Blood Moons (31 page)

"The hell you are!"

"I'll send a guard with you just in case," Amelia said.

Tristan lunged for Dara. Their link was severed. He had nothing else to hold on to except her. It was instinct he couldn't fight. Panic overrode rational thought. Tristan couldn't let her go. She was his sanity. If she left...

Her cry of pain barely registered. "You stay with me, Dara."

Guards rushed in, shouting at him to release her, eager to fire the weapons they'd trained on him. He heard Amelia yelling at them and him, trying to reason with both and failing. Dara was struggling in his arms. Tristan felt her tears on his skin, knew he was hurting her.

With every last bit of control she'd gifted him with, he fought the beast back. For her, he gritted his teeth until he felt them crack and forced his arms to loosen. He couldn't let go of her completely. Not with the tiger raging inside him, demanding he take her and run. To the end of the galaxy, if need be. Far enough that nothing could touch them. He could protect her. It was his right.

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When his arms began to tighten around her again, he fought back twice as hard, until she was able to wriggle free.

She was gone in an instant and the beast in him howled furiously, still fighting for control. If he let it loose, everyone in the room would die. He wanted to let it loose. The battle with himself brought him to his knees.

It took three tranquilizer darts to take him down.

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It was the hardest thing she'd ever had to do, to look on helplessly as Tristan fought so hard to stay human. She flinched each time a tranq round hit him and nearly panicked when he passed out. Without him in her mind, she felt the full force of the abomination that had taken root there. It sickened and terrified her.

But that wasn't why her heartbeat was like a punch to her ribs. Dara wanted to cry—for Tristan. To stay and be there when he woke up; to make sure he was all right and somehow assure him that she would be too.

But already the guards were ushering her out for her safety. Dara's last sight before the door closed in her face was of Amelia bending over Tristan, checking his vitals. She choked back a sob and faced forward.
She'd
chosen this. Now she would have to see it through.

Cold, unsteady, feeling more lonely than she ever had before, Dara somehow made it through the forest to the lake.

She kept her gaze on the glistening waters, unable to even face the place where she and Tristan had made love just the day before. It seemed like a lifetime ago now. A scene from some novel that never truly happened.

Where was the neat resolution? Where was the part where she rode off into the sunset with her hero? Where was her happily ever after?

Bitterly disappointed, Dara turned her gaze to her bungalow and frowned. It wasn't empty. Agent Calen was 282

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already waiting for her. She sensed him all the way from the lake. Something that might have passed for a half smile stretched her lips. She should have expected it.

She stopped on her lawn, lifting her face up to the sun for a few moments, pretending. For those precious seconds, she pushed from her mind everything that she couldn't handle.

Dara had walked out the door on her and Tristan's little world.

She'd closed and locked it behind her, but it still wasn't enough. His desperate need for her still beat at her shields and it was exhausting trying to ignore it.

Dara had known that he'd grown attached to her in some way. Tristan no longer thought of them as separate entities; in his thoughts she was part of him and anything that happened to her affected him, so he would do anything, fight anyone, even her, to make it so that nothing more happened to her. In his mind, his protecting her was equivalent to self-defense. And she'd gone along with it because it was just the sort of romantic sentiment she'd become addicted to, because it was so rare, she'd only ever read about it in books.

But there was a giant flaw in it. Dara had no way of knowing—because Tristan himself didn't know—why he wanted her so badly. He didn't bother thinking about it. In his mind, she was his, and that was the end of it. For all Dara knew, it could be just because she was the first woman he'd come into contact with since he'd been jailed. Or it could be one of those stress-induced things, where people in dangerous situations form a bond they wouldn't have otherwise.

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It could be because she was the only one he'd confided in about everything and she hadn't turned him away, or because all the changes he was going through were confusing him.

Dara just didn't know. It was far too big a leap of faith to simply accept it. The risk was too great for both of them.

We live as we dream. Alone,
she'd quoted to him.
Heart of
Darkness
had never seemed like such a fitting example. Odds were Dara would turn into an even more twisted version of Mr. Kurtz in her final hours, breathing, "The horror! The horror!"

But good old Charlie Marlow got it right—there really was no way to compare experiences or share a life, not even with telepathy. Tristan had time to come to terms with it. Dara didn't.

So she put all thoughts of Tristan from her mind as well and just absorbed the feel of sunlight and the scent of fresh-cut grass, the sound of people happily in conversation not far away.

Then she opened her eyes, waved good-bye to the guard on the other side of the lake waiting for her to get inside, and walked up to her front door.

"Honey, I'm home," she called out, though the humor fell flat.

Agent Calen stood up from his seat at her table. A gentlemanly gesture. At least he was consistent. "I'll admit I was expecting a less cordial greeting."

"I'm sure you were. Sit, please."

"After you," he said, pulling out a chair for her. "I was told you've been injured."

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She felt that probe in her mind again, light across the surface of her thoughts. "You're not as subtle as you think, either," she told him.

"I don't usually need to be," he said with an unapologetic shrug. The probe didn't retreat. Once he'd seated her, he offered, "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Let's do away with the pleasantries and get down to business."

"Fair enough." Calen sat kitty-corner from her, but turned his chair so he faced her.

"You want something from me. You need my help catching a serial killer."

"Our definition of
help
is probably a little different from yours."

She ignored that. "And I might be inclined to cooperate.
If
certain conditions are met."

"What do you want?"

Where to start? "I have ... become aware of the reason why I am able to help you in this matter. Also, the reason why this is the
only
matter I will be able to help you with. And I know you're a man of your word. You don't give it often, but when you do, you keep it. So the first thing I want is your personal assurance that once this hunt is finished, the government will clear my record, let me return to my life, and not bother me again."

"I told you before, I have no ties to the government. They aren't involved in this issue, aside from PR."

"Then I am including whoever you
do
work for in that condition."

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He raised an eyebrow. "That's a tall order. You really think we need you that much?"

"Yes."

Calen considered it and without looking into his head, she knew what he was thinking. The killer was striking once every month, the victims seemingly random, but he was moving up the food chain. The public was scared. People knew the murders were still happening and pretty soon they'd start crucifying officials over it. "What else?"

"I assume you will need assurance that I can deliver the murderer."

"Naturally."

Dara nodded. "I will give you permission to scan me. I'll take down my shields and let you look. I don't need to tell you what you'll find. You'll know it when you see it."

"And your condition for this?"

"No one will bother anyone I know, no matter how interesting they might seem."

"By that, of course, you mean your friend Tristan Hunt."

"He is one of them, yes."

Again he considered her conditions. "Excuse me while I make a call."

"By all means."

While Calen went outside to talk, Dara checked the contents of her fridge. Someone had tossed out anything that might have spoiled while she'd been away. There was fresh fruit stacked in clear containers, juices and milk, even full meals. She took one out and put it in the oven.

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By the time she brought it back to the table along with a glass of milk, Calen returned, looking determined. "I can give you my word that your conditions will be honored," he said.

"I've also gotten permission to get you whatever you need in the course of the investigation.
If
you keep your end of the deal."

"Believe me, Agent Calen, I'm not about to renege."

"At your leisure, then."

Dara wriggled in her seat, wincing, uncomfortable with the idea of a stranger crawling inside her head. "I've never done this before."

"You will feel slight discomfort. I was told it can be discomfiting, but I will try not to traumatize you too much."

She eyed lunch. "I probably shouldn't eat, then."

"Are you ready?"

Dara inhaled deep and exhaled slowly. "Yes," she said and lowered her shields. As soon as she did, she felt exposed.

How quickly she'd gotten used to them.

Calen had all the subtlety of a stomping elephant. He didn't waste time, plunging in and snaking through her thoughts with incredible speed.
Discomfort
, he'd called it.

Dara felt as if she'd taken a sudden drop, her stomach flipping and clenching. She felt her brain matter rearrange itself to accommodate another presence that didn't belong.

Calen insinuated himself in her dreams and memories, as if he'd been there from the beginning, watching and listening. It was an invasion so complete that Dara could only hope she would still be herself after it was done.

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She knew he could also feel physical sensations when he flinched and curled in on himself briefly. Embarrassed, Dara immediately thought of what else he might feel and Tristan popped up in her mind.

He sucked in a breath. "Don't do that," he ordered in a harsh voice, steering away from visions of naked bodies twining together.

The instant he touched on what Dara had to show him, Calen stilled completely and she could finally take a breath.

He circled the dark kernel of whispering voices and enraged screams, the incessant hunger and the emptiness that remained after it was sated. He examined the link that wasn't an actual link, but more of an invasion; a parasite that had attached itself to her mind. It was enough so she could go into it and ...
be him
. Look through his eyes and hear with his ears.

Calen retreated slowly. He was shaking with strain across from her, his eyes tired and old. He looked as if he'd just fought a war single-handedly. As his presence faded away, his face disappeared from her memories again, leaving them untouched and unaltered, and her mind was able to settle back into place. Her stomach unclenched, the nausea subsiding.

It took a while for him to find his voice again. "To your knowledge, is he aware of the link?"

Like Tristan, he couldn't see through her to the killer. "I don't know. I hope he isn't." That was a scary thought.

Calen stumbled to the kitchen and pulled orange juice out of the fridge. He gulped it straight from the bottle, nearly 288

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finishing all of it. Then he braced his hands on the counter, hung his head and stayed that way, just breathing.

Dara slowly brought her shields back up. Calen wasn't scanning or probing her anymore, and she had a feeling he wouldn't in the future, but she felt safer with them in place.

Her stomach growled for sustenance, but rebelled at the thought of food. She was shaky and cold, and she missed Tristan like a phantom limb.

When Calen was finally able to stand on his own, he faced her and rubbed a hand over his mouth. The look on his face said he wasn't sure she was real and not a figment of his imagination. "I could go back on my word," he said. "You need this much more than we do. Seems as if that should be payment enough for your services."

"But you won't do that."

"No, I won't. Holy Christ."

"You should sit before you fall over."

He drew himself up. "When can you be ready to move?"

Dara started, surprised. Leave? She was just starting to get used to it here.
God, I'm an idiot
. It hadn't occurred to her that she'd have to go back home to do this. Back to her tiny dark apartment on the fortieth floor, with a view of another apartment four feet from hers. Back to the city where the only green plants were on display in the natural museum and every city block was gray and drab.

She looked out her window at the lake glittering in sunlight, surrounded by grass greener than anything she'd ever seen. Leave this?

Leave Tristan?

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The thought of him being locked in a cage—which she knew was where Amelia will have placed him,
for the safety of
others
—was bad enough. His desperate need still beat at her, even as he lay unconscious, so deeply sedated that he shouldn't even be dreaming. Dara couldn't even imagine his reaction when he woke up and realized she was completely gone.