The Vampire King's Cage

by T. S. Ryder

  "Detective Doyle." The cop who had told Roland to stand outside the room, then permitted him to stand by and watch when Roland had refused to leave, nodded in greeting to the new woman. She nodded at him in return.

  "What do we have here?"

  Roland couldn't stop his eyes from widening. Her voice was rich and slightly husky for a woman, although all the more attractive for it. His eyes traced her body. She was all mouth-watering curves, soft and plump and oh so succulent. The pencil skirt she wore hugged her ass, and he couldn't help but imagine what the curves of the twin globes would be like if she was naked. His mouth watered.

  A sharp jab from Adam's elbow brought him back to the present. Roland glared at his Beta, who ducked his head in apology. The Alpha shook his head–as he had just told Adam, Melissa's body was still laying in his bed. This was the worst time for him to be checking out another woman!

  Even one as delicious as Detective Doyle.

  The detective was being briefed on the circumstances of how Melissa was found, and she glanced over her shoulder at Roland. She had a kind, open face, and the biggest, brownest eyes he had even seen. They matched her chocolate scent perfectly. Her skin was milky-white.

  Melissa had been Hollywood-pretty. Stick-thin, with cute, bite-sized breasts and a flat, tight ass. Roland had enjoyed being with her, but he had never felt the thick lust towards her that was pooling in his belly when Detective Doyle met his eyes. He shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to breathe through his mouth so that he couldn't smell her. Chocolate was his favorite food.

  She turned away again, and Roland shifted, reminding himself of the setting. He'd had serious attractions to human women before, and they always ended the same way. Badly. It wasn't like he could just tell them that he was a werewolf and needed to have babies as soon as possible. That was enough to scare off even the most starry-eyed woman.

  He wasn't going to let his attraction to this new woman overcome his good senses. He didn't even know her, and Melissa deserved better than to be forgotten so quickly.

  Adam leaned in, muttering under his breath. "Those legs weren't meant for pantyhose. She looks like a stuffed sausage."

  Roland's eyes immediately went to the detective's calves. They were thicker than many women's, but there were smooth, taut muscles under her delicious skin. The Alpha growled despite himself, hackles rising at Adam's insult of the beautiful detective.

  "The only thing that could possibly improve that woman is if she were naked and under me," he hissed at the Beta.

  Adam's eyes widened. Roland glared at him, and the smirk that spread over the Beta's face only made him angrier.

  Adam opened his mouth.

  "Don't," Roland warned.

  The Beta snorted, hastily covering it with a cough as the detectives turned in their direction. Roland ground his teeth together, clenching his fists. With the full moon so recent, his wolf was strong in his blood, and it was urging him to punch Adam in the face and remind him his place in the pack. Roland did not endorse physical violence when it wasn't necessary, however. Even if he did, hitting his head of security when a half-dozen police were staring at him was not the best idea.

  Detective Doyle's chocolate-colored eyes were on him again, so he turned and marched from the room. It was the moon that was making him respond so strongly to her. That was the only reason he was getting so distracted by her when Melissa had just been murdered! He needed to remember that.

  "Hey, I didn't mean it," Adam said, once they were out of the room.

  "Didn't mean what, exactly? Your rude comment or laughing at me?" Roland's eyes narrowed in warning.

  "What I said about the detective. I just thought that you needed something to lighten the mood. I didn't realize you were attracted."

  Roland turned to him, then stiffened when he saw the detective had followed them out. Her expression was completely neutral, and he didn't know if she had heard what Adam had just said or not. Still, he sent a warning glance at his Beta and stepped up to the detective, offering her his hand.

  "I'm Detective Claire Doyle," she said. Her rich voice had the slightest southern twang to it. "You must be Roland Davis."

  Roland nodded. "I was Miss Clarkson's employer. And this is my head of security, Adam Buchan."

  Claire spared a brief glance at Adam before focusing on Roland. "Do you have any idea why Miss Clarkson would be in your bed?"

  "We occasionally had sex," Roland replied, trying to make his voice as bored at it could be.

  The detective gave no physical response to his statement, keeping her gaze steady on him. "So you two were in a relationship, then?"

  "A sexual relationship. We didn't have a romantic relationship."

  Roland couldn't stop a note of sadness from escaping. He liked Melissa, he really did, and more than once had wished he could love her. It might just be a silly tradition, but his father, also werewolf-born, had always said that pregnancy took better between mates. But when it came to wolves, love was necessary for a true mating to happen. It was something that happened when they met, and solidified when they had sex for the first time. His father had described it like a holy sacrament.

  Roland didn't know much about that. Both of his parents had been religious, but he never saw the purpose of it. He knew that he was cursed to become a devil every full moon, just barely able to keep his pack together to stop them from slaughtering innocents. He didn't need religion to tell him he was going to hell as well. Perhaps that was why he never really believed in love at first sight.

  "And she didn't have any feelings for you?" Claire raised one eyebrow.

  Roland shook his head. Sometimes, when they were lying in bed together, Melissa would tell him about her dreams of falling in love. He was sorry that he was never able to give that to her. She had deserved a full, happy life. Not the multiple miscarriages she endured. And then to die like this… It was horrible.

  "I see." Claire turned to Adam. "And Mr. Buchan, is it?"

  The Beta nodded.

  Claire cocked her head to one side as she studied him. "What was your relationship with the deceased?"

  "Friendly. We hung out sometimes, but there was nothing between us. She wasn't my type."

  Adam gave Claire an easy grin, the one that made it possible for him to seduce nearly every reporter, both male and female, who came snooping around Roland's mansion or office buildings, looking for a story. Roland frowned at him, but Detective Doyle's answering smile was anything but flirtatious. All business. He liked that.

  "Where were the two of you between 6:00 and 8:00 this morning?"

  6:00 to 8:00. So that was the time of death? Roland hadn't found Melissa until noon. At 6:00, the full moon would have just been wearing off. He forced himself not to react, but what if Melissa had still been half-wolf, and interrupted a burglar or something? Their secret could be out.

  "6:00 to 8:00?" Adam scrunched up his forehead. "We were still cleaning up from the party downstairs. Hell of a thing."

  Claire cast a glance around the hallway. "This rich and you have to clean up your own messes, Mr. Davis?"

  "I like to pitch in once in a while. Keeps me grounded."

  Claire smiled a pretty smile at him, causing his heart to skip a beat. "I see. Well, if there's anything you can think of that can help us, here's my card. Give me a call."

  "I will."

  She turned back to the bedroom, and Roland let out a pent-up breath as she left. Now there was a real woman. Who might suspect him of murder. He needed to remember that and keep his head about him. The Alpha turned and walked away.

  This was one situation in which he needed to keep his distance and not go for what he wanted… a taste of chocolate cupcakes.

  Chapter Two

  "Package for Detective Doyle."

  Claire glanced up from her desk, where she was going over crime scene photos from the Melissa Clarkson case. Her muscles pinched between her shoulder blades, and there was an ache behind her eyes that she hadn't noti
ced as she studied the pictures. One of the two detectives she worked homicide with, Catherine Grace, stood just beside her desk, a knowing smirk on her lips.

  "You know, as observant as you are, you really don't notice things when you're focused," Grace said, plopping a neatly-wrapped package onto Claire's desk.

  Claire shot her the dirtiest look she could muster. "Thanks."

  "Well?" Grace pointed at the box. "It's from that sexy billionaire. Aren't you going to open it?"

  Claire bit back a moan. It was strictly against precinct policy to accept gifts from anybody connected to ongoing investigations. She pushed the package off her crime scene photo. As much as she wanted to know what it was Roland was sending her, it would be best to send it back unopened. Grace could see the thoughts going through Claire's head and rolled her eyes.

  "Come on, one peek won't hurt. His alibi has proven solid. It's not like he's our murderer."

  "I know that. And I don't think that he's a part of it, but until we find out the who and why of this murder, you know the rules. I can't accept any gifts from him."

  Grace sighed heavily. "You need to live a little, Claire. There're no rules against opening the gifts, just keeping them. If you don't open it, I will."

  Claire bit her lip. She thought about Roland Davis and the way he had looked at her, and she swore her heart skipped a beat. It had been extremely difficult to keep from drooling and dropping her panties when she first laid eyes on him. He had everything going for him. Muscular, but in that low-key, stronger-than-he-looks kind of way. Strong jaw, clean shaven. Blond hair that was just the perfect length to run her fingers through. The strangest eyes, though. Amber, and they didn't quite look right with his coloring. Maybe he wore contacts.

  Grace was still staring at her, so Claire grabbed the package and ripped it open, shaking her head at her own weakness. It was a small jewelry box, and inside was a matching necklace and earring set. Sparkling diamonds were set in a pearly-white metal. White gold maybe. The chain of the necklace looked small and dainty.

  "Wow," Grace muttered, when Claire finally handed her the box. "Did he send a note or anything?"

  Claire shook her head, mind reeling. What was Roland sending her diamond jewelry for? Just because she had told him that he wasn't a suspect in their murder investigation?

  "Well, I think we know how Mr. Billionaire feels about Detective Doyle."

  Heat rushed to Claire's face. "Grace, knock it off."

  "What? Oh, don't tell me that you didn't notice the way he was undressing you at the crime scene. Those eyes were locked on your ass like you were the creamiest, most decadent pudding he'd ever seen." Grace waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "He's not a suspect, maybe you ought to let him have a taste."

  Claire's face got even hotter, if that was possible. She hadn't seen that, but she had noticed the low-lying lust in his voice when they were talking. Not that she was going to mention that to Grace. It would just give her more fodder, and the girl needed a glass of ice water over her head already.

  "No, I won't be letting him have a taste of my ass, or anything else for that matter."

  "Come on, you can't tell me you don't want a taste of him."

  Claire ignored her, shutting the box. "If he's trying to seduce me, he has a lot of work ahead of him. I don't sleep with just anyone, and it will take more than sparkly jewelry to get me to spread my legs." Claire hoped that would be enough to get the younger detective to drop the subject.

  "Are you going to give these back?" Grace gestured to the box.

  "Have to."

  "I mean are you going right now? I'd be glad to come for backup."

  Claire rolled her eyes and snatched the necklace and earrings back from Grace. She was far too casual in the workplace for Claire's tastes, but there was no denying that she was very good at her job. In fact, her slightly ditzy persona was probably one of the reasons she was so good. People were constantly underestimating her, and more than once she had teased out a confession when blunt force would have been useless.

  "You might as well. You can ask that Adam Buchan why the security cameras were turned off last night."

  Grace's eyes lit up. If there was one thing she liked better than flirting, it was an interrogation while flirting. Claire had to suppress a smile. The younger woman was her best friend on the force. They had been working together for years now and had faced a lot of tough situations together. Claire knew that Grace had her back, even if she was a little annoying when it came to insisting that Claire needed to find a man to settle down with.

  Detective Claire Doyle didn't want a man. She was perfectly happy where she was.

  ***

  The two detectives were soon at the Davis office building. When Claire had been assigned the case, the captain had made it very clear that she was supposed to act quickly and ruffle as few feathers as possible. She understood the necessity. Roland Davis owned half the city, including the building where Claire lived. He operated something like four diamond mines up in Alaska and Canada, and was also rapidly developing new medical treatments for genetic diseases.

  Adam Buchan met them as they entered the building, and escorted them directly to Roland's office. It was, quite simply, the most decadent workspace Claire had ever seen. Huge, expensive paintings hung on the walls, and the floor was polished green marble with thick, silk rugs here and there. A set of ebony doors–ebony!–led from the secretarial waiting room to the private office where Roland no doubt was.

  "Are you here in an official capacity?" Adam asked, raising an eyebrow at Claire.

  "I am," Grace said, batting her eyes and giggling. "Detective Doyle isn't. I need to ask you a few questions, Mr. Buchan."

  Adam smiled at her. It was the same smile he had given Claire just a few days earlier, except directed at Grace it looked more genuine than it had at Claire. Grace smiled back, and her giggling didn't seem quite as controlled as it usually was. And no wonder. Adam was ripped and almost as tall as Roland, with the greenest eyes Claire had ever seen. Grace, with her auburn hair and rosy-red lips, would be the perfect match for him if they were in a rom-com. Both were ridiculously good looking.

  The two were ignoring Claire at this point, but she just rolled her eyes as she slipped through the ebony doors. Roland was on his feet when she went in, as though he was expecting her, even though Claire hadn't seen Adam call him to let him know she was coming. He smiled broadly at her, his eyes sweeping down her body. Claire couldn't suppress the blush that stained her cheeks, but she forced herself to breathe evenly. As much as she'd like Roland to ravage her on his desk–was it made of pink ivory?–she wasn't here to give into her sexual desires. The opposite, in fact.

  I'm a grown ass woman and my hormones don't control me.

  "Detective Doyle. Have you found Melissa's killer?"

  Claire shook her head. "Not yet, I'm afraid. We are pursuing some promising leads, though. I'm actually here because of this."

  She placed the jewelry box on his desk. Roland's brow furrowed and he glanced up at her quickly, peering at her ears. Was he checking to see if they were pierced?

  "I can't accept any sort of gift during an open investigation," she explained. "They're lovely, but you can see how it might be misconstrued as a bribe."

  Roland winced and drew the box to his side of the desk. "Yes, of course. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking about your investigation. But if you can't accept a gift, then perhaps you and I could go to dinner sometime?"

  Claire wanted to accept–who wouldn't?–but shook her head. "You are still connected to an open investigation. I'm afraid that would not be a good idea."

  There was also the fact that a woman who worked for him and who he had openly admitted he was sleeping with had just been murdered. That had to take a toll on a guy, even if he claimed that he didn't have any sort of deep feelings for Clarkson. He was probably only looking for rebound sex. Or whatever the equivalent of rebound sex was in this situation. Claire wasn't a one-and-done kind of girl. Al
though after the case was done, she might just have to make an exception to her rule if Roland was still interested.

  "Of course." Roland looked disappointed but nodded his understanding. "Perhaps there is a way around that, though?"

  Claire raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

  "I have arranged for my staff to attend a wake for Melissa at my house soon. Everybody who was at my last party will be there. Perhaps you could come to meet some more of the people who knew her?"

  It was dangerously gray area, but Claire considered the offer. It would offer a great low-key way to get to know Melissa's coworkers, and find out if there were any sort of interpersonal problems that they wouldn't tell the uniforms who questioned them. If there was alcohol to loosen their tongues, it would be even better. It would probably be best to leave Grace behind, though. Two detectives at the wake would be far too obvious.

  "I would love that. Thank you."

  He nodded, his gaze softening. His eyes darted towards her mouth but didn't linger. "I look forward to seeing you there."

  Chapter Three

  Perhaps he should have invited more of the human women who worked for him.

  Roland stood on a balcony overlooking the ballroom where Melissa's wake was taking place. A picture of Melissa was set up at one end, with flowers and candles around it. There were dozens of cards, and paper for writing letters. It had been Adam's idea to invite everybody to write their goodbyes to Melissa and put them in a sealed box to be buried with her. Roland had written his own letter, surprisingly long, and a tightness he hadn't realized had been squeezing his heart had eased.

  Being able to say goodbye to his packmate was cathartic, and made him realize that she wouldn't have held a grudge against him for pursuing Claire, which he fully intended to do.