Keri Arthur - Dangerous Games

Bugger.

"Customers seem to prefer individual spas," the kid said, "and it gives management a chance to charge extra." He grinned and waved a hand toward the small cubicle dominated by a large bath. "Shower before you get into the water. The controls for the jets and music are on the left panel. Light controls on the right."

"And the toilets?" I lowered a shield and telepathically felt for his mind. His thoughts were bright and swift, reminding me of one of those com-games teenagers seemed addicted to these days.

Taking his pass and ensuring he didn't remember it was altogether too easy.

"Toilets are down the hall and to the left," he said, without a pause or a blink that would have given anything away to unseen watchers. Not that I thought there were any, but you never could be too careful. "You got twenty minutes, then someone will be back for you."

"Thanks."

He nodded and headed back toward the stairs. I stepped inside the room and closed the door. After stripping off the robe and dropping both it and the stolen pass on top of the small stool sitting in the corner, I had a shower to rinse off the honey-smelling oil, then quickly dried off and put the robe back on. Once the music and spa jets were on, and the lights off, I headed out the door.

The corridor was empty, save for a robed woman down the far end. She paid me no heed as I strode toward her, and soon disappeared into one of the rooms. Spa jets went on as I passed by her door, an indication that she was safely occupied for the next twenty minutes. I paused at the end of the hall, looking left and right.

The right-hand corridor led out into the building's main foyer and the lifts. Not the way I wanted to go. Besides, the exit doors were locked and alarmed.

The toilets were to the left, as the kid had said, and beyond them a double glass door that said "Staff Only"—an invitation for the curious to investigate.

I looked over my shoulder, just to ensure the kid or someone else wasn't headed my way, then walked over to the card reader. I peered in through the glass, looking for cameras, then swiped the card. The reader beeped, the light flicked to green, and the door buzzed. I opened it up and slipped inside.

The big room was empty and silent. There were four doors leading off it, one of them open, revealing what looked to be a well-appointed staff lounge. Not the type of room that would hold many secrets—not the kind I was after, anyway.

I walked across to the first closed door. Opening it cautiously revealed a small corridor and several offices that were obviously occupied, given the feminine chatter coming from them. I moved on to door number two. Nothing but a large storeroom. Door number three was keycard locked.

I swiped the kid's card through the slot, but the little light stubbornly remained red. Obviously, Raj didn't have clearance for this area.

I stepped back and studied the doorframe, looking for alarms and wondering if I should risk breaking open the door. As I did, a bell rang.

Adrenaline surged and, for half a moment, I was certain I'd been sprung. My damn heart seemed to lodge somewhere in my throat, beating a million miles an hour.

I stepped back, ready to flee to cover, then realized the ringing was actually a phone. Amusement at my own jumpiness swept through me, but it didn't last long. Because when the phone stopped ringing, footsteps became audible.

They were approaching from behind the locked door.

Someone was coming out.

This time I did turn and run—but just to the nearest hidey-hole, which happened to be the storeroom. But I left the door open enough to peer through.

The locked door opened, and a big, blond man dressed in black stepped out. He had a coiled black whip in one hand, and a twisted bit of material in the other. I stepped back into the shadows as he approached, but didn't close the door, figuring a moving door would catch his eye more than a partially opened one.

He didn't stop, just strolled past and into the office area. I glanced back at the door that had been locked, saw that it was still closing, and ran like hell toward it, squashing my breasts against my body with my hands so they didn't brush the door as I slipped through the vanishing gap.

The door closed with a soft click that seemed to echo ominously. A long, dark corridor lay before me. Other than the soft sound of my own breathing, nothing seemed to stir. The air was still, hinting at age and mustiness and something else, something I couldn't quite place.

Something that had chills running down my spine.

I rubbed my arms, and wished I had something warmer than a robe on. Cold had never been a friend of mine, though right now I could pretty safely say the goose bumps flitting across my flesh were due to fear more than the chill.

I wrapped the shadows around me, just in case someone came out into the corridor unexpectedly, then padded down the hallway, following the scent I couldn't name.

Other scents soon joined it. Sweat. Blood. The hint of jasmine. Unless there were two ladies wearing the exact same scent, then Jan Tait was close by.

Doors loomed in the darkness. Four in total, two on the left, two on the right. I sniffed the air, trying to catch the direction of the jasmine scent. It seemed to be coming from the first door on the right, but it was hard to tell because that unknown scent almost overwhelmed everything else. And that scent was coming from the second door on the left.

It was, I thought, a little bit of desperation, a lot of death, and a mix of male and female. The death scent reminded me a little of Gautier, but even then, it wasn't quite the same.

And with the mix of scents came odd mewling sounds.

Another shiver crawled across my skin. I reached for the door handle to my right. There was no way in hell I was tempted to investigate that other room or the scent emanating from it, because it just felt wrong . I might be a werewolf, I might often tread where only fools usually dared, but I wasn't a complete idiot. Not when I was alone and without back up, anyway.

I carefully opened the door and peered inside. The room was in complete darkness, and the only sound to be heard was the soft panting of breath. Jan Tait—or whoever it actually was—was alone in the room.

I slipped inside and closed the door, then switched to infrared. And discovered what looked like a medieval torture room. There were racks with rough wooden wheels and thick ropes, chains attached to cuffs dangling from the ceiling, a huge wooden wheel straddling a deep water trough, and rough ropes attached to wall rings.

It was from one of these that a woman dangled. Her toes barely even touched the floor, meaning her shoulders and arms had to be taking the brunt of her weight.

The pain of it had to be killing her. But as my gaze slid down, I realized the shoulders weren't even half of it. She was naked, her light brown hair tied neatly into a ponytail and a cloth, knotted at the back of her head, covering her eyes. The loose ends of the cloth trailed down her back, touching flesh that was bloody and raw. In truth, it didn't actually resemble skin anymore, but freshly shredded meat. Her breath was shuddery gasps, and yet the cause wasn't fear or pain, despite the mess her back was in, but rather arousal. It stung the air, as thick and as heavy as the scent of her blood. This woman, whoever she was, was getting off on the mess they were making of her.

I shuddered at the thought, and walked forward. The carpet gave way to tiles that were icy against bare toes, and the sound of my steps whispered across the silence.

The woman shifted her feet, so that her weight rested more heavily on her arms. The moan that escaped was a sound filled with pleasure. "More," she whispered. "I need it… "