Rene nodded and shot a glare at Simon, then grasped Natalie’s elbow to guide her toward the door.
As she passed Simon, his hazel glance grew distant. “I’ll see you soon,” he murmured.
Feeling like flotsam swept along on a roiling tide, Natalie resisted Rene’s hold for a moment and stared back into her apartment. Chessa and Simon stood toe-to-toe, their words hushed but heated by the looks of their rapid-fire conversation.
“Don’t stop, now,” Rene said, pulling her down the hallway. “I’m takin’ you somewhere safe.”
“I don’t understand. Everyone else seems to know what’s happening, but I feel like Alice falling down the rabbit hole.”
“Chère, you’ve just had a taste of my life working with Chessa Tomas,” he said, his lips quirking into a small smile. “She may seem like a ravin’ bitch at the moment, but she has her reasons. She’ll fill us in later.”
“You trust her that much?”
“With my life.”
They exited the apartment building onto the sidewalk, which was illuminated by a single streetlamp, the light dulled to a pale halo by the heavy, moist air. Shadows encircled them. To Natalie’s already fried nerves, every darkened corner hid menace—all directed toward her.
Natalie grew still. A sound, like rushing wind carrying dozens of whispers, pricked her ears. “Someone’s here.”
Rene stiffened, and his gaze searched the darkness. “I don’t see anythin’, but I’ll trust your instinct.” His hand moved down her arm to grasp hers. “Ready to run for it?” he whispered.
She grabbed his hand and nodded.
“Now!”
They ran, Rene taking the lead, pulling her along. Natalie’s slides hampered her, so she kicked them off and ran barefoot for his car, parked along the curb further down the street.
The wind whipped closer, bringing the smell of rotten eggs—the same smell she’d detected when the birds attacked. “Rene!”
“I know!” he shouted over his shoulder. “Run faster!”
The whispers grew louder, accompanied by a buzzing that sounded like a million angry bees.
As they neared the car, Rene dropped her hand and aimed his remote to unlock the vehicle. They dove inside and slammed shut the doors.
Natalie screamed as a cloud of large winged bugs smacked against the car.
Rene fired the ignition and pulled away, his wiper blades smearing green carcasses from the windshield. After a few moments, they left behind the angry cloud of bugs. Rene blew out a deep breath and cast a quick glance her way. “That don’t happen every day. You okay?”
Shaken, Natalie felt a little giddy after the wild run. She gulped air into her burning lungs and reached for her seat belt. “I don’t know. How am I supposed to feel? Right now, I’d love a big can of insect repellant.”
He snorted and glanced into his rearview mirror. “Pigeons, locusts? What’s next? Your life’s a helluva lot more excitin’ than mine.”
The odd attacks and the murders of her parents—on the surface they might not seem related, but her gut told her they were. She hadn’t the knowledge to draw the necessary connections. But who would?
Natalie leaned back against the seat and shut her eyes, weary now the danger had passed. The smell of leather, mixed with a hint of Rene’s spicy aftershave, permeated the black sporty sedan. The seats were buttery soft. The engine growled, low and controlled. The man liked his comforts and power at his fingertips.
The car was like him, muscled and sexy, yet understated—and comfortable. He made her feel safe. She almost wished she could find something about him she didn’t like so their inevitable parting wouldn’t be so hard. Although they’d only met a couple of hours ago, she felt a connection—and an exhilarating attraction.
The car slowed to turn a corner, and she opened her eyes.
Rene’s face was taut, his glance constantly darting to his mirrors.
She straightened in her seat. “Do you think we’re being followed?”
“No. I’m sure we’re not.” He aimed a tight smile her way. “I didn’t take a direct route home, and I haven’t spotted a tail.”
“We’re going to your place? Not some safe house?” Pleasure filled her, leaving her a little breathless.
“My house is safe.”
He was taking her to his home. They’d be alone.
Those unexpected sensual feelings returned. Her nipples beaded. Desire curled inside her belly.
Rene’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, a muscle flexed at the side of his jaw. His gaze didn’t stray her way again.
The tension in the vehicle was thick—fragrant with unspoken yearnings. Or so, Natalie hoped.
They drove back into the French Quarter and turned into a narrow alley that ran behind a row of tall narrow houses with iron gates, postage stamp-size backyards and single-car garages. He hit a button in the roof of the car, and one door slid up.
After he pulled inside and the garage door lowered, he reached into the back seat for her bag. “Home sweet home,” he muttered, still not meeting her eyes.
Natalie followed him through a door that led into a mudroom, halting behind him as he paused to punch in the code to reactivate the security system. Then she trailed him through the kitchen and into a living room.
Her gaze took in the large fan suspended from a high ceiling and tall windows with forest green curtains. The walls were pale beige, the furniture dark and heavy. Finally, she turned to find him staring.
A muscle in his square jaw flexed, and his back stiffened. “I’ll put your things in my bedroom. I converted the other bedroom to an office, so I’m taking the couch. Try to get some sleep.”
He wanted to put some space between them.
Feeling a little deflated, Natalie nodded. “I’d like to shower.”
Rene led the way up a narrow staircase and down a hallway that ended in a door that opened to a balcony. His bedroom was to the right and sparsely furnished. The bed loomed large with a navy duvet and lots of pillows in the same dark blue and wine.
He set the case on the mattress and pointed to a closed door. “Bathroom’s through there.” He turned to leave and then shook his head. “Damn. I’m sorry. I never asked if you were hungry or wanted somethin’ to drink.”
Her stomach was in knots. She was hungry all right, but not for food. She shook her head in denial.
“Anyway, if you’re hungry afterward, I’ll scare up somethin’ from the kitchen.”
She found it unflattering how quickly he fled the room.
Sighing, Natalie walked to the French doors and pulled aside the curtain. The doors opened onto a long balcony that overlooked a small courtyard paved with a pale stone which reflected the lamplight from the empty street beyond.
Although the exterior echoed the shabby gentility of a bygone era, she knew the old antebellum-era house had to be a stretch on a detective’s salary. There was more to Rene Broussard than met the eye.
She let the curtain fall back and padded across the beige carpet to the bed and opened her case. The mystery surrounding the man was one she wasn’t destined to discover. And the quest that had brought her back to New Orleans had to go on hold for now.
Pulling out her nightgown and toiletries, she focused on mysteries more imperative than her late-blooming libido and the search for her birth mother—like why she’d suddenly become bug and bird bait, how Rene’s partner had known about the changes occurring to her body, and why Chessa and Simon had been arguing.
Rene closed his cell phone with a snap. Chessa hadn’t picked up. Whatever “arrangements” she was busy making were ones she didn’t want to communicate, and that was just fine with him. The strange occurrences of the past few hours fit squarely in Chessa’s dark realm. They simply underscored the fact he was better off keeping the hell away from Natalie Lambert.
Lying on the sofa in the living room, he listened to the creaks of the house settling after the heat of the day. The overhead fan stirred the air, but
did little to cool his agitation.
Although he’d stripped off his jacket and shirt and removed his shoes, he still couldn’t get comfortable enough to let his mind wander away from the blonde in his bedroom. Chessa had been right about those “fuck-me pheromones” the woman oozed. Why else would he be hard as a rock hours after he’d touched her soft skin?
Distance. Miles of it. That’s what he needed. As long as he was down here and she was up there, he’d be fine.
Just a few more hours and he could hand her over to Chessa. However much the woman in his bedroom intrigued him, he’d seen enough in his time to know she was trouble—the kind he was better off leaving to his partner and her kind to handle.
Chessa had known straightaway something was up, and her instincts were always dead-on.
Although they’d been partners for over four years, Rene wouldn’t say he knew her. While he didn’t have a bead on who the real Chessa Tomas was because of her spiny public demeanor and secretive private life, he knew what she was.
If the fact they were the only detectives assigned permanent night shift hadn’t clued him in, the first time he’d seen her take down a perp the size of a Saint’s linebacker clinched it.
Having a vampire for a partner did have its perks. Street punks tended to squeal like piglets as soon as Chessa flashed her fangs. And they had a certain autonomy within the department to take on “special” cases—like Natalie Lambert’s.
Only Chessa wasn’t usually so uncommunicative concerning the nature of an investigation.
When the call had come from the Memphis PD that Natalie had left the area, and they suspected she would return to familiar territory, the details of the case hadn’t rung any bells with Rene. However, Chessa had immediately noted the similarities with this crime and several in the “cold case” files. Crimes dating back over forty years. Young women, twenty-two to twenty-five years old, and everyone living with them—all savaged and drained of blood.
So the murderer was either pulling Social Security or not human.
Since he’d worked “otherkin” cases with Chessa before, her current reticence bothered him. Something bigger and probably closer to the real Chessa was at stake.
She’d said she wasn’t certain what Natalie was—but he’d sensed hesitation in her answer. Certainly, all signs indicated something extra-natural was going on here.
Chessa had nailed it when she’d said the girl was a temptation he’d find hard to resist—because he’d thought of little else other than sinking inside her moist depths since the moment he’d swept her off the bench in the park. He’d been in a constant state of arousal since he’d felt the first brush of her skin and breathed in her fresh lemon and apple scent. And that wasn’t like him—he wasn’t a pimple-faced kid. He could find plenty of sexual partners to take care of any urges he found too compelling.
He preferred to keep his personal life and his work separate. Never had he been tempted to break that rule. Not until today. Now, he felt like a silken tether bound him to the woman standing naked in his shower at this very moment.
So for tonight, he’d take Chessa’s advice to heart and hunker down—keep his distance from the temptation just up the stairs.
Intending only to adjust himself for comfort, his hand smoothed down his naked belly to grasp his rigid cock through his blue jeans. Instead, he squeezed and imagined what it would feel like to rut against the soft juncture of her thighs. He remembered the gentle grind of her ass as she’d shifted within his arms in the back of the squad car.
“Merde!” He jackknifed to a sitting position, wincing at the pinch of rough cloth against his sex.
The welcome sting reminded him to trust Chessa had Natalie’s best interests at heart—as well as his own. When his partner arrived, he was backing far away, because he’d be a goner if he came within ten feet of the sexy blonde upstairs.
CHAPTER 3
Natalie couldn’t sleep.
Not because she was afraid. For the first time in weeks, her stalker was the least of her worries.
Instead, her present danger lay in her own body’s betrayal.
Heat simmered beneath the surface of her skin—a flush of warmth that spread across her chest and belly. The air around her felt close and heavy despite the fan circling above the bed.
Her heart beat too quickly. Her breasts grew heavy. Her nipples peaked against the thin silk of her nightgown. Then blood rushed to the juncture of her thighs, plumping her slick folds.
She might be inexperienced, but Natalie recognized the signs of desire.
The cause of her misery paced restlessly around the house. The creaking hinges of the doors he checked and rechecked gave away his unrest. The muffled thud of footsteps as he walked around the living room below, and the slap of his bare feet on the wooden steps when he came up to patrol the hall pinpointed his location.
He passed outside her bedroom now, his shadow darkening the space beneath the door. Natalie ached to call out to him. Was Rene exercising extreme caution or suffering like she was?
Reaching beyond the moment, Natalie wondered, why him? Why now?
An instinct—some kernel of inborn knowledge—told her this new hunger was related to the current moon cycle. Just as the changes to her body began with the first sliver of pale light from the new moon, her need unfurled like a heron’s wings with the coming full moon.
This past month, she’d been steadily shedding the baby fat that plagued her adolescence, although her appetite, especially for blood-enriched meats, had increased. Her first period ever had come and gone. Then sensual awareness dominated her waking and sleeping thoughts.
For days, she’d dreamed of an anonymous lover in her bed. The things he’d done to her had left her breathless and blushing. If she managed to sleep tonight, she knew she’d find Rene’s face, his jaw taut with desire, his shoulders bunched as he hovered above her, supplanting the hazy man of her dreams.
Why him? Although handsome, he wasn’t the first good-looking man she’d ever encountered. But from the moment he’d pulled her from the park bench into his arms, her body recognized his claim. He’d held her close, his thickly muscled torso sheltering her from further harm. His strength and distinctive scent, a spicy heated musk, imprinted on her mind. If she closed her eyes, she was there once more, draped across his lap in the back seat of the sedan, awakening to desire for the first time.
Everything else—the horror of the attacks, the pain of her many little wounds—faded. She felt only his hard, muscled thighs beneath her bottom and the steely embrace that crushed the air from her lungs while he struggled for control.
She wanted to know those sensations again—and so much more.
Frustration humming inside her, she tossed back the bedcovers and padded to the French doors, flinging them open. She stepped into a wind that whipped her hair away from her face and the nightgown tight against her body. Infrequent drops of rain pelted her uplifted cheeks, cooling her skin.
A click sounded from the door further down the balcony. Clad only in jeans, Rene stepped out.
He was pure temptation, from brawny chest to bare toes.
“You shouldn’t be out here,” he said, his voice a grumpy, sexy rumble. “You set off the silent alarm.”
With her heart thudding in her chest, she turned away. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“Well, how ’bout not sleepin’ inside?”
His growling irritation made her smile. She felt the same way—bitchy, edgy, wonderfully horny.
She noted the tight set of his jaw, the rapid rise and fall of his chest, and felt an overwhelming urge to seduce him. And why shouldn’t she?
The way she figured it, her days were numbered. The menace dogging her steps would eventually catch up. Why not grab for all the joy she could find in what was left of her life?
She leaned back against the balustrade on her elbows, making sure the silky gown pulled tight across her breasts.
His gaze lowered, lingering for a moment on her
beaded nipples. “Cold?” he asked, his voice a rumbling, silky slide.
“Not really.” She decided to make sure he didn’t misinterpret the invitation. She sauntered toward him, stopping inches away from his rigid body. This close, she breathed in his musky male scent. The breadth of his solid chest and his height overwhelmed her, made her feel small, vulnerable—and intensely feminine.
He sucked in a deep breath. “Look, chère, whatever you’re thinkin’—it’s not gonna happen.”
She cast him a challenging stare. “Because I’m not what you want?”
He shook his head. “Damn, you’ve got to know that’s not it,” he said, his voice raw. “This just isn’t the right time.”
She met his gaze, hoping she didn’t look too needy, but wanting him to know she could be his—if he’d just reach out. “What if there never is a right time?”
His hands fisted at his sides. “I’m not lettin’ anything happen to you.”
She lifted her chin. “You can guarantee that?”
He glanced beyond her to the midnight sky, and he stayed silent.
Stubborn man. He thought he could withstand this chemistry of hormones and a waxing moon by sheer will. “Tell you what,” she said. “How about a kiss? And I’ll let it drop. It’ll be enough, I swear.” At his suspicious glare, she added, “Just a kiss.”
He blew out a deep breath and rubbed the back of his neck. “Will you come inside then?”
“Yes,” she said quickly. She’d promise anything just to draw him nearer. If he felt even a fraction of her need, he wouldn’t be able to resist for long.
The muscles in his throat rippled, and he nodded. “All right. A kiss.”
Shivering with excitement, she forced herself to keep her expression impassive.
When she stepped closer, he wagged his finger in front of her face. “Inside.”
Even better. She turned to head toward her bedroom.
“Uh, uh.” A crooked smile curved one corner of his mouth, and he snagged her wrist. “I guess that’s not a good idea.”
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