Hunting the Shadows

by Alexia Reed

  “I don’t know anything, but I know he’s not a killer. You’re wasting your time.” It came out on a sob, her hand jerking up. Her fingers shook visibly as she pressed her palm to mouth.

  A man cleared his throat. “Sir, over here.”

  “Don’t go anywhere, Mackenzie. We’re not done talking.” Walking away, he eased into the bedroom—a plain enclosure with a simple bed in the middle of the room. Nothing else. As though no one really lived there. “What did you find?”

  “Come see.”

  J.C. looked up at the ceiling tiles. Someone had pulled out a vent. Accepting a flashlight, he stepped onto the bed and leaned up to look inside. Stretching the length of his body, he shone the light into the darkness. In the shadows, he saw something flash.

  A knife.

  “I need some gloves.”

  He looked down, one hand out until he was given a pair to slide on. Slowly, he eased his hand inside the vent, grunting a little as he reached for the weapon. Careful not to cut himself on the sharp blade, he pulled the knife out. His stomach churned at the sight of the dried blood and the edge of obsidian.

  “Put out a call. We need to find Stefan now.”

  * * *

  There was nothing sane about the thoughts that ran through J.C.’s mind.

  Amy wasn’t fully immersed and yet she felt the thick, sickening waves of rage that tore through him. It was suffocating and under its weight, Amy curled her fingers around J.C.’s desk to keep upright.

  He’d gone alone so that no one could stop him from killing Stefan. The thought slid from his mind into hers.

  She had to go after him, but the moment her hand fell on the doorknob and she yanked it open, the blast of voices and emotions outside the room was right there, waiting. There was no way to protect her mind and have it open to J.C. at the same time. If she closed her mind, putting up shields, she wouldn’t find him.

  If he killed Stefan, he risked losing himself to the monster he feared he’d become. She couldn’t let him.

  She took another step, more tentative than the first and rocked on her heels when thoughts slammed at her and emotions shredded her resolve. Doubling over, Amy placed a palm on the wall and breathed through clenched teeth.

  “J.C.” He didn’t hear her. Or maybe he refused to.

  She straightened and stepped forward into the mental storm that had enough energy to burn her senses if she allowed it access.

  She stumbled and lifted a hand to her burning stomach where his rage centered within her. He was outside now, moving along the edge of thick tree growth toward the back.

  Her chest tightened, but she forced herself to put one foot in front of the other. There was no way to get around the tendrils of emotions that imprinted the halls. The building was polluted with them.

  Amy could feel J.C. She focused on pinpointing him, on blocking out everyone else at the Centre. But it didn’t matter—their emotions and thoughts still sought her out.

  She wasn’t sure how she found an exit. Gritting her teeth, she pushed forward, then slammed the door closed behind her as though it would protect her. She tried to regulate her breathing, searching desperately around for the direction he’d taken. The path that caught her attention weaved through boulders.

  She fell into J.C.’s mind and into violence.

  The rage burned through his control as his fist smashed into Stefan’s face.

  Flesh striking flesh. He cracked his palm to Stefan’s jaw, ducking a blow.

  He didn’t want to take it easy and use his abilities. He felt the rush, a primal need to use his own hands, to make Stefan suffer as the victims had suffered.

  The image blurred and she pulled out of his head, distancing herself. She had to pause at a steep stretch before she could go on again.

  Her legs shook beneath her. It was too much. There was no way she could make it.

  Except that she owed him. She could help him. Needed to. J.C. wasn’t a cold blooded killer.

  Pressing her palms to the ground, she lifted herself to her feet, rocking as pain spiked through her brain. She whimpered and closed her eyes. She wanted to curl into a ball against the agony, to clasp her head in her hands.

  They were close.

  Amy gasped for breath, feeling the light sheen of sweat on her skin. Her chest tightened with a need for oxygen. She rounded the corner.

  J.C. had Stefan up against a wire fence. A hard left hook turned Stefan’s head toward her and she gasped.

  Blood. There was so much of it.

  Her hands shook as she reached for J.C.

  “J.C., stop it!” Amy shouted. She hurled herself at him, jumping onto his back. “You can’t kill him.”

  He shrugged her off and cracked a fist against Stefan’s ribs.

  Violence exploded with each strike until her head reeled and her vision blurred. She tried to lift her shields but it was too late. Her legs gave out and she crashed to the ground, gritting her teeth in an effort to stay focused. “I know you think death is his only option but it’s not! Please stop.”

  He didn’t blink, didn’t pause. As though she wasn’t there. As though she was invisible and insignificant.

  “Don’t make me do something we’ll both regret, J.C.,” she threatened. “Damn it, snap out of it!”

  Amy shoved into his mind, forcing herself through the maelstrom of chaos. She scuttled back at a glimpse of darkness in his eyes, collapsing to the ground. His irises were black, eyes glazed, expression feral. She prayed she wasn’t too late. “Stop it!” She shouted it on every level, focusing the order psychically as her vision began to fade.

  He didn’t move, but the mask on his face slipped into uncertainty as he blinked and shook his head. Stefan dropped to his hands and knees, vomiting blood before collapsing.

  “His death isn’t the answer,” she whispered as the world around her flickered. “Don’t do this. Don’t lose who you are—what goodness you have—to him. You have people who need you.”

  “He killed them. He deserves death,” he snarled.

  And Stefan would die. But as J.C. moved away, she knew it wouldn’t be at his hands. Not today at least.

  * * *

  It was dark when Amy was woken by the door opening. Rolling onto her side, she opened her eyes and squinted against the bright light of the hall as J.C. crept inside. After Stefan had been taken into custody, J.C. had brought her back to the room, staying with her until he’d been satisfied that she was alright before slipping back out.

  Leaning over, she turned on a lamp and stared at his backside, watching as he pulled his shirt up over his head and tossed it aside, her gaze catching on his scars. Although she couldn’t erase them, she wanted to touch them, to press kisses to the puckered skin.

  “What are you doing?” She swallowed as he removed his belt and unbuttoned his jeans, unable to look away.

  “Shower.” Stepping toward the bed, he reached down, smoothing his hand over her hair. Exhaustion was in the heavy sweep of his fingertips along the side of her face. “Go back to sleep.”

  There was a hollowness to his gaze—shock—as though he still didn’t know what to think about Stefan being the killer. She stared at the dark circles beneath his eyes and covered his hand with her own. “It’s over now.”

  He gave a small, jerky nod, but she could tell he was still trying to process what was going on. “Yeah.” He brushed his lips over the top of her head. “It is.”

  His words were rough as he turned and walked away. She couldn’t help but stare at his firm backside and the strength in his thighs. Couldn’t help but look at the scars, proof of how much he’d fought to get to this point.

  “J.C., I know you two were friends long ago,” she began and shoved the blankets back. If there was anyone who needed to be comforted right now, it was h
im. She followed close on his heels, catching sight of him as he stepped into the shower. “I’m sorry it was him.”

  Sucking in a jagged breath, she watched as he stepped out of his boxers. She pressed back against the wall, hoping for relief from the cool tiles against her heated skin.

  “I don’t want to talk about Stefan. He’s locked up and will be dealt with later. Broderick has already set the Enforcers on him. He can’t hurt anyone again and that’s all that matters.”

  Her attention fell to his discarded boxers and then back up at the shower. Catching a glimpse in the mirror, she saw that her cheeks flamed red. “I know. But still, I’m sure you never expected him to turn out like this.”

  He tore the curtain aside, his expression one of frustrated amazement as shampoo slid from his scalp. “Amy, he changed from the boy I considered a brother. I never expected him to try and kill me then either, but he did.” His hand shot out, catching hold of her wrist to pull her against his wet body. “Look, you can either come in here or you can drop it. Either way, I’m showering and then I’m going to crash because I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be a long day. Can we drop the ‘Stefan is a serial killer’ conversation until then?”

  “I…um…” How was she supposed to respond when she was pressed against a very naked, very frustrated, aroused man? Her tongue tangled around her words, her hand on his chest, his wet skin hot beneath her palm.

  “Wrong answer.”

  One tug and she stumbled. Her legs hit the tub and as she tumbled in, she landed in the direct range of the spray. A startled yelp slipped free before she could slap a hand over her mouth.

  His laughter surprised her. She jerked her head up and parted her soaked hair out of her eyes. The transformation of his features was shocking. His grin brightened his eyes with a boyish charm she hadn’t thought him capable of. When he offered his hand, she curled her fingers around his, letting him pull her up and stared at him wordlessly.

  “You look like a drowned rat.”

  “You…arrogant…”

  “Ass,” he finished. “Are you going to stand there in those wet clothes all night or are you taking them off? You’re in the shower now, you might as well stay.”

  “I’ll stay. As you pointed out, I’m wet and—” she lifted a finger and pressed it to his lips when he chuckled, “—not that kind of wet.”

  He parted his lips to allow her finger to slide in. The suction of his mouth made her gasp. Shaken at the intensity such a simple action could stir, Amy shook her head and continued, finding it incredibly difficult to find words, let alone string them together to form a coherent sentence. “I’ll get naked when you leave.”

  “Why? Those clothes have to be awfully tight now that they’re soaked. Are you sure you don’t want out of them? I promise I won’t look.” He slipped behind her, his hands sliding down her arms. Dipping his head, J.C. grazed his teeth over her throat. His breath tickled her ear. “I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to. I give you my word.”

  “And if I do?” Her voice was breathless as she faced him.

  “Just say the word.”

  She licked her lips, watching as his eyes darkened with desire. His palm settled low on her back, fingers fanned out as he pressed lightly. Encouraging her to step forward, he nudged the ridge of his arousal into the notch at her thighs and she sucked in a breath.

  “Damn it, sweetheart, say the word.”

  She closed her eyes. “We weren’t finished talking. I’m worried about you.” When she lifted her lashes again, she found her eyes unfocused. Excitement made her hot and jumpy, her skin tingling as her gaze locked onto his.

  “Finish later. You’re killing me here. I swear I’ll tell you whatever you want. Later. I’m tired of fighting how I feel for you.” He groaned and his fingers tightened at the back of her jeans as though he had to restrain himself from tearing them off her.

  “I’m not saying no,” she whispered, her voice thick and husky. Breathless. It didn’t sound like her. He watched her mouth. Her body reacted with a throb of need.

  “You’re sure?” His hand brushed her stomach and she sucked in a breath. How could that simple expanse of skin be so sensitive?

  Amy nodded, more emphatically this time. “For the first time, I get to make my own decisions. I want this. I—I want you.”

  Her nipples tightened as they rubbed against her wet bra, her breasts swollen and sensitive. His hands moved to the hem of her shirt and as he pulled it up and over her head, the friction against her skin caused a pulse of need to echo in her most intimate flesh.

  Her bra might have been practical white cotton, but the hunger in his eyes made her feel more feminine than she had ever felt before. She unhooked her bra, letting it slide down her arms and off her fingertips.

  She watched his reaction, his gaze dipping down to her breasts and his erection twitched, stiffening more than she thought would be pleasant.

  He murmured, words she didn’t hear, and slid his palm up to cup her breast, bending his head to nuzzle beneath her ear. He fastened his mouth over her pulse, biting and licking her throat until her hips writhed.

  “Get rid of the pants,” he ordered.

  Explicitly sexual images crashed into her mind and she wasn’t sure where they’d come from. His mind or hers. It didn’t matter. She nodded, shimmying out of the jeans and panties as fast as possible.

  There was stark hunger in his stare. His eyes lingered on her swollen breasts, dropping between her thighs.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. There was an untamed quality to his voice. J.C. pressed his mouth against her bare flesh. She rolled her head back on a low cry as the tug of his mouth sent pleasure curling through her veins, all the way to her toes.

  Heat flushed into her cheeks, her hands lifting to his chest as though to anchor herself against him. He chuckled, the vibration of his mouth making her body arch, pushing her nipple deeper into his mouth. His tongue circled the hardened nub, even as he slid his hand farther down her body, over the sensitive dip of her stomach to press between her legs.

  She was wet and it had nothing to do with the shower now. His fingers pressed into the heat of her body. He stroked her with patience, bringing a strangled cry from her as he used hands and mouth to tease, leaving her hanging on that perilous edge.

  Her hips moved against him, but it wasn’t enough. This need was foreign to her, a need that drove her to the point of insanity. He left her wanting with an intensity she didn’t fully understand until she could barely breathe.

  He watched her, his face etched with such hunger that it should have scared her. It was more than a physical need, it was mental as well. She’d become so attuned to him that the desire chased everything else out of her mind. Everything, but his touch and the heat of his kiss. How could a woman think straight when she was drowning in sensations?

  “J.C.” There was a catch in her voice, a tremor to it when he pushed his fingers deeper within her. She needed…wanted more.

  More.

  “Don’t,” he whispered when she began to shift her body. His tongue flicked over her ear and made her shiver. Her muscles clenched tighter around his fingers. “Don’t think. Just feel.”

  “Don’t stop.” Her hand slid down to his wrist, as much to hold it there as to urge him on. She pressed her face against his neck, then feathered her lips over his skin, back to his lips. “Kiss me.”

  He did.

  Her breath escaped in a little rush when he nuzzled her throat, making a slow assault of her skin, then back to her mouth. He leaned in, long, languid kisses drugging her senses until her eyes glazed and her body tensed. When the heat that coiled in her body exploded, she cried out and the pleasure engulfed her, leaving her clinging to him and shaking.

  “Come on.” His hands were big and warm as he tugged her out of th
e shower. He stepped around her, lifting her into his arms and she wrapped her legs around his waist. “I love your mouth,” he whispered thickly against her.

  Her body fit against his, every curve molded to the hard plains of his chest and hips as he lowered her to the bed. “Look at me, sweetheart.” His body covered her, damp skin against damp skin. Catching her hips, he held them as he pressed against her entrance.

  Sensing his restraint, Amy ran her hands up along his back so that she could grip his shoulders.

  “Relax for me, sweetheart.”

  Her eyes met his and leaning in, she pressed her mouth against his skin. He eased forward and in a quick, smooth motion, he was buried inside her. The shock of the sudden burning pain made her stiffen.

  He leaned forward, slipping one hand beneath her so that he could arch her back. The move thrust her breasts toward him, giving him the opportunity to lock his mouth over her nipple.

  Slowly, she released her grip on him, lifting her hips in a rotating move that came from instinct. The burning became pleasure as he moved within her, his energy sizzling through her system. She was mindless under the combined assault, writhing as desperate sounds came from her.

  “You feel so good,” J.C. murmured through the connection of their minds, his voice thick with desire.

  He pulled out completely before he surged forward again. Her body shook as she moved against him. He was so deep, his movements so hard and fast that she couldn’t keep up. Instead she got lost in the passion. His hand slipped between their bodies, finding that sensitive nub that ached for his touch.

  “Let go, Amy.” It was a soft demand against her mouth.

  He had power over her body and she obeyed without thought. His fingers rubbed, the movements of his body deep and unstoppable. Her body shattered as he pushed her over. Sex with J.C. was more than the pale description in the texts she’d read. It was beyond words and she was helpless to the storm of pleasure as it whipped through her veins. When he shuddered and groaned against her throat in his release, Amy stroked his hair away from his forehead. Closing her eyes, she let herself drift in the sated heat.