Consume (Hellish Book 1)

by Charity Parkerson

  He remembered Cin and their nights together. At least, he thought he did. Everything felt hazy or like pieces of every day were missing, the way Jonathan imagined people felt after coming out of anesthesia. Cin drove him to the airport in a white Audi R8. Funny, he could remember everything about the car’s interior and Cin’s kiss before Jonathan climbed from the car. Yet he couldn’t remember anything Cin had said to him. Jonathan could only picture the man’s lips moving with phantom words. That was wrong. It had only been an hour since the man dropped him off. Every word that passed between them should be fresh in his mind.

  Jonathan sat with his laptop perched on his knees while he stared sightlessly at where the corner met the ceiling. His skin felt cold, but his mind didn’t accept it—like nothing was real any longer. From the moment he’d stepped onto that dance floor with Cin, everything changed. Had someone slipped something in that last shot of tequila? If so, it had to have been Cin. One incident of being drugged wouldn’t account for an entire three weeks of his life disappearing. He felt sick when he tried picturing anything other than Cin’s face. It was as if the man’s image soothed him. In truth, he should be more unsettled by the man, who’d obviously done his best to keep Jonathan from learning anything during his trip. Every time he pictured Cin, no anger came. A sense of peace settled over him. It was… odd. He had to stay in Tortola. There was something huge going on there. He could feel it in his bones.

  After stuffing his laptop back in his carry-on, Jonathan snagged his cell phone and tried to push Cin’s image into a box. He couldn’t handle wondering what was going on with him right now. He hadn’t done anything with Cin he hadn’t wanted, but missing chunks of time—that was scary as hell. Jonathan couldn’t think about it. He might lose his shit if he did. Instead, he called Mike.

  “Where’s my story?” Leave it to the douche not to bother with saying hello. Jonathan was the magazine’s meal ticket. Nothing more. He used that knowledge to his advantage.

  “I need more time.”

  A long silence filled the line. Dread ate at Jonathan’s gut. He couldn’t explain. If there was a God in heaven, he wouldn’t have to try.

  “No.”

  Fuck. “I’m not asking for more money, Mike. The rest of this trip is on my dime.”

  “You’re still there?”

  Jonathan thanked every deity listening when his voice came out sounding steady. “Yes. I’m close. I just need a little more time. Like I said, it’s on me. I’ll fund the remainder of the trip and even use my vacation time. That’s how close I am to cracking this thing.” He held his breath. Jonathan could hear Mike clicking around on his keyboard in the background. He wondered if his nerves would snap before a loud sigh rang through the line.

  “You’ve built up four weeks of vacation. I suggest you make the most of it.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Jesus. He hated calling Mike “sir,” but the man was still his boss. Mike hung up on him. It was just as well. Jonathan had shit to do. He had a nice-sized savings account built up, but it would take every cent for this, and he wanted to get out of this airport as quickly as possible.

  “Three weeks.”

  Cin tied his boots while avoiding Niall’s knowing gaze. “Aye. I know.”

  “Three weeks,” Niall repeated. “Knowing we’re in the middle of an investigation.”

  Cin stood and finally met Niall’s golden gaze. “If you’ve got something to say, say it.”

  Niall shook his head. “I’m old enough to know nothing I say will change anyone’s mind about anything other than how they feel about me. Plus, it’s not like you don’t know how this will end—badly. You should take mercy on that boy and kill him now, before it gets to that point.” Without another word, Niall grabbed a bottle of whiskey and headed out the back door. Cin’s knee jerk reaction was to chase Niall down and slice his throat, but the man would heal. Their friendship might not survive it. Not to mention, he didn’t have time to clean up blood. He needed to make up for the three weeks he’d spent in Jonathan’s bed.

  The muscles in Cin’s stomach tightened at the thought. He already missed the sexy male. That choppy brown hair. His sexy green eyes. Fuck. At six-six, Cin towered over most humans, but at five-nine, Jonathan made Cin feel huge. The man was also slight of build, making Cin wonder if he’d accidentally break him. Those attributes might’ve made any other man sound weak, but not Jonathan. He was brave and kinky as hell.

  A smirk pulled at the corners of Cin’s mouth as he drove to Consume. There was nothing he’d suggested that Jonathan turned down. Most men would’ve cried uncle after the first night. Not Jonathan. Cin had kept the man fed and Jonathan had kept Cin hard. Holy hell. He wanted to jump a plane to New York right now. Maybe, once they had this case wrapped up, Cin would do just that.

  Going to the bar during the day proved to be the thing Jonathan should’ve done all along. The man working the door had the same story as the police detective in charge of the case. Each woman had left on her own—on foot, as if staying somewhere within walking distance. Jonathan followed the same pathway. The night he’d been to Consume, the path had been low lit but busy. Lots of people walked from hotel to club and back again. Yet there’d been no witnesses who’d seen any of the women from the moment they stepped outside the bar. In fact, surveillance footage from the club’s entryway showed the pathway empty.

  Jonathan slowly walked the trail. There was a long stretch that had a great view of the water before reaching a place where the path split into several directions, leading to different hotels. Since—for the most part— the women had been scattered throughout, staying at different places, Jonathan worked the theory that whatever happened to them, happened on this long stretch. His eyes strayed to the water. There was a smaller trail, next to a bridge, and leading down to the water’s edge. Maybe they were lured from the pathway to the water, or they’d gone willingly, having decided they weren’t quite ready to call it a night. An image of Cin, leading him from the club and searching for a private spot to fuck him, hit Jonathan. What if these women had made plans to hook up in the privacy of the jungle surrounding the beach? They could’ve met someone in the bar, but left separately.

  After moving from the bridge’s wooden railing, Jonathan stared down the path. There were plenty of places to hide before reaching the beach. They could’ve dipped between the trees at any time. From there, anything could’ve happened. Raped, murdered, and dragged to the water. To what means? A waiting boat, maybe? Taken out to sea and fed to the sharks? That would explain the total lack of evidence. His gaze moved to the beach. Was there a place for a boat here? A long pier caught Jonathan’s eye. There was a van parked at the opening of the pier and two houseboats tied to the dock. Men milled from van to boat. There were two women, walking like zombies, following in the men’s footsteps, as if led by an invisible tether.

  Jonathan pulled his phone from his back pocket and started recording. Most likely, it was nothing, but this gave him an idea. What if it was as simple as this? Men snatching women for the sex trade—lured from the club, down to the pier. Once they were shoved onto a boat, they could be anywhere in the world. Living a nightmare and never to be seen again. How sad.

  The instant Jonathan set foot back inside Consume, Cin felt him. He hadn’t reached the bar yet, but he could feel Jonathan there, searching for answers. Cin couldn’t drive fast enough to get there. His rage knew no bounds. Thank fuck for the overcast sky, allowing Cin to bundle up and step outside without burning alive. Unfortunately, it also meant he was weak, which hadn’t mattered when his only plan had been to check out Consume during daylight hours. Now, his powers extended only far enough to help him find Jonathan. The man’s location did nothing to soothe Cin’s fury. For fuck’s sake, he’d sent the man on his way and comforted himself that Jonathan was safely tucked away in New York. Clear of this danger. Now, here the man stood, recording some shit on his phone that was about to get him killed. Dude needed a keeper, for real.

  Cin r
olled his shoulders, popping his neck. “What are you doing here, Jonathan?”

  Jonathan’s shoulders visibly stiffened, but he didn’t turn. “My job.”

  “I sent you home,” Cin argued, moving closer.

  As if his claim raised Jonathan’s hackles, the man slowly turned. Crossing his arms over his chest, Jonathan kept his phone pointed toward the dock, still rolling.

  “Did you drug me?”

  One of the men spotted them. He moved closer—no doubt trying to decide if he should kill them.

  Cin had never panicked at the thought of a fight. There’d never been someone like Jonathan for him to consider either. He couldn’t let his man get hurt. His man. Yes, Jonathan was his, and the dude was a reckless idiot.

  “Kiss me.”

  “Are you fucking insane?” Jonathan asked, his voice rising with every word. “Three weeks of my life are gone. I barely remember you beyond the way you made me feel. Now you want me to kiss you.”

  “You shouldn’t be able to remember me at all,” Cin said without thinking. Their party was moments away from getting crashed and Cin needed to get Jonathan the fuck out of there before he got himself killed.

  Jonathan’s expression turned thunderous. “So you did drug me.”

  It took every ounce of Cin’s willpower not to glance toward the water. Looking like a quarreling couple, rather than someone getting nosy, might be the only thing saving their lives. Cin took a step in Jonathan’s direction. Jonathan stepped back. The man heading their way froze, as if realizing they might be completely unaware of him and his activities. Without giving Jonathan time to guess at his intentions, he sprang forward, wrapping the man in his embrace and capturing his lips. Jonathan tried biting him. Like that, crippling hunger rose in Cin’s gut. This man was fucking amazing—possibly the bravest human Cin had ever met.

  He whispered against Jonathan’s lips, bringing the man in check. “Cut it out, baby. You’re about to get us killed.” Jonathan went still in his arms. Taking advantage, Cin kissed the man for real, stealing what he could before drawing him away from the bridge. He could feel their company, attempting to skim their minds. Cin masked their thoughts, pushing out blatantly sexual images until they reached Cin’s car. He opened the passenger side door. Jonathan refused to budge. He eyed the inside of the car before staring Cin down with defiant eyes.

  “I’m not going anywhere with you until you tell me what the fuck is going on.”

  “If you stay here, you’re dead.”

  The man’s chin took on a stubborn tilt. “Or I’ll have my story.”

  Cin’s temper snapped. He crowded Jonathan’s body, forcing him against the open doorway and leaving him two choices—let Cin go flush against his skin or get in the goddamn car. Jonathan stood his ground. Their bodies touched, and—for the first time ever—Cin worried he’d be the one who backed down. “You’re interfering with an official investigation. My investigation. You have till the count of five to get your sexy ass in the goddamn car or I will make you.”

  Jonathan’s features shifted. Curiosity etched his every line. “I spoke with the detective in charge of the disappearance of the women in this area this morning. It wasn’t you.”

  “I never said what I was investigating. Only that you were interfering. Get in the car, Jonathan. One. Two.”

  “Who do you work for?”

  “Three.”

  “If you’re in law enforcement, why did you drug me? That’s illegal for everyone, I’m sure.”

  “Four.”

  “Unless you’re some form of anti-terrorism team. They usually have hazier rules.”

  “Five,” Cin said, reaching his limit. His mouth collided with Jonathan’s hard enough he tasted blood. His fangs grew in response. He didn’t care nor did he try hiding them as he deepened their kiss. Jonathan’s lust was almost tangible. Thick enough Cin could taste it. By the time he pulled away, Jonathan’s gaze was unfocused. His vision cleared and Cin knew. The man remembered—everything. Not just the past three weeks but the past six years.

  “Get in the car.” His demand took on a slight lisp with his fangs at full glory. Jonathan’s gaze dropped to Cin’s mouth. Cin didn’t try hiding his true nature. Judging by Jonathan’s shock, he was seeing it all. His hardened features. The slight glow to Cin’s irises. The fucking lust dripping from his pores, because Cin had never coveted anyone or anything like he did this reckless man who stood against him now.

  “We had a fucking deal, Jonathan,” Cin added, because he couldn’t stop. “You get the stories. I get to have your body and know you’re safe. We had a fucking deal,” he repeated because his temper was headed south by the second.

  Cin wasn’t sure if Jonathan gave in or the man’s knees gave out. Either way, he sat. Cin closed the door behind him before circling the car and slipping behind the wheel. They were nowhere near finished with this conversation, but they needed to have it elsewhere. He seethed as he tried ripping the gears out of his Audi R8 while taking the corners too sharp.

  Jonathan didn’t make a sound. Of course, it was always this way for the first few minutes of him getting his memories back. Six years ago, he’d met Jonathan in Kirkcaldy while they’d both been handling their version of an investigation. Seven people had been massacred inside a church. Not just killed, but ripped to shreds. Jonathan had been looking for a story. Cin—werewolves. As part of the Hellish Clan, it was his team’s job—along with many others—to deal with supernatural crime, punishing the beings involved while reshaping the story in human minds. At the time, he’d seen Jonathan as a means to an end. His position at Global Daily was perfect for helping them spread the story they wanted the world to have. Cin hadn’t meant to fall in love with Jonathan, but he had—hard.

  “Why do you keep refreshing the memory of Mike, making it seem as if we broke up weeks ago instead of years?”

  A low chuckle escaped Cin. Jonathan always knew just what to say to cool his temper. “I don’t want you to forget to hate that little rat bastard. You’re mine.” He cast a quick glance Jonathan’s way as he made the claim. Cin wanted Jonathan to recognize how serious he was. He’d kill that fucker, Mike, if he ever tried touching his man. Cin downshifted, deciding he needed to slow down. It wasn’t Jonathan’s fault he was becoming more and more resistant to Cin’s memory scrub. Every time, Jonathan seemed to hold on to a little more control.

  “Pull over.”

  Cin glanced over again. Jonathan’s hands were balled into fists in his lap and his eyes were locked on the road. “We’re almost there.”

  “I don’t give a good goddamn. Pull the fuck over, now.”

  He tried to read Jonathan’s mind. It was a complete black spot. Shit. That couldn’t be good. Cin pulled over. The moment the car came to a stop, Jonathan shot from the car and started walking back toward town. Cin jumped out behind him. “What are you doing?”

  “Going to get my story so I can go home.”

  “Fuck, Jonathan,” Cin cursed as he raced forward and snagged the man’s arm, pulling him to a stop. “I was being serious earlier. You have no idea what you’re up against. I can’t let you get hurt.” Against his will, Cin’s jaw hardened as he added, “Nor can I let you print the real story.”

  Jonathan spun. His eyes. Goddamn. Cin’s feet froze to the ground. What he saw in Jonathan’s eyes—it looked a lot like hate. “Why do you care if I get hurt? If I’m dead, then you can get off this ride. You can move on with your life. If I’m dead, I can stop losing pieces of me to someone who doesn’t really want me.”

  There was an invisible weight sitting on Cin’s chest, suffocating him. “I want you.” Even to Cin’s ears, his voice sounded tight.

  Jonathan took a step forward, making Cin wonder if the man would throw a punch. Instead, he went nose to nose with Cin. “No. You don’t. I’m nothing more than a plaything to you. I fucking begged you not to send me away this time. Begged,” Jonathan repeated. “Set my pride aside, willing to give up everything, just to be with
you. You do not want me. Did you even think about what would happen when I got home and didn’t have a story—when the people I work with wanted what I’m being paid to do? Did you consider they might think I’m crazy or I would think I’m going insane? Or even worse, did you intentionally leave in bits and pieces of you, so I’d wonder if I’d been slipped a date rape drug or something? Tell me again how you care, Cin. I fucking dare you.”

  “I don’t even know what I’m doing any longer when it comes to you,” Cin heard himself admit. “I panic when you’re involved. Your safety is all that matters.”

  Jonathan snorted and walked away again, obviously intent on getting as far away from Cin as possible.

  “Jonathan.” Cin said the man’s name softly, putting his heart into it. Jonathan froze but didn’t turn. “I love you.” Jonathan’s shoulders fell. “I know you love me too.” Jonathan tilted his head back and stared at the sky, as if seeking help from a higher power, but he still didn’t turn. “Come back with me. See the boys and let us fill you in. If you still want to go, then I don’t know.”

  “At least you didn’t lie and say you’d let me go,” Jonathan said over his shoulder. He took another step away, as if he still intended to leave Cin behind.

  “Faolan is wearing your boots,” Cin said, playing his last card and shamelessly throwing his friend under the bus. Jonathan hated that Faolan stole his things when they were apart. Damn. It seemed as if they were apart more than they were together.