“Very good, sir.” The waiter departed, closing the door softly behind him. Music drifted through
the silence, its beat shifting from the gentle, erotic melodies that had accompanied our dinner
to something more upbeat and danceable. I found my foot tapping, and stilled it
abruptly.
“Anything else I should know about?” As a dangerous—and sexy—glint sparked in his eyes, I added
hastily, “Anything else you might have seen or heard and forgot to mention?”
“Nothing I can think of.”
“Then I need to go.”
I rose and walked over to retrieve my shoe. But as I bent to pick it up, he slipped up behind me,
his hand clamping around my hip and drawing me back against his long, strong body.
“Dance with me,” he murmured, his breath stirring my hair and tickling my neck.
“No,” I said, but it came out breathy as his other hand came around my hip and rested on the flat
of my stomach. His touch was so hot it felt like he was branding me, and the fires that had been
on slow burn during the meal exploded into life.
Slowly, rhythmically, he began to sway in time to the music, his body pressed against mine,
guiding me, teasing me. I closed my eyes, knowing I needed to break away if I didn’t want this to
go any further and yet unable to stop myself from moving in time with the music and his
body.
The sensible part of my nature might not want this, but my wolf wasn’t always sensible, and she
needed his touch as badly as I needed regular doses of coffee.
His lips brushed the nape of my neck and my breath caught. He kissed me again, his mouth
butterfly light and yet searing deep.
Don’t, don’t, don’t
, part of me
was screaming. And yet I just didn’t have the will to pull away.
His right hand eased upward, skimming the soft material of my dress until it rested underneath
the swell of my breast. He paused, his breath quickening against my neck, matching the rhythm of
my own. For several seconds, we moved to the music, my body trembling, waiting for his caress to
rise,
needing
it to rise. But instead, he moved his hand down again.
The shudder that rolled through me was unfulfilled longing and relief and disappointment all
mixed into one.
His fingertips brushed down my belly, over the hand that held me against him so firmly, then
continued on, skimming my pubic mound, sending another shudder of delight coursing through my
body. But his caress didn’t linger, sliding on down my thigh. When he could reach no farther, his
fingers began gathering the material, hitching up the hem of the dress until he could caress
skin. Slowly, surely, he began making his way upward again, his fingertips brushing my inner
thigh, the heat of his touch branding me, making me ache, quiver. A moan escaped as he cupped my
mound and let his clever fingers play along the silk of my panties.
And still we danced, moving to the music, our bodies molded together, his erection pressed
against my butt, as heated as the rest of his flesh. I wanted that heat. Needed it.
No
, the inner voice screamed,
don’t do
this
. But the voice of resistance was weaker, drowning under the myriad of sensations
flooding through me.
I wanted this. I’d come here for this.
And we both knew it.
Even if I hadn’t actually admitted it until right now.
The hand resting on the flat of my stomach moved upward. His fingers found the edge of my dress
top and slid underneath, brushing lightly across my erect nipple. I shuddered and arched back
against him. He chuckled softly, and kissed my ear, my neck, my shoulder. His teeth caught skin,
nipping lightly, playfully. A tremor ran through me and the deep ache increased.
If you can’t walk away
, that inner voice said,
then seduce him. Don’t let him be the aggressor. That way, he wins
.
And I couldn’t let him win even this small battle. Not on his terms, anyway.
I shifted, drawing his hands away from my body then turning in his arms. Cupping his face in my
hands, I brushed my lips against his, tasting him, teasing him. A shudder went through him and
his arms tightened around me, dragging me closer, his crotch grinding against mine. I deepened
the kiss, exploring his mouth with my tongue, pressing him backward toward the table.
The backs of his knees hit a chair, and I pushed him down into it. I leaned over him, claiming
another kiss as I brushed my fingers down his body to the top of his pants then went farther,
scraping them down his fly, feeling his cock jump under the restriction of the material. I did it
again, harder this time, and heard the hiss of air escape his lips as his body tensed in
reaction.
The third time I did it, he moaned. With a satisfied smile, I quickly undid the top button, then
the zipper. His cock leapt free, thick and hard, the tip shiny with pre-cum. I ran my hands along
its length, watching his eyes, enjoying the shudders that racked him, the urgency I could sense
growing in him.
When it neared the point of no return, I smiled and stepped back, my gaze holding his as I
reached for the dress zipper and slowly undid it. He watched me avidly, hungrily. Heat and lust
swirled all around me—his
and
mine—making my body tremble and little
beads of sweat prickle across my skin.
I slid off the dress then hooked my fingers under the elastic of my panties and slowly slid them
down, my body moving in tune to the music. His breathing quickened and his fingers flexed, as if
he were fighting the urge to reach for me.
I smiled and tossed my panties next to my dress, then stepped forward and straddled him. I
wrapped my arms around his neck then slowly lowered, until the tip of his cock was barely
inside.
“Is this what you want?” I said softly, my lips brushing his as I spoke.
“Yes. God yes,” he groaned, his hands going to my waist in an effort to push me down.
“How badly do you want it?” My thighs were trembling with the effort of resisting the fierce
pressure of his grip and remaining above him. Especially when all I wanted to do was plunge down
on him.
“Very.” It came out as little more than a hiss of air. It tore at my lips, tasting of hunger and
desire and need. Everything I felt, everything I wanted. “God, please.”
Those two words tasted very sweet. The man who controlled every little aspect of his world was
begging
me
to finish what he’d started. The turnaround was an
incredible turn-on.
I slowly pressed down, shuddering at the sheer pleasure of it. The heat of him filled me,
completed me, and yet it wasn’t just flesh. As I’d feared, it also became a meeting of souls, a
strengthening of the ties between us.
Part of me just wanted to get up and run, but it was already too late for that. So I tried to
ignore the heat of him in my mind, concentrating instead on the heat of his flesh and on
spiraling pleasure. His breathing was short, sharp, his body rearing under mine. I rode him hard,
grinding into him, enjoying the urgency, feeling the pleasurable tautness grow and grow, until my
whole body was shaking with the force of it. Then it shattered and I came, shuddering and shaking
and moaning at the sheer depth of it—a depth that was body
and
soul.
A heartbeat later he followed me into that sweet oblivion, his body fierce in mine as he came,
hard.
Then it was over.
For a moment I did nothing more than simply sit there. My body was replete, satisfied, and yet my
heart was torn. I wanted this, I
needed
this—needed him—and yet at
the same time, I hated it. Hated the need—hated him.
Hated
myself
for not being strong enough to resist what my soul
craved.
I pushed away from him, grabbed my clothes, and walked to the door. My hand was on the doorknob
when he said, “Same time tomorrow, then.”
I didn’t say anything, just opened the door and walked out.
And yet I knew that, come tomorrow, I’d be back.
I
found a bathroom and quickly cleaned myself up, then got
dressed. The receptionist bade me a cheery good-bye as I left, and I somehow managed to drag up a
smile and a nod as I went out the door.
Once in the car, the shaking began, and for several seconds I could do nothing more than grip the
steering wheel against the reaction. God, how was I going to get past this and not have it
destroy everything I held dear? I really didn’t know, and that frightened me more than anything
fate had thrown at me so far.
I needed someone to talk to. Someone who stood outside my own little circle but who knew me well
enough to understand. And there was only one person who fit the criteria.
Dia.
I grabbed my phone and quickly dialed her number. She didn’t answer, but her phone clicked over
to voice-mail, and her sultry tone said, “I’m with a client at the moment, so please leave a
message. Riley, if you need to talk, I’ll meet you at the usual place at five-thirty.”
I smiled as I hung up. Dia was a powerful—and famous—psychic, and this
wasn’t
the first time she’d anticipated my need to talk to her. Obviously,
whatever vibes I’d been sending out into the universe were strong enough for her to pick
up.
I threw my phone back into my handbag, then started up the car and headed for the
Directorate.
Kade did something of a double-take when I walked into the office. “Well,” he said, leaning back
in his chair and giving me a wide grin. “Don’t you look delicious. Who’d you dress up
for?”
“No one special.” I dumped my bag on the desk and plopped down on the chair. “How did it go at
the clubs?”
He shrugged, his gaze lingering on my legs as I crossed them and slid forward toward my desk. “It
seems that neither woman was a patron at the same club. Crowley preferred Shades, and Bailey was
a regular at Indigo Desires and Dark Arts.”
None of which I’d heard of, but then, I wasn’t a part of that desperate little world. I leaned
forward so the scanner could check my eye, then clicked into the system to do a search on the
plate number Kye had given me. “I suppose the managers didn’t notice anything unusual about
either woman in the week leading up to their deaths?”
“Got it in one.” He shifted, clicking the mouse, then added, “I went to Dante’s, too. The owner
wasn’t in but I talked to the bartender. He’s never seen either woman.”
“Which doesn’t mean there isn’t a connection between your case and mine.”
“I still think it’s a coincidence, nothing more.” He glanced at the screen again. “How’d it go
with Vinny?”
“She claims to know nothing about the deaths and states that killing her energy sources like that
is nothing more than wasting seduction time and effort.”
He raised an eyebrow. “And you believe her?”
I hesitated, and wrinkled my nose. “I don’t know. That woman is a consummate liar, and I can’t
use telepathy in her den.”
“So we keep a watch on her?”
“Yeah, though I’ve got to clear it with Jack first.”
“Clear what with me?” Jack said as he stalked into the room.
His expression was dark and my stomach sank. It surely meant another murder had occurred, and we
really didn’t need that right now.
“I want the current observation on Vinny expanded to a full-time watch. She claims she’s not
connected with the unsolved deaths, but I’m not sure if I believe her. I think we need to see who
is coming in and out of her den.” Because she might be a vampire, and might have the usual
daylight restrictions, but those restrictions didn’t mean she couldn’t be involved in some way
with these killings. “Even if the murders aren’t Vinny’s handiwork, they’re happening on her
turf, and I can’t believe she doesn’t know about them.”
Or that she wouldn’t be using that knowledge to her own advantage. Vinny, after all, was all
about climbing the financial ladder. And if someone was here with her permission, they’d be
paying for the privilege.
“You’ll have to arrange the day-shift watch between you, Kade, and Iktar. Rhoan’s on another case
right now, and we can’t afford to have him off it. And make sure your watch is not at the expense
of the other investigations.” He stopped in front of the coffeemaker, grabbed a cup, and began
filling it up. The smell of semiburned beans filled the air and I wrinkled my nose again. Jack
didn’t seem to care as he took a sip then turned around to face us. “What sort of progress have
we got on the beheading cases?”
“I have another possible witness. He gave me the license plate number of a car he saw taking off
from the area at the time of the murder.”
“That’s a start.” Jack paused, his gaze meeting mine. “Cole told me about the mess at Dante’s
this morning. Well done on that.”
“Thanks.” I glanced at the computer as the search finally spat out the name and address of the
car owner. I transferred the information across to police records and started a cross-check
search, just to see whether my hunch that the car had been stolen was correct. “I did hear that
our beheading victims—
and
Dante Starke—are all members of the
Melbourne vampire council. Is that true?”
He studied me for a second, his green eyes giving little away. “Where did you hear
that?”
I raised my eyebrows. “The source doesn’t really matter, does it?”
“Did Quinn tell you this?”
“No. He gave me a general background on the council, but not specifics. I know he’s an advisor,
like you.”
“You are?” Kade said, surprise in his voice.
“In my capacity as director of the guardian division, yes.” Jack’s gaze flicked from Kade back to
me. “Who sits on either the local or greater council is not something we advertise. There are few
outside those two circles who know.”
“As you said, the councilors themselves know, and that information is available in their minds
for those who know how to grab it.”
“So who stole it and told you?”
I hesitated, knowing the answer wasn’t going to make him any happier. “Kye.”
“Well, that explains the party dress,” Kade murmured.
I gave him a dirty look, but the damn man gave me an unrepentant grin, and I knew I was going to
be subjected to an interrogation later.
“And what the hell was he doing hanging around Dante’s?”
“He’s working for a man who’s not too happy about the fact that his wife is a blood
whore.”
“You warned him off killing the woman?”
“I did.”
“Good. If the kill proceeds, we’ll nab him. At least it’ll mean one less monster on the
streets.”
I didn’t say anything. I hadn’t told Jack that Kye was my soul mate, but it was interesting that
he used “nab” instead of “kill.” Maybe Quinn had mentioned it.
“That still doesn’t explain how the bastard knew our victims—and Dante—are councilors,” Jack
continued.
I shrugged. “Apparently he got bored during the stakeout and started reading vampire minds.
Haven’s was one of them.”
“And you believe that’s all he did? Because it’s a bit of a damn coincidence that we have a hired
killer hanging about Dante’s at the same time we have a rash of beheadings.”
“He denied beheading them. I believe him.”
“And you confirmed his denial by reading his thoughts?”
I hesitated. “I actually can’t. He’s a siphon, remember, so he basically steals the strength of
my own shields.”
I didn’t mention that I didn’t even try—that I’d been too scared to try. Jack would never have
understood reasoning like that.
“Meaning you can’t be one hundred percent certain.” Jack shook his head. “I want to know his
movements. Grab a skin-tracker from research and place it on him.”
“He’ll find it—”
“Not these he won’t.”
I wouldn’t bet on it, but I wasn’t about to argue about the point. Not when Jack had that look in
his eyes. “If our victims were councilors, why weren’t we told? Surely it has some
relevance?”
“Why would it? No one knows who the councilors are just so they can’t become targets.”
I frowned. “So how does the daily council business get run? There has to be some sort of public
face for the council, doesn’t there?”
“There’s a general office if people wish to bring something to the council’s notice. All
decisions are filtered down the ranks via telepathy from the old ones.”
Quinn was an old one. Was he one of the relayers of information? Somehow, I just couldn’t see it.
It seemed too passive for someone who’d once been a cazador.
“But it wasn’t just Haven and Gateway. There’s the other one—”
“Who we believe is Norman Garrent. He didn’t report to the meeting last night, and hasn’t been
sighted for several nights.”
“So, we
do
have three dead councilors. That suggests a pattern to
me.”
“Now that another one of them—Harvey Bastiel—has also been found beheaded, I suspect you’re
right.” He took a sip of his drink and grimaced. But not, I suspected, because of the taste of
the coffee. After all, while he might prefer the top-shelf stuff, he didn’t care what it tasted
like, as long as it was hot. “Cole and his team are on their way there now. I want you to follow.
Bastiel’s housekeeper was killed, as well.”
Meaning it was possible her soul was hanging about for a chat. “I gather you—or the greater
council—is currently in the process of warning the remaining members of the Melbourne council
that there could be a psycho after them?”
“They knew after the first beheading.”
It was a damn shame
we
hadn’t. I blew out a breath, then glanced down
as the computer beeped. The car
had
been stolen. The owner probably
wouldn’t be able to tell me much more than what was already in the police report, but I guess it
still had to be chased up. I grabbed a pen and wrote down her name and address. “After Bastiel’s,
I’ll head over to Vinny’s and start the watch, but I’ve got a meeting with Dia at five-thirty.
Can we get one of the night-shift guys to take over after five?”
He frowned. “I’m not sure that this is the sort of case Dia can help us with.”
“Right now, with no solid leads, I’m willing to give it a go.”
“Just don’t sit there on my time drinking coffee and chatting about the weather,” he said
heavily. “Or I will take it out of your salary.”
I grinned. “As if I would do that.”
He harrumphed and walked out. I glanced at Kade. “You available to do some watching
tomorrow?”
He grimaced. “It’s not my favorite thing, you know that. Besides, I thought you wanted help with
the beheadings. I can’t do both.”
He could if he really wanted to—but even as that thought crossed my mind, I knew I wasn’t really
being fair. He had just as many unsolved cases on his plate as I did, and Jack would be all over
him if he dropped everything to help me.
Plus he had a family and babies to go home to, and I didn’t.
Not yet, anyway
, I thought with an inner shiver.
God, how would
that
change my life? How would it change my attitude
to this job and the risks it involved?
It had taken me a long time to admit I actually enjoyed being a guardian, but the chase and the
danger were extremely addictive. It was in my blood now, and giving it up would not be
easy.
But giving up one dream after another hadn’t been easy, either, and having a baby was the last
one left. The only one that I really had any chance of fulfilling.
It should have been an easy choice, a simple one. But it wasn’t.
I liked what I did.
Loved
what I did. We made a difference, and that
made the risks and the dangers worthwhile. And however much I might have fought becoming a
guardian, it made me feel like I’d finally found something I was meant to do.
And yet, I didn’t want any child of mine growing up without the love of a pack around him—or
her—and that pack
had
to be more than just Liander, however much he
might cherish our offspring if the worst happened. Rhoan and I only ever had our mother growing
up, and however much she might have loved us, it wasn’t a pack. We were never considered a pack,
and that isolation had echoed through our relationships both as children and as
grown-ups.
I didn’t want that loneliness—that feeling of never really belonging—for any child of
mine.
“Earth to Riley. Come in, Riley.”
I blinked and glanced at Kade. “What?”
“I said I’ll do a couple of hours, but that’s all I can manage.”
“Great. What about around lunchtime?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Another hot date with a certain werewolf?”
“It’s not a date.” More a battle of wills. “I don’t want anyone killed, Kade, so I’ll play his
games until he gets tired of them or I can find something to pin on his ass and get him out of my
hair.”
“I’m sure if you tell Jack about the threat, he’ll handle the situation appropriately.”
“Maybe, but I’d prefer to handle it myself.”
“Then I’ll just hope that no one you care about ends up getting hurt, because I do not trust that
man.”
“Don’t worry, neither do I.” I collected my purse, then walked across to his desk and kissed his
cheek. “Don’t suppose you’d like to help me out with one more thing?”
His gaze slid from my face to my breasts, which were on view thanks to the fact that the dress
top had gaped forward when I bent over. “If it involves handling the beautiful ladies hanging in
front of me, most definitely.”
I grinned and handed him the paper with Harriet Morgan’s address on it. “Would you mind going to
talk to this woman for me? Her car was seen leaving the beheading scene, but she reported it
stolen the day before. Someone needs to talk to her and check her story.”
He barely even glanced at the paper before putting it down on the desk. His big hands cupped my
breasts, holding them almost reverently. “Are you sure these beauties don’t need a good
massage?”
I chuckled and gently pulled back. “I’m sure.”
He sighed dramatically. “I do miss them, you know.”
“You didn’t have them—or me—that often.”
“I know. That’s the most regrettable aspect of this whole situation.”
I shook my head and grabbed my keys. “You’re incorrigible.”
“Totally.” He gave me a smile that was both cheeky and sexy. “I will get you back into my arms
one day. You know that, don’t you?”
“When hell freezes over, or Jack gives us the go-ahead. And you know which one is more likely to
happen first,” I said, then waved and headed out the door and down to research.
H
arvey Bastiel lived in Hampton—a beachside suburb one down
from Brighton, but without Brighton’s high-end reputation or price tag. Which meant the
properties near the beach here went for a lowly one million rather than two or more.