Hotter After Midnight

by Cynthia Eden

  Humans.

  Colin awkwardly stroked her back.

  “Smith.” Emily’s soft voice. “How badly are you hurt?”

  The ME lifted her face. Blinked. “I-I—”

  “What did he do to you?” Colin asked, pitching his voice low. He didn’t want to set her off again.

  “B-bit. Cl-clawed.” A shudder of revulsion swept over her.

  Emily pulled out her cell phone. Quickly dialed and then asked to speak with McNeal. Colin heard her tell the captain the killer had been contained and that they needed an ambulance, ASAP.

  She disconnected the call and then looked back at Colin. Smith was still pressed against him, still crying, but softly now. Almost whimpering.

  “Smith, before the others arrive, we need to talk.” Emily’s voice was calm, soothing. The professional psychologist was back in place.

  If he hadn’t been there, he never would have known the lady had just come moments away from death.

  That was his doc. Core of steel.

  Being as gentle as possible, Colin pushed Smith back until he could look into her eyes. “You know what I am.” And she’d tried to kill him. So what is new?

  She nodded. “W-werewolf.”

  Not exactly, but close enough for the time being.

  “There are many…beings out there like Colin,” Emily told her. “They’re the Other and they walk right beside humans in this world.”

  Smith shook her head, but Colin didn’t think she was denying Emily’s words.

  “You can’t tell anyone about them, Smith. You can’t say what you saw…what Colin is…what Jake was.” Sirens echoed in the distance. The cops had been stationed close by. Not too close to alert the killer, but close enough for backup. “I’ll explain everything to you later, but please, promise me you won’t say anything to the other officers. Th-they wouldn’t understand.” Emily cast a quick, desperate look in Colin’s direction, but she kept her voice calm and easy.

  A flash of blue lights lit up the warehouse.

  “Smith, I need you to give me your word,” Colin said. “Don’t tell anyone what you saw here.”

  Brakes squealed. Doors slammed. Voices rumbled.

  Smith’s shoulders straightened and she looked at him with a touch of her old confidence. “D-don’t worry, Gyth…n-no one would b-believe me anyway…”

  McNeal burst into the building. “Smith!”

  She didn’t take her eyes off Colin. “B-but now I know…m-monsters—”

  “Smith, thank God!” McNeal grabbed her, pulled her tight against his chest. “Woman, I thought I’d lost you.” His face was tormented.

  Colin glanced over at Emily. She was staring at Donnelley’s body. He pushed to her side, needing to touch her.

  His fingers found hers. Locked.

  Jesus. He felt like he’d just lost a good ten years of his life. Emily had come so close to death…by his hand.

  “You aren’t anything like him, you know,” she whispered, her words barely a breath of sound. “People think all wolf shifters are the same.”

  Psychotic. Homicidal. Uncontrollable.

  “But you’re different.”

  He wasn’t so sure. Donnelley lay before him, throat almost completely gone. He’d killed him, just as easily as Donnelley had killed his victims. And given the same set of circumstances, he wouldn’t hesitate to do it again.

  “You’re not like him,” she repeated softly, glancing up at him. “You could never be.”

  If something happened to her, he could be. The knowledge was there. Uncomfortable. Painful. But true. If anything ever happened to the doc, his beast would break his cage.

  She is mine. Every instinct in his body screamed of the possession. He didn’t understand how it had happened, but the doc…she was his mate.

  A human, mated to a wolf shifter.

  The Monster Doctor bound to a monster.

  Fate could be a twisted bitch.

  Emily stared up at him. Blood trickled down her throat.

  Mine.

  A circle of uniformed cops gaped down at Donnelley’s body. “Another one?” a young female officer exclaimed. “But I thought the Night Butcher was taken down—”

  “He was.” Colin took Emily’s arm. Led her away from the body. He wanted to get her home. Naked. Under him. Not necessarily in that order. “That’s him.” McNeal could bullshit his way through an explanation of the killer’s torn throat. He was getting out of there and taking his mate with him.

  She awoke to the feel of a man’s hand slowly stroking her thigh. It was a soft touch. Light.

  Colin.

  Emily stretched slowly and opened her eyes. It was still dark in the bedroom, but the faint light from the hallway trickled into the room. Colin was crouched between her thighs, naked.

  And aroused.

  The paramedics had grabbed her when they’d left the crime scene. They’d patched her up, bandaged her stomach—luckily, the cuts hadn’t been deep enough to require stitches.

  They’d finally escaped from the EMTs, and Colin had taken her home.

  They made love as soon as the front door closed behind them. Fast. Hard. He’d had her naked in less than a minute, and she’d been coming thirty seconds later.

  For all of his strength, he’d taken care not to jar her injuries. He’d held her immobile against the wall, and thrust into her, deep, so deep.

  They’d fallen asleep in his bed. His arms had been around her. His right hand lying on her heart.

  And now…

  His finger trailed up her thigh, eased between the folds of her legs.

  “I want to taste you.” His voice was a growl in the darkness.

  Oh yes. Sounded like a fabulous plan to her. Emily arched her hips.

  Then felt the warm stroke of his tongue on the center of her desire. She closed her eyes, sighing with pleasure. Oh, that is good. So—

  His tongue swirled over her clitoris, sucked lightly.

  Her heels dug into the mattress.

  His breath blew across her flesh, and one finger slid into her hungry sex. Another slow swirl of his tongue.

  Her entire body tightened. “C-Colin!”

  He kept licking her, moving that tongue over every inch of her sex in long, maddening swipes that had her twisting, moaning, then—

  Colin drove his tongue deep inside of her.

  Her fingers locked in his hair. Not to push him away, but to hold him closer. Tighter.

  “More!” She was close, so close.

  His thumb pushed the button of her need and his tongue drove deep again, licking inside her core with just the perfect touch.

  Her hips bucked and her orgasm rolled over her in a tide of red-hot pleasure. And as her sex clenched, he kept lapping her, licking and sucking on her tender flesh until the waves of her release finally ended.

  Emily sagged against the bed. Wow.

  Colin stretched out beside her. Curled his body around hers. She could feel his aroused flesh pressing into her buttocks, but he made no move to take her. “Colin, aren’t you—”

  “It was for you. Just you.” He pressed a kiss to her neck, to the faint bruise on her skin. The mark not made by Jake’s claws, but by Colin’s mouth.

  “But why don’t—”

  “I don’t want to take this time. I just wanted to give.”

  And he’d sure as hell done that. Given her so much pleasure that her body still tingled. Emily rolled to face him. Found his expression tense, guarded. “I’m not sure I understand you, shifter.” Just when she thought she’d figured him out, he managed to surprise her.

  “You don’t have to understand me.” A pause. “But…” He stopped, jaw tightening.

  Emily pushed out of his arms, sat up, uncaring of her nudity and the bandages that covered her stomach. “What?” Something was happening here. Something important. She could feel his tension. His…fear?

  Why would Colin be afraid? Donnelley was dead. No more homicidal monsters were wandering the streets. The
city was safe…for the moment. “What is it?”

  “Do you think…you could ever love me?” Stark words. And she saw the fear then. In his eyes, in the unguarded expression on his face.

  She touched his cheek. Smoothed her fingers down the side of his face.

  Not a human. Not the simple, easygoing partner she would have chosen.

  He carried a beast with him. A creature of enormous power.

  Man and beast. Strength and danger.

  Do you think…you could ever love me?

  Being moments from death had made her realize a damn important fact. Her hand lifted, stroked his cheek. “I already do, Colin. I already do.” She kissed him, brushing her lips lightly across his. His hands curled around her and he pulled her close, holding her right against his pounding heart.

  Just where she wanted to be.

  Safe…with her monster.

  Epilogue

  “Jake Donnelley, the perpetrator known as the Night Butcher, was killed last night when the woman he’d kidnapped, Chief Medical Examiner Natalhia Smith, shot him in the throat.”

  A chorus of questions erupted at this news.

  But McNeal just kept talking. “Evidence links Jake Donnelley to the murders of Gillian Nemont, Preston Myers, and Darla Mitchell. We also have reason to suspect that he was behind the recent killing of four John Does…”

  The watch on Emily’s arm vibrated. Glancing down, she saw that it was nearly time for her to meet up with her last appointment of the day. Marvin was scheduled to come in, and she was eager to see how the vampire fared.

  She’d snuck away from the office to catch the news conference. She’d been curious about how McNeal would spin Jake’s death.

  Shot in the throat. Nice touch.

  Colin stood just behind McNeal. Brooks was at his side. Both were looking straight ahead, their attention on the crowd.

  Time to go.

  Emily stepped back, turned—

  And nearly walked into Smith.

  The ME looked tired. Her eyes were bloodshot. Scratches covered her face and arms. But her chin was lifted high, and there was a determined expression on her face.

  “How many of them…” she muttered, her attention on the crowd of reporters, “are even human?”

  Emily glanced back at the group. “At least two-thirds.” Once you know the truth, you can never stop suspecting.

  Smith sucked in a sharp breath of surprise. “You see them, don’t you?”

  It would be too hard to explain how she could really recognize them all, so she just nodded.

  “Do…they scare you?”

  Niol’s image flashed through her mind. “Some of them do.” She met Smith’s stare. “But then, some humans scare the hell out of me too.”

  The ME nodded, understanding. “It’s just…what am I supposed to do now? Now that I—”

  Know.

  “Keep doing exactly what you’ve been doing.” Only now, maybe McNeal wouldn’t have to come up with so many stories to explain certain anomalies Smith found with the bodies. “Everything is just like it was before, you know.”

  Smith’s dark gaze swept over the crowd. “No, it isn’t.”

  “The monsters were there before, you just didn’t see them.” But now she would—she’d notice every difference. Always wonder.

  The blinders were off for Smith.

  But still on for the rest of the world.

  One day they’d all realize. They’d wake up, and they’d all finally understand.

  Monsters weren’t just stories to frighten small children. Weren’t just myths to whisper in the dark.

  They were real.

  And they were everywhere.

  Emily reached into her purse, pulled out a small, white business card. She offered it to Smith. “If you ever want to talk about what happened, call me.” Being nearly murdered by a creature straight out of a nightmare wouldn’t be an easy thing to deal with, and if she could help Smith, she would. Even if the ME wasn’t her usual type of client.

  Smith’s fingers curled around the card. “Thanks.” She swallowed, then stepped away.

  Emily watched her slow stride across the room. Smith had a long road to go, but the woman was a survivor. She’d make it.

  And she’d learn to live with the monsters around her.

  Emily’s attention turned back to the swarm of reporters. The humans were leaning forward, a sort of greedy interest on their faces, but the Other, they hung back, as if realizing there were more details to this particular case that were best left uncovered.

  Yes, one day the humans would turn around and realize they were surrounded by the Other.

  But today, well, today wasn’t going to be that day of dawning realization. Not today…

  Her wrist alarm vibrated again.

  Time to get back to work. She needed to chat with her vampire. See how his blood diet was going.

  And after that…she turned her head slightly, met Colin’s bright stare. Saw the hunger in his eyes.

  After meeting the vampire, she had a date with a wolf.

  Another busy night for the Monster Doctor.

  Meet the BADDEST BAD BOYS in

  three wickedly irresistible stories from

  Shannon McKenna, E.C. Sheedy, and Cate Noble.

  Available now from Brava.

  Here’s an excerpt from Shannon’s story,

  “Anytime, Anywhere.”

  He forced his leaden body into action. Shoved open the truck door, grabbed his grip and the bag of groceries. He made his way with heavy feet up the switchback path to the hillside cabin—and froze.

  Footsteps around the corner of the cabin. Someone was passing through the foliage. The shush-shush of jeans legs rubbing each other. The swish-slap of bushes. He heard every sound like it was miked.

  He let the duffel, the groceries drop. His gun materialized in his hand, though he had no memory of drawing it, or flattening his back to the weather-beaten shingles, creeping towards the corner…waiting—

  Grab, twist, and he had the fucker bent over in a hammerlock, wrist torqued at an agonizing angle, gun to the nape. It squawked.

  Female. Long hair, swishing and tickling over his bare arm. A delicate wrist that felt like it might break in his grip. What the hell…?

  “Jon! Stop this! Let go! It’s me!”

  Huh? The chick knew him? His body had ascertained that she was no physical threat, so he shoved her away to take a better look.

  His jaw dropped when she straightened up, rubbing her twisted wrist. He tried to drag in oxygen, but his lungs were locked. Holy shit. No way had he met this girl before. He would have remembered. Wow.

  Long hair swung to her waist. Big dark eyes, exotically tilted, flashing with anger. High cheekbones, perfect skin, pointy chin. That full pink mouth, glossed up with lip goo, calculated to make a guy think of one thing only, and suffer the immediate physiological consequences.

  And her body, Jesus. Feline grace; long legs, slim waist, round hips. High, suckable, braless tits, the nipples of which poked through a thin cotton blouse. Low-rise jeans that clung desperately to the undercurve of that perfect ass. Who the hell…? This was private property, in the middle of nowhere. His dick twitched, swelled.

  She did not look armed. He slipped the Glock back into the shoulder holster. “You scared me,” he said. “Who the hell are you?”

  Her eyes widened in outrage. “What do you mean, who the hell am I? It’s me! Robin!”

  Robin? His brain spun its wheels to reconcile the irreconcilable.

  Danny’s baby sister? He’d practically pissed himself laughing the night she’d juggled flaming torches in Danny’s kitchen, although Danny hadn’t been amused when the rib-eye he’d grilled got unexpectedly flambéd. The steak had tasted faintly of petroleum fuel, but what the hell. She hadn’t burned down the building.

  Robin…? Robin of the dorky glasses, the mouthful of metal? Robin who was as cute and funny as a bouncing Labrador puppy?

  The irrec
oncilable images slammed together, like a truck hitting his mind. Those big brown eyes, magnified behind Coke bottle lenses.

  It was Robin. Holy shit. In his mind he’d already been nailing this girl, right and left and center. Danny would kill him if he knew Jon had entertained pornographic thoughts about his baby sister. “Ah, sorry,” he muttered lamely. “I didn’t recognize you. You look…different than I remembered. Do your brothers know you’re out dressed like that?”

  Her back straightened, and her eyes narrowed to gleaming brown slits. “Mac and Danny have nothing to say about my wardrobe.”

  “Maybe they should.” He jerked his chin in the general direction of her taut brown nipples, all too evident in the chill, and averted his eyes.

  “Why should they?” Her slender arms folded over her chest, propping the tits up higher for his tormented perusal. “I’m twenty-five, Jon. That’s a two, and then a five.”

  He blinked at her. “No shit.”

  “Absolutely, shit. Want to see my driver’s license? I wear what I please. I answer to no one.”

  This was surreal. He dragged his eyes away from her gleaming pink lips, and pulled himself together. “Uh, I don’t mean to be rude, but what the fuck does your age have to do with anything? And what are you doing up here, anyhow?”

  The gleaming lips pursed. “I could ask you the same question.”

  “You could,” he conceded. “But it would be none of your goddamn business. Your brother gave me the keys. I’m crashing up here for a couple of weeks to do some fishing and stare at the wall with my mouth hanging open. And now, your turn. What did you come up here for?”

  Her gaze fell. She started to speak. Pressed her hand to her belly.

  “Um…you,” she said.

  You’ve got to try

  THE ONE I WANT

  by Nancy Warren,

  new this month from Brava…

  Matthew wandered past his front door, yawning, fantasizing about the first strong, black cup of coffee of the day when he noticed a fat envelope on the mat inside his front door.

  He stood there for a moment regarding it, eyes unconsciously narrowing. It wasn’t part of the regular mail delivery. He’d locked up just after midnight and the envelope hadn’t been there then. He glanced at his watch and wondered who had dropped off a fat piece of mail in the last seven hours and whether he should be alarmed.