Circle of Desire

Chapter Eight

When Ethan caught a familiar scent, he was sniffing through the rotting pile of old straw dumped on the far side of the barn. Baby powder. He nosed around a bit more and found a footprint. A child-sized footprint. Hope surged, and he felt like howling in joy. She'd stood here, and not all that long ago.

The baby fresh smell led away from the barn, toward the dark trees ringing the farm's boundary. He took several steps in that direction, then hesitated, glancing over his shoulder.

Something felt wrong. He couldn't pinpoint what it was — just a feeling in the air, a vibration of power that somehow tasted foul.

And whatever it was, it was headed for the house. Kat was inside. He had to warn her.

He took a step, but in that moment, the house literally blew apart. It wasn't an explosion — there was no heat, no noise. One minute the house was there, the next it was in a million deadly splinters.

Ethan froze, and for one horrible moment it felt as if something had grabbed his gut and his throat and his heart and twisted hard.

Then he ran, past the scrambling deputies, out into a yard suddenly filled with smoke and dust and deadly wooden missiles. He sniffed the air, caught Kat's scent, and ran as quickly as four legs could carry him to what was left of the rear of the house.

And saw her. Bloodied, not moving, but definitely breathing. A weight lifted off his chest, and suddenly he could breathe again.

She lay on the ground in a ball. Her arms were scratched, her skirt rucked up and torn, her calf cut and bleeding.

But she was alive, she was relatively unhurt, and that was surely a miracle.

He pulled down her skirt with his teeth, protecting her modesty even though he wasn't really sure if she'd care, then nudged her with his nose several times. When that got little response, he licked the side of her face, his tongue rasping against the sooty silk of her skin. She finally stirred, muttering a curse under her breath before she pushed him away.

"Yuck, Ethan." Though her voice was a little husky, it was strong. She uncurled, wincing a little as she stretched out her cut leg. "Now I smell like dog breath."

He couldn't reply, as much as he wanted to. Couldn't ask if she was okay. So he licked her again, this time across her lips.

She spluttered and finally opened her eyes. "I'm okay.

Will you quit it?"

He sat back on his haunches and eyed the overeager deputy who came rushing over.

"You okay, Miss?"

The jerk knelt beside her, all but pawing her in his eagerness to help her into a sitting position. A growl rumbled up Ethan's throat, and the deputy jumped back.

"Bad dog," she said, green eyes twinkling as she looked at him. "He's only trying to help."

Yeah, and his hands just happened to brush her breasts in the process. Likely story. He continued to glare at the offending deputy, and the kid swallowed. Hard.

"Emergency services have been called. They won't be long, Miss."

The deputy half rose, but she put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. "How's the sheriff?"

"He's conscious, like yourself, Miss." The deputy gave Ethan another look then pulled away from Kat's hand and stood. "But I'll just go double check."

"That was uncalled for," she said softly, glancing at Ethan as the deputy walked away. "Especially since you're the one who said there's nothing between us but sex."

There was nothing between them but sex. But while he was with her, he was going to make damn sure no one else was. The thought stopped him. That sounded territorial. Perhaps wolf instincts were stronger in this form. He couldn't honestly say, because he hadn't worn this form for close to fourteen years.

But by the same token, he didn't want to share her. Not with anyone. Not even the slightest caress. But he couldn't tell her that. Couldn't tell her anything in this guise. And he couldn't risk shifting shape just yet. Benton had apparently asked the sheriff if he could send a team down to see if there were any similarities to their kidnapping case. They were due any minute, and he just couldn't afford to be seen.

Kat rose stiffly, dusted off her hands, then limped over to the sheriff. Ethan followed close on her heels, and the men hovering near the sheriff seemed to sidle away, giving them space. The sheriff was up on his feet, and other than a bloody cut on his cheek and a ripped shirt, looked none the worse for his ordeal.

"You okay?" His voice, like Kat's, was still a little croaky.

She nodded. "I'm going to head back to the cabins and clean up, if you don't mind."

"You don't want those cuts checked first?"

She waved a hand. "They're only minor. You know where I'm staying if you want to talk to me."

The sheriff nodded, and she walked away. The car was parked halfway down the long driveway. Ethan shifted shape as they neared it, flowing from wolf to human form in several smooth steps that belied his lack of practice. He touched her arm and stopped her.

"What the hell are you doing?" Her gaze went past him, studying the farm behind them.

"There's no one near to see us. Are you okay?"

"I told you that already." Irritation touched her voice.

"And how do you know they can't see you? You got eyes in the back of your head now?"

"I can smell them." As he could smell her. Taste her. On his skin. In his mouth. His gaze dropped to her lips. "Can you drive okay?"

"I've only cut my leg. Shift shape before someone sees you. If you want to talk, wait 'till we get back to the cabins."

"I'm not going back just yet."

And neither was she — not until he'd tasted her more fully. His lips claimed hers, his kiss hard, demanding.

Though she made a small sound of protest at the back of her throat, her lips yielded to his. His tongue savoured the sweetness of her mouth as he pressed her back against the car. Her body trembled against him, her nipples hard against his chest. He slid his hand under her soft sweater, caressing their peaks as he pressed his groin against her.

Wanting, needing, to get inside.

She felt so good, so right, that he wanted to keep on tasting and touching her forever. But now was not the time, because there were scents that would not wait. He pulled back. Her breathing was as harsh as his, her pupils wide and dilated. He touched her cheek, thumbing the thin trickle of blood away.

"Sorry."

She took a shuddering breath. "You should be. It's not like you can finish anything right now."

"No." But he certainly wanted to, and that in itself was somewhat surprising, given the number of condoms he'd thrown out this morning. The fever should have been well sated until this evening. "Perhaps tonight."

"Perhaps." Her tone suggested he shouldn't count on it.

Though he certainly did. He took off the ridiculous pink scarf she'd forced him to wear and handed it to her. "I have to go. I found a spoor I have to follow." He shifted shape before she could argue and leapt away.

For two seconds, Kat thought about following him. But if she didn't drive the car away, the deputies would wonder why it was still there and perhaps begin a search. They couldn't afford that, not right now, and not when the zombies and God knows what else might still be in the area.

She took a deep breath that did little to ease the ache of desire, and climbed into the car. Her grandmother was asleep when she entered the cabin. Kat headed into the bathroom and cleaned up the cuts on her face and leg, then made two cups of coffee and carried them into the bedroom. Gwen stirred as she sat down on the edge of the bed.

"You're back," she said, yawning as she sat up. "Did you find anything?"

"A necklace belonging to Janie, and another soul sucker victim." She handed her grandmother the coffee, then leaned against the wall. "This one was an old man, though."

Gwen frowned. "New or old death?"

"Newish. He's been dead for about a week."

"So the Mara is still taking its victims in a traditional manner. Wonder what it needs the kids for, then?"

Kat rubbed her arms. "I have a bad feeling that we don't want to know the answer to that."

"Me, too." Gwen's frown deepened. "I'll have to call Seline and see if she's discovered anything on rituals that need specific emotions for completion. Where's that wolf of yours?"

"He ran off to follow a scent." And she hoped he was careful. Those zombies were still out there, as was the soul sucker. And he didn't stand a chance against them — not when he didn't believe he had to kill rather than arrest.

"Damn fool. Hope he has more sense than to charge in if he finds anything."

"He's a cop. He knows better than that."

Gwen snorted. "He's also a werewolf in the midst of moon heat, and sense is not playing a major role in his thought processes at the moment."

"You want me to go look for him?"

Gwen hesitated. "No. You need to head over to this restaurant." She grabbed a slip of paper from the dressing table and handed it to Kat. "That other werewolf is going trolling for victims tonight. You've got to stop him."

She glanced at the address, noting the restaurant was the one Ethan and she had stopped at yesterday. "We haven't any silver bullets."

"The silver daggers will work just as well." Gwen hesitated. "But be careful. This wolf is one of the bitten, and they're usually mean. Try to question him if you can.

Then lure him away from the restaurant and get rid of him fast, or you could be in trouble."

She nodded and tried to ignore the fear of what might happen. Finishing her coffee, she rose. "I'll mix up some truth herbs and see if I can slip them into his drink."

Gwen nodded. "Just don't push too hard, even if you do get them into him. If you make him suspicious, you'll be in danger."

She'd be in danger anyway, and they both knew it. "What about Ethan?"

"The moon fever has him feeling a might territorial, and that could prove disastrous in this situation."

Because he'd attack rather than question. And as much as this werewolf deserved to die, they needed the answers he might provide. "So what are you going to tell him?"

"That what you do on your own free time is none of his damn business."

She gave her grandmother a long look. "What possible good is telling him that going to do?"

"Nothing at all. I just want to see his reaction."

"You're a bad woman, you know that?"

"And enjoying every moment of it." Gwen grinned, but there was a seriousness in her green eyes as she said, "He needs to be shaken, Kat. Or this could end very badly."

"This case, or him and me?"

"Both."

She had a feeling it would end badly between Ethan and her no matter how much stirring her grandmother did. His actions made it all too clear he really only wanted sex from her. Which was a damn shame, because there were definitely signs that there could be a whole lot more.

She glanced at her watch. It wouldn't take long to fly down to the restaurant, but even so, she had to get moving. It was past four, and dusk was closing in fast.

"I'll change and get going."

"Just be careful. And don't let the aura of the wolf overwhelm you."

"I won't." She knew her voice sounded as uncertain as she felt.

Ethan sat on his haunches and studied the small cabin in the clearing below. The baby fresh scent had faded a good ten minutes back, but he'd continued to hunt around, desperate to find it again.

The only thing he had found was this cabin. It looked nothing out of the ordinary. Just a rundown old shack that appeared to have been abandoned for years.

Yet the smell of death hung so heavily in the air it almost choked him.

He sniffed the breeze, trying to discern if there were any other scents layering the air. Nothing beyond decay and the faint tang of balsam.

He rose and padded through the trees. There was no life, no movement to be seen anywhere. Even the quiet songs of the birds had faded away. Keeping to the deepening shadows as much as possible, he headed down to the cabin. Still no sound, no sign that anything living had been near this place in the last few months. Not even spiders — though there were plenty of webs to prove they'd once been here. He shifted shape, pressing his back against the rough-hewn walls as he edged toward the grimy rear window. And discovered the cause for the smell.

Dead men. Living dead men.

There had to be at least ten of them sleeping on the floor.

He shifted position, trying to see into the shadows filling the corners. Janie wasn't there. He couldn't see her, couldn't smell her. But if these things were working for the woman snatching the kids, then maybe all he had to do was sit here and wait for either the killer to show up, or these things to lead him to the Mara. And Janie.

He had nothing to lose by trying.

Nothing except time spent with Kat. Unease stirred, and the sudden desire to race back to her caught him by surprise. Because it wasn't motivated by the moon fever, but rather a surge of fear for her safety. And though he had the bruises to prove she was more than able to take care of herself, the certainty she was flying headfirst into trouble settled like a weight in his gut and refused to budge.

He frowned and shifted shape, making his way back to the trees. But as the shadows mottling the clearing became one and the sky drifted toward night, the feeling Kat needed help became a certainty he could not ignore.

He rose and ran for their cabin. Night had settled in by the time he arrived, and the wind was as cold as his heart.

He entered their rooms, but knew from the lingering scents that Kat hadn't been there for at least two hours. He walked into the other cabin.

"Where's Kat?" he said the minute he saw Gwen.

The old woman lowered the newspaper and raised an eyebrow. "Out chasing up a lead."

"Where?" His voice was brusque, but right then he didn't care.

Gwen crossed her arms, her expression amused. "She's working, wolf, and you have no right — " "She's in trouble."

Amusement fled from the old woman's face. "What do you mean?"

"I mean she needs help. That without it she could be seriously hurt." Perhaps even killed. The thought twisted something deep inside him, and for a minute he couldn't even breathe.

Gwen studied him, her green eyes intense, almost otherworldly. As if she were seeing things those of the mortal world never could. Then she blinked and rose, hobbling into her bedroom. "How do you know this?" she said over her shoulder.

He hesitated, but if anyone would understand his certainty, it would be this strange old woman. "I don't really know. It's just a feeling — a conviction — I have."

"Precognition," Gwen said. "Thought you might have that. She's at the restaurant you stopped at yesterday."

He felt like cursing. A two hour drive was going to stretch his nerves to the limits. He swung to leave, then stopped. "Why is she there?"

"Because the werewolf that tore apart the kid will be there trolling for victims. She's going to stop him."

The ice in his gut grew. "You sent her out alone after that thing?"

"She's hunted far worse than werewolves."

"When the moon is high, there is nothing worse than a berserk werewolf." He knew that for a fact, having seen it back home as a cub. He briefly closed his eyes, forcing away the images of the woman who'd been attacked, and tried not to imagine Kat in her place.

Gwen snorted as she came back out and handed him a small first aid kit. "Werewolf, you have no idea of the world we walk in."

Maybe not. But he knew werewolves, and despite all their experience, these two obviously had no idea just how dangerous a berserker could be. And Kat was out there, facing one alone. He picked up his car keys and walked out the door.

And knew with certainty as he jumped into the car that he was not going to be in time to stop her from getting hurt.

Kat glanced at her watch for the umpteenth time. It was close to eight, and still she had no sense of the werewolf's presence in the crowded room.

She sipped her drink and let her gaze drift across the dance floor. There were plenty of women here, plenty of men. All of them dancing and flirting and generally having a good time. She had no doubt that to a sensitive nose the smell of lust would hang heavily in the air. And maybe that was the reason the werewolf intended to hunt here tonight. The pickings would probably be easy for a wolf in the midst of moon heat.

A chill raced a warning across her skin. She looked toward the door as it opened, and her stomach dropped to the vicinity of her toes.

The man who entered was tall and powerfully built, with chiselled features and dark blonde hair. The sheer sexual energy radiating off him told her this was the werewolf she sought. But he was not the reason for the sudden rush of fear. That honour went to the petite, somewhat gaunt oriental woman who stopped beside him. The soul sucker.

The other woman scanned the room, and Kat dropped her gaze. Though she now wore a blonde wig and coloured contact lenses, she wasn't about to risk the Mara recognizing her. The heat of the soul sucker's gaze lingered for a moment then moved on.

Relief surged through her. She looked up again. The Mara headed left, the werewolf to the right. Kat hesitated, half thinking about going after the soul sucker. But in reality, she knew that was a move best kept until they knew more about what would kill it. For now, it was better to chip away at the Mara's defences by getting rid of her lieutenants.

She finished her drink in one gulp, then walked to the bar and ordered two more. Once back in the shadows, she slipped the herbs into one glass and watched the werewolf prowl around the room. The force of his aura rolled before him like a wave, hitting men and women alike.

Obviously, this particular wolf wasn't too choosy as to what sex he mated with. Their sighs and stares followed in his wake, but he didn't stop, his gaze continuing to hunt the room.

Her stomach began to churn. She checked to make sure the herbs had disintegrated, and then she walked toward him.

The heat of his aura hit her like a punch to the stomach. It left her breathless, hot, and yet oddly uneasy. Because while this werewolf's aura was every bit as powerful as Ethan's, there was an undercurrent of violence in his energy that shook her to the core. Sex with this man would not be pleasant… maybe not even survivable.

She stepped in front of him, forcing him to stop. His gaze collided with hers, and deep in the blue depths she saw madness and hunger. A chill ran down her spine, but she forced a smile and offered him a glass. "You look like a man in search of a drink."

His smile was high wattage, sexy, yet one that left her cold.

"Thank you." His voice, like his smile, was designed to seduce.

He took the drink, the brief touch of his fingers hot and somehow needy. She resisted the urge to wipe her hand and raised her glass, taking a sip. The sweet liquid only succeeded in further agitating her stomach. "Do you come here often?"

"Yes. And I haven't seen you here before."

His gaze slid casually down her body then rose to meet hers again. The desire so evident in his eyes made her throat go dry. Heat surged between them, caressing her skin with its intensity. And while she reacted physically, it left her numb deep inside. Which was odd, given how susceptible she was to Ethan the minute he came within arm's length.

"No," she murmured. "I'm just passing through."

Something surged in his eyes. Relief. Perhaps even triumph. He swallowed the last of his champagne then placed the glass on the nearby table. "Shall we dance?"

She hesitated briefly, but knew she had no choice. She had to let him think his aura was doing its job, that she was indeed struck with desire for him. She downed her drink in a gulp that left her head buzzing, and placed her glass beside his. He pressed a hand against her back as he guided her down to the dance floor, his fingers caressing her spine, sending chills skating across her skin. The music swirled around them, its beat heavy, languid. The floor was crowded with sweating, needy people, and she could almost smell their lust. He pulled her close, his body hard and smelling faintly of pine and death. His touch slid down to caress her rear. Had it been Ethan, she would have ached. With this wolf, the only true sensation she had was fear.

She lifted her gaze to his again. "Doesn't your girlfriend mind you dancing this… intimately… with others?"

Tension flowed briefly through his limbs, and the hand holding her side dug deep. Pain slithered through her, and she bit down on a yelp.

He raised a pale eyebrow, his gaze all cold heat.

"Girlfriend?"

She nodded. "I saw you come in and was disappointed to see you weren't alone."

His grip relaxed a little. "Ah, you mean Ming. She's my employer, not my lover."

"She's very pretty."

The hand on her rear moved to her thigh. Goose bumps fled across her skin.

"Yeah, but I've learned the hard way it's dangerous to mix business with pleasure with someone like Ming."

There went the vague hope that the soul sucker might kill the werewolf in the midst of passion. "So, what sort of business are you in?"

"Feeding the young."

His touch moved under her skirt and caressed bare skin.

The tremor that ran through her had nothing to do with desire. She fought the flash of kinetic energy and raised an eyebrow. "Charity work?"

"No. Not unless you consider self-interest a charity." His other hand slid under her breast. She couldn't help trembling again, and he chuckled softly. "Is this what you want?"

He caught a nipple between his thumb and finger and squeezed hard. Her moan was one of pain rather than ecstasy, but he didn't seem to care. He brushed a kiss across her cheek, his breath hot and foul as it fanned her skin. His mouth moved down to hers, but at the last moment she turned away, pressing the slightest kiss to his neck instead. Even that brief contact had her stomach squirming in distaste.

The waves of his aura were blasting her with heated desire. Her nipples hardened in response, and her breathing became more rapid. Yet they were both outward signs of a response she didn't feel inside.

She swallowed to ease the dryness in her throat and said, "Have you lived around these parts long?"

He shrugged and cupped her breast, kneading it hard through the gauzy material of her shirt. "Ten months."

Energy prickled across her fingertips. She clenched her hand behind him, fighting the desire to smack him across the room. "So you like it here enough to stay?"

He snorted. "No. We're only here until the kids are old enough — " He stopped, suspicion darkening his expression.

Fear stirred. She ran a hand down his body and pressed her palm against the hardness so visible under his jeans.

"Perhaps we should do something about this before we continue our chat."

Suspicion fled, replaced by avid hunger. "We could go somewhere more secluded," he whispered into her neck.

"And dance a little more intimately."

She shivered. There was no way in hell she was going to be caught alone outside with this man. She didn't like the edge of violence so evident in his aura — and besides, there was the soul sucker to consider. She might be able to cope with one madman, but two was pushing her limits.

"It's too cold outside," she murmured, running a finger back up his chest and undoing the top button of his shirt.

"But I noticed earlier that the ladies room has a lock."

Amused anticipation gleamed in his eyes. His hand slid up her thigh and settled on her rear, but his touch was so hot it felt as if he was branding her.

"I like your thinking."

So did she. At least help was within yelling distance if she got into trouble. "Then let's go."

She stepped away and caught his hand, leading the way through the crowded dance floor. When they neared the restroom she released him, her smile teasing as she looked up. "I'll just go check to make sure we're alone."

"Don't be long." His voice was brusque and edged with hunger.

The urge to run all but swamped her. She forced her smile and entered the restroom. It was empty. She checked the stalls anyway then reached up to close the window.

A warning tingled across the back of her neck, telling her she was no longer alone. She ignored the urge to turn and face him, knowing she had to lock the window just to make sure no one else could join them. Especially the soul sucker — though a locked window wasn't going to delay her long if she decided to join the party.

He kicked the door shut, then slammed the bolt home.

Her heart began a double-time dance that had nothing to do with desire. She slid her hand into her bag and clenched her fingers around one of the two silver knives she carried.

"Getting a might anxious aren't — " Metal slithered across her throat, cutting off her words. She reacted instinctively, thrusting a hand up to her neck as the wire snapped taut. A ribbon of fire began to burn around her throat and cut into her fingers.

"Did you think a wig would fool us?" he whispered, his breath hot and unsteady against her ear.

She didn't answer. Couldn't answer. The wire was growing tighter, cutting into her fingers and neck.

Moisture pulsed down her palm, and her chest burned as air suddenly became scarce.

Energy blistered through every fibre, but she fought desperately against the urge to release it. She didn't dare when he held the garrotte so tight. She might just end up cutting her own throat.

"Scream for me," he whispered. "Beg for your life."

He slammed her face first against the wall and began rubbing himself against her rump. He was thick and hard, his breathing fast and hot against her ear. Bile rose, threatening to finish what the garrotte had begun. She closed her eyes, battling panic. Remembered the knife still clenched in her hand.

She lifted it free and stabbed backwards. The blade sliced through flesh as easily as butter, sinking hilt deep. He howled, and the noose around her neck cut deeper. She fought for breath, her lungs burning and heart pounding so fast it felt ready to leap from her chest.

The smell of burning flesh tore at the air, then metal clattered against the tiles. "For that, you will pay." His voice was little more than a husky growl. "I shall tear your limbs from your body, then drown you with my seed as your blood pulses around you."

Magic shimmered around her. He was changing shape… but the garrotte didn't loosen. He must have tied it. Lights danced crazily before her eyes, and the whole world seemed to be roaring at her. Her heart thumped in her ears, and the burning in her lungs had spread to the rest of her body. Every muscle seemed to scream with the need to breathe.

She thrust a hand into her bag and felt desperately for the second knife. Heard the rumbling growl behind her and spun, stabbing blindly.

If she hit anything, she didn't feel it.

She cursed, but it seemed to lodge somewhere in her throat, choking as she did. She felt the breeze of movement and lashed out kinetically. Wildly. Something hit the far wall and anger rumbled around her. Her fingers twitched against the knife. She glanced down, surprised she still held it, but couldn't see anything through the darkness rushing into her mind. She closed her eyes, imagined the knife burying itself so deep into the werewolf's heart that it pinned him to the wall. Felt energy burn through every fibre, as if in response. Then the darkness took hold, and she knew no more.