Storm of Sin

by Patricia D. Eddy

  “Y-yes,” she stammers, and I crush my lips to hers.

  Fuck. So sweet. And stronger than I’d thought. Her life force flows into me as our tongues dance together, and when my teeth scrape her lower lip, she moans. Or perhaps...that sound is coming from me.

  Laura melts against the bricks, and soon, I have to wrap my arms around her slight frame to hold her upright. She claws at my shirt, desperate for more, but I probe her mind, seeing a husband, two children—adorable ones, even.

  Enough.

  Pulling away, I cup her cheek, my other arm still tight around her back. “Look at me, Laura.”

  She gasps as her gaze locks on mine. Unsurprising. With my feeding haze at its peak, my normally dark blue eyes are probably blood red. I let my lips curve and lower my voice. “Where were you going when you saw me?”

  “The bank.” Enraptured now, she gives me a lazy smile. “But we could go to a hotel?”

  “No, sweetheart. Pay attention.” After another brief kiss, I push into her mind once more. “You were headed to the bank, but then you heard a kitten crying from the alley. So you went to look for it. As soon as you reached this spot, the sound ceased. You waited a few moments but never found the poor little thing, so you returned to your errands. You will have no recollection of me, and will feel no guilt for what we...shared.”

  The memories firmly implanted in her mind, I break our connection and step back, using a small amount of my newly refreshed power to hide myself behind my glamour.

  Laura shakes her head and blinks hard. “Here, kitty, kitty. Where are you, little one?”

  After another few seconds, she shrugs, straightens her jacket, and almost floats back towards the bank. She’ll remember nothing, other than how amazing she feels.

  Letting my glamour slip away, I head in the opposite direction to find another very willing victim.

  Three

  Sin

  Fort Baker State Park.

  Dead shifter off of Bunker Road.

  CSI and Coroner en route.

  Meet Agent Dawes there and DO NOT be your usual dickish self.

  Commander Eve’s terse message grates as I dab my lips with a handkerchief and watch my latest conquest toddle off, floating on the memory of shaking hands with one of the Helmsworth brothers.

  Some days, my only joy comes from the little falsehoods I plant in the minds of those who keep me alive with their energy. Sated at last, I stride to my car, the lights on the Audi A3 flashing seconds before I sink into the buttery leather seat. Once I take the top down, I gun the engine and peel out into traffic.

  After close to six hundred years exiled to the mortal realm, little excites me. The chase, the joy of feeding? Both provide temporary distractions, but most days, I am bored out of my mind. Bored enough to consider petitioning Gabriel to reduce my sentence. Though the celestial realm is the most droll place in all of creation. Now that my brother has left to make his place on earth—and mated himself to a warlock for fuck’s sake—there’s even less reason for me to want to return.

  My work for the Bureau of the Occult and the Other is all that keeps me from stabbing my eyes out with a ball point pen. Other-on-Other crime can’t be left to humans, but most of our cases are no more than run-of-the-mill. Werewolves, vampires, witches, and Fae can rob, steal, and maim as easily as humans. They are merely harder to catch.

  Rolling to a stop at the light, I tap the in-dash controls. “Play case report: Fort Baker State Park.”

  A melodious voice oozes through the speakers. “As you wish, handsome. Victim is a twenty-five-year-old female tiger shifter. The body was discovered by two human runners approximately ninety-minutes ago. Mem-Clear has been dispatched, and the humans’ statements have been recorded, along with their memory scans. A perception screen is in place along the perimeter, and all traffic has been diverted. CSI Team Two is en-route. Agent Zoe Dawes arrived on scene five minutes ago and is not awaiting further instructions.”

  Of course. I shift into a higher gear and take the curves at speeds only a being with preternatural abilities can handle. The tires leave the road as I careen around a bend, but I know my car—my sexy beast—and she can take more. Especially when I have so recently fed.

  I cover the ten miles in under seven minutes, slam on the brakes, and squeal to a stop mere feet from the containment area.

  The woman crouching by the body, elbows on her knees, fingers steepled, with her auburn hair blowing in the breeze turns her gaze to mine.

  A punch of power knocks me back against the seat, and her green eyes narrow and focus on me. There is something decidedly other about this human. Her stare draws me in and stirs something deep inside me. A long-ago feeling I cannot pinpoint or name. Or decide if I like.

  Her photo did not do her justice. Rough-chopped red curls tumble around a thin, pale face. Freckles dot her nose, and bruised, puffy bags give her eyes a hollow look. The leather jacket hides her body and must be at least two sizes larger than she needs.

  Rising, she unfolds her long, graceful legs, and I catch sight of a simple black blouse clinging to her breasts. Her full lips—unadorned—part, but the brief moment of desire that flashes in her eyes vanishes in a single breath.

  She shakes her head. “Are you Sinclair?” she asks, jamming a palm on her hip.

  “I am.”

  “You’re late.”

  Zoe

  Great. My partner’s a pretty boy in a hot car with a swagger that could topple buildings. He strides over to me like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

  Someone’s dead, dammit. Show a little fucking respect.

  “You have a good reason for the delay?” I snap.

  “A man has to feed.” He bares his teeth, and I hold my breath, expecting fangs, but he merely smiles at me.

  Working my jaw, I measure my words carefully. “Eat faster in the future. This one’s hot.”

  “Care to explain?”

  Unease slithers through me, and it takes all of my control not to rub the back of my neck. The gloves on my hands aren’t exactly clean. Not after touching the corpse that had once been a beautiful young woman.

  The handbook the commander gave me the previous morning kept me awake all night. A primer of sorts on Others. I read it cover to cover, fascinated, horrified, and excited all at the same time. And for the first night since I was released from the hospital, I didn’t even think about touching the whiskey.

  “A shifter’s age is evident in her eyes. Faint circles radiate out from the pupils. The more lines, the older the shifter is.”

  “Gold star, Agent. Though most in my world learn such a thing by the time they are five.” His smooth voice makes me want to melt at his feet and strangle him at the same time.

  “Well, excuse me. Some of us were raised to believe your world was all in our imagination. My point is that you won’t be able to tell me how old she is.”

  Sinclair arches a brow and crouches down. He pulls a glove from his pocket and snaps it over his long fingers before peeling back one of her eyelids. In that moment, his entire demeanor changes.

  The flippant, irreverent playboy fades away, and he whispers something I can’t hear before gently stroking his finger from her sculpted brow to her cheek.

  Even after everything I’ve seen working for the SFPD, the shifter’s empty sockets leave me off balance and queasy, and it appears Sinclair is affected too. “Hot enough for you?”

  “Perhaps,” he says as he rises and pulls off the glove. “But what I would truly like to know? What has your panties in such a twist, Agent? I do not think this is all because of the condition of the body.”

  “My name is Zoe. As for what’s upsetting me? Your attitude, for one thing, Sinclair.”

  He stares at me, surprise in his midnight blue eyes. “Only the commander calls me Sinclair. You may call me Sin.” His nostrils flare, which in a human, would indicate offense. But with whatever the hell he is? Who knows? “Eve rarely backs down, and she seemed quite insistent we
work together. So, I am afraid we are stuck with one another.”

  At least he’s honest.

  “Looks like it.” Turning back to the body, I stare at her. Beautiful—if not for the pallor of her skin and those damn missing eyes. Looking at her makes me feel like my entire existence is being drained away. Everything inside me gone. So I focus my attention on the surrounding area.

  “Why would they dump her? Here? Did they want her to be found?” I walk the perimeter, feeling Sinclair—Sin—staring after me.

  “They?” His nostrils flare again, and he shakes his head slowly. Okay. Now I know he’s scenting something. “Is there some reason you believe this is the work of more than one? Or that the perpetrator—or perpetrators—wanted her to be found?”

  “Look at this place.” I wave my hand in a circle around me. “It’s a well-used trail, the weather’s almost perfect and has been for a week. There’s zero chance the body stays hidden past 9:00 a.m. And there’s not a damn bit of trace anywhere. That amount of care? Almost assuredly two people. Or more.”

  “She was not thrown from a vehicle,” Sin muses and inclines his head. “The dirt is not disturbed. She is posed. Her feet are pointing due south. Palms up. Almost in supplication. There are faint bruises on her arms, but her body is clean—as if someone washed her.” He pauses, then arches a brow. “Look at her, Agent—Zoe.”

  I do, and immediately, my stomach lurches. Sin takes a step closer. “Are you about to be ill?”

  “This isn’t my first rodeo,” I snap. But his question isn’t out of left field. It’ll be a miracle if I hold it together for the next few minutes until we can get the fuck out of here.

  “Then why do you appear as if you are about to lose your breakfast?”

  The commander’s last instructions echo in my head. “Trust your partner, Agent Dawes. Sinclair is difficult, arrogant, and something you have never seen the likes of before. However, he is, above all…loyal.”

  Pressing my hand to my stomach, to the scar from Temple’s bullet, I swallow hard. “It’s not the body. Not…exactly.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Sin tilts his head and narrows his eyes at me.

  Fuck. His gaze packs a punch I’m not prepared for. The shifter…she was empty. Gone. A hollow shell. But Sin?

  His eyes are full of heat. And pain. Regret. Longing. Curiosity. Resignation. So much more. Irises the color of a perfect sapphire, the outsides glowing a sky blue. And staring at him settles my stomach almost immediately.

  Why?

  “Zoe? Agent Dawes?” He holds out his hand, and my gaze pings between his strong fingers and his eyes. That’s when I understand. Why the shifter affects me so deeply.

  With Sin, everything I associate with a person, their soul, the very essence of their being is present. He’s so much more complicated than the humans I’m used to dealing with, but he’s definitely…here.

  The shifter’s body? It’s missing all of that. Even after death, a person’s soul remains for a time. I used to swear I could see it. Until Temple warned me repeatedly not to admit that to anyone.

  But with the shifter? She’s not even a ghost. There’s just…nothing there.

  Frowning, I shake my head. “I’m fine.”

  After a beat, he nods. “Very well.”

  I can’t help but ask. “What are you?”

  “Something that should have never been born.” Sadness laces his deep, lightly accented voice, but as I pin him with a hard stare, he sighs. “Incubus. Mostly.”

  “Do you have…talents?” He isn’t telling me the whole truth, but though I’ve always been able to read people, to know whether they’re lying, I have no idea what he’s keeping from me.

  “Talents?” His lips curve into a frown, and that strong, perfectly sculpted brow furrows, making me want to smooth the lines away.

  “Incubus. You feed off of arousal, yes?”

  He nods. “I can also feed off of fear, though I choose not to.”

  “What else? Can you read minds? Shit like that?”

  Sin shoves his hands into his pockets. “I require arousal—and a name—to feed. I can, when connected to a person, see their memories in limited fashion. But only if they are willing or unawares—two states I can induce if necessary.”

  “How?” I need to know what I’m dealing with. What my partner can do. For me. With me. To me.

  “Through vision and touch. I require both to compel someone—along with a pliant mind. I can give a person a ‘nudge’ if you will, to want to touch me. Something to tip them over the edge if they are wavering. And when I am hungry, I will automatically appear more…appealing to any humans around me. You have my word, however, that I never take from a human against their will.”

  “Is that because you can’t or is it some moral code you live by?”

  He’s wary, but inclines his head. “My own moral code. Incubi are some of the world’s most powerful demons. And the most dangerous. What is wrong, Zoe?”

  I don’t trust him enough to explain. Yet. Or to tell him just how green I am. “Nothing.”

  My curt response sets him off, and the low sound he makes could almost be described as a growl. “Fine. You know where the morgue is?”

  “I’m assuming you’re not referring to the San Francisco Medical Examiner’s office.”

  Sin flashes me a wry smile. “Hardly. Follow me, then. I’m in the A3.”

  Like I hadn’t noticed. But I keep my reaction to myself lest he leave me to find the morgue on my own. After all, he is a demon. I don’t expect him to ever give me a straight answer.

  How did I end up here? The only human working for an agency that calls itself BOO and following an incubus to a place no human knows about where I could disappear and never be heard from again.

  Oh. That’s right. I got shot by a man I should have been able to trust more than anyone else in the world. And then, I had the gall to investigate it.

  Four

  Sin

  The CSI team—this one comprised of a mage and two warlocks—teleports the body directly to the morgue, so by the time we arrive, Dr. Breslin, the Bureau’s coroner, is already partway through her examination.

  My new partner looks a bit unsteady as she enters the room, but she swallows hard and schools her face into a mask.

  “Initial findings?” I ask Breslin.

  “Always hard to tell with shifters,” she says. “Their injuries heal so quickly.” Touching the dead woman’s wrist with a metal probe, she nods as the device beeps in her hand. “Yep. Ligature marks.”

  “How can you tell?” Zoe asks, crouching so she can get a better look. “I don’t see anything.”

  “This device reads the concentration of blood under the skin. Here,” Breslin points to one slender wrist, “it registers a seven percent increase in broken blood vessels. Too low for the naked eye. I’d guess her ankles show the same marks. She was restrained a few days before she was killed.”

  “Cause of death?” I ask.

  The doctor pulls back the shifter’s lips, then runs a handheld scanner over her torso. “Hmm. This looks like a puncture wound.” She points to a small red dot on the side of the shifter’s neck. “The tox screen will take at least four hours—and that’s only if I’m lucky and get the sample in ahead of the vampire-orgy-gone-wrong in the Castro.”

  “Orgy?” Now that has the potential to be interesting. Unlike this case. Plus, the idea of seeing the very inexperienced Zoe Dawes wade through the aftermath of a vampire orgy makes my heart beat a little faster.

  “That’s Harv’s case, Sin. And he’s not sharing,” Breslin says with a dry chuckle.

  Shoving my hands into my pockets, I run through all the ways I could possibly convince the commander to transfer me as the doctor waves her assistant over.

  The shifter is—was—beautiful. Long, dark brown hair, a lithe, toned body, and perfect skin. But a vampire orgy… The very idea leaves me salivating.

  Breslin and her assistant slide the dea
d girl onto a sheet, then flip her. Zoe draws in a sharp breath, while I cannot seem to force my lungs to inflate at all. Her back is covered in fresh wounds. Long, thin welts with triangular-shaped markings at the ends. They healed enough to scab over, but only barely.

  Breslin’s assistant takes several pictures, and then the doctor brushes the shifter’s dirty locks off her neck. “Well, this is interesting.”

  A fresh tattoo mars her skin. Fuck.

  “Mio maestro,” I whisper, and Zoe snaps her gaze to mine for a brief second until I shake my head.

  No. I will not entertain the possibility. It cannot be him. But the small faery with luminescent wings and a chain wrapped around her neck is too much of a coincidence for it to be anyone else.

  “What’s that?” Zoe asks as she takes out her phone and snaps a photo.

  Bloodlust, anger, and yes, fear, simmer under my skin, and both the doctor and my new partner jump at my snarl. “That…is a brand.”

  Fuck the vampire orgy. Harv can run with it. This case is mine—even if the Almighty herself offers me Heaven on a silver platter.

  Zoe

  Alone with the body after the medical examiner and her assistant head off to help with the victims of the vampire orgy—really? Vampires hold orgies?—my unease returns with a vengeance. The shifter is face up again, and her eyelids are peeled back, her empty sockets on display. Sin stares at her like he’s seen a ghost.

  “I should have known,” he says under his breath. “I should have felt it. All these years. Centuries. Why now?”

  “Um, hello? It’s your partner? I’m still here.” I take my small notebook and thwack it against his shoulder. Sin whirls on me, grabs it, and throws it across the room.

  “Never do that again.” His eyes are a deep crimson around the edges now, and the anger in their depths…it’s terrifying. It also pisses me off. He doesn’t get to intimidate me like that.