Claimed by the Immortal tc-4

by Rachel Lee

  For the first time, Damien entered the conversation. His voice utterly lacked an accent, which surprised her in someone who came from Germany. Only reluctantly did she look at him again, but there was nothing hungry in the way he looked at her now. So she must have imagined it, right?

  “Will you feel safe going home alone later?” he asked.

  Good question. “I’ve been going home alone since it started.” And that was not much of an answer, even to her own ears. As a cop, she knew evasion when she heard it, even if it was her own.

  “We’ll talk more about that later,” Jude said. Rising, he ushered her to his outer office. “Chloe? Beverage, food, whatever Sergeant Hamilton would like.”

  “Sure,” Chloe said. “I’ll just add it to the heap you just dumped on my desk.”

  Jude just shook his head, sighed and disappeared back into his inner office, closing the door behind him.

  “I can look after myself,” Caro said, trying not to sound irritable.

  Chloe laughed. “That was for his benefit. I live to give him a hard time. I’m hungry, too, anyway. So let me pull out the delivery menus.”

  * * *

  Damien Keller was relieved when the door at last closed behind Caro Hamilton. He noticed all the things about her that an ordinary man would notice: her lithe but generous figure, her rich dark hair that might have been spun from the finest dark chocolate, her bright gray eyes. He even noticed the mantle of authority she wore despite her uncertainty. He liked strong, self-confident women.

  But he was also a vampire and he noticed a great deal more: the scent of her blood, the beat of her pulse, the aromas that perfumed the air as her moods changed. Whether she knew it or not, would admit it or not, Caro was frightened.

  That fear called to him as strongly as the richness of her blood or the throb of her heart. It added to the Hunger that had been born in him the instant he had been changed. That Hunger was an almost irresistible pull, calling to him the way water called to a man after days in a desert. Compulsion. Need. Thirst.

  With Caro, the compulsion was stronger than anytime in recent memory. It clouded his thoughts, preventing him from wondering why he Hungered so strongly for her.

  He had long since learned to control it, but he didn’t like having to do so. Restless now with needs he could not assuage, he paced Jude’s inner office while Jude worked on his computer.

  The winter nights were shortening. He had come here intending to stay only a short while, intending to return to Cologne the instant the rogue vampires had been eliminated. They had been eliminated several months ago, and now his window of opportunity was shrinking.

  He needed to get back home to where there were women who would gladly slake his Hunger and count themselves lucky. Caro had reminded him of the power of that need, and he yearned for those easy delights, delights which he had been denying himself ever since he had come to aid Jude.

  Because Jude did not approve. Because Jude felt as if he must protect weakling humans.

  Damien didn’t despise humans. He found them quite enjoyable in so many ways. They had gifts to offer he could find nowhere else. But he’d been here too long if one single woman could cause a reaction like this in him.

  He wanted her. He wanted her entirely too much, yet she had barely crossed his path. Already his mind was imagining ways he could take her to that paradise known only to vampires and their human lovers. But Jude would be furious, and as a guest in Jude’s city, he didn’t want to misbehave. Certain courtesies overruled need, or they would all become the monsters they were entirely capable of being.

  “Damien?”

  He turned toward Jude and saw wisdom looking back at him from golden eyes so like his own. “She got to you.”

  “It’s been a while,” he said frankly.

  Jude laughed shortly. “I remember what it’s like.”

  But of course, Jude had wed a human. Worse, he’d claimed her, making the human his mate in a way that no vampire could escape except through his own death. Damien had always counted himself fortunate never to have tasted that particular obsession, and Jude’s current happiness gave him no cause to change his mind. Claiming had always struck him as insane.

  “I’m thinking it’s time to return to Cologne.”

  Jude cocked his head. “Missing your harem?”

  Damien snorted. “They are not that at all. Just a handful with whom I share delightful moments of passion.”

  “Food,” Jude said bluntly.

  “They are that, too,” Damien agreed. “Contented food.” Unlike some others of his kind, he had absolutely no qualms about what he was: a predator who hunted with sex as his lure. It wasn’t as if he killed his lovely little humans.

  “Well, if you must, go.” Jude shrugged. “I’ve enjoyed your company. So has Terri. She likes your stories. I’ll get Creed to help me with this case. Or Luc.”

  Damien hesitated. There was still that delightful morsel in the next room, and she had awakened him as he had not felt awakened in a very long time. A mystery, one which he thought he might enjoy solving. And perhaps, as was always possible, she might come to him freely enough that Jude would not object.

  “I’ll stay awhile longer,” he decided. “She woke my curiosity.”

  “Just your curiosity?” Jude asked drily. But he didn’t press the issue. Instead he glanced at his computer and said, “Chloe’s coming through. I can see she’s downloading things. Let’s go.”

  Damien followed Jude into the next room with a mixture of reluctance and excitement. There was challenge in the air, he realized. The challenge of solving a problem, the challenge of either wooing a woman or resisting himself.

  But mostly, he decided, it was the challenge of a problem he hadn’t seen in centuries. He was aware of unseen forces, and long ago, as a member of an esoteric Persian priesthood, he had had intimate knowledge of them.

  With time those forces seemed to have largely weakened and he had wondered how much that had to do with lack of use. Perhaps they found it harder to draw energy in this modern world. Regardless he was looking forward to finding out what this one was and how it had been called.

  It had been a while since he had felt seriously challenged. The idea quickened his step a bit.

  * * *

  Papers were stacking up on the out tray of the laser printer. Caro wondered where Chloe was getting all that information. The police were keeping the story close to their vests this early on, and reports to the press had so far been shocking only in that an entire family had been murdered. No other information, other than names and ages, had been released.

  But the stack of paper was growing, and Chloe was gnawing her lip as she continued keying her way through computer screens.

  What was going on here?

  Jude and Damien emerged from the inner office and she looked up. Damien’s gaze raked her, causing her to shiver pleasurably and unwillingly before he looked away from her.

  What was wrong with her? She had far more important things to think about than sexual attraction to a man. Worse, attraction to a man with a very strange aura, and she had enough strange in her life as it was.

  The door buzzer sounded, and Chloe jumped up. “I’ll just get our food.”

  “How much have you got here?” Jude asked, picking up the pages from the printer.

  “Police reports, M.E. reports and the crime scene investigation. You’ll be glad to know they’re done with the house.”

  Then she bounced out the door.

  Caro hopped to her feet. “You don’t have access to all that stuff. You don’t have the authority.” She was appalled that anyone could hack into information that should only be accessible to investigating officers. “That’s not legal.”

  Jude, holding the sheaf of papers, tipped his head a little. “I have special permission for special cases.”

  She stood there, her mouth still open to complain. But Pat had recommended him, after all. Maybe they had some kind of agreement? She made a me
ntal note to check with her.

  Slowly she sank back onto the couch. “This shouldn’t be possible,” she muttered.

  Damien answered. “There’s a lot that shouldn’t be possible, but as you’ve seen for yourself, it is.”

  She tossed him a glare. “One doesn’t equal the other. Access to an ongoing investigation is severely limited.”

  “Unless,” Jude drawled, “you’re part of the investigation.”

  Now, what did he mean by that?

  Still disturbed but realizing there might be good reasons for this, she settled down and accepted the lo mein that Chloe handed her.

  She trusted Pat and Pat trusted Messenger Investigations. Pat was trying to help her. But she wondered if Pat had some kind of offbeat secret life.

  Because there was no question that Messenger Investigations was entirely offbeat.

  Chapter 2

  Jude read through the papers he had in hand but passed only a few of them to Damien. Caro wondered why, and then decided some of the details of the investigation were probably useless to them.

  Most of them, probably. Reams of highly technical details that weren’t going to tell them much, if anything, about the invisible force she had encountered.

  Hardly tasting the lo mein she was eating, she forced herself to stop watching the two strange men, and instead turned her attention to thinking through, yet again, exactly what had happened that night.

  No police officer wanted to receive that kind of call—a man claiming his family was being murdered. Adrenaline went through the roof, of course, but an extraordinary dread built, the kind of dread you didn’t feel when called to even the typical murder scene. A family. Somehow that changed all the parameters.

  It was a very well-to-do part of town, a place where the usual crimes were burglary and robbery, with an occasional domestic thrown in. Not the kind of place where entire families were murdered. Hell, even the worst parts of this city couldn’t lay claim to that.

  Gang killings, drive-by shootings, they happened. And sometimes the innocent got caught up in them. But an entire family sleeping in their beds?

  Extreme for any city, any neighborhood.

  And then that thing. That unidentifiable something. And what truly troubled her about it was that it had had no feeling. No sense of evil had struck her. Simply a sense of power. Indifferent, directed power.

  Somehow that was scarier than the stories her grandmother had told her. But it wasn’t a story, she reminded herself. She had seen what it could do, felt it watching her and knew it was real. What had her grandmother said many times when a story scared her? Something about how she would have nothing to fear when she found her own power.

  She had never believed in that power, or its ability to hold nightmares at bay. Now she was smack in the middle of a nightmare she couldn’t claim was simply a dream.

  Her stomach tightened and almost revolted at the lo mein as she began to wonder for the very first time how much her own stubbornness may have blinded her and limited her.

  Then a golden-haired young man joined them. Apparently he had a key, as she had heard no buzzer. He appeared to be in his early twenties, and had adopted an appearance of elegant dishevelment. It suited him. He also had a winning smile.

  But Caro viewed him from eyes aged by her job. Something about him struck her as naive, almost puppylike.

  “This is Garner,” Jude said. “Garner, this is our new client. I want to know one thing and one thing only from you. Do you sense demon around her?”

  Caro gasped. She couldn’t help it. Demon? Jude had to be joking. But she had grown up with hints of such things. Her grandmother had been remarkably reluctant to speak that word demon. But there had been warnings of dark powers to be wary of, and constant lessons about things she must never do.

  She hadn’t believed most of it even as a child. For her those stories had been about as real as the volume of Grimm’s Fairy Tales her grandmother had read to her from after her parents died.

  The notion that she might have dismissed something real almost made her brain reel. She was a realist, living with some psychic senses that she couldn’t entirely ignore, but she didn’t accept the fantasy world of her grandmother. In fact, she had chosen to work against evil in the most realistic way possible—by becoming a police officer.

  Now this?

  Garner cast his blue eyes over her, then approached cautiously. “Not demon,” he said with surety.

  “Then what?”

  “I don’t know. There’s something clinging to her, but it’s not exactly a dark energy, and it’s certainly not some discarnate entity. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “That’s it, then,” Jude said. “Go back to your life.”

  Caro was shocked by the dismissal, but Garner flashed a grin. “I’m curious,” he said. “I want to pursue this.”

  “You’re a demon hunter. This isn’t a demon. All you do is give me headaches, Garner. You know that.”

  Garner shrugged. “You’re lucky to have me.”

  “Sometimes.”

  The young man laughed and sauntered out.

  A short while later, Jude tossed the papers onto Chloe’s desk. “These are no ordinary murders. I need to do some research. Damien, I want you and Caro to go to the house where the murders occurred. I want you to check for something unusual, something out of place, something that sets your hackles up.”

  “I can do that.”

  “No, we can’t,” Caro objected, rising as she put her food container to the side. “We can’t enter a crime scene.”

  “The techs are done with it,” Jude answered. He tapped the papers. “Finished. So we can. You’ve been in there before, and Damien won’t leave any traces. But he might note something your crime techs didn’t consider significant.”

  “Why should he?”

  “Because he has different training. Just go and do it. And, Damien, see that she gets home safely, will you? I need to talk to Terri about some of the M.E. reports.”

  Caro felt utterly confused, but she wasn’t given any time to ask more questions. Damien took her elbow in a way that brooked no argument and guided her toward the door.

  “What’s going on?” she demanded as they reached the street and Damien opened the door of a battered old car.

  “We’re going to take a very different look at the crime scene, Caro. Now get in, unless you want to walk home.”

  She didn’t need to glance at her watch to know the buses had stopped running by now. She didn’t need to look up and down the darkened streets to realize she didn’t want to walk alone. She had a gun, she was a cop, but it wasn’t ordinary criminals who frightened her now.

  She glared at Damien. “You’re very high-handed.”

  “Mainly because I don’t have a lot of patience or time. Are you coming or not?”

  Muttering inside her own head, she climbed into the car. This wasn’t at all what she had expected.

  But what had she expected? Some soothing private investigator who would listen to her, charge her a few hundred dollars and promise to look into it?

  Instead, she had gotten a couple of guys who were determined to act right now. According to them, they weren’t even going to charge her. But what did she know about these men, after all, except that Pat had told her to trust Messenger?

  Crap.

  For the first time she seriously wondered what Pat Matthews had gotten her into. But maybe Pat hadn’t gotten her into anything. Maybe she’d gotten herself into this mess by refusing to shut her mouth.

  They had to drive nearly all the way across the city to get to Duchesne, but traffic was light at this late hour on a weeknight and they made decent time.

  Caro hardly noticed the speed of their travel. Something kept drawing her attention to Damien, as if he were a magnet and she couldn’t look away. God, he was gorgeous in a medieval sort of way. And she needed him to talk, mainly to distract her from the crime one or both of them were about to commit.

>   Maybe Malloy had been right: maybe she was losing her mind, even though he hadn’t quite said that. Unfortunately, however, that question was moving to front and center in her own mind. It was not a question she wanted to deal with right now, so she sought distraction.

  “So you’re from Germany?”

  “Most recently, yes. From Köln, although you probably know it as Cologne. I’ve lived there a long time.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  “A few months.”

  “You speak English incredibly well. No accent.”

  He glanced her way with a smile, his golden eyes almost gleaming in the flash from some passing headlights. “I’ve had a long time to practice. A very long time.”

  “You said recently. Where did you live before that?”

  “A lot of places.”

  “What was your most favorite?”

  “Ah, that’s a question. Every place has its charms. I certainly enjoyed Persia.”

  “Persia? You mean Iran?”

  “Persia,” he said firmly. “To me, it’ll always be Persia.”

  He didn’t look old enough to have called the country by any other name, she thought, then shrugged away the oddity. Probably something to do with politics.

  She turned forward again, tensing as they drew closer to Duchesne. She dreaded going back into that house. And then she felt Damien look at her again, felt the lust as his eyes raked her.

  The downside of being psychic. Or maybe the upside, because she now knew what she had to worry about with him. She could feel his attention as surely as she could feel that other thing that had attached to her. Maybe even more strongly.

  Just feel flattered, Caro. He wouldn’t try to pull anything. Besides, she knew she was capable of protecting herself against unwanted advances. If he got out of line, she could pin him to the ground in no time flat.

  Then she heard him sniff a couple of times. She looked at him reluctantly, reacting again with a strong surge of hormones. She had to get that under control pronto. What the hell was the matter with her?

  “You smell something?” she asked.

  “You.”