Keri Arthur - Bound to Shadows

I made a slight attempt to adjust the skirt. "I would prefer it if you didn't."

"And I'd prefer it if you were naked and putty in my arms, but we can't all get what we want now, can we?"

"Thankfully, in this case, no."

He smiled and touched a toe to my calf. Delight shimmered up my leg, heating me in ways I couldn't even begin to describe.

I shifted so that his touch fell away. His amusement grew stronger, twitching his lips.

"Do you know a man called Kye Murphy?"

He frowned, pretending to consider the question as his deep-lidded glaze slithered up to my breasts then down to my legs again. "Should I?"

"We know he's been to this club."

He arched a pale eyebrow. "And how would you know that? I do hope you haven't bugged the place. That would be most inconsiderate, considering I've gone out of my way to help you. "

"It's the Directorate's business to be inconsiderate—especially when we're chasing a killer." I paused, and allowed a small smile to touch my lips. "However, we haven't bugged you. I saw him when I was viewing the security camera tapes."

"Ah, of course." He laced his fingers and dropped them on his lap—drawing my gaze to the bulge that was his crotch. I have to say, it seemed even more impressive now than it had before. But then, if this guy was a flesh shifting wraith who could alter his body any way he wished, he wouldn't exactly be gifting himself with small bits, would he?

The lights chose that moment to go out, plunging us into darkness. I breathed a silent sigh of relief. At least things were going to plan.

So far, at least.

A few seconds later, the lights flickered and came on again, but this time their glow was much dimmer. A backup generator was powering the emergency lighting, obviously.

There was a knock at the door, and when Starke said "Enter," Boris opened the door, a tray of Bollinger and two glasses in hand. "The power has just crapped out, boss," he said, placing the tray on the little table beside Starke's chair.

"Then deal with it," Starke said, "and ensure I'm not disturbed for as long as Ms. Jenson is here."

"Which won't be long at all," I assured them both.

The barkeeper smirked. Starke merely looked amused. Once Boris had left and the door was once again closed, he said, "So why is this Murphy fellow of interest to you?"

"Because he's a hired hitman, and we don't believe his reasons for being in town."

Starke's toe was somehow caressing my leg again, and desire began to unfurl inside of me. But I didn't shift my leg, if only because it was already hard up against the arm of the chair.

"So you suspect that he's behind these beheadings?" Starke poured two glasses of Bollinger and handed one to me, his fingers lingering briefly against mine.

I pulled my hand away and placed the glass on the floor. He tut-tutted. "Come now, Ms. Jenson, you know the rules. I cannot answer questions if you're going to waste the nectar of life."

"I thought blood was the nectar of life for you vampires?"

"Only to those who do not have the good taste or the fortune to afford life's true necessities."

"Which blood is to a vampire."

"Only to some. For me, the only thing sweeter than Bollinger is the taste of a woman dripping with desire."

His gaze met mine, and caused all sorts of havoc to my breathing. I reached down, picked up the glass, and tried to get my breathing under control. Slowly in, slowly out . It was simple, really.

Only my mind fastened on the words and suddenly began imagining other things going slowly in and slowly out. And that caused still more chaos.

I took a sip of the deliciously cool liquid, but it didn't do a lot to stamp out the sparks threatening to become a bonfire.

God, if this man wasn't the wraith, then he was something just as dangerous. Hell, the use of werewolf auras were restricted by law and this damn well should be too.

I cleared my throat and said, "So, Kye Murphy."

He shrugged. It was an elegant movement. "He could have come here. I don't know everyone who visits my establishment. But perhaps a description would help?"

"He's several inches taller than me, with dark red hair, golden eyes and strong build."

"And a werewolf, like you?"

"Yes." I took another sip of champagne.

"Then I doubt it." His sudden smile was wicked. "We don't really cater to their addiction."

"We like sex, but it's not an addiction." It might be a necessity during the full moon, but that was different. I glanced surreptitiously at my watch. Little more than ten minutes had passed. Time had obviously decided to slow to a crawl. I hoped Kade and his crew weren't intending to do the same.

"So, you're admitting you like sex, and yet you refuse to have it with me. I find that most disappointing."

"I'm working. And did I mention my hot date?"

He smiled. It was lazy, insolent and oh-so sexy. "I simply thought I could get you primed and ready."

I was primed and ready to go right now , and if I didn't do something to distract this man—or whatever the hell he actually was—I was going to be exactly where he wanted me to be. In his arms and naked.

But there was only one thing more I could think to question him about, and if he was our flesh shifter, it would warn him we were onto him.

And yet, better he be warned than me having sex with him. That was my only other option right now.

I exchanged my drink for my purse and pulled out the picture Kye had given me. "I don't suppose you know this man, then?"

He reached for the printout, his fingers briefly caressing my wrist before sliding down to grasp the piece of paper. A tremor ran through me and I took a large slug of champagne. If Kade didn't hurry his ass, I was never going to get through this.

Either I was getting depressingly staid in my old age, or he just felt too dangerous for my wolf to handle.

Or maybe I'd just finally realized that the real joy in sex was not just the motion and the pleasure, but the emotions that clicked in when you became involved with that one special person.

Of course, I had two special people to contend with, but that was just fate being a bitch.

"I think I have seen him around a couple of times," Starke mused, looking at the printout.

"And can you tell me anything about him?"

"Perhaps." Amusement twitched his lips. "But I can't possibly say anything without getting something in return."

"I am not going to get naked and sweaty with you." I took another drink, and realized I'd somehow finished the glass. "I already have a plan to do that with someone else."

A full blown grin erupted. It was stunning. "All I ask is for you to undo two buttons."

"Two buttons?"

"Yes." He picked up the champagne and refilled my glass, his knees pressing briefly and sensually against mine. "Just two little buttons."

I pretended to consider the request, then swiftly undid the buttons. The flimsy shirt fell further open, revealing the dark pink edges of areola.

"Lovely," he all but purred. "Simply lovely."

"The information, Starke," I said dryly.

"Of course." He filled his own glass then added, "He's not a regular here, but I have seen him on a few occasions."

I raised an eyebrow. "Why would you notice him when you didn't notice someone like Murphy?"

"Because this man didn't come here to feed or be fed on. He had several drinks at the bar and walked out again. That we notice."

"When was the last time he was here?" I took another sip of Bollinger and a nice little buzz began to fill my head. Champagne—and most other alcohol—didn't really affect wolves to the extent that it did humans, thanks to our higher metabolic rate, but it did provide a happy little high before said metabolism kicked in.