Keri Arthur - Circle of Desire

Tiredness, or a continuing reaction to what they'd walked into?

"I have to swim."

She was nuts. "It's the middle of damn winter, and that's the Pacific out there, not a sheltered cove."

"I know. And it's perfect." Her gaze met his, as remote as her voice. "Given your current state, I suggest you wait in the car."

She didn't wait for a reply, just continued toward the water. When she reached the sand she began stripping.

Soon there was nothing left but flesh.

She was creamy and luscious and absolutely perfect, and he went hard just watching her. If he was any sort of gentleman, he'd go back to the car as she'd suggested, but he'd long ago given up any such pretensions. Besides, he seriously doubted whether any man could walk away right now.

She dove underwater then rose a heartbeat later and rolled onto her back. Her breasts were generous white mounds with dark thrusting peaks he suddenly ached to taste. He shifted and wished his jeans weren't so damn tight. The goddamn zipper was killing him.

It was lucky the moon had fled. At least he had control enough to simply sit there. And while he suspected she wouldn't rebuke his advances right now, he wasn't about to hit on a woman who'd been through what she'd just been through.

He watched until it became apparent she was getting ready to come out, then got up and walked stiffly to the car. His erection hadn't gone down any by the time she reappeared. Though she was fully dressed, moisture made the T-shirt almost see-through and her sweat pants clung like a second skin.

Thank God for long shirts. "Back to the motel?"

She nodded, her teeth chattering and skin almost blue. He took off his coat and draped it across her shoulders, then settled her into the passenger's seat. After climbing into the driver's side, he started the engine and turned the heater up full. The car's interior quickly became a furnace.

The chattering eased and her skin became a more normal colour. But the T-shirt took longer to dry, and he wasn't at all sorry about that.

"Mind telling me what that was about?"

She sighed. "I'm an empath with a difference."

He glanced at her, but she still had her eyes closed.

"What sort of difference?"

"Instead of sensing the emotions of the living, I soak up the feelings of the dead."

"That's not possible."

She snorted softly. "I wish."

"But…" He frowned. They'd known what he was from the moment he walked up to the motel door, and that was something no one could have told them. Everything else, maybe, but not that. "How?"

"I'm not really sure myself. But it seems the more emotional or violent the death, the more those feelings permeate a room."

"So when you walked into that room — " "I felt everything that little boy had when he died."

No wonder she'd been so cold. She'd shared head space with violence and death. "How in hell do you keep sane?"

A smile touched her still pale lips. "I was under the impression you thought I wasn't."

"Well, swimming in the ocean until you were blue is pretty damn crazy."

"I had to wash myself clean," she said softly. "I could smell them. On me. In me."

A sentiment he could certainly understand. He'd done the same thing himself once or twice over the years, though admittedly, he'd chosen a hot shower rather than an icy ocean. "So what happens now?"

"Now we need to get some breakfast and take it back to the motel. You know a bakery open at this hour?"

"I'm a cop. We know the opening time of every bakery, deli and fast food chain in the whole damn city."

She looked at him. "Really?"

"Really," he said solemnly, glad to see her smile had finally touched her eyes.

"Then take me to your favourite, and I'll buy you breakfast." She hesitated. "Unless, of course, you'd rather go home."

He had nothing — and no one — to go home to. And he wasn't leaving this woman's side until this case was solved. Though he might not believe in psychics and witchcraft, the last few hours had certainly proven these two not only knew everything the police knew, but had an innate ability to be one step ahead of the pack. Right now, that's exactly where he needed to be.

And if he could get into her bed as well, all the better.

Gwen was asleep on the sofa by the time they got back to the motel room. Kat dropped the bags of cinnamon rolls and pastries on the small table and walked over.

"Gran?" She kept her voice soft, not wanting to startle the older woman.

Gwen sighed and opened her eyes. "My feet feel like bricks. You'll have to massage them before you do anything else."

"I'll do that," Ethan said behind her. "You go get breakfast ready."

Kat looked up in surprise. "You sure?"

He nodded. "Mom had arthritis, too. We all used to take turns massaging to ease the aches for a while."

"Well, before you touch my feet you're going to have to provide a proper introduction." Gwen's eyes twinkled despite the echoes of pain. "I can't keep calling you Detective Morgan if we're going to get so friendly."

He smiled, and Kat's breath caught. She had a feeling he didn't smile much, but when he did — wow.

"It's Ethan, ma'am."

"Gwen Tanner. Pleased to meet you." She shook his offered hand. "The oil's over there by the sink."

He retrieved it then sat on the coffee table and eased her feet onto his legs. If the relief on Gwen's face was anything to go by, he certainly knew his way around a bottle of massage oil. Maybe that was something she could put to good use later…

He chose that moment to glance at her and for several heartbeats Kat found herself pinned by the power of his gaze. What passed between them was a recognition of fate. Of inevitability. But more than that, it was a promise of passion and satisfaction and something else, something she couldn't quite define.

A tremor ran through her. She'd never felt this strong an attraction to anyone, and in some ways it was almost scary. The pull she felt had nothing to do with the allure of a werewolf in the middle of moon fever, and everything to do with the man himself. By the same token, she was positive the moon had everything to do with his attraction to her. But that didn't matter. What did was finding time alone without interfering or jeopardizing the case.

She lowered her gaze and got down to the business of making coffee and setting out breakfast. "Gran, you coming over to the table, or would you prefer to remain where you are?"

"I'll stay here." She patted Ethan's hands. "Thanks, pet.

That feels much better."

Kat tossed him a hand towel then brought over Gwen's coffee and cinnamon rolls. "So what's the plan today, beside rest?"

"I'll try to do another reading this afternoon. I've got a feeling this thing is not going to hang around for much longer."

"Because the police are closing in?" Ethan asked.

Gwen gave him a wry look. "The police haven't a clue.

Present company included."

He raised an eyebrow. "You don't believe we'll catch the psycho behind this?"

"No, because none of you truly know what you're up against." She glanced at Kat. "Why don't you explain to the man?"

Kat sighed and cupped her hands around her coffee mug.

"The thing that's killing these kids is what we've termed a soul sucker. It's a vampire of sorts, but instead of blood, it feeds on souls."

His expression was blank, but she could feel his disbelief as easily as she'd felt his desire only moments before as he said, "Vampires don't exist."

"As werewolves don't exist? Get real, Detective."

"Ethan," he said automatically, then added, "That kid last night was torn apart. And the first kid discovered had been drained of blood."

Kat nodded. "Neither of which was the actual cause of death."

"The coroner says otherwise."