Just inside the glass doors, he stopped dead, the fur along his back bristling in alarm.
Magic. The smell of alien magic hung in the lobby, subtle but unmistakable. Not Magekind magic. Something else.
What in the name of all the gods and demons was this? And why hadn’t Giada sensed it?
Smoke realized the answer almost as soon as he thought of the question. Up until he’d eliminated the block on her magic, her powers had been weak during the day. And once they’d been strengthened, she’d returned to the Mageverse.
Which had left the Dire Wolf spy free to roam the department at will.
If Smoke could just discover who the mole was, they’d be that much closer to stopping the killer permanently.
So he put his nose to the industrial brown carpet and started working his way through the lobby, through a closed door, and down a corridor, magical senses alert.
The hallway was a soup of smells—no surprise, considering that more than three hundred officers worked for the department, plus assorted civilians. When you added witnesses, suspects, and victims to the list, teasing out who was who would be damned difficult.
What’s more, the mole had apparently been all over the building for months, laying down a variety of trails of different ages. The scent was strange—a blend of dog and human. Which wasn’t all that surprising for a Dire Wolf. As he’d thought from his glimpse during the fight, the scent was also unmistakably female.
Yet the odor wasn’t exactly the same as that of his attacker. Perhaps because the creature had assumed a different form?
Then again, itwould just about have to. Evenhumans would have noticed a seven-foot fanged monster among them.
MAGIC.
Smoke froze in his tracks as his own power leaped within him. He hunkered down and inhaled deeply, drinking in the scent. This new trail was very, very fresh, having probably been laid within the last hour.
He slipped along after it, resisting the impulse to move too quickly. It wouldn’t do to run right into the creature. He didn’t care to precipitate a fight that could end in humans being injured—and far too many questions being raised.
He had not gotten to be as old as he was by being reckless.
The scent trail led down one corridor, then another. Smoke followed it patiently, dodging oblivious cop feet, until it led to a closed door. The trail did not emerge again.
Which meant the mole was still inside.
Smoke crouched outside the closed door, listening hard, tail twitching as voices argued on the other side.
“Sam, you can’t seriously think MacRoy would knowingly have anything to do with getting Davis killed.” The male voice sounded incredulous. “Logan’s a damn good cop.”
“Then why in the hell would he try to tender his resignation? You heard the sheriff. He had to talk MacRoy out of handing in his badge right then.” The woman’s voice rang clearly, hot with anger.
“Knowing Logan, he just feels guilty because he couldn’t swoop down like Superman and fly Davis to safety.” The man snorted. “His sense of responsibility has always been a little overdeveloped.”
Smoke laughed silently. That was putting it mildly.
“I hope you’re right,” the woman growled. “But the fact is, we both know how damned good MacRoy is with explosives.”
“So you’re suggesting, what? He planted that bomb himself so he could disarm it? And instead, Davis tripped it?”
“He wouldn’t be the first cop who got somebody killed while trying to play hero.”
“Taylor, if you really believe Logan MacRoy’s capable of something like that, you’re not thinking clearly. I think you need to go take a couple of days off and get your head back on straight.”
Silence ticked by in icy seconds. Finally: “Is that an order, Lieutenant Billings?”
“Do I have to make it one?”
She swore viciously. Smoke jolted as he heard feet stalking toward the door. He whipped around and shot off down the hall.
It wouldn’t do to let the mole realize they were on to her.
The door banged open, and the mole froze as the scent of Mageverse magic hit her senses in a wave. She’d been concentrating so hard on the argument with the lieutenant, she hadn’t realized someone was eavesdropping.
Judging by the wild feline cast to the scent, it was the tiger creature Warlock was so interested in. She concentrated hard to penetrate the illusion the beast had cast, saw a blur of black. Except the small form disappearing around the corner didn’t belong to a tiger of any kind.
It was a house cat.
The Demigod was a shapeshifter of stunning power, if he could manage a transformation into something so small, yet still retain human-level intelligence.
Automatically, she started to lunge in pursuit, only to have a fierce jerk on her leash bring her up short.
“Cut it out, Jenny,” Deputy Samantha Taylor snapped, angry impatience ringing in her voice. “The lieutenant says we’ve got to go home for the day.”
For a moment, Amanda Devon considered sinking her fangs into her “handler’s” ass, then thought better of it. She needed to talk to her father. There had to be some way they could use this new knowledge to lure the Demigod into a trap.
And avenge her brother’s death by killing Logan MacRoy.
FIFTEEN
Giada lay in the darkened bedroom listening to the steady sigh of Logan’s breathing. He’d gone to sleep as if clubbed the moment the sun came up. Yet though she’d been up all night, she couldn’t seem to wind down enough to drift off herself. Her mind kept skipping over the events of the night like a stone across a lake.
Her threatening and confusing visions, the dizzying pleasure of making love to Logan, the fierce explosion of his Gift. Yet forcing him to yield to his own hunger had been the most difficult and painful event of the night. Come to think of it, it was the most difficult and painful thing she’d ever done, period.
Logan had vibrated against her in a tormented battle against his own vampire drives for fear of hurting her, even as she’d deliberately pressed her throat to his mouth.
Giada had realized there was a chance he’d lose control as completely as he feared, but she’d never thought it was much of a risk. Logan would never hurt a woman, regardless of the provocation.
She did, however, realize just how painful the struggle had been for him. His brush with death at the hands of Jimmy Cordino had scarred him more deeply than anybody had realized, including his parents. Yet Magi had to drink the magical blood of Majae—or die. He had no choice, particularly since he couldn’t gain his full powers without drinking directly from a Maja.
But did she have the right to force him to confront his fear? Especially by grinding his face into her throat?
It was a good thing he’d finally seen the light. She’d been on the verge of gating off so she could collapse in tears. Listening to him beg her to release him had made her feel like a rapist.
And maybe that feeling wasn’t all that far off the mark.
Yet after all that, he’d still brought her to a delicious orgasm that, in retrospect, only increased her guilt.
There was no doubt about it. Whatever his flaws, Logan was an instinctively gallant lover who seemed driven to make sure his partner had an even better time than he did.
Which was yet another reason Giada had fallen for him.
If she’d had any doubt about her feelings, last night had blown them right out of the water. Not only was he gorgeous and intelligent, but his basic decency had been bred right into the bone, despite the game-playing of various Majae that had also instilled a certain cynicism.
Not that Giada herself had any room to talk, considering last night’s ugly little game. If they’d ever had a chance at anything more, she’d probably killed it right there. How could he feel anything for a woman who’d bound and tormented him, regardless of the reason?
The only man she’d ever really felt anything for, and she’d blown it royally.
Perfect, Shepherd. Way to go.
Logan’s eyes sprang open. He stretched, a delicious sense of strength and well-being rolling through his body. Propping himself on his elbows, he drew in a breath—and his eyes widened.
SEX.
The air was full of it, warm and dark and female. His cock instantly hardened against his belly into a fierce and demanding length as his fangs slid to full extension.
Giada lay curled against him, deeply asleep. He rolled over and lowered his head, unable to resist the temptation to bury his face against the silken tumble of her hair.
He frowned. There was a trace of salt in her scent. Not the warm musk of arousal, but something else. Sadness. Grief.
She’d been crying.
Alarm rolled through him, banishing his lust. Had he hurt her the night before? He had been very careful when he’d bit her, but he’d also been very turned on. And vampire strength was much greater than human. What if he’d hurt her without meaning to?
He rolled over and found the bedside lamp, flipped it on. Winced as the flood of light made his eyes water as though he were staring straight into the sun at high noon. He jerked his eyes away from the lamp and waited for his sight to adjust.
“Logan?” She yawned hugely.
He sat up and began to examine her anxiously. Propping herself on her elbows, she blinked at him. To his relief, he saw no signs of bruises. Which didn’t mean much; there was no sign of his bite, either. Majae could heal their own injuries just as Magi could. “Did I hurt you last night?”
She frowned up at him. “No, of course not.”
“Are you sure?” He searched her gaze carefully.
“Yeah, why?”
“You were crying.” He brushed a thumb across her cheek, found he could detect a faint salty grit against her skin. God, his sense of touch was incredibly acute now. “I can smell your tears.”
“Yeah, but it wasn’t because of anything you did. More what I did.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
Giada lifted one shoulder and looked away. “I was pretty nasty to you last night—binding you with my magic until you bit me.”
He examined her face. “Yeah, that was a little high-handed, but you were right. I needed to drink from you, which meant I had to stop being a wimp.”
Giada snorted. “Of all the words I’d use to describe you, ‘wimp’ doesn’t make the list.” She met his gaze with a steady, straightforward stare. “I’m sorry I was such a bitch, Logan.”
“Yeah, well, the word ‘bitch’ doesn’t exactly leap to mind when I think of you, either, Giada.”
He thought she relaxed a little. “Umm. Good.” After a pause she said, “I’m sorry anyway.”
Logan shrugged. “I suspect I had it coming. I haven’t exactly been the model of chivalry the past couple of days. I think you used the word ‘jackass’ a time or two. Which was probably generous. ‘Asshole’ might have been more apt.”
Giada laughed. “Well, maybe a little.” To his relief, her gaze lightened, and a teasing smile flitted across her mouth. In his relief, he caught her in his arms and hugged her.
“Ow!”
“Shit!” He let her go and rolled off the bed to examine her anxiously. “Did I hurt you?”
She rubbed her ribs, wincing. “A little, but it’s just a bruise. I think your full strength must be coming in.”
Logan raked his hands through his hair in frowning thought. “That makes sense. From what I’ve heard, you usually have to drink from a Maja and go through at least one Daysleep before you really complete the transformation.” He was going to have to be damned careful, or he’d hurt someone without intending to.
Which meant he’d better keep his distance from Giada. Which was, dammit, the last thing he wanted to do. He had to get a handle on his new strength quickly.
Especially since, if Giada’s vision was correct, he’d soon have to go up against that Direkind killer and her pet bomber. Logan frowned. “I need to go see Dad and get in some combat practice.”
“Good idea.” Giada grimaced. “Come to think of it, Arthur and Guinevere have ordered me to present myself for more training, too.” When he frowned at her, puzzled, she explained, “In lieu of house arrest for disobeying orders.”
He winced in sympathy. “You may end up wishing they’d left you on house arrest.”
She lifted a brow. “Oh?”
Logan nodded, remembering some of his more memorable teenaged infractions. “Dad’s combat sessions tend to leave bruises, especially when he’s pissed.”
“Oh, that sounds like fun.”
“He probably won’t be that rough on you, though, since you’re female. Dad’s pretty old-fashioned when it comes to women.”
“Yeah, but he also seems to take the concept of obeying orders very seriously.” Giada raked her hair out of her eyes and grimaced. “He’s going to kick my ass.”
Logan gave her a sympathetic smile as he walked over to open the bedroom door. “Maybe, but he’ll kick mine, too. Much harder.”
He twisted the knob. With a screech of tortured metal, it gave like putty under his hand as the metal tongue tore through the doorframe.
They stared at the damaged door for a moment of mutual stunned silence.
“Maybe I’d better take care of opening doors for a while,” Giada said at last.
“Yeah. That would probably be a good idea.”
Arthur jerked the door open before they even had time to knock. Nonplussed, Logan met his searching gaze.
A grin of pure relief spreading across his face, Arthur snatched him into his arms with such power, Logan’s feet left the ground.
“He did it, Gwen!” his father yelled, thumping his back before dropping him back on his feet. “The kid finally did it!”
“Hey,” Logan protested. “I thought you said you knew I could manage the transition without any problem.”
“Hell, we were never worried about the transition. Come in, come in.” Arthur stepped back, waving them both inside. “We were afraid you’d have a fucking car accident or get shot or blown up or some damn thing before you got around to it.” He gave Giada a huge, sunny grin. “Thank you, girl.”
She stared at him in total confusion. “Wait a minute—didn’t you order me to stay away from him?”
“That,” Gwen said as she hurried down the hall to hug her son fiercely, “was because we were trying to hide how desperate we were for him to accept the Gift. We didn’t want either of you to think we’d sent you to trap him.” Stepping out of his arms, she muttered, “Though Merlin knows I was tempted.”
Logan met Giada’s confused gaze and shrugged.
“When you have children, you’ll understand,” Guinevere told him, tucking his arm into hers and leading them toward the sitting room.
“Actually, I’m here to ask you for combat training,” Logan told his father. “I just trashed Giada’s bedroom door.”
“Occupational hazard of getting the the Gift,” Arthur told him with a snort. “We’ll head to the training center and start working on your reflexes. Luckily, I’ve been training you for years, so you’ve already got a better foundation than most new recruits.”
Logan shook his head. “Still won’t be easy. My strength is so much greater, I’m afraid to touch anybody for fear of breaking bones.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Arthur said. “You break anything of mine, I’ll turn into a wolf and heal.”
“And promptly bite me on the ass.”
“Well, yeah.” His father’s grin faded. “I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news, though. Smoke just contacted Gwen. He found out who our Dire Wolf is. We’re going to move on capturing her tomorrow night. Then we’ll deliver her to the Direkind for justice.”
Logan gave Arthur a wary look. “How is that bad news? We find the psycho, we stop the killings.”
“It’s Samantha Taylor.”
He was so stunned, it took Logan a moment to respond. “Oh, hell no. Smoke’s wrong. I
’ve known Sam for two years, long before any of this started.”
Arthur shrugged. “She could have had this planned for a long time.”
“Why didn’t I sense it?” Giada said, her gray eyes wide with distress. “The magic around that thing we fought—you could have cut it with a knife. If Sam is the Dire Wolf, I should have known it the first time I met her.”
“Maybe she was blocking your senses,” Gwen suggested. “We know there was something keeping you and Smoke from tracking the bomber. It’s logical that this Sam has the same ability.”
Giada frowned. “And where the hell did that come from? Direkind are like Magi—they can’t use magic beyond their ability to shift.”
“Maybe there’s something they haven’t told us.” Gwen’s expression went thoughtful. “Though I suppose it’s logical that they’d have some means of blocking magical senses. After all, Merlin wanted them to remain hidden from us in case we ever turned against humanity.”
“When are you moving on this, Dad?” Logan asked. “I want a part in the takedown, but there’s no way in hell I should go into combat until I’ve got better control of my abilities.”
“Tomorrow night.” Correctly interpreting Logan’s expression, Arthur held up a hand. “I want to take my best knights on this, but I’ve got all three Round Table teams working connected operations in Spain, Pakistan, and Afghanistan. Those ops are balanced on a sword point, so I can’t do anything tonight. Still, I should be able to shake at least Galahad and Lance loose long enough to snatch that bitch wolf after sunset tomorrow.”
Logan frowned. “But what if she puts together another bombing in the meantime?”
“I’ve got a couple of Majae staking out her house. If they have to, they can call in more witches and take the little bitch down.” He sighed. “I don’t particularly want to do that—I hate sending Majae against a Dire Wolf, since the furry bastards are spell-resistant—but sometimes you’ve got to make the best of a bad tactical situation.”
Logan frowned. He didn’t like the delay a damned bit, but he saw his father’s point. Besides, he wanted a chance to look Taylor in the eye and find out why the hell she’d done this.
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