Even for Me

by Taryn Blackthorne

  “He’s going hunting tonight. Probably to find a replacement for you.” Rodriguez watched my face, trying not to reach up and touch me. “You’d be safer in custody, out of sight until this thing is over, but you wouldn’t do that would you?” His voice was soft, full of wonder at the creature he was looking at. “What would you do, if you…” He stopped. It was as if what he was asking was too crazy for him to even consider saying, but here he was saying it anyway and he couldn’t quite believe it.

  “Were his bait? Would I let him hunt me?” I put my hands on his chest and started to lightly knead his shirt. “Would I make him come to us? Yes, Detective. I would.” He looked at me like I was insane, and I smiled up at him.

  “I’ll take you to a safe house until nightfall. It will take us that long to set up the surveillance. Then I’ll come and get you, Aislyn.” He spoke slowly, the words dragged out of him. I backed up and his hand almost grabbed my arm, as if he didn’t want me to move away. He took a deep breath and shook his head, eyes closing. When he opened them again there was nothing but cop there. He motioned for an officer to escort me out.

  I was almost to the front desk when it hit me. Jackson, or whatever his name, was there and he’d tried to bail me out. Much as I hated it, I couldn’t just leave him at the station. We were going to be stuck together on this one, whether we liked it or not.

  Chapter Thirteen: Aislyn

  Jackson was right there at the front desk, grinning happily at me when I walked down the hallway. He reached out and I had to force myself to let him touch me. We’d just been “lovers” after all. I couldn’t react in a bad way or every cop in this building would be suspicious and I was too close to the door. I could practically smell the asphalt on the road and wanted to wipe my chin to see if there was drool. The cat was happy and scampering around my head like an idiot. I could feel the need to Change itching in the back of my skull. I needed to find a distraction if I was going to be in police protection for the next twenty-four hours. Damn it, just when I thought I was getting out of this mess, something went and sucked me down again.

  I pulled the grinning idiot to me, smacked a deep and passionate kiss on him for the entire world to see and turned to the cop escorting me to his car.

  “What about Jackson here? If the killer finds out that he was the one keeping me from his little surprise, won’t he be in danger?” I blinked for effect and every male in the place seemed to stand a little straighter while every female either chuckled or glared daggers at me. At least most of the males seemed to react. Guess the don’t ask/don’t tell rule extended past the military to cops too.

  Jackson’s grin tightened around the corners. This wasn’t what he wanted, either, but I couldn’t have him running around loose while I played rabbit for Rodriguez. And my point was valid. The killer did know where I lived, seemed to know an awful lot about me, if the method used in killing Tammy were any indication. I hadn’t really looked at the other victims’ pictures, but I bet they would have shown me the same raking of the gut (like a cat’s hind claws ripping open the stomach while the teeth were busy with the throat).

  The thought brought me up short. The body hadn’t been like that. That was the most likely way for a cat to kill its prey from a frontal attack and Tammy’s body hadn’t been like that at all. If a cat attacked from behind it brought down the prey, held it with its paws and teeth went for the jugular or spine. Tammy hadn’t been like that either. But everyone had assumed it was a wild cat, a cougar, a Ghost Cat. Why? And how the hell could I tell Rodriguez this without being obvious about it?

  After a little debate from ruling brass, it was arbitrarily decided that Jackson would come with me, just to be safe. It would save the whole don’t-leave-town speech anyways, since in some book somewhere we were both still suspects. I was still thinking how to drop the subject of the kills to Rodriguez when everyone started moving towards the unmarked cars except me.

  Jackson bumped into me and I turned around, ready to blast him for it. He looked down at me with those green eyes and a dimple formed. He was daring me to do something stupid.

  “Something wrong, darlin’?” The Texas drawl was back and thickening. He was gonna be all good old boy charm until we were alone. I wondered what had brought him galloping in to my rescue. He had given me to Laura, but I doubt he would have gone along for the ride if she’d told him what she really had planned. Laura tricked a lot of really smart people into doing exactly what she wanted without using any of her magic. It was how she’d survived so long.

  “Hey, love birds.” The cop behind both of us stopped short and glared. He was older and had the bulging belly and disposition that said he was unlikely to ever get out of his uniform. “We need to be moving forwards, towards the cars. I need to get you both tucked into the safe house before my shift ends.” He motioned us forward. “Then you can be alone with each other and I’ll even loan you my handcuffs for the night.” The rest of the cops around us guffawed. Jackson had a smile plastered on his face, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He grabbed my elbow just a little too hard to steer me in the right direction. I managed to keep a blank face, but the cat in my head was wheezing with laughter. It was hard not to join in.

  The hotel the police were putting us up in was on Colfax. Every city had a street like it. It was the one where drug dealers and hookers worked out of motels that charge by the hour, and where you could get things really cheap if you didn’t look too closely at them and didn’t care where they came from. What wasn’t a hotel, fast food joint, pawn shop or used car dealership worked really hard at making their little section of the block respectable. You could find a bank or two, close to the nicer neighborhoods, but for the most part, Colfax was the street you didn’t want to end up on if you were lost. It was the flagship for trouble.

  So why put us up in a skuzzy hotel here? It was as far away from downtown, LoDo and all the other trendy murder scenes as you could get. No one would be looking for us here, and those who saw us, didn’t see us. Not if they wanted to do business anywhere near the cops again, or with them since most turned informant when they were strapped for cash. It wasn’t as if the killer was paying people to find me anyways. At least I hoped not.

  The kindly officer made good on his promise to drop his handcuffs on the nightstand before he left. They were the only bright spot. The room was dingy wood panel, velvet art, faded flower prints and sickly sweet smelling. The sweet didn’t quite cover some of the sins from past owners but I’m sure I was the only one who could tell.

  Jackson paced around the room, echoing the cat in my head. I sat on one of the double beds and watched them both for a while, not thinking anything. Jackson kept checking the windows, picking up the phone then putting it down again, then going back to the windows. We were on the second floor and it was still light out, but only just. The kiddies would be tricking and treating in a couple of hours and the traffic was light right now.

  “Want to get something to eat?” I doubted the place had room service, but there were golden arches across the street. I was sure the detectives could either watch us or go get us something.

  He jumped, as if he’d forgotten I was in the room. An awkward moment passed and he sat on the bed, facing me. He looked about to start speaking a dozen times, but shut his mouth on every one. Finally his eyes lit on the handcuffs and he pointed to them.

  “Do I want to know what they were talking about?”

  “I had to think of something to tell them about Laura’s bracelets.” I wondered what had happened to his. He nodded and I thought that would have been the end of the conversation, but he pulled a note from his pocket and handed it to me.

  “What do you make of this?” His tone was over chipper, like he was forcing his way through social graces with someone he hadn’t thought deserved them up until this point. The handwriting was Laura’s. I flashed him an angry look, but he missed it, looking at the paper in my hands.

  “Laura gave this to you.”

  He nod
ded. I waited. He finally looked up at me.“Should we call?”

  I glared at him. He got up off the bed and walked over to the window again.

  “She did something to us. Can’t you feel it?” He sounded lost, like a little boy.

  “What did Laura say when she gave this to you?” I flicked the note at him. He squatted, picked it up off the floor and looked up at me.

  “Something about Mistress Hunter. What she said during the ritual. That she’d undo the binding if I brought you to her.”

  “Unlikely.” I crossed my arms. Then I got up off the bed and paced as he had done earlier. He made room for me to pass him but other than that did not move. “You don’t know her like I do. Trust me when I say we’re better off figuring this out for ourselves. Why do you want this gone so badly anyways?”

  “You know how Shifters are made?”

  I turned on him, trying to decide whether to laugh in his face, or smack him.

  “Not all are created the same, you know.” He raised his hands defensively. I sighed and he relaxed a hair, but didn’t continue. I knelt beside him, slowly to show him I wasn’t any danger. He never took his eyes off me. After a while he started back up.

  “Shifters are created in three ways. One, they’re born and inherit it like a disease. It usually presents itself around puberty. Those ones are usually pretty tough to spot. They live in packs, prides or whatever and the family hunts together. They keep each other hidden as best as they can, never more than a dozen in any one place.” He stopped and I leaned in closer, to encourage him to speak. He took a deep breath.

  “The second one is rarer. A witch with enough power and know-how can call a Shifter into being, as long as the person they’re changing has something in common with the animal. They usually use the Shifter as a sort of slave that can carry magic for them, keeping them under some sort of control. These ones are easier to spot. A person first Changed has no idea how to stop the urges and instincts and usually goes overboard. The witch ends up dead first, followed by a whole lot of others. It generally happens in the first few weeks. Shifters tend to lose what made them human and start seeing everyone around them as either prey or rivals to be fought. Not their fault, really, but it doesn’t change the fact that they’re just as dangerous.”

  This was how Laura had made me a Shifter and he must have suspected it. Now he knew that to bring me back to Laura was to make me a slave to her. Was this his idea of an apology?

  He kept looking at the paper, like it would tell him something. He was distracting himself as much as anything. His nostrils flared and he inhaled. I crawled on my knees, between his, forcing him to look at me.

  “What about the third way?” He was upset. I could feel it vibrate out of him and even the cat wanted to cuddle and make it stop. I put my hands on his bent knees, sliding them up his legs and he sucked in breath and stood abruptly. I kept my hands on his thighs, looking up at him. I wanted to show him I was no threat.

  He looked down at me and put his hand in my hair. I curled into his hand, closing my eyes to show trust. He wouldn’t hurt me, not at this precise moment. I knew that, as sure as I knew he was anxious about something. I rubbed my cheek against his groin, his hand still tangled in my hair. I opened my eyes to look at him. His hand tightened in my hair and I stopped rubbing, but kept my hands and face where they were, ignoring his groin’s involuntary hardening.

  “The third type just appears. You can never predict where or when, but every few years someone goes walking in the woods or rock climbing or exploring caves and is sighted a few days or months later, gone completely mountain man. There’s no bite marks on them, but it’s where the stories started. They just Change. They’re the most dangerous of all. Highly territorial, practically animal no matter what form they’re in. No way to talk or reason with them at all.” He paused and pulled a breath in through his nose again, but couldn’t seem to remember what he was about to say. Another deep breath through his nose, then another, did nothing to ease the tension of his body. His heartbeat quickened and I could feel his pulse start to throb. He threw me abruptly from him and I hit the other bed.

  I shook the cobwebs away from my vision to find him pressing down on me. He had my hands over my head and was just looking at me, wild eyed. His nostrils flared again and he took a deep breath.

  “You smell so damn good.” He buried his face in my hair, licking my throat. My human mind was trying to sort things out. Unfortunately my cat side was already kicking in, arching back to give him better access. He took the opportunity and ran his lips and tongue down my neck, pushing the T-shirt I had on down with his chin to work between my breasts. One of his hands came down and ripped my shirt so he had better access. It was abrupt and fast and sexy as hell. My breath came a little faster and my free hand pressed him tighter to me. His other hand released mine and pulled the remnants of my shirt off, exposing my bra. He rolled his eyes up to mine as his hands slid underneath me to undo the clasps. The bra followed the shirt to the floor right about the time his mouth found my breast. I arched again for him and felt him smile.

  The cat began to purr in me and I scratched at his hair, trying to pull him off me. He bit harder and I growled. His hands slid my pants off like they weren’t even there and I had a moment where I couldn’t think. When I forced my way up from the fog, he had his pants off, his underwear doing little to keep him contained. He was up on his knees, his hands above his head as he pulled his shirt off.

  I watched rippling muscles and traced a light scar on his flesh with my eyes. He was strong. I wanted to taste skin. Wanted to nip and taste just the tiniest hint of blood. Wanted him to do the same. Wanted the feel of him inside me, I wanted him claiming me.

  I balled my fists on either side of his hips, intending to rip the last barrier off when I realized I was full-out growling. The cat was winning. It sobered me immediately.

  He threw his shirt off and pulled me roughly up to meet his lips and force me against the wall. I was so busy fighting the cat back that I couldn’t fight him. He kissed me like he was going to eat me from the inside out. I fought for air, turning my neck to his mouth again, and he took it as encouragement.

  What had brought this on? I tried to remember as his tongue found my earlobe, one hand at my breast, the other sliding between my legs and bringing a gasp and growl from my throat at the same time. He had said I’d smelled good. He’d been breathing deep, through his nose. Scent. I must smell different. His fingers found my clit and I shivered. It took all I had to focus on my train of thought. Heat. I must be in some kind of heat. I gripped both his shoulders and shoved hard before his hands did anything else delicious. The cat in me screamed and I had a moment combating the Change bubbling across my skin, pure agony screaming across my entire body.

  He stood up at the end of the bed where I’d thrown him, watching. His face turning from that dark, primal look all men got during sex to confusion, finally settling on horror.

  I’d managed to force it back. It left me exhausted and gasping, sweat-drenched from pain, naked chest heaving. I looked up at the face he turned to me and something broke.

  I was a monster. It was written plainly on his face. I could never be anything but a creature to be feared and hated. I curled on my side and let the tears drip out, too wiped out to fight them.

  He curled up behind me a few minutes later. He tried. To give him credit, he did try. But I didn’t want to be touched and pulled away. I’d seen truth in his eyes and didn’t want to be around anyone or anything. I slid off the bed, grabbed jeans and his shirt and was out the door with the smooth grace and speed of the beast that had come to rule my life.

  Chapter Fourteen: Jackson

  Jackson pushed up off the bed in time to see the door click behind her. By the time he’d found his pants, realized Aislyn was wearing his one T-shirt and peeked out the door, Rodriguez had his hand on the small of her back, guiding her towards a ratty old van that even he could tell was a front. They might as well write D
enver P.D. on the side of it. He slammed the door closed.

  He couldn’t believe he’d let things go so far. A little kissing to bait a Shifter in the trap with was one thing, but this? He’d almost been sheathed inside her when she’d pushed him away. He tried really hard to be disgusted, angry, anything but turned on. He found himself completing the fantasy in his mind’s eye.

  He sat back down on the bed and picked up the remnants of her T-shirt and bra. He put the clothing to his nose and inhaled deeply. Her scent was like honeysuckle and roses. He breathed in again, finding snippets of fresh pine and autumn wind. He loved that scent. Her hair had been soft and silky against his face. He wanted her here again. He wanted the Shifter here in his bed.

  What? The thought sobered him. He wanted a Shifter? Was he going crazy? The witch, the spell, it had to be because of the spell. This was all the witch’s fault. He wanted to sleep with a monster because of her.

  Monster. The word echoed hollowly in his brain and he had a sudden vision of what she’d seen. Of him looking at her when she’d fought off the Change. He was proud of her that she fought and won. But you weren’t supposed to be proud of the monsters; you were supposed to kill them.

  He saw her lying on the bed in a ball and crying. In her human form. That wasn’t fair. The monsters weren’t supposed to cry. They weren’t supposed to have feelings. He hadn’t wanted her crying. He had curled up beside her and tried to soothe her, to make it all right. He’d tried. But she wouldn’t let him hold her. She wouldn’t let him play with her hair and tuck her into his arms. She was so much smaller than him, really. He must have a foot of height over her at least. It would have been easy to snuggle her against his heart, stroke back her hair behind her ear, whisper he was sorry. But then she’d taken off like that. She’d left him there, in the bedroom with nothing.

  The farther away she got, the clearer his head seemed. The cops didn’t seem affected by the way she smelled. Her beast was infecting him somehow. That was why she was acting so human and he was acting so crazy. Things were so mixed up. It had to be his connection, his binding. It spilled some of her capabilities into him.