Embraced By Darkness

Chapter Ten

Once beyond the cemetery gates, the tension that had been so much a part of the last few hours slithered from my body, and I was suddenly able to breathe easier, It wasn't just Wilson—and the knowledge of what he could have done—that had wound me up so tight. It was the awareness of all those other souls. The feeling that I only needed to open myself up a little and all their hopes, their dreams, and their anguish would be mine. That the sum of their beings could easily overrun me, until I was nothing more than a conduit for their pain.

I shivered. I mightn't be able to entirely avoid dead people given my job, but cemeteries were definitely off my list of places to visit in the future.

I slipped back into the flow of traffic and glanced at the dashboard clock as my stomach rumbled a reminder that it actually hadn't been supplied with sustenance in a while. It was nearly one, so most of the fast-food joints would be closed by now, but the restaurants near the Blue Moon would still be open. In fact, most of them ran twenty-four hours a day, just to make the most of the constant flow of patrons coming to and from both the Blue Moon and the Rocker. And the close proximity of the clubs meant I'd be able to case a deeper ache after filling my belly.

Except that I'd made a promise.

With a sigh that was only slightly filled with frustration, I dug my cell phone out of my pocket and dialed Kellen's number.

"Hey," I said, when he answered. "You feel like something to eat?"

"Rilcy, it's nearly one in the morning."

"So?" I glanced in the mirror to check there wasn't a. cop car behind me. It wasn't exactly legal to be talking on a cell while driving—not without using hands-free, anyway—and while as a guardian I could probably get out of the fine, it would create a whole lot of paperwork. And that would only make me and Jack grumpy.

"So some of us do actually cat at regular hours." Amusement lurked in Kellen's rich tones. "Hell, some of us even keep regular sleeping hours."

Which explained the sexy, just-woken-up tone I was hearing under the amusement. "So you're not interested in coming out for a snack?"

"That depends on what else is on the menu."

"Now there's a typical male response," I said dryly, "Won't come out for food, but will make the effort if there's sex involved."

"Absolutely right," he said. "When and where?"

"I'll be at Eddie's in ten minutes," I said. "I'm feeling like a burger, and he makes the best."

"Order me a coffee," he said. "And add lots of sugar. I've got a feeling I'm going to need the energy."

"You surely will."

He chuckled softly, and hung up. After a glance at the road to see what the traffic was doing, I pressed another button and dialed the Directorate. Naturally, Sal answered.

"What an unmitigated pleasure to speak to you again so soon," she cooed.

Right. "So Jack's in the room, huh? Why don't you just shag the man?"

"Because I, unlike some, have a little class, and I prefer to build up to a relationship rather than take the wham-bam approach."

She might be a few hundred years old, but it seems her human prejudices had survived the crossover well. "If class means remaining a frustrated old cow, then give me crassness any day."

"Oh, you can be sure you have that market covered." Her tone was still so very pleasant, even if her words held the familiar hint of snark. It had to be killing her.

"And with the sort of charm you're currently oozing, it's a wonder Jack isn't just falling at your feet in lust."

"Oh, he surely will."

"You want to bet on that?"

"No." She paused, then added, "And we can cut the crap now—what do you want, bitch?"

Her voice was back to its unpleasant best. Jack had obviously left.

"Did the forensic team checking the rooftop come back with anything?"

"The bullet casings indicated a high-powered rifle. There were no prints on either the casings or at the site. They suspect a professional hit."

"Which doesn't make any sense, because I haven't pissed anyone off lately."

"As I said before, I find that very hard to believe."

I ignored the jibe, but mainly because I couldn't think of a good retort. "Did you manage to do the background check on Mirror Image?"

"Yes, There's nothing untoward. It was legitimately set up, and has been running without problems for six months. There have been no complaints at all."

Which in itself was more than a little unusual. Hell, most clubs got complaints, whether they deserved them or not. "No rumors or reports that suggest something less than savory happening there?"

"Nothing at all Why?"

"Because I suspect there's a blackmail scam being run out of the club. Who's the registered owner?"

"Owners," she corrected. "Jorn and Yohan Duerr. They're twin brothers who apparently settled here from England two years ago."

They are what the club is, Dia had said. Meaning they were not only twins, but also mirror images of each other.

"Were they English born?"

"No. German. They went to England when they were twenty."

"Any chance of doing a history check in both countries?"

"If there were any convictions, they wouldn't have been allowed into the country."

"Yeah, but a lack of convictions doesn't mean they weren't involved in anything nefarious."

"Is there any particular reason we're digging this deep?"

"I've just got a feeling about them."

"You and your damn feelings cause us more work than anyone else." She sniffed. "I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks." I hit the brake as the light ahead changed to red. "What about bank accounts—any unusual activity in any of those?"

"I didn't go that deep."

"Could you?"

"Possibly."

"Can you send the info as soon as you get it?"

"I'll try."

"You're such a sweetheart."

"Swivel on it, wolf girl."

"Oh, I intend to."

She made a growling noise and hung up. I grinned and tossed the phone on the seat beside me. The light flashed back to green and I zoomed off.

I parked in a side street not far down from Eddie's, and walked back. Despite the late hour, Lygon Street was alive with people, music, and the delicious, multi-layered scents of cooking and food. I breathed deep, allowing the scents to roll through me, savoring every tasty moment even as my stomach grumbled to hurry up.

"Hey, gorgeous," a familiar voice said.

I turned around and saw Kellen approaching. He was dressed in jeans and a somewhat crinkled black shirt that fitted his lean body to perfection and showed off his arms and shoulders.

My hormones did a happy dance. I stepped forward and kissed him long and hard. It was a good kiss, a hungry kiss, a kiss filled with all the desire that had been pent up inside me.

When we finally parted, he said, "Are you sure you want to get a burger first?"

His green eyes were shining with amusement and caring, and something inside sighed with happiness. I slipped my arm through his and tugged him toward Eddie's. Thankfully, it was only half-full, and there were plenty of tables. "I haven't eaten in hours. I need the sustenance."

"A wolf can survive days without food, you know."

"Not this wolf. Besides, I need coffee."

"Ah well, that's different. I've seen your coffee-deprived state, and it isn't pleasant."

I lightly punched his arm. "You're supposed to be charming until you get your wicked way with me."

He guided me across to a table in the back corner, and held the chair out for me. "But I'm going to get my wicked way with you regardless of whether I'm charming, so why not be honest?"

"I might change my mind."

"After the heat in that kiss?" He gave me a sexy grin and shook his head. "I doubt it."

"Have you always been so arrogantly confident?"

"When it comes to my woman? Yes."

My woman, just hearing those words made me feel warm and fuzzy inside.

Still, I couldn't help saying, "I'm not your woman yet."

"But you will be."

"There's that arrogance again."

"It's confidence, my dear, not arrogance." He reached across the table and took my hand. His ringers were warm against mine, his skin slightly roughed. "We are good together."

"I've never denied that."

A waiter approached the table at that point, and we ordered. Kellen stuck with coffee, but I ordered a burger, fries, and the biggest mug of coffee they had.

Once the waiter had gone, I said, "I want this, Kellen. I just need a little more time to finish these cases."

"And next week it'll be another case, then another."

"I made a promise, and I intend to keep it." I squeezed his fingers lightly. "In the scheme of things, a week isn't all that long."

And I wasn't entirely sure who I was trying to convince with that statement—myself or him.

He studied me for a moment, then said, "So, how is the kidnap case going?"

I shrugged. "Pretty damn slowly. I think the club is running a blackmail scheme, and I'm pretty sure Adrienne guessed her life was in danger."

He untwined his fingers from mine, and leaned back. "So her disappearance has to do with the blackmailing scheme, not the disappearances of the women?"

"I really can't say for sure, yet." I just wished I could get hold of that letter. There had to be more in it than Patrin was saying, because he sure as hell wouldn't have left the safety of pack lands otherwise.

"So where does that leave the investigation?"

"Right now? At goddamn nowhere."

The waiter arrived with our coffees and my food. I took all the lettuce off the burger, then grabbed it two-handed and bit into it. Meat juices flooded my mouth and I couldn't help the rumble of pleasure that rolled up my throat.

Kellen shook his head, a smile touching his lips. "I can see the chance of any sort of sensible talk has gone out the window."

"Too right," I said, around the mouthful of burger. "This is good."

"They usually are." He picked up his coffee and sipped it while I continued to chow down, alternating between die burger and fries, and splashing them both down with coffee.

"Feeling better?" he asked when I finally finished, his voice dry and his eyes twinkling merrily.

"Totally." I wiped my mouth with the napkin then tossed it back onto the table. "However, now there are deeper hungers that need to be fed. You feel like heading to the Blue Moon?"

"It's closer than home or my car."

It wasn't closer than my car, but getting lusty in a government vehicle would probably attract more attention than either of us would want.

I stood up and dug out my credit card. "My turn," I said. "You paid for the last coffee."

"I do have a little more money than you."

"Like I care. And fair is fair."

He leant forward and kissed my forehead. "I do love the fact that my money isn't a factor to you."

"Hey, don't get me wrong, it's nice that you have money." I hesitated, then gave him a cheeky grin. "It means you can get me bigger and better presents come Christmas and birthdays."

"Ah, so there is a mercenary soul deep down inside."

"There's lots of things deep down inside." I paid the waiter, adding a generous tip, then slipped my arm through Kellen's again. "And maybe one day I'll allow you to plum those depths and uncover all my little secrets."

"Oh, a moment to anticipate, to be sure."

We stepped out onto the street. It was nearly two-thirty, and the crowds had thinned out a little. But music still pulsed from the Blue Moon and the scent of lust and arousal ran on the air, as delicious as the aroma of food.

I breathed deep, then gave a contented smile. "I love this place."

He raised an eyebrow, amusement still playing on his lips. "Lygon Street?"

I nodded as we walked toward the club. "I love the scents and the sounds. It always feels so alive, so vibrant, no matter what time of day or night."

"I guess." He looked around, as if taking it all in for the first time. "The only place we have in Sydney that compares to this is the Oxford Street area."

"That's mainly for gays, isn't it?"

"Used to be, before the wolf clubs moved in. Now it's a mix—and a huge tourist attraction, believe it or not."

"Oh, I'd—" I stopped mid-sentence as the ghostly tingle of awareness ran across my skin.

A vampire was near.

A vampire whose stench I'd smelled before, just before he'd taken a potshot at me.

The sensation of danger hit so hard that it left me gasping for air. Something fast and deadly was tearing through the night toward us.

Another goddamn bullet.

I threw myself sideways, knocking Kellen out of the way in the process.

"What the hell—?" Instinctively, his arms went around me, cushioning my body with his own as we hit the pavement, hard.

Something burned past us, then a woman screamed. It was a high-pitched, wailing sound of horror and utter disbelief.

Gut churning, I broke free of Kellen's grip and twisted around. The bullet intended for me had found the head of the man behind me. And by found, I meant smashed into, and basically obliterated. Blood and bone and bits of god knows what else covered the woman who'd been walking beside him. She didn't even seem to notice, just stood there screaming and staring at the shattered remains of the man at her feet.

"Oh fuck," Kellen said.

Oh fuck, indeed. I pulled free of his arms and scrambled to my feet. After freeing my gun, I shoved my bag at him. "Grab my phone and call the Directorate. Tell them someone's had another potshot at me and taken out a civilian. Tell them I'm hunting the shooter."

"Another potshot?" He made a grab for my arm, his fingers slipping down the leather of my jacket before he gripped my wrist. "What the hell is going on?"

"I don't have time to explain." I stepped back and pulled free of his grip. Saw the surprise flicker in his eyes. Despite knowing what I was, he hadn't really realized the strength that it gave me. "Just ring the Directorate and look after that woman. I'll be back."

"But—"

I didn't hear the rest of his sentence. I simply turned and ran, following the faint scent of death and decay. The shot had come from behind and above, and that was where his scent was still coming from, I scanned the rooftops as I ran, and saw a shadow flicker on one. This time the bastard wasn't going to get away from me.

I ran into the restaurant. Waiters and patrons were already lining the windows, ogling the carnage. Only a few of them turned to look at me.

"Rooftop stairs?" I said to the nearest waiter.

He pointed to the corner. "But it's locked."

"Not for long." I ripped my badge from the pocket of my jeans and showed him. "Directorate. You have a shooter on your roof. Keep everyone here and calm."

He nodded. I ran between the tables and up the back stairs. Luckily, this building was only three stories high, so I wasn't even puffing by the time I crashed through the fire door up top. There was no time for finesse because that would only give the bastard more time to escape.

Bits of wood went flying and the thick scent of unwashed vampire stung the night. I swung around, following the scent. Had a brief glimpse of metal gleaming softly in moonlight before there was an explosion of air and something the size of a Mack truck smashed into my leg, sending me spinning.

I hit the ground with a grunt. Pain bloomed, flooding my body until it felt like every inch of me was burning.

Silver. The bastard was still using silver. And this time the bullet was lodged in my leg.

Meaning I couldn't shift shape, couldn't run. With nothing else to do—besides crawl, and that was never a fast means of escape—I lay still and played dead. Given the shooter was a vamp, he'd know I wasn't, of course, but he couldn't be entirely sure I wasn't unconscious. And given the stairwell walls were giving me cover, he'd actually have to come within sighting distance if he wanted to finish me off.

His undead aroma stained the night, neither retreating nor moving closer. My fingers twitched against the laser's trigger and the scent of blood—my blood—filled the night. It had to be calling to him, and there were few vamps in this world who could resist such a tempting little treat.

For several heartbeats, nothing happened. Neither of us moved. I tried to keep my breathing steady, tried to ignore the burning in my leg, tried not to acknowledge the fact that the bullet would soon begin to numb and deaden my flesh. Sweat broke out across my forehead, running down my cheeks, and stinging my eyes. Sweat caused by the heat of silver in my body, by fear of the consequences if I didn't remove it.

Then the vampire moved. I blinked, switching to infrared, and the dark heat of his body leapt into focus. He was walking oh so carefully toward the stairwell, his gun up and ready to fire. The minute I twitched, he'd shoot. Of that I had no doubt. And I really didn't want another piece of silver in my body.

Better by far not to give him the chance.

I carefully cranked the laser up to full strength. Rhoan had once told me that these lasers had the power to blast a hole through several brick walls and still kill someone on the far side. I hoped to God he hadn't been bullshitting. My life might very well depend on what happened next.

I sighted the laser on the vampire's dark form and pressed the trigger. The bright beam shot across the night, powering through the walls with as little effort as it powered through flesh. Only he moved, so instead of slicing off his head, I cut off a leg and a part of one arm.

His limbs plopped to the ground and he screamed—a high, inhuman sound. He fell, and flopped around like a fish out of water. I couldn't feel sorry for him. Not when his silver bullet was burning inside me.

And not when he was dragging himself toward me, the thick scent of burned flesh mingling with the reek of his anger, filling the night with his need for revenge.

I took a deep breath, then rolled sideways. Pain unlike anything I've ever felt ripped through my body, followed by a white-hot burning sensation. Dizziness swept through me, leaving me weak and ready to throw up.

I hissed, sucking in air, furiously blinking away the sweat dripping into my eyes as I tried to sight my would-be assassin. He was heading to the right of the stairwell, so I now had a better angle at his neck.

I pulled the trigger without hesitation. The bright beam flashed out, once more slicing through concrete and flesh and bone with equal ease.

The vampire's head rolled to one side, and his body stopped moving.

I was safe but not out of danger. I blew out a breath and pushed into a sitting position. The entire length of my left leg was a mess. Thankfully, the bullet had smashed through the fleshy section, not bone. Blood still pulsed from the wound, and with my jeans already saturated, there was nowhere else for the blood to go but on the ground. And the pool was spreading fast.

I had to get the bullet out. Had to get help. Fast.

I pressed the corn-link button and said, "I hope to God someone is listening, because I need help."

"We got Kellen's call," Jack said, in a voice that hinted at annoyance. Probably because I had the corn-link off once again. "Rhoan's already on his way, as well as a med team. What's the situation?"

"I've been shot with silver. The vampire is down and out. And I need to get the bullet out."

"Rhoan's two minutes away."

"I'm on the roof above Tivoli's." I sucked in a breath, gathering courage, trying to ease the sick sensation of fear. "And I need this bullet out now."

Already the numbness was beginning. I'd been shot too often with silver in the past, and as a result, I'd developed a hypersensitivity to its presence. For most wolves, there was at least some breathing space before the effects truly started to roll in. But for me, the minute silver lodged in my flesh, my body started reacting. I couldn't afford to wait for help. The numbness, and the creeping death, might have already taken hold by then.

"Riley—" Jack said, concern suddenly overriding the anger.

"Boss, give me five, I need to remove this bullet."

I took another deep breath, and released it slowly. My whole body was shaking with the knowledge of what I was about to do. What I had to do if I wanted to survive. I ripped the sodden jeans away from the wound, to get a clearer view. God, the wound seemed positively huge …

Probably just as well. It gave me plenty of room to maneuver.

Giving myself no more time to think, I stiffened two fingers then drove them into the wound's opening. Deep into my own flesh. Heat flashed white-hot through my entire body and a scream tore through me, only to lodge somewhere in my throat. Sweat became a torrent pouring down my face and suddenly I couldn't breathe, couldn't see, could only feel. And it hurt. Oh God, how it hurt.

I hissed, panting for air, as I forced my fingers deeper, feeling past muscles and sinew, searching for the bullet lodged deep in my leg. Again heat flashed through me and black oblivion threatened. I fought the tears and the pain, trying to stay awake and aware. Then I touched the bullet, shifted it, and I screamed again. But somehow, I got my fingers around it. Somehow, I pulled it free of flesh. With the little strength I had left, I opened my hand and let the bullet roll away, then called to the wolf within. Shifting shape would at least stop the bleeding, even if it didn't immediately heal the wound. With the bullet gone, the bleeding and fierce burning stopped. All that remained were nausea and weakness.

And then, finally, the utterly peaceful bliss of unconsciousness.

"Riley?"

The voice invaded the black peace of unconsciousness, and recognition stirred. Rhoan. If he was here, I was safe from whoever else might come after me.

I mumbled something unintelligent then turned away from him, not ready to surface just yet. Not ready to face the pain and nausea that undoubtedly awaited.

"Riley? We're taking you to the hospital. Even though the bleeding has stopped, you've lost too much blood."

"No hospital," I murmured, but the words didn't seem to reach my lips.

"The medics are here now. I'll come with you."

"No hospital," I said again, and wasn't sure if the words hit my lips that time or not. Because everything faded again.

When I finally woke, it was to the smell of antiseptic. Never a pleasant aroma at the best of times, but when it's accompanied by an underlying note of sickness and disease, it just became a gut-churning stench.

I hated hospitals. Always had. But it wasn't just the smells that got to me—it was the death. The feeling that the dead awaited. Even when I couldn't speak to the dead, the awareness of them in places like this had haunted me.

But thankfully, there was another scent overpowering those hospital smells, and it was all warm spice and leather. A scent I could concentrate on, depend on, A scent I'd recognize anywhere.

"Bastard," I muttered, opening my eyes to look at my brother. There were dark rings under his eyes and his lips had that bloodless look vampires tended to get when they hadn't been eating properly. He mightn't be wholly vampire, but he sure as hell looked like one right now. Thankfully, he was never likely to smell like one—even on his sweatiest days. "You took me to the hospital. I told you not to."

"You," Rhoan said tartly, voice sounding a whole lot fresher than he looked, "were muttering all sorts of things, and not one of them made sense."

"You could have guessed. You know I detest hospitals."

"I also knew you needed one. There was blood everywhere."

"Speaking of which—have you eaten recently?"

He gave me the look. Meaning he hadn't. "Don't you start lecturing me, or I'll get the doctors to hold you here longer."

"Bitch." I pushed up into a sitting position, but the sudden movement made my head spin. So, obviously not fully over that whole blood-loss thing yet. "What happened to the vampire?"

"You shot him dead."

"So? Dead is not always dead with a vampire. Didn't Jack mention something about their consciousness taking longer to fade than their body?"

"Yep." He shifted his feet from the bed and reached down into the bag on the floor. I smelled the chocolates before he pulled them out. "I brought you these. Thought you'd appreciate something decent to eat."

"If you think offering me a chocolaty bribe will make me forgive you for dragging me into a hospital… you could be right." I accepted the purple box with a grin, and quickly opened them up. The rich, chocolaty scent drifted up, and I sucked it in with a happy sigh. Not hazelnut coffee, but damn near as good. I picked out a strawberry cream and a caramel, then offered the box to Rhoan. "So did Jack actually get anything out of the shooter before his consciousness left?"

"He was a gun for hire. His calls came in on his business phone and part payment had to be deposited into his account before he'd start tracking down the target."

"He doesn't have caller ID or anything on his phone?"

"Nope. Guaranteed anonymity is part of the deal."

I bit into the chocolate, felt the gooey strawberry filling spill into my mouth. Bliss itself. "Bank transfers aren't anonymous."

"No, But the money for this one came through an overseas account."

"Which are harder to track down?"

"They are when they're opened under false names."

While I had no doubt that the Directorate, with all their resources, would eventually pin down the actual owners, it would take time. And if there was someone wanting to get rid of me, we didn't exactly have a whole lot of time. "So how did he track me down?"

"Bug underneath your car." He picked out several chocolates then handed me back the box.

"Did he put it there?"

"Nope, He was just sent the receiver."

"So someone got close enough to bug my car." Which I suppose, considering I parked either in the street or in public parking lots most of the time, wasn't a hard thing to do. "But I can't think of one person that I've annoyed enough to go to the extreme of hiring a hit man."

"What about Blake? Or Patrin?"

I shook my head. "Granted, they're both angry that I didn't manage to save Adrienne, but they still want me to track down her killer. If they were going to do anything, they wouldn't do anything until after that happened."

And personally, I didn't think they'd do anything afterward. Patrin was a bully-boy like his father, but I'd proved that I could well and truly defend myself against him. And bully-boys tended to back away from situations they knew they couldn't win.

"I'm afraid I tend to agree with you."

The dry note in his voice had my eyebrows rising. "And you've changed your mind because…?"

"Because Patrin and I had a little chat after I saw you safely into the hospital." He shrugged, not looking in the least bit repentant. Not that I really expected him to. He'd been at the receiving end of as many of Patrin's taunts and blows as I had. "He swears he wouldn't waste a bullet on useless half-breeds like us, let alone pay someone else to waste said bullets."

That was the truth if ever I'd heard it. "What about Kye?"

He frowned. "What about him?"

"How many arms and legs did you break before you convinced him you weren't intending to harm his boss?"

"None. He saw the family resemblance, apparently, and refused to intervene." He hesitated. "I have to say, he's fast for a werewolf."

"He's in the protection business, so he'd have to be."

"Yeah, but this more than that. I was moving with vampire speed, and he tracked me. Had his gun on me all the time. That's not normal."

I shrugged and popped another chocolate into my mouth. This one was nutty. Nice. "No, but he's the best for a reason. Maybe he has some sort of psychic gift that allows him to 'feel' where vamps and such are."

"Possibly." He sniffed and reached for another chocolate. "I intend to do a bit more investigation into his past. I've got a feeling we need to know more about him."

"Ah, the family trait of clairvoyance is hitting you, too, huh?"

"No, it's just my nose for trouble. And trust me, that one is." He paused to munch on his chocolate. "So, if it wasn't Patrin or Blake, then who?"

"I don't know. As I said, the only case I'm dealing with now is Adrienne, and that's sort of stalled."

Stalled because I needed to talk to the owners of the club, and hadn't gotten around to it yet. But now that Wilson was contained, I'd have the chance.

But I didn't really think it could be them. I mean, why would they want me dead? They didn't know I'd sprung their little blackmailing operation, and even if they had noticed me at the club, why would they think I was a danger? They couldn't possibly know who I was, and if they had tried to do an identity search on me, it would have come up on the Directorate computers.

Yet that man at the club—the man who had smelled the same as Jared—had appeared to be hunting me after he'd almost sprung me in the camera room. I frowned, and asked, "In your experience, have you ever met two humans who smell the same?"

Rhoan raised an eyebrow. "That's an odd question."

"It's an odd problem." I explained what had happened at the club. "It was the same scent. The exact same scent. But he wasn't Jared."

"Easily explained if he was shapeshifter."

"Jared and the man in the club were both human, not Helki."

"There's no saying Helkis are the only ones who can shift into other human forms. I'm sure there's other nonhumans out there totally capable of shapeshifting. We just don't know about them yet."

"The operative word there is nonhuman. We're talking about humans."

"There's no reason why humans couldn't shift, either."

"They're humans. Humans don't do that sort of thing. It what makes them human, and us nonhuman."

"No, that's DNA. Humans are quite capable of all sorts of psychic skills."

"Shifting isn't a skill. It's part of our DNA pattern."

Rhoan popped another chocolate into his mouth, then said around it, "Were the body shapes similar?"

I hesitated, then nodded. "Why would that make a difference?"

"What if it's not shifting as we know it? What if it's more a gentle remolding? They can alter minor feature characteristics—nose, chin, ears, perhaps even hair—but major things like facial shape and eyes stay the same. It'd be enough to fool others, but it isn't actually a full shift. Not in the way we shift, anyway."

"Possible." Jared and the man in the club certainly had the same color eyes. "If that's true, then we perhaps have our first link between the club and the island."

"But still no link between Adrienne, the other murdered women, and the club. After all, Jared wasn't involved with any of the women, was he?"

"Well, if he's some sort of face-shifter, how would we know? He could have appeared as anyone to them. Besides, Adrienne didn't sleep with anyone up there."

"Have you spoken to the partners or parents of the other women who have disappeared?" Rhoan asked. "Asked them if their daughters mentioned meeting anyone on the island?"

I shook my head. "Haven't really had the time to follow that up."

"I might do it, then. See if a clue shakes loose."

"Ta." I downed another chocolate, then asked, "So, how is Kellen holding up after last night?"

"I was wondering when you'd get around to asking."

My eyebrows went up again at the censure in his voice. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"That means, you claim to care about the man, you say you want a long-term relationship with him, and yet he's never first in your thoughts." He tilted his head and studied me for a minute. "Tell me, if it had been Quinn with you last night, would you have taken so long to ask?"

If it had been Quinn with me, I wouldn't have been alone on that roof and probably wouldn't have been shot. But Quinn and I were history, no matter how much my heart, ached at the thought of him.

But then, how much of what I felt for Quinn was real, and how much of it was vampire-implanted suggestion? I never would know, and in the end, that was a relationship killer more than anything else he had done.

"Kellen and I haven't known each other that long."

"You've known him about the same length of time as you've known Quinn."

"But Quinn was actively discouraging my interest in Kellen. It's only these past few weeks that we've really played it basically one-on-one."

"Basically is not wholly."

"There speaks the man who has spent half his life avoiding a commitment to the man he professes to love."

"And you've spent half your life nagging me about. It's payback time, sister dearest."

I grinned and shoved another chocolate into my mouth. "So," I said, around the gooey peppermint mess, "when do I get out of this joint?"

He glanced at his watch. "The doctor was supposed to be here an hour ago to give you a checkup. If you pass that, you can leave."

Meaning I'd better not mention the lingering lightheadedness, or I'd be stuck here another night with the antiseptic reek and the ghosts.

"Why don't you go see what's keeping him? Otherwise, I'm just going to check myself out."

"You can try." He rose and gave me a somewhat cheeky grin. "I am, however, bigger than you and I will drag you back to this bed if I have to."

"Yeah, right." I waved a hand at the doorway. "Just go find that doctor."

He headed out. Five seconds later, Kellen came in, bearing the biggest bunch of flowers I'd ever seen. Pleasure shot through me.

"Hey," I said, by way of greeting. "No one's ever brought me flowers in the hospital before."

"You almost didn't get them now," he said, with a sexy grin that had my hormones hopping in delight. "Except the flower seller practically accosted me and accused me of not caring."

"Guerrilla tactics for flower sellers? Man, things must be tough in that business."

"Well, there weren't many men getting by her without buying some flowers, let me tell you."

He placed the flowers on the bedside table, then sat down on the edge of the bed and caught my hand in his. His fingers were as warm as his smile, and yet he seemed tense. Maybe he hated hospitals just as much as I did.

"So," he said, "how are you feeling?"

"Fine." I shrugged. "Better when I get out of this place."

"So no aftereffects of being shot by silver?"

"No." I hesitated. "But it wasn't the first time I've been shot with silver, and probably won't be the last."

"No, I guess not."

I frowned at the edge in his voice. "What's wrong?"

His gaze searched mine for a minute, his green eyes curiously flat. "You don't know?"

"Know what?"

He snorted softly. "Guess I had that coming."

"What?" God, I felt like I was watching a foreign movie, with the main character speaking a language I just didn't understand.

"It doesn't matter."

"It obviously does, so explain what the hell you're talking about."

"I shouldn't have to explain, Riley."

"So consider me thick and do." And then, suddenly, realization hit me. "You think you should have been able to protect me?"

My voice was incredulous, and annoyance shot through his eyes.

"I'm an alpha. It's part of my job to protect those I care about."

"But that's ridiculous. A, because I can generally protect myself, and B, because the shooter was a vampire and regular werewolves haven't the speed to go up against one."

"You did. Have."

"But I'm not your regular, everyday werewolf."

"Something I'm seeing more and more."

I raised my eyebrows at the deepening edge in his voice. "It's not like I've ever hidden what I was from you." Not when we started going out for real, anyway.

"No, but hearing it and seeing it are two entirely different things." He shuddered. "You didn't even react when you saw that man's brains splattered all over the sidewalk. Not emotionally, anyway."

"Because I was too busy trying not to get shot."

"People trying not to get shot don't get up and race toward their attacker. That's not normal, everyday behavior."

But I wasn't a normal, everyday person. I hadn't been when I was born, and was even further from that now.

"So what, exactly, are you saying?" The question came out a little hoarse, because fear suddenly had my heart lodged somewhere in my throat.

"I don't know." He squeezed my fingers lightly, though if the gesture was meant to reassure me, it failed miserably. "I can't help my innate need to protect you."

"But I'm not asking you to stop it, so what's the problem?"

"The problem is, I obviously can't. It's in my nature to try, but there are things—people—in your life that I will never be able to protect you from."

"I can't help what I do, Kellen. And the one thing I don't expect from you is protection." Caring, comfort, and understanding, yes. And definitely love, But protection? I had Rhoan for that. It had been just the two of us from the beginning of our lives, and it would be the two of us until the very end. I needed no one else when it came to that.

"I know you don't," he said, "and that's probably part of the problem right now."

I stared at him for a moment, then rubbed my eyes wearily. "So what does this mean for you and me?"

Because it sounded like the shit was going to hit the fan again—emotionally rather than figuratively—and I really wasn't ready for another kick in the gut. Not after I was starting to pull it all together again.

"Right at this particular moment, it means nothing." He hesitated. "It's just that, like you, I have things I need to think about."

"What's the point of me coming to a decision if you're in the process of backing away?"

He took my hand in his again. "I never said I was backing away, Riley. I just said I needed to think a few more things through. You're not getting away from me that easily. Not after I've fought so long to pin you down."

And yet, despite his words, despite the warmth flaring across his lips and the tenderness in his bright eyes, part of me wasn't reassured.

He glanced at his watch, then said, "What time are you getting out of here?"

"I'm not sure yet. Rhoan's gone to find the doctor."

"Would you like me to come back and pick you up? Take you home?"

By home, he meant his place, not mine. And I wasn't sure I was ready for that after everything he'd just said. So I shook my head.

"There's a heap of stuff I have to do at home, and I haven't even unpacked from the holiday yet."

"So when do I get to see you again?"

"That depends on your definition of 'see.' "

"You know what my definition is." He kissed my fingers, his lips so warm on my skin. A tremor ran through me. I wanted to feel his lips all over me, kissing and teasing and exploring. I ached for his touch with a suddenness that surprised me, and yet, reluctance—or was it fear?—held back the words that would have had him in my arms tonight.

It was stupid, I knew it was stupid, but I couldn't get rid of this fear. What if I gave more of myself to this man, and he had more second thoughts?

Tuesday, I thought. I had until Tuesday to give him the answer. Which gave him until Tuesday to settle his thoughts and decide whatever it was he had to decide.

He glanced at his watch again. "I have to leave for a meeting. Promise you'll ring me if you get out of here tonight?"

"I'll ring."

"Good." He rose and kissed me good-bye. It was a light kiss, a gentle kiss. Like I was a porcelain doll that was so very fragile.

Only I had never been—and never would be—fragile. And if Kellen wanted that in a relationship—wanted someone he could protect—then he was chasing the wrong woman. Not that I didn't want someone to love and protect me. I just needed someone who could love me as I was. And that included the part of me that was a trained hunter. A trained—if somewhat reluctant—killer.

I might have told Kellen what I was, but until tonight it hadn't really connected on any deeper level. And I could only hope that the realization of who and what I was didn't spell the end for us.

Because I didn't want to lose him.