Embrace the Night

2

What a fucking mess.

Merek Kingston shoved his sunglasses up his nose and stepped away from the shattered window. His shoes crunched in the glass that littered the living room of the penthouse apartment. He swept the room in a glance. The woman’s body lay crumpled near the entrance, her eyes blank and empty, her fangs stil extended in a twisted snarl.

“Al esia Dawes. Thirty-five-year-old attorney. Vampire.” Selina Grayson, his partner of three years, flipped her notebook closed before turning cool, dark eyes on the scene. At over four hundred years old, the slim elven woman had seen more than her share of death.

“Who’s our guy down on the street?”

“Coroner’s stil scraping the charcoal off the pavement, but my best guess is the owner—” she consulted her notes again “—Damien Raines.”

“Also a vampire.” It wasn’t a question. Even if the man hadn’t charbroiled in the sun, the Vampire Conclave owned this high-rise, and everyone in it. It didn’t take a genius to do the math on the kind of Magickals who might live here. He tipped his head toward the window and the street below. “Anyone down there see anything useful?”

“No. We have a few Normal gawkers, but the telepaths first on the scene say no one even saw anything worthy of a memory tweak, let alone anything that might help us.”

Only certain Normals were permitted to know magic even existed. If a Normal married into a Magickal family. When officials were appointed or elected who had to interact with the Magickal branches in every governmental organization.

If those people no longer needed to know about magic, their memories could be adjusted. The Al -

Magickal Council made those decisions, and they were ruthless in upholding the nondisclosure laws. Merek was definitely in favor of those laws. They’d brought witch trials and vampire hunting to a virtual standstil a century or two ago, and that made everyone in Magickal law enforcement’s job a whole lot easier.

Selina tucked her notebook into her jacket. “You get a read on the place yet?”

He grunted in response. Letting his eyes unfocus, he took in the room again, this time with his precognitive abilities. Power tugged in his chest, lifting the hair down his arms as it crackled in the air around him. He shuddered under the lash of magic that was almost painful.

The other officers in the room shifted away. Only Selina stayed near him while he “read” the room. Unlike the clairvoyant abilities of most Magickals, he was cursed with an overabundance of power. He could see the past, future, and present. A roaring sounded in his ears, ripping through his mind. Every historical event in Seattle tried to slam into him. Cold sweat broke out across his forehead, and his muscles shook from the onslaught. He pushed through the chaos and focused on just this building. Dark shadows of twisted memories layered over themselves in his mind as people raced in and out of the room in fast-forward. Then the wal s crumbled into dust, and he stood midair over a city he didn’t recognize. What he saw was the stuff of nightmares, the ragged end of humanity thousands of years in the future. Everything destroyed. Pul ing back from the vision, he homed in on the room. The recent past.

Here he saw the door breaking wide, a man and woman fighting for survival. The woman begging while sinister shadows loomed over her. The man writhing and screaming in agony. Death. The images were smudged in his mind, without enough clarity to make out the perpetrators. Unusual, because he normal y had visions clear enough to sear into his retinas.

Then a familiar face streaked through his mind. A woman with midnight hair and hazel eyes. She was nude, arched for him. The fire of his own desire made his skin feel as though it were too tight. Sweat beaded on his face as the woman whispered his name and reached for him. Irresistible. He wanted her.

Always he wanted her. Craved her. His cock hardened to the point of pain, and a shudder racked his body.

He groaned and pushed the image away. Not connected to this case. He’d seen her in his mind more times than he cared to admit, but she was a memory, not a vision. Chloe.

He became aware of reality by degrees, the smel of Selina’s perfume, the chil wind blowing in from the window. A storm was coming, despite the bril iant sky. His hand lifted as though to touch the woman in his mind. He snorted and shook the visions away, dragging himself back to the task at hand, shoving away the gut-grinding punch of lust before he embarrassed himself. He didn’t have time for a memory. He didn’t even know her last name. Hadn’t let himself look her up after she’d run out on their night together.

“You al right?” Selina’s hand clamped over his shoulder, stronger than anyone would guess by looking at her. He sensed she used magic to tighten her grip.

He swiped a hand down his face. “Yeah. I can’t get a fix on our perps.”

“Anything? Male or female?”

“Nothing solid. Here’s how it went down. Dawes answers the door, so someone had to knock. Maybe someone she knows, maybe not, but she opens the door for them. The perps force their way in, and things get ugly. They took their time with Raines—worked him over for hours, threatened his woman to get his cooperation. Raines eventual y snaps, there’s a struggle, Raines loses and takes a header out the window for some barbeque time on the way down to the street. That left the woman—”

“Medical examiner says it doesn’t look like sexual assault.” Selina dropped her hand from his shoulder.

“Not that I saw either,” he agreed. His gut tightened before he finished tel ing his partner what he’d seen.

“She was on her knees, begging, when she died.”

“They wanted something from Raines, but they already knew it wasn’t here.” Her conclusion was obvious even without Merek’s vision of Raines being questioned and tortured. The place was pristine. The only messes were the dead woman and a few pieces of furniture overturned in the struggle. There were none of the usual signs that the apartment had been tossed.

“Or maybe they didn’t want a physical object. Maybe information.” That felt right somehow, fit with his vision. His gaze swept the room again. “Stil , do we know if anything was taken?”

“A patrolman is bringing the parents in for questioning. They might be able to identify anything obvious that’s missing.” Selina slid her hands into her pockets.

He sighed and scrubbed the back of his neck. His nerves jangled from too much caffeine and too little sleep, but that was standard operating procedure for his line of work. “Vampires kil ed in a Conclave-owned building. I’m guessing a prominent vamp family. This is going to be fun.”

“Is that a premonition?” A rare grin tugged at her mouth.

“Cal it a hunch.” He mimicked her pose, shoved his hands in his pockets, and watched the crime scene analysts doing their job. Yeah, this was going to be a bitch of a case. He didn’t even need the visions jockeying in the back of his mind to tel him that simple truth.

“Kingston, I don’t know how you deal with that.” She shook her head, her look half pitying and half respectful.

“The same way we al deal with our premonitions.” Or, at least witches / warlocks, elves, and Fae.

Vampires and werewolves had other magical problems to contend with.

“Not al of us have it as bad as you.”

A smile curved his lips, but it held no amusement. His gift was often more of a curse, but he’d found a way to make it useful. “Aren’t I the lucky one?”

“Yeah. Lucky.” She snorted and led the way out of the apartment. “Let’s go talk to the parents.”

Two uniformed officers escorted Chloe into the police department downtown, and though it bustled with people and energy, it felt cold to her. Sterile and ugly.

She tried not to tremble in reaction as the officers flanking her led her to a set of double doors that required pass cards to get through. They stepped into a short, wide hal way. One side held a high counter topped by metal bars. A plump, middle-aged woman sat behind the cage and gave them a pleasant smile.

She motioned them toward another set of doors at the opposite end of the hal .

Chloe felt a short burst of magic flick from the woman’s fingers as she waved them on. It flowed over her, made the hair on her arms stand on end. A test for magic? Only Magickals would be able to access this area of the police department. The woman gave her a polite nod. “Welcome to the West Precinct’s Magickal Task Force Headquarters.”

The doors in front of Chloe parted on their own, spil ing them out into a frenetic office area. Uniformed police officers mingled with the occasional obvious werewolf or vampire. Some of the people in the room had a hard, scary edge to them. Criminals. Magic-wielding criminals. The flash of spel s from a doorway and an angry shout sent a shiver down her spine.

She blinked and tried not to stare too closely at anyone. What was she doing here? An hour ago she’d been hip-deep in work, utterly absorbed in experimenting with their current round of formulas that she felt to her bones were right. They just needed to perfect their project, run more tests, and it would be ready. They were so close.

They. But there was one less to count among the they in their research team, wasn’t there?

Damien was dead. Murdered, the officers had said. Damien. Murdered. Chloe stil hadn’t wrapped her mind around it. There was no love lost between them, for obvious reasons, but she hadn’t wanted the man dead. The whole thing was surreal, and her thoughts skipped around in mad little circles. Who would want to kil a scientist? Chloe had an ugly suspicion she was at the MTF Headquarters because they wanted to ask her that very question. And they thought the answer might be her.

Then everything inside her froze, reality once again taking a nasty turn.

Gray eyes met hers from across the room. Magnetic, they pul ed at her. Her dream from that morning, from so many mornings before that, flashed through her mind. It was him. Merek.

She didn’t even have time to hope that he wouldn’t recognize her, because the same involuntary heat that coursed through her body flickered in his gaze.

“Shit,” she breathed.

The officer on her left stirred to alertness. “Something wrong, Dr. Standish?”

She swal owed a whimper when Merek started toward them, his long, muscular legs eating up the distance. Both the officers escorting her snapped to immediate attention. “Detective Kingston, sir.”

His gaze never left her face. “Gentlemen. Dr. Standish.”

A ripple of pure awareness went down her skin at his words. She wasn’t even sure if it was because he knew her name or because he was close enough to feel the intensity of him, smel the faint musk of his scent, see the ebony ring around his silver irises. A lock of wheat blond hair fel over his forehead, but did nothing to soften the sharp angles of his face. He took another step forward, looming over her. His shoulders were huge, the heavy muscles of his torso tapering to his narrow waist and flanks. She sighed and felt a flush heat her cheeks, the warmth spreading through her body to make it throb. He was even sexier than on the night she’d met him. Gods, how was that even possible? How could she be here, in a police station, about to be questioned for the murder of her ex-lover, and stil be fighting her attraction for the man?

Madness. Insanity.

This was why she’d crept out of his apartment and run like hel after their night together. Her reaction was too intense, pul ed her in too deep, until she felt like she was drowning in it. And she had no desire to rescue herself, just to let herself go and hold on to him forever. That wasn’t how she liked her affairs, but she couldn’t deny her body liked him too much.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she hid the fact that her nipples had tightened to points. Merek’s gaze fol owed the motion, the gleam in his eyes tel ing her he knew exactly what she’d done and why. She licked her lips, and he stared at them, his expression as hungry as it had been the last time he’d pul ed her under him, mounting her to slide his cock into her wet sex.

She sucked in a deep breath, struggling for calm, and more of his tantalizing scent came to her. The buzz of the people around her, the hum of magic moving through the air, faded until there was nothing and no one but him. If she took a step forward, she’d be able to feel the heat of his body, two steps and she’d be in his arms again.

The officer on her right spoke, breaking through her daze. He gestured toward a hal off the main room.

“We were just escorting Dr. Standish to—”

“I’l take it from here.” A slim woman with a badge and a gun clipped to her belt walked up and nodded to the men. She glanced at Chloe. “I’m Detective Selina Grayson. If you’l fol ow me.”

Merek blinked, and the fiery passion was gone, replaced by a remote, professional coldness that sliced through her like a razor blade. She shook herself, felt that same iciness stiffen her spine.

Forcing herself to think of something— anything—else, Chloe focused on Selina’s face. What kind of Magickal was this woman? An elf, or maybe a fairy. She had the right bone structure for either race. Chloe tilted her head and narrowed her eyes, opening her senses a bit. Fae, witches, and elves al vibrated with magic, like the same song hummed in three different pitches. Vampires hissed like the low, ominous quiver of a rattlesnake’s tail. Werewolves were a deep rumble, a subvocal growl that made prey freeze before a dangerous predator. The detective sounded more like an elf than a Fae, but sometimes it was difficult to tel .

Maybe other Magickals sensed it differently, but since Chloe’s skil s revolved around clairaudience, she heard the differences between the species. Someone with telemetry might have to touch to know. A clairvoyant or someone who sensed auras might be able to tel with a single glance. She’d never asked anyone else about it, but maybe she should. She wondered if any empirical studies had been done on the subject, and her mind began to ponder the scientific anomalies of divergent magical powers.

Selina cleared her throat, wrenching Chloe’s wayward attention back to the present. “Dr. Standish, if you’l fol ow me. Now.”

Flushing, she ignored the strange looks Merek and the officers gave her. Merek’s presence flustered her more than it should. Turning, she scurried toward the hal way Selina indicated, escaping Merek and the feelings he generated within her with a mere look. Just as she had the night they’d met.

Twenty minutes later, Chloe stared down at a cracked Formica table until the ugly gold flecks began to blur before her eyes. Air-conditioning kicked on and cooled the already frigid room. Goose bumps raced over her skin, and she couldn’t fight the chil with a spel because this room had been warded against the use of magic. It made her nerves jangle even more. This couldn’t be happening. It could not be happening.

Even worse, she knew she focused on her physical discomfort, her impaired magical abilities, to stop herself from thinking about Detective Merek Kingston. Kingston. She hadn’t known his last name, hadn’t known he was a cop. She hadn’t wanted to know. He was supposed to be a one-night lover, a memory that became hazy almost as soon as it was over. Instead, seeing him had demonstrated exactly how clear her memories of him were, how they’d been etched into her mind with stunning clarity.

One more ugly shock for the day.

“Dr. Standish?”

She jerked a bit when the door opened and Selina walked in. “Yes?”

“Thank you for waiting.” Her brown hair swung in a layered bob around her sharply featured face, and her warm skin tone contrasted with the icy demeanor and cold, flat eyes. “I have a few questions for you.”

“So I gathered when they asked me to come down here.” Chloe’s voice came out sounding almost normal, which surprised her. Nerves made her hands quake a bit, so she curled her fingers around the Styrofoam cup of coffee one of the officers had given her. Sitting in an interrogation room was intimidating as hel , even if she knew she hadn’t done anything wrong.

Stil , her bel y looped a bit. Her heart pounded in slow, painful beats as she tried not to fidget or squirm.

Damien had been murdered, but she hadn’t done anything il egal, no matter what they might think. Turning his familiar into a lampshade might not have been total y aboveboard, but she hadn’t kil ed anyone.

The slender woman slid into a chair across from her, settling a file folder on the table between them. She didn’t look at Chloe for a few seconds, and while Chloe knew it was a ploy to set her more on edge—just as making her wait had been—she had to admit it worked.

The detective tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, and the barest hint of a point showed. Elf, just as Chloe had suspected. She might have al owed herself a momentary sense of victory, but the black ice of Selina’s eyes sent pinpricks down Chloe’s spine. “What can you tel me about your relationship with Dr.

Raines?”

Chloe swal owed and didn’t let her gaze waver. “We work together at Desmodus Industries. I mean . . . we worked together.” She suppressed the urge to giggle nervously, that sense of pure unreality buzzing through her mind again. “Two months ago, we broke off a two-year-long relationship.”

“Why?” Selina’s gaze sharpened, and yet Chloe didn’t think she was startled by the information, just that she was judging every word and movement Chloe made.

She clenched her teeth, knowing the answer to this question wasn’t going to get her out from under any suspicion. “He left me for another woman—a vampire. Last I heard, they were engaged, and she was pregnant.”

“Do you know the woman’s name?” The detective stroked her finger over the paperwork in front of her, and Chloe resisted the urge to try to angle for a look.

“No. I didn’t ask.” She took a breath, let it ease out, and tried to get a grip on her emotions, on the hol ow feeling that opened in her bel y. “I frankly didn’t want to know. He wanted out of the relationship, and when I found out why, I was more than happy to see him go. I don’t share.”

“So you were angry.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes, I was.” She was careful to keep her tone reasonable, to not get defensive. She had done nothing wrong—they were just ruling her out as a suspect. “Understandably, I think. That doesn’t mean I did anything to harm him.”

“His fiancée, Al esia Dawes, was also murdered.”

“Someone kil ed a pregnant woman?” For some reason, that stunned her even more than the idea that someone might have murdered Damien. Another level of surreal tilted her world off-axis.

Selina gave her a look that could only be described as pitying. “It isn’t the first time, Dr. Standish.”

“N-no, of course not.” Chloe took a gulp of her coffee, just to have a solid grip on something real, and burned the inside of her mouth. She winced.

The detective leveled that blank, accusing stare on Chloe, and her heart skipped a beat, sweat slicking her palms. “Can you tel me where you were at five this morning?”

Chloe sighed, closing her eyes. “I was home, sleeping. Alone.”

“I see.”

She opened her eyes to meet Selina’s gaze. “Am I going to be arrested?”

Those dark eyes were unblinking, and the detective’s slim body appeared almost relaxed in her chair, but Chloe could feel the tension running through her. “Have you done anything I should arrest you for?”

Chloe clenched her jaw, stomping down on the unwarranted guilt that rol ed through her. “No, I have not.”

“Then you’re not under arrest.”

Yet. The word hung in the air, unspoken, but both women thought it.

“Wel , that’s a relief.” Her voice was deadpan, because she knew for damn sure she was stil under suspicion, if not arrest. Then something occurred to her, and she felt stupid for not having thought of it before. She reached for her purse. “Damien cal ed me this morning around the time you’re talking about. He left a message because, as I said, I was in bed, alone, sleeping.”

Flipping on the speakerphone feature, she played the message for Selina, but could tel that the woman didn’t think this ruled Chloe out of anything.

“We’re going to want a copy of that message.” The detective shifted in her seat, her gaze scanning the documents in front of her, and then she changed her line of questioning. “He mentioned a project. Can you tel me about the nature of your work with Dr. Raines?”

“We make up two of the three team leads involved in the Desmodus Werewolf Project.” The breath eased from Chloe’s lungs. This, at least, was something she could talk about without worrying. Her love life might be in constant shambles, but her career was impeccable.

Selina’s body went rigid, her eyes rising to meet Chloe’s, and for once her expression was unguarded.

“The project to cure lycanthropy?”

“Not to cure it, to control it.” Al too eager to talk about anything but Damien’s murder, Chloe started babbling. “At this time, wolves are compel ed to Change with the ful moon. Their magic fluctuates wildly with the lunar cycles. The result is an astronomical number of wolf deaths per year. As far as I know, there’d be no way to cure therianthropy, the magical disease that engenders the vampire and werewolf races. It changes their bodies on a molecular level. Regulating the worst side effects of those diseases is certainly possible, which is what I’m working on with Damien. Was working on.”

Werewolves could shift at any time, and after enough years, it became easier for them to control, but a relatively low percentage of the population survived long enough for that. Ful moon was the only time they were forced to shift. It was also the only time they could turn Normals into wolves, and without the older members of a pack to control the cubs and newly Changed, they rampaged at ful moon, biting as many humans as they could. Wolves and vampires who turned humans without authorization were put to death for the crime and for possibly exposing Magickals to the whole world, but only werewolves dealt with a monthly rampage. The outcome of the lycanthropy project was important to so many people, but Chloe usual y managed to focus on the research in front of her. More pressure didn’t make the work go faster.

Selina was quiet for a long moment, obviously processing what she knew against what Chloe had told her. “You said two of three team leads.”

How this was related to Damien and his fiancée’s deaths, Chloe didn’t know, but she was ready to tel this woman whatever she wanted to know in order to get out of this police station. And away from any chance of running into Merek again. “Yes, the third team is lead by Dr. Ivan Nemov. His wife died during the ful moon Change several years ago. She was my best friend. Their son, Alex, is my godson.”

“Sounds like this project is a personal crusade for you.” The detective tapped her fingernail against the table, her brow creased in thought. Her gaze was no less cold when she looked at Chloe.

Again, Chloe fought the urge to fidget. She took a sip of the cooling coffee, tried a warming spel , and more disquiet crawled through her as she was reminded that no magic worked in this interrogation room.

“It’s very important to me, yes. It’s an obsession for Ivan. It was an intel ectual pursuit for Damien.”

The table tapping continued, and Chloe heard it like an ominous drumbeat in her head. Selina’s mouth worked for a moment before she spoke, as if this questioning had gone so far off track of what she’d expected that she wasn’t entirely sure how to continue. “So, you al knew each other wel . You’re close to the Nemovs, dated Dr. Raines. . . . Did Desmodus Industries know about your relationships with the other scientists?”

“Yes, and before you ask, projects like this are top secret, subject to industrial espionage, and guarded like national treasures.” Chloe sat up straight, her gaze narrowing. Security was something she took seriously with her work. Everything about her job, she took seriously. “No one working on the projects ever has al the pieces. You literal y can’t sel out the company if you don’t have any secrets worth buying. In this case, I have one third of the information for the research-and-development stage of the drug.”

“What, specifical y, was your role?” Selina kept tapping her finger, and the noise danced over Chloe’s ragged nerves.

“Can you stop that, please?” She gave the detective’s hand a pointed look, and Selina froze, clenching her fingers into a fist. So, she hadn’t noticed she’d been tapping. Chloe didn’t know if that should reassure her or not. She sighed. “I’m a chemist, Detective Grayson. My specialty in the Normal world of science and medicine is biochemistry. My area of expertise in the Magickal world is potions, mixing chemicals, herbs, etcetera.”

Selina hummed in her throat and looked like she wanted to start tapping again, but didn’t. “I can see why they hired you for this project.”

Might as wel give her everything. Chloe didn’t want to have to come back in for another round of questioning. In fact, if she never saw the inside of a police station again, it would be just fine with her. Sweat stuck her shirt to her back, and the frigid air-conditioning made an uncomfortable situation unbearable. She wanted out of here. “I came to Desmodus Industries with this project. Damien—Dr. Raines—and I both did.”

Those dark eyes narrowed, considering. “That’s very interesting. Desmodus is control ed by the Vampire Conclave.”

Chloe shrugged. “Dr. Nemov and his wife were the foremost experts in the field of werewolf biophysics, and they’d been pushing their pack leaders to get more funding for their research for years. Dr. Jaya Nemov and I did our residency together, and when she died, I took an interest in her research. I went to Dr. Raines, who I was dating at the time, to see if he could convince his superiors that this would be a good project for them to take on.”

What had always angered Chloe was that she, a witch, had been the one to push the project through. The pack leaders should have done something long ago, should have been trying, no matter how unsuccessful y, to find a treatment instead of accepting the terrible side effects of their disease as inevitable and unchangeable. The older wolves had the most control, of their magic and of their packs, and they’d spent so long embroiled in the vampire wars that they were comfortable with their isolationist politics. It was true they had a lot on their plates training their pack members how to use their magic, how to stay alive, but they were leaders. They—not Chloe or Ivan or Jaya—should have lead the way by reaching out for help from the other Magickal races.

Even if it wasn’t the Al -Magickal Council as a whole, they could have gone to the Fae’s Seelie Court, or the Elven Assembly, or the Witch Coven, or even to powerful individual families like the Standishes.

Political y dangerous or not, Chloe had picked the Vampire Conclave for two reasons: they had the most money, and they had the technology and experience needed to work with Magickal diseases. Desmodus Industries had patented a serum vamps drank to manage their need to feed. They stil sucked blood, but it helped them in a way that Chloe hoped her formula would help werewolves.

Selina frowned. “It seems odd that a vampire would be wil ing to go to bat for a werewolf project, even if he was sleeping with you.”

Yeah, no kidding.

Chloe fought the urge to snort. It was like being hard-core conservative and screaming liberal in the Normal world. The two sides just never met. There was no common ground between them, and any ground they’d ever shared was blood-soaked from feuding. Except for the obvious abilities instil ed by a Magickal virus, the cultures that had developed for each species were diametrical y opposed.

The project Chloe had initiated was the first time, for as long as their very long records spanned, that they had set aside their differences for any reason. That someone working on the project had been murdered was bad for more than just Damien. If this project crumbled, it could put the two races at loggerheads. It would drag other races into the mix. It would just be bad for everyone. No, scratch bad, it would be catastrophic.

A sardonic smile curved her lips. “It wasn’t the sex that convinced Damien. I appealed to his ego. Imagine not only the prestige of being on the team that broke through this formula, but the accolades afforded to someone making peacekeeping strides for the whole Magickal world.”

The detective blinked. “Sounds too good to be true.”

Chloe flicked dismissive fingers. “It’s the same argument Damien used to convince his superiors, to convince the Conclave. My aunt and I convinced the rest of the Council, including the werewolf pack leaders, to back the project.”

“Your aunt.” It was obvious Selina knew who Chloe was related to. Then again, you couldn’t be Magickal in Seattle and not know the Standish name. They’d helped settle Magickals in America back in colonial days and had come West during the gold rush. There’d been a Standish on the Al -Magickal Council in this city since the day the Council was founded. “Mildred Standish.”

“Aunt Mil ie, yes. She’s actual y my great-great aunt, but she doesn’t like to be reminded of that.” For the first time, Chloe relaxed. No matter how bad this got, Mil ie would always be there to help her. The Standish family stood together against outsiders, and Mil ie led the local coven and represented the witch race on the Council. She had more than enough clout to fix any mess. A sigh eased past Chloe’s lips, and she surreptitiously wiped her clammy palms off on her skirt.

Selina’s gaze swept over her again, assessing and reassessing. “You’re quite the mover and shaker.”

“Coming from the Standish family has a lot of duties and strings attached. Lots of expectation. But it also affords me influence most people my age wouldn’t dream of having. The least I can do is use it to try to help my friends, lobby for causes I believe in. So I did.” Her shoulder dipped in a shrug, a wry grin curving her mouth. She waved a hand around the interrogation room. “And here I am.”

“Here you are,” Selina agreed.

“Son of a bitch,” he breathed. Merek closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the glass of the two-way mirror in the observation room. It had to be her. Of course, it had to be. It wasn’t his memory he’d seen in Raines’s apartment, but a vision of the actual Chloe who had actual y dated the vampire. She’d been there before. He was damn grateful he hadn’t “seen” her fucking the other man. His gut burned at the thought.

“What’s up?” An FBI agent stood beside him, hands in pockets. Agent Rogers.

Merek already didn’t like him. As soon as Selina was done, this asshole was yanking the case away from them. He was just seeing what Merek’s partner could pul from their suspect. Why the FBI was interested, Merek didn’t know. Likely, he would never know. It rankled, but he set that aside and refocused on the interrogation room.

The expression in those wide hazel eyes kicked him in the solar plexus. It was trapped, nervous, worried.

Scared. He’d never wanted to see such vulnerability on her face. He’d seen her passionate, joyful, her eyes reflecting a wicked greed that made his blood heat to remember it. He didn’t like seeing her afraid.

He cleared his throat and glanced away from Chloe to the man beside him. “I’m afraid I can’t help in this situation.”

“No?” The slight points to Rogers’s ears declared him an elf, but the officious tone was pure red tape bureaucrat. One of Merek’s least favorite kind of people. “Why is that, Detective Kingston?”

“I can’t read her. It happens occasional y.” It wasn’t strictly true, but he’d be damned if he admitted anything to this pencil-pushing prick.

Because the truth was enough to break him out in cold sweat. The only people Merek couldn’t read were those who would have the deepest impact on his life. Sometimes that meant a close friend or a lover . . . It had definitely included his wife and his parents. And look where that had landed al of them. In the morgue.

Because when they’d been in danger, when it had real y mattered, Merek hadn’t been able to do shit to help them. He hadn’t known about it, hadn’t sensed a thing. His powers were fal ow when it came to them—the only time his abilities could truly rest, the only time he didn’t have to tightly leash his precognition.

A light knock sounded on the door to the observation room. Merek didn’t even bother to look away from the scene before him. “Come on in, Caval i.”

“You know, having a creepy sense of who’s nearby is supposed to be the purview of howlers and bloodsuckers.” The tal vampire shut the door and settled his shoulder against the wal beside it, crossing his arms over his chest as he, too, watched Selina question Chloe.

Merek flicked his gaze over the other man and grinned. Caval i was tal , tal er than Merek’s six foot three by at least an inch, maybe two. He was whipcord lean, dark haired, dark eyed, olive complexioned, and other than the soul patch decorating his chin, he looked like he’d just stepped out of a catalog for Armani. Or a corporate meeting for a Fortune 500 company. Family money. Vampire money. The kind of man that oozed centuries of charm, good breeding, good looks, excess income, and had women crawling al over him.

Merek arched an eyebrow. “Should I even bother to ask what brings you down to the pedestrian side of law enforcement ?”

The vampire snorted. “What? Your precog doesn’t tel you every little detail of why I’m here?”

Focusing on the other man, Merek tried to get a better bead on the situation. He might not be able to read Chloe, but Caval i shouldn’t be a problem. Images flashed in his mind, future events, past events, shadowy possibilities, crystal clear certainties. The threads that connected to Luca Caval i’s near future hit a blank wal , ful stop. There didn’t seem to be any getting around his inability to read Chloe’s future. Merek rubbed his forehead and sighed. “This isn’t just about Damien Raines’s death.”

“Got it in one.”

“Do I even want to know what interest the FBI’s Magickal Crimes Unit has in one little scientist?” He shot the vampire a narrow-eyed look.

Caval i pushed away from the wal , opened the door, and waved an elegant hand at the pencil pusher.

“Agent Rogers, thank you so much for looking in on this case for me, but I think my team can handle things from here.”

An ugly flush mottled the little man’s face, and his mouth moved stiffly when he spoke. “Of course, sir.

Good luck.”

Merek turned back to the interrogation room to hide his smirk. The bureaucrat didn’t like when someone else pul ed rank on him, did he? Served him right. Merek slid his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels as Caval i shut the door behind the other agent. “So . . . care to share? Off the record, of course.”

“Of course.” The vampire grinned, and a bit of fang showed. “The murder was only the start of something we think is much bigger.”

If it wasn’t personal issues that motivated the murder, then it was professional. “Something about the werewolf project both of them are working on.”

“Yes.” Caval i sighed and copied Merek’s pose, hands in pockets, half his attention on Chloe’s questioning and half on the conversation at hand. “I just got back from Desmodus Industries. The third lead in their project—Ivan Nemov—didn’t show up to work today. He hasn’t missed a single day for the entire length of the project—no vacation, not even a sick day.”

Obsessed, just as Chloe had said. “That’s more information than they gave us about anything.”

“I’m a vampire.” That elegant wave again. “They’re owned by the Conclave.”

Merek grunted. “What else?”

With a tired sigh, Caval i shrugged. “Maybe nothing. Someone tried to hack your little scientist’s project files . . . unsuccessful y, but that’s apparently not unusual when a company is involved in multi-bil ion dol ar research. My tech geniuses are impressed with Desmodus’s encryption and security.”

Which also fit with the information Chloe had revealed in her interview. “Why kil Dr. Raines if they’re just wanting access to the research?”

“Hel if I know,” Caval i’s voice roughened, showing a hint of the Italian accent of the vampire’s homeland.

“What I do know is that this is involved with Leonard Smith and his network.”

The blood froze in Merek’s veins, and the hair rose on the back of his neck. No one in Magickal law enforcement hadn’t heard that name. The werewolf terrorist had been trying to start a revolution in pack politics—hell, all Magickal politics—for the better part of a century. Rumor was he had people planted in every Magickal branch of every government agency. With the number of times he’d slipped between their fingers, Merek wouldn’t be surprised if that rumor were true.

And somehow, someway, Chloe was now involved with one of the most wanted men alive.

Merek’s stomach did a slow pitch and rol . “Shit.”

“Yeah, that was my thought, too.” The fangs were ful y bared this time, and pure predatory hunter flashed in the vampire’s eyes.

“How does she figure into this?” Merek didn’t want to ask the question, didn’t want the answer. He’d thought of her too often in the last couple of months, and his mind absolutely rebel ed at thinking she might be the only person left standing on the project’s R & D team for a reason. A cop couldn’t help but be a cynic, and while he knew the possibility was there, he damn wel didn’t want to consider it, which wasn’t like him.

He didn’t like his knee-jerk reactions to this woman.

The vampire cast a glance in his direction, but he avoided it. “We don’t think she has any ties with Smith, if that’s what you’re asking. The woman is squeaky clean, and a Standish witch on top of that. More likely the connection is this missing Nemov werewolf. He’s fanatical, spent every waking moment since his wife died trying to find a way to manage lycanthropy. His coworkers say he’s constantly pushing things faster than their regulations can go, gets irate about red tape.” Caval i nodded toward Chloe. “As far as we know, she just happens to be working on a project that Smith wants to control.”

“If they haven’t found a treatment yet . . . shit. ” They’d found a treatment or were close enough to it that someone—maybe Nemov—jumped the gun. Gods, but a treatment for lycanthropy. What werewolf wouldn’t give damn near anything to be rid of the life-threatening aspects of the disease? And that was why Smith had to want it. With that drug, he could trump every leader of every pack on the planet, create total revolution or anarchy, if he wanted. The idea of rampaging werewolves unchecked by the packs and the Al -Magickal Council sent a shudder through Merek. Smith could be more powerful than any one person should ever be.

“My techs have confirmed the company files were not accessed. Because Smith couldn’t get the files, he appears to have gone the human route. So. We have to assume Smith got the information he wanted, what with Nemov unaccounted for and Raines dead.... Dr. Standish is the only thing standing between Smith and the lycanthropy treatment.”

A hot burst of relief ran through Merek that he hadn’t been fixating on someone who’d sel out to a terrorist cel , but the thought that she was the only one between Leonard Smith and what he wanted turned that hot burst to a frigid chil .

“We’re putting her in protective custody, of course. The last thing we want is Smith getting his hands on her, but the fact that we know he wants her so badly could prove very useful to us. I’l exploit any advantage I can get.” Caval i ran a finger down his little soul patch. “One of my men—Peyton—is handling arrangements for her now.”

“Good.” But Merek didn’t like it. He didn’t like that this woman was disappearing from his life again, and especial y when he knew she was in danger. Peyton he knew only by reputation, but Caval i was good at his job, the best. Merek had crossed paths with him before, had been assigned to him once or twice when his precog skil s came in handy to the FBI, and nothing he’d ever seen or heard had ever made him doubt the other man’s abilities. He was legend.

And Merek stil didn’t want to let Chloe out of his sight.

The cel phone on Caval i’s belt vibrated, and he checked it. “That’l be Peyton. Keep an eye on her for twenty, maybe thirty minutes, and we’l get her out of your hair.”

“She’l be in my office.”

“Thanks. And don’t tel her anything. That’s my job.” Caval i waved over his shoulder, the phone already pressed to his ear as he spoke quietly to the person on the other end.

Merek heard muffled feminine conversation as Selina left Chloe at his office door and told her to go in and wait. His partner hadn’t asked him why he’d wanted her to do so, and he was damn grateful. He didn’t have an explanation. Caval i could just as easily have picked Chloe up from the interrogation room, but Merek wanted a few minutes alone with her before she was gone again.

She came in, shut the door behind her, leaned back against it, closed her eyes, and sighed. Intense relief crossed her expression, and he felt the tiniest twinge of guilt that he was going to upset her, but he had some questions he wanted answered that had nothing to do with work. Starting with why she’d cast a deep sleep spel on him in order to sneak out of his bed. Anger he didn’t want to feel burned in his gut at that, along with worry and . . . fear . . . for what she was about to be thrown into. A terrorist was after her, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

His jaw clenched, and he growled, “Hel o again, Chloe.”

She startled, her eyes flying open, and her gaze snapped to his face. The color fled her face in a quick rush. “Oh, fuck me.”

“I tried that once, remember?” Steel edged his voice, and he realized exactly how pissed he’d been that she’d bailed on him. Denial. He didn’t like that either. He was brutal y honest with himself about everything.

He had to be. Denial got people kil ed in his line of work. He sat back in his chair, laced his fingers over his flat bel y, and stared at her. “You ran from me.”

She twitched as if to dart for the door.

His eyes narrowed, and he tensed, ready to spring. “I wouldn’t do it again. You won’t like my reaction this time.”

Chin lifted, she stared down her nose at him. “You didn’t have a reaction last time. I haven’t seen or heard from you since that night.”

“Exactly. You wanted to go, and I let you. I didn’t make an effort to find you, didn’t invade your privacy, and we both know I’m in a position to do so.” He flicked his fingers to indicate the teeming police department beyond the wal s of his office. “But you’ve dropped back into my life, and now I know your name; I know what you do for a living; I know where you live. Isn’t that interesting?”

“Not real y.” Now her chin jutted stubbornly, and something unholy lit within him at the chal enge she presented. “Look, it’s been a bad day. I’d like to go home now.”

He arched one eyebrow. “My partner had to have told you that’s not going to happen.”

“Detective Grayson is your partner?” She swal owed, shifting her weight from foot to foot. She licked her lips, and he got hard, his body reacting as strongly as it had the first moment her gaze had met his. He wanted those lush lips moving under his, and something primitive snapped inside his chest.

Rising from his seat, he slowly stalked her across the smal room, watching to see if she tried to bolt, ready to pounce, and almost relishing the thought of how that would force him to have his hands al over her.

“Yes, she’s my partner. I thought it best to excuse myself from questioning you. Conflict of interest.”

“We had a one-night thing, so your interest was pretty limited.” She tilted her head back to meet his gaze as he drew closer. Awareness flashed in those hazel depths, and he could feel his control stripping away.

He wanted her. Gods, he’d never wanted a woman the way he wanted this one. He couldn’t even remember wanting his wife with this kind of desperation, but he slammed the brakes on that guilt-ridden thought and any other about his dead spouse. He shoved away the past and focused on the present. Chloe.

His grin was just this side of feral. “Right, because when I have limited interest, I manage to stay hard al night long.”

A flush stained her cheeks, and she sucked in a breath. “I don’t know what this conversation is accomplishing. We were both looking to score that night. Touchdown.”

Only he hadn’t been looking to score that night. He’d gone to Sanguine to wash the bad taste of a shitty premonition out of his mouth. He definitely hadn’t been trying to hook up with a woman who was blank to his clairvoyance. It wasn’t a fluke either. No visions assaulted him in her presence. She was stil unreadable.

The reminder alone made his insides cramp. Being anywhere near someone like her was a mistake he’d sworn he’d never make again. Yet, here he was, hot and horny and angry because everything about her was beyond his control.

“Detective . . . Kingston, isn’t it? I don’t think—” She fumbled with the door handle behind her, and his fingers snapped around her wrist.

The feel of her soft, soft skin against his made him grit his teeth as his cock throbbed. Insanity. The way he responded to her, it was pure insanity. The lust that pulsed through him twisted with annoyance because she tried to escape him. Again. “Merek. You’l cal me Merek. And you have an appointment with the FBI, Dr.

Standish— Chloe—so you aren’t going anywhere until they get here.”

He planted his hands on either side of her, trapped her with his body, and leaned down to her level. He could feel her breath rush against his skin. She was panting, her breasts rising and fal ing. Her eyes looked glazed as her gaze moved over his features. “You’re mad at me.”

“Hel , yeah, I’m mad.” He got right in her face, until his lips were no more than a hairsbreadth from hers.

Gods, he wanted to kiss her, wanted to see if she was as good as he remembered. He snarled. “Two months later, and I haven’t gotten the taste of you out of my mouth, the sound of your voice moaning my name out of my head—”

“Stop.” Her breath caught, her eyes darkening with passion.

His laugh grated from his throat, a rusty sound of lust, self-derision, and rage. “I wish to hel I could, Chloe, but I can’t. Can you?”

“I . . . I . . .”

“Tel me you never think about it.” He moved one hand to let his fingers stroke over the inside of her wrist, and he felt her tremble. Good. “Tel me you walked away as cleanly as you’re pretending. Tel me you don’t remember clawing my back while I slid my cock inside you. Tel me you don’t care that I made you scream and sob and sigh. Tel me—”

She dropped her purse to the floor, clapped her hands over his ears, and dragged his mouth down to hers, cutting him off. Just like that, he had her pinned to the wal . His tongue was between her lips, and she struggled for control of the kiss, her tongue twining with his, her teeth nipping and sucking at his lower lip.

Her breasts pressed to his chest, and he wanted his mouth on them too. Soon. He’d have her again soon.

He growled, picked her up, and turned away from the door. With a mere thought, he cast a spel to muffle the sound coming in and out of the room. He couldn’t make out the voices and footsteps passing his door, and no one outside would hear what he and Chloe were doing.

He could make her scream, and no one would know.

A groan of pure satisfaction dragged from his throat. He set her down, backed her up against his desk, crowded her, bracketed her hips with his fingers, and held her in place. Her jaw set in an obstinate line, and her eyes narrowed. “This is crazy.”

“Yeah. So?” His smile was more a baring of teeth, and he didn’t care. “That didn’t stop you from kissing me a second ago.”

“Don’t remind me.” She wedged her palms between them and pushed at his chest. He fought another groan at just that nonsexual touch. Gods, but he loved her hands on him. It fed a craving that went far, far deeper than mere pleasure. Though the pleasure was undeniable, and his cock chafed against his fly. He leaned even closer to her, into those smal , slender palms.

Her eyes widened when his erection prodded her bel y, and he watched a flush race up her cheeks. She swal owed, her breasts rising as she dragged in a deep breath. Goose bumps rose on her arms, and she shivered. He grinned. “Cold, sugar?”

Her eyes flashed, magic sparking molten gold flecks in her irises. “You know damn wel I’m not cold.”

“That’s a shame.” He ran his hands down her back for just the enjoyment of feeling her heated skin under her blouse. “I would have offered to warm you.”

She shoved harder against his chest. “Go fuck yourself, Kingston.”

“But it’s so much more fun to fuck you, Chloe.”

She hissed at him, jerking her chin to the side. “I’m not in the mood. Let go of me.”

“Not in the mood?” Anger shimmered through him. It pissed him off more than a little how she denied this thing between them, how she wanted to run. “Let’s see if we can change that for you.”

Her gaze snapped back to him. “Damn it, Mer—”

His mouth cut off her words, and he plunged his tongue between her lips. He’d heard enough; he wasn’t interested in verbal games—he’d rather toy with her in other ways. Her breath caught, her nails curling in to dig into his chest. He wrapped his fingers around her wrists, twisting her arms behind her back to arch her body into his. Her breasts pressed against him, and they both groaned.

Shoving his thigh between hers, he rubbed his leg against her sex. The hot scent of her reached his nose, sweet and musky. He tilted his head, deepening the contact of their kiss. She wrenched at his hold on her, but couldn’t break his grip, so she rotated her torso to move herself against him. The friction was going to drive him to madness or orgasm, he wasn’t sure which.

Her hips snapped in infinitesimal jerks as she tried to work herself on his leg while her body was caught between his and the wide metal desk. She moaned a frustrated protest and bit his lip.

He shuddered, lust clouding his focus. Gods, she was the only person who had ever shredded his control like this. He broke the kiss, dipping forward to suck and bite his way down her throat. Her head fel back to give him greater access while she continued to wriggle against his grip. His breath bel owed out of his lungs, his blood boiling in his veins. He craved her so badly he wasn’t sure he’d make it inside her before he came.

Working her skirt up to her waist, he cupped her smooth backside before he slipped his hands into her panties. She moaned, her hips stil pumping in vain as she sought release. Easing her panties down her hips, he heaved himself away from her just enough to let them drop to the floor.

“Step out of them.”

She whimpered and obeyed, pul ing one foot free and kicking the scrap of lace across the room with her other foot. “Fuck me, now, Merek.”

“Gods, yes,” he groaned. He dropped to his knees, pul ed one of her slim thighs over his shoulder to open her to his touch, and licked his way inside her slick, heated sex. Her muscles jerked, her body jolting at the contact. The taste of her cream on his tongue was intoxicating. Her fingers sank into his hair, tugging on the strands, her frantic, pleading gasps urging him on. He groaned against her clit, and she sobbed, twisting her fingers in his hair.

A wave of magic hit him from her, and he swayed backward, glad he was on his knees or he’d have been driven there by the lust that roared through him. Hot prickling skipped over his skin, red-hot embers dancing in the air around them.

Gods, he couldn’t wait.

Shoving to his feet, he lifted her onto the desktop, thrusting paperwork out of his way. Her legs snapped around his waist, and she ground her pussy against him. He shuddered, unable to put together a single coherent thought. It should have worried him, but he was wel beyond worry. Only the drive for orgasm mattered now.

He reached between them to rip open his fly, and she pressed her sex against his hand, seeking any kind of friction she could find. Her face was flushed with desire, her eyes heavy-lidded, and her breasts rose with each jerky pant she sucked into her lungs. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and right here, right now, she was al his. The knowledge pushed him even closer to the tattered edge of his restraint.

“M-Merek, I need you.” Her hands pul ed him closer, her fingers bal ing in his shirt. “I need you inside me.

Please. Right now. I need you.”

His zipper gave way to his vicious wrench, and within seconds he had his cock deep within the slick sheath of her pussy. There was no slow possession this time. He rode her hard and groaned with every movement he made within her, her inner muscles milking his cock until he thought his skul would explode.

“Chloe.”

Her fingers moved to cup his jaw, and he dove forward to kiss her. He devoured her, drowning himself in the taste, scent, and feel of her. His hips bucked hard, and he fucked her with al the finesse of a teenager in the backseat of his daddy’s car. She didn’t seem to mind. Her hands tugged at his hair, her teeth nipped his lips, and her legs continued to wring his hips as she arched with him. She screamed and sobbed into his mouth, her slim body going rigid as she came for him.

The world around him dimmed as the last fetters on his control ripped away, and he plunged into her pussy again and again until he was roaring his orgasm, jetting his come deep into her hot, sleek sheath.

So long. So fucking long since he’d had this. It wasn’t as good as he remembered.

It was better.

He dropped his forehead to hers, panting for breath, not one thought able to form in his mind. Al he could do was rest against her, breathe in her sweet scent, and wait for reality to come back and bite him in the ass. It would sooner or later, he was sure.

Unfortunately, it was sooner.

The phone on his desk blared a ring that made them both flinch. His office phone. At work. In the police station. Reaching over, he plucked up the receiver. “Kingston.”

Chloe wriggled beneath him, but he leaned more of his weight on her to keep her in place as Caval i’s smooth voice sounded in his ear. “Good, you’re there. Is Dr. Standish with you or is Grayson stil working her over?”

“No, I have her.” He met her gaze, and she stil ed, but his dick surged inside her. Her breath caught, and he clenched his jaw to stop a groan.

“Good. Peyton and I wil be right there.”

“Fine.” He hung up the phone. His eyes closed, and he swore steadily under his breath, braced his arms on the desk beside her and pul ed his cock from her body. They both moaned at the slide of flesh. “Fuck.

How the hel did you do this to me, Chloe? I’m at work. ”

A snort erupted from her as she sat up, slithered off the desk, and pushed her skirt down. A few spel words, and any wrinkles smoothed from her clothes; her hair fel in perfect waves around her rosy cheeks. “I didn’t do anything to you. You did the doing.”

He grunted, but didn’t argue. The same spel straightened his own clothes, and he shoved his fingers through his hair, then went to fetch her panties and purse from where they lay discarded on the floor.

Fighting the urge to tuck her panties in his pocket, he handed her things to her.

A knock came on his door, and with a quick wave of his hand, he released the sound dampening spel and sent a quick whirlwind of air through his office to filter out the obvious scent of raw sex in the smal room.

If he could smel it, he had no doubt that a vampire and a werewolf would be able to.

He slid into his desk chair and scooped up the paperwork he and Chloe had scattered before raising his voice. “Come in.”

Chloe took a seat opposite him and crossed her legs, which drew his gaze and made it linger on her lithe, bare limbs. He wanted them around his waist, on his shoulders, anywhere as long as he could get inside her. He’d just had her, and he wanted her again. Stil .

Fuck.

Swal owing the curse, he forced himself to focus on the men stepping into the room. Except for the blade-sharp edge that no operative could truly hide, there was little the two had in common. Luca’s dark, exotic features contrasted with Peyton’s al -American good looks. Sandy brown hair, blue eyes, tal and muscular physique, but not so much that it caught attention—the type of guy who could fade into the woodwork if he chose. His gaze swept the office, took in Chloe and Merek in a single glance. A chil went down Merek’s spine, and he didn’t doubt that with that single glance the werewolf could describe in minute detail everything he’d seen, smel ed, or sensed about the room and the people occupying it.

A dangerous man.

It should have relieved Merek to hand Chloe over to competent agents, but it didn’t. He clenched his jaw until it ached as he listened to Luca explain Chloe’s situation to her, the need for her to give up her life, her family, her friends, her career because the knowledge she had in her head made her a risk to everyone she knew.

She grew paler and paler by the moment. Her eyes went wider and wider with shock, her fingers twisting the strap on her purse, and Merek’s insides twisted right along with it. Those haunted hazel eyes turned to him for confirmation of this nightmare she’d found herself in, and he could only give her a single, sharp nod.

Gods, but he wanted to pul her into his arms and protect her from this. His fingers fisted on the arms of his chair listening to Caval i’s smooth voice lay out why she had to go into protective custody until they captured Leonard Smith—though Merek noted the vampire failed to mention how many years they’d been unsuccessful in doing so, and that they might continue to be unsuccessful for years more. She might never reclaim the life she had now, might never see the people she loved again.

Every instinct told him not to let her go, to keep her with him, but he ignored them. The possessiveness wasn’t something he should feel, and he shoved it aside.

Her dazed, terrified eyes met his just once more before she was pul ed out the door, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that if he let her go now, he’d lose her forever. She would be gone, ended. Dead. His gut clenched, twisted into a cold, hard knot.

The tension inside built and built until it snapped.

Cursing her, cursing himself, he grabbed his jacket and slammed out of his office. The captain would have his ass if he interfered with a case that was no longer under the MTF’s jurisdiction. Hel , his partner would have his ass for fucking up like this, and that was a lot more dangerous than pissing off the captain.

Neither thought slowed him down as he peeled out of the station to tail the FBI agents. Chloe.

He shoved a hand through his hair. “I have lost my fucking mind.”

Worse, he’d lost control.