Darkness Calls (10 page)

D
iana met Ryder's gaze. He had gone a little too far with his assistance. And she had responded, wanting him like she'd never wanted anything before. She didn't like that he could make her lose control. She knew where that could take her. He had almost made her forget that she was here to do a job. Almost, she reminded herself, since she had somehow managed to give some attention to the crowd. Not that it had done any good.

The killer hadn't responded to Ryder's little act…. If it even
was
an act. She wanted his hide. “We need to go. Outside.”

He brushed his fingers across her cheek, and she wondered if he felt the heat bathing her body. He brought his lips to the edge of her brow and placed a kiss against her temple. “We need to make it look like—”

“I know,” she said, her voice husky with both want and anger. She cleared her throat and tried to hide the obvious signs of her arousal. An arousal that came from some dark place deep inside.

She grabbed his hand and led him to the door by the back entrance, past the bouncer and out to the alley. It was empty.

She whirled on him as soon as they were outside, jabbing her index finger into his chest with each word she uttered. “If you ever, and I mean for any reason whatsoever, lay a hand on me again, you will lose it.”

Ryder admired her spunk but doubted she would follow through on her threat. He grabbed the finger that had been busy poking a hole in his chest, and before he knew what had happened, she had twisted his arm and pinned him against the wall. Her hold was firm, but he knew she could have exerted more force. Clearly, she didn't want to hurt him.

She had to lean close to his body and press up on tiptoe to issue her warning. “Two strikes, Ryder. Don't push it.”

“Seems to me your anger's coming from a different place,” he challenged, attuned to her in a way that was hard to describe or understand.

He must have hit a nerve, for she relaxed her hold on his arm. “Don't go there and I might let you live,” she replied, and shoved away from him.

Ryder turned and grabbed his shoulder, rotating it, although there was no pain. As he met her gaze, she seemed almost apologetic.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you.”

He took a step toward her and asked, “You didn't, but…May I?”

She was clearly confused and shrugged her shoulders. He raised his hand and with one finger touched the purpling mark on her neck. “I wanted…Heck, I'd be a liar if I didn't say I used the opportunity to suit me. I wanted you,” he said in low tones. “But I didn't mean to mark you. I just lost control.”

His words wrapped around her, creating an alluring spell Diana wanted to avoid with every fiber of her being. “I guess that makes two of us.” And before he could reply, she raced back into the club.

Ryder leaned against the wall and watched Diana flee as her partner entered the alley.

David asked, “Was it worth it?”

“Worth what?” Ryder took a step toward the entrance of the club.

“This,” David said, and with all his force, punched Ryder in the jaw and sent him flying back against the rough bricks. Ryder's face collided with the wall and he fell onto the cobblestones of the alley.

Ryder reached up to wipe his face and his fingers. His skin was abraded along his cheekbone, and his fingers came away with blood. David, stood before him, his fists clenched. “I could have your badge in a second,” Ryder said. “You and your partner's.”

“I've already warned you to leave her alone, Ryder. She's been through too much already, and the last thing she needs is the likes of you to drag her back down—”

“To that dark place? Do you even have an idea what it's like to be like me, like her? To be able to do what you want even though it's not what's right?” Ryder taunted as he walked up to the other man.

“She's not like that,” David defended.

Ryder placed his hands on his hips and laughed. “You're just afraid to face up to it. You can't handle her and it scares you. Because one day, she might get you killed.”

“And you think you're different?” David challenged. “You think you can handle her? Handle death?”

Ryder backed away and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I've been dead for a long time, David.” He turned and walked into the dark of the alley.

 

Ryder waited beside his security guard as the man handed over all the tapes from the machines. Diana stood by quietly while David labeled each one and wrote out a receipt for them.

“Satisfied?” Ryder asked.

Diana's brow arched upward at his choice of words. She and her partner were probably far from satisfied with his behavior.

“We're going to log these in as evidence and start reviewing them,” Diana answered coldly.

“Since we lost that suspect in the crowd, what do we do in the meantime?”

“We wait. No news is good news. If there's no body by the morning, we're back. Doing what we did tonight—”

“Everything?” he challenged.

She stepped toward him and softly said, “You've had your first bite and there's no more pardons.”

Like every stray dog, he thought, only no dog's first bite could ever begin to compare to the way she tasted and felt. He had been one very lucky dog indeed, Ryder thought, but didn't say. Discretion was better for the moment. “I'll be a good little doggie tomorrow and heel.”

She nodded, then glanced at her partner, who eased away and allowed her to leave the room.

Ryder had been expecting David to make some comment, but her partner only glared at Ryder and said, “Be at our offices at three to go over the tapes. See if there's anyone you recognize.”

Ryder grunted his assent and let the other man leave. That was when he heard the sharp exhale of his security guard, an older black man who had once been a cop himself.

“That was some show you and the lady put on tonight,” he said, and leaned back in his chair, staring up at Ryder.

“It was just a show, Nate.” Ryder slapped the other man on the shoulder. “Thanks for all your help tonight,” he said, and then headed to his office, needing solitude. Needing to be alone to settle the errant thoughts running through his brain. Tonight's dance-floor show with Diana…Ryder blew out a disgusted breath as he entered his office and walked over to the bar. As he splashed a few fingers of whiskey into a glass, he
wished
it had all been a show.

A show he could handle. The burning ache inside of him that the liquor did nothing to appease was something new and troubling. It was the ache of his human half that had been locked away for too long. And it was better to keep it locked away, he thought as he walked to the windows of his office while sipping the fine whiskey. He stared down at the now-empty club, but it was too easy to recall the sight of her standing before him. The feel of her pressed tightly against him, her hips welcoming his erection while her pulse beat heavily beneath his lips.

At the memory of her, he hardened again and his fangs erupted in his mouth. The animal in him wanted her, too. It had taken all of his strength not to pierce the fine column of her throat and taste her life's blood. Drink of her until he was sated and then drive into the warmth of her body.

He groaned and tossed back the rest of the whiskey. It burned as it traveled down his throat. But the fire in his gut was nothing compared to that raging through his body. He had to do something to curb the needs. Heading out of his office, he called out to Nate to lock up and walked the short distance to his van, parked behind a neighboring restaurant that specialized in nouvelle Latino cuisine.

He jumped into the van, intent on getting home where he could do something to tire out the beasts raging inside him, both animal and human. With the late hour, traffic was light and he arrived at his apartment building within twenty minutes. Parking the car in the lot next to his high-rise, he rushed out of the subterranean parking facility through a back passage that opened to the service doors of his place. There was no one there at this hour, and he slipped in unseen.

Melissa was home. As he unlocked the door, in his heightened state, he could smell her perfume and hear the faint beat of her heart as he passed by her door on the first floor of the duplex. But he couldn't forget the aroma of the only woman he wanted. Of her feel next to him and the way her pulse had beat, long and heavy as she answered the call of his desire.

Ryder cursed and jogged up the staircase that took him to his space in the duplex apartment. He was stripping off his clothes as he strode through the door of his bedroom. Changing into sweats, he walked across the hall to the workout room where he had spent the wee hours of many a night when his nocturnal self assumed control and kept him awake. The physical exertion of a good workout helped him assert his human side by tiring out the vampire.

The problem was, tonight, his human side wasn't so far removed from the animal. He approached the heavy bag at one end of the room, slipped on some lightweight boxing gloves and began pounding, each blow reverberating through his hands and arms and up into his shoulders. Each blow reminding him of something vital. Diana was human. An uppercut knocked the bag upward. She was trouble. A jab made his wrist ache. Too beautiful. Stubborn. Determined. Punch after punch. And damn it, just too irresistible. A flurry of blows resounded in the emptiness of the room.

He continued, landing punch after punch until his body was aching and he was winded. Sweat dripped from his face and arms onto the mat at his feet. The animal within seemed tamed for the moment, but Ryder wasn't going to take any chances.

His arms trembled as he began yet another round of blows until, finally, he gave the heavy bag one last punch. It swung away wildly, forcing him to grab hold of it on its return. The smell of the bag's leather reached him as he grasped it—it reminded him of Diana and her damn holster. How her shirt had pulled taut against her breasts the other day as she had secured her weapon behind her back. How she'd felt tonight, pressed against him.

Ryder leaned his head against the bag and cursed as he hardened once more. Ripping off the gloves and tossing them down, he hurried to his bathroom and prepared a shower. Hot water spewed out of the various jets in the large stall and he quickly disrobed, stepped in and let the pulsating streams of water work at his body, loosening muscles and relieving tension.

He soaped up, running his hands along the muscles he had just exercised, imagining as he did so that it was her hands moving against him. Groaning, he leaned one hand on the marble of the shower stall. Closing his eyes, he imagined how she would feel, her skin slick beneath his hand. And warm, no, make it hot. Her body next to him tonight had sizzled and burned beneath his hand.

It was dangerous to do this, he told himself, but he couldn't stop thinking of how it would feel to make love to Diana. To have her surrounding him. Her warmth all around him like the heat of the water sluicing down his chest and between his legs.

He groaned, envisioning her wrapping her legs around his hips, pulling him in deeper. The soft catch of her breath and arch of her back as she neared climax. His name on her lips as she came.

Ryder sucked in a breath, wanting her as he had no one before. Wishing that it wasn't just a fantasy. That she was real and here beside him.

But he knew it wasn't possible. He was dead, he reminded himself yet again. He could never be with Diana. She was human, and he was a demon. A freak created by fate who had no place in his life for love or for want. For a human woman who would leave him.

Whatever he was feeling right now was an aberration. One he had to bring under control before someone got hurt.

The last thing Diana needed was the love of a vampire. Question was, now that he'd tasted the sweetness of her desire, did he have the strength to walk away?

A
s Diana slipped her key into the lock of the apartment, her brother opened the door to leave for work.

“Look what the cat dragged in.” He stepped aside to let her enter.

Diana dropped onto the sofa in their living room, too weary to take another step. She and David had logged all the tapes and watched them as they waited for reports from the cops staked out along the docks and piers. At seven o'clock, when there had been no word, they decided to head home for some quick shut-eye before returning to the office at midday.

Her brother sat down on the edge of the coffee table. “You look spent. Are you going to at least try to get some rest?”

Diana leaned her head back on the couch and sighed. “I'd like to sleep until tomorrow, but I need to be back at the office by lunch hour.”

Sebastian glanced at his watch. “That gives you time for a long nap.”

She nodded and moved her neck from side to side to ease the stiffness. That was when her brother reached out and stopped the motion of her head. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye until he pointed at her neck.

“Thought you were working last night?” His voice was almost paternal even though she was the older one.

“It's not what you think,” she answered, and craned her body away from him.

“It's not?” His tone bordered on challenging. “A hickey like that usually means…Well, let's put it this way—it doesn't usually mean work.”

She flinched and tried to find some explanation that would appease him. “I was undercover with someone. We got…” She stumbled over the words, still confused by her reaction to Ryder. “He got a little carried away.”

“I hope you decked him.” When she flushed guiltily, he smiled, knowing her all too well, and grabbed a comforter off the back of the couch. She slipped her shoes off and lay down, then he tucked the comforter around her. “Call you at eleven?” he asked.

She nodded and settled into the oversized cushions for her nap. “
Gracias,
Sebastian.”

He smiled. “Take it easy,
hermanita.
” He stepped out of the apartment and locked the door behind him.

She snuggled beneath the heavy comforter, closing her eyes and trying to shut out memories of last night. Quickly, exhaustion dragged her to sleep, and to dreams that were far from calming.

 

His body was hard against hers as she moved to the low, insistent beat of the music. She shifted her hips slowly, dragging them across his arousal. In response, he brought his hand down to the bare skin at the small of her back, urging her to stop.

“You don't like?” She glanced up at him and met his heavy-lidded gaze. His eyes were so dark with desire it was impossible to see his pupils.

“I like too much,” he admitted in a low, sensual growl.

She laughed. A coquette's laugh, sexy and enticing, and she wondered where it had come from. She wasn't the type to tease and yet here she was, brazenly caressing him with her hips. She smiled, inviting him into another kind of dance.

He groaned, cupped her buttocks with one hand and lifted her, driving her back until the rough texture of the wall bit into her skin. She realized then that they were in his club. The lights played a game of hide-and-seek with those standing in the crowd, but here against the wall, they were hidden.

Here, it was dark enough to play, she realized as he insinuated his knee between her thighs and placed pressure on that aching spot between her legs. A little gasp left her mouth and she dragged her gaze up to his.

“Do you like?” he teased, and slipped his hand beneath the thin silk of her top. He grasped her nipple between his fingers, starting a lazy tug and pull that nearly had her coming apart in his arms.

“
,”
she answered, her breath a little unsteady. “I like it very much.”

“Good,” he uttered sharply before bending his head and taking her lips with his. He bit and sucked as he continued to pleasure her with his hand and the insistent press of his thigh. The hard ridge of his arousal pushed into the softness of her belly and she wanted it inside her.

She was nearly panting, needing more, and he gave it to her, slipping his hand beneath her skirt and panties. He shoved the material aside roughly, parted her with his fingers and found the spot aching for his touch. He stroked her, riding his thumb across the swollen nub and slipping first one finger and then another into her.

“Ryder.” She threw her head back as waves of pleasure ebbed over her body.

He brought his mouth to her neck, suckling until there was a sudden sharp pain and a rush of heat.

She pulled away and the demon of her dreams was there, wearing Ryder's face. Wearing the first taste of her blood on his lips.

But the longing in his gaze was her undoing. She knew what it was to want something that badly. To want love so intensely, that the not having made life impossible to bear.

She wanted Ryder. In that way. So she bared her neck again and held his head to her. This time the bite was rough and violent. The demand of it shimmered along her nerve endings, growing stronger the longer he suckled. She answered his call, desire snaking through every cell of her body, burning the memory of him into her.

She came in his arms, calling his name in a hoarse cry. Her body and mind were no longer her own. They were part of his darkness.

And she welcomed it.

 

Diana bolted upright on the sofa, her body trembling and aroused. A fine sheen of sweat covered every inch of her.

She cursed, sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees while she tried to still the aching throb between her legs. Leave it to her to finally have an erotic dream—with a demon. A demon with Ryder's face.

Dios,
but it had been hard enough to think about facing him after what had happened last night. How would she ever face him now? How could she look at him and not remember the demon lover from her dreams? Not remember how he'd made her feel? Allowing herself into his darkness had brought sweet release from the pain she carried within.

She buried her head against her knees and rocked back and forth. She could handle Ryder. She would not be dragged down into the warped existence that had claimed her after the death of her father. She had struggled too hard to escape that place. A place too much like the one she had so willingly volunteered to enter by taking on this case. She had thought herself strong enough to play the role, never expecting it to call to her so potently.

And Ryder. She'd never expected him to summon her with the pain she saw within his heart. So much like her own pain that she wanted to comfort him and maybe, by doing so, find peace herself.

Working with him on this case harder than she had ever thought. Ryder intrigued her. On a personal level, she couldn't deny she was attracted to him. What woman in her right mind wouldn't be? But it wasn't just physical attraction. That she could fight. It was the emotions he roused in her that were much harder to battle.

And of course, Ryder worried her on a professional level. He seemed to know too much about the killer's tastes and yet she was certain he had nothing to do with the murders. Her instincts, however, told her that he was guilty of
something.
What, she didn't know.

The conflicts were wearing her down. The dream had just proved it. She had no control around Ryder, had not had it from the get-go. A part of her relished that loss, but the other part feared that loss with every bone in her body.

But maybe losing control was the only way to gain some perspective. Some dominion over the call of the darkness that threatened. And some peace, she acknowledged.

But she wouldn't think about it anymore. Instead she plopped back down on the sofa to try for another hour of sleep before she had to get ready for work. And Ryder.

 

Diana sat across from David in the small coffee shop only blocks from The Lair. The cold remains of a half-eaten burger sat on her plate, and she idly ran a French fry through the ketchup, creating trails of red. Like blood…She pushed the plate away.

“Not hungry?” David reached over, snagged a fry from her plate and popped it into his mouth. His own plate was clean of the cheeseburger deluxe he had wolfed down.

She shrugged. “Where is he? Where has he taken her?”

“What?” David asked while munching on another fry.

“The killer,” she answered with a trace of exasperation. “It's too soon for him to break the pattern. He should have taken her by now.”

David grabbed another fry, popped it into his mouth and chewed on it thoughtfully. “We don't know that he took the other victims on Friday.”

“It was definitely Friday.” She counted the facts on each finger. “Liz Benton's roommate never saw her on Saturday. And the Mendez woman had a date on Saturday and also never showed. He took them on Friday.”

“They were found on Sunday morning,” David countered. “Maybe he waited until Saturday—”

Diana shook her head and motioned for David to stop. “I know it's possible he could take someone tonight, but…” She sensed that it was already too late. She looked down at the smudged and scarred tabletop and ran a finger along its surface before facing her partner once more. “He's already killed another woman.”

David paused, French fry halfway to his mouth. “Don't be such a—”

“Pessimist? We didn't stop him, David. I know it in here.” She placed her hand against her chest, stressing the point.

Leaning back into the cracked red leather of the booth, David sighed. “We're doing what we can.”

Diana gripped the edges of the table. “Maybe there's more we can—”

David lurched forward, surprising her with the intensity in his voice. “More than what you did last night? How much more, Di? How much harder can you press before you—”

“Cross a line?” she blurted out, and sank against the back of the booth. “I think it's already too late for that, David.”

Her partner looked at her, his blue eyes cold and assessing but also filled with concern. “I clocked him last night. Warned him about coming near you again.”

Diana laughed harshly. “Poor Ryder. Between you and me, he must have been quite sore this morning.”

“He could have us canned, you know. He could—”

“He won't,” she said as she signaled the waitress for the check.

David said nothing as the older woman handed Diana the tab and took Diana's credit card. When the waitress walked away, he asked, “How do you know?”

Diana couldn't say how, and that frightened her. “I just know,” she replied, and looked away from her partner's too-observant gaze.

He was silent for a long time, until the waitress had come back with the receipt and the busboy had cleared the table. Finally, Diana met his gaze and it was then that he said softly, “Ryder told me that you do what you want even though you know it's not what's right. That one day, you're going to drag me down with you because I can't control you.”

There was fear in his voice. She'd never heard it before, even when they'd been in situations that warranted it. Reaching out, she grasped his hand and gave it a squeeze. “I would never do anything to hurt you, David. You're my partner and my best friend.”

David entwined his fingers with hers. “Stuff happens, Di. We may not want it to, but—”

“I would never—”

“You already did, Di. Last night I lost my cool over what he was doing to you. I risked my career. Ryder was right.”

Diana sighed and dragged her free hand through her hair in exasperation. “Ryder doesn't know me. He—”

“Knows you better than you do yourself, I think. It's what scares you. It's what attracts you to him.” David released her hand, stood and shrugged to readjust the shoulder holster beneath his jacket. Then he held out his hand to her. She took it and rose from the booth. As David started to move away, she pulled on his hand and wrapped her arms around him.
“Gracias.”