by L Ann
Shirt unbuttoned, he used his now free hand to stroke a finger down her throat. “After I fed from you, you slept in my arms, “ he told her. His finger brushed across her lips, drawing it back with a chuckle when she tried to bite him.
“Didn’t your reporter friend satisfy you?” Morgan snapped, twisting her wrists in an attempt to get free.
“No, she didn’t.” Taz squashed down the small spark of guilt he felt – not for breaking things off with Kayla, but because he’d allowed it to go on for so long and allowed her to believe there was a future for them. “She hasn’t satisfied me for a long time.”
A lie, he admitted to himself. The whole truth – Kayla had never completely satisfied him. Physically, and on the rare occurrence, mentally. But spiritually? Never. No one had, his entire life. And that was it, he realised. All his life he’d been going through the motions, settling for the jolt it gave his ego, the satisfaction that came from being in control; the compliments in the afterglow; hearing them tell him what a fantastic lover he was.
No one ever made me feel the way you do, Taz.
And that had always been enough. Until now. In Kayla’s defence, he couldn’t deny that sometimes she (when she wasn’t driving him up the wall with her whining about love and commitment, or boring him to near tears with her ambitions of celebrityhood or her insecurities about her looks) came close. Closer than all the others, at least. Which explained why he’d stuck with her as long as he had. Longer than he should have.
Until now.
And there were those words again. He looked down at Morgan, who stared back at him, cheeks flushed, eyes flashing, ready to go ten rounds with him.
Morgan.
There it was.
Mentally, physically, spiritually – she was the whole nine yards. And that what? Scared him?
“You wanna go? Go.” He released her hands and climbed off the bed. “Go on. Get the fuck out,” he muttered as he exited the room and headed back toward the bar.
Morgan sat up, eyeing his departing figure with a frown. She could count the number of times she’d been in a situation where she had no idea what to do on one hand and, she realised with a jolt of surprise, every single one of them had occurred recently and involved Taz. From the first time they’d met back in Vegas to every intimate situation between them since, she had been off-balance and confused and now here she was again.
When he had dumped her on the bed and held her in place, she had been prepared to spill blood in her battle for escape yet, if she was going to be honest with herself, there had been a part of her – a deep, dark hidden part of her, granted – that had welcomed him, found his aggression and domineering nature exciting. Even as she’d taken verbal shots at him, desire had been unfurling in the pit of her stomach and that same part of her had been anticipating the fight which would turn into passion. With a shaky sigh, she dismissed the troubling self-admission and followed him out of the bedroom, stopping in the doorway.
Taz stood at the bar, his eyes far away in thought and Morgan took the opportunity to look at him… really look at him. His face, even with its current hard grim look thinning his mouth, was as classically handsome as she recalled from her first impression in Vegas but now, knowing him better, it took on a deeper dimension. She knew that his blue eyes would darken with desire or lighten to almost grey when he was angry. When trying to hide amusement, his lips would quirk up on one side, forming a lopsided grin, but when annoyed they would curl into an equally emotive sneer or snarl.
Her eyes dropped, tracing the strong column of his throat and down further over the hard planes of his chest, her view unhampered by his still open shirt. She felt a blush stain her cheeks at the thought of what those jeans covered and how capable he was of using what he had been born with and dragged her eyes back up to find his blue ones narrowed on her.
“Seen enough?” he scowled.
“No,” Morgan’s voice came out in a raspy whisper and she cleared her throat, dredging up a mocking smile. “No. I was trying to figure out what it was about you that make women climb all over themselves to experience.” She pushed away from the door frame she had leaned against and moved closer to him. “It's not your charming personality.”
Taz delayed responding, noting the growing light outside the suite’s windows and moved across the room to activate the building’s sunblock coverings. He was back an instant later, pouring himself another scotch.
“I thought you wanted to sleep,” he spoke without looking at her. “Don’t let me keep you from your bed.”
“You’re not. I’m curious,” she said. “Not that I give a damn, but I was right, wasn’t I? Something happened between you and your reporter friend.”
“Like you said. You don’t give a damn.” Taz gulped half his drink and refilled.
“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” Morgan had spoken the thought that popped into her head before she could stop herself.
His gaze found hers and, for an instant, he almost voiced a denial. But something in her eyes stopped him. Did the idea of him being love bother her, he wondered.
“She’s basically a good person. The only thing she’s guilty of is being a mortal,” he answered noncommittally.
“You could have resolved the issue of her immortality, Morgan replied, her voice just as bland.
“Me, a sire? Get real!” he snorted. “Besides the fact that there’s a rule against turning someone you’ve slept with – even though vampires have been breaking that rule for centuries – I don’t have the patience for playing headmaster/daddy for fifty years.”
“Proving that you’ve thought about it,” she vented a short laugh. “And we both know you wouldn’t have to do the deed itself. There are plenty of people out there wanting to earn brownie points with the next Nikaran High Lord. But would you even be able to hold down a relationship that long without straying?”
A smile spread across Taz’s face. “You know, for someone who doesn’t give a damn, you’re awful interested in what I might’ve been thinking concerning Kayla. I mean, if I didn’t know better I might think you’re suffering from a dose of that word we promised not to bring up again. You know… the J word.”
“Jealous?” Morgan shook her head. “No, not jealous. But,” she raised her hand to touch her throat and shrugged. “You know what? You’re right, I don’t give a damn.” She swung around and headed to the guest-room, reappearing minutes later with a rucksack slung over one shoulder.
“And what’s this?” Taz laughed, rushing away from the bar to block her path, a stab of fear shooting through him at the thought she might be leaving, that she might have given up on him. “I didn’t think you were that thin skinned. Stubborn, yes, but so am I. Where in hell do you think you’re going?”
“Let’s see… I’ve been unwillingly bonded, with the agreement of my father and the Nikaran High Lord, to a man who is in love with a mortal. Thin skinned? No, just tired and in no mood for being told I will take second place to a mortal.” She shifted the rucksack to her other shoulder. “And, for the record, you’re the one who told me to get out. Remember?”
Taz’s face went blank while he thought back to the scene in his bedroom. He had told her to get out, but he’d meant the bedroom, not the suite.
“Okay… okay, all right. You win, okay?” He paused for a deep breath and reached out to stroke a knuckle down her cheek. “No, I’m not in love with Kayla. I never have been. And I apologise for earlier. I did… I had to do something I should have done three months ago. It left a bad taste in my mouth and I took it out on you. I’m… I don’t want you to go, okay?”
Morgan didn’t respond straight away. She stared at him for a long moment, and Taz felt himself holding his breath until she nodded. “Good to know, since I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.” She let the rucksack drop to her hand and slung it at him, hitting him in the chest. “Instead of wallowing in your self-pity party, take a look through the files in there. Hamish dropped them by while you were
off being a martyr.”
Taz looked back and forth between Morgan and the rucksack gripped between his hands and allowed himself a small smile. “Well played,” he whispered, and reached out to grab her arm as she turned to leave. “Whoa, hold on a minute.” He threw up a defensive hand in case she hit him. “Look, we’re not on any time clock. We can both sleep later. Stay up… stay with me for a while. Have a nightcap, and we can go over the files together.”
“It’s almost dawn, “Morgan complained, but made her way over to the couch and sat down, lifting her legs so she could half-lie across the seats. “I’ve been over the files once already. They’re not a pretty sight.”
She was right, they weren’t a pretty sight. In fact, even words like gruesome and grisly weren’t strong enough.
As Zuron had told him earlier, the Master had struck twice. But there were three victims. According to the police reports (most probably taken straight from SPD’s computer database by one of Kane Thoth’s in-house hackers) the first took place around midnight in the underground parking garage of the Crown Plaza Hotel, downtown. A hotel, the report highlighted in red marker, owned by a subsidiary company of Thoth Global Enterprises.
Mavis Draughton, age thirty-one, unmarried, single, an employee of the hotel restaurant. Found inside her sports sedan. All over the inside, as shown in the photos taken by SPD’s CSU team. The second victim was Bradley Jenner, forty years old, hotel guest visiting from Vancouver. His body was found in the stairwell – twenty feet from the scene of Draughton’s death – throat torn open, body drained.
“These two,” Taz tapped the photos. “Draughton was first. The other poor bastard, Jenner, wrong place wrong time.”
“The report confirms that,” Morgan said, on the heels of a sleepy yawn. “He probably witnessed her murder, tried to escape and was run down by the child pack.”
Taz lingered on the carnage of the photos a moment longer, then moved on.
Victim number three – Todd Garibaldi – found in the storage room at the rear of the 7-Eleven mini-mart where he worked in the Cherry Hill District, on or about 12.45. Decapitated and drained of blood.
“Cherry Hill again,” said Taz. “What would you like to bet that’s where their haven is located?”
When Morgan didn’t reply, Taz lifted his head to find her eyes closed. Clearing his throat, he stifled a smile when her head jerked up, eyes snapping open.
“Back in the room?” he asked.
Morgan covered her mouth with a hand, yawning. “Barely. What did you say?”
Taz repeated his comments about Cherry Hill, and she nodded. “I guess that’s where we’ll be heading this evening.”
“Yeah,” Taz whispered, smiling as he stuffed the contents of the file back into its folder, then rose to his feet and scooped Morgan up. “And we can finish this tonight. Time for this little Necuno to go beddy-bye.”
Morgan considered arguing but, in a moment of pure honesty with herself, decided she was too tired to do a fight with Taz any justice and settled, instead, for letting her head drop against his shoulder with another yawn.
Chapter 9
The sound of the shower activating woke Morgan from a deep sleep. She blinked, rubbed her eyes and rolled over half-expecting in her still-waking state to find Taz beside her. The expectation startled her mind into alertness and she frowned, questioning why she had thought it in the first place, knowing as she did that after he had carried her to the guest room, he had laid her on the bed, pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth and departed before she responded.
Sitting up, she swung her legs around and vacated the bed, pausing to pull on the robe hanging from a hook on the door. Cinching it at her waist, she went through into the sitting room and found a steaming carafe of coffee and a plate piled high with pancakes, making her stomach rumble.
When Taz appeared, hair still damp and in the process of pulling on a t-shirt, she was ensconced on the couch. With his head inside the thin material of the shirt, he missed the lingering glance she gave the quickly hidden flesh of his chest and stomach. By the time he’d pulled it on, she had her hands wrapped around a mug of coffee and was tucking into the food while she flicked through the day’s newspapers.
Taz almost laughed, catching himself on the crest of circling the coffee table to deliver a kiss to her cheek. Like an old married couple. And wouldn’t the Old Man get a cackle out of that, he thought, going instead to the small refrigerator beside the bar to take out a large plastic container of orange juice.
“Anything of interest?” he gestured toward her, indicating the papers as he poured himself a large glass of juice and a shot of scotch.
“Nothing so far,” she glanced up at him, her eyes landing on the alcohol. “A little early for that, isn’t it?”
“Eye opener,” he quipped, downed the shot and joined her on the couch.
From the instant he plopped down beside her, his gaze- his senses – were drawn to her like metal shavings to a magnet. It was her scent, for one thing, he mused. It brought up the comparative image of a string, an ethereal cord attached to both of them through the centre of their chests. And, in his case, dipped deep into his libido. Second, the way she looked. The robe notwithstanding, she could have given any of the current super models a run for their money. Was it real, he wondered, or the influence of their newly formed bond.
“Did I grow a second head?” she asked, looking over to challenge his ‘who me?‘ expression. “You’re staring.”
“Anything from upstairs?” he dodged her question.
Morgan nodded, taking a sip of her coffee. “They want us up there for the brief-debrief thing at 8 o’clock. And you’ve also had four calls from Gayle. Quote-unquote you can run, but you can’t hide.”
“Just marvellous,” Taz murmured.
Leaning forward, Morgan deposited the now empty plate onto the coffee table and refilled her mug. “She sounded angry. Is she part of your unfinished business from this morning?” She didn’t look at him, keeping her eyes down on the local newspaper she was reading.
“Something like that,” Taz answered. “And, for the record, it’s pretty much finished as far as I’m concerned.” He glanced, out of habit, at his empty wrist. “I’d say we’ve got about forty-five minutes. I’m going to finish getting ready. You know how pissy the Old Man gets when we’re late.”
Morgan dropped the newspaper onto her lap and twisted around to look at him. “When did you become concerned with upsetting your father?”
“I’m not. I just don’t want to deal with his crap today.”
She chuckled. “I thought that was the main reason for your existence? I never did –“ she broke off and frowned, lifting the newspaper back up. “There’s been another murder.” She thrust the paper toward Taz, tapping the section in question and reached for her cell phone. “Why wasn’t this one contained by our people? The body is in the local morgue,” she said, waiting for her call to connect. “Hi… mom? What are you doing answering Hamish’s phone?” She listened for a moment. “Okay, well tell him we’re heading up now. There’s been a further development.” She rang off and turned to Taz, who had reached for his own cell.
“We might be able to at least contain what’s already been started,” Taz tapped out a number. “Kane’s got some kind of understanding with the head of SPD’s Special Crimes Unit.” He held up a hand as the connection on the other end was made, then carried on a brief, muted conversation.
“I talked to Pantera,” he said afterwards. “She’ll get with Kane to make arrangements. Lieutenant Kirsten Pomeroy – she’s a Lycan. Go figure.” He grinned. “But her husband is the Chief Medical Examiner. I assume they’ve got their own infrastructure to cover Lycan connected incidents. It’ll be in their best interests to help us with this.”
Morgan nodded, rising to her feet. “Hamish is already in Zuron’s suite. My mother is letting them know we’re on a way up. I need to get dressed first.”
~*~
“Yo
u know, something’s been nagging at me,” Taz said, waiting until the elevator was free of other passengers before they boarded. “Even more so now.” He slapped the copy of the Seattle Times against his thigh as he spoke. “None of this makes any sense. An army of child vampires, the killings, which up to this point, seemed random. But there’s the fact he set it up so that the first killing was recorded on video. He wanted us to know, and to go after it. The thing with the Rromas, especially the Kizzy connection. Why her? And why wipe out her entire household? And the fourth victim. He… they killed all the others in secluded locations. But this last one – a thirty-year-old kindergarten teacher, hauled out of bed and hung upside down from a light post like a side of beef in a slaughterhouse? The others were torn to pieces. With this one, he ripped out her heart and let her bleed. And, finally, us. He had us. He could have killed us both, but he didn’t. Why not? Something ain’t right here.”
“I know. It’s like we’re missing the most important piece of the puzzle,” Morgan replied, and sighed. “I hate being led around by the nose.” A sudden thought occurred to her, and she reached out, without thinking, and grasped his forearm. “He wasn’t the least bit interested in me. I was in his way. It was you he tried to damage. He said something to you before he let you go. Do you remember what it was?”
“Yeah. He said I should've listened to you,” Taz answered. “And then he said, ‘lucky for you, we don’t want you dead yet.”
“Which suggests he’s not working alone and they will target you at some point and that brings up the question of why not when he had the chance?”
“Maybe. But why warn me at all?”
“Well, I don’t know about him but if I was going to deliver that warning, I would do it to put my target on edge, jumping at shadows, not knowing when I might show up.” The elevator doors slid open, and they stepped out, Morgan’s hand still curled around Taz’s arm.
As they reached the corner, leading into the Eastern residential wing, something pinged in Taz’s senses. Something centred around the housekeeping employee who knelt beside one of those floor buffing machines. He had its side panel open, fiddling with the machine’s inner workings. Innocent enough.
