Hunted (Riley Cray) (17 page)

I had no answer for him and could only shrug in reply while fighting against the sob that had risen in the back of my throat. Squeezing my eyes shut I felt another volley of salty tears stream down my cheeks, falling on the hands clasped in my lap.

The brush of his lips against my forehead was unexpected, but so very welcome. My breath hitched in my throat at the brief spark passing between our skin, and then it was as if cool water was radiating out from where his lips pressed against my forehead. A shudder rippled down my spine as a wave of calm moved through me, flowing down into my fingers and toes like water trickling into all the nooks and crannies of my body.

His hands moved down from my shoulders, gliding along the length of my arms and I felt a deep pull inside my body, akin to the sensation that rose through me as the wolf emerged, and yet wholly different. Where the wolf was full of heat and fur, the sensations rippling through me now were cool and liquid, gentle in its exploration of me like fingers tracing an unfamiliar path. The scent of hot caramel swelled around me, sweeping over and through me, touching the most intimate parts inside me.

As quickly as the feelings had come, they faded, taking my lingering tensions along with it. It was as though it had flowed through me, pulling my fear along in its powerful undertow, leaving me feeling light and drowsy in its wake.

My eyelashes fluttered against my cheeks as I opened my eyes and looked up into Holbrook’s face to find his eyes heavily-lidded and bright. His cheeks were flushed as if just back from a run, and a thin sheen of sweat clung to his brow. Stepping back he swayed on his feet for just a moment as though he was dizzy, his eyes appearing to lose focus. He started to reach out towards me for support, sweat tracking down his temple, and then the moment passed. Blinking a few times he shook off whatever has passed over him, though his gaze still looked a little unfocused.

“Are you okay?” I asked, my hands hovering in the air between us, ready to catch him if he fell.

“I-I’m fine,” he stammered, his voice thick as if he was fighting back tears.

“What was that?” I asked, certain that I should be concerned but unable to muster any emotion other than a deep sense of calm.

“We...ah...should eat before the pizza gets cold,” he said, choosing to ignore my question.

“Sure,” I said, knowing I should be more shaken by whatever it was that had just passed between us. Something had happened, of that there was no doubt, but I had no clue what, and Holbrook didn’t seem to be in a sharing mood.

Situating myself near the headboard, I arranged the blankets over my feet as I muddled over what had just happened. I watched through the haze of my eyelashes as Holbrook toed off his shoes, setting the pizza box in the middle of bed like a barrier, as if it could hold back the questions that hung on the tip of my tongue. Tentatively climbing onto the bed, he mirrored my position on the other side of the pizza box.

“I hope sausage and bacon is okay,” he said, breaking the silence.

“You can never go wrong with bacon. It’s like meat candy,” I said, snagging a piece. My grandmother would have scolded me for not waiting to shove it in my mouth, but I was suddenly ravenous and eager for anything that would distract us from the lingering awkwardness. “Oh God, that’s better than sex,” I moaned around a mouthful of pizza, savoring the hot cheese and tomato sauce. Closing my eyes and smacking my lips, I hummed in delight.

“Does that mean I have to try harder next time?” Holbrook asked.

Snapping my eyes open, I somehow managed to keep my jaw from falling open in surprise. A single dark brow was quirked in mischievous amusement, his lips curving into a smile that would give the Devil himself a run for his money. It was an expression that sent a spear of ferocious arousal straight into my core and left me breathless.

Next time? There’s going to be a next time? Where do I sign up?

Echoing my thoughts, I swallowed the chunk of pizza in my mouth and replied, “Where do I sign up?”

Now it was his turn to blush, the bravado seeping out of his shoulders as the color rose up his face to the tips of his ears, making his eyes appear brighter than ever. He valiantly maintained eye contact for several heartbeats before looking away, shifting his attention to adding red pepper to his pizza. Triumph swelled in my chest, curving my lips in a wide smile.

“Eat your pizza,” he said, still staring down at his slice.

Still grinning I tore a large bite off of my slice, victory making it taste all the better.

Companionable silence stretched out between us, broken only by the sound of Loki purring relentlessly as he rubbed back and forth along the side of the bed, hoping that I would take pity on him. The vet insists that he should only get kitty kibble, but I didn’t like to see him eat the same thing day in and day out. Picking nuggets of sausage off my pizza I tossed a couple on the floor where Loki proceeded to inhale them, his purrs rumbling like a garbage truck in an alley.

“I want to go to the morgue,” I announced, hiding my fear by snatching up another piece of pizza, shoveling congealed cheese and dough into my mouth. Across from me Holbrook tried not to choke on his soda.

“What?” he croaked.

“I’m tired of feeling useless. I want to do something to help.”

“I don’t see how punishing yourself can possibly help.”

“I’m having visions,” I blurted before I could chicken out. “I mean, I think they’re visions. That, or I’ve finally snapped and need to be committed.”

Staring at me intently, he said “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

“I’ve been having these dreams for years, ever since Samson attacked me. Well, not like the ones I’m having now exactly, but weird, you know?” I began to explain, setting my half eaten slice of pizza aside, the smell of it making me queasy.

Drawing my legs up to my chest I wrapped my arms around my knees, wishing that Holbrook would wrap me up in the comfort of his embrace.

“I dream that I’m somewhere in the dark, trapped, and I can’t get out. I can’t see the sky or feel the wind on my skin, and it hurts so much to be there, locked away and forgotten. They normally happen around the full moon, and I just figured it was some weird were thing that no one ever talks about, like maybe the wolf feels the pull of the moon and needs to run. It’s just that lately they’ve been different.”

“Different how?”

“I’m not trapped anymore.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” he asked, setting aside his own slice of pizza, giving me his full attention.

“No, it’s bad...so bad,” I whispered, afraid to close my eyes and see the bloody visions dancing across the inside of my eyelids, but unable to look him in the eye either.

“Riley, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on,” he said, leaning across the distance between us to squeeze my clasped hands.

“I can see their fear, can smell it and taste it, and it excites me. They’re so weak and slow, it’s so easy to catch them, but I enjoy the chase so I let them think they have a chance of getting away. It makes the meat so much sweeter,” I said, choking on the words, horrified by the hunger in my voice. “It’s disgusting, but this other part of me, this dark part of me... it’s thrilled by the hunt and their fear.”

“Isn’t that how it is to be a were?”

“A little,” I admitted. “But this is different somehow. It doesn’t feel the same. It doesn’t feel like my wolf. This feels so much more dangerous.”

“Maybe it’s just the stress of knowing Samson is out there,” he tried to reason, the crease between his brows hinting at his doubt.

“I had the first dream before you and Agent Sunshine showed up at my house.”

“Why didn’t you mention this before?” he asked, rising from the bed to pace back and forth in front of the window.

“I thought they were just bad dreams,” I shrugged. “Now I’m not so sure. It’s all a bit hazy. The details get hazier the longer it’s been since I had the dream, but the victims that they’re showing on the news? I feel like I’ve seen them before. All of them. How can that even be possible?”

Holbrook stopped pacing and turned to face me, silhouetted by the wan light filtering through the nearly transparent curtains. Rubbing a hand along the stubble covered edge of his jaw he let out a heavy sigh.

“Well, this changes things.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

HOLBROOK’S STEPS WERE swift as we approached the Medical Examiner’s office, the morning sunshine doing little to erase the chill from the wind skittering down the street. It had taken some finagling, and a lot of phone calls, but eventually he had gotten the all clear to let me visit the morgue once we had agreed to take a contingent of agents with us.

No doubt we looked like some kind of strange parade with Collins and Hill, in their matching black suits, trailing along behind us, but I was just glad to finally be doing something. The long, squat, red brick building took up almost all of the south side of the street, hulking like a slumbering beast surrounded by winter bare trees. Snow clung to the green awning over the door and was piled high in ice crusted mounds around the three short steps leading up to the door. Stopping so fast that I almost walked into him, Holbrook spun on his heel to glance down at me.

“Is there any way I can make you change your mind?” he asked for what must have been the hundredth time since we had left the hotel.

“Not a chance in hell,” I replied smiling wide.

“Come on then,” he said with a sigh, opening the door and ushering me through.

A wall of hot air blasted me in the face as soon as I stepped inside, almost knocking me back on my heels. Sweat instantly broke out on my forehead beneath my woolen hat. Snatching it off my head, I stuffed it into my jacket pocket and fell into step behind Holbrook as he strode through the lobby towards the reception desk with an authoritative air.

Consisting of little more than a wide curved desk and a couple of uncomfortable looking bright orange chairs, the reception area was sparsely decorated with a potted plant that looked like it had seen better days, and a bulletin board behind a dusty pane of glass. The overall atmosphere was one of neglect and apathy. It was, quite frankly, more than a little depressing.

You’d think they’d want to brighten the place up a little.

The woman behind the desk didn’t exactly liven up the place either. Dull, steel colored hair was pulled back from her face in a tight bun, reminding me of my disapproving high school librarian who had skulked through the shelves with a perpetual scowl on her sharp featured face as if the students were intruding upon the sanctity of her domain.

The name Mildred, spelled out in a severe looking font on the brass plaque displayed on the front edge of her desk, seemed somehow fitting. With a pair of teal, cat’s eye glasses perched on the end of a long hawkish nose she looked like a caricature of every shrewd and disapproving aunt you could imagine. The grating nasal voice that came out of her thin pale lips didn’t help to dispel the imagery.

“Can I help you?” Mildred asked, her voice making the muscles in my shoulders bunch. Catching the glint of a wedding band I hoped for her husband’s sake that he was deaf as a post.

Presenting his badge, Holbrook replied, “We’re here to see Dr. Cole.”

Leaning forward, peering over the rim of her glasses, she plucked the credentials from his hand, while clucking her tongue against her teeth. “Do you have an appointment?”

“No, but the Doctor is expecting us.”

“I’m afraid Dr. Cole is very busy today,” she said, inspecting Holbrook’s badge as if the mere weight of it in her hand would verify its validity.

“I’m sure she would be happy to fit us in,” Holbrook replied with his usual unflappable charm.

For a moment I thought she would continue to corpseblock us. Pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose with one gnarled finger, she looked at Holbrook and then me, her face puckering as her eyes swept over me.

Guess I don’t measure up

“One moment please.”

Answering her disapproving gaze, I bared my teeth in a mirthless smile and felt the wolf chuff in laughter Mildred paled and scrambled for the phone, almost dropping it in her haste. With a single tangerine colored nail she dialed what I presumed was Dr. Cole’s extension and waited as the line rang, purposely avoiding looking in my direction.

Serves you right, you old bat.

With my enhanced hearing it was easy to pick up the even toned feminine voice that answered.

“Dr. Cole here.”

“Dr. Cole, its Mildred. There’s an FBI agent and his...
associate
...here to see you. I’ve tried to explain that you’re busy, but they are quite insistent,” Mildred said, feeling brave enough to throw a sour look my way. I was amused by the fact that she didn’t have the guts to actually meet my eyes, her gaze settling somewhere above my left shoulder.

The sigh that crackled through the phone receiver was one of beleaguered patience.

“Please tell Special Agent Holbrook I will be up in a moment.”

“But...” Mildred started to protest even as the click of Dr. Cole ending the call echoed in the receiver.