Date: 2015-10-02 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Paranormal; Romance; Paranormal Romance; Vampires; Shapeshifters; Urban Fantasy; Fantasy; Suspense; Paranormal Urban Fantasy
Description: "A cast of vampires, psychics, and shape-shifters delivers...witty quips that round out this solid example of the genre." - Publishers Weekly Heat Up the Night...Heed the Call. Gossip mag reporter Sera Benenati knows a thing or two about unearthing secrets...and burying them. As an unregistered supernatural, her freedom depends on keeping her fire-wielding abilities contained. Yet, the threat of a little flame isn’t enough to snuff out her journalistic pursuits. She’s determined to claw her way to the top and land a spot with a real paper. When she tracks a lead on a string of gruesome paranor
Publisher: City Owl Press

CODE BLACK

By

Tina Moss

* * *

Copyright © 2015 Tina Moss

Edited by Yelena Casale

Cover Design by Tina Moss.

All stock photos licensed appropriately.

Published in the United States by City Owl Press.

www.cityowlpress.com

For information on subsidiary rights, please contact the publisher at info@cityowlpress.com

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.

Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior consent and permission of the publisher.

For my dear friend, Yelena.

Thank you for your unconditional support.

You make this all possible.

Praise for Tina Moss

“Moss’ CODE BLACK, a near-future tale of paranormal humans living under the repressive Northern American United Government, chugs steadily along with occasional fireworks… A cast of vampires, psychics, and shape-shifters delivers…witty quips that round out this solid example of the genre.” - Publishers Weekly

“The introduction to the Paranormal Crimes Division (PCD) promises to be entertaining and tense. Humor is never far from the surface, which comes in handy because the world they patrol is treacherous and fear-inducing.” - RT Book Reviews

“The sexual tension between two supernatural special agents, one a feisty shape-shifter, the other an aristocratic vampire, spices up the excellent second Paranormal Crimes Division romance, RED ALERT. A combination of flirtatious banter, sizzling chemistry, and edge-of-your-seat storytelling make this a sure bet.” - Publishers Weekly Starred Review

“Moss is one of those authors who stay with you long after the book is over. A total must read.” - Examiner’s Women in Horror Author, Danielle DeVor

“Tina manipulates words and phrases the way an artist manipulates a brush, creating the background with shadows and dimension while weaving the foreground into spicy and emotive splashes of color & texture, and just as in a stunning painting, I get equally lost in Tina's world.” - Author and Artist, Nikola Vukoja

“A fascinating new concept to urban-fantasy. Definitely worth a read!” - Emmeline, The Book Herald

“A different take on the supernatural. I was entranced by this storyline.” - Loves 2 Read

“A keeper with a great and unexpected ending you don't see coming. An enjoyable reading and good start for the series.” - Top 500 Book Reviews, Douglas C. Meeks

“A TOUCH OF DARKNESS rockets you along a pulse-pounding story and sucks you into the characters. You'll want to cheer for Cassie's feisty spirit and loyalty and you'll come to love Gabe and all his wonderful flaws.” - Award Winning Fantasy Author, Heather McCorkle

“A thrilling and well-crafted debut novel…a full throttle ride, complete with several twists and turns.” - The Book Chick

“This new paranormal urban fantasy series is a mesmerizing and intriguing read. The Key Series is a fascinating world of angels, fallen angels and demons with some unique elements and surprising twists.” - Evampire

“An imaginative twist on the concept of angels and demons, complete with the requisite conflicts between duty and love, as well as the issues of loyalty and betrayal.” - Night Owl Reviews

Contents

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Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Epilogue

Sneak Peek of Red Alert

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Acknowledgments

About the Author

About the Publisher

Additional Titles

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Find book two, RED ALERT, featuring Jame and Drake available now, and discover more from Tina Moss at www.tinamoss.com

Special Agent Jame Bradshaw has five dead senators on her hands...and a pack of trouble between her claws.

As the newest team leader for the Paranormal Crimes Division, this feisty shifter is smack in the middle of a political hornet’s nest waiting to implode. With the mass murder at the Capitol building and the city under a red alert, paranoia spreads like wildfire. She must solve this mystery before the higher-ups call for her head.

When former vampire vigilante and newly minted PCD agent, Drake, shows up to the scene, the case heats up and so does the tension.

Fighting off the charms of a lethal hundred-and-fifty-year-old vamp may prove Jame’s final undoing...in the most delicious ways. But if this alpha shifter doesn’t learn to let down her defenses and channel the passion into a true partnership, she’ll risk losing more than her badge.

BUY NOW!

Chapter One

Brown Residence, Buckhorn, Arizona

Sera stared at her fingernails, picking at the chipped red paint and wondering how in the hell to interview a murder victim’s sister. “How do I get myself into these things?” She flicked the cherry apple flecks at the dashboard and leaned her skull against the headrest. Remembering exactly how she ended up in this suburban neighborhood, procrastinating in the morning sun shifted her thoughts to seven days earlier. And a conversation she couldn’t forget.

“Don’t you think people deserve the truth?” That line had gotten her into this mess in the first place. One week ago, she’d won a huge bet with her favorite poker buddy, who also happened to be the county medical examiner. When he couldn’t cover his bet, he gave her a prize of equal value—the unlisted office number of Special Agent Talon Rede, team leader for the Paranormal Crimes Division in the district. She’d been after an inside connection to the PCD for months. He knew the weakness and played his hand well. Information proved the ultimate jackpot, far more than any dollar amount. The journalistic philosophy accounted for her not big enough to be called a studio apartment and the meager double digits in her savings. The phone number almost made up for her severe lack of closet space. Her fingers couldn’t whip over the touchscreen fast enough.

“Agent Rede, you can’t possibly believe releasing these ridiculous tidbits of information is fair to the public.” The accusation had flown a few seconds past the initial greeting of, “Hello. I’m Sera Benenati. A reporter. Don’t hang up.” The collar of her button down blouse irritated her neck. When he’d stayed on the line, she dug in. “The more the people know about these crimes, the safer they’ll be.”

His silence dragged on, and then, he growled. “Well now, this should be interesting.”

She’d been instantly intrigued. His strong velvety voice did something to her insides. Donning her most professional tone like armor, she said, “What’s interesting is the way the PCD dodges every reporter’s questions about the Rodriguez case.”

“Sweetheart, you can ask me anything you like.” His pause spoke louder than his words. “But if I think for a second my answer will put more people, the public, the same citizens this office protects in danger, you’re damn right the only phrase you’ll hear is ‘no comment.’ ”

“Wow.” She hadn’t meant to let it slip, but his honesty and boldness impressed the hell out of her. “You always this straight forward?”

“What you see is what you get.”

“But I only hear you, Agent Rede.” She could almost envision his grin over the line, picturing it in her mind and imagining the man behind the voice.

“For now, Ms. Benenati. But I doubt you give up easily.” Another heavy pause. “Am I wrong?”

“Not on your life.”

They’d traded barbs for almost an hour after, each striking and dodging in turn. She never did get more from him on the case, but it ended up her poker pal had the scoop. Another game, three days later, and she had the details she needed. Only now, she couldn’t get the special agent out of her head.

“Stupid. You never even met the guy!” Yet it didn’t seem to matter. Her cheeks heated whenever she thought about their one phone call—a conversation she replayed over in her head far too many times. It’d been forever since a man had captured her attention so much. Hell, had any man ever fascinated her like Agent Rede? But when the conversation had ended, he didn’t ask for her number and she hadn’t called him back. Better to keep the fantasy than be disappointed with reality.

Sera sighed and flipped down the visor to check her makeup. The foundation she’d spent way too much on flaked in the heat and the simple lipstick she’d chosen to look “professional” clashed with her hair. Worse, the nail polish she’d been picking at as she killed time in the car made her fingers look like bloody stumps.

“Perfect.”

Resigned, she flicked off the dried red polish and hopped down from her Jeep 4x4. With the victim’s file clutched to her chest, she hurried to the house. Her heels clicked over the endless cement driveway. She’d read the medical examiner’s report—the latest aforementioned poker prize—six times. Details of the crime remained hidden away from the press, but with this, she’d been able to uncover the crucial facts. She flipped through her notes for the seventh time as she walked.

Victims, Juan and Margaret Rodriquez, aged thirty-two and twenty-nine respectively and registered as humans, were found dead in their home. Bite marks and bruises on the victims’ arms and legs show signs of a struggle, but no foreign DNA fibers could be identified. Reports of similar blood and tissue loss from attacks by unregistered SUBs are on file, but no suspect type can be recorded without further analysis. See appendix on supernatural or undead beings for possibilities.

Her hands started to sweat. “This is what you wanted, remember?” She tucked the file under her arm and wiped her palms on the hem of her pencil skirt. “A chance to prove yourself, to be a real reporter. No more gossip mags or d-bag bosses.”

The little voice in the back of her mind started screaming, the bastard echoing her fears. You should be nervous, pet. After all “Man gives Birth to Two-Headed Alien” and “Tractor Comes to Life Killing Farmer” don’t exactly put you up for a Pulitzer. Rubbing her temple, she mouthed a silent, “Shut up.” Over the last eight years, she’d fought to tune out the annoying monster, the secret she’d had to keep from everyone. It was part of—okay, maybe more than part of—the reason she hadn’t contacted the special agent again. How could she have a relationship with anyone when she had this thing in her head?

And that was the big problem—it was literally all in her head. Her mind to be exact. The neurons in her brain fired on two different planes of thought. One was hers and the other belonged to another, an entity. Sera could manage to get his side quiet most of the time, but every now and again, he surfaced at just the right—or rather wrong—moment.

“Guy, if you start with me,” she said, addressing her inner tormenter, “I swear I’ll zone out on sleeping pills for the next three days.”

Touchy. Whatsamatta? Big bad reporter got a bug up her—

“Stop it!” At sixteen, she’d dubbed the voice, Guy, and thought he might be some type of supernatural creature or a part of her own mixed heritage. Her human father refused to discuss Sera’s otherworldly side, and her mother, who as an unregistered supernatural had no legal protection or paper trail, died giving birth to Sera. Thus, the sole keys to unlocking the mystery of her inhuman DNA remained buried. Whether Guy was some type of freak or just a part of her damaged psyche didn’t make much difference in the end. He still remained a major pain in the ass.

“Guy, can it. I don’t need your shit now.” She stalked down the football field masquerading as a driveway to the front door, blocking out all other thoughts than the task at hand. A tentative knock on the brass handle had her fiddling with her bun and smoothing the wrinkles from her tan suit jacket. As she waited, she shifted her feet, the high heels pinching her toes something fierce.

“Ms. Brown?” she said, knocking again. “Ms. Brown, I’m from the Arizona Hornet. I’m here for an interview.” Sera could hear shuffling inside, but the front door remained closed. She leaned to the right, trying to catch a glimpse through the window. An overgrown myrtle bush blocked her view and tickled her nose with its allspice scent. The sun reflected off the glass in harsh streaks. She shielded her eyes with the back of her hand and tried to keep the desperation from her voice. “Please, I just want to ask some questions.”

More shuffling preceded a scraping sound as the door opened mere inches. “Another reporter, huh. What’d you want now?” A pair of red-ringed eyes narrowed on Sera.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Ma’am.” Grabbing a pen in one hand, she tightened her grip on her file with the other. She flipped through her notepad and looked down at the list of questions. Nerves poked at her concentration. The letters blurred together like a Rorschach inkblot. She chewed the pen cap. The urge to rip the paper into tiny shreds made it impossible to focus. “This won’t take long. I have a few questions about your sister’s murd...about what happened to your sister.”

“I already told the police everything I know.” She clipped each word as if struggling to get them out through her clenched jaw.

Ms. Brown began to close those precious inches. Cursing her stupidity at wearing heels, Sera wedged her foot in the thin space.

“What do you think you’re doing?” The dark circles under Ms. Brown’s eyes lessened as her gaze widened. “How dare you!”

“You don’t understand. I think I can help you.”

“Help me? You think you can help me?” Ms. Brown shook her head and muttered, “Crazy bitch. The only way you can help me is if you bring my sister back from the dead.”

The door pulled open wide and an umbrella’s metal tip poked Sera in the chest. She stumbled backward. “Ms. Brown, I want to find the killers.”

“Get off my property! Or you’ll find a killer right here.” She slammed the door closed. The chain rattled as the lock slid into place.

* * *

That went well. Guy’s taunts returned full force. Priceless, really. I especially enjoyed the part where you jammed your foot in the door. A nauseating laugh rolled through Sera’s mind. Nice touch.

Sera rubbed her side. Ms. Brown’s damn umbrella had landed right between two ribs. She’d have nothing but bruises to show for her first real assignment. “Not nothing,” she said, walking back to her car. “You have the medical examiner’s report. Coco might have a connection at the police station. You’re not out yet.”

Coco? You going to a coffee barista for information? Ha! Like the Wild West, but a cafe instead of the saloon. Oh pet, this gets better and better. Why not just ask your special agent friend? Afraid? Something to hide?

“Enough, you little maggot.” The retort was enough to quiet him, but it couldn’t stop the question from buzzing through her brain. Why the hell didn’t she just call Agent Rede? Deep down she knew why—secrets. But she didn’t want to face that baggage now. Instead, she pushed the thoughts of the intriguing special agent very firmly from her mind.

Sera jumped into her truck’s front seat, slammed the door and revved the engine. The black Jeep was hardly a reasonable vehicle for Sera’s downtown Phoenix life, but as she never knew where a lead would well, lead, she liked the added protection of four-wheel drive. It cost her a pretty penny, but when she hopped into the leather driver’s seat and cranked up the satellite radio, she didn’t regret a dollar spent on the creature comforts.

Grunge on the Underground station proclaimed “all the hits from the pits”. The latest anthem for the millennial generation blared through the Jeep’s speakers and drowned out Guy’s echoing protests. The bastard hated rock music of any genre. Sera cranked up the volume and enjoyed the silence in her head, even if the noise threatened her eardrums.

Pulling off Ms. Brown’s dead-end street, she came to the intersection at Montclair Avenue in the heart of Buckhorn. The light of the setting sun reflected off storefront windows, a blazing red that matched the traffic signal. With her foot on the brake and knees steadying the wheel, she freed her hair from the bun and pulled it into a long ponytail. The amber strands struggled against the hair tie, but stayed intact. She stepped on the gas and put her hands on the wheel as the light changed to green.

“A clue’s out there. I know it,” she whispered, letting the radio volume fall to a murmur and her thoughts turn to the story. Dusk gave way to evening with the sun’s last orange rays dying on the horizon. “I’ve just got to find it.”

Down the road, the area shifted to residential with Sonoran-style houses lining both sides of the street. Stucco encased every exterior. Granted she hadn’t ventured far into the suburban town, but the early evening hours guaranteed cooler weather and children should be jumping at the opportunity. Instead of kids running around playing and riding bikes, she found nothing except birds chirping from trees and telephone lines.

“Weird.” Streetlights clicked to life during her preliminary investigation. “Small town. Close neighbors. Someone knows something.”

Yeah sure. Just like your Daddy knows something about you. Doesn’t mean you’ll find out.

“Seriously? Give it a rest for one day.” She stopped at the next intersection. The street felt quiet, too quiet. She could hear her breath over the radio’s soft hum. She clicked it off, resting her head against the steering wheel.

You can’t even figure out what you are, and you expect to be a reporter? What a joke. Guy’s heckling reverberated in her head.

“Please, enough already.” She lifted her eyes to check the traffic light. “I don’t need your...”

The words died on her lips. Her heartbeat accelerated, leaping inside her chest. Under the orange and red glow from the streetlights, a figure appeared in the middle of the road. It could pass for human, except for its head. The jaw unhinged from the base exposing two rows of four-inch razor sharp teeth. Black eyes bulged from the center of its face forcing its nose into a nub and its forehead into a thin strip. Without warning, the creature launched at Sera’s windshield.

“What the hell?” It busted through the glass, cracking the hard surface and causing Sera to dive down in the driver’s seat. Her eyes fixed on the gash in her windshield. Adrenaline sped in her veins like fire. Running away didn’t even cross her mind. Ever since Guy’s presence first whispered through her mind, her flight response had been set permanently to zero while her fight instincts soared into overdrive.

Slamming on the emergency brake, she fumbled under the driver’s seat with her free hand. Sweat coated her palm. The metal bat slid from her grip twice before she managed to grasp it. She opened the door, kicked off her heels with a curse and raised the bat over her head. It shook in her hands, but a fiery impulse ripped across her mind blocking the fear. Guy’s meddling gave her a jolt of courage, but his pestering induced a throbbing headache. As usual, he wanted control.

“I can handle it myself.” She stifled his complaints with a loud internal yell. He slouched back into the recesses of her brain after a couple of well-chosen expletives.

The creature, meanwhile, continued the onslaught of her truck, beating its fists into the metal. The hood whined and black fluid spilled out the side. With bat in hand, Sera whacked at the thing’s head. A piercing cry filled the night, before it rolled over the hood of her truck and onto the ground.

As a smile crossed her lips, a thundering roar echoed down the street. If it hadn’t been so deafening and nearby, she might have chalked it up to an oncoming storm. But the intensity left no mistake, the noise signaled something else.

“Oh shit.” Her mouth went dry. She dropped the bat and scrambled back into her truck. The two tons of steel surrounding her provided little comfort. Releasing the parking brake, she switched into drive and slammed her bare foot on the gas.

The traffic light turned green. Her truck sputtered, but didn’t move. A host of creatures, like the one that lay bleeding below, came forth from every direction. Swarms of sickening teeth and engorged eyes shone from the streetlamps. The steady green traffic signal cast an eerie glow along her Jeep’s dented hood. Her headlights illuminated the creatures approach. Row after row of them encircled her truck like vultures on a corpse.

A harsh whisper broke across her psyche, Let me come out and play.

“No, Guy. You’re not welcome.”

Now, now pet. No reason to be that way. We both know I can handle this.

Her hands went instinctively to her head. She laughed at the absurdity of trying to block out an inner voice. “The last time I let you out, I had to switch jobs.” She took a breath, but her voice shook. “We won’t even talk about the first time.” Her hands gripped the steering wheel hard. The creatures closed the distance leaving mere inches of space between Sera and them. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to care as her blood boiled. She spoke aloud to Guy, “Remember the police investigation? The cover-up? I’ve spent too much time trying to hide.” The Jeep shook as the creatures grabbed at it, pulling and pushing in turn. Sera ignored it, focusing on the vibrations within her body. “You won’t let me even pretend to be normal. When are you going to tell me what you are?”

You already know the answer, pet. No reason to ask.

“Never. Never’s the real answer. Just more of your mysterious bullshit. Why should I give you control then, huh?”

Because if you don’t, we’re both going to die. A low sadistic chuckle crowded her mind. Besides, do you really want to fight me?

Sera let the smoky laugh go free. It filled up the Jeep’s interior. “No.” Raw energy quickened her pulse and licked her skin. “No, I guess I don’t.”

Blazing white-hot light ignited her body. The barrier dividing her and Guy shattered until a single voice remained. Not separate but whole, not two but one. The union sent untapped power coursing through her veins. It rippled from every pore, making her skin seem afire. Her amber hair caught the wave. It cut apart the rubber band binding it and flowed like flames. Her eyes radiated as if the sun’s rays burned in them. In one volatile surge, the feeling erupted and the intersection exploded in an array of color. As the fire spread to those monstrous creatures, it incinerated every one of them into piles of ash.

The blast lasted but a moment, draining her energy with its force. When the light faded and the world righted itself once more, Sera collapsed.

Chapter Two

PCD Headquarters For District Thirteen, San Antonio, Texas

“Another dead-end.” Talon cursed and swiped at the stacks of papers littering his desk. The sheets wafted through the air like heavy snowflakes, drowning him in endless white. “Shit.”

This latest bust marked the third snag in the Rodriguez murders and the sixth case his team had been unable to solve in recent months. Add to it the calls piling in from local authorities on paranormal crimes and it spelled a logistical nightmare. His team just couldn’t keep up with the Paranormal Crime Division’s massive workload. Their area, District Thirteen, ran a few miles south of Vegas all the way to Chihuahua—the city, not the dog. He needed more help and fast or he’d be pushing these blasted papers behind the desk for the rest of his career. That was if the higher-ups felt generous, if they didn’t…well, Talon didn’t want to contemplate that possibility.

“Another suspect with a rock solid alibi.” He ran a hand through his shoulder-length black hair. It caught in a tangle midway down, causing him to jerk it free. “Has to be a SUB. Those bite marks weren’t human.”

SUBs, pronounced like the sandwich and short for supernatural or undead beings, included three groups: vampires, shifters, and psykes. Twenty-two years ago, after centuries of secrecy, these rival factions banded together to appeal to the Northern United American government for citizenship. A law passed, thanks to the sheer number of these others, guaranteeing citizenship to any SUB that could be classified into one of those three majority groups. When the NUA government started to receive threats from SUBs that did not fit into one of those neat little boxes, the Paranormal Crime Division came into being. Harsh, but necessary.

Talon smoothed a hand over his jaw, chafing his palm with the rough stubble of a five o’clock shadow. He could figure this out. “Look at it again,” he mumbled to himself. “Look closer.”

His eyes lost focus and the letters on the page morphed into the silhouette of a mystery woman. He had imagined that woman ten different ways: blonde, brunette, tall, short, curvy, lean, and everything in between.

“Look closer,” the fiery little reporter had said. Their phone call from a week ago still popped into his mind over and over like a broken record of old. Her persistent search for the truth, sharp intelligence, and dynamite wit kept his thoughts on her, no matter how hard he tried to push them aside. He just couldn’t shake their conversation…or the possessive feelings it invoked.

Not now. He fought once more to concentrate on the case. His team needed a win. Just one closed file. He had to be missing something, some clue, some detail, some crucial piece of evidence, some—

A blaring alarm radiated through the office. All of his instincts flared on high alert. His shifter energy swam in his veins, more electric than lightening. It buzzed like an unending adrenaline spike. He stiffened and muttered, “Hell and a half, what now?”

“Talon,” a cool voice droned over the sound system. The computer monitor switched on from the far wall. A man with brown hair in military style and deep-set eyes appeared on the screen. His square jaw, creased forehead, and pursued lips screamed in charge.

“What’s the emergency boss?” Talon felt the hair on his arms stand up as Agent Stephen Bram, his boss and former guardian, rotated the monitor remotely. Bram was a big shot in the PCD, running the area known as Unit Five, a mix of Districts Thirteen and Fourteen, the country’s southernmost regions. The screen pivoted in Talon’s direction as the alarm went silent.

Rising from his chair, Talon struggled to keep his composure. It didn’t matter his boss treated him as an equal, mostly, or that he had at least thirty pounds and half a foot on the man. Not even the fact that he could crush that thick skull between his teeth with one shift. No, none of it was relevant. With the exception of his ex-marine father, no one taught Talon more about the importance of following the law, and keeping emotional distance, over all else. Although, he would have liked his father’s particular lesson squashed into dust. Enough crying, boy, his father’s drunken breath on his neck, or I’ll give you a reason to cry. He pushed the nightmare memory inside himself, into that box no one could touch, let alone open.

Setting his shoulders and clearing his throat, Talon kept his face neutral. “So, what is it?”

“The situation in District Thirteen has become critical,” Bram said with bite. “Your murder victims may now be the first in a serial killer investigation.”

“The Rodriguez case in Phoenix?” Talon’s last inch of composure cracked. “What the hell happened?”

“Twenty-two...dead.” The ever self-assured Bram stumbled on the words, his voice actually shaking.

“No way.” Talon’s knuckles cracked from the strain of gripping the chair’s back.

Bram’s gaze fixed dead ahead and steel coated the brief display of raw emotion. “Agent Rede,” he said in that horribly controlled tone. The one he used only when shit hit the fan. Coupled with Talon’s last name, it spelled deep, deep shit. “We have a code black.”

* * *

Two hours later, Talon climbed out of the driver’s side and slammed the Suburban’s door. “Could that have taken any longer?” The PCD jet enabled them to travel from their headquarters in San Antonio to Phoenix in decent time, but the addition of the ride out to the crime scene in the small town of Buckhorn tested his patience. The griping from his team hadn’t helped matters either.

“Don’t try to distract me.” Jame, his second-in-command and royal pain in the ass, climbed from the passenger’s side, clicking her phone off. Her eyes stalked him like a damn mountain tigress. Blond streaks ran through her straight black hair, matching the wildcat’s stripes too well. “I know what you did. Before the code black, you spoke to Agent Vanguard.”

Talon fixed his gaze on her as he came around the front of the SUV. He so did not need this right now. Aren’t serial killers enough to deal with?

Jame’s energy crackled like fireworks. As a full-blood shifter, she radiated the same electrifying buzz as him. On paper, they’d be a great match, both full shifters able to change into any animal, both distinguished agents for the PCD—well, at least until recently, he was. If they didn’t solve something soon... Don’t bitch. Isn’t going to solve anything.

He huffed, blowing the hair out of his eyes, and stared at the curvy agent in a petite package. Hell, even her name—Jame, one syllable, not Jam, not Jay-me and gods help the person who mispronounced it—appealed to him. Yet she’d never driven him to take it further than friendship. Too wild. Too unpredictable. He needed someone who played by the rules, someone he could remain detached around.

A voice wafted through his memory as soft as feathers, the subtle tones dripping with honey. “Agent Rede, are you going to keep tap dancing or answer my questions?”

It hit him again like a brick, the feisty reporter. It had been barely two seconds into their call when she had caught his full attention. She hit him with questions, hammering her point straight home. He should have been furious. He wasn’t. “No, Ms. Benenati. I never tap dance. I mean what I say when I say it.”

He’d never been that direct with a woman…or so turned on in his life. Christ, just remembering the sound of her voice made his blood sing. They had talked for how long? An hour? Maybe more? It wasn’t nearly enough. He wanted to connect again, to verbally spar with her once more, to meet her in person…to make her his. And he’d never even seen her face! Imagining her in the flesh, wondering about the possibilities drove him half mad. The primal urge clawed at his insides, the mark of a shifter hunting for his mate.

Oh hell no. He checked himself. Can’t go there. The last thing he needed was someone who stirred up trouble for a living. He needed to keep thoughts of the fierce little reporter at bay. He couldn’t risk getting too close to someone. Ever. Not after the disaster with his family. Not after he’d let his mother die.

He shook his head of the memories and concentrated on his partner’s griping.

“Jame, be reasonable, huh? We can talk about this later.”

“No. We’ll talk about it now. You stonewalled me again!” She banged her hands on the hood as the rest of the team filed out of the backseats. “You promised the next time a team leader position opened you’d recommend me for the job.”

“Holy hell,” he growled, squeezing his hands into fists to resist the urge to shift them into claws. “We’ve got more important things to worry about than your ladder climbing.”

“I know how to do my job.” The muscles in her jaw ticked. In a rough whisper, she ground out, “I’m never going to get my shot. I’m never going to get out of here, if you keep holding me back.”

The shifter pulse rolled off her in inky waves. He could practically feel it on his skin. It only made his energy flare up. He pinched the bridge of his nose, attempting to settle down. “Take a breath, okay?” He lowered his head to meet her at eye level. “Your career is just getting started. I didn’t land where you are at twenty-two. I was still a punk rookie.”

“Twenty-nine is hardly old.” She huffed. “Though you are immature.”

“Look, you know how things are. I can’t run this district with just us.” He motioned to where the remainder of his team, Slick and Bull, stood in feigned nonchalance toward the back of the SUV. “We need you.” Her narrowed eyes had him hastily adding, “But you find a replacement, someone to match your skills and talents, then I’ll put the word in for you.”

A light appeared to glow behind her cat-like hazel eyes. “Promise?”

Good luck with that. They couldn’t even find an intern. Their pathetic recruitment list was proof of the problem. Not many wanted to sign up for a job with no down time and a high probability of death as the retirement plan. He bit back that little comment. “As long as it doesn’t get in the way of your work.”

Jame flattened her hands on the hood, murder in her gaze. “When has anything ever gotten in the way of my work?”

He decided not to point out it was interfering with her work at present, nodding instead toward the back of the SUV. The guys took it as their cue to come forward. Thank gods.

Slick snuck up on Jame’s right and slapped a hand on her shoulder. “Entertaining as always.” The shifter-human hybrid possessed golden-green eyes, a tall thin frame, and closely trimmed brown hair, giving him a sharp snakelike look and earning him his nickname. He didn’t take offense and given his ability to get out of most situations—plus his self-proclaimed cleverness—preferred the handle to his birth name. Although, his uncanny talent to press all the right buttons at the exact wrong time probably had more to do with the moniker.

“Stuff it, Slick.” Jame brushed his hand off and started forward. “Well, let’s get this done, huh?”

“That’s it, girlie.” Bull, the last member of their squad, saddled up to her. His cowboy boots left a size ninteen footprint in the dirt. The plain black T-shirt he wore stretched across his wide shoulders, making the century old vampire look as menacing as his namesake.

“All right, you all know why we’re here and what we need to do.” Talon took the lead as they approached the crime scene. “Doubt these Buckhorn boys have ever seen anything like this, so try not to let them mess it up too much.”

They nodded and grunted their affirmatives as a pair of uniformed officers walked toward them.

“We’re from the PCD,” Talon said, flashing a badge. “My boys here will take the homes.” He pointed a thumb at Slick and Bull. “Agent Bradshaw and I will check out the car.”

“Yes, sir. My partner will lead your agents to it, and I’ll show you to the vehicle.” The shorter of the officers waved for Jame and him to follow while Slick and Bull headed toward the first victims’ house. “As you read in the file, we think the perps started with this Jeep,” he motioned toward the black 4X4 in the center of the road, “Then moved on to the homes along the street.”

“How many houses were hit?” Talon eyed the surroundings. The little neighborhood looked like something out of an Americana picture postcard. The street should be littered with kids playing tag or baseball, not police surrounding crime scenes with yellow tape.

“Twenty-two dead. Four found on the street. Eighteen in their homes. Same cause of death for all of them.” The officer paused. He angled his face away, but not before Talon caught the look of horror in the man’s eyes. “Their blood was drained, skin torn off, muscles ripped to the bone.”

Talon’s mouth went dry. As part of the PCD, he’d seen and heard many things over the years that stuck with him. Things that made him wake up at night in a sweat. Nothing as bad as the one night ages ago. His mother sprawled over the remains of the coffee table. Her head cocked at an awkward angle. Blood. So much blood. The thick reddish brown liquid seeped into the carpet, creating a stain he knew would never disappear. No matter what he’d seen, nothing had come close to that night, but this…this was close.

The officer pointed to the vehicle and said, “Anyway, this is where we think the attack started. Our local team and the Phoenix PD have already been here. Phoenix’s medical examiners have been all through it, so you’re free to do what you need to.”

“Thanks.” Talon nodded as the man left them to it. “Jame, take the interior. I’ll check the perimeter. Be careful. Even if the MEs cleared it, I want fresh samples for us. Bag what you find.”

“Got it.” She donned a pair of latex gloves from her pocket as he did the same, then went around to the driver’s side. “Man, someone did a number on this windshield.”

Eyeing the busted front, he noted the huge dents in the hood and grill. “Looks like it’s been in a wreck. But no other car and no sign of anything to cause the damage. So, what made the impact?” He circled the truck, careful of where he placed his feet. The debris looked normal for a crash. Pieces of metal, glass and some plastic surrounded the area, but the strangest piles caught his attention. “What in the name of—?” He bent down to inspect one. They sat in a neat row all along the front of the Jeep. Using a gloved finger, he sifted the material and held a small sample to his nose. “Ash.”

He pivoted on his heel to find the source. Ash meant fire, but what had burned? The car? Gasoline igniting? No scorch marks on the ground. Crouching, he searched under the car for a leak. Nothing. “Jame, come have a look at this.”

Hopping from the vehicle, she knelt by his side. He held up the sample to her. “What do you smell?”

“Charred scent. Something smoky? Ash.” She confirmed his thoughts. “What’s it from?”

“That’s the million dollar question.” Reaching in his pocket, he extracted a baggie and collected a sample. “We need to get this to the lab.”

“Agents,” the officer from before ran in their direction, waving his arms, “Come quick. The woman’s being moved.”

Jame raised her brows and beat him to the question on both their minds. “What woman?”

“The woman...” The man clasped his knees, gasping for breath. “Transport...St. James...Hospital...Phoenix.”

Talon rose to his feet and grabbed the officer by his collar. “Who are you talking about?”

“The driver...” He coughed and gagged. They all eyed the Jeep at the same time. “Didn’t you see it in the file,” he said finally pulling in enough air to speak. “There were twenty-three victims, but—”

“Only twenty-two dead.” Talon released the officer and swallowed hard. The revelation smacked him in the face. “A survivor. There’s a survivor.”

Chapter Three

St. James Hospital, Phoenix, Arizona

Sera opened her eyes to fluorescent lights shining down from a 1970s drop ceiling. The long cylindrical bulb flickered twice, in danger of burning out. Its glare caused little red dots to form in front of her eyes. She tried to rub them away, but a plastic tube blocked her attempt.

“What the—” She sat up, ripping the IV cable from the back of her hand. “Ow.”

“That wasn’t such a good idea.” A stranger stood at the foot of her bed. His golden skin and hair rivaled the finest portrayals of classic Greek gods. If she didn’t know better, she’d dub him Apollo incarnate. The fact he glowed from head to toe added to the godly comparison.

“Probably not.” She pulled the medical tape from her hand and massaged the glue away. Scanning him under narrowed eyelids, the strangest feeling gripped her. I know him. A tingling started at her temples. “Who are you?”

“Complicated question. And far too hard to answer given your current condition.” He waved his hand in her direction, sending fragments of light across the bed. They caressed the sheets like falling raindrops. “Let me say simply that we are family. And that genetic tie echoes within you.”

Sera’s brows shot skyward. “Family?” The one word flitted on the end of a breath.

Heavy footsteps echoed from the hallway.

“An interruption. No matter. Now, that you’ve finally begun to embrace who you are, we’ll be able to talk again.” The stranger smiled as a brilliant white light filled the room. It blasted through every crevice, ever corner. Darkness had nowhere to hide. Radiating from the stranger’s torso, it moved outward in circular patterns. As it brightened, the rays broke into small particles. In one quick surge, they burst like a fireworks display leaving nothing of their presence behind.

Her jaw dropped open as the stranger disappeared at the same time the light faded.

“Holy shit.” She gripped her hospital gown with clammy hands. The odd light show might have shocked a human, but it hit all too close to home for her. Through gritted teeth, she said, “Guuuuuy.”

No time for questions now, pet. You’ve got company. Guy’s voice pounded in her brain, a migraine flitting behind her lids.

She lay back down, sinking into the pillows. Her lips tightened into a thin line. Tucking the sheet around her body and stifling her agitation, she tried to look more like a normal patient.

The door swung open. A human—well, she was fairly sure he was human—entered wearing a white hospital coat and blue scrubs. A clipboard tucked under his arm.

“Ms. Benenati. You’re awake.” The man’s voice held a cheerful note that forced a smile to her lips.

“Yes. You’re my doctor?” Her pulse sped up. Who the hell was that stranger? And what happened in Buckhorn? Had the doctor found out about her? He couldn’t have. No one could know. She could lose everything, her life, her career—not that she had much of one, but still. Hell, if the authorities found out she wasn’t psyke, she’d be nothing in the law’s eyes. Worse than invisible. She’d be without rights, without protection. Gods, no. She needed answers. Now.

“I am.” His wide grin sparkled all the way to his brown eyes. “Doctor Cordone. Nice to meet you at last.” He patted her hand over the sheet. His subtle aftershave smelled of musk and peppermint. “You were flown to us from Buckhorn Community after the incident.”

“Incident?” The way he said that word sent a chill straight to her heart.

He paused. “Let’s just have a look at your vitals, shall we?”

Thirty seconds was all the time she gave the doctor to check the monitors, frown at the ripped IV, and listen to her heartbeat before she pressed him for more. “Doc, what happened to me? Where am I?”

Nodding as he checked her pulse, he said, “The authorities ordered me not to say too much. But I believe in doctor–patient privilege. You have a right to know.” He eyed the door, pulling his hand away from her wrist. “You’ve been unconscious for the last eighteen hours. Although all of your stats from the time you arrived until now have looked one hundred percent normal.” Sera felt his warm breath on her cheeks as he leaned in closer. “Ms. Benenati, I can’t find anything medically wrong with you. And yet you were the sole survivor.”

“The authorities?” She coughed. “A survivor? Of what?” The chill in her heart spread to her lungs. She wanted to bolt out of bed, out of this hospital. Screw the answers. This was too much.

Dr. Cordone opened his mouth, but the scraping of the door against the tiled floor silenced him.

A pair of shifters, one male and one female, walked in. The man’s tall solid frame would no doubt make for an impressive animal. But it wasn’t his height that caught Sera’s attention. His olive skin, black shoulder length hair, and full lips did. Whoa. She fidgeted in the itchy hospital gown, a flush warming her cheeks. She forced her gaze to the second shifter. The woman stood a few inches smaller than Sera, on the petite side as shifters went. Dark hair with platinum streaks sat in a high ponytail atop her head. Her body was tense as if ready to spring.

The man came around to the side of the bed next to Dr. Cordone. A masculine scent, like wood burning over a fire, brought a fluttering sensation to her stomach. She struggled not to squirm. His bright blue eyes surveyed the doctor from head to toe. He nodded toward the door. When they rounded on her, she felt them pierce through to her soul.

“Ms. Benenati, these are agents from the PCD.” The good doctor gulped loudly. “They’ve been waiting to speak with you.”

“Thank you, doctor,” the woman said. “We’ll take it from here.” Her smile was friendly, but didn’t quite reach her catlike hazel and gold eyes. She grabbed the doctor by the shoulder and shoved him into the hallway.

A soft click reached Sera’s ears when the door closed and a lock slid in place. She sat up in bed and met the woman’s stare.

“So, the PCD’s here. I didn’t realize a car accident warranted a call from the feds.” The words flew out of her mouth before she could control them. Guy’s irritating laughter echoed in her head. She couldn’t be sure if the bold statement came from her or Guy. Either way, she knew it was the wrong thing to say and swore at her stupidity.

“Miss Serafina Benenati,” the man said through a grin. He pulled a rolling stool from under a medical supply table. Sitting on it and inclining onto the bed’s side bar, he appeared less threatening and even more gorgeous. “We meet at last. I’m Special Agent Talon Rede, and this is my partner, Special Agent Jame Bradshaw.” He waved at the woman who stood against the door as if her body, and not the lock, would hold off any intruders. Agent Rede nodded at his partner indifferently then cast a heated gaze on her. “This wasn’t the way I’d pick for us to meet, but I’m afraid we have an urgent matter to discuss with you.”

Her mouth struggled to stay closed. Out of all the special agents, why the hell did it have to be him? The man radiated sex appeal and her prior call with him changed an already uncomfortable situation into downright awkward.

Don’t overreact, pet. And if you value freedom, don’t say too much. Guy whispered through her mind. Be careful.

“Sera.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest, conscious of the protective posture it displayed. She’d need to use every defense she could to get through this. “I prefer Sera. Remember.”

“Of course. Sera, it is then.” He leaned closer. His eyes burned through her, breaking past her shields, stripping her naked, exposing her secret. Gods, she couldn’t let him see the truth. No one could know what she was. Ever. His commanding tone brought her to her senses, “Call me Talon.” An edict, not a question.

Talon inhaled, his chest expanding and the black cotton fabric of his T-shirt pulling taut. The motion brought Sera’s eyes sweeping down his body. Broad shoulders tapered to his trim waist. A gun, ID, and a cell strapped to a leather belt. Dark jeans covered his long legs that wrapped under the stool in a casual pose. Combat boots tapping against the floor completed the view. By the time she dragged her stare back to his face, her throat felt bone dry. He was more gorgeous than she’d imagined.

Going to need a good defense against this one, huh? Guy said, still laughing. How is it you twenty-somethings put it? Oh yes, he’s a hottie, right?

Although Sera alone could hear the annoying parasite, she had the urge to deny him aloud. She stifled it, instead forcing her face into a neutral expression and letting Metallica’s “Enter Sandman” play through his half of their shared brain. The blaring lyrics and pumping bass drowned Guy in its rhythms.

Burrowing into the pillows, she tried to hide from the sexy-as-sin agent’s scrutiny.

“Jame,” Talon said without taking his eyes off Sera. “Why don’t you get us something to drink?”

“What’re you kidding me?” A buzzing sound emanated from the door where Jame’s power surged. “I’m not some errand girl.”

Moving with inhuman speed, Talon rose and crossed the room to stand nose-to-nose with his partner. In a feral growl, he said, “I wasn’t asking. That’s a direct order.” He ripped open the door, not bothering to unlock it. The cheap metal lock snapped and the wood around it splintered. “Now, go.”

The slamming muffled Jame’s indignant cry from the hall. Talon pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered something under his breath as his partner’s curses and stomps receded.

Sera snickered, her defenses slipping a peg. Steeling her spine, she said haughtily, “Reason you want me alone, Agent Rede?” Her voice trailed off when Guy’s taunting started again. That a girl, broke into the heavy metal music cycling through his half of their mind.

The right side of Talon’s lips pulled up in a suggestive smirk. The scent of charred wood wafted from his skin, making her mouth water. “Afraid you caught me. And now that we are alone...” He walked back to the stool, draped a leg over it and leaned in close once more. His large frame hovered near, an intimidation tactic no doubt. “You need to tell me everything.”

Sera tried not to stare into his eyes, afraid of drowning in those blue pools. Gods, their phone call had so not prepared her for the face-to-face power of Agent Rede. The fluorescent lights above grew brighter as if reacting to her nerves. She sank further into the pillows, determined to keep her cool. Ok, so he’s a little scary and a little…attractive. Her eyes met his for a split second as she studied his face. Fine, very attractive. Whatever. He sees you as a witness, not a woman. You can’t have him. Even if he did see her otherwise, a small connection risked revealing her secret—a secret that could endanger her life….or worse. Despite the reality of him turning out far better than her most spectacular fantasies, she couldn’t risk it. Stealing her face into an iron mask, she lowered her gaze from his penetrating stare. And you need answers, not a date.

“What do you want to know?” Her voice remained steady, although her insides did somersaults.

“All of it, Ms. Ben…Sera.” He half-smiled at his own correction. “What exactly are you hiding behind those intriguing eyes?” His mouth pulled into a line, tugging at the corners, a hungry predator sizing up his next meal. An animalistic edginess coated the question, though it passed under a civil pretense. “What happened in Buckhorn?”

You don’t have to tell him anything, pet. Guy’s voice grated against the electric guitar. She shook her head, ratcheting up the mental volume. His words hissed through it like a slithering snake. Stay on guard. Don’t want him getting too suspicious. High stakes risk, pet. He slunk down into their brain’s hidden alcoves.

She sat up taller, refusing to be intimidated. Having hidden what she was, who she was for almost half her life gave her an inner strength even Guy couldn’t touch, and certainly not some daunting—although, smoking hot—special agent. “You want to know about Buckhorn?” His nod had her continuing, “I’ll tell you, but quid pro quo as the saying goes. I share, you share. No dodging questions this time.”

A frown creased lines on his forehead. “I’ve got nothing to hide.” He flipped both hands palm up. But a tick in his jaw told her otherwise.

Too many secrets. The thought plagued her, but she pushed it aside. The agent wouldn’t be getting any info from her without coughing up some of his own. “Good.” Eyeing the room, she looked to see if her belongings lay hidden. An antiquated TV, a nightstand with two drawers, a telephone, all of it spoke of standard hospital fare, nothing of hers. “If you find my cell phone, I’ll show you my last couple of calls.”

Talon sat back, moving further away from her. “We’ve already searched your phone.”

She scraped her teeth along her bottom lip, but refused to rise to his bait.

Lowering his voice to an infuriating all-knowing tone, he said, “We know you were interviewing Ms. Brown for the Arizona Hornet and that you got the tip from a blocked call. Intel shows her family as connected to the Rodriguez murder victims. Local police waited too long to call us in.” He fisted a hand in his lap. “Jackasses.”

“Why?” Her voice hitched, the journalist itching to know more. When Talon remained silent, she added, “Quid pro quo, remember?”

“Isn’t that usually the special agent’s line?”

Sera raised a brow and waved a hand for him to continue.

“I’m the one who needs answers, here. This isn’t a game.” His boot hit the bottom of her bed like an iron fist. It shook the mattress beneath her. “I don’t have time for another round of reporting like your damn call. You tell me about this,” he squeezed the guardrail’s frame, leaving imprints in the solid metal, while his leg tapped a furious rhythm that rattled the entire bed, “accident. What happened to you in that truck, Sera?”

Guy struggled against the pounding drums, but failed to get a word in. Rearranging the sheets once more gave her a minute to collect her thoughts. She said nothing of the bed’s shaking, but couldn’t keep her voice from vibrating. “I-I was attacked.” She waited for Talon’s reaction, but he said nothing. He stopped his tapping routine, but his hand gripped the guardrail tighter. She heard the creak of metal bending under his hold. Keeping her words as neutral as possible, and not revealing one iota of her secret, was even more important than before. This shifter would let nothing slide under his concentrated scrutiny. “It was just one monster at first, but then more swarmed the car. I’ve never seen anything like them.”

“Can you describe the assailants?” His words fell fast from his lips, heady, urgent.

Sera stared at his mouth. The lush pink shade should have made him look feminine, but instead it only added to his primal appeal. For a moment, she wondered what those lips would feel like on her skin. What his words would sound like, driven by a hard, pounding need that brought them both to the brink. Cold shower, pet. For once, she agreed with Guy. She swallowed, not liking the direction of her thoughts. Better to see him as the one who could destroy her life if he discovered her abilities, than in her bed. Less intimidating.

His nostrils flared as if he caught her train of thought. A gravelly tone edged into his voice, “Ms. Benenati.” The syllables of her name rolled over his tongue, harsh in that feral state. He nearly barked, “The assailants?”

Breathing in and out, she forced her mind off her hormones and back to the night in Buckhorn. Her head spun, trying to block the memory, but she pushed it to the surface. “Wide round eyes, huge jaws—I mean bigger than you can imagine—like they could detach the lower from the upper or something.” She took another breath to rein in the babbling. “Black eyes. Their teeth were pointed, but not one, all of them. They had mouths full of fangs.” A shiver ran through her. “I think the rest were normal. They had smooth skin and two arms and two legs. But...”

In the time she’d been speaking, Talon inched closer. Heat radiated off his body, spilling out rays of warmth as brilliant as her own fire. She startled, shocked by the power emanating from him. His clipped words strained through his teeth, “How many?”

“I-I’m not sure.” She pictured their faces, the sickening jaws, the sharp teeth, the bulging eyes and the...light. The streetlight. “That’s it.” Snapping her fingers, she blurted out, “They didn’t come out until the sun went down. It was dark when they attacked.”

“Really?” Talon tilted his head. “Are you certain?”

Yes, but I don’t remember what happened after. Everything gets kind of fuzzy.” Grabbing her head for show, she felt the sudden urge to emphasize blank spots in her memory.

What’re you gonna tell him? That I incinerated those beasts with a light show. Guy’s words came off as a high-pitched squeal over the music.

She cursed. I’m not an idiot, Guy. And WE kicked their asses.

A low laugh rolled along her neural pathways. How right you are, pet. We indeed, I apologize. The music ratcheted up once more and Guy fell silent.

“What else?” Talon’s pupils shrunk to pinpoints. The clawing edge to his interrogation had her throwing up her hands.

“Sorry, afraid that’s it.” She pursued her lips and held up her hands. Hot or not, his burning intensity left her cold, and shook her to the core. “Your turn.”

“You don’t remember anything of the attack?” He grabbed her wrist, flicking his thumb across the sensitive inside. “How did you survive?”

“I told you. I don’t remember.” She tried to pull her hand away, but he held fast. The pressure increased too much. “You’re hurting me.”

He blinked, then let go. “I’m sorry.” With a deep sigh, he let his head fall back. His thick black hair grazed his shoulders with the movement. Suddenly, Sera longed to run her fingers through it. He looked younger, more vulnerable in that instant, a startling difference from the predator he’d been only seconds ago. Her hand slipped over the sheets, straining toward him. She snatched it back as his eyes met hers.

Ice washed over his gaze, deepening the blue to a midnight shade. “What you described is consistent with our findings.” He grabbed her hand again, lightly this time, but with such swiftness the motion seemed more out of necessity than comfort. His eyes shifted to blaze fire below the dark ocean blue. “But you weren’t the only victim.”

It took time for his words to register. Even as they did, she didn’t think she’d heard right. “What’re you talking about?”

“Whatever attacked you spent the night killing twenty-two people.” He shook his head as if to banish the image his words conjured. “The perps went house to house along the same street as your accident.” He paused, closing his eyes and breathing slowly. “Every victim was left with multiple bite marks, blood drained, flesh torn.”

Sera patted his shoulder awkwardly. “Sorry,” she offered in a small voice. Her pulse kicked into overdrive. Those things didn’t die. How’s that possible?

“Now you know what we’re dealing with.” His index and middle finger pushed against her wrist. “Your pulse is pounding much too fast. I don’t make a habit of accosting victims in their hospital beds, but we need as much information as we can gather.”

“It’s all right.” She pulled her hand away from him. “I’m all right, but I don’t know anymore.” The lie tasted foul on her tongue.

He eyed her warily. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Fine.” He fisted the sheet beside her and inched closer until their noses almost touched. The look he gave her said it was anything but fine. “But as soon as you’re released from the hospital, we will continue this conversation.” He backed away and grabbed a simple white business card from his pocket. “You already have my office number,” the raised brow speculated over their prior connection, “but this has my cell too. If you remember more before then, call.” The card read Talon Rede, Special Agent, PCD District Thirteen. Two numbers followed below. “This isn’t a request Sera.” He gave her a last look that said she’d be seeing him again. Soon.

As he reached the door, he peered over his shoulder at her. A strange look crossed his features, almost…sad, but determined. “I can keep you safe, Sera, but only if you tell me everything.”

“I understand,” she said softly.

He nodded, the door closing behind him.

All at once, the rock music in her mind ceased and Guy’s laugh rang loud and clear. Oh pet, you’re in so much trouble.

Chapter Four

PCD Field Office, Phoenix, Arizona

Talon stared at the crime scene photos, studying the remains of what once passed for an eight-year-old girl. Her dark brown hair stuck to her head, her fragile frame covered in bite marks. Craters the size of a grown man’s palm littered her body where pieces of muscle and skin had been torn away. They needed new intel, anything to give them a lead. He should have pushed Sera for more at the hospital, but after her pulse kicked into high gear...You could have pushed anyway, not felt sympathy for the pretty blond. Stupid.

After reviewing the crime scene in Buckhorn, Talon had flown into action at the one word—survivor. Splitting the team, he’d ordered Slick to cover the bases with Buckhorn police and Bull to track down Drake. As their go-to underground contact, Drake could infiltrate parts of the criminal world better than any PCD agent could. The problem was the vampire’s reliability tended toward the shaky side and locating him wasn’t always easy. Meanwhile, he and Jame would take care of interviewing the survivor.

Sera had been unconscious in the county hospital when Talon first arrived. When he’d learned her name, he nearly choked. His fiery little reporter was the survivor. No, not his. But he couldn’t shake the possessive feeling or the guilt that ate at him. Would it never have happened, if he’d answered more of her questions, instead of dodging? Was she right? Did the public have a right to the truth? He hadn’t known the answers then or now, but one thing rang true, he was drawn to her.

He’d been captivated, struck to the core at the sight of her. Long amber lashes swept onto full cheeks. He’d approached the bed. Her eyes remained closed as if asleep. The solid beeps of the machine indicated her steady heartbeat. Her delicate scent, like clothing dried in the sun and a touch of apple, enticed him. He drew it into his lungs, more necessary than air. Her skin possessed a healthy golden glow. The light bed sheet hinted at her generous curves, long legs, and narrow waist.

As they’d prepared to move her to the hospital in Phoenix, Talon had to drag his gaze away. The stab of lust had hit him like a sledgehammer. Sitting next to Jame in the medical chopper, he’d mentally berated himself. She’s not yours. She’s a victim for god sakes! A lone survivor to a multi-homicide. Get it together. The tight space had soured his mood. Waiting hours at the hospital for Sera to wake up, hadn’t helped either.

And what do you do when she finally wakes up? Nothing, that’s what. The morning’s mysterious dialogue with Sera did little to solve the case, and even less to curb his desires. Her silken voice, her deep chocolate eyes, brought him further under her spell. Now, due to his behaving like a teenager with his first crush, they’d gotten hardly anything from the only survivor. He growled and fisted his hands on the bulletin board. “Go over it again.”

“Boss, we’ve been over the evidence more times than I can count.” Slick slapped the metal desk hard as he jumped on top of it. The PCD Phoenix field office was smaller than their home base in San Antonio, if that was possible.

“And we know you can’t count that high.” Jame sat in a rolling chair next to the desk. The pen, resting between her thumb and index finger, threatened to snap as she whirled it around. With each new dead-end the team discovered, the pressure on the pen increased. Soon she’d be wearing the ink or the cleaning crew would be scrubbing it off the desk.

“Very funny.” Slick squinted as he perched above her. His long legs dangled over the desk, banging against the steel frame in a fixed rhythm. Jame gave him a pointed look, but his gaze remained glued to the board.

“According to our fearless leader,” Jame paused to smirk at Talon, then rose to stand in front of the board like a teacher schooling an unruly class, “the lone eyewitness claims these perps are like nothing we’ve got on file. How did you say she put it, boss? Bulging eyes, wide jaws, and razor sharp teeth? Oh my.”

A snort escaped Slick’s lips. Talon silenced it by clearing his throat. “That’s right,” he said, stopping midstride and allowing the full weight of his glare to fall on his team. “So our killers might be unclassified as well as unknown.”

“Come on. You can’t be serious.” A loud thud filled the room as Jame’s fist made contact with the nearest wall.

Slick raised his eyebrows at her and shrugged. “We’ve dealt with unregistered suspects before. Plenty of supernatural groups out there—”

Talon interrupted as a detail came to him. “Sera mentioned something about the perps not coming out until the sun went down. Could be newbie vamps.”

“Could be. Though, I remember a report about this other group, similar to vamps in a lot of ways—strong, sensitive to sunlight for the first fifty years or so, regenerative properties.” Slick rubbed his chin. “Call themselves, phage. Maybe they’re some type of offshoot or mutation of vamps, except the report said they need raw meat to survive instead of blood.”

“Raw meat?” Jame wriggled her nose. “Nasty.”

“True. But then sucking blood ain’t exactly a pretty picture either.” Slick waved it off with a flick of his wrist. “Then again with the blood draining and bite marks, my money’s on vamps for this.”

A boom as loud as a gunshot bounced off the office’s walls. Drake entered with Bull at his side, slamming the door behind him. The vampire’s light blonde hair stood up in short spikes. Intense black eyes bore into Slick without a trace of amusement. His leather trench coat flew behind him when he closed the distance and stood mere inches away. His English accent thickened more than usual as he said, “Always suspecting vampires. You never learn half-breed.”

Slick didn’t budge an inch. “Half human, half shifter is the best of both worlds. Anything but a bloodsucker.” Inclining his head to the side, he looked behind Drake and smiled. “No offense, Bull.”

“None taken there.” The air became thick with the tension and two extra bodies occupying the room. Bull’s colossal frame at almost seven feet tall, and twenty pounds shy of three hundred, took up half the space alone.

Talon pinched the bridge of his nose, an all too familiar gesture these days. “That’s enough! We don’t have time for this shit.” Slapping Drake on the chest, he separated the two alpha males before blood could spill. “Besides there isn’t enough room in here for a brawl. So keep your shit together.”

Drake’s eyes narrowed, cutting to Talon’s direction. “Keep your little reptile on a leash, then.”

He growled at the vamp, then wheeled away before another fight broke out. “Slick, go touch base with our psyke tech gal. Ask Meg to use her mind mojo if she has to. Just be sure she gets all the intel on the phage and any vamps with a record.” His thoughts darkened as he motioned toward the door. “And have her pull up information on Ser...Ms. Benenati.”

Slick and Drake continued the staring routine as if they would bite each other’s heads off. Already Slick buzzed, on the edge of shifting. Talon refused to indulge the stupidity. “Slick, out the door, now!”

Jame shadowed Slick’s steps, careful to ensure a secure distance remained between the edgy half-shifter and vamp. When Slick exited safely to the hallway, she shut the door behind him and glared at Drake. “Why’d you have to bait him like that?”

With a smirk, Drake let his gaze wander from the closed door to Jame, ignoring the question. “Now that the children have gone to bed, let’s get down to the real meeting shall we?” Taking up residence in Slick’s former spot atop the desk, he reclined, lounging as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

Clucking his teeth, Bull rested his back against the wall. His gray T-shirt strained against his massive chest. Whitewashed jeans covered his thick legs. A wide leather belt with a brass buckle encircled his waist. The light stubble across his chin matched in length with his buzzed black hair. Ya never heard a restraint? You got over a hundred years on the boy.”

“Then the boy should know his place and keep his mouth shut.”

“Drake, I don’t have time to indulge your holier-than-thou attitude,” Talon said, cutting off argument. “What did you learn?”

“Well, let’s see now, chief.” Flicking his wrist over dramatically, Drake tapped his watch. “It’s almost six o’clock. Perfect. Time for the news.” Hopping off the desk, he pushed between the agents to the old TV in the corner. As the set came to life, the picture fuzzed briefly then showed a young redheaded news anchor. “Watch and see.”

“This is Rebecca Lockwood reporting from Buckhorn, Arizona. Our sources reveal a murder spree took place here just last night.” The wind whipped the reporter’s bright cherry locks across her cheeks. She pushed them aside while trying to keep her face composed. “Twenty-two people lost their lives in the face of this heinous crime. Yet channel nine has learned one brave woman survived. A Serafina Benenati from Phoenix.” Sera’s picture flashed across the screen, before returning to the reporter.

“Details of the crime have narrowed down the criminals as being from the SUB population. Outcries followed, accusing the unregistered SUB community of the murders. With the quest for citizenship status being sought by one of these unregistered groups called phage, this bad press could hinder those chances.”

The microphone screeched as the reporter waited for the feed. “Ms. Adriana Farrington, the advocate for phage rights, has already publicly denounced the crime and assured the NUA government the phage people were not involved.” A picture of a tall blonde in a pristine black suit appeared on the screen. Her bright green eyes screamed for justice even in the still image. A voiceover of the reporter continued, “Ms. Farrington accused the vigilante group, known as Veritas, of the murders, but police refuse to acknowledge the allegation.”

“We’re doing everything we can to find the suspects.” A Buckhorn police officer appeared on the screen, speaking at a podium in front of a swarm of reporters. “We cannot comment further at this time.”

The broadcast returned to the reporter. “Information has surfaced that the Buckhorn sheriff’s office has called on the help of the Phoenix police as well as federal agents from the Paranormal Crime Division.” Quick cuts flashed images of the crime scene crawling with cops, DO NOT CROSS yellow tape, and the Phoenix police badge next to the PCD logo. “It’s clear this small town has been rattled by this vicious attack. As the investigation continues, channel nine news will bring you the latest on this story.”

Drake clicked the TV off and whirled around to the team. A wide smile stretched across his flawless face. Intense black eyes held a hint of a sparkle behind them. “So, how’s that for undercover work?”

“What the hell does that mean?” Jame flew at him from across the room, getting up in his face. “You didn’t do anything.”

“Growl for me, Kitty. You know I love it when you growl.”

“Growl?” She snarled through a tight jaw. “I’ll claw your fucking eyes out!”

The TV crashing into the far wall had the team acting as if in slow-mo. Jame, Drake and Bull all turned as one to the corner of the room where Talon stood, a broken piece of the screen in hand. A red haze coated his vision. His nails extended and curved into claws, breaking the skin on his palms. Blood seeped from his clenched fists. His knuckles blanched bone white.

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about your hang-ups.” He spat the last word. “Get your goddamn acts in line, now! Or I’ll can all your asses.”

Bull crossed the small room in two strides. “Easy, boss. Easy.” Carefully, he took the broken TV part from Talon’s grip. “Don’t wanna go shifting like some newbie, right?” Baring his fangs, he rounded on Drake and Jame. They stood frozen in place, their mouths locked in circles. “Close them traps before ya catch flies and simmer down.”

Talon eased back from the edge. His nails retracted and the half circle wounds began to heal. Holy hell, I’m like a damn rookie. He hadn’t been this bad in years. Not since that day in court when the jury passed the sentence on his father’s crime.

Agent Steven Bram, his new legal guardian, stood beside him that day in court. The man’s cold hard eyes bore into Talon’s face. “Remember this, Talon. Remember this day. And understand what can happen to a man who loses his honor.” Bram patted him on the back, a firm but gentle tap. “Duty before everything. The academy will teach you that. One day you’ll be a great agent for the PCD. I know it.”

“I won’t forget,” Talon said, holding back the tears that threatened to surface. He’d stuff down every last shred of emotion. Never again would he let fear rule him. He would stay on the right path. Sever his feelings. Cut ties from anyone he could hurt. He wouldn’t love anyone, ever. All it caused was pain. When he looked in the mirror, he would not see his father’s reflection. “Duty first and only. Always.”

“Always,” he mumbled to himself. When he felt the buzz electrifying his body dull to a low hum, he spoke again. “Sorry, but this is getting old fast, guys.” He used the wall for support and crossed his arms over his chest. “The case just blew up in our faces with this idiot reporter revealing the identity of our witness. Not to mention the bullshit political nightmare.”

“Looks like time for some damage control,” Jame said, shoving an elbow into Drake’s stomach as she walked to the bulletin board. “Let’s start with Ms. Redhead.”

“Glad to see you’re on the ball again.” Talon nodded, a half smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “First, you and Bull can go see about this reporter’s source. If the local cops are running their traps, I want a lid put on it. I’m sure they’re not happy with us trampling in their turf. Make certain the press coverage is kept to a minimum.”

“Sure boss. We’ll cover ya.” Bull’s slap on the back sent vibrations through Talon’s chest cavity.

“Thanks Bull. Know I can count on you to handle it.” He rubbed the spot above his heart, trying not to wince. “Drake and I will go to the hospital and keep an eye on Ser...the witness.”

Drake cocked his hip to the side, using the desk like a leaning post. “Which do you want to do, chief? Keep an eye on the girl or go to the hospital?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Well, I know you’re revved up on the sweet blonde.” He thumbed a finger at Bull. “But having a vampire and a shifter in her hospital bed might be pushing it, no?”

The urge to shift into something, anything—an arctic wolf, perhaps—ran through Talon. The need caused his muscles to spasm. With his throat raw from the desire, he barely managed his next words. “No vampire is going near her.” Not that he had any problems with vamps, that was Slick’s issue, but this particular asshat knew how to get under his skin. “We’re going to the hospital to guard the witness and talk with her again.”

“If you want to get it on with the girl, the hospital is the wrong place.” Drake scrunched his nose like he’d smelt something foul. “Too many sick people. And the medical fumes. Ack.”

“Cut the shit and spell it out.”

“Oh, sorry. Forgot I needed to simplify. The girl—your witness—is not at the hospital.” He flipped a hand over his short hair, the yellow spikes snapping back into place. “She signed her discharge papers about an hour ago, stopped at her apartment for ten minutes, then headed downtown.”

“What? How do you know this?” His pulse began to beat faster.

“You sent me to find information. I found information. I’ll expect my fee wired to my account by midnight.”

A dangerous buzz lit the air. On the wall, the bulletin board shook as Jame’s teeth elongated into points. Her eyes glowed yellow. Black hair sprang from her arms. “You wait all this time to tell us? All. This. Time?”

The ever stoic Bull rushed over to Jame, clearing his path of both the desk and Drake with one shove. “Slow big breaths for me. Changin’ ain’t gonna help.”

“Bull’s right. Get it under control.” Talon lanced her with a hard stare, waiting for her to pull back the energy. Second by crucial second, time they no longer had, Jame’s appearance returned to normal.

“Jame, Jame, what a name.” Drake’s gaze ate her up. “So damn sexy.”

“Don’t start.” Nose-to-nose in an instant, Talon peered into Drake’s black eyes. The vampire’s stare morphed from heated to pissed.

“Get out of my face or you’ll regret it.”

“Bull, Jame, go and handle the press issue. Find out what the reporter knows and where it came from.” He waved a hand at them without taking his eyes from the vamp. “Drake and I are going to find Sera.” He paused for a heartbeat, realizing he used her first name, but at the moment, he didn’t care. “I have a suspicion our friend here knows exactly where she is.”

Pulling back, Drake offered a wicked smile. “I might for the right price.”

No one moved or even breathed.

“Bull, Jame, now!”

They headed toward the door. Jame lingered at the exit, but Bull ushered her into the hall. “Let ‘em handle it.”

Left alone in the room, Talon unleashed the shifter vibe, letting the vamp feel the energy.

“You waste time with empty threats. I’m your link to the underground scene and you’re my cash cow, so let’s leave egos outside, shall we?”

Talon cut the buzzing tide, shocked by Drake’s sudden change. “Ah.” It dawned on him. “No Jame. No reason to play games. Gotcha.”

“And now I remember why I put up with you—besides the money.” Drake smiled, walked to the door, and grabbed the knob. Pulling it practically from its hinges, he swiped a hand to the hall. “After you.”

He raised an eyebrow in question.

“You want to find the girl, don’t you? Let’s make it the normal rate, plus a hundred extra if we find her intact. No bonus for dead. Sound fair?”

“Dead?” Acid rose from his stomach, clogging his windpipe.

“I can’t make promises as to her condition. I know she took off from her apartment and her picture’s been splashed across the evening news.” Drake’s grip on the door tightened. “Needless to say, she’ll be a hot commodity.”

The vile blockage refused to dissipate, but Talon managed to speak past it. “Who besides the killers would be after her?”

A frown formed on Drake’s lips. His words slipped into a tone and air not heard in over a hundred years. “I amuse myself with your operation here, your PCD. I do it for the money. I do it to pass the infinite dullness of time.” He patted Talon’s shoulder.

“You don’t do it for either of those reasons, and we both know it.” Talon narrowed his eyes, daring Drake to reveal a past the vamp kept so well hidden, secrets that lay in shadow.

“Yes, well despite appearances, I respect the PCD and you.” His frown faded into a smirk, cheek hollowing. Laughing, he fell back into modern speech. “Please don’t make me lose that by acting like such a naive dumbass.”

“Your honesty’s touching.” He pushed Drake’s hand away. “Now, you want to clue me in.”

Drake shrugged. “Where would be the fun in that?” Bolting down the hall, he threw over his shoulder, “Come and see for yourself.”

Talon gritted his teeth. His leather-soled boots clomped after the vamp and into a mess he knew he’d find waiting out there somewhere. He just prayed Sera wasn’t at the center of it.

Chapter Five

St. James Hospital, Phoenix, Arizona

Sera leapt from the bed like a rabbit sprung from a trap. If she didn’t get cracking on this story soon, she’d burst. Already too many hours spent in the hospital could turn her lead cold. She had to act fast to get an exclusive. “Finally,” she cried, signing her discharge papers. “I thought you’d never let me out of here.”

Laughing, Dr. Cordone handed her a plastic bag filled with her belongings. “I told you we’d let you go soon.”

“Yeah, well, never trust doctors and lawyers, right?” She plucked the bag from his arms and dug through it for her clothes. She frowned at the dirty suit she’d worn in Buckhorn. The tan jacket and skirt reminded her too much of the creatures that attacked her—the ones Agent Rede said killed twenty-two people.

“Talon,” she murmured, remembering how she’d finally met the special agent. He’d haunted her thoughts, yet he was so much more than she’d fantasized. His dark hair framed a warrior’s face. Small lines creased around his bright blue eyes, yet they added to his magnetic appeal. She shuddered at the memory of his firm body apparent under T-shirt and jeans. Her blood transformed to lava. Squirming, her gaze flitted to the side table where his business card rested...against an envelope?

“Do you want me to call anyone, Ms. Benenati?” Dr. Cordone patted her arm and ran a sympathetic eye over her clothes. “Or maybe find you something else to wear?”

The envelope drew all her thoughts so she barely heard what the doctor said. A rich black ink sprawled across the white surface and bore her full first name. Serafina. It hadn’t been there before.

When the doctor’s questions went too long unanswered, he coughed. “Ms. Benenati?”

“Oh. I’m fine, doc. Thanks.” She waved at him. “I’ll put this on. Anything’s better than the itchy hospital gown.”

“You sure?” He flicked his head toward the door. “I could get you some scrubs.”

“Well...” She ran her hands over the dirt patches on her suit. “Maybe that’s a better idea.”

He smiled and said, “I think so. Be right back.”

Waiting until he closed the door behind him, she reached for the envelope and ripped open the seal. A single sheet of paper rested inside. She unfolded it and took a breath.

We know who you are. We know what you are. You have until sunset to get out of town, or we are coming for you.

She skimmed to the bottom. No signature. She checked the top corner. No name. Over and over, she read the lines looking for something to clue her in to the sender. Nothing. Her breath came out long and ragged.

Easy, pet. Calm down before you catch a heart attack and kill us both. Guy’s chiding provided relief for once.

“I’m fine,” she said steadier than she felt.

Yeah. If you think I’ll buy that, why not sell me some crap in a bag? His grim laughter rolled over her nerves like spikes.

“Do you ever stop?” She set her internal radio up to megawatts and ignored him.

When Dr. Cordone re-entered with a pair of scrubs, she jumped and stuffed the note back in the envelope. “Thanks,” she said dropping it on the table and taking the clothes from him.

“Of course.” He straightened and left. The door clicked closed behind him.

Aquamarine is so your color, pet. Guy snickered through her music wall.

“For the love of Pete, give it a rest.” She adjusted the volume another two levels and sighed. Angling toward the desk, she spotted Talon’s business card next to the envelope. Her bag lay at her feet. After dressing in the colorful scrubs, she rummaged through the bag and found her cell phone. A message waited for her, but her attention split between the simple white business card that read, Talon Rede, and the intricate handwritten envelope that bore her name.

Pet, don’t mess with this. Tell the good agent about the letter. The rock song grew quiet as her mind raced.

“If I do that I’ll never be able to get the story.” She put her palms to her temples and squeezed. “They’ll put me in protective custody and I won’t be able to investigate.”

Stop playing reporter and be smart.

“I am being smart. I’m not letting this slip from my fingers.” She pocketed the business card and crushed the envelope in her fist. “And I can’t have them looking at me too closely. I can figure this out myself.”

You’re playing with fire and not our kind of fire, pet. Get it?

“Stuff it. No one’s scaring me off this lead, secrets or not.” Not even Agent Rede. The thought of his ocean blue eyes piercing into her, breaching her defenses, sent a shiver over her skin. Whether from apprehension or anticipation, she didn’t know. And she couldn’t risk finding out.

The letter crumpled in her hand. She stuffed it into the bottom of her bag. “Besides, I’m not helpless, right?”

Oh, are you talking to me?

“Nope. Not at all.” Bongo drumbeats filled her head drowning out the pest’s side and allowing her freedom to think. She hefted her bag under her arm and headed to the discharge area. Her toes tapped along the tiled floor and nervous energy ran through her veins while she waited. Her pocket buzzed, reminding her of the new message on her phone. A quick dial into her voicemail revealed a message from her father. Considering how many times they spoke over the eight years she’d been away from home... Yeah, it spelled headache.

“Sera, I know I’m not your favorite person. I know you blame me for staying quiet about your...abilities.” Her father’s voice droned over the line.

“Yeah, that’s an understatement,” she said aloud.

The message rattled on. “Look, I need to talk to you. I don’t want to say too much in a recording. Call me.”

Her eyes narrowed at the phone. “Useless son of a—” She squeezed the cell, trying not to snap it in half. “You only call when it’s convenient for you. Typical. Well, sorry, not going to happen.” Hitting the delete button, she firmly pushed the issues with her father from her thoughts and headed out the door.

She groaned as she realized her SUV remained locked in police impound. “Not gonna stop me.”

* * *

Once aboard the metal deathtrap—her nickname for city buses—she had no idea where to start. Although she’d be damned if she’d let some note scare her out of this story, or worse, another reporter snatching it away. She was the freakin’ eyewitness for crying out loud. The jack hammering stop-and-go routine on the ride from hell didn’t help settle her anxiety. When the stress got too high, she knew of one place to go and no, it wasn’t where everyone knew her name, but close enough. After a quick stop at her apartment for a much needed clothing change, she headed for her favorite place.

The Jukebox, a Phoenix staple in the downtown scene, was half-modern coffee shop, half 1950s style diner. It appealed to urbanites, nuclear families and aging hipsters alike, and was Sera’s home away from home since college. Heck, the one thing that got her through school was this place. Not to mention the fact Coco—the affectionately nicknamed coffee aficionado and owner—kept the lattes flowing practically twenty-four, seven back in those days.

She hummed, sipping her iced caramel latte with abandon. The late afternoon sun beat down on the pavement and cast a horrible glare through the diner’s front window, but she didn’t mind as the friendly barista pulled down the shade and kicked up the air conditioning.

“Man it’s been a hot one today,” Coco said from behind the black and white checkered counter. “Musta hit a hundred and ten.”

“As long as you keep the ice machine working, the lattes flowing, and the air conditioner cranking, I’m cool.” Sera planted her lips back on the straw, sucking down the sugary goodness at breakneck speeds. She leaned into the high stool’s soft teal leather. Melting into the familiar fabric, she let her head fall back to soak in the moment. It’d been so long since she could relax, especially as the clock clicked down to nightfall. No. I’m not thinking about it.

“For you doll, no problem,” Coco said, spraying the countertop with liquid soap.

She smiled at him, then closed her eyes. Her thoughts veered from the damn threat to a certain dark haired, blue-eyed special agent again. “Talon,” she murmured. “Name fits him.” Heat crawled up her neck as she recalled the way he’d stared at her at the hospital, as if he would devour her right there.

Coco’s voice woke her from the heated dreams. “How’s the new article coming along?”

Her eyes snapped open and she looked around as if dazed. “Sorry, I think I had a momentary brain freeze.” She put her fingers to her temple to buy herself a minute. Her body burned with unfulfilled desire and she feared it had all too much to do with the special agent. “Too much ice and caffeine. What was that?”

“Just asking ‘bout work.” He flashed a large toothy grin.

She chugged a mouthful of latte. It coated her throat like battery acid. What the hell could she tell Coco without freaking him out?

How about we took out a gang of murderous psychos? That’d be fun. Guy hadn’t piped in for hours and she foolishly thought she’d get a reprieve. No such luck. Or what about your stint in the hospital? Bet he’d get all-emotional over that one. He laughed, bouncing around her brain. Ew. I got it. Tell him about the note. How you’re supposed to leave town in t-minus...now. His voice sounded like it came from every direction. No? What about lusting over that government lackey, the shifter?

She turned her attention back to Coco. In a nonchalant voice, she said, “Oh you know, same old same old.” She propped a fist under her chin. “My newest headline should read ‘Freelance Journalism: The Ticket to Poverty’ with the way my career is going.”

Coco cocked his head to the side. “What about all this activity with people turnin’ up dead?” He pointed at the TV. “They said something earlier about a bunch of people down in Buckhorn.”

“What did they report exactly?” Her palms began to sweat despite the icy drink in her hands.

“Not too sure ‘bout the details.” He frowned, wiping a rag over the tiled counter for the third time. “Only caught the tail end of it.”

“Could be something.” She shrugged. Can’t tell him too much. Guy tried to break through the pumping bass, probably to argue, but she raised the volume even louder. The ice began to melt in her syrupy, toothache-be-damned drink.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out. In the meantime, take a load off.”

“That’s the plan.” She crossed her arms atop the table and rested her head, planning just a moment’s reprieve. It took but the span of a minute or two before the clinking of the espresso machine, the whistle from the teapot, and the chatter from the TV drifted into nothing more than white noise. Calm settled over Sera as she fell into an easy sleep.

A thump, a screech, and another thump threatened to break Sera’s rest, but she swatted it from her foggy brain like a fly. Images zapped before her eyes as she slept—a man in a dark mask, Coco bellowing curses, a woman with sharp, black as oil eyes.

Her mind struggled against a tide of drowsiness. She tried to keep the pictures in focus and even pulled herself partially awake. When a slender hand palming a cloth appeared inches from her face and a sweet scent filled her nose, she stopped fighting. Darkness took over her consciousness and she seeped back into much needed sleep.

“Sera. Sera,” a voice called to her from a dream, mixed equally with gentility and sternness. “Come child, dangers fall upon you. We must speak quickly.”

“What? Who’s there?” Her dream-self spoke into a void. Voices formed, but images remained aloof.

School time, pet. Come out and play now. Even in sleep, Guy pestered her. She’d recognize that annoying timber anywhere and wanted to curse. Could she never have peace from him?

“You fight against yourself. Why?” The stranger’s disembodied voice spoke again.

“If you want to talk, then show yourself. I don’t like games.”

A ball of light filled the empty black space, growing in size until it burst forth like a dynamite explosion. Dusted sparkles, remnants of the blast, danced along the air. In the center, a tall male figure appeared. His hair shone like spun gold. Eyes as bright as the sun eradicated all darkness. Impossibly luminescent skin pulled tight over chiseled muscles. A glowing robe covered his perfect body.

Sera stared, awestruck by the creature before her. “What are you?”

“No child, the better question is…what are we?” Soft pink lips curled upward.

“We?” Her mind tried to unravel the mystery as an odd sense of the familiar nudged at her.

“Yes, we.” His tone rang deep like an ancient bell. “I told you in the hospital, we are kin. You can feel the connection. You can hear it.”

“The hospital?” Droplets of light across cotton sheets, a golden figure, a man with the looks of a Greek god—the memory returned. “I remember. I thought I imagined it.”

“No, child, we may be speaking in your dream now, but I am very real.”

“Who are you?” Every muscle tensed. A knot formed at the base of her neck. “And don’t call me, child.” Her foot pounding over the empty floor crashed loudly even in the dream. “I’m twenty-four years old for Heaven’s sake.”

Her outburst must have caught him off guard. He shrank back, his glow fading to a dull yellow. “I didn’t realize this would pain me so.” His hand flew to his chest, rubbing over his heart in small circles. “Forgive me, but you misunderstand. I call you, child, not because of your age.” His fingers curled inward, a loose fist upon his breast. “It is my name for you. It was the same endearment I used for your mother.”

The tension broke first within her heart. It trickled outward from her core, chest, and limbs. Nerves snapped as her blood quickened. Words lay useless on her tongue.

“Sera, child, please do not be alarmed. I want to help you. My name is Helion. I’m your mother’s father.” He extended his arm, palm forward, fingers curled as if catching a baseball. Light soared from his hand. “Your grandfather.”

The dark void that surrounded them filled with dazzling golden hues as the light strained toward her. When it came within inches of her face, she found her voice again.

“What. The. Hell?”

His internal glow dimmed, never reaching her. “I cannot explain. Time grows short. You must stop fighting this connection or I will not be able to come to you in this way.”

Her eyes narrowed as her thoughts jumbled. “What way?”

“The space between, when time lingers, slows. The breath between sleep and awake.”

“What a friggin’ head trip.” She rubbed her forehead. “Ok. First off, what connection? What am I fighting?” Her blood boiled as a fire rose within her. “Second, what are you? And what am I?” The flames that reached her heart extinguished. Tears stung her eyes as the final question grabbed her; the possibility, the hope of family. “Are you really my grandfather?”

A car horn and screeching tires broke through the conversation. “I’m sorry, child. We’ve run out of time.” His dying light expressed an ocean of sadness. “Listen to your inner voice. It will guide you to us, to your family, to your nature, to the truth.”

“Us? I don’t understand.” The dream began to fade, the golden man blurring from her sight. “Wait, please.”

“Stop fighting, Sera. And find me again.” His voice dropped to a whisper, rumbling in the emptiness. With a jolt, her mind sprung awake.

“Are you injured?” A woman’s voice sounded over her shoulder.

Sera didn’t speak, her senses fired on high alert. She had no time to process the dream or the figure who called himself her grandfather. Slowly moving her head, she whirled about to take in her surroundings, her brain assessing the situation. The spin caused her vision to swim, but she still managed to note two steel walls, a metal grate and a pair of doors. The back and forth jerking motions clued her into the rest. Sera sat in the back of a van, her hands and feet bound in front of her with thick ropes.

Well, pet. What have you gotten us into now?

Chapter Six

Channel 9 News, West Phoenix, Arizona

Jame leaned over the ostentatious chrome desk, sure to give the News Director an ideal view. Her fitted black tank top coupled with the forty-five degree angle put her cleavage in his direct line of sight. Honey before the vinegar, as her grandma used to say, or Talon’s credo, Throw him off his game, then knock him on his ass. Either way, the plan was simple—distraction.

“So, Mr. Floyd, I know you’re a law abiding man and a caring citizen.” She propped a hip against the desk and bent lower. “You wouldn’t want anyone else to get hurt, would you?”

“Please Agent Bradshaw, call me Harold.” His eyes lingered six inches shy of her face.

“Harold, nice name.” Smiling, she placed her palm flat on the desk. Her other hand strayed over the tops of her breasts. “And please, call me Jame.”

“Jame? Like James without the S?” His lips fell into a lopsided grin. “Very pretty.”

She batted her eyelashes, trying not to lose the momentum. The wave of nausea rolling in her stomach didn’t help. Her words came out a tad too harsh. “So Harold, what’s it going to be? Are you an honest man?”

“Of course. As honest as can be, which is why I hold true to my principles.” He slid back in his chair, a stubborn pout set on his lips. “I can’t reveal a source, not mine or my reporter’s.” His hands crossed behind his head. “It would be unethical.”

Drat! An inner grimace rose, but she clamped it down before it showed on her face. “We certainly wouldn’t want that.” She straightened and hopped onto the desk. Her ass landed midway across, close enough to the newsman to get the plan back on track. “See my friend over there.” She waved toward Bull. He stood in the corner unmoving, a living statue filled with quiet rage.

Harold’s gaze glided to the mammoth vampire. “Yeah,” he said coolly.

Jame’s smile brightened. The newsman’s voice remained steady, but the sweat across his brow gave him away. Flirty cop, scary cop. Gotta love spinning the classics. She sighed, an embellishment, but worth it. “Well you see, I...” Her fingers fluttered to her mouth, drawing Harold’s focus back to her. She bit her thumb, suckling the tip. “I admire your integrity. Hell, it’s kind of sexy even.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed. “Really?”

She reclined, placing her weight on one elbow and bending toward him. “Sure,” she cooed—well, she attempted to coo. It sounded more like a growl, but whatever. “Problem is Bull over there is more of an act now, ask later kinda guy. Know what I mean?” Wisps of black and blonde hair curled around her face when she shook her head. “Doesn’t have much use for integrity.”

Poor Harold’s lower lip began to tremble as he placed his hands on the desk. Her eyes locked on the movement like a shark. Gotcha now. She listened close—her shifter ears attuned to noises unheard by humans. His heart sped up, a triple beat faster than its relaxed rhythm.

“If I was a betting man...” He sat up straighter, locking eyes with Jame. His voice lowered to a whisper—not that it would prevent Bull from hearing, but the sensitive newsman didn’t need to know that info.

“Yes, Harold? What would you bet?” Now she got the cooing right.

“I’d put my money on my reporter’s boyfriend.” He winked at her. “Rachel’s been dating a local boy down at the four-one.” He folded and unfolded his hands.

“So your pretty redheaded reporter from the six o’clock news is dating a cop?” She played with his nervous hands, making small circles atop his steepled fingers.

“Yes, that’s right. And you know how them boys love to talk.”

She hummed an affirmative reply. “Anything else I should know about?”

“No, but if you leave your number, I can give you a call if anything comes up.” His eyes sparkled, flecks of light amongst the dark brown.

She sighed inwardly. He’d almost be cute, if he weren’t so damn pitiful. Prying intel from a puppy-eyed newsman on the verge of a midlife crisis was not on her dream list of PCD agent responsibilities. She wanted her own team, where she’d be the one calling the shots, diving into the action. A place where her talents would be more than simple seduction. Not that Talon treated her like a sex object—in fact, she wouldn’t be complaining if he did—but she needed more.

“So how ‘bout it?”

The question broke her from the self-pity spiral. Aw shit. What’s he mumbling about? She ruffled his hair, buying time. “How about what?”

His pulse rose higher with the contact. “Your n-number so I c-could call you...if I get any m-more information.” The stuttering made her have to focus twice as hard.

“Oh right.” She rolled forward and reached in her back pocket. “Here ya go.” Her business card shook as he took it in his wobbly hand. “Thanks for everything.” She blew him a kiss, hopped off the desk, and headed for the door.

Bull followed behind, but stopped short and rounded on Harold. His white fangs gleamed against the room’s dim lighting. “Real glad this didn’t have to get ugly.”

It took all of Jame’s willpower not to laugh when Bull winked. She didn’t quite make it, a small snicker escaped.

“See ya Harold,” she called over her shoulder as they exited his office.

* * *

Back in the main area of the news station, Jame signaled for Bull to mingle and search for clues. In the meantime, she headed out a side door to phone in her findings. Relief flooded her when Talon didn’t answer—no energy to deal with that emotional baggage right now—and she flipped the call list to her go-to gal instead.

“Hey, Meg. Yeah, I just got through with the News Director here. He’s tightlipped about his reporter’s source.” Jame leaned against the building’s brick exterior, her cell phone propped between ear and shoulder. “No surprise there. But we managed to pry some info from him.”

Bull exited the station’s side door into the alley. She waved him over. “Yes, yes, used my feminine wiles. You’re hilarious.” Covering the phone’s mic, she whispered a “Gimme one sec,” to Bull, then returned to the call. “Uh huh. Uh huh. Seriously?” She paused, hanging on Meg’s every word. “Whoa. That’s some heavy intel on our witness. So, this Sera chick’s got a record?”

Jame held a hand up for silence as Bull opened his mouth. “Let me put you on speaker so Bull can hear too.” She motioned for Bull to stand beside her, then angled the phone so he could see the screen as well.

“Been digging into our witness, and you’ll never believe what I found.” A political seal appeared on the cell screen. “PCD received a letter from a government office recommending Sera Benenati for our recruitment list.”

“Recruitment list?” Jame pursed her lips. “But she’s a civilian.”

“Exactly. No, military or law enforcement background. And on top of that our witness has a sealed juvenile record. Unsealed by yours truly, of course,” Meg said. Her furious keyboard tapping clacked over the line. “The police suspected her of starting a car fire when she was sixteen, one where a boy ended up in a coma.” A news article popped onto the cell’s screen. “They brought her up on charges, but eventually had to let the case go. Newspapers called it an accident, but here’s where it gets hairy.”

“Tell us, Meg.” Jame’s pulse quickened.

“Her father, Reginald Marsh, was police chief at the time. He made sure the whole thing remained under lock and key.” A photo of the man in full cop uniform appeared next. His dark hair didn’t match their witness, but his brown eyes sure did. “He put Sera in boarding school for a year, then she went to college in Phoenix. She changed her last name to her mom’s maiden name, Benenati. Apparently, father and daughter have been on the outs since. But...”

“Girlie, ya killin’ us here,” Bull said, stomping his big booted foot against the wall.

“Sorry, sweetness. Here’s the kicker.” An article from last week’s Toronto Times appeared on the phone. “Recently, Papa’s moved onto bigger and better. See the headline?”

Jame glared at the screen as if it would bite her. “I see it, but what does it mean?”

“Papa was elected as a Junior Senator. And politicians have a lot more enemies.” Meg flicked the screen to a sad smiley. “So, let’s pretend you have a daughter, and she and you were on the outs. Now, you can’t warn her if someone cracked an old police record, what would you do?”

Jame puzzled through the implications, but Bull solved it first. “You’d send the intel to someone ya thought could protect her.”

“You got it, cowboy.” A doctored audience clapping echoed over the line, followed by Meg’s raspy laugh. “Seems someone’s gotten a hold of the Senator’s dirty little secret, in this case his daughter’s past. And my guess is he sent the file to us in the guise of the recruitment recommendation, before shit hit the fan. He’d know we’d do a background check on any potentials.” She took a deep breath. “Most likely, he’s being threatened or blackmailed. By who, I don’t know, but I’ll find out.”

A knot formed in the middle of Jame’s stomach. “Meg, the murder sprees, could they have been intended for our witness?”

“Dunno. Could be. It’d make sense. But my gut’s telling me, there’s more to it.” More clicking and tapping vibrated from the phone’s speakers. “Gimme some time. Let’s see what I can come up with. I want to confirm without a doubt Papa Senator sent the file too.”

“Okay, Meg. We got news of our own. We think the leak on our witness’ identity to the news reporter came from the local cops. Apparently, the reporter’s dating one of the guys on the force. Bull’s gonna check it out.” She took the phone off speaker and pressed it to her ear. “You tell Talon any of this?” Silence ensued for a heartbeat. “Figured not. Yeah, let me get through this press conference first. I’ll call him after and break the news. Hopefully, you or Bull will have more to go on.” She smiled. “Yeah, yeah. I know. Catch you later.”

Hitting end, she shoved the phone in her pocket.

Bull’s strong hands gripped his biceps as his arms crossed over his chest. Pound upon pound of muscle stretched under his T-shirt and jeans. His cowboy boots appeared polished as always. “Jeez Louise. Talon’s gonna be all-fired up ‘bout this for sure.” The scent of worn leather wafted on the breeze when he leaned closer. “Think it’s a good idea for you to tell him?”

“When you get back from the police station and I’m done handling these idiot reporters, I’ll call Talon. In the meantime, phone Slick and let him know the deal. Meg should have some concrete answers by then.” She shrugged. “Better Talon hears all the news at once, not bits and pieces.”

“Not what I meant.” His eyes glistened far too sympathetic for her liking.

“I’m fine, Bull.” She slapped his shoulder. “Gotta get over the school girl crush sometime, right?”

“I’m sorry, Jame.” He patted her arm. The gentle touch showed his expert control. His strength, both in his size and his natural vampire state, could be devastating.

“I know. Thanks.” She tried to smile, but couldn’t. Scratching her nails against the bricks, she opted for a subject change. “Anyway, let’s meet up back at the office. We can review there. Try to get some dirt from the local boys, ‘k?”

“That’s a job I like, digging up the dirt.”

“You sure? Don’t you want to talk to the press?” Her eyebrows raised, a quick shot of hope running through her veins.

“Nah, darlin’. That’s your department.”

With luck, not for long. Solving the case lay at the forefront of her mind, but even so, a plan began to take shape for her future. Visions of barking out orders and taking point danced in her head. “Yeah, all right. See you.”

Bull disappeared down the alley. His large body moved faster than his size dictated and surprised many a criminal suspect.

Jame sighed and kicked a can into a nearby gutter. When she felt confident Bull was out of earshot, she screamed loud and long. Her veins pulsed at her temples, the blood pouring into her ears. Energy zapped through her like an electric shock. Her body begged for a shift, but duty beckoned. With a last groan, she prepared for a fate worse than stakeouts, shootouts, or even all-nighters without coffee—a press conference.

Chapter Seven

Interstate 10, Phoenix, Arizona

The Kawasaki weaved through the traffic on I-10 like a fighter jet. Hunched over the bike’s sleek aluminum frame, Talon embraced the machine. It responded to his every touch. To think he’d almost skipped out on it. “Best decision ever,” he said, leaning into a tight curve.

He’d purchased the bike on a whim months back and brought it out during investigations, employing a cargo portion of the PCD jet for transport. When his eyes first landed on the quarter ton lime green and ebony beauty, it was true love. Not that he believed in that Hallmark nonsense, but bikes, cars, hell anything with an engine, warranted exception. Although…a pair of brown eyes, amber hair, and perfect face flashed across his mind. He tried to push it aside. His fiery reporter was the eyewitness of a murder investigation. Off limits didn’t begin to cover it. He forced the image from his thoughts and focused on the American tailpipe in front of him.

Drake’s baby, a beaten up crimson Harley, cruised along the wide-open interstate heading into downtown Phoenix. Talon constantly had to ease off the throttle to keep from overtaking the American chopper.

“Damn low riders,” Talon mumbled into his helmet. “All style, no speed.”

“Stop bitching,” Drake said into a wireless microphone—the compromise for his refusal to wear a wired helmet. “Your Japanese dirt bike needs to learn to keep pace.”

“Move your ass. Or can’t that hulk of machinery go faster?” The Kawasaki’s engine purred, jolting the bike forward and skimming the back of the Harley.

“My Lucinda is a lady. Get off her rear. You’ve got to wine and dine her first.”

“So, that’s a no.” Talon sped up to ride next to the slow vamp. He inclined his head toward Drake, eyebrows raised under his visor. “Wait a minute. You named your bike, Lucinda?”

Drake laughed. “I told you, shifter, she’s a lady. Treat her right, then watch her go.” Lucinda roared to life as she kicked forward, leaving Talon sniffing a trail of exhaust fumes.

“Motherless prick!” Talon let his girl fly.

After Drake and Lucinda exited the freeway and zigzagged along alleys, they stopped cold in front of a blacked out bar. The brick exterior, nonexistence windows, and busted sign reading BUDS, pegged it as an establishment meant for the seedy part of town. However, here it sat on a corner lot with a laundromat to the right, a grocery store across the street and a Pentecostal church down the road.

“Leave your bike out front. No one’s gonna touch it.” Drake stepped off his Harley and stuffed the microphone in his pocket. He gestured toward the door.

Talon flicked down the kickstand, patted the seat, and left his helmet on the end. “You sure they’re safe out here?” The Pleasantville neighborhood did little to assuage his doubts.

“Trust me, shifter, no one,” He looked around and raised his voice above the street traffic, “hear me? No one is going to touch my Lucinda. And since your crotch-rocket is resting next to her, no one’s going to touch that skinny bitch either.”

He waved the back of his hand at Drake as if to brush off the insult and smirked. “So, you’re popular around here. That it?”

“I get around, but then that’s why you hired me, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I just hope your sources are credible.” He eyed the bar’s windowless exterior without much hope.

“Oh ye of little faith.” Drake kicked the door open. “Come on. Let’s find your girl.”

Buds should have existed somewhere along the Texas–Mexico border, not in a suburbanized section of downtown Phoenix. The interior lit up like a Christmas tree with stringed rainbow lights hanging from the rafters. The crystal blue sidewalls featured paintings of floor to ceiling cacti with beige speckles coating the bottom. The back area housed the bar with the word Cantina written above its wooden surface. A mirror behind the shelved bottles reflected the multi-colored lights. Each table and booth, scattered across the floor, possessed a white paper cloth with the picture of an old wagon wheel in the center.

“This is a joke, right?” Talon said with a raised brow.

“Nah. This is the joint, but loosen up.” A pair of dark eyes seared him with a penetrating stare. “It isn’t the place for the law. And the stick up your ass pegs you as a cop.”

“I’m more than a cop.” He growled, but tried to ease the tension from his muscles. If this source could give them a clue to find Sera, he would play ball. Sera. He couldn’t stop picturing her. A flash of heat ran through his blood with the thought of her. Those large chocolate eyes looking at him with desire, the feel of her golden skin under his palm had him hardening at the memory, his jeans a nuisance. He chastised his weakness. Keep it in check.

“Then stay focused.” Drake slapped him on the back and walked toward the bar.

Scanning the place’s occupants through narrowed eyes, Talon gritted his teeth. A customer sat on a stool with his head on the counter. Shallow breaths puffed from the man’s wide nostrils. His greasy black hair and disheveled clothes hinted at his condition. The smell of cheap whiskey wafted from the drunk’s vicinity like too much three-dollar cologne.

“Billy, get the fuck out of here. Go clean up and have a shave for Christsakes!” the bartender shouted. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand while slapping a rag at the customer with the other.

“Hah? What?” Billy flopped off the stool, tipping over a glass in the process. Splashes of liquor from the counter chased after him. “What’re ya goin’ on about now?”

“I said to get your ass home.” Beady dark hazel eyes zeroed in on Billy. The bartender wasn’t a large man, but power vibrated from his body. His lean muscles tensed, showing under his maroon T-shirt. The posture screamed shifter.

“Why?” Billy’s legs wobbled uncertainly as he cocked his head like a dog.

“I got company and I don’t need the likes of you around.” He flipped the rag again. “Get out and come back later, with some cash this time.”

“Ah hell.” Billy stumbled over a chair on his hobble to the door. When he passed Talon and Drake, he sneered. The stench of booze choked the air. “Whatcha yaz lookin’ at?”

Drake narrowed his eyes and sucked in a breath. “You so don’t want to get on my bad side, you little shit. Now, go the fuck home.”

“Are you calling a taxi for him?” Talon asked the bartender.

A roaring laugh echoed across the bar. “That dipshit lives down the street. He’s here every day. God himself couldn’t kill the man.”

“Shuz the fuzz up.” Billy exited by falling through the front door. “Ash holes.”

“See you later, Billy,” Drake said smiling, then zeroed his attention on the bartender. “We’ve got business, Bud. Need some names.”

“Have a seat,” Bud said, motioning to the bar stools. His energy dissipated slightly, but not enough to make the situation comfortable. “What type of names you need?”

Talon reacted to the power buzzing behind the bar. The shifter in him couldn’t help it. As his blood pressure spiked, droplets of sweat clung to his chest.

“Better take it down a notch, first,” Drake said. Patting Talon on the back hard, he added, “My friend here isn’t reacting well to the vibe you’re putting out.”

Bud cursed, then laughed again. His shoulders hunched and released with the sound. “Sorry Drake. Didn’t know you had such sensitive friends. I’ll pull it back.”

“No worries. When my fucktard meter spikes, I like to be ready.” Talon nodded a chin at the bartender, letting his power continue to magnify.

“Bloody shifters.” Drake’s old-world English broke through a split second before hiding behind the urban American slang. “This is why you animals need us.” He slapped a hand over his heart. “Have you ever see vampires going all ape shit alpha on each other? No.”

Talon and Bud each eased back on the shifter posturing at the display. Drake continued with an exaggerated flourish. “Now, as I was saying. I need some names of people who’d be after the pretty blonde survivor from the six o’clock news story.” He thumbed at a TV in the corner. “I’m assuming you’ve seen it and already had a few calls.”

“I mighta. But you already know the parties who’ll be in play.” Bud rubbed the stubble along his chin. “So my guess is you want specifics.”

“Smart boy.” Drake leaned over the counter and stared down at the bartender. “Don’t get too smart.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Bud stepped back, hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Let’s see. No doubt, Veritas will make a bid for her. I heard Strife’s in the area, so she’ll most likely lead the charge.” He grabbed a bottle of Jack from the shelves, poured three glasses, and slid two to his guests. “Local boys, Phoenix honchos, not the Buckhorn cops. They’d be in over their heads. PCD’s probably been called already.”

Talon threw back the shot of Jack at the same time Bud mentioned the PCD. It burned his throat. Like some punk kid, he came up sputtering.

“Something I said?” Bud’s eyebrows pulled together.

Drake pounded a fist on the counter. “Just get on with it.”

“Sure thing. Anyway, the main player amongst the local boys will be Mario Warren.” Bud poured another round. “He’s a real pretty boy. One of them blond-haired, blue-eyed cops who like to poke their noses in all the games around town. He’s got an in with the boys down at the warehouse, a ticket to the cokeheads on seventh, and a press pass with the news girl at channel nine.”

Talon eyed the second round of Jack warily, then glared at the bartender. “So you’re saying this cop’s dirty and plays the field? He’s taking bribes so these lowlifes can get their business done?” He bristled under the knowledge of a rat in the local department. Even though it wasn’t technically a PCD issue, he still wanted to smoke out the prick.

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” Bud huffed. “Anyway, the last party will be a new group. Well, not new, but new in the just came out of the closet way. They’ve actually been around for centuries.”

Talon tried to wrap his head around the fact a dirty cop was having free reign in his district, but a word floated to the forefront of his mind, a piece of the puzzle Slick had mentioned earlier. “Phage?”

“Ding ding. He’s got it. Give him a prize.” Talon scowled, but Bud continued unfazed as he pounded a third round of Jack.

“Who’s the main player amongst the phage?” Drake sat back on the stool and crossed his arms. His jaw tensed as if he bit down hard on his cheek.

“That’s the thing about the phage hierarchy,” Bud said. “They’re not like vamp groups. No individual freedoms allowed. The phage stick together, all connected like a swarm of locusts. Lots of different generals though. Rumor is there’s one all the way at the top, a female. But she’s an unknown. No way to say for certain who the leader of their group is.” He scratched his head as if in thought, then threw down his towel abruptly. “Hey you boys are gonna pay for those drinks, right?”

Drake sucked his fangs. “Add it to the tab.”

The tangy scent of blood permeated Talon’s nose. He spied a drop on the corner of Drake’s mouth. “You need a breather?” He whispered to the vamp.

Before Drake could respond, the vamp’s phone started playing Johnny Cash’s “Ring of Fire”. He reached in his pocket and plastered the cell to his ear. “Bad timing, luv.”

Talon’s ears perked up. A quick change could amplify his hearing tenfold, but he didn’t want to risk a brawl with the bartender. He settled on minor shifts to his inner ear canal. The effect enabled him to listen to the other side of the conversation.

“You have no idea,” a female said. Her voice strummed like a harp, despite the message. “We were attempting to take the girl to safety, but they raided us before the airport.”

“Not a good time.” Drake cut her off with a throat clearing. “Text me the location.” He said no more, ending the call with a final click.

Talon’s bullshit meter spiked off the charts. “What’s up, Drake?”

“It’s time to go.” He pulled some bills out of his jeans and flung them on the counter. “Thanks for the info, Bud.”

The elusive vamp rushed the door, knocking over two human females on the way out. Talon followed, stepping over the surprised women and muttering apologies. When he got to his bike, he grabbed Drake by the shoulders and shoved him hard. “You’re going to tell me about that phone call now.”

Drake’s fangs elongated and his eyes blazed. “Get on your plastic piece of shit and follow like a good dog.” He spun on his Harley and peeled down the road.

Talon barely had time to curse up a shit storm before his power skyrocketed. The buzz singed his nerves as he tried to keep his hands from shaking. Already ten extra teeth popped from his gums as his mouth extended. Hair sprouted over his arms and legs. His ears pointed upward and he crammed them under his helmet. He wrapped his legs around the bike, pushed the key in the ignition, started her up and took off. As the Harley appeared, Talon experienced a split moment of terror as his mind swam under a wolf’s rage. He’d threatened it so many times before, but today might be the day he finally bit off the vamp’s head—literally.

Chapter Eight

Location Unknown

The woman circled around Sera once, twice, then knelt with the grace of a dancer. The weight rested on the balls of her feet as if she could spring up in a second. Her balance remained even as the ground below them shook. Garbed in black from head to toe, her sleek curves hid behind a wall of darkness. Her tall feminine frame sat poised as a panther, projecting a predatory violence.

A sweet medicinal scent assailed Sera’s nose. The aroma pushed her back in time. An image of eyes flowing black like slick oil passed through her mind and matched the woman before her. Coco’s curses, commands of “Get down and shut up” from an unknown male, sounded in her head, buzzing in her ears.

Guy paced inside her mind, banging against the walls, and stomping along the floor of her internal world. Free me now, he screamed.

One step at a time. Sera winced. Guy’s insistence made her temples throb. I can’t keep a leash on you and an eye on her. Cool off.

I don’t like it, pet.

Neither do I. Taking her own advice and keeping cool, she counted up to ten and back down to one. Guy’s pacing slowed. I’m handling it.

“I will ask you again. Are you injured?” The woman’s tone didn’t soften with the question, nor did her gaze lose its fire.

Sera’s nerves walked on a slippery edge, but she raised her chin nonetheless. Steeling her words with ice, she said, “What’ve you done? Where am I? What did you do to Coco?”

“No harm has befallen your friend. We have no quarrel with humans.” The woman’s words fell like thunder, punctuated with hard electric endings. They sounded out of place, as if from another time or other world. “And we do not hurt innocents.”

“Really?” The van spun a sharp left. Sera rocked backward, smacking her elbow. She tried to rub the pain away, but the rope around her wrists prevented the movement. Her hands shot forward seemingly of their own accord. “What do you call this?”

The woman nodded to the bindings. A rainstorm and rose scent wafted in the air with the motion. “You are not in any danger from us. The rope is meant for our safety.”

“Your safety?” Sera found her throat scratched apart as if she’d ingested rocks.

“Yes. We feared you would be difficult to contain since you are prone to...” Without warning, the formal tone fell and a hint of modern speech slipped in, “well, let’s say, fits.” The woman held a syringe in her right hand and waved it like a flag. Her dry accent returned. “I truly mean you no harm, but I will defend myself if need be. Please, do not make me use this.” The plea sounded more warning than concern.

Sera stared at the blue liquid and pointed needle. A humming started in her ears. Guy struggled for control again. The internal battle proved too much and Sera fought to stay on her feet. Guy must have felt the slip in her strength. His persistence abated a touch. I’ll back off, pet. But best be wary of her. I don’t like the looks of that needle.

Gee ya think? She breathed deeply to try to keep a headache at bay. Just keep quiet and let me concentrate.

“So now, what shall it be?” The fiery eyes, the rainstorm and rose scent, the thunderous voice, the formal language, it all clicked into place.

She’s a vampire. Sera inhaled. An old vampire.

Gee. Guy shot back her sarcasm. Ya think?

Biting a retort, she cranked Black Sabbath’s pounding notes to the highest decibel she could handle without a migraine, then ignored him. With Guy distracted by the rock beats, she focused her mind on the vampire. Scrutinizing her hands, she said, “I’ll play nice, if you untie this rope.”

“We have started badly.” The vampire crouched down and slipped an object from her forearm. A flash of steel reflected the van’s weak lighting. It swiped across Sera’s palm and between her wrists. Before she could panic, the cool metal caressed her flesh. Not a single drop of blood spilt as the binding fell away. “I hope this will foster trust between us, Ms. Benenati.”

“Trust is earned, Miss...” Sera faltered. The vampire leaned closer.

“I possess no Miss to my name. I am called simply, Strife.” The vampire, Strife, pulled back and inclined her head to the side.

Sera swallowed and circled her wrists around for show. She knew it was a pointless display as her bindings hadn’t been tight enough to do damage. Still, her pride demanded retribution. Hell, anything to keep away the fear bubbling in her stomach. I will not freak out in front of a vampire. I will not.

A half grin played on Strife’s lips, but she remained silent.

Sera inhaled. Straightening, she fixed the vampire with a hard stare. “What am I doing here?”

“We hoped you would heed our early warning, but it seems that hope was misplaced.” Strife’s smile widened revealing two very pointed—and no doubt, very sharp—fangs. “We did give you until sunset.”

The note from the hospital, the eloquent handwriting and frightening message, emerged in her mind’s eye. She recalled the way it rested on the table beside Talon’s card. Talon. She should have called him. Somehow the thought of never seeing him again hurt more than it should. She barely knew him and here her life was in danger, yet she thought of him.

“Foolish,” she muttered, then locked eyes with the vampire. She needed to keep all her wits about her, to concentrate, not lose focus on some daydream that could never be. Evenly, she said to the vampire, “I don’t respond to threats.”

Point for her.

“I see.” Strife raised her chin. She waved her hand in the air as if dismissing Sera’s response. Point for the vampire. “Believe it or not, we have orchestrated this event for your protection.”

“Event? Don’t you mean abduction?”

Strife shifted lower, adjusting her weight smoothly as the van rocketed around another corner. “Even so, it is to your benefit.”

The van lurched again, knocking Sera into the wall. She jumped to her feet with a curse and glared in the driver’s direction. The solid metal divider made it impossible to see him, but she imagined a hole burning into his head nonetheless. As she continued her pseudo-revenge on the driver, her ears perked up. Silence invaded and a thought snapped into sharp clarity. Strife’s icy voice filled the space. The air conditioner streaming through the vents provided the background noise. Nothing from the outside, not the van’s screeching tires as it rounded corners, or horns from passing cars could be heard from the interior of this van.

Sera’s earlier caramel latte churned in her stomach. Her breathing increased to rapid puffs despite her best efforts for control. “Why?” She paused, trying to lose the tremor. “Why is the van soundproof?”

As if attuned to Sera’s discomfort, Strife’s body suddenly transformed. Her black eyes softened to a gentle charcoal. The hard lines above her brows blurred into her face giving her a vibrant countenance. Light pinkish hues flourished on her cheeks. The rose and rainstorm scent increased as if emerging from a springtime sun shower.

Sera’s mouth fell open. The perfect predator, cold and deadly or warm and alluring, a chameleon viper.

Not so different from us, pet. The rock music quieted with Sera’s shock.

We’re not like the vampire.

Guy laughed. Well, at least you said we.

Sera answered by way of calling on a Led Zeppelin guitar solo. The sharp beats vibrated across Guy’s half of their shared psyche and drowned out the pest.

“This should put you more at ease.” Strife’s words quickened, losing the stiffness. “I don’t know all of your American idioms, but I’ll attempt to rectify my speech as well.” She placed a gentle hand on Sera’s shoulder. “I need your attention, not your fear. The fault’s mine. I’m used to interrogations.” She sighed, a more human sound than vampire. “Social settings, not my forte.”

Sera half grinned despite her wariness. The vampire’s new demeanor did put her more at ease. “Fair enough.” She rolled her head along her shoulders and willed her nerves to settle. The tension in her muscles, however, refused to subside.

Easy pet. Don’t be put off guard.

I can’t think if I’m wired like a friggin’ coil. Sera clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. Stop fighting and help me relax or I’m going to alter my mind into a one-woman steel drum band.

Not a chance. Drum solos or no. We’re staying alert with her around.

“Pain in the ass,” Sera muttered.

“Excuse me?” Strife sat against the van’s wall. Her long legs stretched before her, one booted ankle over the other.

“Nothing.” She followed the vampire’s lead in adopting a friendly posture, sitting cross-legged with her hands at her sides supporting her weight. “So...” She drew circles on the floor and stifled a nervous laugh at the idiocy of the situation. “Why’d you kidnap me?”

Strife’s cheeks reddened, a look of embarrassment for a human. But then, this creature was so not human. Hopefully, she wasn’t hungry. “Safety is our concern. We’ve known about you for some time, but didn’t pursue the matter until the murders.”

“You’ve known what about me? Who’s we?”

“I’ll explain.” She raised a hand as if conducting an orchestra. “Long ago, I became involved with a group known today as Veritas, the We, I spoke of. Its purpose was to protect innocence and seek truth. But today the outsiders label us vigilantes.”

“So what’s the real deal?”

“Our organization has been around for centuries. We are the peacekeepers, they who bring justice.” The fire returned to her gaze. Her eyebrows pulled together. “This government’s PCD is a babe compared to us. Child’s play for the humans to feel safe.” She scoffed. “We are the true...How do they put it?” She snapped her fingers. “Agents. We are the true agents. We identify criminals in our world, hunt them down, bring them to trial, and administer the punishment.”

Judge, jury, and executioner. The lump in her throat itched. She scratched her neck and said without thought, “Sounds like vigilantes to me.”

“No.” The quiet declaration hung in the air, before Strife cast her eyes downward. “We serve no government, no political entity, so perhaps I can see why they label us so. Yet we are far older and serve those of far more worth. Without us, humans would not fair long in this world.”

“Ok. So let’s assume for a second I believe your group is the good guys. Who’re the bad guys? And where do I fit into this?”

“We believe the timing of these humans’ murders was no mere coincidence. Someone wanted you there.” Her hands danced around. “And we believe that someone is phage.”

“What?” Sera’s head reeled. “What the hell is that?”

Strife’s next words reeked of frustration. “The phage are an ancient group as old as vampires with a radical leader at the top and several of her minions scattered over the globe. Their one unified goal is power.” Her hands stopped their butterfly movements as she crossed her arms. “We’ve been fighting them for a long time. It is only now they’ve come into the open, revealing their existence. We don’t know why.”

“I still don’t get it. What does this have to do with me?”

“The phage collect those to their cause they deem useful. We believe your abilities have caught their eye.” Strife shrugged. “Their leader, Reyna, has a lust for power unlike I’ve ever seen before. She is attracted to it like a moth to a flame.” A smirk drew to her lips and she winked. “And you have a tendency to burn quite bright.”

Sera paled. Does she know about the fire? Does she know about my past? Yelling for Guy in her mind, she lowered the electric chords. He remained stubbornly silent. With no answers from the parasite, she tried to pry the vampire for more information. “How could they possibly know about me?” She stood up, bending so as not to hit her head on the van’s roof. “And for that matter, how do you?”

“Your father’s political interests may have caused certain files to leak.” She motioned for Sera to sit down, but did not pursue the matter when ignored. “But we knew of it long before from your grandfather.”

Her eyes widened. A look of pure shock etched on her face. “My grandfather?” The memory of the luminescent man, whispering of family ties, ghosted across her mind—the car accident, the hospital, even moments ago in the van. Could he be real?

“Yes.” The last word rattled between them as an explosion above cut their conversation. The van’s roof ripped apart, raining down metal debris. A second later, the vehicle collided with something outside. It folded like an accordion, killing the driver on impact and pitching them both into the divider. Even Strife, with her vampire speed, could not block the force. They fell backward after the initial jolt, knocking into each other and collapsing onto the floor.

The outside commotion assailed Sera’s ears. Cars skidded across the pavement, horns blared, people screamed, the van’s engine cracked. She struggled to orient herself against the onslaught. Moonlight crept through the hole in the roof like a ghostly specter. Her vision adjusted gradually giving time for the creatures to swarm the van and gaze down at her from above. Time slowed and sped up in the same breath.

The fire began to rise inside her. “Shit. Not now.” Her muscles contracted and released in deadly waves. She clamped down the growing flames, waved a dismissive hand at the roof, and checked on Strife. The vampire lay flat on her back, her body motionless. Blood gushed from her head. “Double shit.”

Leave her. Let’s get this over with. Guy struck a match inside her brain.

Her conscience gnawed at her. The vampire had abducted her, so she really had no reason to feel pity. “It would serve you right.” The words fell hollow. “But you’ve got some information I want. Guess I don’t have a choice then,” she said aloud, more for Guy than herself. Despite the vampire’s wrongdoings, she wouldn’t leave someone to die. That happened only once, but once was too much.

She steeled her spine. “Ok, Guy. Let’s do this.”

Yes, finally. Time for a party.

“First things, first.” Sera grabbed her pink platforms. The four-inch sandaled wedges would not be ruined today. She flung the pair one at a time through the roof, purposely missing the bastards above—no reason to risk the shoes falling back inside, even if they did make a nice weapon.

The next part required a bit of acrobatics as the creatures began to jump inside the van. The small space became suffocating too quick. Sera dived to avoid a bite by one of the sicko’s gaping jaws. Landing close to Strife, she hefted the vampire onto her shoulder in a fireman’s grip. She let the fire swim in her, banking on the strength from her supernatural side. Adrenaline blocked her emotions and let her mind focus on the task.

Guy squealed like a teenage girl in glee. “Get a life,” she muttered as she jumped. Strife’s extra weight made the task more difficult and she had to grab the sharpened edge of the blown out roof. The creatures flocked to her within a second. Light began to flow from her body in rays.

“Not yet. Not yet. Not yet,” she cried. Using her legs for momentum, she swung her body weight forward. She kicked off the van’s corner and sailed through the opening. Once her feet touched the exterior of the metal roof, she adjusted Strife on her shoulder and dove for the street. When her feet touched bottom, she wasted no time. The creatures pursued her.

After running two blocks from the scene, she propped Strife in a sitting position against a mailbox. The vampire’s head wound had already begun to clot. With pursuers on her heels and her power spiraling beyond her control, Sera raced further away from the attack. As she searched for an empty alleyway, she tried to dissuade any onlookers from following by casting rays of light outward. The action, hopefully, would result in the area heating up to a degree humans couldn’t enter.

Four more streets and a quick curve to the right provided Sera with the perfect spot. A narrow passage with warehouses on either side stretched half the length of a football field to a chain link fence. The dead-end street gave Sera the ideal cover. “Ok, you bastards, time for a show.”

Sit back and relax, pet. It’s my turn.

“Not this time. We do this my way. I stay in control or I’ll fry us both.”

A low laugh reverberated through her body. Glad to see you’re growing a backbone. Ok then, your way.

Fire filled her veins, her blood boiling in every limb. Her hair ignited in orange flames. The inner barrier fell away, allowing Guy to sweep over her mind. Whenever she’d allowed this before, he’d taken control, merging them into one being with him at the helm. Not this time. They came together, unifying into one, but she felt every inch of the energy. She stayed at the wheel. The intense heat liquefied her muscles and organs, causing a scream to rip from her. The raw undiluted power made what was left of her stomach reel, but her feet remained glued to the ground. She’d ride this wave, even if it killed her.

The creatures hesitated on the outskirts of the alley. With precarious control, she managed to rein some of the fire into her body. The swarm moved closer, but not enough. Concentrating, she shifted the flames to a subdued yellow light, the type you’d find streaming down from the moon on a hazy summer evening. The beasts howled their victory as if they’d already won. Their eyes widened with their unnaturally shaped jaws. The smell of rotten flesh wafted from them like a sickly perfume.

When they reached within arms’ length of Sera, she let go. The soft light shot into five-foot flames, covering the creatures. They howled again, this time a ravenous cry of agony. The dangerous shift caused her to drop to her knees, but she kept the fire burning. It tugged at her bones, drawing strength from the pieces of her body, but still she held on.

As the creatures retreated down the alley and the last of their cries left her ears, she pulled back. The flames refused to recede, continuing to feed off her. She fought against the heat and pictured it returning to her. Still it grew, battling her will as if it possessed a life of its own. Her mind spun. “There’s got to be a way,” she said. The words came out raw. Soon she couldn’t even breathe.

Her vision began to fade to black. Small beads of light danced in front of her eyes. A kind, familiar voice whispered from the darkness. “Time grows short. You must stop fighting.” Her family. Her Grandfather. Weird to call him that. His words rang in her ears. She couldn’t tell if she recalled them from memory or if he sought her again. “Stop fighting.”

“I can’t. I’ll die.” Even now, the last slice of oxygen left her lungs. Her body flowed to the pavement like water. It would end here. Midnight hair, high cheekbones, and a solemn yet luscious mouth formed in her mind’s eye. Once again with no warning, Talon’s face appeared in her darkest hour. It made no sense. This attraction wasn’t rationale, wasn’t logical. It was a fantasy and nothing more. So, why in her last moments did she think of him? She didn’t have time to ponder as the energy faded from her.

With no fight remaining, she stopped. Stopped fighting, stopped breathing, stopped trying, just stopped. The fire ratcheted into her core, a semi-truck running over every square inch of her. Invisible spiders danced along her skin. At least it’s not melted, she thought as the fire caressed her. She tried to flick the imaginary insects away. The movement brought her attention to her hands, her wrists, her arms. “I did it.”

The startling revelation brought tears to her eyes. She’d finally done it. She’d controlled the fire, not Guy. “I’m free.” Her insides warmed with contentment instead of rage.

Not quite, pet.

Sera cursed. As she determined the most obnoxious metal music she could conjure, Guy directed her mind to the end of the alley. Her heart pounded against her ribs. The pulse at her wrists throbbed. A set of wild blue eyes locked on her. She kicked up the bass to ten, blocking out Guy’s taunts, and prayed her new control over the fire would last.

Chapter Nine

En Route To Tip-Off Locale, Phoenix, Arizona

Talon’s ears buzzed. The bar to the location of Drake’s mystery caller turned out to be less than two miles away. With the bikes blazing over a hundred MPH, the trip took under a minute. It wasn’t nearly enough time for Talon to get the wolf under control.

When Drake passed a five-car pile-up complete with a burning van at the center, Talon didn’t even blink. If he had any of his wits left, he would have stopped, lead or no lead. The wolf refused to allow it. His animalistic impulses—a lure for all shifters—hadn’t controlled him in years, but the strain of this case, his illogical and primal attraction to Sera, and the vamp’s taunts proved his breaking point.

“Ease up, buddy. I don’t need you causing an interspecies war here.” Drake’s voice sounded like gravel through the headset, but with their bikes feet apart, even that small bit of technology was unnecessary. Talon’s increased hearing picked up sounds as far as a quarter mile away. “You need to change back. If you go beast on me, we’re not going to catch this break.”

The Harley eased off, coming up a yard shy of a corner mailbox. Talon followed suit, trying to slow down his breathing along with the bike. Shedding his helmet, he squeezed his eyes shut and repeated, “Steady.” The word bounced around his brain, pushing the shifter urges to a dull humming.

“I’m almost there. Give me another minute,” Talon said. The hairs on his limbs began to recede.

“No problem. Our contact is staying in the shadows until I give the high sign.” Drake hopped off his ride and leaned against the mailbox. “Take your time, but not too much.”

The call of the wolf, the howling in his head, mixed with his mantra, making it difficult to focus. As a full shifter, Talon’s ability to turn linked directly to his emotions. Most of the time, he used strategy to choose the animal based on the situation. When his anger increased, however, a wolf’s fury surged forth. Once unleashed, the beast grew almost impossible to harness. He needed to calm down.

“Steady.” The word lacked conviction.

“Listen, Talon.” Drake’s tone dropped, a hint of the vamp’s true strength emerging. His cadence grew formal. “I humbly apologize,” a smirk radiated in his voice, “for riling you up.”

The uncharacteristic move from the cocky vamp provided the balm for Talon’s anger. The drive to kill dissipated along with the shift. Rubbing at a knot in his neck, he said, “Don’t piss me off again.”

“Roger that, chief.” Drake winked, then glanced over Talon’s shoulder to a silhouette between two buildings. His index and middle fingers scraped past his fangs, resting on either side of his tongue. A sharp whistle brought the concealed figure out of hiding.

A female vampire, lean and lethal, stepped forward. Her eyes, hair, leather jacket and skintight ensemble all shared the same shade of perfect black. Dried blood caked one side of her head, matting the hair to her scalp. The sight only made her appear more dangerous.

Talon growled, stopping ten feet shy of her. Any closer and he might strike.

“Easy shifter. Let’s not start that again. She called us.” Drake muttered the warning, but no doubt, the vamp heard it as well. She didn’t come near.

“My dear special agent, how nice to meet you at last.” She nodded her head a fraction of an inch. “Drake, do not be rude. Introduce us.”

The blood swam in Talon’s veins like ice water. The sudden change from raging fire to this extreme cold left him numb. The female vamp’s melodic voice reminded him of a single piano chord in an empty room. The sound didn’t affect him as much as the implication in her greeting. He gritted his teeth, eyeing Drake, and choked out a question. “How do you know her?”

“Talon, this is Strife. She is the leader of Veritas on this side of the globe.” He motioned in her direction and shrugged. “She’s over three hundred years old. There are few vampires who don’t know her.”

“Tsk. Tsk.” Her finger sprang up, wiggling as if to reprimand a child. “It’s unkind to reveal a female’s age. And you sorely understate our relationship.” She clapped. “No matter. We’ve more important things to discuss.”

“Indeed,” Drake said. “If you wouldn’t mind, the PCD is eager to learn of the girl’s whereabouts.” He cast a glance up and down the vacant street. “It’d be in your favor to give us the details.”

Talon noted how his “buddy” skirted around the issue of how well he knew the other vamp. The omission caused his nose to twitch. He couldn’t smell lies, but it didn’t stop his senses from going wild. PCD’s civilian vampire liaison and “friend” stunk like a rat—or a double agent. Drake’s stoic gaze revealed nothing.

“As you wish,” Strife said. Her head leaned back against a convenient store’s brick wall. With eyes half closed, she zeroed in on Talon. “Special Agent Talon Rede, not yet in your third decade of life.” She cocked her hip to the side. “Did you know a vampire can live thousands of years? Thousands. And still, I am already considered old.” Her voice fell, a hint of sorrow resonating. “So many of us fall before our time. You’ve no idea the dangers you face.”

Drake took a step forward as if to interrupt her, but she stopped him short with an arctic glare. A silver splash of moonlight lit the street. It drew her gaze as she beamed at the waning moon like an old friend. She inhaled. “I’ve allowed my thoughts to wander. We have other matters to discuss. Let me say this simply.” Her chin dropped and her face fell into a neutral expression. “I am of Veritas and though, we are more experienced than your PCD, we are not enemies. Yet you seem to think us so.” The air grew thin. Her voice rose. “Veritas has existed since the dawn of creation. Since the birth of vampires and shifters, psyke and,” she paused with a frown, “And phage.”

A sharp intake of air hissed between Talon’s teeth. He couldn’t help the breath any more than the tingling sensations in his body. All of his instincts went on red alert. Willpower and a burning curiosity stayed his feet to the floor. “What do you know about phage?”

“A helluva lot more than you.” She laughed. Her language dropped that strange cadence and flowed now in modern speech. “You’ve no clue what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“Enough of the games.” Talon lunged forward. His hands stretched like claws. The urge to shake the vamp into talking sense overwhelmed everything else. He stopped before reaching her throat.

Strife didn’t move. Her face a bland mask, almost bored, or waiting to see what he’d do next.

A breeze drifted down the street and with it time stilled. Talon sniffed the wind, still poised to attack. His hands fell away as he crouched down. Taking in large gulps of air, he stiffened. “Sun dried clothes, a hint of apple—Sera.”

“She’s safe,” Strife whispered, her tone taking on a soothing melody. “I was injured and couldn’t follow, but I’ve no doubt she’s already handled our attackers.” She reached a tentative hand toward him, but pulled back when his lips stretched over his front teeth in a growl. She continued untroubled, “We were trying to get her to the airport to take her some place safe. A group of phage blindsided our van with an explosive device.” She pointed at the dried blood on her head. “You need to get her out of here. Phoenix is not safe for her.”

A wave of nausea hit full force. He pictured Sera lying on the pavement, her body broken and bloody. He clamped down the bile. “Where is she?”

“You do not understand.” The striking piano chord returned to her voice. “I must tell you more about these creatures, first. You do not know their capabilities.”

He stood up. His fists tightened at his side. “I’ll ask you one more time,” he said, fighting back the rage. Panic gripped him hard. Fear for his—no, not his. He needed to remember Sera didn’t belong to him. Yet his instincts screamed otherwise. He rallied on the vamp. “If you don’t give me an answer, I’ll rip out your throat.”

Drake moved without sound, wrapping Talon around the waist in a deadlocked grip. “Easy,” he warned.

“It is unnecessary,” Strife said, batting at Drake’s arms. “Release him. He worries for the girl. Let him go to her.”

The hold on him slackened as Drake loosened the pressure. Talon slammed an elbow backward, catching the traitorous bastard in the ribs. “Don’t fucking touch me.” He threw the words over his shoulder, not sparing a glance. His attention remained fixed on Strife. “Where is she?”

“She ran off that way. Several of them were at her heels.” She pointed east. “But I don’t think you have to be concerned. Sera’s quite capable of defending herself.” A hum played on her lips. “In fact, I’d be careful when you approach her. She may mistake you for the enemy.”

“Thanks for the tip,” he said, spinning on his heel and ignoring the implications of Strife’s words. He fisted a handful of Drake’s shirt and yanked him forward. “I’m calling in the team. You and that creature over there better be here when they arrive.” He shoved the stunned vamp. Drake staggered two steps before catching his balance.

Talon didn’t waste another second on either of them. Running in the direction Strife indicated, he caught the scent again. Two blocks further, he paused. Stop acting like a damn rookie and do your job. Digging in his pocket, he pulled out his cell, and texted an emergency all call message with coordinates to the team. That taken care of, he shed his clothes and stuffed them behind a dumpster. With the barrier gone, he shifted. The coyote would have been preferable for the Arizona climate, but the wolf called to him.

His back hunched over until his knuckles scraped the street. Fur sprouted from every pore, a rich black that mimicked his hair’s natural shade. His eyes sharpened to laser points encircled by their usual blue. Bones snapped and reformed. The transition erupted so fast, the pain had no time to settle.

As Talon’s mind let go of its human brainwaves and the animal instincts began to take over, he caught the scent trail stronger than before. His paws burned against the asphalt as he ran to catch up to its source. In the wolf form, his strong hind legs pumped raw power and speed. The wind breaking against his muzzle sent a thrilling shiver down his fur. He reveled in the freedom of movement, his muscles expanding and contracting with the run.

Far too soon, he slowed to a walk. His nose picked up the repugnant stench of burnt flesh. A stream of dying light like coal embers peaked from around a corner. With tail raised and teeth bared, he stalked the rays. His spine stiffened, prepared for anything. At least he thought he was ready until he caught sight of her.

Sera stood at the end of a dead-end street, bathed in a blinding yellow light. Her skin glowed as if on fire. Her hair danced like flames. A haze of power emanated from her, a clear warning not to come near.

Despite the danger, Talon couldn’t keep away. Her appearance may have changed, but her scent remained constant. The clean, crisp aroma with that hint of apple invaded his psyche, driving him to the brink. The wolf’s primitive instincts wanted to go to her. Yet his animal form at once seemed a prison as he yearned to be a man before her, his human hands caressing her body. Her skin would be soft and hot, tasting like her natural fragrance. Would she yield to his advances or burn him alive? He wanted—no needed to find out.

As he inched closer, her light singed his fur. It didn’t matter. He itched to shift, to know her touch. He held back, afraid of scaring her. It was his last sensible thought. Need rode him hard. If the embrace of her fire was all he could have, he’d gladly allow himself to be consumed by the blaze.

With a primal howl, he leapt forward.

Chapter Ten

Two Blocks From Van Wreckage, Phoenix, Arizona

Sirens blared as Drake faced Strife on the empty city street. As if in agreement not to break the standoff, neither moved, nor even breathed. The air grew dense equal to the strain. The glow from an orange streetlamp cast their long shadows on the pavement.

Drake fixed his gaze on her mouth, careful to avoid a war with her inky black eyes. He curled his upper lip, a predatory sign. Less than half the female vampire’s age, he couldn’t match her strength. It didn’t matter. The Devil take him before he’d roll over like a dog.

A lazy grin met his snarl. “My dear Drake, this display is unnecessary. We are old friends.” She raised an eyebrow as her words switched from gentle raindrops to cold searing wind. “Though you seem to have forgotten.”

“No,” he said low. “I haven’t.” He stared at the concrete. The gray cracks in the cement matched his mood.

“Did I not help you once?”

Her voice ate at his mind, willing him to recall their connection. Grinding his teeth caused his fangs to cut into his bottom lip. He welcomed the taste of blood. The medley of city noises ceased; her words filled his head.

“When everything was taken from you, did I not give you the strength to fight back?” Her presence lingered over him like a wraith.

“You’ve done right by me.” Drake laughed with bitterness. “I won’t betray you.”

“Ah, there’s the vampire I remember.” For a few brief moments, her notes slipped into a quasi-modern American accent. Each vowel clipped shorter than her formal tongue. “Best not get on my bad side, though. You’re already walking a fine line with that display to the shifter.”

“What would you have me do, Strife?” He rushed forward, holding her gaze. “Is Veritas to align with the PCD or am I to continue this charade?”

She tapped his shoulder over the trench coat as if consoling a petulant child. “My poor dear.” Her hand brushed through her hair. “You are too old to be naive. Do you really think the PCD would welcome our aid? Did you not see the way their agent regarded me?”

“You abducted the key witness in a case. What did you expect?”

“Perhaps, gratitude. Would that be too much to ask?”

“And she calls me naive,” Drake muttered under his breath. Sighing, he squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed the closed lids. “Let me put this in a manner you’ll understand. PCD sees facts, and the facts are you—the leader of a highly suspicious vigilante group—stole the victim. Whether or not these phage bastards attacked is irrelevant. Under their laws, you committed a crime and you are the bad guy.”

“And you mean to tell me it matters not we were trying to save her, to protect her from the true evil?”

He bit back a retort about her complete cluelessness of modern law, and said instead, “I understand why. But they won’t.”

“Then, they are fools and unworthy of our help.”

He snorted. “The phage are out in the open, Strife. They’re not hiding in the shadows or sneaking into little girls’ bedrooms anymore.” His voice vibrated from unchecked emotion. A past he was determined to keep buried. “They’re petitioning Congress. They’re asking for classification. They’re in the public eye. They’re playing the role of victim, martyrs for their cause. And all the while they’re murdering humans in their sleep.” He paced, the violent energy craving an outlet. “We can’t afford to make more enemies. We need allies. Our numbers are too small.”

“I was wrong. You have grown, Drake.” Her lips curled upward, but an edge of remorse clouded her eyes. “I am glad of it. I hope you have given some thought to my question. The honor is yours. You have but to grasp it.”

He exhaled on long breath. “I’m not right for the job. I don’t belong to Veritas anymore, and I certainly don’t want to lead it.”

“Not a soldier for Veritas, not an agent for the PCD. Half in, half out. When will you ever become whole again?”

“When every phage bastard on the planet has taken their last breath.”

“Yes.” She nodded. “I share the sentiment well. But it is too late for me. I will never live free. Will you?” The edge of rain returned to her voice. “I believe you will be perfect to lead Veritas when I am gone, but I will not place that upon you, if you do not desire it.”

The ease with which she released him from such a burden struck him deep. “Why did you call me, Strife?”

“You are my child, made from my blood. If I cannot call on you, then who?”

“You have those far more capable in Veritas. You could have arranged for one of them to meet you here.”

“No. I failed to protect the girl and lost one of our own in the process. PCD deserves the right to try now.” She waved it off, but the look of guilt on her face told the true story. Failure never sat easy with a vampire, especially not one as proud as Strife. “Besides, they need to know we are not the enemy. You must warn them of the phage threat. Of these creatures’ true nature. I fear the phage grow more powerful than ever.”

“Why not tell them yourself? Combine forces.”

“We will see, Drake. But now is not the time. Veritas must remain underground. It is there we can learn the most about the phage’s movements.” Her nose twitched as if smelling something unpleasant. “Reyna is tricky. She’s eluded us for centuries. But if the phage queen has chosen this time to come into the open, she must have a plan.”

“And a bloody good reason.” He scratched his chin, mulling over what that reason could be.

“Yes. We must uncover her motives.” Strife’s eyes showed signs of strain. “In the meantime, we’ve others to contend with.”

A car’s headlights illuminated the scene before whisking away toward a side street. “Our time’s ending.” Strife eyed the area, then leaned in a mere hand’s span away. “Watch out for this Adriana Farrington. She’s the phage’s poster girl with her claws into all kinds of politics, but I suspect she’s really one of the queen’s generals.”

“A general?” Drake breathed in her ear. “Well, that presents a problem.”

Strife pulled back, scrunching her face in blatant disgust. The police sirens rang closer. “It’s time for us to part. Continue your liaison with the PCD and prepare them.” Inclining her chin, she offered a nod. “Until we meet again, be well my child.”

He murmured a goodbye when she shrank into the shadows. As if on cue with her departure, emergency teams swarmed the area. Drake knew they’d comb a five-mile radius from the accident and didn’t try to avoid them. It’d be far easier to face the local cops, then explain Strife’s disappearance to the PCD team when they arrived. He considered knocking himself out to avoid the hassle. As his earlier showdown with Slick played over in his head, unconsciousness tempted him even more.

He slunk down to the ground, his long legs resting in front of him and his hands crossed behind his head. He shut his eyes, catching a few minutes peace as he awaited his fate.

* * *

“I believe I’ve answered that question already. But as I said, we have no further leads at this time.” Jame ground her teeth together and grasped the sides of the podium. The microphone stood in front of her in mocking salute, making the string of curses she wanted to release impossible. A vibrating at her hip caught her notice and helped ease her from the edge. Flipping her cell over, she attempted to read her incoming text on the sly. A growl escaped her as she took in the crowd of reporters.

“Everything okay, Agent Bradshaw? Is that news from your team?” A man with round glasses and a two-dollar haircut asked from the middle row.

She glared at him. No way he could have identified the incoming text message that easily, at least not if he was human.

“My dentist.” Jame smiled and held up her cell phone. “Seems I’m missing my appointment.”

The crowd laughed, except for the jerk who had asked the question. He edged closer and spoke again. “Sorry to hear. Why don’t you tell us the truth about the case, so you can see your dentist in time?”

Her insides boiled, a low buzz of energy building. “And miss staying here with all of you folks. Nah.”

“So you admit you’re hiding information about the murders in Buckhorn.” Gray eyes peered at her through those coke bottle rims. His press pass flipped forward as he pushed a hand mike toward the podium.

Her body stiffened, every muscle begging for a shift. “I’ve told you, the case is under investigation. We believe a group of radical vampires or a sect of unregistered SUBs is behind the attack. We cannot reveal more than this without additional evidence.”

“And the witness, Ms. Sera Benenati? What of her? Is she under suspicion?”

“She’s safe and not being charged at this time.” Her instincts flared, a warning. Time to cut and run. “That’s all I can say on the matter. No more questions.”

A stream of voices erupted as Jame stepped away from the podium and behind a curtain. The cool empty office at the end of the hallway beckoned her. The press conference was held at the Phoenix Mayor’s headquarters, but the man in charge hadn’t stuck around. The building lay at her disposal.

Dancing devils, that was close. She rested her head against the wooden door, thankful for the privacy of four walls and a lock. The pressure of the conference over the last half hour weighed on her. The annoying polyester skirt suit chafed her skin. Knots formed at the base of her neck. The face of the steely-eyed reporter swam in front of her eyes. “Damn vultures.”

Her phone vibrated—another text. Be there in five, partner. Gotsta finish shakin’ down this here pretty boy, Sergeant Warren. Looks like he’s our leak. Shouldn’t take long. Meet ya at the scene. – Bull.

She scanned the note again, thinking she’d misread it. “What scene?” Jame said aloud, willing the walls to talk. Recalling the earlier unchecked messages, she rifled through the phone’s memory and pulled up the original text from Slick. Talon sent out emergency all call. Check your messages. Sending coordinates again. Get there fast. Gasping, she gripped her cell harder. “An all call, shit!”

The anger swelled inside her like a geyser waiting to explode. “If these scumbag reporters—” She yanked the white silk blouse over her head. “Dumb asses!” The high heels flew into the far wall as she kicked them off, pulled on her fatigues, and buckled her boots. “I’m an agent not Spokesperson Barbie.” Free of the monkey suit, she ripped open the door, flew down the hall, and burst through an emergency exit. The dark Suburban didn’t know what hit it when she started the engine and drove it like a Formula 1 racecar.

Chapter Eleven

Half Mile From Van Wreckage, Phoenix, Arizona

Sera’s heart rattled around her rib cage like a drunken hillbilly doing the two-step. A huge black dog with deep blue eyes leapt toward her. She had a split second to pull back her power before she cooked him into four-legged barbeque. The light whipped into her body with enough force to slam her backward into the chain link fence. Her teeth rattled on impact. She cursed as Guy’s shriek of laughter muddled with the beast’s piercing howl.

Staggering to her feet, she approached the brute as if it were a puppy. “Ohmygosh. Are you all right? Did I burn you? Did I hurt you?”

The monster dog shook its head, allaying her fears. It stared back at her with a quizzical look in its eyes.

Sera huffed, recognizing the expression. “Yeah, yeah. I know.” She raised an eyebrow. “I’m crazy, right? Like I haven’t heard that one before. What are you doing here?” Taking a step forward, she grinned at the beast. His fearsome jaw sat level with her chest. She reached out a hand to scratch behind his ears. The dog rewarded her with a catlike purr. “Aren’t you the big softie.” She cursed inwardly. “Great. Now, I’m talking to an animal. I’m seriously going to end up in the nut house.”

The dog withdrew his head from her hands. His gaze dropped to the floor.

Sera’s brows shot skyward in surprise. She’d never seen an animal look guilty before, but this one sure did. “What’s up?”

Bounding down the alley, the dog glanced over its massive shoulder and let out a bark.

“You want me to follow you?” She watched in disbelief as the animal shook its head in the affirmative and continued down the street. Her feet felt made of lead as she struggled to keep up with him.

Why Little Red, are you on your way to Grandma’s house? Guy started at it again. She bit her lip, too tired from the recent fight, and now the weirdness with this dog, to bother with a retort or the heavy metal music. When the silence dragged on, Guy spoke again. You did well today. They’ll be pleased.

The compliment brought her to a standstill. The cryptic they called on her journalistic instincts. “What the...What did you say?” Guy didn’t respond and the dog halted its trot to howl at her.

“I’m coming,” she said, trying to push the shock aside and concentrate on keeping her feet in motion. “Probably a good idea to keep your guard up around a...” She paused, her senses returning to normal. “Jesus that thing’s got to be at least two hundred pounds.” The alarm bells went off in her head. Having grown up in the mountains of northwestern NUA, formerly the Canadian Rockies, wolves weren’t exactly a foreign species to her. Though she never expected to see one in Arizona.

“Wolf?” she whispered, taking a step back. The creature looked over its shoulder at her again.

Staring at the creature with fresh eyes, she knew no dog, not even a wolf, could weigh that much, and certainly not one in Downtown Phoenix.

The beast ceased its movements and doubled back, coming within a yard of her.

“You’re not a dog or a wolf, are you?” Her heart kicked into high gear as she examined his long snout and twitching whiskers. Something about his eyes, those cerulean blue eyes. She gasped. “Talon?”

The brute let out a low moan. Its wet nose nudged her arm. His muzzle tensed. The sigh that escaped his throat sounded too human. Spinning around, he raced down the street and around a corner.

She took two steps in reverse and glared at the empty spot before bolting forward. “Hey! Wait up.” Her lungs burned when she reached the next block. A dark mass of fur sat crumpled by a dumpster. A flickering streetlight illuminated the gigantic creature. She kept to the shadows, uncertainty slowing her steps.

A roar blasted through the air, a sound so piercing it shook the ground. Black hairs receded inward, disappearing into the wolf’s body. Thick hind legs, hips, and backside elongated and straightened. The massive chest and front paws rose, stretching. A crackle of snapping bones had Sera covering her mouth. She staggered at the sight of the wolf buckling and transforming into a man.

When the process ended, the scent of burning wood floated in the air. Sera leaned toward the aroma, closing her eyes and breathing it in. Heavy footfalls announced his approach. Her lids flew open. Agent Talon Rede stood ten feet from her wearing a scowl and nothing else. Her tongue wagged as fire rose in her cheeks. She couldn’t peel her gaze away. His long powerful legs anchored his body like a cement block holding up a Roman god’s stone effigy. Smooth olive skin drew taut over the solid wall of his chest. His arms held caged strength. Her insides warmed as she imagined them encircling her in a ferocious embrace. As her thoughts grew bolder and her senses tingled, she lowered her eyes. But as they landed on his thickening manhood, she snapped them up to his face. The evidence of his arousal echoed in his fierce expression and stole the breath from her lungs.

He wanted her. The revelation made her breath hitch. She wanted nothing more than to have him soothe her body’s aching needs. It had been this way from the very first “Hello”. The hunger gnawed at her. Yet it couldn’t be. Memories haunted her and doused all of her hopes like ice water. Allowing her desire for him to grow would prove devastating for them both. She couldn’t take that chance again, not after last time, not after Matt. She bit her lip to keep it from trembling. Better to squash this now. She rose to her full height and cleared her throat.

“Agent Rede, I think you better get dressed now and explain yourself.” She raised her chin, proud she kept her words even, and prayed the trembling in her limbs didn’t reveal her true feelings.

His mouth twitched in response to her challenge along with other parts of his anatomy. She struggled to keep the blush from her cheeks, but knew she failed.

“Of course,” he said, crossing his arms. “Wouldn’t want any distractions.” He whirled around, providing an all too tempting view of his delicious backside. He threw a devilish grin over his shoulder, then disappeared behind the dumpster.

She exhaled, thankful for the momentary reprieve. Gee Zeus. That man is hot. Resting a hand against a building, she used the other to fan her face.

You’re trampling along dangerous ground, pet. Guy’s rebuke took on a far more serious tone than usual. You don’t have enough control. Hot for you, could be boiling for him. Get my meaning?

The cold steel in his words set her off balance. Who the hell are you and what’ve you done with Guy?

No jokes, pet. Not this time. You’re too close.

“Too close to what?” she cried.

Talon reappeared fully clothed as Guy’s presence faded into the background. “Everything okay?” Dressed in a casual gray T-shirt and black jeans, he looked downright combustible.

“Yea. No.” Her senses went into overdrive as he strode toward her. The earthy scent of pine needles and a woodsy fire wafted from him. She shook her head to keep her thoughts on track. “Wh-why are you here?”

“It seems you’ve a talent for getting into trouble.” He took another step forward. His movements felt calculated, like a predator stalking its prey. “I’m betting it’s not a coincidence you’ve been attacked—and survived—twice.”

Her hackles went up. “What’re you implying agent?”

“Sera, someone’s after you.” His words softened as he closed the distance between them. Even at her height, he towered over her, his body dwarfing hers. “I don’t know who or why. But you’re in danger. I won’t...” A muscle ticked in his jaw. His eyes flashed with unspoken need, before he regained composure. “I mean, the PCD won’t let anything happen to you. We’ll find out what’s going on and who’s responsible for this, I swear it.”

“Thanks.” She resisted the urge to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him close. It’d been a long time, an excruciating long time, since anyone cared about her that way. “And I...” She bit her bottom lip, unsure how much to reveal. The emotion in his face swayed her to take a chance. “I may be able to help you with the case.”

His hand rose as if to run through her hair, but he masked the action by rubbing the scruff at his chin. “What do you mean?”

“Well, for one thing, I was kidnapped by a vampire.” She bit the inside of her cheek trying to recall the details of her conversation with the crazy vamp. “In her own way, I think she might have been trying to help me, to protect me. At least she claimed that was the reason.”

“Strife.” He spit the word like a curse. “I’ve spoken to her. She’s the leader of a vigilante group. They think it’s their responsibility to police the world regardless of the law.” The night breeze blew a strand of hair across his neck, caressing it like a lover. “My team is bringing her in for more questioning.”

She gulped, distracted by the temptation to touch him. “Um, that’s good.”

“Yeah, but I suspect they’re not the real threat.” He sniffed the air. Eyeing the corner, he waved a hand at Sera. “I need to examine the alley where I found you. Come with me.”

His body went rigid into full investigator mode. Sera smiled at the posture as she followed him. She often got the same way when tracking down a lead for the papers—or gossip mags. Total focus, intense determination led to stiff necks and backaches, but usually got the job done. At least we have something in common.

They walked to the spot of the attack. Talon eyed the chain link fence at the end of the street. He scanned the heaps of dust along the ground. “We found a bunch of these at the crime scene in Buckhorn,” he said, pointing to the dirt piles. “Want to tell me what they mean?”

Careful, pet. Guy’s warning echoed in her mind as if he called to her from across a canyon. She didn’t need the reminder.

“I-I can’t.” Her thoughts scrambled. How could she tell him without revealing her secrets? He’d seen her fire in his wolf form, but admitting it aloud? A warm light radiated from the shadows behind Talon. The rays shone like sunshine in the darkness, a ball of gold burning into itself. Her mind cleared staring into it, but it disappeared too soon. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid I’ll have to plead the fifth.”

“You’re not on trial, Sera. I just want to know the truth.” He reached for her, stroking the fragile skin above her collarbone with a feather light touch. “I can’t protect you, if I don’t know who’s after you.”

The tips of his fingers burned against her skin like a brand, but it somehow brought comfort. She swayed into his touch, silently begging him for more. “I’m afraid.” Her voice cracked with the admission.

“No one’s going to hurt you. I’m not leaving.” He tugged her forward, holding her against his chest.

It should have caught her off guard, but somehow it felt right, too right. She anchored her hands on his waist and tilted her head to meet his eyes. “You don’t understand. I’m not afraid of,” she paused, searching for the words, “of whoever’s after me. I’m afraid of hurting people, of hurting you.”

“Have you hurt someone, Sera?” His voice remained steady as he met her gaze, but a flicker of doubt shadowed his features.

Her tongue felt like sandpaper. Fear prickled at the base of her spine. She wanted to tell him the truth, but could she? “The creatures from Buckhorn, the ones I told you about before.”

“Yes?” A hint of quiet rage bubbled under the surface of his question. She prayed it wasn’t direct at her.

“They were here again and attacked the van Strife used to abduct me.” She sniffed. Guy’s presence began to emerge again. She clamped it down with a hard rock ballad before he rose to the surface. She rambled on without breath, afraid to lose her nerve. “I led them away. Strife was hurt. I dropped her by a mailbox and kept running. They followed me. I tried to find a place away from people. The alley was empty. They came close. They tried to hurt me, so I...”

He ran a hand down her back, a gesture of reassurance and support. It gave her the strength to continue. She had to say the words for better or ill. No going back. He’d seen the truth; now, he needed the explanation.

“I burned them.” Her breathing quickened. “I had to. They would’ve killed me. Then, you came and I pulled it back. I didn’t hurt you. I pulled it back.”

“Shhh.” He hugged her close, tucking her head under his chin. “I know. I saw the light around you. I felt the fire.” He spoke into her ear. “It’s all right. You defended yourself. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

The absolution washed over her, a peaceful balm to ease her guilt. Hearing it from him was an unexpected gift. But even more important than his approval, was that she’d proven it to herself. She’d controlled the fire all on her own and she used it to stop killers. She didn’t hurt any innocent people. She’d made mistakes in the past, but she wasn’t a bad person. For the first time in years, she felt free.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, pet. Need I remind you of dear old Matt? Guy spoke low, a harsh whisper in the recesses of her brain. Yet his words cut as potent as acid.

She yanked from Talon’s embrace, already shivering from the loss of his warmth. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I can’t. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Sera. I know you feel guilty. It’s always hard; even for me after years on the job. But if those creatures came after you, then you had every right to protect your life. However you can do it.” His neck muscles tensed as he growled deep. “That’s why it’s called self-defense.”

A shudder ran down her spine, ghosts from the past assailing her thoughts. She hadn’t used her abilities against any living soul before her nightmare in Buckhorn, except for one other. A raging fire engulfing the yellow Mustang in flames, the screams of agony from her friend, the accusing eyes of the police, the sights and sounds of her memories made her stomach turn sour.

“Sera.” Strong hands gripped her shoulders and shook. “Sera, you with me?”

She blinked. “Huh? Oh yeah, sorry.” A wave of nausea rolled through her. Bending at the waist, she gripped her midsection. “Gimme a sec.”

“You all right? What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing. I’ll be fine.” She pulled from his grasp, but he knelt beside her. Concern filled his eyes as he placed a hand at her nape.

“Let me help.” He massaged the knots at her neck. The pressure helped ease the tension and soothe her worries.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I don’t know what came over me.” The lie brought the bile to her throat; she choked it down roughly. She’d not be stepping on that hornet’s nest. As far as she was concerned, the past could stay right where it was—behind her.

“No problem.” He straightened, helping her to stand. A cocky smile played on his lips. “It gave me an excuse to touch you anyway.”

She grinned at his teasing. “So you’re only brave when you have an excuse, huh?”

His features lit up like a firecracker, clearly loving the dare. “Oh you may find I’ve got some more courage than that.”

“Uh-huh.” She cocked a hip to the side, relishing the ease with which he could diffuse the tension and make her troubles fade. Not to mention she had the chance to flirt. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Without a second’s hesitation, he wrapped an arm around her waist and trapped her against the hard lines of his body. He descended quickly, claiming her mouth. The kiss started with infinite tenderness, allowing her every opportunity to pull away. It was wrong. It was reckless. It was unprofessional. And it was oh so right. She remained steady, startled by his abruptness, but loving the feel of him. When she parted her lips in invitation, he plunged inside. His tongue danced with hers, the thrust and retreat mimicking a more intimate act.

Sera’s head swam. It’d been years since she even dared a chaste kiss, let alone this. She gripped the back of his head, her hands tangling in his hair. He cupped her backside, pulling her closer. She wrapped a leg around his waist and he held her thigh with a rough palm. As she rubbed against the bulge of his jeans, spots danced behind her eyes at the delicious friction. They moaned in unison.

Talon pulled away first, dropping her leg. He slammed his hands on either side of her head, resting his weight on the wall behind her. His breathing grew ragged, matching hers. The loss of his warmth, even though he stood mere inches from her, shook her to the bone.

She struggled to find words. He met her eyes and opened his mouth as if to speak, but a shrill siren cut off conversation. As the whining alarm grew closer, the spell that came over them broke. A steely determination radiated from him. “That’ll be the team. The crime scene will be overrun by now. It’s best we get you out of here.”

“Why?” A sense of foreboding washed over her.

His face darkened. “Do you trust me?”

“What? I-I don’t know. I hardly know you.” Her insides cooled, the ardor vanishing. The truth hit hard. She didn’t know him at all. Yet she wanted to…badly. And if that just didn’t send her running for the hills. She clasped her arms over her chest. “What does it matter?”

“Your life may be at stake, so I’d say it matters.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, then scrubbed a hand down his face. “Look, I need you to come with me and not ask questions, okay? I’ve kept you here too long. Strife was trying to get you out of town or so she claimed.” His eyebrows drew together. “I don’t like the vamp, but I agree with her. We need to get to a safe house.”

She looked around. The alley seemed to grow smaller and a lot more hostile. She had no reason to be afraid, not when she’d finally started to get a hold on her power, but what if those things attacked again? She didn’t want to be a killer. “Okay. Let’s get out of here.”

His forehead crinkled, lines of suspicion dancing across his brow.

“What?” she cried.

“That was too easy.” He took her hand as if she’d bolt.

She gave him a sly smile. “Agent Rede, every now and again I might be agreeable, but I’m never easy.” Her lips pouted in a frown, recalling their kiss from a moment ago. “Well, not usually.”

He smirked, mischief glimmering in his expression. “Don’t worry, Ms. Benenati. It’s my animal magnetism, hard to resist, has that effect on women.”

She threw him an incredulous look and sighed. “Well then, I guess I should be grateful I have a rabbis shot.”

He laughed, a rich baritone filled with male confidence. “Not to worry. I don’t bite.” He stole her earlier words. “Well, not usually.”

“Somehow I don’t quite believe you.”

He grinned and led her toward the fence. A quick shift of his hand provided a set of razor sharp claws. He swiped a hole in the links big enough for both of them. Holding the pieces apart, he ushered her through the space. “After you.”

She mumbled her thanks and stepped onto a grassy expanse. “Where are we?”

Tucking her hand in the crook of his arm, he said, “Don’t worry. Follow me.”

They walked across the field toward a long strip of pavement. The lines in the road and the roar of planes in the distance revealed their location. “The airport?”

“Your instincts to run this way were excellent.” He motioned toward the airfield. “I’ll inform our pilot to fire up the PCD jet. We’ll be leaving Phoenix for a while. My team will gather some of your belongings.”

“No. No way.” She tried to pull from his grasp. “This is crazy.”

“I’m afraid this is the lone strategy to guarantee your safety.” He ignored her attempts to escape and tightened his grip. “Sera, please.”

Her feet sank into the floor along with her heart. The reality of the situation sent her mind into a tailspin. “What’s going to happen?”

“Nothing. I’m going to keep you safe, and you’re going to enjoy a vacation. That’s all.”

She didn’t dare tell him, but her safety was the least of her worries. The fire crackled inside her, dull like burning embers, but waiting to be stoked once more. She prayed it didn’t rage into an inferno and burn them both.

Chapter Twelve

Sky Harbor Airport, Phoenix, Arizona

The pilot and ground personnel fired up the government jet, but not fast enough for Talon’s liking. Usually the PCD’s twelve person rigged out plane, complete with TVs, laptops, and leather seats, provided the perfect means of transportation. Not today.

Talon paced the runway, anxious to get Sera to a safe house as fast as possible. “I want to be in the air in ten minutes. Not a second longer. You get me?”

The crew chief nodded and waved for Talon to mount the metal steps. “No problem, sir. Let’s have you join the lady now.”

His body tensed at the mention of her presence. He yanked the red muffs from the man’s ears. “If anyone asks, I’m alone on this flight. No one.” He stalked closer. “Be sure you hear every word. No one is to know another is aboard. Understand?”

“Yes, sir. Of course, sir.” The crew chief shook his head. A gleam of sweat appeared over the man’s upper lip.

“Good.” The biting night breeze blew across his face, doing nothing to defuse his frustration. He stepped aboard the jet.

The stark bone interior matched the ivory leather seats and two-seater couches. To the rear of the plane, four chairs faced each other in a perfect square. A wood table sat between them, bolted to the floor. Each seated compartment contained a laptop, stored safely with encrypted codes. If the plane fell into enemy hands tomorrow, it would take an eternity to crack the computers’ safeguards thanks to PCD genius psyke twins, Meg and Mack.

Unlike shifters or vampires, psykes most closely resembled humans’ anatomies. Their advanced mental faculties, however, individual and different for every psyke, put them in the strictly other category. The PCD twins particular talents to track information and know certain things—especially when you wanted to hide something—always gave Talon pause. Not that Meg or Mack would ever peer into his brain without permission, of course. And not that he had anything to hide. Right. Keep telling yourself that hot shot. He shoved away the bitter thought and looked over at Sera.

She sat on a forward facing chair in the middle of the row. Her head leaned against a window, her long legs tucked under her. She rubbed her hands against her arms. The short denim skirt and torn blouse could do little against the jet’s frigid air.

Talon swallowed the lump in his throat as he stared at her. His mouth watered like a lovesick dog. He tore his gaze from her sleek curves. He shook his head at the power she held over him, not liking it one bit. Procuring a blanket from a front cubby, he draped it over her body.

“Thank you,” she said softly. Her chocolate brown eyes watered. She snuggled into the cotton material, a smile crossing her face.

He sat beside her. The urge to offer comfort and protection warred with his need for detachment. As an agent of the law, he couldn’t get involved with a witness. It went against every moral fiber in his being, against every lesson he’d ever been taught. But it was more than that, it went against a failsafe born from a nightmare he relieved in his mind.

Screams. Gut-wrenching, awful screams filled his ears. He didn’t move. His legs froze as if carved of ice. He stuffed his fist into his mouth to keep from crying out. Bang. Thump. Scream. The pattern repeated over and over. Bang. Thump. Scream. Eventually the screams changed to moans, then whimpers, then silence.

The visceral images staggered him. The memory of what emotion could cost, the merciless price of it, hit him in the gut. He would not let his feelings bleed him dry. Lust. It’s just lust for the pretty blond. This attraction to Sera ate at him, the hunger growing stronger each minute in her company.

“Shit.” The curse sprung from his lips before he could stifle it.

“What is it?” she said, a sluggishness to her words.

“Nothing, sorry.” He fingered his cell phone, then held it up for her to see. “I’m going to make a few calls. Why don’t you try and get some rest?”

“Ok.” Her hand flew up to cover a yawn. “That’s a good idea.” She burrowed deeper into the leather seat. A sliver of her slender ankle peeked from under the blanket. “And Talon, thanks for coming for me.”

“Sure,” he mumbled, securing the cover over her foot. His fingers grazed her calf and she hummed her approval. He pulled his hand away as if he’d touched fire. Hell, maybe he had. “It’s my job.”

He walked to the plane’s rear with swift steps. When out of earshot, he cursed his traitorous body. “Stupid. Stupid.” The small contact with her bare skin, the most innocent of caresses, had his blood roaring in his veins. “Like some damned teenager.”

Longing for a shower of the icy persuasion, he sunk into the chair and switched the overhead air to high blast. His phone throbbed against his palm, distracting him from the aching lust. “Four messages.” He flicked through the missed calls and snorted at the voicemail. “Can’t they do anything without me?”

The heavy mantle of obligation pressed down on his chest. A family trait of duty before all else instilled in him since birth. He tended to saddle the weight of responsibility pretty well, if he didn’t say so himself. But this mindboggling, all consuming, magnetic pull toward Sera fired his brain in ten different directions. It’d be so easy to let the team handle the shit, and take the time learning every inch of her body here and now. His cock throbbed as he recalled her soft skin, her sweet scent, her wanton mouth.

The piercing cell’s ring ripped him from the fantasy with a jolt. He flipped over the device in his hand, thanking the saints for the little electronic miracle. His whole body shuddered. He’d never wanted to cast caution aside before and thinking how close he came to that edge for her... “No. That’s not who I am.”

He steadied his breathing, letting his mind clear. When the firestorm passed, he picked up the call. “Hello?” Gravel coated his greeting though he tried to clear it.

“Talon. Holla-friggin-louya. Slick was throwing a conniption. Do you know how worried your boy was?” Jame’s teasing mixed with traffic honking. Sirens’ cries rebounded in the distance.

“Yeah, I got that from the four messages. Tell him I’m fine.” Talon ran a hand through his hair, then rubbed his neck and shoulders.

“Will do.” Her wide grin shone in her words. “So, what’s new with you?”

He snickered at her sarcasm. “Oh you know, Jame, protecting a witness from a gang of serial killing perps. You?”

“Ya-huh. I’ll get to your witness in a minute. But let’s see. Lots going on with me. I seduced that pitiful newsie, got some juice about a dirty cop, dealt with the press, traced my boss’ mysterious all call, broke up a fight with a numb nut shifter and snippy vampire, and I was thinking about getting some pink streaks for my hair.” Her babbling stank of sniping. “But then I thought, nah, pink’s not my color. Stick with the platinum.”

“Jame. Can we cut to the part where you chew into me, and I remind you I’m team leader?”

“Oh yeah. That reminds me, oh fearless leader, the next time you issue an all call a bit more heads up be nice.” A Texas grunt of agreement slipped through the background noise. “See Bull agrees. Now, that I got you on the line, finally, want to let us in on the secret?”

“Wait.” A hollowed pit, the size of a grapefruit, settled in his stomach. “The fight you broke up, who was the vamp?”

“What’d you mean? Drake. Who else?”

“You didn’t find another vamp at the scene? A female, around five-five, black hair, goes by the name of Strife?” Dread crept up his spine.

“Talon, W-T-F! This is why we need directions, not some blank message. The only vampire at the coordinates when we arrived was Drake.”

“That son of a bitch.” Talon crushed the armrest while trying not to smash the phone. “Where’s Drake now?”

“He’s with us, of course. We’re on our way back to the office to go over details from the scene.” Jame huffed. “Why? Did you think he’d take off again?”

“Arrest him,” his voice lowered, a rumble in the depths.

“What?” Her screech hurt his ear.

“Jame, arrest Drake now,” he shouted. “Another vampire was at the scene when I left. She’s called Strife and is the leader of Veritas. If he was the only one there, then he let her go.” His blood boiled. “Arrest him.”

“Christ, Talon. Are you sure? I mean, Bull, smelled another vampire in the area, but he couldn’t track the scent.”

“I talked with her.” His eyes trailed toward the window, narrowing at the dark clouds in the night. “She abducted Sera, claimed to be protecting her.”

Her voice sounded too thin across the digital line. “What do I charge Drake with?”

“Accessory to kidnapping.” He squeezed the phone.

“It’ll never stick.” She sighed.

“We don’t need it to stick. We just need him locked up, so he can’t help the enemy.” The buzz rode under his skin, begging for a shift. “I don’t trust anyone with,” he caught himself before he slipped and said her, “this.”

She didn’t respond. Silence lagged on for one heartbeat, two, three.

“What is it?” The pauses spoke volumes. “Come on, don’t go quiet on me now.”

“I meant to tell you after the press conference, but the all call came and that madness.” Her hesitation grated his nerves, but he waited for her to continue. “Meg did some digging, like you asked, and the witness, Sera. She’s on our recruitment list and she has a record.”

“Details, Jame. Don’t give it in pieces. Spell it out.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. Her father, a police chief turned senator, put her file under lock and key. Back in her high school days, she came under suspicion for an accident.” Grueling silence reigned. A news clip appeared on the cell screen with the headline, “Teen Boy Remains in Coma after Car Blaze.” Scanning the article, Talon discovered teenaged Sera had been with the boy at the time of the incident, surviving the two-alarm fire without a single burn.

Talon growled. “A car accident?”

“Yes.” She paused again. “Talon, the police didn’t think it was an accident. They suspected her of starting the fire on purpose.”

Blood assailed his ears, pounding and churning. He choked on the words. “What happened?”

“Lots of circumstantial evidence. Nothing concrete. Judge dismissed the case, and daddy sealed the record.” A car door slammed, then a shuffle of papers. “She finished her senior year of high school at some lockdown Canadian boarding school, then moved the three thousand miles away for college and changed her last name. None of it came up in the background check. Meg had to fish it free.”

“So she was declared not guilty.” An image of Sera, surrounded by a burning light, flashed in his mind.

“Yes, but it doesn’t make her innocent.” Jame coughed into the phone. “Just be careful.”

Rage simmered under his skin. Whether it was directed at his warring emotions, Sera’s uncertain past, or Jame’s blunt warning, he couldn’t say. “I know what I’m doing. I’m not some wet rookie.”

“Gotcha, boss. Know you can handle it. But it’s my job to watch your back. Remember?”

“Yeah.” A sweet sigh rolled down the aisle, falling in his ears. Sera’s sleepy murmurings sounded like the softest breeze. It caressed his senses, driving him mad. “Keep an eye on it for me. No matter what I say, okay?”

“I always do.” She coughed, clearing some of the tension. “We’ve got bigger problems though. Meg thinks Sera landed on our recruitment list care of Sera’s daddy. Meg’s theory is Senator Papa’s being blackmailed. And he sent us the recommendation so we’d run the background on Sera, put two-and-two together, and protect her.” A gasp rang through the line. “But question is, protect her from what? And if this Senator is being blackmailed, who’s the blackmailer? And what the hell does it all have to do with these human murders?”

“Seven hells, Jame. Let’s take it a step at a time, huh?” Talon’s eyelids drooped, the events of the last few days catching up with him. “What’s Meg learned?”

“Haven’t touched base with her again.”

“All right. Here’s the plan. Keep Drake under lockdown for now. And get Meg on the line fast. I want to know the full story with this Senator and Ser...the witness.”

“Can do. But what about you? Will you be all right with her?”

“Whether she’s a victim or a suspect, she’s safer under our guard.” He rose, pacing the narrow aisle to catch a look at her. The blanket tucked under her trim figure, accentuating her delicate waist and ample breasts. His muscles tensed, adrenaline surging. With sheer force of will, he walked away and focused on the plane’s interior wall as if it was a friggin’ Picasso. “We’ll figure out later what to do with her. For now, I’m taking her to a safe house. I’ll send the coordinates on a secure channel when we arrive.”

“Got it.”

“Jame, one more thing.”

“Yeah, boss?” Her huff signaled the end of her patience.

“Keep the boys in line. Last thing we need is dissension in the ranks.” He exhaled on a hiss. “And get what you can from Drake. I get you don’t like using your assets, but we need the intel and he’s got a soft spot for you.”

“Bleeding vampires.”

“I know. Just do what you can, okay?”

“Uh-huh. I’m on it.” Her words became throaty. “N-Not like that. I mean, on the job. Not on it, him.” She sighed. “I’ll get the information we need. What about this Strife?”

“We can arrest her for the kidnapping, but Sera would have to testify in court. And I can’t bring her out of hiding without endangering her life.” He rubbed his chin. “Don’t bring her in yet, but have Meg run the satellite grid. Find her. Track her movements. Let’s see if we can figure out whether she’s an ally or an enemy.”

“Okay.”

“Thanks.” He ended the call and continued to stare into the emptiness. His insides scrambled. He didn’t trust himself to know the right path. Something about Sera sent his thoughts into chaos. All logic and rationale faded into dust. A clean fresh aroma caught his attention.

“Is everything all right?” Sera stood before him wrapped in the blue cotton blanket. Her hair fell in a wild mass around her shoulders and draped down her back. The golden amber hue shone like honey in the cabin’s dim lighting.

“Yeah, fine,” he said, his words sounding rougher than he intended. “Long night.”

“Tell me about it,” she mumbled. Her eyes darted around the rear of the plane as if trying to discern something. She leaned against one of the seats.

“Having trouble sleeping?” He tried to keep his tone even, a failing battle as stabbings of arousal clashed with his suspicions of her. An overwhelming urge to slap a pair of handcuffs over her delicate wrists nagged him. What he’d do after, he didn’t know.

“Sort of. I’m tired, but it’s like my mind won’t turn off. You know?” She tucked a strand of glossy hair behind her ear. “I keep replaying everything over in my head.”

“And do you come up with anything different?” He rose, forcing her to step back and into the aisle.

“No. Not really. Just a jumble of stuff. Same as I told you.” She bit her bottom lip. The simple gesture made her lips brighten to a brilliant red.

He groaned and waved his hand toward the front. “Well, go lay down on one of the couches. Might be more comfortable.” The suggestion came off more like a command, a gruff dismissal.

“Um, yeah, sure. I’ll give it a try.” Her shoulders sagged as she made her way up the row.

“Damn it all.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. A wave of pain washed over him. The idea he’d hurt her, even slightly, made his stomach clench. “What the hell is wrong with me?” He hissed, trying to get a grip. You hardly know this girl and she could be a suspect for the love of…Hell. He shook his head and peered over the seats in front of him. Sera slumped onto one of the couches, her face in her hands. She pulled the blanket up to her chin.

He dropped into the seat, letting the leather take the brunt of his weight. Digging out his cell once more, he flicked through the list to find Meg’s info. Once, twice, three times it rang, then switched to voicemail.

“Hi. You’ve reached the all-knowing genius of the digitized speedways. If you’d like to leave a message, even though they’re a way antiquated form of communication, wait for the beep. Beeep.”

Snorting into the line, Talon said, “Meg. I need intel on our witness and I need it yesterday. Did her father send us the recommendation for sure? If so, why? And the full details on her past. What happened exactly? Unseal everything in her record and route it to me.” He cleared his throat. “I’m counting on you.”

The call ended with another obnoxious beep and the line went dead. Talon stretched and yawned. He couldn’t remember how long it’d been since he last slept, but he knew no rest would come until he had that file.

Soft snores filled the space. He walked toward the sound to discover Sera stretched along the couch. The two-seater fit her upper body while her legs sprawled over the armrest. Her forehead scrunched together to form worry lines. Her head shook side to side and her breathing became uneven. She muttered something unintelligible. His gut tightened in response to her fitful sleep. He bent beside her and smoothed her hair away from her cheeks. The contact singed his fingertips, but he didn’t pull away. His body craved her heat, the burn. He studied her face, searching for an answer. “Who are you Sera?”

The plane jerked in response. Veering sharply to the right, it knocked Talon onto his ass and sent Sera tumbling into his arms. The pilot came over the intercom. “Sorry folks. Looks like we hit some turbulence. Going to be in a bit of a rough patch for a couple of minutes here. Better buckle up.”

“Thanks for the warning.” Talon cocooned her against his chest, careful not to startle her.

“Wha-what the heck?” Her body seared his chest as if she’d just come off some crazy adrenaline rush and the energy flared out of her.

“It’s all right. We’ve run into a storm or something. Captain says it’ll be fine. Just bumpy for a time.” He lifted her to the couch and strapped a buckle around her waist. She still expelled that burning force. He sat next to her, fastening his own belt and taking her hand. Tingles ran through their joined hands until he couldn’t tell whether the energy buzzed from his shifter side or her unknown power. “I’ll stay with you. Try to go back to sleep.”

“Thanks,” she whispered and leaned her head on his shoulder.

“No problem.” Her breath tickled his neck. His pulse quickened. He battled his lust, desperate to push her onto the small couch and lose himself in her warmth. Her hand absently stroked his collarbone, until the storm passed and the plane eased onto a smoother jet stream. When her gentle snores returned, he sighed. No way would he interrupt her much needed sleep. Relaxing into the pillow, he tried to find the same blissful reprieve. The leather against his jean-clad thighs, her hair on his shoulder, her hand resting in his lap, mocked his efforts. He cracked his neck, tossing his head back to stare at the ivory ceiling. His eyelids grew heavy as his thoughts flitted over the case and the woman at his side. Answers eluded him and as the night gave way to a gray morning, he said to the empty sky, “What now?”

Chapter Thirteen

PCD Field Office, Phoenix, Arizona

“This is some total B.S.” Jame’s feet burned a wicked path across the office floor. Her combat boots, buckled at the ankle and mid-calf, stomped the ground like a horse about to explode into a gallop. She spun on the ball of her foot, the rubber soles screeching over the industrial tile. “I’m surrounded by frat boys. Incompetent, moronic, frat boys!”

“Ah hem.” Bull cleared his throat. His tree trunk legs stretched over his desk ending in his well-worn tan cowboy boots. His hands sat steepled on his hard stomach.

Jame swatted at him. “’Cept for you, Bull. You know that.” Her pacing continued.

“Girlie, sit down. You’re hoppin’ about worse than a cricket in springtime.” He rose from his seat to wheel a chair toward her. “Now, sit ya self down.”

She remained standing, hands on her hips. “You don’t understand. Talon’s got it bad for this Sera chick. If she end up being a Norman Bates type psycho, he’s gonna flip.” She flopped a hand down to her side. “And what if he doesn’t bring her in? Huh?”

“Now, you’re talking plum crazy. The boss is a straight shooter.” He huffed and sat down again, boots back up on the desk. “He ain’t gonna let a pretty lady turn his head and forget his duties. Dontcha worry.”

“Yeah, fat chance of that happening, right?” Curling her toes inside her boots, she kicked over a small tin trashcan. A low buzz simmered in her veins. Talon’s never looked at you that way. Never even hinted at it and suddenly he goes AWOL over some leggy bimbo. She shook her head, chastising herself for letting her thoughts stray in his direction. No more high school drama. Plenty of hotties out there. Screw him. Her eyes wandered to the garbage littering the floor, bunches of papers and a half-eaten banana. She left it to rot and strode for the exit. “I’m taking a walk.”

Bull mumbled a “Yessum” as she closed the door with a crash.

Her temper flared, the simmer growing to a boil. She tried to tramp down the shifting urge by counting. She made it to twenty-four before a muddled conversation broke her concentration. She pressed her ear to the steel door. The space beyond functioned as both holding cell and interrogation room, depending on the team’s needs. Considering the field office’s three rooms were smaller than Jame’s apartment—and that was saying something—the areas each worked for multiple purposes.

Jame cursed as Slick’s threats invaded her ears. His low hissing voice grated on her last nerve. She gripped the metal handle using her last bit of willpower to crack the lock instead of smashing it. The door flew open. It seemed a minor loss since she really wanted to shift into a jaguar, tear down the door and rip into Slick’s throat.

“Tell me I’m not seeing what I’m seeing here.” Jame lunged at her teammate, catching him around the waist. She flung him into the nearest wall and got in his face. “Tell me I didn’t hear you putting a rundown on Drake from the hallway. Tell me you are not doing my job.”

Slick rose, a purposeful slowness to his movements. He flung a quick glance at Drake, then focused on her. “Let’s talk about this elsewhere, huh?”

“He’s not going anywhere.” She rallied on Drake, a steel edge to her words. “Are you Drake?”

“And miss this show?” The vampire laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of it, luv.”

“Good. I’ll deal with you in a minute.” Her eyes burned feral. She could feel her irises change color as the shifter in her begged to be appeased. “Now, answer me, Slick. Were you or were you not doing exactly what I told you not to do?”

“I was trying to get some intel from him.” He stood up taller, his sinewy muscles dancing under the room’s bright lights. “You said you didn’t want local boys involved and I agree. But he knows something he’s not saying.”

Her hands twisted. The bones snapped and claws extended. “I said no one questions him, but me. That includes you. And I’m pretty damn sure you understood me.” The energy licking along her knuckles exploded in a myriad of pain. She bit back a cry and retracted the claws. “Get out.” Pointing toward the door, she broke a sweat. “Get out, Slick, before this becomes something neither of us want.”

“All right. No problem.” He took two steps to the exit, watching her under half hooded eyes. “I’m sorry, Jame. I didn’t mean to step on your toes. He’s all yours. Just shout if you need me.”

Her blood stirred, itching for a fight. “Out. Now.”

“Right.” He dashed for the door without another word and closed it behind him.

“One. Two.” She battled to bring her breathing under control. With calmness she didn’t feel, she faced Drake, sifted the tangles from her ponytail, and stared him down. “So how do you want to do this?”

“Oh Kitty, I’d have you anyway I can get you.” He smiled a set of devastatingly white teeth, fangs poking from his gums. His spiky hair stood up in all directions. The yellow tips contrasted starkly with the dark roots. His black eyes stared at her with hunger in their depths.

“I’m not in the mood for games, Drake. As you can clearly tell.” Jame breathed deeply. Her hands still shook from the two quick shifts and her body felt altogether too hot. She fanned her face with one hand. “How about you just give me the full story and save us time?”

“But then you’d leave and I would no longer have the pleasure of your company.” He sat in a metal chair on the far side of the room. A heavy desk lay between them. Thick chains surrounded his wrists and ankles, winding around the chair’s legs. All the furniture in the room was bolted into the cement floor with three-foot spikes. Not the easiest to break out of, but not impossible.

“So you want my company?” Jame jumped atop the desk hard enough to shake it. She knelt to stare into the vampire’s black eyes. Her breath caressed his face. “You got it, so start talking.”

A hungry rumble vibrated from Drake’s throat. The sensual sound caused her insides to warm. She leaned closer, curious by her body’s reaction. His natural scent, rich like red wine, filled her nose. The thin fabric of his silk shirt hid an expanse of lean muscle. When he smiled again, exposing two long fangs, she snapped out of her stupor. “Don’t even think about it bloodsucker.”

Her feet skid over the desk’s slick surface as she scrambled away. Caught off guard by the heat between them, she lost her footing. Her arm scraped along the edge of the desk, an attempt to regain her balance. It failed. As she fell flat on her back, Drake shot from his seat and grabbed for her. He caught her head and shoulders in his arms a second before her skull could make impact with the desk’s unforgiving steel top.

“Easy now. I’d never hurt you, Jame.” Helping her to sit up, he cradled her body closer and pulled her to the edge of the desk. “Are you unharmed?”

An electric current ran through her blood, the source emanating from Drake’s strong yet surprisingly tender touch. She struggled to think. Her arm ached. She held it up to the light. A bright red streak ran from her wrist to elbow. He stood before her and captured her forearm in a light grip. Keeping his black eyes locked on hers, he used his tongue to trace the path of the injury. Her blood glistened on his lips as he sealed the wound. He moaned when the heavenly taste slid down his throat, flames glowing in the depths of his gaze.

She blinked once, twice. Her brain refused to process the desire racing in her veins from his provocative healing method. Her voice sounded weak in her ears as she said, “Thank you.”

“It is my pleasure, Kitty.” He sat on the metal chair once more. His chains clanked as they scraped across the cement. He kept his dark gaze fixed on her. The slight glow hinted at hidden pleasures. “Now, I think you were going to question me. No doubt using your wiles to extract information.” He smirked, brushing a hand at her. “Please continue. I’ve been so looking forward to it.”

Ewww! Jame resisted the urge to bang her feet against the desk. The curses flitted through her mind too fast to choose one. She was supposed to be using her charms on him, not the other way around. No way could she lose the upper hand to this cocky vampire. A cool smile played on her lips. “I’ll bet you have.”

“Ah that’s my girl. Good comeback.” He stretched his legs so his feet rested under the desk. Black jeans offset the crimson silk covering his chest. Tiny buttons trailed from his collarbone down to his waist. A black leather belt stretched around his chiseled abdomen. If it wasn’t for his spiky blonde hair, he could have graced the front cover of a Gothic GQ.

She swallowed, unsettled by this sudden attraction. She’d resolved to put Talon behind her, but fawning over a vampire—especially one as arrogant as Drake—did not fit into her new plan. She needed to fight this. “Tell me about Strife.”

“Jealous, are we?” His eyes seared into her as if stripping away every layer.

“Maybe. What does she mean to you?” She batted her eyelashes, feeling back in the game.

He winked at her. “Excellent.” Leaning forward with a conspiratorial regard, he placed two manacled hands on either side of her thighs. “She’s an old friend. No one for you to worry about, Kitty. I’m all yours.”

“An old friend, huh?” She bent at the waist so he’d either be staring straight at her breasts or he’d have to look up into her face. To his credit, he tilted his chin and met her eyes.

“Yes.” His deep gaze held gold in its depths. “Just a friend.”

She fought the compulsion to inch closer and studied her unpolished nails as a distraction. “And does this friend have anything to do with the code black?”

“Yes and no, luv. Depends how you look at it.” His hands gripped the table, the muscles in his forearms straining.

“And how should I be looking at it, Drake?” She rested her hands atop his shoulders, caressing the smooth silk under her fingertips.

He murmured his approval at her touch. “We have an interesting mix of characters here, do we not?” He swept a finger across her lips, an undemanding gesture, but it set a match to her desires. “No, Kitty. No need to answer. I know you agree. Talon has his misguided, black and white notions of right and wrong. Bull contends with the misery of his vampiric nature by hiding under a Texan cowboy persona. The half-breed—”

“You mean Slick?” She purred, tightening her grip on his shoulders.

“Yes, him. He is but a boy trying to play a man’s game. And then, there’s you, luv. So young, so desirable. And consistently overlooked by the fools around you.” He rose to his feet, towering over her. His knuckles brushed her cheek as he reached behind her to pull the tie from her hair. Unbound the black and platinum streaks fell in waves past her shoulders. With soothing strokes, his fingers sifted through her hair. His chains rattled with every pass.

“Hmm.” She centered on keeping her cool, as if the sparks flying from his touch were no big deal. “And...” Her breathing fell erratic when he moved closer. She clamped her legs shut forcing him to stand to her right side. “What does this all have to do with Strife?”

He glanced at her locked knees and smirked. Wrapping his arms around the chains, he jerked them forward. The iron gave way, a good eight inches, allowing him to sit on the desk next to her. “The PCD is an eclectic group as I’ve demonstrated. The same is true of Veritas.” He rubbed his chin. “The two organizations have much in common.”

“Ok.” Jame scooted to the left, trying to put some space between them. “And Strife?”

“Strife is to Veritas, like Talon is to the PCD. She is a leader in this part of the world.” He cocked his leg on the desk, closing some of the distance between them. “Both are bent on justice. Veritas is not the enemy you think it. But I know who is.”

“Do you?” She pushed wisps of hair behind her ears. “And who’s that?”

“Phage,” he whispered the word like a curse. His jaw clenched. The veins of his forehead pulsed in a deep blue rhythm. His eyes looked beyond the here and now to something unknown.

Jame’s heart leapt at the sight. She’d never suspected Drake was capable of such hate. Sure he fought with Slick almost daily, and yeah, he’d taken down baddies in the heat of a fight, and okay, the whole vampire thing, but this? “Hey, Drake. Come back. Wherever you are now, just come back.” She massaged his calf with no response. She tried slapping his face, gentle then harder, but still he didn’t come out of the fog. Sighing, she tried the one no fail tactic she could think of to rile a vampire, she bit his neck.

The taste of him awakened deeper desires within her. Her senses begged to shift, break the surface of his skin, and pull his blood into her mouth. She shot backward, shaking at her reaction.

He reached forward, grabbing her by the wrist and locking her in place. His dark stare flashed with crimson red. He pulled her against the hard planes of his chest. His arms clamped around her back, his chains cooling her skin. Two fangs extended forth and inched toward her neck.

“Drake, stop it,” she cried halfheartedly. The need to let him sink his teeth deep inside overwhelmed her. This unbidden lust spiked her fears more than the vampire about to take a bite out of her.

As the cry to stop left her lips, he snapped away from her. She stumbled at his swift movement, but readjusted herself on the desk. He rose, facing the far wall and breathing heavily.

“Drake?” A tremor passed through her as the air between them grew frigid. “Are you all right?”

“Peachy,” he said. “A moment for the prisoner, Agent Bradshaw.”

“Yeah, sure.” He wanted to pretend like nothing happened? Fine. No skin off her nose. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t take too long. You haven’t answered my questions.”

“Business it is then.” He turned to her and sat on the chair. This time he kept his feet on the floor. No part of his body reached for her in anyway. Even his look appeared aloof.

The temperature dropped a few degrees more. “We know about the phage.” She searched her memory for the details. “They’re trying to gain recognition by the government as a legitimate SUB. Why should they be on our suspect list?”

“Because they’re evil in a way you can’t even begin to comprehend.” His tone darkened.

“The same was said of vampires once.”

His ominous laugh coated the room in anger. “True enough. But we vampires are like angels next to these devils.”

Jame shifted her legs, uncomfortable with this development. She tried to get it back on track. “Ok, but what does it have to do with the case?”

“My sweet shifter, don’t you review the evidence?” Gone was any trace of warmth in the vampire. “The victims were bitten, pieces of their flesh torn off. The phage live off human flesh.”

“Maybe.” She recalled the suspect list. The phage claimed to eat raw animal meat, not human flesh, but she thought it best not to mention that little tidbit. “The victims were also drained of blood.”

“Yes. And that should be your main clue. Or didn’t you know, luv?” He jumped up. His fists slammed on either side of her hips.

She refused to let him intimate her. “Know what?”

“Phage.” His eyes took on that faraway look again. “Phage can’t drink blood.”

Chapter Fourteen

En Route To Safe House, Secret Location

“Yeah, yeah.” Sera scrunched her nose in distaste as the plain white tennis shoes squished along the dirt. The half size too small sneakers Talon had given her—though where he’d found them aboard the plane was anyone’s guess—pinched her toes. She’d been overzealous in trying to save her cute wedge sandals from getting ruined and tossed them aside before fighting the creatures in Phoenix. Unfortunately, she’d been unable to retrieve them with Talon’s unyielding order to flee the scene.

She kicked her feet in the dirt, muttering, “I’ll come when I’m damn well ready.” As the mosquitoes ate at her ankles and some huge monster insect flew passed her face, she decided she was ready. The humungous stalks, however, didn’t help her sense of direction. “Could you gimme a clue?”

His arm sprang out from nowhere and circled her waist. “Don’t want you to get lost now.” He ushered her forward with a gentle push. “I’ll follow your behind.” He coughed. “Behind you. I’ll follow behind you. Just keep heading straight.”

A smile spread across her face. “Sure.”

By midday, they reached the house—or rather the mansion. It sat in the middle of nowhere, a behemoth two-story Colonial with a wide wraparound porch. Her breath hitched as she marveled over the expanse of ivory columns, the floor to ceiling windows, the crisp white walls, and the dark green shutters. “It’s like I’m going to see Scarlet O’Hara.”

A momentary smile touched Talon’s lips as he fiddled with something under the porch. He rose with a keypad in hand. “No Southern belle’s home was ever decked out like this.”

A couple of quick flicks along the keypad brought down steel gates on all the windows. Around the house’s perimeter, electrified spikes burst from the ground, droning with energy. A woman’s voice sounded from the front door, “Alarm system activated. Safe House Beta engaged.”

In her shock, Sera stumbled. “Geez, Talon. When you said a safe house, I was thinking more witness protection, little cabin in the woods, a cheap motel or something.” She looked around uneasy. “Not a Southern mansion with a Star Trek fetish.”

His blue eyes zeroed in on her, a taunting gleam in the depths. “With all the shit you’ve seen in the past days, the house freaks you out?”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Good point. All right then, lead on.”

Another set of numbers and the door opened. Talon walked inside first, flicking switches as he went. Sera stayed at the door, scanning the interior. “You sure the house doesn’t bite, right?”

Rolling his eyes, he waved her inside. “It does, but prefers brunettes.” He pointed to his rich black hair. “Don’t worry. I’ll fend it off for you.” He disappeared down a side hall, leaving her to face the house alone.

After fighting those freaky creatures twice, seeing a glowing man who claimed to be her grandfather twice, and dealing with a voice in her head countless times, you’d think a creepy computerized house would be no problem. She shook her head at the stupidity. On unsteady legs, she made it inside and breathed a sigh of relief. Poking her head around, she noted the interior.

A cavernous front hall boasted a glass chandelier and sweeping staircase. She gasped, awed by the grandeur. Daring further, she spied a formal dining room to the right, complete with a twelve seat mahogany table, and two smaller rooms to the left. The first room boasted an empty office with an antique oak desk and stacks of bookcases filled to the brim. The second room featured a cozy living area accented in hues of beige and brown. A leather couch that looked as soft as butter rested across from a brick fireplace. Two equally comfortable looking chairs sat on either side of it. The wood resting in the hearth called her name. She dashed over to the tiles at its base. Kneeling on them, she placed her hand against a log and concentrated. “Let’s give it a try.”

Guy started to shout inside her mind. She turned down the volume on the rock anthem with the caveat he keep quiet. No more fighting. His voice returned to normal. Good, you’re learning. It’ll make the connection easier.

I can always tune you out again. She gritted her teeth. Her arm began to burn.

No, pet. I’ll be silent. He hummed a soft melody, then added, But use me when you need me. I’m here. We’re here.

Who’s we? The pain grew intense as flames licked her skin.

All of us, pet. You’re family.

Spots of light ignited in front of her eyes. She tried to swat them away, but the fire claimed her arm. It circled around her elbow and wrist, bursting inside her blood. She opened her mouth to scream, but lost the urge as a gentle voice sounded in her mind. I’m here, my granddaughter. Do not fear, child. We are with you now. We are a part of you. Our power is yours.

The blaze grew, but it didn’t burn her. Centering along her arm, it escaped from her palm and ignited the log. She looked on in awe as her hand cooled and the glow in the fireplace brightened the living room.

“And that’s why you’ll stay here.” Talon’s words cut as hard as ice.

“Talon, I—” She jumped. Her voice caught in her throat. She spun to stare into his face. Gone was the teasing warmth of a moment ago, replaced by a frigid anger.

“Who are you, Sera?” He took a menacing step forward. “What are you?”

“I’m just me. And you’ve already seen what I can do.” She stood tall, refusing to be put down for her abilities. She’d been running since high school, her own father having chased her away. Gentle warmth ran through her blood, words of comfort abounded in her mind. It was time to stop running.

“Yes, I have.” The hearth fire reflected in his cerulean blue eyes, blazing strong and clear. His body crowded her slender frame as he advanced, forcing her to the wall. His muscles strained, rigid like a granite slab. “But that doesn’t answer my question. What are you?”

Her hand clutched the fireplace’s mantle for support. The cold stone warmed in her grip. She braced her foot against the wall, pushed off, and stood toe-to-toe with Talon. She wouldn’t be cornered. “I don’t know. And if you’re going to act like some bully, you can forget my cooperation.” Stabbing a finger into his chest, she rose on tiptoe to close the height gap between them.

His face softened. The hard lines around his eyes smoothed. His clenched jaw lost the tension on an exhale. He opened his mouth to speak, but as he did, Sera lost her balance. Standing on the balls of her feet, the damnable too small shoes slipped from her heels. She stumbled forward and into the wall of his chest. As he caught her in his arms, he laughed a low sound of arrogant male.

“Careful. I’m easy to fall for.”

She scrunched her nose, kicking off the offending sneakers. “Oh come on. How long were you waiting to use that one?”

He gave her a wolfish grin. “If it works.”

She half smiled and regained her balance. He didn’t let her go. His eyes locked on her face as if waiting for something. The awkward silence continued, until he took a breath and said, “Please Sera, tell me what you know.”

“My family? Who I am? Where I come from? Not my favorite topics.” She sighed, letting her mind drift over the scant details she knew of her heritage. “My mother died giving birth to me and my father refused to talk about it. He said just that she was different. Special. He said I was like her.” The words stuck, her heart splintering. She pulled from his embrace and looked away to blink back unshed tears.

“I’m not human. But I’m not psyke either.” Guy hummed through her mind. “I have a link to my family, to others like me, I think. I don’t know for sure.” A ragged breath later, she lifted her chin and met his eyes. Memories haunted her. Every mistake she ever made seemed highlighted under his scrutiny. “I’m not a bad person.”

His brows pulled together. A curious gleam lit his stare. He cleared his throat before speaking. “You’re not a bad person. I know evil. I’ve seen it.” His palm cupped her cheek, an achingly gentle touch. “And I’m sorry about your mother. I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay. It was a long time ago.” She placed her hand over his, reveling in the feel of his fingers on her face.

“Sera.” He pulled his hand away, fisting it at his side. A roar ripped from his throat. “Christ. What am I doing?” The agony in his tone tore at her heart. “You’re an unregistered SUB. You’re an eyewitness in a mass murder. You could be a—”

“A what?” she cried, grabbing at his upper arms. The muscles pulsed under her touch.

He locked eyes on the floor. His voice lowered to a whisper. “A suspect, Sera. I’m a federal agent. I’d be an idiot not to add you to the list.”

“You think I killed all those people?” She trailed her fingers down his forearms, lingering over his closed fists. He couldn’t believe she was a killer. He couldn’t.

He turned his face to her, eyes filled with fire. “It’d be the thing to do. Everything in my training is screaming for me to name you a suspect.” He wrapped her in a fierce embrace, crushing her to his chest. “But I can’t. I have no control around you.” His lips descended upon her, raw with untamed passion. He kissed a trail along her neck, her cheeks, her eyes, until crashing with a hot urgency on her mouth.

She opened to his unyielding demands. Her arms wound around his neck, their tongues dancing together in harmony. He tilted her back, one arm wrapped around her waist for support. His free hand tangled in her amber strands, loosening the thick mane from its binding. She wrapped her leg around his strong thigh and ground her hips against the bulge in his jeans. He groaned. Sanity took a backseat as the madness ignited between them.

Liquid heat shot through her like a tidal wave. She ran her hands over his hard chest, down his ripped abdomen to the hem of his shirt. Yanking up, she tried to pull it over his head, but couldn’t quite manage the extra inches. She huffed her frustration.

His laughter rolled over her like a caress. He leaned back far enough to wrench his shirt free, barring his chest. The firelight kissed his skin, emphasizing the rich olive coloring of his Mediterranean background. He eyed her from head to toe, a predator’s gaze. His muscles tightened, a wolf ready to devour her. He snapped his belt free and opened the button on his jeans. Gruffness coated his voice. “We’re wearing too many clothes.”

Heat kissed her cheeks. Sera prided herself on being open and outgoing despite the secrets she needed to keep hidden. Unfortunately, the past taught her to stay clear of men and she had heeded that lesson all too well. Now with Talon’s blatant masculinity in front of her and the roaring fire behind her, she wished she possessed some experience to guide her. Swallowing hard, she lost her bravado. A squeak escaped. “Are we?”

“Yes,” he said, the breath warming her face. He eyed her tattered sweater with an animal hunger.

She sidestepped him and smacked into the arm of the couch. The pain ricocheted down her leg and she stumbled onto the cushions. She rubbed at the sore spot on her hip. Talon sat down beside her.

“Sera, are you all right?” He brushed a hand over her thigh.

Her heart squeezed, locked in a vice grip. “No,” she said, choking back a sob.

He gripped her shoulders lightly and spun her to face him. “What is it? Did I hurt you?”

Something between a laugh and a cry broke from her. “No. It’s not you at all. It’s me. You’re right about me. I deserve to be a suspect.”

A grip made of solid steel locked around her. He hugged her tight as if he’d never let go. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I know you wouldn’t hurt innocent people.”

“No. You were right,” she cried. The tears stained her cheeks. “I’ve hurt someone.” She wrung her hands against her sweater. “Oh God, Talon. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have started this with you. It’s just I’ve never had this connection with anyone before. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Swift fingers ran through her hair, soothing, comforting. “It’s okay. It’s my fault. I pushed this too far.” He planted a soft kiss at her temple. “I wanted you from the beginning, from that first damn phone call. I knew nothing but the sound of your voice, and yet I wanted you.” His face hardened while his eyes softened. “Even when you were lying in the hospital asleep, even though you’re a part of our case, even though I know it’s wrong, I can’t stop myself from wanting you.”

She pushed against the iron wall of his chest, far from his intoxicating words. “You don’t understand. I can’t be with anyone.” A ragged breath rocked her soul. “Even if I want it to be different.”

His eyes narrowed into slits. “Is this about your past? About that kid from high school?”

“How?” She shook her head. “How do you know about it?”

“I’m a government agent. Part detective here.” A mischievous glint brightened his eyes, but soon faded as a hard line traced his lips. “Tell me what happened.”

His hand splayed across the nape of her neck, massaging the tension away. She found herself leaning into his touch. Her mind spun in an array of thoughts, steering without a map. What do you have to lose? He’s already seen your fire. She stifled the fear, trying to remain calm and neutral under the storm of memories.

“Matt and I had been friends since seventh grade. Our junior year of high school, he asked me out. I didn’t think of him that way, but I figured it was better to be with a friend than alone.” She bit her lip and gave Talon her back. It’d be easier to tell him this way. She couldn’t bear to see disgust in his eyes.

He allowed her to face away from him, but moved closer to encircle her waist. He whispered in her ear, “Go on. It’s okay.”

“Every year, there’d be a dance at school, a sort of Spring Fling. He invited me to go. I didn’t want to disappoint him, so I said yes. But when we got there, I couldn’t stand it. The room felt so hot with all those people.” Her heart sped up. “From the day of my sixteenth birthday and on, I had a hard time around people, a hard time controlling...things.”

“The fire?” Talon said, pulling her back to rest against him.

“Yes.” Goosebumps prickled along her skin. A low simmer spread over her. Reclining in his arms felt so right. He provided a steady anchor as she sailed through her nightmarish past. “Matt saw I was uncomfortable. He took me outside, said we could go for a ride instead. We got into his car and took off.” She paused for a heartbeat. Her shoulders slumped forward. “He pulled into a lookout area all the kids used to hookup. I didn’t want to. We’d kissed a couple of times, but I felt terrible after pulling him away from the dance.” She couldn’t hold the tears at bay any longer. They streamed down her face as she tried to tell the rest.

“I’m right here, Sera. It’s okay.” He shifted on the couch to allow her to lean sideways against him.

She rested her cheek on his chest and gripped his shirt like a lifeline. “I didn’t want to upset him. He was so nice to me. He was my friend. So I-I let him do what he wanted.” She wiped her face and steadied her voice. “I tried to like it. I really did. But I kept feeling nauseous and hot. Then, he went too far. I told him no, but he kept going. It hurt. It was like I was on fire.”

Talon’s body tightened beside her. His muscles locked rigid, but he stayed quiet. His silence allowed her to continue.

“That’s when I heard it. A voice in my head. It whispered to me.” Plunged in the memory Sera recalled the words she’d never been able to remember before. The first time she’d heard Guy. “It said ‘Let go.’ I was so scared and hurt. So I-I did. I let go. Then, I blacked out.”

“What happened after?”

“I woke up in the hospital. They told me the car caught fire. Matt had been burned…badly. He’d fallen into a coma. The doctors couldn’t figure out why. And there I was without even a scratch. It looked bad for me.” She mustered her courage and looked Talon in the eyes. A deep blue like a winter storm in the dead of night stared back at her. “I started that fire. I know it now. I blamed it on the voice. But that voice is a part of me. It was my fault.”

A blaze burned in his icy blue depths. “Listen to me now. You were young and frightened. That moron took advantage of you.” When she tried to protest, he pulled her closer. “No arguments. You were in pain. You said no and that should have been the end of it. You were protecting yourself. Just as you did against those creatures.”

“I could have killed him.”

“But you didn’t.” He tucked her head under his chin and stroked her back. The sensation sent a rush of pleasure down her spine. “When I was sixteen, I’d shift at the smallest provocation. I always feared hurting someone. Sometimes I did.” He shifted back. Their eyes met. “It took me years to control the urge. You’ll learn to handle your power.” He flashed a devilish grin as the firelight licked along the wall. “You already seem to be doing quite well.”

“I’m more confident,” she admitted with a shrug. “I mean it’s like the fire flows through me and makes me feel stronger. I can control it better.”

“That’s good.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her palm.

“But I can’t take that chance with your life, Talon.” She sat up. “What if I hurt you?”

He laughed low. “I’d happily be burned by your fire, Sera.” He pulled her into his arms. “In fact, I think I already am.”

The fear faded as he left a trail of kisses across her neck. His hands grazed her skin, leaving a tingling sensation wherever they touched. Her pulse quickened. Sizzling heat whipped through her.

“Talon,” she said. Her heart smacked against her ribs. She wrapped her arms around his neck. Finally, she’d be with a man she wanted. Consequences be damned.

As their hands tore at each other and desire raced to a fever pitch, a siren whined from the house’s sound system.

Chapter Fifteen

Safe House Beta, Secret Location

“Seven hells.” Talon jumped from the couch and sped to a console on the far wall, swearing six ways from Sunday. He punched in the code to retrieve the alarm’s message.

The security system’s computerized feminine voice rang through the house. “Incoming call from Special Agent Megan Foster. Identity code P-S-one-four-three.”

“Accept.” Talon crossed his arms over his bare chest, trying to tramp down the lust burning his body. His blood churned like a windstorm. He didn’t dare look at Sera. A primal ache coated his words. “Meg, what’s the situation?”

A computer monitor emerged from the wall. It displayed a still picture of Meg and her badge number along with a voice recorder showing the incoming call. The house’s speakers played the transmission in the living room while a hidden microphone picked up Talon’s responses.

“Well, hello there. You live. It’s a miracle.” Meg’s chiding taunts touched on his raw nerves. “Enjoying the splendors of Beta House?”

“Not now. Do me a favor and save the reprimands for another day.” He ran a hand through his hair, pushing the long black strands from his face. “What do you have for me?”

“Okay. Well, you know of my unsurpassed skills on the tech hunt.” Meg’s bubbly personality returned to the forefront.

Talon grinned despite his frustration. “Yes. You going to give me the lowdown or a report about your genius?”

“Ha ha. Very funny.” Newspaper clippings appeared on the screen, highlighting two murder cases in Buckhorn, and a car accident in Phoenix. “See all these. First one is a couple killed in Buckhorn days before the murder spree. Second is the code black. Third is the attempted kidnapping of our witness.”

“Yeah. The witness is in the room by the way.” Talon kept his attention glued to the monitor, but he could hear Sera’s sharp intake of breath as she came up behind him and stared at the screen.

“Hi there, Ms. Benenati.” Meg’s voice brightened. “Glad you’re okay. And nice to meet you in digitized form.” She broadcast a quick pixilated image of herself on the screen, then flipped it back.

Sera cleared her throat. “You too.” When the articles reappeared, she moved closer, studying them with narrowed eyes. “The first clipping with the couple from Buckhorn is the one I was researching.” She fingered the screen, scanning the article. “I’d gotten a call from someone who claimed to be a family friend. She encouraged me to interview the victim’s sister.” Her skin paled. Sadness washed over her face. “I hunted down some information from the coroner’s office and I tried to interview the sister. I used my connection with the Arizona Hornet, but I was hoping to sell the story to a real paper.”

“Ms. Benenati,” Meg said over the intercom. “I have some news that might upset you. Are you sitting down?”

“Meg, don’t reveal anything our witness shouldn’t know.” An underlining threat turned Talon’s words cold. The hair on his neck stood like hackles on an animal’s fur.

“I’m not a child, Talon.” Sera spun on him. The heel of her hand smacked him in the chest. “I may not be a special agent, but I am a reporter. I’m good at getting to the bottom of things and I can handle a helluva lot. So, since this obviously has to do with me, I’d like to hear what Agent Foster has to say.”

Talon looked her over. A fire of determination crossed her face. Fear for her safety tore at him, but the strength in her eyes caused a sense of pride to boil to the surface. How long since he’d felt anything for anyone other than his team? He’d have to show some courage too. He crossed the room without a word and pulled one of the large chairs close to the computer screen. “Sit.”

Open-mouthed shock crossed her features, but she clamped it down. A small smile softened her fiery resolve. She sat without protest.

“Okay, Meg,” Talon said as he sat on the arm of the chair and held onto Sera’s shoulders. “We’re ready. Lay it on us.”

“So here’s the scoop. The cases are all connected. The common denominator is Sera.” New articles about a senator popped up. Sera winced. “I was correct about the recommendation. It came from Senator Marsh’s office as a safety precaution.”

“Wait a second.” Sera hopped off the chair. “Reginald Marsh is not winning any Father of the Year Awards.” Her hands clenched into fists at her side. “We’ve talked on the phone a few times, but we don’t have a real relationship. So why the hell would he send you anything about me? What could he send? He doesn’t even know me.”

Meg coughed. “Ms. Benenati, someone broke into your sealed police file from the incident in high school. I believe they tried to use the information to blackmail your father, and he sent us the file on you so we could protect you.”

“The damn voicemails.” Sera swore. “He wanted me to call him. Claimed it was important.” She curled her fingers into fists. “I figured it was more of his bullshit. I ignored him.”

An awkward silence filled the air. After a moment, Meg said, “Well, I don’t know how to say this, but I think the person blackmailing your father is responsible for leading you to that first case and for the murders. The crimes were an attempt to get to you. The first murder was meant to draw you out. The suspect killed the couple, then called you as a family friend of the victim to draw you to a specific location.” A map of Buckhorn appeared on the screen.

Talon kept a firm hand at the nape of Sera’s neck, easing the muscles there as she stiffened under his touch.

Meg continued, “Then, the suspect used his puppets. The second murders were probably meant as a kidnapping, but went wrong.”

“They weren’t trying to kidnap me. They were trying to kill me.” Sera’s voice cracked. “Besides isn’t that a little far-fetched? Why would they want me?”

Talon slid behind her, dwarfing her petite frame with his larger body. He forced her to relax into him. “Shh. Easy.”

“I’m so sorry. I know this is hard.” Meg’s voice echoed through the line, shaking. She pulled up a call log from the senator’s office. “I have some possible addresses for the blackmailer. I traced all the calls from the senator’s office and private phone. One unregistered number kept popping up, so no firm address, but the calls bounced along the cell towers. I triangulated the position within a five miles radius.”

“Good work. Where’s the central location?”

“It’s not far from the Senator’s office in Calgary.” A local map of the city flipped onto the screen. A red dot marked the office building. Within a few miles, a black triangle denoted the investigation area. “It’s in District Eight’s jurisdiction. I’ve informed Val. She’s got her team staking out the addresses.”

“I’m sending our guys too. Tell Valkyrie if her team finds even a hint of trouble, they’re to wait for us.” His body rippled with tension.

“Valkyrie?” Sera shifted to face him.

“Agent Valencia Nunez. Tag name’s Valkyrie. She’s team leader for District Eight and a stubborn pain in the ass,” he said to Sera. His concentration shifted back to the computer. “You tell the hardhead it isn’t her call.”

“I already told her you’re heading up the investigation.” Meg bounced the damnable smiley face across the outer edges of the screen. “She knows not to step on any toes.”

“Good. I’m going to have Bull haul Drake’s ass up there too. I want the bastard under heavy guard. Preferably in one of District Eight’s holding cells.” He grabbed the chair’s arms in an iron grip. Sera fidgeted further from him but remained silent. “I don’t like bringing him, but we can’t afford to leave anyone behind. This area is too wide and we need our whole team on it.”

“Of course.” Meg laughed. “It has nothing to do with territorial posturing.”

He tapped his fingers over his jeans, ignoring her remark. “Text all the intel through an encrypted message to my cell.”

“You got it, but,” her voice lost all its cheeriness, “Talon, there’s something else.” She chewed on her lip and the sound traveled over the line. “I have an idea of why the murders have so many perps.”

Sera’s leg touched the inside of his thigh. She trembled, but kept her chin held high. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. His heart beat loud, thumping inside his chest and against her back. He felt her relax into his arms. He placed his lips at her ear and whispered, “You okay?” She nodded once. He dropped his tone an octave lower. “All right Meg, tell us.”

“Well, the blackmailer may be the puppet master behind all of this, but the murderers might be just that, puppets.” The screen flickered, revealing a new article from a scientific journal on newbie vampires. Next to it, a paper marked CONFIDENTIAL appeared about newbie phage. “Newly made vampires and these phage creatures have some common characteristics.”

Scanning the articles with a quick eye, Talon said, “Brief us on your findings.”

“Okay, so new vampires and new phage can’t endure sunlight for the first fifty to sixty years or so of their lives. And all of the attacks took place at night like Sera said.” Meg switched the screen back to the three original articles. This time a yellow highlighter showed the times of the attacks. “New vampires are under direct supervision from their makers. They have complete brain function, but they have to follow orders. If they don’t, they suffer physical pain.”

“What a way to live,” Sera muttered.

“Yeah, but usually the vampires endure this for a half century, then their maker starts to lose a hold on them. Phage, from what I’ve gathered, have a similar tie to their makers.” A movie poster from a 1970s thriller appeared on the screen, entitled ZOMBIES. Talon didn’t recognize the film and snorted at Meg’s analogy. “But apparently, they’re more like zombies. They don’t have rationale thoughts, only a deep hunger and a need to obey their makers. The phage are super secretive about their newbies, but it seems they don’t achieve higher brain function again until their maker gives it to them through a direct command.”

“And if their makers never give it to them?” A stab ran down Talon’s spine, killing the last echoes of his desire, even with Sera resting in his lap.

“They stay puppets. Creepy, huh?” She flicked to a phage press release. “Definitely not something they’re spreading around.”

“So you think the blackmailer is responsible for directing newbies, either vamps or phage, to do his dirty work?” Talon pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s a good theory, but hell if you’re right.”

“Tell me about it.” Meg’s furious tapping clicked along the computer’s speakers. “And it gets worse. I went over some M.O.s with Slick earlier. Phage have political motivations for blackmail since they’re trying to get government recognition of their kind. However, they also have some problems amongst their own kind. Civil unrest, disputes, yada yada.”

“Seven hells, how many potential suspects are we dealing with?”

“Not done, I’m afraid. Veritas aren’t unmotivated either.” She flashed a picture of Strife and an article condemning Veritas as a violent secret society. “Turns out Veritas has a long history with phage. FYI we’re talking a major bitter war between the two. So it wouldn’t surprise me if Veritas tried to sabotage the phage coming out party.”

Sera rose, threw up her hands, and screamed, “What the hell does any of this have to do with me?”

Anger pulsed like a living thing from her every pore. Talon felt it flowing off her in hot waves. He clamped a hand around her wrist, dragging her down to the chair. “Sera, I’m here. You’re not alone.” She shook. “We’ll figure it out. This is what we do.” He lifted Sera and placed her against the chair’s pillow. Standing, he put in the decryption sequence and scanned his cell. “Meg, I’m going to text you orders along the same encrypted channel. Forward it to the team. I want them in District Eight ASAP. Then, we’ll track down this blackmailer.” He looked up into a web cam in the wall, so Meg would see the command reflected in his eyes. “I’ll be meeting them there once I can ensure Sera’s protection here.”

“No.” Sera caught his arm and tugged at him. “I’m not staying here while other people are put in danger.”

“You are in danger, Sera.” He seared her with a hard stare. “And I won’t have you in the crossfire.”

“I haven’t seen my father in a long time, but I could get more information from him than your agents,” Sera said. Her hand trailed up his chest to rest over his heart. “If it’ll help with the investigation, I want to go.”

“Sera.” Talon’s tone shifted low, a bear’s cautionary growl. “That’s not acceptable.” He rubbed his jaw. A light stretch of stubble scraped his roughened palm. “If the Senator is being blackmailed, he may be in more trouble than we know. I won’t put you in harm’s way.”

“You can’t keep me from seeing my father. I’m not a prisoner here, am I?” She raised her hand higher to tangle in his hair.

“No,” he admitted. A strong surge of desire raced through him at her touch. He stifled a groan.

“Good.” She tugged his black mane, causing him to bend and meet her eyes. A slash of gold cut across her deep chocolate gaze. “Then, I’m going.”

The growl escaped him. “I’m not leaving you unprotected.”

“Glad to hear it.” She released him and stepped back. “I was willing to go on my own. But if you come, I’ll be well protected. And you’ll have no reason to say no.”

A high-pitched laugh bounced off the walls. “She’s got you there, Talon.”

He scrubbed a hand along his chin. “I don’t like it, but,” he held up two hands in defeat, “Meg, send us the location of her father’s office and inform District Eight’s team of the plans. I want a heavy arsenal of backup in the vicinity if we need it.”

“You got it.” His cell buzzed again. “A turbo plane will meet you in the airfield. Our team will need the jet this time.” She flicked a countdown clock onto the screen. “I’ll make the arrangements. Let’s set it for oh-eight-hundred hours. Better get some rest ‘til then.”

“Yeah, thanks.” He powered down the computer and re-engaged the system.

A simmer curled along the shutdown unit. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Meg.” Talon’s eyes shot toward the hidden webcam. Her fading laughter provided a musical background.

“I like her.” Sera wrapped her arms around him and pressed her cheek against his chest. He stared down at her, desire burning through him as if it never left. A shy smile lit her face. “So...what do you want to do for the next six hours?”

His mind raced with images of what he wanted to do. But emotions crawled at him, shattering the erotic thoughts. Feelings were a liability and the consequences too costly.

“Just stay in here. Don’t move.” His mother implored, her voice breaking on unshed tears.

“Okay, mama. I promise.” Talon crouched in the corner beside his bed. His muscles ached as long minutes of silence stiffened his resolve. He would not move. He would not scream. Mama told him not too.

Talon pulled Sera’s arms free of his waist. His lust had gone cold with the memories. “You’ve had a crazy couple of days. I don’t want to take advantage of your feelings.” He put more distance between them, extracting his shirt from the couch cushions. “Besides, I have a responsibility to protect you. We can’t have...” He fumbled for the word, buying time by pulling his shirt over his head. Lust, desire, attraction. Anyone of them would fit, but he feared it just scratched the surface of his emotions. He couldn’t go down that road. Ever. “Distractions.”

“No. Wouldn’t want that.” The fire in the hearth died out. It swept the room in darkness as night descended.

He heard the strain in her voice and a weight pressed on his heart at the thought of hurting her. He reached out for her in the darkness, but stopped before he reached her. “Engage lights,” he said as he wandered back to the panel. Without looking at Sera, he headed for the stairs. From the bottom step, he called, “I’m going to take a shower. Food’s in the kitchen. Your bedroom is above, third from the left.”

She didn’t say anything. As he climbed the elegant staircase, he felt like a coward running from the one thing, the one person he wanted more than anything. His past chained him worse than any prison bars.

Once atop the second floor, he strode to the bathroom and put the shower on full blast. He’d been to the safe house on several occasions and had reveled in the home’s sleek amenities. Today, he was merely grateful for the ice water pouring down in sheets from the shower’s silver spout. He shed his clothes and cursed as he stepped under the punishing spray.

The arctic chill helped to ease his damnable lust, but it couldn’t alleviate the ache in his chest. He had to find a way to make her understand without injuring her feelings. He flipped the water off, toweled dry and hunted down clean clothes from a bedroom closet.

With heavy steps, he descended the stairs barefoot and searched for her on the first floor. A charred scent assailed his nose when he walked along the corridor. The house’s alarm system flared warning beeps. He picked up the pace. A repugnant aroma filled the air. “Sera?” he called. The kitchen stove erupted in three-foot flames. He hardly spared it a glance as his eyes swept the room. He found her standing rigid in a corner. Her entire body flickered gold.

His senses returned at the sight of her. He dove for the fire extinguisher. The security system activated the sprinklers. A steady flow from the overhead pipes doused the kitchen as he worked the pressurized handle along the outer edge of the oven. It sprayed the flames in a white sheet. With the fire out, he shifted his attention to Sera.

Water lapped at her, darkening her honey amber hair to a light brown. The blaze licked along her arms and legs like a second skin even through the thick stream. She stood tall and stoic, shining as a goddess bathed in fire and water.

Talon’s feet moved of their own accord. Every ounce of good sense screamed at him to halt, to leave her in that state. His treacherous body hardened, crying out for her as if she alone could soothe its ache with her light.

“No,” she cried, holding up her hand. “Don’t come any closer.”

He didn’t stop, didn’t even slow, the compulsion to be near her cutting away his good sense. His jeans soaked up to the knees. Puddles sloshed along the tiled floor. The alarm system cut off. The water pooled around them. Her fire heated the kitchen, creating a steaming mist that leapt along the wall. A deep golden hue circled her irises, painting flames within the pupils.

“I can’t stay away from you.” He stood within her reach, close enough for her to step into his arms, but far enough for her to run if she so chose. “I’ve tried. I know it’s not right. I know we hardly know each other. I know you’re a part of this case. But I can’t stop wanting you.” When she didn’t move, he inched closer. Her fire grazed his skin like a lover’s caress. He leaned into it, wanting to be burned by her touch. “And tonight if you’ll have me, I’ll show you exactly what we can do in six hours.”

Chapter Sixteen

Safe House Beta, Secret Location

Sera’s insides melted. Her stomach knotted into a pretzel. Flames danced along her skin like thousands of tiny fireflies. She didn’t need to direct or control them, they moved like a natural extension of her. Her entire being reached out for Talon, her fire embracing him in its fold.

Talon rose over her like an ancient warrior. Chiseled muscles tightened under his soaked shirt and jeans. His bright eyes deepened to an ocean blue. The tides reflected smoldering desire. Her mind warred with the needs of her body. She tried to pull the fire from him, fearing he’d burn up. It refused to budge, instead wrapping around his forearms and pulling him closer.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Tears sprang to her eyes unbidden. She fought back, refusing to let them fall.

He didn’t speak, but as he shed his shirt and crushed her to his bared chest, he spoke the answer louder than words. “You won’t hurt me, Sera. We both know that.” His hands stroked her back, easing the tension between them and at the same time feeding the flames. “Your fire feels like hot water. It doesn’t burn.”

Energy crackled around them in the air, in their bodies. It sizzled in their blood. A faint cry of alarm escaped as fear seized her. He caught the sound with his mouth. Her thoughts shattered. His kiss grew deeper and more demanding as his tongued darted between her lips. She arched into him, reveling in the hard muscle and smooth skin in her hands. The combined water from his shower and the alarm’s sprinklers slathered over his body like a cooling balm. She yearned to know the feel of it skin to skin and stepped back to rid herself of her oppressive clothes. The tattered sweater weighed her down, dripping wet. She yanked it over her head and tossed it aside.

The motion brought his eyes skimming over her breasts. The lacy cotton bra blocked his view and chafed her skin as her nipples drew into taut peaks. He smiled and encircled her face in his hands, stealing her breath away with the depth of his gaze. “You’re far more than I deserve. Beautiful in a way I can’t describe and never could have imagined.” He bent his head to nip at her ear and trail a hot path along her neck. “You make me lose all reason.”

“Talon.” She cried out as his tongue darted lower to trace slow swirls over the lacy material. “Please.”

He grunted in response and cupped her bottom, hoisting her atop the counter. She wrapped her legs around his waist and tangled her hands in his hair. A feral growl echoed through the kitchen as Talon’s teeth sharpened. He stared at her with an animal’s primal hunger. His long incisors nipped the cotton bra into shreds, but never touched her skin. Her breasts sprang free, heavy and aching.

Sera jerked back, fearful of that sudden vulnerability and uncertain of Talon’s control. She let her legs fall to the side and her arms brace the counter. Her head almost smacked against the cabinet, but he caught her neck in his roughened palm before impact. “Easy.” He edged her forward, pressing her breasts against the wall of his chest. “I’d never hurt you, Sera.”

She inhaled, willing her pounding heart to slow its rhythm. “I’m a little nervous,” she admitted, holding his head in a firm grip. “I haven’t really done this before...except that one time.”

“If you want to stop at any time, just say the word and I will.” He nuzzled her shoulder. His eyes rose to meet hers. “I’m not going to do anything you don’t want. Okay?”

Biting her lip, she swam through her thoughts, searching for an anchor. Guy, for all his pestering, provided a solid rock to which she could fix her mind. Although she appreciated this rare privacy—cause who the heck wanted him around in these circumstances—she needed something to sort the chaos. Trust yourself. The stray sound wafted along her consciousness. She didn’t know who it was or where it came from, Guy, her mysterious grandfather, herself. It didn’t matter. She had her answer.

“Okay,” she said, smiling as she loosened her hold on Talon’s head and wrapped her arms around his neck. “No more animal parts though.”

He greeted her smile with one of his own and showed her a set of gorgeous—and perfectly normal—white teeth. “Fair enough.” He laughed and bent to lavish his attention on her breasts.

She braced her hands against his firm shoulders as his tongue danced along one aching peak. Blood rushed to the surface when his hand found her other breast, pinching and stroking in gentle patterns. Desire consumed her and a throbbing need pulsed between her legs.

Talon fed the hunger by lifting her from the counter and guiding her legs around his waist once more. Without a word, he carried her from the water soaked kitchen to the comfortable dry living room. Setting her atop the arm of the couch, he knelt before her. With infinite slowness, he peeled off her drenched socks and undid the button of her denim skirt. Nodding to the fireplace, he said, “Want to light that for us?”

“Really?” she said, distracted by his wandering hands.

“Go for it.” He grinned, raising her to a standing position so he could slide the skirt down her legs.

Standing in nothing but a pair of turquoise panties, she concentrated on building the heat into the palm of her hand. Not the easiest of tasks when Talon brushed his fingers along the backs of her calves. Her knees buckled when he reached her thighs. The flames shot from her fingers across the room, luckily landing on the ashen log. It lit the hearth in an abundance of warmth.

Talon guided her to the sofa’s plush cushions. “Well done.” He motioned for her to recline as he took a seat on the floor.

“What are you doing?” She sat up. Her confidence in her abilities grew with his support, but she had no idea what he intended or if she’d be able to control her power without hurting him.

“Trust me.” He pushed her gently down and pulled one of her legs into his lap. He began to massage her ankle with assured strokes while kissing the inside of her thigh. When his hand moved up to her knee, he gave the same consideration to her other leg. Lost in the pleasure of his ministrations, she didn’t flinch when he stopped and moved his hands to her waist. It wasn’t until he ran his tongue over her thin wet panties that she cried out. “Talon?”

“It’s all right, Sera. Trust me.” He drew the slender material down her legs with one finger. The other hand held her in place as his tongue stroked liquid need. Her hips bucked against his mouth, soft moans drawn from her throat.

She fought the rising tide, too afraid to let go. “I can’t.” An inferno ignited her skin. Her insides melted. She wanted it to go on forever, and yet she desperately needed relief. Her muscles tightened like coiled springs. “I can’t.”

He released her from the onslaught of his tongue and murmured against her thigh. Slowly, gently he inserted one long finger into her moist center. The friction of his touch upon her inner walls sent her soaring. When he drove another finger inside, increasing the pace, and surrounded her sensitive nub with his lips, she screamed his name.

A cascade of heat tumbled through her and exploded in waves of gold and red. The flames danced in front of her eyes, making her vision swim with colors. The fire’s crackling song lulled her in and, for a moment, she drowned in the blaze.

As her blood cooled, leaving behind a pleasant hum, her head shot up in alarm. “Talon?”

“Right here.” He knelt on the floor. His head rested against her soft stomach. He smiled at her with gentleness, but his eyes revealed his hunger.

“I didn’t burn you.” Relief flooded her soul, even as need began to build once more in her body.

“Oh make no mistake. You burn me, Sera.” He rose to sit on the couch still covered by his worn jeans. He dragged her atop him. Her long legs straddled his thighs. “But I’m enjoying it.”

She sucked in a breath of air, shocked at how he could stir her desire. Through the straining cotton, his hard shaft rested between the apex of her thighs, an alluring invitation to new pleasures. Gathering her courage, she leaned into him and whispered into his ear, “Then show me everything.”

* * *

A hiss squeezed from between his clenched teeth. Seven hells, she was going to kill him. Her hair grazed his chest like a thousand feathers. Her voice echoed, the call of a siren tempting to drown him in flames. He didn’t fear her fire. He reveled in the soft burn. It licked across his skin like hot waves and ignited his blood. Nothing, not one of his former lovers, had ever drove him, excited him, maddened him like her fiery frenzy. He feared one taste would never be enough.

She moved, innocently rubbing her wetness over the denim material and against his thickening length. The contact sent pinpricks of pleasure through him, causing his muscles to contract to the point of pain. His words came out raw. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

“Please Talon,” she said, rising so that her breasts met his mouth. “Show me.”

A growl rose in his throat. He tramped down the shifter call and concentrated on fueling the need between them. He cupped her breasts in his palms, admiring the two perfect handfuls. His teeth scraped along one rosy peak, soothing the ache with several long licks. His tongue trailed kisses along the silken mound to give the other equal time.

When Sera’s breaths grew to shallow gasps, he rubbed at her core, fitting two fingers inside. He caught the moan upon her lips and drove his tongue in a scorching kiss. Desire raged until she squirmed against him and broke away. “No more. I need you.”

He couldn’t have denied her for anything. Releasing her from his grip, he lowered her onto the couch and stood. He ripped off his jeans, but allowed her a moment to view him in the flesh. She’d seen him naked before in the alleyway in Phoenix, but this time would be all too different. He didn’t want to frighten her.

Her eyes traced his body from his hair down his face to his chest, lowering to his abdomen, and finally, resting on his manhood. Longing sparked in her gaze, morphing her natural chocolate brown eyes to a devastating gold. When she raised her arms in clear invitation, he had to stop himself from diving atop her.

Take it slow. At least one part of his brain functioned against his shifter instincts. She’s been hurt before. He covered her body with his, taking the majority of his weight on his arms. He stared at her soft pink lips and frowned when he found them trembling. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said, but uncertainty coated her words.

“We can stop. You don’t have to do this.” He tried to keep the need from his voice.

A smile played across her face. Her eyes brightened to pools of pure gold. “No, Talon,” she said, wrapping her legs around his waist, beckoning him closer. “I want to be with you.”

He swallowed the emotion threatening to choke him. Her look captivated his senses. That’s how easily she could pull him under her spell. His heart jackhammered inside his chest. It wasn’t the undeniable attraction between them. No, it was something else he dare not name.

He shifted to the side and reached for his jeans. Rifling in the pocket, he grabbed a condom from his wallet and discreetly put it on.

Sera stared at him with wide eyes. Pulling away from her gaze, he met her lips. Their tongues danced together in a whirlwind of need. When the tip of his erection penetrated her, she tightened and went still. “Come on now, sugar, relax for me.” He coaxed her into compliance by lowering his body onto his forearms and leaving tantalizing kisses along her neck. She dug her nails into his back and settled into his arms. “That’s it.”

Inch by inch he dove inside her, allowing her body the time to accommodate him. The tension nearly undid him, but he fought to go slow. When at last he could go no further, he murmured in her ear, then kissed her hard. Her cry caught in his mouth. He didn’t dare move, but continued to entice her tongue into a heated rhythm.

When her hips began to buck against him, he smiled and pulled back. Long slow thrusts drew small whimpers from her. He kissed the silken flesh of her neck, increasing the pace. Her nails raked down his back, leaving a blissful sting. She moaned and met his every thrust. He wrapped her in his arms, shifting their positions so that he lay on the couch and she straddled his waist once more. As her body lowered to curl around his, he placed her hands on his shoulders and tightened his grip at her waist. She rocked atop him, finding a steady rhythm. He couldn’t stop his body from rising to meet her.

The fire blazed so strong, he feared the alarm would go off at any moment. When Sera threw her head back, her hair cascading around them like an amber wave, he felt certain it had. Her fiery sheath tightened around him, drawing every thought from his head. She breathed his name low and hot as her pleasure rocked her, causing her to collapse in his embrace. The depth of it had him straining toward his release until he thought he’d die from the tension. With her head upon his shoulder, he thrust into her twice more. When her teeth sunk into his the sensitive flesh at his neck, he exploded deep within her.

The room spun. He squeezed his eyelids shut as pleasure so intense engulfed him. Heat burned in his muscles, in his bones. The fire rushed into his veins, pumping through his body like the ultimate adrenaline rush. Sizzling spirals sent him flying to new heights. Reds and oranges flew around him in a symphony of color. Aromas and sounds amplified so that he swore heaven’s scent smelled like sex in front of the fire and heaven’s voice echoed like the soft murmurs of the woman in his arms.

“Sera,” he said, rubbing his chin against her hair.

“Hmm?” Lethargy set upon her, its presence evident in the way her body relaxed into his.

“Nothing. Rest now.” He stroked her back.

“Rest?” She sprung up. Her skin flushed a light pink from their lovemaking and glowed with the warmth of the fireplace. “What do you mean, rest?”

“We still have a few hours before we have to leave.” His body already tightened in response. He tried to clamp down the lust, shocked it could rise to the surface so soon after what they’d shared.

“Exactly,” she smiled. “And I have no intention of wasting them.” She rose to her feet, pulling a groan from him at the loss of contact.

“What’re you doing?” He sat up to watch her cross to the door.

“Well, you got to shower earlier and I haven’t gotten the same chance.” She headed for the stairs. A shy smile lit up her face as she looked over her shoulder. Her voice waivered only slightly as she said, “Gotta make every second count and all. So if you’d like to join me...” Her voice trailed off, the sound of her steps echoed through the house.

“Going. To. Kill me,” he said to the empty room, before bolting up the stairs. The shower poured down hot, steaming the bathroom in a heated haze, but the fire between them burned far hotter. As he sucked in a breath and enveloped her in his embrace, he said low, “Ah well, it’s a good way to die.”

Chapter Seventeen

Helipad of Vanguard Tower, Calgary, Alberta

Sera clamped her hands over her ears. The chopper’s blades cut through the rough afternoon winds. Gray clouds rolled above, threatening rain. She ran head down for the safety of the building’s rooftop entrance. Once inside, she rubbed her hands over her arms. The new red sweater and black leather jacket provided much needed warmth against the frigid Alberta climate, but came at a high price. She sighed, recalling this morning’s cold shoulder from Talon as he’d given her the clothes. After the earth-shattering evening they’d shared making love three times and sleeping in each other’s arms, she hadn’t prepared her head—or her heart—for the sting of his dismissal.

When the sun had risen that morning, Sera stretched in bed. The soreness in her muscles had done nothing to deter her good mood. She’d patted the pillow next to her thinking up a witty greeting for him. Her hand met empty space and cotton sheets. She called out for him, checked all the bedrooms upstairs, and tried to shrug off his absence as she headed for the shower. The hot water coated her from head to toe, easing the blissful ache in her body. When a knock sounded at the bathroom door, she jumped, banging her elbow against the glass door’s metal bar.

“Sera, you in there?” His deep baritone voice sent her senses tingling and a renewed heat rushing through her blood.

“Yes, want to join me?” she said, trying for seductive though it came off more like a squeak.

He cursed, too low for her to make out the exact word, but the effect was crystal. “It’s better if I stay out here.” He cracked the door open mere inches. His arm alone darted into the bathroom to leave a pile of clothes on the counter. “We need to talk about last night.”

The statement sent ice into her veins despite the shower’s steamy heat. She’d dried off fast, dressed in the new clothes he’d procured for her amongst the safe house’s supplies, and met him in the hall—the other rooms held memories he apparently wanted to forget. After about ten minutes of his bland speech filled with words like mistake and emotionally unavailable, she no longer worried about setting him on fire. As anger burned her worse than any flame, she’d let him have a piece of her mind, then set about using the best defense mechanism she could muster—ignoring him.

The long walk back to the makeshift airfield, the hours in the small turbo plane, the switch to the helicopter, and the ride in the chopper had been filled with strained silence. Now, as they rode the elevator down the seventy stories of Vanguard Tower and prepared to ambush her father at his office, she found the rift between them unbearable.

“So,” she said a minuscule sound after hours of disuse. She cleared her throat, opting for small talk over the emotional turmoil this morning brought. Not that she didn’t have some more choice words for him, but it would have to wait until after she dealt with her father. So, yeah idle chatter it was. “Why’d we land on the biggest skyscraper in Calgary?”

Talon glanced at her. A flitter of hope flashed across his face before he hid it behind a stoic mask. She bristled. If Mr. Hot and Cold thought he was getting away with his attitude and blowing off their night together that easily, well he had another thing coming. “Later.” She gritted her teeth.

“What?” he said. His brow furrowed.

“Nothing.” Her jaw clenched tighter. “Asked about the building.”

“Oh. It belongs to Arthur Vanguard, CEO and mogul of Vanguard-Hoff Corporation. He’s also the head of PCD Unit Four, which is comprised of Districts Eight through Ten.” He nodded his head toward the lobby’s rich marble and stone fireplace as they exited the building. “Needless to say, his districts have a bit more funding than ours.”

“Oh.” Sera brushed her hair from her face as the wind whipped down the street.

He guided her to the passenger side of a black Escalade, pausing with his fingers wrapped around the door handle. His words came out strained. “Sera, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean for this morning—”

“Talon.” She held up a hand for him to quit talking. “You made it clear how you feel...and how you don’t. Last night was a mistake. There’s nothing more to say. So, let’s not drag this out, okay?” Her chest constricted. Not screaming her pain here and now took all of her willpower, but opening up that can of worms wasn’t in the cards. She needed her strength to face her father. Talon and that baggage had to wait for now.

His blue eyes darkened to a muddy grayish hue. He nodded once with a locked jaw, and almost ripped the door off its hinges as he held it out for her.

“Thanks,” she muttered, holding back the eye roll, and hopped inside. The door slammed shut with a grim finality, but Sera ignored it, admiring the truck’s interior instead. The sleek leather and satellite radio reminded her of her sweet baby back in Phoenix. The cops still had her Jeep locked up at the impound lot and refused to release it until the Buckhorn investigation closed. Even more reason for her to solve these damn crimes, as if she didn’t have enough cause with the creeps attempting to kidnap her, kill her, or who-the-hell-knows what they wanted to do with her.

The engine kicked on with a rush and Talon took off. Her father’s office was about fifteen minutes away. Although from Talon’s driving, he seemed determined to make it there in five. Sera didn’t mind. She reveled in the speed and cracked the window to feel the wind in her hair. When she caught him staring at her, she shrugged and snapped, “What?”

“You’ve got a thing for going fast?”

His heated look sent her body temperature soaring, even though she swore not to let him affect her. “Yeah, so? I like horsepower. Got a problem with it?”

“Not at all.” He pulled his gaze back to the windshield, but his knuckles blanched white on the steering wheel.

“Good.” She rubbed a hand along the dashboard. “This baby’s nice, but my Jeep 4x4 at home would eat it for breakfast.”

“Of course she’d have to have a thing for trucks too,” Talon mumbled under his breath, but Sera’s acute hearing picked up his words. She suppressed a smile. Maybe he isn’t quite so aloof about us as he let on. Good. An inner warmth circled her heart at the possibility, which she promptly trampled. No reason to soften on his dumb ass. She scowled at her weakness.

Best concentrate on seeing dear old dad again, pet. Guy poked his invisible nose in.

Sera flinched, unprepared for Guy’s invasion. She hadn’t so much as heard a peep from him in a while. Yeah, uh-huh. I’m on it. She assured him, though why she even bothered, she couldn’t say. Are you all right?

Your concern is touching, pet. He laughed that mocking sound that grated every nerve ending. Keep your eye on the prize and don’t worry about me.

Not a problem. I won’t waste my energy. She cut off his pestering with a rendition of a Jethro Tull tune. The 1970s classic about a dirty hobo pissed off the leech every time, so she pumped up the bass on her inner radio. A gnawing uneasiness crept over her psyche. “Why does he keep popping in and out?”

“Who’s popping in and out?” Talon spun around a sharp curve fast enough to send her thoughts spinning along with the truck.

“Ah nothing.” She shook her head in an effort to clear it and focused on her surroundings.

Pulling into a metered parking spot in front of a steel gray building, Talon flipped into reverse and angled the truck. “We’re here,” he said. “You ready for this?”

“Yeah.” She opened the door, quieting the roar in her stomach. “I’m ready.”

* * *

Sera tapped her nails along the receptionist’s desk, noting the bare remains of the red polish with a frown. “Gods, I need a manicure,” she mumbled, picking at the polish and waiting for the woman to get off the phone. “The second this shit is over with I’m treating myself. Hell, maybe I’ll go for a whole spa day.” The prospect brightened her mood for a couple of seconds before the Playboy wannabe receptionist with the down-to-there blouse and up-to-here skirt hung up the phone and opened her mouth again.

“Ms. Benenati, I’ve told you already, you and your friend will have to be patient.” She held up the office schedule for the tenth time. “The Senator has important meetings lined up all day.”

“Maybe you didn’t catch me the first ten times I said it, Pamela.” Sera wrinkled her nose at the woman’s bright yellow nametag that clashed horribly with her pink cardigan. “My friend over there is a PCD agent.” She waved a hand at Talon, who stood against the far wall on the phone again. “And we’ve been waiting patiently for over three hours to speak with the Senator. If he can’t give us a few minutes to discuss a friggin’ murder investigation, not to mention the fact he could be in danger, then why the hell should we stick around any longer?”

“I understand the importance. But government matters take precedence.” Pamela adjusted her designer glasses and leaned over to reveal a good four-inch valley of cleavage. The haughty look on her face said they wouldn’t be seeing the Senator for another three hours. “Of course, he’ll try to see you as soon as possible.”

“Precedence? Oh really? Well, how about this,” she scratched her nails along the desk and met the receptionist’s eye, “you tell Senator Marsh his daughter, the one he abandoned eight years ago, is here to know why he’s sold her out to some murdering psychopaths.” She rose to her full height, happy the new knee-high black boots added inches to her frame. Looking down on the stunned receptionist wasn’t the most charitable thing Sera had ever done, but damned if it didn’t give her satisfaction to wipe the smug look right off the woman’s face. “See if that gets us in a little faster.”

Mahogany eyes widened into large circles as the receptionist’s mouth opened to match the shape. “His daughter?”

“That’s right. Now run into his office and tell him the news.” Sera cocked her hip to the side, one hand resting on her thigh. She huffed and cast a meaningful glance in the direction of the back office.

“Ye-Yes. All right.” Pamela’s heels clicked on the floor as she disappeared down the hall.

“About time.” Sera snapped at Talon to get a move on.

He gave a hasty goodbye to the caller and trotted over. “We in?”

“Yeah. The playboy bunny’s informing dear old dad of our presence.” She pointed in the direction the reception went. “Everything okay?”

“Meg’s dug up another address. Might lead us to the blackmailer.” He stuck the phone in his back pocket. “My team landed a few hours ago, so I put them on it.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “We don’t even know for sure if the deadbeat was being blackmailed.” Her gaze wandered to the long hallway.

“Evidence is pretty solid, Sera. But we’ll know more when we get it from the source.” He grasped her shoulders and started to lead her toward the office. When she resisted, he stopped and loosened his grip. “You okay to do this?”

“I can handle it.” Her tone brokered no argument, but her lips quivered regardless of her resolve. She pushed Talon’s hands off her. He made to speak, but she held up her palm. “Let’s just get this over with.”

The receptionist gave them a cool stare when they walked up to the plain wooden door. The sign on the front read Senator Marsh in gold letters. “The Senator will see you now.” She turned the knob and cracked the door, before sashaying back to her post.

“Thanks a lot,” Sera muttered. She grabbed the doorknob, breathing slowly in and out. It stood an inch open. She pulled it shut. Her heart beat too fast. Panic welled in her throat. She couldn’t do this.

A hand touched her back. She flinched away. Talon’s eyes widened. “Sera?”

She glared at him. Anger, frustration, pain didn’t even begin to describe this whirlwind of emotions. If she went in there with Talon, she’d explode on one of the men—her father or Talon. It no longer mattered. “I’m going in there alone.”

He took a step back. His face slipped into that damnable mask again. “We need this information, Sera.”

“I know.” Her nostrils practically snorted fire. “You can listen at the door and come when I call. But I’m facing my father by myself.”

Without another word, she pushed the door wide and stepped into the room. Flicking it behind her, she allowed it to close in Talon’s face. Her anger seethed, a living beast without restraint. The aggressive surge of emotion, the rage, startled her. She fought it down, settling for bitter sarcasm as her weapon. “So, miss me?”

“Serafina?” Senator Marsh rose from his chair, placing his glasses on the desk. His hand spanned across his striped red and black tie. A well of feeling fanned from his question. Too many to name. He hadn’t called her by her given name since she was a little girl. “Is it really you?”

Sera’s breath hitched. He looked old, far older than the way she pictured him from memory. His once jet-black hair had faded to a charcoal gray, offset by silver streaks. The dark suit he wore masked his gaunt frame, but the evidence of his weakened strength showed in his sunken cheeks and wrinkled brow. Bags drooped under his eyes as wide as the Okanagan Valley they’d love to hike and camp together when Sera was still a child.

“Yeah Dad.” She heard herself saying. Her rage replaced by some strangling emotion—one she didn’t want to face. “It’s me.”

“Oh, thank gods.” He took three steps toward her and had his arms around her before she could think to push him away. “I’m so glad you’re all right. I was so afraid they wouldn’t understand. Wouldn’t protect you. After you didn’t return my calls, I feared the worst.”

As a wave of uncertainty threatened to choke her, she took a pointed step back from his embrace. “Thanks,” she whispered, unable to keep the bite from her voice. “But I’m fine.”

He moved away, giving her air, but his soft hazel eyes never left her face.

Sera’s breathing grew ragged under the scrutiny. Her hands drifted to her neck. Reaching for courage, she heard an echo flitter across her psyche. Buck up, pet. No time to wuss out. She crossed her arms in front of her stomach to ease the queasiness. Coldness steeled her nerves. She didn’t come for a reunion. She came for answers. “I think you know why I’m here.”

“Yes honey, I know.” His features softened. For a moment, he became the man she remembered, the father who had loved her.

Her breath stopped. A split second. That was all it took. Suddenly, the case, the murders, the phage, none of it mattered. The question she’d kept bottled up all these years rose to the surface, skimming the edges of her emotions. The wall around her heart crumbled. In a whisper that cut worse than a blunt knife she asked, “Why?”

“I didn’t want you to be hurt by my political obligations.” He straightened, his face revealing nothing.

“No,” she said. Her teeth clamped together so she nearly spat. “Not that. Not now. Eight years ago...” Her insides bled, raw. Nerves exposed. Her voice simmered low, not her own. “Why did you abandon me?”

He stumbled and fell into his desk as if she’d given him a physical blow. Tears gathered in her eyes. She blinked them away. Before he could speak, she sputtered on, “If you really cared about me, you wouldn’t have shipped me off to some boarding school in the middle of nowhere.” The memory from all those years ago played over and over in her mind—the look of disappointment in her father’s eyes, the way he’d silenced her from speaking about the accident, how he forbid her from ever using her powers, and the next day when he told her he was sending her away. Her soul felt afire, but her words cut colder than ice. “You left me. Your own daughter. You abandoned me.” She tasted nothing, her mouth dry. “How could you?”

“I never abandoned you. I cared about what happened. Why else do you think I’d send you away?” The light in his eyes died, replacing the hazel with a deeper brown. His shoulders sagged. “I had to bury the incident, the files. I used my influence at the police station to destroy the leads back to you. To ensure it looked like an accident. If anyone found out the truth, then they’d learn about you. I couldn’t risk it.”

“What about me? You don’t even know the truth. You wouldn’t let me say anything. I nearly killed Matt after he...” Her fury fell, stealing her strength. A pit of sorrow replaced it. She touched her stomach and shook her head to banish it. “It doesn’t matter what he did. All that matters is I set that fire. I burned him. I put him in a coma. And you sent me away.” Her heart leapt to her throat. “Maybe I deserved it.”

He moved toward her again. “Sera, of course not. You didn’t know what you were doing. I know you didn’t mean to hurt that boy.”

“You don’t know anything!” She shoved him hard. He staggered into the desk. Agony tightened her chest. “I meant to hurt him.” She struggled for breath and wiped the sweat from her forehead. Her voice rose high, but steady. “Do you even know what he did to me?” She pushed at the vision, refusing to give it power. It claimed her anyway. The night of the dance. Matt draping an arm over her shoulder. Rushing her to his car. Saving her from the crowd. Then after... “He was so nice to me. I wanted to make him happy. But it wasn’t right.”

Her father’s cheeks drew in as if he’d sucked them between his teeth. “Sera, honey, what are you saying?”

The nightmare continued on, a movie stuck in a loop. “I had to get him off me, so I let go. I used my powers. I burned him.”

“Did Matt,” a ragged exhalation escaped between his lips, “did he hurt you?”

Finally, she trapped the memory into its vault and shoved it to the back of her mind. “I don’t know.” She shrugged, refusing to make it harder. “It did hurt. I said no, but he didn’t stop.”

Her ears picked up Talon’s enraged footsteps from beyond the door. She knew he paced the hall just outside the office. He’d have heard every word with his shifter hearing and waited for her to call him inside. If he’d given even a small sign of his feelings after their night together, maybe she’d take comfort in him. But not now. Not how things were between them. No, she’d have to rely on herself.

Her father took another step closer, reaching out a hand to her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You told me not to talk about it, my powers, ever. You told me never to use them.” She wanted to take his outstretched hand, to feel comforted, loved. She crossed her arms instead. “I didn’t know how to tell you about Matt.”

Viciousness unlike she’d ever heard before seeped from her father’s mouth. “That son of a bitch should be dead, not in a coma.”

She blinked, shocked by his show of emotion. In all of their brief interactions over the years, he’d been stoic, calm. He hadn’t shown anger in...well, not since the day she left for that boarding school. “It doesn’t matter now. He’s suffered enough because of me.” She paused, unsure if she wanted an answer to her next question. “Why did you send me away?”

The lines on his forehead scrunched together. His words faltered. A deep sigh ripped from his abdomen. “After you used your power, I knew I had to hide you. Your mother warned me. I promised her—”

She gasped. “Mom? What did you promise her?”

“It was a long time ago.”

Not once had he initiated a conversation about her mother. All of the times she’d asked, all of the questions, she’d had to beg and plead for answers. He’d given her scraps. “Tell me.” She wouldn’t let him get away with half-truths now. “Please.”

Another painful sigh shook him from head to toe. His eyes grew glassy. “When you were born, it was a difficult birth. Your mother labored for hours. The doctors told us you wouldn’t survive, but your mother knew she could save you.” He fell to a half-seated position atop his desk. The strength drained from his body like a deflated balloon. “She passed on her powers to you. Then, her health started to fail, her organs giving out one by one. The doctors couldn’t understand it. She told me her essence and the link to her family would live in you.” Small beads of moisture coated his brow. Two teardrops fell from his eyes. “I didn’t know what that meant, but I tried to stop her. I pleaded with her to take it back, to let you die instead.”

Sera’s eyes widened at the admission, but she remained quiet. Her heart squeezed so tight. She couldn’t breathe.

Her father’s voice rose in a passionate outburst. His fist clenched in the air. “It was wrong, but I loved her so much. I didn’t want to lose her.” He dropped his fist into his lap. “She chose you as she should. As I should have. Then, she made me promise if you ever used your powers to hide you. To make sure no one discovered you, because if the wrong people found out, you wouldn’t be safe.”

She took a step closer. “Safe from what?”

“Your mother didn’t say. She only made me promise.” More tears sprang forth and dried on his cheeks. He looked at her with so much pain in his face. It sent chills across her skin as she struggled for air. His words whispered between them. “Oh, Sera, I’m so sorry. I blamed you for her death. I couldn’t even hold you in the beginning, but then you needed me. You were only a baby and I knew I’d been a fool.” He dropped his head and stared at the floor. “After you used your powers with that idiot boy, I was terrified of losing you too. I knew I had to get you away. I had to bury the report. It’s why I sent you to boarding school, had you change your last name to your mother’s, and encouraged you to go away to college.” He sunk lower. His back bowed. “It’s why I kept my distance. I thought if no one could connect your old life to your new one, then you’d be safe.”

“Why couldn’t you tell me?” She reached a tentative hand toward him. Her fingertips grazed his arm. “Why did you make me believe you hated me?”

With infinite slowness he raised his head, stared at her face, and wrapped his hand around her palm. “I never hated you, sweetheart. I was afraid for you. I love you more than anything.”

She jerked her hand back and held it against her chest. “You’ve treated me like a stranger all of these years. Every time I reached out to you. Every time I wanted to come home. You always pushed me away.”

“I had to honey.” His voice whispered lower, rougher. “I thought I was keeping you safe. It killed me not to tell you why.”

“Not even at my college graduation?” Tremors ran through her chest. A hollow ache in her heart.

“I was there.” He kept his gaze locked with hers. “I had to make sure I changed planes and lost possible trails. The same way I had your calls routed to disposable cell phones over the years.” A hint of the man she remembered, the former police chief emerged. She even detected a hint of his old cologne—earthy, sandalwood mixed with fresh cut grass. The scent reminded her of happier days, childhood. His spine straightened. “I couldn’t take chances, but I had to see you walk across that stage. I stood in the back row. I was so proud.”

She didn’t know how to respond. He’d been there. Her chest constricted, a spring about to burst.

Easy, pet. Don’t want to pop a blood vessel. Guy’s taunts sobered her.

“I’ve lived with a voice in my head for years. Never knowing if I should just check myself into a psych ward or what.” She bit her lip. “Now, you’re telling me you knew I had some link to my family, to mom, and you wouldn’t tell me?”

Her father’s body sagged once more. His hand waved helplessly. “I wanted you to have a normal life, not be worried about all this supernatural nonsense.”

Her temper flared. “It’s not nonsense! It’s who I am. It’s who mom was. She might have wanted me safe, but she would have wanted me to know the truth too.”

“Maybe.” His hand dropped. “It hardly matters anymore. I made a mistake running for office. I wanted to do things right.” He inclined his head at the nameplate on the desk—Senator Reginald Marsh. “But the political arena is a nightmare. Cutthroats everywhere, every facet of my life unveiled. Once I discovered your file had been unsealed, I knew I had to tell you the truth. I tried. I sent a recommendation to the PCD, so they’d discover the truth and protect you. I called you. I left messages.”

She coughed. “And you wonder why I wouldn’t talk to you?”

Bitterness coated his answer. “We’ve spoken a handful of times. I thought you’d take my call when I told you it was important.”

“Yeah, well, a lot of things have been important to me over the years, but you never seemed to bother.” She took a breath. “I wish you would have told me about coming to graduation.”

Silence reigned for two heartbeats, before he said, “I know.”

“Look, this is pointless. I get it, okay, I do. But we’re not going to magically come back together.” She pulled at loose strands of her hair. “Hell, it’s not even about us now. People are losing their lives, and whoever unsealed my file is a part of it.” She eyed the door. “I’m going to let Talon in now. He’s a PCD agent. I need you to tell him everything you know.”

“Sera, I’ll do whatever I can to make amends.”

“Good.” Walking to the door, she didn’t look at her father. She circled the knob. “It’s a start.”

Chapter Eighteen

Senator Reginald Marsh’s Office, Calgary, Alberta

“Talon, you can come in now.” Sera opened the door for him. Heaviness coated her like a second skin, dragging her down. A thick knot formed in his throat. Hearing her pour out her pain, recounting that nightmare memory to her father, ate at him. He craved to hold her, comfort her. He’d been an ass for pushing her away, no matter the reasons, especially when she needed someone in her corner.

Make it up to her, then. Could he? Talon rested a firm hand on her shoulder and squeezed lightly. She gave him a grateful half smile he didn’t deserve. It nearly undid him. He had to look away or he’d pull her into his arms and never let go. You can’t afford that. The old demons whispered in his mind. He shook his head. No time for it.

He shot Sera a weak grin in return, then spun and lanced her father with a lethal stare. Yellow bled into his irises. He could feel the color change as the wolf called to him. He kept his voice even. “Senator Marsh, we received an official recommendation for Sera to be added to our recruitment list from this office, from you.” He dropped his hand from her shoulder and stepped forward. The room shrank as his energy flared outward. “You wanted us to find her, but it wasn’t to recruit her. Was it?”

To his credit, the old bastard didn’t flinch. In fact, his knuckles turned white as he fisted them at his sides. “I assumed the PCD could handle protection of one young woman.”

The smirk that played along his lips shifted close to a predatory snarl. “Senator, I’m in no mood for games. My people have been trying to hunt down killers, the same criminals who may very well be after your daughter.” This time a growl escaped him. “We know the person in charge of these bastards is blackmailing you. Tell us who he is so we can end this.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” A fine sheen of sweat broke across the senator’s forehead.

Sera stirred at his side. “You said you sent them information on me to protect me, right? Well, who were you protecting me from?”

“I’m a political figure, Sera.” The senator wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “I receive threats all the time, but,” he grunted like a wild hog, “a few days ago, I opened an envelope to see your old police record sitting inside. The only thing besides the file was a small slip of paper with a phone number on it.”

“And when you called that number?” Talon’s patience rested on a fine edge. The shifter energy swam in his blood.

“The voice on the line was camouflaged.” The old bastard chewed on the words like acid in his mouth. “I’ve had my people on it since. They’ve hit nothing but dead-ends.”

Talon crossed his arms over his chest. “What did the caller want?”

“Simple really. I consent to put some of his people into positions of power, and he—”

“Or she,” Sera interrupted. Talon turned to her at the same time as the senator. Both men looked at her as if she’d grown horns. “What? You said the voice was garbled, so we don’t know. Could be he or she.”

Talon grinned. She’d make a hell of an agent. Pride in his— whoa, whoa not his. Cool it with that. He gave her a brisk nod. “Good point.”

“Yes, well...” Senator Marsh rested on the edge of the desk, looking older than his mere fiftyish years. “He, or she, agreed if I helped him place twelve of his people into various positions in the government, your file would remain sealed.”

“I take it you agreed then,” Talon said.

The fire that radiated from the senator’s countenance had Talon wondering if Sera truly inherited her flammable abilities from her mother’s side. He sure looked ready to combust. “Agent, I am not accustomed to caving to threats.” His eyes softened, however, as they shifted to Sera. “Especially not when they concern my family.”

“How about the names of the twelve potentials, got them?” The temperature in the room spiked another ten degrees. Talon pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I refused to play his games.” The old bastard flicked his wrist and stalked to the window. Unlocking it from the base, he cracked it an inch. Sighing, he turned back to them. “The NUA government does not negotiate with criminals.”

“So, you have nothing.” He shook his head and snorted. “The blackmailer fails in his agenda and decides to up the stakes.” He dragged a roughened hand through his hair. “Perfect.”

“What are you talking about?” Sera squeezed his arm. A cool evening breeze blew in from the cracked window. The fading light meant they’d overstayed this little reunion.

Talon nodded to her. “Let’s discuss it in the car.” He extended his hand. “Senator, thank you for your time.”

The senator shrunk as if he’d been struck. “You’re leaving so soon.” He ignored Talon’s olive branch and stared at Sera. Pain etched along the creases under his eyes.

“Yeah,” she said, the single word broken in two.

Talon hurried them along, pulling her to the entryway. “And Senator the next time your daughter’s life is threatened, perhaps you’ll report it instead of sending us a recommendation letter.”

A young man’s swiftness blanketed the old bastard’s steps as he crossed the room. With chin raised in defiance, he puffed up to his full height. Unable to meet Talon at eye level, he still managed to sear him with an icy glare. “Agent, understand this. I’d already been a police chief for over a decade when you were no more than a punk rookie.” He jabbed a finger into Talon’s chest. “I’ve solved more cases in one year than you’ve seen in your entire career. And I didn’t get to sit in a senator’s chair because I’m a fool.” He’d swear SUB energy flared from Sera’s very human father. “So don’t presume to lecture me on my daughter’s safety.”

The thin thread of patience Talon had been working with snapped. Apparently, Sera felt the same. She grabbed Talon by the arm and motioned for him to make his exit. Go, she mouthed before rallying on the senator. He stopped outside the door and waited for her, watching the scene unfold. His shifter energy spiked to the extreme, tingling under his skin.

Sera’s words stabbed the air as sharp as knives. She narrowed her eyes at her father. “Look here. You don’t know shit about me. Not anymore. Not after eight years. So don’t presume to know what’s best for me—or my safety.”

“Sera, I,” a low sob broke from the senator, “I just want what’s best for you. I want you to be happy.”

“Happy? Happy? I lose my father, my home, everything.” She swatted the air. “Happy? Give me a break.”

“I didn’t know how it hurt you.” He backed toward the desk, bowing at the waist so that he hunched over.

“Now, you do.” Tears welled in her eyes and it took every ounce of Talon’s strength not to go to her. She spun away, her footfalls landing heavy over the linoleum floor.

“Sera, please,” her father cried. His voice sounded so small.

“I’m sorry, Dad.” A sniffle escaped her. “It’s too much right now. Maybe...maybe another time.” She closed the door. It squeaked open again as she retreated down the hall. But she didn’t look back.

Talon jogged to catch up to her. She kept going straight through the lobby and out to the car without slowing. The passenger door shot open and closed fast. He jumped into the driver’s side and gripped the wheel. “I’m not sure what to say.”

“Why’s that not a surprise?” Her feet hit the dashboard, the boot heels denting the plastic.

“I’m here, Sera.” He reached across the divide between them and massaged the nape of her neck.

She angled away from his grip. “Are you, Talon?” Her tone held a sharp bite to it, not loud, but hard as stone. “Because this morning you made it pretty damn clear the only person you care about is yourself.”

The wind picked up stronger than before, batting the truck. Talon imagined it shattering the windows, the glass shards stabbing him in the chest. Her words had that effect. “You think I don’t care about anyone?” He struggled to keep calm. His muscles tensed under the shifter buzz. “I have my team to worry about, victims to seek justice for, a slew of people rely on me. And you think I don’t care?”

“You’re right,” she spat. “I forgot. When it comes to work, you’re all in. No problem. It’s just every other part of life you can’t deal with.”

“My work is about saving lives, Sera. Your life for a start.” He fisted the driver’s side headrest. “What would you have me do, huh?”

“Maybe show some damn emotion.” She fidgeted in the seat, putting her legs under her and rising to stare him in the eye. “You sleep with me how many times last night? I tell you about one of the most nightmarish moments of my life...” Her bottom lip quivered a touch, and damn if he didn’t want to run his thumb across it. He held back the urge. She frowned. “I don’t have casual one night stands. I thought I made that pretty obvious.”

“Wait.” He held up his hands and sucked in a breath. “You think I see you as a one night stand?”

“Well, you sure as hell don’t want more from me.”

“Sera, do you have any idea how badly I want to hold you right now?” He let his hand drop to her headrest, inches from her cheek. “When you were talking to your father, I wanted to go in there and kick his ass just because he’d hurt you. After you let me in, I nearly shifted from the frustration. I wanted to hold you so much.”

“Why didn’t you?” Her shoulders shook.

He stared out the window and watched the wind toss leaves around the hood. Her question haunted him. He searched his mind, looking for the answer. If she could share such a painful memory with him, then he could at least give her a reason for his...less than admirable behavior. Okay, fine he’d been a Grade-A jackass. But why?

“I...” He paused. The memories from his childhood burned through him like hot coals. He didn’t have the stomach for them. “I don’t know.”

She sighed. “I think you do.” Shadows danced behind her eyes. “We all have our demons Talon. What’re yours?” She rested her head against the seat. “I can take quite a lot. I faced my father for the first time in eight years this afternoon. I handled you humiliating me this morning—”

“I didn’t mean to.” He cupped her cheek.

She didn’t push him away. “I know, but you did. I think I deserve to know why.” The seconds ticked by, but he still couldn’t find the real reason underneath the excuses. She guided his hand away from her cheek. “You told me I was a distraction. That you couldn’t get close to anyone.” She sat taller and raised her head again. “Who taught you to be so cold?”

“I’m not...I need to...My job...Hell.” He cleared his throat. The truth stared him in the face, those awful memories. He’d never spoken it aloud before. He’d have to now. He would...for her. The nightmare spun in his head, until the words tore from him.

“Shh, baby. Stay quiet. Just stay in here. Don’t move.” His mother implored, her voice breaking on unshed tears.

“Okay, mama. I promise.” Talon crouched in the corner beside his bed. His muscles ached as long minutes of silence stiffened his resolve. He would not move. He would not scream. Mama told him not too.

A crash shook the house as his father slammed the front door.

“What the hell is this, Lily?” The thick booming bass of his father’s shouts sent shivers through Talon’s blood. “Why do I smell a man in here?”

“Steven came by. Only Steven to see about the academy for Talon.”

“I don’t need that government lackey turning my son’s head. PCD! What the hell is that anyway?” Heavy steps echoed over the floor. “Some mumbo jumbo. Shifters can take care of their own. He’ll go into the military like his father. I’ll teach him about doing the right thing.”

“What would you know about doing the right thing, you miserable drunk?” she shouted. Crazy. His mother had gone crazy. It was the only explanation for her arguing with his father. No one argued with father. Ever.

Screams. Gut-wrenching, awful screams filled his ears. He didn’t move. His legs froze as if carved of ice. He stuffed his fist into his mouth to keep from crying out. Collapsing, he sunk to the thick carpet and hugged his legs into his chest. He was small for an eight-year-old, a fact his father liked to remind him of daily. As he spied the narrow space between his bed and the floor, he willed his tiny body to unfurl and lay flat on his stomach, then he wriggled under the frame until hidden from view by the dust ruffle.

Bang. Thump. Scream. The pattern repeated over and over. Bang. Thump. Scream. Eventually the screams altered to moans, then whimpers, then silence. A final slam, a door slam, and the house shook again.

Talon didn’t know how many seconds, minutes, hours passed before he found the courage to pull himself from under the bed. But when he finally did, and walked to the living room, he wished he’d never gotten up.

His mother lay sprawled over the remains of the coffee table. Her head cocked at an awkward angle. Caught in a shift, her hands curved into lethal claws, but each finger bent backward. He wanted to look away, needed to, but his gaze traveled down her battered body to the floor.

Blood. So much blood. The thick reddish brown liquid seeped into the carpet, creating a stain he knew would never disappear.

He screamed. Mother had told him to stay quiet, but what she said no longer matter. She would never speak again, so he screamed and screamed and screamed.

“My gods, Talon.” Sera’s hands covered her mouth. “I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry.” Those gentle fingers reached for him and squeezed his arm. He gripped the steering wheel, not able to look her in the eye. “What happened after she...after...?”

“The trial went on for months, but eventually the jury convicted my father of murder.” The windshield blurred before his eyes. Were those tears? No, he wouldn’t let them fall. “The judge gave him life, and even that didn’t seem enough.” He shook off her hold and swiped his eyes with the back of his hand. Damn emotion. No...no. He wouldn’t think like that. “Bram raised me. I went into the academy. The PCD taught me the importance of duty, honor. Emotions had to be stamped out. Feelings were a commodity I couldn’t afford.”

“The PCD taught you that?”

“No, my father. He taught me.” He finally looked at her, expecting to find pity in her face. Instead, he found a compassion and understanding that nearly undid him. “Shifters are volatile by nature, but my father was more so. It’s in me, Sera. This need...these urges. If I don’t squash down my emotions, I could end up hurting, killing the people that matter most. I can’t afford to care about anyone.”

“But you do feel.” She placed her warm palm on his knee. “You care about your team. You care about justice for the victims. You couldn’t do your job, if you didn’t feel.” Her breath hitched. “You’re not cold, Talon. Hot and cold, yes. Not all cold.”

“I don’t want that. I don’t want to push people away. I don’t want to push you away.” He met her gaze. The sky drifted from a burnt orange to a deep blue, casting her face in evening light. “I’m sorry, Sera. I never meant to hurt you.”

“It’s, well...it’s not okay. But I get it. I do.” Sera’s eyes filled with fire. “And I’m glad you’re here.”

His muscles relaxed. Tension that had plagued him fell in the span of a heartbeat. He reached across the car and pulled her into his arms. “I am, you know,” he whispered in her ear. “Here for you, I mean.”

“I know.” She buried her face against his chest. “And I’m here for you too.” Her hair tickled his neck. “I’m glad you told me about your family. I’m so sorry for your pain, but it helps me understand you better.” She pulled back a bit and wrinkled her nose. “Not that it excuses your behavior, mind you. You’ll have to make it up to me.”

“You’re right.” He grinned wolfishly, determined to lighten the mood. “Ever been to the Grand Lux Hotel?”

“No.” Her eyebrows rose. A scowl crossed her face. “What did you have in mind?”

He waved a hand helplessly. “Not what you’re thinking.” He shook his head. “Well, maybe a little, but not entirely. The place is special.”

She snorted. “What’s so special about it?”

“It just happens to be the nicest hotel in District Eight.” He cranked the radio to an old rock station. “And a safe house.”

“A hotel that’s a safe house?” She blushed and damn if it wasn’t adorable. He started the car, hoping to hell she’d forgive him. Cause he so wanted to make it up to her. Her head cocked to the side. “How’s that possible?”

He laughed. The sound mixed with the radio’s rock anthem of drums and bass guitar. “I could tell you, but it’d ruin the effect.”

“All right then.” Her scent spiked, wreaking havoc on his self-control. She grinned and propped her feet on the dash again. “Show me.”

Chapter Nineteen

108 Stone Blvd, Calgary, Alberta

Jame sucked her teeth at the powerhouse white Dodge Charger. The car bellowed when Slick revved the engine. She’d nagged him for a stealth vehicle to investigate the newest lead, but he’d insisted on this stick-out-like-a-sore-thumb hunk of tin. He claimed if the address turned out to be hot, they’d need the extra zero to sixty in six seconds the Hemi V8 engine provided.

“Let’s get the show on the road, Slick.” Jame slammed the passenger door and strapped in.

“Hold up a minute. What did Valkyrie say about their hunt?” Slick fiddled with buttons. The overhead lights flicked on and off. Music blasted from the speakers.

“Stop messing around.” She pulled out her cell to decrypt the text message. Talon had given the marching orders earlier, but refused to relay the coordinates, opting for Meg’s tech skills to send the address on a secure channel. “Leads have all ended up cold. No shocker. So don’t be disappointed if this turns out to be nothing.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not banking on it.” He drummed a beat on the steering wheel, waiting for her to punch in the directions.

The text popped up after the decryption sequenced kicked in. Jame plugged the address into the GPS. Once acquired, Slick pulled out of the parking lot, casting an envious look at the headquarters for PCD District Eight. Jame turned to follow his gaze. The building’s chrome exterior gleamed in the sun’s fading light and screamed badass. The rooms inside all matched. Slick had practically salivated when he’d stuffed Drake into a holding cell complete with titanium bars.

“Bull taking care of things on his end?” Slick slanted his eyes at her.

Jame scowled back. His lips pulled into an innocent what-did-I-do expression. She wasn’t buying it. “If you mean, is Bull making sure Drake doesn’t escape his unnecessary lockdown. Then yes, Slick.” She grabbed her thighs and squeezed to control the shifter buzz. Energy poured out of her in low waves. “Bull’s taking care of things.”

“Down, Jame.” He took one hand off the wheel to run it through his hair. “Didn’t mean to ruffle your fur. Just checking.”

“You shouldn’t have to check at all.” With her legs in a death grip, the rest of her body vibrated close to that shifting edge. “He’s not a threat. It’s stupid you think so, and even stupider Talon agrees.”

Slick scratched behind his ear, eyes fixed on the road. “Maybe some truth to that, but let’s focus.” He pulled a right at the next intersection. “Let’s say we’re about to find the perp mastermind right now. Wanna take bets on who he is?”

“Nice segue.” She breathed out slowly. The shifter vibe dulled to a subtle buzz. Flicking a hair tie off her wrist, she snapped it around her hair and tied it high atop her head. “Now, what are your terms?”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “Terms?”

“For our bet.” She flipped the visor to look in the mirror and smooth down flyaway strands. Her lips puckered. “What do I get if I win?”

“Name your prize.”

“Hmmm.” She unlocked her seatbelt, pushing it aside to adjust her shoulder holster. The setting sun gleamed off her Glock .22. She covered it with her black leather jacket and strapped back in. “How about winner does the other’s paperwork for a month?”

Slick clicked his teeth. “Nah, Talon would never let that fly.”

“Yeah, true.” Her fingers tapped along her collarbone. She glanced outside at the rows of residential houses. The GPS was leading them into suburbanville. “How about...food runs? Winner’s responsible for picking up and paying for food runs for a month.”

“I like it.” He smiled. “Now, here’s my bet—”

She slapped the dashboard. “What ever happened to ladies first?”

“It’s to your advantage to go second.” He pulled the car around a slow moving jackass.

“Fine.” She huffed and slumped in the seat.

“Thank you.” He winked. She rolled her eyes. “As I was saying, I’m thinking our bad guy ends up being one of the Senator’s rivals.” The GPS spat out another quick curve that had him digging the wheel hard to the left. Jame mumbled at his driving skills, but he continued unperturbed. “Probably some bloodsucker with a Napoleon complex. Bet he needs the political boost to feel alive.”

“And you base this brilliant theory on?”

“On the fact Meg thinks the Senator’s being blackmailed, and Sera’s tie to the crimes back it up.” He waved a hand in the air. “Plus, we know the murders have more than one perp involved and their newbie vamps.”

“Or newbie phage.” Jame held up her index finger like a schoolteacher.

“Uh huh. Either way, the perp behind the curtain definitely has something against Sera’s father.” He slowed the car. The GPS indicated their destination imminent. “And I wouldn’t be surprised at all to find a master vamp behind a newbie bloodsucker army.”

Jame shook her head. “So you think some unknown master vampire with a Napoleon complex and a boner for politics is raising a bunch of newbies to blackmail the Senator and go after his daughter?” She cast a glance over the road as darkness descended. “That’s pretty damn ridiculous.”

His cheeks hollowed as if he’d sucked on a lemon. “Ok, genius. What’s your theory? That no good bloodsucker tell you anything about his bloodsucker friend.”

“Numb nut, cool it with the bloodsucker talk. They’re not all bad.” She swatted his arm.

His brows pulled together, but he nodded. “Sure.”

“Anyway, if you’re talking about Drake, then yeah, he gave me some intel.” Heat crept to her cheeks. He muttered a curse under his breath, but she pretended she hadn’t heard him. “He said we should be looking at phage as our suspects. He claims since the victims were drained of blood it points as evidence to the phage.”

“How so?” Slick’s curiosity would win out every time, even over his hate for vampires—or at least one vampire. Sometimes it was hard to tell if his prejudice extended to them all or just the one.

“Well, apparently phage eat raw flesh, but can’t drink blood.” She sniffed the air as Slick put the car in park.

“Wouldn’t that put vamps firmly in the suspect category?” Casting some sniffs of his own, he shifted to the bloodhound’s nose.

She tried not to laugh at the dog’s wide nostrils on his face. “No. Considering the victims had pieces of their flesh torn like animal attacks, it’d put the phage as suspect number one.” A pickup truck barreled down the street. They waited for it to pass, before exiting the car. “They’d have to drain the blood first...before feeding.”

“If that’s true, then where did the blood go? Wouldn’t it have been on the floor or something?” As they approached the walkway, Slick took the lead and motioned for her to guard his back.

His taking point put her hackles up, but she was the better shot. Smarter to cover him. “Good point. But my money’s still on newbie phage as our perp murderers and maybe a political rival as the head douchebag.” She tapped his shoulder and pointed toward the house at the end of the block. “Although, I wouldn’t necessarily rule out someone with a grudge against Sera herself. It may have nothing to do with her father.”

“Then, why the blackmail? Guess we’ll just have to wait and see who’s right.” He nodded at her direction.

The house was coated in pale siding and sat on a wide cul-de-sac. The front door and windows possessed iron bars that appeared out of place with the quiet residential neighborhood. A set of dilapidated wood steps led up to a worn porch. Jame spotted the 108 in white letters over the mailbox, ensuring they had the right place.

“Hopefully, we won’t have to wait long to see who wins our bet.” She held up a finger to her lips, whispering, “Let’s scope this out first. I’ll go right, you go left, and we’ll meet around back.”

“Works for me.” Slick palmed his gun and aimed it at the ground, taking off down the left side.

Unease settled around Jame as she worked her way along the right side of the home. Nine times out of ten, her weapon of choice was her shifting abilities, but today the touch of firepower in her grip gave her a measure of comfort. A buzzing nagged at the back of her mind. Something’s off.

She sucked in the air, capturing every scent. The night surrounded her cool and crisp, calling to her shifter nature. Moisture clung to the unkempt lawn, making the grass smell fresh and wild. Insects moved between the green blades, tiny sentinels tracking her motions. She put her back to the wall and proceeded with measured steps.

So quiet. She peered into the darkness, watching her feet to avoid walking on anything that would risk breaking the silence. Crouching, she stalked along the ground like a fox. Only the faint scuffle of rubber on dirt betrayed her movements. Looks like no one’s home.

Her eyes shot upward. A soft breeze fluttered a curtain beside the window above her head. The motion drew her gaze to the wood ledge. A potted plant rested upon it, bringing the fragrance of lilies. The cracked window gave no more than two inches of space, but it would be an ideal way in, if not for the bars. “Damn it.”

A faint aroma wafted toward her, but between the flowers and the damp grass, she couldn’t get a fix enough to identify it. She snorted and pressed on. Spotting no other entry points, she rounded toward the back of the house. Slick stood waiting for her with his hands crossed over his chest.

“Seems we came all this way for nothing.” His gun rested safe in its holster. Jame would have preferred it gripped in his hands. The unease continued to scratch at her mind. “Lights are all out. Windows are barred. And we don’t have a warrant.”

“When has that stopped us before?” She raised her eyebrows, feigning nonchalance, but couldn’t stop her gaze from sweeping over the backyard and the house. Everything appeared mundane—small square shed, small square porch, small square yard, plain suburban home. So, why did ice trickle down her spine?

“True.” He palmed his gun, much to her relief, and waved toward the back door. “Come on.”

She didn’t move an inch. “Don’t want to knock on the front?”

“Why? To let the whole neighborhood know we’re here?” His foot rested on the porch step as he pivoted toward her.

“Right.” The gnawing grew stronger as if a spider crawled inside her skull. “Slick, hold up a minute. Let me go first.”

“Why should you have all the glory?” He laughed low, then stopped.

Her body tensed, the urge to get the hell out of there too strong to fight.

“What is it?” He put a firm hand on her shoulder.

“Bad karma or something. This doesn’t feel right.” A cloud covered the moon as she spoke, bathing the simple backyard in a black wash. The shed loomed out of the darkness like a phantom. The porch grew bigger as if it would swallow up her partner. The yard tripled in size making escape so far away. What is this, a panic attack? You’re second-in-command and lead on this bust. Ease off the paranoia.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He pulled her by the elbow, forcing her feet into motion. “Happens to all of us.”

“I have it under control.” She shrugged and tried to shake off the feeling. “Go ahead. I got you covered.”

Jame followed him up the porch steps, scanning the surrounding area for a sign of what was bugging her. The wind swirled about the yard, kicking up stray leaves and tantalizing her with new scents. She blocked out everything and focused on the task. Her eyes snapped to the door handle as Slick turned the knob and found it unlocked.

“Hell and a half,” he said, snatching his hand away. “That’s weird. Barred windows, but an open back door?” He brought his gun to chest level and aimed at the door. “Move back a step. I’m not taking chances.” His fingers curled around the knob again. “On three. One...two...”

Time ceased in an instant. As Slick called out three and the door creaked open, the odor hit her and realization smacked her upside the head. The nagging in her mind exploded into clear awareness as the door blew to fragmented bits of wood and metal. A fireball erupted and the last thought to register through her consciousness, the last piece of the puzzle that had escaped her was the oily scent that had been masked by the fragrant night. It all tied together in a single word—bomb.

Chapter Twenty

Grand Lux Hotel, Calgary, Alberta

“Flippin’ A. This is definitely not Kansas.” Sera’s eyes widened like oversized tires. She spun in a circle, almost stumbling into the granite covered concierge desk.

Talon suppressed a smile. Every second in her company hacked a piece from the carefully constructed wall around his heart. Her voice alone made him want to shirk his duty—honor be damned—and carry her to his bed. Watching her gasp in awe at the hotel’s opulent lobby reminded him of her gasps in a far more intimate setting. His body hardened in response.

“No.” The word escaped him dark and sensual. He cleared his throat. It didn’t help. “Not Kansas.”

Her gaze snapped to his face, holding him captive with a magnetic pull. She pushed a strand of amber gold hair behind her ear. A blush crept to her cheeks, which she tried to hide behind a coy smile. “So, how’s this five star gaudy palace supposed to be safe?”

“Don’t let the Taj Mahal feel fool you.” He winked and patted a marble column. “This place is more secure than Fort Knox. Makes that old military relic look like a child’s toy.” Thrusting his chin toward the chandeliers, he pointed out the crystals along each rung. “See those?” He leaned close to whisper in her ear. “All cameras. Three hundred and sixty degrees of pure surveillance.”

She angled toward him, their lips inches apart. “And does that surveillance go everywhere?” Her breath came hot and fast on his neck.

A deep yearning coursed through his veins. Desire so strong, he beat down the intense sensation with nothing but iron will. Not even the shifter urge in his youth had burned this bad. “Holy hell, Sera.” He muttered her name low like a prayer and a curse wrapped in one. He palmed her cheek, unable to resist touching her smooth skin. His thumb feathered across her lips. As she drew a quick intake of breath, he damned his weakness and let his hand fall to his side. “What were we talking about?”

“Cameras,” she said, but her voice hitched at the end, hinting at uncertainty.

“Right.” He cupped her elbow and guided her to the check-in counter. The woman behind the desk nodded to them with a smile. Her chestnut brown hair trailed down her back in an elaborate braid. Her hotel attire, a black suit jacket and matching skirt, screamed sophistication. Any other time, Talon might have found her attractive, but with Sera by his side, the receptionist held no appeal for him. He slapped his PCD ID on the counter. “We need a secure room.”

“Yes, sir.” The smile never left the woman’s face. She picked up the ID, punched his number into the computer, and nodded. Two electronic key cards sputtered out of the machine complete with visible microchips. She scanned them both, running an infrared light over the plastic. A low beeping emitted from the computer. Holding the keys by the outer edge, she placed them both on the counter. “Please press your thumb onto each key, Agent Rede. Your room number will be imprinted onto the keys with your fingerprint authentication.”

“Thanks.” Talon placed his thumbs on the plastic. The cards shone the number 306 in black, then disappeared. He leaned over the counter, looked the receptionist in the eye, and inclined his head over his shoulder. In a hushed tone, he said, “I need twenty-four hour monitoring in the hallway and any entrance points into the room.”

“Not a problem, sir. I’ll see our security teams are aware of your order.” Her fingers clicked rapidly over the keyboard.

“Appreciate it.” He nodded at the woman, then turned his attention to Sera. Her pursed lips and narrowed eyes didn’t bode well. He feigned a boyish expression and handed her a key card.

She snatched the key without comment and stalked across the lobby. Her hips swayed with her steps, drawing his notice to where her bottom rounded inside her snug jeans. As if she sensed his thoughts, she stopped and spun around. Her eyes blazed fire, but whether from jealousy or desire, he couldn’t tell.

Better diffuse this before she burns you alive. He tried not to laugh, he really did, but an amused snort escaped nonetheless. The thought of her jealous made his smile widen. He closed the distance between them. Wrapping his arms around her slender frame, he drew her tight against his chest. The thin red sweater he’d given her—and damn if it didn’t pump up his ego to see her wearing it—pulled taut, emphasizing her ample breasts. The key card chafed his back pocket, beckoning him to open the door to paradise. He envisioned a swank hotel room with a king size bed. Don’t push it. You’re supposed to be making up for your stupidity. Remember?

His body had other ideas about that little assessment as she shimmied against him. The fire in her eyes glowed with longing, the jealousy having faded with their close contact. Her feminine core rubbed his manhood as she rose on tiptoes, setting flames racing through his blood despite her jeans, his jeans, and an additional two layers of cotton—assuming her panties were cotton, not silk, or a string thong, or she wore them at all. Not. Going. There.

“So you going to show me this secure room or we going to make a scene right here?” Her voice trailed over his senses.

“Damn.” Lust shot him worse than any bullet wound. Okay. Maybe going there. He backed up a step to suck in some air and put much needed distance between them. “You’re killing me.”

“Your call, Talon,” she said, cocking a hip out to the side and tossing her hair. Her laugh bounced off the marble lobby. “Now that I know I’m not going to burn you, and that you’re not a total d-bag...”

He narrowed his eyes at her.

She laughed again. “I see no reason not to—”

Talon didn’t wait for her to finish. He pulled her into his arms, kissed her soundly, and then headed for the elevator. Her boots clicked over the tiled floor as she fought to keep up. When they reached the elevators, he punched the key into the slot and counted the seconds until it arrived. At twelve seconds, the doors chimed and slid open.

After they stepped inside, he waited a brief moment before dragging her into his arms again. She met his urgency with a fiery need of her own, melding their lips together, tongues dueling. He couldn’t get enough of her. His hands wandered over her back, down her hips, and squeezed her...

“Talon,” she cried, rubbing her ass. An evil smirk crossed her face. “You’re going to pay for that.”

The doors flew open. They stepped into the hall. “Looking forward to it,” Talon said.

The hallway blazed bright and luxurious like the lobby below. Crystal chandeliers hung every five feet with more intricately laid cameras. Mosaic tiles ran a hip high border across the walls. They passed several doors until they reached room 306.

“Your key card opens and locks the door as well as controlling the lights.” He stared at the ceiling, pretending to check the surveillance. “No one can use the elevators without key cards and no one gets those without a security check in. You’ll be safe.”

She nodded and tested her key. The door slid open without sound. Her hand rested on the knob, but she stopped, half in and half out of the room. A blush brightened her cheeks. “So...”

He inclined his head, allowing his eyes to trail down her face. “So?” Smiling, he gripped the edge of the door and held it open. “Am I allowed in?”

Her eyes blazed gold. “Well, I was going to make you work for it, but...” She dove at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and crushing their lips together.

Her unbridled passion, the fury of her kiss, took him by surprise. When her soft curves molded to every part of his body, he lost all hesitation. Desire struck deep in his gut and danced in his blood. Her skin heated hotter than the hungriest fire. He met her seeking mouth with a blaring urgency, parting her lips and tangling their tongues in an age-old clash. Light flickered in the hallway, sneaking to the corner of his closed eyes.

“The cameras,” he mumbled, pulling back and scanning the hall. “Let’s go inside.”

“Not up for an audience.” She laughed. The little vixen flew from his arms and strolled into the room. With each step, she shed a piece of her clothing. First her jacket and boots, then her red sweater and dark jeans, until she stood in nothing but a lacy bra and skimpy panties.

He growled. “I’m not up for sharing you with anyone.”

Sitting atop the king-sized bed, she stretched out her arms. “Then, come here.”

He kicked the door closed, stripped naked, and answered her siren’s call.

* * *

Talon came at her like a hungry wolf, a predator stalking prey. His arms crushed her to his chest as he lifted her off the bed and guided her legs around his waist. She squeezed his sides with her thighs and tangled her hands in his hair. He sat on the bed, her bottom resting snug against his manhood.

An unquenchable thirst seared her throat. A blaze licked up and down her skin, sending her temperature soaring to new heights. She feared exploding in his arms, bursting into a thousand little flames.

“Talon,” she whispered his name.

He groaned and pushed her higher. His tongue found her breast through the lacy fabric. She cried out when his teeth scraped the taut peak. Her back arched in response. “You have one second to take this off before I shred it.”

Smiling, she slowly brought the straps off her shoulders. His lungs expanded on a ragged breath as his eyes tracked the movement. The blue hue shadowed to midnight black in the darkness. She reached behind her and undid the bra’s fastening, holding the two ends in place as she brought her hands to the front. Draping an arm over her breasts, she pulled the bra free and threw it to the floor.

One hand snaked from around her waist to grab the arm covering her breasts. His touch was firm and gentle on her wrist, but sent desire racing to her core. He flipped her hand over and planted a kiss in the center of her palm. With slow languid strokes, he licked his way from her wrist to her elbow, then up her shoulder and neck. Allowing her arm to fall away, she grabbed his biceps when he moved to her collarbone. The first long stroke over her breast had her arching once more into his mouth.

She squirmed as he lavished the same attention on her opposite side, starting again at her wrist until she moaned and pleaded with him. When he again caught her breast between his lips, she screamed. “I can’t take this.”

“Yes, you can,” he said. Whips of electricity crackled between them. He shifted on the bed, laying her down on the cotton comforter. The cool fabric against her back did nothing to ease the fiery ache.

“Please.” Her voice sounded small and foreign to her ears.

“Don’t worry.” He bent over her. His teeth elongated a touch to leave light scratches along her skin. The friction nearly sent her over the edge. She bit back a cry as he skimmed her stomach and inner thighs. When his tongue swirled against her hidden nub, she saw stars. He showed no mercy as he licked and stroked, sucked and caressed. The shudders crashed over her and the fire leapt from her skin. She cried out as the orgasm took her under.

He left her for a moment still riding the waves of pleasure. She tilted her head to the side to watch him. His erection jutted forward. He rolled a condom over it. Her heart beat double time. Anticipation had her insides tightening once more. She licked her lips.

He smiled at her, then pulled her to the edge of the bed. He hooked her knees under his arms and buried himself inside her. Colors burst before her eyes, shades of yellow and red. She soared skyward as he thrust hard and fast, his rhythm causing her own pleasure to rise. When at last she thought she would never come down from the high, he roared his release. Her inner walls gripped him, claiming him, welding him to her. Intense joy filled her heart. Waves of warmth swam through her body and soul.

He rolled to his back, dragging her atop him, holding her close. She placed her head upon his chest and listened to the steady beat of his heart. After a few minutes, his light snores brought a smile to her lips as they mingled with the gentle rhythm. As she closed her eyes, basking in afterglow, she thought she could stay this way for a long time to come.

When a piercing ring ricocheted across the room, she popped her head up. Talon’s eyes shot open. She kissed his chest and said, “Well, at least time with you is never boring.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Grand Lux Hotel, Calgary, Alberta

Talon’s cell started firing like a car alarm, breaking him from a peaceful sleep. The annoying ringtone signaled an unknown caller. Sera rolled off him and sat up. Her arms snaked the blanket around her breasts. “What’s up?”

“Dunno.” He stumbled over to his discarded jeans, then dug the cell from the pocket. He flipped over the screen and stared at the Blocked message. A tingling sensation crept along his skin. He shrugged it off and held the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hello, Agent Rede. So good of you to take my call.” The words rasped over the line as if years of neglect rendered the caller’s voice useless. “Put me on speaker, please.”

“Who is this?” Talon squeezed the cell.

“We’ll get to that, I assure you.” He coughed twice. “I’d far prefer to say this to all in your company.”

“All right, start talking.” The phone clicked to speaker mode as he placed it on the corner nightstand and pulled on his clothes.

“Good agents of the PCD and Sera, since I assume she is with you as well, I’m afraid we’ve come to a bit of a crossroad.” Talon’s jaw tightened. The caller paused. Sera stared at him with wide eyes. “You see, you have something I want, and now, I have something you want.”

Talon went to switch the phone off speaker, but Sera held a hand over his wrist and shook her head. A sudden sharpness in her eyes, gold bleeding into brown, stopped him from erupting. “Go on,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Not too long ago, agents from your PCD entered a location in Calgary’s glorious suburbs. I believe they were looking for me.”

The blackmailer? Sera mouthed the words.

Talon snorted and asked the question aloud. “So, you’re the one blackmailing the senator?”

“Yes. Very astute of you, Agent Rede.” A shuffling sounded in the background. “Now, as I was saying, unfortunately for your agents I expected their visit and set a small trap.” Scraping noises accompanied the caller’s words. “Well, perhaps not small.”

“Where are they?” The cell nearly broke in Talon’s palm as he clutched it off the stand and fisted the device.

“Temper, temper. You’ll be happy to know they’re both alive. Though, neither can be considered well at the moment.” A click and a rush of air signaled the caller switched to speaker mode too. “Here, tell your friend your names.”

“Go to hell.” A pissed off Jame growled.

“Now, now.” The blackmailer said before a slap and a feminine grunt of pain. “Behave.”

“Talon, we’re okay. He drugged us, so we can’t shift.” Slick shouted over the commotion. “We’ll be fine. Don’t give this bastard anything.”

A sickening thud that sounded too much like metal hitting bone echoed over the call. A door slammed and the call grew quiet again.

“Son of a bitch,” Talon roared. The shifter’s buzz started deep in his skull and vibrated down his spine.

“None of that.” The blackmailing bastard said with eerie calm, “I’ve kept them alive. You should be thanking me.”

“Thanking you?” His hands sprouted fur, the nails elongating into claws.

“If you want something, spit it out,” Sera said addressing the caller and brushing a hand up Talon’s arm. The soothing caress refused to appease his rage, but he managed to get his shift under control. “Provoking him with his agents’ lives isn’t going to get you what you want.”

“Sera.” The sicko cooed her name. “I’ve been waiting a long time.”

“Who...” Sera’s body tensed. He gripped the nape of her neck and massaged, a gesture he hoped eased her as much as her touch had done for him. She exhaled and shot him a weak smile. To the caller, she said, “Who are you?”

“The phone is far too impersonal for such a revelation, angel.” A distinct crackling echoed, the unmistakable strike of a match lighting. “Which gets me to my point. You, Agent Rede, will bring Sera to Blue Rock Warehouse off Route 1 in exactly one hour. No back up. No weapons.” Talon’s threatening grumble warned the blackmailer, but he continued, “You will hand her over to me and I will return your agents to you. Simple. However, if you do not comply, I’ll burn your agents alive and send you what’s left of them.”

“If you think for one second—” Talon said.

“We’ll be there.” Sera snatched the phone from his grip, spun away from his hand at her nape, and rose to stand at the opposite side of the bed.

“Wise choice. See you then.”

Sera ended the call and threw the phone on the bed. Talon tracked the movement as he stalked her. His upper body vibrated with suppressed rage. Pointed nails dug into his biceps as his arms crossed over his chest. Black fur covered his forearms. His eyes simmered with violence, morphing them to the wolf’s deep golden glow.

Sera skirted around the king size bed to grab her clothes. “I told him that to get him off the line. We’ll come up with a plan.”

“No,” he said. The booming growl rang out low and firm. “You’ll stay right here.”

“Talon, I can help with this. I’ve wanted to get to the truth and now I’m the best shot to—” His hands shot out to grip her shoulders. The claws retracted leaving soft paw pads to land on her.

“I’m not putting you in danger. Not for any reason. Do you understand?” The strain to fight back the shift mixed with his fear of losing her. It left him in a ridiculous half wolf, half human form.

“I can more than defend myself in case you forgot.” She pouted her lips and patted his hand. Fire shot up his arm and she smiled. “But let’s figure out how to rescue your friends without walking into a trap, okay?”

The beast roared inside him, not assuaged by her calm logic. She’s being rational. Be the same. His hands shifted to normal with painful self-control. A caveman instinct overwhelmed his senses. He imagined hoisting her up, throwing her on the bed, and showing her why she’d be doing as he said. Her cries of satisfaction from earlier echoed in his ears.

“Talon.” His name upon her lips drew him to the present problem—getting her to listen.

He inhaled a shaky breath and put his thoughts in order. “We have one hour to figure this out. I need to check in with District Eight PCD and see what they know.” He mentally patted himself on the back for sounding so unruffled. “Stay here and put together a list of everything we know about the blackmailer. The more we know, the better prepared we can be.” And the safer you’ll be.

“You want me to sit here and write a list?” She pulled on her jeans, her eyebrows raised.

“Yes. You’re a journalist, aren’t you? Looking at the facts should be second nature.” He inclined his head, baiting her and calling her skills into question.

“I can do it.” She leapt to the desk and pulled a pad from the drawer. “How soon do you want it?”

He hesitated and caught the flicker of doubt in her eye. “Thirty minutes. That’ll give me enough time to get to District Eight’s office, go over the details with them, and come back here.” He flashed a wolfish grin. “Think you can handle it?”

“Uh-huh. You just get your ass back here in time to rescue your agents.” She ushered him away and took up a pen. Tapping it along the writing pad, she whipped her head around to level him with a glare. “You still here?”

“I’m going.” He ran a hand through her hair and squeezed her shoulder. His eyes trailed down her chest where she’d neglected to put on her shirt. Burning desire stung him despite their earlier tryst and he had to turn away. “Be thorough. I’m counting on you.”

“Sure,” she said, biting the pen cap. “See you soon.”

He took one last look at her and closed the door behind him. You’re doing this for her safety. The task will distract her while you meet with the team and come up with a plan. Then you can deal with keeping her away from the action. He banged his fist against the elevator call button. The pep talk did nothing to relieve his guilt.

As he left the hotel—after reiterating his orders to the receptionist, and the concierge, and the head of security about Sera’s safety—he checked the perimeter a final time. The safe house, even in the form of the hotel, was one of the most secure in the PCD system. It still didn’t seem enough protection for her. He scrubbed a hand down his face, wondering how in the hell he’d gone this soft over some woman.

“Because she’s not just some woman, asshat.” He cared about her. He might even lov—. Shit, so not the time. He started the truck and jacked up the radio. Get your head in the game. The hard rock beats drowned his thoughts, but couldn’t stop his heart from pounding.

Chapter Twenty-Two

PCD District Eight Headquarters, Calgary, Alberta

“All right kiddies, you’ve had your fun.” Drake shouted between the titanium bars, “You can’t keep me locked up here forever.” He paced the same six feet over again. Confinement did not suit his image at all. “I’m a vampire, morons. I’ve got centuries. You’re wasting your time.”

“Cállate la boca, vampire.” District Eight’s second-in-command, another bleeding shifter, rounded the corner. They called this one, Shooter. Drake had met him once before. The man’s long beaklike nose and charming personality were hard to forget. “Give your mouth a rest.”

“Now, where would the joy in that be my little feathered friend?” He grinned and showed off two very long, very sharp fangs.

“That supposed to scare me?” Shooter tapped the bars with a shotgun.

“What would give you that impression?” Drake’s smile widened as he stepped close enough to inhale the shifter’s two-dollar aftershave.

“Behave, chico.” Shooter flashed a smile of his own.

The wily bastard backed up and rested a booted foot against the far wall, a hair outside of Drake’s reach. The shotgun pointed toward the floor, but remained firm in Shooter’s hands. Thing was loaded with explosive bullets—a precaution the PCD lead pain in the ass, Valkyrie, had claimed. Not that Drake gave a shit about it. He hadn’t lived over a hundred plus years without taking a bullet or two—or okay, like twenty-six—but really who was counting. And yeah, so none of them had been the UV blasting, laser ripping, explosive type. But bullets of any kind didn’t matter unless they struck the heart, and that never happened. Proof in the pudding, Drake was still kicking while his enemies decomposed.

“Buzzkill. Anyone ever told you, your mother looks like a—” Drake would’ve loved to rile the shifter with all types of slurs against his mother—you learned some in a century and a half—but unfortunately, that party died with Talon’s approach. “Ah good. It’s been too long, chief. Come to spring me, eh?”

Talon’s bright blue gaze burned with an unyielding fire. “If it were up to me, you’d rot in that cell for the rest of your very long life.”

“Oh, come on now, you’re not one to hold a grudge.” He retracted his fangs and mustered an almost innocent expression. “I would’ve held Strife for the team, but you know, maker and all. Kinda hard to get around the whole I made you and you owe me thing.”

“I don’t give a shit about that vamp bitch right now.” Drake didn’t miss the vibrations ranking Talon’s body as if the man had been caught in the wrong end of a blender. “I want to know everything you know, every piece of intel you gathered on Sera from the underground, and whoever is after her. And I want it now.”

Drake’s ears perked up. The blatant dismissal of Strife meant shit had hit the fan. “Fill me in. What’s the situation?” Bloody hell, he hated sounding pathetic, but damn-it-all if he didn’t want to be kept in the loop.

“Go get the scoop from Val and let me handle this asshat.” Talon turned, addressing Shooter, and giving Drake his back—deliberate disrespect. Drake laughed aloud, knowing the shifter all too well.

“Yes, do be a good little bird and fly, fly away.” When the taunt failed to get either shifter’s attention, he howled and continued poking. “The dog and I have much to discuss.”

“Want me to take him out?” Shooter leveled the butt of the shotgun against his shoulder and took aim. “I don’t have to hit the heart. Can leave ‘em with a nasty head rush instead.”

“No. I need him coherent.” Talon palmed the barrel of the gun. “But I’ll borrow this if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all, amigo.” The gun passed hands. Shooter shook out an extra round of bullets from a case at his belt and handed them to Talon. “Enjoy,” he said, waving a goodbye as he trotted down the hall.

“Nice guy.” He sat on the poor excuse for a bench inside his cell and patted the seat beside him. “Now, why don’t you come on in and we can chat.”

“I’ve got a better idea.” A deafening boom rang out as Talon pulled the shotgun chest height and fired into the cell. Drake’s eardrums throbbed and his hands covered them in an effort to stifle the pain. The click-click of the shell case emptying from the gun’s chamber followed the racket, but sounded even louder to his now sensitive ears.

“What the bleeding hell, man?” The English slang seeped into Drake’s speech with his shock. When the speedy vampiric healing fixed his inner ear canals, he jumped up, slammed into the bars, and bore his fangs.

“That was a warning shot.” Talon’s dark hair fell to his shoulders as he slanted his head. His face caught between the wolf’s primal rage and the man’s thirst for action. “Next one goes in your kneecap.”

I could rip these bars apart and take off your bloody head before you fired another shot. The knowledge didn’t settle Drake’s anger, but it did put things in perspective. Ha! And Jame always said he couldn’t find perspective with two hands and a flashlight. Eat that, Kitty. The thought of Jame eased his foul mood, but an undercurrent of restlessness thrummed along his mind.

“Understood.” He bit back, then attended to his real interest—finding out about Jame. “Where’s the rest of the troops? Didn’t want to face me again, huh?”

The buzz in Talon’s body ceased and his face blanched. He sucked in a ragged breath. When he spoke again, his words drew out harsh and low. “They’re not here.”

“Bullocks, Talon,” Drake whispered darkly, not bothering to hide the emotion brimming under the surface. “Enough games. We can play at this later. Tell me what happened. Where is she?”

“I don’t know.” To his credit, the shifter didn’t bother to pretend to misunderstand the she. “Jame and Slick were drawn into a trap by the same psychopath who’s blackmailing Sera’s father. We think he’s using new made vamps or phage in the murders and the attempts to abduct Sera.”

“You’re telling me some nutter who thinks himself a god has Jame?” A spring coiled deep within his gut. The tension mounted, extending to every muscle. His temples throbbed to a staccato beat. The air in the cell grew bitter.

“Team eight’s already using their resources to track them down. Bull’s been sent south with two of their agents on a possible lead.” Talon placed the shotgun on the wall beside him. The wolf receded and shallow lines etched around his eyes. “But we have a deadline.”

“Let me out of here.” Darkness gnawed at his mind, a festering malignancy. The vampire nature beckoned. Allowing it to wash over him, even for a moment would threaten his soul, but oh the freedom. He gripped the bars, fighting for control. “We both know I could shred these pathetic metal bars like a silk scarf. So, let me out of here and let’s get to work.”

“We don’t need your help on this one. This isn’t your territory. You don’t know the underground scene here.” He cracked his knuckles. “I’m only telling you out of respect.” Talon leaned against the hallway’s dull gray wall. His head held erect while his eyes blazed blue fire. “We’ll find them.”

Drake studied the shifter. He’d known Talon for years. They’d met chasing after the same baddie, a sick bastard who got his kicks by preying on little girls. The crimes had hit too close to Drake’s past and he’d gone after the creep without the consent of Veritas. Granted he didn’t need the group’s permission, having left it decades prior, but without their support, he had a hard time tracking the psycho. When he came across a young PCD agent investigating the same crimes, he agreed to work with him. Together they’d discovered the sicko’s hiding place and took him down before he could hurt another little girl. Talon didn’t know it, then or now, but the murdering psychopath had been a phage.

“You mentioned a deadline?” Drake slid from the edge, a firm mask slipping over his face. He lost control far too often, but doing so now would cost them time.

“Yes,” Talon said, scrubbing a hand down his face. “One hour.” He brought his wrist up and stared at his black leather watch. “Actually make that thirty minutes. Shit. Where did the time go?”

Shoving his hands deep in his coat pockets, he let the warring emotions wash over him before projecting an air of calm. His gaze remained stoic, an impassive disguise. Inside, however, his worry over Jame’s safety wreaked havoc. “I can find them faster than anyone.” He made sure to include them to win over the stubborn shifter, but truth be told, he didn’t give a damn about Slick. Then again, if anyone was going to damage the half-breed, it was going to be him. “I’ve had Jame’s blood. I can track her.”

A jolt of elation jumped from Talon’s eyes, but quickly dimmed. “You had her blood?” A coldness swept across the cell again, reflecting the mood. “How?”

Drake let out an exasperated humph. “Do you give a rat’s ass about how? I did. All you need to know is it may save her life.”

Another war flashed over Talon’s face. His upper lipped curled, revealing a set of canine teeth. He snarled a warning. His mouth drew into a sharp line. He pushed off the wall and approached the bars. The rattle of metal echoed in the small cell as a key turned in the lock. Talon threw the door to the left. It churned like gears springing to life when it drew open.

“Wise decision.” A slow smile spread over Drake’s face, until Talon slapped a pair of cuffs on him. He almost laughed at the absurdity of a shifter handcuffing a vampire, until the damnable things started to chafe his skin. He tested their strength with a quick tug and found them unmovable. “What the hell?”

“A device courtesy of team eight.” Talon thumped him on the back—hard. “UV radiating cuffs. Works well on vamps.”

“I’m not sensitive to the sun anymore,” Drake said, eyeing the round metal for signs of their freaky magic.

“No, but too much UV concentration, lasers, or fire are effective weapons for a vamp of any age.” He grabbed the shotgun and dragged Drake down the hall. “Of course, shooting you in the heart and decapitating you would be effective too, but that’s if I wanted you dead. And I don’t...yet.”

“Well, chief, aren’t you a sweet talker.” He twisted his wrists, curious about how much force it would take to break the blasted cuffs. “And quite the little science whiz.”

“Not my invention.” He opened the door to an inner office and shoved Drake inside. “But incredibly handy.”

The air stank of shifters. Shooter and the lead beeatch—emphasis on the B—stood over a desk, pointing at and perusing some paper. Valkyrie, aka lead beeatch, looked up, narrowed her pretty brown eyes, then pointed to the handcuffs and grinned. “It’s a good look for you, Drake.”

“Thanks. You got something in black though?” He lifted his wrists high to give her a decent show while inching forward to catch a glimpse of the paper. He flicked his gaze down, identifying a city map, and backed up faster than they could track. He continued the conversation without missing a beat. “Want the color to match my eyes.”

“We might be able to arrange something,” Valkyrie said. Her posture stiffened, arms crossing over her chest. She turned her scrutiny on Talon. “Any reason the vamp’s out of his cell?”

Talon strode to the desk, snatched the map, and held it in front of Drake’s face. “He can track them.” When Valkyrie went to speak, he waved his hand and cut her off. “Don’t ask.”

“I’d track them a lot better without cuffs on.” No way in hell was he going to face some sicko—probably another phage—with his wrists shackled. Ok, maybe he would for Jame, but he wasn’t telling that to the shifters. No reason to put the idea in their minds.

A gush of wind hit him in the chest. Two massive paws wrapped around his coat collar and yanked him inches off the ground. A wolf’s snout sniffed his jaw, baring long pointed teeth. Drake’s fangs sprang in response. He breathed deeply willing them away.

“No need for the bravado, Talon. I understand your meaning.” He patted the shifter’s furry arm. He leaned closer, allowing the nasty canine breath to fill his nose. A black haze fell over his vision as he stared into the wolf’s golden eyes. “Listen well,” he whispered the faintest of sounds so Talon alone would hear. “You know of my feelings for your second-in-command. I will not allow her to come to harm.” The darkness inside him seeped from his skin sending forth icy pinpricks. “If you believe nothing else, if you trust not my word, then believe that, trust that.”

A heartbeat of time passed before Talon shifted. Swift and seamless, fur disappeared, skin stretched and colored, bones reshaped, eyes returned to blue. Without a word, he encircled Drake’s wrists and removed the handcuffs. Shooter grunted in protest and moved to intercept, but Valkyrie, in a shocking move, reached out for the man’s forearm and held him back. She shook her head once and Shooter stood in place again as if he’d never budged.

“What do you want us to do, Talon? Your team members, your call,” Valkyrie said. Compassion etched on her face in the draw of her brows and the frown on her lips.

The room fell quiet. Drake dared not move. His heartbeat—yes, he had a heartbeat and could also stand garlic, wood, crosses and holy water, thank you very much, damn urban legends—drummed a wild rhythm.

“Our time’s running out and we have no other leads. Let the vamp track them.” Talon pointed his thumb at Drake. “Keep a close eye on him and call me the second you have a location.” He rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a cell. “I’ve got to check on Sera, but then I’m heading your way.”

“We’ll put a lockdown on him. No worries, amigo.” Shooter’s lilting voice came off a shy too thrilled about their new orders for Drake’s taste.

“Do not.” Talon stepped up to Valkyrie, imposing his size. The little psyke-shifter femme fatale circled her hands in a quick sweep to transform the air particles into a wall—a bleeding solid cement wall. Talon showed no signs of surprise. Hell, he didn’t even seem to notice. He walked to the side of the wall, leaned his weight on it, and stared down at Valkyrie. “As I was saying, do not go into the danger zone without me. You’re to await my arrival. Understand?”

Valkyrie cocked an eyebrow. “I said your call. Stop stressing so much. You’ll get wrinkles.” She pinched his cheek and walked by him, crumbling the wall as she did so. “Now, go check on your girl and be ready for action.”

A pocket of wind swept toward Drake, coiling around his body. “Now you, my friend, are going to be a good vampire,” Valkyrie said as she motioned toward the door. The air grew thicker, encircling Drake’s waist, wrists, and ankles. The clever snare worked better than even the cuffs. He smiled, begrudgingly impressed at the way the wench used her abilities to trap him. “Do we understand each other?”

“Not going to be a problem. We all want to see this end well,” Drake said, showing a bit of fang. No reason to let them forget who—and more importantly, what—they were dealing with.

“Excellent.” Valkyrie clapped her hands like a cheerleader.

Go, team. Go. The thought had Drake snickering and kept his mind off the fear creeping through his veins. If that son of a bitch hurt Jame— He cut off that train of thought with a sobering, “Let’s get a move on, eh?”

“Come on Shooter. Time to head out.” A pair of 10mm pistols rested in Valkyrie’s hands—girl went old school on her firearms. She checked the chambers, nodded, and placed them in holders strapped to her thighs. “Talon, we’ll call you. Be quick about your visit.”

“I’m already gone,” Talon said. A blur flew passed them next, splitting the air and shaking the door.

“Show off.” Valkyrie shimmied into a brown leather jacket and held the door open. “After you, vampire.”

“Want to get a view of my ass, huh?” A certain shotgun wacked him in the kidney for that remark. Drake flashed a fang filled grin over his shoulder. “Shifters. No sense of humor.” Then, his attention directed inward as darkness bled across his vision. He focused his mind to one task, and one task only, nothing and no one else mattered. He sniffed the night air, catching a weak scent...almost imperceptible...of oranges. Jame. With the trail detected, the night enfolded him, unmasking the predator behind his civil façade.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Blue Rock Warehouse, Calgary Outskirts, Alberta

“Four hundred feet to destination.” The GPS spoke the directions like a call girl. Sera shook her head at it.

“Gotta say Siri, I don’t feel so bad about giving your owner that headache now.” Getting around the hotel’s security hadn’t been easy, but a shot of her firepower in an empty restroom provided the perfect distraction for her escape. Procuring a vehicle had been a bit trickier. But when that jerk-off had hit on her in the parking lot and grabbed her arm, well...knocking him over the head didn’t seem as bad a crime. Besides, she only intended to borrow the car, not steal it.

Sera slowed the Porsche to a crawl as goosebumps broke over her arms. Warehouses loomed in the darkness like spiders’ webs, waiting to capture prey. She flinched, imagining the monsters inside. “Easy. Steady.” She could do this. She had to. Leaving Talon behind with nothing more than a simple note for him to discover had been the hardest part. But she wouldn’t let him walk into danger for her. She couldn’t.

Slowing the car to a stop, she put a single foot on the ground and scanned the area. Down a dusty trail from the main roadway, three buildings sat in the middle of an industrial park. The center structure housed a tin sign with the words Blue Rock scribbled across it. “That’s the place.”

She closed the door, pocketed the keys, and walked in plain sight. No sense hiding when she wanted to be found. The agents’ lives depended on it. Her shoulders tucked back and her spine straightened. She made certain to keep her head high.

“Let’s get this over with.” She spoke to the emptiness, but hoped Guy was listening. The little shit had a habit of tuning in and out—with far more out lately. It made her gut tighten.

Her senses tingled as she passed the large construction yard. Rubble littered the vicinity while massive equipment hinted at another building’s assembly. Her boots churned the dirt, changing the black to ashen gray. Dark, empty windows stood in rows like silent guardians across the tops of the buildings. The wind beat against the grooved aluminum roofs, creating a howl that swept over the area.

Her blood chilled, but she forced her feet to move. “Breathe, Sera. You’re not powerless. Breathe.”

Foreboding gripped her, an icy hold that transformed her muscles into a tight mass. Pressure collected in the middle of her forehead and she pinched her nose for relief. The movement reminded her of Talon’s habit, and for a moment, she froze to the spot. What the hell am I doing? Guilt tore her insides in two. She’d bailed on him, leaving nothing more than a pathetic note. If she walked into that warehouse, she might not walk back out. And she hadn’t said anything to him. Nothing about her true feelings.

And how DO you feel, pet? Guy’s words wafted over her psyche like feathers—far too soft.

“Does it matter?” she said on a sigh. “And where do you keep disappearing to?”

I’m always around. You just can’t admit it. A taunting laugh rolled around her mind. Not so good with the gooey stuff, huh?

“And there’s the old Guy.” Even as her teeth crunched together at his irritating jibe, she smiled. She didn’t want to walk into that place alone.

You’re never alone, pet. Never.

She bit her bottom lip and shoved away the implication in Guy’s words. “Let’s shelf that convo, okay? We’ve got trouble.”

Ha. As if that’s something new.

“Stuff it.” The grinding notes of a Dio tune calmed her enough to approach the warehouse’s solid green doors. She pushed the heavy metal and squirmed through the narrow opening. Lights flickered from long fluorescent bulbs suspended on crossbeams. It took some blinks for her eyes to adjust.

Row upon row of boxes rested on grated shelves and ran from floor to ceiling. The stacks blocked the high windows at the top, preventing escape.

“Good thing I’m not claustrophobic,” she muttered.

A faint shuffling drew her. She leaned forward, straining her ears toward the sound. It emanated a few rows from the entrance. Keeping her back to the door, she walked with soft footfalls. As she passed the first two, she glanced down the aisles for signs of life. The stacks on both sides rose like towering spires. She listened, looked, and even sniffed, but nothing revealed itself until she approached the third row.

Scratch, scratch, scratch. The noise echoed over the corridor. She squinted, trying to identify its source. Five steps into the aisle, her boot’s rubber sole skid on the slick tiled floor. “Shit,” she cursed. Pausing and holding her breath, she glared at her shoes and debated on removing them. Needing to be found and getting caught in a trap were two far different things. Scratch, scratch. The strange scuffling continued; whatever creature made the commotion appeared undisturbed by her approach—or oblivious to it.

She let out a long slow exhale. “Steady girl. You can do this.”

Glancing at her watch, she counted five minutes until the official meeting time. If she wanted the advantage, she needed to get a move on. The scratching grew louder as she tread further into the aisle. Her senses heightened, prickling tiny flames along the back of her neck. A tide of heat rose from her core. Heavy steel grates blocked the end of the row, boxing it in. Her eyes locked on the dead-end, until the scratch, scratch started again less than a foot to her right.

She blinked rapidly and reached toward the sound. Four cardboard boxes of varying heights and shapes stood on the lowest shelf. Her hands locked around the top left box and shifted it inches. Cursing her stupidity for not carrying a flashlight, she willed her eyesight to see in the dark opening. The scratching grew louder when she pushed the box further aside. She chanced leaning over the lower boxes to get a better look.

Scratch, scratch, scratch. Her eyebrows shot up, the noise sounded over her shoulder. She spun around, ready to face whatever was causing it. Scratch, scratch. It rattled from the right. Scratch, scratch. Again to the left. Her heartbeat sped up. One after another, the scratching multiplied until it surrounded her on all sides.

So, pet. Having fun?

Shut up. Shut up. She screamed at Guy. “Enough,” she cried at the infuriating racket, feeling her blood rush through her veins in a swarm of molten lava. “Come out or I swear I’ll light this whole place up.”

“Well, wouldn’t that be an ironic twist?” A man moved from the stacks, a figured dressed in black. His face remained in the shadows. His voice, though rough and hardened, gave her the strangest sense of déjà vu.

As if reading her thoughts, he said, “A real déjà vu moment. No, Seraphim?”

Her stomach clenched, the acid churning like a sea storm. She clutched her throat. What had sucked all the air from the room? Gods, she couldn’t take a breath. Her words fell hollow from her lips in a strained whisper. Only one man—no boy, really—ever called her that ridiculous nickname, angel. “Matt?”

He emerged into the harsh warehouse light, a walking memory, a wraith from the past. The boy that had been her friend, the boy that had asked her for a date, the boy that had hurt her, the boy that she’d burned. Now, the boy existed no longer; the shell of this deranged man remained.

“Dear gods above,” she said unable to hide her horror. Half his face drooped, covered with hideous scars. The skin puckered and sagged at awkward angles. The rest of his body remained hidden under a dark turtleneck, pants, boots, and even gloves. He stared at her with hatred in his brown eyes.

“Attractive, isn’t it?” He touched the scarred side of his face with a gloved hand. “I consider it a war wound.”

Sera reached toward him. Time rolled back to that fateful day so many years ago. She choked on a sob. Despite having gone too far, she never believed Matt truly meant to hurt her—she couldn’t believe it—and the guilt at how she retaliated tore her heart in two. “Matt, I’m so sorry. I never meant to—”

“Save it.” He stepped away, hiding in the shadows once more. A sharp whistle rang through the air. Eyes cut the darkness, peering at her over boxes and behind stacks. “Eight years in a coma is a long time to dream, Sera. A long time to plan revenge.”

Creatures emerged from every direction. Sera watched as their human facades fell away, unmasking the same monsters that killed the innocent people of Buckhorn. A simmer started deep in her veins as she glared at their wide snapping jaws, rows of long sharp teeth, and bulging eyes. The fire swam in her blood, igniting an inferno under her skin.

“What do you think of my new friends?” Matt’s one remaining eyebrow rose while the damaged part of his lip curled.

She didn’t respond, instead taking count of the creatures. When she tallied twelve flanking her on all sides, she shrugged and turned to Matt. “You keep some interesting company these days.” Her words steeled as if from another’s mouth. She pushed her emotions into a tiny ball, sealed far away.

If you feel pity for this bastard, we’re dead, pet. Guy’s presence whispered in her ears. He’ll pounce on the weakness and use it to his advantage.

“I know,” she said, gritting her teeth.

“Beautiful, aren’t they? And the perfect servants.” He approached one of the creatures and patted its head. Apparently female, its brown hair curled around her extended jaw. Long lashes swept over her bulging eyes and pale cheeks like some nightmare Snow White. Matt continued, grabbing the female’s chin and yanking it forward. “Phage, they’re called. They obey their master’s every command, completely submissive.” He shoved the female to the ground and stepped on her back.

Sera’s insides twisted at the display, but she held still.

“If they’re very good, they can earn control over their baser instincts, and even their freedom.” He dug the heel of his booted foot between the female’s shoulder blades. “And of course, they’re rewarded with meat.”

“Meat.” The female hissed between a mouth of fangs. The pointed teeth ran from the front of her lips all the way to the base of the jaw, and dug into her gums.

“Yes.” Matt bent his head and cooed at the female. “Your dinner is right there.” He nodded at Sera and removed his foot, releasing the creature.

“Meat. Meat.” The chant began and rose to the rafters. The female sprang from the floor, leading the charge. Phage stalked toward Sera, encircling her and cutting off any chance of escape. “Meat. Meat.”

A wave of fire spread from her core to her limbs. Flames singed her palms. Her survival instincts warred with a twisted sympathy for these creatures. If Matt used them, if they couldn’t fight his control, how could she just kill them? She’d be no better than a monster herself. Her stomach churned. She sidestepped three feet to position a large crate at her back. Phage closed in, poised a breath from launching an attack. She yelled over their growls to Matt. The bastard had climbed atop a box and sat with a smile on his face, enjoying the show.

“What about the PCD agents?” she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. Her worry trickled to the surface. “You have me. You don’t need them.”

Matt’s laughter echoed a high maniacal cackle in the warehouse. “Oh sweet Seraphim.” He mocked the angelic nickname in a ridiculous singsong tone. “Don’t waste your energy on them. Selflessness doesn’t suit you.”

The phage advanced. Their jaws snapped open and shut. The closest of the creatures drooled over her arm. Its eyes possessed an animal’s mindlessness, but behind that a glint of something more, something akin to...sorrow? As its teeth descended, she hesitated, holding the fire at bay. Sharp tips grazed her skin. Guy screamed in her mind. When she heeded his warning and let the fire free, tears stung her eyes.

Cries and howls of pain filled the cavernous space. The phage threw their burning bodies to the floor, twisting and thrashing. Nausea clutched her stomach and she started to pull back the blaze.

No! Guy said. He controls them. If you don’t end them, he’ll use them to kill you. A heartbeat of time passed. He dropped his voice to a harsh reprimand. Or worse, turn you.

Sweat beaded her brow as she held the flames steady. She squeezed her eyelids shut to block the gruesome sight. “Gods forgive me,” she prayed as the creatures burned.

A piercing cry broke her resolve and her eyes popped open. Matt walked between the flames. His face brightened in the fire’s glow, highlighting the deep grooves. He tore at his shirt, shedding it fast, baring his chest and the scars that littered his body. “Take a good look. See what you’ve done.”

Her senses swam. Smoke bellowed and heat swayed the air into a gray haze. She locked her eyes on his battered body. The vapors transformed his scars to ripples like fractured water. She sucked in a breath and sputtered on the fumes. The phages’ charred flesh soured the air. “Matt, I-I never—”

“Save your apologies and pity.” He stepped over a body—the same female he’d flung to the ground earlier. He spat at her, then fixed his blazing eyes on Sera. “I don’t need either, but I’ll take your tears.” His upper lipped curled back in a cruel half smile, half snarl. He lurched forward, wrapping his callused hands around her forearms. “Cry, Sera. Beg. That’s what I want from you.”

His short nails dug into her flesh. She flinched at the contact. The contained fire heated her skin, but he didn’t let go. Dragging her in a circle, he threw her to the ground. Shocked, her hands shot out on instinct and took the brunt of her fall. She cursed as jolts of pain racked her from wrist to shoulder. He descended on her without a moment’s hesitation. His disfigured arm curled around her neck and yanked her head back. She clawed at his skin and struggled for a breath.

Fire called to her, beckoning her. Even as she fought for air, she couldn’t bring herself to burn him, not again. Guilt cut her windpipe worse than his attack. Yet she valued her life enough to fight dirty.

As she slammed a fist into his groin, a snort thudded across her mind. Low blow, pet. But nicely done.

She crawled on hands and knees toward a row of boxes. Her fingers clutched the stack for support. She used one hand to massage her throat and the other to get on her feet. It took costly seconds to accomplish the task and standing proved a challenge as dizziness consumed her. The smoke thickened even in the vast room, making it twice as hard to breathe.

As Matt recovered from her well-placed strike, she spread her feet shoulder width apart and prepared to face him. The rational part of her brain screamed at her to use her power. As he moved toward her with hatred in his stare, she couldn’t help feeling she deserved his anger. The thought of adding to his pain, after seeing the consequences of her actions in his physical and mental scars, stayed her hand. The heat fled from her skin.

“I won’t fight you, Matt. I’m sorry you were hurt.” She put up her hands in a sign of peace. “I never meant for it to happen.”

“Shut up.” His hands balled into fists as he drew closer. “I told you, I don’t want anything from you but tears.”

A rush of sorrow swept through her, but not the way he wanted. Her inner turmoil had nothing to do with her own predicament, and everything to do with the boy she’d known, the boy who was lost. In a choked voice, she said, “Well, you won’t get those.”

“We’ll see.” He swung at her head, but connected with the top of her ponytail. She ducked low, rolled forward, and sprung to her feet. He spun around, nostrils flaring. His fists punched blindly. She stepped backward with each swing, keeping her hands up to protect her face. One strike connected with her temple and she went down hard. He loomed over her, spitting vile curses. “I can’t burn you, but I can make you suffer, Sera. You deserve to suffer.”

Red dots danced in front of her eyes and her cheekbone throbbed from the impact of his fist. She cradled her head. Matt’s face swam in her vision surrounded by the skipping circles. His breath, like stale coffee, stung her nose as he leaned close. Fisting a handful of her hair, he jerked her upright.

“Now that the foreplay is over, it’s time to have some fun, don’t you think?” He clawed at her breast through her sweater and nudged his knee between her legs.

Her lungs ceased to function at the assault. She blinked, trying to focus. A horrible ache pummeled her head like a battering ram. He pushed her into the far wall and jerked at the waistband of her jeans. Not bothering with the button or zipper, he yanked. Her insides burned and her thoughts shattered. But as her pants caught on her hips, the flames rose in her palms. Grabbing his face with both hands, she let the fire bore into his cheeks.

“You fucking bitch!” He swore a high-pitched cry as he stumbled back. “I’ll kill you.”

“No, you won’t.” A woman’s voice floated from the aisle.

Sera’s eyes widened at the new intruder, but she kept her gaze locked on Matt. Not about to be caught unaware, she ensured the fire remained at her fingertips.

“This is none of your goddamn business.” He whirled around as a pair of high heels clicked along the floor. His hands clenched his cheeks. Red welts puckered between his fingers.

Sera didn’t know how he still had the strength to talk. Her fire should’ve rendered him in agony. What the hell?

“Actually, it is.” A tall blond with green eyes and long legs appeared through the smoke. Dressed in a burgundy skirt suit and black pumps, she looked ready for a day at the office, not a life or death meeting in an abandoned warehouse. “You’ve violated our agreement.”

“I’m not giving her up. You promised me revenge.” He angled closer to Sera. She stepped back.

“No, you see, I promised you justice.” The blond held up her pointer finger. “Big difference.”

“Not to me.” He hissed.

“Ah, but it is.” She ran a hand over her tidy bun. “Our arrangement gave you the use of my phage for your purposes. However, the girl, as you may recall, belongs to us.” She tapped her chin. “Alive.”

“That was never part of the deal.” He stomped forward like a petulant child. He pointed to his face. The imprints of Sera’s palms showed in his cheeks, but the wound already looked healed. Almost as if the new burns faded into the old scars. “Look! Look what she did to me.”

“I’m not unsympathetic to your plight, Mr. Simon. You’ve been given a new chance at life as few of our kind receive.” She sighed. “But you’ve squandered it and broken our deal. Your mind is too warped. Now, I’m afraid, you’ve come to the end of your usefulness.” Before Sera knew what happened, the woman pulled a gun from behind her back, aimed at Matt, and shot him between the eyes. He slumped to the floor, blood seeping from the fatal wound.

Sera didn’t even have time to scream. The woman pointed the gun at her, and said, “I’m well aware of your abilities, Ms. Benenati, and I’d hate to have to drag you out of here bleeding.” Her head tilted to the side as if measuring Sera. “But if you don’t come with me now, I will shoot you.” Her arms tensed and her brows pulled together. “So, easy way or hard way?”

Sera’s muscles tingled. The adrenaline and her natural fire ran in her blood. Something inside her snapped.

You know I’m all for spunk, pet. Guy’s pestering centered her mind. And while I’d dig the name, Super Guy, for obvious reasons, I know you don’t think we’re faster than a speeding bullet.

Sera nodded. The fear that she’d held back rolled through her. A wave of unease transfigured her fire to ice. Not even Guy’s taunts could shake the terror of staring down the barrel of a gun.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Paradise Mobile Home Park, Calgary, Alberta

Drake knelt beside a busted and broken trailer, staring at the dilapidated window and filthy siding. He choked down laughter. If the dumb schmuck thought he could keep two PCD shifters locked up in this thing, he had a nasty surprise in store.

Two steps more and he’d pull the door from its hinges. A firm grip on his arm deterred him. “They’re in there,” he said, hissing at the owner’s offending hand.

“I know, vampire.” Valkyrie crouched low, causing him to bend with her movement. “But this criminal’s not stupid. He wouldn’t set up another location for the meeting without securing his hostages.” She held up her cell. “Meg’s scanning the area with the satellite system. If it’s booby trapped, we’ll disarm it first.”

“Bloody waste of time.” Drake rocked on his heels, waiting for the signal. No point pissing off allies; if they wanted to ring up the eyes in the sky, so be it. The little techie could give it a go as long as he had first shot at the son of a bitch inside. There’ll be no where for him to hide if he’s hurt Jame. His fangs retracted, stabbing from his gums.

“Ease up, vampire,” Shooter said low as he edged to the other side of the door. The butt of his shotgun rested against his shoulder. His fingers tapped the outside of the trigger. “We’ll catch the pendejo.”

“Dumbass indeed,” Drake said.

Valkyrie snapped to get their attention. “Got it, Meg. Thanks.” She stuffed the cell in her back pocket, then turned to them and whispered, “Our girl disabled the security system and shut down the electrical grid. The perimeter’s safe. But keep your eyes open when we get inside.” Pointing to Shooter, she motioned him to a spot five feet from the entrance. He nodded and took up position; his shotgun aimed at the entrance. She shifted to Drake, tapped her chest then his shoulder, and pointed at the door. “On my mark,” she mouthed.

Drake nodded. His eyes locked on the doorway. Time slowed to a crawl. Blood roared in his veins. His palms tingled, skin itching for action. By the time the signal came, he sprang like a beast uncoiled and threw his full power into the charge.

The door blast open, ripping from its frame and sailing across the room. Drake surveyed the space with a quick sweep. It contained nothing but ragged furniture. A saggy orange loveseat and a TV with a bent antenna sat in one corner, and a scratched up table with one chair, a single kitchen cabinet, a mini frig, and a microwave sat in the other.

He shook his head and inhaled. A coppery tang hung in the air. His muscles froze as dread seized his senses. Jame’s sweet orange scent mingled with the aroma of blood. He swallowed the alarm threatening to choke him. Where the hell’s it coming from? His eyes swept the area again.

Valkyrie followed a step behind, sniffing the air as well. “Sweet mother of—” A hissing noise stopped her short. It snaked along the outer wall, skirting the border like a set of dominos. They tracked the sound to the back of the trailer. “The space is too small. Something must be behind here.” She tapped the wood panels. A low ticking permeated from the other side. With wide eyes, she grabbed his wrist and screamed, “Duck!”

They hit the floor as the wall exploded, raining fireballs in its wake. Sparks covered Drake’s jacket, altering the long trench coat into a blanket of flames. Valkyrie sprung to her feet as he struggled out of the coat and beat it on the floor. The fire licked the walls and ceiling, morphing the trailer into an oven.

“We’ve got to find them.” He shouted over the crackling wood. His cold skin heated too fast for his comfort.

Valkyrie held up her finger for silence. Her hands floated as graceful as an orchestra conductor. He watched, mesmerized by her strange yet fluid movements. Shooter burst onto the scene as she worked her magic, but stilled, caught in the same spell.

A soothing wind permeated the room, extinguishing the blaze and replacing the repugnant odors with fresh air. A small cyclone stirred in the middle of the floor. It gathered the debris into its center. Chunks of wood and metal flew together as if drawn by a magnet. Valkyrie parted her hands, palms facing each other. The soaring currents followed her actions as she pushed them out of the trailer. She waved her arms, motioning to the ground, and the winds dissipated. The trash settled to the dirt.

“Easy enough.” Valkyrie said to them smiling. “Now, let’s find the team.”

Drake held out his arm as moonlight filtered dusty rays inside. “I’ll go first.”

The hidden back room held an array of devices. Chains, cuffs, and straps hung from the ceiling at different lengths. Drake scented leather from the straps while the chains and cuffs revealed either silver from the material’s shine or metal from the dull luster.

“Looks like an S&M chamber,” Valkyrie said as she slipped inside.

“Or a torture cell.” Shooter stood a breath behind her.

A muscle in Drake’s jaw ticked. If he didn’t find Jame soon, he’d tear this place apart.

Scratch. Scratch. The noise barely reached his ears. “Did you hear that?”

Both agents raised their brows. Valkyrie spoke first. “Hear what?”

He strained to pick up the sound. Scratch. “It’s there.” Three steps to the far wall. He scanned the surface, looking for a clue. The smallest of lines ran from the floor upward, ending at Drake’s waist. If he hadn’t heard the scratching, he’d never have found it. He flicked a knife from his pocket and jammed the tip into the crack. “It’s a false wall.”

“Lemme,” Shooter said. His nails dug into the slit as they extended into curved black claws. The pinky finger snapped and recoiled into his hand. Brown feathers covered his wrist and forearm. The talons sunk into the wall and ripped hard. A hidden three-foot high door cracked open.

Drake smirked. “Nicely done, Bird Boy.”

“I suppose I should take that as a compliment from a sanguijuela.” Shooter’s hand shifted. The pinky reformed, cracking with the bone growth. Bronze skin replaced the feathers.

“And here I thought you lacked a vocabulary.” A single low laugh escaped him. “Bloodsucker. It seems you can say it in any language. Think they’ll add it to the dictionary?”

“They already did,” Valkyrie said with a cheeky grin. “Technically, it means leech.”

“Have they added—” A feminine moan cut off the banter. He squat low and threw his shoulder against the door. It gave enough for him to slip inside. As he rushed through the opening, he emerged into a darkened room. A stringent odor saturated the air. The dry vapor coated his lungs like sandpaper and switched the visibility to zero. He coughed to clear away the grime, then shouted to the shifters outside. “Get away from the door. Don’t breathe this shit in.”

“What’s up?” Shooter called from the other side.

“The air’s foul. Probably poisoned.” He placed a hand on the left wall and reached toward the right. Two short strides and he touched the opposite wall. “It’s narrow in here and can’t be too deep.”

“We’re coming after you.” Valkyrie’s hand appeared, wrapping around the door’s edge and pushing it wider.

Drake grabbed her wrist and flung it off. “Use your head.” He pushed the door to a sliver and yelled into the small opening. “If this asshole caught shifters, he’d be using a poison geared for them. You two halfwits both have shifter blood. You’re susceptible.”

Another moan drew him in.

“Wait here.” He closed off the agents’ entrance—and protests—with a definite slam, sealing the entrance. The time arguing allowed too much of the toxins to seep into his bloodstream. He slowed his breathing. If he was wrong and the venom affected him too, well, detox would take on a whole new meaning.

The darkness spiked his frustrations. Vampire eyesight provided near perfect night vision, but not good enough to see through toxic clouds. He muttered a curse, skimming the wall with his fingertips. The steady contact allowed him to maintain direction as he moved forward. His boot slid across a metal vent that seeped the rank air from its center. The poisonous stream hissed and howled from the grating like a malevolent spirit. “Bleeding hell.”

“Drake?” The softest whisper called his name.

He rushed toward the sound, caution cast aside. He’d been praying to hear that voice for too long. He fumbled in the pitch black until his knee bumped into something. Bending down, he risked a deeper breath. Her sweet orange scent cut the muck like a knife. “Jame?”

“Yeah.” Her voice sliced him to the core. It drew ragged, bleeding raw pain. From what he could make out, she sat leaning to one side with her knees to her chest.

“It’s okay. You’re okay.” He ran a hand through her hair and met a sticky substance at her scalp. Placing his face close, he inhaled again. Dry blood. “I’m taking you out of here.” He ran his arms under her knees and around her back. She felt light—too light—in his hold.

“Wait.” The simple command held him captive. “Slick.”

He crouched again, straining his eyes and sniffing. Jame moaned in his arms, but her limbs fell useless as she tried to stir. “Shh. It’s all right,” he whispered against her hair. “I’ll find him.”

The air thickened as he moved deeper into the room. He dared not risk inhaling anymore of it. So far, he’d been lucky to remain unaffected, but he had no idea if that good fortune would last.

“Pup, where the hell are you?” His question remained unanswered. “Bloody half-breed.” Jame coughed and his insides twisted. He’d risk her safety no longer. As he turned to take her out of this nightmare, his boot met a fleshy surface. A low grunt and a hiss of pain confirmed the pup’s presence. “There you are.” Drake placed Jame on the floor, cradling her head and propping her against the wall. “I’ll be right back.”

“Urgh.” Slick groaned as Drake removed his foot from the shifter’s midsection.

“Sorry about that, mutt. But in fairness, you hardly made your presence known.”

“Shell...on...vam...arr.” His incoherent ramblings broke between rough breaths.

“Yeah, same to you.” Drake hauled the pup over his shoulder with a quick tug. “We’ll argue later.”

Lacking two more free hands, he had no choice but to drag Jame over his other shoulder. “Sorry, luv.” Once he had a firm grip on both shifters, he sped about the room. Valkyrie and Shooter managed to get the door ajar, but didn’t appear in the entryway. He pushed Slick through the narrow opening, then bent low and crawled. Free from the suffocating stench, he gulped in air, and reached inside to pull Jame to safety. Her body relaxed as soon as Drake sealed the door, cutting off the poisons.

Valkyrie called from the next room. “Are they okay?” She and Shooter appeared without sound, gliding like animals on the prowl.

“Alert the press, looks like someone finally listened to me,” Drake said, holding Jame against him.

“Sort of.” Valkyrie frowned and shot a remorseful look at Shooter. “We tried to get in, but when we opened the door, we didn’t react well—”

“You were right, amigo.” Shooter interrupted. Drake wasn’t lost to the fact that the agent used the word friend instead of bloodsucker or some other clever nickname. “The air was poisoned. Apparently,” he narrowed his eyes at Valkyrie, “It causes the muscles to atrophy on the spot.”

“Hard to shift when you can barely move.” Drake coddled Jame close to his chest and rose to his feet. “Clever bastard.”

Shooter knelt to hoist Slick over his shoulder and grunted at his burden.

“Why don’t you let me—” Valkyrie moved a hand to Slick’s thigh, but Shooter swatted her away.

“Stop feeling guilty. One of us had to go in.” He adjusted for the weight by placing a supporting hand over the other shifter’s lower back. “I’d rather take the brunt of it.”

“This is all very entertaining.” Drake clucked. “And while I wouldn’t mind holding this sweet wonder all night, I think we need to get them to a hospital.”

“And Talon still needs our help.” Valkyrie led them to the exit, texting as she went. “I’m going to let him know our team is safe. I want you two,” she pointed to Shooter and Drake, “to get them medical support ASAP. I’m going to backup Talon.”

“Not a chance,” Shooter said. His red-rimmed eyes strained at the corners, casting streaks along his temples. “You’re not going it alone.”

Her spine straightened. The ridges along her slender back disappearing behind her plain black shirt. She spun in a tight circle, her mouth set in a grim line. “Hobs and Delta are in Black Diamond with thirteen’s agent, Bull. It’s over an hour away. You’ve been exposed to toxins. There’s no one else to back him up and we’re not leaving him.”

Drake coughed. “Eh hem.” He brushed passed the agents and settled his precious cargo into the backseat of the Land Rover. She nestled into a ball and he resisted the urge to cocoon his body around her. She seemed so fragile. Not at all like herself. Switching back to the arguing shifters, he relieved Shooter of his burden and shoved Slick into the backseat with a little less care than he’d shown Jame—okay, so he may have dropped him in. So what?

As the shifters continued to snipe at each other, he slammed the car door. “Enough.” He pointed a finger at Shooter. “You’ve been exposed and need to be checked out.” Shooter bristled and leveled Drake with a lethal stare. “I don’t like docs myself so I sympathize. But there it is. You need to drive them.” He yanked open the driver’s side door and swept a hand inside. When Shooter didn’t budge, he sighed and approached Valkyrie. “And you have no backup with half your team over a hundred miles away. You’d be a fool to go alone.” His fangs sprung free as his hunger rose. Not a great time for a snack. “You might be a beeatch,” he spat. “But you’re not a fool. So, the way I see it, I’m your only answer.”

A biting wind cut the night sharper than a razor. It whipped around Drake, plastering his spiky hair to his scalp and tearing at his clothes. When a groan escaped Valkyrie, the current died. She ran a hand through her dark locks. “You’re right.”

“What about the beeatch part?” He grinned.

She growled a warning. “Don’t be cute. It doesn’t work for vamps.” Fishing in her pocket, she extracted a set of keys and tossed them to Shooter. “Take them to the hospital, then get yourself looked at.” The shifter made to speak, but Valkyrie cut him off. “No. I’m making it a direct order. I’ll call you as soon as I can.”

“I don’t like it,” Shooter muttered, fisting the keys.

“Neither do I, but it is what it is.” A buzzing sound drew all their eyes to Valkyrie’s hand. Her cell vibrated. She checked the message. “Talon’s almost to the warehouse, but he doesn’t know how much of a head start Ms. Benenati has on him.”

“Ha. That girl’s a real pain in the ass. I doubt she’ll wait for the cavalry.” Drake rubbed the nape of his neck. The sky grew darker as the night wore on. They were running out of time. “For that matter, neither will Talon.”

“Then, we better haul ass, wouldn’t you say?” Valkyrie squeezed Shooter’s hand in a silent goodbye and walked to the street.

Drake followed without looking back. He knew Jame would be safe, but not being by her side as she laid injured, tore at his gut. He put a stranglehold on the emotions and concentrated on their mission. He might not be a PCD agent, but he cared about Talon and Bull. Bloody hell, if he was honest, even the half-breed Slick had grown on him—not that the mutt would ever know. So if he had to backup Valkyrie to aid Talon, he’d do it. No question.

A wry smile played on his lips. “We’ve got some ground to cover without a car.”

Valkyrie’s smirk lit up her dark eyes like polished onyx. She waved him over to a red Corvette sitting on the side of the road. In under a minute, she had the lock popped, the alarm cut off, and the engine hotwired. The move kicked her up a few notches on Drake’s chart; not enough to like her or anything, but maybe he’d toss the beeatch label. Maybe. Slinking inside, she rammed the car into drive and tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. “Ready?”

Moving with supernatural speed, he sped into the passenger seat. He tapped her shoulder as she stared at the spot where he’d stood a second ago. “Made ready.”

She rolled her eyes at his vampire pun and floored the gas. “Let’s do this.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Blue Rock Warehouse, Calgary Outskirts, Alberta

Talon stared at the phone, reading the text twice. Valkyrie’s message helped relieve some of the knots from his muscles. Knowing his team no longer resided in the hands of some psychopath enabled him to concentrate on Sera. Now, if he could just ensure she didn’t get herself killed, maybe then his heart would stop banging against his ribs.

“I can’t believe she pulled this stunt.” When he’d pulled up to the hotel he’d found fire trucks swarming the place. All the air expelled from his lungs at the sight. After storming to Sera’s room, he’d seen the note she left him. It read plainly, I’m sorry. - Sera. No more. No explanation. He didn’t need any. The fire and her disappearance said it all. She was going to trade herself for his agents’ lives, and she was doing it alone.

“Seven Hells!” He slammed his fists into the steering wheel for oh, about the tenth time. “Why didn’t she wait?” His team was safe now. She didn’t need to do this. “Because she knew I’d stop her. Damn it.”

As the truck’s tires sprayed dirt and gravel along the road and the warehouse entrance came into view, he grimaced at the silver Porsche on the street and the door standing wide open. A bad sign for sure. He checked his watch. Ten minutes past the deadline. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

He rushed out the truck, palmed his gun, and slid inside. The hanging fluorescent lights blinked and shook, casting harsh glows along the floor and walls. He shifted without conscious thought to the owl’s eyes, utilizing the animal’s sharp night vision. The large rounded lenses absorbed the light and enabled him to see the full scope of the warehouse.

The rows of stacked boxes and enormous crates blocked the aisles and provided too many blind spots for an attacker to hide. He cursed and shifted again, this time opting for a grizzly’s nose. Smoke and burnt flesh filled the thousands of tiny receptors. He gagged at the stench, but it came out as a strangled roar.

Trusting his own senses amongst the vicious odors, he shifted to normal and followed the scent trail. Aisles in, he spotted the carnage. Heavy smoke coated the area. Shredded boxes spilled their contents onto the floor. Piles of dirt littered the ground. Talon stalked closer, peering through the dense haze.

A moaning from the end of the row caught his attention. He raised his gun chest high and pointed it toward the sound. The outline of a man emerged as he pushed forth from the smoke. “This is the PCD,” Talon said. “Put your hands in the air.”

No response. Chancing a quick glance over his shoulder, he saw no one behind him. Using the right most stacks as coverage, he tried to keep as little of his back exposed as possible. When he dared a closer look, he noticed the man sat on the ground, his head hung low. He kept his gun aimed on the man’s head, until he spotted the blood. A pile of it covered the floor.

Talon lowered his weapon and reached for his cell. “This is PCD agent, Talon Rede. I need a bus to the Blue Rock Warehouse off Route 1.”

Kneeling down, he tried to find a pulse. When his fingers pushed at the charred skin of the man’s throat, the head rolled. Talon leapt back and gaped at the sight. A dime-sized hole spewed blood from the man’s forehead while his cheeks housed two round burn marks. He turned from the dead man to inspect the scene and cancel the ambulance. But as he spun, an iron grip circled his ankle and pulled him to the ground. His gun flew from his hands and the impact caused his teeth to rattle. He kicked at the hand, rounding on whatever grabbed him.

A strained voice hissed, “Meat.”

“What in all the—” Talon’s words cut short as he looked on the dead—or rather, undead—man. The hole in the stranger’s forehead spit out a bullet and began to close. The burnt skin of his cheeks puckered, then smoothed over with a new layer. “Shit.”

“I need meat.” The man spat. Two black eyes bulged from their sockets. His bottom jaw extended, revealing rows of fangs. He lunged for Talon’s leg, chomping and gnawing the air.

“Phage.” Talon pulled away and climbed to his feet, staring at the creature. It looked the same as Sera had described, except this one had scars covering the whole side of his forehead, cheek and jaw. He kept his face a stoic mask, but his gut clenched. The damn thing made him sick.

A hideous laugh bubbled from between its long teeth. “Matt, actually. And you must be Agent Rede.”

“You’re the blackmailer?” Talon shuffled a step away, spotting his gun from the corner of his eye. He calculated whether diving for the weapon or shifting to something nasty—preferably with claws—would give him the better advantage.

“Oh you’re a quick one.” The eyes shrunk into its head. The pointed incisors shortened to fit into its mouth. “Apologies about the biting. But we tend to wake up hungry after our deaths.”

“Well, now I know you’re not dead,” Talon swiped his gun from the floor in a single step and leveled it at Matt’s chest, “you’re under arrest.”

“Really?” Matt rose, a slather of ashen skin flaked off him.

“The dirt piles,” Talon muttered to himself as the skin flakes bunched together in a heap, “like a phoenix from the ashes.” He shook his head at the connection, but kept the phage bastard sighted in his line of fire. “Yeah. Now, I suggest you put your hands up.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I’ll be forced to take more drastic action.”

The infuriating laughter filled the empty warehouse again. “Then, how will you ever find out what happened to Sera?”

“Well, since bullets clearly don’t kill you, I suppose I’ll have to settle.” Talon adjusted his aim and fired. The target struck dead on.

Matt’s howl of pain echoed through the aisle. He fell on his ass, clutching his leg. A warm stream of blood flowed from his shattered kneecap. “Son of a bitch.”

“Agent Rede!” The feminine screech caught Talon off guard and he swung his gun around.

“Whoa, easy chief,” Drake said as the barrel’s mouth whirled by the vamp’s face.

“Talon, what the hell are you doing?” Valkyrie eyed the man on the ground with suspicion, then leveled her gaze on Talon.

“An interrogation,” Talon said. “What’s it look like?” He shrugged, pointing the gun at Matt. “This here is our blackmailer. And he was just about to tell me where Sera is.” He aimed for the bastard’s other knee. “Weren’t you?”

Curses and incoherent ramblings sputtered from Matt’s lips as his jaw elongated again, revealing four inch teeth. Valkyrie’s jaw dropped, but Drake looked downright stoic as he observed the transformation.

“Phage,” the vamp uttered through distended fangs. He took a step forward, swatting Valkyrie aside.

Talon let one hand off his gun to grab the pissed vamp by his arm. “Hey, Drake. Don’t you still owe me for letting you out of jail?”

Drake snorted, never taking his eyes off the suspect. “Aren’t you the one who ordered me arrested in the first place?”

“True, but I’ll make it up to you.” Talon swiped his cuffs from his pocket and dangled them in front of Drake. “I’ll let you do the honors.”

The vamp seized the handcuffs. “My pleasure,” he said, flashing a sneer. He disappeared too quick to track. One minute he stood with cuffs in hand, the next he knelt behind the suspect, throwing the asshat to the ground and shackling his wrists.

Valkyrie huffed. “This is against protocol.”

“Screw that,” Talon said, fixing her with a hard stare.

Her eyes widened. “Are you kidding me, Mr. Joe Honor? You want to go against procedure?”

Talon looked away from her, his silence more damning than admission. His memories swirled.

Bram patting him on the back, a firm but gentle tap. “Duty before everything.”

No, not before everything. Not anymore, Talon thought. Not before family. Not before my team. Not before...Sera.

His gun remained level at the suspect’s knee even as Drake hauled the bastard upright. He smirked as the jackass hopped on one leg, the bones from his shattered knee not quite healed. “You want to read him his rights, go ahead,” he said to Valkyrie. “But I’m getting answers from him one way or the other.”

“Fine.” She threw up her hands. “Let’s just get him back to base first.” Waving them down the aisle, she took point leading the way out of the warehouse.

“Sure you want to do this in front of witnesses?” Drake aimed his question at Talon.

Valkyrie spun around with murder in her eyes. “No one in my department is a snitch.” Her body hummed with tension that radiated small circles in the air. “You want answers, you’ll get answers. Now, let’s go.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Drake saluted and pushed the hopping phage down the row. “You coming?”

“Yeah, meet you out,” Talon said, putting his gun away. He watched them exit the row, then scooped a handful of the dirt sample into his jacket pocket. Watching the ashes flake off that phage bastard had given him the answer behind the mysterious dirt piles, but if he wanted to link the crimes, he needed evidence. Although, taking that motherless prick into a back alley and shooting him dead—again—wasn’t off the list either. “Where the hell did that come from?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose hard. An image of Sera flashed into his mind and he knew where the need came from. “Fuck me.” He kicked at a metal crate.

“Nah, you’re not my type.” Drake appeared midway down the aisle, leaning against a stack of boxes.

“What’re you doing now?”

“Coming to retrieve you. We stuffed the wanker in the back of your truck. And I knocked him out for good measure.” He tilted his head to one side in a gesture of innocence. “Seemed like a smart thing considering his need for meat. Though, Valkyrie didn’t agree.”

“Well, it’s a good thing she’s not in charge.” Talon walked passed him toward the exit.

“Good thing, indeed.” Drake followed behind.

He stopped in his tracks. Turning to Drake, he said, “Thanks for getting the team to safety. And for getting here.” His eyebrows rose. “How did you get here so fast?”

“No thanks required, chief.” Drake flashed a grin and slapped him on the shoulder. “As for getting here, don’t look at me.” They exited the warehouse, and Drake pointed to a fiery red Corvette. “The hellcat hotwired that and drove us.”

Talon let out a chuckle. The first genuine amusement he’d felt in a while. “Nice.”

“Uh-huh. Not bad at all.”

Valkyrie waved at them from behind the driver’s seat of the Chevy. “Let’s get going. I need to get this thing back to the owner.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Drake clapped his hands, then shoved an elbow in Talon’s side. “Her sense of duty remind you of anyone?”

Talon coughed and waved off the question. He checked on their passenger. The bastard laid out cold in the backseat. “You can wake him up, right? Cause I’m not waiting on him to come out of his little nap. We need to find Sera.”

“No worries.” Drake climbed into the truck’s passenger seat and flicked through the radio, as Talon started it up. “I’ve got some methods.”

Talon suppressed a smile, thinking he’d be more than happy to try a few of the vamp’s methods. Where his strict by-the-code attitude disappeared to he didn’t know, but with Sera’s whereabouts still unknown and her safety in question, he found he no longer cared.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Apartment Complex, Calgary, Alberta

Sera didn’t know how to suspend her disbelief. Her eyes refused to process the sights, but there they were. The phage she’d burned in the warehouse lay in bunk beds in the basement of this apartment building. Their charred skin flaked off and pink layers grew underneath. They healed fast as their wounds knit together.

“By the gods,” she cried as the acrid stench clogged her nose.

“No, Sera, not the gods.” Adriana Farrington, the woman who abducted her, the woman who shot Matt, and the woman who acted on behalf of the phage queen—or so she’d claimed—stood in the corner of the room. “Not the gods at all. The Luminarium.”

Sera stifled the fire in her palms, determined to uncover as much as possible...and well, to not get shot. Adriana’s gun trained on her in a most unsettling way.

“Come with me. This is no place for such an important discussion.” She placed a hand on Sera’s shoulder while the other held to the gun. “This way.”

Elevator doors opened at the end of the basement. Sera tried to collect her thoughts as they stepped inside. The ride from the warehouse to this apartment building had taken only fifteen minutes, but the woman had prattled on and on. Processing all the information had Sera’s brain working overtime. “You mentioned you came across my file when you were searching for information to blackmail politicians.”

“Well, not me in particular, of course. We have several people working on that.” Adriana tapped the PH button on the elevator console and inserted a key into the lock. “And it’s not blackmail, Sera. It’s using every advantage we can. The phage have been persecuted for years. We’re trying to get a foothold into this new NUA government so we can have a fair say.”

“Right. Sure.” She shifted her feet and hoped her nervousness didn’t show. She had to keep this woman talking and her mind off her trigger finger. “But what does that have to do with me...or Matt?”

“Matt was a mistake. When we came across your file, we used it to negotiate with your father. But Senator Marsh can be difficult.” The gun slid over Adriana’s hair, as she used the barrel to push back a stray strand. “My associates believed bringing Matt out of the coma and turning him phage would endear him to our side, and maybe even help him in the process. In return, he would find you for us.” The elevator car climbed to the top. “I believed it was foolish, but was outvoted on the matter. Unfortunately, I was right. Matt’s mind was too unstable, freed too soon. Besides, all he wanted was revenge.”

Sera shuddered. Her mind replayed the sickening images of the phage burning, Matt’s horrible scars, the way he’d stalked her, and the bullet wound. Her gaze fell to the gun in Adriana’s hand again.

“He had this psychotic obsession with punishing you.” The wisps of hair fell around Adriana’s face again. “He wanted you to cry, wanted to see you suffer. He even thought to collect your tears like a trophy.” She shook her head. “It was disgusting. Unworthy of a phage.”

“So you killed him?” Sera felt the sickness creep up her throat. The memory of Matt’s body sinking to the floor caused her stomach to churn.

“No, of course not. I only stopped him from killing you.” Adriana hugged her waist with her free arm and tapped the gun against her shoulder with the other. “Phage can’t be killed that way, and he’s one of us now. But I’m afraid he’ll have to answer for his crimes.”

The small space grew grave quiet as Adriana’s words sunk in. When the doors jingled open at the penthouse level, Sera jumped.

“Here we are,” Adriana said. Her burgundy suit and blinding smile presented the picture of hospitality—Silence of the Lambs style. “Have a seat on the couch. I’ll make us a drink.”

“A nice Chianti, I’m sure,” Sera muttered.

The room looked like something out of Millionaire Housekeeping. A swank leather couch with white cushions faced an ultra-modern fireplace and flat screen TV. Floor to ceiling windows wrapped around the living room. Two wide chairs with low wood backrests flanked the couch. Not exactly the sparse room or torture cell, she’d feared. Still...

Nope, not Hannibal. American Psycho for sure. She shuddered, then scanned the room.

After eyeing and dismissing the windows—way too high for a suitable exit—Sera walked to the sofa. Overhead, the dangling chandeliers provided soft ambient light. Square sheer boxes, with gauzy fabric, hung over single bulbs. Three sat in a line above the coffee table, highlighting a red and blue Persian rug. The shimmering lights brought another question to mind. Could I use them like the bathroom sconces at the hotel? Ignite them?

Because that turned out so well? Guy chided. Best not test that with a gun pointed at you, pet.

Good point. She let the rock beats stay silent. If she was going to get out of this alive, she might need the pest’s help.

As an attempt to distract the psycho with the gun, she asked, “You said something about Luminarium? What is that?” Sera leaned on the low cushions, feigning a relaxed posture. “And you still haven’t said what this has to do with me...or your plans for me.”

“Well, I plan to offer you a drink.” A golden dish held two wine glasses filled with a red liquid. Adriana clutched the tray one-handed, still keeping the gun available for use in her right hand. “It’s a ’79 merlot, great vintage.”

“Thanks.” She sniffed the glass, but put it down without a sip. Her face flushed, fire creeping under her skin. It tingled and offered comforting reassurance. “Now, can you tell me what the hell is going on?”

Adriana drank deeply from her cup and filled it again. She placed it on the coffee table and took a seat on one of the chairs. Crossing her legs at the knee, she allowed the gun to rest in her lap. “Of course, but I’m afraid it’s a long story. The wine would help to calm your nerves.”

Settling against the cushions, Sera tried not to focus on the gun. She flicked her gaze at the bottle, then her glass and shrugged.

“As you will.” The second serving flowed down Adriana’s throat. She cupped her chin, careful not to spill a drop. “To understand your part in all this, my dear, I’m afraid you’ll need a bit of a history lesson.” Opening a drawer on the table beside her, she clutched at a laminated paper. She smoothed it on the coffee table and motioned for Sera to lean forward. “This is a tree chart of all the supernatural creatures on our planet and their beginnings.” Pointing at the top, the words Luminarium stood out in bold lettering. “Now, I’m going to tell you something very few people know, and many have died to keep secret.”

Sera held her breath. Her curiosity piqued and adrenaline pumped in her veins with raw heat.

“Humans weren’t the first form of intelligent life on this planet. Long ago they worshipped immortal beings, creatures of pure light as gods and goddesses.” Her face mashed together in a vicious sneer. “Humans, pathetic.” Giving Sera a knowing eye, her features softened. She grabbed Sera’s hand, flipped it over, and swirled a manicured nail over her palm. “Haven’t you ever wondered where your fire comes from?” Not waiting for a response, she continued, “It comes from them, humanity’s false gods and goddesses of old, the Luminarium collective. And all supernatural creatures sprang from them through their vicious rape and abuse of humans.”

“Wait.” Sera held up a hand in a universal stop sign. “You’re telling me all of us, vampires, phage, shifters, and psykes come from humans and these...creatures?” She stared at the gun, trying to determine how drunk the crazy bitch needed to be before fire could be faster than a bullet.

Don’t try it, pet. Guy warned, but offered no alternate plan. Before Sera could badger him for more information, Adriana cut off the silent conversation.

“All of them, yes. The Luminari males violated human females in unspeakable ways.” She downed a third glass of wine, seemingly in a race with herself to finish the bottle. “But not you. You’re something different. You see, we’ve been trying to find a way to reach these...things. And you are the answer. It’s why we needed to find you.”

“How’s that possible?” The slow itch of the flames scratched over her muscles.

“You’re a natural child of the Luminari, born of their essence, not made. Second generation, but still pure. You can communicate with them.” She inched closer and patted Sera’s knee with her free hand. “All we need you to do is make the connection. We want to contact these creatures to,” she paused and smiled, “talk. Once we see your process of communication, we can replicate it. That’s all we want. Then, you’re free to go.”

Her mind churned, and an immediate denial sprang to her lips. “And if I refuse?” She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the couch.

“I don’t want this to get ugly.” Adriana stiffened. Her brows drew together.

Be careful, pet. Sera didn’t need Guy’s warning as the gun sat level—in Adriana’s far too steady hand—with her head.

“I’ll need time to think.”

“Certainly. Allow me to give you a space to think.” Grabbing Sera’s forearm, she hoisted her up and shoved the gun at her spinal column. The Martha Stewart poise and polish fell away as the woman’s face fell into a snarl. “I’d preferred this to be civil, Ms. Benenati. But if you insist on being difficult.” The barrel dug into her lower back. “Put your hands over your head and move.”

With all pretenses dropped, Sera put her hands up, but allowed her palms to warm. The heat soothed her, but she needed the opportunity to strike without getting shot. She let Adriana lead her back into the elevator and down three floors.

When the doors opened, the phage bitch knocked her on the side of the head and dragged her into a hall. As Sera clapped a hand to her temple and took in her surroundings, she got sprayed in the face for her efforts. Her eyes burned like liquid fire ate them. She screamed.

“This could have been easy, Sera.” Adriana’s mocking words and the horrible pain had Sera clawing at the air. She squeezed her eyelids to fight the agony. Her arms and legs thrashed, searching for a target. Her skin ignited. “Now, I suggest you behave and think about why you’re in here.”

A harsh white light permeated her stinging vision. The door slammed shut.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

PCD District Eight Headquarters, Calgary, Alberta

Talon stood against the wall, watching as a single bulb flickered overhead. The light cast an orange glow upon the blackmailer. Two chairs met in the middle of the room facing each other. Bound to one sat their prisoner. With his head bowed on his chest, he appeared half-dead, but sadly still breathed. Solid concrete made up the rest of the room. The main wall housed the lone door and a tinted one-way mirror. Microphones and cameras hid in all four corners and could be turned on or off from the outside.

Knocking on the bulletproof glass, Talon signaled they were ready. The electrical equipment went dark and a shutter encapsulated the mirror. No one would be recording what happened in this room tonight.

“Wakey. Wakey.” Drake smacked the prisoner’s burnt cheek. “Time to get up.”

The second chair’s metal legs screeched across the stone floor as Talon took a seat. He planted his feet on either side of the chair and palmed his gun. Leaning his elbows on his knees, he tilted forward and stared as the man’s black eyes fluttered open. “So, Matt, is that what you said your name was? You ready to start talking?”

Talon kept his gaze locked on the prisoner, but watched from his peripheral vision as Drake crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the far wall. The tension permeated the air as thick as oil. If they didn’t get answers from this piece of shit, they might never find Sera. He locked his jaw and squeezed his leg hard. He couldn’t let those doubts enter his mind for even a second or he’d never be able to carry on this interrogation.

“Well, Matt.” He counted to five, stifling his emotions and letting the bastard regain consciousness. “What’s it gonna be?”

“Agent Rede.” The prisoner lifted his head. A smile formed on his scarred face, stretching the skin into awkward angles. He looked around, tested the cuffs that bound his wrists and ankles to the bolted metal chair, then met Talon’s eyes. “It seems you’ve caught me at last. Good for you.”

Talon nodded and half smirked. “And now the question is am I going to keep you?” Flicking the safety off, he tapped his gun on his thigh. “You have two options here. Tell us what you know and have a long life in jail or...” He allowed his words to drift away. The shot sailed home an inch from Matt’s foot. The sound reverberated off the concrete walls. “Have a short and painful life in this room. Your choice.”

A manic laugh bubbled from Matt’s throat, sputtering out his lips. “Now, now, no need for the threats. I have nothing to hide.”

“Glad to hear it. Let’s start with Sera.”

He slouched against the seat’s grated backing. “Oh, yes, dear Seraphim. What part would you like to start with?” His voice grew soft, then louder until he shouted and pulled at his restraints. “Her tits? Her ass? No? How about the part where she spouts fire?”

Talon never heard his chair move, nor the sound of Drake’s feet rushing from the corner. Somehow, he’d managed to knock over his seat, holster his gun and wrap his hands around the bastard’s throat. At the same time, Drake maneuvered a hold under his shoulders and yanked. Talon stumbled into the vamp’s chest, but not without leaving harsh red bruises along the prisoner’s neck. It took mere breaths; any longer and they’d have no one to interrogate.

“Try that again, phage, and you’ll wish I let him rip out your throat,” Drake said, holding Talon in a deadlock grip.

“I’m good, vamp. Let go.” He stilled. The blood drained from his head as the rage passed. He shot a look over his shoulder and slanted his eyes. Drake released him and took up his previous position against the wall.

Talon turned to the prisoner, sitting across from him once more. “I won’t kill you, Matt, and if you want to play this game,” he pulled out his gun, aimed and fired. The bullet landed just under Matt’s shoulder, avoiding vital organs. Blood spilled from the wound and the scream pierced the air, “we’ll play by my rules.”

“Asshole.” Matt clamped his teeth as the hole weaved together. “Aren’t you a cop? Where’s my lawyer?”

“You’ll get a lawyer. Later. If you cooperate.” He aimed the gun again. His brows pulled in a line as he concentrated on where to shoot next without putting the bastard under. Pain was a great motivator, but an unconscious prisoner wouldn’t get him answers. “So, let’s try again. Where is Sera?”

A snort was his reply.

Talon pointed the gun at Matt’s stomach, then lower.

“All right. All right. You want answers, no problem.” He wiggled the fingers of his right hand and waved his palm down. “Put the gun away. Let’s chat.”

“Gun stays. And for every answer, I don’t like,” he clicked a bullet into the chamber, “I add to your collection of scars.”

“Oh, but that’s the beauty of becoming phage.” He glanced at the spot on his shoulder where Talon had shot him. “No more scars. Besides, Sera already took care of that.”

“You.” Talon stiffened. “You’re the one that tried to hurt her. The piece of shit from high school.”

“I...I...tried to hurt her? Look what she did to me!” He stretched his wrist and motioned to the scars along his collarbone and chest.

“Some might call that justice,” Drake said from the corner. “Wouldn’t you agree, Talon?”

He narrowed his eyes and shook his head at the man’s scars. Before he might have felt differently, might have called it unfair, vigilante even, but now... “I agree.”

“Idiots. That bitch put me in a coma for eight years.” His teeth extended from his gums as his jaw widened. Black eyes bulged from their sockets, spinning in circles. “The phage promised me retribution. I became one of them, and I never have to deal with another scar again.” He smiled and the double row of pointed four-inch teeth curved up. “They gave me power and freedom. I could control a whole army of them. All those new phage just itched for flesh. It was so easy to unleash them, and drag Sera into the trap. But that whore kept burning them. So I had to do the deed myself. That’s justice.”

“You turned phage to get revenge on Sera, and use newbies to trap her? Clever. But then, why let her go?” Talon relaxed into the seat.

“Adriana! She stole her. I was supposed to have Seraphim to myself. But she shot me and took her.” His voice screeched higher with each word. “Revenge. She promised me revenge.”

“Ah yes,” Drake said, walking into the light. He raised an eyebrow. “The queen’s general, right? She can be a real piece of work, huh?”

Talon didn’t have a clue who this Adriana was, or how Drake knew about her, but he noticed the vamp’s questioning method and played along. “Not true to her word at all.”

“Yesss.” A crooked tongue forked between Matt’s fangs. “She thinks she’s so high and mighty. But she made me and released me from the mind control so I could do her dirty work.” He banged his fists onto the chair’s arms. “I was supposed to have vengeance, but she stole her. She took her from me.”

“You can’t trust women.” Drake sighed in mock support. “They’ll screw you every time.”

“Now, you’ll never get Sera back.” Talon placed his head in his hand, his cheek resting on his palm. “It’s a shame, really. We could’ve used her for questioning.”

“I will. She’s mine. I won’t share her.” He bit his bottom lip with two long pointed incisors. “I can get her.”

“Might be hard to do from there, but maybe we could help?” A set of keys jingled from Talon’s belt.

A high-pitched screech echoed through the room. Talon struggled not to clap his hands to his head, and subtlety shifted his inner ear canal to lessen the sting. The phage bastard continued to wail, until his eyes popped back into his head and his teeth returned to normal human size. He grinned. “Nice try, but I won’t be conned that easily. I’ll take that lawyer now.”

Shit. Talon cursed inwardly and slid from his seat. “Of course.” He rose with gun still in hand, sensing no amount of threats would get the bastard talking further. “I’m afraid you’ll have to stay here. Overcrowding in the cells. And since it’s the middle of the night, I doubt we’ll be able to get a lawyer down here for you for at least,” he checked his watch, “oh I don’t know, how long do you think it would take, Drake?”

“Easily twelve hours.” The vamp’s wolfish grin showed his elongated fangs.

“If not longer. Ah well, enjoy, Matt.” Talon tapped on the door and it slid open. He ushered Drake out, before turning to wink at their prisoner. He stepped to the hallway and slammed the door shut. The locks clicked into place. He eyed Drake. “Now, tell me about this Adriana. What do you know?”

“Strife told me to get the dirt on her. She’s the bitch from the TV report.” Drake paused as Talon bristled at the vampire’s name. “Veritas is not the enemy here, chief. I’ve told you before.”

“We’ll deal with that later.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and started walking down the hall. “Just tell me.”

“The woman’s name is Adriana Farrington. She’s a supposed advocate for phage rights, but she’s got ties in all sorts of politics.” He moved closer, halting Talon’s strides. “And she’s most likely a general for the phage queen.”

“What in seven hells are you talking about?”

“I tried to tell you about the phage, Talon. They’re not some new SUB group. They’ve been around for a long time and they’re led by this quote queen unquote, Reyna.” He ran a hand through his spiky blond hair sending the locks flying. “Look it’s complicated, but long story short—they’re bad, plain and simple. And if this Adriana chick is working for the queen, Sera’s in real trouble.”

“Then, where do we find this Adriana?”

“Not a clue. Think it’s time you touched base with your tech gal. I’ll go tell Val what we’ve got so far.” Drake made to go.

“Drake.” Talon caught him by the arm and stopped him a moment longer. “Thanks.”

He nodded and disappeared down the hall.

Digging his cell out of his pocket, he called Meg. When he heard her greeting on the other end, he didn’t give her anytime to breathe and launched into a rundown of Adriana, the phage, Matt, and most important, finding Sera.

When the call ended, he paced the hall. Visions of his time with Sera occupied his head. He tried to shut them out, but couldn’t shake the fear that gripped him and the question that lingered. Where is she?

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Apartment Complex, Calgary, Alberta

Sera? Sera? Guy nagged and interrupted her wallowing. Oh come on now, pet. Don’t be that way.

“What do you want?” Sera rested against vertical bars. Well, at least, she suspected they were bars. Her eyes still stung like a dozen beestings. So far, everything she’d been able to find out about her new accommodations fired her nerves. The room took eight steps to crawl across and drowned her in light that burned her sensitive eyes. It didn’t have any tangible exit she could discern without her vision, although she knew one door existed since Adriana smashed it in her face.

So touchy. Her pest continued talking. No matter. I’ll still help.

“Help?” She rubbed her cheeks where the poisonous spray had touched, but it only made the irritation worse. “How are you going to help?”

Simple. This phage wants to know how to contact the Luminarium. We’ll show her.

“Wh-What’re you babbling on about?” A strange tingling started in the base of her neck. She massaged the spot. “You think she was telling the truth about these creatures?”

Luminari, or collectively, the Luminarium. Sera felt Guy bristle like a weird shimmy across her mind. She may be insane, pet. But she wasn’t lying.

“Oh, please. You’re as crazy as she is.”

That’s possible, but that’d make you a nutcase too. He laughed, a low gurgling that made her want to tear her hair out. Besides, it’s not that difficult. All you have to do is contact your grandfather.

“My grandfather? What does he have to do with this?”

Geez, pet. I thought you’d have put two and two together by now, you being a journalist and all. He sighed. The dramatic gesture swept over her psyche. Ah well. I’ll spell it out. Your grandfather is a Luminari. Hate to break it to you, but the phage told you the truth. The Luminarium, the collective, are real.

“As soon as I get out of here, I’m having myself committed to the psych ward.” She blinked away tears as her eyes flushed out the spray’s chemicals. “Maybe the docs will be able to figure out how to get rid of you.”

There’s no getting rid of me, pet. I’m part of you. He paused as if waiting for her response. She refused to rise to his bait. Don’t believe me? Call to your grandfather. Let go and initiate the connection. You’ve already embraced your fire. You aren’t afraid of it anymore, so it’s possible to reach him now.

“If she wasn’t lying, then my grandfather is some immortal god.” Her fingers shook as she pulled at an amber strand.

Don’t listen to half-truths, pet. You’re better than that.

The lights grew brighter when her vision cleared. The stinging subsided, but the white fluorescents almost blinded her anew. She shook her head, questioning if she was indeed “better than that” as Guy implied. The room appeared even smaller than she imagined and the walls seemed to move closer with each passing second.

She took a deep breath and said, “Fine, what do I do?”

You’ve talked with him before. Close your eyes, stop fighting, and embrace who you are. Who we are, pet.

“I don’t know how to do it.”

You’ve already done it. It’s how your grandfather was able to make contact with you in the first place, when you accepted the fire and attacked those phage in Buckhorn. A subtle breeze seemed to sweep across her mind. Breathe, pet and let go. He imitated a cricket’s hum. Now go, grasshopper.

“Idiot,” she murmured, closing her eyes. She focused on resisting the urge to crank up some heavy metal to block out Guy’s annoying voice. Warmth encircled her heart as she took cleansing breaths. All this time, she’d imagine it’d be difficult. She’d fought so hard to keep it away—Guy, her past, the fire, the pain. But letting go, it was...freeing, easy, as simple as taking a breath. She sighed, using the inhale and exhale to center her energy. After a few minutes, she heard it.

“Hello Sera.”

She opened her eyes and gasped. The room swam with a hazy glow. Before her, a man appeared impossibly bright. He blazed with golden rays, challenging the harsh overhead bulbs. The light radiated from his core out through his body and coated him like a second skin. “Grandfather?”

“Yes, child. I’m here.”

“Where am I?” Twisting this way and that, she tried to get a sense of direction. The room distorted, bending and fracturing the air around her.

“This is the space I told you of, the place between. It’s what our kind use to travel through the planes of existence. In truth, we come from a similar place.”

“Don’t gods come from the heavens?”

His laughter exuded a rich bass that eased her troubles. “It may be so. But thankfully, we’re not gods.”

“What about your—” Sera almost said crimes, but stopped. “The rest? Is the rest true?” Her heart sank as she recalled the phage’s words. She had to know the truth, so she took a steadying pause, then asked, “Are you what she said you are? Did you violate human women?”

“I am Luminari, Sera. We’re an ancient people, older than humans, who’ve lived for many millennia. You are a direct descendent.” Her grandfather spoke with a voice that rung like musical notes on a heavenly instrument. “But I have never harmed a female—human or otherwise—in my life. And that life has been very long.” He exhaled and the breath carried a somber note. “I loved your grandmother, and the birth of our daughter, your mother, was the happiest day of my life. For the first time, I knew true joy. And when you came into the world, it was both the best and worst day. I lost your mother, but I gained a granddaughter.”

She pushed away the rising emotions in favor of a cool head. “What about the rest? Adriana mentioned something about supernatural beings manipulated by you. What does she mean?”

“I am the youngest of four brothers, Sera. To understand, I must tell you of your granduncles.” His light dimmed to a mustard yellow hue. “I fear you will not like the telling.”

“No more lies. I’m tired of living that way. Tell me.” She settled into the strange space, ready to hear the tale.

“Long ago, my kind sprang from the core of the Earth, from its depths and warmth, from its fire. We were many and we thrived for millions of years.” His light shone in vivid detail like the rays of the sun. “The human race grew over time from Earth’s roots, from rock and stone, from a single organism to the beings you know today.” His voice lowered, dropping a full octave to a deep timber. “But as humanity thrived, my people died. Without the fires of below and with the planet cooling from above, we dwindled until my brothers, sisters, and I alone remained.”

“The Luminarium,” she muttered.

“Yes. Two thousand years ago, the situation became desperate. Luminari are children of the Earth’s core. We cannot reproduce with one another.” His hand waved at the haze, parting it and shooting a clear path to the side.

Her eyes narrowed on the far white wall. It shimmered as if alive, transforming into a moving picture.

“With extinction coming fast upon us, my eldest brother, Aurean, decreed we must mate with humans.” The image of a soaring golden figure sharpened on the wall. His confidence showed in his firm step and unyielding stance. Wide shoulders and a broad chest revealed his strength. His dark eyes peered forth and seemed to see into Sera’s soul.

She gasped. “What happened?”

“Aurean took on the task first as an example for the rest of us. He found a human female, more exquisite than any of us had seen before.” The picture changed once more to reveal a woman. Her long black hair, pale skin, and lush red lips revealed a beauty beyond measure. She stood tall and proud, smiling at the man by her side. “Such perfection could not last. As a human, she was susceptible to illness and age. Death came to claim her far before her time.” He swallowed and some of the radiance of his face left him. “My brother planned to mate with her. He never expected to fall in love. But love he did, and when she lay dying, his heart died with her.”

Sera waited, staring at the couple’s image with baited breath.

“For one who has lived so long, death did not seem a strong opponent. He cursed the keeper of death and fought it with all his power.” The wall showed Aurean holding the woman in his arms and cutting a mark across his chest. He cradled the woman’s head to the wound and bade her drink. His light flowed into her, illuminating her body, and pumping new blood through her veins. “He shared part of his essence with her, using her blood as a catalyst for life. But it could not sustain her. She died, then rose again as the creature you call, vampire. Her need for blood, human blood, and the one thing he could not give her, now the instrument of her survival.”

“That’s awful.” She splayed her hand across the pulse at her neck.

“Yes. And that I’m afraid is only the beginning.” His features solidified while the hue softened. The act made him appear far more human, but did not quite achieve the full effect. When he sat on the floor cross-legged and slouched, she hid a smile behind her hand. “Will you sit with me and hear the rest?”

She bit her bottom lip, uncertain whether she wanted to hear more.

Geez, are you the worst reporter on the planet? Guy’s retort to her doubts made her sweep them right under the rug. No matter her personal feelings, she’d hear the whole story.

Adapting his appearance, she sat on the floor, crossed her legs, and tried to relax. “Tell me.”

He smiled at her and whispered, “My brave girl.” Then his features fell, a frown forming on his face. “The next in line, my brother, Zelus, never could abide his place as second. When Aurean found his mate and love despite the pain it cost him, Zelus was determined to have the same.” The couple faded from view and a new man appeared. His striking black hair and golden eyes blazed as hot as hellfire. A firm jaw and high cheekbones, coupled with thick brows, gave him the look of an ancient aristocrat. The light that poured off his skin drowned her vision, and marked him as other.

“He’s...” She struggled to find the word to pinpoint her unease. Her grandfather and his eldest brother didn’t cause her insides to twist in a knot like this one. “Different.”

“Yes, he is.” Her grandfather wiggled his fingers and the image shifted. Another woman appeared, similar in size and appearance to the first. Her black hair curled around her high cheeks, where the other woman’s hair had been straight. Though her lips were full and red, they didn’t possess the same depth of color. The most obvious difference lay in this new woman’s skin. Warm, rich honey undertones brightened her complexion, giving her the gift of sun kissed skin.

The woman spun in circles, her arms splayed wide. Her full skirt billowed like a sail in the wind. Gold bracelets jingled on her arms and large hoops hung from her ears. She breathed deep as a breeze blew long strands of hair around her face. Her smile gave her cheeks a gentle glow. “Reyna,” her grandfather whispered.

“Who is she?” Sera stared in wonder.

“The female my brother destroyed.” His face hardened and his light grew cold and dark. An icy chill wafted off his body. On the wall, a figure stood by a tree, observing the woman. With her back turned, she couldn’t see the man snake from the shadows and creep up behind her. As the man leapt at the woman and pinned her to the ground, her grandfather curled his fingers into a fist and the picture disappeared. “Zelus attacked the female, Reyna, and violated her. When he finished, she begged him to kill her. She didn’t want to live with the pain of his brutality.” Her grandfather’s eyes filled with tears. “But Zelus would not be denied. He forced his essence into her living flesh. The light consumed her body and morphed her into the creature called phage.”

“Phage? The same things that came after me? The same as that crazy woman, Adriana?” Her eyes widened.

“Yes. Reyna survived, but craved flesh to sustain her life.” His lips twisted. “Zelus took so much from her, but he suffered for his cruelty. He gave away too much of his light and weakened while Reyna grew stronger. Her abilities increased in both strength and knowledge. When she took Zelus as prisoner, my siblings and I didn’t stop her.” He cast his eyes to the floor. “We believed he deserved his fate.”

She couldn’t help but think the same. “What happened then?”

“Not long after, the females discovered their gifts and curses. Both would not age, but no longer could they stand the sun’s rays. With so much of the Luminari light flowing through them, any additional light caused their bodies to burn.” He rested his head against the wall and crossed his arms. His golden rays dimmed so much Sera reached toward him and patted his arm out of concern. He blinked. “Fear not, my child. Within fifty years, the light faded enough to allow them to see the sun again. And then the true nightmare began.”

Her muscles cried out for reprieve. The night had dragged on far too long and she paid for it now. Adapting her grandfather’s posture, she leaned against the opposite wall, stretched her long legs, and rested her hands at her sides. “I’m afraid you’ll have to give me the short version.” She yawned.

To her surprise, he laughed. “My apologies, my dear. You shine so bright, I sometimes forget your human side.” He squeezed her ankle in a reassuring gesture. “I’ll be brief.”

“As the years dragged on the women learned how to expand their lines. In short, how to breed. The vampire needed to share blood, infusing a part of her light into the human by a blood exchange.” His voice deepened as he spoke of the other. “The phage, however, needed to bite and impart the light in the human’s flesh. Not every bite would accomplish the transition. The phage must willingly force the light into the body.”

She shuddered at the graphic picture her grandfather’s words painted.

“Within centuries, the population of both got out of hand. Humans suffered as nothing more than food for the phage. And battles between the phage and vampires spiraled into full scale war.” The room grew darker and a wave of sadness emanated from her grandfather.

She frowned as he grew quiet, then she shook his leg. “Go on.”

He looked at her under half-closed eyes and nodded. “My last brother, Paxus, believed the failure to achieve our original goal of mating with humans brought us to this end. He was determined to make it right.” He flicked his wrist and the wall showed another man’s portrait. Wavy caramel hair ran to his shoulders and framed his noble face. Gentle brown eyes and a tender smile warmed her spirit. “He sought out a human widow heavy with twin babes and appeared to her with an offer. He would bless her children with special gifts, if she would but let him place his hand over her womb.” He inhaled sharply through his nose and snorted. “She thought him an angel and agreed. He imparted parts of his essence into the fragile bones of the boy child and into the forming mind of the girl child.”

“Shifters and psykes,” Sera said. Her thoughts drifted to Talon, but she pushed it away, determined to stay in the moment and discover the rest of the story.

“Yes, that’s right. My brother partially succeeded, since these new creatures could mate and have natural offspring. Still the true Luminari gene did not take root.” He sprang to his feet and offered her a hand up. “This is why I had to discover the secret.”

“What secret?” She slipped her hand into his shining palm. His warmth encompassed her arm when he pulled her to stand. Her fire reacted, running through her veins and pushing away all weariness.

“Life. When my eldest brother discovered emotion, he fell in love with his female.” He laid his fist on his chest. “He didn’t want her to die. I understood this feeling when I found your grandmother and allowed myself to age alongside her. But love wasn’t enough. I needed to live with her, to grow with her, and to be by her side, so I did. When she died, I lost my mortal hold on this physical plane and returned to the Luminarium.” His essence glowed brighter. “The life I had with her was precious, and that life allowed our love to have a child, your mother. That is the key to having natural Luminari offspring.” He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “And you Sera are the second generation of that life and love.”

His body blazed, illuminated in stunning golden hues once more. Her breathing stilled, a quiet acceptance stole over her soul. At last, she knew the truth. A heavy weight shoved itself off her chest, and her heart beat stronger and lighter.

Enough of the sappy drama, pet. We’ve got things to do. Like getting out of this cell.

Her teeth ground together, and she gritted out, “What about this pest in my head? What the heck is he?”

Her grandfather’s laughter bellowed from his abdomen. “I’m afraid that pest is, and always has been, a part of you, my dear. It’s the manifestation of your Luminari side.” He squeezed her arm. “We all develop it as we age. It’s our link to the Luminarium, to the collective, and how we communicate with each other.”

“You’re telling me, I’m stuck with this moron?”

“The inner voice can be silenced if you merge with it.” He raised his eyebrows. “I believe you’ve done it before.”

Sera recalled the times she’d allowed Guy to take over. It fused them together in a stream of unbridled power. She gasped and waved her hand back and forth. “No, thank you. I’m not dealing with that all the time.”

“The choice is yours. But remember, the phage want to use you, Sera. They need your ability to reach us.” He sighed, his light growing ever dimmer. “As you see this space between spaces, this mix of corporal and ethereal gives me form. It allows us to speak without prying eyes. Once I could linger in the physical world, but no longer. It is only here I may take shape again, and only Luminari may enter it. Reyna’s desire for revenge is endless and you are the key.”

“Why? How? I don’t understand.”

He patted her arm. “You are Luminari. You are linked to us, to my brothers and sisters. If Reyna finds a way to use that link to cross the divide between the realm of humans and ours, she can find us.” His eyes dropped to a muddy brown hue. “And then, she can kill us all.”

“You said only Luminari can cross the divide. How could she use me then?”

“The phage queen is clever Sera. She’s survived for thousands of years by draining my brother, by using his essence to fuel her.” His jaw tightened, a snarl of disgust crossing his lips. “He deserves punishment for his crime but two thousand years—”

“Grandfather, please. This doesn’t make sense.” She gripped his elbow. “I don’t understand.”

“I know.” His chest rose and fell with a deep breath. “I cannot say how Reyna would accomplish her task. But she burns with a passion for vengeance. One that is no longer appeased by punishing my brother. She would see all of us, the last of the Luminari, dead.”

“My human side allows me to walk in the physical world.” Sera’s eyes widened. “And my other half connects me to the Luminarium.” Adriana’s earlier words haunted her, All we need you to do is make the connection. Once we see you do it, we can replicate it. Her breath hitched. “They want to copy the link somehow.”

“I must go then.” Her grandfather’s form began to fade. “It is not safe. I cannot allow the phage to enter our realm.”

“Wait.” She gripped his arm like a lifeline. “I have so many questions.” Her mind raced. She babbled on. “Guy had this weird robot voice one time, what does that mean? And you said you had sisters, what happened to them?” A tear streamed down her face as she thought of the most important question of all. “And my mother and grandmother, what were they like?”

He cupped her cheek and kissed her forehead. “This isn’t goodbye, my child. We will speak when it is safe. For now, another is near to aid you.” He faded in a stream of light like a ray of sunshine setting into a misty evening. His last words lingered in the air. “The vampire is our ally.”

The temperature dropped as the haze left the room and harsh reality settled over the space. With her vision back to normal, she took a finer look at her surroundings. A long white wall sat at the back. She could see the faint outline of a door, but no knob or handle. To the right and left, cement made up the adjoining two walls, and to the front, vertical bars blocked a narrow aisle. Across the row laid another cell identical to this one. She narrowed her eyes as a feminine figure rested her back against the neighboring bars. The woman’s jet-black hair and matching dark clothes seemed so familiar. The name lay on the tip of her tongue.

“I told you, Sera, the phage are not creatures to trifle with.”

Sera gasped as the thunderous voice mixed with that formal accent, jogged her memory. The vampire with the slick as oil eyes rose across from her. She stared in disbelief and struggled not to stutter as she asked, “Strife?”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Hillbend Hospital, Calgary, Alberta

An explosion, a man’s manic laughter, a dark narrow room and the smoke—oh shit—the smoke filled her ears, eyes, and nose. Jame sucked in air, willing her body to work, to move. But the fumes clogged every pore, freezing and burning at the same time. She struggled, thrashing without movement, screaming without sound.

A steady beep-beep-beep interrupted her dreams. She blinked twice. A soft yellow light cast a shadow over her vision. Her hand came up to her face and met a plastic tube under her nose. She gasped, startled more by her ability to move again, then the tubing.

“Thank you,” she whispered far too scratchy. Her throat ached. “Water?”

“Jame? You awake?” The voice rasped low. She couldn’t place it.

“Yeah,” she said, angling toward the sound. A man lay in the bed across from her. Squinting, she could make out his disheveled brown hair and golden green eyes. “Hey, Slick.”

“Hey, yourself. You okay?”

“Think so. Except for a splitting headache.” She smoothed down her hair and rubbed her temples. “Nice to be able to move again.”

“Tell me about it.” He sat up and groaned.

“Now, that’s enough.” A man with sun-kissed bronze skin and short black hair walked through the door, over to the bed, and pushed Slick back against the pillows. “Don’t overdo it, amigo.”

“No offense, Shooter, but suck it.” Slick pushed the shifter’s hands away and sat up again.

“Don’t you usually say that to vampires.” A booming voice called from the doorway.

Jame looked away from the shifters and toward the entrance as Bull walked in. The smell of worn leather followed him and permeated the room. She smiled as she ran her gaze over his button down flannel shirt, faded jeans, and tan cowboy boots. “Boy, are you a sight for sore eyes.”

“Same to you, girlie. How ya feeling?” His lazy grin revealed two rows of pearly whites. He sat at the corner of her bed and handed her a glass of water off the side table.

She gulped it down. “Been better. But that doesn’t matter.” She waved her hand as if her temporary paralysis hadn’t bothered her. Lies. “Tell us what happened.”

“Yeah, how’d you guys get us out of there?” Slick threw his legs over the side of the bed and rubbed his thighs.

Shooter coughed. “Well, technically, we didn’t.”

Bull’s dark eyes drooped, and he patted her leg. “I was called away on a lead. I wasn’t there. I’m so sorry to both of you.” The words sounded too pronounced as if he couldn’t quite manage his normal Texas swag.

“That wasn’t your fault. You were doing your job.” Shooter swiped his hand over the back of his neck and sighed. “If it wasn’t for that vampire, we might not have found you. And we wouldn’t have gotten you out.”

“The vampire?” Slick turned ashen.

“Sí. He tracked you through her blood.” He pointed at—

“Me?” Jame’s jaw dropped. She fidgeted with the stupid hospital gown. “What’re you talking about?”

“He said he’d had some of your blood earlier.”

“Wait, who?” A knot formed in her throat.

“Your informant, now prisoner. Drake.”

“Hold up.” Slick shot out of the bed, standing on shaky legs. “You’re telling me Drake bit her?”

Her hands cradled her head. She sifted between her memories, which came out fuzzy, until she remembered the instant it happened. “The cut when I was interrogating him.”

“He...sucked...your...blood?” Falling into the bed, the heart monitor beeped louder as Slick’s pulse shot up. He yanked free of the wire attached to his finger, almost ripping his IV out too.

“If he hadn’t, we still might be in that room.” Jame didn’t know what made her spring to Drake’s defense. The thought of being trapped, unable to move in that horrible place with all those fumes... “He saved our lives.”

“More than you know, chica.” Shooter shuffled over to her bed. “We couldn’t get in since the toxins targeted shifters, and only Val and I were with Drake. When I tried to follow him, I got zapped by the poisons.” He blew out a loud breath. “Paralysis, not fun, by the way.”

“No joke.” Slick rose again, pulling at wires and tubes. When he’d finished dislodging himself from the machines, he frowned. “Now, where’s my clothes?”

“You really do need to rest.” Bull crossed the room, grabbed a bag from the foot of the bed and handed it over. “Not that ya ever listen.”

“We still have a case to solve, don’t we?” He scooted his arms out of the hospital gown and flung his T-shirt over his head.

“We’ve got the vermin that attacked y’all, but our witness is missing.” Bull tried to help Slick with his clothes, but received a fist in the shoulder for his efforts. He shrugged and flipped the curtain around the bed. “Suit yourself.” Tapping Shooter, he said, “Go see where we stand, would ya?”

“No problemo.” Shooter nodded his head and wriggled his brows at her. “Feel better, chica.”

When he waved at her from the door, she called, “Thanks.” Turning to Bull, she tested her leg muscles by inching them over the side of the bed. The motion caused her head to pound like a drill against her forehead, but she gritted her teeth and stood.

“Ya goin’ to be just as stubborn?” Bull caught her under the shoulders and helped her walk to the foot of the bed.

“You know it.” She tried to smile as he fished out her clothes.

“Want me to close the curtain?” Small worry lines broke over his forehead.

“Nah. You’ve already seen me at my worst.” Wincing, she slipped the ugly blue gown from her body. “Besides, I’m not too proud to ask for help.”

He snorted. “Since when?”

“Let’s just say paralysis changes your perspective on a lot of things.” She held the gown to her chest as Bull pulled out her sports bra. “But don’t peek.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, partner.”

Being dressed by a large vampire who kept his eyes closed the entire time had her stifling snickers, especially when he thumbed her thong in his meaty fingers in confusion. He exhaled a deep breath when the last strip of clothing hugged her body. “Don’t ever make me do that again.”

“Wasn’t good for you?” She laughed.

He growled as Slick broke through the curtain.

“Everyone ready now?” Slick asked. The tag of his T-shirt stuck out under his neck.

“As soon as you fix your shirt.” She laughed harder.

Bull grabbed the hem of Slick’s shirt, flicked it up and slipped it around faster than the shifter could protest. With a curse, Slick conceded with a mumbled, “Thanks.”

As Jame broke out in hysterics, Shooter entered the room again and killed all amusement. He spoke without a breath. “Talon’s back at base. He’s on the line with Meg. She’s got something. We gotta move.”

Blood charged through her veins in a liquid rush. Her lethargy disappeared with the call to action. She buckled up her combat boots and stood tall. “Then, let’s not keep ‘em waiting.”

* * *

“Okay, Meg. Tell me,” Talon said as he paced the office.

“Press Capital Corp lists Adriana Farrington as owning a seat on its executive board. They’ve acquired several companies and properties throughout the world including,” Meg’s rapid fire clicking pounded a tap-tap-tap over the phone, “an apartment complex in Calgary.”

“Great work. What’s the address?”

“There’s a problem.”

He stopped in the middle of the room and slapped his palm against the desk. “What is it?”

“As soon as I spotted the corporation, it red flagged.” She snorted and huffed. “Agent Vanguard called soon after.”

Vanguard. His mouth went dry. If the pencil pushing, blowhard leader of Unit Four called, the situation must have taken a serious turn. The man ran Districts Eight through Ten with the savvy of a Fortune 500 CEO and the questionable tactics of a NUA politician. Hell, he made Agent Bram look like a softy. “What did he want?”

“The unit team sent out orders. All phage in positions of power or leadership are not to be brought in for any open investigations.” She lowered her voice to a soft whisper, “Something big is going down, Talon. Don’t know what it is, but they gave strict orders not to interfere.”

“If the unit leaders fearsome five want to gather evidence against these phage, that’s fine, but I’m not about to compromise Sera’s life because of it.” He grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and rushed out the door. “Now, give me the address, Meg.”

“Talon, you know I can’t do that.”

“If you want to stick to that bullshit order, so be it. But I’m getting her out of there.” He popped open another door and waved at Val to follow. She sprang up from her seat. “Please.”

Meg blew out a gulp of air. Her words came muffled as if she cupped a hand over the receiver, but he got the message. “42 Oak Tree Road.” The pencil chewing intensified. “You didn’t get this from me. And Talon?”

“Yeah, Meg?” He pushed past the front door with Val on his heels.

“Try not to make a mess of things.”

“You got it.” He stuffed his phone in his back pocket and opened the driver’s side door, but Drake already sat in the seat. “Move over.”

“Not a chance.” Drake growled. “You want to come to the hospital, you ride in back.”

“The team’s already on the way. Jame and Slick are okay, and coming along...despite my orders.” He scowled, then motioned for Val to go around the other side. “We’ve got a lead.

“Why didn’t you say so?” The vamp sprang over the divider and grinned from the backseat. He patted the driver’s headrest. “Hurry it up.”

Talon climbed into the truck. Shoving the key in the ignition, he glanced at Val who scrambled into the passenger’s seat. “Before we take off, you should both know,” he paused with his hand on the wheel, “the bigwigs at the top have given the mission a no go.”

“Vanguard?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.

“All of them.”

“Means trouble’s in the pipeline.” Flicking her nails, she shrugged. “Ah well. We can’t leave the girl alone, so...screw them. Let’s do it.”

He lifted a brow. “When did you start going against the rules?”

“When someone showed me you need to bend them from time to time.” She winked and waved at the dashboard. “Now, move it.”

He smirked, then turned to glance over his shoulder. “Any arguments?”

Drake raised an eyebrow. “Because I care so much about the inner workings of PCD politics.”

“Right.” He put his attention to the front again, shifted the car into drive, and slammed on the pedal. The night gave way to early morning as they took off. The gray sky dotted clouds across the horizon and blocked the sun. A cold wind swept through the car’s cracked window and ruffled his hair. Talon didn’t feel the breeze as all of his concentration centered beyond the windshield to the street ahead, on Sera.

Chapter Thirty

Apartment Complex, Calgary, Alberta

“What’re you doing here?” Sera stared wide eyed at the vampire in the opposite cell. A wry smile rested upon her pale face, hinting at the fangs underneath.

“Wish I could say I was trying to keep you out of trouble,” Strife said, tugging the vertical metal bars. They creaked, but didn’t budge. “Unfortunately, it’d be a lie. I traveled to Calgary after your grandfather informed Veritas that you’d decided to pay your father a visit.” She pulled harder, eliciting another creak from the bars, but still no movement. “I came alone, not wanting to put another of my people in danger.” Releasing the bars, she ran a hand through her straight black hair, tousling the strands. “When I spotted Adriana, I decided to follow her to scout and gather more information. But the phage hag ambushed me with her minions before I had a chance to learn anything.” She threw up her hands. “Three hundred years old and she captures me like I’m some fledgling.”

“Well, don’t feel bad. She got me too and apparently, I’m some sort of superstar.” Fire crept up her veins, lighting her insides.

Guy snorted. Your wit astounds me, superstar.

Oh stuff it. She raised the bass chords and shrugged.

“Ah, so you’ve learned of your origins, have you?” Strife shoved a shoulder between the bars.

“Uh-huh.” Her lips curled into a smile as she imagined her grandfather’s face. My grandfather. Felt nice to acknowledge it. She watched the vampire try to stuff her body through the narrow opening. A memory swarmed in the back of her mind. The van, the first time she met Strife, the conversation, her grandfather. “Strife?”

“Yes?” She didn’t look up or stop her ministrations. With her hip cocked sideways, one booted foot in the aisle and the rest of her body still in the cell, she looked like a contortionist—a bad one.

“The first time we met, when you tried to kidnap me—”

“Protect you,” she said between clenched teeth. Her fangs rested on her bottom lip and lines broke out over her forehead. Her focus shifted to expelling all the air from her lungs and making her upper body smaller.

“Yeah, protect me, whatever.” Sera waved her hand at the word choice. “Anyway, you said you knew about me from my grandfather. And again that you got a message from him saying I was in Calgary. How do you know him?”

Strife stilled. Her head snapped up. She pulled her body back into the cell with a groan. “Again, I act the fool. I’m beginning to wonder who of us is the elder.”

The fluorescent lights dimmed as if matching the sudden change in mood. Gray shadows flickered off the walls and silence permeated the room. Sera stepped forward and reached her arm between the cell bars. Four feet separated their prisons. She had no hope of reaching the vampire from her side, but for some reason she felt a strange kinship. A quiet sadness radiated from Strife’s icy exterior. It lay masked behind dark clothes and a frigid demeanor, but still it snuck out if one took the time to look. “Try not to beat yourself up. We’ll figure a way out of here.”

Their eyes met, deep black ones filled with secret pain looked into chocolate brown that hid the same buried hurts. Strife nodded, a slight incline of her head, no more, but it was enough. Sera smiled. “Now, tell me about my grandfather. How do you know him?”

“I don’t. Not personally.” Strife’s posture relaxed. Her arms dropped away from her chest and fell to her sides. Even her facial muscles eased, making her look no older than a teenager. She slipped into a more casual tone too. “He, along with his brothers and sisters, has long guided Veritas, even before my time. They give us signs and messages to help us hunt those who would harm others.” Her hands wrapped around the bars once more, but she didn’t tug at them. “It’s how we discovered you. When you experienced your power for the first time eight years ago, your grandfather feared the results. He couldn’t reach out to you as long as you continued to deny your abilities. But he believed you needed to be watched just in case. So we kept an eye on you to ensure you didn’t use your powers to the detriment of others.”

“Why not come out in the open? Why the secrecy?” A burning sensation that had nothing to do with her fire and everything to do with anger bubbled to the surface. “Why leave me alone?”

“You must understand, Sera, every supernatural comes into their power in their own way and time. If we didn’t allow you to grow, you may never have learned to control it.” She raised a slim shoulder, then let it fall. “Besides, your grandfather assured us your link to the Luminarium would manifest faster without our interference.”

“Guy,” Sera muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She shook her head. “It’s just sometimes I’d rather that particular link didn’t have to be so annoying.”

“Ah. Yes, well, I’m afraid all power comes with a price.” She flashed her fangs, digging them into her lip. Two drops of blood trickled to her chin. She licked them with one quick swipe.

Yuck. Sera kept the grimace to herself, but couldn’t stop her stomach from rolling.

“Seems I’m not the only one who’s hungry.” Strife laughed a musical note like raindrops on a windowpane. “What say we get out of here?”

“Sounds good to me. Any suggestions?”

“Well, squeezing through the bars is out.” She laughed again. This time the sound rose higher and projected outward, a sound like a hummingbird’s wings on a spring breeze.

Sera smiled. “Yeah, um, maybe we can try something else.”

“Agreed.” Her black eyes widened too innocently. “Thoughts?”

Sera poked her head between the bars and scanned the aisle. The long corridor housed more cells and a door at each end. She tilted her chin and ran her gaze over the ceiling. It appeared smooth with no cameras in sight, but she didn’t doubt at least one or two remained hidden. She worried her lip, stepped some paces back in the cell and stared at the bars. Slow warmth crawled from her core, outward to her shoulders, down her upper arms, over her elbows, and into her hands. Her palms tingled with the heat. The bars blurred into a single mass as she continued to stare.

“I’ve got an idea.” Nodding to Strife, she seized the bars in the middle of the row, one in her right hand and one in her left. The metal heated under her touch. She kept her concentration centered on the rising fire, but called out a warning to the vampire. “Stand back. All the way back. I’m going to try something.”

Strife’s boots tapped over the floor, heading away from the aisle, toward the back of her cell. Sera didn’t lift her head. Her eyes zeroed in on the bars. She imagined them melting in a pool of liquid metal. Directing all her energy to the thought, she ratcheted up the heat until her fingers glowed and her insides morphed to molten lava.

Guy stirred. Need a boost, pet?

Sure, but don’t try to take over. I’m running the show. Sera clamped her teeth together and locked her arms.

Whatever you say. His presence faded as it sank into her mind. The merge set a blaze coursing from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. Even her hair danced in the firelight as if the strands became living flames.

She sank her feet into the floor to ground her body. The explosive burn reached a crescendo and leapt from her skin. She fought to maintain her concentration and direct the fire. “Come on. Come on.” Her pleas came out strained as she struggled with the intensity of her power. “Please.”

It’s all right, Sera. Do not be afraid. Her grandfather’s voice whispered in her ears. You can do this.

She smiled as she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. Her grandfather believed in her. She wouldn’t let him down. “Okay,” she said, bolstering her courage. “I will do this.”

The heat seeped into her skin and flowed through her bloodstream. With her mind clear and centered on her task, she controlled the fire’s path. The bars began to glow orange and red. The metal cracked under the pressure, melting in her hands. When she created a sizeable hole, she flicked her fingers toward the ceiling and aimed her palms at the opposite cell. A wave of flames shot four feet across the aisle and struck the metal bars of Strife’s prison. The temperature soared until a sweat broke out on Sera’s brow. She inhaled, allowing the warm air to soothe her, become a part of her.

“You’re almost there,” Strife called out. The words struck like thunder in a raging storm.

The blaze forged a hole in the bars, but licked the floor and ceiling in the process. When the spaces grew big enough for Strife and her to fit through, Sera tried to pull back the flames, but knew it was a lost cause. “We have to get out of here. I can’t stop it.”

“You’ll get no arguments from me.” Strife slipped passed the opening and patted stray flames from her clothes. Black smoke wafted from the blaze, engulfing the aisle. “This way.”

Sera crept through the bars. The fire danced along her skin, but didn’t burn her. She disentangled her body from the licking flares, pushing them away as if they were petulant children. When the visibility shot to zero and an ashen cloud filled her lungs, she coughed and swat at the air. “Str-str-ife?”

A firm hand encircled her wrist and dragged her from the haze. They ran. Their shoes thumped over the floor. Sera’s breaths came out as gasps. She tried not to panic, relying on the vampire’s keen eyesight to lead them out of this mess.

“Stop.” Strife halted midstep, leaving Sera to barrel into her. The vampire huffed, pushing Sera a foot from her, then she slammed into something unseen. A creaking sound broke through the dense fog and fresh air pulled the smoke like a magnet. “Here now.”

Ground lights illuminated a stairwell. Sera stepped onto the landing and peeked over the rail. The steps led down and down like looking into a row of endless mirrors. She gulped and glanced at Strife. The vampire could make it to the ground level in no time. Maybe even jump to the bottom. Sera slowed her down. “Go,” she said, pointing to the floor. “You’ll go faster without me. The fire won’t hurt me.” She tried to put on a brave face. Even though the fire might not burn her, she couldn’t breathe smoke.

Strife’s mouth fell open, but her words were drowned by a blaring alarm. The building’s sprinkler system kicked on and a downpour of freezing water sprayed them. The vampire’s rainy laughter cut the sirens. She shouted over the roar. “I wouldn’t miss the fun. I haven’t seen this much action in decades.” She grabbed Sera’s wrist again and bolted for the stairs. “Follow me.”

They soared over the steps with their feet hardly touching the floor. Sera moved faster than a human, but the vampire’s speed put her to shame. Strife flew, hauling Sera with her, as if the laws of physics didn’t apply to their movements. Forty stories quickly transformed into thirty, then twenty. When they hit the nineteenth floor, a wall hindered their steps…a wall of phage.

“Thank you for your help, Ms. Benenati.” Adriana called from the landing. Her heels clicked on the steps as she rounded the corner and came into view a half flight away. A long red peacoat silhouetted her tall thin frame. Black gloves, hat and scarf prepared her for the cold Calgary weather. The outfit must have been stifling as fires ate up the building. The sprinklers outmatched.

Sera stiffened, pulling her hand from Strife’s grip and placing a foot on the bottom step. She started to run up the stairs, ready to strike the phage bitch, but paused as an army of phage gathered snapping their wide jaws. Spit dripped from their mouths. They shuffled down from the landing above and stomped up the steps from below.

“Have fun,” Adriana called and disappeared up the next stairwell. The phage protected her retreat.

“Shit,” Sera muttered. As the phage filed along, boxing them in, she deviated from the stairs and planted her feet on the landing. Her hands filled with heat. With a quick nod, Strife took up a similar stance, standing back-to-back with Sera. A hum of power vibrated through the vampire and sent a jolt up Sera’s spine. She smiled at having the three hundred year old vampire on her side, then focused on the phage surrounding them at every corner.

Not for the first time, she wished her fake psyke identity held a grain of truth. What she wouldn’t give to communicate telepathically with the vampire. Coordinating their strikes would be so much easier. She refused to let the uncertainty show on her face as she calculated how many they could take out before getting swarmed. When the phage kept coming, her chest constricted until the slightest intake of air became impossible. A startling truth hit her full force. Unless Strife hid some amazing vampire ability, or Sera leveled the building with an explosive fire, the phage would kill them. No matter their choice, they had no chance of making it out alive.

Chapter Thirty-One

Apartment Complex, Calgary, Alberta

Talon stopped the truck and dashed for the nearest entrance. Fires blazed from the apartment’s windows like beasts devouring prey in a glowing inferno. Smoke leapt from the walls, transforming the early gray morning into a nightmare black. Alarm bells blasted from the building’s emergency unit and spread the call over the city.

The knob seared his hand, but Talon didn’t slow. He ripped open the door, breaking it from its hinges. Drake and Val ran close on his heels. Shifter adrenaline surged through his body, accelerating his speed and strength, but fear—mortal gut wrenching fear—gripped his heart, making it beat triple time.

“Find her,” he growled. Raising an arm to shield his eyes from the fumes, he peered inside. A stairwell corralled the smoke into its midst and blocked their views. Trying to capture Sera’s scents proved useless with the fire’s toxins cutting off all other aromas. He cursed his frustration.

“We’ve got to cut the alarm,” Drake shouted close to his ear. “Then, maybe we could hear something.” He slapped the walls and disappeared into the dense vapors. The whining alarm stopped seconds later. When he reemerged, he sputtered and coughed, but held a bunch of wires in his fist. He grinned. “Quick and easy.”

Val rolled her eyes. “I’ve got another idea,” she said, standing to Talon’s opposite side. She walked up the stairs and motioned for them to follow. Her hands flew about like a composer, sending rushes of wind through the corridor. With her unique ability from her psyke-shifter mix, she could control air particles. The smoke swirled in circles, rising in a steady mist to the ceiling and floating out the door. It cleared a path along the steps to the next landing.

“Good work, both of you.” Able to hear his own thoughts, and with the air washed anew, he shifted, expanding his lungs and nose to take in and decipher the smells. Notwithstanding Val’s cleaning, scents remained. They seeped from the walls, across the floors, and along the banister. He inhaled again and again, desperate to find something familiar, as they made their way up a flight at a time. When they reached the fourth level, a buzzing at his belt forced him to stop.

“Be quick. We’re inside.” He snapped into the phone.

“Gotcha boss.” Slick’s voice gave him a temporary reprieve. Despite the gravity of the situation, it was good to hear his friend alive and well. “We’re outside. Four of us.”

“Glad you made it. Can you get up to the roof and scan the floors top down?” Talon’s gut clenched as he issued the order. With the building on fire, it’d be a dangerous job, but he needed the place swept.

“Jame and I aren’t in peak form, but I’d say with Shooter’s help, we’re up to hauling a lazy ass Texas vamp a ways.” A muffled grunt came through as Slick must have cupped the receiver. “Bull’s looking forward to a lift.” He laughed. “See you on the way down.”

“Slick?” The phone still held a connection. “You can handle that shift?”

“Yeah, boss. Birds aren’t my specialty, but I’ll make it.”

A sliver of time passed as hot currents wafted to them from the floor overhead. It heated the metal banister and warned Talon of the peril he was about to put his team in. “All right.” His hand went to the nape of his neck, wiping at the light layer of sweat. “Wouldn’t want to have you out of commission so soon after getting you back, be careful.”

“Always am.” The call ended.

He shoved the phone in his pocket and sniffed the air once more. Waving Drake and Val to continue, he headed to the next level. “Eyes open. Let’s roll.” They followed without question. His nasal passages kicked into overdrive, pulling in every odor and analyzing it faster than he could process. At the ninth level, the hairs on his arms stood on end and a prickling sensation raised bumps on his skin. “Stop.”

Burnt flesh, the same charred odors from the warehouse, assailed him first. Screaming echoes bounced off the walls, faint to start but growing louder. Talon signaled for them to continue. They moved faster with each floor they passed. By the twelfth level, the scent hit him. The one he wanted—needed—more than any other. Fresh laundry and a touch of apple. Her scent. Sera.

“We’re close. Stay on guard.” He slowed their pace as they stalked by the giant number fifteen painted on the wall. His gun rested in its shoulder holster, warm against his chest. He bypassed the manmade weapon for something far more primal. Bones snapped under his skin, covering his hands in brown fur. The grizzly bear’s massive paw pads prevented him from drawing a weapon, but provided the perfect remedy—four inches of sharp curved claws.

A cry lit the air at the seventeenth level. Phage bodies tumbled down the stairs, knocking Val over. Her shoulder slammed into his ribcage. He groaned, using the underside of his paws to steady her. “Are you—”

“Get down!” She dragged him to his knees as a fire bolt came hurdling toward them.

Drake leapt over the banister, plummeting to the next platform to avoid the inferno. He let out a “bleeding hell” as he hit bottom, then scrambled back to them in a blur.

The team got their bearings, but another wave of phage descended the stairs. Their limp forms rolled in a frenzy as the flames engulfed them.

“Sera,” Talon muttered. Without another word, he ducked around the bodies and took the steps two at a time. One flight up, a wall of phage blocked his passage. He growled, drawing their attention. Turning as a single unit, they dove for him. Jaws snapped and arms flailed as they fought. Talon swiped at the nearest phage with his claws, drawing a deep gouge on the creature’s chest. The phage howled, but kept coming as if the wound didn’t bother it. “Get them out of the way,” he called to Val and Drake who sprinted to catch up. “I don’t care what you have to do.”

Wind currents blew passed him. A funnel spun in the center of the phage, pushing them to the edge of the stairwell and over the sides. Val’s dancing hands led the show. Drake took cue from her and tackled the phage, ripping at their throats with his fangs. A red glaze seeped into his black eyes. Talon showed no mercy, echoing his partners and slashing at the phage without hesitation.

As they hacked and sliced a path through the mindless creatures, the fires grew ever higher and hotter. Blood coated the front of Talon’s shirt, morphing the plain gray T-shirt to a shiny crimson black. His paws became slow and heavy. He shifted them to normal hands and wiped the red muck on his jeans. With the phage occupied by Val’s winds, Drake’s fangs, and the increasing flames, he took a second to scan the area. When his eyes rose to the nineteenth landing, he froze.

Her amber hair glowed in the firelight, the sleek strands blazing a honey color. Her gaze burned like the sun’s rays, all the brown gone from the irises. The hue, radiating from her skin, nearly blinded him. He shielded his eyes with his hand as he approached. Flames licked her body. At the top of the opposite stairwell, the black haired vamp, Strife, flew through the phage like a hurricane. The blur of motion caught in his peripheral vision, but his attention narrowed, remaining locked on Sera.

His heart hammered in his chest. “Sera,” he whispered. Hell, how long had it been? His thoughts spread to the last night they’d shared—the opulent hotel room, the twisted satin sheets, tangled limbs, and the howl of satisfaction that ripped from his lips. It ignited his memory, yet the brief time together seemed like a lifetime ago. He paused, lost in the moment and without a clue of how to break through to her. “Sera.”

The white-gold of her eyes focused on him. Her body glowed brighter as she stood motionless like the statue of a Greek goddess slowly brought to life. A wave of awe washed over him, causing his pulse to quicken and the breath to die in his lungs. As the phage crept toward him, waiting to strike, he remained transfixed on her. He couldn’t have moved for anything. The hot breath of a single phage passed over his neck. Still he dared not move.

As the creature’s gaping mouth clamped onto his shoulder, her aura shifted. Chocolate brown filled the white irises and her golden hue soared to a brilliant red-orange flame. Heat engulfed his entire right side, but it didn’t burn. It caressed him like a blanket of warm water across his skin. The phage fell away, writhing on the floor in agony and leaving a faint mark on Talon’s skin.

Sera gaped at him with wide, frightened eyes. Her hands stretched forward, palms out toward the spot where the creature had stood. She let her arms drop to her sides and her breath came in quick spurts. Tears touched her long lashes. “Talon?”

The one word, his name on her lips, was all he needed to propel him forward. He grabbed her about the waist single-handed, crushing her to his chest and fisting her hair in his free hand. She moaned into his neck. Her arms wrapped around him. “I-I thought...” She stuttered as the sobs broke forth.

“Shh,” he said against her hair. “It’s all right.”

She pulled back to look up at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“I know. I don’t care as long as you’re okay.” As a smile touched the corner of her mouth, he closed the distance to claim the smile for his own. Her lips met his with equal hunger and need. He pulled them to the corner, uncaring of the melee around them and deepened the kiss until their tongues danced and they gasped for air.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” she said, shifting her hands to sneak behind his neck and tangle in his hair.

“You thought I wouldn’t come for you?”

“I didn’t know what to think.” She stroked his cheek. Her fingers skimmed along his jaw. An ember of heat and passion blazed in the depths of her brown eyes.

He leaned in close to her ear. “I’d always come for you.” Blazing a trail with his kisses along her neck, he worked his way to her collarbone, then back to her ear. “I know it’s too soon, but I can’t change how I feel. I love you, Sera.”

“Really?” Heat engulfed him as her body warmed in his embrace. A glimmer of tears swam in her eyes. “I know what you mean and I love you too.” Their lips met again, his blood soared, but she pulled away far too soon. “Oh Talon. I’ve figured out who I am, what I am. There’s so much to tell you.”

“Later.” He kissed her again, plunging beyond her defenses. When a crash boomed a few feet from them, their heads snapped in the direction at the same time.

“Hate to interrupt the party,” Slick said from the upper platform. With his human feet braced on a beam, he hung down so that his shifted spider limbs snatched at the phage, grabbing and dropping them between the stairwells to the bottom level. “But we’re sort of in the middle of a fight, in case you two didn’t notice.”

Talon stifled the smile and clicked his teeth. “No kidding. And when the hell were you planning on showing up?”

“Here now, aren’t I? And I brought friends.” He used one of his six insect limbs to signal at the commotion behind him.

Jame, Bull, and Shooter collided with phage at every turn from above while Drake and Val joined Strife to fight from below. Even as they gained the upper hand on the phage, weeding their numbers, the fires roared ready to declare victory.

“Thanks, but I think it’s time we get out of here.” Talon shifted his vocal chords so he could produce a wolf’s howl. The cry rang out clear and strong over the throng of chaos, alerting his team. Even the members of PCD Eight and the rebel vamp Strife turned to him at the sound. He spoke with unquestionable authority. “Head down the stairs fast as you can. We’re leaving. Now.”

“But the phage? And Adriana? She’s the one responsible for this mess.” Sera anchored her hand on his hip and met his eyes. “We can’t let her go.”

He cupped her cheek, unable to resist touching her. “She’ll get her due. Right now, it’s more important to get everyone out of here safely.”

Her jaw tightened under his touch, but she nodded.

As they began their descent, he held a firm grip on her hand. No way in hell was he losing her again. Not after everything they’d been through. She squeezed his palm with equal pressure as if unwilling to let him go.

The team crossed phage bodies that had piled atop the steps. Some of them lay dead, but most had simply been knocked aside. A twinge of pain stabbed him in the gut, but he couldn’t allow compassion for these creatures that attacked with such brutal force. The sympathetic ache wouldn’t exist at all if it hadn’t been for Meg’s revelation.

He recalled her words as he stepped over a burned phage, moaning on the ground. Newbie phage are like zombies. They don’t have rationale thoughts, only a deep hunger and a need to obey their makers. They don’t achieve higher brain function again until their maker gives it to them through a direct command.

And if they never give it to them? Talon had asked, uncertain if he wanted an answer.

They stay their master’s puppet.

He shook his head as the emergency doors on each landing began to buckle and crack under the pressure. The flames licked the walls, leaving charcoal colored tracks along the exposed red bricks. Smoke encased the area, no longer held at bay by Val’s winds. The thickness blinded agents and phage alike, making their exit ten times harder.

A hand brushed his arm and he tucked Sera out of harm’s way behind him. A swift wind—courtesy of Val a flight below—brushed aside the smoke for an instant so Talon could catch his breath and see. The black haired vamp ran beside him, running her hand under his elbow.

“Quicker shifter.”

“Strife,” he said between gritted teeth.

Sera stepped to his other side, keeping pace. “She’s not our enemy. She helped me get out of here.”

“Well, actually, Sera helped me, but she is no less correct.” Strife danced in front of them, far faster than any vampire he’d seen before. “I am not the enemy.”

“Can we discuss it outside?” The fires leapt at their backs and the smoke threatened to engulf them once more.

“If I’m granted a pardon.” She smiled, revealing long white fangs. “It’s time your PCD recognized the true threat. Don’t you think?”

“Holy hell, vamp, I said outside.” He took another breath as the air fell under a black haze.

“As you wish,” Strife sang in her rainstorm voice that floated down the stairs.

“She grows on you,” Sera whispered in his ear, then laughed. Tugging on his hand, she quickened their pace.

The journey down stretched on as the smoke engulfed every free breath of air. The fires licked the steps, heating the soles of their shoes and threatening to climb up their legs. An eternity passed before the light of morning rushed at them from the exit door.

As they tasted freedom, Talon ran his hands over Sera, ensuring she remained unharmed. She did the same, touching the bite mark on his shoulder and frowning. “Does this hurt,” she asked. Worry lines wrinkled over her forehead.

He grinned. “Not at all.”

“Good.” She stood on tiptoe and planted a kiss on his cheek.

Tucking her tight against his side, he walked the perimeter of the building to take stock of his team. Slick’s breaths came in shallow gasps and he leaned on Bull, but he assured Talon that only fatigue ailed him from the multiple shifts. Talon raised a brow. Slick’s half-shifter, half-human background meant shifts hit him a whole helluva lot harder.

Bull snorted and said, “Don’t worry. I got him, boss.”

Jame sat with her legs stretched out and Drake kneeling beside her. She gave Talon a thumbs up as he passed, looking tired but no worse for wear. Drake nodded and moved closer to her.

Shooter and Val guarded the exit door on either side about ten feet away to avoid the fires. Phage ran from the building, arms flailing, howling and screeching an inhuman sound. As Talon and Sera watched from a safe distance, Strife floated up behind them and whispered, “Watch.”

A horror show ensued when the morning light hit the escaping phage. The sun ignited their skin, peeling and cracking the delicate layer like crumbled tissue paper. Their screams burrowed into Talon’s ears. He resisted the urge to raise his hands and block the offending noise. His body stiffened as he watched them burn. They died fast, not even the telltale ashes remained from when Sera’s fire had attacked them.

“I thought fire couldn’t kill them,” Sera said, burying her face into his shoulder.

“Fire alone, no. But light rays, yes. And new phage are like new vampires,” Strife said with a note of raindrops in her voice. “They cannot stand the sun.” The corners of her mouth curved downward. Her eyes held age behind her appearance. “When first made, phage and vampires alike possess much of their maker’s essence, and as Sera has learned, this essence is pure light. Thus, the addition of the sun’s rays overwhelms their young bodies and transforms the core of them into a death trap.”

“Too much light,” Sera murmured. Her hand rested over his heart. “It burns them inside out.”

“Yes.” A soft rose scent wafted in the air. Strife’s words dropped to a low tenor. “When they have lived five decades or longer the light fades enough for them to see the sun.” She chuckled, a sinister chorus that grated his ears. “When they become consumed by darkness, it is then they can see the light. Ironic, no?”

“Sad,” Sera said.

“I suppose so.” Strife walked around to stand in front of them. “Now, onto more important matters. How are you planning to capture the phage queen’s general, Adriana?”

As Talon began to respond, bricks crashed from the building. Pieces of the structure started to crumble under the heavy weight of the fires. In the same instant, a helicopter’s blades churned the air. They all looked up to see the chopper taking off, escaping the inferno. Fire truck sirens pierced the skies, but they would arrive too late.

“She leaves her children to die.” Strife spat. “The phage queen will kill her for such insolence, if we don’t get to her first.”

Val and Shooter moved further from the burning apartment complex to stand with them. Val brushed stray hairs from her face. “Looks like we’re not getting our bad guy.”

“We already have the blackmailer,” Shooter said with a shrug of his shoulders.

Talon touched Sera’s cheek with tender fingers. “We have what’s important. Let her go. She can’t run forever.”

“If the bigwigs in the PCD don’t let us go after phage leaders, she may not need to run.” Val’s hands crossed over her chest.

He turned to Strife, a smirk pulling at his mouth. “That’s why we have friends. So, they can go where we can’t.”

Strife’s eyes widened, but she smiled back. “I take it Veritas will be off the radar for a while?”

“Who’s Veritas?” Talon slanted his gaze toward Val. “Never heard of them.”

Val grinned. “Me neither.”

“Then, I take my leave, and will be in touch.” She nodded her goodbyes and took off, but shouted over her shoulder one word, “Soon.”

The rest of the team made their way over. Drake clapped Talon on the shoulder. “So, I take it I’m off the hook too?”

“Oh no.” Talon knocked the vamp’s hand away and grabbed him by the upper arm. “I’ve got something special planned for you.” He lowered his head and whispered in Sera’s ear. “For both of you actually, if you’re interested.”

She nipped his neck. “Bring it on.”

Epilogue

The Jukebox, Downtown Phoenix, Arizona

Ten months later…

“Keep the drinks coming, Coco. This agent is thirsty.” Sera held up her empty glass to her friend, the diner’s owner and chief barista. “We’re having a party.”

“You got it, honey,” Coco called from the black and white checkered counter.

Gossip mag flunkie to special agent. Who would have thought it, pet? Guy’s taunts teased across her mind, but he couldn’t spoil today.

Don’t forget who lets you hang around. She bit back.

Face it, pet. You don’t want to get rid of me.

She smiled, knowing he was right. She didn’t want to lose him. He was her link to the Luminarium, her family, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t enjoy drowning him out. She cranked up Queen’s champion tune to royally piss him off, then turned all her attention to the yummy shifter next to her. His ocean blue eyes sparkled with pride all for her, well her, and the vampire. She supposed Talon harbored some pride in him too.

Drake sat across from them in the booth while Bull utilized a specially designed seat to their right. When she’d first introduced the team to her favorite Phoenix hotspot months ago, Coco took one look at the large Texas vamp and ordered a custom chair. Bull had been a regular patron of the diner almost every day since.

“To the newest members of the PCD, Sera and Drake.” Talon raised his cup and held it in the center of the table. “May your academy training suit you well.” He laughed, then added, “And may you ditch it when more important things than duty calls.”

“Here. Here!” The rousing course went around the table. They all clinked glasses and drank.

“Still can’t believe ya all got through it in ten months.” Bull leaned back in his chair.

“Well, it was the fast track program.” Sera smiled. “With Drake’s background as your liaison, and my...” She twirled her fingers in the air, looking for the word.

Talon chimed in. “Talents?”

“Yeah, talents.” She snuggled closer to him. “They bypassed a lot of the new recruit stuff.”

Drake clasped his hands behind his head. “No ‘How to Control Your Abilities 101’ or ‘History of Supernatural Creatures’ for us.” He sunk into the booth, purring like a content cat. “Heck, Sera would have to teach them the real Luminari history, anyway. Wouldn’t you, Brightlight?”

He let out a bark as Sera felt Talon’s leg kick the vampire under the table. She laughed. “What did I tell you about that nickname?”

“Sorry, sorry.” He waved his hand at Sera, then rounded on Talon. “No reason to get your hackles up. I’ve got my own Kitty to worry about.” His brow rose. “Speaking of which—”

“I told you I’d bring Slick back to us and send you to Jame as soon as you completed training.” Talon spun his glass.

“How’s the little lass doing in District One?” Bull sat upright and rested his elbows on the table.

“So far, so good. But I wish she would have stuck around longer before taking up a leader position.” He sighed. “She’s got a lot to learn.”

“Don’t worry, chief. Once I’m there and the pup is gone, I’ll look after her.” Drake’s fangs extended from his lips, putting Sera on guard.

“Drake,” she said. “She’s going to be your boss. Don’t forget.”

“Oh, I’m quite looking forward to it.” He smiled broader with a blatant show of his fangs. “Besides, Sera, as the saying goes, wouldn’t that be the pot calling the kettle black?”

Heat crept into her cheeks.

“He’s got you there.” Talon squeezed her hip and kissed the top of her ear. He narrowed his gaze across the table. “But if you screw up and hurt Jame in anyway—”

“I know. You’ll grind my bones, turn me to mush. Blah. Blah.”

“Not if I getta hold ah ya first.” Bull’s long white fangs elongated over his dark gums. He straightened in his seat, towering over the present company.

Drake nodded. “I understand. You have my word, she’ll be fine.” A round of grumbles went around the table. He chuckled, then clapped his hands and sighed dramatically. “So little faith.”

“Oh yes, poor Drake.” Sera put the back of her hand to her forehead and slouched in her chair. “Woe is me.”

They all laughed, even the vampire. He slid to the end of the booth. “I better get going.”

“Hold on a minute.” Talon held up his hand, palm out. “What news from Strife?”

“There may be a lead. She’s been working to track down this Adriana, but doesn’t want to say much until she’s certain. Don’t worry, the phage bitch will get what’s coming to her.” Drake stood and thrust his chin at Sera. She flinched, and he turned to Talon. “Besides this is a happy day, eh chief?”

Talon fumbled with his drink and choked down the remaining contents. He coughed. “Right. See ya.”

Drake left, laughing as he went. It grew quiet at the table. Bull leaned over and said, “Boss, don’t you want to show Sera the new office?”

“Oh yeah,” Sera cried. “I’m so excited to see it. I still can’t believe Agent Bram agreed to let you move the headquarters to Phoenix.”

“Well, with the generous donation from District Eight to fund renovations, he wasn’t exactly going to say no.” Talon smiled and laced his fingers with hers. “C-Come on. I’ll show you.”

Sera eyed him as his hand shook in her palm, but followed him out. “You coming, Bull?”

“Nah. I’ll catch up with y’all later.”

“Okay.” She waved goodbye to Bull and Coco.

Her shiny black Jeep 4X4 glistened in the bright Arizona sun. After it escaped police impound, Talon had surprised her by handing over her baby as good as new. He’d worked out the damage himself and gotten the truck a new paint job. If she hadn’t loved him before, she would have at that moment. She smiled as she climbed into the driver’s side and unlocked the passenger door.

Flying over the streets, she reveled in the opportunity to go a tiny bit over the speed limit without fear of a ticket. “I think I’m going to like being a special agent.”

“It suits you.” Talon tapped his fingers along the dashboard. “And as a former reporter, you’re perfect to take Jame’s spot as our press handler.”

“No trouble there. I can take care of the piranhas.” She snickered at her own joke, but he didn’t return the smile. He stared out the passenger window. She didn’t complain and allowed him the private time, instead tuning the radio to an old rock station. Within minutes, they sat in front of the new PCD office. He hopped out of the truck and flew to the entrance, not bothering to open the door for her. That was odd. Talon always played the gentleman, except when they were training...or in bed. She blushed at the thought and walked to the entrance.

“Wait here.” He slammed the door in her face.

“Oh-kay.” Crossing her arms and tapping her foot, she glared at the door. A minute or two later, he cracked it open and slipped outside. She threw up her hands. “Talon, what the hell is going on?”

He shot her a wolfish grin. “Well, I’ve been thinking about your name?”

“My name?”

“Yeah, Agent Benenati. It’s quite a mouthful. Don’t you think?” His eyes shone a lighter blue than she’d ever seen before. The wind blew his thick black hair from his face in a gentle breeze. The sun kissed his rich olive skin.

“What are you getting at?” Her stomach twisted in a knot.

“Well, I was thinking I could help you with that. Your long last name, I mean.” He held the door open and ushered her inside. The hallway housed three large offices, a tech station, sleeping quarters, a break room, conference space, and two holding cells—a vast improvement from the office’s previous closet interior. Opening the door to the tech station, he flicked on the system.

Sparkling lights flickered from the overhead bulbs, casting colorful shadows on the walls. The computer monitors sprang to life and broadcast pictures of Sera and Talon. Every special moment they’d shared over the last several months splashed across the screens: their trip to hike the Grand Canyon, horseback riding in Paradise Valley, skiing in Flagstaff, and that special weekend at a spa in Sedona. He’d captured it all in perfect pixel clarity. A soft melody played from the system’s speakers.

“Talon, what is this?” She spun in a circle to take it all in.

“It was Meg’s idea. Too cheesy?” His hands clasped behind his back.

“Too cheesy for what?” Her heart pounded in her chest.

He took a step forward and whispered in her ear, “To ask you to marry me.” Pulling back, he looked in her eyes. He went to one knee—ever one for tradition—and brought out the box he’d kept hidden in his pocket.

“Wh-what?” Moisture sprang to her eyes. She let it fall. “Really?”

“Yeah, if you’ll have me.” He opened the box to reveal a beautiful solitaire diamond.

The word caught in her throat. Her world narrowed in an instant. She swore her heart skipped beats and threatened to explode. With a soft cry, she said, “Yes.” Springing to life, she threw herself in his arms and cried happy tears.

He kissed her, stealing the breath from her lungs. Her heart beat so hard. She broke away with a sigh. “But I’m keeping my name.”

He laughed. “Okay. Agent B, it is then.”

The lights danced around them as they held each other close. Layers of clothes fell away as they made love without hurry. Never before had Sera felt so good, so right, and when Talon filled her to her very core, she cried out with unbridled joy. He joined her at the same time, sweeping them away in a wave of ecstasy.

As they lay on the floor of the tech room hours later, Sera stared at him in wonder. His gaze met hers, two shining sapphires that looked on her with such tenderness. She melted into his embrace, the fires of her inner being blazing to the surface to capture them in warmth.

The blissful moment ended too soon as a ringing noise sounded over the system. The computerized voice alerted them to the source. “Incoming call form District One. Agent Bradshaw. Urgent.”

“It’s Jame.” Talon groaned. “She knew my plan to propose today. What could she want?”

“The computer said it’s urgent.” Sera climbed to her feet and slid into her jeans. “Let’s hope it’s just to congratulate us.”

Talon hurried into his clothes and clicked along the keyboard. “Jame, this better be good.”

Jame’s face appeared on the screen. The new equipment captured the video feed with perfect clarity. Red rimmed her eyes and her platinum-streaked black hair fell in tangles. “I’m sorry, Talon. I never would’ve interrupted. But this isn’t a social call.”

Sera put a hand on his shoulder and placed her face into the view screen. A sinking feeling, cold and hollow, coursed through her blood. “What is it Jame? What’s wrong?”

She swallowed and leaned closer to the camera. “We’re trying to keep it quiet. But I had to turn to someone.”

“It’s all right, Jame.” Talon patted Sera’s hand at his shoulder and pulled her into his lap. “Tell us.”

Jame’s eyes widened, the gold flecks in the hazel view dulling to a tired yellow. “It’s the Capitol,” she whispered low and shaky. “A code black.”

THE END

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Sneak Peek of Red Alert

Capitol Building, Washington, DC

“Whoever did this has some brass balls,” Jame muttered, surveying the area with her shifter eyes. The subtle changes to her pupils and irises allowed her to view the scene with a hawk’s acute sight. Normal hazel and gold faded until only the bird’s deep yellow remained. Her gaze swept the white dome of the Capitol building. The behemoth structure rose like a colossus into the cloud-covered sky. Green lawns stretched over the eastern plaza, leading to an underground visitor center. “How are we gonna keep another code black from the press? Just look at this place.”

“Hell and a half,” Slick said. “No joke.” Her best friend and newly appointed second-in-command rubbed the back of his neck. He stood over a foot taller than her and bent to meet her eyes. His thick brown hair curled to the middle of his ears. He had been growing it out since last year, but Jame preferred the short strands to this debacle. Not that she would tell him, of course. She wasn’t that mean. He squeezed her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Boss. We’ll think of something.”

“Slick, it’s not like you can hide a multi-homicide for long. A code black isn’t a thing to…” Her brows rose. “Wait, Boss?”

“Yeah, we’re in District One. You’re head honcho now.” He winked.

She ran a hand through her black hair, smoothing down flyaway platinum streaks. A cool spring breeze whipped them forward again as she started toward the Capitol. “Boss,” she mumbled. How did she get herself into this mess? Nice cushy job as Talon’s second in District Thirteen, but no. Needed to be the top dog. Damn, she never should have taken this job. The Paranormal Crimes Division didn’t need some half-cocked agent who thought herself a team leader. Especially not the most volatile district in the entire country. What the hell had the unit leaders been thinking when they agreed to give her this spot?

The rest of the team fell in step behind her as they made their way to the security entrance. She lowered her voice so only Slick could hear. “I feel like a damn fraud.” Her teeth clamped on the inside of her cheek. She clicked her tongue against the pain. “It’s been a month, and I still don’t have the hang of this leader stuff.”

His hushed tone matched hers. “Give it more time. You’ll get there.” Popping her gently under the chin, he forced her head up. “You’re Jame ‘Got game?’ Bradshaw. A PCD special agent, and a kick-ass, confident shifter. Don’t forget that.”

Squaring her shoulders, she took a deep breath and straightened her spine. Enough wallowing. She had wanted this position. Hell, she all but bullied her former boss, Talon, into recommending her for it. Dealing with bouts of paranoia and nightmares over the-incident-that-must-not-be-named didn’t excuse her. Don’t punk out. She met Slick’s wicked grin with one of her own. “Thanks.”

The guards eyed the team as they entered the checkpoint. Jame stepped ahead of the others and flashed her badge. “PCD agents here to review the crime scene.”

“Remove your weapons, step through the metal detector, and someone will escort you.” A man, as big as a grizzly bear, looked down his nose at her. His order seemed harmless enough, but the smug expression on his face brought up her hackles.

She cast him a twisted smile, then pulled a six-inch military knife from her boot. Next came her Glock .22 out of its shoulder holster, a can of pepper spray from the pocket of her fatigue pants, and a small foldable knife from her leather jacket’s inside compartment. After her brush with death less than a year ago, she decided being fully prepared meant a few extra pounds of raw steel and firepower.

The guard cocked his head. “This everything?”

“Well unless you found a way to disarm my shifting ability, sweet cheeks, then yes.” She choked back the memory. That god-awful day someone had found a method to eliminate her natural weapon and make her…helpless. A shiver captured her breath and turned it frigid. Happily, that bastard was rotting in a jail cell. Never again.

Slick caught her elbow and nodded, catching her thought trail. He had shared that day with her, ensnared in the same trap by that sick phage son of a bitch. Phage. They don’t deserve to live. The group of flesh-eating supernaturals claimed to be innocent, lawfully petitioning the government for citizenship, but Jame discovered the hard way that their declarations of goodness were a damn lie. The nagging sensation had filled her mind as she and Slick investigated a lead on the serial killer case last year. As they climbed the back steps to an innocuous looking porch, an oily scent had filled her nose at the last possible second, and the fireball hit them like a two-ton hammer. The blast had knocked them unconscious, and they awoke to a worse fate. No chains, no rope bound them. Noxious gas had filled a closet-sized room instead and paralyzed their muscles. Hard to shift when you couldn’t move.

Lucky for them, a vampire had saved them from that torture chamber, carrying them to freedom. Drake. Her blood heated as her thoughts turned to the cocky vampire. After the incident, PCD’s former civilian liaison spent months going through the academy to become a full agent. For three years before that, he’d enjoyed tormenting her with dirty pick-up lines. When he pulled her free of that death trap, however, things changed. She took a steadying breath. He should be here soon. He would be on a plane even now to join the team—her team.

The Old Man and Dee Two, the original remaining team members of District One, walked to the table and started unloading their weapons. The motion brought her focus back to the task at hand. Code black, Jame. Get it together. She watched her team as they disarmed. You’ve got a multiple homicide at the damn Capitol building. Stay alert. A lump in Dee Two’s short red leather coat caught her eye. The quiet special agent could decipher codes and patterns faster than anyone she’d ever met, but those psyke abilities didn’t give her the best chance in a fight. Psykes used advanced brain functions, not raw strength and speed. Jame hissed. The bulge went flat as Dee Two took out her silver Taser and placed it on the table beside her gun.

“Why not let her keep that, fellas?” Jame said to the guards. “It’s not gonna kill anyone.”

“Sorry agent. All weapons need to be checked here.” The burly guard sneered at her. His voice remained even, the hint of disdain masked in his deep timbre. “Don’t want any more trouble.”

“It’s okay,” Dee whispered. Her hand shook as she pushed a strand of dark brown hair behind her ear. Those coffee-colored eyes pleaded with Jame to let the issue drop. “Don’t worry.”

“Let’s get a move on. I want to get a whiff before the blue boys mess up the scene.” The Old Man’s brow wrinkled, matching the deep grooves across his face. His skin looked like waves of desert sand, same color and endless lines. He gave up his black hunting knife. Turning out the pockets of his tan fringed coat, he showed the guards the empty interiors. Yet the metal detector beeped as he strutted through it. “What now?”

Jame held back a laugh and pointed at his belt. “That buckle’s probably the size of Texas.”

“New Mexico, chickie.” He grunted, snagged off the snakeskin belt with the thick brass buckle and walked through the machine again. It blasted an alarm. “This is ridiculous. Wave the stupid wand, and let’s get on with it.”

The Old Man had a way of demanding compliance but held no interest in the leader spot. Lucky for her. The guards sprang into action, brandishing the detection rods over the team’s arms, legs, torsos, and chests. When the burly guard lingered a little too long over Jame’s breasts, she coughed. He shot her a leer that had her screaming inside. No fighting. Gotta set an example for the team. She fought down the shifter buzz threatening to break through and settled for narrowing her eyes at the disgusting guard.

“See ya later then, honey,” he called as a secret service agent took over leading them to the crime scene.

“Son of a—” Jame spun on her heel, ready to sock the guard in the mouth. All males were the same. Her mother had that bit right. Before she could get too far, Slick grabbed her arm and pulled her away.

“Easy,” he mumbled. “You’re not a field agent anymore.” He lowered his voice. “Too bad. I would’ve loved to see that dickwad with a black eye.”

Jame clamped down the shifter energy. It seeped into her muscles like a shot of adrenaline. She struggled to bring it under control. He’s right. No more kids’ games. I’m a leader now. She half smiled, patted Slick on the back, and took point behind the secret service agent. The man’s stoic demeanor, after her encounter with the security guard, provided a balm to her irritation. She took note of hidden corridors where an attacker could lie in wait for a victim as they walked the halls. “This is a logistical nightmare.”

The Old Man huffed his agreement behind her.

At the end of a particularly long stretch, far from the building’s famous dome, men in black suits had sealed off the area. Large metal barricades held reporters and camera crews, hungry for a story, at bay. The secret service agent spoke something unintelligible into a hand mic. The men in black moved aside to allow her team into the next room in single file.

Jame entered first.

“Damn it all.” Her stomach dropped to her feet. The acids reminded her that she hadn’t eaten all day. Lucky break. If she had, she wouldn’t have been able to hold it down. Blood coated the floor, turning the black and white square tiles into a dark red carpet. Three men and two women lay face down in the crimson pool, their limbs contorted at unnatural angles. One of the women, a blonde in a navy-blue Burberry skirt suit, had lost a shoe.

“Dee, start snapping photos and see if anything in the details gives away our perp. Search for the patterns.” Jame walked the perimeter of the scene, avoiding a series of chairs and two large desks. The secret service agent had told them this room functioned as a gathering space for private congressional meetings. Curious. Her eyelids contracted to slits, and her brow furrowed in concentration. The victims each dressed in business attire, likely senators. A backroom meeting amongst likeminded politicians made sense. The woman with the lost shoe didn’t fit. Her designer suit and single Prada pump appeared notably out of place. Too highbrow.

“You think we’re dealing with a SUB killer?” The camera’s shutter clicked as Dee snapped shots on the opposite side.

“Dunno. Something’s—” Before Jame could comment on the oddity of the mixed company, a deep bass cut her off.

“Do we have to use that idiotic tag?” The Old Man hovered by the wall, surveying the big picture. “A SUB is something you have for lunch, like those dang TV commercials tell ya, not a group of people.” He grumbled and covered his mouth with a wide palm. “SUBs, supernatural or undead beings, can’t these politicians come up with anything better?”

“It’s short and easy.” Slick crouched low. He took tissue samples from each of the victims. The gloves on his hands wouldn’t negate the sickening aroma of blood, no matter how prevalent the latex smelled. Even with his half-human heritage, his shifter side would make him as sensitive to aromas as full shifters like her and the Old Man. He stuffed some tissues up his nostrils.

“Still ridiculous.” The Old Man backed into a pedestal in the corner. An antique looking vase swayed dangerously on the edge until he turned to catch it in one thick hand. “Shit.”

“Can we argue over word choice later?” Jame tried to resist the temptation to stuff something up her nose too. The coppery tang shot up her nasal passages like sulfuric acid, burning everything in its path. Another few minutes and she’d lose her sense of smell for a week at least. Sometimes shifter abilities were a real pain in the ass. “Let’s catalogue the evidence and get the hell out of here.”

“What’s a matter, girlie? Losing your stomach?” The Old Man’s nose elongated into an orange duck beak. He stepped closer to the scene and inspected the victims.

“Well, at least I don’t have to shift to do my job.” Her insides churned, making his words hit too near to home. She blocked out the pangs in her stomach and sidled closer.

“Wisdom over beauty. Ducks don’t have much sense of smell. Makes it more tolerable.” He rolled over one of the male victims after Dee took more pictures. The man’s dark bangs stuck to his forehead, matted with blood. A knife handle protruded from under his left armpit, the blade positioned expertly into his heart. His head dangled from the neck, almost severed. The man’s eyes, as black as midnight, remained open. Two long, pointed front teeth pegged him as vampire. “This one didn’t go down easy. He’s got blood on his fangs. Let’s hope it’s the perp’s.”

“Are we ever that lucky?” Jame droned.

Dee shot still more photos, the shutter clicking every second. She didn’t need the sound. The camera’s digital design made a shutter useless, so the ticking was nothing more than a false prop. Despite the annoyance, she refused to take pictures without it, saying the constant noise gave her something to focus on during the crime scenes, besides death.

“We might be this time.” Slick flipped over one of the female victims. His mouth dropped open. “Jame, you need to get over here.”

“Just a sec.” Jame kneeled beside another male casualty. From the contortions in his bone structure, it appeared he died in mid change. A shifter. Her eyes watered. The scent of raw flesh stung worse than onions and month-old trash. She swatted at the unwanted tears with the back of her gloved hand. The horrible artificial smell stung her nose, but at least it gave her a reprieve from the blood and gore.

She flipped on her recorder. “Male shifter. Approximate age from appearance is mid-fifties. Blunt trauma to the head.” Grabbing ahold of the man’s side, she turned over the victim. His gray, tailored suit had several holes where his bones broke through. “Looks like he tried to shift.” She leaned closer. “There’s a thin line across his throat. No knife cut.” Pinching the flesh of the man’s skin, she examined the slice. “Something like a surgical scalpel, done post-mortem.” No one would get that close to a shifter’s neck if he were alive. A chill ran through her blood. Someone had gotten that close to her. The memory of the disabling gas swarmed her mind. “Or possibly as the victim lay unable to move.”

“Boss, you really need to see this,” Slick called louder, cutting off her train of thought.

“All right.” She waved at Dee. “Finish up the inspection here.” Pointing at the victim’s neck, she added, “This looks personal.”

“I’m on it.” Dee glided to the spot. Her boots somehow avoided contact with the blood or disturbing the scene. Jame nodded her appreciation and tried to mimic her fellow agent’s movements, avoiding the mess as much as possible.

“Okay, Slick.” She tapped his shoulder and inclined her head to the side. “What is it?”

“You’re not going to believe this.” He slid to his right and motioned her to crouch beside him.

Jame squinted, following Slick’s pointed finger to the blond female victim. She swallowed a mouthful of bile. The heel of the woman’s missing Prada pump stood implanted in the victim’s forehead. Her neck possessed the same sharp cut as the dead male vampire. The head detached ninety percent from the body.

“This isn’t any random act, Slick. There’s hate and aggression here.”

“I know, Boss, but that’s not the shocking bit.” He reached forward and pushed aside the dead woman’s hair. Empty green eyes stared back at them. “Recognize her?”

Jame’s heart stilled for a single beat before it picked up double time. Her blood raced in her veins as fast as a plane crashing to Earth. “It can’t be.”

* * *

Don’t stop now. Keep reading with your copy of RED ALERT available now!

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Glossary

NUA—Northern United America. Unification of countries formerly known as Canada, U.S.A., and Mexico under a centralized government.

PCD—Paranormal Crimes Division. An agency of the North United America's Justice Department comprised of fourteen districts. Responsible for the investigation and apprehension of paranormal criminals.

Phage—Unregistered paranormal group. Not recognized by the N.U.A. government. Rumored to survive on flesh. Currently advocating for equal rights.

Psyke—One of the three registered paranormal groups with advanced mental abilities unique to each individual.

Shifter—One of the three registered paranormal groups with the ability to morph into various animals.

SUB—Supernatural or Undead Beings. Acronym utilized by law enforcement.

Vampire—One of the three registered paranormal groups with heightened physical capacities. Survive on blood.

Veritas—Ancient underground organization dedicated to justice for all. Labeled vigilante by the N.U.A. government.

Find book two, RED ALERT, featuring Jame and Drake available now, and discover more from Tina Moss at www.tinamoss.com

Special Agent Jame Bradshaw has five dead senators on her hands...and a pack of trouble between her claws.

As the newest team leader for the Paranormal Crimes Division, this feisty shifter is smack in the middle of a political hornet’s nest waiting to implode. With the mass murder at the Capitol building and the city under a red alert, paranoia spreads like wildfire. She must solve this mystery before the higher-ups call for her head.

When former vampire vigilante and newly minted PCD agent, Drake, shows up to the scene, the case heats up and so does the tension.

Fighting off the charms of a lethal hundred-and-fifty-year-old vamp may prove Jame’s final undoing...in the most delicious ways. But if this alpha shifter doesn’t learn to let down her defenses and channel the passion into a true partnership, she’ll risk losing more than her badge.

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Acknowledgments

Writing may be one of humanity’s most solitary endeavors (minus the time researching and procrastinating on social media). It requires intense focus and emergence into an imaginary world that exists only in the author’s head. Yet the act draws on a deep well of experiences and a community of support to bring the imaginings of the mind to the page. Thank you to all those who make the journey possible.

To my amazing husband for keeping the dogs at bay, the house clean, the bills paid, and our lives running when I’m on deadline. I love you and thank you!

My family and friends are at the forefront of this list. You allow me to be who I am on the page and in life. I appreciate your love and support more than I can ever express.

As always the wondrous authors of WritersRoad for the camaraderie, especially Heather McCorkle, Tee Tate, Krissi Dallas, Brenda Dunne, Kristie Cook, and Melinda S. Collins.

My diligent and hardworking beta readers on this project who turn a half-baked draft into something truly magical: L.M. Preston, Norma Johnson, Danielle DeVor, and Yelena Casale.

The denizens of Purgatory and the Pit. What would I do without you brilliant group of people? Life would be so much less enjoyable without you all in it. Thank you for your years of friendship. I dare not name you all for fear of leaving out one, but you know who you are and I am forever thankful for you.

To all of the amazing divas and diva dudes of Romance Divas. You help to create a giving, supportive, and loyal community of authors who inspire me every day. Thank you for teaching me something new with each thread and post.

Last, but my no means least, to you, the reader. You are the destination, the goal, and the reason. You’re the light at the end of the tunnel, and the fire on the mountaintop. You are everything. Thank you for reading and thank you for being you.

About the Author

TINA MOSS is a USA Today Bestselling Author of urban fantasy, paranormal romance, and sci-fi romance. She lives in NYC with a supportive husband and two alpha corgis, though all the males hog the bed and refuse to share the covers. When not writing, she enjoys reading, watching cheesy horror flicks, traveling, and karate. As a 5'1" Shotokan black belt, she firmly believes that fierce things come in small packages.

www.tinamoss.com

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About the Publisher

City Owl Press is a cutting edge indie publishing company, bringing the world of romance and speculative fiction to discerning readers.

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Additional Titles

RED ALERT

By: Tina Moss

USA Today Bestselling Author

Special Agent Jame Bradshaw has five dead senators on her hands...and a pack of trouble between her claws.

A TOUCH OF DARKNESS

By: Yelena Casale & Tina Moss

USA Today Bestselling Authors

Cassie Durrett dreams of the darkness. And lives the nightmare.

Award Winning Urban Fantasy

BLACKBIRD SUMMER

By: Em Shotwell

When the world fears you, being Gifted is a curse.

BLOOD KING

By: Amber K. Bryant

While Sybille’s ability to summon and guide spirits of the undead to the afterlife pays the bills, it comes with colossal risks, including becoming undead herself.

BLOOD ROGUE

By: Linda J. Parisi

There is the blood and can only ever be the blood. So, how will love survive in a world of pain?

BLOODLACED

By: Courtney Maguire

Kanjin hardly view their servants as human. Even less so when they are different. Asagi is different.

CLAWED & CORNERED

By: Heather McCorkle

Sonja Michaelson has a monumental taste for bad men. So, when an alpha male in motorcycle gear walked into her bar, she wasn’t surprised when she fell hard and fast.

FORGOTTEN MAGIC

By: Eden Butler

Bane Illes never smiled. He never spoke.

But each day, that brooding wizard gave Janiver Benoit a glance.

HEX, LOVE, AND ROCK & ROLL

By: Kat Turner

With a business skidding toward bankruptcy and bone-dry bank account, what will happen when Helen hires a witch to cast a money spell?

HOUSE OF ASH & BRIMSTONE

By: Megan Starks

Hell has come to collect, but Gisele Walker has no plans to pay the debt.

MIDNIGHT DESIRE

By: Shari Nichols

Danger and desire collide to form an unlikely alliance between a witch with a sordid past and a special agent who might be her future.

MY SONG’S CURSE

By: Poppy Minnix

Ultimate control has its downside, especially when it comes to romance. But will it be enough to keep them together?

SMOKE AND RITUAL

By: Melissa Sercia

The voices haunt her. Their whispers taunt her with a war she never wanted. But Arya Frost has more to contend with than the cryptic voices disturbing her sleep.

THE NIGHT’S CHOSEN

By: E. E. Hornburg

Chosen of the Moon Goddess. Destined to rule. Fated to marry. A quest to save her family, kingdom, and heart.

TIDES OF TIME

By: Luna Joya

A witchy good girl hiding secrets from her family…

A reformed bad boy who doesn’t know his family’s hidden secrets…

TRUTHSIGHT

By: Miriam Greystone

Rowan and Amy must join forces with the creatures who were once her patients and fight to uncover the one secret that may be powerful enough to save them all.