Kim Harrison - Hotter Than Hell

Stop it. Think about something useful. Why was Nikolai here? Or Bruce? Bruce’s hunting ground wasn’t around Selene’s apartment building, at least, it hadn’t been three weeks ago, when he’d turned up…well, Turned.

Nikolai must have set Bruce to watch her. Why now when she’d known Nikolai for all this time?

Known might be too strong a word. You can’t know a Nichtvren. They’re not human, no matter how charming they can occasionally be. You’re food to them. That’s all.

Selene’s back prickled, her breath coming in shallow adrenaline-laden sips. Danny, be okay. God, please, let him just be panicked. Let him just be upset but okay. Or even just a little hurt. Let him be alive.

Caught between fear and excitement, Selene let out a slow sharp gasp. Her knees shook slightly, the outer edges of her shields thickening reflexively. The jeans she’d thrown on were damp at the ankles from the rain, and would be damp between her legs soon.

Oh, God. It was her cursed talent. A sexwitch didn’t feel fear the way other people did. No, being afraid just turned into a different sensation entirely. One below the belt, thick and warm enough to make her heartbeat pound in her ears, a trickle of heat beginning way down low.

The agonized dread spiraled, kick-started a wave of desire that tipped her head back against the wall, forced her breath into another jagged half-gasp. Any more of this and she’d be a quivering ball of need and nerves by the time Nikolai reappeared.

Goddammit, Selene, focus! She shook out her trembling hands; if she had to throw Power she would need her fingers. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. She repeated the mantra, as if it would help. Please, God. Please let my brother be safe.

Begging, again. Loathing crawled up her spine, mixed with the desire, and turned her stomach into a sudsing, bubbling washing machine.

The shimmer returned. Nikolai solidified right in front of her, a faint breeze blowing stray strands of hair back, her forehead cold as the moisture evaporated. Wisps of hair stirred at her nape. Her ponytail was loose.

He looked absolutely solid, real. Did his victims ever see him coming? It was like swimming with a shark and suddenly wondering if you’d cut yourself shaving that morning.

Selene met his eyes, tipping her head back. Nothing. She blinked, then looked at the shattered door again.

Nikolai caught her shoulders, pushed her back against the wall. “We will call the police.”

Her body, traitor that it was, understood before she did. Her heart plummeted into her belly with a splash, and the stew of desire and horror faded under a wave of stark chemical adrenaline. “What’s this we ? What’s wrong with Danny? What’s happened? ”

He smiled, and Selene backed up—or tried to, her shoulders hit the wall again. There were few things worse than Nikolai’s lazy, genuinely good-humored grin. Especially his eyeteeth— fangs , she corrected herself, the word is fangs, let’s call it what it is, you’re old enough to call things what they are. She could all too well imagine what those teeth could do to her jugular.

It’s not his teeth, though. It’s the rest of him I have trouble with.

“You will disturb the evidence. We can’t have that, can we? The police prefer to observe the formalities.” Nikolai was calm, too calm, and that grin…

Danny, she thought, but it was merely a despairing moan.

Nikolai continued, softly and pitilessly. “We will go downstairs and call the police. Verscht za? ”

She slid away toward the door, blindly. Nikolai pinned her to the wall, his body curving into hers. Heat slammed through her; she tasted copper adrenaline. Selene drew in a sharp breath and kicked, missing him somehow. He smiled, caught her wrists. He could hold her all night and struggling would only excite him—and her. Stop it . Then she said it out loud. “Stop it.” Her voice broke, helplessly.

“You are being unwise.” His tone was a mere murmur, so reasonable. “Do as I say, Selene. Help me.”

Help you? Help you? “You bastard.” The steel vise of his fingers strangled her wrists. A twisting wire of pain lanced up both arms. Jerking backward, she smacked her head against the wall, brief starry pain twinkling in front of her eyes. “Tell me what happened.”

“Your brother is dead, Selene. Now we must call the police. Will you come with me or shall I drag you?” Nikolai smiled, his eyes twinkling. “I would enjoy carrying you. Particularly if you struggle.”

“Let go of me. I’ll go downstairs and call the police.” Like a good little girl. Her teeth clenched together, her jaw aching. She’d have a goose-egg on the back of her head for sure. Danny …

“Very good,” he breathed, and released her, finger by finger. Selene stared up into the lightless pools of his eyes. A kind of stunned calm slipped down over her body. Nikolai’s eyes were so dark . So endlessly dark.

When he spoke next, it was in something approximating a normal voice. “I am sorry, Selene. I will help you, however I can.”

Christ, does he have to sound like he means it? Any help from you is help I can do without, Nikolai. “Leave me alone.” Her lips were too numb to work properly. “If you won’t let me see, just leave me alone.”

“You do not want to see. It is…disturbing. Now come.”

The metal box of the pay phone gleamed dully under the fluorescents. A four-year-old phone book scarred with permanent marker, dangled from a rust-pitted chain. Someone had tagged the plastic hood at the top of the box—an out-of-date gang sign, a phone number, a caricature of a donkey, other symbols much less pleasant. Selene picked up the receiver in nerveless fingers, staring at the graffiti-covered plastic.

“I suspect you will want to call your police friend first.” Nikolai produced two quarters with a flick of his fingers, dropped them in. Selene’s eyes burned dryly, the numbers on the square silver buttons blurring. Nikolai even dialed, his signet ring flashing dully, blood on gold. Somewhere in the numbness a thought surfaced. How does Nikolai know Jack’s number?

The phone rang four times. “Urmph.”

Selene couldn’t get the words past the dust in her throat. Nikolai bumped against her, sending a rush of fire through her veins, kick-starting her brain. “Maureen?” she whispered, her voice coming from a deep screaming well of panic. “It’s Selene Thompson. I need to talk to Jack. Now.”

“What the…” Maureen’s tone changed suddenly. Mother to the world, that was Maureen. She’d cooked Selene dinner more than once, during the cases Jack needed paranormal help on. “Sweetheart, are you okay? Jack, wake up.”

Selene’s knees nearly buckled, a moan bubbling up. The vision of the hacked and shattered door rose up in front of her. Dear God what happened to his door…Danny …

Nikolai’s fingers slid under her ponytail, fever-hot. Fire spread from her nape, a deluge of sensation pooling in her belly. She hated the feeling, hated him , but the Power would help her. She was going into shock. Years of training kicked in, turning the desire into Power, shocking her back in control, her mind adding, subtracting, calculating. What happened? He hasn’t left here in five years. What went wrong?

Danny was a Journeyman, an adept at etheric and astral travel. He didn’t need to leave his apartment, and anyway couldn’t bear to be away from the safety of the wards and defenses Selene erected around his three-room world. Nothing touched him inside his magickal cocoon, no thoughts or emotions that might compromise his body when he projected. Time had strengthened Danny’s gifts, making him more sensitive to random buffetings, but also more sensitive to Selene’s defenses and powers. He couldn’t be with her all the time, so an apartment of his own with heavy shielding was the best—