by Cynthia Eden
Apples and…lavender. A nice blend.
Only…there was something more. A deeper, richer scent that was pulling at him. Drawing him closer to her.
Tempting.
“Are you sniffing me?”
He stopped.
“Because that is some weird serial killer shit if you’re doing that. Don’t make me go for my gun again.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw that her hand was already near the holster.
“You smell good,” he said, deciding to go with the truth. “But I’ll try to stop the ‘serial killer shit’ for you.”
“You’d better.” Her steps didn’t hurry. She wore boots and jeans. Jeans that hugged her legs and ass ever so well. He’d noticed the ass-hugging earlier, before she’d turned with her gun drawn. She had on a jacket, one that looked a bit battered, so he couldn’t tell much about her upper body. He suspected her breasts were as perfect as her ass.
“I don’t want lies from you.”
Pity. He only had lies to give her.
“Did you know the victim?”
He shook his head.
“Her prints turned up in the system. She had a…solicitation charge against her. Melanie Wagner, age twenty-one. Just twenty-one. According to the intel I gathered, she was dancing at one of those dives on Bourbon Street.” Disgust had entered her voice. “She didn’t deserve to be tossed away like trash.”
She hadn’t been tossed away, though. He’d seen the body and had noticed the care that had been taken to position young Melanie just right.
“I will find her killer.” It sounded as if Jane was making a vow. She should be careful doing that. It was never good to make a promise that you couldn’t keep.
Up ahead, a small alley snaked away from the street. Darkness filled that alley, and, automatically, his gaze slid toward it. What a perfect hunting spot.
His tongue slid over the edge of his teeth. He could feel them starting to sharpen. “I certainly wish you luck with that endeavor.” He started to say more, but then heard a faint rustle of sound. A light noise coming from the alley. Jane wouldn’t have noticed it. Most humans wouldn’t.
“Forget luck. Give me that security footage.”
He stopped walking.
So did she.
Aidan forced a smile. “Of course. I’ll call my manager right now and make sure the footage is sent to you.” He pulled out his phone, but didn’t call anyone. “I hope the ME has news that you can use.”
Her gaze raked over him. “I don’t get you.”
No, she wouldn’t. But she should hurry along to the ME’s office. The streets weren’t safe for her. Or rather, that particular street wasn’t safe right then.
This problem shouldn’t be happening. After he got the test results, the ME should have called in the clean-up team.
“No prior convictions, not so much as a traffic ticket,” she said as she tilted her head. More tendrils of her hair escaped from her ponytail, and that scent of hers was seriously getting beneath his skin. “But when I look at you, I see you.”
He tensed at that, wondering just what she meant.
“You’re not some safe guy who plays by the rules. That’s a lie. The image you’re giving to the world is a lie.”
She was hitting far too close to the truth. “So what am I?” Who am I?
“That’s really what I’d like to know.” She shook her head, sending those tendrils of hair sliding over her cheek. “Make that call. I’ll be paying you a visit at Hell’s Gate come morning.”
Morning wasn’t that far away.
Jane gave him a curt nod and then headed for the ME’s office.
He called his manager and made sure his voice carried as he gave instructions for Graham to send the security footage to Detective Hart. And Aidan watched her walk away.
A truly great ass.
When she hurried up the steps that would take her into the building that housed the ME’s office, his attention turned to the alley once more.
He could hear those rustles again. Louder.
And…a cry. A gurgle?
Hell.
The detective was safe, but someone else wasn’t. He could smell the blood in the air. His hand reached into his coat, and his fingers curled around the wooden stake he’d hidden there.
Never leave home without a good stake. Advice he’d followed since his thirteenth birthday.
When he rushed into the alley, he saw the victim was struggling, kicking and scratching in the vampire’s grip. And that vamp—the vamp was guzzling the guy’s throat. A homeless man, by the looks of him. A fellow who’d made the mistake of thinking the alley was a safe place to sleep.
It wasn’t safe.
“Let him go.” Aidan’s voice was sharp and hard. Cold with power.
The vamp ignored him. Kept drinking. The homeless man’s struggles became weaker.
Shit.
“You’re killing him.”
The vampire looked up at him. Laughed. Madness burned in that gaze. Madness and power but the vampire did actually let go of the victim.
Then the vamp charged at Aidan, rushing forward with fangs bared.
Those fangs never touched him.
The stake drove into the vampire’s chest, fast and hard and brutal. Straight to the heart. The vampire cried out and Aidan’s arms wrapped around his prey. “It’s all right now,” Aidan said softly.
The vampire blinked up at him. Death was coming.
Aidan lowered the vamp to the ground. The alley was dirty. It smelled of urine and rotting food. The urine had probably come from the homeless man. During the attack he’d no doubt—
The vamp’s hand grabbed tight to him. Like a claw.
Aidan could have broken away. He didn’t. He stared down at his prey. When the life faded from the vamp’s eyes, he was still crouched there, waiting.
After all, someone should stay until the end.
No one deserved to die alone.
Chapter Two
“I don’t understand.” Dr. Bob Heider pushed the tortoiseshell glasses up on his nose. “Who is it that you are looking for?”
This game wasn’t funny. It was seriously pissing her off. “The victim who was brought in earlier tonight. Melanie Wagner. Have you learned anything else about her?”
Dr. Bob’s forehead—already impressively high with his receding hairline—seemed to rise even more as he stared at her in confusion. “I don’t know any Melanie Wagner.”
Jane’s temples were pounding. “The dead woman in there!” She pointed behind him, to what she and the other cops called the crypt.
Dr. Bob glanced over his shoulder. “There aren’t any bodies in there.” But he seemed to be sweating a bit. “Look, I just stepped out to grab some coffee and I-I came back in—”
“In to what?” Jane demanded. “In to find that a body was missing. I mean, come on, Dr. Bob! It’s not like a dead body just gets up and walks away when your back is turned!”
He looked away from her. “No new bodies here, detective.” His voice was flat.
Okay, fine, so he wanted his turn at hazing the new detective. She’d had her share of pranks played on her this week, but now was not the time. This case wasn’t a damn joke. She marched around him and headed into the crypt. “There is a new body. The woman right—”
No one was there.
There was no body up on the exam table. And when she went to the cold lockers, pulling them open as Dr. Bob protested behind her, she didn’t find a twenty-one-year-old woman. “What in the hell?”
“Uh, detective…” Dr. Bob cleared his throat. “Have you been drinking tonight?”
She whirled toward him. “A woman was murdered! Her body was brought here! To you.”
He shook his head.
This made zero sense to her.
The guy actually looked confused. Legitimately confused. And that couldn’t be happening.
Maybe good old Dr. Bob was the one that had been drinking. Just what was in his coffee
mug? She inched closer to him and inhaled, rather the way Aidan had done when he’d gotten close to her. All serial killer style. But the doc didn’t smell like booze.
“Look, Doctor—” Jane began.
“It’s late,” Dr. Bob said, cutting through her words. “I’m going home and getting some good sleep. Even the coffee doesn’t work on me anymore.” His heavy eyebrows lowered consideringly as he stared at her. “I’d suggest you do the same thing.”
He’d suggest she—
Insane.
But…but he took her elbow and guided her out of his office. She craned her neck, looking around, but Jane didn’t see Melanie’s body. Moments later, she was out in the hallway, feeling stunned and confused.
Maybe…maybe the body had been transferred somewhere else. Yes, that had to be it, right? The body had been transferred. That was all.
She hurried out of the building, her shoulders hunching a bit as she went outside. The night was oddly cold for New Orleans. She hated the cold.
And I hate losing a damn body even more.
She rushed past the mouth of the alley, yanking her phone out. She started to dial her captain, but she heard the soft tread of steps behind her.
Was that Aidan, still tailing her? Had he hung around, waiting for her to reappear?
She spun around, but, this time, she didn’t draw her gun. She kept her phone clasped in her hand.
Aidan stared back at her, his body half-hidden by shadows.
“Guessing that didn’t go so well,” he murmured.
What?
“Trust me, it’s better this way.”
She wasn’t about to trust him. As a rule, she didn’t trust anyone.
He stepped closer to her. His hand rose, wrapped around hers and he took her phone away.
“Uh, what are you doing?” Maybe she would be grabbing that gun.
His fingers brushed over hers. That touch—it warmed her. Had her breath catching, and she wasn’t a breath-catching type of girl.
“Why do you seek out violence?” He moved even closer to her. “Violence and crime and danger. Why do you want that to be your life?”
It wasn’t like that. She was helping people. Helping victims. Making a difference. “Let go of my hand.”
But he just stroked her with his fingertips. “Tomorrow, I’ll be a stranger.”
“You’re a stranger tonight.” A stranger who was still touching her. Why hadn’t she jerked away?
Why did she…like…his touch?
“You never found a body,” he said as he came even closer to her. Was it her imagination, or had his blue eyes started to…shine?
She wondered how she’d missed that bright blue gaze before. His eyes were rather gorgeous, really. She’d never seen that shade of blue before. She could probably look into those eyes forever.
If she was the forever type.
She wasn’t.
And he was still talking.
“You didn’t find the body outside of Hell’s Gate. You don’t know anything about Melanie Wagner.”
Um…
“You were on Bourbon Street, but you were just having a few drinks. There was no murder. No investigation.”
His eyes were definitely shining. Maybe more like glowing.
His fingers slid over hers once more. “And you didn’t meet me.” Regret seemed to tinge his voice. “You never met me. Forget me.”
He leaned in once more, closing the last bit of distance between them. For an instant, she thought that he might kiss her.
He didn’t.
His lips tightened. Anger hardened his face and then he pulled back.
She just stood there.
“Go home.” His voice was so deep and dark, wrapping around her. Almost sinking into her. “Get a good night’s sleep. Have some fucking fabulous dreams.” Then he pushed the phone back into her hand and turned away. The guy just started walking away from her.
Really?
“Um…excuse me.” She put the phone into her pocket. Pulled out her gun.
He’d frozen in the middle of the sidewalk.
“I don’t know what that little speech was about, and, granted, my night is pretty weird so far…”
He was cursing. Cursing and whirling back to face her.
She smiled and lifted her gun. “But you just won the award for the biggest creep factor ever. I’m not forgetting my victim, and I’m not forgetting the murder, and the very fact that you think I would…I mean, what, was that supposed to be some kind of lame seduction attempt or something? You were trying to seduce me into silence?”
His jaw dropped open.
His eyes were still shining bright.
“Didn’t work,” she told him. “But it sure as hell did make me suspicious of you.”
He rushed back toward her. She locked her knees and didn’t back away.
“You didn’t forget.”
“No, buddy, I didn’t.”
“You should have forgotten.”
She heard other footsteps then. Footsteps coming up from behind her. She didn’t want to look away from Aidan, though, because she was sure he was the threat.
“Humans always forget. It’s how things work with me.”
“We’re going into the police station,” she told him in her I’m-In-Control-and-You’re-A-Criminal voice. “You’re going into interrogation and I—”
More footsteps. More people rushing up behind her. She had to look over her shoulder.
Two men were running toward her. Men with eyes that shined nearly as brightly as Aidan’s did. What in the hell was happening?
“She didn’t forget,” Aidan said, sounding horrified. “You were late, I had to take care of the prey …and she didn’t forget.”
One of the men froze. A thin guy, with rounded shoulders. He was under the street light so she could see the messy mop of his red hair. As she watched, the redhead gave a sad shake of his head and he—he pulled out a gun.
“Then you know what happens…”
The guy was aiming his weapon at her.
Jane whirled to face him. She made sure she brought up her own gun. “I’m a cop!” Jane yelled. “Put down the weapon, now!”
But he wasn’t putting it down. His finger was squeezing that trigger and she knew the bullet was going to hit her. She had to fire back.
The bullet thundered out from his gun. Her fingers squeezed her trigger.
She expected to feel the slam of impact and—
Aidan shoved her aside. Hard. Her head slammed into the side of the building and Jane went down, moaning. She kept her gun, clinging to it desperately even as the world seemed to go dark around her.
“You asshole!” Aidan bellowed. “Look what you did!”
Aidan was bellowing. That meant he hadn’t been hit, right? And neither had she. At least, not by the bullet.
“Jane?” Aidan crouched in front of her. “Jane, you’re okay.”
Her head was splitting. That pain didn’t feel so okay.
Was blood sliding down her temple? It felt wet.
“I’ve got you.” And he did. Aidan lifted her up, cradling her in his arms. “Everything is going to be okay. I’ll take care of you.”
The hell he would. She didn’t trust him. Not for an instant. But he was holding her tight and her head was splitting and her eyes wouldn’t stay open.
She was passing out. She didn’t want to pass out. She had to stop the shooter.
“I’ve got you,” Aidan said again.
And his words…they chilled her.
***
“What in the fuck do we do now?” Garrison Aimes rubbed a hand over his sweaty forehead as he paced in the bedroom.
Jane’s bedroom. A bedroom that smelled just like her.
Aidan only spared Garrison the briefest of glances. If he looked at the fool too long, he’d kick his ass. Idiot—why the hell did you fire at her?
That was the trouble with guys like Garrison. Third generation punks who thought they knew everythin
g.
They knew nothing. But he’d make real sure that—by dawn—Garrison understood exactly who was in charge. Garrison was just lucky that Jane’s bullet hadn’t thudded into him. But when Aidan had pushed Jane to the side, he saved her and Garrison from bullet wounds because Jane’s aim had been thrown off.
I bet you don’t miss often, do you, sweetheart?
Aidan sat on the edge of Jane’s bed. His hand lifted and smoothed over her cheek. She had a cut up on her temple. A big knot had formed around it. She’d hit the wall too hard. His fault, dammit. So it was only right that he make things up to her.
His claws had extended. He sliced his wrist and saw the blood drip out slowly from the small wound. Locking his jaw, he pressed the blood to her lips.
“What in the fuck are you doing?” Garrison demanded.
“Fixing your mistake.” Fixing all of the mistakes—the way he always did. Aidan figured this was his third fix of the night, not that he was counting or any shit like that. He’d eliminated the vamp threat, he’d patched up the homeless guy and made him forget his attack and now…now he had to take care of Jane. “Jane, drink.”
Her lips opened. She took his blood without any hesitation. Probably because she was concussed and didn’t realize what the hell was happening.
I could be giving the woman a smoothie for all she knows.
But as she took a few sips of his blood, Aidan released the breath he’d been holding. Contrary to myth, a vampire’s blood didn’t have any power to it—well, not the power to heal, anyway. The power to kill? Hell, yeah. It was his blood that mattered.
The blood of an alpha.
By the time Jane woke up, there would be no bump on her head. No wound. No concussion. “And no memory of this night,” he said, leaning in close to her. With his blood now linking them, there would be no way for her to resist his command. She’d forget the murder. Forget everything that had happened.
And he’d pay one more little visit to Dr. Bob…just to be sure there weren’t any glitches. That’s why I get paid the big damn bucks. To make sure shit gets handled properly. Only there had been more than a few screw-ups that night. First of all, if the tests had shown that the vic was going to become a vampire, the clean-up crew should have been notified right fucking away. Dr. Bob should have kept the place secure until they arrived.