Lifemate Connections: Eryn

Chapter Five

Coldness settled in the pit of Eryn's stomach and refused to budge. She put down her knife and fork and pushed the plate to one side. If she ate anything else right now, her stomach might rebel.

"That doesn't make sense. And it certainly doesn't follow the set pattern."

He raised his eyebrows. "You really think there's a pattern in this madness?"

She frowned. "Yeah. The killer has been bedding his victims before he kills them. The only person I was with last night was you."

"Remember what you're dealing with."

She mulled over his statement. "He's assuming the identity of the women's chosen partners?"

"Once they've decided on a mate, yes."

"But why?"

"Because the killer cannot stand them having what…" He paused, as if choosing his words carefully. "…he cannot."

"Children?"

He shook his head. "Love. Acceptance."

Her eyebrows rose. "Acceptance?"

"In a department filled with freaks, your killer is considered the freakiest."

"Why?"

Again, he hesitated. "Because he is something no one thought could exist."

"And that is?"

"Something I can't tell you."

"Can't, or won't?" she snapped.

"Can't." He reached out, capturing her hand before she could pull it away. His fingers twined around hers, so warm and strong and so, so right. Which was surely a sign her common sense had flown out the window when it came to this man.

"I have told you more than I should," he said softly. "Any more, and it could be dangerous."

She snorted. "You've just told me I'm slated to die. What could be worse than that?."

"Trust me, there are things far worse than death." He squeezed her fingers. "I come from an organization that has no wish to become known to the general public."

The ice in her stomach grew heavier. "Well, that's a great choice, isn't it? Be killed by our killer, or be killed by the people you work for."

"The people I work for don't kill innocents. But your memories of this time—of us—are certainly under threat."

Her gaze widened in disbelief. "They'd erase it?"

"Definitely." He gave her a lopsided smile that sent her hormones off in an excited little shuffle. "I don't want that. I want you to remember our time together. Want you to remember us."

"Why?"

"Because we're good together."

That they were. But could they be anything more?

Somehow, given what he'd said about the department he worked for, she suspected not.

A fierce twinge of regret ran through her. She ignored it and changed tactics. "Why did you bed all the victims?"

"Because my telepathy skills are not strong, and I can generally only read a woman's mind when we are in the midst of making love."

That was an answer she certainly hadn't expected. Though it did explain how he'd known where she lived. "But why did you need to read their minds if you knew who the victims were going to be?"

"What we didn't know was who they'd been with. Or who their chosen partner might be." He shrugged. "It was the fastest way to uncover which men we had to watch."

"Then whoever had the watch assignment wasn't much good, because the women got killed anyway." She frowned.

"Were your people actually watching the victims' apartments?"

"Yes."

"Then how did the killer get through?"

"He's a face shifter, and even we can't track all the forms our people are able to take."

She stared at him for a moment. "That's why you don't want the police to catch the killer. Your organization has no intention of letting the authorities suspect that people like you are out there. Or that the people you work for are out there."

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. "A quick mind as well as a stunning body. I chose well."

She grinned. "Compliments won't get you said body. But more answers just might."

His eyes gleamed with the hunger that still burned the air between them. "How many more questions must I endure?"

"Six?"

He shook his head, amusement touching the corners of his eyes. "I think I'll need to ease my hunger before I can answer that many questions."

"Five, then."

Again he shook his head.

"Four?"

He didn't answer, just gently straightened one of her fingers and raised it to his mouth. His gaze holding hers, he placed her finger in his mouth and lightly sucked on it.

A tremor ran through her. Sweet Lord, this man could get her hot enough to melt without even trying.

She licked her lips. "And you were accusing me of sexual blackmail."

He simply gave her a smile that had enough heat to burn the soles of her feet, and continued doing erotic things to her finger.

"Three?" she somehow managed to croak.

He raised an eyebrow, then released her finger and straightened her hand, placing a gentle kiss on her palm.

Desire curled through her, a furnace threatening to explode.

"Two?"

"One," he said, dropping a kiss on the inside of her wrist.

"Then we make love."

"Here?"

"The place isn't important."

"It is if it can get us arrested."

"Do you really think the owner will call the police?"

No. He'd sit back and enjoy the show. And give them free coffee as a thank you afterwards. "Why the urgency?"

He gave her another of his mind-blowing smiles. "Because I want you so fiercely it's becoming positively painful."

A feeling she could more than understand. "You'll answer my other questions afterward?"

"If you make love to me again after I answer those questions."

She raised her eyebrows. "Are you always this insatiable?"

"Until I met you, no."

There was no lie in his words, and her heart did another odd dance. "Really?"

"Truly." He released her hand and slid out of the bench seat. Her gaze scooted down his body and she saw that he hadn't been exaggerating. His cock was so hard, his jeans so taught against it, that she could see every little bump in his skin. And oh, how she wanted to feel those bumps inside.

"I've never felt anything like this before," he continued. "I need you as deeply as I need air."

She scooted along the seat as he sat down beside her. "If that's a line, it's a damn good one."

He caught her hand again and tugged her towards him.

She shifted, pressing her back against the table as she straddled him. Or rather, straddled his thick shaft. He kissed her nose, and wrapped his arms around her waist. "No line, just a truth I never expected."

His hands began sliding up her back towards the zipper, and it was becoming hard to think again. "Why?"

"Is that your question?"

His fingers skimmed her skin as he slid the zipper down, sending delicious tremors skating through her body. "No."

He raised his hands to her shoulders, slipping his fingers under the thin straps of her dress then sliding them down her arms. "Then ask it, because I intend to make love to you, and I will not be answering questions during the process."

The dress slithered to her waist, and the air felt gloriously cool against her suddenly bared skin. She arched her back, thrusting her breasts toward him. The heat surging between them just about boiled over, and she couldn't help a grin of satisfaction. Whatever lies this man might or might not be telling her, there was no lying about the urgency of his desire for her.

"A question then." She hesitated, sucking in a breath as his lips closed in on a nipple, and he nipped it lightly.

"I'm listening," he said, before his tongue curled around the nipple he'd just bitten, and sent exquisite sensations humming through her nerve endings.

Listening? she thought, somewhat dazedly. Oh yeah. The question. She cleared her throat. "Why not simply warn the other women to stay away from the bar?"

"It was too late," he murmured, his breath brushing coolness against the skin he'd just licked. "The killer was here days before us, and the first four victims had all decided on the men who would father a child."

Something in the way he said that made her frown.

"Father a child? Isn't that putting the cart before the horse, so to speak?" After all, couples had to test the realms of compatibility in the real world before they actually discussed the option of bringing a child into the world.

"In this case, no." He lightly nipped her other breast, and she gasped, not in pain, but in pleasure.

"And that," he continued, "Was a second question."

"You said just one, but I never actually agreed to it."

His mouth moved up towards her neck, his kisses featherlight, yet burning deep. "You want me to stop?"

"God, no."

His smile seemed to flow through her mind, a warmth as bright as the sun itself. "Good," he murmured, as his mouth claimed hers.

For the longest time, there was nothing but kissing and tasting and teasing. And this sort of kissing was something she'd never experienced before—because it was more than just kissing, more than just a pathway to seduction. It was as if, somewhere in the meeting of their mouths, they were becoming one in a way far deeper than even the fusing of their bodies.

Then his mouth left hers, and regret ran through her. But only for a moment, as he began to nip, lick, and kiss a blazing trail down her neck. She threw her head back and closed her eyes, enjoying his touch, enjoying the sensations that boiled through her.

And suddenly, simply enjoying his touch wasn't enough.

She had to touch him, feel him, taste him, as thoroughly as he was tasting her.

She undid his shirt buttons and thrust the material aside, then slid her hands over his body, marveling at all the lean, hard flesh. Loving the way his skin reacted to her caress. The tremble that went through him when she plucked a nipple with two fingertips.

She kissed the base of his neck, then his pulse point, feeling a warm rush of feminine satisfaction at the way his pulse raced. No, there was no denying this man's need for her.

She raised her head and claimed his mouth once more, kissing him fiercely but briefly.

"I need you," she whispered against his lips. "As much as you need me."

He groaned and wrapped a hand around the back of her head, pressing her forward and claiming her mouth again.

Not breaking the kiss, she rose onto her knees and reached between them, freeing him from the restrictions of his jeans. Then she thrust down on him. He groaned again, his hands sliding down to her hips, his grip bruising as he pressed her down harder. She echoed his groan and began to move. He was right there with her, kissing and touching and caressing as he moved so gloriously deep inside her. The deep down ache bloomed, becoming a kaleidoscope of sensations that washed through every corner of her mind.

She thrust back her head again, gasping for breath, the air itself seeming to burn as fiercely as her skin.

Then the shuddering began and she grabbed his shoulders, pushing him deeper still, wanting to feel every inch of him through every inch of her. Pleasure began to explode as his movements become faster, more urgent.

"Look at me," he growled.

Her gaze met his, and something deep inside quivered. His eyes burned with desire and passion, but something else, something she couldn't name, seared the gray depths, stirring her in ways she didn't think possible.

"You are mine," he said, and his hoarse voice seemed to echo through her mind, through every fiber of her being.

Yes, she thought. Yes!

Then the passion exploded and she was quivering, trembling, whimpering, as his warmth spilled into her and his body went rigid against hers.

Finally, she collapsed against him. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her so tight it felt as if he never intended to let her go. And as much as she knew he would, she still reveled in that brief, and oh so glorious, sensation of belonging.

For several minutes neither of them moved. The air stirred around them, lifting the heat from their skin without managing to chill. From the general direction of the kitchen came the rattle of harsh breathing, and she half smiled, knowing then that Dan had indeed watched—and enjoyed. A normal woman might have been embarrassed by that knowledge, but she was a shifter. Exhibitionism was almost as natural as an extremely high sex drive.

She was just glad face shifters seemed to share the same natural urges.

Grey stirred, pushing her back from him a little before cupping her cheeks with his palms. His gaze held hers for several seconds, then he smiled, and gave her a sweet, gentle kiss. "I don't think I'm ever going to be able to get my fill of you."

Her heart did another of those uneven little dances. Did that mean he intended to keep on seeing her after the killer was caught? Lord, she hoped so.

"I thought you had a killer to catch?"

"I do. But the killer strikes at night. That gives us most of the day to play."

"I do need to get some beauty sleep, you know," she said dryly.

His thumb skimmed to her mouth, outlining it gently, sending another tremor through her. "Why? You're beautiful enough as it is."

She grinned. "You haven't seen me pre-breakfast, before coffee. Totally horrible."

"Well, technically, I have, seeing we came here to have breakfast."

"Yeah, but that's different to waking up beside me after a long night. Believe me, that can get hideous."

"Somehow, I doubt that." He slid the dress back up to her shoulders, then zipped it.

Footsteps approached as she climbed off him. She looked over her shoulder as Grey hastily adjusted himself. It was Dan, and his smirk was as wide as the Grand Canyon. He was also carrying a pot of coffee, and she couldn't help grinning.

He'd lived up to her expectations all right.

"You folks seem to be enjoying the… er… meal so much, I thought it only decent I give you a free cup of coffee."

"That's mighty nice of you," Grey said, voice bland. "But can we get that to go? We need to leave."

"That's a bit of a shame."

Her grin broke loose. "Don't think we'll make a habit of enjoying breakfast so much, Danny boy. It might not be good for your heart."

Dan met her gaze, brown eyes twinkling. "Don't you be worrying about my old ticker, lassie. And the occasional hard workout does it the world of good."

She smiled as he walked away, but the amusement quickly faded when her gaze met Grey's. "So why do we have to go?"

He nodded toward Dan. "He'll be a little more aware of what we do and say from now on. I can't answer any more questions here. It's too dangerous."

He wasn't lying, and yet… she had an odd sense that there was an ulterior motive behind his words.

"So, we find another diner. There's plenty around."

"Do you really think we can hold off touching each other in another diner?"

The look he gave her was smoldering, full of heat. And yet, she wasn't buying it. Not entirely. Oh, she had no doubt that he did want her, and want her badly, but there was also an underlying niggle that he had plans for her. Plans that she couldn't even begin to guess at.

So why did she trust him so much?

Instinct, she thought. It told her he didn't intend to harm her, and she believed that one fact totally. Whether that made her the world's biggest fool or not remained to be seen.

"I'm not sexually deprived." Well actually, she probably was, but that was beside the point. "And I think we can manage to keep our hands off each other long enough for you to answer questions."

"Your apartment would be safer. Easier."

Again with her apartment. "Why are you so determined to get me back there?"

"It's safer, simply because we don't risk being overheard."

He hesitated. "In my line of work, you learn not to trust the face of the person sitting next to you."

His words had her looking over her shoulder, which was dumb when the diner was empty. "My home is my sanctuary.

I rarely invite people back there."

His gaze darkened almost imperceptively. "You still don't trust me?"

Which is not what she'd said at all, though indeed that was part of the problem. She hesitated, then said, "I have no way of checking out anything you've said, Grey. No way at all."

Anger flicked through his expression. "I thought a beagle relied on instinct?"

"They do, but I've learned to doubt."

"Then what do you suggest?" His expression had gone neutral, but there was nothing neutral about his voice as he added, "That I walk away, leave what's going on between us?"

His anger burned around her, flaying her skin as sharply as a whip. Whatever else was going on, there was no doubt in her mind that while this man might intend many things, harming her wasn't one of them. Would it be complete foolishness to let him inside her apartment? Probably. But what other choice did she really have? He seemingly had the answers she—the department—needed.

She considered him a moment longer, then said, "Give me the name of the other possible victim. I'll pass it on to my department."

"Genny Jones, Twenty-Fourth Street, Marshell apartments." He paused, then added, "It won't do them any good. They have no idea who to look for."

"Well, apparently, neither do your people; otherwise five women would not have died." She gestured toward the pay phone on the other side of the room. "Do you mind moving?"

He shifted. She climbed out of the booth and walked across to the phone. After digging her credit card out of the special compartment in her coat, she swiped it through the phone slot and dialed Jack's cell number.

He answered second ring. "Senior detective Jack Turner speaking."

"Jack? It's Eryn."

"Why the hell are you calling?" Though his voice warmed immediately, he sounded tired, almost sleepy. Maybe she'd caught him in bed. "Thought you'd be dead to the world by now."

She grinned, and refrained from reminding him she was a shifter. With a shifter's stamina. "I've got a name for you."

Bed springs squeaked, then paper rustled. "What?"

"Genny Jones. Her address is apparently the Marshell apartments, Twenty-Fourth Street."

"And she is?"

"Probably the next victim."

He paused. "I don't think I want to know how you know this."

His words suggested he'd already guessed. "We're at Greasy Dan's."

"Damn it, Eryn, you know—" "He's not the killer."

"You willing to stake your life on that?"

Her gaze went to Grey's. He was leaning his butt against the table, his arms crossed and face absolutely expressionless. Yet she could taste his annoyance at her actions as surely as she could still smell his raw masculinity and thick desire.

"Yes." And if she let Grey into her apartment, that's exactly what she was doing—staking her life on her instincts.

"I hope you know what you're doing."

So did she. "Remember I told you about those two women at the table? I think this Genny Jones might be one of them."

Which would explain why she'd smelled that aroma when she was close to them.

So how come she was the next one slated to die?

Especially when the killer had been no where near her?

"Don't take him back to your apartment," Jack said forcefully.

"Jack, if he intended to harm me, he could have done it long before now. There's only us and Dan here in the diner.

It's a perfect place for murder."

"Yeah, but your apartment is where you feel safer; therefore it's more dangerous because you're less on guard."

"I'm not a fool."

"I'm not saying you are. I'm just asking you to be careful.

Especially when we know so little about this man—this stranger—you seem to trust so much."

"I'm being careful. I'll see you tonight."

He grunted. "You'd better."

She hung up and walked back to Grey. She stopped several feet in front of him and crossed her arms, her pose as defensive as his was hostile.

"You cannot go back to that bar tonight," he said, voice flat.

His hearing was obviously as good as hers, because she certainly hadn't been talking to Jack loudly. "I have a job to do."

"You will die doing that job."

The ice slid back into her stomach. "Why? If the killer had been anywhere near me, I would have caught his scent."

He raised his eyebrows at that. "You know his scent?"

"It lingered at the death scenes."

His expression was briefly curious. "And what did you make of it?"

She shrugged. "It almost seems more a woman's scent than a man's, except for the thick layer of death that entwines it."

Surprise flickered, not so much in his eyes, but in the air.

Across her senses.

"Interesting," was all he said.

"Maybe, but you still haven't explained why I'm the next one slated to die when I've been nowhere near the killer."

He hesitated. "It will be my fault."

She raised her eyebrows. "How?"

"According to our clairvoyants, you will meet the killer tonight. He will see me in your mind, and he will snatch you, abuse you, then kill you to get at me."

"He hates you that much?"

"Yes."

"And are these killings related to his hatred of you?"

"No. I told you before what his reasons are for these killings."

She rubbed her arms, but it failed to stop the goose bumps fleeing across her skin. "And knowing all this, you still approached me last night?"

"I'd intended to walk right past you, but our gazes met."

He shrugged. "I'm sorry, but I'm not superman. Even knowing the risks, I could not ignore what rose between us."

Anger surged through her. "So you endangered my life to satisfy lust?"

His anger lashed at her skin, every bit as powerful as her own. "Not lust. What lies between us is more than lust, and you know it."

"What lies between us may never have a chance to be explored any further, thanks to your behavior."

"I don't deny my stupidity, but it is a problem easily solved. Just don't go to the bar tonight."

"I can't not go, especially if I'm going to meet the killer tonight."

"You will die."

"I'm in a bar, surrounded by security and watched over by police. He's not going to get me out of there without a fight.

From them, and from me."

"You don't know this person. You have no idea what he's capable of."

"And despite the amazing sex we've shared, you don't know me. Nor do you know what I'm capable of."

"I don't want to see you dead."

"Believe me, it's not something I want, either."

He grimaced, then pushed away from the table and held out a hand. "We could argue about this all day. Or we could go back to your apartment, share some more of that amazing sex, and then figure out some sort of compromise that suits us both."

She glanced at her watch. It was barely eight, which still left plenty of time to play before she had to get some rest. "I really do need to sleep," she warned.

"Then I'll keep watch."

The thought of him watching her as she slept sent a thrill through her. She placed her hand in his, and he tightened his fingers, pressing warmth and an odd sense of security into her skin.

Even so, she still felt an odd reluctance to move. Not because she feared for her safety, but because she feared for something far more important—her heart. By letting Grey into her apartment, she was letting him into her sanctuary—the one place no man had ever been. It was a big step for her, and one she wasn't sure Grey would ever appreciate.

She wasn't even sure he was worthy of such a step, even if he did affect her in ways no man ever had.

But she couldn't exactly stand here, dithering, either.

"Let's go."

They were almost out the door when Dan called out, reminding them to pick up the coffee. Grey rolled his eyes, but went back to collect the cups while she huddled in the doorway. Coffee in hand and sipping it as she walked, she led him across the street and up the steps. Once there, she punched in her code, using her body to shield her movements from him. The door swung open and he ushered her through, his touch pressing warmth into her spine and sending yet another flash flood of desire crashing through her system.

Lord, even after all the sex they'd shared, it seemed her hormones couldn't get enough of this man.

They climbed the stairs to her fourth floor apartment and walked down the long corridor. Though neither of them said a word, the air grew thick and heavy, and her breathing quickened in response. And with each sharp intake of air, she breathed in his desire, his need, until it filled every corner of her body and made her burn.

Her hand trembled as she reached into her coat and took out the keycard. She swiped it through the slot, then pushed open the door and walked inside.

The door slammed shut behind her. He took the almost empty coffee container out of her hand, placing it on the hall stand, then his hands were on her, pushing her coat down her arms, pulling it off and flinging it across the room.

"I need you," he growled, kissing her shoulder, her neck, her ear. "It's madness, but I just can't seem get enough of you."

If this was madness, then she was just as insane as he.

She ducked away from his kisses and spun, grabbing his shirt, popping the buttons in her haste to undress him. He threw off the shirt, then quickly shucked off his jeans. She slithered her hands down the flat of his stomach then took his cock in her fingers, relishing the way he jumped, and seemed to grow even larger under her heavy-handed caress.

He made a low noise in the back of his throat, then grasped the middle of her dress, his big hands warm on her skin. His gaze caught and held hers, his expression almost fierce. With one swift movement, he tore the material from her body and threw the remnants across the room as well.

God, she'd never been so aroused in her life.

"I need you," he repeated, then claimed her lips, his kiss harsh and urgent.

"Then take me," she said, when she could.

He did. Up against the wall, driving deep, so wonderfully deep, until it felt as if the rigid heat of him was trying to claim every inch of her. Her blood boiled through her veins, and every breath seemed a struggle, the air too thick with need and desire to breathe easily. The low down pressure began to build under the rush of passion and the sweet assault of pleasure, and all too quickly it reached the boiling point. They came as one, his roar getting lost in her howl, his body slamming into hers so hard the whole wall seemed to shake.

Then it was over, and she was trembling, sweating, her limbs so weak they seemed barely able to support her weight.

She took a deep, shuddery breath, and released it slowly.

"Sweet Lord, can it get any better?"

He dropped a kiss on her spine, then withdrew and turned her around. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her close and said, "I sure as hell want to hang around and find out."

His words made her knees want to buckle. She somehow managed to keep them locked and closed her eyes, listening to the wild beat of his heart, knowing her own raced just as badly. The smell of sweat and sex stung the air, and her nose twitched. "I think I need a shower."

Yet she couldn't move. The odd weakness was still flowing through her veins, and she was feeling more and more tired.

"I think you need sleep," he said, his breath brushing warmth against her ear.

As if his words were a trigger, she yawned. "God, I thought it was usually the man who rolled over and went to sleep after sex."

His smile shimmered through her. "It's been a long, and strenuous, night." He pulled back, but kept one arm around her, supporting her. "Where's your bedroom?"

She waved weakly to her right. It seemed a huge effort to do even that.

"Then let's get you over there."

She nodded and walked towards her bedroom, only her feet didn't seem too inclined to follow directions, and she was stumbling more than she was walking. Only his grip kept her upright.

And through the midst of tiredness, alarm rose. This shouldn't be happening. Something was wrong.

She licked lips that suddenly seemed dry, and said, "Grey—" "Here's your bed. You'd better lie down."

"No. There's something wrong. Something's happening to me."

He pressed her down on the bed and pulled the covers over her. "Nothing is wrong," he said, voice soothing. "You just need to sleep. To rest."

And suddenly she remembered the feeling that he had an ulterior motive for coming into her apartment. His insistence that they come here. That he come here.

It wasn't to love her. It was to stop her.

"How?" she murmured, the anger surging through her lost in her sleepiness and not showing in her voice.

"The coffee. I'm sorry, Eryn, but I can't let you near that place tonight." He brushed a kiss across her fingertips, then released her and stepped back. "Hate me if you will. I'd rather that than be faced with your death."

"You're damn well dead when I wake up."

He gave her a sweet half smile. "Better that than you dying. Sleep tight."

Bastard, she said again, but the words stayed locked inside. The last thing she remembered was watching him walk out the door.