Lure of the Blood

by Doris O'Connor

  So he had forced himself to let her be, concentrating on driving instead, his mood getting darker with every mile that passed until he finally stopped the truck outside the police station.

  “Marnie, you don’t have to do this, please.” He couldn’t look at her, as he ground out those words, his voice a strangled cough, but he sensed her approach. The butterfly kiss against his jaw had him tightening his strangle hold on the steering wheel to stop himself from crushing her to him. If he touched her now he wasn’t sure he could resist claiming her, daylight, witnesses and consequences be damned.

  “Just go, little one.”

  ****

  Marnie wrapped her arms around her middle, fighting back tears, the incessant chatter of the duty solicitor assigned to her case not registering. All hell had broken loose when she stepped into the police station. She had been handcuffed and marched to an interrogation room before she could even blink. The portly, middle-aged detective in charge of the murder investigation had taken great delight in reading her rights, and Marnie’s eyes had widened when he’d leaned in close enough for his spittle to land in her face as he talked.

  “Finally, we’re getting somewhere. I have no idea how you did it, young lady, but your DNA is the first tangible proof I have in this god forsaken case, and I will get to the bottom of this. Mark my words: you and your accomplices will not get away with this again. This time I will find out who is behind these attacks, if it kills me!”

  She straightened her shoulders, feigning a nonchalance she was far from feeling. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Detective Spencer, and I know my rights. I will not say anything until my solicitor is here. Intimidation will get you nowhere.”

  “Folks like you always know their rights. I’ve got your file, missy. What interesting reading that made. Back to your old tricks, then? Tell me, which gang is behind it this time?”

  Marnie’s heart fell to her stomach as the old guilt assaulted her. Of course he would have looked her up. Her youthful misdemeanours would have been recorded. All it would have taken would have been a phone call to her hometown or a scan of the computer files. She’d been cleared of all suspicion in her mother’s accident, but mud stuck and this little weasel of a policeman seemed determined to pin this case on her, along with several others. There had been more mysterious animal attacks in his precinct and naturally they had to be linked to her. Disgust rose in Marnie’s throat at the shabby police work, whilst the human side of her felt something akin to sympathy for the red-faced detective. He had no idea what forces he was dealing with and she’d be damned if he found anything out through her.

  She would take Ion’s secret to the grave with her, even if it meant they locked her up and threw away the key.

  The strip search that followed, done by a uniformed female police officer, had been humiliating and embarrassing. The other woman’s wide-eyed perusal of the myriad of fingerprints and scratches on her body had Marnie suppressing more tears. Soon the physical reminder of Ion’s possession would fade and she would be left with nothing but memories to keep her warm at night. He had been so closed off in the cab, when she had tried to say goodbye. His whole stance had screamed Get off at her and she couldn’t blame him. If her heart was in a million pieces, then how must he feel? Her proud alpha had all but begged her repeatedly to stay with him last night and she had to turn him down every time, her heart splintering a little more with every whispered denial and every passion-filled kiss. She knew how much it cost him to keep his distance this morning and how much she’d hurt him by refusing to let him comfort her. But she couldn’t let him touch her again. She would not have been able to go through with this, if he had. And seeing detective Spencer’s determination to solve this case, she knew she had been right. This was the only way. She could only hope and pray that he would forgive her in time and find happiness with someone else.

  “Are you listening to me, Marnie?”

  The duty solicitor’s voice shook her out of her musings.

  “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  The young man, clearly just out of law school, pushed his glasses up his nose and pinned her with an exasperated look.

  “Now look, Miss Benson, you’re a law student yourself, so you know how this works. So far there is nothing but circumstantial evidence linking you to this case. It would help of course if you at least told me the truth. This amnesia claim is all well and good, but you failed the lie detector test and…”

  He stopped at the hysterical laugh she couldn’t help but utter.

  “No offence to you, Mr Shelby, but you couldn’t handle the truth. Besides I have told you all that I remember. I was walking home, when I was attacked by the victim. I must have scratched him, whilst I was defending myself. I hit my head and that is all I remember until I woke up in my bed the next morning, covered in bruises.”

  It was a story she stuck to during the hours of interviews that followed.

  The good cop/bad cop routine Detective Spencer and his female sidekick adopted had her smiling despite the gravity of the situation. She had watched enough cop dramas on the telly to know how this worked and she wasn’t falling for it. Spencer’s agitation grew with every denial from Marnie’s lips. No, she didn’t have any accomplices and no she was not prepared to divulge where she had been in the week following the attack.

  By the end of that very long day, she had been formally charged with murder as well as suspected involvement in several other animal attacks in the neighbourhood. She had collapsed on the sparse cot in her holding cell, the minute the heavy metal door had clanged shut behind her.

  Heavy-eyed after a sleepless night, Marnie was pushing her breakfast around her plate, when the commotion outside her door had her look up in confusion.

  “Open this door right now. I wish to speak to my client.”

  The deep Eton-polished tones had a steely authority and most definitely did not belong to the young duty solicitor who had flustered himself through all the interviews yesterday. A familiar scent assaulted her, the minute the door swung open, Masked by expensive male cologne she nonetheless recognised the unmistakable earthy scent of the shifter.

  The man ducking to enter her cell, had to be at least six foot five of honed muscle, clad in Italian designer business suit. Long black hair framed a proud patrician face and eyes as black as coal raked her body over once, before he inhaled slightly, his eyes narrowing. He addressed the flustered-looking guard.

  “You may leave us now. I expect to see Detective Spencer within the hour. Raise him from his bed, for all I care. I have new evidence, absolving my client from these ridiculous charges and I expect to see her release papers forthwith. Chop, chop, man time is money.”

  Marnie sat back down with a thump, as the full force of those penetrating eyes connected with hers, the minute the door shut again.

  “I…I don’t understand, who are you? I have a solicitor.”

  The deep growl rumbling from the stranger’s chest raised the fine hair on Marnie’s neck. Wolf then, had Ion sent him?

  “By all means stay with that solicitor if you want to rot in here for the next twenty years, little human. After the trouble you caused it would be quite appropriate, but it seems you have friends in high places. So stop wasting my time any further, keep your mouth shut and I’ll have you out of here in no time.”

  Marnie’s stomach flipped and an icy shiver went up her spine at the steely disdain in those black eyes. He flicked a mysterious speck of dust of his suit, waiting for her response, one foot tapping impatiently on the concrete floor.

  “Well? What’s it to be, human?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Marnie followed the broad shoulders of her new solicitor, aware of the whispers and stares as they wound their way to one of the interrogation rooms. She couldn’t help the feeling that she was about to jump from the frying pan into the fire. There was something truly menacing about all the coiled strength in front of her. He was no friend to humans and he se
emed to genuinely dislike her. Her whispered question as to whether Ion sent him had been met with a humourless laugh.

  “He couldn’t afford me and besides he is in enough trouble of his own to have the time or energy to worry over the likes of you.”

  Her heart had constricted at those words and that shiver of foreboding had taken on tsunami proportions. The temperature in the room seemed to drop by ten degrees and she rubbed her arms in a futile effort to chase away the goose bumps of silent dread.

  “What do you mean he’s in trouble? He hasn’t done anything wrong. This has all been my fault and…”

  “Spare me the sentiments, human.” The clipped, polished tones held an unmistakable air of disdain and boredom.

  “You and Channing will answer for what you did soon enough. Right now, we need to get you out of here, before my suit is completely ruined. Lord only knows when this place was last cleaned and you,” he wrinkled his nose in disgust, “You need a bath. I can smell that wolf all over you. It’s enough to make me want to bring up my breakfast.”

  “Then stop sniffing me, shifter!”

  His eyes had widened briefly in surprise at her angry reply, before he smiled, showing his fangs.

  “Careful, human, my wolf likes to play with his food.”

  Marnie suppressed a renewed shudder as they entered the room she’d spent so many hours in the day before. Detective Spencer was pacing the floor, muttering to himself and the young duty solicitor all but jumped in the air when the shifter’s large hand on her shoulder unceremoniously forced her to sit in the chair next to the wide-eyed young man.

  “Move! You’re in my seat. Your services are no longer required.”

  The speed with which her now ex–solicitor backed away would have done any shifter proud and Marnie smiled at the nervous young man. He had tried his best, after all. “Thank you for your help, Mr. Shelby, but I have acquired other representation.”

  The sound of disgust coming from the wolf made annoyance course through her. Did he have to be so rude?

  “Yes, well…all the best, Miss Benson. Good luck. Not that you’ll need it with that shark working for you,” and poor Mr. Shelby scrambled out of the room as fast as he could.

  Oh, if only he knew how right he’d been in his assessment of the dark figure sitting next to her. Wrong predator––but just as deadly. Marnie suppressed another shudder.

  The mirthless laugh rumbling from the wolf stopped Detective Spencer’s pacing and he lowered his heavy gait into one of the chairs opposite them. The police officer seemed to have aged several years since she’d seen him yesterday, and Marnie felt another stab of sympathy for the man.

  “Have you got my client’s release papers? I have already spoken to your superior and the judge, so this meeting ought to be mere formality.”

  “Oh you’d like that, wouldn’t you, Mr Lovel?” A shower of spittle rained across the table between them and Marnie’s sympathy waned a little, whilst the towering man next to her simply leaned back in his chair, holding a pristine handkerchief to his nose. The smell of body odour and desperation coming off the detective was enough to make her gag. With Lovel’s shifter senses it must be akin to torture sitting this close to the sweating human, who now slammed a fist on the table.

  “Damn it, this is still my investigation and I know she is involved. I can feel it in my gut, evidence be damned. The DNA clearly places her at the scene and…”

  “Detective, calm yourself, before you leave Mrs. Spencer a widow. If your blood pressure rises any higher you will give yourself a heart attack. That would just mean more paperwork for me and I have no wish to spend more time in this hell hole than is absolutely necessary.”

  Lovel waited until the detective sat back down to reply with a muttered,” But how did…”

  “Never mind that. The DNA is purely circumstantial evidence. The only thing it proves is that my client was in contact with the deceased at some point over the course of the evening. Bearing in mind the nature of my client’s employ and the fact the deceased was a regular at the club, it stands to reason that this could have been exchanged during the earlier assault on Miss Benson, which resulted in the forceful removal of the victim from the premises.”

  Oh, she had to give it to the wolf; he was smooth. His calm, collected presence a direct contrast to the outraged detective and her own flip flopping anxiety levels.

  “Aha, but I have a sworn statement by Mr. Channing here that the altercation did not involve your client, so how do you explain this, Lovel? Not to mention your client’s confession that she was in that alley?”

  Spencer’s voice had risen in his agitation and his double chin quivered like a turkey due the vehement head bobbing, which accompanied those shouted words.

  “A mere miscommunication, and my client’s so-called confession was clearly obtained under duress. I am well aware of your methods, Spencer, and if you insist on this charade, then so will your superiors.”

  The silent threat hung in the air between them and the detective’s air of importance deflated in front of Marnie’s eyes like a sad balloon.

  “As my report states, the recent animal attacks, including the one that killed the deceased have been traced to an escaped panther from the zoo.” He paused for effect and smiled at Marnie with all the grace of the predator he was, before continuing. “You will find the claw marks on what is left of the deceased’s body will match those of the panther, who was killed two days ago.”

  Marnie had to remember to close her mouth. A panther? How on earth had he arranged that? One coy glance at his closed off profile convinced her that she really didn’t want to know. The detective clearly had a similar thought processes.

  “How very convenient to produce an escaped panther. Why is this the first I have heard of any escape?”

  Another humourless laugh reverberated around the room, before Lovel continued his voice now bored. “You weren’t informed, because the escape was on a strict need to know basis. Even a man with your limited intelligence must know the hysteria an escaped panther in the close confines of inner London would cause in the general populace. The ill-timed newspaper article following on from the deceased’s demise was bad enough. Tell me, detective, did you enjoy your five minutes of fame?”

  Another fist slammed down on the table, causing Lovel’s eyebrows to rise.

  “Damn it, I know it was her. She knows something and I will not have another case taken off me, I won’t!” The detective’s colour had risen to an alarming shade of purple at that shouted exclamation.

  “Blood pressure, detective, really. And I would be most interested to learn how my client could possibly be involved in killing the man. Are you suggesting that she somehow has the ability to turn herself into a panther?” He cocked one eyebrow at Marnie’s strangled cough and passed her the glass of water on the table. ”This isn’t the X-Files. And if she could, would she still be sitting here? Really, detective, you do surprise me. I wonder when your last psychological assessment was?”

  Marnie stopped listening after that sarcastic response, more confused than ever. Who was this Lovel to be able to pull so many strings, and more importantly, who sent him?

  She thought it wisest to keep quiet during the long-winded formalities that followed and when she was finally free to go, the iron grip on her arm increased her sense of chilly foreboding to fever pitch. She blinked in the midday sun, as they stepped out of the gloomy police station and tried in vain to shake Lovel’s hand off. He simply rearranged his features into a chilling smile. “Don’t make a scene, human. Resistance is futile, but if you’d like my wolf to come out and have fun, then you just carry right on struggling.”

  She stiffened her spine at the growled words, refusing to be intimidated, even as she looked into the eyes of Lovel’s wolf. One of his claws dug into her side, hard enough to draw blood, she was sure. She swallowed the wince of pain. No way was she giving him the satisfaction of seeing her run scared. They must want her for something, otherwi
se they, whoever his employers were, would have just let her rot in that cell. When she said as much out loud to the hulk towering over her, she saw grudging respect briefly flit across his face, before he bundled her down the steps and into a stretch limo. The blacked out windows meant the interior was too dark for her to see after the bright sunlight outside and before her eyes could adjust, the locks clicked and they were on the move.

  Her hand connected with a strong male thigh and she bit back the shriek of surprise as one large hand grabbed her round the waist and settled her on the plush seat.

  She scooted as far away from the man as she could, her heart going into overdrive. From the scent filling the interior this was another shifter, and when her eyes finally adjusted the air of wealth surrounding her took her breath away. The man sitting opposite her reeked of power, wealth and quiet determination, his voice a deep gravelly rumble as it washed over her. Eyes the colour of the midnight sky assessed her and his lined face broke into an amused smile at the way she instinctively straightened her shoulders. His immaculate attire made her more aware of her own dishevelled and rather smelly state, especially when he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

  “I can smell him on you. It’s been such a long time.”

  Confusion welled up inside Marnie at the whispered words, which held a distinct sense of longing and grief.

  “Yes, well, like I said to the henchman you sent; stop sniffing me then, it’s plain rude.”

  His eyes flew open and his amused laughter filled the interior of the limo.

  “You have spunk, little one.”

  Pain sliced through Marnie’s heart at those words. How dare he? “Don’t call me that! I’m no one’s little one, least of all yours.” Ion’s face swam in front of her and she screwed her eyes shut to stop the hot rise of tears. No way was she going to give in and cry in front of this stranger, no fucking way.

  “Look at me, Marnie!” The quietly uttered words held a definite command and she forced herself to open her eyes as his hand cupped her chin and gave her no choice but to look at him. Whatever he read in her eyes caused the silver haired shifter to smile and he released her.