SavageLust (5 page)

Make it good and make it believable.

He peeled his fingers from her wrist, hoping it would help
his body return to some semblance of normalcy. If he even knew what normal was
anymore.

“The first thing you should know is, I’ve seen pictures of
your brother’s body—and he isn’t the first to die in this manner.”

She looked at him through narrowed eyes. “The police said it
was an animal of some kind. I made them let me see the body.” She shivered and
rubbed her forehead, where lines of stress creased it. “It was horrible. They
insist it’s some rabid animal.”

“In a manner of speaking, it is,” he agreed. “But not like
anything they’ve seen before. My wife was killed exactly the same way.” He sat
back in the booth and closed his eyes for a moment, banishing the image of
Felicia that came unbidden to his mind. “Her death is the reason I left
Chicago, the reason I’m no longer a cop. What I have to tell you is going to
sound totally off the wall, so please, try to listen with an open mind.”

Keeping his voice as even as he could, he laid it all out
for her—the killings that brought Night Seekers together, the recent slaughter
all over the country, the research they’d done. Before he left the ranch, he
had taken the time to load pictures from the previous cases Night Seekers was
involved in, to show her the condition of the bodies. Now he scrolled through
them on his tablet one by one. He kept his voice level and even, uninflected,
forcing back the pain that stabbed through him as each body reminded him of
Felicia.

Regan stared at his tablet as he flicked through the photos.
The look on her face was one of horror, and when he finished, every bit of
color had leached from her skin. But for some reason, he had a feeling the
condition of the bodies wasn’t new to her, and not because of her brother. But
how could that be? This was the first Chupacabra killing in the area.

Maybe he was just imagining things.

“I-I’ve seen pictures like this before,” she told him, as if
reading his mind. “Well, drawings. But not in living color like this.”

Dante’s body went on alert. He was right. “You’ve seen
pictures of Chupacabra kills? Where? How?”

“Just…” She pressed her fingertips to her eyelids as if
trying to erase the images. “Give me a minute, okay?”

Dante’s uncanny instincts were doing a fast step in every
one of his nerves right then. Something was off and he had to find out what.

Clint suddenly materialized at the booth with two mugs of
coffee and two glasses of water.

“Can I get you anything else?” he asked her politely,
concern etched on his face. Dante knew Clint had seen the evil presence up
close and personal, and the image never left his mind.

Regan shook her head. “No. Thank you. Nothing else for me.”

”Me, either,” Dante told him. “Not right now. Thanks,
Clint.”

When Regan lifted the water, her hand was shaking. She
managed a few sips before setting the glass back down.

Dante watched her fight to steady her breathing and pull
herself together. Whatever was bothering her, it wasn’t just the sudden
information about a so-called mythical beast.

“You’ve heard of the Chupacabra before,” he guessed.

“Of course. I live in San Antonio, so I’ve heard the legend
all my life. But I always thought it was just some crazy myth someone had made
up.” She took a moment for another sip of water. “But…”

“But?” he prompted.

Ignoring his prompt, she scanned the pictures again, this
time taking the time to study each one. “Every single one of those bodies looks
exactly like Reed’s did.”

“I’m still amazed they let you see him.”

Her mouth twisted in a grimace. “They did so only because I
threw such a screaming fit. I also demanded to see the pictures they took at
the scene.”

“They’re pretty gruesome,” he pointed out.

“It’s my brother, damn it.” She slammed her hand on the
table and the water glass jumped. “I wanted to know
everything
.” She
blinked at the tears gathering in her eyes and tightened her hands into fists.
“But what about Lisa? There’s no trace of her. What happened to her? How did
she just disappear?”

Again Dante chose his words carefully. Explaining the theory
Night Seekers put together was almost too outrageous to accept, but he had to
tell her what they’d surmised. What their findings had led them to believe.

Regan stared at him, clearly appalled. Finally something he
was sure she hadn’t known or expected.

“Are you serious? Combining different DNA? And kidnapping
humans to use theirs? That’s insane. What kind of nut job would do that?” She
blinked back more tears threatening to spill from her eyes. “Do you think that’s
what happened to Lisa?”

“We do. Unfortunately.”

Regan lifted the coffee mug but her hands were shaking so
badly, some of the liquid spilled over the rim.

Dante eased the mug from her fingers and mopped up the
spillage with a napkin. Jesus, just touching her again set off an erotic
explosion in his body. He gritted his teeth, nearly cracking his molars, and
forced the feeling back. “Why don’t you let me get you something?” he asked in
a soft voice. “A glass of wine, maybe. This is a lot to try to absorb.”

“No, I don’t—” She blew out a breath. “All right. Maybe wine
would be good.”

Dante left her in the booth and headed toward the long bar.

“How is she?” Clint asked. “She looks like she’s about to
pass out.”

“Same shocked reaction we all had the first time. I hope a
glass of wine will help settle her and put a little color in her face.” He
paused. “Although…”

“Although what?” Clint prompted.

“There’s something going on here. Something more than the
usual reactions.”

“What do you think it is?”

He shrugged. “Don’t know but I plan to find out.”

Sophia walked over. “Anything I can do to help, Dante?”
Concern was written in her eyes.

“Maybe. We’ll see. Let me get her this wine first.”

“Just remember. We’re all here for each other.” She squeezed
his arm.

The wine put a little color back in Regan’s pale face and
the hand holding the glass was a little steadier.

“Thank you,” she told him with a shaky little laugh.

You’ll need more than that wine when we drop the shifters
on you.

“We all dealt with similar shock when this abomination
invaded our lives. Everyone on the team. But Craig Stafford, the man behind the
team, is investing a lot of money to find out where and how these creatures are
being bred, and why.”

Regan fiddle with the stem of her wineglass. “How do you
handle it? All of you? If each of you has lost someone to this…this…creature,
how do you deal with seeing new bodies over and over again?”

“I promise you, it’s not easy.” He pointed to Sophia,
working across the way in a booth. “Sophia’s one of the original members of the
team. She and her sister Rebecca, who just joined us, lost twin nephews to the
devil beast. They recently worked a case back on their home turf, where they
had to relive the horror.”

Sympathy washed over her face. “And now you have to remember
what happened with your wife. How on earth will you do that?”

He could tell this was more than just a polite question. She
seemed to be waiting for something from him. Without conscious thought, he
reached across the table and took one of her hands in his. And there was that crackling
spark again. He did his best to ignore it, even as he saw the narrowing of her
eyes and felt the tension in her muscles. Whatever was happening to him was
happening to her as well. How in the hell would they deal with this?

“Because I believe that in finally eliminating the beast, I’ll
be able to make peace with what happened.”

He was surprised that she didn’t try to pull her hand away.
Instead she looked at their hands then back up at his face. Her eyes held a
baffled look and a frown creased her forehead. Then she said something that
stunned him even more.

“This is going to sound really off the wall, especially
because we just met, but I feel like there’s some kind of weird connection
between us. As if fate meant for us to meet. Crazy, right? Especially since I
didn’t want to come here in the first place.”

Dante’s pulse kicked up a notch. “Not so crazy. As a cop, I
saw a lot of things I couldn’t explain. And now, since I’ve been part of Night
Seekers, hunting the Chupacabra?” He shrugged. “I’ve learned not to discount
anything.” He squeezed her hand gently. “Please don’t freak, but I got a sense
of the same link. Or whatever we call it. I haven’t felt any kind of connection
at all with another human being since my wife was…killed. I thought maybe I was
imagining it, but…” His voice trailed off.

What were they talking about here? The electricity that was
so high-voltage he could almost see it? Shared pain? Desperation for answers?
Or was it—
Jesus!
—lust?

Damn, Dante. You should lock yourself in a closet.

He sensed her looking at him and lifted his eyes, locking
his gaze with hers.

“Don’t ask me to tell you why,” she began slowly, “but I
have this…
feeling
you’re going to help me get through this. I’ve been so
angry and outraged and scared for the past few days. And the police are no damn
help.”

“I agree. But that’s because it’s beyond the realm of
believability for them. Look. Clint Beltaire, who owns this place, is married
to Sophia. Let me introduce you to them. We can all be a support group for you.”

“All right. And I want to be involved in this,” she
insisted. “Every bit of it.”

“Regan—” he began.

“No. There’s no room for argument here. It’s my brother and
my almost-sister-in-law. I can’t move forward with my life until I get some
kind of answers.”

He understood her determination but there seemed to be a
little something more behind it. One way or another he’d dig it out of her.
Maybe if he couldn’t, he’d take her to the ranch and some of the others could
help him figure out the puzzle.

And inside his head, a little voice whispered that taking
her to the ranch would be a way to spend more time with her.

Stop it!

This was nuts. Just nuts. Maybe his body chemistry was out
of whack. He had a mission here, and an unwanted, unexpected sexual attraction
had no place in it.

“Okay. Let’s start by introducing you to Sophia and Clint.
Then, if you don’t think me too forward, let’s get out of the bar and take this
someplace else.”

“Will you tell me everything you know about what you’ve
discovered? All the cases you mentioned? Every detail?”

“If you’re sure you can handle it.”

“I can. I promise you. But first things first. I had a mess
of a time getting out of my house, what with all the media camped out. Do you
think you can get me back in without running a gauntlet?” Her smile had little
humor. “That would really impress me.”

“I just might be able to do that.” As he guided her across
to where Sophia sat, he pulled his cellphone from his back pocket.

Regan was startled to see that Dante had actually
accomplished what he’d promised. No, shocked was more like it. There wasn’t a
reporter in sight. Instead, all she saw was a single black SUV parked across
the street. Leaning against it was a man she guessed to be at least six foot
six, with broad shoulders and an unsmiling face
.
Clad in jeans and a
leather jacket, hair as dark and long as Dante’s, he looked more formidable
than anyone she ever remembered seeing in her life. Arms folded across his
chest, he had an attitude that plainly said
Don’t fuck with me
.

She pulled into her carport and turned off the ignition.
Dante parked in the driveway and climbed out, nodding to the other man, who
dipped his head in acknowledgment. Then, with a loose-limbed grace that
reminded her of an animal, the other man got into his vehicle and drove away.

“Do I even want to know who that was and how you
accomplished this?” she asked.

His smile said she might be better off not asking.

“That’s Jonah Grey. Part of our team. And you don’t really
need the details.”

A shiver raced along her spine, but she wasn’t sure if it
was because of Jonah Grey or the man standing on her porch with her. A man who
exuded so much leashed power, it vibrated in the air and surrounded her. Regan
had heard that sexual attraction could be so strong as to be nearly visible,
but she hadn’t believed it until now.

When she had walked into The Black Wolf earlier, the only
emotions she’d felt were despair and pain. But the moment Dante Martello had
approached her booth, every erogenous zone in her body thundered to life in
response. All those other feelings were shockingly blunted by an unexpected,
incredible explosion of chemistry between her and this dark, brooding man. The
entire time they’d sat in the booth she’d had to force herself to focus on what
they were discussing, completely undone by the erotic feelings whirling through
her.

Had she taken leave of her brain? Of her senses? Her brother
had just died in a horrific way, allegedly destroyed by a creature usually
found in nightmares. Lisa—his fiancée and Regan’s best friend—was missing and,
if Dante could be believed, had been taken by the very creature Reed had been
researching.

Yet here she was, lusting after a stranger. And how could
she possibly even justify it when the pain of loss was still so sharp? She wasn’t
looking for a man. She was looking for answers. And vengeance.

But his lean, muscular body, thick black hair and even
blacker eyes lit a flame deep inside her that she couldn’t ignore. There was
something so sensual about him.

My god! What’s the matter with me? This is so bizarre. I
just met this man. I’m in the middle of the most nightmarish crisis of my life,
and all I can think about is getting him into bed. It must be some crazy
hormonal reaction to all this weird Chupacabra business.

She took out the key to her front door, hand shaking
slightly, totally aware of the very masculine man standing behind her.
Damn!

For some reason she was having trouble fitting the key in
the lock, maybe because her hands were trembling. Strong, masculine fingers
closed over hers as Dante eased the key away and slipped it into the lock
himself.

“Thank you.” Embarrassed, she could hardly look at him.

As he followed her inside, she moved through the rooms,
turning on lamps to soften the lowering darkness and dispel the gloom settling
in the house. The late-afternoon air outside had turned nippy and its chill
seemed to follow them into the house.

“I think a fire would be nice, don’t you?” She rubbed her
hands together in a nervous gesture. Eventually she’d have to tell him about
Reed and Lisa’s research. And the little fact about herself she hid from almost
everyone.

How would this dark, mysterious man standing in her living
room react? Would he be revolted? Think it was a joke? Peg her as insane for even
saying such a thing?

Or would shifters also be within the realm of believability
for a man who believed in and hunted the Chupacabra?

At the bar, when she shook hands with Clint Beltaire, a
blaze of awareness had stunned her.
Wolf!
Just that small touch was
enough to let her know he was a shifter. Had he sensed that with her, also?
Would he say something before she was ready to let people know? Were there
other shifters at Desolation Ranch?

Maybe she was having a bad dream and any minute she’d wake
up. Things would be back to normal, if she even knew what normal was. Her head
ached with all the questions she had no answers for, running around in her
brain.

Dante took her hands in his, coasting his thumb over her
knuckles.

“I think a fire would be great,” he agreed. “How about if I
put it together for you?”

She gave a short laugh. “No need. I cheat.” She picked up a
metal wand from an end table beside the couch, pointed it at the fireplace and
pressed a red button. Instantly flames danced behind the glass screen.

“Neat and clean,” he agreed. He took the remote lighter from
her and set it back down on the table. “Why don’t you make some coffee, we’ll
bring it in here and I’ll tell you everything I can. Answer your questions.”
Golden lights danced in the blackness of his eyes. “I warn you, a lot of it
will be hard for you to believe and much of it is liable to give you a good
scare.”

“After looking at Reed’s body, I’m not sure there’s anything
left that can scare me.”

“Don’t say that.” He locked his gaze with hers. “At The
Black Wolf, I barely scratched the surface.”

She shuddered. “It’s fine. I want to know everything you can
tell me.”

“You may regret it but okay. You put on the coffee, we’ll
sit in front of the fire and talk.”

In the kitchen, she gathered the things she needed—ground
beans, filter, sugar. But again her hands shook so badly she dropped everything
in the sink. She leaned on the counter, trying to settle herself with deep
breaths. She’d never met a man she was so instantly attracted to. That her body
responded to with such longing. And she had no idea what to do about it.

Then warm hands closed over her arms and shifted her to the
side.

“Let me.”

Those same hands moved everything to the counter then closed
over her arms again, turning her to face him. They were so close, his breath
was a warm breeze on her skin. For a long moment she was sure he could hear the
thundering of her heart and see the rapid beat of her pulse at the hollow of
her throat.

Time froze as their gazes locked and she saw heat flare like
a roaring fire in his dark, dark eyes.

“This is nuts.” His words were like ice chips hitting glass.

“It is.” She could barely hear her own voice. And yes, it
was crazy, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.

She saw the emotional struggle wash across his face, the
clenching of his jaw, the tightening of his facial muscles.

But then, as if they’d both known it would happen, he
pressed his mouth to hers in a gentle kiss.

His lips were warm and firm, his touch much gentler than she’d
expected. He licked the seam of her mouth with the tip of his tongue, a soft
caress that made her nipples harden to painful points and moisture flood the
crotch of her panties.

His tongue circled the outline of her lips, licked gently at
each of the corners before pressure urged her to open for him. Once he swept
into her mouth, she was lost, her own tongue dueling and dancing with his. His
lean and muscular body was hard against hers, and nothing was harder than the
heaviness of his cock pressing against her cunt. Even through the layers of
their clothing it was impossible to miss.

Her mind emptied itself of everything except this
thunderstorm of sensation rocketing through her and a need more intense than
anything she’d ever felt in her entire life. The kiss didn’t just burn with
erotic lust. It carried with it an unexpected feeling of intimacy that flooded
her with need.

When he lifted his mouth from hers, the look in his eyes
burned itself into her body. His fingers, hot as branding irons, tightened on
her arms. For a moment she felt like hurricane survivors do, swept up in the
aftermath of the winds. Then his grip loosened and he moved back an inch.

“I want to say I’m sorry but I’m really not.” He closed his
eyes for a moment, his breathing choppy. “I don’t—I haven’t—I can’t…” He shook
his head as if the appropriate words escaped him. “This is wrong.”

She bobbed her head like a marionette. “Yes. Wrong.”

“We should be focusing on the tragedy we’re in the middle
of.”

“Yes,” she repeated. “We should.” Why couldn’t she put a
coherent sentence together?

Finally, with obvious effort, he stepped away from her. “I’m
sorry, I shouldn’t—”

She was still catching her breath. “I’m not sure we had a
choice. It just…we just…”

He pulled himself together with obvious effort. “Let’s fix the
coffee, Regan. And talk.”

Okay. Talk.

About her brother? The beast? The kiss?

Unable to string enough words together to make sense, she
kept silent while Dante helped her measure and spoon and pour. There was so
much sexual tension in the kitchen, Regan was sure they could have just touched
the coffeemaker and it would turn on. When the coffee was brewing, he turned
back to face her, this man who electrified her senses, tilting her chin up with
one strong finger.

He said nothing, simply studied her eyes for what seemed
like an interminable moment. Her heart raced so fast she thought it would pound
itself out of her chest, and just that one point of contact made her breasts
ache for his touch and liquid flood her panties. Even the muscles in her cunt
spasmed.

Holy god!

She tried to draw in a full breath but her chest felt
constricted. Her throat was so dry she couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but
stare into his eyes, consumed by the heat blazing in them.

His body shuddered with the visible effort to control
himself and he finally took a step back.

“We’re going to talk,” he said in a rough-edged voice. “I’m
going to answer all your questions. And maybe you’ll answer a few of mine.”

“Y-Yours? What can I possibly tell you?”

“I don’t know, but you’re keeping something back.” His
irises, unbelievably, grew even darker. More intense. “If you want me to help
you, we have to lay it all out on the table. Both of us.”

He waited. Finally, she dipped her head just once.

“Good. After that I’m going to make arrangements for you to
come out to the ranch tomorrow. Then, if I’m smart, I’ll tell you good night
and leave here.” A muscle twitched in his jaw. “But I can’t promise you I’ll be
that smart. I may not be able to keep myself from doing something incredibly
stupid. Just giving you fair warning.”

The coffee was ready and somehow Regan managed to get two
mugs down from the cupboard, pour the steaming liquid into them and find her
way back into the living room without dropping anything or tripping over her
feet.

Doing something incredibly stupid?
Did he think
having sex with her—because what else could he mean—was stupid?

Well, of course it was. For her too. They barely knew each
other and they had a tragedy to deal with. More than one. With very bizarre
circumstances.

She made it to the couch on legs not quite steady, sinking
thankfully into the soft cushions. Cradling her mug in her hands, she sipped
the hot brew. Dante slipped off his leather jacket and tossed it on an ottoman,
folding himself into the armchair. It put him as far away from her as he could
get. A good thing, she said to herself. Unfortunately, distance didn’t affect
in any way the heat burning between them or her insane desire to forget
everything and get naked with him.

Lack of sleep. It has to be that. What else can explain
my weird reaction? This is just not me.

She didn’t react to men like this. Part of her control came
from knowing she could never reveal her shifter side to any of them. And part
of it was that no one had ever aroused her the way Dante Martello did. So fast.
So intensely. Now she knew how people felt when they stuck a hand into a
blazing inferno.

She watched him take a swallow of his coffee, fascinated by
the play of muscles in his throat. It took all her self-discipline to look
away. Drink some coffee. Focus on the situation.

He set his mug down carefully on the table next to his
chair, muscles rippling beneath the black t-shirt he wore.

Stop it. Stop now.

“Can you walk me through everything about Night Seekers
again? The explanation you gave me at The Black Wolf was pretty brief.” That
should settle her, turn her focus elsewhere. Especially considering the
well-funded team was hunting the very legend Reed had been chasing. “Who are
all of you, anyway? Where did everyone come from? What exactly does your group
do? How you do it?”

“If you’ll tell me whatever
you
might know. Like I
said, I get the feeling there’s something pretty important you’re holding
back.”

She swallowed a sigh. If she wanted access to everything
they had, all their information and their ability to avenge Reed perhaps better
than she could, she’d have to come clean. And take the chance he wouldn’t think
she was nuts and walk out.

“All right. Yes. But you first.”

Patiently, in a quiet voice, he took her through everything
again, only this time in greater detail. She insisted he show her the pictures
once more, even though she nearly heaved up her coffee. She asked him every
question she could think of, desperately seeking some rational explanation, but
in the end she was left with few reasons not to believe Dante’s theory.
Somewhere, a lunatic was breeding the devil beast for—for what?