Authors: Stacey Brutger
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Paranormal & Urban, #contemporary fantasy, #Kick-Ass Heroine, #paranormal romance, #Electric Moon, #Romance, #Lions, #Brutger, #Conduit, #stacey brutger, #Murder, #Tigers, #Bears, #alpha, #Magic, #Urban, #A Raven Investigations Novel, #Wolf, #Witches, #Moon's Call, #urban fantasy, #Vampires, #Action & Adventure, #werewolf, #Myster, #Paranormal, #Fantasy, #Shapshifter, #Electic
His humor faded. “The system is not something you should try
to fix. Not all rogues are worthy of being pack. If you intend to move forward
and claim pack status, you need to get used to taking charge in all things.
Even sex.”
She could never order someone to service her like some animal.
As if reading her thoughts, he shook his head.
“You’re evaluating the situation like a human. A shifter
would see selection as an honor.”
Raven wasn’t ready for that type of thing. “There has to be
a compromise.” She entered her room, but Taggert held back, hovering by the
door. It brought home how rigid the slave lifestyle really was. “Enter.”
Taggert opened his mouth but hesitated.
“Say it.”
“Use me as practice. By giving me demands, you’ll become comfortable
to our ways.”
Raven paced the room. “But it gives you no freedom.”
He stepped in her way, blocking her so un-expectantly that
she nearly ran into him. “I don’t want freedom. If I wanted freedom, I could
have become a rogue.”
Raven plopped onto her bed, his reality finally coming home
to her. “You really prefer me ordering you around.”
Taggert tipped his head forward in agreement.
Her stomach launched up into her throat at the thought of
ordering him to kiss or touch her.
“How about a compromise until you become more comfortable.”
Raven shot Taggert a suspicious look.
“If I want something, I will ask permission and you can
grant it or not. As the size of the pack increases, so will the demands on your
time. You will have to get used to giving orders. Consider me practice.”
Raven ignored the part about growing her pack. She had
enough trouble keeping her people safe to even think of adding more. She eyed
him skeptically. “And you will speak up instead of hovering?”
It was his turn to hesitate. “Yes.”
It cheered her that this process would be similarly
uncomfortable for the both of them. It was long past midnight and tomorrow was
going to be even longer with the conclave and her petition.
“The other two spent the night in my bed. To sleep. If you
want—” Even before she finished speaking, Taggert had his shirt off and crawled
across the mattress behind her. The slave collar gleamed against his throat,
but he didn’t seem to mind, truly content in his roll.
She just couldn’t peg him down. He was so young in age that
she sometimes forgot about his past.
Raven readied for bed...or more like delayed getting into
bed until the last moment. Exhaustion pulled at her. She turned out the light, relying
more and more on her beasts, almost able to see as well in the darkness.
They both lay rigid, the silence loud to her ears. Two
awkward minutes passed before she gave up and rolled toward him. Taggert took
that as a signal and wrapped his arms around her. He buried his face into her
hair and inhaled. Whatever tension held him melted away. His fingers trailed
lazily over the sensitive back of her arm, lulling her under the spell he wove.
With her head on his shoulder, his heartbeat in her ear, sleep finally took
pity and claimed her.
She woke to sunlight and an empty bed.
Why did all the men sneak out of her room as if ashamed?
She sat, tossing back the covers and stopped to see a box
with a bow on the dresser.
Raven searched but saw no card. Inside the box rested a blue
set of gloves that ended at the wrist, secured with a button. “Taggert.”
She fingered the supple leather, feeling a bit foolish at the
thrill over such a small gift. Gathering the armload of her items, she walked
in the bathroom.
And stopped short.
Taggert was in the shower.
As in naked.
He noticed her the minute she’d entered, but instead of
acknowledging her presence, he continued to wash. The drag of his hand down on
his body slowed. Suds played peek-a-boo with her imagination. His chest was
completely smooth, and she had an irrelevant thought that he must’ve shaved
himself in preparation of her walking in on him.
Then Raven saw his erection and knew without a doubt that he
was showing off. And despite herself, it took a good minute for her brain to
kick into gear. She whirled, her face heating, and she wished she could say it
was in embarrassment.
Part of her mourned not being able to see where his hand
ended up, the animal part of her tried to get a better angle in the mirror. The
shower turned off within a minute.
“I’ll finish getting ready in my room.”
Without an ounce of shyness, Taggert strolled out of the
room. She expected him to be wearing a towel. He was in a way. He used it to
dry his hair. She watched him walk, fascinated with the smooth expanse of his
skin, the liquid way his muscles moved.
Who would have thought she was such an ass woman?
Once he left the room, she was finally able to close her
mouth and blink her dry eyes.
She wouldn’t put it past Taggert to have orchestrated that
display to get her mind off the first day of the conclave. A smile played on
her lips.
She’d have to hurry and shower if she wanted to check on
Jamie, head toward the station to get in her mandatory desk time, and still make
it to
Talons
and the conclave before nightfall.
Chapter Twenty-four
FIRST DAY OF THE
FULL MOOM: WAXING MOON
D
arkness
cloaked the basement, and Raven hesitated on the threshold. The antiseptic odors,
the smell of blood and pain, brought unpleasant memories of her past.
She clenched her fists and descended into hell. It took her
a few moments to locate Digger sitting on the other side of the prone figure. She
braced herself to find Jamie tied down.
She’d been so focused on the image that it took her a moment
to realize there was nothing sinister in the room.
“Did he wake?” Jamie was a shifter with all the benefits of
accelerated healing. Part of her expected to see him up and about at the very
least. Instead, he appeared just as tattered as last night. Dried blood had
been removed, revealing exactly how many injuries he’d sustained. The right
side of his body took the brunt of the injuries as if he’d tried to turn away,
offering a smaller target.
Digger stood and walked over to the bench he’d commandeered
for his needs. “The shifter in him will try to heal the worst of the damage
first, which is the internal injuries he’d sustained. He is on the mend, but
he’ll be unconscious for the rest of the day, if not longer.”
Raven wanted to offer to heal him, but refrained for two
reasons. All his energies were already tied up in healing. There was nothing
for her to redirect without putting his life in further danger. Not to mention
she feared that her efforts would bind them together and leave her in
possession of another shifter.
“Did he take that much damage or is there something else
slowing down the process?” She feared the transfer of so much blood from the
other shifter might have somehow infected him as well.
Digger gave her a peculiar look. “It is possible. If you
have an idea what it might be, it could speed up his recovery time.”
“Do you still have the clothes he’d been wearing?”
Digger gestured toward a pile of neatly folded clothes on a
chair near the wall.
“Not all the blood is his. If you can separate and analyze
the blood types, it could tell us what’s killing these shifters.”
“But you suspect something already.”
Raven gave him a considering look, suspicious to find him so
open and unthreatening. He watched, noticed things, but she didn’t sense him
studying her.
She pulled out her phone and showed him the pictures of the
crime scene. His face changed. “You see it, too.”
“Formaldehyde.”
“All the symptoms match. Despite what the others have said,
I can’t imagine this many shifters would kill themselves in such a gruesome matter.
For what purpose? This last victim was pack.”
She flipped through the pictures on the phone until she
found the one of Jamie’s hand. “Have you seen this symbol?”
Digger shook his head. “I saw the mark when I cleaned Jamie’s
wounds.”
“Doc’s too old.” Aaron walked into the room behind her.
“It’s a rave stamp, a place where shifter kids that have yet to crest can mingle
and make future connections.”
Plans percolated in the back of her mind, but first, she
needed to get to the office and study the case reports to see if they were able
to find anything on the other victims. “Keep me informed of his progress.”
Aaron doggedly followed her up the steps. “I want to go with
you.”
“Where?” Raven answered distractedly, a vague plan forming.
“I’m not allowed at the conclave until I’ve crested, but I
can get you into the rave.”
“I can manage.” She refused to drag him into danger.
“You can’t go alone. Not only will it look suspicious, it
will be too dangerous for a single female. Kids usually go in packs. Use me.
I’ve been there before and know what to expect. Everyone else is too old.”
“And it’s too dangerous for just the two of us with your
pack hunting you.”
“Not if we take Taggert and Jase.” There was no smile as he argued
his proposal in a businesslike manner.
Raven paced away from him, agitated to be dragging kids into
her murder investigation. Aaron sensed her refusal, leaned against the wall and
crossed his arms.
“You have three problems. Only the kids know where the rave
will be held. Cops will be spotted within a hundred yards of the building.”
Raven narrowed her eyes, expecting a trap. “And the last
one?”
He gave a broad grin, displaying what a handsome man he
would become in a few years. “Getting there is only half the problem. You have to
get someone to talk to you. If you go, I go.”
Neatly cornered.
They wouldn’t find the killer there, the kids were the
targets, but maybe she could lure out the dealer and set a trap of her own. She
couldn’t afford to lose her one lead. She trumped his demand with one of her
own. “Only if you can get Jackson to agree. I won’t have your safety
compromised.”
Aaron pushed away from the wall. “Tomorrow at midnight. I’ll
let the others know.”
* * *
Raven pored over the case files, but didn’t see any
similarities between the locations or people. Except that they were all rogues
with one exception. It looked more and more likely that the rogues were being
infected by something at the rave. It was too coincidental that two of their
victims bore the mark of the rave
The big question was if the rogues were the true targets or if
they were the test trials for a potential hit on the conclave. And she didn’t
have a damn clue on how to prevent any of it.
Scotts paused in his walk to his desk when he saw her, then went
back to reading the report he held. “Made yourself at home I see.”
She refused to feel guilty for removing the files from his
desk.
The sweet tobacco smell she associated with him increased
when he sat across from her. “So tell me what you found.”
“What makes you think I found anything?”
“You’re here. That means you’re searching for something.” He
tossed a file on his cluttered desk. “Tell me.”
Raven leaned back with a sigh. “It’s all speculation. I’m
not able to confirm or deny anything.”
“But...”
“I think I found a common thread.” Raven refused to give up more
until she had something tangible. She wouldn’t have them hunting shifters down
like animals without something concrete.
“You have no intention of sharing.”
“Not without proof. Not after last time.” Last time meaning when
the police had arrested Jackson after killing the man trying to murder her. And
she lost him when his pack came to claim him.
Scotts grunted, clearly not pleased. “We’re supposed to be a
team, yet you hardly set foot in this office.”
“You know as well as I that no shifters will come here. I
have a hard enough time getting them in the same room with me.” All except the
ones trying to kill her.
Scotts didn’t say anything more. They both knew it was the
truth. Not wanting burn bridges, she made the only concession she could. “I’ll
call you when things get heavy.”
The conversation ended when the phone rang. He put his hand
on the receiver but didn’t pick it up. “Just make sure you don’t wait until
it’s too late.”
After another hour, she called it quits and headed home to get
ready for the conclave. The animals prowled beneath her skin, restless, as if they
understood what tonight meant for them.
When she pulled up to the house, the last thing she expected
to find was Dominic wearing a collar, tags and a leash. She was too relieved to
see him safe to scold him for worrying her.
Even though Taggert stood at his side, she had no doubt
Dominic was the one in charge. “He insisted on coming.”
“So it will be just the three of us.”
“Four.” London walked out of the house, passed them and sat in
the driver’s seat without saying another word.
“Until your position is accepted by the council, it could be
dangerous to show too much support.” Taggert walked down the steps. Dominic
picked up the leash in his mouth and followed.
“Wait.” Dina hurried out, a pair of boots and a jacket in
her hands. “If you’re going to battle, you need to be dressed appropriately.”
Raven automatically accepted the armload. In seconds, she
had knee-length high-heeled boots on her feet and strapped into a tight fitting
leather jacket that left little to the imagination.
“Are these really necessary?” She stood, tugging on the
jacket. At least the material allowed her to move easily.
“Oh, yes. Most definitely.” Dina cast a critical eye over
her, surveying and judging every angle. With one last twist and a tug on the
leather, she straightened. “You’ll do great.”
Raven was shoved toward her ragtag group, uncertain what to
expect out of tonight. She did the only thing she could. She got into the car
to face her biggest challenge.
Claiming her pack.