Keri Arthur: Circle of Desire

But by the same token, casual sex had lost its allure. She wanted something more. Something deeper. Something that just couldn't work with what she did.

Lord, why did this man have to be a werewolf in the midst of moon fever? She'd been doing all right until he came along to remind her she had needs just like everyone else.

Time ticked by. The sofa creaked as the detective leaned back. His gaze was a heated touch that began to sweep her more often. Hunger stirred between them, though it was less of a potent force than what she'd faced at the door. He could obviously control it better at some times than others, and she wondered what the deciding factor was.

Inactivity, perhaps? Or the touch of the moon itself?

Gwen sighed. Kat sat up, catching the pack as it fell. Her grandmother's face was ashen, her breathing shallow. Kat scrambled to her feet and grabbed the water and pain killers.

"Here, take these."

She placed the tablets in her grandmother's mouth, then held the glass while she drank. Gwen's fingers were locked in a hooked position, and she wouldn't be able to hold anything until the rigidness had eased. It could take minutes, or it could take hours.

Gwen's gaze met Kat's. The depth of despair and horror so evident in those green depths told Kat it was another bad one. She swallowed heavily, not sure she could stand it again so soon. She didn't have the strength — physically or mentally.

"Where?" she whispered.

"Warehouse on Tenth Avenue . First floor."

Kat rose, grabbed her coat and keys, then finally looked at the detective. His face was expressionless, but his shoulders were taut, an indication of the tension she could feel.

"You coming?"

"Yes." His gaze flicked to Gwen. "Is it her?"

Gwen sighed. "I don't know."

He rose. "I hope to God it's not."

So did Kat. Because if the violence so evident in his aura was anything to go by, they didn't want to be around him when her body was discovered. She slipped on some shoes then headed out the door.

"Detective?" Gwen called.

They both paused and looked back.

"Be prepared, because what you're about to find will not be pleasant."

"I'm a cop. I've seen humanity at its worst." His voice held an edge that was both anger and resignation.

"But humanity has nothing to do with what is happening here." Gwen's gaze flicked to Kat. "Don't go too deep.

Even surface level readings will be bad."

Kat swallowed back bile. It had been bad enough last time. What the hell had the soul sucker done now?

The rumble of the Mustang's engine was the only sound to be heard. It wasn't the sort of car Ethan had expected her to drive, but nothing about Katherine Tanner was what he'd expected.

He shifted and studied her profile in the moonlight. Her features were slightly sharp, and her hair short, but thick and wavy. It tended to stick up at angles, reminding him oddly of night-collared feathers. She wasn't slender, nor was she fat. Just a woman with lots of curves she wasn't afraid to show.

He let his gaze slip to her wonderfully full breasts. She wasn't wearing a bra, and the ridiculously small T-shirt left little to the imagination. Her nipples hardened as he watched, stretching the faded cotton to its limits. The moon might be raging through his system, but he wasn't the only one who hungered tonight. He could smell her desire as clearly as he felt his own.

Perhaps he wouldn't have to go far to satisfying his needs. Maybe he'd found the perfect release right here with this woman. He certainly intended to keep an eye on both her grandmother and her anyway, if only because they seemed to have a better idea of what was going on than either he or the rest of the department. If he wanted to find his niece and catch the bastards behind these kidnappings, these two might be the key — however unorthodox their methods.

And in many ways, he had no other choice. He didn't have the time to search for another partner, and with the full moon drawing close, it was getting harder and harder to control his hunger. She knew what he was and undoubtedly was aware of the effect the moon had on his system. And she was certainly outspoken enough to tell him to back off if she wasn't interested.

But right now, his needs — and hers — would have to wait until they'd found what there was to be found at the warehouse.

He looked out the side window. Though it was nearly three in the morning, the streets in this section of Springfield were crowded with the usual mix of night-

crawlers. The city had recently set up "exclusion" zones to keep the drug users, prostitutes and other problems out of the downtown area, which was successful in itself, but in reality, had only shifted the problem to another area.

And while police crackdowns usually kept the streets clean for several weeks, everything eventually drifted back to normal. He'd long ago come to the conclusion it was all a waste of time, and that those in government hadn't the political will or the knowledge to truly tackle the problem.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly. He loved being a cop, but sometimes the sense of futility was almost overwhelming.

No matter what he or Mark or the others did, it just didn't seem to make a difference in what happened on the streets. The pros still hawked their wares, people still got killed, and maniacs still kidnapped innocent little girls and did God knows what to them…

"You got a name?" Her voice was sharp, as if she'd sensed the turn of his thoughts. Given the events of the night so far, nothing would surprise him. She continued on, her voice a little softer, "Or are we keeping this strictly formal?"

He could hardly keep it formal when he intended to have sex with her. "Ethan. You?"

"Kat."

"Suits you more than Katherine."

A smile tugged her generous lips. "You're not the first to note that."

He supposed not. He let his gaze linger on her lips for several seconds, then said, "What was wrong with your grandmother's hands?"

"Arthritis. The visions make it worse."

"Then why doesn't she stop?"

She glanced at him, green eyes bright in the moonlight.

"Can you stop the effects the moon has on you?"

"I can control it. Up to a point." Up until the night the moon bloomed full.

"Exactly."

"But she has a choice — " "No, she doesn't. Neither of us do."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

She took a deep breath then puffed out her cheeks.

"You'll see soon enough." She stopped the car. "We're here. There's a flashlight on the back seat."

He grabbed it then climbed out. The warehouse was at least six stories high and, like the warehouse in which they'd found the last kid, was fouled by vandals, time and the elements. His gut clenched. He didn't want to find what he'd find in there — be it Janie or the other missing kid.

Kat came around the car, her face pale as she studied the warehouse towering above them. He was half tempted to tell her to wait here, but he very much suspected she'd tell him exactly where he could shove such a suggestion. So he handed her the flashlight and said, "Keep behind me."

She didn't argue, which surprised him — especially after her stubbornness earlier. They pushed through a hole that had been cut into the chainlink fence and walked across concrete littered with weeds. The wind moaned through the windows broken glass, tin flapped. Somewhere a door creaked, creating a symphony of noise that very much belonged in some B-grade horror movie.

He pressed open the door and looked inside. Though the darkness was complete, he had no trouble seeing. The moon sharpened all his senses, and his sight was wolf-

keen. There was no one here.

But the metallic smell of blood hung on the air, mingled with the aroma of rotting flesh. He had to go on, had to see, but there was no reason for Kat to do either. "Why don't you go call — " "Don't even think it." Her voice was terse. "You want the cops called, then you go do it. Right now, I have to go up those stairs."