Darkening Moon

by Gaja J. Kos

  “You believe my friend could have had something to do with the attack?”

  “If he knew you were coming, it’s a possibility.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  For a moment, I thought she would snarl at me, pull the walls tighter around her. But Isa only sighed, then smoothed down the back of her coat and took a seat on the edge of the ambulance by my side. Close enough for me to feel the heat of her body, but not to touch.

  “This isn’t the first kidnapping case I’ve come across.”

  I whirled around, nearly bumping my head on a piece of equipment that protruded from the side of the vehicle. “Someone’s taking supernaturals?”

  “So it appears.”

  Her blood-red nails gleamed as she rubbed the bridge of her nose, the gesture making her look uncharacteristically vulnerable. The memory of the last time I’d seen her like this snaked into my mind.

  Instead of an ambulance, there had been my couch.

  Then her lips…

  I inhaled in relief when her voice pulled me back to reality, although a touch of warmth lingered in my core. “If you didn’t recognize your attackers and if your friend didn’t know you were coming here, then your case could be connected to the others.”

  “Well, fuck.”

  A sad half smile tugged at a corner of her lips. “But I do have good news. While the lack of any distinct link between the victims makes this investigation a pain in the ass, it also lowers the chances of someone coming after you again. Too much to risk for a random grab.”

  Relief washed over me at her words, but the hunter inside me went on alert. “Why would someone snatch random supernaturals?”

  Sure, there were twisted fucks that prided themselves on collecting supes—but most of them wanted their bounties dead and mounted on walls. Taking us alive was just too dangerous, even if they pumped us full of drugs.

  Isa, however, didn’t answer my question. Whether she didn’t know or simply didn’t want to was anyone’s guess. And the sudden iciness that once again fell on her features and cut off the warm-blooded vampire lurking beneath told me the brief spell of honesty was over.

  I really shouldn’t have expected things to turn out any differently.

  Isa stood up and straightened her coat, stepping fully into her beloved role. “I’ll station an agent in front of your building for the night.”

  “No thanks.”

  I got on my own wobbly feet and pushed past her. I didn’t know why the anger decided to gnaw at me with a vengeance, but I was sick and tired of her flicking the switch between the two Isas. If she wanted to be the Ice Queen of Fang, that was fine with me. But I so did not need her to stir emotions I’d tried hard to bury with those glimpses that bared her very soul.

  Because I liked that soul.

  A little too much.

  Especially when I knew with absolute certainly she would never let me see the full extent of it.

  “I really advise—”

  “No.” I lifted my hand, palm turned towards her. “I’d rather get injected with a tranquilizer again than have ICRA rats crawling around me. Just… Just leave me alone, Agent Vogt.”

  I marched past a police car and towards the bar. Thanks to the weather conditions, I had a disgustingly long and unpleasant drive home. One I wanted to get over with as fast as possible. I shoved my hand in my jacket pocket, feeling the cool touch of my keys, when the ground slipped from beneath me.

  Cursing, I scrambled for purchase before I’d fall face—or hip—first on the ground, but what, or rather who, I found made me reconsider just what was the bigger of two evils.

  Isa’s arm snaked around my waist, her free hand coming to rest on the nape of my neck as she drew me back up. Something akin to electricity jumped between us where her fingers brushed against my skin.

  Quickly, I pulled away, but only to find myself pinned in place by her vampiric strength.

  She motioned to one of the cops. The good-looking blond one. “Take her home and make sure she gets inside safely.”

  The human, bless his brave soul, actually shot Isa a dirty look as the command in her tone unfurled through the night.

  Still, he took me from her arms—although I could tell he was doing it more for my benefit than out of obedience. Despite the faint trickle of annoyance underlining his scent, his presence was oddly soothing. Or maybe because of it.

  I chuckled to myself.

  An Isa survivors’ support group. That’s what we needed.

  A bit of compassion and a place where like-minded individuals could vent their frustration.

  The idea chased away some of my foul mood.

  Once Isa was no longer in sight, my thoughts became clearer—and made me remember something important I’d almost forgot.

  “My bike,” I started to say, but the cop silenced me with a nod.

  “We’ll have someone deliver it to you, miss. You just walk with me now.”

  I did.

  And I cherished the way his sandalwood scent caressed my senses.

  He led me across the parking lot to one of the few police cars that weren’t blinking wildly with blue. With his aid, I eased myself into the passenger seat, then glanced through the window. The cops had visibly retreated, giving the coat-clad figure a wide berth. Even from this distance, it wasn’t difficult to see why.

  Isa’s eyes gleamed whenever flashes of light hit them, giving her the appearance of a cat stalking her prey through the night. Only much, much deadlier.

  I sighed and pulled out my cell phone, grateful to see the screen had survived the fight. Quickly, I typed a message and hit send, then stashed it back into the inner pocket just as the officer sat behind the wheel. The engine roared to life.

  I might have told Isa I didn’t want any ICRA agents hovering around me. But I most definitely wasn’t averse to having breakfast with one.

  First, however, I had the mighty job of figuring out how to convince the officer to stay for a while instead of just dropping me off.

  “We haven’t been properly introduced,” I said as we stopped at a red light just down the street and offered him my hand. “Lotte Freundenberger.”

  His fingers slid against mine. “Killian Lahm.”

  The sound of his low, playful voice washed away the remnants of the drug, and all that remained between us was pure, undiluted heat I had every intention of exploring.

  6

  There was none of that tameness of fragility in Killian that I’d come to associate with humans.

  He prowled towards me with predatory intent as I backed towards the bedroom, undoing his dark uniform until an inviting triangle of his muscular chest caught my attention. But only for a moment.

  Regardless of how my fingers itched to play with the spill of light hair resting there, it was the sheer hunger rolling off him that made my heart speed up—the look in his eyes that dripped with authority, and the slight curl to his lips that revealed he had every intention of having a damn good time.

  “Sure you won’t get in trouble, Officer?” I teased, dropping my jacket on the floor. Then my shirt.

  The lust in his scent sharpened.

  “Are you sure you won’t, Ms. Freundenberger?” He pulled out his handcuffs and dangled them from a finger.

  The back of my knees hit the bed, and Killian closed the distance in three rolling strides. He wasn’t that much taller than my five feet eight, but in that moment, he positively loomed over me.

  His breath washed over my mouth. “I always wanted to try out if reinforced steel truly can hold a werewolf.” His gaze flickered to the bed and the practical bars of its sturdy frame. “You can bill me if we break it.”

  A husky laugh left my lips, but the sound faded as Killian kissed me. I ran my hands across his chest, finally, groaning at all that muscle rippling under my fingertips. His free hand grabbed my ass, his grip deliciously bruising, and then I was falling onto the mattress, Killian straddling me without miss
ing a heartbeat.

  In a single, efficient move, he looped the handcuffs through the frame and cuffed both my wrists. I strained against the metal, my desire growing to unimaginable heights when the restraints held.

  “Now there, dear wolf,”—he liberated me from my bra—“shall I read you your rights?”

  I wanted to laugh, but the only thing that came out was a whimper as his tongue drew a circle around one nipple. As his teeth then grazed the other.

  “You have the right”—a trail of kisses down my abdomen—“to scream my name.”

  A tug at the waist of my pants, the caress of cool air against exposed skin.

  “But if you come before I say you can”—the sound of his zipper, his hard cock springing out—“I will use your desire against you.”

  Motherfucker.

  Trembling with arousal, I grappled for control, but my body was having none of that. And soon, neither did my mind.

  Killian pushed inside me, the thick length of him filling me so thoroughly I knew there was no hope at all that I would escape his punishment.

  Long before I spied her red hair through the floor-to-ceiling windows lining the Bakerei front, I knew Greta was waiting inside. Since our awareness was a two-way street, she sensed my arrival as well. Her gaze narrowed the very instant I walked through the door and offered her a glimpse of my somewhat battered state—from the fight and the incredible sex alike.

  My skin warmed at the thought of Killian, at how good it had felt to be under his authority. Even better to break it and earn some of that promised punishment.

  But the pleasantness that surged through my veins burned away just as quickly when Greta’s anger and concern pulsed through the room.

  Luckily, this was a mostly human establishment, so I was the only one who had to brave the oppressive weight. Should have known the afterglow of sex wouldn’t fool her for more than a second.

  I gave Greta an apologetic wince for not warning her of my state beforehand, then shrugged out of my jacket and took a seat opposite hers at the quiet corner table. Her fingers fumbling with the laminated menu, Greta stayed silent as a graying waitress with a soft, grandmotherly face whisked by and took our order. But even after the human was well out of earshot, my sister didn’t go for the throat. Something inside me eased.

  Sure, I’d called her here to tell her about the previous night’s events, but having to do so before my first cup of coffee would be just cruel.

  Mercifully, Greta seemed to understand.

  “How’ve you been?” I asked and tucked away a strand of hair the cold morning breeze had turned into a disobedient pain.

  A few moments dragged by as Greta visibly struggled with her resolve to refrain from questioning me. In the end, however, she sighed and leaned back in the upholstered chair.

  “Pretty good, actually.” A smile teased her lips. “We had a change in management.”

  “Oh?” If the tone of her voice was anything to go by, this change in management had to look pretty damn fine. “New boss?”

  She nodded. “Demyan Morozov.”

  My eyebrows rose in surprise.

  “Russian?”

  While ICRA took in people of all species and nationalities, I’d never heard of someone working away from their homeland. Why would they, when ICRA had offices all over the globe and more than enough agents to fill them?

  “He is,” Greta confirmed, a dash of color coming to life in her cheeks. “Transferred here from another unit.”

  “Sounds like work just got a little better, eh?” I chuckled, and the answering gleam in her eyes told me I wasn’t far off the mark.

  “He’s a great boss, Lotte. Rough around the edges and more of a fighter than the cold-agent type ICRA seems to be infested with.” She beamed with such excitement it was all I could do not to burst out laughing. “And I think he’s a Black were.”

  Well, that certainly explained her perkiness to a whole other extent.

  While our family, including my mother, actually had four in our midst, coming across a Black were out in the world was a rare occurrence. My brothers’ pack in Ljubljana was the only full-Black one I knew of.

  “Wait, you said think. You haven’t seen him shift?”

  Greta shook her head. “Unfortunately, we haven’t shared a mission yet, and we have a no-shifting-on-the-premises rule. But his scent…”

  This time, I did laugh at the spark that filled the blue of her eyes. “He smells right?”

  “Oh yes, he does.”

  The waitress slipped in right as we let our voices fade into silence. She handed us our coffees and croissants, then retreated back to the counter after we gave our thanks. I followed her movement out of the corner of my eye, noting where the other patrons were seated.

  None were close enough to overhear our conversation.

  Which was almost a shame.

  Scowling at my own eagerness to find some excuse to put things off, I pieced together the scattered fragments of my courage. Probing at my sister’s potential love life was fun, but I had brought her here for a reason.

  I took a long, deep sip of my coffee, then tore off a piece of the croissant and swallowed it in a single bite. Its buttery taste melted on my tongue.

  “I was attacked yesterday.”

  Greta’s expression tightened, her gaze skimming across my bruises, but she kept her voice flat. “I figured as much.”

  “Isa was there.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “I gather she wasn’t the one who attacked you.”

  “Might as well have.” I snorted. “It actually felt worse seeing her than being hit. Repeatedly.”

  I reached for the croissant, but Greta snatched my hand away before I covered the distance. She entwined her fingers with mine and squeezed.

  “You have Alec and Melina.” Her voice was hard even though it was barely more than a whisper. “And obviously others I know nothing about that can bring out that satisfied glow, even if only for a night. Don’t let the Ice Queen of Fang get to you, Lotte.”

  “Trust me,” I said dryly, “if I could fry that part of my brain that believes she could be a long-term mate into oblivion, I would.”

  Greta leaned back, releasing my hand. “I think it’s your heart you’d need to fry.”

  “Why not both? Better safe than fanged.”

  I tore off another bite-sized piece of the croissant and stuffed it in my mouth. Unfortunately, with the thought of Isa still vivid in my mind, even its exquisite taste failed to mask the sudden bitterness.

  My sister watched me for a moment longer, then rapped her long fingernails across the table. “Isa isn’t the only reason you called me, is it?”

  “Voit’s gone missing.”

  “Your demon coach?”

  “The one and only.” I rubbed my eyes, then rested my wrists on the table, fighting the urge to fidget. “He didn’t show up for work yesterday, and he wasn’t at home when I dropped by. I thought he might have vanished into the Shadow World, but…”

  “You aren’t sure any longer.”

  “Yeah.” I let loose a breath. “The attack—it happened behind Albtraum. And since that was the last place Voit was seen…”

  “Have you told Isa this?” Greta frowned when I shook my head, then asked, “Why not?”

  I threw my hands in the air. “I don’t know. I was pumped up on drugs, and the thought of being involved with ICRA again just didn’t sit right.”

  Besides, he was my responsibility—although I kept that to myself.

  “And yet you’re talking to me.” Her smile was small, but affectionate.

  “Well, yeah, you’re my sister first, ICRA agent second.”

  Warmth danced in the corners of her eyes. She knew I loved her no matter what her profession.

  “You want me to look into it?”

  The tightness inside me uncoiled. “Would you?”

  “Sure. Though he might still show up. I mean—who in their right mind would hit the same place twice?”r />
  My memory flashed back to the were and blondie. Yeah, no one in their right mind would.

  But I had a suspicion the people we were up against didn’t fall into that category.

  Half an hour later—and with some more juicy details about Greta’s new boss occupying my mind—I was once again surrounded by the familiar, normal scents of my office. I stashed the keys to one of our company cars in the locked drawer. Four wheels were never my ride of choice, but the thin film of snow and salt outside forced me to leave my Vulcan at home.

  Unfortunately, even I couldn’t argue it was for the best.

  With both my main coaches absent, I had little alternative but to spend the majority of my day on my feet. In light of that, sinking into the seat after work and not using up excess energy to brave the winter chill sounded damn fine. I huffed, then shook my head. When had I turned into such a grandma?

  While that was certainly a thought worthy of my time, it had to wait. I draped my jacket across the leather chair, then paged Felix.

  “Morning, boss,” his cheerful voice greeted me.

  Gods, it was like the were ran on sunshine.

  “Hey, Felix. Listen, I’ll be on the court from nine till midday. Would you mind transferring any urgent calls to Elsa if she’s free?”

  A chuckle fluttered through the speaker. “She’s not going to be pleased.”

  “Well, she’s the only one aside from Alec who actually knows something worth a shit about dealing with people around here.”

  “Ouch, that stings.”

  I laughed. “You know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, she knows how this well-oiled machine works.”

  “I wouldn’t call it well-oiled, but the rest holds true.” I glanced at the clock. “Have to get moving. If anything comes up that Elsa can’t handle, you know where to find me.”

  “Sure. Don’t pull a muscle, boss.”

  The tease in his tone weaved through the office long after the call disconnected. I allowed myself a moment of quiet laughter, then walked into the adjacent private bathroom and changed from business wear into something that fitted me like second skin.

  Sweats and tennis shoes.