Midnight Sins

Chapter 5

“We’ve got a copycat,” Colin announced the minute Todd walked to his side in front of the Dayton Hotel.

It was the last thing he’d been expecting. “What? How the hell is that even possible?” The guys in the department had been extra-Captain-McNeal-will-chew-your-ass careful. Nothing had been leaked to the press…yet.

So there should be no damn way to have a copycat killer striking in the night.

“Come on.” Colin spun on his heel and stalked toward the line of hotel rooms on the east side. “See for yourself.”

They strode past the uniforms scoping the scene. Colin pulled on his gloves as they slipped into the room.

Todd’s gaze zeroed in on the body. Male. Muscled. Naked. Looked to be in his mid-thirties. And tied to the bed.

Same victim. Same MO.

Well, not exactly. The bedcovers were pulled up high on this guy. Past his pectorals. In the other cases, the bedspreads and sheets had pooled right over the men’s groin areas.

Todd slanted a quick glance at Colin. Saw his partner’s nostrils widen, just a bit.

“You smell that?” Colin asked.

Todd inhaled heavily, and caught the scent of…blood. He stepped forward, his gaze now sweeping over the victim’s body like a hawk’s.

A tech lifted the covers then, snapped a picture, and Todd got a good look at the guy’s chest.

Blood coated his flesh.

“Sonofabitch.”

“Yeah.” Colin stepped closer. “The uniforms first on the scene didn’t touch anything. They just called in the body, said a naked guy had been found tied to a bed with white hemp rope—”

“And no one even checked to see that the guy had been butchered.” Fuck. Okay, so the uniforms hadn’t wanted to disturb the crime scene—smart.

But, damn.

The lady hadn’t been playing with weapons before.

So much blood. The poor bastard in the bed had died hard.

“I’d say the guy’s been dead less than an hour,” the tech told them.

Colin grunted. “The guy at check-in has him signing in at nine.”

So the time line fit. Okay, but…“Was there anyone with him when he checked in?” Todd asked.

Colin gave a hard nod. “Talked to the clerk right before you got here.” A dark brow rose. “He saw a woman with long blond hair. A woman who kept her back turned away from him most of the time.”

What was going on? Serials didn’t change their MOs. Not this fast.

“It can’t be a copy,” he muttered, “no one knows about the scene, and—”

“That little redhead, what’s her name? Hannah? Holly? You know, the reporter who replaced Darla on News Flash Five?”

Todd nodded cautiously. Holly Storm.

“I saw her nosing around the scene of the second kill. The captain sent out a gag order.” A damn strong one. Colin shrugged. “But maybe the lady got some info from one of the uniforms.”

“It would’ve been on the five o’clock news if she had.” He’d seen her at the scene, too, skulking around in typical reporter fashion. But Holly hadn’t broadcast any hard-hitting stories yet—because no one on the force had given her so much as a five-second sound bite—and the public wasn’t even aware that there was a crime wave to copy.

Something else was going on.

The scene didn’t feel like a copy.

“Someone has to know.” Colin pointed to the bed. “Someone knows and they’re trying damn hard to make the scene look the others.”

“Uh, guys?” The tech’s voice, breaking with excitement.

Their heads jerked toward him. The guy lifted up a knife, blade still bloody, gingerly holding it by the hilt. “I think we’ve got the weapon.”

Well, damn. Now that was sure as hell not like the other scenes.

But then, neither was the bloody body.

Either they were dealing with a whole different killer—one who liked the bondage games just as much as the last woman, only she liked for her prey to bleed—or their case had just gotten a very, very big break.

“Let’s get it to forensics.” They needed to scan that baby for prints, ASAP. The odds that there would be a match in the system were slim, even if the perp hadn’t wiped the hilt clean.

Still it was a solid lead, something that they could run with on the hunt. The fire of the chase began to heat Todd’s blood.

It was dawn before Todd made it back to his place. He stripped, then all but fell into the bed.

He caught her scent then. A light, lavender fragrance hanging in the air, mixed with the wilder scent of woman.

Cara.

Hell, it was like the woman was right there with him.

As he closed his eyes, he whispered her name, and wondered if he’d dream of her again.

Or if he’d slip back into the past and dream of sharp teeth and savage claws. A nightmare that he couldn’t escape from as he watched a man transform into a beast in a blinding fury of crunching bones and savage pain.

He wanted Cara, not that shifting demon from hell. The demon who had his partner’s eyes.

She opened her eyes and found herself in his bedroom once more.

Dream or reality? This time, she knew the answer right away.

Light filled the room. Chased away the shadows and clearly showed the man on the bed. He was naked. She could see the muscled expanse of his chest. The faint marks near his shoulder, the white line too close to his heart, and the jagged imprint on his side. Old wounds—the price of his job.

A light covering of dark hair arrowed down to his groin—right down to the heavily aroused flesh of his cock.

The guy emanated so much sexual tension it was a draw she could all but taste in the room.

But she still shouldn’t have been in his dream. Cara frowned even as she stepped forward almost helplessly. She hadn’t entered his dream deliberately. Once she’d gotten into bed, she’d closed her eyes and let exhaustion claim her.

She should have slept in blessed darkness.

Not been sent to him.

What was going on? It was like she had no control over herself or her powers when she thought of him.

“Come closer, Cara,” he whispered, and her eyes lifted in surprise to find his hungry stare on her.

Shouldn’t have happened. Even in the dream state, she should have needed to command his eyes open.

Cara hesitated, confused. But the time before, he’d been awake and aware—just as he was now. She just hadn’t truly realized the significance of that act—until now.

The man had too much power for a human, and if she had any sense, she’d be transporting out of the dream state as fast as she could.

Instead of licking her lips and inching toward the bed.

His gaze dropped and raked over her. His stare was so hot her flesh seemed to burn.

“You’re wearing too many clothes.”

Just a thin gown, like before. No underwear. She lifted her hands, caught the silk, and pulled it over her head.

Todd swallowed.

She tossed the gown onto the floor. “Now I’m not.” The good part of her, the part that had sprung to life just a few years back, screamed at her that this was a mistake. She shouldn’t be in his mind without his permission. Shouldn’t be planning to enjoy a sensual game with him. Shouldn’t be so eager to taste him, his lips, his body, his very soul.

But the other part of her, the wild, dark demon who lived in her heart, she all but growled with eagerness. So much strength and power.

Cara wanted him.

And she would have him.

If only in her dreams.

His dreams.

She eased onto the bed, then crawled up the mattress until she crouched over him. Her index finger lifted and trailed a path down the center of his chest. Her gaze darted over the faint scars and, for a moment, a pang shot through her.

Humans could be hurt so easily.

“God, this feels so real,” he muttered. “I can smell you, all around me.” He reached for her, fisting his hands in her hair and dragging her up for a hard, deep kiss. A kiss that made her forget about the scars and know only raw need. “And I can damn well taste you,” he bit the words off against her lips. Then he kissed her again. Harder. The thrust of his tongue claimed her mouth, and she responded greedily, stroking him and widening her lips.

Her hands caught his shoulders. Broad. Powerful. She pushed up, levering her body so that he lay beneath her while she straddled his hips. “Tell me what you want.” An order. Magic seemed to shimmer in the air.

He caught her hips and closed his fingers over her flesh. The heavy weight of his hands forced her moist sex against the rigid length of his cock. “You know what I want.”

“Tell me,” she said, her voice husky. “I need the words.” She craved them. It made the dream more real.

“I want to taste your breasts. Lick your nipples.”

Her breasts ached with need. Too sensitive. She arched toward him. “Do it.” A challenge.

His back rose from the bed. His lips closed hungrily around her left nipple. Sucked hard. Licked.

Bit. A light, sweet bite.

Cara shuddered and rubbed her sex over his cock. The slick cream from her core covered his thick length. The wet heat made it so easy for her sex to slide over his erection.

And it would be so easy to take him inside.

His mouth was on her other breast now. Wild. Desperate. Licking and sucking and the rough rasp of his tongue felt so good. She pressed her breast closer to him, wanting more.

Needing everything from him.

“Wh-what else?” The words were gasped. Her sex throbbed with need. Her entire body seemed to vibrate with tension and sensual hunger.

It had been too long since she’d fed from a man’s release—and known the fierce pleasure of her own. “What else…do you want?”

His head lifted, lips wet with a soft sheen of moisture. The look in his eyes caught her breath. “I want you spread beneath me.”

She lifted slightly on her knees. His hands still held her hips. The fingers of his right hand were just below the half-moon birthmark on her left side. She rose a few inches higher, breaking the flesh-on-flesh contact of their sexes. Cara gazed down at her body. At the ivory skin. The light hair that shielded her sex. Then her gaze drifted to his body. Golden skin. Rippling muscles. Thick, full cock. She licked her lips. “What about above you?”

His gaze dropped. His eyes narrowed as he stared at her sex and his lips parted. “I want to taste you.”

She could all too readily imagine the warm swipe of his tongue on her flesh. “That’s just—”

A sharp, shrieking cry erupted in the room.

Cara jumped in surprise.

Todd swore.

The damn phone.

The dream connection began to fade as the phone rang again, and its piercing call pulled Todd closer and closer to reality.

And farther away from her.

Saved by the bell, again. Cara’s lips tightened. More like screwed by the damn bell.

She climbed from the bed. Her body ached with unfulfilled need, even as the demon greedily lapped up the sensual currents still permeating the air.

Put him back under. He can’t fight you in the dream state. A dark, insidious voice whispered in her mind. Finish. Take your pleasure. Give the man his.

His hand snaked out, caught her wrist in a steely grip. “Stay with me.”

A reluctant shake of her head. “That’s not how it works.”

The phone pealed again, the sound even louder as it broke the veil of fantasy.

His eyes seemed so aware as he gazed at her. Hunger and need raged in those dark depths. She wasn’t certain just how aware he was of what was happening between them. Did he sense that it was so much more than just an erotic dream?

“You need to be careful.” It was the woman who spoke, fighting back the demon’s snarling demand and her dark wishes. “I’m not who”—what—“you think I am.”

His fingers tightened around her. “Then tell me who you really are.”

Her lips curled as the phone shrieked again. “Lover,” he could have been, “I’m not even human.”

A final demanding cry from the phone swept away the dream and carried her spirit back to her body.

I’m not even human.

Todd’s eyes shot open and he reached for the phone, nearly knocking the nightstand onto the floor. “Damn it, what?” A bleary look at his bedside clock showed that he’d managed to sleep for two hours this time. Two whole fucking hours.

And screw it to hell, but he’d been enjoying that dream. Or at least, he had until Cara had whispered her little secret at the end. Just what in the hell had that been about? How fucked up was his subconscious? First the damn wolf nightmares—the fucking claws and teeth—and now this shit.

Couldn’t a guy just have a good sex dream anymore?

“Ah, Detective?” The rough, slightly arrogant tone had him slapping a hand to his forehead.

Captain Danny McNeal. Aw, hell.

“Is this a bad time for you, Detective?” Annoyed now—and it really didn’t pay to annoy the captain.

“Sorry, Captain. I was…” fantasizing, having almost unbelievable sex…“sleeping.”

A grunt. “Well, Sleeping Beauty, if you can manage to drag your ass down to the station—”

His back teeth clenched. Drag his ass. Fucking nice. He’d worked most of the night to protect the people of Atlanta. He deserved to let his ass get some sleep now.

“—Smith has some info on your case.”

Now that had him finally snapping to full wakefulness. “Be right there.” But he was talking to the dial tone because McNeal had already hung up on him.

Bastard.

Todd met Colin on the steps of the precinct. His only consolation was that his partner looked like shit. Exactly the way he felt.

Smith’s timing could have been a hell of a lot better.

Or, depending on the victim’s perspective, he guessed it could have been worse.

But he knew the rules. The case came first. Then sleep.

As long as he could function adequately at his job and not jeopardize any civilians, well, he was good to go.

He and Colin rode the elevator silently down to the Crypt. The Crypt was Smith’s domain. It housed the medical examiner’s office as well as all the cold slabs, so the place always chilled him to the bone.

When the elevator doors slid open, he expected to hear the usual soft strains of Smith’s jazz music, but, instead, a heavy, thick silence filled the air.

Colin hesitated. “Maybe you should talk to her alone.” His face was tense, lips tight. “I don’t…know if she’s ready to see me yet.”

Now that was damn odd. As far as Todd knew, Colin had rescued Smith from that psycho who’d taken her.

At his raised brow, Colin said, “Bad memories, you know? She just got back, I don’t want to stir anything up for her.” The man looked seriously uncomfortable.

“You haven’t talked to her since she’s been working in the Crypt again?” Todd had gone down the first day to check in with the good doctor. She’d seemed quiet, her face a bit too tense, but otherwise, she’d appeared just fine.

Colin gave a curt shake of his head. “Not yet.”

“Well, hell, man, there’s no time like the present.” He sauntered down the small hallway, grabbed the handle of the door, and opened it with a quick pull. “After you.”

Colin lifted his chin. Marched forward. “Damn it, I don’t want her to freak out.”

Yeah, well, Smith had never really struck him as the “freak out” type. More the serious, smart, and very-much-together genius type.

Colin entered the Crypt first, then Todd swept inside behind him, calling out, “Smith! We’re here—”

She stepped out from behind a row of filing cabinets. Her dark gaze immediately went to his partner, and a tremble seemed to roll over her entire body.

“Smith!” He lunged forward, certain that the ME was about to faint.

Colin beat him to her. He grabbed Smith, holding her easily and then pushing her down into a nearby chair. “Easy.”

She sucked in a deep gulp of air. Her skin, light, creamy brown, had completely healed from the attack. The bruises had faded. The scratches and cuts had healed. Smith looked like her old self. Gorgeous face. Exotic eyes. Hair dark as night.

But the fear that he saw lurking in those dark eyes, that was new. Before, Smith hadn’t been afraid of a damn thing.

He’d admired that about her.

“Get your hands off me,” she told Colin, her voice a growl. “I’m fine.”

He backed off immediately.

Smith’s fingers, delicate, ringless, rose to clutch the arms of the chair. Her body wasn’t shaking anymore, and when Colin eased back across the room, some of the fear faded from her gaze. Well, well. What was this about? Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who got nervous around old Colin these days.

But then, after seeing the guy transform into a four-legged dog with teeth a shark would envy, Todd figured he had a right to be a bit on the edgy side.

After all, it wasn’t every day that a guy found out his partner could lick his own ass. Or rip a man’s throat out with his teeth.

Smith’s body trembled “How’s your doc doing?” She asked Colin, and there was an edge to the words that Todd couldn’t quite define.

Colin lifted his brows. “Good. If you went to see her, like you should, you’d know that.”

Her full lips curved into what was definitely not a smile. More a snarl. “I’m afraid I’m not quite the type of patient she’s used to.”

Now what the hell was this? Todd stepped between them, lifting his hands. “Uh, yeah, it’s obvious you two have some shit to talk about, and that’s just great.” He turned his attention solely to Smith. “But I’m tired as hell, and just want to know about the case right now, okay?”

Smith gave a hard nod. “Fine.”

That seemed to be her favorite word, but from what he could tell, the lady was definitely not fine. Okay, so he’d been mistaken about her.

A trip to the psychologist sure might be in order for the ME. Well, actually, she’d already been to one. The department had demanded that she go see a counselor before coming back on duty. He just wasn’t sure the person she’d seen had helped her.

Maybe Colin’s lady could. Dr. Drake sure seemed to know what she was doing.

Smith pushed out of her chair. The wheels squeaked as the chair rolled behind her.

Todd stepped forward instinctively.

She lifted a hand. “Don’t even think about it. I just missed breakfast, okay? My blood sugar is too low.”

If that was the way she wanted to spin it…

Smith moved toward her desk. “Prelim is done on Michael House.” She lifted a file, handed it to Todd. “I could’ve just sent this up, but…I needed to talk to you.” She cast a quick look in Colin’s direction and after a brief pause said, “Both of you.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Colin nod.

“So what’s the verdict, Smith?” Todd asked. He’d read the file later—every word—but when he worked a murder, he always liked to talk face-to-face with Smith—or Phillips, if that idiot was subbing for her—because he could learn more from the death doctors that way. His gaze darted to the left as he wondered where House’s body was. In the vault behind him? Sewn back together all nice and neat?

He really didn’t know how Smith did her job. Fighting criminals, finding the bodies, that was hard enough. But working with the dead, every day and night, hell, that was a whole other ball game—a gruesome, give-you-nightmares game.

“Well, I haven’t got the tox screen back yet. Even with a rush order to the lab, it’s going to take longer…”

“What have you got?” The woman was hedging.

She exhaled. “Not a hell of a lot.” For an instant, she looked just like her old self. “The guy was in good shape, a nonsmoker. Thirty-five. No diseases or defects—”

“We know this,” Colin broke in, voice tight, arms crossed over his chest. His usual intimidating stance.

“No, I don’t think you get me,” she snapped right back at him. “The guy was in good shape. There was no sign of coronary artery disease—”

“Wait a minute—you’re telling us the guy didn’t die of a heart attack?” Todd asked, his own heart beginning to race faster.

Smith hesitated. Cast another quick look at Colin. “I’m saying the guy’s heart was in great condition. Hell, the best heart I’ve ever seen in my ten years down here.” She rubbed the back of her neck.

“How did he die, Smith?” Todd pressed.

“I can’t determine the cause of death yet. I told you…” Impatient now, her eyes narrowed, “I won’t have the tox screen for several days yet.”

Colin slowly uncrossed his arms. “So you brought us here to basically—what? Say the guy was healthy? No offense, Smith, but you could have told us this shit on the phone.” He was obviously angry, and Todd was starting to feel the same way.

Too little sleep. Too few leads. Too many bodies. And, shit, if he went back up to the captain, told him their latest vic was a prime specimen of health who’d just happened to drop dead in the middle of some sex games, McNeal would kick his ass all the way back down to the Crypt.

“There was no sign of trauma. No contusions.” She shook her head. “The man’s body was in perfect condition. Inside, and out.” Another hesitation. “At first.”

“He was—what?” His temples throbbed. “What do you mean, ‘at first’?”

Smith reached for her white gloves. “Detectives, there is something you’ve got to see.” She walked across the room, her feet hurriedly tapping on the white tiled floor. She stopped beside a gurney. Her hands reached for the plain white sheet that covered the body. “I took him out of storage a few minutes before you arrived.”

Todd hurried to her side. Colin flanked him.

She pulled the sheet down, a faint tremble in her hands. “Check out his chest.”

Michael House’s flesh was chalky, the dried-out color of the dead. And on his chest, right over his heart and cutting across Smith’s careful stitch work, a very clear impression had formed.

The outline of a hand.

“No fucking way.” Todd leaned down for a closer look. Caught the cloying scent of the body. Fought to control an instinctual gag.

“Those are what I think are fingers.” Her gloved hand moved to the top of the marks, her index finger tracing the pattern. “The side of the hand. The palm.”

He could see it. Perfectly.

“When I began the autopsy, this injury wasn’t there.” Her hand paused over the dead man’s chest. “I sewed him back up, started the arrangements to contact the family, then I checked him again and the mark…just appeared.” Smith’s lips pursed for a moment. “It was lighter in the beginning. This is the darkest I’ve seen it.”

It was the weirdest damn thing he’d ever seen.

“Bruising can be caused postmortem,” Smith spoke softly, thoughtfully. “I’ve heard of a case where a guy’s body was pulled from a river. Later, bruises appeared on the arm that the cop grabbed to haul the guy out of the water.”

“Are you saying that you pushed House’s chest too hard?” Colin raised a brow, waited.

“No.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’m saying this mark you see right here,” she tapped the spot, “appeared in five minutes. This isn’t just some bruise—”

“No, it isn’t.” Todd was adamant on that.

The mark wasn’t a bruise. He’d learned long ago that bruises could often show up after death and he’d certainly seen his share of those while haunting the Crypt with Smith. But this—this was different. This was the faint tracing of a hand in black, like someone had put a hand against the victim’s chest and literally drawn a line around the edges. The interior of the mark was empty, and if the mark had been the result of a blow, Todd figured there would have been a middle pressure mark or deeper finger grooves.

Shit. It was almost like fucking art. The perfect design of a hand. He exhaled. “Were the other bodies like this?”

Smith’s hand lifted. Balled into a frustrated fist. “No idea. That idiot Phillips marked ’em as natural causes. Both heart attacks. He had the bodies in and out of the Crypt—too fast.”

The bodies were already in the ground now. It would take a court order to exhume them and see if the handprint was on their chests.

His gaze dropped once more to the print. It was like someone had just touched the guy, and killed him. “You’re sure—absolutely one hundred percent certain—there was no internal trauma to the chest?”

She bared her teeth in a hard smile. “I’m sure I can do my job, Detective.”

Yeah, he knew she could, too. Smith was the best and they were damn lucky to have her and her kiss-off attitude on staff.

He studied the mark, frowning. Fucking odd. He lifted his hand, let his fingers hesitate over the outline.

Smaller than his by a few inches.

But then, he’d been a quarterback long ago—back in the day—and he knew he had big hands.

“What the hell are we dealing with here?” He growled quietly. “How is this even possible?”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Smith’s stare snap toward Colin.

Todd stiffened and the hand he’d raised over House’s chest clenched into a fist. Slowly, he lifted his head and turned his attention to his partner. “There something you need to tell me?” He was damn tired of the games. Maybe they should just put their cards on the table. ’Cause going on everyday like this, acting like he didn’t know Colin’s secret—acting like everything was, to use Smith’s word, fine, well, that just wasn’t going to keep playing for him much longer.

Not with more weird shit happening—like this handprint on a man that for all intents, shouldn’t be dead.

Colin shook his head.

“You seen this before, partner?” Todd asked, not ready to let the topic drop yet. No way was he going to let the guy hold out on him during this investigation.

Colin’s jaw tensed. “I’ve never seen anything like this print before.”

Todd wanted to believe him.

Partners should trust each other.

Yeah, and there also shouldn’t be any secrets between partners. For a cop, there was no one on the streets who was closer than a partner. No one else watched your back like a partner. No one protected your ass like a partner.

And when you found out a partner had been deceiving you, well, nothing hurt as bad.

Todd’s shoulders stiffened as he dragged his stare away from Colin and glanced back at Smith. “Any other tests you can do on him?”

“I’m running more blood work.” She rolled her shoulders. “This—we need someone with a little more expertise in this area, okay?” Her gaze darted once more to Colin. “I’m out of my element here and—”

“What? Smith, he’s a stiff!” It didn’t get any more in her “element” than that! Todd tried to rein in the anger that wanted to shoot out of him. “The dead are your life.”

She frowned at that. “No. They aren’t.” She shook her head. “Look, maybe we should call in a heart specialist, get a second opinion—make certain I didn’t miss anything—”

“You’re not the missing type, Smith.” Colin’s voice was certain.

Damn straight she wasn’t. Todd opened his mouth to respond, then caught the faint quiver of Smith’s fingers.

Shit. This is her first case back—the lady has to be nervous as hell. “Take your time, Smith,” he told her, his voice softening. “Go over the body again, see what you can find.”

Her eyes narrowed and for a minute, he thought she was going to be the one shooting out anger, but instead, she gave a jerky nod. Okay, the lady obviously wasn’t big on getting sympathy.

Todd glanced at Colin. “We’ve got a problem, man—”

“Yeah…we’re gonna have to see the other bodies.”

No choice. Exhuming the dead was a bitch—getting the court orders, dealing with the grieving families—but there was no choice.

“Have you told McNeal about the print yet?” Colin asked.

“I was leaving that to you guys.” Smith pulled the sheet back over the body. Her chin lifted and a brief smile curved her lips. Not really a smile so much as a feral baring of her teeth. “Thought you’d like to give him the info on that.”

Great. Well, they’d have to break the news to the captain pretty fast if they wanted to get going with the bodies.

Colin turned toward the door, paused. “I don’t have to tell you how important it is to keep these details quiet.” He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes locking on Smith.

“No, you don’t.” Her shoulders straightened and a bit of her old fire flared in her dark eyes. She jerked her thumb toward Todd. “But you do sure as hell need to tell your partner what you’re up against this time.”

“Smith…” A warning.

Todd tensed. He had that shitty, I’m-in-the-dark feeling again. “Tell me what?”

“Not a damn thing,” Colin snapped. “You already know everything about this case that I do.”

“But you didn’t on the last one, did you, Brooks? Gyth shut you out of the loop and went after the killer on his own.”

Colin growled and the hair on Todd’s nape rose. “Listen up, Smith,” Colin snapped. “The way I see it, you really ought to be damn glad I did go after the killer.” He turned toward her, facing her fully with clenched fists. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t be examining dead bodies anymore.” He paused, then said, “You’d be the dead one.” Harsh. Cold.

Smith flinched. “You’re an asshole, Gyth.”

Todd’s eyes widened. Okay, yeah, he had his problems with the guy, but fur notwithstanding, Colin was his partner. And Todd took his loyalties seriously. Maybe too seriously. “Ah, Smith, the guy did save your life.”

She never glanced his way. “You don’t understand what’s happening, Brooks.”

Maybe. Maybe not. “Then why don’t you clue me in?”

Her lips tightened.

Fuck. “I thought so. Colin, let’s get the hell out of here.” He tucked the file under his arm. “You’ve got issues, Smith. Go see Dr. Drake. We need you back to your old self.”

She swallowed. “I’ll never be that woman again, Detective. All the therapy in the world won’t bring her back.”

“How do you know? Letting someone else inside your head could be the best thing you’ve ever done.” He strode to the door. Shoved it open, but didn’t exit. Not the sympathy kind, but too damn bad. He liked the woman, respected her, and wasn’t going to watch her spiral. “I’m worried about you, Smith.” And he was. She was too intense. Too high strung. And holding rage that was all but seeping from her pores. “Get some help. Go see Dr. Drake.”

Emily Drake was, after all, the best in town.

The late-afternoon sunlight trickled through the blinds as Cara lay on the soft leather couch. She stared up at the ceiling and tried to figure out just what she should say.

Ah, hell, just get it over with. “I’ve met someone.”

Dr. Emily Drake, known to her clients as the Monster Doctor, and currently the only psychologist in the South to knowingly treat the Other, slowly lifted her head. “Tell me about him.”

Cara licked her lips. “He’s a cop.” Damn. Hadn’t she heard somewhere that the Monster Doctor was dating a cop? What if the guys knew each other?

“I see.” A delicate pause. “And does he know what you are?” The doctor’s pen was poised an inch above her notepad.

Turning her head slightly, Cara let her gaze fall on the doctor. As usual, Dr. Drake’s black hair was pulled back into a severe bun. Her thin, wire-framed glasses were perched on the edge of her nose. And her green gaze was trained on Cara. “Does he know?” Cara repeated the question softly, then shook her head. “No, even though I’ve…dreamwalked with him.”

The pen skittered across the paper as Dr. Drake jotted down a quick note.

“I didn’t mean to,” Cara said at once, then winced. Even though the doctor’s expression hadn’t changed, she still felt the need to explain herself. To justify stealing into a man’s thoughts. “I swear, Dr. Drake, I never meant to join him in dreams.”

“Then why did you?”

If she couldn’t be honest here, in the safety of Dr. Drake’s quiet office, she couldn’t be honest anywhere. “I want him.” The want was a gnawing ache inside of her. An ache that grew worse every moment.

“It’s all right to desire a man, Cara. We’ve been over this before.”

No, this was far different from the men before. “I-I gave up sex.” Said in a rush.

Dr. Drake’s eyes widened and her pen stilled. “Cara, you know you can’t do that. It’ll kill you.”

“No, I don’t think”—okay, she hoped—“that it will. I’ve got an arrangement with a friend. He has this place for the Other. I’ve been singing there for a while. When I’m on stage and have the focus of the crowd, I can the pull their sensual energy to me.”

“But will that be enough for you?”

“I don’t know, it seems to be working so far. I mean, it’s not like there are a lot of succubi around here that I can ask if I’ll be able to survive—”

“No,” Dr. Drake’s quiet voice cut straight through her words. “That’s not what I meant.” She put the notepad facedown. Leaned forward. “Your kind exist for sex. It renews you. Powers you. I don’t know if the situation you have will keep working for you, though it’s certainly a novel approach for a succubus,” she murmured. “But is it enough for you? Are you happy stealing wisps of pleasure, or do you want your own release?”

Her own. Her lips pressed together to keep the words back, but she knew when Dr. Drake lifted one brow that the psychologist understood.

“And you want it with him, don’t you?”

Hell, yes. She wanted sex with her cop so badly that she was losing control of the demon inside and slipping into Todd’s mind. “I can’t control him.” Or herself. “I can dreamwalk with him, but I can’t compel him, not when he’s awake. No hypnosis, no—”

“Control is important to you, isn’t it?” She eased back in her chair, casually reached for her pad once more.

“Yes.”

“Because of what happened before? When you weren’t able to stop your sister’s murder?”

Ah, damn, but she hadn’t even seen that one coming. Leave it to good old Dr. Drake to knock her right between the eyes. “Yes.” A jealous lover. A human lover had killed her sister. A man who had managed to learn far too much about her kind, and the weaknesses that demons possessed.

Nina. It hurt too much to think of her now, even years later. Her twin. The only other being who’d ever truly loved her. Who’d understood her. Inside and out.

Killed by that bastard.

She’d made certain he got exactly what he deserved. Sometimes, she could still hear his screams.

She squeezed her eyes shut. No. She wasn’t going back there, not now.

All humans weren’t evil. She knew that. Had long ago come to terms with the fact that monsters resided in men, just as good spirits, good souls, could reside in the bodies of monsters.

Such was the way of her world.

“Do you think that because you can’t control him that this man might one day betray you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” The guy had suspected her of murder and he’d sure been quick to haul her off to jail.

“You came to me in the beginning because you were tired of puppets. Tired of men who turned away from you the moment you stopped using glamour and magic.”

Her nails dug into the cushions of the couch. “Yes.”

“But now, you have a man you can’t control, one who certainly won’t be a puppet. You want him. Tell me, does he want you?”

She could still taste his hunger. “Yes.”

“Then you’re going to have a choice to make, Cara. You can keep living this new life you’ve made for yourself…”

The life without sex. Stolen pleasures. Empty nights.

“Or you can take a risk with a man beyond your control.”

She pictured Todd in her mind. Dark hair. Sculpted jaw. The chest she’d yet to kiss. The cock she wanted to taste.

Beyond her control.

She’d be vulnerable with him. And if he learned her secret, he could destroy her.

But demons didn’t exactly have a reputation for playing it safe. She’d been trying, but it had been hell.

Though she liked to pretend that the demon and the woman were really two separate parts of her, the truth was, deep down, she was all demon.

The demon, well, she wasn’t afraid of a risk, and she was very, very hungry for her pleasure.

A pleasure only to be had with one man.

A man beyond her control, but easily within her reach.

If she just dared to reach for him.

The demon decided she’d dare. Oh, yes. She would.

“Is the city in the clutches of another killer, one who preys on the sexual fantasies of men? The cops aren’t talking, but rumors of the Bondage Killer are rampant on the streets…”

The reporter’s words stopped the killer cold. He turned around slowly, his gaze jumping to the television screen. He listened to her, stunned…and enraged.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Fury nearly choked him when the redheaded bitch said she was broadcasting live from the Dayton Hotel, “the scene of a brutal murder.”

But not his kill.

“A body was discovered here last night. A male body. The man was naked, and he’d been bound to the bed.”

Oh, hell, no.

Not his.

The reporter’s eyes seemed to bore into his as he glared at the screen. She lifted her microphone. “Tune in later tonight for more details on this savage crime. Until then, this is Holly Storm for News Flash Five, signing off.”

His fingers slammed onto the top of the remote and instantly, the TV screen went black.

Not his.

He threw the remote against the wall.

This wasn’t part of the plan. No one should have died at the Dayton Hotel.

Fuck.

His fingers shook. His ears rang. And his control began to shatter.

He knew exactly who was trying to take over his game.

Not gonna happen. No one was gonna to screw with his plans. He’d waited far too long for his vengeance. Planned far too carefully.

A bitch wasn’t gonna steal his power.

Time for the game to change. Time for a solo act. Time for more death.

With the next kill, he would be the one to steal the victim’s life away.

No matter how much she begged…