressing my palms to my forehead, I squeezed my eyes shut. My head pounded along with my pulse. I felt like I’d just come out of a dangerous fever. Everything was surreal, too bright and vastly confusing—but this was real.

I had to come up with a plan. I needed to find out where I was, find a phone, find a weapon— FIND MY DAMN JEANS . Lowering my hands, I glanced around the bathroom.

There was nothing in here I could fashion into a weapon unless I was James Bond.

But there was a bowl of sour grape Blow Pops on the sink counter. Odd.

I stood, dragging in a deep breath. Spotting a linen closet of sorts, I found a wide array of products: soaps, shampoos, lotions, and enough girlie-girl products to survive an apocalypse with.

“Okay,” I murmured, rooting through the various bottles. Obviously a woman had stayed here before or currently did, one with really good taste, but unless I planned on throwing bath salt in someone’s face, there was nothing of use for me in here.

Going to the sink, I turned on the faucet and splashed water over my face. It cleared some of the fuzziness. Then I opened the bathroom door, stepping back into the bedroom cautiously.

I came to a complete standstill as air punched from my lungs.

There was a shadow in front of the deck doors. It wasn’t a normal shadow, either. It sucked the light out of everything around it. My heart pounded painfully. Instinct took over and a fear so cold, so powerful took root. Reaching blindly for a weapon, my fingers wrapped around a small figurine—which turned out to be a cast-iron pioneer —and I threw it hard.

The shadow took form as it darted to the side, but there was a fleshy thud as the statue hit what was now a denim-clad thigh…that belonged to Hunter, a currently shirtless Hunter.

“What the fuck?” Hunter exploded.

I didn’t wait to offer up an explanation. Darting back toward the bathroom, I opened my mouth to scream. Out of nowhere, a hand smacked down on my mouth and an arm snaked around on my waist. I should’ve known he’d move that fast, should’ve realized that escape wasn’t possible. The guy was a damn shadow.