Wicked Love

by Michelle Dare

  Forgetting all semblance of self-preservation, I jerked my head up, and gritted out a harsh-sounding, “Fuck you.”

  Eyes so blue they were almost silver stared back at me. Her eyes, along with her white-gold hair and flawless skin, made her a breathtakingly beautiful woman. Beautiful and deadly. She narrowed those evil eyes on me, and pain such as I’d never experienced lasered through me. Spots danced across my vision, and I screamed for her to stop. My spine arched in agony as she turned it up another notch. I knew if I didn’t do something fast, I was going to die. Closing my eyes, I broke her stare. My hands dropped to my knees as I leaned forward and took a deep breath. I sucked every last bit of pain and rage into my lungs and hurled it back at her with a giant exhale.

  She gasped, her eyes widening with surprise, then she started to clap. “Bravo!”

  Bernie whimpered beside me. We’d both had enough. Screw proper protocol. The goal now was to get out alive.

  “I’ll make a deal with you. If you let us go, I won’t report you for entrapping Officer Gonad and endangering the lives of two police officers.” She stared at me as if trying to find a way back inside my head. Sorry, bitch, find someone else to mind fuck.

  “How intriguing,” she cooed. “How about this, you tell me what you are, and I won’t kill your friend.” She snapped her fingers, and a vampire stepped from the shadows. His arms were wrapped around a struggling Mick. My lungs seized. Fuckfuckityfuck.

  “Don’t tell her,” Mick rasped as if there was something to tell. With my heart in my throat, I stared at my partner and tried to figure a way out of this mess.

  My eyes flicked to her. “I’m nothing, really. I just . . . sense things.”

  “Wrong,” she said. Her fingers snapped, and I screamed as the vampire buried his fangs in the side of Mick’s neck.

  “I don’t know what I am!” I shouted. “I can feel you inside my head, that’s all. Now, let him go!”

  “Wrong again,” she sang, and I panicked.

  “You fucking bitch!” I pointed my gun at the vamp holding Mick, aimed it at his head, and pulled the trigger. The vampire exploded into a pile of dust, Mick crumpled to the ground, and ice queen let out an unholy sounding shriek.

  “Lenora, we must go,” one of the other vamps called out. That’s when I heard the sirens.

  With a swish of her robes, the ice bitch and her fang-gang melted into the night.

  Mick died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital.

  Bernie, of course, sang like a canary.

  And a week later, I was transferred to the Paranormal Human Division.

  2

  Four months later . . .

  Christ, I hate this place. Like every other morning since my re-assignment, I was kicked back in my cushy chair with my feet on my desk and my favorite coffee mug in my hands while gazing out my office window. I took a sip of the almond-flavored delight and sighed. I never thought I would say it, but I actually missed the coffee from my old department. It was the put-hair-on-your-chest and turn-your-teeth-permanently-brown-after-one-sip kind of coffee, not this fancy, froufrou crap. Fancy coffee from a fancy cafe in a fancy office building with cushy chairs and a great view. Fucking kill me now.

  My eyes dropped to the notepad on my desk and the large, red number sixteen scrawled across the page. It had been sixteen weeks since Mick’s death. As always, when I thought of Mick, which was often, my heart ached. He was dead because of me. His wife was now a widow, and his children were without a father because of me. It should have been me who died that night.

  My first month working at PHD had not gone well. My heart was shattered over losing Mick. Not only did I have zero appetite, but my sleep was plagued with nightmares, and since I couldn’t talk about it without breaking down, I didn’t. His death had left a gaping hole inside my chest. The only reason I showed up at work at all was for the paycheck. I spent a lot of time sitting in my office staring out the window—a lot of time thinking about that night and all the things I could have done differently. I missed my partner—my best friend.

  Four weeks to the day after Mick’s death, my new boss paid me a visit. After staring at me for what felt like forever, he said, “Girl, I get that you’re hurting, but you’re going about it the wrong way. Vengeance requires three things: patience, ingenuity, and skill. If you want Lenora Moreau, you’re going to need those, plus a hell of a lot more.”

  My spine stiffened at the mention of the ice bitch’s name. He now had my attention. From the smug expression on his face, he knew it, too. Whatever.

  “What do you know about Lenora?” I asked.

  “Plenty, but the only way I’m willing to share it with you, is if you get off your pretty little ass and fight for it.”

  As an officer in the Paranormal Human Division, or PHD for short, our role was to act as a liaison between the human and paranormal communities. In other words, my team was called in when shit with vamps, shifters, and whatever else scary-as-hell thing creeping around out there went sideways and humans were involved. Evidently, this happened a lot. The PHD currently had six members, five of whom were men, and me. Ayden, with his sandy-blond hair, brown eyes, and overly large front teeth, was the schmoozer of the group. His specialty was weapons, preferably throwing stars, knives, and stakes. He made a practice of hitting on me pretty much every day, and I made a practice of kneeing, punching, and kicking him in the balls whenever the chance arose.

  Todd was the gentle giant. He had a head full of curly, blond hair, Caribbean-blue eyes, and butt-white skin. His gig was martial arts. As I’d taken years of Karate and Taekwondo, I thought I could hold my own. I was wrong. Todd was the best fighter I’d ever experienced.

  Akeno was a smallish Japanese man who specialized in poisons, chemical warfare, and various ways to blow shit up. It was Akeno who explained to me the nuances of a vampire bite—how their saliva can produce enzymes that act as an aphrodisiac. If not activated, the bite can be agonizing. Those same enzymes also act as a coagulant. The vampire who bit Mick was ashed before he had a chance to seal up the bite. This meant that Mick essentially bled to death.

  Jafore was the quietest of the bunch. He was a tall, skinny, ebony-skinned man who excelled at everything. No joke, the man could do it all, but his specialty was hunting vampires. I had a feeling that Jafore and I were going to be great friends.

  Last was my dark-as-night, sinfully sexy, scary-as-shit new boss, Tymon Brenner. Tymon was a badass. He was also not human, or should I say, not entirely human. Tymon had a warm glow but also something else. I couldn’t really explain it as I’d never encountered it before. His specialty was in psychic defense. By this, I mean, he more or less attacked my mind, then growled at me when I failed to defend myself—which, I might add, happened a lot—and was about as much fun as getting my ass handed to me by Todd on a daily basis. Maybe the two of them should date. Now, there’s a thought.

  In month three of training, I got to participate in my first assignment. Apparently, a woman had accused the beta of the local wolf pack of assault and rape. The beta, of course, denied the accusation. He even told Tymon that he had proof of his innocence, but the woman wasn’t budging on her story. Because she was human, we were called in to liaise with the pack alpha, Granger Hale, on the matter.

  Tymon appointed Todd as lead on the case. Before the initial meeting with Granger and his people, Todd gave me a brief rundown on pack hierarchy. As pack alpha, Granger’s word was law. His beta was his right-hand man, and the enforcers protected the alpha and the rest of the pack.

  The hair on the back of my neck rose as three men stalked into the room on quiet feet. Introductions were made. Todd and Tymon got handshakes, but all I got was three, quick, jerky head nods—which I found to be both rude and sexist. Granger took the middle seat while the other two flanked him on either side. All three men were attractive, but Granger was utterly captivating. His dark hair—with the most amazing blond streaks in it—was pulled into a low ponytail. This accentuat
ed his high cheekbones, lush lips, and masculine jawline. His copper-colored eyes hit mine, and I saw his wolf peer out at me with interest. Not about to let on that I could see the monster inside of the man, I quickly glanced away. His beta, who I learned was named Pikah, took the seat to his left, while Stan, the enforcer, sat on his right. Pikah and Stan had no problem checking me out—not in a skeevy way—but more of a who-in-the-hell-are-you-and-why-are-you-here kind of way. Their wolves, however, gave me no notice. Granger gave off the impression that he didn’t much like women, which was a shame because he was definitely something worth looking at.

  The three men briefed us on the situation, then Tymon, Todd, Granger, and Pikah formed a plan. As I was instructed to listen and learn, I did not participate. However, I thought it was a stupid plan. After the briefing, Todd, Granger, and I hopped in the car and headed to the woman’s house.

  Susie—that was the woman’s name—answered the door. Her eyes lit up, and I could swear she nearly orgasmed when she saw Granger standing there. She exuberantly escorted us inside and asked if we wanted anything to drink. We all declined. Instead of getting the lay of the land, as I would have done, Granger and Todd jumped straight to the point and began grilling the woman. Half-listening to the conversation, I gazed around the room. Susie, apparently, had a thing for wolves. Not only were her bookshelves filled with books about them, but she had several framed drawings and photographs of them scattered around the room. Inching back in my seat, I crossed my legs and focused my attention on what she was saying.

  “He attacked me from behind, and you know, tried to mount me.” She made a mounting motion with her fingers.

  She didn’t seem distraught. If I’d been mounted from behind by a giant wolf, I sure as hell wouldn’t be smiling about it.

  Granger held up his hand, and she instantly stopped talking. Neat trick. I’ll have to try that sometime, I thought as he asked, “His wolf tried to mount you?” From the look on his face, I took it this wasn’t normal wolf behavior. I made a note to learn more about the subject later.

  “Yes,” she breathily replied. “His wolf knocked me to my knees and tore my clothes off with his teeth.” Christ, she was getting hot and bothered just talking about it.

  “What happened next?” Todd asked.

  “He held me down and penetrated me from behind.” I caught the disgusted look on Granger’s face. He knew she was lying.

  A snort of disgust slipped from my lips, which at Todd’s glare, I quickly disguised as a cough. Someone needed to shut this ridiculousness down. I had to say, I was disappointed. What happened to proper police procedure and due diligence? Anyone with half a brain could see that the woman was lying. With a huff, I grabbed my purse from the floor and pulled out my phone. It was after I opened my Facebook account that I realized I didn’t know Susie’s last name. Damn. Since Todd was too busy asking questions about wolf penises, I guessed I would have to ask Granger.

  Leaning across the side table, I whispered, “What’s her last name?” Copper-colored eyes snapped to mine, his lips pursing into an irritated scowl. “Her last name,” I repeated, holding up my phone as if that explained everything.

  “Simon,” he whispered back.

  “Diana,” Todd scolded at the interruption.

  “Sorry, please continue,” I muttered, and quickly typed the name Susie Simon into the Facebook search engine. A warm tingle zipped up the back of my neck, and I knew that Granger was watching me. Even more so, I could feel his wolf watching me, which I had to admit kind of freaked me out. Once I found Susie’s profile, I pushed wolfman from my thoughts and began searching. It didn’t take long to find what I was looking for.

  Pulling a Granger, I held up my hand. By this point, Susie was at the thrusting part, and barreling straight for the orgasmic finish line, so it didn’t work.

  “Excuse me,” I cut in. All eyes jerked to me. “Sorry to interrupt, but do you know a Janet Blackly?”

  Susie’s eyes widened slightly. Yep. She knows her. Nervously licking her lips, she replied, “Uh, I don’t think so.”

  “Really? Because it says right here that you’re the number-one fan in Janet Blackly’s wicked wolf group.”

  Her eyes widened further. “Are you . . . looking at my Facebook profile?”

  “I sure am. Oh, look, here you are in this thread. Oh wow, it appears you really like werewolves.” My eyes sliced to Granger. “Do you consider yourself a wolf-shifter or a werewolf? Werewolf sounds so antiquated, don’t you think?” Granger blinked.

  Before he could answer, Susie shot to her feet. “Give me that!” When I failed to hand her the phone, she dove for it. Her poorly attempted swan dive landed her in the middle of the table with a loud, painful-looking oomph.

  While Todd scrambled to help Susie up, I turned to Granger and muttered, “I guess I hit a nerve.” Deep, rich laughter burst from his sensuous lips. I tried not to stare, but lord, the man was easy on the eyes.

  Susie Granger’s shifter-obsession bordered on criminal. She’d lied to get the attention of the pack alpha. Once I pointed this out to her—and explained how many years of jail time she was facing—she agreed to drop all charges.

  On the ride back to the offices, Granger asked how I knew what Susie’s motives were. My answer was simple. I may not be the best at throwing stars, martial arts, or chemical warfare, but I was damn good at reading people. Half of being a good detective was learning how to read people.

  All in all, Granger was happy with the end results, and my first case was a success, or so I thought, until later that same day when I met with Tymon and Todd and got my ass chewed for going over a senior officer’s head. I hadn’t been on a case since then, and that was over a month ago.

  A knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts. “Come in.”

  Tymon entered.

  Our eyes met as he took a seat on the chair in front of me. “If you’re here to bitch about my training, don’t bother. I already know how poorly it’s going.” A wave of razor-sharp displeasure crashed into me. The coffee cup dropped from my hands, and hot coffee sloshed onto my lap.

  “Shit!” I hissed. My feet dropped to the floor with a loud thump, and I gasped for air as sharp daggers of irritation pelted my brain. Fuckfuckityfuck. He knows how much I hate when he does this.

  “Shields,” he growled.

  Teeth gritted, I pictured a wall of steel rising from the darkness of my mind and blocking the battering ram of emotions. One minute I felt as if the back claw of a hammer was wrenching my brain from my skull, and the next, I felt nothing.

  Glaring at Tymon, I snatched the napkin from yesterday’s lunch off my desk and attempted to dab the coffee from my favorite pair of pants.

  The butthead had the audacity to smile at me. “Good. Your new goal is to see how long you can hold it.”

  “I really, really hate you,” I ground out while trying to dab my pants and hold the stupid shield in place at the same time.

  His head cocked, and he gave me a knowing look. I tried not to get creeped out as a little of his otherness leaked into the room. “Liar, liar,” he said, then smiling at my eye roll, he upped his assault and crashed right through my shields.

  Asshole.

  3

  Both of my parents came from money. My mom’s side of the family earned theirs from plantations and tobacco, whereas my dad’s money stemmed from railroads and banking. Having been raised with silver spoons in their mouths taught them to believe that money solved all problems. In return, having been raised by them, my sister, Bailey, and I were taught to believe the same. By all appearances, we were the perfect Southern family. Perfect, my ass. My father was an alcoholic, and my mother a not-so-secret pill-popper. They barely tolerated each other, much less their own children. My childhood was a living hell, a gilded cage of intolerance where conformity was the expectation at all times, and anything less simply frowned upon. I spent my entire adolescence rattling that cage.

  My sister willingly accepted her pligh
t in life. Not me. It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy having money and all the perks that it offered. I liked the creature comforts of a nice house with a swimming pool and a staff who lived to serve. But having money made us stand out. It made us different, and I was already different. I saw things that no one else saw and heard things that no one else heard. I was that strange Duvail kid, the oddball that other kids avoided.

  When I was five, my great-grandmother came to visit. She was in her eighties but looked more like a hundred and eighty. The man who came with her looked even older. Mother made one of her extravagant meals that night. Of course, she had to seat me next to my great-grandmother. Once we were all seated, I pointed out that they’d forgotten a chair for the man. When my father asked, “What man?” I laughed, thinking that he was playing. “Right there,” I said, pointing behind my great-grandmother’s chair. Mother got that look on her face—the one right before she spanked me. She then sent me to my room without dinner. We never spoke of the incident again.

  When I was eight, my father took an extended vacation to Europe. Even though no one ever talked about it, I knew the truth—that he’d run away with another woman. My mother fell apart. She hired a full-time nanny to take care of us and then took off for some spa in Arizona. The nanny’s name was Gail. She was a tall woman with golden eyes and a soothing voice. Gail was special. She had a cat living inside her. I absolutely loved cats. I’d always wanted one but my mother was allergic. Imagine my excitement when ‘Gail the cat’ came to live with us. It didn’t take long to realize that my little sister didn’t see Gail’s cat. How could she not? My eight-year-old brain couldn’t comprehend this. A few months into Gail’s stay, I broke down and told Bailey about Gail’s cat. I made her swear not to tell our parents. She was six, of course she was going to tell. My parents freaked. Mom flew back from Arizona, and Dad returned from Europe. Sadly, they fired Gail and I was grounded for a month.