A knot formed in her gut. She could pass the piss test, but the blood samples…
“Just go, Reyes. Maggie will handle this.”
She wasn’t going to think about how for the moment. But she hated that she was placing two of her closest and dearest friends’ careers at risk. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”
“Bullshit, Reyes. We both know you can help stop this killer. That’s all I care about. After you see Maggie, review the files, and when you’re ready, I’ll arrange for a briefing with the new agents.”
Solving the case wasn’t all he cared about. He cared about her, and he always had. She walked around the desk and hugged him, tears threatening, as they had too often lately.
He returned the hug awkwardly. “Are you getting soft on me, Reyes?”
Chuckling, she dashed away the moisture. She suspected he wasn’t ready to deal with this new side of her.
“Hell, no. I’ll go see, Maggie.”
She lifted the heavy pile of papers and walked out the door, and followed the same path she had a thousand times to her desk, which someone had thoughtfully cleaned and organized in her absence. Pads, pens, and other supplies waited neatly in the drawers. Even her favorite colored Sharpies sat in a new pencil cup. Setting the file on her desk, she glanced at the agents on either side of her, assuming they had played desk fairy. “This is great,” she said. “Thanks.”
“Don’t thank us. We think Harris did it.” Agent Williams jerked his head in David’s direction. Before her demotion and loss of her office, David used to sit beside her, but now he was positioned at the opposite end of the room.
Maybe there was hope. Since she had to walk past him to get to the elevator to visit Maggie in the lab, she went straight over to him. Instead of a desk chair, he sat in a sleek, sporty-looking wheelchair. The sight constricted her stomach with guilt.
His head was bent over the papers on his desk, and he didn’t raise it, even though she knew he sensed her presence.
She pushed on anyway, aware she had to take this first step. “Thanks for straightening up my desk. Getting me ready to come back.”
He shrugged shoulders that were broader than the last time she’d seen him, but he still wouldn’t meet her gaze. “Just don’t fuck it up this time, Reyes.”
His words cut deep. So much for hope.
Fighting another bout of tears, she managed to speak past the knot of emotion tightening her throat.
“Thanks, anyway. I’m glad you’re back, David.”
He nodded silently, but as she strode toward the elevators, she thought she heard him say, “I’m glad you’re back, too.”
Chapter Twenty-six
Her power pounded against the Slayer the same way his body pounded into hers, seeking release. Wonderful, punishing power, such as he would never possess because he’d failed.
Failed. Failed. Failed. The word rebounded within the emptiness of his soul.
She cradled his cheek, her touch soothing. “No, love. Don’t think about that,” she urged. But it was too late.
Inside her, his dick was shriveling up, but he knew what to do to please her in spite of that.
Withdrawing from her abruptly, he shoved two fingers in her, lubricating them with the juices of her passion. Then he jammed in another two. She moaned, and arched her hips against his hand.
“Oh, God. Yes, Bartholomew. Yes,” she cried out, her head thrown back at the pleasure his fist fuck brought her.
He punched into her over and over, and she took it. Her heat surrounded his fingers as her wetness drenched his flesh.
She clutched at him, her sharp nails digging into his shoulders, the bite of them stinging and yet so arousing. He responded to that pain, growing hard again.
But he wanted to make her come first. He knew just what she needed, because it was just what he needed, too.
He bent his head and bit down hard on her breast, loving the feel of her lushness against his teeth and mouth. The barest hint of metallic blood came against his tongue as he broke through her skin.
She screamed. A long, keening cry of pleasure as she climaxed, which almost had him coming, too. But not yet.
Not yet. He flipped her over and spread the wet of her release along the tight rictus of her ass. She moaned again and reached behind her to grab his thighs, and pulled him closer once she realized his intent.
“Yes, please, yes,” she begged.
He loved it when she begged. When she relinquished herself to him and the hurt they both loved so well.
His passion fully revived, he guided his cock to her and drove in, the tightness of her back passage rough against his length. Her shout of pain was intoxicating.
She raised her ass higher and her nails bit into his thighs. She looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes pleading for him to finish. For him to bring yet more pain and pleasure.
He retreated, then slammed home again, driving into her over and over. Her guttural cries were music to his ears. Her eyes glazed over with her need and her hands grabbed him hard enough to bruise.
Powerful hands.
God, how he loved her power. He gave one last thrust as deep as he could go, and they both came, their coarse shouts filling the room.
He lingered within her for only a moment, pulling out to collapse beside her on the bed.
She turned and faced him, laid her hand on his chest and rubbed his hard nipple. She tugged at his nipple ring, which sent a pang of pleasure back toward his cock.
He stilled her hand. It would be a while before he’d be ready for another go. He wondered how it was possible she was still horny. But he didn’t want to displease her.
Because for now, she had the power of life and death over him.
“Aja, you are a wonder,” he said, and touched her breast and the trace of his bite. Traces of blood trickled from it, and the first hints of bruising were already visible on her creamy skin. He ran his finger over his mark, and her nipples tightened. She moaned and reached up, and began playing with her own nipples.
“I am cursed by this need. Cursed for loving you,” she ground out, surprising him.
She’d never told him she cared before, and it rocked him. It had been too long since he was loved.
“Never a curse, my love,” Bartholomew said, feeling more for her than he had for anyone in a long time. Wanting to satisfy her, he slipped his hands over hers and took over her caresses.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, and meant it. Any man would want to be with Aja—if they could survive her physical demands. It was only his inventiveness at creating the pain she craved that made it possible for him to keep up with her.
With that thought in mind, he bent and teethed her nipples roughly. She mewled with pleasure, and dug her hands into his hair, dragging him close.
“More,” she demanded. Just then, the chime of her doorbell rang up from the floor below, startling him. But she seemed intent on ignoring it.
Until a familiar voice sounded through the intercom.
“Aja, open up! This is an emergency.”
His brother’s voice.
Benjamin? It had been at least a year since he’d heard it. He’d been training in the park, tracking a shifter, when he’d come across Benjamin and Evangeline. They, too, had been after the shifter, but for other reasons. He’d sensed the powerful slayer energy, so familiar and welcoming. He’d been drawn to it, had heard his brother discuss the shifter’s trail, when suddenly his brother had stopped speaking. He’d known then that he’d gotten too close, and Benjamin had become aware of his presence.
He’d run off, hoping his brother would think it had just been a phantom memory.
“Stay here,” Aja commanded, snatching a robe from the floor and jerking it over her nudity as she left the room. He approached the door cautiously, unsure if Benjamin would be aware of his presence. Aja’s apartment was huge and he was on another floor. A far-enough distance, he hoped.
Just to be safe, he gathered up his clot
hes and dressed. Eased on his blood-stained leather duster with his cache of weapons stored in the lining.
Returning to the door, he pressed his ear to the wood, hoping to pick up on the conversation. All he heard was mumbled words, and then Benjamin’s voice, stronger and more agitated. Aja’s answering tones were a soothing singsong. He’d always found it an irony that someone who lived for pain had the gift of using her voice to offer comfort.
Whatever she said brought silence, and shortly after, her footfalls pattered on the stairs up to the door of the room. She came in, pulling back the long strands of her auburn hair. “He knows, Bartholomew. Even though I used the voice and lied to him, I don’t think he’ll believe me for long. He’ll be back, maybe with the whole Council.”
Brushing his fingers down her cheek, Bartholomew reassured her. “Don’t be afraid, Aja. The Council won’t kill you.”
“But Bart—”
He silenced her with a kiss, and trailed his hand down to grasp her breast. He teased the nipple until it puckered into a hard nub, and she sighed against his mouth, passion replacing anxiety.
He pressed her back against the door, his erection hard against her belly… using her needs against her as he reached into the lining of his duster.
The leather handle of his knife was smooth in his hand. As smooth as the skin he pierced with one sure stroke, slipping in beneath her sternum and driving upward fiercely.Her breath exploded from her body, and he pulled away to watch her emerald eyes as realization slammed into them. They were filled with surprise as she met his gaze and looked down at the knife he’d driven straight through her heart.
He smiled sadly, actually regretting what he’d had to do. But better him than the Council. They wouldn’t have been as quick or painless. Slowly, she slid to the ground, her perfect body still perfect, except for his sure stroke of death. Her eyes fixed on his face, loving him even as life fled and they lost their luster. Lifting her in his arms, he carried her back to the bed, her limp body heavier in death. He laid her out gracefully, gently closing her eyes and mouth. Spreading her robe, he sat and took his time appreciating all he’d once possessed.
His bite stood out on her skin. Her lovely breasts were still pebbled with the desire he’d awakened. He bent and lovingly kissed them one final time. Moved up to kiss her cold, still lips, apology and love his final benediction.
He sat there a while longer, waiting for the just right moment. Then he carefully extracted the blade. Only the barest leak of blood came from the perfect wound in the heart that no longer beat.
Rising, he went to the bathroom and cleaned off his blade, and tucked it back into the sheath sewn in his lining.
He returned to Aja’s side, and tenderly pulled up the robe to hide her nakedness. He didn’t want anyone else to see her as he had, so perfect even in death. Then he paused one last time to examine his achievement. Anyone looking in would just think she was asleep… until her body began to rot and the stench filled the room.
He remembered that smell so well. It had filled his nostrils for days as he and Benjamin hid, the bodies of their family rotting just above the hidey-hole where his mother had shoved them before the vampires broke in. He’d wanted to fight them even then, but Benjamin had held him back, pinning him to the floor and covering his mouth so they wouldn’t be discovered.
Maybe his parents and sisters would still be alive today if he’d fought. If Benjamin had joined him in the fray.
But Benjamin had kept him down, trying to protect him, as he had for the nearly two decades since. He’d kept his little brother at his side, preparing him. Teaching him what he’d need to survive. Loving him as brothers did, until the day Bartholomew had failed his slayer training, and his brother had betrayed their love.
Benjamin would pay for that on the point of his knife. But not before his brother suffered as Bart had suffered these last few years.
First, though, he had to deal with Michaela.
It galled him that the spawn of a vampire bore the mantle of slayer power. That she’d been chosen as more worthy than he.
The little bitch had always been determined, and would not hesitate to track him down if she thought he was alive.
Which meant there was only one thing he could do: kill her before she found him.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Michaela glanced at the GPS on her smartphone and the round blue circle that marked her route to the location where Benjamin had texted her to meet him. Having safeguarded Central Park on more than one occasion, she recognized where she was headed—a tunnel like the one where the homeless man had been slaughtered.
If she remembered correctly, the tunnel had a number of offshoots that led beneath the street and into some of the underground areas of Central Park—sewer tunnels, a valve chamber used for the water system, and a number of underground streams and springs.
The tunnel was well north of Midtown, near the edges of Harlem.
Not far from where Aja lived. And if Aja was like any of the other Council members, her home contained an escape exit. Maybe even one that connected to the tunnels that wound under Central Park.
If Aja had been harboring Benjamin’s brother, Bartholomew, all this time, he could have come and gone through that escape exit whenever he wished, without being seen.
Which made her wonder what had happened between Benjamin and Aja when he confronted her earlier today. Had she admitted to a relationship with Bartholomew? To having violated the Council’s termination edict?
Or had Benjamin discovered Bartholomew’s hiding place all on his own?
She took another look at the GPS and confirmed she was almost there. Good thing, because it was just after ten and she’d agreed to call Ryder before midnight, and check in with Jesus by eleven. He’d been spending long days on a case while she’d pulled this duty for the Council. It had given them little time together lately, and she missed him. Which was a new development for someone who had not seen herself being involved again, much less developing genuine affection for the man.
She pushed forward, hurrying to meet Benjamin and find out what they’d do next to capture his murderous brother. She’d spent her whole life hating the undead, hated having to be in league with them. Even if it was for the good of the slayers, and possibly humanity.
As she neared the mouth of the tunnel she slowed, sensing the vibrations of slayer power just beyond.
Benjamin. Except… the pulse of his life force was erratic. Weak, like that of a slayer who was gravely wounded. This couldn’t be good.
Reaching to the small of her back, she retrieved her small pistol. It had been a present from Jesus, who thought her medieval weaponry out of date for the twenty-first century.
Moving forward carefully, she stepped into the darkness of the tunnel. The vampire power in her veins brought clarity to the night, and she saw Benjamin slumped against the wall, bloodied. His dark hair was matted with more dripping blood as he leaned there, unconscious. Immobile. His breathing was shallow, but regular. Maybe too regular…
Opening her senses to any other otherworldly power, she detected none, only the weaker slayer power pulsing from Benjamin. If Bartholomew had done this, he was long gone. But she still remained cautious. Something was not right.
“Ben?” she called out as she slowly approached.
“Mikey,” he said in a whisper.
Only Benjamin had ever called her Mikey.
She raced forward, fear surging through her. “Oh, Ben.” She bent toward him to help. Hot pain stabbed through her side, sending streams of stinging agony into her blood.
Silver.
She glanced down at the wooden stake buried deep in her ribs, blood slowly leaking from the wound. She peered uncomprehendingly at Benjamin’s hand, which was driving the stake even deeper. Wood grated against rib bone before popping free through her back with a moist, sickening sound.
Groaning, her knees buckled, but Benjamin rose and grabbed her, supporting her with his hand on the stake
and an arm around her waist.
“Ben… ?” she whispered.
The pain was so great that even lifting her head to look at his face took an immense effort. But she did, and met a gaze glimmering with excited evil.
Brown, not blue. Not Benjamin.
Bartholomew.
Fuck, she thought as she passed out.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Diana’s body was peaceful as she rested on Ryder, deep in restorative sleep after nausea had consumed her again, so bad he feared she would never recover. He had happily served as her body pillow for hours, wide awake in the night that was his milieu. Doing his best to contain the tension as each second ticked by with no call from Michaela. Where was she?
He’d been surprised Diego hadn’t called yet for an update, so when his cell phone rattled against the wood of the nightstand, he reached for it. But it wasn’t his phone vibrating.
It was Diana’s. And the caller was ADIC Hernandez.
She woke immediately, sitting up to take the phone from him. Finger-combing her sleep-tousled hair from her face, she answered, “What’s up, Jesus?” A puzzled look danced across her features as she handed him the phone. “He needs to talk to you.”
Alarm spidered through him. “It’s late. Is something wrong?”
“Is Michaela with you?” Agitation colored Hernandez’s words.
“No, she isn’t.”
He looked at Diana as he spoke and she mouthed, “Speaker.”
He turned on the speaker so she could hear.
“She was supposed to call me by eleven. It’s past midnight.”
Diana jumped into the conversation. “I assume that’s not like her.”
“She’s as punctual as you are, Di. Something’s wrong. I know it in my gut.”
Ryder said, “She told me she was meeting with one of the Council members, Benjamin. She said he had more info for her on the killings.”
“Killings?” Diana repeated, her look both accusatory and guilt-stricken.
“You’re kidding me, right? I can’t believe you still haven’t told her what’s going on,” Hernandez shot back, exasperated.
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