[Kassandra Lyall Preternatural Investigator 03] - Bloody Claws (3 page)

"I agree. Do you have a time guesstimate for when we'll check out the crime scene?"

"Later."

"Arthur, I really should be going in while the scene is still in one piece."

"Sorry, Kass, but this time we're kind of bringing you in as a last resort."

"I hadn't noticed."

"I'll call you," he said.

I got up, ready to leave. In part, I was glad I didn't have to go and immediately see the scene. The pictures were bad enough. It didn't sit well with me that he could call me at any hour of the night expecting my ass to roll out of bed, but it's not like he hadn't done it before.

"Have a good night, Kass."

"You too, Kingfisher."

With that, I opened the door and headed for the exit, ignoring the hush of silence that fell over the main room. Ackerman was by the door. Her crystalline gaze met mine as she held it open. The look she gave me wasn't friendly.

I ignored her as I walked past, hoping it would irritate her. I unlocked the car and slid behind the wheel.

Ackerman stood in the doorway, glaring at me. I had to force myself to resist the urge to flip her off. Crime scene, murder, and a jackass police officer-three things that are not a good combination for a positive and cheerful mood.

CHAPTER
Four

had my foot on the brake and was stopping at a red light when my cell phone rang from the console. When in the car, I keep a headset plugged into the phone so that I don't turn into one of those people who is too busy yakking away to pay attention to the road. The sun was setting on the western horizon of Oklahoma City. The last few streamers of light reflected brightly off the skyscrapers, like it was the light's last chance to fight against the darkness. Still, it was too early for Lenorre to be awake.

I flipped the phone open and stuck the earpiece in my ear.

"Arthur, I just left. What the hell?"

"There's been a murder," he said.

I jumped as a silver Impala behind me laid on their horn and noticed the light had turned green and someone was impatient to get somewhere.

"You found a body?"

I could hear a woman's muffled voice in the background, but what she said, even my werewolf hearing couldn't translate. Arthur was covering his phone again.

"At the first scene? No. At this one? Yes. Where are you?"

"In my car," I told him. "On my way home. Why? Where are you?" I knew why. I knew the moment I saw his number on my caller ID that something was up, and I had a feeling I was about to get dragged into that something. Oh, joy.

"Penn and Eighty-Ninth," he said, spouting off an address.

"Arthur," I said. "I'm driving. I can't very well write it down!"

He chuckled. "Then look for the flashing lights. You can't miss us. We've got the entire street blocked off for the time being."

"Why are you blocking the street?"

There was a pause. "You don't want to know."

"Shit, Arthur. Do you ever have anything good to tell me?"

"You can bring your girlfriend or that one chick," he said.

"Oh, that's wonderful news, Arthur. Thank you so much for inviting my girlfriend onto a murder scene." I hit my turn signal and made a left. "Why and what chick?"

"That one vamp," he said. "Tall, dark, and drop-dead gorgeous." He seemed to find his last words amusing, chuckling in my ear.

"Eris?" I asked.

"Is that the one you don't get along with? The one that broke old man Cunningham's door down?"

"Yeah, that's Eris." I sighed again. "It'll be a while. It's still too early for Lenorre or any of the other vampires to be awake. Give me about forty minutes, and I'll be there."

"Forty minutes?" he said. "The sun is setting now. We could use her spidey senses. Not that yours aren't good enough or anything."

"I need to change and I am not bringing a hungry vampire onto a bloody crime scene."

He laughed. "That'd be a sight."

"No, that would be an entirely new crime scene."

"Hey," he said, "at least we wouldn't be busting our balls trying to find a suspect."

"I'll be there as soon as I can," I said, and hung up on him. I probably should've told him that forty minutes would be the minimum amount of time it would take me. I guided the car onto the highway and headed for Lenorre's, hoping I had something to change into that didn't involve heels.

The cops wanted to call me in last. Well, chances were I'd arrive last.

CHAPTER
Five

osalin opened the door. "Wow, you look pissy." She moved out of the way as I entered and hung my coat on a coat rack by the door.

"I'm not exactly happy."

"What's up?"

"I have a crime scene to go to."

"The police have called you in on something?"

Rosalin pushed the tangled auburn locks of hair out of her face. It appeared as though she hadn't brushed her hair.

"Yeah. Did you just wake up?"

"No," she said. "I make it a habit to run around in my nighties."

I shook my head. Rosalin often slept in tank tops and a pair of boxer shorts. The red tank top she was wearing clung to her figure. It looked too tight to be comfortable to sleep in.

I followed her, and the smell of coffee, into the kitchen.

I leaned against the island as she poured herself a cup. "Do you want one?"

"Nah, not right now."

She gave me a look full of phony surprise. "God, mark this date. Kassandra Lyall, turning down coffee."

I ignored her and checked the digital clock above the stove. It was almost seven thirty, which meant Lenorre should've already woken for the night.

"You think she's up yet?" I asked.

She took a sip of her coffee. "Probably."

"Fed?"

Rosalin shrugged. "Go find out."

"I don't think that's a good-"

"She's awake." I turned to find Zaphara standing in the doorway. "And fed."

Two tiny bite marks were beginning to heal at the side of her neck.

"Thanks for the update."

Her dark brows rose. "You don't sound very appreciative."

"Hard to, coming from you."

Her generous mouth spread into a wide grin. "Which makes it all the more fun."

"Zaphara," Rosalin said, but her voice didn't have the command in it that Lenorre often used when someone was stepping out of line. "Kassandra isn't in a good mood. I wouldn't push her," she said, but she wasn't meeting Zaphara's gaze. By doing so, she was admitting Zaphara was dominant.

"Oh?" Zaphara asked, making a show of touching the tiny drops of blood on her neck and wincing.

A low growl rumbled in my chest.

She laughed. "Seems you are correct, wolf. You don't feel like playing?"

"With you," I said, "very fucking rarely."

Zaphara had her moments when she was easy to get along with, but only to an extent. She'd treated me with a little more respect in the last several weeks and had taken it upon herself to teach me how to harness the raven magic in my blood. For that, I was grateful, but the teasing and testing got on my nerves. But that's exactly why she did it.

I left Zaphara and Rosalin to keep each other company, heading through the basement and the inner hallway. The door at the end of the hall opened, spilling light and color into my black and white night vision.

"Good morning." I slipped in as Lenorre shut the door behind me.

Lenorre wrapped an arm around my waist and brushed her lips across my cheek. "Good evening." She embraced me briefly before releasing me.

I leaned against the back of the couch, crossing my legs out in front of my body.

"How long have you been waiting?" she asked.

"Not long," I said. "Pretty much as soon as I arrived Zaphara started parading around."

Lenorre shook her head, black, waist-length curls slithering serpent-like over the wine colored blouse she wore.

"You are later than usual."

I crossed my arms, not defensively, but so I wouldn't get distracted by going to her, touching her. "I had an appointment that was scheduled later than usual," I told her. "Arthur called."

"A murder?"

"That's the only reason he calls, isn't it?"

"To my knowledge, yes."

"He called me in to look at some photographs."

"Photographs?"

"Mmhmm."

Lenorre's expression was thoughtful, trying to figure it out.

"Why photographs?" she finally asked.

"According to him," I said, "he's trying to give me a break."

"That does not sound like your detective friend."

"No, it doesn't," I said. "Usually, no matter who else is on the scene, investigators, medical examiner, forensics, Arthur lets me play with them. Honestly, I think he's trying to keep me away from the press."

"Why do you think so?"

"There's something distinctively pagan about it."

Lenorre caught it very quickly. "Ah." She moved, slightly, no longer so statuesque. "And if it leaks to the media that the police have a practicing witch working on their investigation…"

"Right," I said. "If it goes to court, the defense might use it as an excuse to play some awful cards. The whole department would probably get hit. So I think Arthur is trying his hardest to keep things under wraps."

"What else?" Lenorre asked.

I tilted my head. "What do you mean? What else?"

"Kassandra." She smiled and my knees felt weak. "There is more. I can see it in the set of your shoulders. You're holding something back."

This time, my brows went up.

Lenorre moved so quickly she was a blur of wine-colored silk. She gripped my shoulders, pressing me a little roughly into the back of the couch. She squeezed and I stiffened under her hands.

"I do not think it's just the photographs or Arthur's decisions that have created such tension."

"You don't think it's being around you?" I asked.

Her hands slid down my shoulders, across my back, resting at the base of my spine.

"No," she said simply, but something about the way she said it was too intimate.

I looked away.

She placed one long, tapered finger under my jaw and turned my face back to hers. "Kassandra."

"Well, technically, I don't think they've officially declared the first scene as a homicide, since they're still gathering evidence. However, there has been a murder and Arthur wants me to take a look at it."

She took a step back. "I take it you want to change your clothes?"

I nodded. "Yeah, and you've been invited, by the way."

It wasn't obvious, but her surprise showed a little. "I have?"

"Yes," I said. "Do you want to come with me? Seems they want someone who's more sensitive to help sniff things out." I shrugged. "And because they know what you are you'll be able to point things out to the police that I can't."

She smiled, this time revealing the tips of her small fangs. "For you? Yes. For your detective friend? Not so much."

I reached out, trying to catch her wrist.

Lenorre moved too damn fast, turning her upper body away from me, just out of reach. The expression on her face was impish.

I pouted. "No fair."

She stepped into me, using her lower body to press mine against the couch. The breath caught in my throat.

"Darling," she said, "All's fair-"

I put a hand against her chest. "If you finish that sentence, I will not have sex with you tonight."

She laughed at me. "Oh you think so, do you?" Her mouth sought my neck as she placed a tiny kiss upon my pulse.

My heart gave a loud, resounding thump throughout my entire body.

"Fuck," I murmured. "I can try."

Her hand found my hip, thumb tracing distractingly over my slacks.

"I do believe," she mumbled, "we have played this game before."

Her tongue teased across my pulse a second before her teeth clenched lightly, catching and releasing the skin without breaking it. I gripped the back of the couch until the wood creaked in protest.

"I'm confused. Which of us are you teasing?"

She cupped the back of my skull. "Both," she said, tangling her hand in my hair and pulling my face up to hers.

Her lips were like silk against my own, cool and smooth. She tasted of cinnamon toothpaste, but beneath the cinnamon, I could taste the faint undertone of blood. Zaphara's blood. My stomach turned. It wasn't the taste of blood that made my stomach turn; it was the fact that it was Zaphara's and that it was everywhere in her mouth that did me in.

"What is it?" Lenorre asked, searching my face.

"Next time," I said in a near growl, "use mouthwash."

It was like watching someone slam the blinds down over a window. Lenorre's guard tumbled that fast.

"I'm sorry," I said. "That was harsh. Zaphara was teasing me again. I know she's your blood donor." I shook my head, wrapping my arms around myself. "But for some reason, I really want to punch her in the face right now."

It may have been childish, but it was honest.

The corner of her mouth twitched.

"Don't you dare laugh at me," I said.

"How can I not when there is an obvious solution?"

"What do you mean?"

"If you are so jealous of Zaphara being my blood source, why do you not offer yourself in her stead?"

A little flicker of discomfort went through me too quickly to hide. The muscles in my shoulders tensed.

I didn't know what to say.

Lenorre stepped back. "Does the idea of feeding me frighten you so, Kassandra?"

"You've bitten me before."

"I have drunk your blood during sex," Lenorre said. "You would not let me bite you, truly, or enchant you."

"Is that what they're calling it?" I made little quotes in the air. "Enchant?"

"Would you prefer it if I said you would not let me fuck your mind as much as I fuck the rest of your body?"

It felt like someone had pulled my legs out from under me. I clung to the back of the couch and bowed my head, hiding behind my hair.

Lenorre gave a short laugh this time. "Your mouth forms words that say one thing, but your body and your pulse say another, Kassandra."

I raised my face. "I think you're misinterpreting my physical reaction."

"How so?"

"I'm not excited, by any means, at the idea of you mind-fucking me, Lenorre."

"Fair enough," she said. "However, you are excited by the thought of being bitten. I believe we have already garnered such knowledge."

I held her gaze. "Yes."

"Will you let me bite you?" she asked bluntly.

"I don't know."

Lenorre let out a long, frustrated sigh. "I do not understand what is truly so bad. What makes you so uncertain when it comes to sharing blood with me? What is in the way, Kassandra? You have shared during sex. You have bled me during sex. What is the issue?"

"I don't want to be food."

"You are my lover," she said, somewhat incredulously. "Zaphara is food. You are my lover. You are the one I want most to share blood with. Do you know how mutually pleasurable such a thing could be?"

"I've upset you."

Lenorre's dark eyelashes fluttered closed. "A little."

"Why?"

"You are withholding a piece of yourself from me to avoid getting too close. Are you that afraid I will hurt you? Do you distrust me so, even now?"

I thought about denying her words, but I knew it was pointless. She was a vampire, and despite my job description, I'd never been much good at lying to the people I cared about. The best liars are the ones who are capable of convincing themselves of their lies. In this, I was too aware of myself to dissemble.

"Damn it, Lenorre."

"Damn it? You are not going to disagree or argue with me?"

"That would be a lie and pointless, wouldn't it? I'm not trying to hurt you."

"I know you are not trying to hurt me," she said. "But can you see how it would?"

I stood there, watching her as she fell into that vampiric stillness. She had this uncanny ability to see past my walls, to force me to turn around and look at myself behind them. It was exciting and frightening. Exciting because she understood me. Frightening because the more she understood me, the more in love with her I fell.

I sighed, breathing the word, "Yes."

She took a step back. "We have a scene to look at for the police," she said. "When you are ready, Kassandra."

It was obvious she wasn't referring to the fact that I needed to get dressed so we could go, but was referring to me opening up, letting down my guard, and giving that piece of myself to her.

That's one thing the stories don't tell you, that sometimes, love, real love, is a scary bitch. Love will ask you to face the things within yourself you'd rather just ignore. And the catch is, in order to make a relationship work, you can't. You have to face your inner demons and fears head on, or they get bigger, nastier.

Lenorre was asking me to face them. If I didn't, I risked hurting her.

Sadly, I'd always been better at dealing with the monsters outside myself than the ones within me.

At least the ones outside me I could shoot.