by C. D. Hussey
Falling in beside him as he led her away, she said over her shoulder, "It was wonderful seeing you again, Detective Johnson." Johnson's reply sounded suspiciously like a giggle.
"Have a seat," Kevin said when they stepped into the small room. Meant to seat four to five people, only one window opened to the hallway. He closed the door and after a moment's thought, pulled the blinds shut as well.
* * * *
Keeping her gloved hands folded neatly on the conference table, Angel calmly studied the detective as he opened a folder and removed some photos. She'd been too preoccupied when she first met him to notice how attractive he was. Over six feet tall with broad shoulders and narrow hips, his clothes hung on his trim body in a way that indicated he was all muscle. His face was movie star handsome, complete with cleft-chin and bright blue eyes. Producing the sexual energy needed to seduce him would be easy.
He slid a photo toward her. "Do you recognize this woman?"
She glanced over the picture. "It's a little difficult to say since this is a painting in Lohr's art collection. It is very familiar to me."
"Look closely."
She did and then shook her head. "I'm sorry, Detective. I may have met her once, but honestly, only in passing. I couldn't begin to tell you when I met her or even where."
"Where?"
"I originally met Lohr in New York when he ran a bar called Club Blood. So it may have been in New York, or it may have been here in New Orleans. As I told you, so many faces have come and gone over the years, they begin to blend together."
He sifted through the photos and pulled out two more.
She didn't look at them long before lifting her gaze to his. "Are you testing me?"
"No."
"I was involved in both these cases. The first girl," she nodded toward the picture on the left, "died at a party I was at. Drug overdose. I was the one who dialed 911. It was horrifying."
"And the other one?"
She dropped her gaze to the picture. Lying on a hotel bed, red stained sheets twisted around her half-naked body, the girl was frozen with a wide-eyed, vacant stare, a river of red seeping from the wound on her neck.
She could feel him watching her carefully. Judging her reaction for sure.
"This was even more tragic," she said. "I never met this girl, and I was performing the night she died, but I heard she was a tourist from Dayton who'd come down here looking for Vampires. Whoever she found didn't know what they were doing and pierced her artery. Instead of calling for help, which probably would have saved her life, they fled. There's never been an arrest."
"No."
She pushed the photos back to him and tried to subdue her frustration, to keep it buried beneath a calm shell. She knew he was only doing his job, but being viewed with suspicion and distrust wasn't pleasant. "I'm not sure how this helps with Lohr's case. If you show me a photo of Eve next, I'll know you're merely spinning your wheels."
A half smile pulled at his lips. She couldn't tell if he was amused or feeling devious. "What about this one?"
Scanning the photo, she felt her eyebrows push together and then quickly relaxed them. "I can't make out the face."
"We're aware of that. Does he look familiar?"
The image showed a man bent over a woman strapped to a wooden chair. It was the same model from earlier, posing this time for Lohr's famous painting, Death by Fantasy. The man in the photo appeared to be biting her. It wasn't Lohr though, the hair was too short and thin, the shoulders too narrow. It looked like…
It couldn't be.
The cocoon of energy surrounding her faltered.
"If I can't see his face, how can I confirm his identity?"
"Take a guess."
She shook her head. She wasn't going to speculate. Not here. "I can't do that. This could be anyone."
When his crisp blue eyes narrowed, she was sure he knew she wasn't telling the truth. Yanking the picture back, he said, "I'm surprised by your unwillingness to help."
She swallowed and begged her energy to be calm. It wasn't easy with him scrutinizing her every move. Her stomach bubbled nervously, and the way his stare bored into her made her skin hot.
Men were usually so busy tripping over their tongues and trying to win her favor, she maintained complete control of the interaction. That wasn't the case with Detective McCoy.
"I can't help what I don't know or didn't witness," she said.
"There seems to be a lot of violence and death surrounding your comrades. Doesn't that bother you?"
"Of course. But if you knew anything about the Sang Community, you would know many of us strive to prevent these atrocities." She pointed to the photos stacked in front of him, anger beginning to simmer around her, calm long forgotten. "This violence happens because people get caught up in the fantasy of the vampire. They cannot see beyond the myth and don't understand the danger."
"As opposed to you? Are you telling me your vampire coven doesn't engage in any of this," he gestured toward the photos, "behavior? That you aren't somehow caught up in the fantasy?"
She started to say something snippy and then stopped. The fire he stirred in her belly wouldn't help the situation, even if it was a welcome change from the apathy that had been residing there lately. Part of her wanted to argue with him more, to fan the flames, to revel in the heat he stirred, but more of her wanted to help him.
Lowering her gaze to the table, she worked to refocus the angry energy into something more useful. She leaned forward on her elbows. The top of her jacket and blouse spilled forward, exposing the rounded crests of her breasts as her arms pushed them together. She heard his breath catch and then speed up.
She might not be able to persuade him as easily as other men, but at least he wasn't totally unaffected by her.
"My coven..." She smiled sweetly and shook her head. She raised her gaze to his. "…is meeting tonight at midnight. You are welcome to attend the gathering. It will be at my studio."
"Expect to see me." His voice had lost its hard edge, and he seemed to be struggling to keep the skepticism in his expression.
"I look forward to it."
He rubbed his hand across his forehead and then through his thick hair. "I don't get you," he admitted.
"But you do. More than you realize." He just stared at her, his blue eyes a conflicted mess of confusion, suspicion, and desire. The control was back in her court. It was time to act. "Tell me, Detective," she said quietly, tilting her head to one side and sliding the fingers of one hand down her neck until she caught the silver braid of her necklace. She gently rolled the delicate metal between her fingers. His gaze locked on the act, glued hungrily to the curve of her neck. "Why do you think the doctors haven't found a reason for your chronic exhaustion?"
He truly was gorgeous. His skin tanned and slightly weather worn, the fatigue from his Human Vampire condition making him look just a little ragged, like he'd been camping or hunting for the last week.
She blew a rush of seductive energy over him.
He closed his eyes and she saw the muscles of his jaw clench tight. "I can't…" He opened his eyes. "I can't," he repeated, more forcefully this time.
She was surprised he was resisting. He obviously wanted her. She could feel it. Tell by the way his eyes lingered on her mouth when she spoke, by the way he'd watched her walk into the studio.
His resistance made her even more determined to reach him.
"Yes you can," she said. "I can help you." She rose and approached him, keeping her movements slow and purposeful. It would be so much easier to convince him later to accept what he needed if she could get him to succumb to her now. "I can help you not be tired all the time." He stared at her as she slinked toward him. "But you must put away your judgment. Ignore the stigma." Stepping behind him, she rested a hand on his shoulder and leaned down, whispering in his ear, "Open you mind."
His body sank like melted butter into the chair. She felt the tension ooze from him. His skin was warm next to hers, and she
was surprised by how arousing she found his scent.
"Let me help you," she breathed.
She saw him swallow a few times. Don't fight, she thought. Just give in.
"Why?"
"I hate seeing a fellow Vampire suffer needlessly," she said, trailing her fingers over his collarbones and down his chest. Her desire to touch him went deeper than just trying to seduce him into accepting her help. She wanted to feel the firmness of his muscles, rake her fingers through the light layer of hair on his chest. She couldn't wait to run them through the hair on his head too, through that the thick mass of tousled brown.
He pressed into her touch. "Vampire," he murmured.
"Yes. Let me show you what your body needs."
Suddenly, the muscles beneath her palm went rigid. Grabbing her hand, he jumped to his feet, spinning to face her and shoving her against the wall. Pinning her there with his body and pressing her hand above her head, he growled, "What the fuck kind of game are you playing?"
Cringing, she swallowed and stuttered, "I-it-it isn't a game." Her heart thundered in her chest, and for a second she was frightened. And very turned on.
He bent, lowering his face until it was inches from hers. "Are you trying to seduce me, then?" he asked, his lips hovering just above hers. "Is that what this is?"
She had to focus, fight through the emotions he stirred in her. Fear, anger, longing … they were all battling within her, making her stomach quiver, her skin tingle. Slowly, she lifted her gaze.
Shock crossed his face, and he pulled back. As he looked into her eyes, she saw the emotions she struggled with fighting within him as well. Only there was so much more in those pools of blue. Sadness and torment and guilt. His aura might be clouded with it, but his soul was tortured by it.
Tentatively, she reached up and touched his face. She sought to help people on a regular basis, but helping him was a need deep within her, something she couldn't ignore. She felt him relax at with her touch, and she knew instantly she was what he needed.
Without warning, he grabbed her face in his hands and pressed his mouth firmly against hers, ready, she was sure, to devour her. But just as their lips met, he stopped, capturing her lower lip between his, soft and gentle. She felt a moan tickle the back of her throat, and he pushed his body closer.
She could no longer resist the attraction. Sliding her tongue into his mouth as her hands slid around his neck, she proceeded to kiss him passionately. Urgent need poured from her, enveloping him in a pool of desire. She was helpless to stop it. His body was hard and firm against hers, his swollen cock a rigid mass against her stomach. She needed to feel every inch of his hardness, stroke every unyielding ridge until her body exploded.
The shrill ringing of the conference phone broke through the lust, and he jerked away, shoving her to the side as he did. She stumbled to keep from falling. His chest heaving, he braced against the table, staring at her with deeply furrowed brows.
"You need to leave," he panted.
His aggressive rejection threw her already confused emotions into a downward spiraling tailspin. Trembling with the effort to regain control, she nodded roughly before mumbling some parting words and escaping from the conference room.
She could feel eyes on every inch of her body as she attempted to leave the police station with poise, and without staggering. Once outside, the steady click-clack of her heels on the sidewalk was a drumbeat to accompany the pounding of her heart.
* * * *
Kevin ignored the phone's persistent scream. Until he had a handle on the yearning Angel stirred within him, he wasn't talking, moving, or otherwise interacting with anyone.
He didn't know what to think. Yes she was gorgeous, but that it didn't explain the weird effect she had on him. He couldn't seem to resist her. If the phone hadn't interrupted them, he probably would have torn her clothes off, laid her on the table, and buried himself deep inside her. Never, never in his career had he ever been tempted to bed an interviewee, and he sure as hell hadn't been tempted to fuck one in the police station.
She wasn't the first beautiful woman he'd ever been exposed to, and he wasn't some horny, teenage boy who lacked the ability to keep his dick under control. The emotions she'd evoked felt truly tangible, like he could have reached out and touched them. When she'd professed her desire to help him, the words seemed to burn a hole straight through his ear and into his heart. Her touch had been pure magic, her voice a relaxing lullaby. It was like she had him under a spell.
He'd love to believe she was innocent. But even if she appeared to be telling the truth most of the time, her contact with Lohr had gone on too many years for her to be as ignorant as she claimed. And she was lying. She recognized the mystery person in the photo. He was sure of it.
Then there was her ridiculous vampire accusation. Lohr had spouted the same nonsense. Did that mean she was collaborating with him? Even though Lohr was under constant surveillance and not allowed visitors besides other than the police or his lawyer, it was possible. What they hoped to gain by trying to convince him he was some type of human vampire was beyond his imagination.
God, but when he'd spun her around and saw the fear in her eyes, he felt like a complete monster. Despicable, horrid. Even more than he already was.
He had no idea how to comprehend the emotions churning in his gut. Was she the enemy or his savior?
There was a knock on the door before it opened. Brian Johnson paused in the doorway, giving him a long once over before stepping into the conference room. "You okay?" he asked.
Releasing his death grip on the table edge, Kevin righted himself. "Sure," he replied, rolling his shoulders and shaking off the last of Angel's spell. Grabbing the loose photos, he stacked them into a neat pile before slipping them into the folder. Johnson was eyeing him like his head might explode any minute. "You need something?" Kevin asked.
"Just wanted to give you an update on our vampire king."
"Yeah? What did you find out?"
"First, the social security number he's been using belongs to a dead man, so we have no idea who he really is. And second, he has pressed charges against Slade. I'm sure the case won't go anywhere, but we had to arrest the poor bastard anyway."
"Nice."
Brian glanced at the folder. "Get anything from Angel?"
"Not yet."
"Maybe she doesn’t know anything."
"I doubt that." He pushed past Johnson and out of the conference room. Tossing the folder onto his desk, he grabbed his coat and headed for the coffee shop next door. The watered down shit they served in the station wasn't doing it for him. He needed a shot of espresso or two if he was going to make it to Angel's shindig at midnight. Dinner probably wasn't a bad idea either.
And he still had Darus' list of coven members to track down and interview. Considering all of them went by pseudonyms, and Darus hadn't known anyone's real name, Kevin had already spent half the day trying to figure out who the hell they were. It appeared another trip to La Luxure was in order; the only place he knew to start looking for them. He needed to talk to the bouncer, Kindle, anyway.
* * * *
Angel was used to being stared at wherever she went, but the expressions on people's faces as she rushed past them told her they weren't staring at her for the usual reasons. Tucking her chin and shielding her face with her hand, she was able to make it to the courthouse with some semblance of dignity before she had to duck around the corner. Clutching the wrought iron fence for support, she hung her head and made a desperate attempt to calm her racing heart.
The intense desire that had overtaken her when the detective kissed her was unexpected and alarming. She couldn't remember a time when a man had awakened her senses so intensely. Never had she been struck with such desire, such passion. Not with Armand, not with anyone.
Could she have been channeling? Summoned so much energy in her attempt to seduce him she'd convinced her body the emotions were real? It made sense. How else could a stranger have such an
effect on her? Especially one who looked at her with suspicion and distrust.
But she wasn't channeling now, and the desire was still there. He definitely appealed to her physically. His grip strong and forceful, his stubble deliciously rough when he kissed her. And when she'd looked into his piercing blue eyes, she saw so much more than what he presented. He was a shattered man buried beneath a tough guy façade. A man desperate for help. Her help.
She was more determined than ever to reach him. In fact, it suddenly seemed like the most important task in the world.
She couldn't do it in this condition.
Desperate to settle her heart, she forced the air to slowly slide in and out of her lungs. She needed to think, needed to determine her next steps. It wasn't just the roller coaster encounter with Detective McCoy that had her emotions roaring.
She had recognized someone in Lohr's photos.
Palm to her chest, she felt the muscle slow. After straightening her jacket and smoothing the front of her skirt, she pulled out her compact and removed her smeared makeup with a tissue. Glancing at the crowd gathered on the corner, she was thankful for the gypsy band diverting their attention from her breakdown. She had to pull it together. Not only to break through to the Kevin McCoy she knew was buried beneath his exhausted body, but for what she needed to do now, what her conscience demanded she do.
Retrieving her cell phone, she dialed. "Ash? Can you please meet me at the studio?"
Chapter Eight
The moment Julia stepped into the apartment after work that evening, she knew something was horribly wrong. Anger and frustration hung on the air like a reeking layer of angst.
"Armand," she called, knowing he wasn't there. She hadn't seen him since their fight the night before. He'd slept in the third story guestroom and she left for work long before he woke up.
Nor had she spoken to him on the phone. It was a void she hoped to heal soon. Not only was the bed cold without his furnace-like body heating up the sheets, she felt surprisingly empty without his companionship.