by L. J. Red
Rune stood and carried his files over to the copier in the other room. Brigit traced her eyes over the line of his back, his waist, his ass—oops.
Brigit crossed her legs and dragged her attention back to what was in front of her, on the task she’d been assigned. Since she’d been the one to interview Mr. Morrell, she’d been intrigued by the fact not all vampires were part of scary, impressive bloodlines like the Shadows or the ones that used to rule the city, Radiance. Most vampires were low-level types, no bloodlines, no territories, no special skills. Sure, they were stronger than humans, but not as strong as the bloodline vampires, nor as fast. Most of the vampire-owned businesses in the city were run by vampires like that. It made sense. The vampire aristocracy were like human lords and ladies in places like Europe. So rich they didn’t need to work. Normal vamps had to run businesses or keep down jobs like anyone else. A lot of night shift work, unsurprisingly.
The politicians, in their infinite wisdom, had decided the best thing would be to make a register of all vampires. Brigit was pretty sure making registers of people was a precursor to rounding them up and shooting them in the head, so she wasn’t surprised that suggestion had gone down like a ton of bricks. The Bloodlines had refused point-blank to be part of it. The lesser vampires didn’t really have anyone to stand up for them. Luckily for the Chicago vampires, the Shadows had stepped in and put a solid end to it. Cleaver was one of the biggest proponents of the scheme. He clearly figured he could ride the anti-vampire wave all the way to becoming Senator Cleaver.
As if her thoughts had conjured him, somebody turned the volume up on the TV in the bullpen and his oily voice echoed through the police precinct.
“Vampires are not a part of human society. We need to give our people the tools to fight them. Maybe the law enforcement we have now isn’t enough; maybe we need a specific task force.” Brigit’s blood chilled. He was talking about HUNT. HUNT with an official stamp of approval. That was exactly what Special Agent Morrell had been afraid of. Exactly what he was trying to stop by creating this team instead.
Agent Novak looked up from behind his computer for the first time in days. “Good,” he snapped. “I’m glad to see someone doing something about the vampire threat.” Brigit noticed he’d chosen the moment when Rune was out of the room to speak when he said it.
“Are you kidding me?” Brigit said. “Cleaver is just another corrupt politician using the latest drama as his launchpad. He doesn’t give a shit about protecting people from vampires. If he did, he wouldn’t be sniping at law enforcement every chance he gets. He’s fear-mongering to drive recruitment to HUNT.”
“No one can prove he has anything to do with HUNT,” Novak said.
Franklin spoke up unexpectedly from behind Brigit. “Bullshit! You heard Agent Morrell. Where’s all that campaign money coming from? You know there’s something odd going on with his finances. I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him, and…” She glanced at her arms. “… that’s not very far,” she said with a wry grin.
Rune came back into the room at this moment and all of them fell silent. He looked between the two Feds, then at Brigit. “What did I miss?” he said.
Brigit flushed. She didn’t know why she was embarrassed. Maybe it was the strength of his gaze making her mind blank. Maybe it was because she was remembering staring at his ass.
“Nothing, you didn’t miss anything. We were just… working.” She looked back down at the case files in front of her. Stop thinking about him, stop thinking about his muscles and his body under his clothes and how much you want to rip them off him. Fuck.
“Um guys.” Agent Franklin broke the silence. “Take a look at this.” Brigit looked up quickly, seizing the distraction, forcing her mind to work. She wasn’t going to give in to the desire fizzing through her veins and let Rune bend her over the table in the middle of the fucking precinct. She ran her hand through her hair, breathing deep.
“What you got?” she asked, leaning down to look at the screen.
“So, I started pulling stuff together on your missing persons case. Something about the description you gave has been bothering me… Anyway, looks like we have another witness. This guy, Neilson, he called it in just this morning. Might be worth checking out.”
“Thanks, Franklin,” Brigit said, surprised the Agent had she’d started on the missing persons case, despite it not being officially assigned to the team.
A distraction, a chance to escape Rune. Perfect. She grabbed her jacket from the back of her chair. “Send me the location on my phone.”
“I’ll come with you,” Rune said.
“Oh, it’s just an interview—”
“Are we not teammates?”
Shit. Brigit couldn’t reject him without making it seem like she didn’t want him on the team. That wasn’t the reason, dammit. It was because her damn libido was working overdrive and she didn’t trust herself with him. She rolled the tension out of her shoulders. She’d just have to make it work. “Fine,” she said slowly, looking up at him. “But I’m driving.”
Chapter 17
The car was dead silent. Rune had no idea what to say to break the silence, so it sat over the two of them like a thick blanket. He wished he had Talon’s easy conversational skills. Out of all the Shadows, Talon was the only one who could easily fill the silence. Of course, he usually said the worst thing he could, but at least it was deliberate. Rune searched for something to break this dead silence, but all he could focus on was the nearness of her. The fact they were closed up in this little metal vehicle together didn’t help. Her delicious, enticing scent permeated the car. He was supposed to be keeping his distance from her, but he hadn’t been able to stop himself from volunteering to join her, watching her in the precinct, stealing glances whenever she wasn’t looking.
What made it worse was that he sensed her arousal. Deep flashes of it through the bond. He knew she wanted him, but it didn’t make sense. It had to be the soulmate bond working on her. She couldn’t truly want him. He was a vampire, and she’d made her opinion on vampires very clear.
He had to do something. It couldn’t go on like this. She had no idea what she did to him. He needed her. The soulmate bond was overwhelming him, growing thicker and tighter every moment they spent together, an exquisite torture. He’d barely been able to focus on the cases they were supposed to be investigating. He had to tell her the truth, all of it. Even if she didn’t want to be his soulmate, he couldn’t hide it from her any longer. It was too much. She’d know the truth, then she could make her decision.
They pulled up outside an apartment building and climbed the stairs to the apartment number Agent Franklin had given Brigit.
Brigit rapped on the door smartly and it was opened by an old man with thin gray hair plastered to his scalp and wide eyes behind small rectangular spectacles. “Mr. Neilson? I’m Detective McReeve and this is… my partner.” Brigit glanced quickly at Rune, then away. The man looked at Brigit, then turned to Rune, looking up and up until he reached his face. Rune stared back, impassive.
The man’s eyebrows climbed. “What are they feeding you nowadays?” He pulled the door open and ushered them in.
He offered them coffee, which Rune declined and Brigit accepted, though he noticed she barely touched it and left it cooling at her elbow while she interviewed the witness thoroughly. Must be a human thing. Or perhaps a cop thing, he considered. Perhaps it was to make the witness feel more comfortable. The witness, Mr. Neilson, was happy to describe what he’d seen in great detail. He’d been watching out his window, Rune got the impression he did that a lot, and he’d seen a group of men grabbing a kid off the street, beating him down before throwing him in their van, just like the ones Brigit and Rune had fought against, in black combat gear and a dark van. He’d done one better though; he’d noted down the license plate of the van.
Brigit’s eyes lit up with satisfaction as she took the number down. Rune felt an answering thrill deep in the bond. He understood the
thrill of the chase. He was extremely familiar with that feeling, but for the first time, instead of embracing it, he clenched his fists, tension riding him. Throwing himself into the fight was one thing, but Brigit? What if something happened to her? He couldn’t let her place herself in danger.
Brigit stood. “You’ve been really helpful, thank you.”
“Sure,” the man said, showing them out. “I know it’s not great having people out there, sleeping rough. Not a great reflection on our city, but that doesn’t mean anyone has a right to go grab them and beat them up like that. And a kid too, that just ain’t right.”
“They won’t get away with it,” Brigit said. She looked resolute and lit with an inner fire. Rune had to catch his breath as a bolt of desire for her pulsed through him. He managed to get out of the man’s apartment and wait for the door to shut behind him before reaching for Brigit, spinning her to face him and pressing her against the wall.
“What the—” Brigit stopped short as he pressed his face against her hair, a low growl under his voice.
“I need this, need you.” His fangs pressed against his lips. “Brigit,” he said, “I have to tell you, this bond between us…” He tried to force himself to step back, but every inch of the distance he put between them ached. God, the feel of her under his hands was almost overpowering. He could barely get the words out. “You were right, the dreams, the bond, it’s important, it means something.”
Brigit was shaking her head. “No, she whispered. “Don’t say it.”
“I have to.” He eased back enough to catch her eyes, and he saw the knowledge already dawning within them. “You are my soulmate,” he said, looking into her eyes, possession flaring through his body, echoing through his voice. “The bond between us. It connects our souls. It binds us together; it cannot be broken.” He leaned close. Overwhelmed, losing track of his words, his intentions. He needed this, and now she knew why. He willed her to understand, willed her to want this as much as he did. “You are my soulmate,” he said, “and I need to claim you.” His fangs slid into his mouth and he bent his head toward her, his fangs aching with the need to bite. Wrestling with himself, he diverted the hunger into something else, and instead of piercing her skin he pressed his hot lips to her mouth.
Chapter 18
Brigit melted under the onslaught of his lips, all her desire, her hunger for his body, for this connection, raging through her. She kissed him with all the frustrated desire she had tried to stifle, tried to hide. She kissed him hungrily, wanting, desperate. Her hands tangled in his short hair. She was arched up on tiptoe, stretched out like a wire against him, trembling with need. Oh no. What was she doing? Where was her resolution not to do this, not to give in to her desires? She dragged her mouth away from his. He turned his head, pressed hot kisses down the side of her neck, and she shivered with her whole body. She wanted nothing more than to turn and catch his lips once more, but she couldn’t do it, she mustn’t.
“Stop,” she said, her voice raw. “I don’t, I don’t want this,” she said, denying the desire that ran like a torrent through her body.
Rune froze, his lips inches from her skin, and she squeezed between him and the wall into the hallway. She had to reach out a hand and brace herself on the opposite wall as the cool air helped her regain her mind. “Claim me?” She said, turning to look back at him. “Claim, what?”
No. She didn’t want that. She couldn’t be a vampire like Dana. She couldn’t give up her human life no matter how good he made her feel, dammit. She had a life. She wanted to keep it, not get shut up inside the Sanctuary like some damn china doll.
Despite the space between them, his overwhelming presence seemed to dominate the hallway. His blue eyes were fastened to hers, his broad body a delicious line against the wall. Oh fuck, she wanted to go to him, wanted to rub herself all over him, wanted to trace the line of his scar down to his red lips, the white points of his fangs. Wait. Fangs?
No. She didn’t want that. Dammit, he was a vampire, keep on track, Brigit, for God’s sake. She needed to get a grip.
“I don’t want it,” she said. “I don’t want to be claimed. I don’t want to be a vampire.”
“I want to protect you,” he said.
“I don’t need you to protect me! I don’t care what you think. This, between us.” She waved between them. “It’s just desire, just our hormones on overdrive. It certainly doesn’t mean you own me. I don’t care what ancient vampire crap you’re used to.” She pulled herself straight, very aware she barely reached his collarbone even on tiptoe .
She took a stumbling step toward the stairs. “I’m not doing this.”
“Are you rejecting me?” Rune said.
Brigit stared up at him, angered by the note of shock in his voice. Was he so used to having women throw themselves at him that he couldn’t imagine rejection? Well, too bad; time to learn.
“Yes,” she said, looking him straight in the eye. “I am”
If the drive there had been awkward, the ride back was excruciating. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Despite her words, she was still hyperaware of his body next to hers. It wasn’t fair. Why was he so smoking hot and yet such an absolute dick? The drive back to the precinct seemed to take years, and Brigit was desperately glad to pull into her space and escape the car and the stony silence.
No matter what happened with the team, one thing was sure. She was never going to be Rune’s soulmate.
Chapter 19
Cleaver straightened his knife against the napkin. How long had he been waiting here? His sweaty fingers left a mark on the thick cloth. He tried to scrub it away ineffectually before finally shifting his plate to cover it. He looked around, but no one in the hushed restaurant was paying him any attention.
The place wasn’t busy; a select clientele sat encased in richly upholstered booths or rested elegantly in thousand-dollar suits at the bar. The carpet was thick, muffling noise, and the vaulted ceilings rose up above his head, lit by delicate chandeliers made of spires of glass. It was one of the fanciest places in the city with a waiting list a mile long, and yet the people he was coming to meet had casually made the appointment merely the day before. If that didn’t tell you how powerful these people were then nothing would.
He didn’t even know their names. He’d been put in touch by one of the major investors in his political campaign and just told that these guys would “help him out.”
Cleaver adjusted his shirt collar and glanced around before straightening his back. He bet even the mayor didn’t dine in a place like this on such short notice. He grinned. This was the kind of place he wanted to get used to. This was the life he wanted. That was why he’d agreed to meet these people. They represented an organization with serious political backing. And serious money. He was going to need that kind of backing if he wanted HUNT to become a serious threat to the vampires and rocket him into a position of real power.
He’d sent them the initial reports from the factory, and they’d been very keen to meet. They had even talked about financing something bigger, something further out from the city, an entire town turned over to his… experiments.
Well, he had to meet with them first. He settled back in his seat. No need to jump the gun. He’d sound them out. See what they were—
“Mr. Cleaver,” a refined voice came from behind him. “I do hope you weren’t waiting long.”
Cleaver stood and turned and was faced with a slight man. His hair was entirely gray, his face lined. A perfectly aligned pocket handkerchief pressed into the pocket of his three-piece suit. He had a kindly sort of smile and magnetic gray eyes. Cleaver glanced to the side and only then noticed the two hulking bodyguards standing on either side of him.
“Oh, no,” Cleaver rushed to respond, realizing he’d been silent too long. “Not long at all.” Well, it had been at least half an hour, but for this kind of money he was willing to wait. “Good to meet you, Mr…” He stretched out his hand.
The man
smiled delicately, his lips pulling back from his teeth. His grip was dry and slight. “I think we won’t be using names today,” he said crisply.
The bodyguards stepped back and the man slid into the space opposite him as Cleaver once more took his seat. Silence fell as the waiter glided up and offered them menus. “Any drinks while you decide?”
“Soda with lime,” the man said.
“Uh, just water,” Cleaver said abruptly, feeling unsettled by the man’s quiet intensity, despite the fact that he seemed so unassuming. There was a tranquility that said he didn’t just belong in a place like this but that he grew up in places like these. Cleaver, whose upbringing had been a whole lot different, shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
Once the drinks had arrived. The man steepled his fingers on the table and leaned forward. “To business then,” he said. “My friends and I would like very much to invest in your little project. We think it shows real promise.”
“Oh good,” Cleaver said, leaning forward eagerly. “I have a lot of ideas about—”
“Yes, yes,” the man said, raising his hand. Cleaver noticed a ring on his finger flash. It looked a little too bulky to be a wedding ring, and anyway, it was on his index finger. The gold caught the light and Cleaver caught a glimpse of the strange symbol before the man dropped his hand once more. “We would like to offer this much,” the man said, pushing a piece of paper across the table to him.
Cleaver picked it up, read it, and his mind blanked in shock. “Fuck,” he said out loud, then flushed in embarrassment.