Even if she magically heard the Voice like foghorn, she’d never be Wolf enough for him to accept. She pulled her hands into her lap, folding them as code required. Then she met his stare as levelly as possible. “Where’s the next drop site?”
He watched her, unblinking and unnerving, but finally he seemed to accept her at her word. “You sure you’re up to it?”
Perversely, she wished he’d put up some kind of argument. “I’m sure I’d rather not know he’s killed someone else because I couldn’t handle the pressure.”
He swept the room with his gaze again, almost as if he did it without thought. Keeping an eye out for any possible threat. Did it count as irony that his cold stare landed on her? He pulled himself out of the booth with a single, powerful move. “People die, Jade. You can help 82
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stop him, but there will always be someone else to take his place.”
She swallowed. “Which means?”
“It means you’re no good to me if you get yourself killed taking unnecessary risks.” He tossed a few bills onto the table, waiting with a somewhat bored air for her to get out of her seat.
“It wasn’t unnecessary,” she replied, her temper sparking. She remained planted. “Touching it was the only way to learn. I needed to know what that signature meant.”
“And almost lost yourself in the process.” He lowered his face until it nearly touched hers. His lip curled, revealing the sharp points of his fangs. “Never again.”
Her breath disappeared. His eyes held an icy fire and there was no mistaking the flood of possessiveness that surrounded her now. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he’d made some kind of claim on her. Something more than a promise of protection.
He offered his hand.
Jade knew she should get up on her own. Hold her head high and force him to understand that she controlled her fate, not him. But something inside her flared to life, something separate from the Heat. Her heart burned. On its own, her hand slid into his and she allowed him to pull her to her feet. And she basked in the flicker of satisfaction in his eyes.
Jade, you’re a stupid, senseless fool.
Which explained nicely why she didn’t balk when he kept her hand tucked in his as he led the way out of the diner.
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Twenty minutes later, she had the sense that he wished he’d tightened that hand around her throat instead.
“What do you mean there’s no goddamned victim? I watched them bag her up myself!” Rysen paced back and forth several feet from her.
“There’ve been at least a hundred people here since the analysts left the scene. Most of them are miserable, I might add.” Including her. Just like before, she’d had to remove the coat to see the other signatures, and it was just as cold as it had been earlier. Worse, the liquor store was brightly lit facing the street, but here on the side, shadows hovered and streaked. Signatures of every kind flowed in all directions. She counted at least three Sibile signatures among them and took pains to avoid them. No death signature remained where Rysen said it would, and the shadows were ominous because she couldn’t see where the killer’s black sphere might be.
She was going to have to ask him for help.
It took several seconds for her to lift her lips enough to growl the request out. “Can you come closer?”
He stopped pacing. “How close?”
She ignored the hopeful timbre. His color hovered at her back, reaching for her, but the distance kept it off her.
With her mental eye open, she’d be more open to his emotions and her own responses, but on this plane, only his light would reveal the killer. No choice but to deal.
“Stand behind me.”
He was there before she took her next breath. “I thought you said this distracted you.”
She quivered, relaxing as his essence surrounded her.
Bright light flooded the darkness, enveloping her in warmth and masculine strength. His voice warmed her 84
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belly in completely different ways. How could a simple, graveled baritone make her insides quiver? Make the throbbing start again, until she wanted to drop her head and moan from it?
Instead, she cleared her throat, hoping it might clear her mind as well. Focusing outward, she raised her hands and arrowed the light forward. “You have your uses.”
His answering growl made her smile. Until she found the sphere.
“There he is.” Once again, the glow disappeared around the hard knot of rage. “He’s still a sphere. No motion. He was here and he was gone. He never moved.”
“You’ve got to give me more than that, Jade.”
“That’s all there is.” She didn’t mention touching it again. Not only because she didn’t want to, but she knew his reaction wouldn’t be worth provoking. Instead, she backed away, pressing her back to his front. Her skin practically vibrated at the contact and a sigh escaped before she could stop it. A hot hand settled low on her belly, pulling her closer. She didn’t resist, her body turning pliant under that single palm. Pliant and aching. If he would just…
touch
her. The need would curb again, she knew it. But he stayed still, barely breathing, as if he were considering slipping those long fingers inside the waistband of her pants to give her some kind of surcease.
While she considered begging him to, a trill cut through the air, snapping her out of the trance.
Rysen backed away, picking up what she belatedly realized was a phone call. Shaking herself out of her stupidity, she reached for the coat before he got too far.
She was still buttoning when he came back, expression black.
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“What?” But she knew.
“There’s been another murder.”
“I would think a man who works in Homicide would be used to crime scene calls.”
Pale watched the black strip of road ribbon forward, hugging the mountain as he rushed the car over it. Rage because of another victim seared his blood, but much as he hated to admit it, the death wasn’t foremost in his mind. She was right, he’d grown inured to the call of lost souls. But he said nothing, not wanting to even address the female sitting blindfolded across from him until he had an idea what he was going to do with her.
The call wasn’t from central. No other members of the VCU would be trailing him, no one from crime scene processing would be collecting evidence. This was a Wolf death. No one in Moonridge would give a fuck, even if they were informed. Well, not about the girl, anyway.
They’d sure as hell care why he was called to deal with it, though. And they’d want to know where the dead girl had been headed. Which made bringing Jade there a hell of a risk. Blindfolding her so she couldn’t navigate her way back to the cabin only negated one aspect. She’d want to know the answer to those questions too, and shutting her up wasn’t something he’d completely mastered yet. But he couldn’t leave her alone.
Unfortunately, he was also driving her directly into the path of two unmated males. Ty, if it came down to it, Pale knew he could take in a challenge. One on one, but it would be bloody for them both. Tate was the wild card.
On the one hand, he fought dirty—Pale didn’t trust these men to watch his back because they were cute and 86
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cuddly—but on the other, when it came to women, Tate usually never had to fight at all.
His claws burst through his skin at the prospect of Jade choosing another male, especially one of the men he considered brothers.
Her gasp, muffled and pained, had him darting a glance her way. She was sitting in that prissy Sibile pose, hands folded in her lap as though it had never happened.
But he knew what he’d heard. “What’s the matter?”
“You’re angry.” She tilted her head in a movement he associated only with shifters. As if she was listening with an especially keen ear. “Possessive.”
He carefully retracted his claws, forcing the control that hadn’t eluded him in more than two decades to return.
“So?”
When she didn’t answer, he risked another quick look her way before taking the next curve into the snowy darkness. He could practically feel her bristling against his skin.
“So it’s bothering me.”
He frowned, hands clenching the wheel for entirely other reasons. “I thought you said you weren’t telepathic.”
“I’m not.” Her words had to be coming through gritting teeth. “I’m
em
pathic. There’s a difference.”
“Are you using your ability on me?”
“I don’t
need
to use it with you,” she snapped, no small amount of growl in her voice. Which irritated him more because there was too much sexy about her when she rumbled at him, throwing off her Sibile training like the bad fit he knew it was. “You brood like a tidal wave, a rock could pick it up.”
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“You want me to stop
brooding?
” The ridiculousness of that request had him blinking. An unexpected urge to laugh strangled in his throat. He looked at her again, even though she couldn’t possibly know through the black towel he’d tied around her head—the one she hadn’t so much as blinked at before turning her back to him in silent submission. She was serious. Pale snorted. “You’re just gonna have to get
over
that shit.”
Did her lips curve? He couldn’t tell for sure without taking his eyes off the road again and he was already driving riskily on the mountain highway. But he was pretty sure she was. Strangely, that soothed him. He hadn’t gone out of his way to be kind to her because he still wasn’t sure she could be trusted, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to please her. Wanting her to be pleased with him. In all kinds of interesting ways—
“If you think that what you’re thinking is better than the brooding, you’re wrong.”
This time the laugh escaped. That made three times already she’d gotten under his guard. This female was definitely bad for his restraint. “What
am
I allowed to think about, your highness?”
“How about where you’re taking us? The lurching of this car is going to make me sick.”
“We haven’t even hit the hairpin turns yet.” Taking off the blindfold would probably help with the motion sickness. But it wasn’t wise. “How well do you know the eastern range?” He’d know if she lied.
“I don’t. My parents lived on the coast.”
And the Sibile had kept her locked away in the enclave until now. All there was around them were black birch and pines, snow and mountains. She’d be lost if she took so much as three steps from his side. That thought 88
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brought a warm sensation to his gut. “Take off the blindfold.”
“I’m fine with it.” Which wasn’t a lie either.
Irritation bloomed into anger. “What the hell kind of people do you live with that you’re comfortable being defenseless?”
“I’m not.”
“Comfortable?”
Her covered head turned his way. “Defenseless.”
Against his will, his mouth curved at her complete confidence in her abilities. He’d yet to see her live up to it for a second, though. Sure, she’d blown him across a small interrogation room, but he had his doubts that it was on purpose. No, that temper of hers seemed far more responsible. “Take it off.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re fickle?” She reached behind her head and untied the knot. The towel came off, the soft moonlight gleaming off the braided patterns in her hair. “And the people I live with could kill me whether I saw it coming or not. It’s a
secret
society, Detective. I understand the importance of knowledge and the value of trust. I don’t have yours. I never will. The blindfold was necessary.”
“Not anymore.” What was it about her that when she told him the truth, it set his teeth on edge? So matter of fact. So…unimpassioned about her own life. Why didn’t she demand his trust? He wanted to snap his teeth at her, maybe even shake her awake. But he had no reason either of them could accept, so he kept his hands and his teeth to himself. “Tell me something, little Sibile. You said something at the diner, it’s been bothering me.”
“I get the feeling everything bothers you.”
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She had no idea. “You made a distinction with your signatures.
Humans
have different colors for their different feelings.”
He couldn’t even hear her breathing. This wasn’t something she was supposed to let slip. “They do. All kinds of colors—”
“You also said you’ve been cloistered. When did you last see a human signature?”
“Before my parents died,” she answered softly. “I’ve always had this gift.” A trace of longing colored her voice.
“Does that mean the Sibile don’t?”
“This isn’t information you need, Detective.” Tight, prissy words again.
“You can tell the difference between the Sibile and humans.” The next obvious conclusion hit him like a shot between the eyes. “You can tell shifters from humans too, then, can’t you?”
She said nothing, staring forward resolutely.
Son of a
bitch.
He pulled over with a yank on the wheel. He reached for her chin, guiding her face his way so she had to meet his gaze. “Answer me.”
She tried to yank free of his hold, which she wouldn’t do if she had any idea how much control it took not to bruise her.
“
Answer
.”
“No.”
The determination in her made the hunger he’d tamped down flare to a greedy thirst. Even in the bluish light of the moon, her lips were red. Tempting. The color clouded his senses. He slid his hand to the side of her face, holding her jaw against his thumb, wanting nothing 90
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more than to pull her against him and taste her again.
Claim her. But his responsibilities cast a shadow on his thoughts, reining his desires as nothing else could have.
He could feel her pulse against his palm, racing. Was it fear? Of him?
For the briefest second, he hated his place in the world, even knowing he’d created it himself. Knowing he wouldn’t change it if he could.
Pale tightened his fingers at her nape, staring her down, demanding submission. “Do
they
know?”
She struggled, but she couldn’t look away any more than she’d been able to break his hold.