Circle of Desire

  He rubbed his eyes tiredly. He loved being a cop, but sometimes the sense of futility was almost overwhelming. No matter what he or Mark or the others did, it just didn’t seem to make a difference. The pros still hawked their wares, people still got killed, and maniacs still kidnapped innocent little girls and did God knows what to them …

  “You got a name?” Her voice was sharp, as if she’d sensed the turn of his thoughts. Given the events of the night so far, nothing would surprise him. She continued on, her voice a little softer. “Or are we keeping this strictly formal?”

  He could hardly keep it formal when he intended to have sex with her. “Ethan. You?”

  “Kat.”

  “Suits you more than Katherine.”

  A smile tugged her generous lips. “You’re not the first to note that.”

  He supposed not. He let his gaze linger on her lips for several seconds, then said, “What was wrong with your grandmother’s hands?”

  “Arthritis. The visions make it worse.”

  “Then why doesn’t she stop?”

  She glanced at him, green eyes bright in the moonlight. “Can you stop the effects the moon has on you?”

  “I can control it. Up to a point.” Up until the night the moon bloomed full.

  “Exactly.”

  “But she has a choice—”

  “No, she doesn’t. Neither of us does.”

  He frowned. “What do you mean?”

  She took a deep breath, then puffed out her cheeks. “You’ll see soon enough.” She stopped the car. “We’re here. There’s a flashlight on the backseat.”

  He grabbed it, then climbed out. The warehouse was at least six stories high and, like the warehouse in which they’d found the last kid, had been fouled by vandals, time, and the elements. His gut clenched. He didn’t want to see what he knew he’d find in there—be it Janie or the other missing kid.

  Kat came around the car, her face pale as she studied the warehouse towering above them. He was half tempted to tell her to wait here, but he very much suspected she’d tell him exactly where he could shove such a suggestion. So he handed her the flashlight and said, “Keep behind me.”

  She didn’t argue, which surprised him—especially after her stubbornness earlier. They pushed through a hole that had been cut into the chain-link fence and walked across cracked concrete littered with weeds. The wind moaned through the window’s broken glass, and tin flapped. Somewhere a door creaked, creating an uneasy soundtrack that very much belonged in some B-grade horror movie.

  He pressed open the door and looked inside. Though the darkness was complete, he had no trouble seeing. The moon sharpened all his senses, and his sight was wolf-keen. There was no one here.

  But the metallic smell of blood hung on the air, mingled with the aroma of rotting flesh. He had to go on, had to see, but there was no reason for Kat to do either. “Why don’t you go call—”

  “Don’t even think it.” Her voice was terse. “You want to call the cops, then you go do it. Right now, I have to go up those stairs.”

  She pushed past him, the flashlight’s bright beam dancing across the graffiti-strewn walls as she crossed the empty expanse. He caught her at the stairs.

  “Damn it, woman, there’s something dead up there!”

  Her gaze met his, her eyes wide and haunted. “Believe me, I know.”

  She began to climb. He shook his head and stayed beside her. The smell was worse on the second-floor landing—sharper, fresher, and ripened by the aroma of urine and excrement. He tried breathing through his mouth, but there was no avoiding the foulness of the place. She swung left and he followed. Moonlight filtered in through the broken windows, highlighting the bottles and syringes and piles of shit lining the base of the walls. If this warehouse was some kind of refuge, where the hell were the dregs of humanity who lived in it?

  When they entered the small room at the end of the hall, they found the kid. Not that anyone would have guessed the half-chewed fragments strewn over the floor had ever been a child. There was enough, however, for him to realize it was a boy, not a girl. The surge of relief was intense, but it was swiftly replaced by fury. No one deserved this sort of death, let alone an innocent little kid. His stomach rose, and it took every ounce of willpower not to lose it then and there.

  There was bad, and then there was bad. But this was worse than either of those.

  Kat made an odd sound in the back of her throat, and he quickly looked at her. She had a hand against her mouth and was shaking so hard her teeth chattered. She wasn’t looking at the remains that lay scattered around them, but was staring off into space. Her eyes were wide open and filled with such horror and pain it tore at something deep inside him. He didn’t know what the hell was going on, but he was sure of one thing: she couldn’t stay in this room.

  He swept her up into his arms and raced back down the stairs. She didn’t protest, didn’t say anything at all, her eyes wide and glassy. Sweat sheened her skin, but her flesh was so cold he might have been holding ice.

  Once outside, he set her down on a pile of bricks and thrust her head between her knees. “Breathe deep.”

  She obeyed. After a few minutes the trembling eased, but she still did not raise her head. He thrust his hands in his pockets and waited. He didn’t know what else to do.

  At last she looked up, her cheeks stained with tears. She sniffed, then wiped a hand across her eyes. “It wasn’t—”

  “No,” he agreed softly. “It wasn’t.” But it was still a kid up there—a kid who didn’t deserve to die the way he had. “I have to go back up.” Had to check what he thought he’d seen.

  She nodded. “I’ll wait here. I don’t need to feel anything else right now.”

  Feel? That was an odd word to use. “Will you be all right here?”

  A ghostly smile touched her lips, though it failed to lift the fear from her eyes. “Fine. Just don’t be long, because I’ll have to call your people in.”

  He nodded and went back. It was no better the second time around. He breathed though his mouth, but the smell still coated the back of his throat, so he swallowed death with every intake of air. He fought nausea and mounting horror as he carefully studied each of the remaining body parts. He hadn’t been mistaken before. Something big had chewed through the bones. Something like a dog.

  Or a wolf.

  He rose and went back to Kat. She looked no better than she had twenty minutes before. “Did you call the department?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I’ll have to go. I’m supposed to be on leave.”

  She didn’t seem surprised. “Take my car.” She handed him the keys. “I need to go to the beach after I finish here, so you can meet me down in Florence, if you like.”

  “What do you hope to find at the beach?”

  “Cleansing.” She looked past him. “You’d better go. I can hear their sirens.”

  So could he, and they were still a distance away. Her hearing was as good as his—and his was moon-enhanced. “How will you get there if I take your car?”

  She shrugged, as if it wasn’t important. And maybe it wasn’t. Or maybe she simply intended to hitch a lift from someone.

  “Florence is a reasonably big place,” he added, “with lots of ocean frontage. How are you going to find me?”

  “I’ll find you, believe me.”

  Oddly enough, he did. “Will you be all right?”

  She looked at him. Deep in the green depths of her eyes he saw a suffering so profound he had to fight the urge to reach out and comfort her.

  “We both have curses we have to live with,” she said softly. “And in many ways, mine is much worse than yours.”

  Nothing could be worse than losing your soul to an animal every full moon. “What do you mean?”

  She rubbed a hand across still-damp eyes. “I’ll explain later. You need to go. Right now.”

  What he needed was an explanation. But the sirens were drawing closer, and Benton’s blood
pressure would go haywire if he found Ethan here.

  “I’ll see you at the beach,” he said, and walked away.

  KAT WAITED UNTIL THE RUMBLE OF THE MUSTANG’S ENGINE had faded, then dialed the hotel. Gwen answered on the third ring.

  “I’m sorry, Kat,” she said. “I wish I could have warned you.”

  No amount of warning could have helped ease the horror of what she’d felt in that room. Bile rose and she closed her eyes, fighting the need to vomit, fighting the tears pressing past closed eyelids. “I needed to go in without any preconceptions. We both know that.”

  Gwen sighed. “So what did you feel?”

  What didn’t she feel? God, the room was a menagerie of the dead’s emotions. “He died a lot slower than Daniel. The soul-sucker let a werewolf play around with him for a while before she sucked his essence away.”

  She tried not to think of the bits of humanity strewn across that room. Tried not to remember the blinding fear and agony that had savaged her mind and cut through her soul. She failed miserably at both. But it was what had followed those emotions that had sickened her most—the smells and sensations of sex. The soul-sucker had mated with the werewolf amidst all the carnage.

  “Hang on,” she said and hurriedly put the phone down, staggering away to the fence to lose the little she’d eaten for dinner.

  She was wiping her mouth with her hand when the cops came in. Benton took one look at her and ordered an officer to go get a bottle of water.

  “Where?” was all he said to her.

  “Second floor, to the left.”

  He nodded and walked away. The water was hurriedly fetched, and she swilled some around her mouth, then spat it out. Once all the cops were inside, she went back to the bricks and picked up the phone.

  “Sorry, Gran.”

  “The cops are there, I gather?”

  “Just arrived.”

  “Then it’ll be an hour or so before you get back here?”

  “Probably more. I need to cleanse. I feel the dead right through me.”

  “Of course you would, after walking into that room.” Gwen sighed. “Get us both some breakfast on the way back. I’ll contact Seline and ask her to research what exactly this soul-sucker is. Now that we know what she looks like, it should be easier to track her down.”

  “It’ll be nice to know what will actually kill her before we confront her.”

  “Yes, it would.”

  Kat glanced up as Benton came out of the warehouse. “Gotta go. It’s question time.”

  “Make sure you bring your werewolf back with you.”

  “He’s not my anything,” she repeated flatly. “And why do you want him back?”

  “Because we’re all going to need to protect each other in the near future.”

  A chill ran down her spine. “Why?”

  “I’ll tell you later.”

  The phone went dead. Kat shoved it back into her pocket and looked up at Benton. And knew it was going to be a very long couple of hours before she could fly to freedom.

  DAWN HAD BEGUN TO PAINT THE SKY PINK AND ORANGE BY the time Ethan sensed her. He sat halfway down a grassy knoll, watching the waves shimmer across the sand as he listened to her approaching steps.

  She smelled like no one he’d ever met. Fresh and airy, like warm summer rains and crisp spring winds. It was an alluring, almost erotic combination.

  She stopped several feet away on his left. The stiffening breeze tugged at her hair, throwing the dark strands across her face. Her hands were thrust deep into her pockets, but even from where he sat he could see the trembling. Tiredness, or a continuing reaction to what they’d walked into?

  “I have to swim.”

  She was nuts. “That’s the Pacific out there, not a sheltered cove.”

  “I know. And it’s perfect.” Her gaze met his, as remote as her voice. “Given your current state, I suggest you wait in the car.”

  She didn’t wait for a reply, just continued toward the water. When she reached the sand she began stripping. Soon there was nothing left but flesh.

  She was creamy and luscious and absolutely perfect, and he went hard just watching her. If he were any sort of gentleman, he’d go back to the car as she’d suggested, but he’d long ago given up any such pretensions. Besides, he seriously doubted whether any man could walk away right now.

  She dove underwater, then rose a heartbeat later and rolled onto her back. Her breasts were generous white mounds with dark thrusting peaks that he suddenly ached to taste. He shifted and wished his jeans weren’t so damn tight. The goddamn zipper was killing him.

  It was lucky the moon had fled. At least he had control enough to simply sit there. And while he suspected she wouldn’t rebuke his advances right now, he wasn’t about to hit on a woman who’d been through what she’d just endured.

  He watched until it became apparent she was getting ready to come out, then got up and walked stiffly to the car. His erection hadn’t gone down any by the time she reappeared. Though she was fully dressed, moisture made the T-shirt almost see-through, and her sweatpants clung like a second skin.

  Thank God for long shirts. “Back to the motel?”

  She nodded, her teeth chattering and skin almost blue. He took off his coat and draped it across her shoulders, then settled her into the passenger’s seat. After climbing into the driver’s side, he started the engine and turned the heater up full blast. The car’s interior quickly became a furnace. The chattering eased and her skin became a more normal color. But the T-shirt took longer to dry, and he wasn’t at all sorry about that.

  “Mind telling me what that was about?”

  She sighed. “I’m an empath with a difference.”

  He glanced at her, but she still had her eyes closed. “What sort of difference?”

  “Instead of sensing the emotions of the living, I soak up the feelings of the dead.”

  “That’s not possible.”

  She snorted softly. “I wish.”

  “But …” He frowned. They’d known what he was from the moment he walked up to the motel door, and that was something no one could have told them. Everything else, maybe, but not that. “How?”

  “I’m not really sure myself. But it seems the more emotional or violent the death, the more those feelings permeate a room.”

  “So when you walked into that room—”

  “I felt everything that little boy had when he died.”

  No wonder she’d been so cold. She’d shared head space with violence and death. “How the hell do you keep sane?”

  A smile touched her still pale lips. “I was under the impression you thought I wasn’t.”

  “Well, swimming in the ocean until you’re blue is pretty damn crazy.”

  “I had to wash myself clean,” she said softly. “I could smell them. On me. In me.”

  A sentiment he could certainly understand. He’d done the same thing himself once or twice over the years—though admittedly, he’d chosen a hot shower rather than an icy ocean. “So what happens now?”

  “Now we need to get some breakfast and take it back to the motel. You know a bakery open at this hour?”

  “I’m a cop. We know the opening time of every bakery, deli, and fast-food chain in the whole damn city.”

  She looked at him. “Really?”

  “Really,” he said solemnly, glad to see her smile had finally touched her eyes.

  “Then take me to your favorite, and I’ll buy you breakfast.” She hesitated. “Unless, of course, you’d rather go home.”

  He had nothing—and no one—to go home to. And he wasn’t leaving this woman’s side until this case was solved. Though he might not believe in psychics and witchcraft, the last few hours had certainly proven these two not only knew everything the police knew, but had an innate ability to keep one step ahead of the pack. Right now, that was exactly where he needed to be.

  And if he could get into her bed as well, all the better.

  GWEN WAS ASLEEP ON
THE SOFA BY THE TIME THEY GOT back to the motel room. Kat dropped the bags of cinnamon rolls and pastries on the small table and walked over.

  “Gran?” She kept her voice soft, not wanting to startle the older woman.

  Gwen sighed and opened her eyes. “My feet feel like bricks. You’ll have to massage them before you do anything else.”

  “I’ll do that,” Ethan said behind her. “You go get breakfast ready.”

  Kat looked up in surprise. “You sure?”

  He nodded. “My mom had arthritis, too. My brother and I used to take turns massaging to ease the aches for a while.”

  “Well, before you touch my feet, you’re going to have to provide a proper introduction.” Gwen’s eyes twinkled despite the echoes of pain. “I can’t keep calling you Detective Morgan if we’re going to get so friendly.”

  He smiled, and Kat’s breath caught. She had a feeling he didn’t smile much, but when he did—wow.

  “It’s Ethan, ma’am.”

  “Gwen Tanner. Pleased to meet you.” She shook his offered hand. “The oil’s over there by the sink.”

  He retrieved it, then sat on the coffee table and eased her feet onto his legs. If the relief on Gwen’s face was anything to go by, he certainly knew his way around a bottle of massage oil. Maybe that was something Kat could put to good use later …

  He chose that moment to glance at her, and for several heartbeats Kat found herself pinned by the power of his gaze. What passed between them was a recognition of fate. Of inevitability. But more than that, it was a promise of passion and satisfaction … and something else, something she couldn’t quite define.

  A tremor ran through her. She’d never felt this strong an attraction to anyone, and in some ways it was almost scary. The pull she felt had nothing to do with the allure of a werewolf in the middle of moon fever, and everything to do with the man himself. By the same token, she was positive the moon had everything to do with his attraction to her. But that didn’t matter. What did matter was finding time alone without jeopardizing the case.