Hotter Than Hell

CHAPTER 1

THE WORST THING ABOUT WORKING FOR AN INVESTIGATIVE agency specializing in paranormal and psychic events was the long, often irregular, hours.

My field of expertise might be missing persons rather than things that went bump in the night, but it still involved late nights and long shifts. Monsters mostly preferred the cover of darkness, it seemed.

But the second worst thing about working for the aforementioned agency was having a boss who had no respect for the “eight hours between shifts” rule, made law years ago.

So when Frank’s phone call woke me up after I’d barely been asleep for three hours, I was neither happy nor surprised.

“Rioli?” he said, his voice more gravelly than usual. Meaning he’d either been up all night or he’d hit the smokes again. “Need you in here ASAP.”

“Frank, I only just got home from the Harbor case—”

“This one’s important, Grace. Be here by seven.”

I glared blearily at the clock. He’d given me a whole thirty minutes. How generous of him. I hung up, dragged myself out of bed, and threw on some clothes. Luckily for us both, the traffic at that hour of a Sunday morning was practically nonexistent, and I found a parking spot right out in front of the agency’s multistory building.

It turns out I wasn’t the only investigator Frank had called in early. And when I heard the rapid tattoo of footsteps coming up behind me, I barely restrained a groan. There was only one man in this building who could make the mere act of walking sound so sexy, and I really wasn’t in the mood to cope with his banter this morning.

“Hey, Ravioli, wait up.”

“Ravioli is a food,” I said tartly, not breaking stride as I headed for the elevator. “And my name is Rioli. I’d appreciate it if you’d actually remember that.”

“Are you always this touchy in the mornings?” he asked, his voice so warm, so rich, that shivers of delight ran down my spine.

But then, I’d been supersensitive to this man’s presence from the moment he’d walked elegantly—and oh-so sexily—into the Preternatural Investigations offices eighteen months ago. Luckily for me, I was not alone in my admiration, and Ethan had wasted no time dipping into the pool, so to speak. The man was a werewolf who knew how to work both his aura and his lean, powerful body. He was sex on a stick, as one of my cubicle mates had noted. Right before she’d taken him home and enjoyed his stick.

Thankfully, I’d been spared the grittier details of their activities the following morning. I had imagination enough when it came to Ethan.

Which wasn’t to say I’d never been tempted to do more than imagine, but I often worked with the man on missing persons investigations. Unless you were very lucky, mixing business and pleasure always got messy.

Not that I’d actually mind a little of Ethan’s mess every now and again.

I blew out a breath and punched the elevator button. Control. I needed control. Ethan would smell the merest hint of arousal, and that would only stir his interest more. And I needed that like I needed a hole in the head. Especially when it had been so damn long since I’d had anything decent in the way of sex.

Weres of any breed might be free and easy when it came to sex, but I was a wolf shifter, and my parents were depressingly old-fashioned when it came to the whole mating act. Though I was pretty sure I could shake their overly strict sensibilities if the right man and moment came along. Ethan certainly wasn’t that man, hence the cobwebs and me feeling hornier than a bitch in heat whenever he got within hormonal radar distance.

I punched the button again. As usual, the damn elevator was taking its freaking time getting here.

“Or is it just me that brings out the worst in you?” he continued, from right behind me.

I took a breath that was filled with the warm, spicy scent of him, then slowly turned to meet the vivid blue of his gaze. A gaze that was too bright, and saw too much. A gaze that never gave much away, no matter what the situation.

But Ethan Garrison wasn’t just sex on a stick, he was ex-military, and a dangerous man despite his to-die-for smile. He was dressed in black this morning, his roughly rolled up shirtsleeves emphasizing the strength of his shoulders and upper arms, while his close-fitting jeans paid homage to the long, lean length of his legs. Even his boots and baseball cap were black. With his golden hair and skin, it was a potent combination.

“Going for the bad boy look today, are we?” I said, more to break the tension that always seemed to build between us than from any real need to talk to the man.

“Heard you liked a bit of bad. Thought it worth a shot.” His grin was pure cheek, and crinkles of amusement touched the corners of his bright, watchful eyes.

A combination that had my hormones doing happy little cartwheels.

“The bad boy is getting no closer to me than the other incarnations you’ve dreamt up,” I said, and wished my words would come out less breathy. “You and I work together. That’s enough.”

One dark eyebrow rose as he stepped a little closer. “Care to take a bet on that, Ravioli?”

The sheer heat of him slid across my senses like a caress. A caress I so wanted. My heart was doing a triple-time dance and desire not only swirled through me, but around me. His nose flared and a lusty spark ignited deep in his eyes. Damn, I was in trouble now.

Still, I raised my chin. Defiant to the end, that was me. “I don’t bet.” Especially when I was likely to lose.

“Shame that. I enjoy a challenge.”

“Then I challenge you to take a flying leap out of a twentieth-floor window and make like a bird.”

He smiled, and my breath caught somewhere in my throat and refused to budge. Smiles like that should be declared lethal weapons.

“You’d miss me if I did.”

“Yeah,” I said, forcing a note of dryness into my voice. “Like I’d miss a proverbial pain in the butt.”

His gaze slid downwards. “And a very nice butt it is, too.”

The chime of the elevator arriving saved me from answering. I gave a silent sigh of relief—then wondered why as the doors opened, revealing the empty interior. Confined elevator spaces and Ethan were not a wise combination right now.

“Are you going to stand there gawking all day?” he asked, voice dry and a knowing smile touching his lips.

It was a thought. Not a practical one but a thought all the same.

I stepped inside and punched the tenth-floor button. “What floor you going to?”

“Tenth, same as you.”

He stopped beside me, so close he made me burn.

Damn, damn, damn.

I stepped back, trying to get some space between us, trying to cool my overheated body. “So Frank has called you in?”

“Yes. Something urgent has come up.”

Oh, I had no doubt about that, I thought, my gaze detouring briefly down his long, lean length. Man, what I wouldn’t give to be able…I wrenched my mind away from that particular direction and tried to think of boring things in an effort to calm my pulse.

Only nothing boring would come to mind.

The doors slid closed and the elevator began to rise at what seemed like a snail’s pace. Ethan took a step towards me. I couldn’t help taking another one back—though there weren’t many places I could go in such a confined space. I pressed my back against the cool steel wall and watched him almost breathlessly. Anticipating his touch, even though common sense suggested he was only teasing. After all, there wasn’t much he could do in an elevator in the space of ten floors.

Was there?

He moved closer. My breath stuttered to a brief stop. Like a rabbit caught in a spotlight, I watched as he bracketed his hands on either side of my head. Then he leaned forward, sending my senses into a spiral of delight. My nipples hardened, as if reaching out to brush his body. Which they couldn’t, because he wasn’t that close.

Part of me wished he was. Wished I could just melt against all that warm, hard flesh and allow my fingers the freedom to roam. But that would only be asking for more than I could probably handle.

So I raised a hand and simply pressed it against his chest, stopping him from coming closer. Even through the soft silk of his shirt, his muscles felt like iron under my fingertips, and my skin itched with the need to feel, to caress.

“Don’t,” I said. Unfortunately, my voice came out husky and that only ignited the spark in his eyes all the more.

“Don’t what?” he said, his breath a whisper across my cheeks. “Do this?”

His weight pressed against my hand, a gentle force I suddenly couldn’t stop and couldn’t resist. My aching nipples finally came in contact with the softness of his shirt, and something akin to electricity shot through my body. Lord, it felt good. And he was so close, so tempting, and his lips there, right there, right within tasting distance.

Oh, how I wanted to taste them.

And he knew it, damn him.

“Or this?” he added, then brushed his mouth across mine.

It felt like the touch of fire. Or maybe it was only me who burned, not him. Not his delicious lips.

“You want me, Ravioli,” he murmured. His lips moved from my mouth to my chin then my neck, tasting, teasing, arousing. I closed my eyes, savoring the heat zinging across every fiber of my being.

“Go on, admit it.”

I didn’t have to admit anything, especially when the scent of my arousal was so damn obvious.

“How can I want a man who can’t even remember my name?” I somehow managed to say.

His lips brushed the pulse point at the base of my neck, sending a tremor through my limbs, then continued down, following the V of my shirt. I closed my eyes, torn between the sweet desire of his kisses, and the knowledge that I needed to push him away before this got out of hand.

And it would get out of hand. He was a werewolf and an alpha, and the wolf within me just couldn’t help reacting to the power and masculinity of his presence. Not to mention his sheer, must-have-you-now sexiness.

“Ravioli suits you,” he murmured. His teeth grazed a nipple. I shuddered, and barely resisted the urge to arch into him. To offer myself to that tantalizing, tempting touch.

“So does my name.” My voice sounded as liquid as I felt. “Which is Grace Rioli, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“I haven’t.” His lips trailed fire back up my neck. When his tongue flirted with my ear, my knees threatened to buckle. “But ravioli is my favorite food, and this particular dish is one I’ve longed to taste more fully.”

If he kept this up, he’d be able to drink me, because I’d be little more than a puddle at his feet.

“So basically, you’re saying I remind you of a small square pasta?”

His chuckle vibrated against my neck, and my toes curled in delight.

“You may be small in height and waist, Grace, but you’re sure not small in other departments.”

His tongue alternated with his teeth against my ear, teasing the exact right spot, and my body vibrated with the force of pleasure shooting through me. God, why was the elevator taking so damn long to climb ten floors?

This had to stop. Not the elevator—him. Or I wouldn’t want to. I squeezed my other hand between us, and pushed with both. Not too much, just enough to remove the heat of his lips from my neck. “So now you’re saying I’ve got a fat ass? Charming.”

His gaze scorched mine, blue eyes rich with amusement and lust. It was the same sort of lust that pounded through me—the hot, let’s get down and dirty, right here, right now, type of lust.

Damn it, why couldn’t I find that sort of intensity with someone I didn’t work with?

“You’re determined to twist everything I say, aren’t you?” he said, deep voice edged with amusement.

“Yes.” Because sarcasm was my only line of safety. I was far too susceptible to this man’s charms otherwise.

I ducked under his arms as the elevator finally halted and the doors opened. The simple act of walking was an effort, because my heart still raced a million miles an hour and my legs were all fluid and wobbly. It was just as well Frank’s office was down the far end of the hall—at least it gave me time to gather some sort of composure.

Ethan reappeared by my side, his long strides curtailed to match my shorter ones.

“Why?” he said. I was still so attuned to him his voice seemed to flow over my skin as sensually as a warm summer breeze. “The attraction between us is getting stronger, and you can’t keep denying it exists.”

I could, and I would. For as long as we had to work together, and maybe even after that. “There has to be hundreds of women working in this building. Why don’t you go try your luck with the half you haven’t sampled?”

Something flashed in his eyes. Something that looked an awful lot like annoyance. “Because I’m attracted to you, not them.”

Attracted to the challenge more than the person, I suspected. “Yeah, well, I have no intention of becoming another notch on your bedpost.” As much as my hormones danced excitedly at the very idea.

“What if I promise to make that notch worthwhile?”

His grin was pure cheek, and I couldn’t help responding in kind. The man might be a dangerous rogue, but he was undoubtedly a sexy one. “Not even then.”

He stopped to open Frank’s door then ushered me through, his fingers searing my spine though his touch was feather light.

“The more you challenge me, the more determined I get,” he murmured.

His words sent another tremor racing across my skin. Lord, if what he was doing now wasn’t determination, what was? And how was I going to survive it?

Janet, Frank’s secretary, glanced up as we both walked in. “Go straight through,” she said, her gaze lingering appreciably on Ethan.

“Thanks, Janet,” he said, voice so intimate the older woman blushed.

I shook my head, and continued on through the second door. Like most werewolves, the man just couldn’t help flirting—and that was part of the problem. If I’d had any reason to believe he was after anything more serious than a quick roll in the sack, then maybe I’d reconsider—

I scratched the rest of that thought from my mind as Frank, our semi-bald boss, glanced up.

“Sit down,” he said.

“What’s the problem?” I crossed my legs so that my feet pointed away from Ethan. Even an accidental touch could be deadly given the aroused state he’d so easily worked me into.

“We’ve got a couple of missing kids I want you to look for.”

“When and where?” Ethan asked, voice becoming cool and businesslike.

Something inside me relaxed. This Ethan I could handle. It was the flirty, oh-so-sexy version of his personality that got me all flustered and out-of-sorts.

“The first was three nights ago.” Frank shoved several files across the desk. Ethan leaned forward and picked one up, quickly scanning it before handing it across to me.

I was careful not to touch his fingers and amusement flared briefly across his lush lips. The basic details were all there—name, location, and the particulars of where and how he’d gone missing.

I looked up. “Were there any threats? Ransom demands? Anything to suggest this was a standard crime?”

Frank shook his head. “The kid disappeared from his bedroom in the middle of the night. No evidence of a break-in, and all the doors and windows were still locked in the morning.”

“From the inside?”

He flicked a glance my way. “Yeah.”

Meaning someone had a key. Ghosts might be able to get past locked doors and windows, but humans—large or small—couldn’t.

“Why were we called in?” Ethan asked. “The official investigation would still be underway. We usually don’t get pulled in until after the dust has settled.”

“A second teenager went missing last night under the same circumstances.” Frank pushed the other file closer. “That teenager is my nephew.”

“Ah.” Ethan’s voice was neutral, and yet as attuned as I currently was to the man, I sensed his distaste. He hated jobs that involved personal connections—though he’d never actually said why.

“I want answers,” Frank said, “and I want them fast.”

And that was probably why Ethan hated personal connections. Hard to do your job properly when someone closely connected rode your back.

I glanced at the file in my hand. The teenagers had gone missing from Wild Dog Creek, a small beachside town about ten minutes beyond the popular Apollo Bay. “Getting accommodations at the height of summer holidays is going to be a problem.”

“My sister-in-law has a guest house. She’s putting you up there.”

I glanced briefly at Ethan. He still wasn’t giving much away, but the taste of his displeasure was thicker in the air. “Do you think that’s wise?”

“Mari won’t get in the way of the investigation.”

The problem wasn’t so much his sister-in-law or the investigation. It was more me staying with a man I was only barely resisting.

“Why the two of us?” I asked. “I can handle a missing person case by myself. I don’t need Ethan to babysit.”

Frank raised his eyebrows at that. “Do you have a problem with Ethan?”

Yeah, he was too damn sexy for my own good. I had a hard enough time resisting the man in the few minutes our paths crossed each day—how much more difficult was it going to be if I had to spend all day and all night with him?

Spending that much time together could only have one result—us in bed, getting hot and heavy. My sex drive was perfectly normal, even if the works were a little rusty, and there was no denying the fact I did want him. I just didn’t want to end up getting hurt. Thanks to my parents, I wasn’t very good at the casual stuff, and Ethan was the sort of man I could fall for. Except he didn’t seem to want a relationship of any kind.

“I just think it’s a waste of resources,” I said, then realized just what I’d said the minute Frank’s expression darkened.

“It’s my company and my people, and I’ll send who I damn well please to find my nephew.” He glared at me for several seconds, then said, “Now get going.”

I got. Outside the door, I said, “This is going to suck big time.”

“The job, or the fact that I’m going with you?”

I glanced at him, saw the amusement playing about the mouth I so wanted to kiss again. “What do you think?”

“I think your psi abilities mesh extremely well with my pragmatism and innate ability to track a killer, which is why Frank put us on this one.”

“Probably.” I punched the elevator button and crossed my arms. And tried not to think about constricted space and what had happened not so long ago. “It still sucks.”

He leaned casually against the wall. And managed to look so damn hot my hormones started their crazy cartwheels again.

“Why are you so afraid of being alone with me?”

“I’m not afraid of being alone with you.”

He smiled. A long, slow, dangerous smile. “Then it’s game on, Ravioli.”

I knew in that moment my resolution to keep him at arm’s length was in big, big trouble.

CHAPTER 2

THE SO-CALLED GUEST HOUSE TURNED OUT TO BE A tiny little cabin barely big enough to contain the ancient old brass bed that dominated the main room. A creaky-looking wooden table and several chairs were squeezed into one corner, and in the other, a small kitchenette. The door leading to the bathroom was at the other end of the tiny house, on the left side of the bed.

Which was my side. Heaven only knew I’d need plenty of cold showers to get through the night without giving in to the delicious temptation that would be lying beside me.

“What can you tell me about the night your son disappeared, Mrs. Symmonds?” Ethan said, throwing his sports bag on the bed beside my case.

He’d packed light. I’d packed heavy. Lots of layers was now my motto, whatever the actual temperature.

Mari took a shuddery breath, and exhaled it softly. She was a small, pale woman with even paler hair. Not an albino, because her eyes were brown, but she still possessed that almost ethereal delicateness albinos often had. It was rare for a cat shifter to give off that sort of vibe, because they were usually the independent, don’t-you-worry-about-me types, but maybe it was simply the stress of the situation.

“He went to bed at ten, as usual. His light was still on at eleven, so he was probably online, chatting.” She shrugged. “He does that most nights.”

“And you went to bed when?” Ethan asked, his voice all business, all matter-of-fact.

Which should have put me at ease, but didn’t. After the long, close-quarters drive down here, I was still far too aware of the man. I blew out a breath, and tried to concentrate on her voice, listening for anything out of place in her answers that might help find the missing teenagers.

“Midnight,” she answered. “I said goodnight, and he answered.”

“And you heard nothing all night?”

“Nothing at all. The dogs didn’t even bark.”

And they certainly had at us. But then, we were wolves, and basically invading their turf.

“What time did you notice he was missing?” I asked softly.

She looked at me. “As soon as I got up at seven. His door was open and the bed empty.”

“What did you do then?”

“Looked for him, of course. But he was nowhere.” She stopped and gulped, then looked back at Ethan. “Frank said you’d find him. He promised.”

Frank was a freaking fool who should have known better than that. Ethan touched the woman’s frail shoulder and squeezed it lightly. “We’ll do our best, Mrs. Symmonds.”

“Thank you.”

Ethan looked briefly my way. The dangerous spark still glittered bright in his eyes, but I wasn’t entirely sure if it was anger or desire. “We should go to his room and look around. Mrs. Symmonds?”

She led the way along the daisy-strewn stone path to the main house—a rambling, two-story affair so often found on older farms. Which this had once been, before Mari and her now-dead hubby had sold it off to developers.

As we neared the back door, Ethan pressed a hand to my back, guiding me inside. Even that slightest of touches had my system going into meltdown.

This wasn’t good. Not when the lives of a couple kids might well depend on my ability to concentrate. I stepped away from him, but the air between us still seemed so very heated.

“If you don’t mind,” I said, touching Mari’s arm gently. “I’ll get you to wait here. The less interfering vibrations up there, the better.”

She didn’t ask what I meant, simply nodded. Ethan and I moved up the stairs. We knew the layout of the house—it had been included in the files Frank had given us.

Ethan stopped in the doorway while I continued on. We’d worked together enough now that this side of our relationship had almost become routine. Lord how I wished the other part, the part I kept denying, had the same, easygoing feel.

“Sense anything?” he asked.

I stopped near the bed and drew in a deep breath, tasting the flavors in the air, feeling for the emotions and shadows that rode underneath.

The world was filled with such things. I’d learned to leash and control the senses that detected them, but had never truly been able to explain it. Especially since I come from a very long line of mundane, normal wolves that wouldn’t know a psychic skill if they fell over it.

But for me, the very air I breathed was alive, and sometimes, that wasn’t a good thing. There were the standard, everyday emotions that everyone could see and feel and sometimes taste, but there were just as many that ran underneath normal sensory lines. Many of these were the darker, more destructive emotions and aromas, and they lingered like a cancer in the air, polluting and destroying any sweeter scent.

This room was filled with such a darkness.

“It feels like a vampire,” I said, the chill running across my flesh making me suddenly glad of the multiple layers of clothing.

“Vampires can’t cross thresholds uninvited.” Ethan’s footsteps echoed on the wooden boards as he walked across to the window.

“There’s no saying Jon didn’t invite it in.”

“Except the cops reported that all windows and doors had still been locked from the inside.” He paused, looking out the sea-salt blasted pane of glass. “Besides, we’re on the second floor, and there are no nearby trees. Vampires can’t fly.”

“But they can climb ladders.”

“Soft soil. They would have found ladder imprints.”

I sucked in the air again, felt the foulness of it swirl through me. “It’s definitely a vampire. Or at least something along those lines. It has that same dead feeling.”

“And there’s nothing else?”

I sifted through the undercurrents and deeper threads of lingering emotions. “No fear. Whatever took him, he wasn’t afraid. Not at first, anyway.”

He glanced at me. “Not at first?”

I crossed my arms, and frowned. “No. I have a feeling that fear might have come later, but at the very beginning, he was a dreamer caught in a dream.” I paused, finding a hint of arousal and excitement—and neither emotion had anything to do with Ethan or me. “He was chasing sexual completion.”

Ethan raised his eyebrows. “He’s run off with a girlfriend?”

I shrugged. “It would explain the locked doors and windows. Most teenagers his age have keys.”

He studied me for a moment, then walked over to the rumbled sheets, his nostrils flaring as he breathed deep. “There’s no lingering scent of sex.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Would you have sex with your girlfriend when your mom was in the room next door?”

His sudden smile was decidedly roguish, and had my pulse doing one of those excited little quicksteps.

“You’d be surprised what I got away with when my mom was in the next room.”

“Actually, no, I wouldn’t.”

He picked up a photograph and stared at the image. “Going off with a girlfriend doesn’t explain why you smell vampire.”

“It would if the girlfriend was some sort of succubus.” Succubae—or energy vamps, as they were sometimes called—sucked life force rather than life blood and, unlike true vamps, they had fewer restrictions. Like being able to cross thresholds.

“They’re rare—especially in a small, out-of-the-way place like this.”

“Rare doesn’t mean can’t exist.”

“True.” He put the photo frame back down. “You up to visiting the other kid’s room?”

Part of me wanted to say no. Tasting shadows and darkness was never a pleasant thing, and usually I avoided doing it more than once a day. “It’s doubtful any useful scents will remain after a week.”

“But are you up to trying?”

I rubbed my arms. “Yeah. I guess.”

But only because time was of the essence if we were dealing with a succubus. Unlike regular suckers, they didn’t drain their victims in one hit, but rather over a couple of days. We still had a chance of finding Jon alive if we hurried.

Hope had all but faded when it came to the first boy, though. Succubae rarely went after another victim until they’d finished with the first.

“Did it say anywhere in the file whether the two boys hung out together?”

He shook his head. “But in a town this size, they probably would.” He paused. “Why?”

“Because it just seems odd an energy vamp would go after two teenage boys. I always thought they went after older, stronger life forces.”

“Normally, yeah.” He looked down at the bed for a moment, then walked around it and lightly touched my elbow. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

Warmth flared where he touched, spreading like a wildfire up my arm and across my body, washing the chill and the thick feeling of darkness from my skin.

Normally I would have pulled away but right then, I needed that warmth. Needed the reminder of life and healthy, normal emotions to erase the last remainders of evil from my soul.

We walked down the stairs and back into the kitchen. Mari turned around as we entered, her hands gripped around a steaming mug of coffee and hope in her eyes. “Anything?”

“Perhaps,” I said cautiously, not wanting to feed the hope, but unwilling to crush it, either. “Tell me, did Jon have a girlfriend?”

She smiled. “No. He preferred hanging out with his mates.”

“Could you write out their names and addresses, and give it to us when we come back this afternoon? We’ll need to talk to them, just in case they know or saw something.”

She nodded. “I think the police already talked to them.”

“We’d still like to double-check,” Ethan said, and lightly squeezed the elbow he still held.

We continued on outside, and I took a deep breath of the warm, summery air. Felt it brush the last vestiges of darkness from my lungs.

“Now you look a little healthier,” Ethan said, his gaze sweeping my face.

I pulled free of his grip and got some space between us again. “It always feels like the darkness is invading my soul, eating away at my very self.” A shudder ran through me. “And I always fear that one day, there won’t be any me left, just a memory and the sweeping strands of darkness.”

Which is something I’d told so very few people. Maybe my brush with evil had left me feeling more vulnerable than normal.

Though you’d think I’d be used to such brushes by now.

He frowned. “Then why do it? Why take that risk?”

“Because I have a gift, and it can sometimes save lives.” I shrugged. “My parents were the type who ingrained the ideology that if we have a skill, we should use it.”

“Even at the risk of your very self?”

“Even at.” I rubbed my arms again as we made our way towards Ethan’s car. “Can we talk about something else?”

“How about sex?”

“Other than that,” I said dryly.

He opened the car door and ushered me inside. “I don’t believe my topics of conversations contain anything else.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Because I’m a werewolf, and werewolves only talk about two things, don’t they? Sex, and how to get sex.”

He slammed the door shut and walked around to the driver’s side of the car, leaving me wondering about the slight edge in his voice. It wasn’t like I’d actually brought the damn subject up. Far from it.

He climbed into the driver’s seat, started the car, then accelerated down the driveway and onto the Great Ocean Road. Three streets and a quick left, and we were outside the second boy’s house. Like Ethan had said, this town wasn’t very big.

A woman waited out in front, her arms crossed over massive bosoms and an anxious expression on her fleshy face. “Mari rang and explained why you were coming,” she said, voice filled with strain and tiredness. “Do you really think you can help?”

“We can only try,” I said, then held out my hand and introduced myself. Ethan did the same. “What can you tell us about your son’s activities in the days before his disappearance?”

She shrugged. “He was out with his mates, most days.”

“Was one of those mates Jon?”

She nodded, then gave us an anxious sort of look. “Are the two connected? The police won’t say whether they are or aren’t.”

Maybe the police weren’t, but the local papers sure as hell were. Which undoubtedly was making life even harder for the parents of the other teenagers in Brad and Jon’s “gang.” “We don’t know as yet.” I paused, looking past her. “Can we go inside and look at his room?”

She nodded and led us inside. Brad’s room was at the rear of the house, and had easy access to the back door and the garden beyond. It would have been a simple task for a determined teenager armed with a key to get out of the house without his parents knowing.

I stepped into the room, gaze sweeping walls hung with pictures of semi-naked women. Jon had football stars. Maybe Brad was more sexually advanced than his mate—and perhaps that was a factor of him going first. If, indeed, we were dealing with an energy vamp.

“Anything?” Ethan asked.

I shook my head and stepped further into the room. Scents and emotions swirled around me, fading wisps of teenage hopes and dreams. But no darkness, no shadows.

I turned and looked at Ethan. His gaze roamed the pictures.

“The energy vamp didn’t enter this room,” I said, a touch sharper than I should have. Not that I actually cared if he ogled pictures of other women, I just wanted a little attention on the job. Damn it, if I could find the strength to resist base emotions and concentrate, then so could he.

Amusement briefly flared in his bright eyes. “She might have called him out. It looks like Brad was more sexually motivated than Jon.”

I picked my way through the clothing-strewn mess on the floor to the window. “I still don’t understand why this vamp would be going after teenagers. If it’s sexual energy she wants, older men would be more viable and strong, wouldn’t they?”

Ethan followed my steps, a heat I could feel more than see. He stopped just behind me, his breath brushing warmth across my neck, sending little flash fires of desire skittering across my too aware, too hot skin.

“It would depend on whether she prefers innocence or experience.”

“I didn’t think vamps of any kind were picky when it came to sustenance.”

“All creatures do what they must to survive. Doesn’t mean they aren’t picky when they have a choice.”

I looked over my shoulder and raised an eyebrow. “Even werewolves?”

His bright gaze was still aware, still watchful. For what, I wasn’t entirely sure. “A werewolf has to have sex during the week leading up to the full moon, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t more choosy beyond those times.”

“And yet werewolves have a reputation for wanting sex twenty-four-seven, and for not being particularly caring about who their partner is.”

He reached out, and lightly brushed a hair from my cheek. His fingers barely even touched my skin, but I was a moth to his flame, and a shudder of sheer delight ran through me.

“Enjoying sex is not a crime. And I, like most werewolves I know, am more choosy than you seem to believe.”

It didn’t matter, I wanted to say, because we weren’t going to happen, and whatever I might think or feel wasn’t important. But I couldn’t force my tongue around the words.

Because probably sooner rather than later, we would happen.

I knew it, he knew it. All my protests to date were merely delaying the inevitable. He might not be the right man, this might not be the right situation, but it just didn’t seem so important any more. Not to hormones that had hungered for so long. I might not be a creature whose needs were swayed by the blooming of the moon, but I was still a wolf, still a woman, and I still needed the touch of another every now and again.

I stepped sideways. Fighting the inevitable just that little bit longer. “What next?”

He shoved his hands in his pockets. It didn’t do much to hide the bulge of his erection. It was good to know I wasn’t the only one aching.

“We need to talk to the other kids. In the meantime, we’ll get Frank to check the database and see if there’s any records of an energy vamp being active in this area.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Would there be records?”

“Vampires tend to be territorial, so maybe.” He shrugged. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

He didn’t touch me this time. Perhaps his control was as tenuous as mine.

I followed him out, and let him answer the mother’s questions with his usual charm and reassurance. He was better at that sort of stuff than me. The werewolf aura and all that.

We got into the car and headed back to Mari’s to collect the list of Jon’s friends. There were four other teenagers in his gang, and after interviewing three of them, one thing became clear.

They were all lying.

“But why?” I asked, as we climbed back into the car after interviewing the third kid. “It just doesn’t make sense. They were all scared that what had happened to Jon and Brad would happen to them, so why wouldn’t they want to do everything they can to protect themselves?”

“We’re talking about teenage boys here.”

I frowned at him. “So?”

“So,” he said, starting the car. “Teenage boys don’t tattle on their friends, especially if they were doing something illegal.”

“And you think they were?”

He shrugged. “Logical reason for the lies. You want to grab some dinner before we interview the last kid?”

I looked at my watch and nodded. “We’ve got an hour or so before he’s home.”

“Time enough.”

There was something in the way he said those words that had my pulse skipping. “Time enough for what?”

He gave me one of those to-die-for smiles. “Time enough to eat. What else do you think I meant?”

“I have absolutely no idea,” I muttered, looking away from his knowing gaze.

He laughed softly. I continued to ignore him.

We grabbed a couple of burgers and some chips, and headed on down to the beach. Ethan parked, then grabbed a blanket from the back seat and climbed out. I followed with the food and drinks.

“So,” I said, once the blanket was spread over the sand and we were munching our burgers. “What sort of illegal activities do you think the boys were up to?”

He shrugged. “It could be anything, from peeking into bedroom windows to breaking into houses. Whatever it is, they’ve obviously made a pact not to talk about it.”

“Boys are weird.”

He raised an eyebrow, amusement playing around his lips. “And girls aren’t?”

“It’s a well-known fact girls are the sensible species. You boys are just all hormones and need.”

“Meaning girls don’t need?”

“Meaning girls aren’t a prisoner to their needs.” And this was a conversation I should not be having. Not with this man.

“Oh, really?” That gleam was back in his eyes, stronger, lustier, than before. “Want to bet on that, Ravioli?”

I finished my burger and brushed the crumbs from my hands. All the while avoiding his heated, steady gaze. “I told you before, I don’t bet.”

“And why is that? Afraid you’ll lose?”

My gaze rose to his. “Yes.”

He somehow seemed closer, though he hadn’t actually moved. Maybe it was merely a sharpening in my awareness of him. Maybe it was simply the erotic and sensual heat of him wrapping around me, cradling me like a lover.

“Afraid of me?” he asked softly.

“No,” I answered. “Afraid of me.” Afraid of wanting more than would ever be offered.

“Ah.”

If one single word could say many things, then that one word did. He understood what I meant. But as I stared into bright gaze, I realized understanding did not equate to backing away or backing down. That it had, in fact, only hardened resolve.

“Don’t,” I said, my words a bare whisper quickly whisked away by the wind, “play with me.”

He rose on all fours and moved toward me. I watched him warily, knowing I should move and yet not wanting to. He straddled my legs and stared at me eye to eye.

“I have never played with you, Grace.”

The delicious scent of man and musk and spices swept around me, sending my hormones into another wild dance. He raised an eyebrow, as if daring me to retreat.

I couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Not this time.

“Only because I’ve never given you the chance.”

“Then you have one chance now.” He lowered his mouth toward mine, but didn’t quite kiss me, his breath a delicious whisper on my lips as he added, “Yes or no?”

For one second, the sane half of me raised a reminder that getting physically involved with this man was utter madness. That he was after a good time, not a long time, and I was the one who’d be left feeling awkward and uncomfortable long after the brief affair had ended. That he would go on just fine, pretending nothing had ever happened and that we could just be casual friends and sometimes partners. But the part that had gone hungry for well over two years shouted the reminders down and said, “Yes. If you can avoid sand in bits.”

“No sand,” he promised, then kissed me.

It was an urgent, hungry thing, that kiss, and so very, very thorough. He kissed me until my head was spinning and my heart was pounding so loudly it seemed to drown out the sound of crashing surf. Kissed me until the thick scent of desire filled the air, until it felt like a blanket that burned and suffocated. Kissed me until I wanted him as I’d never wanted another man.

All with a kiss. I couldn’t wait to see what he could do once his hands and body were involved.

“Why don’t we strip,” he said, after a long, long while.

“Sounds like a plan,” I murmured, and began to do just that.

He removed his clothes more slowly, a master of control and a man who knew how to work a strip-tease. I smiled when we were both naked, and ran a hand across the warm hard planes of his abs. In the sunshine, his golden skin glowed with an almost unearthly fire. It was beautiful, as he was beautiful.

He caught my hand, brought it up to his lips, and kissed it gently. Then he tugged on my fingers lightly, dragging me down, until we were both kneeling on the rug again.

“Let the games begin,” I murmured softly.

“It’s never been a game, Grace. It’s all been foreplay building to this moment.”

His hand gently touched my cheek then slid slowly, sensually, down my neck and onto my shoulders. His mouth followed his caress, kissing and nipping my flesh, making me shudder and squirm in pleasure.

When his tongue circled the dark ring of one nipple, teasing but not touching the oversensitive center, I moaned, wanting more, wanting it now, but at the same time, not wanting to rush. Every inch of me trembled—ached—with expectation. And waiting that moment when he did more than circle was a part of that. I closed my eyes and pushed my breasts forward, offering them fully to the delight that was his tongue. He nipped lightly, then drew one aching nipple deep into his mouth, sucking on it hard. The unexpected rush of pleasure had me gasping.

As he suckled and nipped my breasts, his caress moved, with agonizing slowness, down my belly, touching, teasing, exploring. Drawing ever closer to the one place I wanted him most. Goosebumps scurried across my sweat-beaded skin, and my heart hammered so loudly its beat seemed to echo across the evening.

When his fingers finally brushed my clit, I could only shudder and press harder into his touch. Then his caress delved deeper, sliding through wetness, one finger plunging inside, then two, but neither staying long enough. Longing flowed like a fire through my veins, until my whole body quivered and throbbed to the tune of that gentle yet insistent caress. A caress that quickly created a tide threatening to overload my senses.

And as much as I wanted the rush his touch was building, I wanted him more. Wanted to caress and stroke and taste him.

So I pulled away and began my own explorations, allowing my fingers the freedom to roam his beautiful body, reveling in the feeling of power that seemed barely contained under skin.

I kissed him, nipped him, licked the salty taste of sweat and desire from his skin. All the while my hand slid ever further down, until I was stroking the long, glorious length of him. I watched his eyes, watched the lust grow. Felt the power of it roll through me, pooling deep, so very deep, until I was barely resisting the urge to simply mount him, to thrust his thick erection inside, and ride him until we both came hard and fast.

I pushed him back, until he was forced to brace his body with his arms to stop from falling over, then bent and ran my tongue across the tip of his cock. His groan was thick and filled with pleasure.

I swirled my tongue around the tip of him for a while, then moved to his shaft and balls, enjoying his reaction, the tremble that ran through his body. The way his cock leapt and throbbed with eagerness with every careful stroke of my tongue. He groaned again, stronger, more urgent. I smiled and took him fully into my mouth.

He thrust in response, his body shaking with the effort of restraint as I drew him deep, sucking and tasting and teasing him, until his movements became desperate and the salty taste of pre cum began seeping into my mouth.

Only then did I release him, kissing my way back up his body until my lips found his. It was a desperate thing, that kiss, filled with the urgency that fueled our bodies.

“On your hands and knees, Grace,” he murmured against my mouth.

I obeyed and a second later he took me from behind, thrusting hard and deep. God, it felt good. He stretched me, filled me, in a way no man ever had, and all I could do was groan in pleasure. For several seconds neither of us moved, enjoying the sensation of oneness, enjoying the tension and the pulsing heat of need that swirled through and around us.

Then he began to thrust, sliding through my slickness with ease, claiming me fully, deeply, and so very thoroughly. The feel of him penetrated every fiber, enveloping me with a heat that was so basic, so powerful, and so very wonderful. His hands were on my hips, holding me steady as he rocked deep. It was a touch that seemed to brand my skin as his thrusts gradually became more urgent. Jolts shuddered through me, and desire raged, flaring across my body like an out-of-control wildfire, building quickly to the final crescendo.

“Come with me, Grace. I want to hear it. I want to hear you.”

His words were hoarse, urgent, his breath hot as it whispered across my skin. His powerful body pumped fast and deep, driving me insane with pleasure. I pressed back harder against him, urging him deeper still, wanting, needing every inch of him. He groaned, thrusting harder, faster, and it felt so good I cried out. Still he stroked, and the sweet pressure built, and built, until it felt like I was going to explode. And then everything did.

“Oh God, yes!”

He came with me, his roar echoing across the silence, his body slamming mine so hard my hands were sliding in the sand. I clawed at it, trying to gain some purchase as I shuddered and groaned and drowned in a myriad of delicious sensations and the thick feeling of repletion.

And when it was over one thought echoed through my mind.

It would be all too easy to become addicted to Ethan’s style of loving.

CHAPTER 3

“ONCE WE GET DRESSED AND PACK UP, IT’LL BE TIME to go see the other kid,” he said, sitting back on his heels and looking at his watch.

Not a man for after-fucking small talk, obviously. Not that that entirely surprised me. Weres were notorious for not caring about that sort of stuff. “You pack up. I need to clean up.”

I rose and walked down to the beach, rinsing the scent of man and sex from my skin in the gentle waves. Maybe now that the cobwebs had been cleared, I could get back on an even keel and act a little more sensibly around the damn man. But given the ripple of pleasure that ran across my body as I watched him dress, perhaps that was a faint hope. Seems my hormones weren’t finished with him yet.

I walked out of the waves and grabbed my t-shirt, using that to dry myself off before getting dressed. The salty scent of sea clung to my skin, and I could feel the grit of sand in places that were just damn uncomfortable. So much for being careful.

“Ready?” Ethan asked, once I was dressed.

“Yeah,” I said, keeping my tone as matter-of-fact as his. Something flickered in his eyes, but he’d turned before I could pin it down.

We walked in single file up the beach and back to the car. The kid was home from football practice by the time we arrived at his house, and like the other teenagers, he was nervous, moving restlessly on the old kitchen chair and not meeting either of our gazes when his mom introduced us.

In fact, he was so nervous I could taste it on the air. “This one you can push,” I murmured. “He’ll tell.”

Ethan nodded briefly, then squatted down in front of the kid. “Jimmy, you know what’s happened to Brad and Jon, don’t you?”

He shook his head, sending long, blond strands flying. “I don’t know anything.”

“But you do know what Brad and Jon were doing just before they disappeared?”

“No.” He said it too quickly, then looked up at his mom. “Can I go now?”

I squeezed Ethan’s shoulder to stop him answering, then said, “Jimmy, telling us the truth might mean the difference between saving Jon’s life and killing him.”

His eyes widened. “The papers lied? Jon’s not dead?”

“Maybe not yet. Which is why we need all the help we can get.”

“I don’t know—”

“Do you want to save your friend or not?” It was horrible to lump that sort of guilt onto the kid, but we weren’t only trying to save Jon’s life here.

He swallowed heavily. “Okay.”

“What were you doing last week that you shouldn’t have?” Ethan asked immediately.

“We were over at the Manton house.” The kid looked at his mom. “It was a dare.”

“Jimmy, how many times do we have to tell you that damn place is danger—”

“Mrs. Jenkins, that’s not helping right now,” Ethan cut in, voice curt, then added, “What did you do there, Jimmy?”

“Went to the cellars. Dead things live in the cellars.”

I shared a glance with Ethan. “What sort of dead things?”

He shrugged. “Never seen them. But there’s bones and stuff. And a coffin. It’s neat.”

Only a teenage boy would classify finding a coffin as a “neat” thing. “Was there anyone in the coffin?”

“Nah. But it was moved around a lot.”

Other teenage boys, or something more sinister? “Did you ever see anything or anyone else out there?”

He snorted. “Like a vampire? Get real. Vampires don’t live in Wild Dog Creek. The place is too boring.”

“Says the authority of youth,” Ethan muttered as he rose. “Where’s the Manton house, Mrs. Jenkins?”

“Just follow this road to the top of the hill. You can’t miss the place.”

“Thanks.” He half turned, then hesitated. “Can I suggest you take any house keys off Jimmy and keep an eye on him for the next few days? We don’t think someone’s breaking in to grab the boys, we think the boys are willingly walking out with her.”

“What?” Jimmy said, obviously horrified at the prospect of losing his freedom. “No way am I giving up my keys. How will I get back into the house if I go out?”

“That’s the whole point,” his mom said, with a grim sort of relish. “You aren’t going out for a while.”

The kid groaned. I restrained my smile and followed Ethan out to the car. Once we were on our way again, I asked, “Why would a vampire—even an energy vampire—need a coffin?”

“They don’t. But some vamps do enjoy living up to human expectations.” He shrugged.

“But if this vamp is trying to remain under the wire, why leave a coffin laying around?”

“Until we know the history of the house and whatever is in it, that’s not a question I can answer.”

I looked upwards as the car started climbing. All there was to see on the horizon was an oddly leaning chimney reaching for the sky past a line of pines.

“Maybe we should call Frank and get in some specialists.” Werewolves and shifters were fast and strong, but vampires outdid us in both areas, and had the advantage of being able to disappear into shadows. We might be able to track her with scent, but we might never get near enough to kill her. And I wasn’t entirely sure I was up to the whole killing bit anyway. That wasn’t my field of expertise.

But it was Ethan’s.

And he seemed more than a little put out by my suggestion. “We don’t need help to deal with one lone vampire.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You have the equipment here?”

He gave me a grin that had my toes curling. “I always come equipped, Ravioli.”

“Heard that about you.” I looked up at the pines we were rapidly approaching. Dusk was settling in, and the sky above the chimney was streaked with pink. “Not sure it’s a wise move to be entering a vamp’s lair on the cusp of night.”

“If we want to save that kid, then we have to move now.”

I knew all that. I just didn’t like the sensations that were already beginning to crawl across my skin the nearer we got to that house.

The road ended. We drove through an old wooden gate and up the winding drive. The house revealed itself slowly, a long, two-story building that was all angles and windows, wrapped in shadows and age.

Goosebumps tripped across my skin, and I couldn’t help shivering. This place just felt wrong, and I hadn’t even gone inside it yet.

“I can see why teenagers would enjoy this place,” Ethan commented, as he parked the car out front. “It’s kinda spooky-looking, isn’t it?”

“Understatement of the year,” I muttered, and climbed out of the car. The breeze that swayed the pine tops merely whispered across the old building, as if reluctant to stir the house to life. The air was thick and filled with a gloom that felt heavy on my tongue. Traces of darkness and evil teased my psychic senses, taunting indications of what was to come once I entered the house.

Ethan had raided the trunk, and handed me a flashlight and several stakes. They weren’t particularly large, those stakes, but thick and sharp. I shoved them into my pocket, pointy end down so they didn’t stab me in the back as I moved, and watched while he strapped on a gun.

“A bullet won’t stop a vampire,” I said eventually.

“It will if you shoot their fucking brains out.” He slammed the trunk closed. “You ready?”

No, I thought, then blew out a breath and nodded. As one, we walked up the old steps and approached the front door. Paint peeled from its battered surface like old skin, and another tremor ran through me.

Ethan raised a hand and with his fingertips pushed open the door. It didn’t creak, nor did the dying sunlight seem to penetrate very far past the threshold. The inside of the house was all shadows and gloom, just like the outside.

He took a step, then stopped, his nostrils flaring. “I can smell the dead.” He looked at me. “And not vampire-type dead.”

I drew in a breath, tasting the flavors that ran with the air. Shadows of evil and darkness ran across my psychic senses, an evil that felt old and yet young at the same time. But underneath that, the aroma of decay. Of rotting flesh and putridity.

“It can’t be the boys. It tastes older than that.”

He nodded, then motioned me to follow. We stepped into the shadows. It felt like we were stepping into another world. It was still, this house, so still and yet somehow so watchful. Though there were broken windows in the rooms that we passed as we made our way down the hall, neither sunshine nor wind seemed to go beyond their threshold. The musty smell of decay and age lay thick on the air, and yet these scents were almost pleasant when compared to the deeper, darker aromas that ran underneath.

Whatever used this house for a sanctuary, it had been here a long time. So long the house seemed a part of it, rather than merely a refuge.

We walked past some worse-for-wear stairs, the beams of the flashlight highlighting long, dust-covered webs that trailed like a curtain from the ceiling high above. The scent of dead flesh led us to the rear of the house. Ethan pressed open another door, took the flashlight, and had a quick look around.

“Kitchen,” he said. “There’s a cellar door to the right.”

Dead things lived in the cellars, Jimmy had said. I shuddered and had to fight the urge to run, to just get out of this house and away from the evil it sheltered. But if teenagers had the courage to go down those stairs, then I damn well could.

He directed the flashlight’s beam into the cellar door, illuminating the well-worn stairs and the boarded-up walls. The air drifting up was damp, musty, and the scent of flesh and decay stronger. I swallowed heavily and started breathing through my mouth. It only helped a little.

The stairs creaked as we went down them, the sound jarring sharply against the thick silence. The watchfulness of the house seemed to increase the further we descended into the cellar’s darkness and yet I couldn’t pinpoint it to the presence of a vampire. Which didn’t mean it wasn’t near, just that I couldn’t sense it in the stinking air.

The stairs finally met floor. Ethan swept the light across the black, the bright beam pinpointing corners, cobwebs, and shelving stocked with cans and other goods that looked as old as the house. No bones or coffins, though. I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or not.

“There’s another door over here.” He pointed the light to a right corner, then he reached back with his free hand and wrapped his fingers around mine. “Are you all right?”

For a moment I clung to him, needing the warmth and the strength that flowed from his grip to battle the chill beginning to invade my soul. “Just.”

“You can go upstairs—”

“No,” I cut in. “We both need to confront this evil.”

He didn’t question the certainty in my voice, just squeezed my fingers again then released me. The room seemed darker, more depressing, without his touch.

We went through the second door. Our footsteps echoed and the boards creaked under our weight. It was here we found Jimmy’s bones and coffin.

“These are years old,” Ethan said, picking up what looked like a femur and studying it.

I shuddered. It was bad enough feeling the wisps of agony stirring the air. Touching the bones of the dead would only intensify that connection, and that I didn’t need. I walked over to the coffin sitting against the wall with the lid open. It was squat and fat, and far wider than a normal coffin. And it was made of hardwood that had hastily been banged together and then lined on the inside with what looked like an old blanket. Homemade rather than professional.

“This isn’t the coffin of an adult,” I said, squatting down next to it. Strands of eagerness and darkness rose from the inside of the box, as if the emotions had soaked through the wood over time. “And it belongs to our vampire. But why would a vamp use it when they don’t need to?”

“Maybe she gets off on scaring the crap out of visiting teenagers.” He shrugged and rose. “None of these things is the source of our smell. We need to find that.”

We may have needed to, but I didn’t particularly want to. I might not be able to talk to souls, but I could hear them. Could feel their hopes, their dreams and their deaths lingering on the air, and these particular deaths already felt bad enough. I didn’t know if I could face the pain that waited where their bodies lay.

We walked on. The creaking in the boards increased, until the whole floor seemed to vibrate under each step.

“This doesn’t feel particularly safe,” I muttered.

Ethan stopped again and held out one hand. I wrapped my fingers in his gratefully. It might not be any safer, but damn if I didn’t feel more secure.

A large crack ran across the silence as we moved on. I paused, but Ethan tugged me forward. “I doubt we’d fall very far, even if the flooring gave away,” he said. “There are probably only a couple of inches between the boards and the earth, just for ventilation.”

The words were barely out of his mouth when there was an almighty snap, and the flooring underneath us fell away.

And we were falling, tumbling into deeper darkness.

CHAPTER 4

I HIT EARTH WITH A CRUNCH THAT JARRED EVERY bone from toes to neck, and fell sideways with a gasp. Wood and dust rained around me, and something sharp speared into my leg. I yelped, and scrambled to my hands and feet, moving into the deeper darkness, desperate to get out of the path of the still-falling wood.

“Grace?” Ethan said, his voice little more than a hiss of air. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just gotta stop a cut from bleeding.” I called to my wolf shape, felt the surge of magic roll my body, shifting, changing, and in the process, healing. To my wolf nose, the scents in the air sharpened dramatically, and I knew without even seeing it that bloody death awaited discovery a hairsbreadth away. I shifted shape again and said, “Point the flashlight my way.”

There were several clicks, then light flared across the utter black. I turned. Bodies lay before me. Bodies in various stages of disintegration, some fully fleshed, some not, but all rotting.

And the smell…

My stomach turned and bile rose thick and fast up my throat. I gagged and quickly backed away, not wanting to puke over those who already suffered enough. Not that they’d know, but their ghosts might.

And their ghosts were here, in this room, filling the shadows with their pain and confusion and horror. The sheer force of it flooded my senses, making my whole body shudder and my heart ache.

“My God,” Ethan said softly. “There have to be at least twenty of them.”

The ghosts were stirring, whispering. Warning. I gulped down air, trying to keep calm, trying to keep their shadows and pain at arm’s length.

And then something else stirred out there in the blackness. There was no sound, no shifting of air, nothing to indicate movement. But I felt it all the same.

Evil had woken.

I backed away until I reached Ethan, and slowly reached for the flashlight, directing the bright beam toward the distant shadows ahead.

There was a quick gleam, like the sparkle of a cat’s eyes caught in moonlight, then it was gone.

Evil was on the move.

Ethan swore softly. “Keep behind me,” he said, taking his gun from the holster. The click of the safety being released echoed across the heavy silence. I reached back, freeing the stakes and gripping them tightly.

“Can you smell it?” I asked.

He shook his head. “The reek of decay is so strong it’s overwhelming everything else. You?”

I flared my nostrils, sucking in the foul air, letting it run across my other senses. Even against the thick stink of rotting flesh, the taste of evil could not hide. “It’s to our right, near the wall. Waiting, watching.”

He swept the light in that direction. Again, eyes sparkled briefly before disappearing. “It’s retreating,” I said softly.

“Then let’s follow it to its lair.”

Let’s not, I thought, but followed him onwards anyway. The utter blackness seemed to close in on us, as thick and as heavy as a blanket. The vampire was out there, but it wasn’t running, wasn’t scared. Just moving away, trying to avoid us. Like a kid who knows she shouldn’t be out, I thought, as a chill ran across my skin.

If there was a kid, could there be a parent? Was this evil swirling through the air the sum of two vampires, not one?

The room ended in a shored-up wall. Ethan swept the light left, then right, until the bright beam highlighted a break in the wall. A break that led into stone and dirt and the chill of deeper underground.

“I didn’t know there were any caverns in this area,” I said, wincing a little as my voice echoed across the heavy silence.

“It’s not natural. There are pick marks. Could be part of an old mine that the house was built over.”

An old mine that a vampire had labeled home…I stilled suddenly, and raised my nose, sucking in the foul air. There, entwined in darkness and old evil, was another, familiar scent.

“Jon’s here,” I whispered. “To the left.”

“I smell him. I can’t hear him, though.”

Though I strained my ears, I couldn’t hear anything either. No breathing, no scent of life. Nothing that would indicate anything else lived in this foul place.

We moved into the cavern. Ethan swept the light across dank walls, until it finally came to rest on the body of a boy.

There was no sign of life because Jon was dead. His face gaunt and pale, his neck torn open, his mouth red from bloody kisses. Kisses that had sucked his life force after it had sucked his blood.

“Shit,” Ethan said, and moved forward.

In that moment, evil attacked.

“Look out,” I yelled, a heartbeat before the vampire hit Ethan. He leapt aside, but not fast enough. A whirlwind of evil swamped him, scrawny arms and legs all force, all power. The gun and light went flying, and for an instant, we plunged into darkness. Then the flashlight flickered back to life, and for several heartbeats I could only watch—heart in my mouth—as Ethan battled the thin but far-from-frail vampire. He blocked more blows than a werewolf should have been able to, but the vampire’s speed still allowed many others to get through.

I gripped the stakes so hard my knuckles were practically glowing, and ran at the pair of them. The vampire spun and hissed, sharp teeth gleaming and green eyes glowing with unearthly fire in the dark. I propped and stabbed with the stake, aiming for her heart. The vamp twisted away, then dropped and lashed out with a bare foot. I jumped the blow, saw Ethan dive forward, tackling the vampire at waist height in an obvious attempt to drag her down.

Wolves were strong, but vamps were stronger, and this one had the power of a fresh feed behind her. He barely even moved her. She hissed again, then twisted around and smashed Ethan in the head, throwing him down and back. And then she lunged at me.

I dropped to the ground. Her shadow soared over my head, and the stench of blood and death and sheer evil was so bad I gagged. The soft thump of her landing told me where she was, even if her scent was too overwhelming to pinpoint it exactly. I spun, and lashed out with a booted foot. The blow connected with solid darkness and she grunted. But it didn’t stop her. I twisted, whipping the stake across the darkness. Felt it scrape across flesh, saw sparks flicker like fireflies. She howled and lashed out with a clenched fist. I leaned back, felt the breeze of the blow brush past my chin. I didn’t even see her other fist. It caught the side of my face with enough force to knock me off my feet. I hit the floorboards with a grunt, the stakes flying from my hands as I battled to catch my breath.

Then her weight hit me, her body covering my length, pinning me to the floor. Her stench flooded my senses, making it hard to breathe, to think, to feel anything but darkness and evil.

“Grace, thrust up!” Ethan yelled.

I bucked with my body, dislodging her grip on me slightly. Then I shoved my arms between us and thrust her back with every ounce of strength I had. It was enough to push her up and away from me.

A gunshot rang out, and the vampire’s head exploded. Blood and flesh and God knows what else sprayed across the wall as the vampire’s body slumped to the floor. I scrambled to my hands and feet, sweeping the floor with my fingers, looking for the stakes. And finding them.

“Let me,” Ethan said, taking one from me and moving with grim resolution to the vampire. In one smooth, clean motion, he drove the stake through her sternum, into her heart.

Fire flared where wood met flesh, quickly becoming an inferno that consumed what remained of the vampire. I released a shuddery breath, and closed my eyes. At least she could no longer threaten anyone.

So why did it feel as if evil still resided in this house?

“Are you okay?” Ethan’s voice was filled with concern as he dropped to his knees in front of me.

I nodded. “It doesn’t feel like it’s over though. It still feels like this house has secrets.”

“Yeah, and that secret is just how many people have found their deaths at that vampire’s hands.”

“No, it’s more than that.”

He looked past me, nostrils flaring as his gaze swept the darkness. “I can’t smell anything beyond old death and new blood. Can your psychic senses pick anything up?”

“Just a continuing sense of evil.”

“If this vamp was a fosterling, then its creator would have appeared the minute we attacked her.”

“I know, I know.” It still didn’t ease the feeling we were missing something. Or someone.

But maybe that was merely nerves. A leftover of the evil that had been entrenched in this house for generations.

“Let’s go back to the guest house and write up a report for Frank,” he said, taking my hand and tugging me to my feet. “We’ll let him and the cops deal with the rest of this mess.”

With that I couldn’t argue.

CHAPTER 5

“WRITING THE REPORT” TURNED OUT TO BE A euphemism for getting back and having sex. Not that I minded. After all the death and decay of that house, I needed to feel life and heat and healthy emotions. Needed it to sweep away the remaining strands of darkness latched to my soul.

The minute the door slammed shut, he grabbed my hand and drew me into his arms. His body was warm and hard against mine, his gaze fierce.

“I’m so glad you weren’t seriously hurt,” he muttered, “And I have so needed to do this.”

“This” was his mouth on mine, plundering hard, our tongues tangling, tasting, the kiss urgent and hungry.

He pushed me back until I hit the wall. The thunder of his heart matched mine, and the heat of him warmed every pore. But the hard length of him, pressed firmly against my belly, was nowhere near close enough.

His hands were on me, his fingers scorching my flesh as he ripped off my clothes. I unbuttoned his pants, tore off his shirt. Then he was in me, filling me, liquefying me. His thick groan of pleasure was a sound I echoed. He began to move, and there was nothing gentle about it. His body plundered as his lips had plundered, his movements hard and fast and urgent. The rich ache grew, becoming a kaleidoscope of sensations that washed through every corner of my mind. Then the shuddering took hold and I gasped, grabbing his shoulders, clambering up his body to wrap my legs around his waist and push him deeper still. Pleasure exploded between us as he thrust and thrust and thrust.

When the tremors finally eased, he laughed softly and rested his forehead against mine. “I could get addicted to this.”

“What? Sex? I thought all werewolves were anyway.”

“Trust me, there’s sex, and then there’s sex.” He kissed me gently. “But it’s you, Grace, that’s addictive.”

“An addiction cannot be gained after only two nibbles,” I refuted, not wanting to give any credence to the tiny spark of hope that flared deep inside. The flare that dared to think this could be more than just another brief fling.

“I said you, Grace, not the sex.”

“You don’t know me well enough to get addicted.” I let my legs slide to the ground and pushed him back a little. “Coffee?”

“When are you going to learn that pushing me away only makes me more determined?” he asked, voice hinting at frustration though there was little enough to be seen in his expression. Perhaps that’s why I wasn’t willing to trust his words.

“I told you before, it’s self-preservation.”

“And I have never given you a reason to distrust me. Nor do I intend to.”

What could I say to that? That I didn’t trust the fact a werewolf could stay with one partner for more than a couple of days? That my heart wasn’t willing to give him the chance of proving me wrong, simply because I was afraid of him breaking it? How could I win what I wanted if I wasn’t willing to put anything more than my body on the line? That was a coward’s way, and up until now, I’d never been a coward.

I turned on the coffee machine and looked out the window as I reached for the coffee mugs.

And saw the thin, pale face that was almost the spitting image of the vampire we’d killed.

Felt the sudden thickening in the air, the charge of darkness and evil across my senses.

I barely had time to open my mouth and she was through that window and at me. She was thin and weedy and stinking of blood and sex and grief, and I knew I’d been right before, that it hadn’t been just one vampire who was killing the boys, but two. They were twins of darkness, one a blood vampire, the other an energy vamp.

She hit me in a rush, pushing me back and down. The back of my head cracked against the floorboards and the shock of it left me gasping for air. The vamp snarled, her breath fetid as it washed across my face. I looked up, saw fangs gleaming brightly in the pale kitchen light, saw them slash down toward my neck. I shoved my arms between us, felt her teeth slice into skin. Not to feed, but to mutilate, and maim, and kill. She twisted her head, dragging her teeth through muscle and flesh, slicing through both as cleanly as a knife through butter. Pain rolled through me, and I screamed. She sucked in the sound and an excited gleam flared in the dead, dark depths of her eyes.

This one was the energy vamp, not the other.

And then she was gone, thrown across the room like so much rubbish, and Ethan was hauling me up, thrusting me behind him.

“We have no weapons,” I gasped, cradling my wounded arm. Blood dripped between my fingertips, dropping to the floor, filling the room with its sweet metallic scent.

“Run for the car,” he said, “I’ll keep it occupied.”

He lunged for the vampire, but it moved so fast it literally blurred, swinging and kicking in one fluid movement. Ethan dodged, sucking in his gut, somehow avoiding the blow and landing one of his own. The vamp staggered back, then caught her balance and threw a punch. It landed in Ethan’s side, so hard I heard bone snap. He grunted, but didn’t back away, hitting the vamp a second time, his fist smashing into the vamp’s face and mashing her nose back against his face. Blood spurted, and she snarled in fury.

As much as I didn’t want to, I turned from the fight and ran for the door. We needed weapons and we needed them fast. But suddenly the vampire was there, her fist flying. I ducked, but not fast enough, and the blow hit my chin and sent me reeling backwards. I crashed into the table, felt it give underneath me, and fell to the floor amongst the ruins of wood.

Dimly, I saw Ethan and the vampire struggling, fighting, against the door frame. Saw Ethan being flung back, the vampire coming at me yet again.

I scrambled backwards, desperate to get out of her way. The jagged remains of the table speared into my butt and scattered across the floor.

Wood, I thought, and grabbed the nearest, sharpest bit, gripping it tight and thrusting it with all the force I could muster at the vampire.

The needle-sharp point arrowed through flesh and bone, straight into her heart. Fire flared where wood met flesh, and spread quickly across her body, the heat of it burning me, setting my clothes alight. She screamed, I screamed, and the smell of burning flesh and material rent the air. I struggled against her weight, trying to push her off me, but she wouldn’t move, wouldn’t budge, and I was panicking, burning…

And then she was gone, and Ethan was there yet again, tearing off my shirt and stamping out the flames before dragging me into his arms. He kissed my cheeks, my nose, my lips, and he was shuddering, shaking, as much as I was.

“Next time I ignore your instincts, feel free to knock me over the head with a baseball bat,” he said, after a while.

I laughed shakily, and pulled back. “I need to shift shape to stop the bleeding.”

He nodded and sat back. I shifted to wolf form, healing the wound enough to stop the bleeding, then shifted back to my human shape. “Well, at least that’s over with.”

“You sure?”

I nodded. “I only felt one other presence. How long do you think they were living in that house?”

“Probably as long as the house has been around, if the bodies and bones are anything to go by.”

“But how could so many deaths go unreported?”

“I’m betting they mostly snatched tourists, or teenagers who were on their own.”

I guess as towns like this got built up, there were fewer drifters and farmhands that could be taken unnoticed—and that only left the unwary. “But why go after kids with families? Especially if they were trying to avoid notice?”

“Who knows? Maybe the lone tourists have been scarce and they had no other choice. Maybe the boys were simply easy prey.”

He shrugged and reached out, cupping my cheek with his palm, letting his thumb brush my lips. Heat slithered through me, an aching that was mind and body. And as I stared into his bright, watchful eyes, I knew that whatever the consequences to my heart, I had to see this thing through. Had to see where we went.

“Ethan—”

“I’m not asking for commitment, Grace,” he cut in. “I just want you to stop running and give me some time.”

I smiled and kissed his fingertips. “Time I can give.”

“Good,” he said, as that dangerously sexy light came back into his eyes. “So now, we can get back to our report making.”

I grinned. “Is this going to become a standard feature of our working together?”

“Totally.” His breath washed heat across my lips, sending anticipation and desire racing through my limbs. “Can’t think of a better way to get over the tedium of writing a report.”

Neither could I.