Seducing Two Serial Killers

by Hutchins, Hollie

  And then where will my mission be? One big, fat failure. A red stamp on a pristine document.

  I'll have to explain this to my boss. Try and stamp on him harder about my profiling instinct. If I'm getting info from him, it's not going to work any other way.

  Of course, my judgement might be wrong. Which then leads to the other, uneasy thought. That I'll suck in bed. That the moment he does have sex with me, I'll be booted out and never given the opportunity again.

  I attempt a smile. “I suppose I'm slightly envious. Must be quite something, to have the powers of a shifter.”

  “You could say that.” His eyes narrow in suspicion, even as the waiter approaches us to ask if we'd like drinks. I haven't even opened the menu in front of me. Shit.

  Richard orders something for both of us, after inquiring if I'd like to try out wine. I nervously open my menu, all the while thinking, I fucked up somewhere.

  “Are you interested in shifters?” Richard asks the question with delicacy, not bothering to look through a menu. He probably already knows what he wants. “A groupie... or do you seek to be converted?”

  Converted? I gape at him. “What?”

  “I've had some people approach me before,” Richard says, now drumming his fingers on the silk tablecloth. The way he purses his lip is attractive – the kind that makes my gut lurch. “Interested in seeing if they can bypass a few hoops and cut strange to the conversion. They seem to think I have enough power upon our city council to just ignore the rules.”

  Comprehension dawns. “Oh! No. Oh no, I'm not here to be converted, like, hell no.”

  His mouth thins.

  Well, so much for my supposed powers of profiling. Can't even say the right thing. I try to salvage the rapidly sinking situation. “Sorry, I mean I'm surprised you'd even think that. I'm not intending to be an honor sacrifice. I'm not interested in the Hunt. Not entirely sure where I stand on the groupie, thing. I'm intrigued, sure. But... really, I'm scouting out the place. Seeing if I can live here, settle in.”

  He regards me for a moment, before slowly nodding. Tension sinks out of his body, and he gives me a smile. The drinks arrive. A rich burgundy wine. Screaming Eagle. The waiter pours it, before leaving. I'm not ready to order. Still haven't properly looked through the menu.

  “So, it's just a happy coincidence that we happened to meet.”

  I smile agreement. Trying to sell the lie. “Not everything has to have an ulterior motive. Though you're rocking some great abs there, I can tell you.”

  “Aren't I?” He pretends to preen himself, and I grin in real amusement. Right until the cold stare comes back, and he leans forward. His knee bumps into mine. “Let me be clear with you, Emma. I'm interested in you. I'm interested in that little gift that's in your head. I actually find myself entertained with the thought of you... but I'm just not sure if it will work out.”

  My throat tightens. My insides roar, and I almost spill the wine glass I'm holding. “T-that's fast,” I say, attempting another smile, mostly failing. “Sounds like you don't even want to give this a chance.”

  “You may be more trouble than you're worth, plainly said. Look around you. Anyone staring at you right now?”

  Batting back the urge to cry, trying to swallow those petty emotions in a pool of calm, I scan the room again. Still the same three guys. Also another two. There's one built like a monster. Tattooed arms. A clan crest on one forearm. Dragon. All of them have a strange hunger to their expressions. “Five,” I say.

  Deep breaths. Don't betray anything.

  Don't give up.

  Even if my boss's words are scratching, scratching.

  “There'll be more.” He sips more of his wine, but there's an odd, crooked smirk on his lips. “First off, you're dining with me. So you're a target to any political enemies I might have. Shifters do things a little differently from you humans. And I also don't think you realize just how desirable you are as an immune.” He takes a deep breath. As if he's inhaling my scent.

  I did spray a rosewater and citrus fragrance on my neck. Not abrasive like the one I used before. Floral and light, to give that sensation of floating on air. Maybe he smells that. His knee bumps into mine again, and with a shock, I realize I might be more turned on than I'm willing to admit. Getting this much attention. Identifying attraction.

  “I don't get the big deal. So it's sexy to not be controlled?” Keep the conversation going. Try to arrest his interest back. Should I crush my arms together? Make my cleavage pop some more?

  “Partly. But what's sexier – is that any children you will bear, will have a chance of receiving the best qualities of both sides. Human immunity. Shifter power. And those types of children typically grow up to become shifter leaders. Raising the status and wealth of a family. Ensuring rather comfortable lives. So you,” he says, stabbing a finger at me, “are a meal ticket to wealth. Understand?”

  The knot in my stomach increases. “I'll be too much trouble to look after. Between you and your business. Between...” I think back to the funeral-style outfit he wore, the gold cufflink he kept fiddling with, and see it's there on his navy suit sleeve. “Whatever it is you're dealing with.”

  He stiffens. “And... what do you think I'm dealing with?”

  For fuck's sake. I'm so stupid. I give him a wan smile. “No offense, but when I spotted you in the bar, you looked as if you'd just come out of a funeral. You had that look like you wanted to drown all your sorrows. Maybe I'm wrong, but you just seemed so formal. So out of place.”

  Richard swirls his liquid, clearly unsure what to make of my observations. “I didn't come from a funeral. But you're not wrong that I'm dealing with something... personal.”

  “We all are.” I shrug, before slurping my wine.

  Naturally it goes down the wrong pipe. Spluttering, I spray wine mist and liquid onto the silk, down my exposed chest, before I grunt like a surprised pig, and almost burst into flames. “Oh, fucking great,” I say, even as Richard snorts, eyes watering as he suppresses a deeper, belly laugh. “It happens at least once a w-week to me. Down the wrong pipe. Without f-f-ail.”

  A few more violent coughs later, I just want to sink underneath the table and vanish. “Please, kill me.”

  “You want to clean that up, or shall I?” His eyes twinkle as he regards my chest, where there's a fine red trickle, sliding from my chin to the tiny, unnatural squash of my cleavage. Unnatural, because I'm pretty sure if I wear this outfit for much longer, I'll likely end up catching some kind of deep vein thrombosis with the bra strap. Push-up bras are so damn stupid.

  I hastily clean it up before he follows through with his offer, even though I'm sure that would be exactly what my boss intends. I'm not that bold. I might be dumped in the middle of enemy territory, but that doesn't mean I know how to swagger about the place. “I'm fine. Embarrassed, and wanting to die, but fine.”

  “I've seen worse.” Still wearing the smirk, he offers his napkin to me, which I accept with reluctant grace. Slanting my eyes to the side, I see another shifter biting down a laugh. The heavily tattooed freak. Well... freak's a strong word. The swirling patterns suit those big arms of his. And at least he's not got anything on his neck or face. There is the lick of ink poking out of his collarbone, so I suspect he's got a chest-sleeve to match his arms. “Who's that guy looking at us, actually? I mean, they're all looking at us, but he seems particularly... looky.”

  Richard's lips almost disappear into his mouth as he turns to look at the tattooed man. “I sure hoped you didn't mean him. He's pretending to eat at this restaurant while keeping an eye on us. Part of the trouble I talked about. Probably sees you as a prime target.” I see the curl that reveals his teeth, a sliver of contempt. “He's a dragon as well.”

  Dragon. Hard to grasp that concept. That this person in front of me could transform at any moment into a scaled lizard, complete with wings, claws, and far too many teeth in his jaws.

  I wonder if he's ever eaten an honor sacrifice. A human who
volunteers to be eaten by the shifters that need human meat in their diet every now and then. They do it to ensure their families gain wealth. Much cleaner and less sordid than people casually murdering their friends and families for life insurance money.

  Not everyone sees it like that, though. And I suppose like all systems, these laws get abused somehow.

  “I'm supposed to be meeting with him tonight,” Richard says, which instantly dashes all my hopes of salvaging the situation onto the floor.

  Sounds like he never intended to take me to bed in the first place. I should be glad, relieved, but my boss's words are a judgement in my head. Rattling there with the other loose thoughts.

  “Oh.” Quick. Something. Anything. “I thought we'd have more than an afternoon.”

  “We can arrange again. Maybe in a better environment,” he says, giving another evil glare to the tattooed shifter.

  At that moment, the stranger gets up. Thicker than Richard, who is smooth elegance and almost airbrushed in his appearance. More rugged than Richard, with a sprouting of dark beard upon his blocky jaw. He has that sunk in look, that ominous glint to his eyes, like a leader might. Like a person touched by fate might.

  And he also looks as if he wants to swallow me alive.

  Tarren

  I'm going to snatch her from the jaws of that damn councilman. Whatever it takes. Maybe he doesn't understand what she is, but I know perfectly well.

  Immunes don't casually stroll into Animusa, after all. Oh, Richard looks pissed. He's got that snarl exposing his teeth, that hint of murder in his eyes. He's been shooting me evil glances all the time, but truthfully, it was chance that I happened to be here. I come here every Thursday without fail, because that's the day they serve my favorite meal, since my favorite cook dominates the kitchens. I don't want my food seasoned by anyone else other than that culinary genius, Jasmin Rowle.

  But this – seeing the playboy Richard, with his new slice of meat – now that's a surprise. Maybe he'll regret the alliance and decide to attack me on the spot.

  I welcome the opportunity. Be a good chance to chomp his scrawny neck, once and for all. “You didn't tell me you were dating. Since when you do that?”

  The woman, with her limp red curls, seems a catch. Something about those sharp dark eyes. Like she wouldn't miss a beat. Definitely fitting into the category that I've got in my head. She's also got those beady eyes trained on me, hungering over my arms.

  “I didn't ask you to be here,” Richard says, with the obvious hint of scorn. He has to bite it back, however, because he knows he needs me. For his risky little dipping into my territory, for that brother of his that vanished into the multi-faced hydra that dwells the underworld of our beloved little city.

  He's far, far, out of his depth. No light shines here. Except the places you've punched a hole through.

  “It's not my fault you happened to attend on the one day of the week I'm always here. I thought you said you did your research on me? Surely you have an idea of some of the regular patterns I have.” I turn my attention to the curious woman. “You seem quite a catch. Tell you what. If he's boring you, you can leave with me. I'll show you a good time. What a real dragon's like, without all that fancy pomp from all the lies he tells each day.”

  Now her mouth prickles in the faintest display of contempt. Good, I think.

  “Is it customary to interrupt other people's dates and attempt to make off with their women?” Her eyebrow now arches, her voice oozes out like treacle. “I rather thought dragons had more respect for each other than that.”

  “You'll be surprised how often it happens.” Just to test the waters, I send threads of persuasion towards her. Enough to make a normal human sit to attention and wet their underwear. She, however, just continues wearing that faint contempt, along with a sliver of amusement.

  “I'm going to kill you,” Richard says, all sense of propriety gone. There. There's the real face under that mask he wears. I caught a glimpse of it when he visited my little hotel. His family have a strong streak of arrogance. Lucky to have what they have. Never had to work for it. Never had to crawl themselves up from the slime...

  “No you won't. You won't want to risk our alliance. Not unless you never catch the people who took your precious, noble little brother. But, you know. Tell me about the new catch. Not an honor sacrifice, right? Not interested in the Hunt?”

  “I rather like my own life,” the woman says again. “I'm not going to risk it for your Hunt. Even if the reward is supposed to... all the benefits your kind supposedly offers.”

  “Not a shortcut to a speedy conversion, either.” I nod, all the while aware that Richard wants me dead or gone, away from this debacle of a date. I like the hate stinking off him. Gives him a powerful aura. One I wouldn't mind taking down for myself.

  “I suddenly have no stomach for food,” Richard says, now scraping his chair back. “I will not tolerate your disrespect in this place, Tarren. Allies we may be, but that doesn't give you the right to challenge it early on.”

  “I'm not challenging your alliance. I'm staking interest in the immune you have there. And as you know, there's no rules that stop that. Regardless of status.”

  “Seems there's a lot I have to learn,” the woman murmurs, now placing down her wine. There's a red stain on her yellow dress, evidence of the trail that flowed from her lips like blood. The coughing was quite entertaining. She picks up her jacket. “But I'll try to be respectful of the person I'm actually here with.” Her eyes still dart at me in interest. Not as much respect as she claims.

  And yes; I thought she'd like the mention of an alliance.

  “I can do more for you than he can,” I say, laying it on thick. “He's got connections. But I have more. Better. I know where the lost people go. Where all the humans end up.”

  Richard shoots another venomous look, but she sways on the spot, before finally swooshing past me. But not before I grab her hand and crunch my address onto it. Richard claps his hand hard on my shoulder.

  “Don't test me.”

  “It's an alliance,” I hiss back, still smiling benignly. “Not a dog and his master. You don't control me. I'm with you just as much for my convenience as your own. Besides,” I say, fierce with adrenaline, “You should be glad that it's me staking. How many others would dare get her between the two of us?”

  He only scoffs disgust, and stalks out. She moves as well, not looking back at me. But she's still holding my address in her hand.

  * * *

  The knock comes later. Three hours later, to be precise. A few hours before I'm due to meet Richard. Which is why I assume it's Richard, having taken my address from her, wanting revenge. A little beating down to make sure I don't fuck with him.

  The woman's standing at the door inside, blinking as if unsure she should really be here. As if she's just opened the jaws of a trap.

  She's not entirely wrong. “Hey,” I say. I decide not to loom over her. Doesn't seem like the type that'll take well to aggressive posturing. “Come in. I'll make you something to drink. The name's Tarren, by the way. In case you didn't catch that.”

  “Emma,” she murmurs, walking in past me as I hold the door open. Into my small but wonderful little house. Not quite shady hotel with an obvious strip bar. More like a rustic style cottage slap-dash in the middle of a bustling city. Cost far, far more than it was worth.

  “Okay, Emma.” I taste the name on my tongue, even as I close the door and head into the kitchen. She's caught me in slight undress, and I can see her eyes are trying their damnedest to not look at my bare chest. Wonder what she thinks of the tattoos. Too small-time mobster? A prison bully? Or aesthetic and touching? I'd like to think the latter. “Make yourself comfortable.”

  “I don't know why I'm here,” she says, clutching her handbag tightly on her lap as she sits down. “I pretty much deserve to be murdered right now.”

  I laugh. It's warm, bubbling up from my stomach. Maybe it's because of the smell that emanates from he
r. Immunes have a certain aroma. Settles just right to my brain. “I have a different proposal for you. Let me be blunt.”

  Orange juice out the fridge, poured, handed. She accepts it, though has that frown like she anticipates it to be laced with poison. I'm tempted to wriggle my chest muscles, just to see her startle, or choke on her drink again, but keep the impulse locked away. Party tricks.

  “I pretty much have no doubt you're a spy for the humans.”

  Her face pales, but she keeps her composure, and exhales softly. “May I ask why?”

  “Please. Someone like Richard has limpets like you everywhere he goes. He's of great interest to humans, since he's directly involved in decisions of the city. Humans that don't like our city much.” I consider senator Arrow. He's like a small time, insane preacher in his spare time, but he's got an entire state under his sway. Using people like me as his unwilling scapegoats. “Plus, virtually every immune is snatched up by the various agencies in the pipeline. Don't think I haven't seen my fair share of them.”

  “Okay,” Emma says, nodding and closing her eyes. “I won't insult your intelligence by pretending otherwise. What's the cut you're looking for?”

  Excellent. Excellent. “Why, insights onto your fake boyfriend, of course. And to use you as a bargaining chip. Both against him, and your little human agency. I'm most interested in their goal. But I suppose you're torture trained, right?”

  She flinches at the word torture but continues to maintain her composure. “Well...” she's gambling. Considering my intent. She's caught wrongfooted and probably sees her career burning before her eyes.

  Oh well.

  “I'm searching for a missing person. A human who entered this state about a month ago, then vanished.”

  “It's Arrow's daughter, isn't it?”

  Again, she blinks in that off-kilter surprise, obviously not expecting me to be so well informed.

  Not that it's hard to guess why anyone might linger around Richard Forge. “The senator's been raving about us for weeks. People are pushing their representatives to do something, but the FBI's jurisdiction doesn't work here. Trust me. It's not hard to put two and two together.”