Back From Hell (3 page)

Celeste was still considered
unclassified
. Ronan wasn’t exactly sure what she had been. And since she and her husband had died three years earlier, victims of a vicious murder, nobody was likely to find out. Unless one of the two lovelies down there told them.

Jenai… His lids drooped, all but shielding his gaze as he studied her. Hunger and need bit and tore through him with savage intensity. He wanted nothing more than to jump down the two stories that separated him from his mate, to claim her, completely.

But they were on a mission, and after tracking them as he had been for the past two weeks, it was damn near impossible not to know that mission.

And not to want to back them completely.

They were hunting yet another monster, and this one was definitely a sick bastard. Ronan wanted him dead almost as much as he imagined those two women did.

Going to her would have to wait. Although he knew the man they sought wasn’t here right now, he wasn’t going to step in and interfere, not with so little time left.

Meeting his mate would be better suited to when she wasn’t trying to save a young woman’s life.

There was no known record of Jenai King’s blood father. She had been Jenai McKade until Dominick adopted her at the age of five. Her blood father could have been were, vamp or mortal.

But just like her mama, Jenai was anything but normal. Ronan had known that ever since he had first started dreaming of her, years before she had even been born.

But once she actually started sharing his dreams, a mere five years ago, the reality of just how unique she was had been driven home, over and over.

For those five years, she had resisted his attempts to pierce that stubborn skull of hers and learn who she was, so he could find her, so they could be together.

She had resisted him time after time, turning away from him when he could feel how badly she ached for him.

Oh, yes. She was unique, refusing a need that blossomed into a physical pain, all because she was furious that fate kept slamming things into her life, without her having any choice at all.

But he still couldn’t quite figure out what she was.

To his refined senses, she didn’t smell human…exactly. But neither did she have the cool, faint scent of vampire, nor the ripe musk of shape-shifter. She walked in the daylight, which no vampire could do. He knew she wasn’t a shifter or a werewolf. Those traits he knew as well as he knew his own name.

But what in the hell was she?

Tall, slender, with firm, high breasts she habitually covered under a formfitting tank top tucked into a pair of jeans. Tonight she wore boots, probably because of the snow that had been falling. He couldn’t determine a single weapon hidden on that sleek form, but he knew there had to be some. She wasn’t delivering cookies to the people she was seeking.

The leather coat she wore hung to her knees, fitting her like a glove, made for her. That was where the weapons were, tucked inside the sleeves or along her back. No line marred the way it fell over her sleek form so wherever her weapons were hidden, they were hidden very well.

She had long, long legs and a tight ass, a cupid’s bow mouth, and those big eyes of hers were damn near hypnotic. Normally, in a place like this, they would have been propositioned, threatened or worse, but as gorgeous as they both were, there wasn’t a single man around to ogle or stare.

Well, except Ronan.

He knew her face, knew her body intimately, even though he had never physically touched her. He knew what made her sigh, what made her moan…what made her scream.

Yet all of that knowledge had been learned in dream worlds, and none of it had quite prepared him for actually seeing her.

Hell, he needed a little time before he went to her, just to get himself under control.

Being this close to her, staring at her, able to actually fill his lungs with the scent of her was breath-stealing. There was a tightening in his heart as he watched at her, a tight knot of hunger, of desire. The need he had felt for her in his dreams paled in comparison to what filled him now.

He had never felt desire like this before.

Blowing out a tight breath, he tried to calm the seething heat inside him. Wasn’t easy. Looking at her, he couldn’t think of anything more than touching her. Fucking her. Holding her…
Shit
.

Closing his eyes, he forced himself to focus. The heat didn’t abate, but he forced a wall between him and the heat.

He had waited this long, damn it. He could damn well wait until he wasn’t going to endanger some innocent woman by interfering with their hunt.

Other than him, there wasn’t a person in the alley watching the two. Normally, that would be odd. Pretty ladies in this area were usually little more than whores…or victims. Either would have caught the interest of all the scum that preyed in this neighborhood.

But not these two.

Because there was an air about them, something obvious even to the most mundane person.

Danger.

Ronan had sensed the controlled power within her during their time together in dreams, but it was a mere shadow of what she truly was.

Everything about her screamed
Warrior
. In all his years, he’d never seen a woman with that so clearly stamped on her entire being.

And it wasn’t just Jenai either.

It was ingrained in her sister as well, as clearly as the silvery color of her eyes.

But even to the untrained eye, something made it clear those women weren’t prey. Nor did they sell their flesh for money, drugs—anything.

If the file they had on Celeste McKade was even close to accurate, these women were just like their mama. Anything but normal and very, very deadly.

Ronan knew how to size up a possible friend or foe with just a look. It was part of who he was, and he did so automatically.

Even with his intended mate and her sister.

It didn’t take much to determine that while Stephanie appeared to be the more dangerous of the two, Jenai was the one you really had to watch.

Stephanie, she was like a bolt of lightning. Touch her, and a man would get zapped. Her mood was like wildfire and she fought the same. Quick, hot, deadly, but if a person knew how to handle fire, he just might come out okay. That was her weakness—that temper.

She was hot-natured, through and through, both her personality and physically. Evidenced by the fact that she wore black fatigues and a leather halter top, and little else, even though the temperature was barely thirty degrees.

Definitely full of fire and heat.

Jenai, though, she fought like a machine, intent, focused…and cold as ice. He couldn’t find her weakness, and even their shared dreams gave him little insight. He knew she was as stubborn as a bloody mule and that she hated having destiny control her life.

But her weaknesses? He had no clue.

She left no stone unturned in her hunts, and she left a path of silent death behind her in battle.

She couldn’t possibly be human.

But she wasn’t a vampire. She wasn’t a werewolf. And even though that long, sleek body was every bit as lovely and erotic as an elf’s, she wasn’t fae either.

So what in the hell…
Shit
.

Just as she was striding past his window, she looked up and for the briefest of seconds, their eyes met. The liquid silver of her eyes seemed to glow for a moment and Ronan felt the power of the look like a punch in his belly. Heat flooded him and his balls drew tight against his body, blood rushing to his groin. His cock started to swell and ache in that brief moment when their eyes met. The silver of her eyes hypnotized him, making him feel as though he could drown in that gaze.

Time stretched on forever—he could hear the pounding of his own heart, and watched as her chest rose and fell with one soft, sighing breath. Her scent drifted to him on the air, a subtle fragrance that made his head swim.

He waited, as she stared at him, for some sign of recognition to enter her eyes. But then she blinked, lowering the fragile shield of her lids over those amazing eyes. And the moment passed.

Reality realigned and she turned away, continued on down the narrow alley, her eyes on the apartment door at the end.

Ronan withdrew into the shadows to watch as she went to bang on the door at the very end of the alley.

* * * * *

Jenai could still feel that man’s eyes on her.

Something about his gaze had set her skin to buzzing. And more—her heart was slamming against her ribs, and she felt oddly hot and unsettled. Inside the cotton of her bra, her nipples had formed tight, hard little points that ached and throbbed. Liquid hunger moved through her belly, clouding her mind, slowing her thoughts.

There was something…familiar about him. But she was certain she hadn’t ever seen him before. She’d remember. Hell, her body would have reminded her, she suspected. She felt more alive now, more aware, than she had probably ever felt. All from staring at him for one moment.

If she had seen him before, there was no way she could have forgotten.

Forcing a deep breath into her lungs, she cleared the fog from her mind as she stopped in front of Mannen’s door.

There was no time to think of some watching stranger, not right now.

All she had time to think of was the job, the mission…
Mannen
.

Finding him. Stopping him. Killing him before he killed another innocent woman. Lifting her head, she drew in the faint scent of his trail, trying to see if there was another scent with it.

There wasn’t.

Jenai glanced at Stephanie. Her sister shook her head, echoing Jenai’s thoughts. He hadn’t taken his chosen victim yet.

They still had time, then.

Tracing the edge of her teeth with her tongue, she ran jaded eyes over the alley. Though she had felt people watching her from the shadows as she walked by, not a soul was around now that she wanted to ask questions. Not even the man who’d been studying her so openly from the window. Cocking her head, she turned and walked down the narrow alley, listening. There wasn’t a soul in Mannen’s hole.

But plenty of life teemed around her—she could hear their heartbeats, the nervous, quick pace of their breathing, a muttered curse. And in her mind, little whispers,
damn that fucker…brought the cops down on us…gotta hide the stash…geez, her eyes…I can’t believe those eyes…

She grinned, revealing small, pearly white teeth, said eyes flashing as she sifted through the morass of thoughts that clouded her mind. Sliding Steph a glance, she said, “They think we’re cops. Why in the hell do they always think we’re cops?”

Steph snickered. “Yeah, we look like the standard police issue, don’t we?” Her hand went to the blade at her hip and she caressed it idly. It was wickedly sharp, hooked, over a foot long. Her favorite toy.

Jenai smiled, shaking her head. Her short, silver-blonde hair fluttered in the breeze that came drifting down the alley to them, bringing the stink of garbage, piss, human fear…death.

Faintly, very faintly, she caught Mannen’s scent, just a few doors down. Behind that door, she smelled ripe human fear, could hear a heart pounding manically. Smiling, she sauntered up to the door, listening to the stream of thoughts that seemed to flow around her like a river.

Yes…this one
, she mused silently. Whoever was in that place was weak, easily broken—that always saved time.

Laying her hand on the door in front of her, Jenai slid Steph a look. “Be ready, sis,” she whispered. Then she knocked.

No answer.

She knocked again, and this time she whispered as well, imbuing the words with psychic energy, knowing whoever was within the house would hear it as a deafening shout. “Open the damn door. I know you are inside. Don’t make me come in and get you,” she said, keeping her voice level, throttling down the rage that threatened to leak into her voice.

There was a scurry of movement inside, and then nothing. As if whoever it was refused to acknowledge her. Her frustration mounted. The hot wick of rage that burned inside her core sizzled and Jenai tried to rein it in. Her anger was getting out of hand. It was blinding her. Deafening her. And if she didn’t get it under control, she was going to snap.

Tamping it down, she whispered one more time, “Don’t make me come in there and find you—you won’t like that.”

The door opened just a sliver, and she grinned at the muddy brown eyes that stared out at her. Then she pushed against it, a light tap, really, and the door went flying in, the occupant stumbling back and falling against the wall, cracking his greasy head.

She strolled in, followed closely by Steph, and they each studied the small, dank apartment. Oh, yes, she could smell Mannen. He’d been in here, and she also smelled Acrinel, one of the newer mind-altering drugs, one that could be made at home, just like meth. It gave the user a false sense of invincibility, making them seem almost inhumanly strong for a short period of time, increased their sex drive, increased their appetite, but it was also poison. Too much of it and it started to destroy the cells in the brain and the heart, and thinned the blood.

Damn, please don’t let Mannen be on this shit, she thought silently. They were going to have their hands full anyway, this close to the full moon. If he was strung out on Acri, they were going to be in deep shit. She turned and gave the man cowering on the floor a glowing smile.

“Tell me about Mannen…Dave,” she said, snagging the rickety chair shoved up against the wall and swinging it around, straddling it.

“H-huh…who?” he squeaked, his eyes going wide as she sat in front of him.

“Mannen. Brad Mannen, freaky dude who came in here to buy your dope—crazy eyes, strong, mean,” Steph supplied helpfully, flashing him a cheeky smile.

Dave’s eyes slid from Steph to Jenai. Summing Steph up as the easier one to handle, he tried a fake, charming smile. “I don’t know the dude, pretty lady. And I ain’t got no dope. I’m clean,” he lied.

Well, he may not be doing Acri, but oh, yeah…he had it. And he was lying. He was using some of the more routine, slightly less lethal street drugs and the black of the lie hovered around him as he spoke, totally unaware of it.