by Tina Moss
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? H
e 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.
