Mine (10 page)

Alex settled into the band’s routine as if she’d always been there. By the end of the first week, she’d earned the professional respect of the other band members, even the cynical Zack. She’d started to relax around the band, no longer tensing up whenever she entered a room where more than one of the group was present. The only thing Alex found unsettling about the whole situation was hearing Cole, with his sinful, arousing voice, singing the lyrics her heart had composed. His voice, unnerving and hypnotic, wove a spell of enchantment around her, pulling her deeper and deeper each time he sang her words.

Hell, it was just plain erotic.

She’d had less free time than she’d first assumed she would, but she didn’t mind.

Working with the band had proven quite enjoyable. Cole had been on his best behavior whenever he was around, which, oddly enough, wasn’t often. He kept the most hideous hours.

Then again, she reminded herself, his were common rocker hours. Up all night, sleep all day.

She’d begun to think he was deliberately going out of his way to avoid her. His behavior was a puzzle, a puzzle missing a few frustrating, crucial pieces. He’d gone from irresistible, charming, and intensely focused to rarely present and more than a little distracted in the space of one night. However, since she could avoid facing him in return—and therefore facing her attraction 101

for
him—his absence suited her just fine.

Late one evening, just after sunset, she let herself back into the house. She’d gone jogging through the grounds to clear out a temporary jag of writer’s block from her head, down past a quiet stream shrouded in beautiful natural foliage that ran along the western perimeter of Cole’s estate, and inspiration had struck.

Eagerly making her way to Cole’s study, intent on the Steinway therein, Alex drew up short as soon as she opened the door without knocking first and her eyes immediately locked on the silhouette of a man cloaked in darkness. It took a second for her eyes to adjust to the shadows as she struggled to remember where the light switches were located. The silhouette stood motionless a few feet from Cole’s desk, still as a statue. She couldn’t see his face, but tension crackled sharply in the air. Alarm rang a sharp warning in her skull, and she hesitated.

Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she stepped just inside the door. “Cole?”

****

The sound of Alex’s curious voice, pushing through the shadow-enshrouded room toward him startled an instinctive, furious hiss from his lips. He’d been so distracted by the unexpected package on his desk he hadn’t heard her approach. Not good. He recoiled at the muted sound of her approaching footsteps. His body, already tensed—

already transformed by rage—stiffened as he turned farther away from her to conceal the harsh changes in his face. Cole had seen reflections of himself transformed, another myth debunked. It was a sight capable of striking terror straight to the heart of the most stalwart. Her vision wouldn’t be as keen in the darkness as his 102

was, so he risked a swift glance over his shoulder, only to curse himself for his primal reaction. His preternatural senses, all the more acute in the cover of darkness and in the height of fury, hadn’t missed a single detail, right down to the nervous flutter of delectable pulse at the base of her throat. The alluring sight of Alex in a curve-hugging running suit was enough to push him straight onto treacherous, slippery territory.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” Then, as if sensing something was wrong, she stepped closer to him. “Cole? Are you all right?”

“Stay back.” His voice was deeper than normal, gruff and hoarse. “Don’t come any closer.”

By the gods, run woman,
he wanted to shout.

Find the nearest piece of pointy wood and hide.

But even that wasn’t a safe bet, given his current condition. She’d be no match for his strength, and her flight might very well trigger his natural predatory responses. If she ran, he wasn’t altogether certain he would be able to stop himself from chasing her down, wouldn’t be able to stop from taking all he’d been dreaming about since the first scent of her filled his nostrils.

Alex froze. But she was still too close.

With a silent curse, Cole’s gaze settled back on his desk, and the large, flat box as he tried to determine what to do next. Thinking with her this close, thinking in this state in general, was difficult…if not outright impossible.

The box itself was white, a stark anomaly against the inky bleakness of the room. The lid beside the box sported a garish red bow. Beside him, Alex lifted a hand and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her scent, stronger for the internal heat of her recent exertions, raced through him like drugs hitting an addict’s veins.

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His body convulsed, pushed to the point of exploding. She shouldn’t be here, not while he was so close to the edge. And if she opened the album inside that box, she’d have more questions than he could answer.

Alex moved toward the lamp on an end table

“Leave it off.” Cole’s voice cracked like a whip in the room, and he cringed. Could she hear the layer of desperation?

She froze again, and then withdrew her hand.

His tone, the very clarity of his speech sounded garbled, strained, even to his own ears. She crossed the room to his side, her steps cautious and slow, as those of someone forced to approach a dangerous, wounded animal. Maybe she was more observant than he’d given her credit.

Her heat called to him, her scent beckoned him, taunting him. Warm blood pulsed beneath that luscious, glowing skin, and his mouth watered. Cole hissed beneath his breath and moved away from the desk—away from her—his face fully averted. Balling his fists, he sucked in one deep breath after another in a desperate attempt to manage his baser inclination to seize her and drag her to the floor beneath him. The urge to bury his fangs deep in her neck was strong upon him. The urge to bury his painful, throbbing erection even deeper between her thighs was stronger still. The thought of doing both at the same time…

His body shook and tiny beads of perspiration broke over his forehead.

With every breath he dragged in, her scent wrapped itself around him, insinuated itself farther inside him, fueling that craving to hazardous levels. His already finely tuned senses sharpened, predatory instincts urging him to stalk her, to taste her, to ruthlessly claim 104

everything she had for his own.

Behind him, Alex bent over the desk and peered into the box. He knew what she would see if she lifted the front cover, but he didn’t trust his voice enough to caution her away. Didn’t trust his hands to touch her. The cover of the photo album was white. The words “Let’s Party” were scribbled across the face of the book in garish red lipstick.

And inside…

“What is this, Cole?”

“He got in,” Cole muttered. “By Loki, he came here and got inside…and I didn’t know it.” Alex turned to him then, the book evidently forgotten as she approached him. Burning his arm with a calming, concerned hand, she craned her neck to peer into his face. “Cole, what’s going on?”

Cole hissed and jerked violently away, reacting for all the world as if she’d just lit a pyre and requested he dance on top of it. Alex yanked her hand back, flinching away. Pain and confusion glistened in her luminous eyes.

He could feel the waves of turmoil rolling through her, and it tore at him. By Valhalla, he could
feel
her, with an awareness that went beyond the here and now, beyond the time and place. It was a fable, he told himself. A myth of mated pairs. They couldn’t actually
feel
each other’s emotions. That was impossible. It had to be. Besides, he and Alex had not mated. She was not his
Bride
.

The mere thought of it sent a wildfire of lust ripping through his body. He could still feel her touch, and his flesh burned for more.

Telling himself to get a grip, Cole swore beneath his breath.

He drew back two full steps, cautious to censor his explanation. “Someone’s been trying to 105

sneak past security. They’ve attempted to get in several times. I just came in a few minutes ago, and that,” he ground out, pointing at the box,

“was on my desk.”

Her voice was soft, puzzled. “A photo album?

Did you open it?”

“Yeah,” he ground out. Anger boiled up inside him once more. “It’s filled with pictures.” She stepped closer to him, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “What pictures?”

“Just…pictures.”

Of course, she couldn’t be content in just letting it go, not his Alex. “Have you called the police yet?”

He shook his head, sucking in another deep breath. Alex reached for her pocket. As she lifted her hand free, she flipped her phone open, her thumb depressing the number nine. In a move so swift she couldn’t have see it until he was touching her, Cole grabbed her wrist, none to gently, and jerked the phone from her, snapping it closed.

“Cole…” She gasped, breathless with alarm.

“No.” His tone left no room for argument. “No Hu…cops. No cops.”

He let out a harsh breath, cursing himself for slipping, only narrowly having managed to bite off the word
Human
. If he’d worried the album would cause questions, imagine what kind of reaction
that
word would have sparked.

“But Cole…”

“No,” he insisted, fisting his hands at his sides. “It won’t do any good. Besides, I’ll just end up with a crush of bad press, and right now, that’s the last thing I need.”

“Cole, whoever made this album, this person was
inside
the house,” she pushed. “They could be dangerous…”

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He stalked away from her, raking a hand through his already disheveled hair. Icy fury cut through his voice. “Believe me, they don’t know what dangerous is. I’ll deal with this. Just forget about it.”

He tossed her phone back and reached for his own. Flipping it open, he impatiently waited for the call to connect, and barked, “Get up here—

now.”

Beside him, he could hear her teeth grinding.

After a short moment of seething breaths, Alex marched to the door, calling over her shoulder.

“Since I presume your study will soon be full of people, do you mind if I use the studio for a while?”

“Go ahead.” He turned away, his gaze absorbed once more with the box on his desk as he fought the inexplicable urge to call her back.

The door to his study closed with strategically applied force, and he flinched.

****

Cole’s chilling gaze followed Styx’s progress as he paced in front of Cole’s desk, his eyes glowing pale amber, his fangs flashing with lethal fury at the nervous security detail. “How the hell did they get past you? I mean, last I checked, it was your friggin’ job to keep the lunatics out, or was I wrong?” Laying a restraining hand on the drummer’s taut shoulder, Cole turned, addressing the two cowering Vamps before him in menacing, deadly tones. “I want new security cameras installed in all the locations I indicated by morning. I want an additional man patrolling the grounds during the day, two at night. And I want to be notified the instant anything suspicious happens.”

“Yes, sir,” the twin mountains rumbled in unison. As one, they turned on their heels and 107

fled the room. They should be grateful to be escaping with their throats still intact.

Cole stalked across the room and stood immobile, fists clenched behind his stiff back, gaze locked on the Viking helmet in his display case. His voice was quiet, controlled as it had been with the guards. The underlying note of outrage reverberated, unmistakable. “You saw the pictures. Tell me it’s not what I’m thinking. Tell me I’m wrong.”

Styx paced around the room, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “You want me to lie to you, Cole? Or do you want the truth?”

Cole shot him a withering look, thrust his hands deep in his front pockets, and stalked back to the desk to scowl down at the open photo album.

“It’s him, Cole.” Styx stared at him from the opposite side of the desk. “It’s him. Somehow he found out about us—about the fact we’re working, hand in glove, with the TFRA—and this is his way of letting us know the hunters have become the prey.”

Cole let out a long, drawn out sigh and scrubbed his palms over his face. The pictures before him were harsh, even to eyes that had seen centuries of war and destruction. The sadistic bastard had taken great pleasure in stalking his victims, his glee more than apparent in every candid snapshot. He’d paid attention to every painstaking detail of their life…as well as staging the scene of their demise, displaying the corpse for maximum shock value.

The shock value—in terms of Vampyre outrage—was the sheer waste. Blood pooled beneath the victim, congealing in the grime.

He’d known many of his breed who’d happily 108

killed for the sake of killing.
Many who’d blissfully ravaged and dismembered entire villages,
wallowing in the bloodbath. Helheim, not so many centuries ago, he’d been one of them.

But these killings were different. They were irrational, useless, with nothing more than a killer’s twisted sense of reason behind any of them. These killings hadn’t been about revenge, or acquisition. These killings hadn’t been about a feeding that had gotten out of hand. The killer hadn’t fed from the victim at all. He’d bitten them, killed them, but he’d left the blood behind, as if it were tainted, too vile to ingest.

Why kill them at all? What was the Rogue gaining from all this? Except maybe the pleasure of watching the TFRA chasing their proverbial tails in growing panic. Even that illustrious, efficient agency wouldn’t be able to keep these slayings under wraps much longer. They were too specific, too targeted to one industry for its people to not notice, to not start asking questions. Why?

Because I c
…what?

Styx’s voice broke into Cole’s thoughts. “Have you called Crispin yet?”

“Yeah. Tommy too…” Cole turned away from the pictures. The lingering scent of Alex caught him. “Did you happen to see Alex when you came in?”

“Yeah,” Styx admitted with a troubled frown, his fangs receding out of sight. “She looked pretty tense, told me to come in…that you probably needed to talk to me.”

He’d been a jerk. He owed her another apology. By Thor, this was fast becoming a habit…apologizing to her. He couldn’t say he cared for it much. The shrill ring of his phone interrupted his reply. He checked the ID and frowned when the word security pop up on the 109

tiny screen. Flipping the cell open, he placed it to his ear with a terse, “Yeah?”

Cole snapped the phone closed after a few seconds with a furious snarl. Rage roiled through him again. “Son of a bitch!”

“What?” Styx stiffened, his hand dropped to his hip in a timeless, instinctive gesture Cole recognized with familiar sympathy. They’d both been born in a time of sword and shield.

“That was security. They chased someone across the grounds, but whoever it was got away…again. They said they caught the guy climbing out a window near the studio, moving too fast to be Human…”

Cole’s eyes widened then, and Alex’s parting words came back to him. The room swam before his eyes. “Alex…”