Tales of the Golden Judge: 3-Book Bundle - Books 1-3

by Hart, Melissa F.

  “Fuck,” he whispered in her ear, and she couldn't have agreed more.

  His fingers grew bolder, and when he brushed his thumb over her clit, she writhed against him. He did it again and again, and she moaned deep in his throat. Then his fingers stilled, and she arched back against him.

  “No, don't stop,” she whined, and with a ragged laugh, he pressed two fingers into her tight passage. Her moan was sharp and high, and he froze, not moving a muscle.

  “Don't... don't stop,” she whimpered, panting hard, and she felt him press soft lips to the bare nape of her neck.

  “You're so tight, darling,” he whispered. “Look, even just two fingers are stretching you...”

  He flexed his hand, and she groaned. He was right, it had been so long for her that she did feel tight, and she pressed her forehead against the cold lamp post, trembling like she had run a long hard race.

  “I want... I want...” she whimpered, and he was pressing his lips her neck again, calming her with nothing more than a kiss.

  “I know,” he purred in her ear, and then his thumb was back, stroking over her clit. It made her tighten around his fingers, but he refused to stop, and soon wave after wave of pleasure was breaking over her.

  Violet felt herself shaking harder and harder, and her grip on the lamp post got so tight that the muscles in her arms started to tremble. She couldn't take the tension, but she couldn’t bear to let go either, and behind her this mysterious man was whispering soft words of encouragement, dirty words that struck right to the core of her, and oh how she wanted him.

  Her orgasm caught her by surprise. One moment she was stretched and straining and the next fire was pouring over her body, making her throw her head back and cry out wildly. She could feel herself clench hard around the man's fingers, and he was holding her tightly with his free arm wrapped around her and keeping her feeling so very safe.

  Violet's climax left her shaking and drained, and she only came to herself when she realized that the man behind her was still hard. He was calling her darling and sweetheart, but the reality and the strangeness of what she had just done suddenly dawned on her.

  With a muttered curse, she pulled her jeans up while shoving him away, and she met his eyes, panicked. “What... what was that, I...”

  His gaze was calm, even concerned, but there was nothing ashamed or scornful about the way he looked at her. Instead, there was something very calm there as she composed herself.

  “You're fine,” he said. “I promise. I'll never do anything to harm you. I couldn't.”

  It would have been better if he had shouted abuse at her, or if he had mocked her willing surrender. At least, it would have made more sense to her fried nerves.

  Violet couldn't take it anymore. She cut and ran, dashing down the street. She was ready to dart between the dark buildings if she had to, but when she glanced back, she saw that he had not moved at all. Instead, he was simply standing in the light of the lamp post, watching after her with that same calm and compassion.

  “Fuck,” she whispered, and kept running.

  ***

  Carson had felt the thing that hunted in Harrispont, but just for a moment. Then his senses and his wits had been overwhelmed by the small woman who skulked through the parking lot with the stealthy tread of a coyote. He had wondered if she was a member of one of the rat tribes that haunted the docks, or even one of the dangerous were-dogs that hunted in feral packs.

  Instead she was nothing but human, but even that was wrong. She was something else, something beautiful and wild and dangerous, and he brought his wet fingers up to his mouth to savor the taste of her.

  He had her name; she had given that to him. He would find her again, but as he thought about the charms of her tight body and her willing response, he also realized how risky it could be.

  There was another hunter in the city now, and what he had felt this evening told him how terrible it was and how strong. It could be risky to lose his head over someone like Violet LeFay at the moment, but thinking of her fierce spirit and her tender beauty, he wasn't sure he could resist.

  TO BE CONTINUED IN BOOK TWO: A Place in the Dark - Volume 2

  ***

  A Place in the Dark

  ***

  Synopsis

  Violet's suspicions grow darker as she learns more about Carson, but Carson decides to come clean with some incredible news. He is a member of the Golden Order, the lawkeepers of the city's shapechangers, and he is hunting the same murderer who destroyed Violet's young life. She goes to learn more among the shapechangers of the city, but she may find more than she bargained for in the dark forests.

  ***

  Violet awoke from a fractured sleep with a fuzzy head and a sense that the world had turned upside down. She hadn’t made it back to her apartment until nearly dawn, and when she had done so, she had been too tired to do anything but strip off her clothes and crawl into bed.

  Looking down at her bare body, she blushed to remember what she had done and what she had almost done the night before. She remembered flirting with the dangerous stranger, how bold and brazen she had been! She remembered how his eyes had heated up at her sultry words, and then the feel of the lamp post in front of her as he bent her forward and touched her.

  Her body lit up with a dull heat as she thought about the powerful response he had drawn out of her. She’d had lovers before, of course, but they were nothing compared to this man's sheer skill and magnetism. Even now, thinking about it, she yearned for his touch again. Instead, she threw herself out of bed and headed for the shower, where she took a long cold shower and forced the thought of him out of her head.

  There was work to be done, and she refocused her thoughts on the poor murdered student who had met his end. There was a hunter out there, a monster of some kind who walked like a human. This same killer, or someone so much like him that the difference didn't matter, had killed her parents as well, and now she knew that he was back.

  Still, there were bills to be paid, and before she could return to her investigations, she sat down at her computer to do some work. She was a private investigator, but far from most people's expectations of a shady character in a trench coat who solved mysteries involving millionaires and heiresses, most of her work was performed right from her little downtown apartment on her computer.

  Violet scanned through her emails and got to work, only emerging a few hours later from hunger and stiffness. There were fraudulent credit cards to deal with, errant phone numbers to track and more, but it was just mostly the run of the mill cases and requests.

  Just when she was getting ready to step away, two new messages came into her inbox almost simultaneously. One was from her cousin Vicky Campbell, ace reporter from Colossal City, and the other came from an email address that she didn't recognize, probably a new client.

  She opened the email from Vicky first and found that there were a few pictures attached to it.

  Check it out, here are some pictures relating to the spate of murders back in the seventies that you might not have seen...

  When Violet opened the pictures, she realized that Vicky was right. These were pictures taken at various crime scenes from one of the previous periods of violence that sometimes took Harrispont and Colossal City by storm. There would be a series of killings, and then nothing for years. What she and Vicky had put together was that the killings never stopped; instead they simply moved from one city to the next. It was during one such spate that her parents had been killed, and now it looked like the city was on the verge of a new reign of terror.

  She opened the pictures curiously and found herself staring.

  They were old pictures, but one face stood out among the crowd gathered around the dead body that had been discovered at Clocktower Park. One man with hair so pale it was nearly white. Instead of looking at the camera as so many people were, he was looking at the covered body on the ground. The intensity to his gaze made the hair at the back of Violet's neck stand up on end. She
recognized that face.

  The man she had met at the crime scene last night had the same sharp features, the same size, and the same intent look, and as she paged through the pictures that Vicky had attached, she saw the man over and over again.

  Soon, she realized that it could not be the man she had been so intimate with the night before. The features were close, but they weren't identical. Plus, that had been over thirty years ago. It must be a father or a brother, but still, the fact that someone so similar had shown up in crime scenes both in the present and in the past was enough to make her investigator instincts start sounding like a siren

  There was no such thing as a coincidence, not in her line of work. Violet shivered hard, but it wasn't from pleasure this time. Instead, it was from fear, and she clasped both hands in front of her to prevent herself from shaking apart.

  She remembered the pleasure that he had given her, but she also remembered that oppressive sense of evil and fear that she’d had right before they started talking in that empty lot. It had torn away like a veil when the man had appeared, but it had been there, something dark that made her want to scream or fight.

  The thought that the man who had touched her so tenderly might be involved in something so dark made her stomach wrench, and she closed the email deliberately, trying to get a grasp on her thoughts and her mind.

  There was another email in her inbox, and she opened it. She didn't care what it was as long as it took her away from the gruesome thoughts that were unfolding inside her mind, but as she read, her blood turned to ice.

  Ms. Lefay:

  Meeting you last night was an unexpected pleasure, one that I cannot get out of my mind. I have taken the liberty of looking up your name and profession, and through that, I believe I understand why you were in a dark lot close to the river so late at night. I believe I have information that could be of benefit to you. If you would care to meet me at seven tonight, at the fountain at Grandville Park, I could be more precise.

  If you choose not to meet me, that is of course your prerogative, and I will simply think fondly back on what we shared.

  -Carson

  Violet stared at the email for a long moment. She knew more than she had a few moments ago, and the knowledge left her running hot and cold. She knew his name. She knew that he had remembered hers. He wanted to meet her.

  He wanted to meet her.

  A glance at the pictures Vicky had sent her confirmed again that the man in them was identical to the one she had met last night, or if not identical then close enough to be a close relative. And he wanted to meet her.

  A surge of last night’s recklessness came back to her, and resolutely, she turned back to her computer to make her preparations. The smart thing to do would be to call the police, but the truth was she wasn't sure that would help. The man she had met last night had hopped an eight-foot tall chain link fence as if it was a sidewalk curb, and she remembered how strong he was. She had never really gotten on with the police, for all that she consulted for them from time to time, and she realized that at the moment, what was needed was close-in work. She had to be able to get close to the man, to learn about him...

  She felt herself blush again when she realized where her thoughts were headed. She could still feel his hot hands on her body, and his lips brushing against the bare nape of her neck.

  She shook those thoughts off viciously and turned back to the computer. She had a lot to do before she would be ready to meet Carson tonight.

  ***

  At seven o'clock, the sun was already dipping underneath the horizon. It left the shadows in the park long and untrustworthy. As Violet hustled along the path, she was passed by people on their way out. The park technically closed at sundown, but everyone who lived in the city knew that rule was never enforced. After dark, the park went from being a friendly green space to something more sinister, and it emptied accordingly when the sun went down.

  Violet pulled the hood of her sweatshirt over her head, stuffing her hands deeper into her pockets. She comforted herself with the feel of the can of mace in her pocket. Also, secured in a sheath around her wrist and covered by her shirt sleeve, was a small knife. It was virtually useless unless she got into close quarters, but she knew that it could be deadly if she needed it to be.

  The fountain that Carson spoke of was right at the center of the park. Grandville Park was surprisingly wild despite its location in the middle of a large city, and almost directly off the path were dark woods. She stayed close to the fountain, where there were soft lights in the ground providing some illumination.

  The night was coming on fast, and the temperature dropped like a brick. Violet rubbed her hands up and down her arms, glancing across the paths repeatedly. She couldn't see anyone coming, and after a while, she began to wonder if it was just some kind of sick prank or joke.

  “Ms. LeFay?”

  She nearly jumped a foot in the air and spun around, a scream on her lips.

  He hadn't approached from the paths. Instead, he must have come through the thin stand of woods behind her. Violet looked up at the man and realized all over again how handsome he was. She could see in the dying light that he was as blond as the man in the picture, but she could see it was not him. This man, Carson, was perhaps a hair taller, with a face that was slightly softer, slightly less stern.

  He was dressed in jeans and a thin black T-shirt that stretched tight over his chest. Despite the chill, he never seemed to shiver at all, and he looked down at her with a soft smile on his face.

  “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you,” he said, inclining his head gently in her direction.

  “I'll bet,” she said cautiously. “Where the hell did you come from?”

  “I'm from Harrispont. My whole family has lived here for generations.”

  “That doesn't answer my question,” Violet muttered, but she shook her head. “You should know that there's a file on my computer, containing everything I know about you,” she said in a rush. “Everything from your name to the IP address that you sent that email from, to a picture of a man who looks suspiciously like you taken in the seventies. If I don't get back to my computer and intercept it by noon tomorrow, it is going straight to my cousin Vicky Campbell in Colossal City. She'll know to go right to the cops.”

  He tilted his head, suddenly looking surprisingly canine and inquisitive. “Are you afraid I'm going to hurt you?”

  “There's a serial killer on the loose, I try not take anything for granted,” she said.

  He nodded. “I'm going to tell you that you have absolutely nothing to fear from me, and you never will,” he said seriously. “Given everything that is going on, I can hardly expect you to take my word for it, but there it is.”

  “You wanted to speak with me,” she said cautiously. “You said you had information that I needed.”

  He sighed. “To business then?”

  She nodded, and he took a seat on the fountain's edge. After a moment, she joined him, maintaining a careful distance away. She couldn't help glancing at his large, well-made hands, however, and thinking of the pleasure they had given her the night before. From the amused quirk of his mouth, she could see that he knew the way her thoughts were going, but when he started to speak, there was nothing untoward about it.

  “If you were in that lot last night, and you weren't actually looking for men to enchant, then you could only have been there for one reason. You were there to investigate the murder. What you know and what the police are still keeping from the public is that there is a great deal going on beneath the surface. These killings have been going on for quite some time, and they are not going to stop.”

  He sighed, and for a moment, Violet could see the great weight on this man's shoulders. There was a responsibility here, and a type of chain that could not be seen, only felt. She wondered what it was, and why it looked so much like the one that she herself carried.

  “I'm telling you to let it go,” he said finally. “I'm telling you to giv
e this up, and put it from your mind. Go home, be safe, live a happy life...”

  “Why?” she blurted. “Why would I do that?

  He glanced at her, and in the dim light, she could see that his eyes were pale and sharp.

  “Because it is being handled,” he said distantly, and there was a foreign note to his voice, something that spoke to a world she couldn't understand.

  Violet felt her temper rise up like a tide, and before she knew it, she was on her feet and glaring down at the man.

  “Handled?” she said, her voice like a serpent's hiss. “Handled? Are you serious? This is a serial killer, don't you get that? The police are chasing their tails, and damn you, don't think that this is the first time it has happened.”

  He started to speak, but she interrupted him.

  “Yeah, but you know that, don't you? Yeah, you do. I saw some pictures, and that man in them, the one who looks just like you. What is he, your dad, a brother, a cousin? You've tried to handle this before, if I'm not mistaken, and look what a damn fine job you and yours did with it.”

  He didn't rise up to meet her, but there was a stiffness to his shoulders and his eyes narrowed threateningly. “What do you know about this?” he asked softly. “Are you chasing a story? Are you looking to have an exclusive interview with a killer? This isn't a story you want to chase for fame, Ms. LeFay, I can assure you...”

  Violet shook her head, counting to ten slowly in her head to keep calm. She made it to about four. “This isn't some story!” she said, her voice rising to meet her anger. “This isn't about getting famous. It's about catching a killer! It's about... it's about the people he left behind!”

  Carson started to speak, but she cut him off with a short chopping movement of her hand. “No, I don't care what you think,” she raged. “I'm here, and I will find him. Police can't stop him. Is that what your relative was, a policeman? He won't stop until someone stops him, and I refuse to stand by and to let it happen over and over and over...”