T. Grey: Tempting Whispers

To my fans for wanting more Kategans and for taking a chance on a newbie writer. And to everyone who helps me to finish my books: my editor, my beta readers, and my fiancé, who always listens (or pretends to very well) when I need an ear. Thank you!

Brayden slid the finished paperwork across the desk. “Is that it?”

The clerk looked over the papers with a nod. “Everything looks good here. You’ll be due back to work in three weeks.” The young vampire picked up a large stamp and pressed the approved seal against the bottom of his verification forms. “So, what do you plan on doing for your vacation? Traveling?”

Brayden took his copy of the paperwork and folded it neatly before putting it in his jacket pocket. “Not quite. I’m doing someone a favor.” He left it at that. With a final nod, he turned and left the HR department.

The Justicars headquarters were swarmed with an assortment of vampires and lykaens all looking very human in their business suits, with their briefcases, and talking on their cellphones. Brayden didn’t like the idea of taking a vacation. He liked to work, enjoyed his job, and was damn good at it. But in the two years since he’d promised Alpha Vane Kategan that he’d find out what happened to his mate’s dead mother, he’d come up with nearly nothing. More and more caseloads of peace treaties, rogue lykaens and vampires, and trials had kept him occupied. Finally, at Sarina’s beseeching phone call last night, he promised to take time off and see the matter through once and for all.

In two years, he’d gone through all the paperwork there was on the matter. Had even spoken twice to the Justicar that led the investigation—for what there was of one. The investigation as it was had merely consisted of taking King Brunes’ witness report of the night, since no others were around, and doing an autopsy that showed, indeed, Queen Clara Brunes had drowned that night almost fifteen years ago while out on their yacht.

Talk about opening a cold case.

The only piece of evidence he had, the only reason he hadn’t canceled his investigation sooner was that something with the case didn’t settle right in his gut. All the paperwork was cut neat; every ‘T’ crossed and ‘i’ dotted. He couldn’t quite lay his finger on what bothered him about it. Perhaps it was the lack of witnesses that night out on their yacht, or maybe the fact that the Justicar on the case accepted King Brunes’ version of events as fact without drilling him further. Either way, Brunes wouldn’t be the first high-profile person to get away with murder, and if he had, then Brayden knew he’d catch him. Everyone paid for their crimes.

“Get your hands off of me!” The feminine scream brought a frown to his face. The Justicars headquarters was a quiet, serious place, not a place to throw a fit. Brayden’s shoulders stiffened and he made his way quickly down the hall toward the sound of rising voices.

“Security, get her out of here!”

Brayden took a left into the lobby and stopped hard. Two security guards had their hands locked around a struggling woman’s arms, trying desperately to drag her out the front door. She looked small, yet when she dug her feet into the tiled floor, it stopped the guards momentum. A quick glance showed that people were already stopping to watch the show.

“I need that order. You have to give it to me!” the woman pleaded in a desperate voice.

The guards dug their feet in and by brute strength started dragging the woman toward the revolving doors. “Come on now, you’re making a scene,” one of the guard’s said between clenched teeth.

The woman kicked one of the guard’s knees and he cursed, his hands flying off her. She turned and started struggling with the other. Brayden shook his head and strode forward.

“Enough! What is this?”

The guard’s eyes widened as he saw him. He straightened quickly, the hands holding the woman forgotten. “Sir, I apologize for this...problem. We’re taking care of it.”

“That not what it looks like.” He leveled his gaze on the back of the woman’s head. “What’s the problem here?”

The woman’s back stiffened and then she turned around slowly, her face raising to meet his. Brayden felt like he got hit in the gut with a sledgehammer. All the air whooshed out of his lungs. The slightly taller than average female form, the dark brown eyes and hair, the slender form. She looked almost exactly the same. Almost being the key word. She’d grown. Her body had filled out in ways that made his blood warm—something he didn’t even want to think about. And her eyes were tense, hard.

“Vanessa Kategan?” He couldn’t keep himself from asking, even though he knew it was her. From her flowery, feminine scent, to the Kategan coloring in her eyes and hair.

Her eyes flared in shock. “Brayden? What are you doing here?”

That sent a brow flying upward. “I work here. What are you doing here?” The last he’d heard, her father had reached an agreement with Vane and had collected her from Vane’s lands.

Her gaze skittered to the clerk behind the lobby desk to glare. “I came for help, but obviously I’m in the wrong place, since no one wants to help me.”

If she didn’t have his attention before, she sure did now. “What are you talking about? Help with what?”

Her lips flattened and she sent a disgusted glare to the guards that had been trying to escort her out. She turned back to him, gave him an assessing glance then shook her head. “Nothing, apparently. No one can help me. Goodbye, Brayden.” Turning away, she pushed between the two guards mumbling “assholes” under her breath, then went through the revolving doors.

Brayden was after her before he thought twice about it.

The sky overhead darkened with oncoming storm clouds of black and gray. If it started to pour right now, it’d fit her mood.

“Fucking assholes,” Vanessa said, just because it made her feel a little better.

Tucking her chin down, she made her way down the path with one haunting thought in her mind—what was she supposed to do now?

“Vanessa, wait!” The deeply familiar voice brought her feet to a stop. She turned and knew the pounding of her heart had nothing to do with how angry she was and everything to do with the strong, gorgeous man striding toward her.

“Brayden.” He looked even better than she remembered which was some feat, considering she’d pictured him often and in various degrees of undress as time had passed. Though tall, he didn’t appear as tall as she remembered. She had grown a few inches since she last saw him, topping out at a whopping 5’6”. But he had to be a few over six, which meant she had to pull her head back to look up at him. His gray eyes looked the same—piercing, beautiful, and bright. They shone out from his tanned skin in a way that caught a woman’s eye. She swallowed over the lump in her throat. Just looking at him made her skin feel stretched, too tight, her every cell sensitized and on alert. He had the look of a man who could take a woman to bed and show her the kind of pleasure she only dreamed of.

And the sport’s jacket he wore over his suit shirt and black slacks did nothing to diminish the strength of his body. He was built like a warrior, sturdy and strong. He kept his light-brown curling hair clipped close to his head with just enough length to make her wonder what it’d feel like to thread her fingers between. He looked like a knight in an accountant’s clothing.