by Vella Day
A knock sounded on her outer door and she jumped. “Oh. Someone’s here. I gotta go.”
“It must be Ronan. Jackson just walked in, so it can’t be him.”
“I’ll let you go. Love you.”
“Love you back,” Ainsley said.
Blair shoved off from the bed, rushed across the room, and then slid back the deadbolt. When she pulled open the door, her body sizzled with desire. Oh my. Do you think he’s the one? she asked her bear.
As usual, her bear didn’t respond. Wake up, damn it, she said. I need you to help me.
More silence. Her bear had been dormant for three years. She didn’t know why she’d hoped her animal would wake up now.
I told you I’m sorry. I messed up. Okay? I need you now.
Finally, Blair stopped asking and studied Ronan. His eyes were black with intermittent swirls of amber, and his shoulders were ramrod straight. She had the sense he was working hard to stay in control. Only why?
“Hey, Ronan, is something wrong?”
“No. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
“Why wouldn’t I be? No one can get to me here.” She didn’t understand why he had come all the way downstairs. Was it to say goodnight? At that thought, her impression of him changed. Perhaps he wasn’t the hard ass he tried to portray.
“I thought I heard you talking to someone.”
Shifters had good hearing, but no one could hear from upstairs, unless he had been standing outside her door. While she didn’t like eavesdroppers, it was his job to check up on her. “I was speaking with Ainsley. She and I used to room together in school, and we work at the same place now.”
Ronan cleared his throat. “Good to know. I wanted to tell you that when you wake tomorrow morning, I might be gone.”
An unexpected tightening of her stomach took her off guard. The rest of the team would be upstairs, including her brother, so she’d be perfectly safe. Not knowing where Ronan would be disturbed her for some reason. “Where are you going?”
“Not that I don’t think your brother isn’t capable of finding the culprit, but I do have some extra useful senses that others don’t possess. I want to do a little snooping on my own.”
“Oh.” She was at a loss for words.
“If you need anything, just ask Jackson or any of the men.”
“I will.”
Ronan broke eye contact and strode off. There was something odd about his visit, but she couldn’t quite figure it out. One minute he was this total professional and the next his eyes were swirls of amber and brown. If so much of his face wasn’t already covered in a scruffy beard, she might have noticed some other evidence of shifter behavior. Interesting. Does that mean he likes me?
Stop it. She couldn’t think about mates or sex or even dating. She needed this murder charge to go away first.
*
As soon as Ronan reached the office upstairs, he plastered his back against the wall. He never should have told Blair he’d heard her talking. While she didn’t ask how he’d been able to hear her, he didn’t miss the slight change in her scent—one from happy to a bit more agitated. He’d been a fool, but it had been his wolf who’d wanted to know if she felt the intense pull that was driving them crazy. From the occasional laughter, she was speaking with a close friend, and friends like that shared everything.
Don’t blame me, buddy. You wanted to know too, his wolf responded.
What’s done is done.
Unfortunately, he’d arrived too late in the conversation to hear anything about Blair’s feelings for him. But that was probably for the best. Right now, he needed to push back this whole mate thing until after he helped prove her innocence.
Tomorrow, he planned to check out the crime scene and sniff around. While two days had passed since the murder, there might be a lingering scent that could lead him to the real killer. Colors had a way of staying around long after the person was gone.
He planned to snap some photos and take a video of the area. Even though Blair walked down that back alley every day, a picture might help jar her memory. Even a slightly different angle could provide the senses with a new perspective.
If that failed to jar her memory, he might ask Sam Pompley if he could see into her mind and help her retrieve what she’d lost. Normally, Lexi’s mate inserted false images into a person’s mind to convince him what he saw was different from reality, but he might be able to read minds, too.
Tomorrow, he’d investigate and hopefully find some answers.
*
As soon as Ronan neared the alleyway behind Blair’s work, he was met by one of the sheriff department’s deputies.
“Sorry, sir, but this is a crime scene. I can’t let anyone near.”
“Who’s the lead on the case?” Ronan asked. While he knew the answer, he wanted to make sure the officer was aware of it.
“Detective Dalton Garner.”
Kalan Murdoch’s partner. It made sense they wouldn’t want Kalan to be in charge. After all, his sister was a suspect. Ronan pulled out his phone and called Kalan. While he waited for him to answer, Ronan strolled out of the deputy’s earshot.
“Murdoch.” Squeaky roller chairs, along with a few shouts echoed in the background. He must be at the station.
“Kalan, this is Ronan.”
“Is Blair okay?” His words were strung tighter than a guy wire.
He should have included that in the greeting. “She’s fine. Jackson and Connor are keeping her company. Listen, I’d like to snoop around the crime scene, but one of your deputies is keeping a tight lid on the situation.”
“Gonzalez is new. It’s his job.”
“Do you think I could take a look around? I won’t touch anything.”
“What do you hope to find?”
“I thought I’d take some photos in the hopes it can jar Blair’s memory. I know she cuts through the alley every day, but there might be something that will trigger an image. I also want to sniff around to see if I recognize any of the scents.”
“It’s worth a try. I’ll have Dalton call Gonzalez and tell him you have clearance.”
“Thanks.”
Ronan didn’t have to wait long before Dalton called. Gonzalez looked up and motioned him under the police tape.
As Ronan drew closer to the scene, his senses kicked in, and some familiar odor caused him to falter. He blinked away the quick wash of color entering his mind. The winds must be playing tricks on him, or else it was Blair’s scent that was still in his head, diluting the reality.
Focus! Without further thought, he moved over to where the man, or rather the werewolf, had bled out. While the body was now in the morgue, a dark red area stained the dirt. Delahart’s scent was overpowering, masking most of the other odors. Damn.
The only way he could identify whose scent belonged to who was by its colors. Most people catalogued odors by referencing it to something they could identify. They might say it smelled like popcorn or rotten eggs. Ronan wasn’t built like that. He saw colors as scents—millions of them—and each one represented a distinct person—just like a fingerprint.
But similar to fingerprints, he needed a reference point. And like a bloodhound, he could follow a color until the kaleidoscope of images broke up and dissipated. Then the trail would grow cold. When he met someone, he’d know right away if he’d met that person before. A scent never lied.
Needless to say, Ronan was a dangerous man to any criminal. Thankfully, only a handful of people were aware of his talent, and he intended to keep it that way.
Determined to help Blair, he inhaled to identify who else had been there recently. Kalan’s and Dalton’s identifying markers were fairly strong, which made sense since they probably had been in this area today or late last night. Kalan’s scent was blue with swirls of green and orange mixed in, while Dalton’s was almost yellowish-white with streaks of brown interspersed at random intervals. Then there was Blair’s fragrance. He inhaled again to revel in her delicious scent. H
ers was a delicate purple with light pink highlights, dotted with wisps of green.
But there were more colors in the air, fainter yet distinct. One was midnight blue accented by deep maroon, yet Ronan couldn’t identify that person. The question was whether it belonged to the killer. It wasn’t Gonzalez’s. That one he’d already eliminated.
With the scents now locked into his brain, he continued to study the surroundings. The murder occurred about six feet from the door leading out of Blair’s workplace. She would have seen and heard two men arguing within seconds of leaving work. If she’d spotted a weapon, he couldn’t imagine what had gone through her mind. Assuming she’d identified the danger, why not sneak back inside or at least scream for help?
To eliminate the reason why she hadn’t escaped, he slipped on a glove and tugged on the door. Locked. That explained why Blair hadn’t run back in.
“You can only exit. Door automatically locks,” Gonzalez called.
Ronan waved. “Thanks.”
He wanted Blair to remember, but maybe regaining her memory wouldn’t be for the best. Being able to identify the killer could lead to an arrest, but it could also cause the killer to come after her, before the cops could catch him.
Frustration bit Ronan in the butt. As much as he wanted to spend more time at the crime scene, he didn’t want to contaminate it. He’d return after the cops had finished processing everything.
After taking a few photos from different angles, along with a video, he headed back to the office. As much as he didn’t want to put Blair through more questions, he hoped something would help unlock the mystery. But before he approached her, he wanted to see what Sam could tell him about putting memories into a person’s head. Was he aware of a person who could remove them? That would be a key to solving this case.
Chapter Five
‡
When Ronan entered the building, Blair’s purple and pink scent swirled around, doing a dance around his body and then seeping into every pore. That wasn’t good. He had a killer to find before he indulged in his fantasies with her.
Can’t you block out her fragrance for a little while? he begged his wolf. I have work to do.
I haven’t seen such rich colors in a long time. Her scent is intoxicating, his wolf shot back.
If you want Blair to remain alive, then stand down. I have to be able to focus.
Ronan’s wolf huffed and growled, but he thankfully stopped whining.
When Ronan passed through the main room, Blair wasn’t there, for which he was thankful. He needed to see Sam first.
Ronan found him in his office. “Got a minute?” Ronan asked.
“Sure.”
He explained his need to have Blair’s memories returned. “You told me that you can insert false memories into a person’s mind, but is there any way you can look into Blair’s mind and see what she can’t recall?” Ronan asked. He pulled up a chair and sat.
“I wish I could,” Sam said. “Sometimes I can read a person’s mind, but he or she needs to be actively thinking about a specific thing.”
That wouldn’t help. “It was worth a shot.” He studied his friend and then asked Sam, “Do you know of anyone who can erase memories completely?”
“Hell no! Anyone who can do that would have to be powerful—almost godlike. I can only replace a memory with another one.”
His protective side flared. Battling a demon would be suicidal, though he had heard one of the Wendayans—Missy Berta—had managed to take one down. “Maybe we should contact Vinea to see if she’s aware of any gods from the dark realm who are here. I’d hate to think there’s a conspiracy going on that we’re not aware of.”
Sam’s features tightened. While Connor claimed Sam had forgiven the goddess for almost stealing his powers, Ronan wasn’t convinced Vinea would ever be his favorite person despite having been cleansed. On the other hand, his reaction could be a result of imagining what damage a demon could do.
“I think it’s a good idea, but why not ask Ophelia? Rumor has it she’s always in the know.”
“Ophelia?” He had a lot of people he still needed to meet.
Sam explained that she was the town’s most powerful witch. “If someone put a spell on Blair, Ophelia might be able to undo it.”
Excitement sprinted through him. “How do I contact her?”
“Ask Rye to ask his mate. Izzy seems to have a connection to her.”
That sounded like a plan. “Thanks.”
Before he went the witch route, Ronan wanted to see Blair. Following her scent, he located her in Jackson’s office.
Ronan tapped on the slightly open door then entered. Blair was sitting in a chair reading. When she looked up, hope filled her eyes. Her beautiful light auburn hair was pulled back into a ponytail, making her appear even younger. Now he’d have to disappoint her. “Hey, can we talk?” he asked.
“Sure.”
“Let’s let Jackson get back to work. How about coming into my office?” He didn’t need her brother seeing any physical changes occur when Ronan spent too much time around Blair.
She stood and then followed him down the hallway. “What did you find out?”
Though her words came out sounding calm, her scent was shooting waves of different shades of gray—all indicating fear.
Ronan opened his door and motioned she step inside. Not wanting her to feel like this was an inquisition, he dragged over two chairs and placed them opposite each other, close enough to indicate this would be a friendly exchange. “I want you to take a look at some pictures.”
“Pictures?” Her eyes opened wide.
“They’re not of anything bad. I stood with my back to the workplace door where you exited and shot a short video.”
“Why?” Her defensive tone gave him pause. She might not be ready for this.
Ronan huffed out a sigh. “I was hoping you might see something that would help you remember.”
“I told you, it’s still a blank.”
He held up a hand. “Okay, but humor me, please?” He loaded up the short video on his phone and handed it to her. “I know you walk this alley every day, but try to imagine being there now.”
She took the phone and watched the video. Her gaze searched the screen. Clearly, she was trying, but the reddish aura implied accelerated tension. “Nope.”
Clearly, she was telling the truth. “Thanks for taking a look. Sam suggested seeing a woman by the name of Ophelia to see if she can reverse the spell.”
Blair nodded. “My lawyer suggested the same thing.”
He waited for her to add something, but when she didn’t he continued. “Do you want me to set it up?”
Ronan thought Blair would jump at the chance, but she glanced away. Her gray scent turned darker as her mouth twisted. When she sucked in her bottom lip, his wolf—who had more or less been good for a while—shot a shit ton of lust through his veins, and Ronan’s cock instantly hardened, forcing him to cross his ankle over his knee to block the view.
“I guess so, but what if I remember something and the killer finds out? He’ll come after me.”
Honesty ran in his blood. “That is why either Jackson or I need to be with you at all times.”
“Even when I go to work?”
Ronan didn’t relish that part of the job, as he was a hunter by nature, but he wouldn’t leave Blair vulnerable. “Yes. Remember, the judge insisted.”
“Fine. Let’s see if Ophelia can help.”
Ronan pulled out his phone. His sister had already loaded it with every number he might ever need. McKinnon and Associates was lucky to have her. While he rarely had the need to contact the Alpha of the Clan, this was important.
To his delight, Rye answered on the first ring, and Ronan explained that Blair would like to contact Ophelia.
“I’ll ask Izzy and then get back with you once something has been set up.” He then gave Ronan a few warnings about what to expect, such as the fact she wasn’t the easiest person to get answers out of.
“I appreciate the chance to meet with her. We’re at our wit’s end.”
“I understand.”
Ronan disconnected and smiled, not because he was happy, but because he wanted to assure Blair that she wasn’t alone in this journey. “Now, we wait.”
*
“Have you ever met this witch before?” Ronan asked as he pulled in front of Izzy’s former home.
“When I was like ten. I remember being so scared the first time.” Blair looked off, but instead of seeing the gray shimmer of fear, it had a wash of yellow, implying her memory was now a good one.
“Why were you scared?” he asked.
“I thought she might turn me into a frog or something.”
Ronan chuckled, enjoying hearing about her youth. “I take it she did no such thing?”
“No. Ophelia was very sweet, but I swear she looked hundreds of years old back then, which was why she frightened me.”
When he was a kid, he thought anyone over fifty was ancient. “Why would a ten-year old have need of a witch’s advice?”
She smiled and his insides lit up. “I really wanted to have some Wendayan powers like a few of my friends—Izzy mostly—so Mom let me ask Ophelia for some. Even though my mother tried to explain that I needed to be born a Wendayan in order to possess magic, I wasn’t convinced.”
“You can have those powers if you mate with a Wendayan,” he added. Like me.
“That is true,” she said but her color changed once more and was now tinged with red. Some memory must have disturbed her, but now wasn’t the time to delve into it.
“Did Ophelia let you down easily?” Ronan asked.
“Yes. She listened to my reasons and then said she’d try real hard to give me some powers, but that she couldn’t promise anything.”
Ronan pushed open his Jeep’s door. “I’m glad she wasn’t mean.”
“Me too. I actually left that afternoon feeling that if I wished hard enough, I could create some magic.”
She certainly was creating magic inside his body. “I’m glad she didn’t dash a young girl’s dreams.”
Before he had the chance to help her out, Blair had exited. The men in her life must not have been gentlemen.