The Hunting Moon

The Hunting Moon

Evelyn Shepherd

www.loose-id.com

The Hunting Moon Copyright © June 2011 by Evelyn Shepherd All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions. eISBN 978-1-61118-433-4 Editor: Ann M. Curtis Cover Artist: April Martinez Printed in the United States of America

Published by Loose Id LLC PO Box 425960 San Francisco CA 94142-5960 www.loose-id.com This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author‟s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Chapter One His eyes were just dark enough to be called mysterious, and by the way his long black hair fell into his face, obscuring it in sultry shadows, I knew he was someone dangerous. He held himself above everyone else, with an almost predatory stance that sent delicious tingles up my spine. He was ensconced in the back of the club, sitting in a booth on the other side of the dance floor, watching the crowd as it bobbed and swayed to the addictive beats the DJ spun. His friends had abandoned him two songs earlier, and he didn‟t seem to be in a hurry to join them. I had been watching him half the night from the corner of my eye. He seemed to dominate the club with his presence, and I knew I wasn‟t the only one watching him. I also knew that I was going to be the one to get him tonight. Some people call it gaydar, though I don‟t believe in that—I just call it good instincts. It also helped that he had been watching me under the veil of his long lashes. I wasn‟t looking for love—hell, I don‟t believe in love. I believe in quick fucks and one-night stands. And tonight he was going to be my conquest. From the way his glare met my stare, I knew I was going to be his too. I took a long swig of my beer, numbing my tongue just a little more. I was working on my third bottle, and tonight I had no plans of slowing down. If I was going to be back in the shit hole known as Columbus, Ohio, then I was going to be drunk facing it. I had left Columbus in pursuit of a career with the NYPD Preternatural Task Force. I had succeeded until six months ago, when my partner was killed on the job by a deranged lycanthrope. Now, after seven years of avoiding this place, I was back. And this dark Adonis was going to make me forget why I had returned. I finished the last of my beer and set the empty bottle on top of the bar. He tipped his head to the side, his hair spilling back to reveal the sharp contours and angles of his face. His skin, when the light played across it, was a rich burnt caramel that left my mouth watering. The gray graphic tee he had on was straining against the hard muscles of his chest and broad shoulders. I walked around the side of the dance floor, following the row of booths that wrapped around to the back of the club. He glanced up at me, and my fingers itched to brush away the silken tresses that fell into his long face. His full lips parted into a quick smile, and hunger churned in the pit of my stomach. This was a game I was very familiar with—one that I was fond of. “Hey.”

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His voice was like liquid silk pouring over my skin and wrapping around my body, caressing every intimate part of me, and it held the faintest Spanish accent. My eyelids lowered in a hooded glance, and my lips twitched into a smile that was pouting and promising. I wasn‟t giving him the option to back away. “Dance with me.” Amusement lit up his dark eyes, but he didn‟t protest. He stood up, towering over me by a good four inches—and that was saying something, since I was six feet even. I slid my hand up his chest, and my fingers played over the silver designs of his graphic tee before fisting in the cotton fabric. I pulled him with me as I walked backward onto the dance floor. I didn‟t look to see if people moved. I made them move, nudging them with my mind and guiding them away from the middle of the dance floor. My gaze never left his, and he didn‟t seem interested in anyone around us either. Large hands found my hips, and our bodies began to move as one, naturally. I rocked my hips into his, relaxed my grip on his shirt slightly, and coiled my other arm around his neck. His hair, which had to be well past his shoulders, spilled over and tickled the exposed skin of my arms. The song pounded in my ears, and I couldn‟t tell you what the lyrics were. I was hypnotized by his eyes; it was like staring into the eyes of a wild dog. They flashed with feral intensity, their chocolate color swirling with blinding deep golden yellow, like smoky topaz. He nudged his hips forward, rolling them so that his hardon brushed against mine. A shock ran through me, and my breath came out in a stuttered gasp, earning a broader grin from him. He repeated the motion, and my grip grew tighter around his neck and shirt, pulling him closer to my body. His hands spread up my back, massaging the tight muscles in my shoulders. My cock was straining in my Diesel jeans, chafing against the zipper. I let out a low growl, grinding harder against him in a vague suggestion of what was to come. He didn‟t seem to need any further invitation. His mouth sealed over mine, his tongue pressing past the barrier of my lips. I opened my mouth wide, and it became all about tasting and feeling. He tasted of beer and cinnamon gum. When I broke away for air, I met his eyes. They burned with the same hunger that I felt. I turned around before he could come in for another kiss, pressed my ass against him, and shook my hips. He grabbed my hips again, his grip hard and demanding. I could just imagine his hands running up my body, pulling and guiding me as he drilled into me from behind. I closed my eyes with a flutter of lashes and arched, letting my hands tangle in the soft mess of his hair. It ran through my fingers smoothly, and I knew I could spend hours just stroking his hair. “So what‟s your name?” I shouted over the music. His lips brushed my right ear, his tongue flicking out to nudge the silver hoop I had in. His hands wrapped around my waist to my stomach and traced the hard muscles of my abs through the black material of my T-shirt. “Carlos,” he said in a low growl.

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The song changed, but I didn‟t know what to. All I could hear, all I could feel, was the sound of Carlos‟s breathing as he tempted my body with his long fingers. I tightened my hold on his hair and pulled his head down, craning my neck so I could turn and kiss him. He rolled his hips at the gesture and eagerly sucked in my tongue. Much more of this, and I was going to come in my jeans, right there on the dance floor. I released his hair, letting it whisper past my fingertips. With another promising smile I asked, “Your place or mine?” He embraced me against his chest, his arms wrapping around me to secure my body. His lips branded my neck in a slow kiss, and I felt a quake run through me. “Mine.” That was fine by me. If he turned out to be a psychopath, I‟d just pop his ass full of lead. But I knew he wouldn‟t try anything funny. He was straining just as bad against his tight jeans as I was. “Let‟s go.” I untangled myself from his body. The hold I had on the crowd, the one that had kept them at bay from us, was released. They moved back like the tide coming in, none the wiser on the fact that I had pushed them away from us. Carlos cocked his head to the side and followed me, not protesting when my hand tangled in his. His palms were rough from work, and they felt strong as they flexed around my own fingers. If he signaled to his friends that he was leaving, I didn‟t know. Honestly, I didn‟t give a rat‟s ass about them. I was much more interested in getting to his car. The cold air burst against my face as soon as we stumbled outside. It was the beginning of October, and already there was the promise of a harsh winter to come. I had skipped my jacket tonight, mostly because I had been too lazy to grab it on my way out, so I ignored the sudden goose bumps that rolled down my arms. I wasn‟t cold for long, though, because Carlos wrapped his arms around me. His breath warmed my neck as it curled down my skin. He flicked his tongue out against the sensitive juncture between my neck and shoulder. I craned my head up, rolled my eyes to look at him, and asked, “Where‟s your car?” He gestured to the parking garage adjacent to the club we had just come out of. The red sign overhead glowed in a neon haze, illuminating the back path that The Red Light was on. It was just behind another club, part of a small cluster of joints that could be found down in the Short North. Music could be heard in the distance, on the other side of the industrial steel doors that slammed closed behind us. The bouncer standing outside the door eyed us carefully, probably sizing us up to see how drunk we were. With long strides, Carlos pulled me toward the five-story garage, wrapping me in the rock-hard band of his arm. I found an expanse of exposed skin on his neck and bit down hard, earning a startled grunt from him. “You‟re a ferocious one,” he said with a rich chuckle. I warmed my fingers by rubbing them up his side. “I‟m an impatient one.”

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“Patience, mi corazón.” He laughed, dragging me into the elevator near the front of the garage. He hit the button, and the doors swung closed with a metallic ding. I pushed him against the wall, my mouth latching on to his. He let out a low growl, grabbed ahold of my hips, and pulled me hard against him. Just as my body was beginning to get into it, the doors dinged open on the fourth floor. He pulled away and nudged me forward, panting, “Come on.” A grin twitched across my lips, and I followed him as he led me through the labyrinth of cars. His was a brand-spanking-new Ram 1500 in a sharp red. It gleamed beneath the garage lights, and I was pretty sure I had just had a minor orgasm from looking at it. He traced his fingers up my bare arms, and I shivered, saying, “You looked like a truck man.” He fished his keys out without a word and beeped it unlocked. I walked over to the passenger side, opened the door, and climbed up into the seat. As soon as he was situated in the truck, I closed the space between us. Within the twenty minutes it took to drive to his house, I worked on revving up his engine. My hands caressed every spot I could reach, my lips following. Once we swung into the driveway, we climbed out of the truck and closed the distance between us in a steamy reunion of tongues. He couldn‟t find the keys fast enough to unlock the house door. We stumbled into the house. I pulled his jacket off, dropping it on the floor as he guided me through to the master bedroom. I caught a fleeting glimpse of a flat-screen TV as we made our way down the hall, a tangle of arms and lips. He grabbed my shirt by its hem and pulled it up over my head in a single liquid motion, letting it fall in the doorway as he pushed me inside. I watched as his gaze raked down my chest, taking in the definition of my abs. It was the hoop in my left nipple, though, that his gaze zeroed in on. A devilish smile split his lips. He hooked his index finger through it and gave a hard pull. Sweet pain coursed through my body. I moaned, my eyes fluttering closed with anticipation. Carlos let out another growl and gave another pull. My nipple ring was released and he pushed me onto his king-size bed. His comforter was soft cotton. I pulled myself up on the bed and looked up at him through a veil of burgundy bangs. Slowly he pulled his shirt off, revealing the sixpack he was rocking. His skin was such a rich color of caramel… I wanted to suck every inch of him, taste him to see if he was as sweet as he looked. He threw the tee sideways in a random direction. “Let‟s see how hard we can go, mi corazón.” Carlos turned and walked over to his dresser, which was shoved against the wall opposite the bed. It gave me a chance to see the gigantic tattoo covering his back. I could only see the details in the moonlight that came in through the open window. It looked to be a depiction of the Virgin Mary cradling a skull, with a colorful halo of sunlight behind her, mixed among the clouds. Wreathed beneath her were blooming roses, and above Mary‟s head in an archival script were the words

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“Rest in Peace.” Beneath the artwork, I could see every muscle flex. My mouth watered. He was so honed. He fished out a container of lube and turned back around to face me, dangling it in his fingers tauntingly. I licked my lips, my mind going blank as he approached me with a slow swag. His jeans were held up by a black leather belt. He dropped the lube on the bed and unfastened his belt, pulling it out with a jerk, so that it cracked to the side. I fisted the comforter in my hands and ordered, “Get your hot ass over here.” A wicked glint played in his brown eyes. The moonlight caught in their dark depths, like the night was coming alive. He climbed onto the bed, resting on his knees. The belt was still resting menacingly in his hands. “I‟m making you my bitch tonight,” Carlos growled. Prickles of desire danced over me, burning me up. I rested back against the pillows, saying with a taunting smirk, “We‟ll see about that.” He pounced, moving with the skill of a wild beast. Suddenly it made sense to me what he was. He held the aura of something arcane. It was like a sixth sense inside me that could feel the presence of those beyond human. I looked up at him, my eyes sparkling with wonderment, and whispered, “Werewolf.” He smiled playfully, crouching over me with the belt tight between his hands. “Correction, werecoyote.” I cocked my head to the side and scanned the contours of his face. I licked my lips, hunger spiking even higher. There was always something dangerous about fucking a lycanthrope. They were wild and insatiable, and depending on their level of control, could randomly shift during lovemaking. A weaker lycan could easily turn in the midst of passion and rip out your throat. Carlos seemed to have his power in check. He sobered for a brief moment, asking, “Is that all right?” Granted, most paranormal and arcane things had been brought to light, and some had even been granted citizenship and rights, but that didn‟t mean there was total acceptance. Lucky for Carlos, I was one of the freaks. I released a small burst of power, sending Carlos flying backward onto his back. I pounced, straddling his hips and grinding my pelvis down into his. “That‟s more than all right.” The game was back on, and Carlos let out a growl that definitely belonged to a coyote. He released one end of the belt and grabbed my arms, throwing me sideways so he could reclaim the top. “Good, then your tight ass is mine.” He slammed my hands above my head, and I bucked up, trying to throw him off. With inhuman speed, he wrapped the belt around my arms in makeshift cuffs. Sex with something arcane is always interesting. “That all you got?” I taunted, twisting my arms against the binding. He just smiled and began to work my belt off, pulling it away and quickly unsnapping the

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button of my jeans. My cock twitched, straining against my zipper. He cupped my hard-on, rubbing it gently through the rough material. I forgot about struggling against my bindings for a moment and moaned out into the crisp air of the room. “Do you know how sexy you are?” Carlos murmured. “Yes.” Carlos chuckled into my ear as he bent over my body. “Cocky bastard.” The smart-ass comment that I came up with left my head as soon as his tongue traced the shell of my ear. He continued to apply a lazy amount of pressure to my aching cock, working wet kisses along my neck. I pressed upward with my hips and seethed. “Damn it, what happened to the part about making me your bitch?” “Are you going insane?” Oh, he was a cruel bastard. I closed my eyes and smiled when his hand tightened around my throbbing shaft, adding more pressure. “That‟s cheating.” Carlos snapped, pulling his hand away and flicking me in the nose. I blinked and sputtered in disbelief. “Did you just flick my nose?” “Yes,” he clucked, rising up and resting his weight on my knees. “For cheating.” I slanted a glare in his direction. “Well, if someone would stop dragging it out…” “You are very impatient.” There was laughter in his voice. He was mocking me. “I told you that.” “So you did,” he drawled out, rising up and sliding down. He pulled my shoes and socks off, dropping them on the other side of the bed. He hooked my belt around my tied-up hands and secured it to the bars of his brass headboard with his own belt. Suddenly I had a newfound appreciation for brass beds. “What are you going to do now?” He rubbed a hand up my thigh, kneading the muscle. I tugged my arms and looked at him, smirking. “Nothing now, I guess.” He laughed, and it caused lines to crinkle around the corners of his eyes. He ran his hands down my chest, kneading every muscle he came into contact with. My eyes fluttered closed again, and a low moan escaped me as he tapped his fingers down my bulge. He didn‟t tease me this time, though. He grabbed the waistband of my jeans and pulled them down. I lifted my hips to help him shimmy them off. Carlos climbed onto my body once more, resting down on my legs so he could nuzzle my lap. I still had on a pair of cotton boxers, but they weren‟t doing much to conceal me. His teeth grazed my sensitive skin through my briefs. I cried out in shock. “Shit!” His tongue poked out, and I could feel the sticky wetness of precum forming on my tip.

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He laughed again. “So damn hot.” Carlos pulled my boxers down, taking away my final barrier. My seven inches came to full mast, pulsing red and dripping precum at the crown. He slid my boxers completely off and climbed off the bed. I opened my eyes and watched as he removed his own jeans and boxers. His cock was thick, so very thick and long. A dark rod nestled in a bed of black curls, curving upward, with a large mushroom cap. He took the lubricant from the bed and poured a dollop into his hand. “Is all that for me?” I asked, swiping my tongue along my lips. I felt like a kid in a candy store, and the shopkeeper had just offered me the biggest chocolate bar. Carlos rubbed the lubricant over his cock in long, luxurious strokes. As he jacked off slowly he asked, “You want it?” “Yeah.” The words came out in a shudder, and I spread my legs apart, arching up to show my need. “And don‟t you even think about wasting your time prepping. I want that big boy in me.” He climbed back up on the bed and took the lubricant again, saying with a sultry grin, “Whatever you want.” Taking my left leg, he lifted it up and pressed a soft kiss to the curve of my knee before hooking it over his shoulder. I threw my right leg over his other shoulder, my body bending into his. He poured the cold gel over the crack of my ass, rubbing it along my puckered entrance, then poked a single digit in to tease me. After shifting into a better position, he grabbed my hips and guided his head to the ring of skin. His eyes met mine as he prepared to fill me. “Ready?” “Fuck me!” I growled, pressing against him. He didn‟t need any further invitation. He slammed forward, all of his eight inches being swallowed up by the tight channels of my rectum. I cried out, my breath catching in my throat as a fire surged into me. He spread his legs and pushed up, going deeper. My muscles flexed, constricting around him in an attempt to expel his cock. He groaned, his hands readjusting their hold as he burrowed up inside me. We sat there for a moment, adjusting to the feeling of completeness. Then, without warning, he pulled back and slammed in again. The pace started, hard and fast, just as we‟d promised each other. My hands were strung helpless above me, my fingers curled up into balls, the nails biting into the supple flesh of my palms until I was sure bloody crescents had formed. It felt so good to be filled up. I needed something inside me. Emptiness surrounded me when I went too long without sex; it was suffocating. It seemed that the only time I could breathe was when someone was stealing my breath away. Carlos shifted, letting go of my hips and bending my legs over my body. My spine strained to form to the unnatural position, and the muscles in my calves protested as they stretched. I cried out as pain mixed inside me, and I loved it. God, how I loved to hurt. “Ah!” I moaned. “M-more!”

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He grabbed the bar of his brass bed, my tied hands between the both of his. His eyes met mine, burning so intently, it seemed like a million galaxies gathered there. His hair spilled over his shoulders, obscuring his face in shadows and tickling my cheeks. He threw his hips forward, bracing himself against the bed and using it as leverage. His face strained, twisting with pleasure as he grunted. The muscles in his arms trembled with the force of his thrusts. My body pulsed around him, and I could feel everything inside me tightening as his cock moved back and forth. My dick bobbed between us, rubbing against his abdomen. “Shit, you‟re so tight.” I flexed my cheeks and rolled my hips up, bouncing against Carlos. His eyes hooded with pleasure, and I knew I had done something right. I could feel my insides turning to ash as I burned up. He was hitting the right spot, and it was driving me insane. My toes curled as he drove forward, and in a final starburst moment, I felt my world go up in flames. Ecstasy spilled over me, and I came in a powerful jet. I arched my back and threw my head into the pillows, screaming as I was hit by the orgasm. His thrusts grew haphazard, and he became like a wild dog, rutting into me in the final lap. A pant escaped him, hips jerking with his climax. His cum filled me, and I shuddered at the feeling. Carlos collapsed on top of me, our hearts pounding against each other as we struggled to breathe. I would have been content staying like that if my arms hadn‟t been tied up and weren‟t going numb. I steadied my breathing and nudged him with my head. “Hey, can you untie my hands?” Carlos blinked, apparently lost in a sex-induced daze. He glanced up at my suspended arms, and realization dawned. “Oh! Right. Sorry.” He pulled out with a squelching sound. The room was heavily perfumed with the scent of semen and sweat, lightly veiled over with the fall air. I lowered my legs as he undid the belts and tossed them aside. As soon as my hands were free, I rubbed them and flexed my fingers, trying to get the blood flowing back into them. Sluggishly, Carlos collapsed beside me, his long hair now damp and clinging to his face. I smiled faintly, not sure what to say. A warm tingle was still coursing through me, an afterglow so warm, it reminded me of the pleasure I‟d just experienced. I leaned back against the pillows and looked at his T-shirt on the floor. I lifted it up into the air—the faint moonlight caught its gray folds and metallic designs, making them glint—and it hovered over us before falling into my waiting hands. I used the shirt to clean us up, ignoring the faint glare I earned from Carlos. “You aren‟t just a telekinetic, are you?” It came out more like a statement. I dropped the soiled shirt over the side of the bed and shook my head. “No.”

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He gestured for me to move, climbed from the bed, and pulled the comforter down, then fetched an extra blanket from a chest at the foot of the bed. He threw it over the sheets. “I figured you wouldn‟t want to sleep with a soiled comforter. You shouldn‟t get too cold; my body runs hotter than normal.” That was for sure. He slipped beneath the blankets and held them up for me. Crap. He was expecting me to stay the night. This was always the awkward part. I really didn‟t like staying the night. I liked the sex, and then I liked to be gone. Sometimes I found someone who shared the same sentiment. Other times, I had to make the tactful, elusive escape when they fell asleep. On rare—very rare—occasions, I got wrangled into staying the full night. Those were the worst. Carlos was going to make me sneak out. It wasn‟t anything against him; I just didn‟t do relationships. He was hot, and he seemed decent enough, but relationships just weren‟t me. I had learned my lesson. I climbed back into the bed after forcing my muscles to relax. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me against him so that our chests pressed against each other. He was right about his body temperature not being normal. It was like being curled up with a heating pad. His fingers brushed up my arm soothingly, and I could feel myself relaxing. I had to fight the urge to drift off to sleep. He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. “So what are you?” he mumbled into my hair. I repressed a yawn and stared past his shoulder toward the still open window. He forgot to close the blinds. The moon was high in the night, an iridescent first quarter moon that illuminated the sky in a warm glow as it drifted across the world like a phantom. The stars paled around it, faint silver will-o‟-the-wisps. “A Phantom.” I mumbled absently. I should clarify something. I‟m a Phantom—a human with psychokinesis and bilocation abilities. But it isn‟t just moving objects with my mind. If it were just that, I‟d be your average, everyday psychic. No, my abilities go beyond that. My psychokinetic abilities are strong enough that I can perform levitation skills with little effort. And then there‟s the bilocation—my ability to appear in one location while remaining in another. Kind of like making copies of myself. We‟re a rare bunch. To be honest, I only knew one other. My ex, the jackass formally known as Rhett Bishop. There‟s an order to Phantoms known as the Council, but I‟ve never met a single one. Then again, I had no desire to meet any other Phantoms. Me being a Phantom was the reason my parents decided they were going to have our priest perform an exorcism on me. Well, that and because I‟m gay. A fucked-up son just didn‟t fit the image of the perfect Catholic couple from Connecticut.

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When they realized there wasn‟t a demon inside me, that I was just one of the gifted few who could move objects with his mind, they decided to do what all good, devoted Catholic parents should; they shipped me off to Columbus to live with my aunt. Silence settled over us after my declaration, and for a few moments, all I could hear were our synchronized heartbeats. I was still bathing in the afterglow of the sex. His next words broke the quietude. “I knew it.” The words were strange, so sure of themselves. They were faint, barely a whisper, but there was something about them that made me question. His breathing evened out, slowing to a gentle intake as he fell asleep. I knew better than to get up right away, though. I waited fifteen minutes, listening to his breathing even out in sleep as I watched the moon haunt the world. Finally, when I was sure he was sound asleep, I concentrated on carefully levitating his arms off me and slipped away from his warm body. The cold instantly attacked, seizing me. My nipples hardened, and gooseflesh covered my body. I stifled a gasp and turned to look at Carlos. His black hair had fallen over his face, and I couldn‟t resist the urge to push a few strands behind his ear. The serene expression he wore almost made me feel guilty for leaving. I shoved that feeling down deep inside and slipped away from the bed. I slowly collected my clothes, re-dressing myself as I went. I snapped and zipped my jeans and slipped my Doc Martens back on. I gave a final glance backward, my heart sputtering in a strange way. Damn this Catholic guilt. I walked quickly out of the room toward the front of the house, opening the door with my mind as I moved toward it. The front door silently slid open along with the storm door. I slipped out and closed them without looking back, sealing the locks so no one could sneak in while Carlos was out cold. The motions were all second nature, a reflex of my mind that released in a faint surge of power. It was like extending invisible hands, only they weren‟t really hands but energy. Carlos lived in the middle of Gahanna. My car was back in the parking garage by The Red Light. That was about a twenty- to twenty-five-minute drive. It wasn‟t the first time, though, that I was left stranded without a car. But Carlos had fucked the shit out of me. My body was already beginning to protest the various angles he‟d bent me into. I was going to be extremely sore come morning. “Oh well,” I grumbled, glancing around the desolate street. They really needed to put in some street lamps. “Sooner I get there, the sooner I can get home and go to bed.” I cleared my mind and released a stream of energy, letting it wash over and surround me. My skin tingled as I felt it play across me, dancing past my lips and along my fingers. The cold air began to billow around me, and I kicked myself for not grabbing a jacket. I was so going to get sick from this.

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My feet lifted off the ground, and my body rose higher and higher, until I was above the rooftops. I began to move forward, shooting across the sky with ease. The wind stirred Carlos‟s scent, which clung to me. He smelled of soap and earth and a spice that was all him. That had to have been the best sex I‟d ever had so far, which was a little scary. I was going to need a bath when I got home. Otherwise, I‟d never be able to get to sleep.

*** My body ached in places I didn‟t know I had. I was trying to wake up with my morning cup of joe, but in all honesty, it wasn‟t working. I just wanted to crawl back into bed and stay there. I couldn‟t, though, no matter how badly I wanted to. I had to get ready for work. With a grumble, I finished the scalding cup of coffee and dropped the mug into the sink. Ignoring the pain that shot up my spine when I straightened up, I shuffled quickly into my bathroom to take a shower. It was six in the morning, and I had only gotten about two hours of sleep. My body was screaming for a break, but it wasn‟t going to get that anytime soon. I stripped down and turned the water on, making it as hot as my body could take it. Steam filled the small bathroom, fogging up the mirror that hung over the sink. The water beat against my back, helping to ease the tension in my muscles. I tipped my head and began to wash up. By the time I climbed out of the shower, ten minutes later, the room was filled in a cloud of damp heat. I opened the bathroom door to let some of the cold air in and wiped down the mirror. I wasn‟t one of those guys who took two hours to primp in front of the mirror. My routine consisted of shaving the small bit of stubble I got and styling my hair with minimal effort. I brushed my teeth, did the deodorant thing, and slapped on a bit of cologne. By the time I finished, the steam had dissipated, and a cold chill had run over me. I walked into the bedroom and shifted through my suits, hunting down something to wear. I hated suits. Suits and I went together the same way cats went together with water. It was a bad mix, and usually someone wound up getting hurt. I pulled out one of my black suits and a blue-striped button-down dress shirt. I owned about seven suits, and most of them were black. Two were gray, and one was tan. I didn‟t wear the tan one that much. My Aunt Claire had bought it for me, and I hadn't had the heart to return it. I pulled on the suit pants and shirt and snatched up my gun holster from where it hung on the oak post of my bed. All the furniture in my room was a warm oak. The holster was a black DeSantis, New York Undercover style. My gun, a Smith and Wesson 1911 .45 ACP with a five-inch barrel and stainless-steel frame, was already locked in. I kept it in the holster by my bed for easy access. You never knew when the monsters you hunted down were going to decide to get revenge. My gun was part of my body. I patted it for reassurance and shrugged on my jacket, taking a glance in the mirror to make sure it was concealed. The pants fit nicely to my hips, the suit trimmed to slide easily against my lean form. The blue

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shirt brought out the pale blue of my eyes, and my hair had dried into a kind of tossed style that was aided by a small amount of gel. I kept my hair cut short to my ears, mostly because I was lazy and didn‟t like to fuss over it. A few pesky strands persisted on falling into my eyes. “Belt,” I mumbled to myself, walking over to my dresser, which was angled in front of my bed. After searching for a good ten minutes, it dawned on me where my belt was. It was back at Carlos‟s place. Fuck. I hadn‟t grabbed it in my rush to flee. I hissed a curse under my breath and stomped over to my dresser, hunting through the drawers for another belt. Luckily my Aunt Claire had also given me some fancy black leather belt from Italy a few Christmases ago. I slipped it on and pulled out a black tie. Were you seeing a theme? Black and black and black. I didn‟t do the top two buttons of my shirt and kept my tie loose, letting it hang limply around my neck. I wasn‟t going to suffocate while on the job. After fetching my shoes and slipping them on, I rushed out the door, grabbing my watch, wallet, and keys along the way. I locked my apartment door before flying down the concrete pathway. I lived in an apartment on the first level on the west side of Columbus. The rent was mediocre, and my neighbors left me the fuck alone. It wasn‟t the greatest of neighborhoods, but no one seemed too eager to mess with the new guy. I unlocked the driver‟s door of my car, a black 1983 Ford Mustang I had gotten as a teenager. I‟d bought it used and decrepit, in need of repairs. But after a bit of TLC and major ass kissing with my aunt‟s boyfriend at the time, I had gotten her back up and purring. I dropped into the driver‟s seat and slammed the door shut. I started her up, letting her purr for a minute before buckling up and backing out. Journey came on over the radio as I drove to the nearest Starbucks for another pick-me-up before going in to my new job.

*** Andrew Pratt was the chief of police for the CPD Sixteenth Precinct. He was also a man who had smoked one too many packs of cigarettes and smelled of hard salami. If the pictures on his desk were any indication, he also had a loving wife with strong Italian roots and two children, one of which was graduated. His face was wide and thick and filled with lines that came with the job, and his gray hair was thinning at the top. He leaned back in his seat and gave me the once-over for the third time since I‟d come into his office. He was appraising me, seeing who it was who‟d transferred over to him. I wasn‟t about to fold under his hard stare. I reclined back in the stiff chair he had in his cramped office. It was a twisted metal torture device with cracked orange upholstery. Finally he let out a long sigh like a deflating balloon and set his meaty hands down on his desk.

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“I don‟t see why a city slicker like you would come to Columbus, but I ain‟t going to complain. The PTF here has been in need of men, and you seem more than capable.” He picked up a manila folder and opened it to my report. “Everything seems to be in order. I already have your partner picked out. He should be coming any moment.” As if orchestrated, the door swung open, and the last person I ever expected to see came walking in. Carlos looked at Pratt first and then at me before looking back at Pratt. “You wanted me, Chief?” he asked with a toothy grin. He then did a double take, his eyes landing back on me. They grew to a comical cartoon size. A mixture of emotions flitted across his face: anger, surprise, embarrassment, lust, and then anger again. His gaze settled into a hard glare. “Ramirez, this is your new partner, Theodore Bourne.” Pratt waved in my general direction. He dropped my folder on his desk and leaned back in his office chair. “I expect you to show him the ropes. All right, get out of my office and get your asses to work.” I rose to my feet, channeling my own maelstrom of emotions. My heart skipped a beat as I glanced over at Carlos, trying to peg down what he was thinking. The last thing I had expected was to see him again. All the memories from last night came back, and desire was born once again in me. I buried it and forced myself to follow Carlos out of Pratt‟s office. This had to be more awkward than getting caught sneaking out. Carlos didn‟t say a word to me as he led me to our office, and I followed, trying to figure out what exactly I was going to say to him. Obviously fucking him and then bailing before he got up wasn‟t exactly the best way to start things. I wouldn‟t have done it if I‟d known we‟d be partners at work. Just my fucking luck. “So your name is Theodore.” He wasn‟t really asking, and from his tone, it sounded almost as if he knew that was my name. But then again, it might have been anger I was sensing. His words were clipped and hard. “I go by Theo,” I said uselessly. I usually didn‟t feel like an ass about these things, but he was sure doing a good job of making me learn how to feel like one. I glanced around the small office, which was barely larger then a cubicle. There were two filing cabinets shoved against the wall and a potted plant that had probably been there when Carlos came. The tiles on the floor were dirty, and the paneling in the ceiling had a brown wet spot. There were two desks in the office, pressed against each other. His was piled full of papers and picture frames and a cup of steaming coffee. He wasn‟t wearing his suit jacket, which was slung over the back of his office chair. The tan suit he wore fit nicely to his well-toned body, and the sudden urge to rip it off grew inside me. I had a vivid memory of him bending over my body, his

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cock pulsing inside me. I could almost make out the hard naked lines of his body beneath his clothes, and it took all my power and control to keep my own dick from hardening. I ignored my urges, training my eyes on the pale blue tie that lay neatly over his white button-down shirt and not the glare of death he was shooting my way. His long black hair, which I knew was silky and almost watery in texture, was bound back in a ponytail. After standing there for I don‟t know how long—me trying my hardest not to meet his gaze, and him trying to cause me to randomly combust—I snapped. I shot my own withering glare back at him, my agitation reaching its limits. I was sore and in no mood to deal with this “woe is me” bullshit. I was not about to start feeling sorry for leaving him. So what if I didn‟t stay the night? It wasn‟t like I said I would, and I sure as hell made no promises to him about devoting myself. I was not going to feel bad for living the way I always had. Fuck him. “Look, if you have an issue, just say it,” I snapped. Carlos stared at me, his eyes growing dark. “You left.” “And? I never said I‟d stay.” His glare weakened somewhat, but not by much. I could see the frustration playing inside him. He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled. “So I take it you always sleep with strangers and then leave without a word.” I bit the inside of my cheek. “Look, I‟m sorry I hurt your feelings or whatever. But I never said I‟d stay, and I sure as hell don‟t see what the big deal is. I thought it was pretty clear what last night was going to be. Two strangers fucking, no strings attached.” Carlos cocked his head to the side, his face smoothing out. Goddamn, he was handsome. He searched my face, looking for something, but I didn‟t know what. “You don‟t recognize me, do you?” The words were softer, his anger deflated. “What?” I blinked in confusion. He shook his head, shrugged, and mumbled something under his breath in Spanish. Finally, he sighed. “Ah, mi corazón. Still clueless as ever.” “Huh?” I blinked again, my own irritation rising. “Look, buddy, if you have something to say, then just say it.” His anger was completely gone. He looked at me, a playful smile spreading across his face. “I‟ll forgive you this time, but I won‟t be so easily brushed off next time. I‟ll win you yet, mi corazón. You wait and see.” “Stop calling me that!” I yelled. It was fine last night, in the heat of the moment. But now, it was just getting on my nerves. I didn‟t know what “mi corazón” was, and I didn‟t care. But he‟d better just stop with the little pet names. “And there isn‟t going to be a next time! Last night was a one-night stand. One night. That‟s it!”

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Carlos chuckled, his eyes crinkling and sparkling with mirth. “Whatever you say.” I growled, wishing for a moment that I was the werecoyote. I‟d shift and tear out his damn throat. Then we‟d see who was laughing. Instead, I settled for the next best thing. Without much effort, I lifted his stapler and hurled it at his head, all the while keeping eye contact with him. Carlos moved with lightning reflexes, dodging the stapler. Instead of flipping his lid, he burst out laughing. That only pissed me off more. Oh, this was not going to work. This wasn‟t going to work at all. Mental note: next time, don’t fuck your partner. It only makes situations awkward.

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Chapter Two “So what‟s the case you‟ve been working on?” I asked, taking a glance at the mess of papers on Carlos‟s desk. How anyone could make sense of the chaos was beyond me; I wasn‟t sure which half of the cases were finished and which were open. I had a sudden foreboding feeling that I was yet again going to be shafted with doing the paperwork. Carlos took a seat in his chair and reclined as he picked up his coffee mug, a white cup with Mickey Mouse and friends wrapped around it, and took a sip. I arched a brow at the mug but didn‟t say anything. Who was I to judge? My favorite coffee mug had the Transformers logo on it. Carlos lowered his mug. “A few weeks ago, we got a report in about a dead body found stashed in an alley down by the Short North.” “And?” I asked, taking a seat in my own chair. Carlos set his mug down and riffled through the papers and files on his desk. He extracted a file from beneath a tall stack and threw it on my bare desk. “No big deal, right? Nothing for the PTF to worry about. That‟s what I thought at first, but then it turned out the vic, Jeffery Moore, was a werewolf.” I picked up the file and flipped it open, looking down at the report. It was filled with random details and facts. Carlos took another sip of coffee and continued to ramble on. “Gets better, though. Whoever attacked him was also a lycan.” My eyebrows lifted up high on my forehead. I glanced up from the report to look at him. “Is there a war going on with the local werewolf pack? Or any of the Columbus packs?” “I haven‟t heard of anything.” Carlos sighed, frustration evident in his eyes. This case would mean more to him. “Are you sure?” I pulled out photos of the body that had been taken at the crime scene. “Have you talked to all the pack leaders in the area?” “They aren‟t going to be eager to leak pack details to the police,” Carlos said, his voice edged with annoyance. “And yeah, I‟m sure. Trust me; I‟d know if there was something brewing in any of the packs around here.” I looked up from the snapshot and cocked my head to the side. “Oh? And why‟s that?”

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Power oozed from him, filling the room up like water in a cup. It surrounded me; it choked me. I could feel his strength, and I didn‟t need to press for an answer. Anger suddenly rose up in me, mostly from my own irritation. I gritted my teeth together and snapped, “Okay, I get it!” In a blink, the power was gone, and a smug smirk spread across Carlos‟s face. “Corazón, don‟t look so annoyed.” I scuffed, “So what, you‟re an alpha? That gives you leverage in the info department or something?” “Not an alpha,” Carlos said, his eyes flashing topaz. “I‟m the alpha. I‟m the leader of the werecoyotes, so if there was a war going on anywhere in Columbus, I think I‟d know.” I rolled my eyes before dropping my gaze back down to the snapshot, mumbling, “Okay, fuck. Enough with the ego trip already, I get that you‟re a badass doggy. Doesn‟t mean that someone couldn‟t be keeping their lips tightly sealed or otherwise hiding information.” According to the info I was reading, the vic had been male, thirty-seven years old. His skin was the color of fresh mud, and his head was a polished dome. If a lycanthrope dies while transformed, they‟ll shift back to their human form, usually within an hour of death. Judging by the pound of raw hamburger that used to be his throat, I would bet the vic had been shifted into wolf form when he was attacked. There were long contusions running along his side and back. I stared down hard at the photo, taking in the background. The body had been dumped in an alley behind Sir-Clucks-A-Lot Chicken, next to the Dumpster full of old chicken and biscuits. They hadn‟t even given him the grace of a blanket to cover his naked body. “Anything at the crime scene?” I asked, stuffing the photos back into the file and returning it to the chaos. “We did a sweep of the area and couldn‟t find anything. The body had been dropped off, but whoever had done it had taken extra care in making sure we couldn‟t track them.” “Figures.” I snorted. They always made sure we couldn‟t track them. Any other way, and it would just make our lives way too easy. “So where are we standing?” “As of right now, I‟ve hit nothing but dead ends,” Carlos said, brows creased and eyes crinkled. Damn, did he look sexy when he was frustrated. I bit my tongue to chase away the thought; I didn‟t need any of them right now. Luckily, before my mind could betray me anymore, our office door flew open. A man caught somewhere between his midthirties and the illusion that he was still hip poked his head in. His smoky gray eyes were wild with excitement, and his blond hair stuck out in a bed-head fashion. He was cute, borderline handsome, but also very much in delusion. The colorful tie he had on was definitely a strike against him. It looked like a rainbow had vomited on him.

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“Ramirez, there‟s been another body found. Chief wants you to go down and check it out. They think it‟s connected to your case. The body was found out back by The Red Light.” A cold chill washed down my spine. Carlos looked at me, and our gazes locked. Without breaking eye contact, Carlos nodded. “Okay, Scott, thanks.” Scott vanished back out the door, failing to close it behind him. Scott and I were going to have to talk about that. “Did you see anything unusual last night?” I asked, already on my feet. “No, but I was a little distracted,” Carlos said matter-of-factly as he slipped his jacket on to conceal his weapon, shooting me a look that sent electricity straight down to my toes. It was the same fuck-me stare he gave me last night. I once more had to control my cock from going hard. I scowled at him. “Don‟t give me that look.” “What look?” he asked innocently, blinking. I resisted the urge to throw something at him. With a huff, I stomped to the door, ordering over my shoulder to “move it.” “All right, newbie, keep your pants on.” My brow twitched. “Well, wait… That might be hard for you.” I spun around, preparing to lay into him. Carlos just walked past me, swatting me on the ass as he passed by. “Come on. We got work to do, no time to talk.” Oh, I was going to kill him!

*** We took one of the precinct‟s unmarked cars, a beaten-up silver Crown Victoria that had seen better days. The crime scene was a madhouse, with reporters flooding the area. Caution tape had been looped around the perimeter, blocking off the nosy assholes, but that didn‟t stop them from trying to bleed us dry with answers. I glanced over at the crowd as we walked up to the scene. “Christ,” I grumbled. “They‟re a bunch of sharks.” Carlos and I flashed our badges, and a uniform pulled the tape up for us as we approached. Behind us, I could hear a male reporter yelling, “Detectives! Detectives! Any word on who the victim was?” We ignored him and kept on walking, rounding the corner of the first club that The Red Light was behind. To our right was the same garage Carlos and I had stumbled into last night, frantic to get each other off. The memories were burned in my mind, and I could still feel him pulsing inside me, pounding me into submission. I bit my tongue to bring myself back to reality. The sharp, pungent smell of blood surrounded me as we neared the alley. It wasn‟t as strong as it should have been, but it was still there, powerful enough to

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fill my mouth with the coppery taste of new pennies. The uniform who had pulled the tape up for us led us around to the back, where a gritty Dumpster was shoved against the concrete wall. “The body was found around eight this morning. The club manager came in and found it lying here beside the Dumpster.” “Is the manager still here?” I asked, looking over to where the body lay. “He‟s giving his report now in the club.” “All right.” I walked past the officer to the body. It was a female, in her midtwenties. Her body was strong and agile, her arms corded with sleek muscles, her stomach flat and hard looking. Her left breast was sliced up with deep gashes, and just like the previous body, her throat had been turned into an angry mess of bloody meat. I glanced back at Carlos. “It‟s the same as the other body.” He passed me a pair of plastic gloves he had retrieved, and I slipped them on. Carefully, I probed the gashes along her chest. On her hip there was a deep bite wound. I pressed against it, running my fingers over the puckered skin. Bruises had flourished like macabre flowers. When my fingers came to the mess of her throat, I hardened myself. The smell of blood and liquefied muscle was rancid, and there was the faint odor of shit clinging to the corpse. Finally I rose to my feet and removed the gloves, throwing them away. “Another werewolf attack.” Carlos nodded, his gaze raking over the girl‟s stiff form. Her face was vacant. When she was alive, I bet she had been a sweet person. Her matted hair was cut into a pixie style that flattered her. Carlos walked around the body, crouched on the ground, and sniffed. His nostrils flared as he looked for traces of something. Anything. “What is it?” “Whoever disposed of the body was werewolf. The attacker maybe?” Carlos said, his gaze flicking up to meet mine. They had gone gold. I looked up and down the alley, taking in its narrow measure. The place was a circus. There were always more people than you needed at a crime scene, and half of them were just standing there talking, casting nauseated looks in the corpse‟s direction. But the alley wasn‟t big enough to fit a vehicle in. “This place is a tight squeeze. Someone would have had to use a car to transport the body. They‟d either park around the corner and carry it, or park in the garage. Let‟s see if we can get the surveillance tapes from the parking garage; they might have something.” Carlos nodded, his nostrils still flared. Finally he rose back up to his feet and blinked his eyes, their dark color returning. Tension built in his jaw in the form of a tic. He walked back around the building away from the body, and I followed. We headed inside the club, déjà vu hitting me. Whatever had happened last night, it hadn‟t taken place here.

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Standing in the middle of the joint were two officers and the club manager, who looked like he was one sports car away from a midlife crisis. He was built bulky with strong Turkish roots. His nose dominated his face, with a sharp hook to it. We walked up to the two officers and turned to the owner. Carlos held out his hand, a smile warming his face. I was obviously going to be the bad cop in this partnership. “I‟m Detective Ramirez, and this is my partner, Detective Bourne. We‟re with the Columbus Police PTF. Can you tell us what happened, Mr.…” He trailed off, fishing for the man‟s name. “Demir, Efe Demir,” he said, turning away from the officers. There was a slight accent to his voice. “I don‟t know what happened. I came in early to take care of some business. I decided to take the trash out back, and then I found the body.” Carlos pulled out a small spiral-bound notebook along with a pen from his pocket and flipped it open. He jotted down what Efe said. “Did you see anything suspicious when you found the body?” “No, nothing,” Efe said, panic suddenly lacing his voice. “Oh God, are you going to shut me down? Is this going to be on the news? I can‟t have dead bodies popping up! This will ruin me!” “Calm down, Mr. Demir,” I said, shooting him an agitated glare. I hated hysterics. “No one is shutting you down. Look, we need to ask you a few questions. Things will be easier if you just come downtown with us.” “Am I a suspect?” he asked, his panic taking on a whole new identity. “No, Mr. Demir, this is just protocol. We just need to ask you a few questions,” Carlos said, having more patience. “If you could just come with us, we would greatly appreciate it.” Efe shifted nervously from foot to foot, looking like he wanted to say no. His shoulders slumped, though, as he conceded. Good. Otherwise I was going to haul his ass there myself, and I really didn‟t want to do that. As we walked out of the building, the sunlight warmed my face. The day was clear but cold. I stuffed my hands into my pockets and walked around the buildings. I could hear the photographer taking pictures; it wouldn‟t be long before they took care of the body. Hopefully we‟d get an ID on our Jane Doe soon. The melee of reporters bobbed and weaved behind the yellow tape, vying to get my and Carlos‟s attention. One particular reporter was determined to get his voice heard. He was short, only about five-five, but he moved like a hurricane. He rammed his microphone out over the tape, yelling over everyone else, “Detective! Detective!” Damn, I hated reporters. “You want to take care of this, or should I?” I asked, glowering in the direction of the crowd.

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Carlos set his hand on my shoulder with a chuckle and said, “I think I will. You may be cute and have a tight ass, but you don‟t seem like you‟d be good on camera. People might find you scary.” I directed my glower toward him. He ignored me and walked up, holding his hands up in the air to silence most of the noise. He then said over the rest of the stubborn assholes, “At this time, we have no information to disclose.” “Is it true this is the second murder in a month? Do we have a serial killer on the loose?” one reporter shouted from the middle of the crowd. “No, there is not a serial killer on the loose.” His voice warmed over the crowd, and a charming smile was spread across his face. He could easily light up a room. “How can you be sure?” the short reporter asked, his arm dangling close to Carlos. His eyes were lit up bright, and his mouth was parted in a pout. “Why has the Preternatural Task Force been called in? How are you going to prevent this from happening again?” Man, this guy was going to piss me off. I stomped over to Carlos, stood behind him, and shot a hard stare in everyone‟s direction. “There will be no further comments at this time, thank you,” I said, my voice deadpan. With that, I edged them away, forcing them to part so we could make our way through. The short guy‟s eyes flared up, and I felt a stab of power surround me. It was an aura similar to Carlos‟s, but much weaker. Once we made it through the crowd, I let go and walked briskly to the car. Carlos slid into the driver‟s seat. “You didn‟t have to move them,” he said once the door was closed. “They weren‟t going to otherwise.” He sighed and slid his seat belt on, started the car up. Efe was being brought in by one of the uniforms, so we went ahead and drove back to the station.

*** I set a foam cup of coffee down on the stainless-steel table. Efe accepted it with a weak smile and took a sip, his eyes shooting nervously around the room. Behind him was a wall with a large two-way mirror, but no one was on the other side. I took a seat next to Carlos. “You don‟t need to be nervous, Mr. Demir,” Carlos said. “We just want to ask a few questions.” Efe nodded and said softly, “I‟m sorry, I‟m just still in shock.” “Of course,” Carlos said gently, his voice soothing. “We understand, but if you could just answer a few questions. Now you said you went in early for business? Is this normal?” “Yes,” Efe said after a sip of coffee, shuddering and setting the cup down. Can‟t blame the guy. The shit they served here made muddy water taste good.

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He pushed the cup away and continued. “I usually come in in the morning to get paperwork done and then leave in the afternoon before I have to come back for the night.” “Were you at the club last night?” Carlos asked, writing in his notebook. Efe shook his head. “No. I left around nine for the night, letting my assistant manager take over.” “Do you know of anything unusual happening the night before? Any fights break out?” “As far as I know, no. Usually when there is a problem, Stacy will call,” Efe said, adding on quickly at Carlos‟s arched brow, “Stacy is my assistant manager.” “Her last name?” Carlos asked. “Rivers.” Carlos jotted her name down. “Did you know the victim, Mr. Demir?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. His gaze flicked to me and away. Even though the guy had me trumped in the weight department, he seemed scared of me. Good. I was one scary motherfucker. “I‟ve never seen her in my life," he said, picking up the cup but not taking a sip. “Do you have any enemies, Mr. Demir? Anyone that might purposely try to tarnish your club‟s name? Competition? Pissed-off former employees?” Efe blinked slowly. “I own a club, Detective. That‟s a very competitive business. Every club in Columbus is competition for me.” “And employees?” Carlos asked. “No.” “All right, Mr. Demir, I think that‟s all we need,” Carlos said, rising to his feet. I followed his example, happy to be done. “If we have any more questions, we‟ll contact you. If you do think of anything, please call us.” Carlos pulled out a business card from his breast pocket and passed it to Efe. We left the interrogation room and headed back to our office, making a pit stop at the coffeepot. I collapsed into my seat once we were in our office, sipped the steaming muck we called coffee, and asked, “So you think he‟s connected?” “No.” Carlos pulled out the file on the other body again. “I think they just picked The Red Light as a random drop-off point. It‟s about three blocks away from where the other body had been found.” “Okay, so we have two dead bodies. One man and one woman. One of them was definitely a werewolf. Both were attacked by werewolves. How much you want to bet that our Jane Doe was running with the wolves as well?” Carlos reclined back in his chair with a smirk. “I think you‟d win that bet.”

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“So there is someone out there hunting their own kind,” I mused before taking a gulp of coffee. “And I don‟t doubt that there‟ll be another.” “You sure did pick a great time to join the force.” I rolled my eyes skyward. “Damn straight, I did.” To be honest, this was good. I lived to work, for the thrill of hunting down the perp. It was all I had and all I needed. “So what are you doing tonight?” Carlos asked, a smile growing that I didn‟t like. I squirmed. “Going home. Alone.” “Right.” “I‟m serious, Carlos. I meant what I said about last night being it. That was a one-night stand, and it won‟t happen again. If I had known we were going to be partners, I would have never slept with you.” I was going to have to drill this into his head, wasn‟t I? “Sure, sure. Whatever you say.” “Carlos.” I growled through gritted teeth. “Look at me.” He glanced my way. My eye twitched with annoyance. “Repeat after me,” I ordered. “Last night was it.” The toothy grin he gave me made my insides do weird flips. He licked his lips. “Do you know how sexy you are when you‟re trying to be scary? I‟m starting to get hard.” “Damn it, Carlos!” I yelled, only to earn a squawk of laughter from him. “You‟re an ass. You know that?” He leaned forward over his desk and propped his chin up on his knuckles. The sly grin that spread across his face made me want to slug him real hard. “If you don‟t wipe that smug look off your face, I‟m going to drop one of those filing cabinets on your head,” I warned. “Mi corazón, you wound me.” He held his other hand to his chest, his eyes wide and fluttering. “All I want is to spend time with the one I care most about.” “You just met me!” I had to control my voice, keep myself from yelling. He was driving me bonkers. His eyes grew serious for a blip of a second before he was all laughs and flirtation. I almost wasn‟t sure that I saw that tremble of doubt run through him. He pulled back, his eyes burning seductively. “That may be, but your body knows me very well. Don‟t forget last night, babe.” “I think I prefer you calling me mi cora-whatever.” I grumbled. “Look, let‟s just finish off the day so I can get home.” “Whatever you say, partner. What are you fixing for dinner tonight?” “Fuck! For the last time, you aren‟t going home with me!” I yelled.

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Our door opened up, and Pratt‟s head popped in. He gave me a warning glare. “What‟s all the yelling for, Bourne?” My face colored bright red in a mixture of rage and embarrassment. I forced a smile, glaring sideways at Carlos. He was barely containing his laughter. Through gritted teeth I said, “Nothing, sir, just having a discussion with Ramirez.” “Well, keep it down in here,” he scoffed, slamming the door shut. Carlos burst out into a peal of laughter, and this time, I didn‟t resist the urge to hurl his stapler at him.

*** Carlos went home with me. How he had talked his way into my car, I‟m still not sure. But I made him buy the Chinese we picked up as we headed back to my little apartment. We were now sitting in front of my flat-screen, splitting a container of pepper chicken and lo mein. We had the pictures from the last two crime scenes spread out on the table before us and a copy of Efe‟s report. The television had rerun episodes of Frasier on, muted. I jammed my chopsticks into the pepper chicken and ate a piece. “Why would a werewolf attack a fellow pack member?” I asked after swallowing. “Maybe they aren‟t a pack member,” Carlos mused before taking a big bite of lo mein. I paused in taking another bite and stared across the couch at him. I had made him sit all the way on the other side, much to his protest. I took another bite and set my carton down, reaching out for his. He forfeited his lo mein and took my pepper chicken. I slurped up some lo mein. “Have you heard of any new werewolves coming into town?” “No,” Carlos said, “but that doesn‟t mean it isn‟t possible for someone to sneak in.” “True.” I glanced over at the television. Kelsey Grammer just screwed himself over again with a woman by making her feel inferior mentally. I snorted and mumbled, “Frasier is such an ass.” Carlos shook his head and set his carton down, picked up his beer, and took a long swig. He leaned back against the arm of the sofa, his gaze settling on me. I did my best to ignore him, hunkering down on my couch with my shoulders scrunched and my eyes glued on the muted television. I took a big bite of lo mein. Carlos kept staring at me. I could feel his eyes raking up and down my body, undressing me. We had shed our suit jackets and guns, and my tie hung limply around my neck. But now, with Carlos‟s gaze burning through my button-down dress shirt, I felt completely naked. I slammed my lo mein down and glared at him. “Do you mind? I‟m trying to relax here.” “So relax.” “It‟s kind of hard when I have you undressing me with your eyes. Stop looking at me like you want to fuck me!” I growled out.

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“But I do.” He said it so bluntly. A shiver ran down my spine. Carlos slipped across the couch, past the invisible barrier I‟d set up between us. I scooted back as far as I could go, but eventually, my back hit the arm of my sofa. He leaned forward, took my tie, and slowly slid it away from my shoulders. “And if you‟re having troubles relaxing, I can always help.” “Carlos.” I pressed my hand to his chest, felt the hardness of his pectorals. Dear Lord, this man was ripped. “Stop. I told you already, nothing is going to happen.” “Really? Because it sure looks like you want something to happen.” He smirked, slipping closer so that our chests bumped against each other. I glared up at him. “Don‟t make me scream rape.” That just made his grin grow wolfish. He tipped his head to the side, his lips hovering over mine. Desperate, I threw my arm up before his lips could touch mine. He wound up face planting my forearm. He rolled his eyes up, his brows slanting downward. I quirked a nervous smile and said, “I‟m not kissing someone with lo mein and pepper chicken breath.” Carlos remained silent for a minute before pulling back and getting off the couch. I watched him stomp to the bathroom. I sat there, my stomach a ball of quivering knots. Finally I peeled myself off the sofa and collected the Chinese cartons, carried them into the kitchen, and put them in the fridge. I pulled out another beer and unscrewed the top, took a long swig. When I turned around, Carlos was standing at the threshold between the kitchen and the living room. Victory filled his eyes, and my stomach plummeted. He cocked his head to the side. “I used one of your extra toothbrushes.” “Carlos—” I started, but he closed the space between us and silenced me. His lips were bruising, prying my mouth open and filling me up with passion. I moaned, unable to do anything else, and let my arms fall slack. I was barely able to hold on to my beer. He bit down hard on my bottom lip, his pelvis pressed against mine. Our bodies were reacting in the way they should, but my mind was screaming for us to stop. He tasted like mint now. Without thinking, I began to suck on his tongue, letting my own play against his. Then my senses kicked in, and I shoved him away. “Stop it!” I washed the taste of him out of my mouth with a swig of beer. He chuckled and took the bottle from me, set it aside on the Formica counter. I gave him a vexed glare, trying to force him away with the power of intimidation. His long fingers ran along the waistband of my pants. “Are you saying you don‟t want this?”

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His fingers tentatively walked down my bulge. A groan escaped me, and as soon as his hand cupped my cock through my pants, my hips involuntarily jerked forward. He pressed me into the fridge, his lips branding my neck. I clenched my hands to stop another groan from escaping. His teeth grazed my exposed flesh, and my resolve began to break, escaping with each lap of his tongue. “Mi corazón, I love it when you moan.” He whispered huskily into my neck, kneading my aching hard-on. I humped his hand again, trying to get more sweet friction. Why was I fighting this? Because I don‟t do relationships. They only fuck you (in a bad way) in the end. Rhett was a testament to that. I grabbed Carlos‟s wrist and pulled his hand away, giving his chest another hard shove. This time, he stumbled back. “Carlos, I‟m serious. I‟m not having sex with you again.” I grabbed my beer and stormed out of the kitchen, heading straight for my bedroom. “Where are you going?” Carlos asked, hot on my heels. I glared over my shoulder at him. “I‟m going to bed.” “Great, I‟ll join you!” He was like a fucking puppy, never leaving me alone. “No!” I yelled, grabbing my door to slam it in his face. He used his paranormal superstrength to shove it open before I could slam it shut and paraded right in. He was already taking his shirt off when I closed the door and turned around. I crossed my arms over my chest, the muscles in my arms flexing. “Carlos, you aren‟t sleeping in here.” Carlos pulled his shirt off and kicked his shoes to the side. Ignoring me, he undid his belt and slipped his pants off, standing in nothing but his briefs. My body, still hard with desire, gave another twitch. “Well, where else am I going to sleep?” he asked as he released his ponytail. “Uh, the couch?” “But it‟s so uncomfortable,” he whined, already pulling back my blue comforter. I was gnashing my teeth so hard, I was afraid I‟d break a tooth. Letting out a noise of frustration through my nose, I stormed out of the bedroom and went to the bathroom to get ready for bed. By the time I finished and returned to the room, Carlos was already in bed, waiting for me. “Comfortable?” “Very,” he said, stretching out like a dog. “Mutt,” I grumbled, stripping to my briefs. I stomped over to the bed and climbed in, slamming one of the extra pillows between us. “You stay on your side, dog. Otherwise I‟ll shove my gun up your ass and give a whole new meaning to the word „fucked.‟”

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“I love it when you‟re feisty, mi corazón.” “Stop calling me that!” I snapped before turning on my side, my back to him. He shifted in the bed but fell silent. It took me longer to fall asleep. Carlos was out long before I was. I spent a good portion of the night listening to the sound of his steady breathing. Why did it make my stomach flutter so hard? I stared at the wall until my eyes finally grew heavy and Carlos‟s breathing lulled me to sleep.

*** I could only hear the sound of my heartbeat. It was so dark that I couldn‟t see a thing, just a seeping blackness. “Hello?” I called out. My heart sounded so loud, like the pounding of a war drum. “Hello! Is there anyone there?” I yelled, cupping my hands over my mouth. Nothing. There wasn‟t a single response, just the shifting of shadows and the increased pulse of my heart. I ran forward, trying to get past the darkness. There had to be a break in it somewhere. It couldn‟t be like this forever, could it? There wasn‟t always going to be this world of shadows and mystery. It felt like I was running for hours, passing through a fog the color of nightshade. There was no one in sight, not anything. There wasn‟t even a beam of light to illuminate my path. My heart never stopped pounding. I slowed to a stop, my breath coming in heavy, exhausted pants. It was between my ears, deafening the sound of my own short breaths. “Fuck!” I screamed, trying to echo over my own heart. It was the beat of fear, the quick, jerky pulses that came with the rush of adrenaline. “Somebody!” Nothing again, not even the sound of my heartbeat. A bubble of pained fear rose up in me, lodging itself in my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut. “Anybody,” I whispered. A scream filled the darkness. It was the bloodcurdling cry from a man. I jerked my head up and looked around, trying to see something. I couldn‟t even make out my own hands in front of my face. The scream kept repeating itself, followed by the younger pleas of a boy in searing agony. “Theo!” The man‟s scream bounced off the black fog banks. “Please! Stop!” the boy called out, his words echoing around me. Their screams melded, filling my world with agonized cries. I grabbed at my ears, curling my fingers tightly in an attempt to block the noise. I wanted to curl into a ball and just make it all go away. I kept hearing my name screamed. I couldn‟t tell anymore who was calling, if it was a man or a boy or something worse. I couldn‟t even tell if it was I who was screaming. “Theo!” “Go away!” I yelled out, my eyes screwed shut. I suddenly felt like I was fifteen again, and I was at the mercy of my parents.

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“Theo!” I shot up in bed, my body drenched in a cold sweat. I could feel the blood rushing in my ears. Arms laced around me, holding me down. Out of instinct, I fought against them, lashing out with a thrust of my arm. The grip only grew tighter. A hot breath warmed my neck as someone mumbled in my ear. “Theo! Theo! Shh, mi corazón. It‟s all right. Calmese. Él estará bien.” The words came gently, with a hint of familiar Spanish accent. I stared out into the darkness, my eyes adjusting to the minimal light that played into my bedroom. My breathing came out harsh and struggled, but I stopped fighting against him. Weakly, I panted, “Carlos?” “Yes, mi corazón, it‟s me. I‟m here.” He loosened his arms to hold me against his chest. His fingers tangled in my hair, stroking endearingly. “No te preocupes, Relajate. Relajate corazón.” His voice pulled me down, grounded me. I had no clue what he was saying, but at that moment, I didn‟t care. I licked my dry lips and continued to stare out into the empty space of my room. I still felt like my mind was swimming in the heavy obsidian mist of my nightmare. When I finally went completely still, Carlos shifted. “I‟m turning on a light. Close your eyes.” I shut my eyes as he switched on one of the bedside lamps. Slowly I blinked my eyes back open, readjusting them once more. With his right arm still around my waist, propping me against his chest, Carlos began to stroke my hair. “Are you all right?” “Yes,” I whispered. I knew I should have pulled away. My mind was screaming in alarm for me to jump to the other side of the room. But it felt so damn comfortable in his grip. It felt like those nightmares, the ones that were constantly chasing me, couldn‟t touch me for once. I couldn‟t give that feeling up, not just yet. His fingers played across my forehead as he brushed my bangs away. He hesitated for a moment, stroking the faded scar that was always hidden by the veil of bangs. He pulled me back to get a better look at my face and brushed my bangs fully to the side, looking at my forehead. I knew what he was staring at—the faded remains of the cross-shaped scar burned into my forehead. Now, after so many years of having it, the scar was nothing more than a pale imitation of itself. Hopefully within a few more years, it would be completely invisible. “Ay, Dios mío… Where did you get that?” he asked. His eyes were wide, and I could see the astonishment within them. I pushed him away, and he let me. I glanced to the side, rubbing at the mark in agitation. “My parents.” The words spilled from my lips, leaving a bitter taste in their wake. I saw no reason in hiding the truth. I wasn‟t trying to protect them. I no longer considered them my parents. “What did they do to you?”

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He reached out for me, and my body tensed, but I didn‟t fight him when he pulled me back against his chest. I don‟t know if it was because I was exhausted or because the comfort just felt too damn good to give up. “When I was fifteen, they thought that the reason I am the way I am was because of a demon,” I said with a shrug. His fingers clenched around my arms for a second before returning to their long, languid strokes. My eyes fluttered closed momentarily, indulging in the feel, before I opened them again. I continued. “They had our priest perform an exorcism on me to expel the devil inside. I got this”—I waved up at my forehead—“as a reminder of my parents‟ love. It isn‟t so bad anymore. It‟s faded.” “They performed an exorcism on you?” He wrapped his arms around me protectively. I bit my bottom lip, trying to ignore the warm feeling curling in my stomach. “It isn‟t that big of a deal. I don‟t talk to them anymore. When they realized there wasn‟t a demon and that I really am just a freak and an abomination, they sent me to live with my aunt here in Columbus.” My eyes fell on the crucifix that hung over my bed. I wasn‟t a devout like my parents, but occasionally I remembered to go to church and confess my sins—not that it did me any good. As far as my priest was concerned, I was going to hell in a handbasket. “Yeah…” The way he said it sounded distant, reminiscent. I shook my head and pulled away again. “We need to get to sleep. We have to be up early.” I glanced at the clock and withheld a groan. We had four hours left before we had to get up. Carlos nodded. “All right.” He lay back down, and I moved to put the pillow back between us. He snatched it and threw it aside, though, before I could do so. “No. I want you in my arms.” I opened my mouth to protest, but he had me in the vise of his grip before the words could come out. My muscles bunched as every nerve in me poised to fight. But for once, I ignored them. It wasn‟t every night I had someone to hold me. I could allow it just this once.

*** I woke up before Carlos and took my shower. When I finished getting ready for work, I walked back into the bedroom and smacked him in the face with a pillow. “Get up, mutt! It‟s time to get ready for work!” Carlos jerked forward with a start. “What?”

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“Move it! I picked out a shirt for you to borrow, but my pants are too small, so you‟ll have to wear the ones you had on yesterday. Go take a shower.” I ordered, pointing to the bedroom door. He looked at me with half-closed eyes, his hair a bird‟s nest. I smacked him in the head again with the pillow. “Move!” He let out a growl and swatted the pillow away, climbed out of bed, and lethargically moved toward the door. “Damn, you‟re bitchy in the morning.” “I heard that!” I yelled at his back as I made the bed and cleaned up the bedroom. When I was finished and made sure the shower was running, I went into the living room to straighten the mess left over from yesterday. My house was barely furnished. I only kept the necessities, like basic furniture and a television. A few crosses hung on my walls, but that was mainly it. The only picture I owned was a large photograph of Death Valley at sunset. I had bought it when I first moved to New York. At that time, I still had a bit of idealism left in me. Now I just believed that decorations were a nuisance. It was more junk for people to sort through when you died—and trust me, I was going to die sooner than later. I walked into the kitchen and glanced at the clock on the stove. Still had time for breakfast. By the time I finished scrambling up some eggs and fixing toast for us, Carlos had finished showering and getting ready. I had given him a blue shirt that was a shade lighter than his tie. He walked in, his hair pulled back once more into a ponytail. “Aw, you fixed me breakfast." He chortled, taking a seat. I dropped his plate on the table and said drily, “Eat up.” “So sweet.” He took a big bite of eggs as he watched me move about the kitchen. I fixed two cups of coffee for us and took a seat across from him, my own plate waiting for me. He kept watching me as he ate, and I knew the gears in his head were spinning, trying to figure out what last night was about. I took a small bite of eggs and said, “Stop staring at me.” He didn‟t stop. He took a bite of buttered toast. “So you going to tell me what last night was about?” “No.” “Why not?” “Because it‟s none of your damn business.” “I think otherwise,” he stated, jabbing his toast at me. “Don‟t jab your damn toast at me. It isn‟t. And it doesn‟t matter, because it isn‟t going to happen again.” I washed down my bite of eggs with a swig of coffee. “How do you know that?” “Because you aren‟t staying the night again.” I made sure my words were forceful and straightforward. “This was a onetime thing.”

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“Where have I heard that before?” “I‟m serious, Carlos. You aren‟t coming over to my apartment ever again. We are partners at work, but that is it. You aren‟t going to become this fixture in my life. When work ends, that is when we say good-bye. Do you hear me?” He waved me off, humming, “Yeah, yeah.” Why did I have a feeling he wasn‟t listening again? I snorted and finished off my eggs, glaring at him from across the table. Well, he‟d see. This was it. No more impromptu sleepovers. I wasn‟t sharing my bed with him ever again. He had a house of his own he could go home to, damn it.

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Chapter Three I was watching the surveillance tapes from the parking garage, stifling a large yawn that was threatening to escape. So far I had gotten a big ol‟ fat nothing. I had started watching from the time Carlos and I left the club, choosing to skim over that part. I did not want a reminder of what I had done. It was bad enough Carlos wasn‟t letting me forget. The little clock in the corner of the screen was climbing up to seven o‟clock, and I was betting the body hadn‟t been dumped right before Efe showed up. I took another sip of coffee, hoping it could help me stay awake. “Anything?” Carlos asked as he pushed the door open to our office. I hit Pause and leaned away from the television with a shake of my head. “That‟s a negative.” Carlos sighed as he came to my desk and looked over my shoulder at the grainy screen of the small television. “Well, that would have made our job too easy.” “That‟s for sure.” I hit the Fast Forward button, running through the final hour. I had gone through every tape for each floor, and this was the last one. My eyes burned from staring at the screen for so long. I blinked rapidly, swiping my fingers at the gunk in my eyes. “Damn it.” “Well, I got some good news.” He clamped a hand on my shoulder. I shook it away. “What‟s that?” “I got a name for our Jane Doe.” That made me turn around. I shut off the TV and popped the surveillance video out before I looked up at him. I grabbed my Transformers mug and took a sip of lukewarm coffee. He passed me a printout. “Teresa Fine, twenty-four. She was living at home with her mother, and she ID‟d her this morning. I have their address right here.” “There‟s still time left in the day. Want to head over there?” I asked, taking the printout Carlos was holding. I skimmed down the details before glancing up at him—he was already shrugging his coat on. “Okay, I take that as a yes.” Once we got the TV wheeled out, we headed down to the parking lot. Carlos turned to me. “Your car or mine?”

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“Mine,” I said as I fished my keys out from my pocket. I ignored his glare and unlocked the doors. “You ever going to let me drive?” he asked as he got into the passenger‟s seat. I pretended to think about it for a moment before sliding into the driver‟s seat. “No,” I said as I shut the door.

*** Teresa Fine had lived in a suburb a few blocks away from my aunt‟s house on the West Side. Her house was a split-level that still had its original yellow paneling from the seventies. The front yard was clean, if not bare. The flower beds were dead and withered, and the single pear tree in the center of the yard was almost devoid of its leaves. I pulled up to the side of the house and cut the engine to my Mustang. A white Pontiac was sitting in the driveway. We climbed out of the car and headed up to the front door. Carlos glanced back at me before knocking. A few remaining leaves scattered from the tree as the wind blew, tangling in my hair. I brushed them off, waiting for someone to respond to the knocking. When no one answered after five minutes, Carlos knocked again. “I‟m coming!” a woman croaked from behind the door. After a few seconds, we could hear the jingling of door locks being unlocked. The front door swung open, and a woman who resembled Jack Skellington, with her paper-thin skin stretched over sharp bones, glared at us through the screen of the storm door. “What do you want?” Her voice was hoarse from too many packs of cigarettes and grief. Carlos flashed his Boy Scout smile and pulled his badge out. “I‟m Detective Ramirez, and this is my partner, Detective Bourne. Are you Ms. Fine?” She looked between us, her nose curling. A lot of people on the West Side have an innate dislike for cops, and I could tell that she had harbored a hatred for us long before her daughter was killed. This was going to go oh so smoothly. “Yes…” she said slowly, lifting a cigarette she held between her fingers to her lips. Her hand had a fine tremble to it. “We were wondering if we could talk to you about your daughter, Ms. Fine. Would you mind if we came in?” Carlos asked, still smiling charmingly. She hesitated, some of her hatred softening. Carlos seemed to have that effect on people. Finally she conceded and opened the screen door. “All right.” Her eyes were rimmed red, and I had a feeling it wasn‟t from the curls of smoke blowing in her face. She swiped at her eyes and walked over to the couch, which was littered with tissue balls.

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“I‟m sorry for your loss,” Carlos began, stepping into the middle of the living room. It was shabbily decorated with eagle statues and Native American artwork. He pulled out a notepad and pen. “Like I said, Ms. Fine, I‟d just like to ask you a few questions.” “Please,” she mumbled, “call me Pam. And you can sit.” We both sat in two overstuffed recliners with sheets thrown over them. The room smelled vaguely of cats. I turned to look at her. “Can you tell us about Teresa? What was she like?” Pam snatched up a tissue from the box next to her and held it to her nose. She smiled weakly. “She was full of life. She wanted to become a nurse.” “So she was going to school?” I asked. Pam shook her head. “She couldn‟t get the funding. She was working right now.” “Where was she working?” Carlos asked, jotting something down. “As a waitress over at a club…” She trailed off, staring distantly. “Do you know the name of the club?” She bit her thin lip, swiped the tissue across her eyes, and shook her head. “She didn‟t talk about work much. I think it was called something…lunar, moon…something like that.” “Did Teresa have any friends? Anyone she hung out with who stuck out?” I asked, making a mental note to do a search of all the clubs in the area. I looked around the room, barely glancing over the large scenic painting that hung over the couch. Between the chair I sat in and the couch was a glass table cluttered with porcelain sculptures and photos. One of the pictures was of Teresa smiling brilliantly, dressed in graduation robes. “She hung out with a few people, but lately she had been keeping to herself.” “Was Teresa involved with the local pack?” Carlos asked, lifting his eyes from the notepad. “What?” Her gaze shot up, her lips parting weakly. I flicked my gaze to meet Carlos‟s and then back to Pam. “The local werewolf pack. Teresa was a lycanthrope, correct?” The line in Pam‟s jaw suddenly went hard, and her watery eyes sharpened. She dropped the tissue, tucked a strand of straw hair behind her ear, and snapped, “No, she wasn‟t!” I looked at Carlos again. He tapped the pen against his notepad. “Do you know of Teresa being involved at all with the pack?” “Why would she? She wasn‟t some dog!” Pam said, her voice hitching to a higher note. Carlos‟s eyes hardened somewhat, and I could see the tension ticking in his jaw. Prejudice was alive and well, even in Columbus.

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“Look, officers, I just found out my daughter died,” Pam yelled, dropping her hands into her lap. “I do not need you spewing lies about her! Now if you‟ll excuse me!” I clenched my jaw but rose to my feet when Carlos nodded. “Of course. We‟re sorry to disturb you, ma‟am,” he said, managing to still smile. Pam stood up and all but shoved us out the door. Before she could close it on us, Carlos jammed his foot in the way. “Do you know what Teresa was doing the night before she died?” Pam‟s eyes darkened into a deep navy blue, water glistening around them. A single tear rolled down her cheek. She pressed her trembling lips tightly together and gripped the door for support. Her frail body looked like it could blow away in the gusty breeze. “She was working,” she croaked out, sucking in a sharp breath. “Now, if you‟ll please.” “Of course, sorry to disturb you,” Carlos said, removing his foot. The door slammed shut, and the locks were thrown into place. We didn‟t speak until we got inside the car. “So her mom didn‟t know she was a lycanthrope,” I mused out loud as I started the engine. “It isn‟t uncommon. A lot of people don‟t like coming out about being a lycan,” Carlos said, putting his notepad away and staring out the window. Lycanthropy was like a disease. Some people held it at the same level as HIV/AIDs. Just as the old stories went, it spread through contact such as a scratch or bite. But unlike the old wolfman movies, it didn‟t happen all the time. A person could be mauled nearly to death and walk away with no effect. It was just a roll of the dice whether or not you inherited lycanthropy from the person. “Are you out about being a lycan?” I asked. His gaze flicked to me, flaming up like two suns. “I have nothing to be ashamed of.” I held my hands up in defense. “Okay, no need to get all pissy, mutt.” Carlos stared at me for a long while, and I didn‟t like the hardness of his gaze. The topaz melted back to deep brown eventually, though, and he relaxed into his seat. Curiosity edged its way into my mind. I wasn‟t sure if he‟d talk, but I asked anyway. “How long have you been a werecoyote?” Carlos was silent for a while, and I thought he just might not answer. He tipped his head back, and some bangs fell into his eyes. “Almost ten years,” he said, sounding unsure, like he couldn‟t believe the reality of it. He chuckled humorlessly. “I got attacked a year out of high school, when I started college. Wrong place, wrong time. You know the scenario.”

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I studied his profile. His eyebrows were drawn close together, his chocolate eyes distant. “How‟d your family react?” Carlos shrugged and shook his head, chasing away the memories he faced daily. He turned to look at me and smiled, this time brightly. “Shocked at first, but they accepted it. Now, let‟s go, before Ms. Fine decides to chase us with a pitchfork.” I laughed, though it came out somewhat hollow, and started my baby up. I pulled away from the curb, steering the subject back to the case. “Something doesn‟t feel right. Did you see her picture? Teresa was a happy girl—or she used to be. Why would someone suddenly start becoming a recluse?” I strummed my fingers on the steering wheel, easing up to a traffic light. Carlos rolled down his window, letting in a blast of cold air, and draped his arm over the side of the door. “Well, something changed in her life. It doesn‟t take a lot, especially if things aren‟t going as planned.” “She definitely got the surprise of her life with this,” I mumbled as I leaned on the gas and moved the car forward. My cell phone began ringing loudly from my pocket. Carlos lifted a brow, and I cursed under my breath. “Tsk-tsk. You shouldn‟t be answering your phone while driving,” Carlos said, wiggling his brows. How did he even do that? “Shut up.” “I‟ll have to pull you over.” Carlos kept teasing, already reaching for my thigh. “What are you doing?” I snapped, jerking somewhat and almost sending us hurtling into the next lane. “Damn it. Carlos, keep your hands to yourself.” “I‟m just trying to help.” A rakish grin spread across his face. I tightened my grip on the steering wheel as he reached again. With lightning reflexes, I smacked his hand away. “No, damn it. Let it ring!” My phone fell silent before picking back up again a second later. I glanced into my mirror to see if I could change lanes, and Carlos took the chance to slip his hand inside my pocket and pulled out my ringing phone. He also took a moment to caress my thigh. I snapped my head toward him. “Carlos!” His grin grew sheepish as he answered my phone. “Hello?” I strained to hear the voice on the other end as Carlos laughed. “I‟m his partner. He hasn‟t? Really? Well, that isn‟t good. Of course we can…” He trailed off, glancing at the street sign we passed. “It should only be about ten minutes. I can‟t wait to meet you too. See you in a few.” I could barely keep my eyes focused on the road. “Who the fuck was that?” “Your aunt,” Carlos said, hanging up. “She wants us to come over for dinner. She says you haven‟t been over since you got here. That isn‟t very nice, now, is it?”

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“Mutt!” I snapped, casting him a sideways glare. There was no weaseling my way out of this, though. When my aunt expected something, you better damn well follow through. “So you might want to turn around—” “Yeah, I know.” I growled out, doing a very illegal U-turn at the first chance I got. I barreled back down the road, a serious case of road rage hitting me, mostly due to Carlos. Fucker.

*** We pulled up to my aunt‟s home, a three-bedroom ranch with a single bathroom. You‟d think a single bathroom would be enough for a grown woman and a single teenage boy. You would be wrong. I cut the Mustang‟s engine and slumped back against the seat, staring at the home. My aunt had told me she‟d replaced the tan paneling a year ago, along with the windows, which had transformed the house into something entirely new. The flower beds were filled with yellow and orange mums, as well as goldenrod bushes that flourished with delicate golden buds. Hanging on the door was an autumn wreath with a delicate bow at the bottom. Everything about the house was inviting. The memories that lingered weren‟t. “You okay?” Carlos asked, watching me under careful eyes. My aunt had made my life so much better, but it had not gone easy. I had traded cruel parents for a cruel lover. Her house reminded me of the final nail in my heart‟s coffin. I nodded and drew my gaze away from the house. I brushed some strands of hair from my face. “Yeah.” I had come to live with my aunt under difficult circumstances. She had taken me in with open arms, and for that, I‟d always be eternally grateful. My life, though, had been one tragic event after the next, making soap operas seem like a kid‟s movie. A great deal of my pain was inadvertently connected to this house. Carlos seemed to sense the weight of my personal anguish, because for once, he didn‟t say anything. After five minutes of sitting there and studying the rosehip buds in the wreath, I pulled my keys from the ignition. “Let‟s go.” I had returned to Columbus to restart my life, and that meant embracing my past, no matter how painful. We climbed out of the car and headed to the door. I glanced at Carlos on the way up, as we passed my aunt‟s navy car. “After dinner, I‟m taking you back to your truck, and you are going home. Understood?” I said firmly. Carlos gave me a rakish smile. “Sure, sure.” We stopped in front of the door, and I knocked, stating, “I‟m serious, mutt.” He stepped up beside me, his shoulder bumping mine. I could feel his fingers dancing up my arm, and I shook them off. “Stop.”

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“You know you‟d be lonely without me.” “Carlos, you‟re going home.” “But where‟s the fun with that?” he asked, grabbing my arm and turning me to face him. I opened my mouth for a witty retort, but he swallowed it in a passionate kiss that made my toes curl. I pushed against his chest, but his fingers held me in place, not restraining but not relinquishing either. It was a fine line of control that he held me on. His tongue pried open my mouth, plucking the words I wanted to say right out. My fight left me for a few seconds, and I gave in to the feel of his lips moving against mine, enjoying the scratch of stubble that had formed on his jawline from not shaving that morning. Then the door opened and a soft “oh my” filled the air. I jerked away, shoving Carlos and almost sending him falling into the mums and goldenrod. My aunt stood in the doorway with a Cheshire grin spreading toothily across her face, her cheeks the color of fresh apples. She crossed her thin arms across her chest and stared up at me with her beautiful gray eyes. “Aunt Claire, hi…” I said, reworking my jaw so that it closed properly. “Hello to you too, nephew.” I could see the laughter in her eyes. “Enjoying yourself?” “It isn‟t what you think,” I blurted out, resisting the urge to kick Carlos. “It never is,” she mumbled, turning away. “Well, come in,” she added over her shoulder. “Don‟t keep your dear old aunt waiting.” She was only fifty-one but barely looked it. She was petite like a pixie in every way, even seeming to dance as she walked across the living room. Her pale blonde hair was swept up into a casual ponytail, catching the last rays of the sun. “Can I get you something to drink?” Her living room was modestly furnished in an English-cottage style with warm woods and rose patterns. “Take a seat, boys,” she called out from the kitchen. I walked over to a stack of books sitting on a table between two cream and gold wingback chairs. Beneath the savory aroma of pot roast was the musk of leather and aged paper. I tapped my fingers against the spine of one of the novels, taking in all the memories that surrounded me. I could feel them seeping into my mind, marinating with a warm tingle. Despite the pain that forsook my past, my aunt had done her best to make me happy. Carlos shut the front door and murmured to himself, “I had always wondered what it would look like.” “What?” I turned to face him, dropping my hand away. Carlos flicked his eyes to me, his lips parting. He just smiled after a moment and took a seat on the couch. I glared hard at him.

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Aunt Claire brought out a tray with three tall glasses of iced tea. I took a seat on the couch as well, putting a good amount of space between me and Carlos. Funny how familiar this felt. “Are you going to introduce us?” Aunt Claire asked as she handed out the glasses. I rolled my eyes toward Carlos and grumbled, waving limply between them. “Carlos, this is my Aunt Claire. Aunt Claire, this is the mutt.” “Theodore!” Aunt Claire snapped, and I winced. “I mean Carlos.” Carlos chuckled and held his hand out, shaking my aunt‟s hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Miss…” “Please, call me Claire. Now, would you boys like lemon?” she asked. Before we could get the answer out, she was already levitating a plate of sliced lemon rings from the kitchen. It floated through the room and into her hand with ease. Carefully, she dropped a ring into each of our glasses, acting as if it had been nothing. Carlos let out a low whistle. “So that‟s where he gets it from.” Aunt Claire smiled and waved her hand away. “He did inherit my abilities, but Theo has definitely gone far beyond my skill.” “When I came here at sixteen, she helped me hone them,” I said before taking a sip of tea. “But he quickly surpassed his teacher, and we had to find someone far greater.” Aunt Claire laughed, taking a seat in one of the many chairs scattered about the living room. “And who was that?” Carlos asked, his eyes sparkling with interest. A silence settled around the room, my shoulders tensing. I gripped my glass of iced tea tightly and said with clenched teeth, “Rhett Bishop.” “The Rhett Bishop?” Carlos sputtered, setting his tea down. I swallowed, my throat clenching painfully. I inhaled the caressing smell of pot roast and changed the subject. “Isn‟t dinner about done?” Aunt Claire glanced between us. I could see the cogs in her brain turning over and over. Finally she plastered on a smile. “Well, let‟s check and see.” She walked into the kitchen and called out, “Can I get you boys anything while I‟m in here?” “We‟re fine,” I said, training my eyes on my tea. I could feel Carlos‟s eyes burning into the side of my face as he tried to read me. Lucky for me, the only abilities Carlos had were shifting, freakish strength, and the ability to heal. Telepathy was not in his paranormal repertoire. “Stop looking at me,” I mumbled, drawing the glass to my lips. “I‟m not looking at you.”

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“I can feel your eyes burning a hole, Carlos.” “Okay, guilty.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “But how can I help it? With such a beautiful creature before me, corazón, it is only natural.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, earning a chuckle from him. He was just eating this up. “All right, boys, dinner is ready,” my aunt called out. I could already hear the clinking of plates as she finished setting the table. “Smells delicious,” Carlos said, rising to his feet. He carried his glass into the kitchen where the dining table was and took a seat where my aunt gestured. I took a seat in the spot I always had at the south end of the oak table. The pot roast my aunt made sat in the center, surrounded by mashed potatoes and glazed carrots. She placed a loaf of fresh bread on the table and smiled pleasantly. “Looks good, Aunt Claire,” I said, already salivating. “It should. I slaved all day over it. I knew I had to somehow bribe you to come. After all, you haven‟t visited your dear old aunt in years.” She shot me a look that I was very familiar with. It was the scolding eyes she used to guilt me with when I was a teenager. Her eyes softened when she turned them on Carlos. Fuck, he was already winning her over. “But your partner made it easy getting you over here.” Carlos chuckled softly. “He can be stubborn, can‟t he?” “Yes, he always has been. Especially as a teenager.” Aunt Claire shot me a playful scowl. “What was he like?” Carlos asked. I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, the same feeling you get when your mom is about to whip out the naked baby pictures. My aunt rose to her feet in a quick, liquid motion. “Let me grab the photos.” “Aunt Claire.” I groaned, feeling like I was sixteen again. “Oh hush,” she said, vanishing into the bedroom. I threw Carlos a glare that I hoped would cause him to self-combust into a pile of ash. He didn‟t turn into a smoldering pile of soot—in fact, he did the exact opposite of what I wanted him to do. He grinned teasingly and blinked his eyes in an innocent manner. “I hate you,” I said, meaning every word. I took a large bite of mashed potatoes. My aunt walked back in, photo albums levitating around her. “Smaller bites, Theodore,” she scolded me. Aunt Claire took her seat again, the albums hovering around her. To anyone else, it might have seemed strange, but to me, it was as normal as breathing. She selected the closest one and opened it up, beginning a parade of photos that ranged

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from when I was a baby to the first time I came to live with her. She had never married, so she had doted on me. Aunt Claire had been there for every milestone in my life, even if it meant strong-arming her way. When my parents had discarded me, she had swept in without a single thought. When they shipped me off, they included every reminder of their mistake—I mean son. Carlos ate as he looked at the photos, occasionally looking up at me with mirth sparkling in his eyes. I sulked in my seat, knowing when he saw the ones with my naked little butt showing. She selected the last one and flipped it open, saying, “These are Theo‟s sports photos.” Aunt Claire let it hover in the middle of the table so we could all see, and, curious, I glanced at my old soccer team shot. It had been taken when I first joined the soccer team my sophomore year. I was crouched down in the front of the photo next to a skinny-looking kid with blond hair and a lanky Hispanic kid with short black hair and an awkward expression. The high school I went to had a population that was mainly made up of African American and Hispanic ethnicity. I had been one of four white boys on the Mighty Falcons. Carlos had a look on his face that was distant with memory. I collapsed back in my chair and asked, “Are you done yet?” Carlos blinked away his dreamy expression and smiled. “Yeah.” I eyed him carefully, trying to gauge his emotions. I could make as much sense of them as I could my own desire. My aunt let out an exaggerated sigh and sent the albums floating over to the couch, setting them down gently. “You‟re no fun, Theo,” she said, finally beginning to work on her own plate of food. “Yeah, yeah,” I mumbled around a mouthful of pot roast. Carlos‟s cell phone went off, and he gave us an apologetic smile before rising to his feet to answer it. I strained to listen as he walked into the living room. “He‟s really nice, Theo,” Aunt Claire mused, giving me yet another sinking feeling. “More like a pain in the ass.” “Theodore!” “What?” I gave her a scandalized look, as if I hadn‟t just said that. “Language,” she scolded, before adding gently, “He likes you.” “Uh-huh. They all like me in the beginning,” I said blandly. “Then they move on.” I‟d played that game before. It was always about the conquest, and once that was over, so were they. I wasn‟t about to put myself through that again. Aunt Claire heaved another sigh and shook her head sadly. “Theo…you can‟t keep harboring this anger. Not everyone is out to hurt you. There are some people who love you.”

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“Yeah.” I rolled my eyes and pushed my plate away. “Well, they sure do have a funny way of showing it. Who would have thought cheating was a form of saying „I love you‟? And who would have thought that burning a person with a cross was the same as a „good job, son‟?” Yeah, maybe I do hold grudges, but I‟ve had enough people betray me to earn the right to. “Theo…” I knew I was upsetting my aunt, and I didn‟t want to do that. I loved her—she was one of the few people left in my life who I did care about. I reached over the table and set my hand on hers, feeling the fragile bones in her fingers. She seemed so delicate now. “Don‟t worry, Aunt Claire. I‟m fine. Really,” I said, trying to reassure her that I didn‟t need a man. Carlos walked back into the room, and I drew my hand away. “What‟s going on?” I asked, looking up at him. His brows were creased, and a new look of exhaustion had come over him. He closed his phone and slid it into his pocket. “They found another body. Chief wants us to check it out.” I nodded and rose to my feet, saying to Aunt Claire, “Sorry, but—” Daintily she dabbed at her mouth with her napkin. She set it back in her lap and said, “I know, you gotta work. Be careful, okay?” I smiled. “I always am.” “And visit me. I better not have to bribe you again,” she snapped, shooting me a warning look. I chuckled. “Okay. I will.” Before we left, she cut us two large chunks of chocolate cake. I left with enough food to last me the next two days, but I had a feeling that Carlos would finish it off for me in a day. Once we were settled in my Mustang I asked, “Where to?” “Head up to High Street. It‟s a club called The Hunting Moon.” I lifted a brow at the name. Carlos grinned broadly. “Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. I think we found the club Teresa worked at.” I started the engine and pulled away from my aunt‟s house, heading to the heart of Columbus. As soon as I hopped onto I-270, I threw on the siren and flew down the road until I got to the 315 exit. Finally, Carlos broke the silence. “You were a cute kid, just like I remembered.” “Remembered?” I asked, flicking my gaze briefly at him and then back to the road. Carlos had the same distant look he‟d had at the kitchen table. It was filled with memories I couldn‟t access, nor could I understand. Once again, he blinked them away, but instead of replacing them with a smile, a hard line formed along his brow.

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“Nothing,” he said softly. I tightened my grip on the steering wheel. “Carlos,” I said through gritted teeth, “we don‟t have time for your games.” He didn‟t say anything. I flicked my gaze to him again, once more trying to gauge his emotions. The wall he had set in place, though, rivaled my own. I puffed my cheeks out and focused on flying down the interstate.

*** The Hunting Moon was right down the road from The Red Light, taking up the entire corner of High and Cambert. The streets were marked off by yellow “Do Not Cross” tape, the media circus barely kept away from the crime scene. We pushed our way through the crowd to the tape and flashed our badges to the boy in blue standing guard. To my right, I could hear that meddlesome reporter from before shouting for answers, bouncing up and down like a squirrel on crack. He was shoving his microphone forward, nearly cracking another reporter in the jaw. “Bloodsuckers,” I grumbled as we stepped into the club, following another brother in blue. “They‟re worse than vampires.” Carlos patted my shoulder, the force nearly knocking me to the ground, and said, “They aren‟t that bad.” I gave him a look that I hope said “you‟re kidding, right?” We followed the officer to the back of the club. I gave the joint the once-over as we passed through, taking in the wooden furnishings and overhung lights. The building held a classic appeal with the slightest twist of contemporary. Sitting in the benches and along the stools were the few employees who were coming in for the early shift, dressed up in uniforms of green and white. We crossed over the dance floor to a door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY, and as we walked down the narrow hall that followed it, the officer in front of us started talking. “I was called in around five. One of the waitresses found the body thrown out back by the Dumpster around four thirty. It‟s a white male in his early forties. His throat was torn out.” We pushed through the back door to the alleyway. More officers than were needed milled about the crime scene. One was standing to the side with a visibly shaken, spunky-looking brunette. The brunette waved an arm wildly as she gave the officer her statement. The paramedics were idling in the distance, waiting to swoop in and take care of the body. The officer passed us a set of gloves, his muddy eyes dropping to the body. Carlos slid his on and crouched down. Just as the officer had described, the man was in his early forties with a receding gray hairline and a potbelly from one too many beers. He was fully dressed in a pair of rumpled khakis stained with Lord knows what grime and a bloodstained blue polo shirt. His eyes were wide and glazed over, holding a glassy look to them like a pair of new marbles. The blood that dampened the mess that was his throat still glistened in the final twinkling of daylight.

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The air held the heavy copper scent of blood. Carlos probed at the mess of meat and flesh, tracing the puckered skin. He ran his hands down the body, looking for any other wounds. I looked up and down the alley, searching for traces of blood. “He‟s human,” Carlos said, pulling my attention back to him. I slipped my own gloves on and crouched down beside him, taking a look at the body. Carlos‟s eyes had gone topaz, and his nostrils flared as he took in the various odors that permeated the alley, sifting through them to find something unique, as only he and his were-nose could do. I looked up and down the body, taking in the bulbous size. The man was not someone you‟d see at a club—maybe a hole-in-the-wall bar somewhere, but not a club. He wasn‟t a dancer, and he was beyond the point of trying to hit up girls in this kind of place. He‟d be more likely to stalk the shadows of some rundown dive, preying on drunk women drinking away their lives. So what was he doing here? And why was a human suddenly thrown into the mix of victims? Mixed into his thinning gray hair was a coarser-looking thread of black hair. With my other gloved hand, I ran my fingers through his hair, pulled out the strand of fur. “Carlos, we got some fur,” I said to him, then turned to the officer. “Get me a bag. We can send it in and see if we got lycanthrope DNA.” There was a test the lab could run to trace lycanthrope DNA. It did little for the public, because it didn‟t prevent lycanthropy from being contracted, but when Carlos couldn‟t sense one, it came in handy for cases. He brought me a clear baggie that I dropped the thread of fur into. I rose to my feet. “Doubt that‟ll pull much, but at least it‟s something.” Carlos also rose to his feet. “The body wasn‟t dropped off too long ago. The blood is fresh, and I can still smell wolf on him.” I looked over at the officer who had been standing to the side beside us. “Did anyone see anything?” “No, no one saw anything. Most of the crew didn‟t know about the body until the witness came running in,” he said, gesturing over to the spunky-looking brunette. I tipped my head back and looked at the sky, watched the clouds lazily pass by. Beams of sunlight burst through the clouds, the graying night tinged in fading pink. The cool air stirred up the acrid balm of death, which was lighter and airier. The body had been moved like all the others. So someone, at this time of day, had to have seen something, right? “All right, let‟s talk to the girl,” I said, disposing of the gloves. Carlos got rid of his as well and followed me over to where the girl was. He blinked, and I saw his eyes slowly return to brown. The girl nervously looked over at us, her eyes bloodshot and rimmed with tears. Her hair, which had at one point been in a neat ponytail, was now falling around her face in loose, wild red strands. She smoothed out a few strands and

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licked her lips. Carlos took the report from the officer and dismissed him before offering the girl a smile. “I‟m Detective Ramirez, and this is my partner, Detective Bourne. How are you holding up?” Her voice was hitched and came out in a high squeak. “O-okay, I guess… Wwhat‟s going to ha-happen?” She was on the brink of hysterics. I hated women on the brink of hysterics. “Nothing right now,” I said, trying to keep my patience. It wasn‟t her fault she had found a dead body. “We‟d just like to ask you a few questions, if that is all right.” “I-I just gave my statement.” She looked over at the officer, wrapping her arms around herself. “Are you cold?” Carlos asked, already removing his suit jacket. He dropped it over her shoulders. “We know you did, but we‟d just like to ask a few more questions, if that‟s okay.” She perked up some, blinking away the tears enough to pull herself together. She smoothed her hair away from her face and nodded, her voice a little more controlled. “Okay.” She had only eyes for Carlos, and I hated that it annoyed me. Carlos whipped out that handy-dandy notepad, and I started wondering if I should get one myself. “Your name is Sarah?” he asked, shifting the report to the front of his hand to read over it. She nodded. “Yeah.” Carlos lifted his eyes to meet hers and asked, “You usually work the early shift?” Sarah shifted the jacket on her shoulders and shrugged. “Sometimes. It varies.” “What kind of people you get in here?” Carlos asked. “What do you mean?” She looked between us in confusion. I crossed my arms over my chest. “Like, what kind of people come to this place? Have you ever seen someone like the vic here before? Do middle-aged men show up here a lot?” She blinked slowly, maybe even dumbly. Of course, that could have been me just being spiteful. She finally shook her head. “No, I‟ve never seen him before. We don‟t get a lot of the older crowd in here, but I mean…it happens.” Carlos nodded. “Does a girl named Teresa Fine work here?”

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“Teresa…?” She trailed off, hugging the jacket to her body. “You mean Terri? Yeah. But she hasn‟t been to work these last few days, and no one can get ahold of her.” Teresa‟s name hadn‟t been released yet, and we weren‟t planning on doing that anytime soon. Carlos wrote down something and continued with his line of questions. “What was the last day she came to work?” Sarah tapped her chin. I think more for appearances then anything. “Thursday was the last day she was in. She missed Friday and Saturday.” “What was Terri like? Friendly? Hardworking?” I asked. “She was hardworking, but I wouldn‟t say friendly. Kind of out of it. Spacey. A little cold.” She gnawed on her bottom lip, then added, “She was a downright bitch sometimes. I‟ve only been working here a few months; she started way before me. Couple of the girls say she used to be different, but I don‟t know. I think she‟s always been a bitch.” “Okay, I think that‟s all we need.” Carlos flipped his notepad closed. “Why are you asking about Terri?” Sarah asked, her eyes becoming jumpy. They grew a few centimeters before her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh God, does she have something to do with this?” “That‟s all we‟ll need. Thank you for your time,” I said evasively. “W-wait!” she began, but I was already walking away. I headed back toward the club after giving the okay to finish off with the body. Holding the door open, I saw a new person standing at the bar, dressed sharply in a designer suit that would cost me a year‟s salary. As soon as I stepped inside, he looked at me with piercing blue eyes. They were like a cold December night, chilling me to the bone with their harshness. From the faint wrinkles forming along his face, I‟d pin him somewhere in his early thirties. His brown hair was styled short, and his goatee was neatly trimmed. He smoothed his massive hands down his white silk tie and crossed the dance floor, walking toward me. He was a big man, his presence dominating the room. An aura that was strong and wild spilled out, sending the hairs on the back of my neck standing. He smiled, though it was far from inviting. “Are you the detective in charge?” “And who might you be?” I asked, stopping so that he had to finish walking toward me. “Victor Bradford. I own this club.” He drew out a card from his breast pocket and passed it to me. I looked at it and slipped it into my own pocket. The door swung open behind me, and Carlos came back into the club, his jacket back on. I nodded my head toward Victor. “I‟m Detective Bourne, and this is Detective Ramirez. We‟re the ones in charge.”

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“What‟s going on?” Victor asked. He seemed more in control of himself, unlike our dear friend Efe, who had been in a panic over his club‟s reputation. Carlos‟s shoulders tensed, his own aura flaring briefly in a clash. He pulled himself together a second later. “I‟m afraid we can‟t disclose many details. What we can tell you, though, is that a body was found behind your club. We‟re doing our best to resolve the issue.” Victor shifted his gaze to the door Carlos had just come through and then back to us. “Was it someone from the club?” “We don‟t believe so,” Carlos said. Victor nodded and ran his hand down his tie again. “Bodies wind up all the time in Columbus. Will I be able to open my doors tonight?” “Our team is taking care of the body right now. When they finish, that will be up to you,” Carlos answered. “Has anything like this ever happened before, Mr. Bradford?” I asked. If I‟d had a notepad, I‟d be whipping it out right now. Victor shook his head. “No. I like to run a clean business. We keep troublemakers out.” “So you haven‟t had any problems?” Carlos asked, once more pulling out his notepad. I resisted the urge to tease him. “Not really.” “Can you tell us anything about your employee, Teresa Fine? She might have been going by Terri,” I asked. “Terri?” Victor stroked his goatee. It did give him a sharp look. “She‟s been working here for a year now.” “Good employee?” Carlos asked as he jotted down the fact. “Decent. She was hardworking. Is she in trouble?” “We think there may be a connection,” I said. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Bradford. Now if you‟ll excuse us.” “Of course.” Carlos passed him a card. “If you think of any information, please don‟t hesitate to call.” “I will,” Victor said, before walking off back to his distraught employees. I opened my mouth to say something, but Carlos shook his head and steered me out of the club. Once the doors snapped closed behind us, Carlos spoke. “He‟s a werewolf, powerful. I think I‟ve even seen him before among the local wolf pack.”

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I reached back and rubbed my suddenly sore neck. In front of us, the media was going crazy. I grunted. “All right, let‟s deal with these fuckers first.” Carlos chuckled humorlessly and walked down the steps toward the yellow tape. I stood beside him as he handled the reporters. With a third body on our hands, we weren‟t getting out of talking this time. Something big was happening. It wasn‟t just lycanthropes anymore—it was humans too. Someone held no regard for life, human or arcane. The worst part was, we were no closer to solving this case than we‟d been yesterday.

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Chapter Four Rhett Bishop had been my hero and the love of my life. I worshipped the ground he walked on. I was also very young and very stupid when I was with him. The day I finally left him, the day I decided to go to New York City, was the day I drove his head through his apartment wall. It was also the day I caught him in bed (yet again) with some twink. To say that we broke up on bad terms would be the understatement of the century. He broke my heart, so I broke his collarbone. I also made sure the bitch he had jumped into bed with wouldn‟t forget me either. My heart had been carved out like a jack-o‟-lantern because of him. I was empty and lost, feeling more rejected than the day my parents had burned a cross into my forehead. He had been the man who‟d swooped in, armor shining white, and rescued me from my own darkness. I had still been in high school when I met him, still clinging to the hope that maybe I deserved a happily ever after. His infidelity just seemed to drive in the fact that I was not supposed to be happy. Rhett was the final nail in my cross. The only way I could escape falling back into the darkness was to leave. So I went to New York, hoping that I could start anew and maybe, just maybe, find some sort of happiness, even if it was in one-night stands. But Fate is a cruel bitch, and I‟m her number one enemy. New York had been a nightmare, and I left there with a fresh scar. It could only make me wonder what miseries would come from returning home. What game would fate play with me now? How would God torture me? Carlos was sleeping in my bed again, his face buried in the pillow. I had been sitting there for at least fifteen minutes just watching him. The thin trickle of light that spilled in from the window slipped over his back, illuminating his tattoo. His long black hair was brushed to the side along the pillow. I reached out and gently dusted my fingers along the tips, almost afraid to touch the delicate threads. Would he wake up? Caught in the light of dawn, lost in a peaceful sleep, he looked almost innocent…almost sincere. But I knew better than to believe that. Rhett had the same look on his face when he slept. It was a serene expression, one that someone without nightmares had. It was a look of love. It was also a look of lies. I pulled my hand back quickly, before the temptation to bury my hand in his hair became too grand. I was not going to let myself get attached. I was going to

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need to lay down the law with him. He could not, I repeat, could not, stay here. We were not an item. I don‟t date. I don‟t love. I don‟t have relationships. I fuck, and then I move on. “Maybe I should just bring someone back here with me. Then he‟d get the hint,” I grumbled to myself. I glanced over my shoulder at my nightstand, checking the time on the little digital clock. It was seven. We needed to get moving, or we were going to be late for work. I turned back to Carlos. For a minute, I felt guilty about waking him, he looked that peaceful. But then I remembered that he had bullied his way into my bed again, and all my guilt washed away. Without a second thought, I gave him a hard shove and sent him flying off the bed and onto the floor with a thud. “Time to wake up,” I added for good measure. “Son of a bitch!” Carlos yelled from the floor. I looked down the side of the bed at him and ordered, “You better get a move on it, or we‟re going to be late. I already had my shower, so you can take yours.” He glared up at me from underneath a veil of black bangs, his hair sticking up at random angles. He jammed his fingers through the locks to pull some strands away, clearing his vision. “Did you have to fucking wake me up like that, you asshole?” he asked tersely, his voice rough from sleep. I batted my eyes innocently, already slipping off the bed and making my way to the bedroom doorway. “Like what?” “Theo!” he shouted, climbing to his feet. I stopped in the doorway and said over my shoulder, “Maybe next time, you‟ll sleep in your own damn bed. Now get in the shower, Carlos, or you‟re going to work without one.” That‟d show the fucker who was boss.

*** I poured myself a cup of what this place considered coffee, but trust me, it wasn‟t coffee. It was more like some toxic sludge from the underworld. I gave the steaming mug a sniff, wondering how my stomach would handle the caffeinated cocktail of muck and cream. Carlos sipped it without any problem as he headed toward our office. I tugged at my black tie so that it was a loose knot around my neck and took a sip. Scott came around the hall wearing a white suit with a bright red shirt. He looked like a walking stop sign. It took all my willpower to swallow my coffee and not snort it out my nose. He nodded our way and stopped in front of Carlos, handing him the manila folder that had been tucked under his arm. “Here‟s the information you wanted on that vic.”

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I walked up to Carlos and looked down at the folder. Carlos flipped it open, looked down at the paper inside. I didn‟t get a chance to read it before he closed the folder, but I wasn‟t concerned. He‟d share it as soon as we got in our office. “Thanks, Scott,” he said. “No prob. Let me know if you need anything else.” Scott turned around and started walking away, but he only made it a few steps before he spun back around. “Oh. The chief wants you as well.” I glared at him, saying with an aggravated grunt, “You couldn‟t tell us that earlier?” I grabbed Carlos by the arm and hauled him down the hall to the chief‟s office. The last thing we needed this early in the morning was for the chief to chew us out because we were late getting to his office. He was waiting for us, sitting at his desk, hands clasped together in front of him. His bushy eyebrows, which looked like two fat caterpillars, were drawn together in an agitated glare. I could practically see the vein in his forehead pulsing with contained anger. We weren‟t that late, so why was he so pissed? “Hurry up and get your damn asses in here, you morons!” he barked, adding as an afterthought, “And close the door!” I let go of Carlos, glaring at him like this was all his fault, and kicked the door shut. Chief waved a meaty hand in the direction of the chairs in front of his desk. “Sit.” “What‟s up, Chief?” Carlos asked, flopping unceremoniously into one of the seats. I set my mug on the chief‟s desk and sat down, finally looking at the television that had been wheeled in. It was the same one I had used to observe the surveillance tapes. Without a word, Chief turned on the television. It was a recording of Channel 7 News. The spunky reporter who kept barking at our heels at the crime scenes was standing in front of a Short North archway. He looked like a Chihuahua. I hated Chihuahuas. “Police have yet to release any information, Jared, but from what we can gather, this is the third murder this month. The PTF has been called in to investigate the murders, though they have not released a press statement yet. Do we have a serial killer on our hands? Has an epidemic broken out in Columbus, one of blood and mayhem? Well, I, for one, would like to know, and I‟d also like to know what the police are going to do about it. People are afraid to go out at night with a killer still out on the loose. We can only wait with bated breath until the PTF can give us some answers. This is Abraham Patel, Channel Seven News.” “Son of a bitch,” I cursed softly, glaring at the screen. I didn‟t know the guy, and already he had made it to the top of my hit list. Carlos stiffened beside me. I could feel the bunching of his muscles as if they were mine. I looked over at him briefly before turning back to the chief.

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The screen switched over to a man with a bad comb-over, who I could only assume was Jared. As he gave Abraham thanks, the chief flipped the television off. The glare still in place, he looked at us and said flatly, “I want this case wrapped up, and I want it wrapped up now. We have the press beating at the door, and Commissioner Eckert is blowing up my phone, wanting to know why you two haven‟t taken care of this.” Carlos met Chief‟s gaze. “We‟re working on it, sir.” “Well, not fast enough, damn it! People are saying we have a serial killer on the loose! Do you know what kind of problems get stirred up when rumors like those float around? Bourne! I thought you were some hotshot from New York,” Chief growled, spit flaking off his lip. His face looked like a red balloon, his anger building up inside him. I was already standing as I said, “We‟re on it, sir. We have a lead. We‟re going to investigate it now.” “Good. Then follow it! And the next time I see you guys, you better have something for me! Now get out of my office, you lug heads!” he yelled. I snatched my coffee up and headed out the door. As soon as we were down the hall, Carlos grabbed my arm and pulled me to the side. “Why did you tell him that? We have nothing! We‟re shooting blanks here!” “Did you want to stay in there and get chewed out?” I asked, jerking my arm from his grasp. “Look, we may not have something now. But if we sit down and look at the clues, we may find something. But sitting there having new assholes torn for us isn‟t going to help. Now come on.” Carlos shook his head, his loose hair spilling over his shoulders. He sighed heavily. “All right.” I could see exhaustion forming around his eyes in thin wrinkles, and I couldn‟t help but wonder if I was getting my own set of crow‟s-feet. I rubbed at my face and headed into our office, sipping my now lukewarm coffee. “We have three dead. Two of them are lycanthropes while the other is human,” I said, grabbing all the photos we had of the bodies and tacking them onto a corkboard that was hanging on the wall. On two separate scraps of paper, I jotted down the names of the two victims we knew, leaving our newest one nameless. Carlos dropped the folder onto the table and looked at the board as I turned to tack the names above the appropriate photos. He opened up the report. “Daniel Dawson, age forty-five. Worked as a store manager at Macy‟s. Divorced with two kids, living in a shared apartment in Hilltop.” I wrote Daniel‟s name down and tacked it with the others. Our third vic. I added beneath their names exactly what they were. Daniel was the only human, the other two werewolves. I stepped back to stand beside Carlos, looking at the photos as if the answer was going to jump out like a snake. If things were only that simple.

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“Now what?” Carlos asked. “Think.” “They were all attacked by werewolves.” Carlos walked over to the photos for a closer inspection. “Have you gotten the hair back from the lab?” I asked. “Not yet,” he mumbled absently, his gaze locked on the three photographs set out in front of us. There were multiple snapshots at various angles of the cadavers, the photos taking in each wound. “They were each disposed of in a separate location. So they‟re being attacked somewhere else. That means whoever is doing this has to have it planned. These aren‟t just random werewolf attacks. They‟ve been targeted. But why? None of them have anything in common, except Teresa and Jeffery. They were both fellow werewolves…but why Dawson?” “I don‟t know, but I think it‟s time we paid the local pack leader a visit,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. The air grew with a static charge as Carlos tensed at the idea. I rolled my eyes and, as I levitated my cup up and into my hands, said, “Don‟t pull some macho bullshit on me, mutt. We have a case to solve.” “Ah, but corazón, you love it when I‟m the big, strong man. I clearly remember you enjoying it.” A grin broke out across his face, and his eyes flashed golden. What I hated most was that he was right. In the back of my mind, a small part of me wanted him to dominate me. I wanted his body, but I refused to acknowledge it. I also refused to believe it was anything but lust. He darted out the door before I could hurl something at him. “Damn mutt!” I yelled at his back.

*** The law office of Crowe and Harrison was in a chic building made of steel and glass, located in the heart of Columbus next to the LeVeque Tower. We were standing next to a wall of windows that looked out over the city, giving an amazing view of the horizon. The office was open and styled with a sleek contemporary taste. “I don‟t know who I hate worse, reporters or lawyers. They‟re both a bunch of bloodsuckers,” I grumbled with disdain. Just being in the building made my skin crawl. I‟ve had too many run-ins with lawyers to not know how two-faced they are. They practically get off twisting the law and making my job harder. “Be nice, mi corazón.” Carlos gave me a warning look. “Detectives?” The meek words came from a petite blonde, whose blue eyes became teary. She worried her bottom lip, and a hand nervously fluttered in front of her. Once she had both our attention, she forced a smile. “Mr. Crowe will see you.”

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I opened my mouth to say something sarcastic, but Carlos gave me another glare and nodded to the girl. She looked like she was ready to keel over. “Great, lead the way, doll.” Carlos winked. He gave her a smile that softened the lines in her forehead. Her cheeks colored, and she bobbed her head. Her step had a bit more oomph to it as she walked over to the large double oak doors to Crowe‟s office. “Stop flirting,” I snapped at Carlos behind her back. “I‟m not flirting.” Carlos grinned, his eyes laughing at me. “Just being friendly. Someone has to.” The temptation to throw him out one of the windows was almost too great to ignore. I managed to control the desire, though, and walked into the office as Crowe‟s secretary announced us. “Detective Ramirez and Detective Bourne, sir.” “Thank you, Melissa.” Crowe nodded his head in her direction. “That‟ll be all. Hold my calls for me until we finish.” “Yes, sir.” She quickly left and closed the doors behind her. Darius Crowe looked at us with a set of eyes as black as polished volcanic rock that gleamed with the dangerous edge of a blade. His skin was a dark brown, and the light from the overhanging lamps reflected off his head. He was built with a lean, wiry frame, one that didn‟t look as intimidating as I knew it could be. One did not become the alpha leader of the werewolves without brute strength to back it up. Power flared in the room, filling it to the brim and trickling out through the cracks in the door. My skin crawled with the conflicting auras as the two men battled it out. It was almost suffocating to feel such strength surrounding me. Finally the hard edge of Crowe‟s face broke, the power struggle vanished, and a broad smile spread across his visage, the whiteness of his teeth almost blinding. “Hot damn, Ramirez! It‟s been awhile! What brings you up here? Got legal troubles?” Carlos walked over to the stylish black leather chair in front of Crowe‟s desk and shook his hand before sitting down. I eyed them both before shaking Crowe‟s hand myself and finally flopping into the other chair. Carlos shook his head. “No, not exactly. I came here to talk to you about the recent murders that have come up in the lycanthrope community.” Crowe‟s smiling face sobered up instantly. He leaned back in his office chair, ran his hand down his face. “I figured you‟d be in here soon enough. Any clues as to what‟s going on?” “We were hoping you might have some,” I said. Crowe finally looked at me, blinking for a moment, as if he had just realized I was there. Good to know I wasn‟t going to be completely ignored. “What do you mean?” He looked between us, his eyes once again returning to the hue of hard volcanic rock.

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“Has anyone in your pack gone missing recently?” Carlos asked. The air stirred around the office, aura shifting in delicate waves. It was like a fish moving beneath the water, barely disturbing the surface. “You know we aren‟t supposed to discuss pack information with other packs,” Crowe said. “That may be,” Carlos said, “but this is official police business, Darius. We have three dead bodies, two of which are werewolves.” Crowe‟s eyes grew wide with surprise, which was quickly replaced with anger that burned deep gold. Finally he conceded with a nod, rubbing a thick hand that was accented by a diamond pinkie ring along the polished dome of his head and down his face, as if he could wipe away the stress. “Christ. I thought so, but I didn‟t want to believe it. Yeah, two of our people haven‟t come to our most recent meeting.” “Who?” I asked. Carlos pulled out his damn notepad beside me. “Jeff Moore and Terri Fine.” Crowe confirmed our suspicions. He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled slowly, his broad shoulders visibly stiffening. “What can you tell us about them?” Carlos asked, looking up at Crowe. The air seemed to grow thicker as the tension rose. There was an understanding that passed between Carlos and Crowe, a knowledge only shared by alphas. Someone had come in and started picking off the members of Crowe‟s pack like they were flies to be swatted at. It was not only a threat to his power, but to his family. “Jeff is a good man. Cares a lot about the pack, though he isn‟t that strong. Doesn‟t have a family. He‟s been divorced for a few years. Never had any kids with his ex-wife,” Crowe said. “Who‟s his ex-wife?” I asked. “I don‟t know. He was divorced before he joined the pack. He mentioned once that they broke up because of him being a werewolf, but he rarely talked about it.” “And Terri?” Carlos asked, his pen tapping against the top of the notepad. “Bright, vibrant. She had a lot of potential to move up in the pack…” He trailed off and turned his chair to face the line of windows that looked out over Columbus. “Darius?” Carlos asked after a minute. Crowe turned back to us, his eyes flickering back and forth between volcanic rock and crystal topaz. He closed them, collected his thoughts, and then said, “Though as of lately, she‟d seemed distant, more reserved. I tried talking to her once about it, but she brushed it off as nothing. It‟s them, right? They‟re dead.” Crowe said it with such finality. It wasn‟t a question, but a statement. They were dead. He had failed in his job to protect his pack. Abruptly he slammed his hands down, his entire desk shaking violently from the force.

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“Damn it!” “Darius!” Carlos snapped, reaching out to place his hand over Crowe‟s. Saffron bled in both their eyes, and a clash of stifling aura swallowed me up again. Anger rose up the back of my throat like acid. I could taste the rage that was flowing through the office. It was bitter and tart, like a mouthful of lemons. “Who did it, Carlos? Don‟t bullshit me! You know who is behind this,” Crowe said, his voice low and rumbling. It held a gravelly texture to it, the ferocious growl of a wolf. Carlos shook his head. “I don‟t, Darius. I‟m trying. But we need your help. Have you noticed anything different recently? Any new members in the pack? Anyone not a member of the pack show up in the area? Or any changes in the pack, members acting different?” Crowe shook his head, his eyes slowly turning back to their dark, murky color. His voice still held a wolfish edge to it, despite the ease in the air. “No. No new pack members or even anyone new in the area. I‟d know if someone showed up.” He said it firmly, like he was trying to convince himself. He sucked in a breath, recollected himself. “Anything? Come on, Darius! Give me something. We have two werewolves and a human dead by a lycanthrope attack. A werewolf!” Carlos shouted, leaning forward on the desk. Crowe looked up at Carlos, searching his face as if hunting for any sort of reasoning to this madness. He rubbed his head again, gave it a little scratch, before saying, “The only thing that‟s changed recently is my beta.” Carlos fell back into his seat and poised the tip of his pen against the notepad. “Okay. Who‟s your beta?” “Victor Bradford.” I glanced over at Carlos; he was already waiting to meet my gaze. Carlos wrote something down and then placed the notepad and pen back into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. He rose to his feet, and I followed his example. “I think that‟s all we need. Thanks, Darius.” Carlos held out his hand. “Good seeing you.” Crowe shook Carlos‟s hand, holding on to it before Carlos could pull away. “You find whoever did this, Carlos.” “I will,” Carlos assured him, then pulled his hand away. “Good day, Mr. Crowe.” I shook his hand before turning and heading out the door. I sucked in a gulp of air as soon as I exited his office. The energy that had filled the room was still crawling over my skin like silken fur. I had to resist the urge to rub my arms. We didn‟t say anything until we were back in the car. As soon as we were buckled up, I said, “So Victor Bradford is Crowe‟s second in command? Funny how that never came up when we were talking to him.”

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Carlos stroked his chin, glaring up at the sun. I started the engine and backed out of our spot, heading toward the garage exit. We had parked all the way at the top, so that gave us five spiraling levels to go through. When I finally slipped back into the line of traffic, Carlos spoke. “I think me and you deserve a night out. What do you say this weekend, we go to The Hunting Moon?” A grin twitched at my lips, but I managed to control it. “That sounds like a good idea.”

*** Carlos was watching the clock on my stove with something close to paranoid interest. I took another bite of the chicken I‟d made and glared at him across the table, wondering how he‟d convinced me yet again to let him back into my house. He finally looked away from the digital clock and shoveled another forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. “Explain to me again why you‟re eating dinner here?” I asked, jabbing the chicken with more force than necessary. “Because you‟re in love with me.” Carlos wiggled his eyebrows in what he must have thought was an enticing manner. I took a bite of chicken and then poked my fork menacingly at him. “Correction, hate.” Carlos waved his hand dismissively. “Where‟s the salt?” I glanced over at the kitchen counter where the saltshaker was and levitated it over to the table. Carlos picked it up. “It must be handy to be able to get things without having to actually get up.” I shrugged. Was it handy? Yes. Did I like it? Not always. But I had come to accept my powers. They were a necessary evil. Carlos looked at the clock again. “Why the fuck are you watching the clock?” I snapped. He shoveled the rest of his dinner down and gathered up his dishes, dumping them in the sink. I turned around in my seat to face him, repeating, “Why are you watching the clock, Carlos?” He continued to ignore me, beginning to wash his dishes. Well, at least he cleaned up after himself. I shucked the rest of my food in the trash and dropped my plate in the sink for him to clean. His eyes were intense, focused on the soapy water. I snapped my finger next to his face. “Carlos?” When he refused to answer, I grabbed his arm and spun him around. “What the fuck, Carlos?” I don‟t know why I was so agitated. It was pissing me off, though, that he was being shady. What did he have to suddenly hide? He‟d been acting distracted ever

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since we‟d finished for the day. He had made a phone call right before piling into my car, leaving me no choice but to either dump his ass on I-270 or take him home with me. Against my better judgment, I had conceded and brought him home. Damn mutt. Carlos smiled at me, mirth shining behind his warm chocolate eyes. I let go of him, fisting my hands at my sides. “Damn it, Carlos, quit fucking with me.” Did he get some sick pleasure from messing with my head? He gave a soft chuckle and lifted his hand to stroke my cheek. I swatted it away, practically hissing at him. Persistent, he cupped my cheek again. “Mi corazón, are you worried I‟m going to leave you?” “Not on your life.” I turned around and headed for the living room. Carlos grabbed my arm before I could make it that far, though, and spun me back around. I could feel his contained strength in the flex of his fingers. He was a caged wild animal, only kept at bay because of his own sheer will, waiting and stalking, preparing for the perfect opportunity to strike. I tugged at my arm, even though I knew it was fruitless, and growled, “Carlos, let go.” He walked me backward, stalking forward with a firm grip still on my right forearm. My back hit the edge of the counter, and my patience flew out the proverbial window. “You have three seconds to let me go, Carlos, before I drop-kick your sorry ass.” Carlos smiled, his eyes paling into a bright topaz. In a flash, he had me pinned against the counter. His head dipped low, his lips tantalizing mine. Hunger bolted down my spine like lightning hitting a metal rod. I shoved it aside, refusing to give in to the urge. “Mi corazón, don‟t push me aside. I can smell your hunger. It‟s like a perfume,” Carlos growled. His voice took on the same husky texture that Crowe‟s had. But Carlos‟s had that rich Spanish accent and stroked me in the most intimate of places. His nostrils flared as he inhaled the scent of my pheromones, his irises bleeding to gold until they glowed like polished citrine. “Mutt,” I warned, “back the fuck off.” It was a half-assed attempt to get him to back up. I knew he wouldn‟t. His tongue flicked out, tracing my bottom lip. Before I could stop myself, I shuddered. Every part of me—mind, body, and soul—wanted him in the worst way possible. I hated that part of me that yearned for him, because it was those desires that always led to something more, and I was not going down that road again. “Carlos,” I whispered feebly, reaching up to shove at his chest. He tilted his head to the side and seized my lips. I beat harder against his chest, slamming my fists into his hard pecs. It was like punching a mountain. He was rock hard, filled with muscles and supernatural ferocity.

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His tongue delved into my mouth, stroking my tongue and tempting me. My punches went ignored, and eventually, I quieted my hands, letting them rest against his chest. Once I stopped fighting, letting my mouth open up to him, Carlos grabbed my hips and hoisted me up. I‟m not a light man. I‟m built with solid, lean muscles, but Carlos made it seem as if I were as light as a feather. He placed me on top of the counter, his hands sliding down to massage my thighs. “Carlos.” I tried to argue again. “Mi corazón,” Carlos mumbled, moving his lips to my jawline and down my neck. He sucked on my pulse, which quickened into a fluttering thumpa thumpa thumpa, his teeth grazing my skin. Those were teeth that could easily tear my throat out and snap my bones in half. “Shut up,” he said softly as he moved back down, his hot breath hitting damp flesh. My cock strained against the zipper of my dress pants. He bit at my collarbone, his tongue pressing flat and then rising up to trace the peak of my jugular. His hands, which continued to massage my thighs, moved to fiddle with the button of my pants. Reality hit me, and I reached up, braced myself against his shoulders, and gave a shove. “I‟m serious, Carlos.” “Really? Because your cock says differently.” He chuckled, nudging me to lift my hips. Without thinking, I obeyed, using him as support to rise up so he could tug my pants and boxers down. My bare ass was on the counter, and my swollen cock was lifted to full mast. Carlos sucked in a breath and mumbled something quickly in Spanish as his hands stroked the tops of my thighs. I could continue fighting fruitlessly, or I could just sit back and enjoy. I licked my lips and leaned back, my head resting against the top cabinets. Carlos glanced up, gauging my expression, I‟m sure. If I really wanted him to quit, I know he would. When he didn‟t hear any more complaints and protests, he dropped down to his knees. I slid farther down the cabinet, so that my lower back was resting against it, giving him easier access. He sucked on my tip, reaching between my legs to cup my balls. A low groan escaped me as he worshiped my cock, loving it in a way no other man had. His warm mouth surrounded me, encasing me in a slippery wetness that was like heaven on earth. His tongue massaged the bottom of my shaft, stroking sensitive nerves. He took me all the way to the base. Carlos pulled back, my cock slipping from his mouth with a slurp. He licked the tip. “Mi corazón…” His words trailed off into a blur of Spanish that I didn‟t understand. I was really going to have to take lessons. I reached down and tangled my fingers in his lush locks, tugging his head back to my aching member. He swallowed me eagerly and began to work with an expert‟s mouth, drawing me to the precarious edge of euphoria and insanity. I let my head

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fall back, groans escaping as I tried to catch my breath. It didn‟t take much more for Carlos to send me spiraling downward like I was Alice falling into Wonderland. With only a few more squeezes of his hand and some sucks, I was riding a powerful climax. Carlos swallowed it all, drinking as if he had an unquenchable thirst. I gripped his hair tightly, thrusting into his mouth as I rode out the last of my orgasm. I collapsed against the counter, panting and drawing in deep gulps of air. He let my wilting cock slide from his mouth, licking the last droplets up like a greedy cat. Oh how he‟d hate that analogy. Carlos nestled his nose in my bed of curls, pressed a kiss to my completely sedated member. He rose back up to his feet, his arms wrapping around me. The urge to fight came back as my mind cleared from the fog, but he didn‟t give me enough time. He pressed a quick peck to my lips. “Okay, I‟m going. I‟ll be back later tonight.” I blinked dumbly at him as I watched him head toward the front door. Quickly I pulled my pants up and tucked myself back in, stammering, “W-what?” Carlos began to strip, folding his clothes in a neat pile and setting them on a chair. Okay… What the fuck was going on? “If you‟re leaving, then why the hell are you stripping?” I barked, my anger coming back full force. I don‟t like being fucked with. I was not some chew toy for him to play with. Carlos kicked his shoes off and dropped his pants, giving me a view of his tight ass. Carlos went commando today. He had been walking around, tight ass barely covered… Okay, thoughts are getting away from me. I crossed my arms over my chest and watched him get down to his birthday suit. He turned to me, unashamed of his nudity. “I have a meeting with the pack. My truck is still at the PD, and you aren‟t going to lend me your car. So I‟m shifting. I‟ll be back late tonight, so leave the door unlocked.” “Fuck you! As soon as you leave, I‟m bolting this place up. Don‟t bring your sorry ass back here!” I yelled. He just smiled, sauntered over to me, and leaned down for a quick peck. “I‟ll be back,” he said softly. He turned and headed for the door. I could already see the fine tremble in his body take over as he stepped out and closed the door behind him. I‟d seen a werewolf shift once. It was burned into my mind. It was inhuman to watch, filled with the cracking and breaking of bones, exploding cartilage, and snapping ligaments. It was like watching a person literally being torn apart, their skin ripping like wet paper, becoming replaced by tufts of fur. I had watched a man‟s face extend beyond the physical limits and fingers curl backward. There was nothing glamorous about shifting. It wasn‟t like Hollywood had painted, where in a flash you‟re transformed into this mighty beast.

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I walked over to the window and looked out, catching a glimpse of Carlos as a sleek coyote bathed in moonlight. It was a fleeting glimpse, punctuated by a parting bay to the waxing moon. I slammed the curtains closed and spun around to the door, my hand twitching to turn the lock. A war raged in my head as I struggled to come up with a decision. Finally I threw my hands in the air and shouted to no one in particular, “Damn it!” I stormed off to my bedroom, leaving the front door unlocked. I was going to bed, alone, just as it should be. As soon as I finished my nightly routine, I turned off the lights and climbed under the covers.

*** I was walking through darkness again. It was thick like water. I could run my hands through it, and I swore I could feel it shift beneath my fingers. It was made from the kinds of shadows that blighted all optimism. My hope deflated, like a balloon with the air rushing out of it. I walked through it, knowing how familiar this was. It was the same dream. It was always the same dream. The darkness was cold against my skin, rushing past me but never parting. I couldn‟t see it moving, I couldn‟t see it waver or part in any way, but I could feel it against my body. My stomach balled up anxiously; nausea rose with each step. I looked around, panic on the cusp of my mind. I was so small again, a little boy stranded with nowhere to go. “Hello?” Why did I call out when I knew it was pointless? The words just kept coming, though. It was a naive hope, I guess, that someone just might answer me this time. Nothing. No response. Just eerie silence and rushing shadows. I turned around and shouted again. “Is anyone there? Hello!” A growl punctuated the emptiness, like the low gurgle of a hungry wolf. But it was faint, miles away from where I was. I spun around and took a few steps forward, calling out, “Hello? Somebody!” Why was I always alone? It even felt like the shadows were trying to abandon me, rushing past and never looking back. The growl echoed around me, escalating in volume. It was followed by the horrified scream of a man, and my stomach dropped. I was going to vomit. I was going to vomit, and it would probably be all over myself, and I‟d never know because of these damn shadows. “Hello!” I screamed, bending at the waist. I wasn‟t doing this. I wasn‟t doing this again. The man screamed again, calling out into the night for help. Like an echo that haunted me, the wolf howled with vicious intent. They were lost in each other, the scream followed by the howl, chasing me like a phantom in the night. I ran through the darkness, trying to escape whatever it was that was surrounding me. The voices were trying to drive me insane, constantly begging for me. I could never help them.

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I didn‟t know where they were. I didn‟t know how. I never did. I was useless, worthless. “Please!” a boy cried out over the scream of the man. “No more! I‟m sorry!” I grabbed at my hair, wanting to rip my own ears off, so I didn‟t have to hear any more. I kept running, stumbling over my own feet. I hit the ground and felt the cold dirt and grass, and a shuddered sob wrenched from my throat. I fisted my hands in the grass I couldn‟t see and pulled at it. It was like I was ripping out the darkness. With each blade, the darkness melted, and when I looked up, it was gone. I glimpsed a starry night over the trees. I held fast to the grass, afraid that if I let go, I‟d go back into that abyss. The screams and howls were gone, but the air still stirred with the fragrance of a nightmare. I looked around, taking in the familiar bleachers and goalie posts. “H-hello?” I stammered, hating how weak my voice sounded. The wind whistled; the trees rustled with scraggly clawlike branches. I looked over at the goalpost, squinted into the bleakness. A figure stepped out, lanky and awkward-looking, a youthful face painted in shades of gray and violet, masked by the night. I could make out short black hair and a pair of eyes that caught the moonlight, but the face was lost on me. He was dressed in a soccer uniform, my old soccer uniform. “Wake up,” he said, his Spanish accent thick. I shot forward, sitting straight up in bed, gasping for air. My body was drenched in a cold sweat, and my heart was beating against my chest like a rabid wolverine desperate to break free from its cage. I rubbed my hand over my face, trying to wipe the images away. I looked around my dark room, eyed the digital clock on the nightstand. It was two in the morning. “Carlos?” I called out. God, my voice sounded so small and pathetic. Why the fuck was I acting like a baby? Like I needed him? When no one responded, I lay back down, not giving in to the urge to curl into a fetal position. I didn‟t need Carlos, and I didn‟t give a damn if he came back or not. The mutt could go fuck off. Listening to my apartment settle, I lay on my side for I don‟t know how long, my eyes flickering open and closed. I heard the door open, and at first, an alarm went off in my head, telling me to get up and attack. But then I caught a glimpse of Carlos‟s silhouette and a whiff of his cologne. I closed my eyes, feigning sleep. I could hear him shifting around the room, and a few seconds later, the bed drooped with the extra weight. He saddled up next to me, his chest pressed to my back. I kept my eyes closed, taking in the scent of a hundred coyotes and his woodsy cologne. His hair tickled my bare shoulder as he leaned over. The urge to deck him, send him sprawling flat on his back, surged up in me. The fucker stayed out this late and then had the gall to come back here? He wasn‟t welcome. He was damn lucky I was so fucking tired. “Please remember, mi corazón,” he whispered in a hushed tone.

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Remember what? He pressed a kiss to my forehead and then lay down, his arms wrapped around me. I opened my eyes and stared at my closet. I could feel his heart against my back, right behind my own. I don‟t know when I fell asleep. Maybe I never did, and all the shadows just melded together. I just remember listening to his heart and wondering how I was going to cut him from my life, because I couldn‟t let him burrow any deeper into it. I wasn‟t going down that road again. I wasn‟t.

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Chapter Five “He‟s asleep,” I said into the phone, cradling it between my shoulder and my ear. I could hear my aunt cackling on the other end. Yes, cackling. She gave a little whoop, like she‟d won some great victory. I pulled the phone away from my ear and opened the fridge, grabbed the carton of orange juice. I drew the phone back and said, “We didn‟t do anything.” At least before we went to bed, but she didn‟t need to know the specific details. I gave the kitchen counter a sideways glance, making a mental note to sterilize it later. “Then why did he stay the night?” she inquired, an excited lilt to her voice. I heaved a sigh as I poured myself a glass of juice, saying, “Because we were working late. That‟s it.” “Theo, I see the way that man looks at you. He sees stars every time.” “He‟s just looking for a piece of tail, Aunt Claire. That‟s all,” I grumbled, taking a sip of juice. I probably should start breakfast. “Not every guy is like that, Theo. Not everyone is like Rhett,” she said softly. “At one time, you weren‟t either.” “What does that mean?” “Theo, when was the last time you had a relationship? A real relationship?” Aunt Claire asked. I glared down at my glass, not liking where this conversation was going. I knew my aunt felt in some way it was her fault, that because she had introduced me to Rhett, she was inadvertently to blame for our relationship not working out. Maybe that was why she pressed so hard for me to find someone else. “Theo…” “I don‟t know, Aunt Claire,” I snapped, harsher than I meant to. “Does it matter? I don‟t want a relationship. I don‟t need one.” Sometimes I wondered if I deserved one. I heard someone moving behind me and didn‟t greet Carlos. I could smell him as he stepped up behind me. He still smelled of the night and of coyotes and the earth. He clamped his hands down on my shoulders and began to knead the tension that had built between my shoulders. How much had he heard? “Theo, you can‟t be alone forever,” Aunt Claire said.

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“You are.” I gritted my teeth, my shoulders bunching up painfully. “That‟s different. I chose to be alone, not because I was hurt, but because it made me happy. And I wasn‟t alone. I had you.” I suddenly felt like an ass for yelling at her. She was only doing what she thought was best. “Aunt Claire…” “Carlos is a good man, Theo. A very good man,” she said. I shook Carlos‟s hands off, stepping away to put some distance between us. He didn‟t press, but I could feel his eyes on me. She sighed heavily into the phone. Aunt Claire gave another small sigh and said gently, “I just want you to be happy.” “I know, Aunt Claire. Look, Carlos is up, and we have to get ready for work,” I said, finished with this conversation and with kicking myself. “I‟ll talk to you later.” “All right. I love you.” “Okay, I love you. Bye.” I waited for her good-bye before hanging up. “Everything all right?” Carlos asked as soon as I hung up the phone. I turned to look at him, feeling the weight of his gaze on me. Worry creased his eyes, but I ignored it and passed my orange juice to him. “I‟m getting dressed; you need to hurry up and get ready as well. We aren‟t going to be late.” “Theo?” he asked as he took the orange juice. “I‟m fine.” I headed to the bedroom and selected my suit for the day as well as something for Carlos to borrow. I was getting real sick of him borrowing my clothes. It was piling up my dirty laundry.

*** I think Carlos was the only person who could pull off a god-awful blue suit. I had given him something from the back of my closet, one of the suits that was a size too big. Aunt Claire had found it on sale a few years ago and said that I‟d grow into it. She was still under the belief that I was a growing boy. Nevertheless, the suit had been shoved so far back in my closet, it was in Narnia. Carlos had turned the pale blue monstrosity into a sleek outfit that complemented his dark skin. I was still trying to figure out how he made it look sexy when I was trying to make him look bad. Maybe then he‟d go back to his own damn house and get his own damn clothes. But no, instead he looked good. Real good. “Why are you staring at me like that?” Carlos asked, hurling a wad of paper at me. I smacked it away, glaring at him. He tilted his head to the side, a few strands of hair falling across his face. He had pulled it back today in a neat braid, giving the illusion of short hair. My hand itched to reach out and push the hair from his face, but I beat that urge to the ground.

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“Like what?” I asked innocently, turning my attention back to the bulletin board and away from my growing hard-on. When had I become a prepubescent boy? It was like every time I looked at Carlos, I was reminded of his raw sensuality. It was unnerving how he could manipulate my body. “Like you want to defile me in all sorts of naughty ways,” he said, chuckling when I slanted my eyes into a harsher glare. “Fuck you, mutt,” I growled, turning back to face him. “Corazón, don‟t get so angry.” He held his hands up. “You know I‟ll let you.” I made a frustrated sound in the back of my throat and shoved my chair back, getting to my feet. I paced over to the bulletin board, deciding to ignore that last quip from him. I hooked my finger around my red tie and pulled at it until it hung loose around my neck. “Focus, Ramirez. We have work to do.” I studied the pictures. Carlos sobered up, spinning in his chair so that he was facing the corkboard as well. I had added a few extra notes to the board, connecting various bits of information and photos with pieces of colored string. None of it made sense, though, and I had been the one to add the information in the first place. “Daniel Dawson was found in the back of The Hunting Moon, where Teresa Fine worked. Teresa Fine and Jeffery Moore were in the same pack. Victor Bradford is the pack beta,” I repeated for the hundredth time, hoping that some of those jumbled facts would spill out and form an answer. “We‟re missing something.” Carlos stood and stepped beside me to look at the pictures. “How about a motive? Why kill them? What does anyone gain from killing them?” I asked, looking between the three photos. “Nothing.” “There has to be a reason, though. People don‟t die randomly. Not by a lycan. There‟s always a purpose, whether it‟s defending territory, dominance, or for some ulterior motive.” I moved to lean against Carlos‟s desk. “The only one you could gain something from is Teresa Fine. Darius said she had potential to move up,” Carlos said. “So she was a strong fighter.” I studied her picture again. Her body was agile, filled out by graceful muscles. She was a predator. “But Moore wasn‟t, and neither was Dawson. He was human.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache coming on. “There aren‟t enough fucking clues.” “What about The Hunting Moon? I have a feeling Victor Bradford is involved with this.” I let my hand slide down, looked across the room at Carlos. He scratched the side of his chin, his gaze trailing the thin pieces of thread that wound their way across the board to wrap themselves around the colorful tacks.

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“Did we ever check to see if Moore and Dawson had a connection with the club?” I asked, a lightbulb going off in my head. “No.” “How much you wanna bet that they did?” I could feel a giddy grin coming on. Leads in a case were like grade A porn for me. Carlos‟s eyes sparkled, warm and bubbling like freshly made hot chocolate. He turned to face me completely. “I bet you a blowjob you‟re right,” he said, his tone sultry. I hurled a pencil at him, earning a bark of laughter. He moved back to his desk, shooed me away to mine, and sat down. After a bit of shuffling through papers, he pulled out Dawson‟s file, passing it to me. “There‟s his address. What do you say we go to his old apartment?” I took the sheet and looked. It was over in Hilltop, not the greatest part of town. I nodded and handed it back. “Let‟s go.” I grabbed my black suit jacket from the back of the chair and threw it on over my holster. We headed out to the parking lot. “Toss me the keys. I wanna drive.” “I don‟t think so.” “Damn it, Theo, let me drive. I‟m sick of riding shotgun,” he growled, his hand held out to me. I looked down at it and lifted a brow. “You want a handshake?” “Theo!” “All right! Damn, why are you so bitchy?” I asked, throwing the keys to him. “But if you‟re driving, then you‟re stopping for coffee and buying.” He rolled his eyes and sauntered over to the Crown Victoria. I swear if he had his tail, it would have been wagging. He slid into the driver‟s seat and waited for me. With a grumble, I trudged over and got in.

*** We had stopped for coffee at a fast-food place and made our way to Hilltop. It was the kind of neighborhood where the sound of police sirens was a lullaby for kids at night. The police were called on a good day at least ten times to the neighborhood. New York had the Bronx; Columbus had Hilltop. “So I was wondering.” Carlos rolled to a stop at the light. “If you wanted to come to dinner with me at my brother‟s.” I squinted at him suspiciously. “Why?” He looked at me briefly before easing off the brake pedal. We continued to head down the street, nearing the one Dawson‟s apartment was on. Carlos shrugged. “I don‟t know… I had dinner at your aunt‟s. I thought maybe you could meet my family.”

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“Again, why?” “Can you try to be nice for once, please?” Carlos asked, a hint of agitation rising in his voice. I looked out the window. We passed a full bus stop, where a very obese woman with a very short skirt was sitting, her legs not so discreetly spread open. I shivered in revulsion and looked back to Carlos. He quickly looked at me and then back to the road. “Well?” “Are your parents going to be there? Is this going to be like some big thing?” I asked, shifting in my seat anxiously at the thought. Subconsciously I picked at the broken leather of the car‟s seats. The stuffing was popping out at the sides and in various spots along the front. The damn department was too cheap to spring for a new car or even just new upholstery. “My parents are dead,” Carlos said. Silence settled over us. Well, great, now I felt like an ass. I rubbed the back of my head. “Um, oh… Sorry, Carlos, I didn‟t know… I…” Why was it always so awkward when you found something like that out? You didn‟t know, because if you did, you sure as hell wouldn‟t have said something, yet you always feel like a major jackass for bringing the sore topic up. Carlos shook his head, his eyes hard. He was focusing on the road, as if he looked away, he just might lose a grip on reality and begin to crumble. “It‟s fine. It happened when I was ten. They were in a car accident… I…” “Carlos…” I didn‟t like the pained look on his face, like he was reliving the tragedy. I wanted to make it go away. I mostly wanted to kick my own ass for causing that look. “My brother raised me, and anyways, I‟d just like you to meet him. But if you don‟t want to, it‟s c-cool,” he stammered out, his grip on the steering wheel going white-knuckled. “I‟ll go,” I said, meaning it. “Are you sure?” He looked at me and then ahead. “If you don‟t want to, Theo, it‟s okay.” “I want to,” I pressed. “Corazón, really you don‟t—” he began, his voice softening. “I want to, damn it!” I snapped, interrupting him. “Are you taking your invite back? Huh? I said I wanted to go, and I fucking meant it. And the food better be good!” Carlos chuckled, a smile growing across his face. It was like springtime blooming, chasing away a harsh winter. My stomach curled at the sight of his sunny smile, stirring something inside me that was more than lust, more than desire. He turned onto Dawson‟s road and pulled into the parking lot of the shabby apartments.

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“All right, mi corazón.” “What did I tell you about calling me that?” I snapped, disgruntled by the sudden swell of emotion inside me. I climbed out of the car once he parked and slammed the door shut with more force than necessary. Daniel Dawson had lived in West Plaza Apartments, which were three brick buildings that formed a U. A shabbily maintained courtyard rested in the center. I don‟t think the West Plaza Apartments had ever had a prime, much like all the other buildings in Hilltop. It was run-down, graffiti-covered, and smelled of a blend of cat urine, day-old trash, and stale pot. A bum (or who I was assuming was a bum) was loitering on the front porch of one of the entrances. I rubbed my hands together as the brisk air hit me. The temperature had dropped on the ride to the apartments, and I was now regretting not grabbing my coat that morning before heading out. “Damn, it‟s getting cold. It feels like my nuts are about to freeze.” Carlos stared up at the apartments, a hand cupped over his eyes to block the sun. His nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply. His eyes burned with a hard intensity. “What‟s up?” I asked. “I smell wolf.” “Come on.” I shoved my hands into my pockets. We headed for the front office, which was located in the west building. It was a small front room with an office in the back. A tall oak counter and two plastic chairs with chipping paint sat in the front room. I could hear the radio in the background playing at a civil level, becoming washed-out noise. The air was stale, with the distant memory of reefer. Sitting behind the counter filing her nails was a stick-thin African American woman with tightly braided hair pulled up into a ponytail. She didn‟t even look up when we entered. “Excuse me.” Carlos stepped up to the counter and pulled his badge out. “I‟m Detective Ramirez, with the Columbus Police Department. Does a man named Daniel Dawson live here?” She looked up, her muddy eyes bloodshot. She pursed her plump lips as she studied the badge, and then pointed the metal nail file at it. “That ain‟t real.” Joy, a cop hater. “Ma‟am, I assure you it is,” Carlos said, still holding it out for her to examine. “Now, does Daniel Dawson live here?” She shook the nail file and sucked on her front teeth distastefully. “Nu-uh. My brother Reggie gots a badge just like that. Got it from Petey.” Carlos looked sideways at me, and my patience was running thin. I was not in the mood to deal with this. I stepped up to the counter, whipped my badge out, and said, “Ma‟am, I‟m going to be very clear about this. You need to put that weapon away and answer the question.” “Weapon? I ain‟t got no weapon!” She blinked deftly at me, still wagging the nail file.

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True, the girl probably wouldn‟t use it, but I felt like being an ass because frankly, she was pissing me off. Carlos sighed heavily and put his badge away, letting me take over. I glared down at the girl, causing her to shrink back somewhat, and said, “What‟s your name?” “Nevaeh, Nevaeh Johnson,” she said, her head bobbing back and forth between us. “All right, Nevaeh, I‟m going to be very clear,” I said slowly, so she‟d be able to understand everything I said. “You need to put that weapon away and listen. Otherwise, I‟m going to arrest you for threatening a police officer and withholding information.” Carlos sniffed the air, adding, “As well as possession of narcotics.” Nevaeh opened her mouth and closed it, a mixture of fear and anger radiating off her. She glanced down at the nail file and quickly dropped it. Who said bullying never worked? “Now, I‟m going to ask you this one more time. Does Daniel Dawson live here?” I repeated, my voice as frigid as the air outside. I put my badge back into the inside pocket of my suit jacket. “I…I don‟t know,” she quickly stammered. “I just started workin‟ here a few days ago…but um, hold on.” She turned in her swivel chair to a filing cabinet. I looked over my shoulder at Carlos, not stopping the smug grin from spreading. He rolled his eyes and mouthed back, Shut up. Nevaeh turned back to us with a nod and said, “Yeah, he lives here. Him and Lloyd Sullivan. Apartment D12.” “And where is Apartment D12?” “East building. Second floor,” Nevaeh told us, her gaze eagerly bouncing between us. I nodded and headed out of the office. Carlos thanked her and followed. Once we were back in the police car, he said, “Really? Threatening a police officer?” “She answered us, didn‟t she?” I slipped into the passenger seat. Carlos shook his head, climbed into the car, and pulled us around to the other side of West Plaza Apartments. We headed into the building and found the front entrance unlocked. There were three levels in total, all of which were only accessible by stairs. We headed up to the second level, where there was only one hallway. The hall was like the perfume department of Macy‟s, only instead of expensive perfumes clashing, it was an explosion of Indian and Mexican cooking. There were so many spices in the air that I felt a sneezing fit brewing. Apartment D12 was the first one on our right-hand side. The brass number two was hanging slightly askew, like it had been knocked loose from the door slamming too much. Carlos knocked three times. Shortly after he dropped his hand, someone stumbled and fell behind the door.

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“Just a minute!” Carlos‟s nostrils flared, and he growled out, “The scent is stronger. There‟s a werewolf in there.” The door opened, and a shaggy-haired man looked at us, a goofy smile cracked across his face. He was handsome in a grungy sort of way, like a cross between James Dean and Kurt Cobain. His black hair fell to his chin in tangled strands that escaped his ponytail. He was wiry, with a set of broad shoulders and large hands, his fingers long and slim. They were the fingers of a musician, and from the devilmay-care slump of his body, I‟d bet he was an aspiring rock star. He had the badboy attitude down to a T. “S‟up?” he asked, nodding toward us. He was dressed in only a pair of low-riding sweat pants, and it was easy to guess he had just rolled out of bed. “Mr. Sullivan?” Carlos asked, skepticism in his voice, eying him up and down. “Yeah.” Lloyd‟s nostrils flared, his blue-gray eyes brightening, tinged with gold. I held my hand up. “Easy, boy. This is official business. I‟m Detective Bourne, and this is my partner, Detective Ramirez. We wanted to ask you a few questions about your roommate, Daniel Dawson.” Carlos and I flashed our badges at him. Lloyd hesitated in the doorway, a sadness settling over his eyes. They drooped in color, growing watery. His eyes seemed to flicker with every emotion that passed through him. He rubbed his chin, which had a bit of stubble on it. “O…kay. Yeah, um, come in.” He turned and headed into the dingy apartment. The only light came in through the dirty window in the living room, bathing the home in a brownish yellow. The kitchen was at the front of the apartment, overloaded by pizza cartons and dirty dishes. The living room was cramped by two overstuffed couches that took up a majority of the space. Lloyd flopped down onto the largest one, the stuffing literally escaping from the seams. I took a seat on the other couch. It was torn at the corner and looked like it had come straight out of the seventies. Carlos sat beside me, notepad already in hand, but before he could ask anything, Lloyd beat him to the punch. “So what is this about?” “How long did Mr. Dawson live here?” I asked. “Since about a year ago.” Lloyd rubbed the back of his hand. His chest held the faintest rippling of muscles, a thin trail of hair going down from his navel into the waistband of his green sweats. Carlos kicked my leg and asked, “Can you tell us about him? What was he like? Why‟d he move in here?”

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I glared at Carlos. Okay, so I was looking. Jeez. He didn‟t need to kick so hard. I looked over at Lloyd. He was staring at the coffee table that sat between the two couches. It was covered in dust, in which Lloyd was drawing swirls, and cans of soda and energy drinks. His eyes seemed distant, gone somewhere far from the apartment. Without thinking about it, I reached out and put my hand on his, drawing his attention back up to me. “Lloyd?” He blinked, returning to earth. “Um, he was a good man.” His voice croaked, and he coughed to cover it. “Kept to himself a lot. Work and the apartment. Holed up in his bedroom. Came here because of a divorce, said his old lady was cheating on him. He was going through a rough patch at first, seriously depressed.” I pulled my hand back, felt Carlos stiffen beside me. Lloyd scrubbed his hands over his face and down the back of his head, once again massaging his neck. “Christ… I still can‟t believe he‟s dead.” “Did Mr. Dawson ever go to a club called The Hunting Moon?” Carlos asked. Lloyd blinked slowly. His eyelashes were extremely long, almost feminine in length. He looked out the dirty window, strands of black hair falling into his face. “Mr. Sullivan?” Carlos pressed. “Yeah,” Lloyd said, at first leaving it hanging in the air, another thread for us to connect the pictures with. He then stood up, shaking his hands at his side. “I‟m getting a drink; you all want one?” “We‟re good.” I watched him go into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and pulled out a can of Mountain Dew. “How often did he go to the club?” I asked. Lloyd popped the tab and came back into the living room, pacing instead of sitting back down. He chugged half the can, his Adam‟s apple bobbing up and down with each gulp. We waited for him to answer, watched him lower the can and stare back out the window. A weight seemed to grow over his shoulders, hunching them forward. It was as if a mountain were building on top of him. This weight wasn‟t fair for him to have to bear. He was still so young. God, the world was a fucked-up place. “I work there as a bartender, and every now and then, my band plays there. We actually got a gig this Friday. One day, after he had been holed up in his room for probably a good solid twenty-four hours, I dragged him out and brought him with me. I thought it might make him feel, you know… I don‟t know. I just hated seeming him so miserable. It reminded me of my own old man, ya know?” Lloyd looked at us, for what, I‟m not sure. Understanding? Acceptance? When he didn‟t see what he wanted on our faces, he stared back out the window and went on. “That was about three months ago. He‟d been going ever since. Not every weekend, but still quite often.” “Did he ever make enemies at the club? Or have any enemies that you knew of?” Carlos asked, scribbling notes down.

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Lloyd‟s jaw tensed for a split second before he shook his head. He took a sip from the soda and took a seat again. “Like I said, he was a good man. Really nice. Do anything for his kids. It killed him to be separated from ‟em.” “But?” I urged. “But he did have some money problems. It‟s why his wife cheated on him.” “I thought he was a store manager for Macy‟s department store?” I asked. “I know it‟s not a glamorous job, but that‟s still a pretty decent job. There‟s good money in it.” “Yeah.” Lloyd shrugged. “But not if you have a gambling problem.” “Would you mind if we took a look in his room real quick?” Carlos asked. Lloyd looked like he wanted to say no, and I really didn‟t want to go through the hoops of trying to get a search warrant. Luckily he conceded. “Yeah, that‟s fine. It‟s the one on the left.” He didn‟t make a move to get up. We rose to our feet and walked down the short hall. There was a bedroom on the right with a bathroom and a bedroom on the left. I pushed open the door to Dawson‟s room and stepped inside. Unlike the rest of the apartment, Dawson‟s room was neat and orderly. The window was clean, and light spilled in, painting the cream walls a pale yellow. The only furniture was a queen-size four-post bed pressed against the wall and a large oak chest of drawers. On top of it sat a small flat-screen TV. There was a nightstand by the bed with a digital clock and lamp, and tucked beneath it, a computer bag. I closed the door and looked behind it. Hanging from a hook was a robe, and leaning against the wall was a TV tray. “The bed‟s made,” Carlos noted, walking around the bed. “So unless Lloyd is the kind to make his roommate‟s bed—and I doubt he is—he didn‟t come home the night Dawson was killed.” Carlos opened the closet and shifted through the suits and shoes. He reached up on the top shelf, pulled out a few shoe boxes, and opened them up. I looked over his shoulder. One was filled with family photos, pictures of him at the beach with his wife and kids. He was smiling, happy, carefree. “How does a man go from being so happy to depressed and dead?” Carlos asked, putting the box of photos back up on the shelf. “An ex-wife helps,” I joked, walking over to the chest of drawers and opening it up. Boxers… Yeah, didn‟t need to see those. I pushed them aside and found a few papers pushed to the back. “Carlos, got something.” I pulled them out, shuffling them in my hands. The first couple were bank statements, none of which looked good. He wasn‟t poor, but he was scraping by. At the bottom of the stack was a folded piece of white paper. I passed the bank statements to Carlos and unfolded the paper. Scratched across it in pen was the name Fenrir.

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“Fenrir?” I asked, passing Carlos the paper. “Who or what do you think that is?” Carlos shrugged weakly. “I‟m not sure. Fenrir is from Norse mythology, means a giant wolf.” He handed everything back to me. I lifted a brow in silent question, and he shrugged. “I like mythology,” he said. I placed the papers back in the drawer and looked over at the computer tucked under the nightstand. “You think there‟s anything important in there?” “Nothing we‟d probably be able to access. We could get a warrant, bring it back to the lab, and see if someone could crack into it,” Carlos said. “I think we got what we need.” I headed out of the room. Lloyd was still sitting on the couch, staring out the window with a vacant gaze. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Sullivan.” I nodded toward him. He blinked slowly, squinted his eyes against the glare of the sun. He turned to look at us and wet his lips. He looked as if he wanted to say more, as if he wanted to confess the sins of his soul, but instead he just smiled, the muscles in his cheeks twitching with strain from the effort. “Did you find what you needed?” “Please.” Carlos passed him a card with our number. “If you have any more information, give us a call.” I paused. “How did Mr. Dawson feel about living with a lycanthrope?” Lloyd blinked, his eyes flashing topaz before quickly bleeding into watery silver. It was like watching gold spiral down a drain. He shrugged and said gruffly, “He was cool with it. We never really talked about it, though he never acted like he had issues.” I nodded. “Okay, thank you. We‟ll be going now.” “Right.” Lloyd pushed himself up slowly and following us to the door. He closed it behind us, the tumblers turning. We remained silent as we walked back to the car, the depression that Lloyd carried around him trailing behind us like exhaust fumes escaping into the fall day. Carlos wordlessly slid into the driver‟s seat. There was calmness around him, the quiet before the storm. The air tingled with electricity, animosity fluttering in tiny bolts across my skin. “What‟s wrong?” I asked as Carlos started the car and threw it into reverse. Carlos licked his lips slowly, his eyes focused on the road ahead of us. When Carlos didn‟t answer, I rolled my eyes and snapped, “Forget it. I honestly don‟t give a damn.” Carlos turned, the light turning red during midturn. I craned my neck around as a horn honking behind us turned into a sharp blare. A shiny black SUV, its windows tinted, whipped out behind us. The silver rims caught the sun, spinning the light like the threads of a spiderweb. I turned back around, settled into my seat. “Did you have to flirt with him?” Carlos asked, his tone surly.

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His eyes had gone yellow like the moon during the harvest wane. “What?” I asked, incredulous. “Are you serious?” “Yes,” he growled, his voice dipping low and growly. “Carlos, calm down,” I warned, feeling the rise in the aura surrounding us. With a jerk, he turned onto a new street. I casually glanced out the side mirror, not wanting to deal with this. The SUV turned with us, a car length behind. My spine tingled as danger hummed through my ears. “What was it about him? You know, I‟m starting to get sick of this bullshit, Theo.” Carlos continued to growl, not noticing our newly formed shadow. “Carlos.” I shifted to look at him. His gaze jumped to me and then back to the road. “Get on to 270.” He blinked, his fury wavering like the flickering of a flame against the moon. “What?” “Make this next turn, and then get on 270. Someone is trailing us,” I said, trying to keep my own voice low and calm. I looked out the rearview mirror, doublechecking to see if the SUV was still a car length behind us. I could see the inner struggle warring behind Carlos‟s eyes. He wanted to rebel. I could feel it in my bones as his aura rose and fell, like a tide controlled by the moon. He then looked ahead and flicked the turning light, making a right-hand turn. Sure enough, the SUV paused briefly and then followed, right behind us. “Shit,” Carlos cursed, a new anger for not noticing sooner rising up inside him. “It‟s fine. Just get on 270, and we‟ll try to lose them. They‟re probably just trying to follow us somewhere. If we keep going, they‟ll eventually give up,” I said, settling back in my seat. Carlos worked his way down the labyrinth of streets, making his way to the I270 entrance The SUV kept behind us, never really trying to hide the fact that it was stalking us. I kept my eyes trained on the side mirror, watching for any signs of motion behind it as we sped toward the ramp. As Carlos picked up speed, so did the SUV. My spine was straight as a rod, my hand poised to grab my gun. I had already removed my seat belt, so I could have easy access. Usually I‟m all for wearing them, but in a case like this, seat belts were more of a disabler then a saver. The SUV increased its speed even more as we hit the freeway, coming up right behind us. I pulled my gun out, holding it in my hand for the sheer comfort of knowing I had it. “Get over, Carlos, into the fast lane, and gun it.” Carlos listened. Whatever fight had been brewing between us before completely vanished. He got over, being as discreet as possible. The SUV jerked to the left and swerved in front of cars, cutting them off at breakneck speed. It pulled up behind us and gunned it, lurching forward and rushing ahead. “They‟re coming up behind us.” “I see them,” Carlos said and then cursed, “Coño!”

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The SUV was on top of us. I braced myself against the dashboard and door. “Brace yourself!” Wham! Metal crunched and scraped as the truck rammed us from behind. My head jerked forward, and my teeth snapped together. They eased back, and Carlos leaned on it, jumping forward. We were pushing a hundred, swerving past cars in front of us. The SUV kept coming up behind us, and I braced myself again. “Son of a bitch!” Wham! My body lurched forward, my head nearly cracking against the dash. I held firmly on to my gun, not letting it slide from my lap. A hole broke in the windshield above me, spiderwebbing out toward Carlos‟s side. Wind whistled through, and I turned around. A clean-cut man was hanging out the window, hair buzzed close to his head. His arms were solid, like sausages stuffed with boulders, a tattoo on the visible right one. Ten bucks said he was ex-Marine. He had a gun aimed at us and fired off another shot, taking out the passenger mirror. I rolled the window down. “Damn it. Chief is going to tear us a new asshole for this!” I hung out the window as Carlos crossed over to the other lane and cut in front of a tan car. The SUV cut into the lane with us, slamming into the side of a minivan and causing it to lean precariously on its side. I pulled the trigger, sending a volley of bullets at the man. The SUV swerved into the next lane, my bullets taking out a side mirror and plinking off the grill. The wind rushed around me, deafening me. I could vaguely hear Carlos yelling for me to be okay. The SUV continued to hop from lane to lane, cutting in front of and slamming into cars without care. They got off another shot, and I quickly pulled back into the car before they took off my head. “Fuck!” I yelled, unlocking the door. “What are you doing?” Carlos screamed, his eyes wide with sudden panic. “I can‟t get a damn shot hanging out the window!” I yelled back. “So you‟re jumping out of the car!” “This is not the time to fight!” I threw the door open. “Damn it, Theo!” Carlos threw the car to the side and roared forward to where a clearing was. I had to hold on for dear life and use my own willpower to keep from flying out the side of the car. With careful concentration, I hung out the door, standing up so that I could lean out. I extended my arm and pulled the trigger, trying to get off another shot. Pain exploded in my left shoulder, and I nearly faltered in my concentration, almost falling to the blurring asphalt. The man had gotten a shot off and took out my shoulder. I gritted my teeth, emptying my gun. The SUV was popped full of holes, the windshield breaking.

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I drew back inside the car. “You‟re bleeding!” “Keep driving and give me your gun!” I yelled, glancing out the rearview window. I sat there and slowed down my breathing. The pain was hot, like petals of fire rolling down my chest and arm. In and out, in and out. I just had to slow my breathing and blood, concentrate on my surroundings. I needed to calm myself, find my center. “What are you doing?” Carlos yelled, as he reached inside his jacket and pulled out his gun, handing it to me. “Shut up!” I snapped. “I need concentration!” I continued to watch the rearview mirror. They came up again behind us. I slumped low in my seat. My mind slowed, and my thoughts faded in and out, becoming almost like a tide. Every memory I had had, every feeling and thought, emptied out, washed away with each descent of the water. Like grains of sand, they vanished into the ocean. My breathing slowed, almost stopping completely. I could hear my heart between my ears. It wasn‟t the pounding of drums in a metal ballad, but rather, the lazy flapping of a butterfly wing. Then I saw it, as if I were right there myself. They were coming toward me, fifty yards away. I materialized, going from being mere vapors in the air that danced with color to a more humanistic shape. It was my doppelganger, a ghost in front of them, standing whimsically in the fray of rushing traffic. I saw them approaching. Ten yards. Five yards. Rushing toward me. I caught a glimpse of wild panic in their eyes, confusion blotting out their expressions as they propelled into my phantom. They swerved out of instinct, shattering the illusion of me standing out in the middle of the interstate. They turned hard on the wheel, cutting off a line of traffic as they fishtailed, trying to regain control. They managed to turn back on the wheel and scraped along the guardrail, pulling back into the flow of traffic. That gave me enough time to pounce as the car slowed down a couple of notches. I rolled and threw myself out of the car, kicking out so that I jumped up. The wind hit, and I let the adrenaline rise up from its hibernation, let it grow into the wild sloshing of stormy waters. I levitated my body up and flew forward toward the SUV and landed hard on top of its roof. My knee slammed down and made a dent. Pain shot up from my knee, but I bit back a cry and pressed my gun against the top of the SUV, right over where the passenger side was. I pulled the trigger. The SUV flew into the guardrail again, sparks shooting up as the driver ran along it. I kept a vise grip on the roof and concentrated on my body, keeping myself braced against the SUV as it swerved. I pulled the gun back and concentrated again, forcing the locks of the SUV to unlock and the driver‟s side to open. I could hear the driver yelling. “What the fuck are you?”

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I grinned, a rush coming over me that was greater than any drug high. I was on the edge of insanity, tasting it and savoring it. It was greater than any thrill a person could get. It was like being reborn, to feel my powers coursing around me, rushing through my veins. To feel them push against the limits, break the boundaries, and then transform. I spun and hung over the edge of the roof, reached in for the driver. I made the seat belt pop open and retract back with a snap. Across from him, the ex-Marine was slumped against the dashboard, the top of his head a bloody mess. He looked like a firecracker had gone off on top of his head. The driver reached for his gun, and I sent it flying out the window. He wasn‟t as bulky as his friend, but there was a wildness about him. I could feel his aura, the energy that only the arcane could have. Lycanthrope. I grabbed him, and he beat at my arm with such strength that I thought he‟d snap it. I had to use more force to subdue him, exhaustion hovering along the back of my mind. I pulled my arm back with a curse and drew my gun, pulling the trigger. Blood painted the passenger window, chunks of pink rolling down the door. The driver slumped forward onto the steering wheel. The car horn went off. Using the imaginary hands that I have extensively cultivated since my childhood, I pushed down on the brakes and slowed the SUV down. Once it came to a complete stop, I let go of my invisible holds, letting the energy taper off and vanish. I eased up on my white-knuckled grip on both the roof of the SUV and Carlos‟s gun. I swallowed and gulped for air, feeling like I had suddenly just surfaced from the very depths of the sea. My arms hung over the side of the SUV as I lay on top of the roof, my gun limp in my hands. I don‟t know how long I lay there. I was too exhausted to move and take care of things. I drifted in and out of consciousness, the pain in my knee and shoulder suddenly rearing forward. In the distance, I could hear sirens and the sound of helicopters. In the back of my mind, I knew the chief was going to kill us. We had made a big mess. A very big mess. And we wouldn‟t know why it happened, because I had killed both of the suspects. Lord only knew how many other casualties there were. Coldness settled over me, one that went deeper and was more frigid than the bite of autumn. It seeped into the marrow of my bones, penetrated my heart, and broke through into my very soul. I felt myself sinking, my energy wiped clean, exhaustion going beyond the physical limits. “Theo!” Carlos yelled. I weakly rolled my head to the right and looked. Dusk had begun to set in. Carlos came running down the side of the highway. I didn‟t realize it until now, but the traffic had stopped, and police cars were rushing in, fire trucks and ambulances right behind them. Someone must have called 911. Carlos climbed onto the hood of the SUV and then onto the roof, crouching beside me.

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“Shit, mi corazón. Are you okay?” “What do you think?” I croaked out, my mouth tasting like sawdust. He chuckled, and if I‟d had the strength, I would have punched him in his smug face. He reached down and stroked the sweat-soaked hair from my face, his fingers tracing the line of my cheekbone. “So tough, mi corazón. So brave and tough.” “Do we have anyone injured over here?” I heard an officer call to Carlos. “Yeah, we have an officer down. Bring an ambulance over here!” Carlos shouted back. His hand continued to soothingly stroke my hair. It was a life preserver that kept me from sinking into the cold depths of my mind. It kept me from drowning. “It‟ll be okay, mi corazón,” he said. I wondered if the reassurance was for me or him. “They‟ll patch you up.” I laughed and winced as pain trembled down my back. “Ow…” “Be still, dope,” he scolded. Carlos shifted so that he could sit down. He was waiting for me to get taken care of before he did anything else. I refused to acknowledge the warmth that built inside my stomach. “Don‟t ever do that to me again,” Carlos said, his fingers tangling in my hair. “You scared the shit out of me!” “Sorry…” I mumbled, rolling my eyes up to stare at him. He met my gaze, his warm chocolate eyes filled with a type of worry and adoration I wasn‟t familiar with. Before he could say anything more, an EMT came. I was carefully moved from the roof of the SUV to an ambulance, so I could be rushed off to the hospital. He followed me to the ambulance but had to stay behind. I could see the hesitation in his eyes, and my stomach clenched at his worry. He was more concerned with me than anything else. I had only had one other person care about me like that before, and that was my aunt. I didn‟t know how to handle the emotions that were rising in me, the warmth and fuzzy little balls and giddy excitement. I chalked it up to the drugs they were pumping into me and not some new budding feelings I had for Carlos. I was not falling for him. I did not care about him.

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Chapter Six “You morons!” Chief slammed his hands down on his desk. Spit flew from his lips; the steam was all but curling from his ears like an angry teapot. “What part of „take care of this‟ didn‟t you understand?” The news footage of the car chase was paused on the rolling television. My head, following his screaming, hurt now on top of the rest of my aching body. Chief fell back into his office chair, looking like he needed a cigarette in the worst way possible. His eyes drooped with exhaustion, and his face flushed red. Sweat was building on his forehead. “Chief,” Carlos started gently, strategically. Chief held up his hand and looked at Carlos with absolute disdain. “Save it, Ramirez. Whatever excuse you have, it isn‟t good enough. Do you realize the damage you two caused? I got news reporters breathing down my neck. The mayor called me, asking what the fuck is going on! I don‟t know what to tell him, because I don‟t know what the fuck is going on! So, Ramirez, can you tell me? Huh? Because the last time I talked to you two, you said that you were taking care of this!” “We are,” I started but clamped my lips shut when he cut in. “No, you aren‟t. Because if you were, you wouldn‟t have been playing NASCAR on I-270! We have footage of you jumping out of the car, Bourne! Jumping out of a goddamn, motherfucking car!” I winced and glanced sideways at Carlos. He was looking up at a wet spot on the ceiling, like it had the Virgin Mary in it. Fucking prick. Chief pinched the bridge of his nose, slowly exhaling. After a few seconds, he calmed. “All right, all right… I understand that you couldn‟t foresee this car chase. Neither of you are psychics.” I had to stop myself from squirming. I didn‟t like where this was going. “But that doesn‟t change the fact that I need answers. The news media wants answers. The mayor wants answers. The commissioner wants answers. In fact, he‟s demanding them. He wants to know why this case isn‟t wrapped up. I can‟t tell him. You know what happens when I don‟t have answers?” When neither of us answered, he slammed his hands down on the desk again.

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“Huh, Ramirez?” “No, what, Chief?” Carlos asked innocently, cracking a sheepish smile. “Don‟t be cute,” Chief growled. He had a look in his eyes that made me want to cover myself, a look that promised payment in flesh. His voice rose with each word as he spat them out. “He gets angry. When he gets angry, he comes down on me. The man is going to have my balls, because you two dumbasses can‟t figure out a case! So let me make myself clear: if you two don‟t figure this out soon, I‟m going to serve him both of your nuts on a silver platter! Now get off your asses and go do something!” My balls instantly began hurting at the thought of him ripping them off. I wouldn‟t put it past him to actually do it. We got up and shot out of his office and headed straight for our own. I closed the door behind me, trying to ignore the pain in my knee. I had gotten ten stitches in my left shoulder, where I had been shot, and had torn a ligament in my right knee from my acrobatic stunt. The doctors told me to go easy (which was their polite way of telling me not to jump out of or onto any moving cars), but they didn‟t understand the meaning of being a cop. I closed my eyes, inhaled a deep breath. The pain was a dull throb. I refused to take drugs for the pain, because they dulled the senses. So I was going to have to grin and bear it. “You okay?” Carlos asked, taking a seat in his desk chair. I opened my eyes and looked across the office at him. He had come to the hospital as soon as he finished wrapping things up at the crime scene. The unabashed worry on his face had been raw, heart clenching. I had been too exhausted that night to fight him when he came back to my apartment with me. But I refused to accept that I found comfort in his arms when I‟d lain down last night. I refused to accept that it was the feel of his breath against the back of my neck that lulled me to sleep and kept the nightmares at bay. I refused. “Corazón?” I nodded and walked over to my desk, taking a seat. “I‟m fine. Let‟s get to work. We have a lot of paperwork to fill out over last night.” “Yeah…” Carlos said, his gaze shifting away. I narrowed my gaze at him. He turned to look at the bulletin board, scratching at his chin. “Who do you think those guys were?” I reclined back in my chair, looking at the multicolored threads running across the board. “One of them was a lycan. I felt his power before I killed him. Bet you anything that the other guy was too.” Carlos turned back to his desk and wrote something down. He got up and tacked the new information we‟d gathered to the board, including Lloyd‟s name. I

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wasn‟t sure how, but I had a feeling Lloyd was connected. He had ties to Dawson, in one way or another, beyond being a roommate. “Daniel Dawson was down on his luck, recently divorced, and had a gambling problem. Teresa Fine was scrounging for money. Jeffery Moore was recently divorced, so I bet he had a few bills to cover as well. We‟re close. Someone is afraid we‟re about to strike gold. Otherwise they wouldn‟t have sent those goons after us,” Carlos said. “If we‟re so close, then why haven‟t we figured this out?” Carlos turned back to me, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “Because we aren‟t looking at things the right way. We‟re missing something, and I bet you that something is at The Hunting Moon.” “I need some coffee.” I pushed myself up. It was the only drug I allowed myself. “Don‟t forget we‟re going to my brother‟s for dinner tonight,” Carlos said as I opened our office door. Shit. I had forgotten, and I had been hoping he would too. “Uhh…” I trailed off, looking back over at him. “Theo,” he warned. “I didn‟t forget,” I said quickly. “Good. Then I‟ll pick you up at five.” The smile that inched across his face had way too much satisfaction in it. “Great,” I said with false excitement. “I can‟t wait.” To shoot myself.

*** Just as Carlos promised, he picked me up at five. He had gone home to clean up and change and I had done the same, not sure what to wear to something like this. Did I dress up? Aunt Claire always said when you weren‟t sure, go semiformal. It wasn‟t like I cared, though—it was just Carlos. “You look good,” Carlos said, his gaze raking over me. He was undressing me with his eyes, I just knew it. He had the same look a coyote gets when it‟s staring down a leg of lamb. I had gone with a pair of nice jeans and a dark gray turtleneck sweater. I grabbed my black leather jacket from the closet and said hesitantly, “Thanks.” I slipped my jacket on, wearing it not only because of the cold but also to hide my gun. I looked at him again. “Stop stripping me with your eyes.” Carlos stuffed his hands into his tight jeans and rocked back on his heels. “I don‟t know what you‟re talking about.” He had on a white button-down shirt with a gray argyle vest over it and a black wool topcoat. He looked as if he had just stepped out of a Banana Republic catalog.

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There was a very sharp urge to undress him, just as he had been imagining with me. I bit down on the inside of my cheek to chase away the idea of slowly pulling his shirt off and running my tongue over his hard chest. “Let‟s just go and get this over with.” I shoved him out the door, along with the vivid images. I locked up and followed him to his truck. “This isn‟t torture, Theo,” Carlos said, beeping his truck unlocked. “That‟s what you say,” I scoffed as I climbed in. He leaned over the seat. His lips brushed my ear and sent a cold tingle down my spine. “Ah, mi corazón, you know you love me.” His tongue traced the shell of my ear, and my cock twitched with life. I punched him hard in the shoulder. “You don‟t want to be late.” Carlos laughed and rubbed his shoulder with a slight wince. Good, I hope it hurt. We drove to a suburb in Powell where his brother‟s house was. Along the way, he animatedly talked about his family, describing his nieces with a glitter in his eyes—four-year-old Selena, with her dimples and bad habit of sneaking cookies, and ten-year-old Rosario, who liked to pretend that she was a cop. His face glowed with memories as he described the trouble he‟d gotten into with his brother Ernesto. I couldn‟t tear my eyes away as he came to life, lost in a world that was beyond my grasp. It was almost like he had been transported to another life, another time. My heart stuttered and skipped, and I felt woozy like a drunk—drunk on feelings I couldn‟t comprehend, couldn‟t face. All I knew was that I wanted to watch him like this forever. We pulled up to his brother‟s house, a New England Colonial made of whitewashed brick. I turned to face him. “This isn‟t where you grew up, is it?” Carlos shook his head with a low laugh. “No, we lived in a bungalow in Columbus. They moved to this house a few years ago, when Ernesto got a raise. Come on.” I climbed out of the truck and followed him to the front door. Carlos gave a heavy knock and called out, “Ernesto, open the door.” After a bit of rustling and clicks, the door opened up to a man who looked almost identical to Carlos. His hair was short, graying at the temples, and he was built slightly thicker than Carlos; he obviously didn‟t spend his days chasing down bad guys and had the comfort of home-cooked meals. His dark gaze swung between me and Carlos before settling on his brother. A broad grin split his face in half. “Carlos!” “How are you, Ernesto?” Carlos asked, exchanging a backslapping hug. “Good, good. Come in. The girls have been waiting for you,” Ernesto said, pulling Carlos inside.

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I trailed behind, closing the door behind me. “How have you been?” “Busy. Work never seems to end," Carlos said. Amen to that. “I saw you on the news. Ay, Dios mío, I can‟t believe something like that could happen. Have you found the guy yet?” he asked, waving us deeper into his home. “No, nothing yet, but we‟re still working on it,” Carlos said disdainfully, his shoulders tensing. He shook off the subject with a shrug and turned toward me. “This is the one I told you about, Theo Bourne.” “The one you told him about?” I asked skeptically. I didn‟t like the way that sounded. Carlos flashed me a smile that didn‟t reassure that nagging feeling. Ernesto let out a bark of laughter. “So you‟re Theo. Carlos told me about you.” “I hope good things.” “Of course. I‟m so happy Carlos found someone to settle him down.” Ernesto clamped a hand down on my shoulder and shook me to the core. “I‟ll get the girls, Carlos. They‟ve been anxious to see you.” As soon as Ernesto had his back to us, I spun on my heels. “What did you tell him, Carlos?” “Nothing.” Carlos held his hands up. “Carlos,” I growled out warningly, ready to wring his neck. Carlos had the same look on his face a toddler got when caught taking the cookie from the jar. He turned sharp on his heels. “Just that we were dating.” He hightailed it over to Ernesto before I could lunge for him. “Mis muchachas hermosas!” I sucked in a sharp breath between my teeth and slowly released it. I was going to kill him. I was going to strangle him and then gut him and then strangle him again with his intestines. I could hear two sets of feet pounding on the upstairs floor, followed by the high shriek of two excited girls. “Uncle Carlos!” A smile twitched at my lips, and I forced it to smooth out into a frown. I would not smile because of him. The fucker was going around saying we‟re dating. Sex, once. Once! Rosario and Selena leaped down the stairs and hurtled their bodies into Carlos‟s waiting arms. Any other man would have fallen flat on his ass, but Carlos stood firmly in place. He hugged them tight, and I couldn‟t fight the smile. Carlos

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mumbled something into their hair, Spanish that was too fast for me to catch. His accent was thick and syrupy, like molasses. He pulled back “Mis muchachas hermosas! You both have gotten so big.” “Pick me up!” Selena, the smaller, said. She was dressed in a tutu over a pair of jeans with a pink long-sleeve shirt with a cat on the front. Her black curls were bound in pigtails, and she had a dimpled grin as she greedily reached up to Carlos, demanding his attention. “Oh! Me too! Me too!” Rosario shouted, jumping up and down like she was a little girl again. Ernesto shook his head, saying, “Girls! Girls! Give your uncle some room.” “It‟s okay.” Carlos reached down and hoisted them both up with a powerful flex of his arms. He balanced them on his shoulders like a massive bodybuilder, using his preternatural strength to carry them into the living room toward me. “You spoil them, Brother,” Ernesto said. “Girls, why don‟t you see if your mama needs help? And take their coats.” Carlos lowered them, and we shrugged our coats off. The girls snatched them up with peals of laughter and went off running down the hall. Carlos reached out and took my hand, and I quickly snatched it away, my anger returning. He reached out again, his fingers tracing the top of my hand. “Mi corazón…” he softly whispered. “Don‟t, Carlos. You lied,” I whispered harshly. Carlos grasped my hand gently, drew it up to his mouth, and brushed his lips against my knuckles. I refused to acknowledge the shiver that chased down my spine. “No, I didn‟t,” he stated emphatically and lowered my hand, his fingers still linked with mine. I set my jaw, but I didn‟t fight him as he tugged me toward the kitchen. “Sofia!” A woman with skin the color of hard caramel and eyes like almonds came around the corner brandishing two drinks. Her long black hair was swept back into a ponytail, with several strands falling around her exotic face. She looked like an Aztec goddess with more curves than the Mississippi River. “Carlos! How are you?” She greeted Carlos before turning her wide-eyed gaze toward me and handing me a tall glass of tea. Her plump lips spread wide, and she gasped. “Oh. So this is the man who stole you away from us? Ay, Dios mío! He is a handsome man. Muy atractivo! Buen trabajo!” “Uhh…thank you,” I said, taking the tea. “Sofia, this is Theo. Theo, this is my sister-in-law, Sofia.”

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Carlos took the proffered tea with his free hand. He wasn‟t letting go of my hand anytime soon, though, which made it hard to offer a handshake. “Pleasure to meet you.” I offered a nod instead. Sofia gave a delicate laugh. “The pleasure is all mine. Now why don‟t you guys get comfortable? The pizza should be here any minute.” “Pizza?” Carlos asked, lifting a brow. “The girls begged for it.” Ernesto hoisted Selena up into his arms. She gave a shriek of laughter and held on to her father, her face lit up with joy. “Come on,” Carlos said. “I‟ll show you around while we wait.” I set my tea down on the granite counter next to Carlos‟s and let him pull me along into the wide-open living room. The vast room was equipped with a vaulted ceiling and a roaring fireplace. Hung above the fireplace in an ornate frame was a familiar painting of the Virgin Mary cradling a skull. I looked over at Carlos, the question hanging in the air as if it were strung between us on a spiderweb. Carlos tightened his grip on my hand, anchoring himself to reality. “My mother painted it,” Carlos said, reaching for his back with his free hand. “She was a very talented artist.” “It‟s beautiful… Both of them are.” Carlos nodded, staring up at the painting in its gold frame, searching for something that no one could provide. Reasons? Understanding? Paths and answers? All were a possibility. None attainable, however, in the colors and shades present before us. “Do you have any pictures from when you were younger?” I asked, trying to pull him back to me. I was seeing sides of Carlos that I‟d never seen before, glimpses of joy and forlornness, bliss and anguish, levity and distance. Carlos snapped back, his fingers loosening their hold on my hand. He grabbed a photo on the mantel of the fireplace, next to the family portrait, and held it out to me. “This is my senior picture.” I took it and studied the image, something inside me snapping. Looking up at me with a smile not yet rakish, but on its way to being suave and alluring, was a boy who was slowly slipping away from an awkward stage in his life and stepping into manhood. I‟d seen this face a hundred times, years ago, and every time my aunt pulled out my yearbooks. I glanced up at Carlos, who was watching me closely. Before I could say anything, the doorbell rang, and Carlos let go of my hand. Carlos swung through the kitchen and shouted, “I‟ll get it.” I held on to the picture, grasping it with both hands as if it might escape me. My world suddenly felt like it had begun to spiral, faster and faster, tipping sideways and sending me hurtling into a black drain. I closed my eyes, trying to ground myself and calm the quick beats of my heart. The smell of pepperoni and cheese pizza filled the house, helping solidify my world.

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Carefully I put the picture back on the mantel and walked into the kitchen, snatching up the tea Sofia had fixed me. Carlos met my gaze briefly, his eyes flaring up like the flicker of a flame, extinguishing as soon as he turned to look back at his family. He set the pizza boxes down and flipped them open. “Dinner is served!” We all fixed our plates, buffet style, and sat down at the dining room table. After prayers, we began to eat, the conversation light. I was distracted, my mind pulling me back to the picture on the mantel. I caught bits of conversation, answered occasionally when someone asked me a direct question. “Corazón?” Carlos asked, once more pulling me back. “Hmm?” I responded, looking over at him. Concern in his voice, he asked, “Are you okay?” “Oh.” I took a bite of the cheese pizza. Once I swallowed, I said, “Sorry, I was just thinking. What was Carlos like as a boy?” “Carlos?” Ernesto asked, taking a large bite of pizza. “Ernesto!” Sofia scolded. “Not such big bites! Pequeño!” Ernesto waved his hand at her and swallowed the hunk of pizza he‟d just chewed off. “He was a good kid.” Pride sparked Ernesto‟s eyes as he looked at Carlos. “Thanks. I think.” Carlos scratched the back of his head with his clean hand. “After Ernesto and Carlos‟s parents died,” Sofia said gently, a note of mourning in her voice like the lilting of a requiem, “Carlos became kind of withdrawn. It was hard on him, because he had been so young.” Carlos fell silent, taking a ferocious bite of his pizza. The image of his whiteknuckled grip on the steering wheel flashed through my mind. Silently I reached under the table without thinking and set my hand on his knee, giving it an encouraging squeeze. His hand slipped over mine, grasping it with childlike desperation. “Then he got into soccer, and he found some happiness,” Sofia continued, occasionally stopping to take diminutive bites of her cheese pizza. “He absolutely loved soccer, and was he good. I tell you, if he hadn‟t joined the police department, he would be playing soccer.” “Sofia…” Carlos‟s cheeks pinked up. My heart skipped again, the beat growing erratic. I took another bite of pizza, yet my hunger had left me. “Oh? Do you have any pictures of him playing soccer?” Sofia pursed her lips in thought and then said, “We should still have his yearbooks. There are some photos in there. They‟re in the guest room. Carlos, you should show him.” Could he feel my heart? Did he know it was racing? Did he know I felt lightheaded? Could he see that I was falling off the edge? I was trying to catch the memories that were racing by, a video stuck on Fast Forward. I tried to see him, to

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pull out the images that he was in. I could remember goals; I could remember victories. But I barely remembered his face. I was barely able to remember any of the faces of my team members. Soccer had been an outlet for me, but I had been lost in my own world. I hadn‟t really seen anyone, just my own misery. When I looked up, the topic had changed, and Rosario was talking about her day at school. Carlos put his hand on my arm. “You okay?” “Hmm? Oh,” I said, looking up at him. I was trying so hard to turn back the clock, to unwind the years so I could see the boy he had once been. My heart swelled up, lodging in my throat. I was a kid letting go of a balloon, watching it float to the sky, never again able to get it back. I forced myself to smile. “Yeah…fine.” “Are you done eating?” he asked. I looked down, my single slice of pizza only half gone. I nodded my head, wiped my hands and mouth with the napkin. “Yeah, it was good. Thanks.” “Are you sure you‟re feeling all right? You barely ate,” Carlos pressed, his eyes wreathed with worry. “Is he okay?” Sofia asked, rising up and refilling my glass with tea. “Yeah, I‟m fine. Just a little light-headed,” I said truthfully. “We‟ve been working nonstop; I think it's finally getting to him,” Carlos said. “Why don‟t you show him those pictures? Let him rest in the guest room. Ernesto and I can clean up here.” Sofia waved her hand in a shooing manner. Carlos helped me to my feet, probably afraid I‟d crumble apart like a sand castle in the tide. I felt like I would. I felt like I was about ready to be washed away, lost in an ocean of time. I was trying to hold myself together. I was trying to keep myself standing. But my foundation was weak, made of shifting sand and crumbled shells. I was no sturdier then a sand castle, nothing but sand and water. “Mi corazón…” Carlos whispered, his arm wrapped around my waist. How does something this small change everything? I held on to him, because I didn‟t know what else to do. I wanted to pull away and leave, but then a part of me wanted to keep purchase of him. Memories, so fleeting and delicate, butterflies and balloons caught in the breeze, were floating and flying away. Carlos led me upstairs, cradling me next to him. The house was done in bright colors—yellows and reds—and family photos hung on the wall with pride. There were family vacations, school pictures, even shots of Carlos when he was younger. There was even one of a young Ernesto and Sofia standing at the beach with a young Carlos between them, who didn‟t look much older than ten, maybe eleven. “Where‟s this picture?” I asked, stopping on the steps to look at it. He looked so lost and innocent, unlike the Carlos holding me up now. Carlos leaned against me, resting his head against mine. His fingers stroked my side, seeming to find time with my heartbeat.

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“It was right after my parents‟ car accident. Ernesto thought we needed to get away, so he took me and Sofia down to Beaufort in South Carolina.” “You were a cute kid,” I mumbled, letting him pull me up the rest of the way. We headed down a short hall to a bedroom on the right side. It was a small guest room with a bay window. Sofia had picked a cream for the walls and filled the space with a matching oak set. I pulled away from Carlos and sat down on the queen-size bed in the middle of the room. The comforter was a simple white with gold embellishment. “Now where did she put those pictures?” Carlos mumbled, not meeting my eyes. He walked over to the closet and began to sort through it, pulling down boxes. After a few minutes, Carlos let out a triumphant sound and pulled out a stack of leather-bound yearbooks. “It‟s been a few years since I looked at these.” Carlos carried them over to me. I pulled them from his hands, sorting through them curiously. So long ago. It was almost hard to believe there was a time back then. I picked the same one my aunt had shown Carlos, opening it up. Carlos sat beside me, for once keeping his hands to himself. I didn‟t turn it to the page, almost afraid to see what would be on it. Silence settled around us, the only noise coming from downstairs. “Why did you bring me here, Carlos?” I asked, my voice a whisper. “What am I going to find?” He didn‟t say anything, just watched me. I gripped the book tighter, crumpling some of the pages. “Carlos!” I snapped, barely able to keep my pitch from rising. “Just open it,” Carlos finally said. I did, turning to the page in the back where the group photos were. The soccer team was right below the baseball team. There I was, smiling back at the camera, and right next to me was the forgettable, awkward boy I‟d never noticed: Carlos Ramirez. The book fell out of my hands, everything around me completely dissolving. Carlos grabbed my arm to steady me, but all I could see was the smiling boy. So many years spent passing him by, and now, here he was. “How did I never notice? How did I not know?” I whispered, feeling ready to pass out. “I don‟t…I don‟t remember you. I just… How?” I looked at him, hoping he had an explanation. He only offered a shrug, cradling my cheek with his hand. “Mi corazón…I don‟t know. You were so lost during that time, off somewhere I could never reach you…” “What does this mean, Carlos? What are you trying to say?” I asked, forcing myself to speak calmly. I had to keep myself together. I couldn‟t break. Not now, not ever. “This is what you meant…every time you said I didn‟t remember, asked me to remember…”

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He nodded slowly. I looked back down at the picture. It seemed to come to life, calling out to me to “wake up.” The boy from my dream, the boy from my past…my present… Carlos haunted me, more of a ghost than any other part of me. With a flick of my mind, I made the book snap shut. “It means what I‟ve been saying, what I‟ll always say.” Carlos turned my head to face him. “And what‟s that?” I asked, meeting his eyes. “I love you, Theo. I always have… I always will. From the moment I saw you all those years ago, I knew you were the one. You came into my world, this broken figure who seemed so burdened by anguish. You shared a pain similar to mine, so familiar with loss…but you somehow conquered it. When the world wasn‟t looking, you conquered it. I watched you on that soccer field, so ferocious and wild, dominating everyone around you. You stole my heart; you became my heart, mi corazón…” Carlos said gently, his thumb tracing my lower lip. My throat constricted, my voice threatening to crack. “Conquer? I‟ve never conquered anything in my life. I was so overwhelmed by my own pain and anguish that I couldn‟t even see a boy right in front of me. How many times did we pass each other? Play next to each other? Carlos, I don‟t remember you. I never noticed you… How can you say I conquered anything?” “You faced your world every day. You didn‟t run and hide,” Carlos said, holding my head between both his hands. “Every day, I had to force myself to get up. I couldn‟t face the world after my parents died… But you, you somehow managed.” He brushed my bangs from my forehead and leaned forward, pressing a kiss against my cross scar. I closed my eyes, feeling my emotions tremble and shake against the pressure, a volcano ready to explode. “Carlos…” “Just give me a chance, Theo. Let me show you that the world isn‟t so terrible. Let me do for you what you did for me. Let me save you,” Carlos whispered, his lips still pressed against the scar. I reached up, my fingers curling in his vest. I felt like a little boy again, fighting to contain himself. “I can‟t be saved,” I whispered, staring out past his shoulders. I‟d tried so many times. I let others try… I couldn‟t anymore. I couldn‟t become dependent on anyone. It was hard enough for myself alone. I wouldn‟t burden Carlos. I wouldn‟t let myself get hurt again. “Yes, you can,” Carlos whispered. So much strength and assurance behind his words. His lips crashed into mine, devouring me and pinning me in place. I could taste him; I could taste his soul and the essence that made him. I opened up my mouth, sucking in his tongue and trying to pull from him as much strength as I could. As much as I knew I should push him away, I didn‟t want to. I wanted to hold him in place, wrap myself around him like a vise. If only for this moment, I wanted to let go of my inhibitions and give in to him. I wanted to believe in the possibility that he could save me. That I was capable of being saved.

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Carlos tugged at my turtleneck, pulling it up over my head. Greedily, I pulled at his vest, throwing it to the floor with my shirt. His hands were running all over my chest, touching me as if I were a new discovery, a land to be sought out. I undid the buttons of his shirt, pulling back for air. We didn‟t talk. We were too afraid to. It might shatter what we had; it might make it real. I didn‟t need reality. I couldn‟t face it. I hadn‟t been able to face it since I was a teenage boy. It was why I kept running. He sought my mouth again, pushing me down against the mountain of pillows on the bed. In a blink he was straddling my waist. I reached up, cupped his chin, and stared into his chocolate eyes, wondering how they would make me erupt. Carlos leaned forward, kissing me with a sense of fragility. His hips ground into mine, sent sparks flying up my spine. I made a small noise in the back of my throat and grabbed his hips, trying to pull him closer. I needed to feel that friction. I needed something. “What are you doing?” Selena asked from the doorway, where she swayed back and forth. Fuck. We froze, our chests rising and falling with our quick breaths. “Uncle Carlos?” she asked, her wide eyes blinking rapidly. “Umm…” Carlos said, a blank, dumbfounded look on his face. “Wrestling!” I threw Carlos off me and scrambled off the bed. I forced a harsh bark of laughter, hoping a four-year-old couldn‟t tell it was fake. “We were wrestling.” “Oh…” She didn‟t look like she believed me. “Well, Mama wanted me to check and see how you were. She said dessert is ready.” “Okay, mi muchacha hermosa.” Carlos coughed into his hand. “He‟s fine. We‟ll be down in a minute. Un momento.” I picked up my shirt, slipping it on and straightening my hair. When I was sure I was presentable, I said, “We should get down there.” “Theo,” Carlos said, still on the bed. “I don‟t want to talk about this anymore, Carlos.” I glared at him over my shoulder. It was easier for me to be mad. I‟d rather be mad than vulnerable. “Ever again.” His face twisted, and for a moment he was crushed, but then his expression hardened, his eyes flashed yellow, and I knew his resolve had strengthened. I didn‟t wait for him. I walked downstairs alone, trying to get myself in check.

*** After dessert, which was homemade flan (turned out to be Carlos‟s favorite), Carlos brought me back to my apartment. We sat in his truck, the radio turned down low, our breaths fogging up the front window. I knew there was something that needed to be said; it hung on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn‟t seem to put

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the words in order. So I just sat there, staring out at my apartment with bored interest. “Theo…” Carlos said, his voice carrying over the music. “What?” I asked, looking back to him and then again at my apartment. It was easier to look somewhere else than in his eyes. They were so raw with emotion, I couldn‟t face it. The moon hung in the sky, days away from becoming full. The stars seemed faded, lost against the infinity of the night; so pale and confused, barely guided by the waning moon. “Talk to me,” Carlos said, practically pleading. I studied the reflection of the moon playing off my apartment window, my curtain slightly split down the center. “There‟s nothing to talk about, Carlos.” “Damn it, Theo!” Carlos barked, grabbing my shoulder and turning me around. “What?” I yelled back, my anger tingling over me, numbing everything else. “Let me fucking in!” Carlos set his hands on my face again, and I turned my head away, pushing his hands off. He didn‟t stop; he kept pushing and grabbed my hands. “I‟m not leaving. I meant what I said.” “Carlos,” I warned, “just stop.” “Let me show you that you don‟t have to bear it all. I can help you carry the world,” Carlos said, ignoring me. He let go of my hands and grabbed my face, turning my head so I was looking at him. He pressed his forehead to mine, his breath smelling sweet from the flan. “I can take some of your pain away if you‟d just talk to me, just let me in.” I turned my head away, looking at my apartment again. Carlos‟s fingers dug into my arm, demanding my attention. I shook his hands off, my gaze locked on my front door. “Something is wrong.” “No, it‟s not wrong!” “Not that, you moron!” I snapped, nearly hitting him over the head. “Something is wrong with my apartment. Look!” I pointed at the front door, which was slightly ajar. It couldn‟t have been open more than an inch, but that didn‟t change the fact that it was open. And my curtains had been completely shut when I left earlier. Someone had been, or still was, in my apartment. “Someone is there.” I pulled my gun from its holster. Carlos withdrew his. “Shit.” My thoughts exactly. This was not what I needed tonight. We climbed out of his truck and quietly shut the doors, then slowly crept up to my front door. Carlos pressed his back against the left side of the door, and I pressed mine to the right, then nudged the door open with my foot. We kept our

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guns drawn, safety clicked off. Whoever was in my apartment was about to be turned into Swiss cheese. I nodded to Carlos and then spun forward, dropping to a crouch with my gun out. I scanned the darkness, barely taking in the destruction. I‟d handle that mayhem later. Right now, I had to make sure the perimeter was safe. When no one jumped out, guns ablaze, I motioned for Carlos to follow and went in. My heart picked up speed, this time propelled by a shot of adrenaline. We split up, going over every hiding spot in the area. I checked under the bed, in the shower, and in the closets. When the coast was clear, I finally clicked the safety on and holstered my gun. Time to assess the damage. Carlos turned on the lights and looked around. “Mierda…” The only bright side was that the damage was isolated to my apartment. Being on the first floor had a few perks. It was all destroyed, everything I owned torn apart, broken, smashed, ripped, shredded…demolished. The sofa was cut open, stuffing poking out of it like white cotton candy. The coffee table was overturned, its legs broken off. My television was smashed, my chairs cut at the seams. The carpet was even cut in various places. My kitchen table was overturned, the cabinets emptied, and food either smashed, poured out, or thrown about like a baby had gone on a rampage. Chinese food painted a mural on the wall, bits of lo mein plopping to the floor. The door to my fridge was on the ground, and the microwave door was smashed. The bathroom looked the same, turned into a war zone with no victors. The mirror was shattered; the curtain had been pulled off the shower curtain rod, the faucet smashed so that water spouted out. Carlos rushed to shut off the emergency water valve, getting soaked in the process. There were water stains, soiled carpets, and medicine everywhere, floating in the puddles like pieces of candy. I trailed into my bedroom, looking at everything on the floor. Clothes thrown about, bed split open, comforter ripped…shattered, destroyed. All of it gone. Pulled apart and picked at. Feathers were everywhere, crumpled pieces of paper thrown about from where my books had been ripped apart. The mirror had also been broken. There was a path of glass leading from the kitchen all the way into the bathroom and then to my bedroom. “Theo…” Carlos whispered behind me. I could only stare at the remains of my apartment, my life, my mind rolling around, attempting to process it all. I shook my head and walked back into the living room, searching for something, anything, that was still intact. I kicked books and DVDs out of the way, turning in a slow circle. I knew they were just materialistic items; I could replace everything. But I felt violated. I didn‟t like feeling violated. I had spent too much of my life being taken advantage of. I swore; I kept swearing. No more. Never again.

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I crunched some glass under my foot as I walked back into the living room and stepped on a piece of wood, snapping it under my weight. I crouched down and picked up the broken frame, carefully brushing the glass away. The picture was missing, probably lost among the rubble. Tucked in its place, though, was a folded piece of paper. I picked it up and stood, unfolding the sheet of paper. Carlos walked over. “What‟s that?” Written in familiar, jagged letters was a two-word question: miss me? Clipped to it was a picture that made my stomach plummet and nausea slam into me like a sucker punch. I dropped the picture and note, pushed past Carlos, and stumbled into the bathroom. I dropped to my knees; my pants instantly were soaked, and I was barely able to open the toilet before pizza and flan filled the bowl. I heaved, emptying everything inside me in a violent wave of acid and food chunks. “Shit. Theo, are you okay?” Carlos stumbled into the bathroom and crouched beside me. He reached out and pulled my bangs away from my face, rubbed my back. I kept heaving, kept emptying, even after I had nothing left to give. I always gave. I always handed out pieces of my soul, wrapped up in sparkling paper and lovely bows, passing them out like free gifts. Take a shot at me? Here you go! Have another piece of my life! Take my lungs! Take my eyes! Take my fucking heart and my courage and sanity and my very fucking life! You damn motherfuckers! I screamed and screamed and fucking screamed. Anger—dangerous, delicious, intense anger—pulsed inside me. It was like ice running through my veins, mixing with the fire in my belly. My burning throat constricted as I squeezed my eyes shut and kept bellowing out at the night. Power sizzled. A bolt shot through the water in the toilet, sending it flying, plopping, and spraying. Disgusting bits of regurgitated dinner smacked the ceiling and walls. The pipes rattled, and the broken glass flew up into the air, spiraling around like it was caught in orbit. “Theo!” Motherfucker! Mother-fucking-fucker! I wasn‟t doing it again! I wasn‟t going back there! I wasn‟t! The glass veered right, then left, dancing dangerously close. I could hear the furniture crashing, hear the wood splintering. Wind spiraled, played around us, toyed with us. I didn‟t care. I just wanted it to end. I was going to make it end. I was going to fucking end it. Push the knife in and twist it. I‟d make them hurt. Make them bleed. Gut them like a fish and watch their insides tumble out. Carlos‟s hands pulled away, slipping past me abruptly. “Theo!” Carlos yelled. “Mi corazón! Snap the fuck out of it!” Like a guitar string tightened too far, everything inside me snapped. I looked up, letting go of the toilet bowl, which had cracked under my grip. Carlos let out a yelp and crashed onto the floor.

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Everything crashed to the floor. A big slam, a big clatter, a big fucking explosion. “Son of a bitch!” he hissed, pushing himself up. The glass cuts that Carlos sustained began to heal in front of me, shards spitting out from his cheeks and arms. Carlos was panting, his body crouched over like he was ready to attack. I could feel his aura, felt it rushing around me, trying to soothe and captivate me. His eyes burned an intense yellow, like two suns threatening to burn me alive. I could hear my heart in my ears. I closed my eyes and slouched against the wall. I suddenly didn‟t have the energy to get up. “Mi corazón…” Carlos inched forward, his eyes slowly turning black like the sun going out. I shook my head and pressed against the wall. I didn‟t even care if I touched the mess I made. I braced my hands against the floor like I could hold on to it, feeling like there was nothing left to grab on to. Carlos sat there for a few minutes before finally heaving a sigh and getting up. I didn‟t look to see him go. I just kept my eyes trained on the floor, watching the multicolored pills spin on the surface. I could hear him moving around my apartment, heard him talking to someone, and then he came back in. But all I could see was a distorted rainbow, a broken reflection, a million pieces falling away. “Mi corazón, you have to pull yourself together.” Carlos crouched back down beside me. He lifted my head, his hands gentle as they traced my jaw. “Look at me.” I met his eyes, feeling so small again. He leaned forward, kissing my scar. Smart man. Don‟t kiss the vomit-covered mouth. “Okay,” I croaked, my throat raw from throwing up and screaming. Not a good mix. “I‟m fine. I‟m okay.” Yeah… Even I didn‟t believe that. Carlos helped me to my feet and walked me over to the sink. I knew there‟d be water damage from when the pipes had been overflowing. Motherfuckers wrecked my whole goddamn apartment. What little bit of damage I did didn‟t compare to what had already been done. I cupped some water that was still in the sink and sipped it, swishing it around in my mouth and spitting it out in the bathtub. When the taste of recycled pizza and flan was gone, I rinsed off my face. Carlos waited patiently by my side, watching me like I was about to snap again. Well…I just might. We tromped back to the living room, where it was much drier. All the damage had shifted. “Way to mess with the crime scene,” Carlos teased humorlessly.

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Carlos crouched down on the floor by the frame where I‟d found the note. He stood up and held it out, showing me the picture. I turned away, not able to look. “What is this?” he asked, turning the photo around to look at it. I could feel a wave of nausea rise back up, and I fought it down. I wasn‟t going to get sick again. After a few calm breaths, I whispered, my voice still scratchy, “That‟s my old partner, Charlie.” It was a candid shot of his bloated body, swollen and bloody from being torn apart. He had been tortured, cut to pieces, and toyed with like some dog toy. His broken body was lying on a moist, unmarked floor, haloed by a pool of his own blood and vomit. I stared out the slit in the curtain up at the stars, my eyes wide, fighting the edge of delirium. Sometimes I think it‟d be easier to go insane. “Ay, Dios mío…” Carlos whispered. He carefully folded the photo back up. “Who sent this?” I couldn‟t look at him. I wasn‟t ready to face any of this. My nightmares felt real. They were coming alive, hunting me down. “Theo?” “Carlos, please, I just…I just can‟t do this now. Just…just take me home with you, please?” I asked, hating how I sounded. I didn‟t do broken, but that was how I felt.

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Chapter Seven The police came an hour after we called and went over the damage. I didn‟t show them the note left behind for me. Nothing appeared to be missing, so they chalked it up to vandalism. After dragging everything out, they finally left, leaving me with nothing but the shattered remains of my apartment, my life. I found a suitcase and sorted through the piles of clothes, hunting down ones that were clean and not torn or shredded. When I got the suitcase packed, Carlos took me to his house. We didn‟t say a word. There was nothing we could say. “Just set your things in my room,” Carlos said as we walked into his house. Everything there was intact, undamaged. “You can take a shower if you want; might help you relax.” I nodded and walked to his room, splitting away from him as he veered toward the kitchen. I put my suitcase in his bedroom and popped it open, pulled out a pair of clean boxers and a white T-shirt and my toothbrush. I reached into my pocket and slipped out the note and photo, staring down at them as if it were the first time I was seeing them. Charlie‟s face was so distorted that I could barely make out his features. He hadn‟t been a handsome man, kind of old and surly looking, but he‟d been a good man. Now he was just a dead man. I dropped them into my suitcase and closed the lid. I walked to the bathroom and started the shower, moving on autopilot. I could hear Carlos rustling around in the kitchen over the rush of water. Focusing my mind on one thing, I stripped and climbed in. The water was hot, almost to the point of scalding. I let it work out the knots in my back and shoulders, standing under the spray for a good twenty or thirty minutes; I wasn‟t sure how long. I didn‟t start actually cleaning up until my body was good and numb and the heat had tapered off into a cool spray. When I finished with my shower, I got out, leisurely dried off, and slipped on the boxers and T-shirt. I brushed the vomit aftertaste from my mouth and then walked out of the bathroom. I felt halfway human now that I was clean. “Done?” Carlos called out, coming around the corner with two beers in his hand. “Yeah,” I said, snatching a beer and twisting the top. “You hungry?” he asked, twisting the top of his own beer. “I could fix you something.”

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I studied him as he took a long chug from his bottle. Throughout everything, he‟d remained at my side, refusing to budge, even at my insistence. I took a long sip of beer and leaned back on my heels. “No,” I said, exhaustion settling in like the cold. Carlos set aside his beer on the entertainment center and wrapped his arms around me as though he planned on chasing away the cold. I started pulling back, but he just tightened his arms around me. “Let me in, mi corazón. I can take the pain away.” “Carlos,” I protested, pushing against his chest with my arm. He took my beer and set it aside with his, still keeping an arm around me. “No.” Carlos grabbed my arms, pulled me against his chest. Long black curls spilled over his shoulders, framing his face in harsh shadows. His eyes were alive, wild with hidden fire, like magma bubbling beneath the surface. “You face this alone, and you let it take ahold of you. I know you‟re stronger than this, and if you‟d just let me in, I could help you. I‟m not going anywhere. I never have!” I just wanted to forget. I wanted to let go of it all and free-fall into nothing. I wanted to let him shoulder some of my problems, and I wanted to believe he would stand beside me. I just didn‟t know how to do all that. His lips brushed mine, caressing with the faintest of touches. My body seemed to open up to him, and for only the briefest moment, I let go of all my trepidations. I could concentrate on everything else tomorrow. Right now, in the moment, I saw a chance to forget, and I was seizing it. I followed his lips as he pulled back, deepening the kiss. “Don‟t, Theo,” Carlos said, pulling back far enough so our lips barely touched. “Not unless you mean it.” Did I mean it? I didn‟t know. I couldn‟t know, not then. I just knew I wanted him. Needed him like I needed air and sunlight and the moon and my heart. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down, tasting him as if it were the first time. There was something primal in the way we touched, like two animals fighting each another. We were taking and giving, tearing at each other in a desperate attempt to take something, anything. I could feel the beast shudder beneath Carlos‟s surface, feel the coyote waiting to come out. He grabbed my wrists where they were around his neck in a vise grip, wrenching them away. With a low growl he tugged me to the bedroom, drew me to the bed. I grabbed at his shirt, wanting nothing more than to feel the heat of our bodies next to each other. He helped me peel away the layers of his clothes, stripping him down until he was naked. My gaze moved up and down, taking him in. The last time I‟d seen him fully naked had been when alcohol hazed my mind. I could still remember the sight of the moonlight playing across his back, illuminating his tattoo. I drew in a shallow breath, my cock going hard instantly.

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“I‟m not letting you go this time,” Carlos said firmly. He brushed his hand down my bandaged shoulder and then slid his hand up my shirt and hooked his finger in my nipple ring. He tugged me toward him. “I don‟t have anywhere to go,” I whispered truthfully. He twisted the ring, and pain shot through me, sparked with illicit pleasure. I grunted, grabbing ahold of his shoulders to steady myself. He brushed his lips along mine, dancing over them, and then moved up my jaw to my right ear, where he sank his teeth around the hoop. My stomach gave a spasm, and I quickly nudged him away, saying, “Shit, hold on.” I pulled my shirt over my head and shucked my boxers off. Carlos let out a low growl that filled the room and pounded into me, a prelude to what was about to come. “Gorgeous…” he whispered, his voice taking on a warm texture. His eyes had gone topaz, bleeding from black like the sun pierced the night. I pulled him over to the bed, ran my hands up the broad expanse of his shoulders. This was wrong. This was so wrong, and I knew it. I wasn‟t emotionally stable. We were partners; we had to work together. I shouldn‟t have allowed this. I should have kept fighting. He held me against his body, our cocks rubbing against each other. With just that touch, all my worries seemed to fall away, like ashes scattering in the breeze. I gave him a push with my mind, sent him hurtling onto the bed with a flop. His hair spilled around him. I loved his hair. So silky, so smooth. I wanted to run my fingers through it. I climbed onto the bed, moving up his body so that I was straddling his lap. I leaned over him. “Wasn‟t this you, earlier today?” Carlos laughed, his eyes golden pearls sparkling in the sun. I felt his shaft nudging at my lower back, wanting entrance. “Where‟s the lubricant?” I asked, my mouth hovering over his. “Top drawer of my dresser, in the back.” Carlos ran his fingers over the notches of my spine. He then slid them down, grabbed ahold of my ass, and gripped firmly. Without looking, I opened the top drawer of his dresser and pulled out the lubricant, along with a few socks. The socks fell to the floor, and the lubricant floated into my awaiting hand. I removed the cap from the bottle. I leaned a little farther forward and kissed him hard. It was tongue and saliva and a hint of sharp teeth. With the moon so close to being full and his desire boiling over, we were playing a dangerous game. The caged beast in him was rabid, wanting more than just a fuck. He wanted my blood, wanted my flesh. I scooted down to his knees and poured a dollop into my hand, rubbing my hands together to warm the gel up. I coated his shaft with one hand and reached around my back with my other, pushing two digits against the ring of my entrance.

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Carlos let out another growl and reached up, his fingers curling into my hair. I pushed my fingers in, stretching myself as I slicked his rod. “Enough,” Carlos ordered. His power was stronger than ever before. It felt like hot silk sliding over me. This was the alpha, the leader of the Columbus coyote pack. I slipped my fingers out and rose back up his body, my back bowing. There was something raw about Carlos. He was opening himself to me, exposing his soul and his power. He grabbed my hips and pulled me the rest of the way, his restraint slipping, as seen in the trembling of his hands. I raised my hips and angled my ass so Carlos‟s cock was pointed toward my entrance. “I can feel your power. You‟re restraining.” “The moon,” Carlos breathed, his fingers twitching, nails biting my skin as he held fast to my hips. “I can feel it like my own pulse. And you aren‟t helping, driving me insane. I can smell you all around me.” “I‟m going to be all around you in just a second,” I whispered huskily, lowering myself onto his rock-hard shaft. Pressure built against my lower spine as Carlos filled me. I moaned, going down completely until I was sitting fully on him. I felt complete for a brief moment, filled with his pulsing member, surging with his aura, like liquid beams of moonlight rushing through me. I felt alive. Carlos‟s nostrils flared as he inhaled, arched up, and pushed deep. I let out a moan and rose up, coming down again. Carlos raised his legs up to help balance me, and I reached back, gripping his muscular thighs. “Ride me, mi corazón; show me how you want it.” Carlos‟s voice, low and sultry, sounded like he was enticing a rabbit to walk into his mouth. I started to ride him, rising up and down with quick motions. My stomach was a tight ball as he slammed up into me, pounding into my prostate. He flexed his thighs, pivoting upward with each downward motion of my hips. His hands shook, and his breath came out fast, ragged. He quickly let go of my sides. With a roar, he gripped the bedsheets, trying to contain the coyote within. He was clutching tightly, and I felt like I was drowning in his aura. Euphoric didn‟t even begin to describe it. He grabbed ahold of me again, only to flip me over and switch our positions. He pressed my back into the mattress, threw my legs over his shoulders. His hands slammed down into the mattress as he began to pound into me, driving forward so that his cock reached every deep part of me. “Carlos!” I cried out, wrapping my arms around his neck and holding tight. Each thrust pulled me further into bliss. I reached between us, feeling the pressure begin to reach its apex, and stroked my own weeping member in time. Carlos panted into my ear, groaning and growling, a beast about to break free of his cage finally. His mouth brushed mine, and his eyes seemed to glow, so intense

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in their color. I fell back, felt my orgasm encroaching. I met his eyes and panted out, “Hold on, Carlos. Don‟t go there. Stay with me. Stay right here with me. I need you here with me.” “Fuck,” Carlos groaned, closing his eyes and burying his face into my collarbone. “I‟m coming.” Within a few more hard thrusts, Carlos reached his climax, filling me with cum, roaring out to the moon, howling like a coyote into the night. I thrust my hand, brought myself to the brink, and rode out my orgasm as the last of his trickled off. When we were both sated, we collapsed onto the bed, the last ripples of power coursing through Carlos. He nuzzled my neck, nibbled at my pulse. I held on to him, my arms wrapped around him. We sat in silence, our hearts pounding, our breath mingling. The moon crept through the window, illuminating a corner of the bed. When our hearts stopped racing, we went for another round. Carlos didn‟t struggle as badly with his inner beast this time. We kept going throughout the night, changing positions and turning the bed into a creaking opera. We went four times total before finally taking a shower, where I sucked him off. Carlos then finished bathing and went to change the bedding while I washed up. When the bed was redone and we were both clean, we went back to bed, this time to sleep. I held Carlos against me that night, his head resting on my chest, and ran my fingers through his hair. I watched the moon as he fell asleep, listened to his breathing, and wondered what was happening, what I was going to do.

*** It wasn‟t the same, but then again, it was. There was darkness, but it seemed to recede backward, parting as quickly as it came. The deeper I walked into it, the more it peeled back and washed away. Streaks painted the sky, ribbons of inky black falling in rivulets. It melted away, leaving a sky that barely defined the night. There was no moon, no stars, just a panorama of velvet purple. My heart pounded, my blood pulsed, and my mind raced with a shot of adrenaline. I stopped, panting as though I had been running. The ground was cold beneath my feet, damp from rain that had just ended. I could still smell it in the air, lingering like perfume. I was standing outside in the middle of the street, which was strangely bare. “Hello?” I called out, my voice booming but quickly shifting from that of a man to a boy. “Hello!” Nothing. “Carlos? Carlos! Somebody!” I shouted, cupping my hands over my mouth. “Anybody!” The wind stirred, drifted over my forehead. I looked around, hoping to find someone out there who could tell me what was going on. I knew in the back of my mind it was a dream, that this couldn‟t be real. But I just couldn‟t seem to process

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that part of my mind. I couldn‟t get over the fear that held my heart, the loneliness that choked me. “Please…” My voice cracked, the voice of a fifteen-year-old boy. I sucked in a sharp breath and took a big step forward. It was like stepping through a wormhole. Time sped by, melting and bleeding, until the world became something entirely different. Darkness still plagued me, but it was a dank darkness. I looked around desperately, spinning and twisting, tripping over my own feet and hitting the ground. Only now, it was hardwood floors instead of damp ground, cold and rough from abuse. Red and blue lights streamed into the room through breaks in the boards over the window. They spun around me, a childlike carousel. Tears and snot choked me, like I had been sobbing. I wanted to cry. I wanted to curl up into a ball and fall apart. I wanted to melt away like the darkness. Please, God, please, just let me die. Let me die! I inched forward, crawling on my hands and knees to feel around for the wall. I caught glimpses of the room—an abandoned apartment with a soiled mattress and trash everywhere. My heart stopped when I realized where I was. “No no no no… No!” I froze, trembling and sobbing. The red lights spilled across the floor like glowing blood, catching the sheen of dried brown blood all over the wood. Just a few feet away were the bloody remains of Charlie. “Charlie!” I cried, scurrying across the floor to him. “Wake up, Charlie! Wake up!” I grabbed at him, sinking my fingers into raw meat and flesh, gripping organs I couldn‟t distinguish. “Fucking wake up, you goddamned old man!” I screamed at him, grabbing his shoulders and throttling him. My voice swung back and forth: tenor, baritone, tenor, baritone, a swing-swing of volumes. “I tried! Wake up! Fucking wake up! I‟m sorry!” Lights fell over me and then vanished, red and blue in a perpetual game of chase. A man screamed, loud and piercing. I let go of Charlie and stumbled back, continued to crawl backward until my back hit something. The world changed, tilting sideways and seeming to slide off. The room wasn‟t the apartment anymore. It was my parents‟ living room. I would recognize the crucifix on the wall anywhere. It was a simple cross; my mother couldn‟t stand anything too garish. Everything should hold a gentle touch, be subtle in appearance. The light came from the moon that broke past the long white curtains, which billowed in the summer breeze. It was a cool June night. The hum of cicadas played in the background, just below my pleas. “I‟m sorry!” The boy cried. I couldn‟t see the boy. I couldn‟t see any of them. They weren‟t there, just an empty chair from the dining room, sitting in the middle of the living room. My body jerked of its own accord, rearing forward like someone was pulling it. I threw myself backward, trying to fight the tugging. I let out a scream, a primal,

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angry scream, and tried to break the bond. The crucifix on the wall shook and came off, flying across the room. “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit,” I heard, the words bellowing in my head. It was an aged voice, perfect for filling a church. My body flew forward, jerked and twisted, bowing like someone was molding it and shaping it, tugging at me like I was a rag doll. I landed back in the chair, and my arms linked behind it as if someone had bound them with rope. My feet were spread in the same style. My heart beat fast, pounding against my ribs to get free. It didn‟t want to be here for this. For the pain and fear. “I’m sorry!” I screamed, my eyes wide, tears streaming down my cheeks. “You are not welcome here! Begone, Satan! Leave this boy!” the man called from the air, and my body jerked. A spasm shook me, like someone had burned me with acid. “Wake up,” I heard beneath Charlie‟s scream. “Christ compels you! Leave this boy, demon! We pray to thee, God! Save this boy!” the man kept calling from the moonlight and shadows, bellowing over Charlie‟s screams. And then I felt it, like a branding iron being pressed into my forehead, a sharp pain that was so intense, my body went slack from it, and everything went black. I lunged forward with a scream, waking up drenched in a cold sweat. “Mi corazón!” Carlos called out, grabbing on to my flailing arms and pulling me against him. “Shh, it‟s okay. Breathe, breathe.” I stared out into nothing, trying to steady my breathing. I expected the shadows to melt away. I expected to hear someone scream. My voice cracked as I clutched Carlos‟s arms, whispering, “I‟m sorry…I‟m sorry…” “Shh, mi corazón…” he said into my hair, rocking me back and forth. “You‟re trembling. It‟s all right. It was just a nightmare. Nada más que una pesadilla, mi corazón.” I focused on the sound of Carlos‟s voice, using it to tether myself to reality. The nightmare was over. It couldn‟t touch me. They couldn‟t touch me. But my forehead burned, and my fingers felt slick with blood. I pressed my cheek against Carlos‟s chest, seeking out his heart. He fisted his hand in my hair, pressed a kiss to my forehead. It helped cool the burn. We sat there for a very long time, the comforter folded around our laps, Carlos cradling me against his chest. When the rush of everything slowed down and lucidity came, like clouds parting after the storm, I became conscious of the throb in my knee and shoulder. My knee was protesting, screaming at me for the sex marathon I‟d had with Carlos. “Shit,” I groaned, pushing away from Carlos and stretching my legs out. “What‟s wrong?”

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“My knee hurts like a bitch,” I said, getting off the bed and walking out of the bedroom, favoring my left leg. “Where the fuck is your pain reliever?” “The medicine cabinet in the bathroom,” Carlos called behind me. I limped to the bathroom and grabbed the bottle. After swallowing two pills and washing them down with a handful of tap water, I washed my face, trying to scrub away the last bits of my nightmare. “So what was that?” Carlos asked from the doorway, leaning against it with his arms crossed over his chest. “Nothing,” I mumbled, not in the mood to rehash. Carlos made a disconcerted noise in the back of his throat. “That wasn‟t nothing, Theo. You looked like someone was trying to kill you. So either Freddy Krueger paid you a visit, or something happened in your sleep.” “I said it was nothing,” I warned, my tone icy. “Damn it, Theo!” Carlos barked, pushing off the door frame and stepping into the bathroom. “I thought we were past this!” “It‟s none of your damn business, Carlos, so just fucking drop it!” “Why won‟t you fucking trust me? Huh? All I want to do is fucking be there for you.” Carlos stalked over to me. I held my ground, glaring at him. I was once told by my aunt to never look a dog in the eye, because they took it as a challenge. I stared Carlos down, challenging him to cross me. “I‟m not going to leave you, Theo, and I‟m not going to back down,” Carlos said. “Drop it, Carlos,” I said, punctuating each word, “I deal with my problems. I handle them. I don‟t need you or any other fucking man to bear my weight.” “Then what was that, Theo? What was that?” He threw his arm back, gesturing to the bedroom. “Why did we sleep together?” “I don‟t know.” I said, not sure what to make of it. All I knew right then and there was that my knee hurt and I had a headache coming on. “I don‟t know what that was. I was emotional! I just wanted to fucking forget, and you seemed like the solution!” He let out a piercing roar, slamming his fist into the mirror above the sink. Glass fell to the floor and stuck out of his hands and arms; blood dripped onto the sink with distinct plops. His breathing had gone ragged with contained fury, and I knew how dangerously close I had come to getting my skull crushed. Carlos could use cars as dumbbells and not even break a sweat. “Fuck you, Theo,” he panted out. “Fuck you.” He dropped his hands to his sides, not even shaking the glass from his arms. “That wasn‟t just fucking, and you know it. You can fight it all you want, you can play this fucking martyr game, but you can‟t deny it. We belong together, whether you want to admit it or not.”

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He jabbed his finger in the air, pointing it at me. Blood trickled down from it, staining the white tile of the floor. “I know you suffer. I know you fucking hurt. But I can‟t save you if you won‟t let me in. Keep this up, keep up this waltz you have with the devil, and you‟re going to drown in your own misery.” He dropped his hand, glass falling with the motion. The shallow cuts were healing up, his skin knitting back together almost magically before my eyes. I watched him and worked on steadying my breathing. He opened his mouth, like he had more to say, but then just shook his head and walked out, retreating back to the bedroom. I stood there, half expecting him to come back. There had been anger in his eyes, but it was subtle compared to the pain that had filled them. It wasn‟t a physical pain. The glass that cut him was nothing compared to the wound I had just caused, and I hated myself for it. I hated seeing him so miserable. I didn‟t want to ever see that. I wasn‟t sure where I stood with Carlos, where my heart stood. I did know, though, that I never wanted to see his eyes in pain. “Fuck,” I whispered, stepping over the glass. I didn‟t have superhuman healing abilities. If I did, then maybe my fucking knee wouldn‟t hurt. I stepped into the bedroom, glaring at Carlos, because I didn‟t know how else to look at him. He was sitting on the bed, his back to me. The low-hanging moon illuminated his back. I walked over to the bed, drawn to him like a ship guided by a lighthouse. He didn‟t say anything as I sat down on the bed or when I ran my hands up his back, tracing my fingers along the intricate design of the sunlight playing behind Mary‟s head. I ran my fingers over her eyes and down to the skull, walking them down to the roses and rubbing both my hands back up. Finally I traced each letter written across his back, feeling the muscles twitch beneath. “You got this for your parents, didn‟t you?” I asked softly. Carlos remained silent for a few minutes. I almost thought he wouldn‟t answer, but then he finally nodded. “Yes.” I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Mary‟s lips before wrapping my arms around his chest, bending my body over his. “I‟m not ready,” I said into his hair. “I don‟t know what to do, Carlos. I just know that I‟m not ready.” He grabbed my hands, gripping them tightly in his own. “Then I‟ll wait.” Would he? I closed my eyes, unable to ignore the voice inside me, the little fifteen-year-old boy who whispered please…

*** “Are you sure you don‟t want me to come with you?” Carlos asked for the third time, hesitant to leave. “Yes,” I said, pushing at his shoulder. “I‟m just going to go through some things, see if there is anything to salvage, and then I‟ll be home.”

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I paused, staring at him. A smile twitched at his lips. Home. It had just slipped out. I had only been there a night, and already I was calling it home. I coughed into my hand and punched his arm. “Go.” Carlos laughed and rubbed his arm, leaned forward, and stole a kiss before I could dodge him. I wiped my mouth and snapped, “Damn you, mutt!” I could hear Carlos laughing as he walked to his truck. I waited until he pulled out of the apartment parking lot and vanished around the corner before I unlocked the door and went inside. I stepped into the rubble, looked over it with detached numbness. I kicked a lamp shade out of my way and nudged the door shut behind me. It was like standing in the remains of Hiroshima; someone had released a bomb in my house, and all I could do was sort through what was left behind. I still needed to file the insurance report and talk to my landlord about the renovations to fix up my apartment. That was the last thing on my mind, though. I wasn‟t ready to handle that long project. I hated dealing with insurance companies. They were all crooks. “Shit, I‟m going to be stuck with Carlos forever,” I said to myself. I could feel his hands running up my body, ghost fingers tweaking my nipples and tickling my stomach. We had decided to swing by after work. Carlos had wanted to stay to help, but I knew I had to do this on my own. I was going to sort through everything and see what I could salvage. Anything worth saving, I was going to pile into my Mustang and haul back to Carlos‟s house. He had all but ordered me to stay with him until things were finished with my apartment. As soon as I suggested a hotel, he‟d gone ape shit, which led to a fight, and then a very steamy make-out session and handjob, which had then caused us to be late for work. Chief hadn‟t liked that, and I had decked Carlos for it. “There‟s nothing to save,” I said to myself as I kicked the broken table out of the way. Part of me wished I had told Carlos to stay. I hadn‟t realized how much there would be to go through… When had I gotten so much junk? I guess when it was all destroyed, it looked like more than what it really was. “Might as well start in the back.” It made me feel a little better talking to myself, like I wasn‟t all alone in the universe. I walked to the bedroom and began to dig through everything. There wasn‟t much left. I managed to find some more clothes that weren‟t completely ruined, just in need of some washing, and brought them out to the car. Then I delved into the upturned drawers, shredded sheets, and piles of papers and books. I began to go back and forth between my apartment and my car, piling random objects in it that weren‟t broken or ruined. I didn‟t wind up with much, just a few DVDs, books, and photos. By the time I made it to the kitchen, it was completely dark out. Clouds had rolled in, blanketing everything in a low-hanging smog. My cell phone started going off as I began to dump the remaining food in my fridge into a large black garbage

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bag. I dropped the bag and fished my phone from my pocket, peeking at the caller ID. Carlos‟s name flashed on the screen. I flipped the phone open. “What‟s up?” “How‟s it going, corazón?” Carlos asked, his voice a low rumble in my ear. I leaned against the counter. “It‟s going.” “You almost done?” “Yeah, I think I‟m ready to call it a night. My head is starting to hurt, and I‟m starving,” I admitted, kicking a large piece of a broken bowl. “I just want to finish emptying the fridge first, before the food starts to really stink.” “All right, well, hurry up and come home. I ordered some Chinese,” Carlos said. My stomach rolled when he said “home.” I had to close my eyes to fight the warmth that filled me. I wasn‟t going to get attached. I wasn‟t. “Okay,” I said, my voice softer then I meant it to be. I cleared my throat and tried again. “I‟ll be there in about thirty minutes. I‟m almost done.” “Okay. Bye, corazón,” Carlos said before hanging up. I gave a shuddered sigh. Why did my body keep responding to him? Carlos was right; I couldn‟t deny it. I was pulled to him, connected by an invisible thread that kept us tethered together. Our pull was like a coyote drawn to the moon, a bird to the sky, a heart to a beat; it was just natural, belonging to each other. It terrified me in more ways than any nightmare ever could. I was so lost in my own thoughts that I didn‟t hear the click of the door or the crunching of broken glass. I dropped my phone into my pocket just as I felt someone step behind me. The tingle of a powerful aura, wild and untamed, spilled over me and drowned me. I turned sharply, reaching for my gun. “Don‟t.” The words were cold and precise, sparked with insane calmness. My hand froze, poised and ready to draw. I looked across the kitchen to the figure standing framed by my curtains. He was wiry in build, his skin pallid, like a Louisiana moon over a swamp, sickly and anemic-looking. He was spotted by shadows, his expression just a gesture and a guess. Only his eyes broke through the darkness. They were yellow, a blaze of ferocity, filled with lunacy that could only be stirred from being kept in wolf form for too long. “Did you miss me?” he asked, reaching out and clicking his nails against the granite counter. His nails were sharp, almost like claws. Each tap made my skin crawl, itch, like maggots were trying to burrow inside me. “What?” he teased, a smile spreading grandly, a jester‟s grin. “Cat got your tongue?” I could hear the drip-drip of blood in my mind, practically see it falling from his hands. He threw his head back and gave a sharp bark of laughter, which sounded more like baying, and slammed his hand down hard on the counter,

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cracking the granite. “Nothing to say to your old friend? I mean, after all this time, you have nothing to say?” “How?” I whispered, my mind running through the possibilities. He leaned back on his heels, shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. In some ways, he still looked like a boy, caught somewhere between manhood and innocence. He rolled his shoulders in a casual shrug and said, “How indeed?” “Get out,” I ordered, proud that my voice didn‟t crack. I felt like I was coming undone, that my anger was splitting at the seams. I had to keep myself in check if I wanted to get out of this. Only a clear mind would save me. “You‟re still as rude as always,” he said, tsking. “And you know how I feel about rudeness.” Yeah, I knew how he felt. “Lower your hand, Theodore. You‟re making me nervous.” He laughed, pulling a hand from his pocket to wave at me. I slowly lowered my hand, never taking my eyes off him. Never, ever take your eyes off your target. “What do you want?” I asked. He took a step closer, and I had to control the twitch in my hand. He stopped after two steps, knocking down some silverware from the counter. “Your place is such a mess, Theodore. You should really clean it.” My patience was running thin, which was dangerous. He smiled at me again, his head tilted to the side, waiting for me to respond. “I‟m done playing games, Jason. Get the fuck out of my apartment,” I said, channeling my energy. “Let‟s play, Theodore,” Jason said, his elongated canines glinting. He had been shifted for so long that traces of wolf still lingered in him, even when he was fully man. His eyes, his teeth, even his nails… He was becoming more beast than man. I hit him with a blast of force, sending him buckling backward. He hit the ground hard but quickly leaped back to his feet. He slammed a hand out and knocked a chunk from the wall. Concrete and plaster crumbled; dust billowed. I pulled my gun out and fired. Jason skirted the shots, vanishing into my living room with a howl of laughter. “That all you got, Theodore?” he called out. I cursed under my breath and dashed around the corner. Time seemed to move slowly, each second passing by painfully slow. I could make out all the details, from the way the dust floated in the air to the position of the broken glass on the floor. Jason kicked off the wall as I slid to a stop, nearly tripping over my overturned coffee table. I threw myself out of the way, feeling his claws slip past my cheek. I fired off another shot, clipping him in the shoulder. Jason didn‟t even wince as he spun around, his hands shaking and trembling as cartilage popped and tendons snapped. His bones morphed before my eyes, his hands turning into

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obsidian claws. I held my gun up, aiming it straight at his head. “Don‟t fucking move, Jason.” He rolled his head in a circle. “I‟ve been dreaming about you.” His black hair was cropped close to his head. “I dreamed about how you would taste, how it would sound to hear you scream.” His eyes met mine, and I could see his hunger. I held my gun firmly in place. “How the fuck did you get out of jail?” “That‟s my little secret,” he sang, his voice rising and then falling away. He took a step forward, lifted his claws to wave intimidatingly at me. “Do you know what Charlie tasted like? He wasn‟t as good as I bet you would be. Too salty. But man, did he scream. Begged for his life.” My vision went red, and my control left me, escaping on my shuddered breath. “Shut up!” I screamed, pulling the trigger. Jason jumped to the right just as I pulled the trigger, dodging the bullet, and then he lunged at me. I fell back, my left hand pressing into the glass from a picture frame. As Jason came down on me, I slammed my foot up into his chest, throwing him backward. He laughed manically, losing himself in the blood craze. “Delicious,” he whispered, inhaling deeply. I tightened my grip on the stabbing glass, letting the pain penetrate past my rage. I pushed myself to my feet and lifted my gun up again, firing off another shot. His shoulder jerked back, blood blossoming from the hit. He gave a howl and came forward, leaped into the air. I channeled my energy at him, stopping him in midjump, and threw him out the front door. I let the glass fall away, my hand smeared with blood. How was I going to get out of this? In the distance, I heard sirens barreling down the road. I ran out the door as Jason picked himself up. He had landed in someone‟s flower bed, shattering their birdbath. He shook himself off like a dog. “Do you know what it was like in there?” he growled. “I‟ll bleed you dry for putting me in that hellhole.” “And I‟ll send you to fucking hell,” I said, levitating him into the air. He twisted, trying to break my hold on him. Pain contorted his face, and blood pulsed out of the bullet hole in his shoulder. The sirens were getting closer, filling the night with a banshee‟s screech. They swung into the apartment complex just as Jason gave a roar. I lifted my gun up, wanting to put an end to this. There had to be at least five police cruisers filling up the parking lot. Red and blue lights spun around us, bringing me back to my dream. For a minute, I lost my hold, and Jason faltered, but I snapped myself back and threw him into the air again. “Freeze!” one of the police officers shouted, all of them piling out of their cars and aiming their guns at us. Fuck!

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“Drop your gun!” The man yelled, his gun aimed at my head. “I‟m a cop!” I shouted back, refusing to lower my gun. “Drop your gun!” he ordered again. “I‟m part of the Columbus PTF! This man is an escaped criminal!” I answered him. “If you do not drop your gun, we will fire! Now drop your gun and put your hands in the air where we can see them!” the man yelled. There was a slight tremble to his hand. Shit, I had a jumpy cop pointing his gun at me. “Son of a bitch!” I yelled, shaking my gun at Jason. “I said drop it!” The police officer gave a final warning. I clicked the safety on my gun and dropped it, raising my hands in the air as I turned to them. The officer visibly let out a sigh of relief but kept his gun trained on me. “Now lower the other man gently to the ground.” No. “If I lower this man to the ground, he will escape,” I said. Jason was fast. He‟d be shifted and gone before they could do anything about it, and I could bet all the money I owned that they didn‟t have silver bullets. Fucking cheap-ass police department. Only the PTF were required to carry silver bullets. “Lower him!” I could hear Jason shifting, smell it in the air. I closed my eyes and released my hold on him. Jason let out a howl, and from the corner of my eye, I could see him rising up as a giant black wolf. He shook fluid from his fur as he leaped up into the air, slamming down on one of the police cruisers. He staggered, dropping down on his right paw for a second. Blood matted the fur, but he ignored it and straightened up. The officer who‟d had the gun aimed at me shouted, and they began to fire at Jason. I dived for my gun again, not wanting to lose him. I rose back up, the safety clicked off, just as Jason sank his teeth into an officer‟s arm and pulled it clean off from the shoulder. The woman let out a high-pitched scream, fell to the ground, and grabbed at the wound. Blood spurted from her arm. Jason didn‟t stay to play. He had his snack, and now he‟d be gone. He leaped away, a bullet hitting his side. He kept going, barreling into the night and vanishing. They swung their guns back at me as someone called in for an ambulance. “Drop your weapon!” The officer in charge had to be in his forties. His skin was like brown leather. I held my hand up and clicked my safety on again, then slowly lowered my gun to the ground. I looked past them to where Jason had vanished, gritting my teeth in frustration. I was going to have all their badges when the night was over. Especially this fucker in front of me.

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I was ready to beat the shit out of him. I shouted as I slowly moved one hand toward my inner pocket, “I‟m a fucking police officer! My name is Theodore Bourne. I‟m a new detective for the Preternatural Task Force! I‟m going to reach slowly into my pocket and pull out my badge. Do not shoot.” The man readjusted his footing, shaking his gun at me. “Don‟t fucking move!” “I‟m just reaching for my badge,” I said calmly, pausing briefly before finally reaching into my jacket. I pulled it out and held it open to them, raising my hand back up into the air, so it would be with the other. Blood dripped down my arm from the wound on my left hand. I threw the badge at their feet, nodding at it. “See?” The man picked up my badge and studied it. Finally the man said, “Lower your weapons.” I dropped my arms and picked my gun up, half tempted to use it on him. I had to remember that he was just doing his job; he didn‟t mean to royally fuck up and let loose a man who could give Hannibal Lecter nightmares. The ambulance barreled in, and people finally began to pile out of their apartments to see what was going on. I had a feeling it would probably be best if I didn‟t live here anymore. Chaos broke out as they bandaged up the female officer and rushed her to the hospital. One of the EMTs looked at my hand and cleaned it up. The wound was shallow, not even needing stitches. It was more blood than anything. They bandaged me up and went on their way, leaving me to deal with the cleanup. Carlos called during everything, and I had to explain to him that I‟d be running behind. The strange thing was, all I could think about was how I just wanted to go home to him. I just wanted to pop open a beer, eat some fucking Chinese food, and lie in his arms. But no, I had to face my past, deal with a jumpy police officer, and add another possible scar to my rising number. This night was just fucking great.

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Chapter Eight “What the hell happened?” Carlos asked, worry deepening the lines around his eyes. I pulled a beer from the fridge and popped the top off, taking a long swallow. It was a quarter till midnight, and I was tired, not in the mood to talk to Carlos, but he was giving me a look that said I wasn‟t about to get off this time. “I got a visit from an old friend,” I said, walking into the living room. I had had to file a report after everything went down. The city was out for Jason‟s head, and I was the front-runner of the investigation. Just what I needed—another fucking thing to stress over. Carlos had a large flat-screen mounted on his wall. He seriously called this his Man Domain. There was even a sign posted next to his makeshift bar that said NO GIRLS ALLOWED. He followed behind me, brandishing his own beer. “What do you mean, an old friend?” There was an icy edge of jealousy to his voice. I gave him a look, practically vomiting in revulsion at the idea of fornicating with Jason. “Not like that, you Neanderthal.” Carlos flopped down on the couch and chugged at least half his beer. I sighed and sat down beside him, allowing myself at least some of the pleasures I had fantasized about earlier tonight. Carlos gave me a startled look at first but didn‟t complain as I leaned against him. His arm wrapped around my shoulder, holding me in place. I inhaled his musky scent, taking in the spice of coyote and earth, letting them chase away the acrid stench of blood. “What happened, mi corazón?” he asked, his fingers stroking my hair. I took a sip of beer and stared at the black screen of the television. I was trying really hard not to go back to that dark place in my mind that replayed Charlie‟s death, but Carlos wanted answers, and as much as I hated it, he deserved them. I pulled away and walked into the bedroom. “Corazón, what are you doing?” Carlos called out. The couch creaked. “I‟ll be right back,” I called out. I took a sip from my beer, then opened my suitcase and stared down at the photo that lay on top. I took another long swig, felt a scream trying to claw its way up my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut and picked up the picture. I wasn‟t strong enough for any of this; I just didn‟t have it in me anymore.

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I walked back to the living room and fell back onto the couch, into my place tucked beside Carlos. He stared down at me in confusion but put his arm back around me and returned to stroking my hair, like I had never left. It seemed like he was the only stable thing I had in my life. Somehow, this crazy man, who I couldn‟t stand half the time, was the only thing keeping me standing. I held out the photo for both of us to see. I could see the stream of lights spiraling around the room, blue and red, escaping through the gaps in the boards. For a minute, I was lost in the endless carousel of lights, lost in a memory that refused to fade. “Mi corazón?” Carlos pushed a few strands of hair off my face. He took the photo from my hand and held it in place, studying it intensely. “Charlie,” I said, tapping the picture gently, “was a father to me. He was a good man. He took me under his wing and showed me the ropes to being an officer. I went to family dinners, outings—I even went to his eldest daughter‟s graduation. I wouldn‟t say it was bliss, but when I struggled, he somehow managed to pull me back up.” “He sounds like a good man,” Carlos said, “and I‟m grateful he took such good care of you.” My chest grew tight, like someone was beating it. I couldn‟t catch my breath. I took another swig of beer, closed my eyes to push back the memories. I could still hear the graduation music. Charlie had cried that day; he had been so proud of Bethany. “The media called our case the Red Riding Hood Murders, because by the time we found the girls, they were covered from head to toe in blood,” I said, picturing the first victim in my head. She had been ten, still in her school uniform, with a single shoe missing. I couldn‟t even make out her school colors. Everything was in shades of red, pieces of flesh missing, intestines hanging out, her little hands gnawed off. “Christ,” Carlos whispered, his lips pressed against the side of my head. “There were five girls in all.” I kept talking, needing to work through it. I felt like a war victim, each crime scene flashing through my mind. “The oldest was fourteen. They were all so bloody. Chunks missing from them like lost puzzle pieces. One girl‟s face had been chewed off on the right side, eyeball and all.” I downed the rest of my beer and looked at the picture of Charlie‟s face. It never got easier to see it. It never would. “Jason Devereux came to New York and prowled on the girls, becoming the worst nightmare ever to face that city. He‟s more beast than man. No one was safe. And the closer we got to catching him, the worse the mutilations became. Jason likes to play games. He‟s a perpetual jester.” I set my beer down on the floor and took Charlie‟s photo. “Then he took Charlie‟s youngest daughter, Rebecca. I‟d never

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seen Charlie so insane before; he completely snapped. I thought they were going to take us off the case. They should have.” “Why didn‟t they?” “Because Charlie promised them he‟d get his daughter back, whether he was on duty or not. And I told him I‟d help him, even if it killed me.” I‟d promised Charlie that day that I‟d protect his family at any cost, and I‟ve never gone back on that. To this day, I have them watched over. No one would hurt them, not while I still had breath in my body. I dropped the picture in Carlos‟s lap and got up. His hand fell away from me, reluctant to let me go. Would I drift away? I felt like a phantom, passing through time, with nothing to hold me in place. Don’t let go. Please, don’t ever let go of me. I grabbed another beer and came back. I couldn‟t sit, though; I felt too anxious. I paced the floor, walked over to the window, and peeked out. Could Jason hear us? Did he know I was talking about him? That I was thinking about him? Was he watching me? I stared out the window, trying to break away the clouds that hid the moon. Shine some light on me, Lord. Give me a sign that there’s hope. I took a sip of beer and turned away, feeling my body begin to lose its strength. My knee was protesting again, begging for a break. If I kept going the way I was, it wouldn‟t hold up much longer. Carlos got to his feet and walked over to me. “Come on. Let‟s go to the bedroom. I‟ll get you some medicine.” It wasn‟t moonlight, but somehow Carlos managed to break away the darkness. Without thinking, I pulled him toward me, pressed my lips gently to his. He didn‟t press for more, just returned the kiss gently and then pulled away. “Go on. Get in bed,” he said, tapping my ass. I swatted at him but listened, not in the mood to argue. I needed to lie down. I walked to the room, sipping at my beer along the way, and got ready for bed. I hung my holster on the post of the bed, making sure it was in reach. Until I saw Jason six feet in the ground, my gun wasn‟t leaving my side. I stripped to my boxers and got in. Carlos brought me some pain reliever, which I took gratefully, and he followed in my footsteps, hanging his holster on the bedpost on his side. He slid into bed after closing the blinds and shutting off the lights, wrapping his arms around my waist. He pressed a kiss to my exposed shoulder. “Aren‟t you going to ask what happened?” I asked softly. He pressed his hand flat against my chest, over my heart. “You‟ll tell me if you want to,” Carlos mumbled into my shoulder. “I‟ll never ask any more from you.” I grabbed his hand and squeezed it. It was getting harder to fight him. I was drowning, and he was trying to save me. I closed my eyes. “We found her,” I whispered. “Jason had dropped her off at a harbor after badly cutting her up. He

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sliced her all over her body, just deep enough to leave scars, and hung her from the pier to wait for high tide. Charlie asked me to go save her, and then he left to get Jason.” Carlos mumbled something in Spanish, kissed me along my shoulders and back. I sighed softly, letting his embrace chase everything away. Save me. Please save me. “I got her, and God, was it awful. I held her in my arms; I rocked her and told her it would be okay. Then I saw it, tacked to her naked chest, a note. Jason had scrawled on it „gotcha.‟ I could just hear him laughing.” I smiled, because if I didn‟t, I was going to start screaming, and I‟d never stop. “Don‟t,” Carlos whispered. “Don‟t go on if you don‟t want to.” “I haven‟t talked about it since it happened. I don‟t want to talk about it,” I said, rolling over so I could face him. He pressed our foreheads together, grabbed ahold of my face so that our eyes would be level. His thumb stroked my cheekbone, slowly moving back and forth in time with our breathing. “Then don‟t.” “But I have to,” I said, not raising my voice above our whispers. Any louder would shatter the world. “I can‟t keep running from it. If I‟m going to kill him, I need to face him. I need to face this.” Carlos nodded and pressed a kiss to my forehead before placing his forehead back against mine. “Mi corazón fuerte, tan valiente.” I grabbed his hand and pressed mine to it, holding them up with our palms pressed flat together. My skin was like alabaster against his golden brown complexion. “Teach me,” I said. “When this is over, teach me Spanish.” “Okay.” He smiled, locking his fingers with mine. Our muscles were taut, strong arms corded with power. We were two strong men, two brave men. We could face this. We had to. “By the time I got to Charlie,” I began, my voice trembling, “it was too late.” I had run and run, trying to beat time and fate. But you can‟t. They‟re predestined, made before even I was born. I could only try, and I‟d failed. “Jason was standing over his body, half wolf, his mouth bloody, with flesh clinging to his teeth. I didn‟t even know he‟d taken a picture; there hadn‟t been a camera. But then again, all I could see was Charlie lying there.” Carlos let go of my hand, pulled me against him like I was about to break. I held fast to him, drawing his strength into my body. “I didn‟t think it had taken that long. But time is so irrelevant. What was minutes for me could have been hours for Charlie,” I said. Carlos didn‟t say a thing; he just let me talk it out. “We fought, and I gave him everything I had. We were in an abandoned apartment building on the top level. Jason had jumped out the window when I cornered him. I

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don‟t think he expected to have the entire street filled with police officers and the SWAT team. We pulled out all the big guns to stop him, and we did.” “But now…” “But now he‟s escaped. He was supposed to be on death row. He‟s here now, and he wants to finish the battle we had in that apartment. He wants to finish the game,” I said, feeling myself sink. Charlie was dead, and this still wasn‟t over. I couldn‟t face him. I couldn‟t do this, and now Carlos would be dragged in. Would he die too? Carlos held me tighter. “Stop it. You‟re the strongest person I know, mi corazón. You can conquer him, and I‟ll be beside you the entire time.” I looked up at him, his eyes as black as night but still shining like the sun had just risen. This man was after my heart, and no matter how many walls I threw up, Carlos was tearing them down. I was running out of walls. “I killed him,” I whispered. “Charlie would be alive if I had made him save Rebecca. But he wanted to face Jason. I knew Charlie couldn‟t do it; he was just human. He had no special powers. But I let him go, Carlos, knowing he could die.” “Mi corazón, you couldn‟t stop it. That was what he was meant to do, to face that beast. You did not kill Charlie.” “How can you say that?” I yelled, trying to keep myself together. “I watched him go. I watched him walk off to his death. I told him I‟d do all that I could, and I failed him.” “Did you save his daughter?” “Yes,” I said hesitantly. Carlos kissed my forehead, then my nose and along my eyes, finishing with a soft brush of his lips against mine. “You take on the world, mi corazón. I knew that when I saw you on the soccer field. You want to be a hero; you want to save the world. You can‟t save everyone, though. You can only try to. You didn‟t fail Charlie; you promised him you‟d keep his daughter safe, and you did.” I pushed myself up and stared down at him. He slid his hand down over my heart, gently tapped his hand in time with my heartbeat. “Bum-bum, bum-bum,” he said, keeping rhythm. “Bum-bum.” I watched him, unable to pull away. He kept tapping, kept counting heartbeats. “Bum-bum. Do you hear?” I nodded slowly, hesitantly. “Strong, steady. The heart of a brave warrior. Don‟t ever forget, mi corazón, that you have the power to change the world. Just believe in your own strength, in your heart,” Carlos said, stilling his hand.

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I leaned forward and sealed my mouth over his. I could taste the beer on his tongue, and I loved it. His hands slid up my back, and I sank back under the blankets. We made love that night, taking it slow, caressing each other and teasing, and listened to the rising pace of our heartbeats.

*** The Hunting Moon had not been affected by its recent bad publicity. It was alive with a colorful mix of people, ranging from the young and horny to the lonely and desperate, and everything in between. Carlos was standing close to me as we walked in, his cologne billowing lightly around him. I was drowning in it, my mind lingering back on the night before. I had given in again to the voice in my head, against my better judgment, and let my desires take over. Carlos had filled me, and slowly we had built to a crescendo, a carefully orchestrated opera made up of our panted breaths. He had held me in a way no one else had. Tenderly supporting me, letting me set the pace. Magical didn‟t seem like a strong enough word to describe what it felt like. “You okay?” Carlos asked, leaning forward. He had swept his hair back into a French braid that gave the illusion of short hair. “Fine, mutt.” I glanced out over the dance floor and away from his handsome face. It had been a tough decision on what to wear tonight, mostly because I had to find a way to conceal my gun. Wearing a leather jacket had been out of the question, because I‟d burn up. So I had traded it in for one of my black suit jackets over a blue plaid button-down and a black fitted tee. Carlos reached over and slid his hand into the back pocket of my jeans. “Really? Because you aren‟t acting like it. Maybe I could help you relax?” I smacked his arm, gave him a shove for good measure. “Carlos, we‟re trying to be discreet.” Carlos chuckled. He took his hand out of my pocket and straightened his olive safari jacket as we walked deeper into the club. The music was loud, almost drowning out all conversation. Opposite the DJ booth was a stage, which was being set up for a live performance. “So what are we looking for?” I asked, leading the way to the bar. Carlos slid onto one of the stools, the polo he was wearing stretching over the muscles in his chest. All I wanted to do was lead him to the bathroom and see how much of last night we could recreate. I needed to keep my head out of the fucking clouds and into the job. “What can I get you boys?” the bartender asked, her blonde curls pinned up and bouncing around her heart-shaped face. She had smears of glitter beneath her hazel eyes, which brought out the traces of green in them. “A beer,” Carlos said, sliding her some cash, “and whatever he wants.” “Same,” I said.

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She got us the two beers, lime wedges tucked into the mouths of the bottles. We shoved them in. Bubbles rose up as they hit the bottom. I pretended to take a sip as I turned my back to the bar and looked out over the crowd again. Carlos slipped off his stool to lean down next to my ear. “Let‟s split up and see if we can find anything suspicious. Text me if you find Victor or spot anything.” I didn‟t like the idea of splitting up, but I nodded anyway. “Okay.” Carlos walked off, vanishing behind a crowd of twentysomething girls celebrating what looked like a birthday. Their eyes followed Carlos as he brushed past them. It was hard not to stare when his hips swung back and forth so enticingly. I snapped my gaze away and walked off, glancing briefly at the stage. I could feel the music inside me, an itch beneath my skin that I couldn‟t scratch. It was dominating, coercing the people around me to move onto the dance floor. I bypassed a group of frat boys that looked like they were working on their tenth beer from the way they swayed and laughed, like a wild pack of hyenas. I moved over to an empty booth on the other side of the dance floor, giving me a good view of the area. I pretended to take another sip of beer and watched the gyrating mass in the center of the club. There wasn‟t a shred of power in the air. Where was Victor Bradford? He could fill a room with his aura. All I could sense was the distant mark of Carlos as he flitted about, his charming smile locked into place. I spotted Carlos moving around the club. He stopped briefly when someone moved in front of him. Girls were drawn to him like moths, and pride swelled in me when he merely brushed them aside. I was not enjoying the fact that I held his attention. But still. The night before flashed in my mind, and a shiver ran through me. I had screamed so loudly as he moved inside me, rocking me into a slow orgasm. Oh God. I need to change my line of thought, and fast. Screw being on the job! I took a sip of beer, letting the blend of citrus and oak block images of Carlos naked and bending over me, his face contorted in pleasure, sweat beading along his brow. “Detective Bourne?” Lloyd Sullivan approached the booth, his eyes wide. I coughed, nearly choking on my beer. His black hair was loose, curling around his angular face and drawing out his watery eyes. He was dressed in a pair of tight black jeans, hung low on his tapered hips, and a gray utility shirt with the sleeves rolled up over his biceps. There was a brooding pout to his lips, and his eyes had darkened with curiosity. “Mr. Sullivan,” I said, feeling the gentle roll of his aura. I had been so lost in my thoughts that I hadn‟t even felt him approach. Fucking Carlos. He was starting to get to me. I gave him a mental shove and watched him stumble from the corner of my eye. “What are you doing here?” Lloyd asked. “Same as everyone else.” I held my beer up before taking a long swig.

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He gave me a skeptical look before shrugging and sliding into the booth across from me. I quickly looked out over the crowd and caught Carlos‟s eye. He glared at me, but he controlled his inner beast. I couldn‟t tell if he was agitated that Lloyd was right there, or if it was from the shove. Lloyd picked up a stray napkin that had been left on the table and began to tear it into small pieces. “What are you doing here? Do you work today?” I asked, eying his wardrobe. He looked good in the dark combination. Lloyd shook his head and reached up to tuck the right side of his hair behind his ear. “My band is playing today.” That‟s right; he had told us he had a gig. I reached over the table and snatched the half-ripped-up napkin from his hands. “Are you all right?” Lloyd looked up, his eyes going wild with guilt. He gave me a tight-lipped smile. “You look good.” “Thanks,” I said cautiously, picking my beer back up. “Lloyd, did you ever talk to Dawson about his gambling?” Lloyd‟s fingers twitched on top of the table, anxious to move. He shook his head no, but then said, “Well…” He looked like he wanted to say more, his eyes flicking back and forth, sinking in and going bleary. He didn‟t go on, though; he just kept staring around, waiting for something to jump out. When the current song ended, the DJ cut the music completely. “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Bad Dogs.” Lloyd looked up. A rustling of his power weakly rolled over me, calling to me like the distant cry of a child. He rose up, his hand lingering on the table, before he finally walked off toward the stage. Everyone applauded as Lloyd stalked up on stage, transforming into a rock star the moment his foot landed on the first step. I leaned back in the booth and took a slow sip of beer as I watched. Lloyd looked out over the crowd, his gaze searching as his bandmates took up their instruments. His eyes locked with mine, and he held my gaze. Even from here, I could see their color change, like stones falling into a lake. He leaned his head forward. His hair spilled over his face in a veil, hiding the glossy gleam of his eyes. He grabbed the microphone as if he were grabbing on to a life preserver. They started playing an alternative rock style that didn‟t seem quite right for the club but somehow made itself comfortable and at home. When Lloyd started singing, I had to bite my tongue. His voice was a raspy bass-baritone, haunting vocals that were whiskey dry and sensuously raw. His emotions seeped into each word, saturating them, so that they overflowed and punctuated the intoxicated crowd. I watched him as he swayed back and forth, playing the crowd and becoming a sex god. There was something extremely erotic about the way he moved along the stage, pouring his heart out into his song. The hesitance, the fear, the nagging remorse and mourning that usually cowed him, vanished and were replaced by

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energy and life, power that fell off him and drew out an energy that was neither man nor beast, but merely Lloyd himself. I swallowed another sip of beer and pulled myself away from Lloyd‟s performance. I wasn‟t supposed to be watching him, though he had been acting weird earlier. “Fuck, where is Carlos?” I ran a hand down my face. Lloyd was singing about haunting nights, eternal love, and the moonlight playing over the world. It was fucking with my head. I slipped out of the booth and looked around the club for my partner. He was standing over in the far corner, his gaze locked on Lloyd with a mixed look of fascination and annoyance. I pushed past the crowd and edged my way toward him. Lloyd‟s song was alive, moving around me and drawing me into the fray. Carlos kept watching, fighting the music. A few people were dancing, some just swaying, but everyone was listening. Someone, short and dark-haired and very familiar-looking, walked up to Carlos, breaking the trance Carlos was in. I narrowed my eyes and nudged the crowd with my mind so that I could move more easily. Lloyd‟s voice grew deeper, taking on a wolfish growl that stroked every erogenous zone my body had. I paused, shuddering as the feel of fur ran over me. From the corner of my eye, I spotted Victor stepping out from the back room next to the stage. I glanced over at Carlos briefly, debated on fetching him. His head was bent low as he talked to the dark-haired man, their conversation intimate. I gritted my teeth, refusing to acknowledge the jealous spark that flared inside me. He could talk to whomever he wanted. I turned sharply on my heels and walked over to Victor. He was dressed in a clean-cut navy suit with a pale blue tie, looking more ready for the office then a night out at a club. A guitar solo began, and Lloyd swayed, looking over at me as I made my way over to Victor. Lloyd flashed me a bright smile, but his eyes still held a note of sadness to them, almost pleading for me to step up onto the stage and save him. I looked away; I‟d deal with him later. Right now, I wanted to talk to Victor. “Hello, Mr. Bradford.” Victor looked at me, surprise briefly lighting his eyes. It was only for a split second, though, and then it was replaced by a tepid smile. He bowed his head in my direction. “Detective Bourne. What brings you here?” “Could we talk?” I asked, raising my voice over the music. “Of course.” He waved me in the direction of a cleared-out corner. I looked back over my shoulder as he led the way, hoping to catch Carlos‟s eye. He didn‟t look up from his conversation with the dark-haired man, pissing me off. Who the fuck was he talking to? A suspect? Someone who could help? They looked a little too chummy to be talking business. “What can I do for you?” Victor asked.

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I set my beer down on a nearby table and looked back over at Lloyd. “He‟s very talented.” “Yes, his band brings in quite the crowd,” Victor said, nodding approvingly. I slipped my hands into my jeans and nonchalantly rocked back on my heels. Victor‟s stare was isolated, looking over everything from a higher place. His jaw was tight, his shoulders straight back, his spine rigid with strain. “Have you been able to find anything else out about the murders?” Victor asked, still not facing me. I stopped rocking on my heels, dropped my shoulders in a so-so shrug. “We‟ve found out a lot.” Victor finally looked at me, his eyes unexplainable pools that only reflected back the ever-changing colors of the lights. He tilted his head to the side, his lips pressed into a thin line. “What is it I can do for you, Detective Bourne?” “I spoke to Darius Crowe the other day,” I said, pulling my hands out of my pockets so I could have them free. My eyes trailed over to Lloyd. His song changed. The pace was still fast, still animated and passionate, the lyrics filled with promises and rebellion and sensuous ties to the stars. Victor didn‟t say anything, so I kept talking. “Being his beta gives you a lot of power, doesn‟t it, Mr. Bradford?” Victor looked away, watching Lloyd‟s performance. I could see why he brought in the crowd; Lloyd was a natural entertainer. He was made for the stage, made for music. “It does.” I had the impression that his words were being carefully chosen. “It‟s my job to enforce the alpha‟s rules and command. I keep everyone in line.” “Has there been anyone getting out of line in the pack?” I asked. He was keeping his powers in control, not letting his emotions flare out. Pretty impressive. “Am I a suspect, Detective Bourne?” Victor asked. “I‟m just trying to figure things out, Mr. Bradford. That‟s all.” “As far as I know,” Victor said, his voice still calm, “there haven‟t been any disturbances in the pack. Whoever is doing this, for whatever reason, I don‟t know.” “Do you know a Jason Devereux? Is there anyone in the pack by that name?” I asked, keeping myself in check. Just saying his name made me want to pour hot wax in my mouth. “No,” Victor said, his brows creasing into a sharp line. “Why?” I studied his face, trying to smooth out the wrinkles so I could see into his glassy eyes. They were like mirrors, and the thing about mirrors was that you could never see what was beyond them. They only showed you your own goddamn reflection.

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“I find it hard to believe there isn‟t something going on in the pack. Two members are dead by someone who is a lycanthrope, and then a human dies by the same fate,” I said. “How is it the one person in charge of watching over everything hasn‟t seen a thing?” “Are you insinuating something, Detective?” “I‟m just saying,” I said, my mouth twitching into a smirk, “it‟s rather strange.” “Should I get a lawyer?” Victor asked, looking down at me. He was all business. Not a flicker of emotion showed on his face. “I don‟t know, Mr. Bradford. You tell me if you think you need one,” I said, tilting my head up toward him. Victor smiled faintly and nodded, turning away from me. “Enjoy your evening, Detective Bourne.” He walked off, leaving me standing there with no more answers than what I‟d started with. I watched him walk over to the bar, not once looking back to me. I let out a sigh. “Fuck.” Where was Carlos? Lloyd stopped singing and called out, “Thank you! We‟ll be back after a short break.” I walked over to where I‟d seen him last, still standing next to the dark-haired man. The mystery man turned, giving me a view of his profile. I stopped in my tracks, glaring at the familiar reporter who had been hounding us. The same one who had been spewing false reports and making my job ten times harder. Was he hounding Carlos for more answers? Fuck, I hated reporters. Carlos looked up, as if sensing my anger. The reporter touched Carlos‟s cheek gently and turned his face back to him. What the fuck was that? “Detective,” Lloyd said from behind me, startling me out of my fury. It took all my strength to turn around and not storm over to Carlos and the twit of a reporter. Letting out a long breath, I looked at Lloyd. His eyes had gone pathetic again, his energy ending with the song. His hair still fell in his face, and I had the urge to brush it back behind his ears. “Call me Theo,” I said. That seemed to brighten him up again. He kind of reminded me of a puppy. “Theo.” Lloyd seemed to be testing my name out on his tongue. It came out rather sexual, like a soft, rapturous moan. “Right,” I said slowly, shifting the weight on my feet. “What can I do for you?” He looked around nervously, his eyes darting over the crowd and to the corners before he grabbed my arm and pulled me over to the dank, quiet corner I had been standing in with Victor. I tugged my arm back and looked at him expectantly, an eyebrow raised. “Mr. Sullivan?”

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“Lloyd,” he said, the puppy smile twitching back to life. “Okay,” I said. “Lloyd. What is it?” Lloyd rubbed a hand up his arm; he was twitchy with panic. “I need your help.” “With what?” His eyes darted again, as if he expected the shadows to take shape and attack him. When nothing moved in for the kill, he looked back at me, panic still very much evident in his eyes. “I didn‟t know this would happen. I swear I didn‟t.” “What, Lloyd? What would happen?” I asked, stepping closer. He pulled back slightly, as if expecting me to hit him, but then decided against the tug and shifted closer. I set a hand on his arm, feeling slightly put off. I hated comforting paranoids; they were always so disconnected and jumpy. It got on my nerves. “Look, I can‟t help you if you don‟t talk to me. Now explain what you mean.” “I just brought him here to relax, to get out.” “Who? Dawson?” Lloyd nodded, swallowing a large lump. He looked eagerly toward the stage, as if willing himself to be on it singing again. I had to bite back a sigh and gave his arm a gentle, encouraging squeeze. “What happened, Lloyd?” “I need your help,” he said again. “I‟ll help you, Lloyd, but you need to tell me what happened.” He shook his head, dismissing my words. “He‟ll kill me if he finds out I‟m telling you this.” The music was a fast pop song done in a dance remix. It didn‟t fit the intense moment at all, but then again, you could never have a soundtrack for life. “Damn it, Lloyd,” I said, getting flustered. “Just tell me.” He bit his bottom lip, once more reminding me of a puppy that had been kicked. He seemed to concede, though, and slumped his shoulders. “He was strapped for cash. I brought him here to relax, to just…I don‟t know, be. I thought if he got out, it would help.” I wanted to tell him he had already said all this before, but I bit my tongue. Where was Carlos? He needed to be here for this. Oh wait…that’s right. He was with the bitch of a reporter. I could feel the steam building between my ears. “He got to talking to Terri.” Lloyd drew my attention back in. “I didn‟t know about it. I swear to God, I didn‟t. I never would have brought him here, I wouldn‟t fucking work here, if I had known. But I need the money, and they let my band play.” “Lloyd!” I snapped.

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He blinked, his eyes jerking to me. I could see the tears building in them, and my heart plummeted. Great, now I felt like an asshole for snapping at him. “They…they,” he said, choking up. “He said he found an answer to his problems.” The cogs in my mind began to spin, trying to connect all the bits of information. But everything was so scattered, all of the answers and questions like leaves blowing away in the wind. “People die,” Lloyd whispered. “I don‟t want to.” “Lloyd.” I grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to focus on me. “Nothing is going to happen. I won‟t let them hurt you, I promise. But what I need you to do now is come downtown with me so we can talk.” Lloyd shook his head, the muscles in his shoulders rippling with strain. He swiped his nose with his arm and shook his head. “I-I can‟t… I gotta play. We‟ll be back up soon.” “Lloyd, this is more important than a fucking performance.” I growled out. He hesitated, his eyes distant. I let out a long, heavy sigh and held my hands up in defeat. “Okay, okay. Play, but tomorrow, I want you to come in and tell us everything, okay? First thing in the morning.” Lloyd nodded and looked at me with a trembling smile. He was cute; he was real cute. Almost too cute. “Okay,” he said. “First thing.” He walked off, rejoining the rest of Bad Dogs. I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to ease the tension. When had going to a club gotten so complicated? I looked over at Carlos, the rest of the muscles in my body bunching. The prissy reporter was still there. I was so fucking done, it wasn‟t even funny. I stormed across the dance floor, practically throwing people out of my way with my mind. Carlos pulled away from the reporter, turned to me, and lifted a brow. The reporter had a smile on his pouting lips that was begging for a kiss, and I didn‟t like it. I stopped in front of Carlos, loomed over the midget, and growled out, “We‟re leaving, now.” Carlos cracked a toothy grin, not at all threatened by my glare of death. Yeah, well, wait till we got home. “Corazón.” Carlos stepped around the reporter toward me. “Are you ready to go so soon?” “Cut the bullshit, mutt,” I snapped, barely able to keep myself from punching him square in the face. I knew it shouldn‟t piss me off. We weren‟t together, and Carlos was free to talk to whomever he wanted. But it did, and I wasn‟t the type to just sit back and idly watch. Rhett could attest to that. “Have you met Abe Patel?” Carlos asked, gesturing at the dark-haired man. He couldn‟t have been taller than five-five, of mixed race with Indian descent. His eyes

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were olive, bright against his deep, burnished brown skin. He was cute, in a willowy sort of way, just like the twinks Rhett had cheated on me with. The exact opposite of me. I had the sudden urge to stomp his ass. I gave Abe a passing glance and then jerked my thumb toward the exit. “Did I not make myself clear? We‟re leaving. Now.” There was a gleam in Carlos‟s eyes. He was enjoying this a little too much. “Is there a problem?” Abe asked, having to strain his neck to meet my eyes. Heh, shorty. “Not one that‟s your business,” I said flatly. I turned on my heels and walked away, not waiting for Carlos to follow. With each step, I tried to cool my anger, to clear my head and keep myself in check. The cool air outside seemed to bring my temperature down a few degrees. The wind was brisk and drew my breath out in a sharp suck, like the air in a vacuum. Tendrils of white floated up and evaporated, then were gone in a blink. The first time Rhett had cheated on me, I‟d been like one of those cliché suburban wives. I knew what was going on, I wasn‟t blind, but I had been so fucking in love that I chose not to see it. I chose to ignore what was in front of me, because I was too scared of what might happen to me without him. I had believed I couldn‟t make it. He had flirted with some guy one night we were out; I don‟t even think he knew the guy‟s name. Rhett probably thought I was drunk or distracted. But I wasn‟t. I just pretended to be. Just like I pretended to be happy, and for a while, I hadn‟t had to pretend. I didn‟t doubt that they fucked that night, and by then, I no longer cared. “Theo!” Carlos called out behind me. I kept walking, letting my thoughts fall away. The street was lit up, a million lights streaming in a million different directions. Careless drunks stumbled down the sidewalk; a set of girls leaned against each other for support. Taxis idled at the side of the road as cars tried to make their way farther down High Street. There was a cop car a few buildings down and what looked like someone being arrested for disorderly conduct. Carlos grabbed my arm and wheeled me around, his strength barely restrained. I glared up at him, drawing up more of my anger, refusing to let the flames flicker out. I held on to Rhett and his ways, refusing to become another stupidly blind victim. “Mi corazón, why are you so angry?” Carlos asked, searching my face. I narrowed my eyes and practically snarled at him. “Don‟t fuck with me, Carlos. I‟m not stupid.” I jerked my arm free, slamming a blow of energy into his chest so hard that he stumbled back. “You can do whatever the fuck you want, but I‟m not going to play into it. I went down that path before. I‟m not doing it again.” “Mi corazón,” Carlos tried again, but I turned away from him.

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“Find your own way home. I‟m going to stay with my aunt,” I said, walking to the parking garage. “Damn it.” Carlos was at my side in a flash. Fucking supernatural speed. Fucking coyote. “Will you calm down?” I snarled at him this time, pushing him back again with a surge of energy. Carlos let out a growl, his eyes snapping to topaz and his aura flaring out like a great explosion. There were a few people who stopped, their bleary eyes locking on us, their own prickles of aura dancing along the edges of Carlos‟s and mine. But then they kept walking, stumbling a bit faster, trying to get away before they got caught up in the war. “I am calm,” I said, the words sharp needles threaded with cyanide. “In fact, I‟m the epitome of calm, Carlos. I‟m also fucking tired. This”—I jammed my finger at the club, the source of all my life‟s problems right now—“is why I don‟t fucking do relationships. Why I don‟t even see the people I fuck after one night. Because it‟s all bullshit. All of it!” “Nothing happened!” Carlos growled, looming over me. He was restraining himself, I could tell, to keep himself from lashing out. I knew it was a struggle, especially with the full moon so close, and I knew I was playing a dangerous game. Carlos could kill me in a fit of anger; he could easily shred me to pieces. And even if he didn‟t kill me, if he simply cut me, I could get infected. It was dangerous, so dangerous, but I couldn‟t back down, because, I thought, just maybe, it was worth fighting. “I don‟t want to know,” I said, shaking my head, “if something happened or not. But I‟m not blind, Carlos. There was something there, and you know what? I can‟t stop it. I don‟t want to. We aren‟t together, we haven‟t been, and you‟re free to be with whomever you want.” “Fuck!” Carlos bellowed, sounding like an enraged beast ready to tear through the city. That did make several people stop and turn their heads, and I was half tempted to send them all flying. They needed to mind their own fucking business. I snarled at a drunk blonde with her top half down, an arm flung over some linebacker. “What the fuck are you looking at?” She tugged at her date, pulling him into the taxi that was waiting for them. Carlos snatched my arm again, shaking me so that my teeth rattled in my skull. “Are you fucking stupid? Damn it, Theo! Nothing happened. I‟m not fucking interested in Abe!” Air rushed past me, and for a split second, I thought that Carlos had tried to punch me. But if he‟d wanted to hurt me, he wouldn‟t miss. Concrete exploded behind me, and Carlos jerked me to the left, spinning around so that he was standing in front of me like some great shield. He whipped his gun out of his holster and held it out, scanning the darkness for the shooter.

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My heart pounded, and my ear still rang from the bullet whizzing by. I pulled my arm free and grabbed my own gun, turning so that my back was pressed against Carlos. All the hurt, all the pain, all the mistrust and confusion, evaporated, vanished as the world narrowed and our minds focused on staying alive. Whatever was happening between us emotionally, whatever was going on, didn‟t matter right now. Nothing would change the fact that I did trust Carlos with my life. He had proven already that he was a damn good partner. “Do you see anything?” I asked, trying to make sense of the glaring lights and dancing shadows. The rooftops from my side were clear. “Nothing,” Carlos said, not sounding convinced. Someone really wanted us dead, which meant we were really fucking close to solving this case. “We need to get out of here; there are too many bystanders,” I said, not moving. “And risk a car chase?” I could feel the tension in his back muscles. “So what do you suggest?” “Fuck,” Carlos whispered. I could picture his brow crinkling with irritation. “Whoever it is probably already ran…” I began, when Carlos jerked back, barking in pain. I spun around, caught the glint of metal against the dazzling lights of the club sign across the street. Carlos grabbed his shoulder and gritted his teeth in agonizing pain. “Silver,” Carlos wheezed. Something snapped inside me. This was serious business. Silver was for killing lycanthropes; whoever was after us knew Carlos was lycan. I pressed a hand to his shoulder. “Take cover.” “Theo, no.” I dismissed Carlos‟s order. I catapulted myself into the air and barreled toward the signpost. Part of me wondered if it was Jason, but I knew better. Jason didn‟t use guns. He was a hands-on kind of guy. Whoever this guy was, he didn‟t expect me to come at him. I could hear people down below, cursing and gasping and sputtering, but I tuned everything out. I landed behind the sniper and released a deluge of power. The rifle flew up into the air, along with the sniper. As I turned him to face me, his dim gray eyes widened. I must have looked menacing, because he looked ready to piss his pants. Good, cry, bitch. Fucking scream. “Wrong move, fucker,” I growled out, and I slammed him down into the concrete. Something pushed against my power, sent me stumbling briefly, and wavered my concentration enough to break my hold on him. The rifle fell to the ground below with a hollow clank.

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I grinned, sweat rolling down my brow. My knee screamed from the landing, and my shoulder ached. I was not a happy camper at the moment. “So you have a few tricks up your sleeves.” “Enough to kill you,” he said, his blond hair blowing in the wind. He was young, almost too young. Still just a baby. His energy hit me, not strong enough to knock me backward, but capable of throwing my gun from my hand. I hated fighting other telekinetic people. They always made it so fucking difficult. He jumped to his feet and made a lunge toward me. I veered to the right and slammed my fist into his gut, savoring his sharp cry of pain. I followed through with a left hook, which sent him sprawling on the ground. I held my right hand out, and my gun flew back into it. The sniper pushed himself up slowly, spitting blood and a tooth out onto the rooftop. “Don‟t move,” I said, my gun aimed at his head, “or I‟ll blow your brains all over this rooftop. Now, who the fuck sent you?” He wouldn‟t answer. They never answer. That made my job too easy. He wiped blood from his mouth, smearing garish red all over his lips, like a little kid with their mother‟s lipstick. His lips parted in a grin that was still too fresh to be insane, but on its way there. “Fuck you, pig.” “There isn‟t anyone up here who knows what‟s going on. So let me put it this way.” I shook my gun for emphasis. “You either tell me who the fuck sent you, or I will blow your damn brains out. I‟m a cop; I can make your death look like anything I want it to.” There was a flicker of doubt in his eyes, the answer to everything suspended in his glassy orbs. But then it vanished, and he sent another roll of power at me. The gun flew out of my hand and over the ledge. “Now what, you goddamn pig?” the sniper growled, pushing himself back up to his feet. I liked that gun, damn it. I slammed my foot into his chest and sent him flying back. “You wanna play? Let‟s go, you bastard!” My right leg gave out for a second as I brought it back down, pain ricocheting up it like a stray bullet. The sniper got to his feet and struck, his fist connecting with my gut. The air rushed out of me as I bowed against the blow. He moved in for another shot, and I ducked, swerving out of his aim. I dropped to the ground, swiped my leg out, and knocked his feet out from under him. His head cracked against the rooftop, and he lay there for a second, stunned. I climbed to my feet, panting and squinting against the lights. I favored my left leg, trying to ease the pain that was dogging me. I couldn‟t hold out much longer in a fistfight, not with my bum knee.

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I lifted him into the air as he began to pull himself together and held him up high. “Now, are you going to cooperate?” I yelled up at him. His head jerked back and forth, like he was expecting someone else to jump out at him. He twisted, trying to break my mental hold on him. When he couldn‟t fight it, he threw his power in a final blast at me. It was an explosion of energy that sent us both backward. I fell on my ass as he was pitched over the rooftop. “Fuck!” I yelled, scrambling to my feet and ignoring my knee. I ran to the roof‟s edge and leaned over just as his body hit the ground. The force of the fall was so great that he actually bounced back up a bit before finally landing like a rag doll. Blood wreathed around his head, glistening like freshly made candy apples beneath the street lights. Someone screamed. A lot of people screamed. I was screaming. His body lay sprawled out, one arm bent at an odd angle, his right leg so jacked that my knee pain seemed tame in comparison. As I stared down at him, I swallowed the vomit that rose up inside me. I could still see the fear in his eyes. It had been like looking into the eyes of a cornered animal. He had known what would happen.

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Chapter Nine I was exhausted by the time we got back to Carlos‟s house. After dealing with the aftermath of the sniper (whose name turned out to be Kyle Wolowitz), Carlos and I both went to the hospital to get looked at. Carlos had to get stitches for his gunshot wound, but come tomorrow, it would be healed. He had the luxury of advanced healing. I got yelled at again for fucking my knee up. My shoulder was healing nicely, but my knee was taking a lot of strain, so they wrapped it and told me to take it easy—no strenuous activities. Somehow, I didn‟t think I‟d get that lucky. “I just want to take a shower and crawl into bed,” I said, the energy zapped from me. I didn‟t even have the strength to continue our fight, not that I really wanted to. “Mi corazón.” His tone spoke volumes. He wanted to continue our conversation, and I knew I couldn‟t get out of it. “We still need to talk.” “Carlos, it‟s almost four o‟clock in the morning. We still have to go to work. Let‟s not do this. Not now.” I pinched the bridge of my nose to fight back a tension headache. Carlos stepped up to me and set his hands on my arms. “We do.” I gave him a skeptical look, gauging his expression. His face was serious, all the teasing gone. I let out a sigh and nodded, not sure what else to do. My gut gave a lurch and a twist, and part of my anger began to stir, like embers rustling in the wind, the sleeping flames awakening. “Fine. Let‟s talk.” “Don‟t,” Carlos said, keeping his voice placid. “Don‟t start getting mad. Mi corazón, I‟m not going to hurt you. I‟m not that guy. I‟m not like the one who tried to break you. I won‟t tell you I love you and then jump into bed with the next willing body.” Yeah, I had heard that one before. “Carlos, I don‟t care, okay? It isn‟t my business who you sleep with. We never said we were dating or that we were monogamous.” “Damn it!” he shouted, throwing his hands up in frustration. “Why aren‟t you listening? Hijo de puta! Listen to me! I am not with Abe!”

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He grabbed me again, firmly planting me in place. “I don‟t want anyone but you,” he said, enunciating each word. “Yes, you‟re right. There was something there, but that‟s because Abe and I used to date a few years ago, before I became alpha. But I broke it off, because I was still in fucking love with you, you fucking moron.” His shoulders were heaving up and down as he panted, his body one big, frustrated twitch. I now officially felt like a jackass. I swallowed, opened my mouth to say something, but Carlos kept talking. “I‟m not going anywhere, like I‟ve told you time and time again. You‟re stuck with me, and one way or another, I‟m going to make you love me.” He lifted a hand and cupped my face. “So just do us all a favor and give up this fight. I know you‟re scared, that you‟ve been hurt over and over again. But I‟m not going to hurt you, mi corazón. I promise.” I closed my eyes, taking in the feel of his hand against my cheek. When he‟d gotten shot, I thought my heart had stopped. As mad as I was, as hurt as I felt, I didn‟t want him to get hurt. I didn‟t want to lose him. “Corazón?” I opened my eyes and gave him a soft smile. “Do you want to take a shower with me?” Carlos blinked, taken aback at first, but then said, “Yeah.” I took his hand in mine and pulled him into the bathroom, no longer wanting to talk. I was tired, he was tired, and we both just needed to relax. Carlos followed me, a pleasant smile spreading across his face like a cat given a big bowl of cream. I dropped his hand and began to pull off my clothes, dropping them on the toilet. His bathroom was white, large enough for both of us to move around easily. At one end was a large walk-in shower that three grown men could fit comfortably in. The toilet and sink were adjacent to it. I carefully removed the bandages on my left shoulder and knee, testing the weight on my leg. The doctors had given me some pills to ease the pain if I needed them. “God, corazón.” Carlos ran his fingers over the puckered wound in my left shoulder. He had a mirroring one, but even now, it looked ten times better. “It‟s fine,” I assured him, brushing his hand away. I leaned into the shower and turned it on. As it grew warmer, steam began to fill the bathroom. Carlos wrapped his arms around me from behind and pressed a kiss to the crook of my neck. “Do you know how unbelievably sexy you are?” I could feel the bulge in his pants. I pressed my ass back against him, rolling my hips to tease him. “So I‟ve been told,” I drawled out, stepping away from him and moving into the shower.

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Carlos shucked the rest of his clothes and followed me in, edging me under the warm spray. I tipped my head back, running my hands through my soaked hair and enjoying the feel of the hot water running down my skin. I could feel some of the stress wash away, spiraling down the drain. Carlos stepped up to me, his hands finding my hips. He leaned forward and pressed his mouth to my throat, sucking hungrily at the skin. I let out a startled gasp and found his shoulders. “Carlos,” I murmured, tugging out his hair tie and undoing his French braid. Wet strands fell over his shoulders, framing his strong face. “Shh, just let me take care of you,” Carlos said, already moving down to my collarbone and shoulders. He gave my left shoulder extra attention, dotting it in delicate kisses. All the exhaustion in me left as his lips branded my skin, taking me captive in his hands. I stared up at the ceiling, completely breathless as he trailed down, drawing in my left nipple. He tongued the ring, pulling at it so just the right amount of pain shot through me. He really did like it. Maybe I should get another one. He dropped to his knees, and I looked down at him, water falling in my eyes. “What are you doing?” Carlos grinned, his mouth hovering over my very hard dick. “What does it look like?” Carlos asked, all hot breath and textured words. “I‟m taking care of you, mi corazón.” He swallowed me up, surrounding me in amazing warmth. I let out a long, low moan. My eyes fluttered shut as intense pleasure engulfed me. It was like a piece of heaven, his tongue working around me and rubbing all the right places. My God, his tongue. My whole body sagged, my knees about to buckle and give out. I leaned against the shower wall, barely able to hold myself up as his head began to bob. He took me deep, taking me to the root and then pulling back off all the way to the head. “Shit,” I whispered as my hands tangled in his hair, fingers locking tight and pulling hard. He hooked one arm around my knees, helping to brace me, and the other hand firmly gripped my hip. It was like being encased in silken fire, the heat helping to boil the ecstasy, his tongue and lips sliding smoothly across my skin. My hips began to involuntarily move forward, thrusting into his mouth to seek out more of him. The hand on my hip slid around, grabbed my ass, and squeezed. My eyes closed to block out the water. A pitchy moan rose up in me as my body began to edge toward rapture. I felt his finger move toward my entrance, pushing against the puckered ring. He slid two digits in, thrusting with the same ferocity he always used. My eyes shot open in surprise, and I let out a startled, raspy groan. It didn‟t take long for him to bring me to the height of my pleasure. With just a few fucks of his fingers and laps of his tongue, I was a withering mess. I groaned as

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I climaxed, thrusting into his mouth with sporadic jerks of my hips. He took it all, sucking greedily, swallowing my seed without hesitation. When my climax subsided and my hips stopped moving, he pulled back, his red tongue flicking out at my tip for the final pearl of cum. I fell back against the shower wall, panting heavily and staring down at him with hazy eyes. He was still hard. “Carlos, do you want me to…” I gestured at his situation. He rose up, licking his lips and brushing back the hair from his face. There was a satisfied smile on his face, despite the fact that his dick was still at full mast. “No, you‟re exhausted. I can take care of it.” I grunted weakly and pushed off the wall, stepping up to him. “I want to take care of it,” I said, pulling him into a kiss. He tasted salty, like me, but I didn‟t mind. As his tongue found mine, I reached between us and began to jerk him off. He was so hard that it didn‟t take long. With a few strokes, he was melting in my hand. He came, holding on to me like I might vanish. When we were both sated and satisfied, we began to wash up, taking our time to rediscover each other‟s bodies. He couldn‟t keep his lips off me, and I couldn‟t say I minded, because I wasn‟t doing much better. I ran my tongue down his chest, sucking at his nipples and seeing how salty-sweet his skin was. I even showered his tattoo in adoration, tracing the letters with my tongue. We ended up coming to our peaks two more times before we finally finished bathing and dragged our sorry asses to bed. Carlos held me tightly that night, his arms wrapped around me, one leg thrown over mine. I fell asleep with a smile for the first time in I don‟t know how long, and the dreams were kept at bay because of him.

*** To say the least, we wound up being late for work. I pulled my tie loose so that it hung limply around my neck, the knot a quarter of the way down. I rubbed my face as we walked into the office and headed straight for my desk chair, collapsing into it. “Fuck, I‟m tired.” We had woken up in a panic, running around like chickens with our heads cut off. Carlos looked at me and took pity. “I‟ll get some coffee.” I rolled my eyes at him. “Thank you.” He smirked and vanished down the hall. Before we‟d been woken up by the glare of the sun, I had been warmly wrapped in Carlos‟s embrace. The feel of his naked body against mine had been amazing. It wasn‟t sexual, but intimate. If we had been given the chance to wake at our leisure, it probably would have been an amazing morning. But that possibility had been shot and buried. I stretched out, my body cracking in various places. Fuck, I was getting old.

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My attention traveled over to the corkboard we were using, all the notes and pictures connected with various colors of string. There were a few things that needed to be added to it, so I grabbed some paper and began to jot down the jumbled information we had collected. Jason, Kyle, Lloyd, Dawson talking to Terri, and the word Fenrir. Once I got them pinned on the board, I stood back and observed the connecting threads, trying to sort my thoughts out. Carlos returned and passed me a cup of coffee, then dropped a report on his desk. I raised a brow, taking the cup graciously and sipping. “What‟s that?” I asked, lowering my cup. “The reports back from those two car chasers. Just as we suspected, they were lycanthropes. The driver actually matched the hair we had found.” I rubbed the back of my neck and looked at the board, nodding toward it. “You have an answer?” Carlos slowly sipped his coffee and studied the board, a sharp crease in his brow. “Fuck no.” “I talked to Lloyd the other day,” I said, leaning against Carlos‟s desk. He gave me a sharp, sideways look. I hid a smirk behind my coffee, savoring his jealousy. “What‟d he say?” Carlos asked, somewhat begrudgingly. I furrowed my brows, thinking back to the night before. Lloyd should be here soon. “He was acting strange,” I said, collecting my thoughts. “Scared and paranoid, like someone was out to get him. He kept telling me I had to help him.” “And?” “And then he slipped and told me that when he brought Dawson to The Hunting Moon, Dawson started talking to Terri.” Carlos took a pensive sip of coffee as he studied my new additions to the corkboard. I kept talking, filling Carlos in on what I‟d learned. “I also spoke with Victor. I wasn‟t able to get much out of him. The man was colder than a snowman.” “You think he‟s hiding something?” Carlos asked, reaching out and connecting Dawson and Terri‟s names together. “Well, I think it‟s interesting that we get attacked the night Victor is there. They knew we were there, Carlos; they had been waiting for us.” I tapped my fingers against my coffee mug in time to some mute rhythm. “Whoever is doing this has an arsenal of men at his disposal. Not only does he have access to lycanthropes, but that Kyle guy was a Phantom. Not powerful, but that doesn‟t change the fact that he still had the ability.” “Okay, so our victims are all broke-ass poor, struggling for money, and tied to The Hunting Moon in some way. They also all dropped dead.” Carlos glared at the board, as if he could intimidate the answers out of it. “Lloyd knows something, but he isn‟t talking.”

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“He‟s supposed to be dropping by later to tell us,” I said, offering some little ray of hope. Carlos snorted and took a sip of coffee, saying around the rim of the cup, “That‟s if he decides to show. He might balk on us.” “Victor is looking more and more suspicious,” I said, setting my mug down and walking up to the board. I pulled the piece of paper off that said Fenrir, holding it up to Carlos. “What do you think this means?” “I don‟t know. Not really. But you know who might?” Carlos drew up a brow. “Darius,” I said, following his line of thought. “Let‟s go pay our favorite lawyer a visit,” he said, smiling.

*** “What I don‟t understand,” I said as we pulled into the parking garage, “is how Jason works into this.” I stared out the window at the sky. It looked as if it might rain. Dark clouds were rolling in and blotting out the sun. This was the kind of day where I just wanted to stay in bed and have a James Bond marathon. Can we say Sean Connery? “I don‟t know,” Carlos admitted, reaching out and setting his hand on my shoulder. “But we‟ll figure it out, mi corazón. He isn‟t going to hurt you again.” There was something fiercely protective in Carlos‟s eyes. I nodded and pushed open the car door. I had let Carlos drive, mostly because I was still too fucking tired to focus on the road. Crowe wasn‟t expecting us, so I was hoping he was available. We headed into the building and up to his law office, sharing the elevator with a slinky blonde who had everything going up top. She flashed both Carlos and me a smile. When the doors swung open, Carlos tipped his head to her and flashed a roguish smile before stepping off the elevator. I didn‟t offer her the same charm as I stepped into the office, following Carlos. Crowe‟s receptionist was sitting behind her desk, clicking at her computer. What was her name? Melanie? Sarah? Stacy? Her intercom clicked on. “Melissa, can you get me a coffee?” Crowe‟s voice boomed out. Melissa. That was it, though I still said she looked like a Stacy. She batted her blue eyes and pushed a button. “Yes, sir.” When she looked up, she froze, her gaze flicking between us. Carlos flashed her a charming smile, and her body instantly melted into her seat. “Hello again, Melissa.” “Detectives,” Melissa said, restraining a giggle. “Could you let Darius know we‟re here to speak with him?” Carlos asked.

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Melissa nodded and hit the intercom again, keeping her eyes on Carlos as she said, “Mr. Crowe, Detectives Ramirez and Bourne are here to see you.” There was a pregnant pause before Crowe responded. “Cancel my lunch, Melissa, and send them in.” “Yes, sir,” she said obediently. “You may see him.” I felt like I should pat her on the head and give her a treat. I behaved, though, and followed Carlos into the office. Crowe was leaning back in his chair, a pleasant smile on his face. I was sure it was the same smile he used in court, the same kind a shark gives all the other fish in the sea—an “I‟m going to eat you” smile. “Detectives, how nice to see you again,” Crowe said, his voice dripping with sarcastic pleasantness. “I feel the same,” Carlos said. I could feel the power of each man playing with the other, like two dogs sizing each other up. I nudged Carlos to one of the seats and took my own. “What can I do for you?” Crowe asked. “We just have a few more questions for you,” Carlos said. Crowe‟s face smoothed out, instantly becoming amicable. “Of course. Have you found anything out? Have you caught the bastards who are doing this?” “Not yet,” Carlos said gently, trying to ease Crowe, “but we‟re close. That‟s why we want to talk to you again.” “What do you need?” He looked between us and reached up to straighten his bloodred tie. “What does the name, or word, Fenrir mean to you?” I asked. Crowe stared at me for a second, his face totally blank. Confused, maybe? He straightened his tie again, and I looked down at my own, which still hung around my neck more like a necklace. Ties sucked. “Fenrir?” Crowe repeated and then said, “Well, there‟s a lot of things that it could mean. Foremost, Fenrir was the son of the Norse god Loki and destined to kill the god Odin during Ragnarok. You could say for us wolves, Fenrir is somewhat important, since he represents the ultimate power of the wolf.” Why the fuck did Dawson have that name scrawled down? I felt like Alice spiraling down the rabbit hole. Things were getting crazier and crazier by the minute. “Does that name have any importance to you?” Carlos asked. I leaned back in my seat and looked around Crowe‟s office. It was designed contemporarily, with minimal potted plants. He had a nice panoramic view of the city, giving his office a great deal of light. There was a bookshelf to the right that was filled with law books and various knickknacks: an expensive blue glass vase, what looked like a genuine Fabergé egg, and a pewter statue of a giant ferocious wolf about to strike.

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“Well, I personally am fascinated by the legend of Fenrir. He was a powerful creature that rose up against the gods, conquering his trials,” Crowe said, his eyes lighting up. But then he shrugged and added, “But in general? No, not a clue. Other than a case of hero worship among the pack, there is no true importance to the name.” Carlos nodded. He had his notepad out and was writing down notes from Crowe‟s mini lesson. “We spoke to you earlier about Victor Bradford, your beta,” I said, debating on how to approach the topic. “Yes.” Crowe looked between us, his eyes now lit with worry. “What about him?” “Darius,” Carlos stepped in, “we believe Mr. Bradford might be connected to the murders. We wanted to ask you a few questions about him.” Crowe seemed to sag into himself, a balloon that was slowly losing all of its air. He rubbed his jaw and found a distant spot on his desk to stare at. “Sure…sure. What do you need to know?” “What can you tell us about Mr. Bradford? Have you noticed anything different within the pack since he‟s stepped up as your second?” I asked, trying to catch Crowe‟s eyes. He finally looked up. He dropped his hand into his lap as he leaned back into his chair again. He hit the intercom. “Melissa, where‟s my coffee?” He looked up at us, a brow raised in silent offer. Carlos and I both shook our heads no. “Sorry, sir, it‟ll be just a second,” Melissa chirped in a panic over the intercom. “I can‟t seem to function without the stuff,” Crowe chuckled humorlessly. We waited for him to go on, but he seemed to be debating something inside. Stalling? Unsure? Who knew. “Darius?” Carlos pressed. “I know,” Crowe said, his mouth pursing into a cluster of wrinkles. “Victor is a good man. A strong fighter and a hard worker…” There was a tap at the door, and then Melissa‟s head popped in. “Your coffee, sir.” She stepped in, daintily crossed the room, and passed Crowe his coffee in a sleek black mug. There was a pretty smile on her face as she looked at him. Crowe took the coffee without saying anything, and Melissa quietly excused herself, exiting as quickly as she came in. “What about The Hunting Moon? He started it?” Carlos asked. “Yes.” Crowe‟s voice wavered. “More or less. He had trouble getting it off the ground, so he had to get some backing.”

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“What about the pack? Any disturbances? Changes?” Carlos asked, jotting down some more notes. “Well…” Crowe began, eying both of us. He faltered and took a slow sip of his coffee. Carlos raised a brow, staring at him expectantly. “The pack has been in an uproar since the murders. Some of the members seem to be getting hostile.” “And it‟s Mr. Bradford‟s job to keep them in order?” “Yes,” Crowe said. Suddenly, I understood. The weight of the world was suddenly resting on Crowe‟s shoulders. He was facing a literal pack of angry wolves, and the one person who was supposed to be standing beside him had abandoned him. My phone started to go off in my pocket, sending rapid vibrations up and down my thigh. I slipped it out and looked at the screen, noticing Scott‟s name flashing on it. I rose and nodded toward the door. “I have to take this. If you‟ll excuse me?” Carlos gave me a sharp look but didn‟t say anything as I vanished out the door before answering my phone. “What is it, Scott?” “Um, I think you‟re gonna want to come down to this crime scene, Theo,” Scott said nervously. “Why? Can‟t you handle it?” I asked, barely able to keep the irritation from my voice. “It‟s not that,” Scott said. “We got a call for a disturbance at this apartment building. Some old lady called in, saying she heard what sounded like a struggle and two wolves.” “And?” “And you remember that research I did for you and Carlos on that Dawson guy? Well, the call came from the guy‟s apartment, specifically, his,” Scott said. My heart gave a sputter and then stopped. “Lloyd,” I whispered, my eyes growing wide. “It looks like there was a real struggle, and we can‟t seem to find anyone,” Scott explained, beginning to ramble. “I got it, Scott. We‟re on our way.” I hung up without a good-bye. Fuck, fuck, fuck! I‟d promised Lloyd that I‟d protect him, and I couldn‟t even do that. What if he was hurt? What if he was dead? I couldn‟t accept that; I couldn‟t let one more person die at my expense. I rushed into the office. “We‟ve got to go, Carlos. Now!” “What? Theo…” He nodded when he saw my face, not arguing further. He turned back to Crowe and got to his feet. “Thank you for your time, Darius.” “Right.” Crowe looked between us. “Let me know if I can be of further help.” “We will,” I heard Carlos say. I was already running to the elevator, my heart kicking back into gear and pounding like it wanted to escape my body. Carlos

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waited until we were in the car and flying down the street, heading toward Hilltop, before he said anything. “What the fuck is going on?” I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, staring at the road like I could will a portal to open up and take us straight to Lloyd‟s apartment. I couldn‟t make that happen, so I had to fight my anxiety and blow through the traffic like a madman. “Scott got a call about a disturbance at an apartment. Guess whose apartment?” I asked through gritted teeth, sharply changing lanes without a signal and then running a red light. I put the siren on the dash and flicked it on so people would move the fuck out of my way as the car jumped down a slope. Carlos threw a hand up onto the roof to steady himself. “Shit, Theo! Slow down!” “I promised him I‟d keep him safe, and now he‟s probably fucking lying in a ditch dead!” I shouted, furious with myself. I should have gone looking for him when he didn‟t show up. “Who?” Carlos shouted over the siren, slamming his feet into the car floor as I took a sharp turn. “Lloyd!” I yelled, not taking my eyes off the road. “He‟s fucking missing! He was going to tell us what the fuck is going on, and now he‟s gone!” I could see the apartment complex cresting over the horizon, and I leaned on the gas. The Crown Vic lurched forward, and we flew into the parking lot where a row of police cars were idling, along with another unmarked car. I slammed on the brakes and threw it into park. Carlos slammed into the dashboard. “Son of a bitch!” Carlos groaned, pushing himself up. “Wear your seat belt next time,” I said, climbing out of the car. I pulled my badge out and flashed it to the officer on guard, then rushed into the building and up to Lloyd‟s apartment. A few guards were milling outside the door, keeping curious neighbors from peeking into the disaster that was Lloyd‟s home. Do-not-cross tape marked off Lloyd‟s door. I pushed the tape up and stepped in, my gaze sweeping over the apartment. It had been messy before, but now it looked like a bomb had gone off. It almost made my own destroyed place pale in comparison. The furniture was overturned and broken, lamps lay shattered on the floor, and holes had been punched into the wall. Stuffing was blooming from the couch, scattered like it had been caught in a gale. On the wall a long streak of blood lay next to a large hole someone had punched through the drywall. Scott stepped out of a bedroom and said, “Theo.” His smoky gray eyes were sympathetic. A wilting smile fell across his mouth. He was dressed in an ostentatious shirt that had a bold red pattern on it and a gray suit, no tie. He got a pair of gloves and passed them to me. Carlos came in, collected his own pair of gloves, and shot me a slightly vexed glare. I ignored him and slipped the gloves on. “What happened?”

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“The neighbor from across the hall called in a disturbance this morning. She said she heard some fighting and shouting and then what sounded like a wolf. By the time we got here, the apartment was empty.” Scott walked over to the blood smear. “The fight was isolated to the living room. We found traces of fur on the floor and found claw marks. It looks like there had been at least three werewolves in the apartment.” I pressed a finger against the large dent in the wall. “Did you take a sample of the blood?” “Yeah.” “A man hit the wall.” I ran my hand along the crack. Plaster fell to the floor, crumbling beneath my touch. Was this Lloyd‟s blood? How hard had he struggled? I looked around the room, trying to make the fight materialize before my eyes. Did Lloyd see it coming? He had to have felt the power rising, like a storm building over heaven and rolling over the earth. I looked over at the front door, studied the frame. Splinters of wood were sticking out. A strip hung slightly from the door frame. “They busted their way in. The old lady didn‟t hear someone busting down the door?” “No. She said she woke to the sound of something hitting the wall. It shook the entire apartment.” Scott pulled out a notepad and reviewed his notes. Another fucking notepad. Was I the only one who didn‟t carry one around? “Agnes Rowlin. She woke up around eight to a loud crack and shake, followed by a man screaming,” Scott read off, abbreviating his notes. “She didn‟t call in when she heard the screaming?” I spat, pissed at the hag for not thinking quicker. “She thought it was just a domestic dispute at first. She called shortly after, when the disturbance continued,” Scott said. I ran my fingers along the jagged wood and looked across the floor to the living room. The kitchen was left bare. They had bypassed it and gone straight for the open living room. “Lloyd had been sitting on the couch. He had to know they were coming, so why didn‟t he try to run and hide?” I asked, touching some of the downy soft stuffing exploding from the top of the couch. “He knew he couldn‟t run,” Carlos said. Carlos was inspecting the overturned table. It wasn‟t broken to pieces, but instead had just been overturned, like someone had kicked it. “Can you get us a copy of the report, Scott?” I asked, looking back at the blood. I knew whose it was, even without testing it. “Yeah, no problem,” Scott said. “Fucking hell!” I shouted, slamming my fist down on the couch. It wasn‟t hard enough to hurt. At that moment, I wanted to beat the shit out of something. To just

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pound until my knuckles split open and I felt something other than this uselessness, this regret and guilt. How many more people were going to die?

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Chapter Ten We trudged silently into Carlos‟s house, neither of us sure what was left to say. My mind was drifting somewhere between mayhem and eternal night, lost against a backdrop of growing oblivion. I could hear Lloyd screaming in my mind, and my chest tightened with a pang of guilt. “Corazón, you can‟t blame yourself,” Carlos said finally, breaking the silence. I looked up at him, not sure what to say. I knew I shouldn‟t feel guilty, because I didn‟t have control over the situation, but that didn‟t change the fact that I felt like I should have been able to stop it. Carlos was right: I wanted to be Superman. I wanted to save the world. I wanted to stop bad things from happening to those who didn‟t deserve them. I wanted to prevent people from getting hurt at the hands of psychopaths, just as I had been hurt by my own fucking parents. And I couldn‟t seem to fucking do that. I couldn‟t protect Lloyd, and I couldn‟t protect Charlie! My eyes snapped wide. “Fuck.” “What?” Carlos asked, shrugging his jacket off and undoing his holster. “Charlie‟s family!” I shouted, my hands trembling as I searched for my phone. “Jason is fucking out, and I never called to check on them!” The protection I had on them would have alerted me if something happened, but who was to say that those men hadn‟t been taken out? Carlos stepped behind me and grabbed my shoulders, firmly rubbing them. “Shh, calm down. Just give them a call and see how they‟re doing.” I grabbed my phone, freezing as soon as I got it in my hands. I hadn‟t spoken to them since Charlie‟s funeral. It was too painful; their voices reminded me of my failure. “Mi corazón…” Carlos rested his chin on top of my head. I squeezed my eyes shut, gripping my phone tightly. “I can‟t,” I whispered, scared. “What if…” “What?” “What if they‟re hurt? What if I hadn‟t protected them?” I sagged against Carlos‟s chest. “What if they hate me?” They had become my surrogate family. If I talked to them and they turned me away…it wasn‟t something I was prepared to take. “Mi corazón, you‟ll never know unless you call. They won‟t hate you,” Carlos assured me, still rubbing my shoulders.

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I swallowed a lump in my throat and nodded, opening my phone. I dialed the familiar number, my fingers working of their own accord. I hit Send and put the phone to my ear. Every ring seemed to last an hour, an agonizing hour that stretched out to eternity. And then it all ended, and a sweet, heavenly voice answered on the other end. “Hello?” It was like the coo of a dove after a forty-day storm. A smile spread across my face, and relief washed over me, briefly numbing the pain like a hit of Novocain. “Rebecca…” I breathed softly. There was a pause and my heart skipped, panic rising. Had I imagined the voice, that tender soprano that could break into the most joyful giggles? “Theo?” Rebecca asked, her voice wary. “Is…is that you?” My heart began to pound, and I thought I was going to pass out. I wanted to say more, I wanted to ask her how she was doing, how her mother was, but the words wouldn‟t come. They stopped halfway up my throat and began to choke me. I squeezed my eyes shut and quickly hit End, slamming the phone shut. We stood there, Carlos waiting for me to catch my breath. He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “Go take a shower, mi corazón. I‟ll fix some dinner.” I nodded, setting my phone down on the coffee table. “Okay.” Carlos turned me around, cupped my face, and gave me a slow kiss. “Don‟t worry. We‟ll find Lloyd. We‟ll solve this, mi corazón.” I leaned forward, deepening the kiss briefly. He tasted sweet, like spearmint gum, and it brought me back to life, gave me breath, and helped me relearn how to breathe. Carlos pulled back, gave me a final peck, and then shooed me into the bathroom with a swat to my ass. While stripping down, I listened to him in the kitchen. I jumped in the shower, the water as hot as my body could take it, letting it beat down and dig deep into my muscles. I tipped my head back, ran my hands through my damp locks, and wiped the water from my eyes. The last time I had been in the shower, Carlos had been with me. I shivered at the memory, feeling his mouth on my skin again. Yeah, I didn‟t need to start remembering him blowing me. I grabbed the shampoo and began to wash my hair, focusing on the mundane tasks of bathing and not on getting sucked. It was harder to do than I thought, especially since my mind kept drifting off to thoughts of Carlos‟s muscular back and his tapered hips and his throbbing cock. He was a fucking drug, and I was a junkie. I stayed in the shower for a good thirty minutes or so, just losing myself in thoughts and the warmth of the water. When it started to run cold, I got out. I wiped down the mirror and towel-dried my hair, pausing when I heard Carlos. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice gruff and low.

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I wrapped the towel securely around my waist and walked to the door, stopping to listen again. A very familiar, very unwanted muffled voice said, “I need to talk to you.” Oh, hell no. I threw the door open, my vision going red. “What the fuck is he doing here?” I snapped, pointing an intimidating finger at Abe. Abe briefly shrank back, his wide eyes locking on mine. He regained his composure quickly, though, and snarled in my direction, his aura flaring out. It was weak, nowhere near as strong as Carlos‟s. He was just some pup trying to piss with the big boys. “Mi corazón.” Carlos held up a hand to stop me. Too bad for him, I wasn‟t about to stop. “I was pretty sure I made it clear about this twink. I‟m going to stomp his fucking ass in two seconds if he doesn‟t fucking go,” I growled, in no mood to deal with some wayward ex-lover. Abe let out another growl. “Twink? Fuck you! I could fucking snap your spine before you‟d even get a shot in.” My whole body bristled at the threat. In reality, he‟d have the strength to do it. He may have been an underdog in the pack, but that didn‟t change the fact that he could toss a semi like it was a beach ball. But I wasn‟t just some human either; I was a fucking Phantom. I‟d taken on a hell of a lot scarier creatures than him. Before I could even throw a comeback at him, Carlos let out a low, violent growl, his aura blowing up and choking me. Abe let out a whine from deep in his throat, visibly shrinking back from Carlos. “Don‟t,” Carlos said, his voice low and warning, a rumble from deep in his throat, “talk to him like that ever again. Do you hear me?” He was staring directly at Abe. I swallowed, watching as Abe nodded vigorously. There was an edge of defiance to him, though, and he shot me a glare, growling out, “But Carlos—” “No!” Carlos bellowed, making even me jump. “He is my mate, and you will respect him! Is that understood?” Abe licked his lips, paling beneath Carlos‟s beastly glare. He nodded again, mumbling, “Y-yes.” Shit. Carlos could definitely be assertive when he wanted to be. “Theo, go put some clothes on,” Carlos said, not looking away from Abe. I blinked, dropping my eyes to the towel around my waist. Oh…right…towel. “‟Kay…” I said, distracted. I kept looking at Carlos as I backed into the bedroom. That had been crazy. I closed the bedroom door and found a pair of clean boxers and some plaid pajama pants and threw them on. I grabbed a shirt, which was lying on the floor, and slid it on as well. The shirt was a green faded T-shirt that said ARMY STRONG

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on it. Carlos‟s scent filled my nostrils, and I inhaled deeply. I walked out, disposing of the towel in the clothes hamper along the way. Abe was sitting on the couch, fidgeting nervously and looking like a kicked puppy. He was dressed in a pair of jeans and a sharp white polo from one of those swanky upscale boutiques. His head was down, and his large eyes were droopy. His bottom lip was jutted out, and a crease ran across his brow. He rubbed his hands anxiously along his thighs, and he flicked his gaze up when I walked back out, shooting me a hateful scowl. I had the childish urge to stick my tongue out at him. Fucker. I collapsed into one of Carlos‟s chairs, sniffing the air. Carlos was fixing tacos, and they smelled good. “So you‟re part of the pack?” I asked, brushing bangs from my eyes. Abe struggled with himself. He wanted to rip my head off, but he knew his alpha would tear his spine out and use it as a jump rope if he did that. I couldn‟t lie. I found satisfaction in that. Abe blew out a breath. “Yes,” he said, pouting like a four-year-old who‟d gotten his toy taken away. So he was a pack member and an ex-lover? I didn‟t like that; I didn‟t like it at all. “Are you hungry, corazón?” Carlos called from the kitchen, completely back to normal. “Yeah,” I called back, drawing a leg up and casually throwing an arm around it. Abe snorted and leaned back against the couch, crossing his arms over his chest. I still had the urge to stomp him into the ground. Carlos came out with two plates of tacos with all the fixings, passing them to both Abe and me. I guess we couldn‟t let the mutt starve. “Thanks,” I said, taking the offered plate. He flashed me a smile, his eyes crinkling. “You‟re wearing my shirt.” I felt warmth rise up my neck. I dropped my leg back down. “Um…it was the first one I grabbed.” “I like it.” Carlos dropped a kiss to my cheek. Fuck, he was domesticating me. I huffed and grumbled, “Shut up, mutt.” He laughed and walked back into the kitchen for his own plate. He returned with his food and three beers, passing them out to us. I didn‟t like it when he sat next to Abe, but there wasn‟t much I could say. I was sitting in the chair, after all. I took a bite of taco. Spicy flavors exploded in my mouth. “Fuck, Carlos, this is delicious.” “Gracias, corazón.”

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Carlos took a large bite of his own taco. His hair was swept to his right shoulder, spilling out around his face. I really wanted to kick Abe out so I could drag Carlos back to the bedroom, but it was obvious something needed to be discussed. Me riding Carlos from here to kingdom come was just going to have to wait. We ate in relative silence, occasionally saying something mediocre. Abe commented about rain, which dampened the air and loomed over the city but wasn‟t quite ready to fall. It felt like it was going to be a storm filled with the threat of God. I hated storms like that. Once we finished eating, I collected the plates, offering to clean up, since Carlos had fixed dinner. I didn‟t want to leave the two of them alone, but I ignored my biting jealousy and went to clean the kitchen. I could hear their conversation over the water. It was the same drivel that we had been discussing during dinner, venturing occasionally into pack business. I tuned that out, feeling like it wasn‟t my place to listen. Carlos kept his pack separate from me. If he wanted me to know anything about them, he‟d tell me. I was surprised he had even claimed me as his mate. When I finished the last of the dishes, I walked back out, returning to my spot in the chair. Abe had angled himself to be closer to Carlos. I narrowed my eyes but didn‟t say anything. Carlos didn‟t seem to be reacting. “So why are you here?” I asked pointedly. Abe looked over at me, reluctant to share his reason with me in the room. “Abe?” Carlos asked. Abe rubbed his hands together. “I wanted to continue our conversation we had in the club, before we were so rudely interrupted.” He shot me a withering look, and I shrugged. “You got a problem?” I shot back, giving him my own nasty look. “Guys,” Carlos warned. “Let‟s keep this civil.” Abe scrunched his nose and turned to face the both of us, dropping his hands at his side. “Okay. Well, what I wanted to tell you was that I did a little digging around.” “What do you mean?” Carlos asked. “Well, you guys weren‟t turning anything up, and my boss was getting kind of antsy. He wanted some details on the murders. So I did a little digging around and talked to one of my friends in the local werewolf pack.” “And?” I asked, my interest piqued. Maybe the twit wasn‟t so worthless. His expression grew grim; his eyes darkened and became distant as he looked past Carlos‟s shoulder. He sucked in his bottom lip, chewing at it nervously. Carlos touched his shoulder. “Abe?”

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“The murders weren‟t by accident,” Abe said, grimacing. “You‟ve heard of dog fights, right? Where people take dogs, like pit bulls and Rottweilers, and bet against which dog would win in a fight?” “Yeah,” Carlos and I both said. “Well, someone took that idea and evolved it. Someone is holding werewolf fights. They‟re taking werewolves and pitting them against one another, sometimes to the death. People go to these fights and bet on who will win.” “Hijo de puta,” Carlos murmured, covering his mouth with his hand. Anger bristled around him, a tingling electric spark that grew. I got up off my chair and crossed the living room to him, sat down beside him on the crowded couch. Carlos looked at Abe, asking around his hand, “Who‟s doing this?” “I don‟t know,” Abe said. I pressed a hand to Carlos‟s back, felt the muscles tighten, preparing to snap. Abe heaved a sigh and helplessly waved his hand in the air. “He only knew from word of mouth what was going on. He said it‟s being run through The Hunting Moon, though. People go there to place their bets and deal with business, and then they hold the fights somewhere else. I‟m not sure where; somewhere abandoned, I guess. Where, no one can say. “The fights just started recently, and not all the pack members are in on it. Some of them are against it, but they‟re all keeping pretty tight-lipped about the situation.” “Dawson must have been betting at the fights.” I hopped to my feet and fetched Dawson‟s file to read over. “He had a gambling problem, and Lloyd said he brought him to The Hunting Moon to get out once in a while. Terri and Jeff were both hard up for money, right? Terri was trying to make some cash for school, and Jeff just had the divorce.” All the pieces seemed to be falling into place, the dots that we hadn‟t seen before connecting on the papers as I spread them out. “Yeah. They were probably in the fights.” Carlos dropped his hand and jumped back to life. “Terri must have told Dawson about the fights one time when he came into the club.” “And when he started losing and couldn‟t pay, they took care of him.” I got to my feet, pacing the floor. “Lloyd must have found out about the fights.” Carlos plucked my thoughts straight from my head. Abe sat silently, watching us connect the pieces. “And whoever is doing this saw me talking with Lloyd and figured out he told us. Or thought he told us. We were already getting close—that‟s evident enough by their constant attacks. So when they saw Lloyd talking, they probably assumed he‟d spilled it all.” I stopped, guilt gripping me.

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“Don‟t go there, mi corazón,” Carlos said, pulling me back from my anguish. “Right,” I said automatically, returning to pacing. “So who is behind this? There was only one other person there that night who I talked to who could have seen us.” “Victor Bradford,” Carlos said. I stopped walking, my hands clasped behind my back. My brows drew taut, and I pressed my lips tightly together. “Motherfucker.” “How are people finding out about the fights, Abe?” Carlos asked, looking at him. Abe perked up as the attention reverted back to him. I was too lost in my thoughts to really fantasize about kicking him. “Word of mouth, I guess. My friend said that all the people who go to bet have to have a password, though, which they can only get from other members of the fighting ring.” Carlos looked over at me, and I nodded. “Fenrir,” he said, a smug smile tugging at his lips. “Fenrir?” Abe asked, his reporter instincts kicking in. “You are not to leak any of this, Abe,” Carlos said, taking on a warning growl. “Do not breathe a word of this to your boss or on the news. Do you hear me?” “But…” Abe began, causing Carlos to growl louder. If Abe had dog ears, they would have been pinned down. “That‟s an order, Abraham. Not a fucking word,” Carlos said flatly. “Who‟s your friend who told you this?” I asked. He could be a key witness in nailing this fucker. “He doesn‟t want his name out,” Abe said, looking at Carlos nervously. “I promised him I wouldn‟t tell anyone, not even my boss. He doesn‟t want anyone to find out that he narked. He‟s afraid they‟ll kill him.” I wanted to push for the name, but Carlos shook his head at me. I huffed and walked back to the chair, falling into it again. “So now what?” I asked, anxious to go and arrest Victor. “We still don‟t have enough proof,” Carlos said. “This is all still circumstantial.” “Fuck circumstantial!” I snapped. “That fucker is off pitting living beings against each other like they‟re animals.” “Look,” Abe piped up, rising to his feet. “I don‟t know what you guys will do with the information, and I won‟t say anything. But I need something out of this. My boss is going to nail my ass if I don‟t provide a story.” “Are you seriously looking for a story?” I growled out. “Hey, I‟m just doing my job,” Abe said, holding his hands up.

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“Okay, Abe,” Carlos cut in before things could escalate. “Look, we‟ll let you cover things after we finish the case, okay?” He gave Carlos a skeptical look but nodded nonetheless. “Fine.” Abe walked to the door with Carlos. His hand hovered over the knob, and he looked hesitantly between us. He grabbed the knob, his grip weak, reluctant, and said, “Stop this, Carlos. Stop them before it spreads to other packs.” “Don‟t worry; we‟ll take care of it,” Carlos assured him. Abe let out a soft breath and opened the door. Before he left, he went up on his toes and grabbed Carlos‟s shirt, pulling him down for a quick kiss. The frustration that had been building inside me released like an erupting volcano. “Fucker!” Abe shot me a smug look and flew out the front door, running to his little white sedan. I rushed the door, but before I could fly out after him, Carlos grabbed me around the waist and held me back. He closed the door with one arm and locked it. I jerked away from him and slammed my fist into his shoulder, hard. “What the fuck was that?” I shouted. Carlos rubbed the back of his neck. “I don‟t know. Abe was just fooling around.” “Bullshit!” I growled out. “He wants you!” “Mi corazón, you‟re overreacting. He was just trying to get a rise out of you,” Carlos said, trying to placate me. “What‟s going on with him?” My voice was steadily rising. “I told you, mi corazón, nothing. I dated Abe for a while a few years back, but that‟s it. It‟s over.” He stepped up to me. My power was thrown up, nudging him back to keep from getting closer. His eyes softened. He searched my face, trying to catch my eye. He pushed against the energy, reached out for me with his hands. I was frustrated and mad and hurt; everything was snowballing toward me, and Abe was just adding more snow. His fingers reached for me as he said, “I don‟t want him. I didn‟t want him, even when we dated.” I released my hold but still withdrew from his hands. Carlos closed the space between us, his hands barreling into my hair, pulling me against him. “How many times will I have to tell you? Just you, only you, mi corazón.” “Carlos…” “I dated Abe when I was still just a pack member. I wanted a warm body, and he was willing. But he wasn‟t you.” Carlos pressed a kiss to my forehead. When he pulled back, he added, “And he was annoying as fuck. Too needy. I need a man who‟s strong, independent, brave. Abe was like a delicate woman, so petite. But you, you are a virile man. I look into

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your eyes, and I see so much power. I‟m reminded every day why you stole my heart.” “You‟re just trying to get in my pants,” I said, nudging him halfheartedly. Carlos chuckled and dropped his hands, wrapping them around my waist to hug me close to his body. “You‟re stressed and anxious. It‟ll be fine, though. We‟ll nail Victor, and we‟ll find Lloyd.” “I don‟t know…” “I do,” Carlos reassured, rocking me in place. It was like wrapping myself in a comforter, chasing away all the nightmares in its warmth. “We‟ll fight this.” “Fuck, Carlos,” I said, burying my face in his neck. “What the hell is going on?” “What do you mean?” “Us, this, everything!” I said, not moving away. Carlos tightened his arms around me, almost as if he were afraid I‟d pull away and leave him. Even if I wanted to, I couldn‟t. I was rooted to him. When I walked away, I became light-headed, breathless, lost. It was as if something was missing. “We have this case, and look at us.” “Mi corazón, you can‟t make work your life.” Carlos rubbed my back, touching me everywhere. “I don‟t want anyone but you. This is it for me.” I looked up at him, my heart stilling. Rhett had once told me that I was the only one for him. But Carlos wasn‟t Rhett. Carlos leaned forward, brushing his lips across mine, titillating me. “Let‟s go to bed,” he murmured, taking my hand in his. I let him pull me to the bedroom. I felt like I was beating myself against a wall, pounding and pounding, exerting myself over and over again, trying to break down this barrier and never managing to put a crack in it. I didn‟t know how much longer I could keep pounding, keep fighting. I slid onto the bed as Carlos stripped down to his boxers, my gaze following him around the room. He climbed onto the other side of the bed, his eyes trained on me. There was a moment when the silence weighed between us, tension strung up by our anxieties and fear. Then Carlos closed the gap, and it all melted away. Everything was wiped away as Carlos stripped off my pajama pants and boxers. I could feel his hands join mine, pounding against the wall that seemed insurmountable. We were going to try to bring it down together, our bodies one, connected at waist and hands and lips. He stripped off his own boxers and pulled me silently into his lap, running his hands up my back to peel away my shirt. His mouth slowly ran down my throat, hovering over my jugular. He leaned over to the nightstand and pulled out a small tube of lubricant. I held my hand out, and he put a dollop into my palm.

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Carefully I reached down and ran my slicked fingers up his hard cock, prepping him to enter me. When he was good and slick, I rose up on my knees and reached down to guide him, slowly sitting backward on his lap. He was sheathed completely in my tight channel. My breath sucked from my lungs, drawn out by a silent moan. Carlos buried his face in my neck, his powerful hands gripping my hips hard. We remained like that for a few minutes, sitting there locked together, seeing how much of the world we could hold up. Then I began to rock my hips, shattering the reverie with a burst of pleasure. “Te amo,” Carlos moaned huskily, the words so faint, I almost didn‟t hear them. I began to rise up and down, slowly riding him, working us into a delirium. He moved deep inside me, pushed up against my prostate, forcing me higher and higher into the sky. My nails bit into his forearms as he rested his forehead on my back. His hot breath trickled down my spine. It was a slow fuck, the kind that sent your head spinning because you wanted it so bad but you couldn‟t bear to move any faster than the tragic rhythm you had set out. “Carlos,” I gasped, felt the muscles in my stomach begin to harden with anticipation. My entire body was clenched in preparation for release. “Come for me,” Carlos whispered into my back. He reached around to grab hold of me and help guide me toward my orgasm. “Let me take you to heaven.” I threw my head back and cried out, reaching the pinnacle of pleasure. I released all over his thighs, and my inner walls began to spasm and claim Carlos. His grip tightened, his reality slipped, and I knew there‟d be bruises on my hips. He came with a roar, my body held against his. We collapsed backward into the pillows, wrapped up in each other‟s arms, a tangled mess of haphazardly thrown limbs. Carlos must have thought that if we were so intertwined, there was no way we‟d ever come unlocked. I didn‟t mind that thought. I wasn‟t sure where we stood or where my heart even was, but I knew I needed his embrace the same way I needed the air and the sun.

*** I was back in the apartment Charlie died in, watching everything happen like a movie. It came to life, a sudden light, a sudden start, abrupt in all senses, as if it had never ended, as if I had never left that room, that time. Charlie lay on the ground, dead and decomposing, a mutilated hunk of meat so ground up and shredded, it looked like a pile of raw sausage and hamburger. Jason was standing above him, his hand half-transformed so that he had inhumanly long fingers with nails like razor blades. He licked the blood, an orgasmic expression wafting over his face.

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“Pig‟s blood has always been so sweet,” Jason growled, his voice caught somewhere between wolf and man. His eyes glowed, haunting like the sallow moon. I could only manage a strangled sound, a cross between an aghast cry and a scream. Then, like a shattered mirror with all the glass falling away, I broke. “Motherfucker!” I screamed and unleashed a torrent of power. A deadly waltz began, the music a cacophony of screams. I roiled back as he made a lunge, his deadly claws lashing out with a stream of blood flowing from them. There were moments, breaks in the fight, when time slowed down. It didn‟t freeze, didn‟t spin in some high-tech movie glamour; it just slowed so that every fine detail intensified, became clear and illuminated. The spinning of lights, the grains of the wood, the pearls of blood that fell from Jason. It all was placed under a magnifying glass for me to study. And then it was gone, and time reverted back into breakneck speed. I let my energy flow as I dashed across the apartment, casting the illusion of standing on the other side. Jason spun, jumping onto the doppelganger like a rabid wolf, his jaw unhinged, claws extended, his entire body a disgusting pulse of man and beast. The illusion evaporated into thin air, and he hit the floor with a loud smack, releasing a barbaric bellow and slamming his claws down onto the wooden floors. The planks splintered and cracked beneath the force of his claws. I sent an oscillation of energy. The current rode the air and gripped Jason‟s maddened form, holding him in place like the hands of God. “I‟ll kill you!” I screamed, the heat vanishing, my body going vapid, lost, empty; it became a shell. I was a phantom, a whispering breath, a will-o‟-the-wisp caught between heaven and hell. I was a ghost rising up from its shell, and I was bringing my wrath down upon the world. Jason let out a scream, his voice agonizing, tearing apart. Wolf shedding away to reveal the cry of a young boy, so lost and alone, just a little boy caught between time and space, begging for help, for forgiveness. His eyes were wide, terrified, glazed over with the truth of his reality. For a brief moment, his insanity was brought to light. I faltered, my hold dropping, my mind reeling back. I didn‟t know anymore if he was screaming the cry of a wounded boy or if it was me, if I was begging for forgiveness. My forehead burned. Memories flooded, holding me back in a turbulent current. Jason jerked his head at me, a row of jagged fangs trying to take shape in his mouth. But they couldn‟t fit. They were meant for a wolf‟s muzzle, and he was man; he was human. He was free. Jason ran, rushed the window, and hurled his body against it without care or thought. Wood flew around me like shrapnel. Glass shattered and fell like diamond dust in a rainy night.

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The rain was so loud, so very loud. It was falling at a slant, beating against the earth relentlessly, as if to wash away the sewage of life, wash away this world, wash away my humanity. The glass flew, the wood cut, tearing apart the fabric of my world until I was left standing in blackness, the only salvation coming from the relentless rain. I spun around, stumbled back until my feet couldn‟t keep up anymore. I hit the ground and looked up, letting out a scream for help. “Carlos!” “Theo!” It wasn‟t Carlos; it was Lloyd. My name came out strained, hurt, like blood and snot were clogging his throat. I scrambled to my feet and began to run. Where, I didn‟t know, but I went deep into the labyrinth of shadows, calling out, “Lloyd!” “Theo!” His voice echoed around me, coming from every direction. I spun and went in the other direction. “Theo!” I turned right, then veered left, and then tripped over my feet like a drunk who had had one too many shots of tequila, collapsing into a black canopy. It tore, as if made from paper, and dim, flickering light streamed in. I pushed myself up, my arms trembling from the exertion. My whole body hurt, became one single ache. “Theo,” Lloyd said, his voice just a reach away. I looked up and blew some hair from my face. His eyes, his beautiful liquid eyes, had faded gray and gone glassy, like two large children‟s marbles. His mouth hung open in a perpetual scream. He was spread out in the air, suspended as if nailed to a cross, but there was nothing there—no strings, no planks, nothing but air. His face was cut to ribbons, his lips split open like overripe plums. His left arm was missing at the elbow; only strands of tendons and veins hung, draped over bloody bone like strips of ribbon. His throat was gone, and his stomach was cut open. Organs hung out, glistening red and purple and brown and black, a macabre rainbow. I could only stare in horror, terrified to move, to make a sound. “Help me,” he whispered, his lips moving feebly. “You promised.” “Oh God,” I cried, struggling to back up, to turn around and run. I crab-walked backward, hitting a wall. I was suddenly caged into this room that seemed so endless yet confined me. “No no no,” I whispered, as if the mantra could make it all go away. “Please, Theo, I don‟t want to die.” “I‟m sorry!” I screamed, grabbing at my heart, because it hurt so badly. It hurt so bad that I just wanted it all to end; I just wanted it all to be over. “I‟m sorry!” “Please…please, Theo…” His lifeless eyes twitched, rolling up like marbles spinning, meeting my gaze. “Don‟t let me die.”

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The rain kept falling, kept pouring, but I couldn‟t see it. I could only see Lloyd, my Christ, my savior, my God. And I got on my knees and brought my hands up in a prayer, staring up at Lloyd with tears streaming from my eyes. “Oh my Jesus, forgive us our sins, save us from the fires of hell, and lead all souls to heaven, especially those who are in most need of thy mercy.” “Theo…” Lloyd moaned, his voice gurgling, blood pouring from his mouth like a fountain. The blood wasn‟t red; it was aged, turning deep brown, then tinted black and gleaming in imitation of red. “Oh my Jesus, forgive us our sins, save us from the fires of hell, and lead all souls to heaven, especially those who are in most need of thy mercy.” I kept praying, hoping that God would shed some forgiveness on me. The blood kept pouring, kept choking, and then it ran dry, and Lloyd went completely limp. His voice fell silent. Only the rain, the ever-falling rain, the lost world around me, constantly reminded me that I would always be within unattainable reach. My hands fell down, my body sagging heavily as I looked at Lloyd‟s dead form. Pelts of guilt panged against my heart, and I felt a cry bubbling up inside me. “L-Lloyd…” I managed to say, pushing myself to my feet. I walked slowly toward his body. I couldn‟t turn around and run, even if I‟d wanted to. My body was pulled toward him like a magnet. I reached up, brushed his shredded cheek with my fingers. His skin was gray, pale like stone, and just as cold and hard. “Lloyd?” He lunged forward, his eyes snapping to life, transforming into the color of a sick moon, a piss yellow that burned intensely. His jaw snapped open, unhinging into a large bite with rows of razor teeth, damp with blood. He let out a wolfish roar, his mouth preparing to swallow me. I screamed. I woke up, flying forward, my arms flailing about, like I‟d been pitched over a ledge. Pain racked my body, centering around my bad knee. “Mi corazón.” Carlos was suddenly up beside me, his hands grabbing on to my arms to hold me in place. “Shh, breathe. Breathe, mi corazón. It‟ll be okay.” I couldn‟t catch my breath. My heart was thundering, shot full of adrenaline. Carlos wrapped his strong arms around me, his muscles tightening as he held me in place. I listened to the steady beat of his heart, letting its calm flutter slow down my own. “Breathe, breathe,” Carlos continued to whisper, rocking me slowly, like a soothing parent. I fell silent, staring off into the distance at the wall as he held me. Carlos didn‟t say anything; he just let me pull myself together, piece by piece. When my heart stopped pounding like a drum in a rock concert, I said softly, “Fuck, my knee.” I must have kicked out in my sleep, aggravating it.

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Carlos eased me back. “I‟ll get you some meds. Just lay down.” I stared up at the ceiling, not watching him leave the room. I could hear him moving around in the bathroom and then going into the kitchen for some water. When he came back, I pushed myself up, taking the offered water with a mumbled thank-you. I downed the pills, trying to will them to work right away. Carlos sat down on the edge of the bed, took the water from me, and set it on the nightstand. “Do you want to talk about it?” I drew my good knee up, set my elbow on it, and tangled my fingers in my damp hair. The sweat that had soaked my body had cooled, leaving a cold chill in its wake. “It‟s the same as always, but this time, it was so much worse.” It felt real, so very real. “Sometimes, I think God is punishing me,” I whispered, lowering my head so that my fingers pushed back deeper into my hair. Carlos sat silently. I dropped my hand, looked up at him with a pathetic grimace. “But I don‟t know why he wants to punish me. What did I do that was so fucking wrong?” “Mi corazón.” Carlos moved across the bed so that he was lying down beside me. He drew me back against him, my back against his chest. His fingers tangled in my hair, stroking me like I was a cat. I might have purred if I had been one. “God isn‟t punishing you. He is testing you. God only puts on our shoulders what we can bear.” “I don‟t know if I can bear much more of this.” I sighed. He kissed the side of my head “Then I will just have to help you hold up the rest.” I tilted my head up, looking at him. His eyes were warm, welcoming me in like the light of salvation. I reached up and drew his head down, softly kissed him. “Sleep, corazón. We‟ll deal with everything tomorrow.” I didn‟t want to deal with anything. I just wanted to stay there, wrapped in his arms forever.

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Chapter Eleven Carlos and I sat in Victor Bradford‟s office at The Hunting Moon, the air between the three of us so thick and stifling that you could have run a knife through it. Victor‟s lip was curled sardonically, his eyes slanted into thin slits. It had taken some coaxing to get him to let us into his office, and even now, he seemed reluctant to share any more information. That was fine by me; we‟d get it out of him one way or another. “What is it I can do for you, Detectives? I‟m a busy man; I have things to take care of.” He reached up to tighten the knot of his royal blue tie. There were thin diagonal light blue stripes running across it. “I‟m sure you do,” I said, resisting an eye roll, “but I think murder is more of a priority, don‟t you?” Victor‟s gaze narrowed even more, the wrinkles around his eyes growing more distinct. He dropped his hands on top of his antique walnut desk, straightened the stack of papers on top, and asked, his tone grave, “Shall I be contacting my lawyer, Detective Bourne?” “As I‟ve told you before,” I said, “you do what you need to. But if you have nothing to hide, then you don‟t need a lawyer, do you?” Victor‟s lips twitched, but he didn‟t allow the smirk to bloom. He nodded and leaned back in his expensive leather office chair, looking down at us with a mightiness that only a god would hold. “Then tell me, why are you here? I‟ve told you all that I know,” Victor said. “Somehow, I doubt that,” I said. Despite the fact that I wanted nothing more than to jump over the desk and blow his head clean off, I was going to maintain myself and go about this is an orderly manner. I would be professional. Even if it fucking killed me. Victor chuckled, a low, rich sound that was sultry, like bubbling apple pie. He nodded, as if indulging a child, then opened his hands up, as if to welcome me in. “Then please, tell me what it is I know.” “Let‟s start with Lloyd Sullivan,” I growled out. I struggled with the bitter tears that wanted to rise up in me, nearly choking on them. If he hurt Lloyd, I would make his death slow and painful.

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“What about him?” Victor asked, one brow rising in a sophisticated arch. “He was attacked the other day,” Carlos said, when all I could do was grind my teeth into dust. “Kidnapped. We believe whoever the culprit is, it‟s the same person who has committed these murders. Lloyd was working Friday night, was he not?” “Yes.” “Did you notice anything strange?” Carlos asked. “Did you talk to Lloyd? Maybe an argument?” “No,” Victor replied. “I spoke with him briefly about his performance for the night, but that is it. I did see Mr. Sullivan speaking with your partner, though, and their conversation seemed a bit…odd.” My back went rigid. Was this fucker trying to turn things around on me? Carlos kicked me in the leg when I opened my mouth, shooting me a silencing look. I grunted in response, hunkered down in my chair, and gave Victor the nastiest look I could muster. Maybe I‟d get laser vision and melt his ass. “Tell us about the club, Mr. Bradford. We understand you aren‟t the full owner?” Carlos asked, reviewing his notes. Victor bristled for a moment, his shoulders going stiff. He gave us both a vexed look. “What does that have to do with anything?” “Well, obviously there is someone else we could be speaking with about the goings-on with the club. Who is your silent partner, Mr. Bradford?” “That is none of your business. That has nothing to do with the case. My personal finances and business are not under scrutiny,” Victor growled out. “And frankly, I am sick of being harassed, especially in my own club. Now, unless I‟m a suspect, I don‟t believe we have anything further to discuss.” “Well, I have news for you,” I snapped. “You are a suspect. You‟re our number one suspect. So why don‟t you do both yourself and us a favor and just cut the crap?” Victor‟s blue eyes went cold, darkening until they were a deep indigo. “Then I don‟t think we‟ll be discussing anything until my lawyer is present.” “We know about the fights, you sick motherfucker,” I shouted, rising up and slamming my hands down on his desk. “So why don‟t you save us the trouble and come clean?” “Fights? What in the Lord‟s name are you talking about?” Victor asked, both brows raised high on his forehead. “Don‟t play stupid with me.” I leaned in close. “The fucking dog fights you have going on. Taking money to pit fucking lycans against one another, like mangy mutts. One way or another, I‟m going to see your ass sitting in jail.” Victor stared up at me, unabashed confusion in his eyes. He held my stare, searched my face for a deeper explanation.

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“I have no idea what you‟re talking about,” he said, his voice low, unwavering, “but I will not sit here and be threatened. Get out of my club, and don‟t come back. If you want to talk to me, it‟ll be through my lawyer.” I leaned in closer, my nose practically bumping his. “I can smell your lies. The fucking law won‟t save you by the time I‟m through.” “Theo!” Carlos grabbed my arm and pulled me back. I balled my hands into fists, dug my nails into my palms to help drag myself back to reality. Victor stared up at me, the epitome of a statue. “Get out.” Carlos dragged me out of the club and to our car, practically throwing me into the Crown Vic. He slid into the driver‟s seat. “What the fuck was that?” he snapped. “He‟s a goddamn liar!” I shouted in defense, though I knew it was fruitless. I had overstepped the line. I had let my emotions surface. “Theo, you need to get your head on straight. You can‟t be going off on him like that.” Carlos turned to face me, anger in his eyes. “He can press harassment charges, and then what?” I crossed my arms over my chest, grabbing at my blue tie and loosening it. I felt stiff, agitated, ready to fight. “How are we going to nail him?” I asked. Carlos sighed. His voice dropped to a more soothing note. “He had to have slipped up somewhere. Maybe if we can get Abe‟s witness to come forward, we might be able to get him.” He started the car and backed out of the parking spot, going down the garage ramp. “That still doesn‟t prove that Victor is behind it. Abe never specified that it was him,” I said, really wishing I could hit something. “But if we have him, we can get a warrant and go into the club. That is, if Victor doesn‟t clean the place out.” Carlos gave me a withering glare. “Don‟t fucking start, mutt,” I shot back, returning the glare wholeheartedly. “You need to relax, corazón. You‟re letting this get to your head. We‟ll get him,” Carlos said, weaving in and out of traffic as we headed back to the precinct. I was still fuming by the time we got back. My nightmare lingered in the back of my mind, resurfacing and reminding me of what I had done, how I had failed. Now I had Carlos bitching at me. I wanted to tear into something, to relentlessly beat into anything. I just wanted to fucking end it. Scott approached us but quickly hightailed it out of the way when he saw the black cloud whirling metaphorically over my head. I stormed into our office. Carlos hung back. “Scott, come back. I need to ask you a favor.”

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I sat down on Carlos‟s desk and stared at the board with our pictures and notes. The endless stream of colored thread made sense now, like the picture in a game of Connect the Dots finally becoming clear. “Can you find out who is backing Victor Bradford?” I heard Carlos ask Scott outside the office door. “He has a silent partner running The Hunting Moon with him.” “Aw, man,” Scott said. “You know I got my own case, right?” “Please, man? We could really use the help.” “What‟s wrong with Theo?” “Nothing, he‟s just a little mad. He‟ll cool off. Can you do it?” “All right…but you owe me.” I could hear the grin in Carlos‟s voice when he replied. “Thanks, man. I‟ll treat you to dinner one night. Pizza and beer?” “Yeah, that sounds good.” I jumped off the desk and walked to the door. “Wait, Scott. Can you look one more thing up for me?” Scott blinked up at me. He was about two inches shorter than me, reaching a solid five-ten. “What‟s up?” “Look up a man named Jason Devereux. I want all the details, most importantly, how he got out of prison. He was sent to Clinton Correctional Facility.” Scott hesitated but nodded. “All right. But that means you owe me two dinners.” “Thanks.” I walked back into the office. Carlos followed after saying good-bye and shut the door behind him. I heard the click of the lock. “Why did you lock the door?” I asked, shooting him an agitated look. I was pissed at him, because I didn‟t have anyone else to be pissed at. “You need to calm down.” He walked up to me. “And I‟m going to help you calm down.” Warmth filled my belly as I stepped back, my butt bumping into his desk. “And how do you presume to do that?” “Trust me, mi corazón,” Carlos said. Yeah, that was when I knew not to trust him. He grabbed the band of my pants, tugging me forward. I planted my hands firmly on his chest and pushed. “Carlos, don‟t even fucking try. We‟re at work.” “So?” “So someone could see us,” I whispered fiercely. Carlos chuckled, the rich sound sending pleasure down my spine. Fuck, I loved his laugh. “That‟s what makes it so exciting,” he mumbled, nipping at my chin.

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“I‟m serious, Carlos. I‟m not getting fired just because you couldn‟t keep it in your pants for a fucking day.” I shoved at his chest. He pulled back, studying my face. A slow smile inched its way across his mouth. He walked back to the door and closed the blinds on our windows, completely shutting us off from the rest of the world. “Problem solved.” “Carlos.” I held my hands up in a feeble attempt to ward him off. “No.” He walked back over to me, his steps confident and sensual. I was rock hard, yearning for his touch, and I fucking hated it. He had my body under his control. I had never felt so powerless in someone else‟s hands. Rhett couldn‟t even play me like this. Carlos kissed me, pulling me roughly against him and seizing my mouth. He dominated me, his tongue plunging and pillaging, our teeth gnashing. He pressed his body hard against mine. He was going to eat my anger, take it right out of my mouth and devour it. When he pulled away, I was panting, a thin trail of saliva connecting us. I made a weak attempt to stop Carlos as he let go of me and reached for my belt, but I was still dizzy from the kiss. He nudged my hands away and undid my belt, unsnapped my pant buttons, and dropped to his knees. “Sit down on the desk,” Carlos ordered as his teeth seized my zipper. I obeyed, because to be honest, I didn‟t give a fuck anymore. He carefully dragged my zipper down, then pulled my pants down so that they pooled at my feet. His lips sealed around my hard dick, the only barrier the thin material of my boxers. I let out a shuddered breath and dropped my head, watching as he pressed his tongue against the bulge and gently slid his teeth down, eliciting a shiver from me. “Christ,” I murmured, my fingers tangling in his freefalling hair. “You‟re already so hard,” Carlos murmured. “All from a little touch. You dirty boy, you‟re getting excited, aren‟t you? You like the idea of doing this in public.” His tongue flicked out, nudging the flap of my boxers to briefly skim flesh. I rolled my head back so that I was staring at the ceiling. “Don‟t fuck with me, Carlos.” I tightened my grip on his hair, tugging hard at it. “I don‟t think you‟re in a position to order me around, mi corazón.” Carlos chuckled. Sadly, the masochist side of me was enjoying the torture. I wanted to be played with, to be teased to the point of lunacy, because maybe if this lasted, I wouldn‟t think of my waking nightmares. I only had one drug in my hands, and I was going to overdose on it. “Such a beautiful cock.”

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Carlos rolled my boxers down, and my shaft sprang free. He wrapped both hands around me, then leaned forward to trail his bright red tongue from the base all the way up to the head, then flicked the muscle across the tip. “You should get it pierced, right here. A Prince Albert would look so sexy on you.” I laughed huskily, tugging at his hair. “So you can have another piercing to tug at?” “You love it, though.” Carlos sucked in the head, and I was briefly surrounded by warmth. I had to bite my tongue to keep from crying out. Motherfucker! He pulled back, his hot breath rolling over the damp flesh. “God, you taste so good,” he groaned. He buried his nose so that it nudged the root of my cock, his mouth pressed gently to my scrotum. “Shit, Carlos, stop fucking playing with me,” I groaned. He nibbled at the sensitive flesh between my balls and dick. He moved his hands and grabbed my slowly gyrating hips. “Tell me what you want.” I tugged hard at his hair again in slight revenge, then squeezed my eyes shut. He was torturing me tenderly, punishing me for my earlier outburst. I opened my mouth, getting ready to tell him to take me into his hot mouth and suck me, to take me deep and swallow my cum. But the only sound that came out was the noise of my cell phone ringing. I jumped, surprised by the sudden high-pitched ring. “Fuck.” I jammed my hand into the pocket of my suit jacket and grabbed my cell. I looked down at the screen. Aunt Claire‟s name flashed on it, instantly bringing color to my cheeks and softening my dick a little. “Hey,” Carlos complained, pulling back. I looked down at him, enjoying the view of him on his knees. “Who is it?” “My aunt,” I said, flipping the phone open. “Hey, Aunt Claire. What‟s up?” Silence greeted me on the other end. “Aunt Claire?” Nothing. Not even breathing. I looked skeptically at Carlos, a foreboding feeling punching me in the gut. I closed the phone and slid it back into my pocket. “There was no one on the phone.” “What do you mean, there was no one on the phone?” “I mean, there was nothing there. No breathing, no talking, nothing.” I pushed Carlos away and quickly pulled up my boxers and pants. As soon as I got my buckle on—my dick completely soft now—I said, “I‟m going over to see what‟s going on. I don‟t have a good feeling about this.”

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“I‟m going with you,” Carlos said, already standing. My mind spun as I tried to work out in my head a possible purpose behind the call. Had Jason gotten to her? If he laid a hand on Aunt Claire… I didn‟t want to think about it. I refused to speculate. All I knew was, everything better be all right, because I‟d kill whoever hurt my family. I walked to the door and quickly unlocked it, barely giving Carlos time to gather himself. Just as I was heading out the door, I bumped into a hard chest. “Fuck! Move it!” I snapped. The guy in front of me had a chest made out of steel and a grisly expression. “Detective Bourne?” His voice was a deep baritone, edged by a couple decades of cigarettes and being on the force. “Agent Fouler,” I said, failing to keep the contempt from my voice. Fouler was the agent covering Jason‟s case. He was a member of the Preternatural branch of the FBI. I was lucky enough to be his star witness. I had already told him what I knew after Jason had swooped in at my apartment and the dumbass patrol had ruined my chances of finally sticking his ass six feet in the ground. What the fuck did he want now? “Look, I‟m in a rush. What can I do for you?” Carlos stepped up beside me but didn‟t say anything. Fouler looked between us and then leveled his hazel eyes on me. Their muddy color darkened, and a tic formed in his jaw. “We‟ve been investigating further into Jason‟s whereabouts, and we believe that he‟ll target you again.” No shit, dumb fuck. “I figured. Look, is there anything you need me to tell you? Because like I said, I‟m in a hurry.” He looked like he wanted to smack me. That was fine, because I wanted to hit him. “This is rather important, Detective. I‟d like to discuss with you a little more about Jason‟s sudden reappearance. It seems his sole purpose for coming here was to get revenge. Your life is in danger. Do you not understand this?” “I understand that just fine, Agent Fouler,” I snapped, my patience gone. “But I also understand that I have something more important to attend to than standing here chatting with you.” He blinked, taken aback, and Carlos had to grab my arm and pull me back a step. I hadn‟t even realized I had taken a step forward. My shoulders rose and fell with my ragged breath. I sucked in some air and let it stream out through my nose. When I was calm, I said, “You can talk to me when I get back, okay?” I grabbed Carlos‟s hand and hauled ass out of there before Agent Fouler could try to talk to me anymore. Scott came into view just as we rounded the corner. Without even stopping I shouted over my shoulder to him, “I‟m checking on my aunt, Scott. As soon as you get that information on Jason, give me a call. Immediately!” Scott froze on the spot and nodded, watching us curiously. Carlos stumbled behind me as I dragged him out. At that moment, all I could think about was that someone was going to die tonight.

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*** We pulled up to my aunt‟s house and found her car in the driveway. Everything seemed normal: the flower bed was well maintained, the wreath on the door hung straight, windows were opened up. There wasn‟t a single blade of grass out of place. So why did I feel like I was getting ready to walk into a house of horrors? I put my Mustang in park and pulled out the keys. I sat and stared at her house. It had begun to rain during the drive over. Black clouds covered the world like hell rising up. Thunder rolled in the distance, and lightning blistered in the horizon, stark white. It flashed, crackled, blew up the world, and illuminated the clouds, which looked like dying flesh—a bloated grayish black, swollen from rain. “Let‟s go.” I pulled my gun out and double-checked to make sure it was loaded. Carlos did the same. We climbed out of the car and pulled our coats closer to our bodies. The wind howled. The air was so frigid I thought I could feel ice forming on my nose. I gripped my gun firmly and walked up to the front door. I pressed my back against the side of the house, Carlos on the other side of the door. I knocked, counting to ten before knocking one more time. When no one answered, I took out her spare key from beneath a little turtle stone figure in the flower bed and dropped to one knee, crouching low. I unlocked the door and pushed it open, my heart pounding in my ears. My gaze swept the darkness. All the lights were shut off, but I could see the furniture was in place from the light streaming in through the door. No Aunt Claire, though. I held my gun out in front of me with both hands, rose up, and quickly walked in, did a quick sweep of the living room. “It‟s clear,” I called to Carlos, lowering my gun so that the barrel pointed at the floor. I kept the safety off. “Do you think she just butt-dialed you?” Carlos asked, keeping his attention trained on the room. He shut the door behind him. “I didn‟t hear a sound, though,” I said skeptically, slowly making my way to the kitchen to do a sweep. Nothing was moved or knocked over. It was simply as if she wasn‟t there. I checked the kitchen, peeked in the pantry and also through the back door into the backyard, to see if there was any sign of life. “What the hell?” “Should you try calling her again?” Carlos asked, holstering his gun as he walked into the kitchen behind me. I didn‟t trust the situation. Something felt off. My phone rang, and I snatched it up, looking to see if it was my aunt. Scott‟s name flashed brightly across the screen, and I exhaled, flipping the phone open. “Speak to me.”

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“Do you want to hear about this Jason guy first, or do you want to hear about Victor Bradford?” Scott asked, sounding very pleased with himself. I leaned against the counter, looked over to Carlos, and mouthed, Scott. “Tell me about Jason first,” I said, my heart giving a painful squeeze. “Jason Devereux was admitted into Clinton Correctional Facility‟s hospital after being attacked in a minor riot three weeks ago. Two nights later, while the nurse was making her rounds, she reported him missing from his bed. When they found him, he had already transformed. He killed six guards, a doctor, and two night nurses before managing to escape.” “Why wasn‟t there anything on the news?” I asked, swallowing a sickening lump in my throat. “As far as I could find, the police have been putting out a search for the area, but they‟ve kept it under wraps. Nothing has been leaked to the media. This is one scandal they don‟t want getting out.” “Well, how would it seem that this high-end correctional facility can‟t even keep a fucking inmate?” I closed my eyes, trying to calm myself. Jason wasn‟t a regular inmate, though. He wasn‟t even your normal lycanthrope. He was a fucking demon, something that came straight out of hell, meant to make my life a living nightmare. “What did you find about Victor?” “Victor Bradford started The Hunting Moon four years ago. Before that, he had worked as a real estate agent for a company called Harvest. They specialized in business real estate. Victor found the property and decided to purchase it but didn‟t have enough money to buy it outright. When he couldn‟t get a loan, he turned to Darius Crowe, who turned around and bought the building.” “So…” “Darius Crowe seems to be his silent partner. He‟s financially backing the club and signs off on all its major projects.” I could hear keystrokes in the background as Scott spoke. “All right. Thanks, Scott.” “No problem. Don‟t forget, you guys owe me, double.” Scott laughed as he hung up the phone. “What did he say?” Carlos asked as I put my phone away. I stared across the kitchen at the wraparound counter, my eyes focusing in on an overturned saltshaker. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and a chill rushed over me like a great gust of wind. I clicked the safety off my gun again and walked back into the living room, giving it another sweep. “Mi corazón?” “Shh.” I held a hand up to silence Carlos and studied the darkened hallway. Slowly I inched my way down the hall, moving toward the bathroom. It was the first door on the right, a narrow room with the toilet snug between the sink and the tub. My aunt had a cream shower curtain put up and scented candles all over the place.

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I edged my way in, moved the curtain aside with a quick jerk of my arm, and kept my gun aimed high. I felt someone move behind me and turned around quickly. Adrenaline trickled over me, slowly rising. A loud crack of thunder shook the house; a flash of lightning brightened the hallway. I walked out of the bathroom and looked out into the living room. Carlos was missing. “Carlos?” I asked, moving to the adjacent door. He must have been scouting out one of the other rooms. I peeked into the bedroom across the hall from the master bedroom. My old bedroom. My aunt had converted it into a guest room, though there were still traces of me on the walls in the form of medals and soccer trophies sitting on the shelves. I slipped into my aunt‟s room and checked behind the door before moving to the closet. Nothing. I looked under the bed and in every corner. By now, the rain was falling steadily against the windowpane. There was another crack of thunder and lightning, and her pale blue room briefly lit up. A shadow moved across the wall, bulkier and shorter then Carlos. I spun around just as pain exploded between my temples like fireworks on the Fourth of July going off. My world became a blend of colors, all trickling away into an abyss. I could feel the soft plush carpet beneath me as I fell to the floor. I saw a box tucked beneath my aunt‟s bed, and I could make out the vague outline of a bulky boot. It was hazy, like the reflection in a rippling pool. I couldn‟t breathe. The air had been sucked straight out of me. In the back of my mind, I wondered who it was, because there were so many fucking possibilities. And then it was over, and everything went black.

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Chapter Twelve My head was killing me. No, I was pretty sure I was already dead. This was what hell must feel like. I groaned. Colors shifted beneath my eyelids, a flickering light that egged on my headache. It was like a whole construction crew had decided to begin jackhammering all over my skull. “He‟s moving,” I heard a soft, harmonic voice call out. It sounded so familiar, so soothing. I wanted to wrap myself in it. I wanted to be a little boy again and curl up in the arms of whoever was talking. I moaned and stretched my fingers out. My bones cracked. I pressed my palms flat against cold, damp stone and began to push myself up without opening my eyes. “Shit, he doesn‟t look so good,” I heard someone else weakly mumble. Yeah, that voice was irritating and didn‟t help my head. “Fuck,” I whispered hoarsely, my throat feeling like someone had run sandpaper down it. “Mi corazón.” I knew that voice. I could feel Carlos‟s strong hands on my back. I pushed myself up, and a wave of nausea slammed into me. I was barely able to make a groan of warning before everything in my stomach came up, burning my esophagus. Carlos made a soothing sound, smoothing his hands along my forehead to hold my bangs out of my eyes while I heaved. It just kept coming, burning my eyes and nose and mouth. “It‟s okay. It‟s okay.” Carlos kept up a low murmur in my ear, bracing my body from the side. “Is he warm?” a woman‟s voice asked. I kept my eyes squeezed shut, the flickering, buzzing light irritating my head and egging on the nausea. “No, I think it‟s from when he got hit in the head,” Carlos said. I coughed and shakily wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. So I was hit in the head? I couldn‟t remember what was going on for the life of me. Which wasn‟t good, because it just might cost me my life. “Feeling any better?” Carlos asked. Finally I opened my eyes and looked slowly around. Carlos pulled me away from the puddle of vomit and cradled my worn-out body against his chest. Aunt

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Claire sat across from me, a large bruise blossoming along the right side of her face. Anger boiled up inside me, rising like the vomit. She brushed a wispy strand of blonde hair from her face, her gentle gray eyes holding my stare. “What‟s going on?” I asked of no one in particular. Carlos shifted behind me. He bent my head down, swept my hair to the left, and probed at a bump on my head. Pain instantly shot through my head. “Fuck!” I shouted, pulling back. “They got you good,” Carlos said, cold rage embroidering his voice. “Who? What the fuck is going on?” I snapped, turning to look at him. “Are you fucking stupid? What do you think happened? We‟ve been kidnapped, you moron!” Abe bit back. I may have a headache, but no pain would be enough to keep me from pummeling his wimpy ass. “Watch it, you fucking dog.” “Stop it!” Aunt Claire shouted. “This isn‟t helping!” It all came rushing back. Aunt Claire‟s house, a quick flash of lightning, and a moving shadow across the wall. I couldn‟t move fast enough before a bomb went off in my head. “Victor.” We were sitting in a small square cellar, the walls solid concrete and stacked with crates of alcohol. A short flight of three wooden steps led up to a stainless-steel door. “I‟m betting you already tried the door.” I rubbed my hands up my arms and pushed back into Carlos‟s warm body. Damn if there wasn‟t a nip in the air. “It‟s locked,” Carlos said. “You couldn‟t bust it?” I asked, looking back at him. “There‟s traces of silver in it,” he said, rubbing his hand. Aunt Claire let out a shuddering breath and pulled her slim legs up to her body, wrapping her arms around them. I instantly pulled away from Carlos and shrugged off my coat, taking note of my missing gun and phone. Fuckers stole my gun. I crawled over to Aunt Claire and wrapped the coat around her shoulders, then pulled her into the curve of my arm. “I‟m sorry, Aunt Claire.” “How the hell are we going to get out of here?” Abe asked, an edge of panic rising in his voice. “Why the fuck are you even here?” I asked, having no patience to deal with him. Abe‟s eyes briefly flashed topaz as he shouted, “I don‟t know! I walked into my apartment and got attacked!” My head pulsed with pain at his shrill voice. I gritted my teeth and warned him, “Shut up, you stupid bitch.” “Fuck you!” Abe continued to shout, making my head ache worse.

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I shoved him against the wall with a small wave of power. My body swooned from the release of energy. Not smart, when my head felt like it had just been Tboned. Abe hit the floor and struggled to get up, his power flaring. Carlos let out a feral growl and barked, “Enough!” I bristled, pissed, and turned to look down at my aunt. “What happened?” Aunt Claire worried her bottom lip and said softly, “I don‟t know… I just, I came home from the bookstore, and the next thing I know, I was flying across the room, and everything went black.” I could hear the sob bubbling up in her throat, but she swallowed it. Instead, she released a calming breath in a long stream. I gave her arm a comforting squeeze. “Is your gun missing too, Carlos?” I asked, looking over at him. “Yeah, took my gun and phone.” Carlos rubbed a hand down his face. “So we just sit.” I sighed. And we did, staring at each other, frustration thinning our lips into frowns. The silence stretched, filling the room like an ominous presence. Carlos was the first to break it. “What did Scott tell you?” I blinked, my head still hurting. I rubbed at my forehead, trying to knead out some of the tension that had built between my temples. I tried to recall the conversation before I got mercilessly beat in the head. “That…” The handle to the door jiggled. Everyone went rigid. I tightened my hold on my aunt, wishing I had a gun on me. The door pushed open, and Victor stepped down, dressed in a black suit that stretched over his broad shoulders. He looked up. His eyes went wide when he saw us. “Why the hell are you in my cellar?” “We‟d like to know that ourselves,” Carlos said, crouched low to the ground, his eyes already glowing. His aura filled the room and spread out like thick smog. Victor let out a low growl, his own eyes shifting color. “I don‟t bloody know. What the fuck is going on? After you stormed into my office this afternoon, I‟ve been trying to contact Darius to see what this is all about. I can‟t even get ahold of him, and now you all are in my fucking cellar!” His face was twisted into bitter rage, his thick brows drawn close. His eyes, though… Beneath the anger, there was confusion. Pure, honest confusion. Carlos didn‟t back down, though. He held his guard, poised to strike if Victor took one more step. He didn‟t need to, though. Victor‟s face abruptly contorted into a look of surprise. Pain glistened over his eyes, which instantly turned glassy and dull. Blood poured from his mouth, his face briefly becoming like Lloyd‟s in my nightmare. A hand was punched straight through his chest. Blood dripped in clumps from it. Clutched in the elongated, sharpened fingers was Victor‟s heart, crushed into a meaty pulp.

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Darius Crowe pulled his arm back, and Victor‟s body fell down the steps and hit the ground with a thud. Carlos let out a roar and leaped into the air. Crowe swept his hand out, slamming the back of it into the side of Carlos‟s face, sending Carlos flying into a wall of beer crates. Glass and wood shattered beneath the force of his body. “You two are really slow.” Crowe chuckled. There wasn‟t a flicker of remorse on his face. He dropped Victor‟s mangled heart and came down the stairs. Four large men followed behind them, automatics clutched in their thick hands. I could feel them around me, their auras; all of them were lycans. I rose to my feet and stood in front of Aunt Claire. One of the men—he had brown hair and a broad, crooked nose—swung his gun at me, aiming straight for my head. They all had their guns pointed. Crowe stood between them like the king of the pack. “I wouldn‟t try anything,” Crowe warned, his eyes narrowing. He smoothed his clean hand over his tie. “Because I won‟t hesitate to kill you right here, even though it does take all the fun out of things.” Carlos sat up, his hair spilling out around him in a tangled mess. He shook the wood and glass from his body, then climbed to his feet. “You‟re behind this? What the fuck, Darius?” Carlos shouted. “Spare me the dramatics,” Crowe said. “If you had been bright enough, you would have figured it out sooner.” “You‟re killing your own pack? For what? Money?” Carlos spat. “You‟re their leader! You‟re supposed to protect them! Guide them!” “To what?” Crowe roared, his voice a sonic boom in the small room. Fuck, there goes my head again. Doesn’t anyone know the meaning of library voice? “Lead them to what? Protect them, guide them? Why? Why should I care about them? They‟re of no use to me! If they can‟t survive, then they‟re not worth even living! And if I can make a few bucks out of weeding out the worthless, then that‟s fine by me.” Carlos snarled and snapped his teeth. His shoulders trembled as his aura overpowered the room. Two of the men swung their guns on him. “Don‟t even think about transforming,” Crowe warned. “I‟ll not only kill you, but I‟ll make sure your fuck buddy over there is turned into target practice.” Carlos bristled, his body visibly jerking and quaking, straining to contain the beast inside him. His gaze flicked to me, his breaths coming fast and strained. “What do you want?” I asked, pulling Crowe‟s attention over to me. “Why did you bring us here?” “Because I got tired of you poking your damn nose around. You were asking too many questions, and you were eventually going to find out the truth. Especially since that damn mutt”—Crowe waved in Abe‟s direction—“had to help. But don‟t worry; I took care of his little informant. I don‟t take kindly to snitches.”

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Abe let out a whimper. “And now?” I asked. I needed a plan, and I needed it fast. I looked over at the pile of glass and wood behind Carlos, at the golden beer pooling on the floor, froth clustering in various places. I turned back to Crowe, meeting his rich volcanic eyes. I had to relax, to center myself. I let out a slow breath and split my concentration, breaking away from my headache. It was difficult, because the release of energy was the same as the sonic boom of Crowe‟s voice. My power rose up inside me, building up like a hurricane. I picked the glass and wood shards up, lifting them high above Carlos. Sweat built on my brow from the exertion. “And now you‟re going to have a taste of just what it is I do. I think if you saw how my little fighting ring worked, you‟d see it‟s just a harmless business,” Crowe said, chuckling. Suddenly his eyes picked up the movement. His head jerked as I threw the glass and wood. The guards swung their guns, and I directed half my attention to throwing my energy at them, which caused their arms to fly up as they pulled their triggers. Pieces of concrete and dust rained down as the glass and wood shredded them. Crowe let out a bellow, and Carlos pounced, leaping into the air and slamming into him. The brown-haired guard rushed me, slamming into me from the front and throwing me back into the crates lining the wall. I could hear Crowe‟s feral growl, but I didn‟t have time to check on Carlos. I brought my knee up, slamming it into the man‟s gut. The wind rushed out of him in a grunt as he briefly doubled over, giving me time to shove him off. But as soon as he hit the ground, another guard came, his eyes a wild electric blue. He grabbed my arm and twisted, spinning me around and slamming me into the crates. I could feel the pressure on my arm. It was reaching snapping point. I braced myself for pain, trying to push back or grab on to something with a free hand. “Don‟t fucking move!” Crowe yelled. I strained my head to the right and saw Carlos on the ground. He was pinned, blood trickling from his mouth, his arms locked in silver handcuffs. I felt the cold barrel of the guard‟s gun press against my temple. Shit, shit, shit. Abe was handcuffed and slammed into the wall by the other guard. Aunt Claire was pinned to the wall beside him, her face ghostly pale. Guns were aimed at their heads, and I didn‟t doubt that Crowe would kill them off. They were the least important people to him in this room, easily expendable. Crowe wiped some of the glass from his face, the little cuts healing right in front of my eyes. A sadistic smirk spread, his eyes darkening until they seemed almost black.

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“You‟re stronger than I expected,” he said, looking straight at me. “I think it‟ll be interesting to see how you do in the ring.” “Carlos,” I called out, ignoring Crowe. “Are you okay?” “Fine,” he wheezed. Crowe ground the knee he was pinning him with down into his spine, pushing the silver cuffs deeper into the skin. “Move them into the truck. Let‟s get this show on the road,” Crowe ordered, standing up. I watched as he fisted his hand into Carlos‟s hair and pulled back sharply, leaning forward to hiss into his face. “Try anything, and I‟ll see to it that your little bitch is turned into dog food.” He heaved Carlos up and threw him into the arms of the brown-haired guard, who was still trying to catch his breath. The blue-eyed guard slapped cuffs onto my wrists and pushed me forward, causing me to nearly trip over my feet. We shuffled out of the cellar in a neat line, following behind Crowe. He led us down the back hallway out to the door and over to an unmarked white van that had been pulled around to the alleyway. I climbed in, dropping to my knees as the guard gave me a shove. Carlos collapsed beside me. Aunt Claire and Abe sat down opposite from us. The doors were slammed shut and locked, and the blue-eyed guard climbed into the driver‟s seat. The brown-haired one took the passenger‟s. As soon as we were on the road, I leaned against Carlos and whispered, “Are you okay?” He turned his head, his nose bumping against mine. “Peachy,” he replied, smiling weakly, his eyes crinkling. “We‟ll get out of this,” I said, partially to reassure myself, partially to reassure him. “I know we will,” he said softly, chuckling. Pain was written on his face. The silver was burning him. My heart fluttered nervously. I didn‟t like this. We were fucked. So fucked. I leaned up closer, my lips dusting his. I wanted to taste him one last time, just in case I‟d never get the chance again. Carlos‟s tongue snaked out, tangled with mine, and for the briefest moment, it felt like we weren‟t totally screwed. But then the car turned sharply, and we jerked away, reality crashing down around us.

*** I could only make out the rain from the windshield. It was still relentlessly pouring down, the sky seeming like an everlasting storm. We traveled out of the city—that much I knew—going down both back roads and open country roads. We had to be driving for a good thirty minutes. The brunet had turned on the radio to the local country station, drowning out their conversation.

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We turned onto a bumpy dirt road that was lined by a thicket of trees on either side. The road was barely big enough for the van to squeeze through. The naked branches of the trees scratched and slapped against the sides of the van. Overhead, the thunder rolled. The van pulled to a stop, and Blue Eyes opened the door. He yanked Aunt Claire out, and I had to dig my nails into my palms to keep from lashing out at him. Aunt Claire reared against Blue Eyes, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. He shook her until she calmed down, and I almost lost it. Carlos bumped my shoulder and shook his head. Slowly I exhaled, finding my center. I was going to make them all fucking pay. We climbed out of the back of the van and followed Blue Eyes like good little soldiers, the other guard bringing up the rear. Aunt Claire quieted down, but not before spitting at Blue Eyes‟s feet. They had brought us to a desolate farm that looked like it had been abandoned and forgotten years ago. The two-story house was a dilapidated mess; the wood was faded and sun-bleached, the windows that weren‟t boarded up, broken. Behind the farmhouse next to the shell of an equally worn-out silo was a large refurbished barn. It was twice the size of the house, simple in design. I could only see two large barn doors at the front, no windows. We were marched into the barn, Crowe ahead of us with the other two guards he had ridden in with. I shook my damp hair out, strands slapping me in the eyes. The inside of the barn was like a whole different world. To the right, there was a booth set up with a sound system, speakers strung up from the beams running across the ceiling. To the left was a wall with two-way mirrors and a door. Industrial lights hung from the ceiling, lighting the ring that was set up in the center. The stage was an octagon-shaped raised platform, with a ten-foot glass cage around it. Steps were on either side, leading up to the left and right entrance of the fighting ring. I was betting the glass was a thick polycarbonate. I swung my gaze back to the cage as I passed over it. There was a fight going on. Two wolves, one a dusty brown, the other a smoky gray, were going at it. The smoky gray wolf‟s fur was matted with blood. It was limping on its right paw, staggering across the floor. I narrowed my eyes as the brown wolf struck, knocking the other to its side. A silver collar gleamed beneath the florescent lights. Mournful eyes rolled toward us, staring out pathetically as the smoky gray wolf tried to push itself up. The brown wolf was playing with him, batting him around as if he were a chew toy. I swallowed and took a feeble step forward as the gray wolf let out a howl of pain. The brown wolf sank its teeth into the back of his neck, keeping the gray wolf pinned to the ground. Topaz eyes looked at me, defeat rising in them. “Lloyd,” I whispered. “What?” Abe asked, jerking out of the grip of one of the guards. I ignored him, making a lunge forward. “Stop!”

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Blue Eyes grabbed me, pulling me back. I slammed my elbow into his gut and shouted, “Stop the fucking fight!” “Stop,” Crowe called out from behind us. The brown wolf let go of Lloyd, who fell to the ground like deadweight. My heart fluttered, skipping a beat from panic. No. Don’t be dead. Please, don’t be dead. Oh God, please don’t let him be dead! “Is something the matter, Detective Bourne?” Crowe asked, laughter in his sick eyes. “Let him go.” I stumbled toward him. “Let him the fuck go!” “I told you, I don‟t take kindly to snitches,” Crowe said, raising a brow. “Did I not? I‟m just seeing to it that Mr. Sullivan is punished properly.” “How? How the fuck did you even know he talked to me?” I growled out. He had been seeing our every move, our every step. “Who do you think Victor was talking to in the back room?” Crowe asked, laughing at my ignorance. “As soon as you guys started investigating The Hunting Moon, I knew I had to get rid of you. Victor called me after you guys left, informing me of what happened at our business. He had been devastated. That club was his life. He had worked so hard to build it up. He was terrified that the news of a body being found there would damage him beyond repair.” “Let him go,” I growled out, tugging uselessly at my handcuffs. “Why?” Crowe asked, turning to the cage and nodding to the brown wolf. The wolf lunged at Lloyd, who let out a high-pitched yelp. “Stop!” I screamed, my power rising and slamming into the brown wolf, throwing him off Lloyd. Thunder cracked, and lightning splintered the sky. My breaths came out in short pants, my shoulders rising and falling. “Amazing,” Crowe murmured approvingly. “You will be interesting.” “Let him go,” I ordered. I was done playing victim. “All right,” Crowe said, gestured to one of the guards. Wait…what? I blinked. I stared at him doubtfully. Blue Eyes opened the door, and the brown-haired wolf walked out, moving with liquid strides across the barn. There were muscles in him that no human could possibly have. His head was low to the ground, his teeth bared dangerously as he paced over to Crowe and sat at his feet. Blue Eyes picked Lloyd up and carried him out, throwing him to the ground at my feet. “Lloyd…Lloyd, look at me.” I crouched down beside him, turning my back to Crowe. It took him a moment, but he turned his head weakly and rolled his watery citrine eyes up at me. Fuck, he didn‟t look good. “It‟ll be okay,” I whispered, “I won‟t let them hurt you anymore.” I‟d failed him once. I wasn‟t going to do it again.

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“Now,” Crowe said, “get in the cage.” “What?” I asked incredulously, rising to my feet. “No,” Carlos finally said, stepping forward. The brunet guard forcibly pulled him back. Crowe rolled his eyes. “You don‟t really have a choice.” “No, Darius! He‟s not a fucking lycan. You can‟t pit him against one of your fighters!” Carlos yelled. The guard had a hard time holding him back. “Either get in the fucking cage, or I‟ll blow the mutt‟s head off,” Crowe said, the beginning traces of his madness showing. He pulled a gun from inside his jacket and pointed it at Lloyd‟s head. I didn‟t doubt that he‟d do it. “Okay,” I said, trying to mollify the situation. “Do I get a weapon?” “It would only be fair, I guess.” Crowe nodded to the bulky guard holding Aunt Claire. She was staring wide-eyed, shaking like a lonely leaf caught in the wind. She didn‟t deal with this. She was never supposed to see this kind of world. Yet here she was, violently dragged into it all, because I couldn‟t solve a case. So much for being Superman. The guard pulled his left pants‟ leg up, revealing a Bowie hunting knife. He pulled it out, its nine-inch black blade glinting, intimidating in the hum of the fluorescent lights. He dropped his jeans‟ leg and flipped the knife so that he was holding the blade, holding it out to me. Blue Eyes pulled a key from his pocket and turned me around, unlocking my handcuffs. I could have tried attacking, but somehow I just envisioned horrible things coming from that plan. I walked over to the guard and took the knife, weighing it in my hand—stainless steel, plain edge. It wasn‟t much, but it was better than my fists. “Am I fighting him?” I asked and glanced at the brown wolf. “No,” Blue Eyes said, glaring down at me with raw hate. “You‟ll be fighting me.” I looked to Crowe, who seemed to be debating the outburst. He shrugged. “Entertain me.” My stomach did somersaults. I didn‟t like the glare Blue Eyes was giving me. This wasn‟t just a battle or a job—he was out to get my blood. I looked back at Carlos, who was still struggling against his captor. Part of me wanted to go back to him, to embrace him one last time. But I couldn‟t. I wouldn‟t show any more weakness. And I wasn‟t going to make this the last time. I walked into the cage, the door sealing shut behind me. Blue Eyes came in on the other side, shutting his door. They were locked from the outside, with no means of opening them from the inside. His hands trembled, the skin visibly rising and rolling, bones shifting and jamming out as his hands shifted into claws. I gripped the knife in my hand, taking a fighting stance.

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Blue Eyes looked directly at me as he said in a grave tone, “I‟m going to kill you slowly.” His blond hair fell across his forehead. He was handsome in a crude way, with a square jawline and solid form. “You‟re going to pay for killing him.” “What?” I asked. This didn‟t sound good. “I didn‟t kill anyone.” “You fucking killed Kyle!” he roared, jumping at me, sending a claw flying. I spun out of the way, dancing backward. Oh shit. Not good, not good! “That guy killed himself.” I dodged another strike. Blue Eyes barreled forward, his shoulder slamming into my chest and sending me flying into the glass wall. “Bullshit,” he growled, his voice taking on a beastly note. “Eye for an eye, right?” “Is everyone in this fucking pack insane?” I groaned, pushing off the wall. His electric blue eyes had bled to gold, and I knew I was in trouble. The wolf was coming out, and I was in an enclosed cage with it. I leaped forward, slicing him across the chest. Cutting him was as useless as drowning a fish. His foot slammed into my chest, hurtling me to the floor. He jumped into the air, his claws outstretched, his teeth elongating. I rolled, scrambling to my feet. My knee throbbed as I ran away, coming face-to-face with an invisible wall. He pushed himself up, turned slowly to face me. His body rippled; his hands grabbed at his shirt and tore it off. His skin kept moving, as if millions of bugs marched beneath it, rolling and gliding, pulling and tugging, flesh peeling back, bones rising up, bending back, curving. His spine extended, his head rolled back, his mouth hung open in a silent scream. It was slow, and yet it was fast, and I was too horrified by the image to make a move. Fluid rushed out like a dam breaking, sticky and foul smelling. Blood dripped, hands broke, and feet bowed like his body was being crushed. Fur spilled over him, his nose stretched, grew leathery, his teeth popped out, and his eyes bulged, as bright as the lights above us. And then, with a snap, crackle, and a sickening pop, he was rushing me, a wild, sandy brown wolf the size of a Shetland pony. I threw energy at him, stopping him as he came straight at me. Fury trumpeted in his eyes, and his jaws snapped at me. I did not want to give him a chance to sink those babies around my throat. Showing no mercy, I slammed him backward into the wall. If he wanted to fight dirty, I would bury myself deep in the mud. I rose up off the ground, barreled toward his stunned body. His head jerked, and he lashed out. I reared back, slamming my foot into his jaw and kicking his head up. He let out a yelp and snapped at my foot. I pulled back, levitating

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backward, and landed across the cage. I needed to confuse him, to find a way to surprise him. He was too fast for me to just jump him. He ran at me, and I moved to the right, but he quickly changed course and took me down. The world spun; everything shifted. My knife was knocked from my hand, spinning off somewhere across the cage. I barely had time to throw my arm up and stop him from tearing my face off. I pressed my forearm up into his jaw. Saliva dripped onto my face. “Fucking mutt!” I yelled, trying to push up against his weight. He weighed a fucking ton. Carlos let out a roar, which shook the enter frame of the barn. I turned my head to look. Carlos slammed his elbow up into the brunet guard‟s nose. There was a distinct crunch, and blood spurted down his mouth and chin. He gave a shriek and grabbed at his face. I could see the muscles in Carlos‟s arms stiffen and flex beneath his coat. Pain tore at him; I could see it in his face, the way his teeth ground together and his lips curled in a grimace. But he pulled his arms, and a metallic cracking sound filled the barn. Carlos broke his chains. He fucking broke his chains. The wolf above me snapped again, nearly taking my ear off. I pushed at him, slamming my fist into the side of his head to try to stun him. A gun went off, and I jerked my head to the side, pushing my knees up into the wolf‟s gut. Carlos staggered, still struggling to rush toward me. His shoulder was bleeding, his face going pale. They were using silver bullets. Silver bullets could kill him. No. His knees hit the ground, and Crowe approached him from behind, his gun raised. No. No… No! It was like the earth was opening up to me. I could feel time flowing through my veins. I felt the past, the present, heard the future, felt life within my fingers. I felt evolution move inside me, rising up like a phoenix. I became the essence of the world, the shift of man from beast to human. I felt it all, held it all, became it all. My body evolved, my mind opened, and a light dawned inside me, a fire balling up and rising, expanding into shimmering wings. I tossed the wolf up, throwing him to the ground with a flex of my mind. The lights above the fighting ring exploded, sparks showering down. I heard Aunt Claire scream, but I was beyond the point of recognition. I was caught in some ethereal plane, locked within my mind. I could feel my power, feel it expanding, and I was going to make them pay.

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As I got to my feet, the knife flew into my hand. It all came into place, all the nightmares washing over, kindling the flames. I pressed the tip of the Bowie to my left palm and slid down, blood blooming. It fell in thick drops, trickling down my palm in a thin river, dripping to the ground from my fingertips. The wolf bristled, his hackles rising as he sniffed the air. A low growl rumbled in his chest, and I could feel everyone‟s eyes on me. The air was charged, blighting out all the other auras that battled to fill the barn. I sent out a doppelganger behind the wolf, and then, still feeling the power running, I made another, and another, and another, and another. I made a circle around the cage, surrounding the wolf with images of my bleeding form. I had never made more than one before. It took too much energy out of me. But here we stood, like so many mirrors standing around me. He spun in a circle, danced around, sniffed the air to find my blood. Oh no, you aren’t going to find me. I began to move in a circle, blood dripping across the floor, creating a ring of crimson. He didn‟t know what to do. He spun around, his fur raised, tail down low. I stopped behind him, watched as he sniffed the air and let out a low, warning growl. He lunged toward the right, and I struck, shattering the image of a dozen doppelgangers surrounding him. He snapped his jaws into thin air as I rose up and came down, slamming the knife hilt-deep into the back of his neck. Blue Eyes let out a howl and bucked, trying to send me off his back. I twisted the knife, pulling down, cutting along his spinal cord. Blood warmed my chest, and for a minute, I felt insane, felt the rush of death, the urge to kill, the thrill of taking part in a blood sport. “Die, motherfucker!” I yelled, pulling the knife out and dragging it around, running it across his throat before he could throw me off. Warmth rushed over my arm as blood poured down his front, dyeing his fur vermillion. I pulled back, stepping away as he dropped to the ground, his leg kicking out. His eyes rolled, locking on me, life flickering in and out, a firefly dancing through a summer night, and then going out. Gone. Good-bye. No more. Dead. I screamed, slamming down the knife into his head for good measure, twisting the blade. I pulled it out, gasping for air, soaked in wolf blood. I was bruised, broken. My knee throbbed; my shoulder ached. I spun, glaring out at Crowe, peering through the darkness. Thunder roared, rain rushed, and lightning crackled outside. But the real storm was inside. “Now you,” I said, rising up into the air and over the wall of the ring.

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Chapter Thirteen I hit the ground, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I had hurt my knee, possibly beyond repair, but the adrenaline was so intense, so good, that I didn‟t feel it. The line between good and evil became blurred, and I wasn‟t sure anymore if what I was doing was right. Hell, I wasn‟t even sure if this was real. I felt stuck, my mind caught in a metaphysical state. I looked up slowly, time pausing for a heartbeat. Once, years ago, I had been condemned for my abilities. Now I was going to save a life. Two things happened at once. Carlos spun around, partially transformed, and slammed his arm into Crowe‟s, knocking his gun from his hand. Carlos‟s teeth were bared, jagged canines thirsting for blood, and they glistened as he bellowed out a terrifying roar. As he disarmed Crowe, I sent out a wave of power, which spun the guns out of the guards‟ hands and lifted them up into the air. My aunt sent a gun flying toward me, and I caught it in my free hand, swinging it to the side as the brown wolf rushed me. I pulled the trigger twice, catching the wolf in the head. I swung my gun back around before his body hit the ground, taking another shot. The brunet guard‟s head jerked back. “Theo!” Carlos roared. I turned sharply to my right, flying up just in time to dodge Crowe. He was a crossbreed of man and wolf, all vicious teeth, sick yellow eyes, and bulging muscles. His legs were twisted back, fur beginning to roll over him. His clothes had been shredded as he‟d made the shift. His genitals hung between his legs, a large engorged length that would make anyone want to run away scared. He reached up, growling in frustration. Carlos came at him, leaped into the air, and burst into full coyote. Fur rolled over him in a rush of fluid and popping cartilage, his clothes shredded and falling to the floor. His teeth sank into Crowe‟s arm as he came down, powerful jaws locking in a firm grip. Carlos was twice the size of a normal coyote and his fur a dusty brown and gray. For a moment he stood proud, and he seemed like a king. I wish it had been a different time. Maybe then I could have appreciated how majestic Carlos looked. “Theo! Get me the fuck out of these cuffs!” Abe yelled, fighting against the silver handcuffs. I raised my gun and fired again, swinging it between the two remaining guards. I released my hold on them, letting their dead bodies hit the ground. I

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lowered to the ground beside them and patted their bodies down, pulling out some keys, including a set of car keys. “Theo!” Abe yelled, his gaze darting to Carlos. Crowe hurled Carlos across the room, his own body convulsing as he took on the remaining change. I undid Abe‟s handcuffs, and he broke out into a run, shifting in midjump. He was smaller than Carlos, a scrawny brown coyote, but he attacked Crowe with a deranged viciousness. I undid Aunt Claire‟s handcuffs and pressed the set of car keys into her hands. “Go. Find a phone, and call for backup.” Her eyes held mine, their luminous gray color like the moon breaking through the storm. She wanted to say something; I could see it in her gaze. But she didn‟t. Was it good-bye? I wouldn‟t say. I wouldn‟t think about it. She nodded and ran, throwing the barn doors open and vanishing into the rain. Lightning split the sky, a chorus of thunder following it as the torrential rain came down. The wind whipped around me as I turned to face Crowe. He‟d knocked Abe off him and had collapsed to all fours, finally shifting into a mighty black wolf. Fuck black wolves; they were proving to be the bane of my existence. Crowe ran straight for me, and I grabbed hold of him with a rope of energy, sending him hurling out the barn doors and into the storm. I slipped my knife into the back of my pants and turned to face the storm. Carlos padded up beside me, his left shoulder bleeding. Abe limped over, his ears pressed back against his head. I looked over at him. “Stay with Lloyd.” He turned his head to Carlos, who nodded. Could they communicate while transformed? I‟d have to ask Carlos that when this was all over. One more reason to survive. “Let‟s go,” I told Carlos, running out into the rain. Was I insane? Had I knocked something loose in all those times I‟d gotten smacked in the head? I was chasing after a wolf during a thunderstorm, a wolf who was most definitely pissed and most definitely going to try to kill me. And I wasn‟t scared. I was just pissed. In fact, I was fucking furious. Crowe was crouched low to the ground, his teeth bared as a growl rumbled from deep in his chest. I could barely see the hand in front of my face as my hair stung my eyes as the rain mercilessly pounded into the earth. Crowe sprang forward, and Carlos rushed past me. They clashed together, a cacophony of growls and thunder, teeth sinking into pelts, and blood blooming. Carlos hit the ground and rolled, pushed himself back up. My gun was useless until I got a good shot in, so I holstered it and ran forward, taking in the area. Aunt Claire had left tire marks in the mud. All that was left was the white van we had ridden in on.

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With a wave of my hand, mud rose up and flew at Crowe, hitting him in the eyes. He let out a howl and shook his head. Carlos slammed into him from the side, his teeth sinking into the back of Crowe‟s neck. I whipped my gun out and took a shot, but Crowe jumped up, knocking Carlos off him. He spun around and sank his teeth into Carlos, slamming him down into the ground. I threw a wave of power at Crowe, ripping him off Carlos and slamming him into the side of the van, which formed a dent and caused it to rock. Crowe hit the ground, and Carlos picked himself up. My heart pounded in my ears, almost as loud as the thunder. Lightning flashed, catching Crowe‟s glare. I aimed my gun and pulled the trigger. Crowe jumped out of the way, dashing toward me. I jumped up, propelling myself off the ground and up into the sky. Motherfucker was a fast one. Slowly I let out a breath and focused my energy on the van, lifting it off the ground and raising it into the night. Carlos chased Crowe, jumping and pouncing, their jaws snapping as they tried to get a good hold on each other. I could feel the heat from the sky, the burn of lightning. Thunder deafened my ears like gunshots. Somewhere, behind the black skies, I could see the outline of the moon. “Carlos!” I yelled over the rain. He looked up briefly and then jumped out of the way, dashing across the yard. I threw the van down. Earth rose up and a muddy wave splashed out like a great mudslide. I lowered myself slowly, a chill running through me. I landed, collapsing on the ground as the energy seemed to seep from me. In the distance, beneath the thunder, I could hear the hum of sirens. I wiped mud from my face and looked over at the van, half expecting Crowe to come rising from it. There was stark silence when the van didn‟t move. Sound just seemed to be zapped. I could see the lightning, feel the rain. I could even feel the vibrations of thunder, but it all just…disappeared. And then the rain began to slow. Carlos limped up to me, shifted back to man. He was naked and injured, his soaked hair clinging, mud and smeared blood caking his skin. He collapsed next to me, setting a firm hand on my shoulder. “Theo.” We sat there, waiting for the police to come. I pulled myself to my feet when the police cars swung into the yard, followed by a fire truck and two ambulances. Scott jumped out of one of the police cars. “Shit, Ramirez,” Scott shouted as soon as he saw Carlos. “Put some damn pants on!” Carlos cracked a smile, leaning heavily against me. I hooked my arm around his waist, whispering only for him to hear, “You okay?” He turned his head, his forehead knocking against mine, and whispered back. “I feel like a million bucks, corazón.” I smirked. “Mutt.” “Hey!” Scott shouted, walking up to us. “How many more are there?”

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“Two more injured in the barn and four more bodies, one of them shifted.” I pointed weakly toward the barn. “And the other one is under the van.” Scott looked at the van, which was flat on its side. He grimaced. “I‟m not even going to ask right now.” “Good.” I helped Carlos over to one of the ambulances. They quickly threw a blanket over him. Pain began to surface, my knee barking at me to get off it. I leaned heavily against the side of the ambulance and looked up at Carlos as one of the EMTs inspected his shoulder, working on removing the bullet. “You fucking scared the shit out of me.” Carlos looked up at me, his eyes back to their cocoa color. “I could say the same.” “Don‟t get shot again.” He smiled, and my heart fluttered. Shit, I‟d come to close to losing him. I didn‟t want to get that close again. “Hey,” he said, “stop thinking. We survived. That‟s all that matters.” Did we? We survived, but how much of our humanity was left? I nodded. “Yeah.” “Go get looked over. You look like shit,” Carlos said. If it hurt to have a silver bullet removed, he didn‟t show it. I walked off, heading to the other ambulance. It was dull chaos; the thunder and lightning were gone, and only a trickle of rain fell over the world. It was soft, almost sympathetic. Could the world cry? I heard Scott call in for a crane to have the van removed. Stretchers were brought into the barn. Lloyd had shifted back at some point, his naked body riddled with deep injuries. His skin had gone pallid, as if the life had been sucked from him. I wanted to reach out and take his hand, to feel his pulse, to be reassured that he was still alive.

*** There was going to be a lot of paperwork. Way too much paperwork. I wasn‟t looking forward to it. But that was the last thing on my mind. We had finally gotten back to Carlos‟s house at the ass-crack of dawn. To say the least, we called off for the day. The hospital had released us both. My knee had been rewrapped, but the damage had, surprisingly, not increased. I had walked away from the fight with some serious bruises forming a patchwork over my shoulders and chest. The stitches in my shoulder had been ripped, so they had to redo them. But the important part was that I hadn‟t gotten cut, bitten, or scratched. The only gash I had was on the back of my head from where I‟d gotten hit. No turning furry for me.

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Carlos had several minor abrasions that would heal in a few days. The bullet wound had started healing up as soon as they got the blasted piece of silver out. We were sore, exhausted, and wanted to sleep for the next century. We stumbled into his house. “Fuck,” Carlos groaned. “Come on. Let‟s go to bed.” I headed straight to his bedroom. For once, he didn‟t argue or try to initiate anything else. We closed the blinds and stripped down to our boxers, falling into the bed like dead weight. Carlos held me gently, burying his face into the top of my head. It didn‟t take long for me to drift off. I don‟t know why I woke. There wasn‟t any noise or anything moving that could disturb me. I just woke, suddenly feeling as if something was terribly wrong. I let out an exhausted sigh and looked over at the alarm clock on the nightstand. The red numbers glowed five o‟clock. We had slept the day away. I pushed myself up and looked over at Carlos. The shallow cuts had already healed. Without even thinking about it, I reached out and tucked some of his hair behind his ear. My stomach churned grimly. Something was definitely wrong. It was as if the shadows had come to life, lurching throughout the house toward me. I debated on waking Carlos, but he looked too peaceful. I got up, slid on my pants, and eased out of bed, making my way to the kitchen. With each step, my stomach did a somersault. I felt like I was walking toward my grave. I was almost tempted to turn around and kiss Carlos good-bye. The air shifted, as if something had been released in it. Then I felt it, rolling in like a tropical storm—Jason‟s aura. I looked around the kitchen and found the knife block. I didn‟t have my gun, thanks to Crowe, so I was going to have to make do with a butcher knife. God, I felt like a chick out of a Friday the 13th movie. I slipped the knife into my pants, the cold steel sending a chill up my spine. I walked into the living room, my eyes gravitating toward the couch. He hadn‟t been there before—or at least, I hadn‟t felt him—but that wasn‟t important. He was there now, sitting as if he owned the place, a smile splashed across his shadowcovered face. I could only see the gleam of his razor teeth and the yellow of his eyes. I was too worn out for this, but I‟d have to face it sometime. I couldn‟t run forever. “You should remember to lock the door.” Jason tipped his head back in a nonchalant greeting. My blood ran cold from the sight of him. I mentally slapped myself for not following up with Agent Fouler. But in my defense, I‟d been kind of preoccupied. “I‟ll make a mental note of that,” I said, keeping my voice low. I didn‟t want Carlos to see this, to be here. Jason pushed himself up in a smooth glide, his body moving like flowing silk. He eased himself around the coffee table, his hands twitching as they melted into

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claws. “Do you think about me?” Jason asked, his voice the warm growl of a hungry wolf. “Every waking moment,” I admitted. There was a cross between pure terror and a rush of adrenaline that ran through me. Beneath it was the hard truth, an acceptance that I had known I‟d come to face all along. This was going to end, here and now. “Good.” Jason laughed, his face split wide. “Good.” He came running at me, his hands stretched out. I threw energy at him, splitting it to focus on opening the door as I did so. He rose up and flew over my head, and I propelled him out the door and into the street. The last thing I could do for Carlos was to at least make sure his home wasn‟t destroyed. I turned slowly and walked out the door with a sense of enlightenment. When you face death, you can either face it scared, or you can laugh. I was going to laugh all the way to my grave. Jason pushed himself to his feet, shaking like a dog, and let out a low growl. I smiled and taunted him. “Not as fast as you used to be.” His face twisted; a flash of wolf, and a snarl so violent, it tore him down the middle. “I‟ve been running from pigs because of you!” Jason‟s features smoothed out quickly, like someone had switched his masks, and he said in a childish song, “But it was worth it, because tonight, I‟m going to feast.” He rushed me, a wild beast on a fool‟s errand. I flew up, the sun descending against my back. The air was cold, still damp from the rain that had drowned the world. I could feel the perspiration that hung from the clouds. It beaded against my chest as I rose up in the sky, a dark angel about to deliver Jason from his personal hell. Jason roared, jumping into the air to grab at me. I couldn‟t stay up here forever. I pulled out the knife and shot to the earth, sending a bullet of energy at Jason to toss him back again. I jumped on him, brought the knife down, and slammed it into his shoulder. He brought his legs up into my chest and threw me off him, knocking the knife out of my grip and sending it spinning across the street. My back hit the asphalt, and the wind rushed out of me. Just what I needed, another fucking concussion. Jason flipped up and pounced, his hands slamming into the ground and cracking the road. I threw him off me again, scrambled to my feet, and pulled the knife back into my hand. He landed on his feet, crouched low, his shoulders hunched. My knee pulsed with agonizing pain. I had pushed it too far. I felt like the Tower of Babel, brought to my highest point before God was going to tear me down. Our eyes held; a silent promise passed between us. His burning gaze was like staring into the gates of hell. There was so much madness in them, so much pain and anger. “You‟ll never stop,” I said, slowly walking to the left in a wide circle around him.

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Jason smirked, and it didn‟t look good on him. “Not until I‟ve tasted your heart. It‟s mine.” Subconsciously, I lifted my hand and pressed it to my chest, felt the rapid beat of my heart. “You‟re wrong,” I said softly, my voice carrying in the cool October breeze. “It already belongs to someone else.” Jason broke out into a peal of laughter, and I tightened my grip on the knife. I lifted it up, pointing it at him, the blade glinting in the afterlight. Beyond Jason, over the rooftops, like a pale beam of light slowly brightening, I could make out the moon, full and luminous—a hunting moon. Pray for me. “This time, I will see you in hell,” I promised, tensing my shoulders in preparation to strike. I let my power go, let it spread wide, let it touch the sky and bring heaven and Earth together. Copies of me spread, dozens of knives pointing and catching the light, tangible figures that echoed my promise. The knives were scintillating, like earthbound stars. Jason spun in a circle, his head rolling and eyes wild, like a pair of eight balls spinning on a pool table. He lunged, attacking the closest doppelganger. It evaporated as soon as contact was made. Jason bayed at the moon, his body trembling, back bowing, as if someone was trying to break him in half. He slashed out at another and another, each copy of myself evaporating under the swipe of his hand. I kept replacing them, surrounding him in a cage of bodies. Beneath his screams, I could hear the hum of crickets, and it made me smile. I turned my head, looked over at Carlos‟s house. A shadow moved behind the window, a pair of golden eyes catching mine. Carlos‟s eyes grew wide, and his fist beat against the glass. He was screaming something, but hell, I‟ve never been good at reading lips. That had always been Charlie‟s domain. I tipped my head to him in a final farewell and turned around. Jason had torn his clothes off, his body heaving forward as his bones snapped and buckled beneath the pressure. In a final diabolical roar, he combusted into a grizzly-sized black wolf. He tore through the copies, and I let them go, not holding on to them anymore. I rushed him. With each step, my heart beat faster. This is for you, Charlie. I jumped into the air and came down, slamming the knife into Jason‟s eye. He howled in pain and threw his head up, throwing me into the air like a rag doll. I caught myself and slowly came back down. Fuck, I needed that knife. He charged and I stumbled back, my bad knee twisting, pain erupting. I screamed, because there was nothing left to do but scream. I screamed because I was angry. I screamed because I was hurt. I screamed for the pain, for the frustration, for the fear. I screamed for every victim that Jason had tortured. I screamed, because in the end, we were still just little boys.

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He slammed into me as my knee gave out and my body buckled. I hit the ground, dazed. The stars above me spun, and I could see the moon above him. Then he sank his teeth into my collarbone and throat, and fire tore through me. It was a sharp stab of pain as I felt bone break, felt veins sever, felt blood run hot down my chest. I gurgled; blood coated my lips. I watched the stars twinkle, felt the foggy edges of eternity creep in. My arms locked around him, lamely pushing at him. I looked down at him, meeting his eyes. Beneath their blood hunger, beneath their anger and their psychotic gleam, was torment. A wish for death. The pain dulled, and the sky grew just a little blacker. He was trying to devour me. He was eating me. This was it. I‟d failed. Game over. My greatest sin was not putting an end to this. “Theo!” Carlos‟s voice broke through the fog. My hands slipped, my left hand brushing against the knife still stuck in Jason‟s eye. “Fucking fight, Theo!” Carlos screamed, his voice taking on the edge of a coyote. I grabbed hold of the knife and ripped it out just as Jason lifted his head to howl. I tried to see past the encroaching shadows, tried to focus on a final attack. I slammed the butcher knife into Jason‟s throat and twisted, dragging it across so that I tore through his jugular. His howl turned into a sharp gurgle as his body gave a twist. Blood rushed out, matting his fur, spilling over me. I didn‟t stop. I wouldn‟t go until I‟d finished this. I pulled the knife out and brought it back down again, slamming the knife hilt into the side of his head. I kept slamming and slamming. He tried to turn, tried to bite. I felt the graze of his teeth. But he couldn‟t do it. I slammed the knife blade into the side of his head and twisted. Jason‟s good eye rolled to me as his body fell forward, his great weight dropping onto me. My hand fell away from the knife, leaving it embedded in his skull. I couldn‟t tell where my blood started and Jason‟s began. All I knew was that he was dead. He was fucking dead. I made a weak sound in my throat, my eyes growing heavy. Shit, I was tired. I was so fucking tired. Carlos pushed Jason off me and crouched beside me in nothing but his bandages and boxers. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Theo, look at me! Keep your eyes open; an ambulance is on its way!” His hands pressed against my wound, but it was too big for him to cover completely. I smirked, staring up into his eyes. His brows were creased with determination, his eyes flicking back and forth between topaz and chocolate. He could smell the blood, it was playing with his senses, aiding in the siren call of the moon. I’m so tired, Carlos. I just want to sleep. Your hands are so warm. They feel good. They’ve always felt good.

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“Damn it, Theo! I said keep your fucking eyes open! Will you listen to me for once?” Carlos screamed at me, his voice choking up. The moon faded, the stars went out. I smiled up at him; I guess I was still too stubborn. I didn‟t want to listen to him. I just wanted to sleep, and the black that was seeping over my eyes was only making it easier to let go. “Theo! Look the fuck at me!” Carlos yelled. I could hear sirens over his voice, but it sounded as if they were across the Atlantic. So far away. Everything was so far away. “Theo!” I held Carlos‟s gaze, my lids drooping, opening, drooping, and then opening again. I wasn‟t afraid. Not anymore. I did what I‟d set out to do. I‟d brought Jason down. Now I was paying for my sins, paying for my mistakes. I wasn‟t Superman; I wasn‟t indestructible. I was just a man, and now it was time to pay my dues. “Bye,” I whispered. I could barely hear it. Who knew if Carlos did? I didn‟t see my life flash before my eyes. I did see a flash of color, a blend of events running through my mind as my eyelids drooped for their final time. It was nothing like the movies say it should be. It was nothing, just a final thought: I’m sorry, Carlos. My greatest regret is never telling you.

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Chapter Fourteen I never believed I‟d go to heaven. I guess, deep down inside me, I‟d always believed what my mother said. I was a demon, a monster straight out of hell. So it would only be fitting for me to go back there. But this wasn‟t hell. Or at least, it didn‟t look like any hell I‟d ever been told about. I was standing back in the abandoned apartment, but this time, it was different. Charlie‟s body was gone. Jason was gone. There were no police lights escaping through the cracks in the boards on the windows. Instead, daylight streamed in. Light filled the apartment; it came in from the windows; it seeped through the floor as if the sun were bursting through the grains. It even seemed to escape from the cracks in the walls. The room glowed, golden and iridescent. Standing across from me, facing the window, was Charlie. “What‟s going on?” I asked, taking a hesitant step forward. I wasn‟t in pain— actually, I felt amazing. I ran my hands over my body, trying to feel the wounds. My throat should have been half gone. My collarbone should be destroyed. I should have bullet holes. I should have a fucked-up knee. But there was nothing. I was standing there, dressed in the same suit I had worn the day Charlie had died. “Hey, kid.” His voice, a low rich sound that had a faint Brooklyn accent, was welcome to my ears. “‟Bout time you got here. Always so damn slow.” “Charlie?” “Who else?” He turned to face me, and I braced myself for the horror of his attack. He was flawless, though, as if he had never been at Jason‟s mercy. His brown, graying hair was downy soft around his head. It was receding slightly. His blue eyes twinkled with mirth as he smiled at me, all the wrinkles in his face deepening. I swallowed, mesmerized by the sight. The sun intensified behind him, became a golden halo. I rubbed my hands together anxiously, took another shy step forward. “How? Am…am I dead?” He didn‟t say anything, and my heart skipped a beat. Was I? Was this heaven? Or was this purgatory? Was I dangling between the two realms, waiting for my final judgment? Did I care?

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“Charlie.” I closed the distance between us. I lifted my hand, pressed my fingers gingerly to his cheek, traced the outline of a wrinkle. He was an inch taller than me, broad and thickly built, with a slight gut forming. “You did good, kid,” Charlie said. My gaze snapped up and met his icy blue one. “But…but you‟re dead,” I stammered, my throat closing up with emotion I refused to show. “I let you die!” “No, you didn‟t.” He chuckled. “Boy, you sure are stupid sometimes. Don‟t you ever listen to me? To anyone?” He reached up and knocked his knuckles against the side of my head like he was knocking at a door. “Or is that head of yours too thick? I knew what I was doing when I left. I also knew that if anyone could get to Rebecca first, it‟d be you.” “Charlie…” My voice broke. “But…” “Stop blaming yourself. It‟s time for you to open those eyes of yours and realize what‟s in front of you. It‟s time to let go.” His smile broke into a wide grin. He stuffed his hands deep into the tan pockets of his suit pants. He turned around and started walking. The wall of boarded-up windows was gone, and in its place was an open horizon of radiant light. He stopped at the edge and turned to look over his shoulder at me. “Tell my girls I said hi, okay?” He stepped into the light, his body dissolving before my eyes into a million little fireflies. They floated toward me, wrapped around my body, tickled me all over. I closed my eyes as warmth—sweet, blissful warmth—surrounded me. It took ahold of me and cradled me. For the first time in my life, I felt salvation. The apartment began to fade, the walls disappearing into nothing. The fireflies held me up, gently carried me down. I didn‟t fight them. I didn‟t want to. “I‟ll be seeing you around, kid,” I heard Charlie‟s voice call out as my mind began to fade out. Then, as gently as a mother‟s touch, the fireflies let go, and darkness submerged me.

*** I opened my eyes, a weak gasp escaping me. I was still tired, but it was a different kind of tired. I just needed a little rest, and then I‟d be back up. Then I‟d be okay. I could do this. I‟d be okay. Panic seized me as soon as I realized I couldn‟t move. There was something shoved down my throat, and I could hear the beeping of a heart monitor. What the hell was going on? Where was I? My right leg was suspended in the air by some metal contraption that looked like a twisted sex machine, and my right arm hurt like a son of a bitch.

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I tried to make a sound but couldn‟t do it. Shakily, I reached up and grabbed hold of the tube shoved down my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut and pulled, screaming weakly as I did so. It felt like all of Daytona Beach had been poured down my throat. I pushed myself up the best I could, my instincts kicking in. I needed to get the fuck out of here, wherever here was. I pulled off the clip on my finger and ripped the IV out of my hand, my heart feeling like it was ready to burst from my chest. A wave of nausea slammed into me, and I braced myself against the bed, preparing to empty whatever the fuck was in my stomach. My collarbone felt like someone had crushed it, and my throat… God, my throat hurt. The heart monitor began to go flat, instantly screeching in alarm. I ignored it and grabbed at the brace holding my leg up, trying to pull my foot out. I made an incoherent sound in the back of my throat, because it was all I could manage at the moment, and pulled my foot down from the contraption. I threw my legs over the bed and stood up. I collapsed instantly, hitting the floor hard. The door to the room swung open, and a familiar voice cried out. “Shit! Theo! Nurse! Someone get me a nurse!” I pushed myself up, reaching for a weapon. Jason‟s teeth flashed in front of my eyes, threatening to tear me to shreds. I knocked my hand against the nightstand but came up with nothing. “Theo!” Someone yelled and grabbed hold of me. I made some kind of sound, a cross between a gurgle and a scream, and lashed out. More people came in; more hands grabbed at me. I thrashed, pain rising up in me like a fever. Someone screamed. I think it was me. I wasn‟t going back. I wasn‟t going back to the brink of death. I wasn‟t going to. I was going to fucking live! My left fist hit something, and I heard someone curse, but I couldn‟t see. A sharp pain pricked my arm, and everything went blurry. I tried to fight it, but my body just gave way. I sagged into someone, my eyes searching desperately for a way out. That‟s when I saw him, hovering over me with worried, bloodshot eyes and a bloody lip. Carlos. My eyes closed as I tried to call for him.

*** When I opened my eyes again, Carlos was sitting by my bed, holding my left hand. Dark circles were around his exhausted eyes, and his hair was a tangled, disheveled mess. He was wearing a crumpled suit and looked like he hadn‟t shaved in a few days. I squeezed my hand weakly around his. His head jerked up, his gaze locking on mine. “Mi corazón,” Carlos murmured, rising from his chair. “H-hold on; just hold on. I‟ll get the doctor.”

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He was gone before I could stop him. I wanted to call him back. A doctor with a white lab coat and salt-and-pepper hair came in with a petite nurse. Everything blurred together, and I could only lie there as the doctor examined me and talked, rambling off facts and details to me that I could barely process. I felt like a cornered rabbit. He probed and poked and tested various things, looked at my IV bag, and took note of my pulse. I was able to make sense of some of the stuff he said. They‟d had to perform surgery on my knee, inserting a metal pin into it. My collarbone had been completely crushed; they‟d performed reconstructive surgery on it. There had been some nerve damage, so I was going to be numb in that area for a while. I might start feeling stuff again, but they couldn‟t be sure right now. The right side of my neck had been torn at, but there hadn‟t been any permanent damage. I had lost a lot of blood when Jason attacked me, and it took three transfusions to get me back to a stable level. I had flatlined once on the way to the hospital, Dr. Kasich said as he inspected my collarbone. I had also, he informed me, been in a coma for a week now. I looked over at Carlos, who sat quietly in the chair beside me. His gaze was haunted, and there was no doubt in my mind that he‟d spent every possible minute at my side. “Tell me how many fingers I‟m holding up, Detective,” Dr. Kasich said, holding up three fingers. “Three,” I said, my voice scratchy and raw from all the abuse. “Good.” He scribbled something down. “We‟ll have to run some tests, but I don‟t think there was any brain damage while you were in the coma.” He finished checking me over and left, saying that he‟d be back to check up on me. I turned my head to look at Carlos as soon as the door was shut and gave him a weak smile. “Hey,” I whispered. His eyes turned angry as soon as they locked with mine. I could see the insecurity in them, the fear that had been planted inside his brain as soon as he saw me through his window. “Why didn‟t you wake me?” I knew it was a question that had been rolling around in his head since that night. I closed my eyes, let out a shaky breath. “Because I didn‟t want to lose you like I lost Charlie.” My voice sounded so pathetic. “Could you get me a glass?” I turned to look at the pitcher of water on the nightstand. He got up without complaint and walked around the bed, poured me a cup. He helped me sit up and held the glass for me as I gulped it down. It soothed my throat somewhat. He put the plastic cup back down. “Theo, I could have helped you…if you…if you…” “I‟m sorry.” I reached out with my left hand to grab his. “I‟m sorry.”

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“Shit,” Carlos whispered, dropping down to his knees beside the bed. He pressed a kiss to my knuckles. “I thought I‟d lost you… I held you. I watched the blood drain from you. I saw you flatline. I…” “I‟m here now,” I said. His gaze flicked up to meet mine. I could only offer him a smile. “And I‟m not going anywhere.” He nodded and mumbled, “Yeah…yeah, you‟re right. You‟re here now.” It was going to take some time, but his fear would slowly dissipate. I had been given a second chance, and I wasn‟t about to let him slip away. I held his hand as I turned my head toward the window. Sunlight slowly streamed in through the blinds, so bright, it was almost heavenly. And for a second, when I started to look back at Carlos, I thought I saw a firefly.

*** “So you start physical therapy soon?” Lloyd sat in a chair beside my bed, a warm smile spread across his face. It was strange to see him now; he had taken on such a transformation. His power rolled over me, no longer subdued by the guilt and remorse that had plagued him. I had never realized how strong he was until now. His hair was pulled back from his face, his silver-blue eyes sparkling like a clear spring. He was handsome, oozing sexuality with every movement. The rock star inside him was coming back. He leaned in the chair, stretching his long legs out. He wore a pair of snug jeans and a Breaking Benjamin T-shirt that fitted nicely on his lean chest. “Yeah, I should be starting in a few days. Depending on how the therapy goes,” I said, “I should be home before Christmas.” “Carlos should be happy.” It had been three weeks since I‟d come out of the coma. Lloyd had come by several times. Each time I saw him, more life came back into his eyes. “Yeah,” I said. “He‟s very optimistic about everything.” Lloyd nodded, his tongue flicking out to lick his lips. I could tell something was on his mind. He had been giving me sidelong glances since he came in. “How are things in the pack?” I asked. “Rough,” he said, his brows knitting together. He had potential to go far. “But getting better.” Ever since Crowe‟s death, the pack had been in turmoil. They had been looking for a new leader, and several challengers had stepped up. But from what Lloyd had said on his last visit, no one had been able to hold their position long enough. I had told him to try for alpha, but he had only smiled and shrugged it off. I think, though, that a part of him wanted to. “What‟s wrong, Lloyd?” I asked, picking up my water glass and taking a sip. “What do you mean?”

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“You look like you have something to say.” He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, toying with it anxiously. I shot him an aggravated look and said firmly, “Lloyd, spit it out.” “I just…” he began, exhaling. “I just wanted to say thank you.” I blinked, staring dumbfounded at him. He looked at me, his cheeks coloring softly. “I mean… I never said it before…but thank you.” “For what?” He ran his long fingers through his hair, pushed the bangs from his eyes. He rolled his eyes skyward, embarrassment written all over his face. “For keeping your promise. You saved me, and I know that if you hadn‟t been there…I wouldn‟t be here today. So thank you.” I shifted uncomfortably. Fuck, I was never good at these things. I rubbed my left hand through my hair and said, “Uh…well, yeah. You‟re welcome.” We looked at each other and then away. I could feel Lloyd‟s eyes move back to me, but I couldn‟t face him. Before we could say anything else, Carlos burst in, a small tub of water in his arms. “Who wants a sponge bath?” I hunkered down in my bed and glared across the room at Carlos. “Mutt!” Carlos blinked and then looked between me and Lloyd, no doubt taking in our flushed cheeks. His eyes narrowed somewhat, and he visibly bristled at the sight of Lloyd. I knew that Lloyd was going to become a permanent fixture in my life, and there was no doubt in my mind that Carlos and Lloyd would always hate each other. They were like two strays fighting over a scrap of meat, and I was that scrap. Lloyd let out a growl. Their power oozed throughout the room. I wasn‟t in the mood for them to play “whose dick is bigger,” so I snapped, “Enough. You guys can duke it to the death somewhere else.” Carlos snorted, refusing to look away. Lloyd wasn‟t about to budge either. “I said enough!” I shouted. "If you two don‟t stop it, then you both can get the fuck out.” That got them to look away. They both seemed to droop in on themselves, their gazes dropping to the floor with the most pathetic looks on their faces. You‟d think I‟d just smacked them in the noses and sent them to their beds. “Well,” Lloyd finally said, still looking a bit miffed, “I should go.” “Yeah, you should,” Carlos grumbled. I gave him a warning look. “I‟ll come by soon.” Lloyd leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my cheek, to my surprise.

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Carlos let out a growl, but Lloyd cut across the room and was out the door before he could lash out. I just smirked, considering it payback for the kiss Abe had taken not so long ago. I lay back against the pillows, set my glass down, and looked across the room at Carlos. Things almost felt normal. I just had to get through my physical therapy, and then I could be on my way home. Carlos had taken over the renovations of my apartment and reported to me daily on how they were going. He had also taken it into his hands to get me a new cell phone, since Crowe had so kindly stolen ours. He had also, to my surprise, covered all the paperwork for both cases. According to him, Abe had gotten what he wanted after the case wrapped up: a juicy story to report. Since then, Carlos had been keeping the mutt away, only seeing him at pack meetings. Aunt Claire had received only minor injuries that night and seemed to be doing just fine. She came by as often as Carlos did, bringing me food. Did I ever say how much I loved her? With both Crowe and Victor gone, the pack was in need of a leader, but that was a matter Lloyd was seeing to. Crowe had done a bang-up job of completely disabling the pack. Half of them had been ensnared in his fight ring, whether out of fear or desperation, we weren‟t certain. Without Crowe looming over them, some semblance of normalcy had begun to return. But it didn‟t change the fact that there was still no one to watch over them. A pack without a leader was a pack destined to fall apart. I had no concern in it, though Carlos did seem a bit worried. He said with things in chaos for the wolf pack, it could bring a lot of trouble into town. Loners could come in, looking to become the next big honcho. But there wasn‟t anything he could do. Hopefully Lloyd would take my advice and step up. It turned out that Crowe had been running the ring for some time. He‟d hold the fights in the barn and let people take bets. When one of the fighters died, they got buried in the back field. With Crowe out of the picture, some of the fighters stepped forward. We also found journals in Victor‟s office that detailed suspicions he had on Crowe being up to something. The only thing we could come up with was that Crowe had decided to throw Victor off his trail by planting bodies in various places to make it seem like random murders. What he hadn‟t expected was that someone would finally step forward with the truth. With Jason dead, Agent Fouler was able to close the case. He had gotten my statement when I came out of the coma and left. I hadn‟t heard from him since. The other good news was that I didn‟t turn furry, like Carlos had feared. He had been sure that from Jason‟s attack that I‟d be going werewolf once a month, but the full moon had come and gone, and I was still just a normal Phantom, no werewolf in the mix. But that was the strange thing about lycanthropy: it was random selection. It didn‟t matter how big the attack was, scratch or downright mauling—you either caught it or you didn‟t. I was one of the lucky ones. I cocked my head to the side and shot Carlos a teasing smile. “So, you going to help me bathe, or what?” That seemed to perk Carlos up.

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He set the tub down on the nightstand and took a seat in the chair, a smile inching its way across his face. I pushed myself up with Carlos‟s help and removed my white T-shirt. My collarbone and neck were still bandaged. Carlos‟s eyes settled on the bandages, and for a split second, I saw the same haunted look pass over him that he had had the day I woke up. I reached out with my left hand and touched his, which rested on the edge of the bed. “Hey.” His gaze jumped to my face, and he nodded, coughing weakly as if to clear his throat. “You comfortable?” I nodded. “Yeah.” He stood and picked up the sponge that had been floating in the tub. He wrung it out and carefully lifted my right arm, gently running the sponge over my skin. Water trickled down, warm to the touch. “Afraid you‟ll break me?” I asked. Every time Carlos touched me, it was as if he expected me to shatter. It was starting to get on my nerves. “I promise I won‟t,” I said, “so stop acting like it.” He hesitated, water trailing down my arm and falling from my fingertips. He then let out a sigh and nodded. “Right.” He carefully bathed my arms, minding the bandages. His hand dipped down, ran over my chest. The cooling sponge hit my left nipple, which instantly hardened. They had taken my ring out on the way to the hospital, and I had yet to put it back in. I missed the feel of Carlos tugging at it. I looked up at Carlos, who was watching me intently, the smirk on his face smoldering. I let out a shaky breath, and Carlos rubbed the sponge over my nipple again. Desire twitched inside me. It had been too long since I‟d felt his touch. “Carlos,” I warned, already feeling my cock stirring to life. He leaned forward, his mouth brushing against mine, taunting me with so many possibilities. His hand dipped lower, rubbing against my stomach. His tongue snaked out, tracing my lips. I opened my mouth, a weak sound escaping as he dragged the now cold sponge up, pressing it against my right nipple. “Unngh,” I moaned, reaching up and tangling my fingers in his silky hair, pulling him closer. His tongue delved into my mouth, and I welcomed him, relearning his taste. Without breaking the kiss, he dropped the sponge into the small tub of water. I pulled back, drawing in a lungful of air. He pushed my blanket down, helped me ease my sweatpants down my hips and over my legs. He looked over his shoulder at the door, then walked over after a second and locked it. My cock was at full mast, begging for Carlos to touch me. “Carlos,” I groaned, brushing my fingers along the sensitive flesh. Carlos returned to my side, playfully smacking my hand. “No, it‟s bathtime.”

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I shot him an agitated glare but kept my hand at my side like an obedient little boy. He picked up the sponge again, squeezing it so all the excess water ran out, and then returned to washing my stomach, moving to my thighs, purposely ignoring the most important spot. A shudder ran over me as he slowly slid the damp sponge along my legs, minding my wrapped knee. He rubbed the sponge along the bottoms of my feet, causing my toes to wiggle. I bit down on my bottom lip, trying to keep the growl of frustration from escaping. Every touch was magnified. When he slid the sponge up the inside of my leg, I gave a startled gasp, trying to keep myself from squirming. It was like thousands of little electrical currents running up my body. “Carlos,” I growled out. “Stop teasing me.” “I don‟t know what you‟re talking about.” Carlos squeezed the sponge so that water rained down on my throbbing dick. I tipped my head back. “Ahh…” “Do you know how badly I want you?” Carlos asked, letting the water fall, squeezing the sponge tighter. “It‟s been a month since I‟ve felt your body beneath mine.” “Carlos…” “A month since I‟ve tasted your sweet flesh. Since I had your cock in my mouth. Since you‟ve cried out my name,” Carlos murmured, dipping the sponge back in the tub and wringing it out again. I gritted my teeth, holding his gaze. “It‟s been a month for me too,” I said, my voice tight and yearning. “So it has…” His eyelids lowered in a stare that sent my body into shock. Fuck, I wanted him. He ran the sponge along the underside of my shaft. Droplets of water beaded down and caught in my bed of curls. It was as if a thousand volcanoes were releasing at once. I moaned, lifting my left hand to bite it. Carlos smiled, wrapped his hand around my aching cock, and pressed the cooling sponge to it. In slow, agonizing motions, he began to move his hand up and down. Wantonly I moaned, my eyes squeezed shut. He kept the pace slow, continuing to drive me forward to a place of endless euphoria. “Faster,” I groaned, my eyes squinting open to glare up at him, face flushed, breath short. “How do you ask?” If I could, I would have beaten him. But I‟d hurt myself in the end, and I was in way too much pleasure to stop him. I dropped my hand, fisted the sheets, and moaned out, “Please, Carlos, faster.” “Whatever you want, corazón.” Carlos‟s voice dropped low and sultry, taking on the husky note of a coyote.

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He dropped the sponge in the tub and wrapped his hand completely around me, starting back up again at a fast pace that sent me tumbling over the edge. Carlos leaned forward, his mouth sealing over mine, swallowing my moan as a powerful orgasm rode over me. I came in his hand, my hips rising to meet his caresses. I collapsed onto the bed, my appetite sated. Exhaustion began to edge in, my energy wiped out. Carlos ran his fingers one last time over my wilting cock before lifting his cum-covered fingers to his mouth, his tongue flicking out. He licked his fingers clean, his eyes never leaving mine, and desire began to build up inside me again. I closed my eyes to block the image of his red tongue running along his long, powerful digits. Carlos laughed warmly, the sound wrapping around me like a fur blanket. He picked up the sponge and wiped me down one more time, minus the sensuous strokes, and helped me get dressed again. Once I was back under the covers, he pulled up the chair beside me and took my hand in his. “You need to get better soon, mi corazón.” “Well, I‟m working on it,” I mumbled, sleep weighing down on me. He went sober again, raising my hand to hold over his mouth like he meant to kiss it. I turned my head to look at him, studying his serious expression. I pulled his hand toward me and laid it down over my heart. “I‟m here, Carlos, and I‟m not going anywhere. Ever.” His fingers tapped in time to my slowing heartbeat. A smile spread across his face, and it was like watching the sun rise after eternal night. He rose up and pressed a kiss to my forehead, where my scar was. “Get some rest. I‟ll come by tomorrow.” “Okay,” I yawned. He walked to the door, taking the tub with him. There was the faint scent of sex in the air, and his power washed over me, cradling me. I met his eyes as he stood by the door, hand on the knob. The light from the window caught his profile, and I swore he glowed like an angel. His rich, golden skin seemed to sparkle with the sun, and his dark ebony hair glistened like liquid silk. But it was his eyes that clenched around my heart. The adoration in them, the love that burned like magma, was so tangible, I could feel it. “I love you, mi corazón,” he said. I knew then and there that I couldn‟t run. The final, thin layers of ice that had held my heart prisoner seemed to melt away. At some point, while I had Carlos‟s heart, I had given him mine in return. Softly, the words foreign on my tongue, tingling, I said, “I love you too, Carlos.” The air around him changed, happiness visible in every movement he made as he left, promising to return. He would. Carlos wasn‟t Rhett. I wasn‟t who I used to be either. I wasn‟t bound by the chains of my past, the mistakes that I had made. This was our time, our life to share.

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I lay there, watching the closed door, almost expecting Carlos to come back in. Everything felt almost complete, like it was all finally coming to an end. But there was still one more thing I needed to do, and I had been putting it off for far too long. I grabbed my cell phone, which Carlos had brought me, from the nightstand and dialed the familiar number. I held it to my ear, counting the rings in time with my heart. When the delicate, angelic voice answered, I didn‟t freeze up with fear. “Hello?” Rebecca answered. “Rebecca.” I looked out the window. “It‟s Theo.” “Oh my God,” she gasped. I could see in my mind her eyes flying open in shock, her cheeks tinting a sweet shade of baby pink. “Th-Theo? Is it really you?” “Yeah.” I laughed. “How have you been?” “G-good…how are you?” she asked. “I‟m doing good,” I said, meaning every word. “I‟m doing real good.” “We miss you, Theo,” she said, her voice going husky with tears. “Everyone does.” My chest tightened, and I had to let out a few slow, calculated breaths before I could speak again. “I miss you guys too. It‟s been far too long.” “Will we ever get to see you again?” “Yeah,” I said. “I got a few things I need to take care of here, but as soon as I‟m done, I was thinking of coming and visiting. I‟d like you to meet someone.” “Really? Who?” The smile came out loud and clear in her question. “My boyfriend.” There was a pause, and I knew it was because she was collecting herself from the surprise. I had never wanted to settle down in New York, and I had made that perfectly clear. I was a free man, a one-night-stand kind of guy. I didn‟t do relationships. At least, not until I met Carlos. “I‟m so happy for you, Theo,” Rebecca said. “I‟ll let Mom know.” “Okay. I‟ll talk to you later, all right?” “Okay, bye, Theo. It was good to hear your voice.” “It was good hearing yours too, Rebecca. Bye.” I hung up the phone. I could just hear Charlie saying, Way to go kid. Way to go.

Loose Id Titles by Evelyn Shepherd The Hunting Moon

Evelyn Shepherd Evelyn Shepherd lives in Columbus with a fox terrier named Sunny and a ferocious appetite for sexy urban fantasies and horrors. She spends her time writing, but when she isn't working on her next novel she's either reading or spoiling her nieces. She is currently working hard at her next novel. Links to reach the author: Web site: http://www.evelynshepherd.com Blog: http://singleauthorseeks.blogspot.com Email: [email protected]