Vivi Anna - Threshold of Pleasure

Since her short career came to a dramatic end, former cop Eden Swain has been haunted by guilt and disturbing dreams. When she gets a call from a woman she knows is dead, it nearly sends her over the edge.

Eden’s search for answers leads her to a portal—and she steps through to the world between the worlds. A decadent world where anything and everything is possible. There, she is torn between her desire for two men—one a darkly sexy vampire who promises to take away her pain forever. The other, a gorgeous wolf shifter determined to save her soul...

Threshold of Pleasure

Vivi Anna

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Copyright

Chapter One

“Do you believe in monsters, Eden?”

Eden Swain ran a hand through her tangled blond hair as she shifted the phone from cradling it between her shoulder and head to her hand. Sitting up and leaning forward, she no longer felt drained. The woman on the other end of the line had her full attention.

“I don’t know. I believe in evil, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“The devil inside?” the woman asked.

“Yes, something like that, I guess.”

“I’m not talking about the evil inside men. I’m talking about the forces of darkness. Demons and the like.”

Cold tendrils of air caressed Eden’s neck and face like a lover’s touch. Instantly, goose bumps rose on her arms and shivers raced down her spine. She looked around the office, seeking the source of cool air, but no windows were open. Glancing up, she searched for air-conditioning vents. There were none.

“Do you mean scaly red skin, black horns and a forked tongue?” Eden joked, trying to lessen the tension she could feel rising through the phone line.

The woman sighed. “Don’t be stupid, Eden. You know better than that.”

Gripping the handle tightly, Eden pleaded into the phone. She didn’t want to lose this one. For some reason, the woman had opened up to her. She couldn’t let her fondness for sarcasm ruin the effort the woman had obviously made to pick up the phone and call the suicide help line.

“I want to understand. I want to help you.”

There was a long pause. Eden could hear the woman’s heavy breathing on the other end. It was labored, as if she had been running—or was scared out of her mind.

“I know you do, Eden. You tried before but I just don’t know if you can.”

“What? When? Do I know you?”

The woman disconnected.

“Hello? Hello?”

There was no answer—only silence. Slowly, Eden set the handset down in its cradle. Rubbing a hand over her face, she cursed under her breath. She’d blown it again.

From the moment she’d answered the call, Eden had sensed a real opportunity to help the woman. It was as if the woman had phoned her, not just the help line. And maybe that was true, considering her last few words. Before the woman had started talking about monsters, Eden had felt she’d made a connection. A real one. However, it had snapped once the woman started rambling about evil and demons.

Maybe she had been on drugs and needed someone to talk her down. It was just that she’d seemed so lucid when they’d first started speaking. She’d sounded like an intelligent and very together person. Eden knew too well the dangers of drugs and drug users—they were unpredictable and potentially dangerous. She’d learned that the hard way.

Reaching for the glass of water on the desk, Eden noticed the tremble in her hand. She needed a real drink. It was getting harder to stay sober. She’d promised herself that she would not drink on the job, but with each desperate call from one person to another, her thirst had become nearly insatiable. Each time she picked up the phone, she imagined a glass of scotch in her hand instead.

The self-induced torture was killing her, which was probably what she was hoping for. Masochism 101.

“Why don’t you go home?”

Eden looked up at the shift supervisor, Allison, and nodded.

Putting a hand on Eden’s shoulder, Allison squeezed gently. “You’ve been here for five hours—that’s enough for one night. Go home and get some sleep. Some real sleep.”

Allison’s meaning was clear. Get some sleep not induced by alcohol. Eden couldn’t remember the last time she had fallen asleep sober. Maybe before the shooting.

Standing, Eden grabbed her leather jacket from the back of the wooden chair and slipped it on. She bent down, retrieved her bike helmet from under the table and slid it over her mop of disheveled curls.

“Be careful on that thing, hon. It’s supposed to rain later tonight.”

Eden witnessed the uneasiness in Allison’s eyes and winced inwardly. “No worries, Allie. I’m good.”

Saying nothing, Allison just nodded and went back into her little office in the corner.

The moment Eden opened the back door to the alley, the cool crisp air surrounded her and elicited shivers up and down her spine. A cold mist peppered her face. Glancing up into the dark sky, she hoped that she got home before the rain was unleashed. By the fresh tang in the air, they were in for a good downpour.

As she stepped on the metal stairs, she looked down the alley toward her bike. Good. It was still there. Since she’d started volunteering, she’d been parking behind the building, and so far, to her surprise, her motorcycle had remained untouched. The downtown neighborhood was high on crime. During her two years with the police force, she’d been on more calls in the area than she could count.

The last one ending her short-lived career.

She went down the steps and toward her vehicle.

Closing her eyes briefly, Eden swung her leg over her bike. The voices were getting stronger, as they did every day. She hoped she would make it home before the screaming started. If she could get home quickly, the scotch would soften the voices to a dull ache, an ache she’d been living with for the past year.

Eden kicked the bike over and revved the engine. Before she shifted into gear, she had a distinctive feeling of being watched. Her skin crawled as if a long, slimy snake was slithering over her body. She hated snakes—it was her only phobia, most likely developed by having two older brothers who’d loved to torment her with dead things tucked neatly in her bed at night.

Turning her head, she glanced down the alley. There was nothing there except an old green BFI bin, and discarded trash swirling around on the dirty cracked cement. She looked back to the opening of the alley. Nothing there either, not even the obligatory alley cat yowling into the night.

Eden released the brake and coasted out of the alley. She stopped at the opening and glanced down the street. At the late hour, it was nearly deserted, except for the few homeless bums picking through garbage cans for pop cans and bottles. After one last look, she revved the bike and roared onto the road.