Mine (15 page)

****

The Party Crasher eased close to his prey. His blood pulsed and churned in anticipation. Just then, the notes changed, the tempo picked up for a new song. The music shook the walls, vibrating the floor beneath their feet, dark and erotic, and the Crasher smiled, a sinister chuckle tickling the back of his throat. How ironic. Accompanied by the distinctive riffs and rhythms of Stolen Innocence, Cole’s voice, deep as the shadows in the night, rich and smooth as fine cognac, belted out his band’s latest chart-topper,
Moonlight and
Blood
. The timing couldn’t have been better had he planned it himself. He’d have to remember music the next time. It certainly added just the right touch. His partner smiled up at him, and he eased her a little closer. His body brushed hers with practiced finesse, hinting at attraction, but not overwhelming enough to make her worry. She was relaxed, pliable and just the tiniest bit inebriated.

Moving with smooth deliberation, he leaned close, his lips hovering at her ear. So close to that precious little artery, he could almost taste the Bailey’s she’d been tipping all night. “It’s awfully warm in here, angel. Wanna go outside to grab some air?”

She hesitated. Could she sense his eagerness, his anticipation? Maybe he should have bought her one more drink. Stealing a glance at the illuminated face on his watch, just beyond her shoulder, he strangled back a vicious oath. Ten to eleven. Adrenaline surged. He was running out of time. It had to be just perfect. It all had to go 152

exactly according to the plan. If she didn’t die at exactly eleven…he’d have to start all over at the beginning. The message would be lost.

Drawing a deep breath, he steadied his body.

There was still time. He still had a few minutes.

He’d just have to move a little faster than he’d anticipated.

“Man,” he mumbled, holding a hand to the side of his forehead, swaying on his feet. “I’m not feelin’ so hot.” He gave a tipsy chuckle. “Then again, maybe I’m too hot. I shouldn’t have had that last drink.”

“You hardly touched it,” she protested. Her eyes narrowed with concern, her palm cupped his lean cheek. “You do look a little pale. Maybe we’d better go outside. Can you make it to the back door?” She motioned to a point just behind him.

“It’s right over here.”

“No!”

Her eyes flared, and he shot her a fuzzy, disarming smile. Styx, the ever-reliable watchdog, lounged near the rear entrance. Where Styx was, Cole was sure to be close by. “No…those back alleys give me the creeps.”

“Okay,” she encouraged as she drew his arm around her slim shoulders. “Just lean on me if you need to…and warn me if you’re going to get sick.”

Nodding, he staggered beside her, allowing her to guide him from the club. However, the crowd outside the doors was hardly any better than inside. He commented as much, ducking and passing a hand over his face when another familiar profile floated in the crowd.

“Here, let’s just step around the side of the building,” she suggested, angling through the crowd. “There’s no one over there, it’ll be much easier for you to catch your breath. Are you all 153

right?”

His eyes had begun to burn, his fangs to extend in anticipation of the kill, so he kept his face tilted away from hers. He pressed a fleeting kiss to her crown of short red curls and grinned, praising her, “This is perfect, Madelyn. Just what I was hoping for.”

“I can go back inside, get you some ice water…or something.”

“No,” he murmured, edging between her and the street, slowly lifting his face to the dim streetlight. “I’m feeling much better now.”

“Are you sure? You didn’t…” Her words trailed off on a slight gasp as she stumbled backwards.

Her mouth fell open on a soundless scream.

In a flash, he seized her by the shoulders and lifted her effortlessly, carrying her deeper into the night. She struggled in earnest now, crying for help. Her pleas went unanswered, drowned out by the life inside the club. He didn’t stop until he had her right where he wanted her.

“Shhh, pet, it will all be over soon.” He glanced down at his watch. “Very soon now.”

“Let me go, please,” she pleaded. “I swear I won’t tell anyone.”

He sent her a disgusted look.

“What are you? Why are you doing this?” And here he’d thought she might be the one to die with a little dignity. He should have just kept his hand over her mouth. She wasn’t any better than the others, with her twenty questions and her pathetic begging. Why couldn’t these Humans understand death couldn’t be reasoned with? It was their fate. The how and the why might vary, but in the end they all died.

“Because they haven’t figured it out yet.”

“Who…who hasn’t figured out what?” Her 154

whining was starting to grate on his nerves.

Narrowing his eyes, he glanced at his watch again. Was the damn thing slowing down? Maybe he’d better replace the battery, just in case.

Heaving a sigh, he fixed his burning gaze on her throat.

“Others of my kind…and don’t play dumb, pet. You know exactly what I am,” he snarled, flashing fang at her. “Faking stupidity now isn’t at all becoming.”

“Why?” Her struggles were weak now, her voice a breathless whisper. Her terror coated the air. He dragged the flavor in through flared nostrils,
savouring
the acrid scent as these worthless Human females enjoyed the scent of fresh cut flowers.

“Why? Because sheep have no business ruling the world while the rest of us hide, concealing what we are so the
food
doesn’t panic.

Now, be a good girl, and hold still. This shouldn’t hurt…much.” He smoothed a hand over her crisp curls, his grin wide and menacing. Then he fisted his hand in her hair as he wrapped an arm around her, quelling her renewed struggles.

Jerking her head back, he tasted her fear with the tip of his tongue. Ambrosia. He graced her with one soft pass of his lips across her flesh.

And then he opened his mouth. Wide.

****

Cole scented her the moment she’d walked into the club. Every nerve ending in his body went on high alert.
His
female was here…in the very club he and the TFRA expected the Party Crasher to make his next move.
Tonight
. She was definitely here, and so were several others of his kind. The club was infested with Vampyre. His eyes zeroed in on Alex like heat-seeking missiles, and his heart knocked against his ribs.

155

By the gods, she was devastating tonight. She outshone every other female in the place. Then his eyes narrowed, nostrils flared. Another male, one of his own race, drew her out onto the dance floor. Primitive instinct flared up inside him, and he forgot all else but the fact that another male dared to touch what was his.

He didn’t know the male holding Alex so close. He’d never talked to him, never laid eyes him. He didn’t even know the male’s name. It made not one bit of difference.

Cole wanted the Vampyre dead.

Styx leaped in front of Cole, and, at risk of a nasty bite, braced his hands against Cole’s enraged, heaving chest. “Wow, Cole, power down, man.”

He dropped his gaze to Styx’s hand, although every muscle in his body strained to exact retribution, to bleed the Vamp holding his female dry. As he became aware of curious eyes upon him, Cole lowered his head and closed his burning eyes, dragging in deep gulps of heavy air in vain effort to regain control of his temper.

He’d come here to hunt a killer. Statistically speaking, tonight was the night. And this could very well be the location. He’d been running all the angles, trying to get inside the mind of the Rogue.

What the hell was she doing
here…
here
…tonight of all nights? On the eleventh… He’d thought he’d left her at home, secure behind lock and key.

He’d just gotten the surprise of his life.

Surprise,

Helheim
.

She’d `ambushed him,
goddamn it.

And, by the gods, that dress… He’d thought the little black number she’d had on earlier was tempting. This one was sin incarnate, leaving 156

precious little to the imagination, hugging her lithe body in all the right places, exposing an indecent amount of her succulent flesh. Without a doubt, she’d handpicked this dress to torment every male inside a fifty-mile radius into a slavering state of mindless lust. As far as he was concerned, she’d succeeded. Stupendously. She couldn’t have tempted him more had she strutted through the room, carrying a decanter full of fresh O negative…buck-naked.

Drawing another deep breath, he eased back, nodding to Styx.

Styx released him, and Cole shot forward, leaving a cursing Styx to trail in his wake. Cole pushed through the tangle on the dance floor. He didn’t stop until he stood behind Alex, scowling ferocious warning at her dance partner.

The nameless Vampyre took one look at Cole and released her, backing up so fast she stumbled forward. He stammered an apology, though Cole wasn’t certain if it had been for her benefit or his. Then the male spun on his heel and beat a hasty retreat. Cole hadn’t even had to bare his gleaming fangs.

He was almost disappointed.

As Alex stood there, staring after her retreating partner, Cole slipped close, molding himself against her backside, his hands claiming her waist with possessive force. She stiffened, jerking away, her head whipping around so she could peer over her shoulder. He lowered his dark glasses with the tip of one finger, searing her with a scowl. The second her eyes connected with his, her breath seeped out in a loud whoosh, and her jaw dropped.

“Cole…”

Anger still simmered beneath the surface, giving Cole’s expression, his movements a 157

dangerous, edgy energy. Without a word, he jerked her back, until the firm globe of her bottom crushed against his loins. His chest pressed against her bare back. His arms caged her to him, steely strong and unforgiving. His nostrils flared, isolating her scent, dragging it in. By Odin, the smell of her alone was enough to reduce a Vamp to a pile of groveling, lusting ash.

Slowly, methodically, he began to move.

Hips first. Grinding his thick erection against her backside, rock-hard and unmistakable, surging and swaying until she caught the fever.

Then his mouth. His lips caressed the curve where her neck met her shoulder. Hot and wet.

Open. His tongue tasted her skin. Licking and suckling at her flesh. Kissing and lapping, nipping up the side of her throat until her chest rose and fell in quick bursts, and she was putty in his hands. His name tumbled from her lips, breathy and tormented, confused and aroused.

The low moan, tugged from deep in her throat, wrung a low growl from him.

Instinct…impulse…he wasn’t sure which drove him, but he nicked her, just below her earlobe where her pulse thrummed hot and irresistible. The sudden, intoxicating flavor of her blood blossoming on his tongue shot need—more ferocious than any he’d ever known—straight to his core. But this was neither the time, nor the place to quench that hunger. With a reluctant groan, he licked the tiny wound, sealing it closed, resisting the urge to take more.

He moved his hands. Inch by slow, agonizing inch, they slipped over her body, until his palms pressed flat against her stomach, pinning her against the length of his body. Primal possession influenced every caress, every stroke and every taste. He would seduce her, tempt her as no one 158

else ever would. By the time he was done, she’d never look at another male again.

Her head fell back against his shoulder, her eyes closed tight. Fireworks exploded between them, majestic and awesome. Incendiary. It was the first time he’d ever looked forward to burning.

The music changed, the tempo increased, and still Cole moved with deliberate, seductive purpose, their clothing no real barrier to the aching desire raging through him. Cole’s own voice poured from the club’s speakers,
Moonlight
and Blood
. When he’d penned this song, put it to music, he’d no idea how sensual, how erotic the lyrics could be, given the right context.

Now he knew.

The crowded, pulsing dance club faded to nothing…until there was only the woman in his arms and the need she stirred deep inside him.

With every throb of the music, his movements became slightly rougher, less restrained. His fingers splayed, his hands quested. Her thighs.

Her hips. Her stomach. Her breasts. Her throat.

He left no place untouched, no place unclaimed.

Her skin was softer than the silk dress she wore, so delectable beneath his lips. His mouth watered.

As the music climbed again, growing to a faster bump and grind, Cole spun her in his arms. Her eyes flew open, registering surprise, locking on his. Glowing, icy-blue to dazed, desire-clouded aquamarine. All around them bodies writhed, brushing against them, jostling past them. Surging around them.

Her tongue skidded across her lower lip, and Cole growled again, deep and low, the hunger growing. The animalistic sound so rough, so threatening, several dan
cers near them suddenly exited the dance
floor.

Others…faceless

159

individuals Cole paid no mind to, soon replaced them.

Without warning, he yanked her to him. His lips covered hers, hard and fast. His mouth slanted, tongue plunged, teeth banged, fangs scraped delicate skin, drawing blood. Cole sucked the heady droplets away, wrapping an arm around her waist crushing her to him. His knee thrust between her thighs, and his hand squeezed her bottom, grinding her along his thigh. His hips surged in time with the tempo, moving with the beat of the music. Tongues mated and tangled, breath fused.

The scent of her arousal, the pounding of desire-ladened blood coursing through her veins, robbed him of his better judgment. Cole’s breath ripped in and out of his chest, harsh and ragged.

His fangs ached. Blood rushed in his ears. His loins pounded with urgent need.

To the casual observer, they looked like nothing more than a man and a woman enjoying a provocative dance…a
very
provocative dance.

His large body blocked the front of her from view of anyone who might glance their way. As the mass of dancers swayed and gyrated around them, Cole kept his arm anchored around her waist and slid his other hand down the front of her body, caressing her breast before slipping lower between them. The hem of her dress had ridden up in their exertions, and his hand found its way beneath the crimson silk.

His mouth angled
over hers again, deepening the kiss to the point of enthralling
surrender…
whose
surrender he wasn’t quite sure. His fingers traced the edge of her panties, slipping beneath, smoothing through her slick folds. The feel of her, hot and wet…all for him…ripped another growl from deep in his 160

throat. His thumb flicked and rubbed against her swollen nub as two fingers sank deep into her tight heat. Again and again. Stroking. Claiming.

Her body convulsed and shuddering,
exploding in his arms. Her startled cry of release, muffled by his lips, drowned out by the burning pulse of the music, was sweeter to his ears than all the music he’d ever heard…ever written. She melted into him, drooped against him, limp and pliable, her breath coming in short little bursts against the side of his neck. She clung to him, her arms wrapped around his neck.

His fangs, already stretched long behind his lips, throbbed. His entire body vibrated with need. He cradled her against him until she managed to get her feet back under her. Once she did, he led her from the dance floor, and pushed her down onto the seat she’d vacated earlier. Cole pulled another chair close to hers and sank onto it, draping his arm around her shoulders, as a lover would. He didn’t dare drag her from the club, as he longed to do. If he did, as strung out as he was right now on desire for her, he’d bite her. There was no doubt in his mind. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself.

Vivid color began to surge into her already flushed cheeks. He shifted, gritting his teeth against the urge to toss her over his shoulder and drag her to the parking lot. By Thor, as hard as he was, he didn’t even know if they’d make it home before he had her naked and writhing on his lab, impaled on his…

Her furious hiss broke into his thoughts.

“How could you… Are you insane? You just can’t… You can’t…”

“I can…and I did.” His smile was tight, knife sharp, his eyes blazing, choking off her indignant anger, daring her to refute him. “Or would you 161

like me to prove it…again?”

As if sensing the dangerous ground on which she tread, Alex changed the subject. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask the same of you,” he reminded her, evading her question.

Before she could respond, the woman he’d seen her with earlier returned, alone. Her gaze passed over Alex’s bemused expression, lingered on Cole’s possessive posture for a moment, then she aimed a hundred watt smile at him. His eyes followed the dark-eyed beauty as she took her seat. He curved his lips, as close to a smile as he could get with a mouthful of sharply aroused fangs.

Alex’s friend shot her a teasing, accusatory glance. “You’ve been holding out on me, I see.

Where did you find this
gorgeous
creature, sweetie? And, more important, there wouldn’t happen to be another one like him lurking around in here, would there?” Before Alex could find her voice, her friend thrust her hand out to Cole, quipping, “Gina Marcello, by the way, Alex’s utterly-green-with-envy friend. And you are?” Cole grinned, though insatiate lust still held a sharp blade to his throat. He shook her hand, charmed by her vivacious bluntness. “Cole Gunnarrson. It’s a pleasure to meet any friend of Alex’s.”

Gina’s eyes narrowed for a moment as she considered his features, but before she could make the connection, Styx loomed over the table.

Gina leaned back in her chair, her smile faintly stunned.

“Oh, my
God
, another one… Bury me now, I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

“Gina, this is Styx.” Alex’s eyes lit up, and, sharing a smile with the man in question, she 162

added, “Like the river, not the wood. Styx, this is my friend, Gina Marcello.”

Styx shot Gina an absentminded smile, then turned troubled eyes to Cole. His gaze, like Gina’s lingered on the possessive drape of Cole’s arm.

His nostrils flared, picking up on the faint musk of sexual arousal. His eyes widened, darting from Cole’s face to Alex and back again.

“Hey, Slim,” Styx greeted Alex before he addressed Cole in terse tones. “Cole, can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Later…”

“
Now
,” Styx countered forcefully.

The lines at the corners of Styx’s mouth were deep. His body was rigid, and his fierce frown deadly earnest.

Cole sat up straighter, his brow puckering.

Styx nodded once, too fast for the Mortal eye to catch.

Curses, vivid and culturally diverse filled Cole’s head. He turned to Alex, leaning close to her ear. “Alex, stay right here. Don’t go anywhere.

Don’t dance with anyone. And for God’s sake, don’t leave, not until I come back. Promise me…” She blinked at him, baffled. “Cole, I don’t…” His demand was forceful, his eyes fierce.

“Promise me, Alex.”

A confused frown wrinkled her brow, but she nodded. “All right, but you’re going to have to explain when you—”

He cut her off with a swift, hard kiss, and he pushed to his feet, disappearing into the crowd before she could utter another word. Cole swore again, this time aloud, as he paced after Styx to the rear entrance. This was his fault. What lay beyond those doors was just as much his doing tonight as it was the killer’s. If he hadn’t gotten so lost in Alex, so wrapped up in jealousy and so 163

consumed with need, he might have prevented another innocent death.

Then another thought occurred to him, and he paused mid-stride, shaken to the core. Alex was here. Inside the same club from which the Party Crasher had just chosen his latest victim.

Because of him, she was now involved in the music industry. And she was thirty-three. She could very well have been the tenth victim.

His blood turned to ice in his veins.

Cole stepped out into the darkened alley, and the coppery scent of freshly spilled blood overwhelmed his senses. It didn’t take long to understand why. The Rogue hadn’t just pierced her jugular, leaving his victim to bleed out with a broken neck. This time, the Crasher ripped the victim’s throat completely out. Hers had been a cruel and violent death. Crimson splattered the wall beside him, pooling beneath her lifeless, still-warm body. In lieu of her absent throat, her forehead bore the unmistakable number one.

Translation…letter A.

Cole rocked back on his heels as Styx moved to his side. ‘
Because I ca…
’ It didn’t take a genius to figure out where this was going…or that there would be one more victim, at least. The sadistic son of a bitch.

“Don’t touch anything,” Cole muttered, grim, reaching for his phone. He thumbed the number in, only to frown, his eyes darting up the alley when a cell phone began ringing. A second later, Special Agent Derrick Crispin separated himself from the shadows.

Shooting Styx a quick, speaking glance, Cole turned a wary stare to the agent. “Crispin…you move fast.”

“Guess you could say I had a…a hunch.” Crispin’s eyes drifted to the victim, his notepad 164