Chantal said it was perfectly natural to feel that way. Logical, even.
Dana knew it wasn’t. It was twisted and disgusting. She rolled her shoulders, hoping that the deodorant would overpower the smell of her sweat. Telling herself she shouldn’t care what Cole thought. She shouldn’t want to impress him. She should hate him.
“Gray.” It was Avery, walking down the hallway. He was wearing an old t-shirt and ratty jeans.
Dana had changed her outfit three times, each time finding fault with it. She wanted to find the perfect thing to wear. She wanted to look casual, as if she hadn’t put any thought into what she was wearing. But she didn’t want to look sloppy. Just... accidentally beautiful. That was tough to pull off, and she didn’t think she’d quite found the right balance. But her clingy green blouse and deep blue jeans were the best she’d been able to come up with. She’d put on makeup too but had washed it off at the last minute. It was too strange to be putting makeup on for Cole Randall.
“Hi Brooks,” she said. “Are you ready?”
He hit the button on the elevator and swiped his access badge when prompted. Without a badge, they couldn’t access the maximum security floor. “Anxious to get this over with?”
She nodded. Let him think that.
Inside the elevator, it smelled faintly of some kind of take-out food. Maybe Chinese. Dana couldn’t be sure. Staff often went out to get food and brought it back. There weren’t a lot of culinary-minded workers at the SF. The elevator doors closed.
Dana’s stomach clenched. She tried to tell herself it was dread. She knew it was breathless anticipation.
“You look nervous,” said Avery.
She shook her head. “I’m fine.”
“You know, we don’t have to do this,” he said. “If you don’t want to see that guy, we can tell him to go fuck himself.”
“It’s okay, Brooks.” She tried to smile. The elevator settled on the bottom floor. The doors slid open. Dana gazed out at the hallway of the maximum security floor, which stretched out almost infinitely. The walls were painted white. The doors were white too. It looked sterile, like a hospital or a morgue.
She squared her shoulders and stepped out of the elevator, Avery right behind her.
“You guys were coming to see Randall, right?” asked the guy working the desk outside the elevator. He had a mole on his chin. A hair was growing out of it. “Brooks and Gray? You got your badges?”
Dana showed hers. Avery too.
The guy got up. “We got him in one of the conference rooms. He’s waiting for you. Follow me.”
The guard wore a uniform—brown pants and a brown, collared shirt. The pants were too tight. As she walked behind him, Dana noticed how the waist cut painfully into his flesh.
Without warning, the wolf surged up in her. Flesh, it whispered. Rip. Tear. Eat.
In horror, Dana realized that claws were already pushing out of her fingertips.
She shoved the wolf down, forced the claws to retract into her body. She had to keep it together. Seeing Cole was no reason to lose control.
Shift for me, Dana.
She shuddered, reaching inside her shirt to finger the scar on her belly. Willing the wolf down.
The guard stopped in front of a white door. “He’s in here. You have any problems with him, you can bang on the door. There’s a guard who walks this hallway, and he’ll hear you. Also, there’s a panic button on the wall that you can hit if you need it. It’ll set off an alarm at my desk.”
Dana nodded. “Thanks.” She reached for the door.
“You think we’ll need a panic button?” asked Avery.
The guard shrugged. “He can be unpredictable.”
CHAPTER FOUR
When Dana was seventeen, she’d been one of two survivors of the Brockway Massacre, in which two rogue werewolves had killed an entire gymnasium full of students, parents, and community members attending a local basketball game. The two wolves had been students at her school, unpopular strange boys who she’d never associated with. They’d planned the entire thing out.
Dana had been bitten. And she wouldn’t have gotten free if it hadn’t been for Cole Randall, who’d managed to find an open door in the boys’ locker room. Without Cole, she would have died.
It was only the second time she’d ever spoken to him. They sat in the hospital, wrapped in blankets, both shocked and terrified, waiting for the team from the Sullivan Foundation to come and take them away. The hospital staff wouldn’t treat their wounds for fear of contracting the lupine virus.
Cole held her hand.
She was shaking, and her teeth were chattering, but she wasn’t cold. Still, she hugged the blanket tighter with the hand that wasn’t holding Cole’s. “We’re going to be werewolves.”
“We’re going to be alive,” he said.
She looked into his eyes, his dark brown eyes. It was the first time she’d ever noticed what color they were. “Thank you for saving me.”
He turned away. “I couldn’t save anyone else, though.”
“I’m glad we’re alive,” she said. She squeezed his hand.
His gaze met hers again. “Me too.”
* * *
Cole was sitting at a white table inside a white room. He was wearing the maximum security uniform—a navy blue jumpsuit. He was clean-shaven. His dark hair was cropped very short. He was still wearing his glasses.
Why did he wear those things? They had to be an affectation. Dana had never met a wolf who didn’t have twenty-twenty vision.
He looked up at her when she entered the room. He smiled.
Her knees turned to jelly. She had to place her hand against the wall for support.
“Hello, Dana,” he said.
She didn’t answer. She stood rooted in place, gazing into his eyes. The moment seemed to go on and on.
Then she felt Avery’s hand on her shoulder. “You all right, Gray?”
She turned to him, managing to move out of the doorway so that Avery could come into the room behind her. “Fine.”
Avery moved around her, placed himself between her and Cole. She couldn’t see Cole anymore.
“I only want to see Dana.”
Dana peered around Avery, mostly to make sure Cole was actually real. He was. He was there. They were in the same room. Everything felt slower. Her racing pulse quieted. She could breathe easier. Cole’s presence was calming. For the first time in six months, she felt okay again. He was close.
“You’ll have to leave,” said Cole.
Avery smirked. “Too bad. I’m staying. I won’t let her be alone with you.”
“This is my partner, Avery Brooks,” said Dana. She moved smoothly across the room and took a seat opposite Cole. “He’s working these cases with me. Obviously, he’s interested in what you have to say.”
Cole’s hands were resting on the tabletop. They were handcuffed together. His feet were probably shackled too. She had an urge to reach out for him, to interlace his fingers with her own. She put her hands in her lap instead.
“I specifically said I’d only talk to you,” Cole said, looking deeply into her eyes again.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Avery sat down next to her. “Like I said, I’m not leaving. So you either talk, or she and I both go away.” He glared at Cole.
Cole glanced at Avery and then turned his attention back to Dana. “Why’d you wash off your makeup?”
God. He could tell that? Heat was rushing to her face. She was blushing.
Avery gave her a funny look.
She looked at Cole instead, locked into his dark eyes. She felt like he was burrowing inside her. Her clothes felt tight. Her skin felt damp.
“I won’t say anything until he leaves,” said Cole.
Dana couldn’t tear her gaze away from him. Without looking away, she whispered, “Brooks, why don’t you wait outside the door for me? I’ll knock if I need you.”
“No way,” said Avery. He leaned across the ta
ble, putting himself in her view, breaking her eye contact with Cole. “I’m staying.”
Cole laughed, a dark throaty sound. “Too bad. I was looking forward to talking to you. I missed you, Dana.”
The response was on the tip of her tongue, begging to be said, but she didn’t dare let it out. I missed you too.
She turned to Avery. “Ten minutes, okay? Give me ten minutes with him.”
“I don’t like it, Gray.”
“Please.” And she was afraid he could hear the raw desperation in her voice.
Avery folded his arms over his chest. He stood up. “Ten minutes. I’m coming after you in ten minutes.” He looked at Cole. “I’ll be right outside the door.”
“Noted,” said Cole, his lips curving into a satisfied smile.
Avery walked across the room. He hesitated at the door. “Ten minutes.”
Dana nodded.
Then the door shut, and they were alone.
Her hands lurched off her lap, across the table. And then she was touching him. His fingers were warm.
“You ran from me, beautiful,” he said, caressing her knuckles.
“You were trying to kill me.”
“No.” His gaze was intense. “Not anymore. Not after what happened. You and I are connected now, don’t you see?”
She snatched her hands back. “I don’t want to talk about it.” She wasn’t connected to him. She couldn’t be.
“I can’t stop thinking about you, Dana. I think about you when I wake up. I think about you before I go to sleep. I—”
“Stop.” She didn’t need to hear this. She needed to get the topic back to the reason she came. She needed to take control here. That was what Cole always robbed her of. Control. If she could direct the conversation, maybe she could stay on top of her feelings—her very strange, very disturbing feelings. She squared her shoulders, sucking in a deep breath. “So, what did you want to say about the rogues? How could you help?”
“Don’t tell me you aren’t thinking about me too. I know—”
“The rogues.”
He sighed. “They’re connected. I’m surprised you didn’t see it. But maybe you weren’t looking.”
“Connected? They live in different states. They have nothing in common.”
He shook his head. “I know who they are.”
“Say you do. What does it matter? They’re going to be locked up for doing it on purpose no matter what.”
“Are you sure they did it on purpose?”
“They admitted that.”
“According to the news reports I saw, they admitted only that they knew how to control their wolves on a full moon.”
Dana sat back in her chair. “If they could control themselves, and they didn’t control themselves, then it means they did it on purpose.”
Cole raised his eyebrows. “Does it?”
“Don’t play games with me. You either know something, or you don’t.”
Cole’s voice dropped several octaves. “I needed to see you. I thought maybe you needed to see me too.”
She felt the words like lightning, coursing through her, making her feel weak, but also lit up, awake. She wished she was touching him again. She wished the table wasn’t between them. She wished there was nothing between them. Nothing at all.
Yes, I needed to see you. Yes, all I need is to see you. I need you, Cole. I need you. What have you done to me?
She held his gaze, and she was sure he could see her response written on her face. He drew in a long, slow breath, like he was savoring her, tasting her.
She couldn’t let this go on. She was supposed to be in control. Even talking about work, only work, he’d wormed his way inside, taken over. She had to stop it.
She got out of the chair. “So you’ve got nothing, in other words. You’re wasting my time.” Her voice was disdainful. Good.
Don’t notice how tightly you have me wrapped around your finger, Cole. Please, think I hate you. Believe I despise you.
“You did need to see me.” He wasn’t asking.
Oh, God, if she didn’t get out of here, she was going to lose it. That hypnotic voice of his was going to undo her. She didn’t know what she might do. She stalked to the door.
“Do you think about me, Dana?”
She looked at him, her blood starting to thrum just beneath the surface of her skin.
“I think about you constantly. I think about touching you again.” His voice was a purr, sweet, soft, and liquid.
“Shut up.” She choked on the word. She had to get away from him. She had to stop whatever spell he had on her. She tried to turn the knob on the door, but it was locked.
“You have incredible skin.”
She cringed, but something inside her loved that. Something inside her uncurled, stretched out, and preened. There was a part of her that craved his praise. She banged on the door.
“Think about that later tonight, when you’re lying in bed alone. Think about my fingers on your skin. My lips on your skin.”
“Brooks, damn it, open the door!”
The door opened. She threw herself out of the room.
“Dana,” called Cole. “Look for the connection. You’re going to feel so stupid to have missed it.” He was laughing. God, he was laughing, and the sound was echoing into her ears, recording itself.
She slammed the door on his laughter, and it cut off. “Fuck.”
She wanted—more than anything—to open the door again. Closing herself off from him felt like losing a limb.
* * *
“What the hell was that, Gray?” Avery was standing in the middle of her living room, arms crossed over his chest.
Dana was curled up on her couch, her arms around her knees.
At first, Avery had only been concerned with whether or not she was okay. Once he ascertained that she hadn’t sustained any bodily harm, he tried to get back into the room and get at Cole. She thought he was going to make good on that threat to strangle him.
A guard interfered, however, and Avery got her back up to her apartment. Once they were inside, he’d just exploded.
“What was what?” she asked in a tiny voice.
“You,” he said, “and him. What the fuck? You were staring at him like some kind of lovesick teenager.”
She rested her forehead against her knees.
“Jesus Christ, you can’t actually...” He sat down on the couch next to her. “What did he do to you?”
“I don’t know.” What was she supposed to say? “Chantal says it’s Stockholm syndrome.”
“Chantal?”
“My shrink.”
“Your shrink knows that you have... a thing for Cole Randall, and she signed off that you were okay to come back to work?”
“I don’t have a thing for him.” She looked up at Avery. “It’s complicated.”
“It’s fucked up,” he said.
“I know.”
Avery slumped into the couch. “Shit, Gray.”
“I didn’t think it was so... obvious,” she said.
“Maybe it’s not,” he said. “To anyone else. But I know you. I could tell.”
She lowered her head again.
“I read the reports,” he said. “You never indicated that he...”
She looked up at him.
His jaw worked. When he did speak again, he’d adopted a very matter-of-fact tone. His work voice. “We’ve been operating under the assumption there was no sexual assault.”
She tugged her knees tighter.
“Did you leave things out of the reports, Dana?” He’d used her first name. He gazed at her with concern in his eyes.
“Nothing important,” she said.
“So what does that mean?”
She rested her chin against her knees. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“For fuck’s sake, Gray—”
“I came back to work so that I could have something else to think about. I begged Chantal to let me. He’s all I think about, Broo
ks, do you understand? I can’t get him out of my head. We’re away from him. I don’t want to talk about him right now. I want to talk about something else. Anything else.”
He closed his eyes, resting his head against the back of the couch. “I missed you. I wanted you back. But you’re not ready.”
“I am.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Look, he made some good points down there. We don’t know whether the two rogue attacks this weekend were deliberate. It’s possible that something happened that made the two of them involuntarily lose control of their wolves. And if that’s true, then there might be a connection.”
Avery sat up straight. “I think he made up something vaguely plausible to get you to come see him. I don’t think you should give any of his theories any weight.”
“If it was involuntary, there could be a danger to other rehabilitated wolves, Brooks. And we could be imprisoning innocent people. We have to look into it.”
He hung his head, staring at the floor. “I don’t think you should look into anything. I think you need to go back on leave.”
“Brooks, you don’t mean that.”
He stood up. “I have to tell King what I saw. I have to tell her you have unhealthy feelings for Randall. It’s for your own good.”
She jumped to her feet. “Please don’t. She won’t let me work.”
He put his hands on her shoulders. “You shouldn’t be working.”
“I need to be working,” she said. “It’s the only way I’m going to get over all of it. I know this is the only way. Please, don’t say anything.”
“I’m really sorry.” He dropped his hands and turned to leave.
She caught his arm. “Damn it, Brooks. This is me. Your partner. How long have we worked together?”
“You aren’t yourself.”
“I am. Look, you owe me. I’ve covered for your ass before. Remember that time you got drunk and wolfed out?”
He cringed. “Yeah, that was fucked up of me, but what you’re going through, it’s on another whole level.”
“It’s not.”
“You have feelings for a serial killer.”
“Not feelings,” she said. “I don’t... care about him or anything. It’s just... It’s confusing.” For both of us, whispered a silken voice in her head. “I need some time, but I’m going to work through it. And I need to have something else to focus on while I’m doing that. Please, Brooks. Give me time.”
He wavered. “How much time?
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