Shameless Desire (The Outlawed Realm) (2 page)

Headlights pierced the darkness, accentuating the rain. Gwen squinted at the brightness. For one wild moment, she wondered if its driver was the hot guy she’d seen earlier…or the unknown killer. Her pulse kicked up several notches. She imagined the maniac being so desperate for a victim he had settled on her, planning to force her inside his vehicle, taking her to God-knew-where to do God-knew-what.

Fearing the worst, she stepped back.

The car turned left and moved past, its occupants not bothering to glance her way before the vehicle disappeared into the night.

She wasn’t alone.

The thought startled Gwen even as she tried to dismiss it. The hairs on her arms rose up. Something was wrong.

What? Other than the obvious—that she couldn’t afford a car or to live in the suburbs.

Frowning, she gripped her pepper spray even harder and continued across the lot to the surrounding neighborhood, a combination of inner city and working class that had seen better times. Failed attempts at gentrification had resulted in islands of beautiful two- and-three-story historic homes surrounded by blight, trash, weeds.

She hurried past the first vacant lot as quickly as she could, telling herself tonight was no different from any other. No one was after her. She wasn’t a psycho’s type, being too tall and not at all helpless. Hadn’t one of the residents said it very well last week when he’d jokingly referred to her as a ball buster for teaching those self-defense classes at the hospital? You bet he had. Her kind of woman wasn’t on most guys’ radar, especially those looking for an easy target.

Besides, she didn’t have all that far to walk and would get home safely.

Moisture rolled down her cheeks and throat. If the weather deteriorated any further, her hoodie would soon be soaked through. Huffing from her pace, she approached the street corner. The signal was red; the sign warning her not to cross. In both directions, the road was empty. Its wet surface gleamed in the available light.

Wind whisked around an abandoned confectionary, buffeting Gwen. She shivered and turned down the street, deciding to take a shortcut through an alley in the distance. From behind, a car approached. Glancing over, she saw it move down the main thoroughfare rather than turning in her direction.

Her running shoes made slapping noises against the damp pavement, the sounds obtrusive, not seeming to belong. Leaves rustled above her, the dying ones torn free by the wind. The bass of an unknown song thumped from a nearby brick building, its curtainless upper windows amber with light. A young boy with wavy black hair and dusky skin blew on the glass, fogging it, and then he drew a series of letters with his forefinger.

Gwen reached the vacant lot that cut from this street to the next, one over from her own. Just a bit farther to go. She’d be all right. No one was around. No one was following her.

Needing to be certain, she continued to glance back. There was nothing except darkness interrupted infrequently by dated streetlamps, their crumbling concrete facades matching the pockmarked sidewalks. Empty bags of Lay’s potato chips, Cheetos and other fast food littered the area, the cellophane crackling beneath her shoes.

With one hand around her pepper spray and the other clutching her house key, she entered the alley. Debris skittered down it, carried by the wind, the sickly sweet stink of garbage less noticeable in the brisk breeze. Yards ahead, half the length of a football field, was her street, a wall of murkiness separating her from it. Craning her neck, Gwen glanced at the many windows facing the alley, most boarded up. The ones that weren’t were dark.

Go on.
She’d walked this route last night and countless times before that. The only hassle she’d faced were stray dogs crouching in the gloom, growling at her intrusion into their territory.

Tonight, even they were gone. For the first time ever, Gwen missed them. She knew she could easily frighten animals. Men, on the other hand… There might be a fight.

Again, she sensed someone watching, following.

Sudden outrage rather than fear pumped through Gwen. Halfway down the alley, she halted and turned, ready to rumble, show the jerk some of her martial arts moves.

No one was behind her.

She listened and heard nothing. Certainly not heavy breathing, except for her own.

Renewed apprehension cut through her aggravation. Gwen pivoted, ready to run the remaining distance. A faint whooshing noise interrupted her panting and the other night sounds. Before she could identify it, something hit her neck, stinging her skin.

Jesus, had someone shot her, with a fucking silencer no less?

Her hand flew up, then stalled not on blood but something else. What the hell?

What felt like a small dart had pierced the side of her throat unprotected by her hoodie. Where in the crap had something like that come from? Suddenly, her limbs went numb. Her hand dropped from her neck before she could remove the dart.

Down Gwen went, her legs unable to support her weight, her knees hitting the broken asphalt. She heard the crack of her bones, but the pain didn’t register, blunted by whatever flowed through her. A tranquilizer, she guessed. Although she tried to remain kneeling, her efforts didn’t last. She fell to her side even as her mind kept screaming
run.

Too late. Out of the shadows he came. A man she’d never seen before, hadn’t noticed, his build bruising with a thick neck, burly shoulders and arms. In the light bleeding from her street, Gwen could see his eyes were a light brown, his hair curly and black, his features and complexion not quite African-American or Indian but a mixture of races, the same as her.

He grabbed her arm.

Nooooooo.

She fought to pull away, but her body refused to work. Helpless, she screamed, or tried; only a croak escaped.

Grunting, he put his hand over her mouth, his fingers clamped so tight Gwen couldn’t bite him. Raw terror tore through her even as her lethargy increased. Was he going to rape her? Kill her? Both?
Oh God, oh God, oh God
. Her thoughts went in all directions, most of them bad, fueled by adrenaline. She pictured him slitting her throat once he’d finished his sexual assault, leaving her to bleed to death in a trash bin or an abandoned building, her body concealed so well it would be difficult to find.

Aw shit
. Her life couldn’t end like this. No fucking way. She had to fight.
Come on, dammit. Do it.

She tried so hard to move, her body broke out in a cold sweat. Perspiration mingled with the moisture on her face, stinging her eyes. Despite her efforts, Gwen couldn’t wag one finger. Lifting her arms was as impossible as flapping them and taking flight. Remaining conscious became an effort.

With too much ease, the man dragged her down the alley. Her clothes rasped against the rough surface. Her shoes bounced.
Tat-tat-tat
, her rubber heels went.
Tat
—

What’s that?
Even in her drugged state, Gwen felt a deeper blast of cold to the left of them and heard a sucking sound that resembled a vacuum. Was it a vent? Leading to where? Why hadn’t she heard it all the times before when she’d taken this route? Why—

What in the holy hell is that?

She listened, hearing another low, menacing growl.

The man stopped at the noise, then hurriedly pulled her toward the intense cold.

The growl deepened, growing louder. Closer.

The man muttered something in a language she’d never heard, couldn’t possibly understand. From the right came a snarl, followed by an animal bounding into the air, hitting the man square in his chest.

His hands dropped away from Gwen. She sagged to the asphalt, straining to remain conscious, gaping at the animal attacking the man. Not one of the stray dogs she’d seen here before. It was larger, more dangerous, looking like a goddamned wolf.

Teeth bared and bloody, it tore at the man’s face, cutting off his scream. Gwen heard his neck bones snap. Unable to keep her eyes open any longer, she allowed her lids to slip down, not wanting to witness the attack, terrified of what the wolf—or whatever the hell it was—would do to her when it finished with the man.

Rain tapped her face. Each breath was a prolonged battle. She wanted to run. She would have given a year of her life to be able to scream.

Quiet. She noticed it suddenly…the utter stillness of the night. How much time had passed? Was she still alive? Had she died and gone to some weirdo version of hell?

Her mouth fell open, but no sound escaped as someone strong lifted her up. A guy, surely. A cop who’d happened upon this nightmare? A Good Samaritan? Had she lost consciousness without realizing it? Where had the wolf gone? Where was this guy taking her?

Gwen’s hands flopped helplessly as he slung her over his shoulder, his forearm firm across the back of her thighs. With quick steps, he moved down the alley.

Chapter Two

Nikoli Zorr read the news story on his computer screen, his belly churning at the brutality of the attack. He recalled what Lukan had witnessed on E4 after he and Arez had escaped the Pleasure Palace and hid in one of the realm’s caves—a werewolf killing a subhuman, ripping it to pieces, feeding on its flesh. Sated and bloody, the thing stood on its hind legs and transformed into a human male. A common occurrence in that dimension.

The savagery had now come to this realm, forcing Nikoli to acknowledge what he hadn’t been willing to accept before. The shadows that had followed Lukan and Arez through the portal were certainly E4’s guards and monsters. This murder was only the beginning.

Running his fingers over his mouth, Nikoli reread the news story, abc.com’s version of events.

The victim’s face was torn away…hands and feet gone…the man’s identity unknown…succumbed to his injuries…no suspects…authorities believe the attack was due to Purple Wave or Bliss bath salts…designer drugs more powerful than meth or cocaine.

“Do you think that’s related to the girls who’ve gone missing?”

At Regina’s question, Nikoli turned.

She was dressed for bed in the shimmery green nightgown he adored. The lightweight fabric accentuated her luscious curves. Its color matched her eyes. She’d removed the hairpins from her shoulder-length mane, shaking it loose. The reddish ends grazed her fair skin and the nightgown’s straps. Her nipples—hard and erect—pressed against the silk.

He wanted to bare them to his sight and touch, lick them, pushing her question and his uneasiness aside, but thought better of it. She lingered in the doorway to his office as though reluctant to come closer, her attention on his computer screen. It showed a photo of the bloodstained sidewalk where a group of Seattle University students had discovered the victim. At the time, the man was still breathing, clinging to life.

“I hope not,” Nikoli answered. He closed the page and offered his hand.

There was no hesitation in her response. There never was when it came to him, despite all they’d been through. She settled on his lap, burying her face in his neck. Nikoli sighed contentedly at her peaches-and-vanilla scent, her weight and warmth. He understood how lucky he was for moments such as this, because he’d already accepted that they might not last. The portals between their dimensions and the others had once again brought more trouble.

She murmured, “The victim in that news report, he was one of the guards from E4, wasn’t he?”

Nikoli rubbed her back. When that didn’t relax her, he cradled her closer.

“Answer me,” she said, even as she snuggled into him. “Was it one of the guards?”

He considered lying but wouldn’t, figuring she’d know. “Probably.”

Regina fisted her fingers in his tee. “Why do you think the…the…”

She couldn’t bring herself to say it, so he did. “Werewolves.”

“God.” Air hissed through her teeth, tickling his neck. “Why do you think those things attacked the guard? Why not someone from this realm? I mean, if they’re hungry, then we’re all tasty to them, right? That’s what probably happened to those girls who’ve gone missing recently. Those things ate them. That’s why no one’s found their bodies.”

Nikoli tightened his arms around Regina, soothing her as she shuddered. “I don’t think any werewolf harmed those girls.”

“Then where are they? My God, there’s been six missing so far that the news organizations have reported on. What if there’s more? Seattle’s had its share of psychopaths, but even our usual crop of serial killers isn’t that prolific. It’s like two or three of them are operating here at the same time. Is that even possible?”

“I don’t know. You’re the psychologist. I’m just a quantum physicist who designs household gadgets.”

She pulled back and arched one slender brow, its reddish tint matching her bangs.

He loved teasing her. It made all the other crap—escaping his home and heritage, keeping a low profile on this realm so her people wouldn’t discover him—unbelievably worthwhile. “Great household gadgets,” he added. “I saw those infomercials where Cher was demonstrating them. I know.”

Regina laughed.

Her joy fed his hungry soul. Whenever he died, whether it would be today because the guards found and killed him, or years from now if he were very lucky, he wanted her laughter to be the last thing he heard.

Relaxing against him, Regina eased a lock of hair behind his ear. He wore it longish as she liked, with her trimming it as needed. No way could he risk going to a hair salon. If he was cut accidentally, the stylist might notice his blood was thicker, richer than others on this realm. His fingerprints were also a problem, so different from anyone’s on this side.

Nikoli recalled the first time Regina had seen them. Her shock had saddened him, though not for long. Following it was her willing acceptance of everything he was and had been…everything he would be.

He held her even tighter, needing to get as close to her as he possibly could.

A sound of satisfaction poured from her. She spoke softly, as though someone might overhear. “Do you think that guard was hunting the, uh, creatures?”