Kade's Dark Embrace (Immortals of New Orleans)

The characters and events portrayed in this book are a work of fiction or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

I am very thankful to those who helped me create this book:

~My husband, for encouraging me to write, editing my articles and supporting me in everything I do.

~ My children, for helping me to be a better mother and person. They all are very special to me and keep me going, even on rainy days. Thank you Tyler, Madison, Kyle & Kasey.

~My Mom & Dad, for giving me a loving family and guiding me along my way.

~Robyn Wood, my friend and editor, who spent hours reading and editing Kade’s Dark Embrace.

~My beta readers, Barb & Sandra, for volunteering to read my first novel and provide me with valuable feedback.

~Carrie, from CheekyCovers, who helped me to create the sexy novel cover.

The sultry, summer night buzzed with mortals seeking entertainment in the heart of the city. Listening to the sounds in the distance, Kade recognized a familiar jazz song being played by street performers. After the long flight to Philadelphia, he needed to stretch and gather his thoughts. Unable to resist the lure of the waterfront, he leaned against the cool railing, watching the lights of the boats passing by and flickering in the rushing water. Sensing great evil on the horizon, he breathed deeply, letting the sight of the water soothe him.

His cell phone buzzed; glancing at the text, he swore. A dead body had been found near the airport.
Goddammit.
He was too late. Kade waved to the waiting limo driver, gesturing that he needed to leave. Pivoting, he noticed an attractive woman sitting alone at the end of the dock, far away from the crowd. She appeared confident, yet alone, as she sat in the darkness, moonlight glinting off her long, blond hair.
What the hell was a woman doing down on the docks alone this time at night?

Glancing at the enchanting stranger, Kade struggled to push sex from his thoughts. It had been far too long since he’d felt the touch of a woman. Aroused by the possibility of an encounter with her, he swore once again.
Not now.
He needed to concentrate on the real reason he was here in the city. Tristan, an old friend and Alpha of the regional wolf pack, had called him in New Orleans nearly a week ago requesting his assistance. He had planned on seeing Tristan later that night at his club; there he’d find a donor willing to play. Right now, this woman was just a lovely, human distraction. One who was stupid enough to be sitting alone in the dark by the waterfront. Yet, he could not seem to tear his eyes off of her. The thought crossed his mind that
maybe he should just have a sip of her sweet, young blood before work. Her delicious scent registered in his brain, and his fangs began to elongate.

Over the centuries, he’d been with plenty of women, but none held his heart. As for his thirst, there were many willing women who offered themselves to vampires these days. What was it about this alluring stranger that he found so intriguing?

Like a fox spotting a rabbit in the woods, he could not resist the temptation of the hunt. Slowly approaching her, he admired her long, curly, blonde hair wishing he could run his fingers through it. She was of average height, around five-four, if he had to guess, with a strong, athletic build. As she stretched her toned arms up over her head, he admired her firm, pert breasts straining against her tight, white t-shirt. Her black, spandex miniskirt accentuated her lithe, tanned legs. She immediately glanced at her watch and folded her arms impatiently.
Was she waiting for someone? A date?

Darting into the shadows, he attempted to cloak his presence, yet she stared straight at him.
Bloody hell. Could she see him? Interesting...was she supernatural as well? 
His cell phone went off again reminding him that he needed to get to the site. With a parting glance, he memorized her face, hoping he’d see her again. Silently he returned to the car, reluctant to leave the woman, but anxious to wrap up this case and mete out justice to the murderer.

Down by the river, Sydney waited for her friend. God, it was a beautiful night in the city. She always enjoyed coming down to the waterfront, but it was rare she got a night off to relax. She loved her job as a cop, busting criminals in one of the toughest cities in America. Even though Philly could chew up and spit out a cop  on a good day, she enjoyed the city’s history and rich culture. But tonight instead of cracking heads, she was off and meeting a girlfriend for drinks. All work and no play made Syd a dull girl, and she was looking forward to playing hard tonight. She needed a stiff drink.
Where the hell was Ada?
That girl was always late. They had reservations at Vincent’s at nine, and she did not intend to miss out on dinner. She hoped like hell that Ada hadn’t got called back into the office.

A cold breeze came off the water, sending a chill up her spine. She truly wished it was the sudden rush of air that put her on alert, but she’d been around the block long enough to recognize danger when she felt it. Inspecting her surroundings, she only saw a pair of lovers strolling past the tall ships. Still, she felt eyes on her. In the distance, Sydney spotted a large, very male silhouette in the shadows.
Criminal? No, someone else, something else, a supernatural?
Human or otherwise, someone was out there, he was there. It wasn’t that she was naive about supernaturals; it was just that she generally didn’t arrest them.
Damn. I so don’t need this tonight.

Reaching up under her skirt, Sydney checked the silver knife holstered to her thigh; it was secure.  She nonchalantly slid her hand into  her purse, unlocking the safety on her trusty Sig Sauer. Then, she casually pulled out and applied her favorite pink lip-gloss and pretended not to see him. Her body tensed ready to spring into action. She smiled and tossed her gloss in her bag...
a girl has always got to look her best when she kills
. She glanced away for a second to the couple on the dock who were still there. Then, her eyes darted back to the shadow in the night.  He was gone.
Where the hell did he just go?

As sounds of the jazz band filled the air, she willed herself to relax.
Maybe he was just a lost tourist?
Whatever, he was gone, just another predator in the city. The music in the distance reminded her of the last time she was in New Orleans. Damn if she didn’t love that town: beignets, cafe au lait, jazz. Sydney shook her head disappointed that she didn’t have a vacation planned this summer.
“Shit, I am so stuck in Philly,”
she scoffed to herself as she took note of another drunken loser being cuffed by the local beat. Okay, sure, there were drunks in New Orleans but at least the NOLA drunks would just vomit and pass out. No, this was Philly. Drunks here boo Santa and get in more trouble than a dog with an Easter basket, and like the dog, they usually end up either sick or dead. Ah yes, another lovely eve in the big city.

“What now? I'm supposed to be having fun tonight,” she snapped as her cell phone went off.
The Freaks Come Out at Night
blared from her purse
.
She could tell from the ring tone that Tony, her partner, was calling. “Hey, Tone what’s up?”

“Gotta floater out of the Delaware down near the airport. Captain said it looks messy, and I was kinda hoping you could join me for the party.”

“Okay, but you so owe me. I'm at Penn’s Landing right now waiting for Ada. Guess our girl’s night is not happening.”

“Uh, Syd...One more tiny detail...”

“Seriously?”

“P-CAP is meeting us there.”

“Hell no, I don’t feel like dealing with their shit tonight.” P-CAP: Paranormal City Alternative Police. Sydney wasn’t a fan of working paranormal cases. For the most part, Sydney stuck to the cut and dry, run-of-the-mill human murders. She didn’t have to work with supes, nor did she want to. She wasn’t exactly prejudiced without reason. Two years ago, when working a supposedly simple hit and run, an unknown were-bitch shifted into tiger mode and killed two cops. It turned out the perp was related to the hit and run driver, and the tiger thought she could fix the problem by killing the humans. Too bad for her, Sydney always carried a silver knife. Sure, she came out with a few scratches, and almost died in the I.C.U., but Sydney came out of the skirmish alive, the tiger didn’t.

Sydney sighed. “Okay, Tony, but I swear if there are any kitty cats workin’ this case I'll be taking them directly to the vet to be fixed and declawed. I am not dealing with shifters tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah, one close call with a pussy cat and now you’re allergic to all of P-CAP?” he jokingly asked.

“Make all the jokes you want, Tony. It’s all fun and games until their claws come out, and the next thing you know the knives are flying. Good thing I've been practicing my aim. See you in ten.” Okay, so it was probably more like twenty given the city traffic on a Friday night, but at least she was going. She was annoyed that her one night off was screwed thanks to a floater. Nothing got much grosser than that, especially when the skin came pulling off...yuck. It was probably just another idiot who thought it was a great idea to take a swim in the Delaware on a muggy August night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Sydney showed up on the scene, there must have been at least ten black and whites, not to mention the buzzing crowd of spectators who decided to show up to see if they could catch a glimpse of a dead body.
What the hell was wrong with people?
She knew damn well the answer to that question was 'everything'. It wasn’t as if she hated the general population, but she tended to see the worst in people, human or not: drug users, rapists, murderers, and perhaps the worst of the bunch, child abusers, and pedophiles. The sick bastards never ceased to amaze her. She shuddered thinking about what might be waiting for her beyond the yellow tape tonight.

Walking down the gravel sidewalk, she ended up in trampled, soggy weeds that formed a makeshift path. The scene buzzed with CSI and fellow officers. Swiveling her head around, she felt a chill in her bones. It was ninety degrees outside. Something was off, really off. She tried to remain steady on her feet as she gently eased down the slope of the slippery grass. “Sydney! Over here!” she heard Tony call.

As she approached the body, the smell hit her first. “Oh God, what the fuck is that smell? Dead body mixed with algae? Shit, that is just terrible,” she complained.

“Nice mouth, Syd. Soon you're going to have to carry around that cuss jar with you in the car,” Tony teased.

“Yeah, well, fucking sue me. I’ve given up on the damn cuss jar. I’ll just write your favorite charity a check. That should cover me for the year,” she winked.

“Okay then, I’ll be waiting on it. Yeah, I know the smell is pretty bad, huh? I guess I failed to mention that the gal who discovered the body passed out from the smell. Buck up, Syd. I’ll buy you roses afterward,” he chuckled.

Tony thought he was so damn funny. He was a tough cop, born and raised in South Philly. Six-three, Italian goodness wrapped in a hot, witty package, he had no difficulty getting dates. Dark, olive skin; cropped, raven hair, with just a wisp of a flip to the front, the man looked like he could bench press a Septa bus, minus the bulk of a wrestler. To top it off, he knew the city like the back of his hand, and there was no one Sydney would rather trust to have at her back.