The shiny badge took some of the wind out of the other man’s sails, but when he noticed his hook-up had disappeared, he swung back to the detective. Joe signaled the bartender for drinks, suggesting he felt the situation had been resolved. Michael hoped his friend was right as he stripped off his glove and casually moved between the two men. He brushed lightly against the other man’s bare hand, using the tips of his fingers as if accidentally touching in the crowd.
Sharp stabs of sexual frustration and roiling, irrational spurts of rage. Not good.
Michael’s arm and fingers wanted to curl into a preparatory fist, echoing the other man’s oncoming attack. Michael braced before he could launch.
The man threw his punch, aiming at the back of Joe’s head. But Michael grabbed the man’s wrist and pulled, shifting him off-balance as he came past.
The man stumbled and fell. Icy humiliation swirled into the emotional mix. He hauled himself up, glaring at Joe and Michael.
“What the—?” Joe began, but the man launched another assault, charging at them.
With precise timing, Michael took a half step to the side and swiveled, letting his attacker lurch past him. Please let that be enough. He didn’t want to have to hurt someone over drunken frustration.
The man fell into a barstool. The thick pole supporting it had been bolted into the floor and the impact rang loudly enough to be heard over the music. Michael winced in sympathy.
Slowly, the man got to his feet, rubbing his head. The violent rage vanished from his face, and he seemed more bewildered than angry.
“Are we going to have a problem?” Joe asked, standing beside his adversary, his fingers lightly resting on the gleaming handcuffs dangling from his belt.
The man stared blankly at the cuffs. “I… I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.”
“I think you had a little too much to drink. Why don’t we get you in a cab to go home?” Joe took charge, waving off the bartender and spectators.
Keeping to the background, Michael helped the other man straighten up. With luck, no one would remember this as anything other than a somewhat one-sided bar fight. He made sure to touch the other man’s skin, confirming the fight had truly gone out of him. Confusion and embarrassment poured over him, as if the other man were waking up from a vivid but bizarre dream—nothing like a normal drunken misunderstanding. Something wasn’t right here.
He looked out over the crowd. Nothing was visually different from before. People were still dancing close to each other, entranced by the pulsing music and lights. But the emotional sense of it had changed, more consistent with flirting than tear-their-clothes-off sex. Everything had lightened, and people were intent on having fun again. What could have caused such a dark atmosphere? He took a breath, enjoying the relief from the terrible pressure, but he couldn’t quite calm the alertness that had him scanning the club again and again, searching for what could have agitated the entire group.
No helpful compulsion alerted him to the source of the danger, but Michael didn’t have to be psychic to be uneasy. A faint tugging pulled at his subconscious, warning him he might not have much choice in finding out the answers. Something dangerous was out there, something going bump in the night. And if he didn’t find it, it might find him.
Chapter Three
“It is a lovely view,” Dani agreed, looking out at the lights of the city spread across the darkness. The thick, plush carpeting in the hotel suite cushioned any potential footsteps. The expensive yet generic furnishings provided anonymous luxury for the right price. She’d seen dozens of them, and they’d long since ceased to impress her.
“Not half as pretty as you.” Josh smirked.
“Careful. You’re almost charming. Your reputation will be ruined.” She left the window to sit on the sinfully soft leather couch, tucking her legs under her. “You mind if I ask you a question?”
Josh shrugged, taking a hefty slug of scotch.
“What’s with the Neanderthal act?” she asked. “There have to be easier ways to get a date than intimidation.” Now that she’d surrendered to her course, her mental processes were clear enough to indulge a little curiosity.
“It saves time.” He settled next to her on the couch, smugness evident in every sinew.
“Saves time,” Dani repeated flatly, surprised.
“Yeah. You can waste a lot of time pretending to give a shit about her boring job or bullshit dreams, and then she still won’t sleep with you. Telling her what I want right up front saves me time.”
Dani shook her head, trying not to show her contempt. “That is fucked up.”
“Got you here, didn’t it?” Josh began to drag his fingers along her bare arm. “Or are you still going to pretend this isn’t what you were looking for?”
“You got me. I was searching for someone like you,” Dani admitted. No point in keeping up a pretense now. She stood, making sure he got a good eyeful of her generously curved figure. Tossing a condom on the glass coffee table, she slowly pulled down the side zipper of her dress, letting the red silk fall in a puddle at her feet.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about.” Josh eagerly ogled her crimson bra and thong.
“I went to three other bars before I hit your club. I almost gave up before you came over.” Dani slowly straddled him. She only had to keep his attention a little longer and then this would all be over.
He wasted no time and began pawing at her breasts while she talked.
“You had those two thugs-for-hire, your entourage, and Miss Copper Top. I could tell right away that you were a man who got what he wanted and didn’t worry about anything else.”
“That’s me.” He pinched her nipples through her bra. She hated it when guys did that. Some of the anticipatory guilt faded.
“The staff were afraid of you. I could smell it, see it in the way they avoided meeting your eyes and in how quickly they tried to leave. Miss Copper Top reeked of fear, too—fear and desperation. You have something over her, don’t you?” she guessed.
“She likes my lifestyle and my money. But she got boring.”
Dani began to unbutton his shirt. “So you ditched her. Picked up something shiny and new.”
He kneaded her buttocks, pushing his crotch against her. Dani forced herself to keep a smile on her face. This was about what was necessary. She had to keep her head in the game no matter how much she loathed letting him touch her. Soon. It’ll be over soon.
He ripped at her thong, tearing the fragile fabric. The sharp sound sparked buried memories. Dani closed her eyes, fighting the surging darkness inside. This isn’t the time. Not yet. Her stomach churned, knowing what was next.
While she battled her inner demons, a determined and oblivious Josh shoved down his pants and hauled out an impressively mediocre erection.
“Do you know why I was looking for you?” Dani whispered, leaning in to roll the condom over his meager assets. She barely got it on before he began to thrust up into her.
“This works better if you don’t talk,” Josh grunted, pumping frantically.
She needed skin-to-skin contact. She spread her hand over Josh’s pale chest, sweat making it cool and sticky against her palm. Concentrating, gathering her personal self—what she thought of as her soul—Dani reached deep into her psyche.
And touched a monster. The Huntress: terrifying, insatiable hunger; ancient rage howling for blood. Linked to the Goddess of her ancestors, it was part of her family’s bloodlines, a genetic curse worse than any cancer or disease.
Her eyes burned as if on fire when she opened them. A brilliant crimson circle would be glowing around the outer edge of each iris to declare the Huntress’s presence linked with her own.
“What the fuck?” Josh whimpered, staring at her gleaming eyes, the sharp bite of fear overwhelming the musky scent of his expensive cologne.
“Time to wake up.” The Huntress boiled up, surging through her and into Josh as he jerked and twitched in orgasm. Dani bit her lip as it left, ra
sping like harsh sandpaper against the inside of her skull. No matter how many times she did this, it was agony—even if the alternative was worse.
A familiar glaze washed over Josh’s eyes as he stared at something distant and invisible. A weak, strangled whimper passed through his thinned lips, a primal cry for help. Dani held still, all too aware of the secondhand sensation of the Huntress sinking her psychic fangs into him and wrapping him in her coils. She grew heavier and heavier as the monster pulled Josh’s soul deeper into the planes beyond the physical. All that remained was the tenuous link between Dani and the Huntress— the trail the Huntress would use to return. Emotions echoed down the connection, forcing Dani to be a passive observer of their struggle.
He was fighting hard against the attack, but no one won against the monster she carried. Once in the Huntress’s world, he couldn’t hide or lie to himself. Josh would be forced to confront the frightened coward behind his pompous bullying. He would be exposed as a spoiled, pathetic excuse for a human being. He’d have to feel the contempt and fear he’d inspired in others, experience the pain he’d caused. Once the Huntress had stripped him bare of all his illusions, it would spit him back out into his body. And then it would be sated, leaving Dani free of its demands for a while, at least.
She didn’t know why it needed to Hunt as often as it did or why it fed on self-delusion. She didn’t want to. Through the monster inside her, she caught glimpses of what the victims endured, which was more than enough. Maybe there was a time when her mother might have been able to explain, but it had passed, hidden along with their crumbling altar and buried in oppressive silence. Dani had been forced to rely on family legends and old journals, which painted the Huntress and its priestesses as conduits to the divine. The priestesses brought their lovers face to face with the gods, showing them what they truly were without the comfort of masks, intentions, or plausible lies. Of course, none of the legends talked about how painful it was or how humiliating it could feel. As far as she knew, no one had ever denied and managed the Huntress the way she did. Certainly none of the stories warned about the dangers of not satisfying the Huntress’s urges. Dani had been left to struggle with all of that on her own.
All she knew for certain was that the men she slept with would freeze with glazed eyes at the moment of orgasm. Faint echoes of their moment of clarity resonated through the Huntress and back to her. After a few seconds, their souls returned and the Huntress slithered back inside her, content and quiescent once again. And she would have a few weeks of relative peace and normality.
Five weeks since her last Hunt had left the Huntress restless and dangerous. It became contagious, leaching out of her like a psychic toxic spill. She’d seen the damage at the various bars and clubs she’d visited tonight. People who’d gone out for a good time had ended up in thrall, pursuing the Huntress’s twin lusts: sex and violence. She’d left the Hunt far too long this time. She’d hated the idea of once again allowing some random jerk inside her, but she’d hated being a source of destruction even more. She’d seen rapes and murders happen under the Huntress’s influence, and the responsibility scarred her already-battered heart. Trapped in the never-ending cycle, torn between the two demands, she could only try to scrape out some room for herself in the middle.
She Hunted carefully these days, searching for those who saw themselves as predators. After a night with her, the men would be catatonic for two or three days before coming back to themselves. Or at least mostly back. She’d seen previous lovers from time to time, and they were clearly shaken. Most went through mental and spiritual changes similar to someone who’d been through a near-death experience. Some simply ran as soon as they recognized her. They’d all recovered at least, all except…. She refused to dwell on it.
The Huntress slid back into her mind, rasping past her consciousness to bury itself deep in the darkness beyond. Dani accepted it with reluctant resignation.
Josh shook and drew in a ragged breath. Dani got off him, leaving him to curl up in a fetal position on the couch while she went to clean herself up. She hated this part of her life, but she’d learned to do what was necessary. The Huntress demanded regular feedings, and she chose to Hunt the predators: the jerks and assholes who made life miserable for everyone around them. It didn’t make a difference to the Huntress, but it kept the shreds of Dani’s conscience somewhat intact.
Josh wasn’t as bad as some of the men she’d Hunted. Selfish, arrogant, and entitled, but not evil. With luck, he’d come out of this a better person. She pulled his wallet out of his pants and eased out a twenty, enough to buy a new set of panties to replace the pair he’d ruined.
Now for the difficult part: making sure no one came looking for her.
Out of her purse she pulled a little vial of custom-made ecstasy pills with an added ingredient that would explain Josh’s symptoms. She’d never asked her supplier for details. She was burdened with far too much knowledge as it was. Tossing one underneath the couch and another on the low coffee table, she studied the scene to make sure her work was done. Tucking the vial back in her purse, she screamed as loudly as she could.
The bodyguards burst into the room. She crouched in the corner, well away from where Josh trembled and whimpered.
“What happened?” one of them demanded.
“We were… and he… oh God!” Dani hid her face in her hands, pretending to cry, eager to put this entire night behind her. One of the bodyguards picked up a phone to call 911 while the other noticed the pill on the table. That was a relief. She hated having to point the damn things out. She avoided looking where Josh lay twitching.
She had planned to slip away in the chaos of emergency services arriving, but to her surprise, the bodyguards hustled her into her clothes and out the door, pressing a wad of cash into her hand. As they shoved her into the private elevator, they warned her: “You were never here.”
Suits me fine. She hailed a cab to return to her car and counted up the money. More than four hundred dollars. Even with expenses, not bad for the night.
Her sleek, black GT convertible was parked exactly where she’d left it, tucked into a seldom-traveled side street near Perdition’s main nightlife strip. A fast car for a fast life. Dani couldn’t help but smile as she climbed inside, letting her fingers trail along the smooth, polished steel and slick paint. She loved racing invisibly through the night, thrilling to the intoxicating combination of wind and throbbing horsepower. She inhaled the clean scent of wax and leather seats. Home.
Her phone rang before she could pull into traffic. The number wasn’t familiar, but something warned her to answer anyway. “Hello?”
“Dani, we’re in trouble.”
“Eric?”
Her brother’s voice was practically unrecognizable. Fear roughened his voice, cracking his usual deep, rolling bass. It wasn’t rare for her brothers to call for help—mostly for bail money—but this was different. He sounded desperate. “You have to come get us.”
“What’s going on?” Adrenaline sharpened her senses, allowing her to pick out individual threads of different scents floating in the air.
“The bodyguard job… it was a trap. Vincent’s been shot.”
Dani’s heart stopped, and the Huntress hissed beneath her subconscious. “I’m coming. Where are you?”
“A place called Rick’s Gas and Go. Route NY 13.”
It was close—ten minutes south of the city. Dani floored the accelerator, cutting across the sparse late-night traffic with reckless disregard for public safety. The engine throbbed through her seat, enhancing the fury vibrating through her veins. “Vincent… how bad?” She couldn’t make herself ask if she was racing for nothing.
“It’s in the leg. He’s bleeding a lot, but he’ll be okay.” She’d never heard her confident elder sibling so at a loss. “I’ve been carrying him. You have to warn Mom and Dad—”
“I’m getting you first,” she snarled as if denial and willpower could hold off the worst. A chill crept up but s
he smashed it down along with the accelerator, dismissing such inconsequential matters as speed limits.
Eric drew in a sharp breath. “They’re coming. I see lights.”
“Hide! Find somewhere and hide. I’m almost there,” Dani ordered, but the line clicked dead. She threw the phone on the seat and clenched her hands on the steering wheel. Anger and fear vied for supremacy, coiling through her tightened muscles. Just a few more minutes.
Chapter Four
“Report!” André Dalhard snapped at his aide while he signed documents, his large hand swallowing the slim designer pen. Karan Samil allowed himself a strictly internal moment of amusement. After close to fifteen years of working together, his boss still barked orders as if the reports had not been prepared before he stepped into the expansive penthouse office. A solid glass wall gave a spectacular view of Berlin’s lights below, but Dalhard wasted neither time nor attention on it. The heavy granite-topped desk faced away from the windows, its smooth surface uncluttered by papers, mementos, or pictures. All business, all the time, everything precisely in place, from Dalhard’s slicked-back dark hair to the lines of his bespoke suits. Karan appreciated precision—so rare in life.
Karan calmly began to read the highlights of the company’s daily report from his tablet. “The new team of geneticists believes they have an appropriate carrier virus for transmission. All they need is a source of suitable DNA. I have sent out messages to our agents to find potential candidates.”
“What about the French military contract?” Dalhard interrupted.
“Député Chenier is no longer in a position to object to us being awarded the contract. Tina has encouraged him into some quite risky endeavors. He is sufficiently upset by his actions that she does not believe formal blackmail will be required. He is likely to voluntarily resign by the end of the week.” His own lack of compassion did not trouble Karan—he had no patience for the weak and foolish. “The National Assembly will vote on the experimental protocols next month.”
Revelations: Book One of the Lalassu Page 2