His fangs dropped as he slowed to a halt outside the hotel where he had found Sheila. Lust ate a hole in his belly, the need to feel that soft smooth body with its plump curves pressed against his, driving him nearly insane.
Sliding his tongue over his lips, he drew in the air around him, searching for that faint, teasing scent. Lust blistered into rage as he found nothing. She wasn’t there.
She had taken off running—and it had never occurred to him that she wouldn’t go there. Never occurred to him to find out where she stayed during the day. And she wasn’t there.
His rage exploded into a supernova as somebody shambled out of the hotel, a sated, goofy smile on his young face.
The human she had been fucking…Dominic, she had called him. Right as he drove his cock into her pussy, gripping her soft white thighs in his hands.
Eyes gleaming, he shifted to mist and followed the mortal.
Sheila left Kelsey’s house early that evening, breathing in the rich scent of fall, the river, the night.
The air was cool and fresh against her skin as she tucked her hands into her pockets, her feet slapping lightly against the pavement.
The idle thought moved through her brain that by leaving the house, she was just asking to run into Rafe again. She really didn’t want that. Every time she looked at him it made her heart bleed. She had no idea what had brought the brooding bastard here, but she was ready for him to leave.
However, that sure as hell didn’t mean she was going to linger in her house until he got the hell out of Memphis. She loved this town, and she was going to enjoy it for as long as she could. Especially Beale Street. As she turned the corner and the lights of Beale Street exploded in front of her, she grinned, walking a little faster.
But a few blocks shy of it, her steps faltered as the scent of something familiar filled her head.
Dominic…
She smelled blood. A lot of it. And it was Dominic’s. Her heart froze inside her chest as she started to jog along the sidewalk, following the scent. When she got there, there was a cold fist of fear lodged in her throat. The scent of blood was too strong on the air. Too much blood. How did a human survive that much blood loss?
The stink of it was so strong that, for a long moment, she didn’t smell what else was there. When it hit her, she slammed a hand against the wall, her mind whirling. Vampire.
Rafe.
He had been there. Close, very close to Dominic. Her eyes lifted to the barricaded ally just across the street, the red and blue lights from the police car flashing across her face. He wouldn’t.
But damn it, she smelled him. He couldn’t. She licked her lips, taking a few steps closer, forcing a bland, curious expression on her face as she mingled with the people standing across the street, whispering amongst themselves.
“What’s going on over there?” she asked, hoping her voice wasn’t shaking as much as she suspected it was.
Nobody glanced twice at her as one guy murmured, “Somebody got creamed, lady. Totally. But the body isn’t there. But the blood…man, you can smell it from here.”
Rubbing her temple, she fought to control the sick feeling in her gut. “Who was it, does anybody know?”
Somebody answered, flicking her glance. “Nobody knows. Like the man said, there’s no body. Lady in the store there heard some commotion and she called the cops. But nobody saw anything. When the cops got here all they found was that alley, torn up, blood all over the place.”
No body.
No body. She mumbled something under her breath and pulled back, slowly retreating and working her way around to the back of one of the closed shops on her side of the street. She glanced around, listening to make sure nobody was nearby.
Then she crouched down, tensed her muscles and leaped upward, catching the bottom of the fire escape on the second floor. Her fingers closed on the rough metal of the grate and she grimaced as it bit into her hands. As she hauled herself up, she muttered, “There’s got to be some place around here where I can get a manicure.”
The humor was a weak attempt to force the worry from her mind as she ran lightly along the roof of the building. She took a breath and leaped across the ten feet that separated the buildings, grimacing as she lost her balance and nearly crashed face-first into the gravel as she landed.
Slowing to a halt, she moved to the shadows, glancing around. The cops hadn’t come up here yet, but they would, soon. Although she hadn’t mastered the vampire magicks that let her change her shape, she knew the shadows. Knew how to use them, could even make them seem to thicken around her when she needed to hide. Sliding to the back of the building, she stared down, listening.
After a minute, she turned away, hands propped on her hips. They didn’t have a damned clue. She could smell Rafe, smell Dominic.
There was a scent she didn’t recognize, but the more familiar ones of the two men crowded her brain, her senses until she could think of nothing else.
She backtracked, following the faint scent in the air. The scent was Rafe’s. There was no blood trail, no overpowering scent of blood to follow and it made no sense. That much blood should flood the air. Why couldn’t she scent it?
So she followed Rafe, the hot, musky taste of the man who always had the ability to make the spit in her mouth dry up.
When the street opened up below her and she had no more buildings to leap across, she moved back to the rear part of the building, and jogged down the fire escape on silent feet.
Rafe…you wouldn’t have. There was no reason. Hunters didn’t kill. And Dominic was the sweetest damn soul, harmless.
But a part of her remembered the red gleam of anger in Rafe’s black eyes.
* * * * *
Rafe lifted his lashes, stroking one hand down the soft smooth neck of a lady by the name of Cora. She was sweet, young, and now sleeping soundly in his arms as he eased her back down to the hood of the car. The wind came blowing off the river, but it couldn’t carry away the soft, sweet scent of woman.
Sheila. Slowly, he turned around and saw her standing there, her eyes bright, glowing a deep, electric blue, the wind blowing thick streamers of hair across her face, along her neck, the ends of the golden strands curling around the tips of her breasts.
“Hello, sweet Southern Belle,” he purred, licking away a drop of blood from the corner of his mouth. “I would have invited you out for a bite, but I couldn’t track you down.”
Sheila’s eyes, dark and unreadable, dropped to Cora’s smiling face, listening to the soft little snores that escaped her. Rafe had to bite back a scowl as Sheila studied Cora’s body, sprawled boneless, and still fully clothed, on the hood of his car. One golden brow lifted and she asked softly, “This your first bite of the night?”
Rafe shrugged. “I don’t need much, Belle. And she was a sweet little thing,” he added, flashing a toothy smile at her.
“What about Dominic?” she asked woodenly.
Rafe scowled at her. “Damn it, Belle, you would have to go mention that bastard. What did you do, go get yourself a fuck before you came here to taunt me?”
She cocked her head as she stared at him. “You haven’t seen him? Not since you left the hotel room?” she asked, straightening her head and sauntering forward, that thick golden hair sliding around her shoulder and gleaming under the moonlight. “Not once?”
Rafe’s brows drew low over his eyes. “Well, hell. I saw him this morning. He was leaving the hotel you two were so cozy at,” he snapped, stalking up to her, cupping her softly rounded chin in his palm. “Had a smile on his face that I know very well. You’ve left me with that smile, once or twice.”
Sheila’s lashes lowered over her eyes and she said softly, “Rafe, that’s bullshit. You never smile. Especially not over me.”
His heart wrenched at the pain that moved through her eyes. Quietly, he told her, “Now that’s where you’re wrong. You made me smile more than anybody else ever has in my life. Then you told me to stay the hell away from you, and I co
uldn’t remember how to smile again.” He threaded his fingers through her hair, arched her heart-shaped face up to his gaze, and rubbed one thumb over her lips. “When Eli told me you had left, something died inside me.”
A tiny smile curved her lips. He watched as she reached up and patted his cheek. “Poor Rafe.” Those pretty eyes turned cold and cynical and she jerked away, walking with that same, slow sway of hip that had driven him mad for months. “I think Dominic is dead.”
For a long moment, her words didn’t register as he tried to make sense of how unlike herself she was acting. Sheila was soft, sweet and warm, with no desire to become a more powerful Hunter, no desire to be anything more than what she was.
But this woman in front of him was hard, cold and angry. Feelings he had ever associated with her.
Finally, those words connected to the others and made sense in his head. I think Dominic is dead. Narrowing his eyes on the long line of her back, he asked, “Why do you think that?”
She laughed, a sound that had a wild ring to it. “Probably because there’s too much of his blood splattered in an alley back by the Peabody. The air reeks with it—with blood, anger…violence. So much blood. A human can’t live after losing that much blood. But there’s no body,” she said hollowly.
Understanding hit him like a load of bricks and he closed the distance between them in three long strides, closing one hand around her shoulder and spinning her around. “You think I could have done that?” he demanded, bending down until his face was level with hers.
One brow rose and she shrugged, lifting one shoulder carelessly, her eyes unreadable. “Your scent was all over the place. I recognized two of the scents there—yours…and Dominic’s blood.”
That was when he realized it. She thought he could have murdered somebody.
And he was shit-faced in love with her, and had been from the beginning.
The knowledge hit like a fist in the gut. The bottom of his stomach dropped out, falling to his feet and leaving his heart feeling hollow and empty.
Sourly, he muttered, “I sure as hell have left you with a nice opinion of me, haven’t I, Sheila?”
Softly, she said, “You didn’t see the look on your face when I saw you standing over us. I did. If we could have heart attacks, I’d most likely be dead now.”
He reached out, cupping the back of her neck and hauling her against him. “I would never hurt you,” he rasped, enraged.
Tears welled in her eyes as she replied in a thick voice, “Rafe, you already have. Are you so blind you can’t see that?” Then she forced a bitter smile as she added, “But it’s not me I’m worried about.”
There was a soft little moan from behind him and he slowly released Sheila, staring at her with dark, shuttered eyes. You already have… He swallowed, the bitter taste of regret heavy in his mouth.
Slowly, he turned back to Cora, focusing on the rise and fall of her chest, the soft sound of her breathing. Once he had swallowed down the anger, he said, “We need to find your friend, Dominic, Belle. If it was bad enough that you think a vampire could have done it, he may in trouble.”
Sheila whispered, “Too much blood. A human can’t survive that.” He heard the trembling in her voice, the ache of remembered pain, and he wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her and soothe it away, kiss that soft mouth until she leaned into him, hungry, her mind empty of everything but him.
He didn’t have the right, though. Shoving a hand through his hair, he forced the tormenting thoughts out of his head as he said, “Whatever happened to him, we’ve got an obligation to find out. Somebody who can be that brutal needs to die.”
Slowly, he turned and stared at her. “Or do you still think I did it?”
Chapter Three
No. Sheila scowled as she got into the backseat of Rafe’s classic ‘57 Bel Air, slid across the bench seat until she could recline, and crossed her feet at the ankle, taking perverse pleasure when the heels of her boots scuffed against the door.
No, she didn’t think he’d killed Dominic. In her heart, she hadn’t really ever thought it. It was the mind that tripped her up—in her mind, she couldn’t help the little suspicion. And why in the hell should she care if she saw the gleam of hurt in his dark eyes before he shuttered them against her?
I shouldn’t, she insisted, her lower lip poking out as she crossed her arms over her chest and stared out the window. How many times has he pushed me away? Too many to count. When she had told him to stay away, he hadn’t even cared enough to try to change her mind.
And she had been gone for more than three long months before he decided to come looking for her. Three months. Hell, she knew she’d been going out of her way to avoid him. They’d go weeks without even seeing the other’s face, but three months for him to come looking for her?
She’d spent nearly a month at Excelsior before coming to Memphis. And he hadn’t ever shown up there to look for her. And it wasn’t like she was hard to find. A couple of questions and he would have found her. She hadn’t told anybody there not to tell him. He’d just never bothered to ask.
Because he didn’t care.
A shiver raced down her spine as she remembered the infuriated, possessive look in his dark eyes as he had stood over her and Dominic. Was that the look a man had when he didn’t care?
She didn’t know.
But she did know she was tired of Rafe’s pendulous moods, swinging from wanting her to pushing her away, to insane fury when another man looked at her. Either he wanted her or he didn’t.
A thoughtful frown crossed her face as she recalled the woman he had laid on the hood of his car, her face relaxed in sleep, a tiny smile on her mouth, her body fully dressed.
From what she could tell, he hadn’t even tried to get her clothes off.
Rafe feeding from a woman without fucking her. That was unlike him, very unlike him. Before they had gotten together, there was rarely a night when Rafe hadn’t returned from his patrol in town, smelling of female blood and sex.
A flare of remembered jealousy raced through her. He had stopped taking every woman he saw to bed with him while they were together, but that had to have changed by now. Abstinence wasn’t something he was familiar with.
Her lips curled in a slow, bitter smile as she recalled the stunned anger that had been in his eyes as he’d stood over her and Dominic. Chances were, he had expected her to be mourning him too much to go looking for a man to warm her bed. Yeah. Right.
Granted, it had taken a little while before she had been interested. Dominic had been the only one who had interested more than her eye. His sly wit and that romantic streak of his had tugged at her heartstrings.
Tears stung her eyes as she recalled the devastation in the alley. Where was he?
The car slowed to a stop and she heard Rafe swear softly as he banged his head, getting his date out of the car. Nothing like a limp body.
Something hot and sour twisted in her belly…a limp body. Before she could block the picture out, the image of Dominic, his body lifeless and still, flashed before her eyes and she had to clap a hand over her mouth to keep from whimpering aloud.
“You really care about him.”
At the sound of Rafe’s cold, flat voice, she looked up, unaware that tears were gleaming in her eyes. “Yes.” A slight scowl crossed her face and she shrugged. “Unlike some people, I don’t feel the need to fuck every time I feed. I prefer to have some sort of connection,” she said waspishly.
In the mirror, she could see just the upper part of Rafe’s face as he watched her. One black brow lifted and he shrugged one broad shoulder. “I don’t believe you came across me fucking anybody today, did you?”
She blinked. “What, are you turning over a new leaf?” she muttered. Turning her head, she stared out the back window, feeling oddly cold.
“I haven’t wanted another woman since you, Belle,” he whispered, his voice hot, sweet, reaching out and stroking her skin like a hand.
Flashing him
a narrow glance, she snickered, “Yeah, right.”
He just stared at her, his eyes intense. After a moment, she swallowed, her throat tight and dry. “You expect me to believe you haven’t been with anybody since we split, Rafe? I’m not stupid, darlin’,” she drawled, even as a hot, indescribable emotion settled in her belly.
“Never said you were. A little blind at times, but I never thought you were stupid.”
Sheila tore her gaze away from his, forcing herself to stare back outside. His words echoed inside her mind—even though she tried to tell herself it was bullshit.
“Know anybody who would want to hurt your Dominic?” Rafe asked levelly, with just the slightest sneer on his face.
Sheila rested her head against the window behind her, sighing tiredly. “He’s a sweet guy—not a mean bone in his body. If he has any enemies at all, it would surprise the hell out of me.” Rafe had the window down and her hair, colorless in the moonlight, whipped into her eyes. She caught the thick locks in her hand, holding it in a loose tail with her fist.
“Maybe it wasn’t him they were out to get.”
Her eyes flew to meet his in the mirror and she scowled, her golden brows drawing low over her eyes as she demanded, “What in the world does that mean?”
He shrugged negligently. “If he’s as good as all that, then there’s no reason to want him dead. And you said there was violence in the air. Violence is heat. Anger and rage breed heat. If it was as bad as you’re making me think, then it only makes sense that somebody with a lot of rage inside them hurt your sweetheart.”
Sheila had to bite back the words, he’s not my sweetheart. She hadn’t planned on spending more than a few days with Dominic.
Still…wasn’t it better if Rafe thought she was taken? Hooked up with somebody else? Then he wouldn’t be trying to seduce his way back into her bed—well, maybe.
Closing her eyes, she whispered, “That doesn’t make any sense.”
Rafe said quietly, “It does if it’s somebody who knows he’s gotten very close to a Hunter.”
The Hunters 6: Rafe and Sheila Page 4