Circle of Desire (16 page)

He rose and padded through the trees. There was no life, no movement to be seen anywhere. Even the quiet songs of the birds had faded away. Keeping to the deepening shadows as much as possible, he headed down to the cabin. Still no sound, no sign that anything living had been near this place in the last few months. Not even spiders—though there were plenty of webs to prove they’d once been here. He shifted shape, pressing his back against the rough-hewn walls as he edged toward the grimy rear window. And discovered the cause for the smell.

Dead men.
Living
dead men.

There had to be at least ten of them sleeping on the floor. He shifted position, trying to see into the shadows
filling the corners. Janie wasn’t there. He couldn’t see her, couldn’t smell her. But if these things were working for the woman snatching the kids, then maybe all he had to do was sit here and wait for either the killer to show up or these things to lead him to the mara. And Janie.

He had nothing to lose by trying.

Nothing except time spent with Kat. Unease stirred, and the sudden desire to race back to her caught him by surprise. Because it wasn’t motivated by the moon fever, but rather a surge of fear for her safety. And though he had the bruises to prove she was more than able to take care of herself, the certainty that she was flying into trouble settled like a weight in his gut and refused to budge.

He frowned and shifted shape, making his way back to the trees. But as the shadows mottling the clearing became one and the sky drifted toward night, the feeling that Kat needed help became a certainty he could not ignore.

He rose and ran for their cabin. Night had settled in by the time he arrived, and the wind was as cold as his heart. He entered their rooms, but knew from the lingering scents that Kat hadn’t been there for at least two hours. He walked into the other cabin.

“Where’s Kat?” he said the minute he saw Gwen.

The old woman lowered the newspaper and raised an eyebrow. “Out chasing a lead.”

“Where?” His voice was brusque, but right then he didn’t care.

Gwen crossed her arms, her expression amused. “She’s working, wolf, and you have no right—”

“She’s in trouble.”

Amusement fled from the old woman’s face. “What do you mean?”

“I mean she needs help. That without it she could be seriously hurt.” Perhaps even killed. The thought twisted something deep inside him, and for a minute he couldn’t even breathe.

Gwen studied him, her green eyes intense, almost otherworldly. As if she were seeing things those of the mortal world never could. Then she blinked and rose, hobbling into her bedroom. “How do you know this?” she asked over her shoulder.

He hesitated, but if anyone would understand his certainty, it would be this strange old woman. “I don’t really know. It’s just a feeling—a conviction—I have.”

“Precognition,” Gwen said. “I thought you might have that. She’s at the restaurant you stopped at yesterday.”

He felt like cursing. A two-hour drive was going to stretch his nerves to the limits. He swung to leave, then stopped. “Why is she there?”

“Because the werewolf that tore apart the kid will be there trolling for victims to slake his lust on. She’s going to stop him.”

The ice in his gut grew. “You sent her out alone after that thing?”

“She’s hunted far worse than werewolves.”

“When the moon is high, there
is
nothing worse than a berserk werewolf.” He knew that for a fact, having seen it back home as a cub. He briefly closed his eyes, forcing away the images of the woman who’d been attacked, and tried not to imagine Kat in her place.

Gwen snorted as she came back out and handed him a small first-aid kit. “Werewolf, you have no idea of the world we walk in.”

Maybe not. But he knew werewolves, and despite all their experience, these two obviously had no idea just how dangerous a berserker could be. And Kat was out there, facing one alone. He picked up his car keys and walked out the door.

And knew with certainty as he jumped into the car that he was not going to be in time to stop her from getting hurt.

K
AT GLANCED AT HER WATCH FOR THE UMPTEENTH TIME
. I
T
was close to eight, and still she had no sense of the werewolf’s presence in the crowded room.

She sipped her champagne and let her gaze drift across the dance floor. There were plenty of women here, and plenty of men. All of them dancing and flirting and generally having a good time. She had no doubt that, to a sensitive nose, the smell of lust would hang heavily in the air. And maybe that was the reason the werewolf intended to hunt here tonight. The pickings would probably be easy for a wolf in the midst of moon heat.

A chill raced a warning across her skin. She looked toward the door as it opened, and her stomach dropped to the vicinity of her toes.

The man who entered was tall and powerfully built, with chiseled features and dark blond hair. The sheer sexual energy radiating off him told her this was the werewolf she sought. But he was not the reason for the sudden rush of fear. That honor went
to the petite Asian woman who stopped beside him. The soul-sucker.

The woman scanned the room, and Kat dropped her gaze. Though she now wore a blond wig and colored contact lenses, she wasn’t about to risk the mara recognizing her. The heat of the soul-sucker’s gaze lingered for a moment, then moved on.

Relief surged through her and she looked up again. The mara headed left, the werewolf to the right. Kat hesitated, half thinking about going after the soul-sucker. But in reality, she knew that was a move best kept until they knew more about what would kill it. For now, it was better to chip away at the mara’s defenses by getting rid of her lieutenants.

She finished her drink in one gulp, then walked to the bar and ordered two more. Once back in the shadows, she slipped the herbs into one glass and watched the werewolf prowl around the room. The force of his aura rolled before him like a wave, hitting men and women alike. Obviously, this particular wolf wasn’t too choosy as to what sex he mated with. Their sighs and stares followed in his wake, but he didn’t stop, his gaze continuing to hunt the room.

Her stomach began to churn. She checked to make sure the herbs had disintegrated, and then she walked toward him.

The heat of his aura hit her like a punch to the stomach. It left her breathless, hot, and yet oddly uneasy. Because while
this
werewolf’s aura was every bit as powerful as Ethan’s, there was an undercurrent of violence in his energy that shook her to the core. Sex with this man would not be pleasant … maybe not even survivable.

She stepped in front of him, forcing him to stop. His gaze collided with hers, and deep in the blue depths she saw madness and hunger. A chill ran down her spine, but she forced a smile and offered him a glass. “You look like a man in search of a drink.”

His smile was high wattage, sexy, yet one that left her cold.

“Thank you.” His voice, like his smile, was designed to seduce.

He took the drink, the brief touch of his fingers hot and somehow needy. She resisted the urge to wipe her hand and raised her glass, taking a sip. The sweet liquid only succeeded in further agitating her stomach. “Do you come here often?” she said.

“Yes. And I haven’t seen you here before.”

His gaze slid casually down her body, then rose to meet hers again. The desire so evident in his eyes made her throat go dry. Heat surged between them, caressing her skin with its intensity. Yet while she reacted physically, it left her numb deep inside. Which was odd, given how susceptible she was to Ethan the minute he came within arm’s reach.

“No,” she murmured. “I’m just passing through.”

Something surged in his eyes. Relief. Perhaps even triumph. He swallowed the last of his champagne, then placed the glass on the nearby table. “Shall we dance?”

She hesitated briefly, but knew she had no choice. She had to let him think his aura was doing its job, that she was indeed struck with desire for him. She downed her drink in a gulp that left her head buzzing and placed her glass beside his. He pressed a hand against her back as he guided her down to the dance
floor, his fingers caressing her spine, sending chills skating across her skin. The music swirled around them, its beat heavy, languid. The floor was crowded with sweating, needy people, and she could almost smell their lust. He pulled her close, his body hard and smelling faintly of pine and death. His touch slid down to caress her rear. Had it been Ethan, she would have ached. With this wolf, the only true sensation she had was fear.

She lifted her gaze to his again. “Doesn’t your girlfriend mind you dancing this … intimately … with others?”

Tension flowed briefly through his limbs, and the hand holding her side dug deep. Pain slithered through her, and she bit down on a yelp.

He raised a pale eyebrow, his gaze all cold heat. “Girlfriend?”

She nodded. “I saw you come in and was disappointed to see you weren’t alone.”

His grip relaxed a little. “Ah, you mean Ming. She’s my employer.”

“But not your lover?”

“Our arrangement does sometimes include sex.” He gave her a half-smile that made her stomach flip-flop—and not in a good way. “Does that worry you?”

“That very much depends on just what sort of business you’re both in.”

“You could say my part in our venture is taking care of the young.”

His touch slipped from her rear to her thigh and moved under her skirt, caressing bare skin. The tremor that ran through her had nothing to do with desire.
She fought the flash of kinetic energy and raised an eyebrow. “Charity work?”

“No. Not unless you consider self-interest a charity.” His other hand slid under her breast. She couldn’t help trembling again, and he chuckled softly. “Is this what you want?”

He caught a nipple between his thumb and finger and squeezed hard. Her moan was one of pain rather than ecstasy, but he didn’t seem to care. He brushed a kiss across her cheek, his breath hot and foul as it fanned her skin. His mouth moved down to hers, but at the last moment she turned away, pressing the slightest kiss to his neck instead. Even that brief contact had her stomach squirming in distaste.

The waves of his aura were blasting her with heated desire. Her nipples hardened in response, and her breathing became more rapid. Yet they were both outward signs of a response she didn’t feel inside.

She swallowed to ease the dryness in her throat and said, “Have you lived around these parts long?”

He shrugged and cupped her breast, kneading it hard through the gauzy material of her shirt. “Not at all. Only a few weeks, in fact. I actually tend to move between Springfield and here.”

Energy prickled across her fingertips. She clenched her hand behind him, fighting the desire to smack him across the room. “Is it your work that makes you divide your time between the two?”

“Yes. Although we’re only here until her kids are old enough—” He stopped, suspicion darkening his expression.

Fear stirred. She ran a hand down his body and pressed her palm against the hardness so visible under
his jeans. “Perhaps we should do something about this before we continue our chat.”

His suspicion fled, replaced by avid hunger. “We could go somewhere more secluded,” he whispered into her neck. “And dance a little more intimately.”

She shivered. There was no way in hell she was going to be caught alone outside with this man. She didn’t like the edge of violence so evident in his aura—and besides, there was the soul-sucker to consider. She might be able to cope with one mad creature, but two was pushing her limits.

“It’s too cold outside,” she murmured, running a finger back up his chest and undoing the top button of his shirt. “But I noticed earlier that the ladies’ room has a lock.”

Amused anticipation gleamed in his eyes. His hand slid up her thigh and settled on her rear, but his touch was so hot it felt as if he were branding her.

“I like your thinking.”

So did she. At least help was within yelling distance if she got into trouble. “Then let’s go.”

She stepped away and caught his hand, leading the way through the crowded dance floor. When they neared the restroom she released him, her smile teasing as she looked up. “I’ll just go check to make sure we’re alone.”

“Don’t be long.” His voice was brusque and edged with hunger.

The urge to run all but swamped her. She forced her smile and entered the restroom. It was empty. She checked the stalls anyway, then reached up to close the window.

A warning tingled across the back of her neck, telling
her she was no longer alone. She ignored the urge to turn and face him, knowing she had to lock the window just to make sure no one else could join them. Especially the soul-sucker—though a locked window wasn’t going to delay her long if she decided to join the party.

He kicked the door shut, then slammed the bolt home. Her heart began a double-time dance that had nothing to do with desire. She slid her hand into her bag and clenched her fingers around one of the two silver knives she carried.

“Getting a might anxious, aren’t—” Metal slithered across her throat, cutting off her words. She reacted instinctively, thrusting a hand up to her neck as the wire snapped taut. A ribbon of fire began to burn around her throat and cut into her fingers. It wasn’t ordinary wire. It was silver, which meant she couldn’t shift shape to escape the garrote.

“Did you think a wig would fool us?” he whispered, his breath hot and unsteady against her ear.

She didn’t answer.
Couldn’t
answer. The wire was growing tighter, cutting into her fingers and neck. Moisture pulsed down her palm, and her chest burned as air suddenly became scarce.

Energy blistered through every fiber, but she fought desperately against the urge to release it. She didn’t dare when he held the garrote so tight. She might just end up cutting her own throat.

“Scream for me,” he whispered. “Beg for your life.”

He slammed her face-first against the wall and began rubbing himself against her rump. He was thick and hard, his breathing fast and hot against her ear.
Bile rose in her throat, threatening to finish what the garrote had begun. She closed her eyes, battling panic. Remembered the knife still clenched in her hand.