Crimson Midnight (A New Adult Dark Urban Fantasy Series) (The Crimson Series Book 1) (10 page)

“Okay.”

“I will call back shortly.”
He
hung up.

“He’s calling Kris.” Damon told
Maxwell.

“Yep?”
Kris answered his
phone on the first ring.

“It’s Raven.”

“Where do you need me?”

“Shadwell. Immediately.”

“We following a trail?”

“Yes. Maxwell and Damon are on
standby.”

“On my way, will keep you
updated.”

They ended the call.

Damon put his phone away.

“Raven said to wait here. Kris is
on his way. Then we can hunt.”  Damon smiled a smile that transformed his
usually refined features into something more primal.

“You look scary when you smile,”
said Maxwell. “All wolf like. Me thinks you are gonna enjoy this.”

Damon nodded and then shrugged.
“What can I say? It is the beast within.”

Maxwell nodded. “Just keep your
choppers away from me and we’ll be cool.”

After lunch, Raven was in another
lecture theatre, identical to the previous one in decor but a smaller space,
this time filled with first year degree students of all ages.

“Good afternoon,” he addressed
them. “My name is Raven…” his introductions continued.

As he spoke, he picked up a scent
on the air, masculine cologne that smelled fascinating, almost intoxicating. As
he breathed it in his head buzzed, vibrating with tiny sparks of electricity.
He felt lightheaded, having inhaled the aroma a little too deeply.

He stumbled over his words. “Excuse
me.” He shook his head hard, trying to clear it of the scent. “It’s just after
lunch, and it seems my brain is still in vacation mode.”

The students laughed at his words.

“I’m going to walk around as I
continue the lecture. Do you mind?” His eyes drifted over the theatre, trying
to pinpoint the source of the cologne.

The students shook their heads or said
“No” warmly.

“Okay.” He walked away from his
desk heading for the central stairs. “Controversies in personality research–
talk to me.”

As the students put up their hands
and he allowed them to speak, he divided his focus between answering their
comments and trying to place where the scent was coming from. It was
thickening, its signature interchanging between musk, citrus and something
incredibly delicious, the smell of sex, the arousing and incredible scent of a
man’s sexual heat. His head was still light and buzzing and he realised to his
amazement that he was getting hard. Every time he inhaled, the arousing scent
fired him up some more, wetting his appetite for sex. Sex with whoever this man
was that wore this exotic scent. It was driving him crazy, a collage of
emotions and senses– excitement, confusion, dizziness, nausea, building him up
to coast a wave of pleasure and frustration. Still he managed to absorb what
his students were saying.

“Good point,” he addressed a male
student. “Yes,” he said to another, a woman in her thirties. “What’s…” he
experienced an intense rush of blood to his head, making him stop and sway. He
recovered quickly, trying his best to focus. “What’s your name?” His brow was
beaded with perspiration.

“Jessica Field,” the woman replied.

“Go ahead, Jessica.”

As Jessica spoke he traced the
trail of the cologne. He listened with half an ear as she outlined the approach
of the humanistic psychologist Carl Rogers and went on to detail Idiographic
theories. He followed her words as he followed the scent trail, his eyes moving
toward the source, his erection throbbing and aching in his trousers, his head
thumping, his legs weakening. And then Jessica’s words were lost to him as
violet eyes shimmered into focus before him. The man from the Rainbow Rave was
sitting in the back row, his dark hair pulled back and exposing his beautiful
face, a face too beautiful to be possible. His eyes were focused intently on
Raven.

Raven exhaled slowly and realised
that he had been holding his breath. He wanted to tear his eyes away but found
that he couldn’t. His body was on fire with a need that was purely sexual. He
wanted this man, he wanted to fuck him so hard that…

“Raven?” Jessica’s voice smashed
through everything, yanking him back to the lecture theatre and the chocolate
brown carpet, the cream walls and every eye in the room studying him.  His
erection instantly died. The nausea faded. His balls ached and so did his head.
He looked around.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I just need
a drink of water.”

He glanced quickly at the
violet-eyed man who smiled at him. The scent was gone. There was just a man
sitting there, a student waiting patiently for his lecturer to talk. Raven
hurried back down the stairway, grabbed his glass of water and gulped it down, his
back to the students.

“Are you all right?” Jessica
sounded worried.

Raven straightened up. “I apologise
for that, Jessica,” he said with deceptive calm.

He was rattled, but he couldn’t
show it. “This is only my third lecture of the term and I am still quite rusty.
Let’s continue.”

Raven did not look up at the back
row again. Instead, he focused somewhere in the middle of the lecture theatre.
The rest of the lecture passed uneventfully.

“It ends here,” Damon said,
stopping by an overflowing skip down a short alley that stopped at the back of
a shopping precinct in Hackney.

Kris growled softly. “Fucking
demons!”

They had been following a trail for
hours, taking them out of Shadwell and into Hackney. It had led them through
various residential areas, up towering blocks of flats, into parks, down
alleyways, over rooftops. The trail even mingled with another, following a
direct trail to the canal before separating– one ending completely and the
remaining one continuing to lead them down the canal path through more
residential areas before ending completely at their current point.

“Maybe it crossed back over here,”
said Maxwell. “I don’t know a great deal about summoning but I think that a
demon can only stay for a finite time on this plane if it is summoned. Once
it’s completed the task it was called for it’s sent back by the summoner. If,
in this case, we’re looking at a summoner who lost control of the demon, then
the demon could have been pulled back to its realm once it’s time ran out.”

“Not before it did some damage,
though.” Kris pointed out.

“Yeah, well it looks like there’s
nothing further we can do here. If it’s gone then good riddance. What we need
to concentrate on now is finding the person who’s doing the summoning. I’ve
already informed Bob and he’s passed the info on.” Maxwell reached into his
pocket, pulling out a packet of cigarettes. He shook one out, popped it in his
mouth and lit up, taking a long drag.

“So what happens now?” Damon eyed
the cigarette. Maxwell offered him one and he accepted.

Maxwell shrugged. “I guess they’ll
have to interview all the summoners.”

“We’ll need to keep our eyes peeled
on patrol,” Kris added. “If this person is malicious then there’ll be more of
those things.”

“I’ll call Raven,” said Damon.

9.

FUNK THIS!

Rose lay sprawled on the bed, still
slightly damp from the shower and wrapped only in a large terry towel.  Her
hair was wet against her shoulders and back but she couldn’t seem to summon the
energy to push it away.  She felt good despite her aching muscles. Although
volunteering at the centre back home on a part-time basis had not prepared her
for the regular work out that she was getting in her present job, she should be
exhausted, but she felt strangely invigorated and lethargic at the same time.
It was hard to believe that two whole weeks had gone by already.

There was a tap at her door and
before she could respond it swung open. Roman strolled casually in as if it
were the most natural thing in the world. 

She sat up quickly, holding the
towel tight against her breasts.

“Excuse me! Do you mind?”

He looked at her, his eyes
travelling slowly up and down her body, his smile slightly too suggestive for
her liking. “Not really, there’s nothing to get a man going like a woman still
wet from the shower.”

“Yeah, well I have no interest in
‘getting you going’,” she snapped. “Now get out.”

He held up his hands. “There’s no
need to be rude. I just wanted to remind you about the gig tonight at The
Whisper.” 

Rose frowned.

“Funk This are playing.”

Her brow cleared. “Oh, yeah, now
get out.”

He sauntered toward the door and
Rose couldn’t help but notice the movement of muscle under his fitted T-shirt,
or the perfect hard peach of a bum encased in tight denim. 

He paused at the door and turned to
look at her with an amused expression. “You know you’re the first girl to ever
kick me out of her room.”  He grinned then shrugged. “Well we all have our
crazy days.” He turned to leave.

“I’d be crazy to let you anywhere
near me,” she retorted. “Playboys are so last year and defo not my type.
Besides, you’re not that cute.”

He paused. “Really?” Spinning on
his heel he walked slowly toward the bed, like a cat stalking its prey. 

Rose’s mouth was suddenly dry, and
she shrank back instinctively. There was something almost predatory about his
approach. The amused smile had been replaced by a singularly intense look, his
eyes pinned her to the bed.  She felt the bed dip with his weight as he crawled
onto it on hands and knees, she felt the heat of his body and was powerless to move,
found she didn’t want to move as he dipped his head until his face was a mere
centimetre away from her shoulder. He inhaled, trailing that imaginary line
from shoulder to the dip in her neck. She couldn’t breathe, in fact, held her
breath as his breath trailed a path from that dip up and over her cheek until
his lips were hovering a hair’s breadth from hers. She could feel his arousal,
hear it in his heavy breath and to her horror, her body echoed his desire. She
wanted him to kiss her, wanted to taste him. As if of its own volition her head
jerked forward to close the gap between them, but her reason asserted itself in
that split second before their lips could meet. And she turned her face to the
side, so his lips did nothing but graze her hot cheek.  

“You have a girlfriend.” Her voice
was husky with desire. Slowly she pushed herself away from him, turning to look
him in the eye. 

He blinked once, twice slowly, as
if coming out of a dream. His eyes widened slightly and he scrambled off the
bed. 

“Of course, you’re right but I
think I made my point. You wanted me, Rose. Admit it.” He gave her a lopsided
smile.

Rose shrugged, feigning
nonchalance. “I’m a red-blooded woman and it’s been a while, and men aren’t the
only ones with needs you know.” If she had been hoping to shock she was
disappointed. 

“Always happy to help a lady in
need.” He grinned in what she guessed was supposed to be a teasing manner but
his eyes were anything but.  His eyes were dark and serious.  She licked her
lips at a loss for words and his gaze was drawn to them like a magnet. 

Tearing his eyes away he shrugged.
“Or you could try Kris. He has a crush on you already, should be an easy ride.”

She felt her temper flare and was
glad of the distraction.  She liked Kris and was perfectly aware of his little
crush on her, and wasn’t about to do anything to encourage it when she didn’t
feel the same way.

“You might like playing games with
people but I don’t roll that way. I’ve heard you on the phone to a different
girl almost every night. You, Roman, are a slut and I don’t do sluts.” She
shook her head. “I feel sorry for Thistle.”

Roman’s jaw clenched, his eyes
narrowing, his tone, when he spoke, was flat and dangerous. “My personal life
is none of your goddamn business.” He took a step toward the bed. “You know
what your problem is? You’re attracted to me and you can’t get off your high
horse and admit it because it goes against your little rule.”

Rose could feel the heat emanating
off him, felt her own answering heat but refused to back down. “You really do
love yourself, don’t you?” He opened his mouth to respond but she continued.
“No, don’t answer that, it was a rhetorical question.” They remained that way
for a few beats, staring at each other. Then Rose sighed, exhaled and mentally
shook herself.  “Look, let’s just forget it. You have your way of looking at
the world and I have mine. We have to live under the same roof so let’s
just…forget it.” 

Roman seemed to consider this then
nodded curtly.

“I just want to say one thing
before we close this subject,” he said.

“Okay.”

“Thistle and I have an open
relationship.” And with that he left the room.

Rose flopped back onto the bed,
staring up at the purple ceiling. Open relationship? That explained a lot, but
why tell her? Did he think it would make her feel better about being attracted
to him? Because she doubted he had bought her denials. Roman had been right,
she had wanted him. And despite his attempts at levity afterwards, and his
anger at her taunts, she knew he had wanted her too.

The Whisper was already packed when
Rose entered. She had to crane her head to search the crowd for Roman, Kris or
Thistle. She spotted Thistle straight away, her neon green mini dress was kind
of hard to miss. She was standing in a corner watching a game of darts in
progress. She smoothed down her own turquoise halter neck, which she had paired
with a pair of cream low-rise jeans. Weaving her way through the throngs of
eager partiers she headed in the direction of the shining green beacon. 

“Hi.” Rose greeted Thistle.

“Oh, hello.” Thistle smiled,
flashing her pearly whites then continued to watch the game.  Two young men,
looking to be in their mid-twenties, were bantering as they played against each
other.

“They should be done soon.” Thistle
informed her as if Rose actually cared. She scanned the crowd again.

“They’re on the far side of the
bar, closest to the stage.” Thistle hadn’t taken her eyes off of the board.

“Oh, um, thanks.” Rose dithered.
She wanted to join the others but felt rude just leaving Thistle standing here.
On impulse she asked, “You want a game when they’re done?”

“Really?” Thistle looked
unreasonably eager as if Rose had just offered her a hundred pounds.

“Sure, if you want.”

“I’ve never played, it looks like
fun.” Her eyes gleamed in the dimly lit room.

Rose was shocked. “You’ve never
played darts? Ever?”

Thistle shook her head.

“Well, then.” Rose approached the
two men who had by now finished their game but were loitering and hogging the
darts. “Hello, boys.” She insinuated herself between them, looking up at them
coyly through her lashes. “You mind if us girls have a game?”

“Anything for a pretty lady.” The
taller man handed over the darts.  The shorter one flashed her an appreciative
grin before backing away.

She had hoped they would disappear
to the bar or something but they decided to stay and watch. Oh well, she
shrugged. She was pretty good at darts, she just hoped being watched didn’t put
Thistle off playing, it was her first time and she might find it embarrassing. 
She moved back to Thistle. “You okay with them watching? Because if not I can
get rid of them.”

Thistle turned to regard the two
young men. “Oh, no, I think I’ll be fine.”

“You want me to go first, just so
you can see how it’s done?”

Thistle smiled a closed lipped smile
and nodded.

Rose stood back, took aim and fired
a triple twenty, another triple twenty and a Bulls-eye.

“Nice,” called one of the men.

Retrieving the darts, she handed
them to Thistle.  “Now remember just take your time, don’t rush, take aim and
then lead with your arm.”

Thistle took the darts carefully in
her hands turning them over as if examining them. She looked fascinated.  After
a moment she stepped up to the mark and took up the pose ready to throw.  A few
seconds later she was done. Rose’s mouth fell open in astonishment. Three
Bulls-eye! 

“Smooth!” Someone shouted out from
behind them.

Calmly retrieving the darts,
Thistle handed them to Rose. Rose frowned at her. “Are you sure you’ve never
played before?”

Thistle shook her head. “Must be
beginner’s luck.” She shrugged. “Shall we get a drink and join the others?”

“A drink sounds good.”

As they made their way to the bar,
Rose dismissed the idea of Thistle as a hustler. She had sounded sincere when
she had said she had never played before so it must be like she said–
beginner’s luck. Either that or she could have a natural ability for the game. 

The bar was pretty busy and while
they waited, Rose found herself studying this girl who could play darts like a
pro and was happy with an open relationship.  She had never gone for that kind
of thing herself. She liked to be in a monogamous relationship and as much as
she liked sex, she didn’t feel comfortable with one-night stands. Thistle was a
stunning woman and she didn’t understand why Roman wouldn’t want her all to
himself and vice versa. 

Before she could censor her speech,
her mouth opened and she was blurting it out. “So you and Roman, how long have
you two been together?” It had come out all wrong, sounding more intrusive than
like the polite enquiry she had intended.

Thistle made a small ‘O’ with her
mouth. “Why, are you interested?” She enquired politely.

Heat rushed to colour her face.
“What? In Roman?  I don’t think so!”

“What’s wrong with Roman?” Thistle
looked genuinely perplexed. “He’s very sexy and
I’m
seeing him.”

“Exactly,” Rose said, glad for any
excuse not to fancy Roman.

Thistle regarded her for a long
moment with her large doe eyes and Rose was struck by the impression that
Thistle was a lot smarter than she gave her credit for. Her next words
confirmed Rose’s suspicions.

“He made a pass at you, didn’t he?”
She smiled wryly. 

“Er…no…”

Thistle threw back her head and
laughed a full-throated sexy laugh that had a few heads turning at the bar.
“It’s okay,” she soothed. “We have an understanding.”

“Open relationship.” Rose supplied.

“He told you?”  She looked slightly
amused. “He must really like you.”

“More like he was horny and wanted
a quick fix.” Rose couldn’t completely censor her annoyance.  But Thistle
looked offended.

“I should hope not! I make sure of
it!”  Now it was Rose’s turn to look shocked.  Thistle’s eyes widened. “Too
much information?”

They stared at each other for a
moment and then both burst into laughter.

“What can I get you girls?” The
hunky bartender from last Saturday interrupted and, giggling, they placed their
order.

Any tension that had existed
between the two women had completely dispersed. Rose realised that Thistle was
a girl that she would very much like to socialize with, and with Faye being so
loved up the past couple of weeks, it would be nice to have some sane female
company. 

Roman was an idiot for not
committing. She could see why he couldn’t let Thistle go though, there was
something compelling about her. She was the ultimate contradiction, a shrewd
mind in a punk-Barbie body with a Marilyn Monroe voice as the icing on the
cake.

“How’s Dickie?”  Roman asked Kris. 

Kris shrugged, his mouth turned
down. “Haven’t seen him really, just briefly here and there. He came back to
get a change of clothes this morning but that’s about it.”  Roman looked
blankly at him and Kris, realising he needed to elaborate, continued. “He’s
practically moved in with Rose’s mate, what’s her name…”

“Faye.”  Damon supplied, sipping
his martini.

Roman looked concerned. “Shit, he
must be taking it bad.”

“But I bet all the sex he’s getting
is helping soothe his battered ego,” Damon said dryly.  

Kris shot him an annoyed look.

“I’m just saying,” Damon said, “he
hasn’t really gone out of his way to be a team player has he?  It’s always all
about him and this thing he has, to be the top wolf.”

“I know he has his…issues, but if
you take the time to get to know him he’s a really great bloke. He just sees
the world differently.” Kris, the peacemaker once again.

Damon looked set to argue but Roman
stepped in. “I understand what you’re saying, mate, and you could be right. I
mean, you live with him and I guess it must be hard to keep up the
‘I’m-such-a-hard-dick’ act all the time. There’s bound to be moments he slips
and you see the real Harold. But Damon’s right.  When it comes to the pack, he
hasn’t played fair.  Man, you have to give Raven credit for not having ripped
his throat out by now, and God knows he’s been given ample reason to do so.”

Damon gave a wavering nod,
conceding the point and Kris just looked contemplative.