Tempting Evil (16 page)

“So,” I said brazenly, “what the hell are you? The welcome wagon?”

His thin lips curved into a smile. His eyes were blue—all blue. No white, no black pupil, just a dark, almost midnight blue. Pretty, but eerie. “Most first-time visitors feel fear when they first see me. Second-timers even more so.”

I took the time to look him up and down again. “And what is there to fear?”

“Looks can be deceiving.”

“Obviously.” I let my gaze slide around the room. “Nice place—yours?”

He shook his head. “I am here to prepare you.”

I raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

“Sex, of course.”

My gaze jumped down his body. “With what?”

“With this.” As he spoke, genitalia appeared, dropping down from inside of his body, finding shape and size between his legs. It was like watching a blow-up doll inflate and find form, only weirder.

“Interesting way to deal with the problem of getting kicked in the balls,” I noted dryly.

He smiled. As he did so, spines appeared along his cock, flicking upright to reveal pointy ends.

“That,” I added bluntly, “isn’t coming anywhere near me.”

“Yes, it is.”

“You try, you die.”

“You are here to do as you are told.”

“No, I’m here to have sex with Moss. If he hasn’t got the equipment to do the deed himself, then that’s tough. I’m not fucking a cactus just so he can get his rocks off.”

The black creature raised an eyebrow, and I would have sworn there was amusement in his eyes. Then all expression froze as his gaze moved beyond mine, and something inside me quailed.

“Interesting,” a voice said from behind. “You do not fear the creature and the damage it could do.”

A cold sensation ran down my spine. For several heartbeats, I couldn’t move, could barely even breathe.

I didn’t know the voice, but I didn’t really need to. Not when his evil seemed to permeate the room, sucking away all the good air, leaving only foul.

The black creature mightn’t have induced fear, but the man who stood behind me certainly did.

Because that man was Deshon Starr.

Chapter 8

I
forced my feet to move, to turn around. Close up, Starr appeared even more inoffensive than he had from a distance. A weedy, nerdy type who looked as if he’d be more comfortable behind a desk and a computer rather than being the main power behind one of Melbourne’s biggest crime cartels.

It was only when you met his gaze that you began to see the truth. There was no life in his eyes, no humanity. Just an endless arctic expanse of bloodshot blue.

Goose bumps skated across my skin, yet deep inside, recognition twitched. Something about those eyes reminded me of someone. Just who, I couldn’t quite remember. Not yet.

And yet, there was no one in my life who caused the reaction Starr had—and surely they would have, no matter what form they were wearing. I mean, the outer layer might change, but the soul inside remained the same. And it was the evil that was this man’s soul I could feel.

So why was this happening now, and not when I was with whoever he was in my life?

Did the reason have something to do with what Dia had mentioned earlier—that my so-called puberty was twisting and increasing my talents?

Like I needed
that
when I already had a drug running around in my system causing havoc.

Starr wasn’t alone, and I thankfully averted my gaze. Anything was better than staring at evil incarnate for too long. The second man was Starr’s other lieutenant, and Merle was every bit as impressive as he had been from a distance. I looked him up and down then raised an eyebrow. “Now, you I’d be willing to play with. Providing, of course, you have something resembling a regular dick.”

The words were barely out of my mouth when his aura hit, every bit as heated and will-withering as Moss’s. Sweat beaded my skin and rolled down my back, and the low-down ache of desire became so fierce it was positively painful. His smile was all arrogance.

“If I wanted you, I would have you,” he said, voice soft, flat, yet filled with the confidence of a man who always got what he wanted.

And with an aura like
that,
I guess he always did.

His gaze skidded down my body, and the desire burning the air increased, until it felt like every inch of my skin was being flayed alive. My knees buckled under the pressure, and my butt hit the back of the sofa. It was the only reason I remained upright.

His gaze rose to mine again. “And I think I will.”

He began to unbuckle his belt, and I wasn’t sure if it was anticipation or fear that sent a tingle down my spine. Hell, the sex part didn’t worry me, nor did having an audience. It was just
him
. There was something inherently sick about him, something wholly off-center that made a deep-down part of me shiver away from the thought of having him inside. And yet, that foulness held none of the intensity I’d sensed in Moss. Merle was survivable. I doubted Moss was.

“Merle, put it away,” Starr snapped, even though Merle hadn’t actually gotten it out yet. Thankfully.

But the force of Merle’s aura died at the order, as suddenly as a switch being flicked. There had to be were in his mix.

“Where’s Moss?” Starr continued, his gaze not leaving mine even though his question was obviously aimed at the spirit lizard.

“Greeting the new guards. He will be here soon.”

My heart leapt at the mention of new guards. Did that mean Rhoan had arrived? God, I hoped so. I needed to see him. Needed to talk to him. Get reassurance and guidance and a great big hug.

“Tell him I wish to see him immediately on his return.”

“Yes, sir.”

Starr’s gaze slid down my body. It wasn’t a sexual look, more the sort of look one boxer might give another right before their bout. When his gaze returned to mine, it hinted at recognition, and that was a whole different class of scary.

“Do I know you?”

I resisted the urge to lick suddenly dry lips and shook my head. “Unless you’ve been up to Sydney recently. I’ve only been in Melbourne for a few days.”

“So why do I feel this sense of familiarity?”

“I can’t say, sir.”

His thin lips curved into what I presumed was a half-smile—though it very easily could have been a half-sneer. “Respectful to those of obviously greater power. I like that.”

Right now, I liked that he liked. Anything was better than him mulling over the fact that he knew me. Because if he knew me, I obviously knew him. And for safety’s sake, I had better find out how before he did.

I didn’t say anything, and he continued to study me. My stomach turned faster than a washing machine on spin cycle, and was threatening to rise at the slightest provocation. Which was weird, because I’d always figured when I finally confronted the man who had chased me, abused me, injected me with crap, and tried to kill me, I’d feel anger—rage—more than anything else.

But I guess in imagining the whole scene, I’d forgotten one important point—Starr himself. Or rather, the fact that it had taken power, cunning, and sheer, bloody ruthlessness to take and hold control of the cartel.

“Are you from the red pack?”

Oh God…he
did
suspect. But how? Who was the man behind the mask, who was he in my life?

I forced a casual shrug. “I don’t know. My mother was human, and never sure who my father was.”

“You have the coloring of the red pack.”

“She was Irish. I have her coloring.”

“Ah. The offspring of a groupie.”

I nodded. Wondered if he believed me. There was no expression on his face, no flicker in his eyes, to indicate whether he did or didn’t. Just the emotive swirl of evil sucking the very goodness from the air.

“We should talk some more,” he said eventually.

My heart just about stopped. I might want to kill him, but I certainly didn’t want to talk to him. Not now. Not later. Not anytime.

Even killing him wasn’t an option right now, not only because of Merle and the black thing, but because Jack would kill
me
if I did anything before we’d discovered the location of the final lab.

“Talking is fine with me.”

He smiled for real this time. It was the nastiest thing I’ve ever seen. “As if you even had the choice, my dear.” His gaze moved to Merle. “Bring her in for brunch.”

His words sent another shiver down my spine. I had a bad feeling Starr’s idea of “brunch” was not toast and orange juice, but something a whole lot darker. Bloodier.

Merle nodded, and hitched his pants. “Is that all for now?”

Starr snorted and glanced back at me. “My assistant hungers. Prepare for a rough ride, my dear.”

I arched an eyebrow. “And Mr. Moss?”

“Will undoubtedly be annoyed at missing the action.” He glanced at Merle again. “Do not forget the whore bus.”

He nodded. As Starr left, that switch went on again, drowning me in heat and desire. Merle held out a hand, and I went to him, my legs so wobbly it felt like they were about to give way at any moment.

His large hand wrapped around mine, his fingers rough and burning hot. I shivered, and knew in that instant what Rhoan had been trying to tell me. It wasn’t the sex that was the worry, it was this—the feeling that evil was about to invade, and somehow corrupt.

All I could do now was remind myself it was better
this
man than Moss.

Merle glanced over my head, and though he didn’t say anything, the soft sound of footsteps indicated the spirit lizard was leaving.

His gaze came back to mine. In the tawny depths of his eyes, lust and insanity seemed to rage. Or maybe that was just my imagination—a natural result of the force of his aura combined with the base sense of his foulness that filled every quick intake of breath.

“We shall fuck here first.” Merle tugged me around the sofa. “The scent of sex will inform Moss of what he has missed.”

“That doesn’t sound very friendly to me.” The words came out breathless, sounding anticipatory when the opposite was true. The force of his aura might be such that my skin burned and I ached for sex, but part of me recoiled at the thought of spending
any
time with this man.

It was weird.

I was a
werewolf
. Sex was part of our psyche, part of our soul. Come full-moon time, I’d fuck the devil himself and wouldn’t give a damn. So why this reluctance? Was it just the inherent sense of depravity I was picking up from Merle, or was it simply the fact that I was fucking him under orders from the Directorate, thereby taking one more step toward finally becoming a full guardian?

Was it a combination of both?

I didn’t know.

What I
did
know was that I needed to talk to my brother. Desperately.

“Friendly is a matter of perspective.” Merle pressed the hot ends of his fingers lightly against my chest and pushed me backward. I let myself fall onto the sofa, and watched as he stripped off his pants. Thankfully, his cock
was
standard stuff—no barbs, no furry stripes, just slightly less than regular-sized pinkish flesh. “He survives. That’s friendly enough for anyone.”

So the guard had been telling the truth when it came to the relationship between these two men. Interesting. But given my reaction to Moss, it definitely
wasn’t
something I wanted to work with.

His gaze ran down my length, and an anticipatory grin split his lips. “I would fuck you for your looks alone, but it is a true bonus to do so first when Moss has chosen you.”

He climbed on top, crouching on all fours over me. His aura revved up another notch, and suddenly it felt like I was drowning in a liquid that was all heat, all desire.

“Do not move. Do not talk.”

Or what?
I wanted to ask. But talking had become impossible under that wash of burning desire. All I wanted to do was obey. To feel him inside, foul or not. Passive wasn’t much fun, but I guess fun wasn’t the point of this whole thing. Not for me, anyway.

He thrust inside. With the force of his aura still assaulting my senses, the feeling of his flesh driving inside was such a relief a rumble of pleasure rolled up my throat. God, part of me was more than willing to be silent and still if it meant easing a little of the ache. And it didn’t matter how bad his essence or how little I actually wanted him—my body screamed for the release only rigid flesh could bring.

Only it didn’t get it.

It turned out Merle wasn’t the caring, sharing type. He came far too quickly, leaving me aching with need and more than a little put out. A situation that was not improved when he dragged me up from the sofa then hauled me down the far end of the hallway to his own cold-feeling rooms. Where the whole process began again.

Frustrating, to say the least.

Especially since it pretty much set the tempo for the remainder of our time together. He used his aura like most men used foreplay, and while it made me ready for him, it also became incredibly boring—something I never thought I’d say about sex.

But then, I was never one for passiveness. I liked to get involved, to play and feel and taste. And occasionally, dominate.

Which meant, of course, I had to find something else to do while he got his trigger-happy rocks off. Short of throwing his dull ass off and finding a real lover, that was.

And really, there was only one avenue of exploration left—my senses.

Or rather, my psychic senses.

There were no cameras in Merle’s room that I could see, and I hadn’t felt the electronic buzz of deadeners anywhere within the mansion—even down here, in either Moss’s or Merle’s rooms. But Dia had mentioned their presence and I had no reason to doubt her. Besides, I’d seen them in the arena, so they had to be elsewhere. And while I had read the guard’s mind with ease, maybe all it meant was that the elevator somehow ran under the radar of the deadeners.

Or maybe my talents were.

The implications of which wasn’t something I wanted to waste time thinking about, though I was more than willing to test the full extent of any supposed increase. I carefully slid aside one layer of shields, suddenly grateful for all the weeks of training Jack had been giving me. Dia might have exposed a weakness in my telepathy skills when it came to attack, but that wouldn’t be a problem here as I had no intention of dropping all shield layers to attack Merle. I just wanted to test whether I could read his thoughts or not.

And I could.

Sort of. His thoughts were there, a distant blaze of color I could see but not quite touch.

But if I could see them, then surely I should be able to read them. I frowned and pressed a little harder. It felt like I was pushing through a wall of thick glue. Resistance dragged on every mental step, but it wasn’t conscious resistance. Wasn’t the sort of struggle that came from a telepath who realizes his mind is being invaded. Maybe Merle was too busy concentrating on satisfaction to grasp the fact his brain was being attacked. Or maybe my talents were simply slipping under his awareness in much the same manner as they were apparently slipping under the electronic deadeners.

But again, the whys of what was going on weren’t important. Trying to reach and read Merle’s thoughts was. The glue seemed to thicken near the center of the mental fence, and sweat broke out across my brow. My training with Jack had often left me mentally drained, but it had never left me physically exhausted, as this was threatening to. God, every ounce of strength I possessed was being channeled into trying to breach Merle’s defenses, and my limbs were beginning to tremble with the effort. If I wasn’t careful, he’d surely notice something other than sex was going on.

With the suddenness of a rubber band snapping, the glue gave way, leaving me mentally shaking but floating free in the rush of Merle’s thoughts. Though rush was probably the wrong word to use—and if he was any indication, then men really
did
think of nothing more than reaching the big O during sex.

I moved carefully through his surface thoughts, past the gathering rush of satisfaction, into the darker areas of non-active thought. The bus Starr had mentioned earlier was indeed the one bringing in fresh bedding meat for the pleasure of Starr’s guests. Who were, as I’d guessed earlier, both the “department heads” of his own organization and the various representatives from other cartels. Surprisingly, Starr had no intention of killing them. He was biding his time, waiting until he had gained enough trust to draw the true leaders of the other crime organizations into his nest. But he didn’t intend just a mass murder, but a mass replacement. Starr was from the Helki pack, and many Helki wolves were also true shapeshifters—they could assume any human shape they desired. Starr would insert his own people as the head of these organizations, and the cartels wouldn’t be any the wiser.