Son of the Moonless Night (The Turning Stone Chronicles Book 3)

by C. D. Hersh

  Footsteps sounded down the hallway. Heart pounding, he leapt across the corner of the desk and scrambled onto one of the chairs, throwing his leg casually over the chair arm. When Falhman entered, he studied his fingernails as if he were bored to tears.

  “My apologies, my dear boy. The treatment you received today is unforgivable. I’ve reprimanded my butler. He won’t repeat the offense.” He gave him an apologetic smile.

  “He’s the gate guardian. If he didn’t question things what use would he be?”

  “To what do I owe this visit? Your call sounded urgent.”

  “We’re going to have to go to plan B. My alter ego has been made at the precinct office.” He deliberately held back the information about police headquarters crawling with good Turning Stone shifters.

  “I suspected this would happen.”

  Owen’s breath caught. Did he know?

  “She’s a very smart shifter. Still, I think the family card will play well. What’s the plan?”

  “I need to put a few days between my alter ego’s disappearance and my appearance to keep down the suspicion. I think I should lay low. I’ll keep you posted. There is the other matter at the shipping yard, so we’ll be in contact.”

  He studied Falhman. He was different. The smile. The casual conversation. Friendlier. He was never friendly. Snarky friendly, but not outright friendly.

  “You feeling okay?” Owen asked.

  “Never better.” This time the man actually grinned.

  “You’re not yourself today.”

  “Don’t you like it?” Falhman’s eyes narrowed and the dour, arrogant look he normally wore crept back onto his face. “I could change it.”

  “No. Please don’t. I just wondered why you were . . . happier looking.”

  “I received excellent news recently. News which will provide me with something I’ve always wanted.”

  Deciding to go while the getting was good, and on friendly terms, Owen rose. “I’m glad to hear that.”

  “Not so fast. I haven’t had a report on your mentoring with the bartender Johnny. I hope you’ve made some progress.”

  “Things are going well.”

  Falhman pushed a button on his desk phone. “Bring him in.”

  A burly goon opened the door and shoved Johnny into the office ahead of him. He tumbled to the floor and then scrambled to his feet. The goon moved beside him and grabbed his arm. Johnny winced as the guard yanked him farther into the room.

  “Have you taught your mentee anything?” Falhman asked, his hands steepled together, fingertips tapping.

  “Yes, sir,” Johnny said, his voice wavering like the vibrato of an opera singer.

  “Then give us a demonstration, my dear boy.”

  A low growl rolled from Owen. Two steps put him beside the guard. Clutching the man by the throat, he lifted him onto tiptoes. The goon let go of Johnny who scurried to the other side of the room. Tapping into his animal power, like Johnny had shown him, Owen let his rage flow freely. With a roar, he threw the guard across the room as if he was no heavier than a rag doll. The wood paneled walls shuddered from the impact.

  “Very impressive. Golden eyes. Your animal ego must be a panther like your mother.”

  Owen growled again, his rage still feeding his animal side. Johnny’s light touch on his arm pulled him back to his humanity. Rolling his neck, he released the tension, letting the rage dissipate.

  Turning to Johnny, Falhman said, “Well done. You’ve earned your life. Although I’ve never seen anyone change quite like that. Has he reached his animal ego after only a year?”

  “No, but I’ve taught him how to tap into the power of his animal.”

  “Where’d you learn the trick, Johnny?”

  “From my dead grandfather. He didn’t believe in the animal ego, just the animal power.”

  “Very handy trick. I may have need of you. Soon.”

  Without speaking, Johnny inclined his head in a slight nod.

  Heart still pounding from the adrenalin rush, Owen said, “We’ll be in touch.”

  “Make it quick,” Falhman said. “I don’t like to be kept waiting.” The commanding tone crept back in his voice.

  Owen, accompanied by Johnny, made their escape as fast as possible. Grateful Johnny’s position and life was secured, Owen prayed the news Falhman had referred to didn’t have anything to do with offing his mother. From his experience, the one thing which brought Falhman great joy was doing in his enemies . . . and, if he could believe his mother, she was at the top of the list.

  Chapter 23

  Looking over her shoulder, Kat checked her miniskirt in the full length mirror on the back of her bedroom door. Nothing but leg. Bending forward, she watched the skirt rise until a hint of butt cheek showed.

  Perfect.

  Owen had not made any more major moves on her. The phone call he received the night they’d made out on the entry floor had put a damper on his ardor. They kissed. A lot. And it was good. No, wonderful. But he always stopped before it went further than heavy petting, leaving her with a raging, painful, unfulfilled libido.

  She liked this man. A lot. She wanted to let him into her life. In spite of how they’d met. In spite of his possible, and she hoped singular, interaction with a paranormal creature. And in spite of the tiny niggling at the back of her brain which told her to go slow. The way he looked at her set her tingling. She hadn’t experienced that in a long time.

  Slowly, she twirled in front of the mirror, checking her appearance again. Then she undid another button and pulled her black blouse apart. Licking the back side of her cross, she stuck it on the top of the mound of her creamy white cleavage. Time to let him know she wasn’t afraid and ready to move the relationship forward.

  When she answered the doorbell, Owen gave her the once-over, his eyes taking her in from bottom to top, and then his gaze rested on her cleavage. “Nice,” he said. “I mean . . . you look nice.”

  She swiveled around, reaching for her purse on the entry table, deliberately bending forward to retrieve it. A tiny moan floated over her shoulder. Quickly, she stood upright and moved past Owen to the outside.

  Tempting tastes. That’s what he would get tonight. Appetizer bites meant to whet his desire. Then maybe he’d be ready for the rest of the meal.

  He inhaled as she passed him. “You smell delicious.”

  Flashing a teasing smile, she leaned in closer to him and waved her wrist under his nose. “Thanks. It’s vanilla crème, with a hint of musk.” With a gentle hip bump she pushed him aside and started locking the door.

  As she moved to the second set of locks, the wad of keys slipped from her hand and fell to the ground with a metallic crash. She did the bend and show again. The mere act of seducing him like this heated her core. Quickly, she straightened, amazed and embarrassed at how much she wanted him right now.

  You’d better chill, girl, or you won’t even make it through dinner. The admonishment did little to cool her down, because Owen rotated her to face him, thrust her against the door and started kissing her. His lean body pressed her into the metal, still warm from the November afternoon sun which had been shining on it. Heated from behind by the warm metal and in front by the heat pouring from Owen’s body, she melted against him.

  Owen slanted his mouth over hers, deepening the kiss as his tongue demanded entry into her mouth. She opened to his request and their tongues played a seductive melody that shot straight down between her legs. Resting her head against the door, she exposed her neck to him and he took advantage of her move, peppering her neck and her décolletage and her exposed cleavage with kisses.

  Fumbling with the keys, she reached behind her back, desperate to find the lock and open the door and fall on the floor with him in a jumble of limbs. She arched back as his hand
s roamed down her front, landing on her stomach.

  Suddenly, her tummy rumbled as loud as an autumn thunderstorm. Laughing, Owen asked in a husky voice, “Are you hungry?” The words bubbled on her breasts like fizzy champagne.

  “Yes.” Reaching for his chin, she raised his mouth to hers.

  “Me, too,” he whispered against her lips.

  Her stomach dropped to the ground as desire curled around her core. Finally. It was going to happen.

  Straightening, he released her, tucked her blouse together, and checked his watch. “We have reservations at seven. Just enough time to get there.”

  The amused glint in his eyes infuriated her. Oh! The man was playing games with her. She stomped her foot, nearly stepping on his toes.

  A soft, sexy smile crept across his face. He swept his arm toward the steps, indicating they should leave. Whirling around, she locked the last latch and jammed her keys into her purse. As she started up the short flight of steps to the sidewalk, Owen’s hand skimmed up her leg, caressing her bare butt cheek. With a yelp, she jerked forward, nearly losing her balance. He grabbed her and steadied her, his hand wrapping around her waist. His firm, solid grip made her feel safe, and she leaned into him.

  “Why did you do that?” she asked.

  “To shock you out of sex kitten mode. A man can only take so much, Kat. Be careful what you ask for. You just might get it.”

  Oh, she hoped so.

  “I really enjoyed the . . . whatever it was,” Kat said as she reached into her purse for her keys.

  “Liar,” Owen said, his smile growing. “Fried squid tips, and you only swallowed a few bites. Still, I give you points for trying. I’ll understand if you want to order a pizza . . . afterwards.” He stepped closer and laid his hands on her hips. At his touch, her perfume rose into the air. He inhaled the scent he’d come to recognize as uniquely hers.

  “Afterwards?” Kat’s voice turned husky. Under the faint carriage light he saw her cheeks color.

  “Your tummy interrupted us earlier.” He stepped out of her personal space, his body heating with the memory of her earlier seduction. She’d wanted him, and after watching her across the table from him all night, tonguing dinner into her mouth, he decided he made a mistake by making her wait. Still, he had to give her the chance to refuse, because whether she knew it or not, getting involved with him meant trouble. “Unless you’ve changed your mind after my warning.”

  Without responding, Kat turned and sorted out the keys, opening each lock with precise and frustratingly measured precision. As each cylinder clicked slowly open, Owen realized she was playing with him . . . again.

  Pinning her to the door with his full length, he whispered against the back of her neck, “I’m trouble, Kat. You might want to run instead of teasing me like this.”

  Beneath him, she slowly rotated to face him, every scraping movement of her body against his awakening him at the cellular level. Raising his already sizzling skin to hell-fire temperatures. Heat shot down his back, sparking a burning sensation at the base of his spine. When she fully faced him and her soft body melted into his hard muscles, she cupped his face between her hands and forced him to look at her. “Like I told you once before, I’m in too far to turn back.”

  “If you’re staying to cover up what happened in the alley, or because you’re afraid of what I might do if you leave, I want you to walk away. I won’t involve you, I swear.”

  “It’s not that. I’ve done bad things.”

  He gave her a questioning look.

  “We’ll have secrets. I can live with that. But this . . .” She drew his mouth to hers and kissed him like she wanted to suck out his soul. “And this,” she breathed into his mouth as her hands slid down below his waist, “is not because of guilt or fear. It’s want. No, it’s more than want. What I feel goes beyond want . . . to a forever hope.”

  His heart leapt at the word forever. He had no idea she felt this way.

  She leaned her head against his chest and whispered so softly he barely heard the words. “I hope you want forever.”

  Desire filled him and he pulled her close, kissing her again. Forever sounded great to him. Then he remembered what he was, and his body stiffened. How could he subject her to his life? He was a shape shifter and a killer. She, an innocent mortal. Not fair to her.

  “Don’t stop,” Kat pleaded, drawing him to her. “Please. I want this.”

  He pulled back, uncertain of what to do.

  Love and confusion and desire and desperation flashed across her face. Then determination settled over her features. “If you don’t want forever, Owen, I’ll take what you can give me. We can discuss forever another time. Or not at all.”

  Tucking a stray strand of blond hair behind her ear, he bent and softly kissed her lips. “Forever sounds good, but I should reveal my past before you commit to this.”

  “The past doesn’t matter. My past doesn’t matter. Your past doesn’t matter.”

  “My past does matter,” he said.

  She placed her index finger on his lips, silencing him. “All that matters is the future we can build . . . together.”

  Crushing him to her, he reached around and opened the door, then scooped her into his arms and carried her over the threshold.

  He was willing to take a chance if she was, but before she said, I do, she deserved to know how commitment to him could change her life. And not for the best.

  Sun slanting through the window woke Kat, and she looked at Owen’s still form in the bed next to her. Planting a kiss on his bare shoulder, she whispered, “Morning.”

  “Morning yourself.”

  She slipped her hand between them and discovered he was already excited enough to have another round of passionate lovemaking. He scooted closer and draped his leg over her hip.

  Clasping her in his arms, he rolled her onto her back and straddled her. “Want to go again?”

  The familiarity of his weight pressing her into the mattress and the heat flooding from his body caused her to warm at his suggestion. Pulling him down to her, she nibbled on his neck with an affirmative grunt. The sun glinted on the glass lamp on the bed stand, catching her eye, and she saw the red, blinking numerals on the digital clock.

  “Holy Count Dracula!” she exclaimed as she shoved Owen off. “I’m late for work.” Scampering from the bed, she dashed toward the bathroom. “Let yourself out.” Then she ran into the bathroom and slammed the door.

  “Aren’t we going to talk about last night?” he called out as she disappeared.

  Opening the door she stuck her head out. “Nothing to say. It was wonderful. Be here tonight at six. I’ll make dinner. We’ll do it again.”

  “And talk. We have to talk.”

  “Fine. Talk. Then sex, then more sex.”

  Owen had left when she got out of the shower so she speed-dressed and dashed out the front door to work. By running most of the way and crossing against all the red do not walk lights, she managed to slip into the morgue just under fifteen minutes after starting time. Olivia had already arrived, wearing slacks, a white t-shirt, and what looked like men’s loafers. She frowned at her coworker’s wardrobe choices.

  “Girl,” she said to Olivia. “I’ve got to take you shopping, and soon. Where did you get that outfit? From your brother’s closet?”

  Olivia started and looked guilty. “Caught me. I’m going dike today.”

  “I don’t think t-shirts are in the dress code.” She tossed Olivia a lab coat. “Put this on. Maybe no one will notice.”

  Olivia folded the coat and laid it on her desk. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t work here anymore. I just came back to get some things from my desk.”

  “You just started. What happened?”

  “I don’t want to discuss it.”

 
; “Did you get fired? Did someone say something? Because if they did, I’ll fight for you. You’re a great toxicologist. We don’t want to lose you.”

  Spinning away from Olivia, Kat grabbed her phone. Then she swiveled back. As she did, she spotted her coworker dropping two capped vials into her handbag. One of the vials looked like it had blood in it. The other contained a clear liquid. Was Olivia stealing police property? Lab evidence?

  Snapping her handbag shut, Olivia faced her. “Please don’t bother. It’s no one’s fault. I just can’t stay.” Moving toward her, Olivia gave her a hasty hug and then left the morgue.

  The second Olivia cleared the morgue door Kat grabbed her purse and ran after her. Something was wrong, and she needed to find out what. Dialing her boss, she feigned sickness and begged off for the day. Then she asked if he knew Olivia had quit. When she learned she hadn’t given notice, nor been let go, her suspicions grew.

  Why had she left, and why had she taken the vials?

  She remembered the snippet of conversation she’d heard in the alley the night she found the dead body behind the dumpster. Spies. Spies in law enforcement. Does that include my office? Was Olivia one of them? Quickening her pace, Kat drew closer to Olivia, determined not to lose her.

  A few blocks from police headquarters, Olivia stepped into a boutique and went into one of the dressing rooms lined against one side of the walls. Parking herself across from the dressing door Olivia entered, Kat stood watch. In a couple of minutes, the door opened and Owen exited the dressing room, wearing the same t-shirt, pants, and loafers Olivia had on.