Hotter After Midnight tmt-1

by Синтия Иден

  "You think you do." He had her pinned against his body, and she had to tilt her head back to meet his stare. "We had sex, and suddenly you think you know me."

  He felt the flames of his temper stir. The doc should know better than to yank a shifter’s tail.

  "I’ve got news for you." Her voice was ice cold. "You don’t know me. There’s so much-" She exhaled slowly, then whispered, "You wouldn’t understand."

  His fingers tightened around her. "Try me."

  "No." A shadow of pain appeared in her eyes. "Let me go."

  Not an option. He’d just found her. Only started laying his claim. No fucking way was he going to let her slip through his fingers now.

  Shit. He didn’t like the way she was dismissing him. The doc was putting distance between them, erecting that ice-princess wall she’d worn the first day they’d met. He’d broken through that wall once before, and he’d be happy to smash it to bits again.

  "You can’t know me," she whispered, and there was a glint of pain in her eyes. "No one ever has."

  "How many times do I have to tell you?" He growled the words as he lowered his mouth to hers. "I’m not like the men you’ve known before."

  He kissed her, plunging his tongue deep in her mouth and drinking up her sweet essence. Her hands lifted, wrapped around his shoulders-and pulled him closer.

  Yes. This was what he wanted. His woman, pressed breast to chest, sex to sex. His cock swelled against her as a heavy wave of arousal flooded his body.

  Last night had been good. Fucking fantastic. And he wondered, just what would it be like if he let go of his control? Would the doc be able to handle him?

  Her nipples were hard, stabbing into him, and he had to touch them. Keeping his mouth on hers, sweeping his tongue against hers, he lowered his right hand and cupped the warm weight of her breast.

  Damn. He wanted that breast in his mouth. His fingers edged under her shirt, slid past the lacy bra, and found her nipple. When he squeezed her with the tip of his fingers, she gasped into his mouth, and the rich scent of her arousal perfumed the air.

  They were alone in the hallway. Dimly, he could hear the slow beat of music coming from the ME’s office. Smith had started the jazz CD again. She wasn’t going to come out and find them. And no one else was down in the Crypt.

  He walked Emily back a few steps, pushed her up against the wall and slowly lifted his head. She was watching him, her eyes wide behind her glasses, her bow shaped, fuck-me lips a dark red, glistening.

  Oh, those lips. He wanted to feel them around his cock. He’d fantasized about the doc, imagined her taking him inside and licking him with that sweet, skillful tongue of hers.

  But the Crypt wasn’t the place for that. And they didn’t have much time.

  And he needed a better taste of her.

  He jerked up her shirt, exposing her bra. Black, of course.

  "Colin, no, someone might come-"

  He pushed her bra aside. Gazed down at her breasts. The woman truly had the best breasts he’d ever seen. And he’d seen his fair share.

  Not too big, not too small, just perfect for his hands. And so sweet…

  He closed his lips over her nipple, pulling gently, then stroking her with his tongue.

  "Oh, Jesus, Colin…" He could hear the need in her voice, and it filled him with fierce satisfaction.

  I do know you, Emily. I know just how to touch you, know just what you want.

  Emily might think she could dismiss their physical connection, but he’d show her just how wrong she was. Sex might not be the key to linking them, but he figured it was a damn good start.

  He caught the fabric of her skirt in his hands, pulled up the material slowly, very slowly. He liked the way she felt against him. Warm. Soft.

  He pulled her breast deeper into his mouth, sucking strongly. And he fucking loved the way she tasted.

  Her hips bucked against him. Her nails cut through his shirt and dug into his skin.

  The doc had claws. Oh yeah, he liked that.

  Growling his pleasure, he pushed his hand between her spread thighs. Her panties were wet with cream, and when he eased his fingers beneath the small band of fabric, Emily’s breath choked out. "Colin-"

  "Easy." They both needed this. His fingers stroked her. His thumb pressed against the button of her desire. Just a few more minutes…

  A slow, grinding rumble reached his ears. Then a soft, faint ding of sound.

  Shit. The elevator. He jerked down her skirt, spun around, covering her with his body. "Someone’s coming." Someone with extremely piss-poor timing.

  He was so aroused that he hurt, and he’d been minutes, seconds, away from finding release with Emily.

  He glanced over his shoulder. She was frantically rearranging her shirt. Her face was flushed, but he knew it wasn’t due to passion.

  Making out in the Crypt probably wasn’t the doc’s usual style.

  Another strike against him? Or one in his favor?

  Damn. He hadn’t meant for things to go so far. He’d just wanted to touch her, wanted to remind her of what they had.

  Sex like that-the heat, the fast combustion-it was damn rare. And worth fighting for.

  "Emily…"

  Her chin jerked up. Fire flashed in her eyes.

  And the elevator doors swished open. Colin’s head jerked back around just as Brooks stepped forward. Looked to the left, then the right-

  "Gyth! Damn, man, I’ve been looking everywhere for you."

  Pity the guy couldn’t have kept looking for another two minutes.

  Brooks noticed Emily. One brow rose, and the light seemed to dawn. "Uh, is this a bad time?"

  A very bad time.

  Emily pushed past him. Her clothes were perfect again, but her nipples were thrusting against the soft fabric of her shirt, her lips were plump and darkly pink, her eyes bright.

  Brooks wasn’t an idiot. He knew what those signs meant.

  Wisely, his partner didn’t say a word when Emily crossed in front of him.

  "Where’s McNeal?" she asked.

  "His office." He also managed to keep his eyes on her face. Good man. He wouldn’t get punched.

  Emily nodded. Stepped into the elevator.

  Well, damn. Not even a good-bye. Colin lunged forward, shot out his hand to stop the doors from closing. "I’ll see you tonight."

  Her jaw locked and she stared at the control panel. "I have to think, Colin. There’s too much going on…"

  He heard Brooks’s soft footfalls. The guy was inching back, probably trying to give ’em some privacy.

  "I’ll see you tonight," he repeated. They had to talk. About Darla. About Serenity Woods. About the demons who’d attacked them.

  Her gaze flashed to his. "This is the second time you’ve given yourself an invitation to my place."

  "Yeah, but you want to finish what we started as much as I do." He let his eyes drop to her breasts. His voice thickened as he said, "And we will finish, Doc, that’s a promise."

  Colin stepped back. The doors slid closed, and Emily disappeared.

  Brooks whistled softly. "Tell me you weren’t just making out with our profiler in the Crypt."

  "Fine. I won’t tell you." He actually didn’t want to tell him a damn thing about Emily. She was his. His business. His woman.

  "I don’t think a place like this is, uh, quite what Dr. Drake is used to," Brooks said softly.

  Yeah, no shit.

  Damn. The doc-she was different. She made him feel different.

  Wanting to fuck and wanting to protect-what in the hell was up with that?

  "Listen, loverboy, I’ve got some pictures upstairs I want you to look at," Brooks said. "Maybe you can match the tat on that guy who jumped you."

  "Forget it. He’s not an issue now."

  "What? You can’t be serious, man, the guy tried to kill you-"

  "And now he’s lying on a slab in Smith’s cold chamber." While the guy’s spirit might be sending some kind of message to Em
ily, he sure as hell wasn’t talking to them.

  Brooks glanced toward the morgue. "What in the hell happened to him?"

  "Oh, I’ve got an idea." Niol.

  Time to go interrogate the master demon.

  "You up for a little good cop, bad cop?"

  "Always." A wolfish smile curved Brooks’s lips.

  Colin punched the button for the elevator. He figured Emily would be long gone by now. "Good. Cause I’ve got a bastard we need to press, hard." Niol wasn’t going to cave easy. He was too cocky. But if they caught him unaware, he just might slip up.

  That’s what the bastards usually did. Got too confident. Thought they were too smart.

  Then they screwed up.

  Would Niol be the same?

  Well, he’d just have to find out.

  Yeah, time to go and question the master demon about the little matter of multiple murders.

  Chapter 10

  Emily sat in her car, her fingers gripping the steering wheel, and stared up at the tidy, two-story house.

  After talking with McNeal, she’d fled the station, embarrassed, afraid that she’d see Colin or Brooks.

  Lord, what the hell had she been thinking? She’d almost had sex in a morgue for Christ’s sake.

  When he’d touched her, lust had pumped through her, and she’d wanted to rip the man’s clothes off his body.

  Not her normal style.

  Her emotions were high, she knew that. Knew she was running on a hard mixture of fear, worry, and adrenaline. And as a psychologist, she knew those emotions made her susceptible to certain things.

  And she sure as hell was susceptible to Colin.

  But a morgue? Her knuckles whitened. That wasn’t just being susceptible. It was crossing the line into crazy.

  If Brooks hadn’t walked out of that elevator, she would have had sex with Colin. Right there in that smelly, dingy hallway. And she would have loved it.

  Shit. Is this what good sex did to a woman? Made her take stupid risks?

  Cause she had enough trouble right then without giving the cops at the 12th Precinct a peep show when they went to the morgue.

  But, dammit, she’d been ten seconds away from coming. If Brooks had to interrupt, why couldn’t the guy have waited just a bit?

  A car horn sounded in the distance. A red-haired boy on a bike flew past her. Emily realized that she was sitting in her car, gazing blankly at the house and slowly rubbing the leather off her steering wheel.

  Hell. She didn’t want to be here, but when she’d run from the station, she hadn’t even thought about going home or going to the office. No, she’d known exactly where she had to go. Exactly who she had to see.

  Darla’s words kept playing in her mind, rolling around and around like one of those songs you just couldn’t get out of your head.

  The reporter knew about her past. There was no denying that fact. No ignoring the smug look that had been on the blonde’s face.

  Emily had tried to hide her past. She thought she’d buried it in the ashes at Serenity Woods Psychiatric Hospital.

  She’d planned the fire so carefully. Made absolutely certain that none of the patients were near the records room. Stayed close just in case someone had happened to wander by.

  Yes, she’d been so careful, but her story had still leaked out.

  Her gaze focused on the house. On the perfectly groomed lawn. The leaves that had been swept into a nice, neat pile.

  What was she doing here? Talking to the woman would do no good, she knew that.

  But the mention of Serenity Woods…oh damn, how long had it been since she’d even thought about that place? Years. Many blessedly forgetful years.

  Now that the door to her past had swung open, she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

  She closed her eyes a moment and saw the girl she’d been.

  "No!" Their hands were too tight around her. They were hurting her. "Let me go! Mommy! Mommy!"

  Her mother was there. Watching from behind the thin sheet of glass. She was letting them do this to her, letting them hurt her.

  They strapped her onto a bed. Put ties around her wrists, her ankles. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. They didn’t understand. No one understood.

  Monsters were everywhere. In the streets. In her school. Even at church. They were everywhere.

  She’d told her mom, tried to point to one of the monsters with black eyes and show her mother what he was.

  But her mother couldn’t see them. Even though they were right there.

  "Shh…sweetheart, relax, okay? Everything’s going to be all right." It was one of the nurses talking. An older woman with bright red hair and lips and skin that looked too pale.

  "I–I wanna go home." She’d never been away from home before, not once in her life. Her friends had sleepovers, but her mom had never let her go-

  "You’ll go home." The nurse stroked her cheek. "Once the doctors make you all better, you’ll go home again."

  She didn’t need to be made better. Her hands balled into fists, jerked against the binds. "I’m not sick!" The words came out as a scream.

  The nurse flinched, pulled her hand back.

  "You need to calm down, honey." This came from one of the men in white who’d jerked her out of her mom’s car.

  She didn’t like him. Didn’t like the hard, sickly smell that clung to him. Didn’t like his cold eyes.

  "Mom!" Her mom couldn’t leave her there. "I’m sorry! I won’t talk about them again, I promise! Don’t leave me, don’t-"

  Her mother was turning away, her shoulders hunched.

  No, no, she couldn’t leave her! She wanted to go back home, back to her room, back to-

  Her mother was walking away. Not glancing back at her.

  "Mom!" One of the straps snapped when she jerked up. "No!"

  The men in white caught her shoulders, forced her back down with hands that stung.

  "Get the doctor; get him in here, now!"

  Emily fought the hands that held her. She didn’t like this place. The people…something was wrong here. The air felt wrong. Too thick.

  And it was so cold.

  A white-haired man appeared at her side. He had a long, sharp needle in his hands. "This will calm her down."

  She didn’t want to be calm. She wanted to be up!

  They held her tightly, and the needle pressed into her arm, burning with a hot flash of pain. She whimpered and finally met the gaze of the doctor.

  His blue eyes stared into hers; then, for just an instant, they flashed black.

  Her head thrashed against the table. "He’s one of them!" They had to see it! "Look at his eyes! He’s a monster!"

  The men in white shifted and glanced at the doctor. The nurse didn’t bother looking his way. "She’s delusional. The mother says she’s been seeing things for a while now, but it’s getting worse."

  The drug was kicking in and her body was starting to feel heavy.

  "Hmmm." The doctor was staring at her, his eyes once again a bright blue. "And what does she see?"

  "Monsters." The nurse brushed a strand of hair back from Emily’s face. "The poor child always sees monsters."

  And she saw one then. Staring down at her from behind the doctor’s concerned face.

  "Really…and she’s been seeing them for years?"

  The nurse nodded.

  Her eyelids wanted to close, but she didn’t want to sleep. Not with the monster so close.

  The doctor motioned the others away. Leaned close to her. "What do you see, child, when you look at me?"

  Her tongue was thick. Her mouth too dry. Emily wet her lips, swallowed. "M-monster. Y-your eyes…" Her voice was a weak whisper.

  He leaned even closer. So close she could feel his breath on her cheek. "What about them?"

  "L-lying, t-trick. A-all black…"

  "Hmmm…" His lying eyes narrowed. "You see that, do you?"

  "F-feel y-you. In the a-air." Like a hard wind pressing on her. He was all aro
und. Why didn’t the others feel it too?

  Her fingers uncurled, fell back against the hard surface of the bed. Her eyelids dropped, even though she tried to force them open.

  Her breathing slowed and her mind began to drift.

  "It’s all right, child." The doctor’s voice sounded so far away. He gripped her fingers, but the touch seemed feather light. "I’ll take care of you from now on."

  And he had, Emily realized, her thoughts sliding back to the present. Dr. Marcus Catcherly, "Catch," had taken care of her. He’d helped her to understand what she was seeing. Taught her everything she knew about the Other.

  And he’d taught her how to lie. How to pretend to be normal. To fit in at school, with her friends, and even with her family.

  He’d been her mentor, closer to her than anyone else in her life.

  After three months, Catch had convinced her mother that Emily was well enough to return home. He’d visited her every week, doing what he called follow-up care. She’d talked to him about the different creatures she’d seen and he’d taught her about them all.

  And she’d never mentioned a word about monsters to her mother again.

  The fire had been his idea. He’d arranged for the patients to go on a "therapy trip" that day. He’d helped her to time the blaze, helped her to make certain every piece of evidence about her stay was destroyed.

  She’d been eleven years old when she entered Serenity Woods. At sixteen, she’d torched the place.

  Catch had taken her secret to his grave. But one other person knew all of the details of her stay at the psychiatric hospital.

  Emily opened her car door, stood, and felt the cool breeze of fall blow against her body.

  The house was waiting for her.

  Emily straightened her shoulders, walked slowly up the stone sidewalk. A cheerful welcome mat greeted her at the entranceway.

  The house was so normal.

  "Never trust anything normal. Cuz it’s the normal stuff you’ve got to fear. Monsters, demons, witches…we’re all more afraid of that normal world than you can ever imagine." Catch’s words rang in her ears. He’d always thought humans were dangerous. Too unpredictable. "They’re more bloodthirsty than we are, remember that."

  Her hand curled into a fist. She rapped against the wooden door. Once, twice.