She sucked in breath through her nose. How was she supposed to respond to that? “Look, Hollis, I really wouldn’t be comfortable—”
“You asked me something when you were all over me in the hotel room,” he said. “You asked me why I wanted to date you when we didn’t have very much sex. Remember that?”
Yeah, she did. She cringed. “I’m sorry I said that. I should never—”
“It’s okay,” he said. “Because I started thinking about it, and I realized that was one of the things about you that was the most attractive to me. You’re so... lethal, Dana.”
“Lethal?” Had he really just said that?
“Yeah,” he said. “You’re a werewolf tracker, and you can do all this neat stuff. And you’re dangerous, you know.”
“I’m not dangerous,” she said.
“But you are,” said Hollis. “You’re all about your job, and you’re real efficient and business-like, and that makes me crazy. It was never about the sex, not exactly. It was about the rush. Being with you is a total rush.”
She held up her hand. “Stop.”
She didn’t want to hear any more. Hollis didn’t understand her at all. He was telling her that the thing about herself that she hated was his favorite part. She didn’t want someone to date her because she was a werewolf. She wanted someone to date her because she was her. Even if all the weirdness with Cole wasn’t going on, she wouldn’t want to be with Hollis. Not if he only wanted the rush.
“There’s no way that I can be with you, Hollis,” she said.
“But I’m telling you that it’s okay,” he said. “What you’re worried about is okay with me.”
“No,” she said. She got up and walked across her living room, pausing at the entrance to the kitchen. She turned to look at him. “I don’t... feel that way about you, Hollis. Not anymore. Too much has happened to me.”
He set down the soda. “You’re kidding me.”
“I’m not.”
He stood up. “Seriously? You lead me on through all of this and then you just ‘don’t feel that way’?”
“I didn’t mean to lead you on. I never gave you any reason to think that I—”
“Here’s a tip, Dana. When you’re conning a guy so that he’ll write a flattering story about you, it helps not to give up the con before he goes to press.”
“I wasn’t conning you.” Now, she was offended.
“Please,” he said. “You’ve been playing me like a violin. And hot damn if it wasn’t working.” He pushed past her. “I’m going to publish the truth in this article.”
“Hollis,” she said. “Please. It’s not like that.”
He opened the door to her apartment. He paused, turning to look at her. “The gloves are off, Dana. You just showed your true colors.” He slammed the door in her face.
What?
She glared after him, frustrated and confused. Could he really think she’d been trying to seduce him in exchange for good press?
Was he a huge idiot?
She sighed. He was probably just trying to save face after she rejected him. She’d give him a little time to cool off. He’d come around. Hollis wasn’t that irrational.
* * *
Dana woke in the darkness, certain that she’d heard Cole’s voice.
She sat up in bed, her heart pounding. She reached over and switched on the lamp that sat by her bed. The room was filled with faint light.
“Just a dream,” she muttered to herself.
She lay back down, but she didn’t turn off the light. She thought the thing that was worst about all of it was that she was experiencing both terror and desire at the same time.
If Cole had actually appeared in her room, standing at the edge of her bed, chains draped from his hands, she would have screamed. She would have done her best to fight him off.
But she also would have been shot through with thrills and excitement.
Dana contemplated how similar the emotions felt. Fear and desire were a lot the same. Both made her heart pound, her breath grow shallow, her body feel sensitive and vulnerable.
She stared at the ceiling.
The truth was that Cole was locked in a cell downstairs, and he wasn’t getting out.
The thought was relief. It was disappointment.
What if he got out?
Dana sat back up again. That was impossible. The security downstairs was designed for werewolves. It wasn’t easy to break through. There was no way Cole was out.
But what if he had? She was connected to him somehow. Maybe she’d know. Maybe he could communicate with her. Maybe that was why she had woken up.
She clutched her covers against her chest, her heart speeding up even faster.
She peered around the room, as if Cole were about to jump out of one of her shadowed corners. But there was only a chair with two mismatched socks hanging over the top of it, the brush and comb on her dresser, her own frightened face reflected back at her in her mirror.
She pulled the covers over her head. Cole was still downstairs. He was still in his cell.
She threw the covers down. She had to be sure.
She had to check.
She got out of bed, pulled on a pair of jeans under her nightshirt, and tied her hair into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. She wasn’t going because she wanted to see him, not really. She just needed to be sure that he was still locked up.
But she paused and looked at herself in the mirror.
Maybe she should put on a bra. And maybe she should fix her ponytail. Her hair was a little messy.
Within five minutes, Dana was in the hallway outside her apartment. The lights were on out here, but instead of making Dana feel cheered and reassured, they seemed to wash everything out—a bit of fluorescent unreality. She swallowed, cautiously making her way down the hallway, still not completely sure that Cole wasn’t waiting for her around the next bend.
She could picture him, still in his prison uniform, his glasses dangling from two fingers. His dark eyes would pierce her. I’ve found the courage to kill you, he’d say.
She stopped in her tracks. Maybe she should just go back to bed. She could lock the door of her apartment. Lock all the doors inside too. Push her dresser up against the bedroom door. That would keep him out.
She was being silly. He was downstairs in his cell. Once she’d confirmed that was true, she wouldn’t have to be afraid anymore.
She rounded a corner and emerged in the hallway that led to the elevator. Here, one of the lights wasn’t functioning properly. It flickered overhead, making a buzzing noise. There was a vague strobe light effect.
Dana walked faster, moving past a set of vending machines against the wall. They seemed half-alive under the flickering light, as if they were struggling to get free.
She chewed on her thumbnail, a habit she thought she’d rid herself of when she was twelve years old. She stared at the carpet while she walked. It was a mixture of earthy tones, the kind of carpet that’s hard to stain because it has so many colors in it.
But if she watched the carpet, she wouldn’t see Cole if he were walking down the hallway to meet her.
She looked up. The hallway was empty. There was nothing there but flickering vending machines, bland carpet, and blank walls. She took a deep breath.
The elevator was five steps away.
She wasn’t sure if the sight of it made her feel relieved or apprehensive. She pushed the button on the wall to summon it.
And then someone was behind her. She could feel him, sense him, a heavy force, a shadow, a—
She turned.
Nothing there. She was alone in the hallway. She swallowed. “Pull yourself together, Dana,” she whispered.
Who had she thought was behind her? Cole? Would she have welcomed him if she saw him?
Maybe he was inside the elevator. Maybe when it opened, he’d be standing inside. No glasses. No shirt. Just the jeans he’d been wearing when he’d forced her to shift. He’d reach out for he
r hand, pull her inside with him. His mouth would find hers, his hands would already be at the hem of her shirt, tugging it over her head—
The elevator dinged.
Dana jumped.
The doors slid open, revealing an empty elevator. The brushed metal wall reflected a distorted and blurry bit of her skin tone on the far wall. She stepped inside.
She pushed the button for the bottom floor, where Cole was kept.
Please swipe access badge. Blinking red letters above the console.
Dana dug it out of her pocket, swiping it against the reader.
Access to this floor is denied, it blinked at her.
“Fuck,” said Dana. Ursula really hadn’t wanted her to see Cole, had she? Ursula had actually taken away Dana’s options. She couldn’t get down to see him even if she tried. “Fuck.”
The elevator doors swung closed.
Dana stood inside the enclosed room for several minutes, feeling bewildered. Then she punched the button to open the doors and shuffled out into the hall.
Within minutes, she was outside Avery’s door, banging on it. “Brooks, wake up!”
It took him awhile to open the door. When he did, he looked at her with haggard eyes. “Gray? Something wrong?”
“I need your access badge,” she said.
He rubbed his face. “Why?”
Avery leaned against the door frame, and Dana suddenly realized he was nearly naked. He was only wearing a pair of plaid boxers. Her gaze swept up over his body. How had she never noticed how broad Avery’s shoulders were? How flat his stomach was? He had like... muscles in his stomach.
“Gray?” said Avery.
She snapped her gaze to his face. “Um... I think Cole Randall got out of his cell.”
Avery glared at her. “Nice try. Go back to sleep.” He started to shut the door.
She put a hand out, stopping him. “Wait. I’m freaked out here, okay? I know it sounds crazy, but I can’t go back to sleep until I’m sure he’s not coming for me.”
Avery hesitated.
“Please, Brooks.”
He opened the door up wider. “Come in.”
She did her best not to brush up against all his bare skin when she did. She wasn’t sure what was wrong with her. Every time she’d ever woken Avery up, he’d been in his boxers. She’d seen him like this before. But she’d never found him particularly attractive before. Maybe it was the wolf thing, like what had happened with Hollis. Maybe she was turning into some kind of random horny wolf-woman. But not being able to control her wolf was another reason she needed to see Cole.
Avery dialed on his phone. “Hey, it’s Brooks.... Yeah, tracking office.... I need you to go to Randall’s cell and make sure he’s still there.”
Jesus, why hadn’t she thought of that?
Because it hadn’t really been about finding out if he was there, had it? Her fears had tricked her. She wanted an excuse to see him, and that was all this was about.
“Humor me,” Avery was saying. A pause. “Thanks.” He moved the phone away from his mouth. “He’s checking.”
“Thanks,” she said, feeling stupid. She stared down at her feet.
“Look, it’s okay to be frightened,” said Avery.
She laughed. “Right, if I’m scared, then all is right with the universe.” But if I’m hot for him, well... that’s crazy time.
Avery started to respond, but someone on the other end of his phone call interrupted him. “Okay. Great. Thank you so much.... Um, we had a tip that he’d escaped. Figured it was nonsense, but we wanted to make sure.”
Avery was even lying for her. He was such a great friend. She sighed.
Avery hung up his phone. “Still there. He’s locked up tight.”
“Good,” she said. And she was relieved. She didn’t want him to get out, not really. She wrapped her arms around her own waist. “Good.”
“You really are freaked out.”
She shrugged, shaking her limbs free. “No, I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”
“You sure?”
She nodded furiously. “Yeah, yeah. Definitely.”
He gave her a lopsided grin. “You want a hug?”
Her gaze fixed on all his bare skin, the way his muscles rippled under it. He was so masculine and angled and... “I’m fine.” She backed up.
Avery looked down at himself. “I could put on a shirt.”
She fumbled for the door. “You know, I think I’ll just go back to bed. I’m really sorry for bothering you. I’m acting like an idiot.”
“It’s okay.” He started to say more.
But then she was out in the hall, shutting the door behind her, and she couldn’t hear Avery anymore. Before he could come after her, she sprinted away, bounding down the hallway as fast as she could. She was so embarrassed. How could she be finding Avery, of all people, attractive? First serial killers, now co-workers. What was next? Family members?
She needed to go for a run. That was the answer. A late night run in the cool air. Yes. Definitely.
* * *
“Did Cole force you to shift against your will?” asked Chantal. She had a very earnest expression on her face. Dana had never seen her quite like this before. Usually, Chantal’s questions were about how Dana felt. Now it seemed like Chantal was a detective, trying to figure out who had perpetrated a crime.
“I don’t think so,” said Dana. “He pressured me, but I’m pretty sure I was the one letting the wolf out. I would relax, and it would just overtake me.”
“Are you sure?” asked Chantal.
Dana bit her lip. “Pretty sure.”
“There isn’t some way that he could have been doing that to you, and you would have thought you were doing it to yourself?”
“I don’t know,” said Dana. “Is that even possible? Can a werewolf force someone else to shift?”
Chantal sucked in a breath. “Well, not typically, no. But when you were talking about how you felt compelled to kiss Cole, that your wolf was drawn to him, but your human self wasn’t, it made me think of something I studied in college.”
“What?”
“I have a degree in werewolf psychology,” said Chantal. “I suppose you know that’s why the SF hired me.”
“No,” said Dana. “I didn’t think there was any difference between werewolves and humans as far as psychology goes.”
“Most people don’t,” said Chantal. “Most psychiatrists don’t. Studying the peculiarities of werewolves has gone out of vogue. In an academic setting, it’s considered prejudiced. The accepted view these days is that once a were has gone through training and suppressed his wolf, then he’s also suppressed any effect that the wolf might have had on his psyche.”
Dana nodded. “Yeah, I guess that’s what I always thought. Are you saying that’s not true?”
Chantal sighed. “Oh, I don’t know. I thought maybe something was going on here between the two of you, something that hasn’t happened in over fifty years so far as anyone knows.”
“But you don’t think so now?”
“I really can’t be sure,” said Chantal. “You say he didn’t force you to shift, right?”
“Right,” said Dana.
“But he seems to be calling you.”
“Calling me?”
“It’s an old term,” said Chantal. “You wouldn’t have heard of it. I only learned about it in my werewolf history class. We learned all about Fredrich Sullivan and how he treated wolves in the 1920s.”
“Sullivan,” repeated Dana. He was the guy who the Sullivan Foundation was named after. He had studied wolves in the early part of the twentieth century, and the foundation was named after him as an honorarium. He was the first to study wolves scientifically. Dana wasn’t sure, but she thought the Sullivan Foundation had been formed sometime in the 1960s, after Sullivan’s death. It wasn’t officially sanctioned by the government until the 1980s. Sullivan’s ideas had very little to do with the current incarnation of the SF. He’d been a little bit crazy, as n
ear as Dana remembered. He’d experimented with using cocaine to treat wolves (unsuccessfully), and he’d been obsessed with the idea that werewolves were like regular wolves. “He really thought werewolves were like wild animals, right?”
“You do know,” said Chantal.
“I know a little,” said Dana.
“When he first began to observe and treat wolves, he found that they seemed to gravitate to each other, to live in groups,” said Chantal.
“Oh,” said Dana. “Right. He thought they were packs, like animals, right? He thought they were connected by some kind of animal bond.”
“Exactly,” said Chantal.
“But really,” said Dana, “they all lived together because the lupine virus is hereditary, and so it often affected whole families, and because they were afraid of persecution.”
“Right,” said Chantal. Her shoulders slumped.
“What?” said Dana. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing,” said Chantal. “I was crazy to think it in the first place. Sullivan was crazy too, everyone knows that. He had some good ideas, and people were able to work with them to create the training process we use today, but that other stuff he thought was just nuts. I don’t know how I let myself get carried away.”
Dana wasn’t sure what to say.
“It’s just that I’m so frustrated by this case,” said Chantal. “I feel like I can’t help you.”
“Actually,” said Dana, “I really think I’m doing better.” That wasn’t true. But Dana had decided that if she was ever going to get back down to see Cole, she was going to have to convince Chantal that she wasn’t having any problems anymore. Chantal had cut her off, and Chantal would give her access again. Dana just had to seem like she was making progress.
Chantal raised her eyebrows. “You do?”
Dana nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah. I really think that getting back to work and staying busy was the best thing I could have done for myself. And not seeing Cole is good for now. Kind of out of sight, out of mind.”
“You haven’t been thinking of him?”
“I have, but it’s been less than usual,” said Dana. “A lot less.”
“Really?” Chantal narrowed her eyes.
Dana avoided her gaze. “Really.”
It was quiet for a moment.
“Well,” said Chantal. “That’s good news. We’ll see if things continue to improve at our next session.”
* * *
Avery slapped a stack of paper down on Dana’s desk. “Here you go. First batch of Cole Randall’s email correspondence.”
The Killing Moon Page 15
