Circle of Desire

Chapter Seven

Kat pulled on her sweater as she walked through the living room. Ethan still slept on the sofa, the blanket tangled around his hips, revealing the lean planes of the body she now knew so well. She let her gaze linger on him for a moment, her pulse stirring as she remembered the feel of his skin against hers, the heat of his touch — the way he'd claimed her, at first with such ferocity, then later with such tenderness and passion. She swallowed to ease the sudden dryness in her throat and walked on.

It was barely eight and, after his efforts last night, she really didn't expect him to surface for another couple of hours. Which was a good thing, because she wasn't entirely sure what she was going to say to the man who could create such magic with his touch and yet refused to allow the slightest bit of intimacy afterwards.

Gwen was in the process of carrying a large tray of food over to the table when Kat entered the second cabin. She took the tray from her grandmother's hands and placed it on the table, then walked over to the small coffeemaker and poured them both a cup of coffee.

"You feeding an army?" She sat down and surveyed the platters of bacon, eggs, Danishes and fruit.

Gwen's eyes twinkled. "Thought you two might need some sustenance after last night."

Kat grinned despite the slight flush of heat to her cheeks.

Last night the walls could have been thinner than air, and she wouldn't have cared. "The man does have stamina, I'll give him that."

"He's a werewolf and the moon is rising. That's a given."

Gwen plucked a Danish from the plate and began eating it. "As long as you were careful, that's all that matters."

Kat gave her a long look. "We're not sex-mad teenagers.

Both of us are able to contain our hormones long enough to take care of that ."

"Maybe, but listen to an old woman who knows what she's talking about and make sure you keep your wits about you, because as the moon gets closer, he won't."

She stared at her grandmother for several seconds. She'd lived with this woman all her life, and still there seemed something new to discover almost every week.

"You had a werewolf lover?"

"Oh, yes." Gwen's reply was more a sigh. "And a most enjoyable six months it was, too. They're very athletic lovers."

She could vouch for the stamina, but the athletic part was still to be discovered. But then, Gran had always been more adventurous than she was, and even now thought nothing of making love some place horribly awkward or public. "Are they all… wary… of intimacy, or is it just mine?"

Gwen frowned. "Werewolves can be strange beasties.

Did you know that they mate for life?"

Kat blinked. "How can that be possible if they screw themselves silly every full moon and aren't particularly fussy about with whom?"

"That's sex. Most men separate sex from love, but in a werewolf's case, that line is more defined. But when he gives his heart, it's given forever."

Kat swallowed a lump of suddenly tasteless bacon. "So the lack of intimacy might very well mean — " "He's already given his heart, and all that is left is sex."

Gwen reached across the table and squeezed Kat's hand.

"But don't take that as gospel. Not until you've asked Ethan."

"He doesn't have a girlfriend or wife. I did check that before I got involved." She grimaced slightly. "I'm not a home-wrecker."

Although it sounded as if it didn't really matter if she was, especially if werewolves considered sex and love to be two entirely different things. Though she wasn't sure she would ever understand the differences, it really didn't matter. She wasn't a werewolf. Wouldn't ever be anything more than a means of release.

Which was kind of sad, given the level of intimacy and understanding they'd reached during their lovemaking last night.

"What's in his past?" Gwen asked.

She shrugged. "Something, I'm sure. He certainly views women in a somewhat harsh light, and he certainly doesn't trust us."

"Us? As in you and me, or women in general?"

Kat grinned. "Both."

"Someone's hurt him in the past."

"Obviously." The question was, had he given his heart to that someone?

And why did she even care? It wasn't as if there could ever be anything more between them than there now was.

Because of their jobs. Because his instinctive hate for his werewolf half would undoubtedly extend to shifters like herself. And because he hated kids and, above all else, she wanted them.

Gwen patted her hand again. "Just enjoy your time with him. Werewolves can give you that, if nothing else."

Maybe, but she was getting a little tired of being nothing more than a good time. She wanted something else. But she wasn't going to find that with Ethan. Wasn't likely to find it with anyone in the near future, either.

She finished the rest of her meal, then picked up her coffee and leaned back in the chair. "What's on the agenda for today?"

"I think you should fly around those hills this morning and have a look around. Those zombies didn't spring from nowhere. They must have a nest up there somewhere."

She nodded. "This soul sucker has vampires, werewolves and zombies at its beck and call. That's a little unusual, isn't it? I mean, both vamps and werewolves are fairly strong-willed. I can't imagine them being yoked to the beck and call of another for long."

"That might depend on how old this thing is. And what exactly it can do."

"Well, it can obviously raise the dead."

"And if it's ancient, it might have a lot of dead it can raise, so be very careful out there."

"You tried to scry yet this morning?"

Gwen sighed. "Yes. Couldn't see a damn thing. I get the feeling they're waiting to see what we do next before they decide their next move."

"Which would mean they consider us a threat."

"This thing is not stupid."

"I never thought it was. Anything else?"

"Just be careful when you're up there. This thing knows you're a shifter, so it might have set traps."

She nodded and pushed away from the table. "I'll bring back lunch."

"Do that. And get yourself another box of condoms while you're at it. You must have used most of his supply last night."

Heat touched her cheeks again. She might have grown up in a sexually liberated household, but her grandmother still had the power to embarrass her. Though after thirty years, she really should be used to it. "I thought you said you were deaf?"

"Not that deaf." Gwen's eyes twinkled. "You'd better get going, before your wolf begins to stir."

She left. Clouds crowded the sky, and the breeze was cool and steady. An almost perfect day for flying. She shoved her hands into her pockets and walked down through the trees toward the road. When she was sure she couldn't be seen from any of the cabins, she shifted shape and flew skyward.

She drifted toward the sea, watching the waves roll in and wishing it was summer so she could go for a swim.

Though a good soaking in icy water might be just what her tired muscles needed to revive them. But later, when she had more time. She flicked her wings and soared sideways, flying toward the mountains.

They looked different in daylight. Less threatening. She circled until she found the signpost and looked around.

There were half a dozen small farms in the immediate area. The zombies must have come from one of them, because they'd been on her almost as soon as she'd sensed them. They could run fast, but not that fast.

She dipped her wing and drifted down to inspect the first farmhouse.

An insistent ringing woke Ethan. He glanced at his watch and cursed when he saw it was well after nine, then reached blindly for his cell phone on the nearby coffee table.

"Yeah?" His voice came out little more than a gruff croak.

"Partner, you sound like shit."

"Just tired, that's all." He rubbed a hand across his eyes and glanced around. Kat wasn't in the cabin, though her lingering scent told him she hadn't been gone long.

Perhaps she was next door.

Mark grunted. "Aren't we all. I went to the morgue like you asked. Seems like you weren't as crazy as I thought you were."

"Body gone to mush?"

"Completely. They managed to freeze a couple of fingers so we can get some prints, but other than that, it's gone."

"You searching through the database for a fingerprint match?"

"Yeah, but we both know it's going to take a long time.

And if the guy doesn't have a record, hasn't been in the military or had a government job, or didn't volunteer his fingerprints when he got his driver's license, we'll be out of luck."

Ethan had a suspicion they'd be out of luck anyway.

"Anything else happening with the case?"

Mark hesitated. "Your brother has posted a reward for information that leads to Janie's return."

Ethan closed his eyes. "How's he holding up?"

"Why don't you find out yourself and call him?"

He really should call Luke, but he didn't know what to say to him any more than he knew what to say to Kat. He wasn't comfortable with intimacy of any kind. Hadn't been for a long, long time. Luke understood his reasons, but he had a feeling Kat never would.

No, he wouldn't call his brother. Not until he had something to say. "How's Benton taking my being in Rogue River?"

"Badly. You're dead meat if he catches up with you before he calms down."

Then he'd just have to ensure he wasn't caught. "The autopsy on the second kid come through yet?"

"Yeah. They've estimated the time of death to be between seven and eight yesterday evening."

"So the kid had been kept alive five days before they killed him?" If that was the case, there was still hope for Janie.

"He was drugged and pretty much starved, though."

"No indication of any other abuse?"

"Nothing, other than starvation. They found traces of dirt in his fingernails. They're still analysing that to see if they can discover anything unusual."

He frowned and scratched his chin. Something about this case didn't make sense, though he couldn't exactly put his finger on what was bugging him. But if the beings behind these kidnapping were vampires of one sort or another, why were they snatching these kids and keeping them for nearly a week before killing them? Granted, he didn't know much about vampires, let alone truly believe in them, but if they did exist, that just didn't make sense.

Unless they were taking the kids for something other than feeding…

"Look, just on a hunch, will you check to see if there were other disappearances reported in the same area as each of these kids? Take it a few days either way."

"You suspect this could be bigger than just the kids?"

"I don't know what I suspect. I could be just reaching for straws."

"Even so, given your record with straws, I'll get it checked out immediately."

"Give me a call if you find anything."

"Will do."

He hung up and walked into the bedroom. Kat's scent was stronger here, and as he glanced at the bed, his blood stirred. He couldn't remember much of last night, not until the end, but he'd certainly never felt this satisfied before in his life. And yet he knew she only had to walk into the room and he'd want her again. It was odd how attracted he was to her. Normally, he only sought out his chosen mate as the evening fell.

He cleaned up the room, picking up a still wrapped condom near the window and discarded wrappers off the floor, then got rid of all the rubbish and made the bed.

After showering and changing, he headed into the other cabin.

He knew without looking that Kat wasn't there. "Where's she gone?" he asked when Gwen looked up from the paper she was reading.

"Out." She patted the chair next to her. "Grab yourself something to eat and drink, then come sit beside me. We need to chat."

He studied her warily. "Why?"

She sighed. "Always questions from a cop. I promise it's nothing personal, so just relax and get something to eat."

He didn't relax, but he did get something to eat. Once he'd warmed up some bacon, eggs and a couple of Danishes, he sat down at the table opposite her.

"What do you need to know?"

"How old was your niece?"

It wasn't the question he'd been expecting. "Five. But you know that. You must have seen the files."

She nodded. "But files only give bare facts. Sometimes it helps if I get a more intimate idea of what they were like."

"You said the opposite yesterday."

A smile touched her lips. "Kat tells me you hate kids, so you're not likely to blind me with emotional vibes like the child's parents would."

"I don't hate — " He hesitated. He'd given Kat one story, so he'd better stick to it. "Don't get me wrong. I love Janie, and I'd do anything to get her back. But she's as close to having a kid as I ever want to get."

"Why?"

He could feel himself shut down, but tried to shrug nonchalantly. "I like my freedom. I like being able to walk away once the moon fever has passed by."

"So you've never lost your heart to anyone?"

"You weren't going to get personal, remember?"

She shrugged. "So I lied."

"Kat understands what lies between us can never be anything more than just a moon dance."

"I'm not asking this for Kat's sake. She's happy enough cruising along as she is for the moment."

He raised an eyebrow, not sure how to take that bit of information. "Then why are you asking?"

"Just trying to figure you out, werewolf."

"Then stop trying, because once this case is solved, I'm out of here."

A smile touched her lips, a smile he didn't trust.

"Maybe." She studied him for a moment. "So, tell me what Janie's like. What does she like to do?"

He rambled on about his niece as he ate his breakfast.

Gwen didn't saying anything, just leaned back in her chair and watched him. He had an uneasy feeling she was still trying to figure him out.

And that she might just succeed where many had failed.

"You must see this kid pretty often to know her that well," Gwen commented eventually. "Odd for a man who's a professed kid hater."

He finished his breakfast and leaned back in his chair with his coffee. He kept his face carefully blank, even though the old woman's line of questioning was beginning to annoy the hell out of him. "She's my brother's kid.

That's different."

"Can't see how."

He drank some coffee, then said, "I was talking to my partner earlier. It appears these kids are being kept alive for up to five or six days before they're killed. They were starved and drugged, but other than that, there didn't appear to be any other form of abuse."

Gwen frowned. "Were they dehydrated as well?"

"Mark made no mention of it." And if it was in the autopsy report, he would have.

"Interesting."

"Why?"

"Because starvation is often used as a form of cleansing when preparing for many forms of rituals."

He stared at her for several seconds, not really sure he wanted to hear anything more. "As in magical-type rituals?"

She nodded absently. "The question is, what sort of ritual would a Mara be performing?"

"And why would a Mara allow a werewolf to tear apart these kids after keeping them alive for five days?"

"Ritual. It needs a specific emotion for the ritual." Gwen rose hastily. "I think I better go talk to Seline. If you want to meet Kat, she'll be at the bakery down the road in another hour."

She hobbled into the other room, and a few seconds later he heard her dialling the phone. He finished his coffee, then glanced at his watch and decided to go for a walk before he met Kat.

At the fourth farm, Kat hit pay dirt. She circled lower, trying to ignore the overwhelming sense of death as she looked for any signs of life. Or un life.

An old Ford sat in the circular drive, but the cobwebs hanging between the steering wheel and the sun visor suggested it hadn't been driven for at least a week.

The old farmhouse itself looked abandoned. Tin rattled on the ancient roof, shutters banged, and the strengthening wind whistled through a broken window on the back porch. Nothing moved, not even a mouse. The smell was coming from the barn, so she dipped lower and headed that way.

The haunting cry of the wind was sharper here, thanks to the decayed state of the barn. She touched down on a tree and moseyed out along the limb that reached toward the window. The barn was filled with dusky shadows, making it hard to see anything. She couldn't see any movement, but that didn't mean the zombies weren't there. The reeking stench indicated something dead was near, even if she couldn't see it.

She hopped skyward again and flew to the roof. It was in worse condition than the house, and there were plenty of gaps where a raven could squeeze through. She chose the largest of them and landed on a rafter.

The stench almost knocked her off the perch. It was ten times worse inside the barn than outside. She walked along the rafter, trying to see past the shadows gathering in the corners. There were no man-shaped lumps to indicate life. No rattle to indicate death drawing breath.

Nothing but that awful smell.

She spread her wings and drifted through the barn. The smell was coming from the end stall. She set down another rafter and peered into the darkness. And discovered death, but not the form she'd expected.

He was a dry old stick of a man who looked to have been in his mid-sixties. The smile frozen on what was left of his face, and the fact that his overalls and boxers hung over the old stall door, hinted at what he had been doing when he died. As did the lingering remnants of ecstasy she could feel in the air.

And though he must have been dead for at least a week, there was no rat or maggot activity to be seen on his body.

Unusual, especially given the fact he lay in a barn.

But the cause of death was easy to see — like the kids, his soul had been sucked free. But given he was in the midst of orgasm at the time, he probably didn't even feel death hit him.

She headed out through the roof and back to the house.

The old man obviously hadn't been too proud because the place looked abandoned from the outside. And just as obviously, he didn't go into town much, which would explain the cobwebs in his car and the fact that he could lay there dead for a week and no one had come up to check on him. Small towns were usually far more aware of things like that than city folk.

She arrowed in through the smashed glass and did a circuit around the house. Evil had been here, as recent as a day or so ago. The air still recoiled from its presence.

The house was in bad shape, many rooms filled with boxes of junk and yellowing newspapers. Dust was inches thick everywhere except in the bedroom and kitchen.

Obviously these were the two rooms the old man had used most. She shifted shape in the bedroom, drawn by a scent that wasn't age and decay and death. Hands on her hips, she studied the double bed and tried to ignore the room's almost overwhelming sense of sadness and loss. But it was almost impossible when everywhere she looked there were photos of a smiling, gray-haired woman.

The sheets were surprisingly clean, the creases barely disturbed. Perhaps he'd changed them in expectation.

Light sparked off something close to the pillow, and she reached for it. It was a delicate gold chain and cross. Not the sort of thing an old man would wear, but certainly something a little girl would.

Janie had been here.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She'd obviously been closer than she'd thought last night.

Maybe even close enough to rescue that little girl.

She clenched her fingers around the cross and turned away from the bed. The kid wasn't here now, but neither was the soul sucker or the zombies. And she very much suspected they wouldn't be found at the last remaining farmhouse. Still, she had to check. Then she had to go back and face Ethan.

And she had a feeling it would be easier facing a dozen zombies than telling Ethan they'd missed rescuing his niece by the slenderest of margins.

She shoved the chain in her pocket, then shifted shape and flew back out the window Ethan leaned against the quaint, white picket fence that bordered part of the bakery and watched the traffic roll by. Not that there was much, and not that they rolled by very fast. In fact, most of them slowed down to give him a good long look. Small townsfolk didn't miss much. By later today, he'd no doubt be the subject of much speculation.

If it wasn't for the fact he was officially off the kidnapping case, he would have started asking some questions himself. If the kidnappers were here, then surely someone in this town would have seen something. But the minute he started nosing about, the sheriff would be informed, and Benton would end up hearing about it.

Right now, that was the one thing he needed to avoid.

Kat strolled down the street about ten minutes later, wearing a dark red cashmere sweater and a short black skirt that swirled around her thighs. Though she looked good enough to stop traffic, his gaze was drawn to the shadows under her eyes. To the shadows in her eyes.

He caught her hand and drew her in between his legs, wrapping his arms around her waist. He kissed her, enjoying the sweetness of her warm lips but resisting the urge to taste deeper, and asked, "What's wrong?"

She hesitated, her gaze searching his. Something in his gut clenched tight.

"Does your niece wear a necklace?"

The restriction moved up from his gut to his chest. "A cross. Why?" His voice was harsh, flat.

She reached into her pocket. "This cross?"

The sun caught the cross as she pulled it free, sparking fire across the gold surface. He reached for it slowly. He'd given Janie the cross last Christmas. He closed his eyes for a moment, fighting the turmoil, fighting the fear.

"Where did you find it?"

"At a farmhouse. She's not there, Ethan. I looked."

She reached out as if to comfort him, but he jerked away and pushed her to one side. He took several steps before he could force himself to stop.

"Where is this farmhouse?" He had to see, had to check himself. Had to know if there was a scent to follow.

"You can't go there."

He swung around, fists clenched against fury rising inside. "Like hell I can't."

Her green eyes were full of understanding, full of compassion. It only seemed to fire his anger more, though he couldn't say why.

"The soul sucker killed the farm's owner. Benton will have to be called, as will the sheriff."

"You call them before I get up there, and we may lose her scent."

"There's no scent to follow. It lingers in the bedroom where they kept her, but that's it."

"You don't have a wolf's nose," he retorted. "I may find what you couldn't."

She crossed her arms, as if to contain the anger he could see forming in her eyes. "You haven't a wolf's nose, either, unless you damn well shift shape."

He took a deep breath. It didn't help the anger or vague sense of desperation boiling through his blood. "You have no idea what a wolf is and isn't capable of."

"I know more about werewolves than you probably do, especially since you've spent a major part of your life denying your heritage." She shook her head, then brushed past him. "You want to go look for her, then go. See of you can find her without my help. I'm going back to Gran."

He reached out to stop her, but she slapped his hand away, her strength and speed surprising him. "Don't think last night gave you the right to try to order me around, wolf man. I've got a job to do, and I intend to do it right."

"This is my niece we're talking about," he ground out.

"And at this point in time your niece appears to still be alive." The words were flung over her shoulder as she continued marching up the street. "You go rushing in blindly, and you just might be the trigger that kills her."

What she said was common sense. He knew that. But it went against every instinct he had to stand here and do nothing while the unthinkable could be happening to one very precious little girl. He thrust a hand through his hair and glanced in the direction from which Kat had come, then took another deep breath and followed her back to the cabins.

And wondered if he could still become a wolf after all the years of denying that part of himself.

"Don't suppose you can control that damn dog of yours?"

The sheriff's voice was gruff and edged with frustration.

"He's starting to give the team the creeps.

Kat grinned. Ethan was in wolf form, complete with a bright pink scarf tied around his neck to indicate her ownership. He'd spent most of the afternoon following around the coroner's men, listening and watching all that was going on.

"Believe me, that dog does exactly what he wants to do."

"Looks too much like a wolf for my liking." The sheriff took off his hat and wiped a hand across his bald head.

"This place feels like a sauna."

She hadn't noticed the heat when she'd come in here earlier, but the sheriff was right. The place felt hotter than hell. Frowning, she glanced around. They were standing in the living room, surrounded by the old man's memorabilia and lots of papers. As she stared at one stack, she noted the edges were beginning to curl up and go dark.

And it was getting hotter with every passing second.

Goose bumps raced across her skin. Only the two of them were in the house. Nearly everyone else was in the barn or searching the grounds. What better time for evil to kill a pest?

"Sheriff, I think we should leave."

He gave her the sort of look she'd seen half her life. The look that queried sanity. "Why?"

The sense of wrongness grew, until it felt like her skin crawled with it. She grabbed his arm and pushed him toward the back door. "Because I have a very bad feeling about this heat, and my bad feelings have a habit of coming true."

"I think — " She never did get to know what he thought, because at that moment the house blew apart, and a fist of air lifted them off their feet and out the windows.