Taste for Alphas: Paranormal Fantasy Shifter Romance

by Milly Taiden

  “Where’s Trent?” she asked, needing him close now that she was tired and scared for Casey. He was the only person she wanted to see.

  “He’ll be out in a moment. He and Tony are still gathering details from the police while Jane speaks to the parents.” Brock set her down in front of the Jeep and opened the door for her to sit in the front passenger side.

  She looked Brock straight in the eyes. “She’s alive, Brock. And I need to speak to Derek Holmes. He’s linked to this somehow. I don’t know why I didn’t see it when I met him, but it was there when I touched that photo.”

  “Fine. You and Trent can go ahead to the Holmes residence. We’ll continue gathering information here.”

  Trent jogged toward them. Seeing him made her feel better instantly.

  Chapter Eleven

  “So why are we going back to the Holmes household?” Trent took his eyes off the road to quickly glance at Erica. She had her hands clasped tightly in her lap, and a deep frown covered her face. Fear came off her in waves, spiking his own anxiety over her safety.

  “I need to see Derek Holmes again. Everything leads back to him somehow, and I don’t know why I couldn’t feel it when I touched him. He’s not that mentally strong, and no true evil came through before. But I’m not perfect. So maybe this is one of those times we can’t depend of my sight.”

  “Let’s do it the old-fashioned way then. Derek Holmes knew each of these victims, including Casey Young. They’ve all dated him and had some connection to him. It seems to me he is our most likely suspect.”

  He gazed at Erica again and saw her shake her head and bite her lip. “It’s not that simple. Derek Holmes is a Casanova. He thrives on female attention. I just don’t see him that worried about a couple of girls he dumped. From what we know he’s the one that cut each of these girls off for the next one. So why would he want to kill them after? It just doesn’t make any sense.”

  Trent pulled into a long private driveway. At the end of the circular drive stood an imposing, Victorian-style mansion. The Holmeses had a lot of money. And a lot of high-powered connections.

  Erica jumped out of the Jeep before he had a chance to completely stop the car. Her ponytail swung down her back when she jogged toward the front door. As he got to her side, the front door opened from inside.

  A tall, older man dressed in a gray butler suit eyed both of them with interest. “May I help you?”

  Trent pulled out his identification. “Yes, we’re here to speak to Derek and Anthony Holmes.”

  The man’s brows lifted but said nothing for a moment. “Neither the younger nor older Holmes are present at this time.”

  “Well where are they?” Erica’s stepped forward, crowding the butler.

  The butler frowned at Erica’s aggravated tone but answered her question. “Derek is at the country club with friends and Anthony may or may not be at his cabin.”

  “Do you mind if we come inside and look around a little?”

  The butler gave him a stiff nod. “Not at all. Mr. and Mrs. Holmes indicated you would be stopping by and to allow you to look around and answer any questions if necessary.”

  Trent followed behind Erica into the large receiving area. He watched her immediately regard everything, searching for a clue or something to help guide her in understanding what Derek Holmes was about.

  Unfortunately, that area of the house was like a hotel room, completely impersonal. Trent sensed her frustration rising. She’d fisted her hands tightly to her sides. They moved down a corridor to the next open space. A family room.

  A large portrait of the family, hanging over the fireplace, caught Erica’s attention. She stopped mid-step and stared.

  Trent stepped up beside her, wondering what it was about the photo that made her lose all color to her face. He whispered near her ear. “What is it?”

  Erica turned a horrified face toward him “That’s the second man in the photos with the victims.” She whispered and glanced at the butler, who had been following quietly behind them. Her voice shook, and she pointed to the family portrait. “Who is he?”

  The butler moved up beside them. “The photo is Mr. and Mrs. Holmes and their sons.”

  Erica shook her head. “Who’s the man in the back, right side?”

  Trent eyed the man in question. He was a young man. Probably nineteen or twenty with dark eyes and a large build. A handsome guy, just like Derek Holmes. The rigid set of his features made him look angry and arrogant, but nothing that would make him suspect the kid to be a murderer. He had a hand draped over Mrs. Holmes’ shoulder. The strange pentagram tattoo on his hand caught Trent’s attention. It wasn’t what one usually displayed on a family portrait. Erica’s reaction gave Trent the feeling they’d found their killer.

  “That’s Anthony,” the butler replied.

  Erica’s face turned an ashier shade of gray. “I need to see his room.”

  Trent held her cold hand while they followed the butler to the second level, where the bedrooms were located. Every time they went past a portrait that included Anthony Holmes, Erica stopped and stared at his eyes for a few moments, until he had to drag her from the picture. Her reaction worried him.

  When they reached the open door to Anthony Holmes’ room, Erica rushed into the bedroom. Trent’s heart slowed to a crawl when he realized what she was going to do.

  “Erica, don’t do anything just yet,” he yelled and darted after her.

  She stood in the middle of the bedroom and turned in a full circle. Trent stared at her for a moment, to make sure she wouldn’t just grab something, before he glanced around the room. It was not what he’d expected after what they’d seen of the rest of the house. The bedroom was painted a dark gray, almost black, color.

  Skulls and all kinds of demonic photography covered the walls. The bed was covered in a black bedspread. Black panels covered the windows, and if the light hadn’t been on it would’ve been pitch black inside the room. Erica contemplated the night tables beside the bed. Small figures of horned angels with large fangs and red, beady eyes sat on the surface. Anthony Holmes might be into the gothic scene, but that didn’t make him a killer.

  She marched over to a door. He ran over to where she stood, ready to grab a knob and stopped her.

  “Let me do it.”

  Grasping the knob and twisting, he opened what he’d assumed was a closet door. When they looked inside, they saw hell.

  Trent’s gut clenched and turned to Erica. “What made you want to look in here?”

  Her features were set in such a sad expression it made him want to reach out to her. “Evil calls out to me.”

  The room was small, probably a closet of some sort, but it was packed with vital information on their case. Photos of all the victims while suffering different levels of torture were taped haphazardly on the walls. Gina’s bloody face with her mouth open in a scream of agony made Trent’s stomach tighten. Lisa’s pleading look in another ratcheted up his growing anger.

  Photos of Melanie Lee, crying, screaming, and, finally, dead were mixed in with the others. Bloody photos of Anthony’s carvings on their bodies and remains were all over. Trent couldn’t wait to get his hands of the sadistic bastard.

  Locks of hair and pieces of clothing sat on a small table inside the closet. How had no one noticed that before?

  “We need to find him. Right now.” Erica was panicked. Trent turned to look at her, but she grabbed hold of his shirt and gripped the material in her fists. “He has Casey Young. I don’t know how long he’ll keep her alive. He said a few days, but what if he changes his mind?” She tightened her hold on the shirt. “We have to go. Now.”

  He nodded, in complete agreement with her. They moved back, stepping away from Anthony Holmes’s personal victim collection.

  Trent glanced back to the butler standing by the room entrance. “Where is Anthony Holmes now?”

  The butler, finally showing emotion, stood there with his eyes wide, in total shock. He gawked at the still
open closet for a moment before responding. “I-I believe he’s at his cabin at this time.”

  “Where’s this cabin? We need to go there now,” Trent said.

  The butler gave him instructions on reaching the other end of the property where Anthony Holmes kept a cabin by the river.

  Erica ran to the Jeep. Air fought its way into her lungs, and her mind filled with images of Casey Young. She had to get to her before Anthony killed her. The evil radiating from his room and his possessions, including his photos, made it hard for her to think straight.

  “Wait! Erica, wait,” Trent yelled.

  She turned to him just as she was about to slide into her seat.

  He ran to the trunk, moments later he rushed back to her side and brought her a bulletproof vest.

  “Trent we need to go.”

  “Put it on,” he ordered. “I’m not taking any chances with your life! Besides, you know the rules. You can’t go into a dangerous location without one of these.”

  “Don’t you need one too?” Her concern for him grew when she realized he didn’t plan on putting a vest on.

  “No. It doesn’t help me if I need to shift.”

  “But what if you get hurt?”

  He cupped her face for a moment and glanced deep into her eyes. “I’ll be fine.”

  She put her vest over her tank top and sat in the passenger seat, waiting for Trent to take them to the cabin and hoping they found Casey alive.

  Anthony Holmes had Casey Young in the cabin by the river. She was sure of it. It explained the water and the isolation, why no one ever heard the screams. Now she understood why she kept thinking Derek Holmes was the culprit. He was in the photos with Anthony and the victims. Erica couldn’t discern who was radiating the evil, she just saw Derek.

  Her ass bumped in the seat as Trent drove through the rough terrain to get to the other side of the property. They went through a rocky section that made Erica hang on to the door to keep from flying out the window. She didn’t care if she ended up bruised all over; she just wanted to reach Casey Young while she was still alive.

  The Jeep swerved over a bunch of dead branches, creating a loud cracking noise. When they passed a bend, they finally saw the cabin, a one-story building that was clearly meant as a retreat. All the windows were covered, and no noise sounded from anywhere. Erica’s stomach twisted in knots. What if he already killed and disposed of Casey?

  She jumped out of the Jeep and drew her gun. Although nervous inside, her hand was rock steady when she neared the cabin. One thing she was good at was shooting. Trent also held out his weapon. She gave him a hand signal: she’d take the back door and he would use the front. Erica didn’t want to chance losing Anthony.

  Trent headed to the front of the cabin. Quietly, she made her way around the side, taking in the covered windows. She reached the back door in moments and tried the knob. It was open, which she found strange, but knew Anthony probably thought he wouldn’t be found.

  Goosebumps broke out on her skin. She traveled the kitchen area in silence. Her trainers allowed her to move stealthily in the space. Large knives and other surgical equipment had been placed on the kitchen counter. Not a single dish, cup, or food item could be seen.

  Upon reaching a small door, she turned the knob to check the inside. More knives were sitting on the shelves of the pantry area. Erica stepped back, moved down the hall, and neared a larger door.

  The room was dark due to the window coverings, but she was still able to see. A bed with chains and belts tied to the posts was located to the right. Erica’s attention was caught by a portable closet. She opened the door and came face to face with a wide-eyed, bound, and very scared Casey Young. A still-alive Casey.

  Erica lifted her badge from her chest to show the girl she was there to help. Then she placed a finger to her lips and motioned Casey to stay quiet. Casey nodded sharply. Erica heard a squeaking noise from behind her and turned around to point her gun at the entrance. She didn’t see anything, but her instincts told her someone was near. The girl was battered and bleeding, with duct tape covering her lips. Her hands were bound behind her back, and her feet were tied.

  Erica reached into her pocket for a blade. Keeping her vision focused on the door, she cut the bindings from Casey’s feet. She helped Casey take a few steps until she reached the bed. Casey’s weight leaned into Erica’s side. She just wanted to get the girl out of that cabin. It took painstaking minutes to help Casey cut the rope binding her hands behind her back. Erica winced when Casey pulled off the duct tape from her lips, leaving her lips broken and bleeding. The girl stood on shaky legs but walked behind Erica toward the kitchen.

  They were a few yards away from the back door when the kitchen door opened. A man held a gun in his hand, his face twisted in rage. Anthony.

  “Run!” She turned and shoved Casey backward to the safety of the hallway.

  Anthony lifted his gun and pointed it at Erica.

  “You can’t have her. She’s mine!” he yelled as Erica lifted her own weapon.

  A loud, piercing growl made Anthony’s attention snap to the other side of the kitchen. A huge white wolf bared his teeth and rushed toward them. Anthony fired at the large wolf.

  “No!” Erica screamed and fired at Anthony. The animal leaped through the air and took Anthony down with his massive body. Anthony screamed and shot blindly at the wolf. Loud snarls and growls filled the air. She couldn’t shoot again for fear of hitting the wolf. Erica watched in horror as Anthony was mauled by the wolf. More shots rang out, over and over.

  “Trent!”

  The wolf continued to maul the man until all that was left was a bloody mess. Anthony’s lifeless body lay on the ground surrounded by a pool of blood. The wolf moved toward her, took a few steps, stopped, and fell to his side.

  She rushed forward, dropping to the ground next the large furry body. “Trent?”

  His body contorted, and his bones popped. The wolf howled. It looked so painful she glanced away. The sound of cracking bones became hard for her to hear, making her nauseated. When it stopped she peeked back at a naked, bleeding Trent.

  “Oh god. Tell me what to do. Tell me how to help you, please!”

  Her heart stopped beating when she saw the gunshot wounds.

  He panted and groaned. “I’ll be ok. Just need to shift back.”

  “Why did you shift to human in the first place?”

  “Because… I had to tell you…Erica…I love you.”

  “Shift dammit! Go back to your furry-tailed body and fix yourself. Please,” she demanded in a panic, her voice hoarse. Her heartbeat thundered wildly in her chest.

  His bones twisted, making that painful-sounding noise. A knot formed in her throat, expanding along with the fear filling her veins.

  “You’ll be ok, Trent.”

  She dialed Brock, all the while putting pressure on the wounds she saw bleeding. Fear mounted inside her, and tears dripped down her cheeks, but she refused to believe he would be anything other than ok. She laid her head over his furry chest to listen to his heartbeat. He could not just tell her he loved her and die. She wouldn’t let him.

  Chapter Twelve

  Erica contemplated Trent while he slept. She didn’t want to risk him waking and finding her there, so she left after checking his vitals and speaking to his doctor. Apparently shifters were quick at healing, but Trent was shot so many times it took longer for him to heal. Brock brought him into a specialized area of a government hospital to let him continue his recuperation.

  It was still hard for her to remember the sounds of the shooting. There had been ten shots in all. His body pushed most of the bullets out, but some had to be removed by doctors. She’d been amazed that after two days he was almost back to fully operational. His wounds, wounds that would’ve killed any other man, had only delayed his healing. Visiting him while he slept allowed her to check his progress and gave her the chance to watch him heal without him actually knowing she was there. If he knew she was
there, she was afraid he’d start questioning her on the future of their relationship, a relationship she wasn’t sure really existed.

  It didn’t matter that she didn’t do relationships; she still had feelings, deep ones, for Trent. But she knew that what they’d shared in New York had been something that wouldn’t last. He was a ladies’ man, and while she’d wanted to, she wasn’t sure she could figure out how to make a relationship work.

  It was her last time visiting Trent. She knew he’d be released in a few days and didn’t want to chance him finding her in his hospital room.

  Outside his door she bumped into Brock.

  “Erica.” He grabbed her before she stepped back and hit the doorframe. She glanced up and caught him frowning at her. “Where are you going?”

  “Home. I just wanted to make sure he was fine.” She pulled away. Her gaze went back to the sleeping Trent, and her heart constricted. She wanted to give him a hug and hold him tight.

  “He’ll be released tomorrow or the day after,” Brock said.

  “I know.” She took a step toward the elevators. Clearly, Brock wasn’t ready to stop talking, because he followed her.

  “Are you still beating yourself up over not realizing Anthony Holmes was our killer?”

  She stopped and looked up at his face. “I should have known he was linked to Derek.”

  Brock shook his head. “You couldn’t have known about sibling rivalry. You weren’t raised in a normal household. It was impossible for you to guess.”

  “I should have realized it when he was in all the photos but then wasn’t around.”

  “How? Magic? He wasn’t showing his face in any of the pictures.”

  “But everyone mentioned how he was always with his brother. I didn’t pick up on it when I should have.”

  “You know this is like putting a puzzle together. We were given clues and we tried to fit the pieces into different slots. Sometimes we figure it out faster than others. It’s part of the job. You stopped him. You need to let it go.”