Full Moon Rising (7 page)

"I had nowhere else to take you. I'm a vampire, remember, and have limited options."

"A hospital is public."

He raised an eyebrow. "And here I was thinking wolves preferred to avoid hospitals where possible."

"We do, but there are a dozen other places you could have taken me." Like the cafe across the road that served hazelnut coffee and thick steak sandwiches. Right then, I needed both. Followed by a chaser of chocolate and maybe even a little sex.

My gaze slid down his body and came to rest on his lean, muscular legs. Okay, a whole lot of sex, preferably with those legs wrapped securely around mine . . .

I tried to get a leash around my rampaging hormones. It was
not
the time for such thoughts.

"A cafe is too public," he said, the amused glitter in his eyes suggesting he suspected the direction of my thoughts even if he couldn't actually read my mind. "Here, at least, I could ensure no one came near enough to disturb us, or see the state you were in. Anywhere else, I might have raised suspicions."

Meaning, of course, he was using the old mind-lock trick to keep people out of the room. "This place is usually pretty full, even on a Sunday. That's a fair amount of control you have happening there." More, in fact, than even Gautier had. It was an almost scary thought.

He considered me for a moment, then said, "And yet, despite that one moment when you were in pain, I am not able to touch your mind at all. That suggests a considerable amount of power on your part."

"I work with vampires. Believe me, I need to know how to block you guys." I paused. "If you were following me, why the hell didn't you try and stop that madman?"

"Because I wasn't sure what he was up to until he pulled out the gun. Despite popular opinion, vampires are not faster than a speeding bullet."

I half grinned. "So you couldn't read him either?"

He raised a hand. A thin wire hung from a fingertip. "He was wearing a shield against psychic intrusion."

The nanowire was the latest development in nanotechnology for the protection against psychic intrusion. I didn't know how it actually worked, but I did know it only worked when the two ends were connected, and that it was somehow powered by the heat of the body. It wasn't yet available to the general public, and the Directorate was fighting to keep it that way. A lot of their information gathering came via psychic means.

And if that werewolf had a wire on, he obviously had either government or criminal connections, because they were the only ones who currently had them.

"Not being able to read him must have pissed you off."

"A little."

More than a little, if his expression was anything to go by. My grin became full-blown. "So what did you do when he shot me?"

"What do you think I did? I killed him."

Which was the vampire's answer to any problem--kill first, ask questions later. It was an okay solution if the problem happened to be someone who'd undertaken the ceremony to become a vampire, but pretty much useless with everyone else. The truly dead couldn't answer questions. "And the body?"

"Unfortunately, your attacker fell into the path of an oncoming train. Services were delayed for some time while police investigated."

"And, of course, they will find no indication of murder."

"Of course." He studied me, and despite the amusement touching the corners of his eyes, his expression still held a lot of wariness.

He didn't entirely trust me, but hey, that was okay, because the distrust was completely mutual. He might be who he said he was, but as yet, I had no idea if he actually knew Rhoan.

"Have you any idea why that wolf tried to kill you?" he added.

I shrugged. "Shit like that happens all the time." Though admittedly, I'd never heard of a werewolf shooting a fellow wolf before. "We're shot at almost as much as you vamps."

In fact, most humans considered us one step
down
the ladder from vampires--thanks mostly to the many werewolf movies produced by Hollywood over the years. As a general rule, werewolves did not go crazy and hunt down humans with the full moon. Those who did were quickly dealt with within the pack. And it was extremely,
extremely
rare that victims of such attacks became wolves themselves--generally because few humans survived such attacks. But of the few who did, the change came only if there was wolf in their background anyway. But humans, it seemed, still preferred the Hollywood myth over reality. Or maybe vampires were just deemed sexier than someone who turned into an animal every full moon.

"Have you seen him before?" he asked. "Scented him?"

I shook my head.

"So how did he know you'd be coming home at that time? And why would he shoot you?"

"If you had bothered to question him before you killed him, we might actually have those answers."

He didn't react to my none-too-subtle dig. "Is it possible someone is trying to kill you?"

"That guy sure seemed intent on it."

He grimaced. "I meant, have you pissed off anyone lately?"

I grinned. "I'm a werewolf."

He nodded, his face solemn but a smile touching the corners of his eyes again. "In other words, yes."

"I'm quite capable of protecting myself, you know." Unless, of course, someone decided to shoot me at close quarters with a silver bullet again.

He rose, and the coat flapped open, revealing tantalizing glimpses of well-toned thighs. Heat slithered through me, a quick flick of longing that was only going to get worse as the days progressed toward the full moon.

"I'd better take you home."

I liked the sound of the "take" part, but wasn't so sure about the rest. It all just seemed a little too convenient at the moment. "Feel free to go elsewhere. I don't need an escort."

"Maybe not, but right now, until Rhoan returns, I intend to continue camping in your hallway."

Why? That was the question, and it was one he wasn't answering. "Why not go get a hotel room? There's one not far from here." Of course, it was frequented by hookers and druggies, but I didn't think he'd particularly care. He might be rich, but he was still a vampire, and at one time or another, most vampires had been down that path. Or so Kelly reckoned. "At least then, you could shower."

"If he is too much longer, I will."

He pressed a hand against my back as he escorted me out of the waiting room, his fingers seeming to burn against my spine. Combine that with the thick scent of sandalwood teasing my nostrils, and was it any wonder my pulse began to gallop?

Being a vampire, he was undoubtedly aware of my reaction. As if to confirm it, his gaze touched mine, dark depths rich with awareness and hunger. Not blood hunger. Sexual hunger.

Not only could I see it in his eyes, but I could smell it. On him. On me.

I blew out a breath and tore my gaze away from his. The force of a werewolf's aura, though usually well shielded, tended to go into overdrive and sometimes "leaked" during the moon phase, which was why most wolves didn't turn up for work during that week. There was nothing worse than being pawed or chased by humans when they wouldn't normally touch you with a ten-foot pole. Though I very much doubted Quinn was being affected by any leakage from my aura. I think it was more a case of plain old lust.

"Does the suggestion to get a motel room mean I'm not getting an invitation inside your apartment when you get home?" His hand slid down my spine and across my backside, a teasing touch that had desire flashing across my body.

"It certainly does."

"That's a shame."

My hormones thought so, too. But, luckily for me, my hormones weren't running the show.

Yet.

"And it'll remain a shame," I said. "At least until I know what you're truly up to."

We headed up the stairs and across the road to my street. Sunlight caressed him, warming his skin as we walked. He didn't flinch, meaning he was older than I'd thought. Generally, vamps didn't achieve any great degree of immunity to the sun until they were well over five hundred years old.

"If I wanted to kill you," he said, his dark eyes meeting mine, "I could do so now, and no one on this street would see, or hear, a thing. No matter how hard you screamed."

The fact that he made the threat so calmly, without the sense of menace that always cloaked Gautier's threats, made me believe him. And yet, perversely perhaps, my desire for him only increased. Like our animal kin, we wolves were genetically programmed to seek out the strongest mate. This vampire could certainly be classified as that.

But I couldn't dance with him, no matter how much I might want it, not until I knew the truth. And to discover that, I'd have to find Rhoan.

When we reached my home, I left him standing in the hall and headed for the shower. All the while fighting the urge to invite him in to share the water. Fighting the images of washing the mud from his wet golden skin and dark silky hair.

Even cold water didn't shake the fantasy or cool my reaction.

Once I'd stepped out of the shower, I padded over to the mirror and checked out the bullet wound. It was nasty--a puckered, red mess that more than likely would leave a scar. And I needed another scar like I needed to be shot again. I had more than enough scars littering my knees, hands, and back, all reminders of childhood scraps or less-than-bright explorations.

Not that there was a lot I could do about the new one. I dried myself, then headed into my bedroom to get dressed. If I was going to do the club circuit after work, I needed something suitable to wear. A knee-length skirt and sensible sweater, my current--and usual--work garb didn't cut it in any of the werewolf clubs Rhoan or I knew. Actually, most preferred skin, but if clothes had to be worn, then the fewer the better. I scanned my limited wardrobe and eventually chose a black microskirt and gauzy, dark green shirt. I threw extra undies and shirts into the bag, as Talon--the biggest of my two mates in more ways than one--tended to get a little rough on clothing during the moon phase, then I got down on all fours and looked under the bed for my green and glittery six-inch heels. Once they were retrieved from the dust bunnies, I shoved the shoes in with my change of clothes, put on my thick woolen coat, and left. Quinn was parked in what was becoming his usual spot, and it took every ounce of control I had to walk past him.

Jack was still at his computer when I arrived at work. "Any news?" I asked, as I threw my bag behind my chair and plunked down.

"Gautier took out the six suckers who were terrorizing the Footscray district."

Even for a vampire, the man was a freak. "I meant about Rhoan."

"I know."

"And?"

"There's no news."

"Have you sent anyone out to discover what's going on?"

"Yes, and he was seen where he was supposedly headed but apparently didn't stay there."

"And where was he supposedly headed?"

Jack gave me a crocodile-type smile. "Does that mean you've reconsidered taking the guardian test?"

"No."

"Then that is confidential information."

"Bastard."

He raised an eyebrow. "For someone who is so concerned, you're doing very little actually looking."

"I intended to look last night, but some moron decided I needed shooting."

The amusement fled his eyes. "What happened?"

"I'd just gotten off the train. He jumped out of the shadows and shot me." I shrugged. "These things happen to wolves."

I wasn't sure whether I was trying to reassure myself or him. After all, that wolf was the spitting image of Gautier, even if he did have a different smell.

"And your attacker?"

"Dead." I hesitated. "A train hit him."

"At least it saves on paperwork." He paused, then added, "So, are you going to look for Rhoan?"

"Straight after lunch."

"It'll be interesting to see who tracks him down first--you or Kelly."

I barely restrained my grin. Little did he know that Kelly intended to do that, anyway. Still, the fact that he'd taken that step meant he was taking Rhoan's disappearance more seriously than I'd presumed. "So you
are
sending her out tonight?"

He nodded, and I felt a little easier. With two of us out there, surely we'd find some clue as to what was happening to him. Because something definitely was, even if the sense of wrongness had yet to peak.

"Good," I said, and settled down to do some paperwork. But Jack's gaze was a weight I could almost feel. He was waiting for something, though what that something was, I had no idea.

"You planning to party this afternoon, are you?" he said after a while.

I glanced up at him, and he indicated the carryall. "Five days to the full moon," I said, by way of explanation.

He leaned back in his chair, expression bemused. "How come you wolves never get preggers? I mean, you fuck yourself silly for seven days, and nothing ever comes out of it. And you don't take contraceptives, from what I've heard."

"How can you call a whole lot of satisfaction nothing?" I replied with a grin.