by Cynthia Eden
But although the demons looked like humans, they were incredibly different. Most demons had psychic powers. Some were amazingly strong, while others were barely gifted. But even those with the light touch of the gift were able to cloak their eye color so humans would not see them for what they really were.
Emily’s extrasensory power let her see past the glamour, let her see past the magic to the true nature of the creatures. She usually kept her mental shields up around them, though, because she’d once made the mistake of going up against a level-nine demon. The guy had nearly blasted her into a coma.
Before she’d passed out and slammed face-first into the floor, she’d managed to fight back and burn out the guy’s magic. Turnabout could be a real bitch…as the demon had learned.
“A demon,” Colin repeated softly. “Like that guy you mentioned, Niol?”
No, she didn’t think Jake was like Niol at all. She hadn’t sensed any evil in Jake.
Like people, some demons were good and some were evil. The demons who were good, well, they tended to keep to themselves. But the ones who were evil—those were the bad-asses people knew from history, the ones who’d first made folks think they were servants of the devil.
A demon who had incredible power and no conscience, well, he was truly a being to fear.
“I don’t think he’s like Niol,” she told him softly.
Colin tucked the card into his pocket. His eyes remained locked on hers. “And how do you know that?”
Time to lay her cards on the table. “Because I’d feel it if he were.” Sure, she hadn’t gone shieldless with the guy to get a full mind probe, but she also hadn’t sensed any of the dark, seething black power in the air that usually signaled a dangerous demon.
He seemed to stiffen before her. “Feel it? How?”
“I’m an empath, Colin. My gift is that I sense things. I sense the Other. I can sense their feelings, their thoughts.”
Yeah, he’d definitely tensed up on her. “You’re telling me that you can read my thoughts?”
The temperature seemed to drop about ten degrees. “I’m telling you that sometimes I can tell the thoughts of supernaturals.” She’d known he wouldn’t be thrilled by this news; that was why she hadn’t told him the full truth the other night. But now that they were working together, now that her talent was coming into play, well, she figured he had the right to know.
Colin grabbed her arms, jerked her forward against his chest. “So this whole time, you’ve been playing with me.”
The sharp edge of his canines gleamed behind his lips. “No, Colin, it’s not like that—”
“You’ve been looking into my head and seeing how much I want you?”
“Colin, no, I—” Seeing how much I want you. Had he really just said that?
His cheeks flushed. “While I tried to play the dumb-ass gentleman.”
Since when?
“Well, screw that.” His lips were right over hers, his fingers tight on her arms. “If you’ve been in my head, then you know what I want to do to you.”
Uh, no, she didn’t. Her shields had been firmly in place with him all day. Her heart was pounding so fast now, the dull drumming filled her ears. She licked her lips, tried once more to tell him the truth. “It’s not like that—”
Too late. His mouth claimed hers, swallowing her words and igniting the hungry desire she’d been trying so hard to fight.
Chapter 4
Damn, but the doc tasted good. Colin thrust his tongue past her soft lips, loving the feel of her mouth against his.
His cock was hard for her, arousal pumping heavily through his body. Her scent surrounded him, and the warm weight of her body pushed against him.
His fingers tangled in her hair, tangled in that bun that had been driving him crazy, and he pulled the silken strands free. And he kept kissing her, kept tasting her, thrusting his tongue deep.
The beast within him began to roar as his hunger built. Higher, higher…
Colin shifted, trying to get closer to her. His knee rammed into the gearshift, but he truly didn’t give a fuck. Her breasts pressed against his chest, the nipples tight. She wanted him.
Good, because he was going crazy wanting her.
And she knew it. She’d been in his head, stealing his thoughts, seeing how badly he wanted her.
Christ, what was it about her? Every time he was near her, his body went into overdrive, and he needed—he needed—
Her.
The lust he felt mixed with the anger simmering in his veins. His lips grew rougher on hers. A faint moan trembled in her throat, but she didn’t fight him. Her small hands lifted, wrapped around his shoulders.
Elation surged through him. His right hand lowered, slid down her body, and pressed against the curve of her breast. His fingers stroked her, cupped the warm weight of her flesh.
Emily shuddered against him, and the rich scent of her arousal filled the air.
Colin realized he was seconds away from taking her, there, in the car, with an abandoned store behind them and a road full of cars in front of them.
What in the hell was wrong with him?
Slowly, he lifted his head. Emily’s breath was panting out, her bow lips reddened and wet from his mouth. He licked his lips, and he still tasted her.
Shit. He was in trouble. Serious trouble.
Her hair had fallen around her shoulders. Dark as night. Straight and silky. Her glasses were tilted slightly on her nose, and she looked so sexy it took all of his control not to kiss her again.
Down, boy. Now wasn’t the time. Later he’d get the doc alone, and he’d get his fill of her.
His kind were notoriously sexual. He’d never found a partner to match his needs, but the doc, well, maybe she’d prove to be the exception. Course, he’d have to break her in easy, get her used to him, then he could let his full hunger reign.
“So what am I thinking now, Doc?” That I can’t wait to get you naked. To have you beneath me, screaming my name as you climax.
Emily blinked, took a deep breath, and seemed to realize that she was still clutching his shoulders. She dropped her hands, then jerked back against her seat. “Th-that shouldn’t have—”
“It happened.” He stared at her. Watched as she tried to finger-brush her hair. “And it’s gonna happen again.” He’d gotten his second taste of her, and he was even hungrier now. No way was he going to walk away from her.
But she was shaking her head. “We’re going to work together, we can’t—”
“Yeah, we can.” His fingers lifted, brushed back a lock of her hair. He didn’t care about the dumb-ass rule of mixing business and pleasure. So they were working together on the case. Big damn deal. Just made it easier for him to see her.
Emily stiffened.
“So tell me, Doc, what am I thinking now?” His voice was a whisper and his stare dropped to her shirtfront. Her nipples were pushing against the fabric. He wanted them in his mouth.
“I-I don’t know.” Her hands were tight fists in her lap. “I tried to tell you earlier, I don’t usually jump in someone’s head without permission.”
Ah, so the lady had a no-peeking policy, huh? Some of the tension within him began to ease, and with an effort, he managed to lift his gaze back to her face. “You’re telling me you’ve never used your gift on me?” That would make things so much easier.
Emily looked away.
Ah, shit. “Doc?”
“Once, okay?” Her head snapped toward him and her green eyes glittered. “When you came to my house that night. But it wasn’t deliberate. You were projecting, blasting me with your memories. I jerked up my shields as soon as I could.”
Blasting me with your memories. “What memories?” His back teeth clenched as he gritted, “Just what did you see?”
For a moment, she was silent. Then, “You. You were shot, bleeding.”
His right shoulder ached at the memory of the pain. “What else?” Cause he knew there was something else. The doc still
wasn’t looking him in the eyes.
“A fire.”
He tensed. “What about the fire?”
“Look, I just saw a house on fire, okay? You were there, looking up at this big, white house that was being eaten by flames.”
The flames had burned so brightly that night. Orange flames. Hotter than hell. And so hungry. They’d destroyed the house and everything inside.
“You don’t have to worry,” Emily muttered, pushing back her glasses. “I’m not going to deliberately look into your head.”
Well, that was reassuring. But…“Why not, Doc? Did you try that before on someone and find out more than you bargained for?” Had she probed a lover’s mind only to discover the man wasn’t as she’d thought?
“You could say that.” Her lips turned down. “The guy nearly put me in a coma.”
What?
“I was eighteen, hanging in the wrong place with the wrong guy. I thought I knew him, that I could trust him. So I lowered my guard, and I found out that I’d been dead wrong about him from the beginning.” She exhaled. “After that, I decided it’d be a hell of a lot safer for me to make absolutely certain that my shields were in place. I probe the thoughts of my patients—and only my patients.”
When he opened his mouth to question her, she said, “They give me their permission. I never touch thoughts without permission.” Her mouth tightened and she said, “Unless somebody’s projecting so loudly I can’t shut them out.”
Like he’d been doing. He huffed out a hard breath. Good thing there weren’t any other folks like the doc running around Atlanta. Otherwise, he’d be screwed.
“And I never lower my shields all the way,” Emily spoke again, her voice softer now. “I always keep some protection in place.”
Colin grunted and cranked the Jeep. He wanted to ask Emily more about the coma, ask her about the guy who’d nearly put her under, but he figured he’d pushed enough for one day.
Besides, he needed to get her to the station. They needed to talk to Smith, needed to find out if the ME had gotten any more information for them.
After they talked to Smith, he’d drop the doc off at her place. Then he’d go meet the cameraman. And he’d find out exactly what Jake Donnelley knew about his case.
“Uh, aren’t you forgetting something?”
He glanced at her. Found her eyes narrowed on him. “What?”
Her lips thinned. “An apology.”
“Ah, Doc, you don’t have to apologize to me. I understand now.” She wasn’t jumping in his brain. As far as he could tell, she still didn’t know the full truth about him, and that was very good news. “Just stay out of my head, and we’ll get along just fine.” More than fine if he had his way. In fact, they’d be—
The doc growled. Actually growled. Oh, he liked that. The beast within emitted a hungry growl of its own.
“I’m not talking about me giving you an apology,” she snapped. “I meant you owe me an apology.”
“What would I owe you an apology for?” He hadn’t jumped in her head.
“I don’t remember asking you to—to—” The doc broke off, flushing.
And the light dawned. He hadn’t jumped into her head, but he’d jumped her.
“I told you before, Gyth.” That pointed chin lifted and she stared straight at him, even as a blush stained her cheeks. “If I want you to kiss me, I’ll ask.”
Ah, yes, the doc wasn’t a fan of—what had she called it?— the He-man routine. Well, if the lady wanted an apology…“Sorry, Doc, guess my basic nature just got the best of me.” His basic nature, his anger, and the hard lust he seemed to feel every time he got near her.
“Yes, well, shifters are reputed to be highly volatile and, umm—”
“Sexual?”
She blinked.
“Yeah, we are.” Unfortunately, most shifters tended to be male, so it wasn’t like there were a ton of like-minded women strolling the streets.
But when he’d held the doc, for a bit there, “It seemed like your basic nature took control, too, huh?” She’d been kissing him back, rubbing that sweet little pink tongue of hers against his, pushing her body against him, clutching him tightly with her hands.
“Maybe it did,” Emily said softly, and his respect for her shot up. A woman who could admit her need—just what he wanted.
He wished they didn’t have to go back to the station. Wished they could just keep driving, preferably back to his place so that he could find out more about Emily’s needs.
Even though he could still taste her, he knew his lust would have to wait.
The case came first. It had to. But once the killer was caught, oh yeah, once the killer was tossed in a dark cell to never see the light of day again, then he could focus completely on Emily.
In the meantime, he’d keep mixing his business and pleasure every damn chance he got.
She wanted Colin Gyth. Wanted a shifter. All right, she could admit it.
Emily hurried to keep pace beside Colin as they maneuvered through the police station. A few officers called out greetings to Gyth as they passed. He didn’t stop for anyone, just kept walking with that I’m-a-bad-ass stride of his. She was having to double-time it to keep up with him.
He pushed open a door leading to a stairwell. A dark, narrow stairwell.
“Ladies first,” he murmured.
“Thanks.” She brushed past him, and his scent—the warm, rich scent of masculine flesh—teased her nostrils.
Her heart beat faster, her breath hitched.
Oh yes, she had a serious problem where the detective was concerned.
So what was she going to do about it? About him?
The stairs ended in front of a rust-colored door. Emily knew what waited for her on the other side of that door.
It was time to stop fantasizing about the detective and get to work.
Straightening her shoulders, she pushed open the door and began to walk across the shining white tile. Her high heels tapped lightly against the floor.
Colin pointed to another door. A metallic door with a narrow strip of a window.
“Go on, Doc. Smith’s waiting.”
She stepped inside.
Damn, but she hated that smell. It had been seven years since she’d been inside a morgue. But the place still smelled the same.
Emily inhaled and tried to control an automatic gag impulse. God, the place reeked. Chemicals. Bleach. Decay. The scents of death.
Fluorescent bulbs glowed overhead, revealing the stark environment of the morgue. A small desk sat in the far corner. A covered body rested on a table. And a shining tray of sharp instruments stood waiting near the body.
“Hey, Gyth, couldn’t wait any longer, huh?” A tall, thin, incredibly gorgeous black woman stepped from behind a row of filing cabinets. Her hands were covered in white, latex gloves and a blue face mask dangled around her neck.
“Hi, Smith.” He flashed her a smile. “You know, it’s been at least”—he glanced down at his watch—“five hours since I’ve been down here.”
“Hmmm.” Smith didn’t smile back at him, and she didn’t sound too happy. Her gaze drifted to Emily. “And you’ve brought company.”
“This is Dr. Emily Drake. She’s profiling the Myers case.”
Smith nodded. She held out her hand, and a smile finally curved her full lips. “Nice to meet you.”
“Ah, you, too.” This was the ME? The woman could have been a double for Tyra Banks.
Smith’s smile dimmed a bit as she turned her attention back to Gyth. “Seriously, you need to stop harassing me about this case. I’m working on the body as fast as I can. Myers wasn’t the only guy to get murdered lately, you know.”
“Yeah, but he was the only one killed by the Night Butcher.”
Her jaw dropped. “The what?”
“The Night—”
Smith held up her hand. “I heard you. Jesus, you mean the press has already named this guy?”
Colin nodded. His hand came to rest
at the small of Emily’s back and he gently pushed her forward.
She could feel the warm weight of his touch through her shirt. She stiffened, trying to ease away from the strong press of his fingers.
“Don’t guys like him usually have to kill a couple of times before they get nicknames?” Smith shook her head. “He could be a one-hit wonder, right, Dr. Drake?”
“Ah, maybe.” But she really doubted it.
Smith’s dark eyes narrowed. “You think this guy’s a serial?”
Not in the strictest sense of the word. The rules for serial killers didn’t really apply to the Other when they crossed that thin line that separated right and wrong for them. “I want to study the case more before I make a determination of that.” Nice, safe answer.
“Night Butcher.” Smith muttered the name again, shaking her head. “What a dumb-ass name.” She headed for the gurney, the gurney that held a body covered with a thin white sheet. “The poor SOB wasn’t butchered. He was bitten, clawed.”
Emily lowered the shield in her mind just a bit. She wasn’t sensing any supernatural powers from the doctor, but on this case, she didn’t want to take any chances.
She felt the whip of Colin’s shifter life force against her, but as for Smith…
Nothing.
The ME was completely human. Not even a half or a quarter breed.
That meant they needed to handle this case very, very carefully.
“You said he was bitten?” Emily questioned as she stepped toward the covered body. “You mean the killer showed cannibalistic tendencies toward the victim?”
“The guy wasn’t eaten,” Smith said, tapping her gloved fingers against the sheet. “But there were marks on the throat, like the attacker bit him. Bit his throat half open and then clawed it the rest of the way.”