Craving Her Mates (My Wicked Mates Book 1)

by Erzabet Bishop

“Oh. You must be the shrink.” Holt eyed the newcomer with thinly veiled distain. “Are you here for the crime scene or my partner?”

  “Holt!” Natalia’s eyes opened wide, and her teeth ground together. “Why don’t you go talk to Wyatt and Carling. I’ll be over in a second.”

  “You sure?” The question seemed casual, but she could read the concern brewing behind his gaze.

  “Yes. Go ahead. I’ll be fine.” She sucked in a breath and turned back to the stranger. “I’m sorry. My captain just informed me you would be here.”

  “Dr. Ryder Jamison. I hope I can help.” His warm brown eyes simmered with kindness, and she wanted to fall inside of their somehow familiar depths.

  Why did it seem like she’d met him before?

  His gaze trailed over her, and a warm sensation pooled low in her stomach. God. Of all the times for her to go all girly, this was not it.

  “Have we met?”

  “I think I’d remember you, Detective. So no. I don’t believe we have.” But even as he said it, she could see the lie in his words. He was hiding something. For a moment, she considered responding but decided against it. She would confront him later when they weren’t surrounded by death and about a thousand cops of all flavors.

  “What exactly are you here to help with?”

  He cleared his throat. “Your captain informed me that you might require some assistance on the case. I’m considered an expert in these types of crimes.”

  “So, you’ve helped with the previous crime scenes?”

  “Yes.” His answer was clipped, and his gaze traveled somewhere else for a moment, no doubt revisiting the horrors she’d only glanced at in photographs. “Seven years. We’ve been trying to find the murderer, and finally it seems we have a common denominator.”

  “What?”

  “You.”

  She swallowed.

  “Are you part of the community, Doctor?”

  He met her eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yes, Detective. I am.”

  She nodded, unsure how to respond. “So, he didn’t tell you exactly why I’ve been called to the scene then?” Natalia didn’t know whether to be relieved or annoyed at her boss but at the moment she didn’t care. Like it or not, Jamison had hit the nail on the head. She was the common denominator, and it made her sick.

  “Only that you had experience in this area as well but would need my particular type of assistance.” His gaze slid away, focusing instead on the spanking bench in the distance.

  Another lie. She could smell it on him. Well. Now, that was interesting.

  “Let’s walk.”

  “As you wish.” He held out his arm and she passed him, winding her way through the landscape of tables and chairs and finally into the more intimate areas. She made her way forward but couldn’t shake the sensation of his gaze moving over her body. It should have creeped her out, but strangely enough she felt comfortable for the first time since she’d entered the club.

  The floor was much like other clubs: a spanking bench, then a space for exhibition. A series of hallways branched off, and techs lingered at the entrance to one cluster fuck of a crime scene.

  “We go in here.” She snagged a pair of booties and handed him a set.

  They’d taken two steps and were stopped by a uniformed officer. Natalia flashed her badge and was allowed clearance, but Dr. Jamison was stopped.

  “He’s with me.”

  “It’s not authorized.”

  “It is now. Unless you want to argue about it with Dakin, I’d let the man pass.” Her eyes narrowed, the lynx sharing a glimpse of her beast, and she raised her chin, daring him to continue to challenge her.

  “Fine. Don’t puke on the corpse.” He turned his back and resumed the conversation he was having with another uniformed officer.

  “That’s weird, he didn’t put you on the list.”

  “I agree, Detective. But he didn’t realize our murderer would be ahead of schedule by two days.” He tugged on the booties and was ready in moments.

  “Okay then. Don’t step in any blood.” She had no idea what to say to that. Natalia turned from him and proceeded into the room but stopped dead when she came face to face with the crime scene. The head crime scene tech approached them and gave a nod.

  Her cat hissed when the smell reached her very sensitive nose, but she muffled the hiss before it slipped from her lips.

  “Detective Adams. I’m glad you’re here.” The tall, Asian man brushed an unruly strand of bangs out of his eyes. He felt around in his white coat for something and pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to her. “Dr. Jamison. Good to see you as well. It’s been awhile.”

  “Yes, Kyle. Thankfully it has.” He shook the tech’s hand.

  “Hey, Kyle.” She took the paper. “What’s this?”

  “Dakin asked me to leave the scene intact until you arrived in case you had any questions. He also wanted me to give you some of the stats on this and the other cases. Said you’d be lending some of your experience to the scene.”

  “So nice of him,” she said wryly.

  Kyle chuckled. “Yeah. If you’ll hurry and have a look, we can get this mess processed as soon as possible.”

  “Thanks.” Natalia urged Jamison forward with a nod of her head. She stepped carefully, making sure she didn’t contaminate the scene. The honey pine wooden cross was huge and took up the back half of the room. The woman hung by her wrists, the weight of her body dragging down toward the ground.

  Don’t think about it. Just do your job.

  Fear choked her as the memories she’d fought so hard to suppress came crashing back into her present tense. The sensation of the straps on her wrists…the strike of the whip as it grazed her back…the horror of him touching her and not being able to escape.

  Natalia clenched her teeth and forced herself to stare at the paper in her hand. She couldn’t read a word of it. It was shaking too badly.

  Shit.

  “Let me.” His eyes met hers, and a jolt of awareness shuttled through her. She did know him. Those eyes… Jamison took the paper and scanned its contents. His lips thinned and he glanced up at the body. “You think she died from her wounds? A bleed out?”

  “I do.” Kyle pointed at the slices along her skin. “Of course, an autopsy will tell us conclusively, but the amount of blood and the spray patterns tell a story, and I believe that’s how she died.”

  “He kept her for hours.” Natalia spoke softly, but the two men heard her.

  “Yes. I should think so. The only question is, why didn’t the Dungeon Monitors catch this guy in the act?” Jamison frowned and approached the body, taking care not to step in any of the evidence. As he walked around behind the back of the cross he called out to Kyle.

  “Can you come back here?”

  “What did you see?” The crime scene tech scurried back, his white coat flying out behind him.

  “What is it?” Natalia wanted to move, but her feet were bolted firmly to the ground, her eyes riveted on the body.

  “Did they get a picture of this?” Jamison barked out a question, and Natalia started.

  Kyle floundered, flipping through pages of documentation. “I don’t know. They must have, but no one said anything. Otherwise…”

  “Was this at the other scenes?”

  “No one saw it.” The tech pressed his lips together. “I’ll have them go over the photos again. You have to remember it’s been seven years.”

  “Then I think you may consider checking. A woman’s life is on the line here.” Jamison’s voice was tight, and his eyes flashed anger as he emerged from behind the cross. “We need to leave, Natalia. I’m sorry your captain thought it would be good to bring you here.”

  “What’s happened?”

  Holt approached, and Jamison waylaid him. “A word, please.” The doctor waved him back toward where Kyle now worked with a photographer and another analyst.

  “What the fuck?” Holt exclaimed, his gaze hot
when his eyes swiveled toward Natalia.

  What the hell was going on?

  “I know. If the captain had any idea, he never would have assigned her. And if he did… God.”

  “We have to get her out. Now. Then we get answers.” Holt came around from behind the cross, his face grim.

  “Agreed. I’ll follow.”

  Alarm skittered down Natalia’s back. They were keeping something from her. Something important. She pushed her fear down and started forward. Time for her Domme face, mask or not.

  “Let me through.”

  “No, Natalia. Don’t come back here.” Holt held up his hand and tried to herd her back toward the door.

  “Get out of my way, Holt.” The growl in her voice was unmistakable. Her teeth ached from the need to bite, her nails eager to tear into the soft belly of the man who had done this.

  “I think you should listen to your partner.”

  “And I think you should butt out.” She brushed past Jamison, her eyes scanning for what it was that had them so convinced they were doing her a favor by hiding it.

  There. Something on the base of the cross written in something red. She peered down at it, her mind not processing what she was seeing. It was blood. A word written in blood.

  Natalia

  Her name.

  Why was her fucking name at a murder scene?

  Because it was meant to be you. All of them. Each and every one.

  The trembling in her hands spread, and she had to hold onto something to catch her balance as vertigo hit. Her fingers wrapped around the wood and slipped into something slick.

  She jerked her hand away as if it had been burned and looked down at the brownish red goo covering her fingers.

  Fuck. She’d just put her hands in the woman’s blood.

  “I’m not done with you, bitch.” His voice crept into her subconscious, and she staggered, the internal blow hitting her like a jab to the guts.

  “No!” She pushed away from the cross, wiping the blood on her jeans. She stumbled away and into the waiting arms of Ryder Jamison.

  “Hold on. I’ve got you.” He scooped her up and cradled her against his chest as the floor rushed up to greet her.

  ***

  He watched from the tree line and couldn’t believe his good fortune. He’d jumped the gun on this one, his senses on overload with the giddy sensation of his blade carving the girl’s flesh. Seven years he’d searched for the sub that ruined him. Because of her, he had to change his name, his appearance. Those in the BDSM community were too afraid of the police to turn him in. But he was not going to take a chance.

  He took great joy in watching his crime scene unfold. This slip into murder had been a mistake. A snap in his carefully planned patience. But it seemed as if fate was working with him for once instead of being forever against him. There she was, being carried out of the scene like it had been her on the cross. It had been, in a way. He punished them all for not being her. Every single one.

  As he watched the redheaded detective being carried out by the virile man with dark hair, he began to plan. She looked different, but even from his vantage point he could see she was his missing sub. Natalia. The girl who got away. Two days. He had two days to claim his prize, and he knew just how to do it. Red hair wasn’t going to save her. Not this time.

  His little kitten was going to come home to roost.

  Chapter Four

  Natalia woke in an office. The quiet room filled with throw rugs, colorful blankets and dark, wood furniture soothed her frazzled senses. As she came back to herself, she noted the soft music playing. She sat up and then stood on shaking legs, taking in the desk on the other side of the room.

  She moved slowly toward the door, but before she could turn the knob, it opened, revealing Ryder Jamison in the doorway. His hair was disheveled and his shirt mussed. He looked like he’d been sleeping. Then she looked down at her own clothes and realized she was still in the same ones. The bloody jeans had hardened, and she felt disgusting.

  “How long have I been here?”

  “I brought you here yesterday afternoon.”

  Natalia blinked. Yesterday?

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Better, thank you.”

  He eased inside the doorway, causing her to back up a step. “I think we need to talk.”

  “I don’t.” Frustration clawed her insides. “I’ve got to get back to work.” God. If she’d been here since yesterday, Dakin was going to have her ass on a platter. With toast.

  Her stomach growled.

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Jamison shook his head. “Your captain knows you’re here. He also knows what happened at the scene.”

  “What? That his forensics team found bloody scribbles leading to one of his detectives? Like what…oh, starting seven years ago maybe?” She wanted to march into her captain’s office and riffle through every one of the pictures to find it and prove to herself that this was really happening. That the monster lurking under her bed was really coming.

  He gave her a look, his eyes hooded.

  “Am I off the case?”

  “That is yet to be determined officially. Please, if you would…” He guided her back inside and shut the door behind them. “Why don’t you sit down, Detective?”

  Her fingers curled into a fist, and she wanted to slam it right into his smug face. “What right do you have to keep me here?”

  “When your captain asked me to look out for your well-being.”

  Was he the deciding factor then? Dakin was being careful wasn’t he?

  “I don’t need your help.” Her cat wanted to run, but being in close quarters with Jamison was bringing some other physical needs closer to the surface. His scent was drawing her closer, like warm buttered bread, and she wanted to feel his skin next to hers.

  It was familiar. So were his eyes.

  Stop it, cat.

  “Maybe not, but you do owe it to me to get you back out there, right?”

  “I don’t see how I owe you anything right now.”

  He said nothing.

  Uncomfortable with the silence, Natalia grumbled and crossed her arms. “Fine. What is it you want?”

  “You asked me if I was in the lifestyle. I want to understand what made you ask that question.”

  “What are you talking about? I don’t owe you any kind of explanation. I don’t know you. You don’t know me, so get out of my way and let me solve this murder before someone else dies.”

  “A few minutes of your time. Then you can leave. Is that fair?” Jamison perched on the edge of his large cherry wood desk, his expression unreadable.

  “You have nothing to say that I want to hear.”

  Jamison arched an eyebrow, his lips quirking up into a sardonic half smile as if he were amused by her anger. “Are you so sure of that, Detective?”

  “Yes. All you people want to do is muddy up the waters. I’m done with what happened to me. What I saw today was more about what’s coming than what’s behind me, and I’m going to face it head on.”

  “That’s not what I want to talk about, and you know it.”

  She stared at him, anger sliding through her. How dare he try and keep her? But why did he seem safe somehow, and why, when she looked in his eyes did, she want to run her fingers through his hair. Those lips… God. Could it be him?

  Rye?

  No. He couldn’t be.

  But what if he was?

  Jamison went over to a small mini fridge and brought her a water. “Here.”

  “I. Don’t. Want. It.” She ignored him and made a move toward the door. She had to get out of here before she did something stupid. She’d protected her identity for five years at the club, and she wasn’t going to blow it now over some asshole with a vendetta against brown-haired subs.

  Except you know he’s coming for you.

  Ryder can help you.

  Her uncertainty made her pause.

  “He isn’t going
to stop looking for you, Natalia. Please let me keep you safe. Like you did me?”

  “You aren’t making any sense.” She deliberately didn’t glance in his direction.

  “Candy corn.”

  Natalia froze, mid-stride and turned to Jamison. “What did you say?”

  God, her cat was right all along.

  Preening, she pranced underneath Natalia’s human skin, amused.

  “I think you heard me, Detective.” He reached to his desk and picked up a small bowl filled with the orange and yellow candies. “There are so many meanings to a word, don’t you agree?”

  She had nothing to say, staring at him with wide eyes. How did he know? The familiar pace of his movements. The steady way he looked at her. His muscles rippling through the sedate button-down shirt. And that gorgeous, graspable hair.

  “How did you know?”

  He gave her a small smile. “You just told me.”

  “No, I didn’t.” The feeling she had about him was right. Ryder Jamison was Rye. How had she not realized? Or had she just stubbornly refused not to?

  “Ah, but you did. If the word meant nothing to you, then you would have simply disregarded it and left the room. But you didn’t.”

  Shit.

  She couldn’t do this. Not now.

  “I have to go.” Natalia reached for the doorknob and paused.

  Chapter Five

  Ryder watched the Detective as she warred with her emotions. Her back to him, she stood with her shoulders stiff and her body language closed. It was her defense, he realized. It had taken him only a few minutes in close proximity to figure out it was her. The scent of cinnamon gum on her breath, the way she moved, even when she was afraid. She was a woman who took care of others but didn’t let anyone else in to do the same.

  “You prefer to leave people at a distance, don’t you, Detective?”

  She angled her head back toward him, her eyes sparking. “Excuse me?”

  He slid down from his perch on the desk and progressed in her direction. “You keep emotion far, far away so you don’t have to deal with the pain. Tell me. Help me understand exactly what happened today.”

  “Didn’t the captain already spill my darkest secrets?” A sheen of tears sparkled in her eyes. “What should I even call you? Jamison? Rye?”