Deadly Desire (6 page)

“So you know him?”

“Had a run-in with him last year. I won.”

“But not this time.” He paused, his gaze amused. “I gather he drugged you.”

“Yeah.” I stopped as we reached the smudged pentagram. “Might be worth getting one of the magi out here to look at this. They might be able to tell us what she was using it for.”

“Something black would be my guess.”

That went without saying. I mean, surely witches on the side of good didn't employ hellhounds or zombies to do their bidding. Our magi didn't—well, not as far as I knew, anyway.

“Our witch took the form of a crow and flew off, but while she was here, she was perched on the gantry above the pentagram.” And her human scent still lingered—it was faint, but there, and I'd recognize it if I smelled it again.

Cole nodded. “We'll check it, and see if we can find any droppings or feathers.”

“Might be worth doing the same at the crime scene—unless you've already checked the trees?”

“We had no reason to do so.” He hesitated again. “Are you feeling all right? Your eyes are very bloodshot.”

“Combination of the drug and shadowing, I think.”

“I've seen you come out of shadow. It doesn't usually cause this reaction.”

“I was shadowing two of us.” I shrugged. “Maybe it's just plain tiredness. You'll send me the report ASAP?”

“As usual.” He glanced around as Dobbs finished his perimeter check and approached. “You want to get a kit up to that gantry? We probably have shifter traces up there.”

Dobbs nodded, gave me a half-smile, then walked away, reholstering his weapon as he went.

“He's a believer in the old adage that it's better to say nothing, isn't he?” I asked, amused.

“Totally,” he agreed, a smile crinkling the corners of his blue eyes. “Unlike some guardians who just love to hear the sound of their own voice.”

“And this is wrong because … ?”

He made what sounded like a disgusted snort and shook his head. “You
can
leave anytime you want.”

“You know, the amusement that still lingers on your lips is spoiling the whole stern effect you're trying for there.”

“Riley, stop being a pain and go.”

I went.

It didn't take all that long to drive back to Quinn's, but finding parking anywhere near the hotel, even at this hour, was a pain. I eventually gave up and just dragged out my Directorate parking tag. They might be for use only in emergencies, but hey, this
was.

There was no one in the lobby, though I could hear voices in the office near the desk. I took the elevator up to Quinn's suite and walked down the plush, carpeted hallway to his door, dragging my key out of my pocket and swiping it through the reader.

The door clicked open. “You're back early,” Quinn said, the rich Irish lilt in his voice sending shivers of delight down my spine.

He came out of the bedroom as I closed the front door, as naked as the day he was born. I couldn't help smiling. I'd once thought of this vampire as staid, but
I'd learned over the past few weeks that staid only applied to new relationships. Once he knew—and, I suspected, trusted—his partner, he was as adventurous as any wolf could want.

He was also gorgeous.

It wasn't a term I often used to describe men, but with Quinn, it just fit. With his thick, black hair, sinfully dark eyes set in a face that would make angels envious, and an athlete's body, he was so easy on the eye it was dangerous.

And he was mine to play with. The thought made me want to dance.

“I thought you'd be gone most of the night.”

“Thank God I wasn't.”

He raised an eyebrow, dark eyes glittering with amusement and awareness. “Oh? Why's that?”

He was an empath, so he knew exactly what I was feeling, even if he was playing dumb. “Because of this.”

I pressed a hand against his chest and pushed him back against the wall. Then I claimed his lips, kissing him like my life depended on it. Kissing him hard and urgently, until the taste of Kye was erased and my skin burned with the need for vampire rather than wolf.

“My, my,” he murmured, when he could. “Chasing bad guys doesn't usually generate this sort of reaction. Not that I'm complaining, mind you.”

“It wasn't chasing the bad guys, it was meeting another wolf. Now shut up and get down to business.”

He grinned and did as he was bid.

And oh, it
was good.
Not just the way his hands caressed me as he stripped off my clothes, but the smell of
him, the feel of him, the press of flesh against flesh. The way his body shuddered as I caressed and nipped him, the taste of his sweat on my tongue.

Then he was in me, filling me, liquefying me. I groaned in sheer pleasure and wrapped my body around his, holding us both still, enjoying the feel of his body pressed against mine and the heat of him deep inside. There was something so very perfect about the way we fit together, something magical. And it went beyond the physical—it was almost as if we were matched body
and
soul.

Almost.

As his lips claimed mine again, he began to move, gently at first but quickly becoming faster, until it was all heat and desperate need. The rich ache blossomed, becoming a kaleidoscope of delicious sensations that washed through every corner of my mind. I gasped, holding on to him tighter, wanting it faster, needing it harder. Needing
him,
and all he could give me. Then everything broke and I was unraveling, and there was no thought, only waves of glorious sensation that went on and on.

He came with me, and as his seed poured into me, his teeth grazed my neck and broke through flesh. A second orgasm hit, the intensity of it stealing my breath and my sanity for too many seconds, the power of it rolling on and on.

I rested my forehead against his and blew out a breath. “That was fantastic.”

“That's one way of describing it,” he said, voice amused as he lowered me back to the ground. “So,
who's the wolf I should thank for this sudden rush of enthusiasm?”

I grinned as I stepped over my clothes and headed toward the coffee machine. Once upon a time, Quinn's voice would have held more than a hint of annoyance while asking such a question, but he seemed to have relaxed a little in recent weeks. Part of this might have been because while I hadn't entirely given up my werewolf ways, I'd willingly restricted them. But I also think the mere fact that we were spending real time together out of the bedroom had helped our understanding of each other.

“The wolf's name is Kye Murphy. He's a bounty hunter, and he's after the witch who's raising the zombies.”

“It takes heavy-duty dark magic to reanimate flesh, and that means not only that she's a sorcerer rather than a witch, but that she's extremely powerful. You be careful hunting her.”

“That goes without saying.” I poured myself a coffee, sucking in the rich hazelnut aroma—a scent almost as tantalizing as the man behind me. “You've met Kye—he was the wolf playing bodyguard to Patrin.”

“Ah, yes.” He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me back against him, then dropped a kiss on the side of my neck, sending little shivers of delight down my spine. “There was something odd about that one. And he could move as fast as a vampire.”

He also kissed as good as a vampire … but I shook the thought from my mind and took a sip of coffee before answering. “According to his records, he's all wolf.
But he seems to have a few very different gifts that aren't on file.”

“So you're investigating him?”

“We did when he was guarding Patrin. Right now, I've simply warned him away from the case.”

“He probably won't listen. Most wolves tend not to.”

I grinned and turned around in his arms. “That's a very cutting remark from someone who's planning to have more sex with a werewolf.”

“I'm not planning sex. I'm planning a long night of hot and heated lovemaking.”

I arched an eyebrow and said in a low voice, “So what the hell are you waiting for?”

Amusement crinkled the corners of his dark eyes. “You're holding coffee, and you tend to get vicious when it's taken away.”

I immediately put the cup down. “Only when there's nothing better being offered. You, my darling vampire, are certainly that.”

“I'm glad you think so.” He swept me up into his arms then walked toward the bedroom. “Because I intend to ravish you senseless for the next four hours.”

“Only four? Age must be affecting your stamina.”

“There's nothing wrong with my stamina, trust me.”

A point he deliciously proved over the next four hours.

raffic was hell the next morning, so I arrived at Armel's ten minutes late. Which I figured was pretty damn good, considering, but Jack hated tardiness and
he'd probably chew me out once he found out. Of course, I
could
fly, and therefore could avoid the whole morning traffic situation if I wanted to, but I still preferred to drive. Shifting into my seagull shape had an even worse effect on my clothes than shifting into my wolf, and I wasn't about to face a randy old vampire flashing bits of flesh through torn clothing.

I climbed out of the car and looked up at Armel's house. It didn't exactly follow the expected conventions when it came to the abode of a very old vampire. It was as big as any other house situated in the millionaires-only suburb known as Toorak, but it was also a place of stark white concrete, odd angles, metal monoliths, and huge glass windows. And the garden had the same angular, sparse outlook. There was no grass, just harsh white pebbles, and sharply angled garden beds that were filled with carefully shaped plants.

Not a place I'd want to live, but then, disorder and I were comfortable companions.

I walked through the gates and up the white marble steps, my footsteps echoing harshly in the cavernous entrance. The tall metal doors were stippled, the surface so highly polished that I had to squint against the brightness of the sunshine bouncing off them. I pressed the button to the right of the massive doors, and somewhere deep inside the house a sound rang out, reminding me somewhat of an old church bell.

I waited for several seconds, listening to the silence within the house and wondering if I'd even hear the approach of the old vampire. They could move with ghostly silence when they wanted to, though most
vampires never bothered. Stealthy vamps tended to spook most humans, and given that many humans still weren't overly fond of vampires and their current place in society, spooking them often led to violence. That was never a good thing—for both the human and the reputation of vamps in general.

No one seemed to be answering the door, so I rang the doorbell again. Still no answer.

I stepped back and looked up at the massive windows. I wasn't sure what I was looking for, because I certainly wouldn't see a vampire standing there looking down at me. Even one as old as Armel couldn't withstand the sunshine that would currently be streaming in through the glass. Quinn could, but then, he was over four hundred years older than Armel. Which wasn't a whole lot of years in vampire terms, but apparently those extra years made a huge difference when it came to sunshine-immunity.

I looked back at the door, then grabbed my vidphone and rang Jack.

“Don't tell me you're going to be late,” he said by way of greeting. “I will not be happy if you are.”

“I'm not late—”

“Miracle of miracles.”

“I'm at Armel's. He not answering the door.”

Jack frowned. “He's expecting you, so he should be there.”

“Maybe he is. Maybe he's gone to sleep early.” I hesitated, pressing the doorbell for a third time, just in case he
was
sleeping. “What do you want me to do, boss?”

“Try opening the door.”

I did so. The knob turned easily in my hand and the huge door pushed open with barely a whisper of sound. “What's his surname?”

“Lambert.”

I moved the phone away from my mouth, and said, “Mr. Lambert? Riley Jenson here to see you.”

“Any response?” Jack asked, voice terse.

“No.” I stepped through the doorway and sucked in the air, letting the various flavors run across my tongue. I quickly discovered one that was all too familiar. “I can smell blood, Jack.”

He swore softly. “Investigate. I'll be there in twenty minutes.”

“Jack, it's after nine—”

“I'll be fine,” he snapped, and hung up.

I blew out a breath and shoved the phone back into my pocket, then stepped farther into the wooden-floored hallway. No one challenged my appearance. The house remained as quiet as a grave.

I hoped that it hadn't become one, too.

Though my footsteps were soft, the rubber heels on my shoes squeaked lightly and the sound echoed across the stark silence. If there
was
someone alive in this place—someone other than me—then I wasn't sensing him. But I couldn't sense anything dead, either. The only reason to suspect something was wrong was the thick scent of blood.

Large rooms led off the hallway—a dining room, living room, and the biggest library I've ever seen. At the far end of the hall stood a staircase, the chrome
balustrade curving gently upward to the next floor. Somewhere up there was the source of the blood.