Conquer the Highland Beast: The Vampire Dylan Macgregor (Hearts of Darkness) (2 page)

French Quarter, New Orleans

Maybe staying at the Le Toile Bed and Breakfast in the French Quarter, instead of the hotel, wasn’t such a bad idea after all. The spacious suite had a comfortable air and a handy twenty-four hour workout room—a complete but pleasant surprise.

Caitlin Donovan had plans to hit the gazebo-enclosed hot
tub out back after her workout in a weak attempt at winding down. Since she’d arrived in New Orleans, every nerve ending had been on edge.

If it hadn’t been one damn thing, it was another. First, the hotel where she
’d arranged to stay lost her reservation. However, the desk clerk with the strange silver eyes and “oh so pleasant” attitude assured her she had a friend who owned the best bed and breakfast in the Big Easy. She said it was just the
perfect
place for her. Frankly, Caitlin believed her, as if she somehow knew what was best.

“No need to worry,
I will take care of everything.” She’d called down the street and assured her they would find her a room and make all the necessary arrangements.

Thirty minutes later, the exotic looking Cajun woman who owned the pretty establishment covered in flowering vines, greeted her when the taxi pulled into the driveway. She was as colorful as the variations of paint on the exterior of the building. The bronze-skinned woman stared at her with a knowing eye, helped carry her things inside, and didn’t even bother having her sign
in.

With a dismissive wave of her hand, she said, “All your information was forwarded by
dat hotel,
cher
. Too many FBI sort stay there to suite you. Y-you have a need for something different. “Marie…” She touched her temple. “Marie St. Claire knows exactly what a pretty ting like you be need’n.”

Caitlin replayed the phone call in her mind. Had she mentioned
she worked for the FBI when she made the original reservation? She didn’t think so. And she’d purposely chosen this particular hotel because it wasn’t on the list the agency provided. She didn’t want to do what the team always did. She wanted to be apart from them during her time off. Apparently, fate was on her side. Marie St. Clair knew what she needed.

The place was feminine…not frilly. Soft, fragrant, cozy. Pastels and primary colors blended. Textures that should have been at odds with each other fit comfortably together. She decided if anyone was going to make decisions for her, perhaps Marie was the right person.

Tired of the way the men in her department assumed all the decisions were theirs to make, Caitlin had sworn no one would make decisions for her anymore, not since her brother had screwed up with the company he kept and killed himself and their parents. Being alone, without family, and in a new position, frustrated her. Having to go through the process of proving herself and her gifts just pissed her off all over again.

This bed and breakfast and Marie were exactly what she needed.

~~~~

“Sorry, Max. No Dungeon tonight.
” Dylan smiled broadly. He should thank Ramon for calling him in and getting out of going to the Dungeon.

“Y
eah I can see how
sorry you are. But I’m holding you to drinks later,” Max said.

“The Highland Bar and Grill—steaks—Angus. Don’t forget.” Dylan chuckled. “
Gotta go. There’s been another killing. Looks suspicious and I have to get there before the FBI.” He paused considering his options. “Wanna come with me? I have to change and pick up Garr on the way.”

Max’s instant reaction surprised him. “Sure. I have my car. I’ll follow you.” Waves of excitement rippled into the surrounding air, telling Dylan he was intrigued by the prospect.

“It isn’t going to get you laid,” Dylan reminded him on the way to the Escalade.

“For now, no.
But think of the stories I can spin from the experience. I’m a boring lab rat.” Max looked hopeful and his enthusiasm made Dylan laugh. “Seriously, how can I help?”

“You can collect samples, DNA, and evidence.”

“I can do that.” While he gathered his gear, he admitted, “You know, I’ve been jealous ever since Kyle got to go with you the last time. What’s the situation tonight?”

“Looks like an unexplained animal attack.” Dylan frowned. “If it’s a left over rogue jaguar we missed in the round up, or demon, you could sniff out the scent of brimstone Garr may not be able to pick up.”

“Demon?” Max’s fangs dropped over his lower lip. “Count me in. Can I handle him when we catch him?”

“Sure. But turn the excitement down a notch.” He tapped his own fang to signal Max. He was losing control. “From the evidence left behind…if it was a demon, he was a she.”

Max immediately ran his tongue over his teeth until they retreated, and he shrugged at Dylan’s information. “Uh, okay, but I thought they said it was an animal attack?”

“The animal in question went for the victim’s privates. Chewed them up and spit them out in his face.”

Max cringed at the description. “Ooow, sounds like a demoness scorned. Maybe you should handle her, after all.”

“Nice try, but no thanks. I may need your demon to rise for this occasion when we find her.”

“Yeah, okay, but I hope you won’t be sorry you asked.”

“Correction. You offered. I just asked if you wanted to come along.” Dylan snickered as they loaded the fishing gear and the cooler in
side the back of the EXT. He sensed the demon within the other man stir and noted how Max’s heartbeat picked up speed at the idea of allowing the demon to rise.

“I don’t know,”
Max said, shaking his head. “You can probably tell that’s one aspect of my newly acquired gifts I haven’t gained much control over.”

“Don’t worry,” Dylan was certain he could keep the young vampire under control and besides, he’d have back up. “Let’s find Garr. We’ll need his nose for this one, too.”

The Crime Scene

On the way into town, Dylan couldn’t stop thinking about his strange reaction to the FBI profiler, yesterday. He’d never experienced a physical reaction to anyone’s touch until hers.

Probably an isolated incident
. Not the binding connection.

No, it couldn’t be
that sort of bond. He’d know—wouldn’t he? Besides the Special Agent was human.

The underlying current of doubt kept his warning alarms going. If she turned out to be as talented as everyone claimed, there was probably some
recessive supernatural DNA hidden in her genes. Then he’d have to reconsider the ramifications of his reaction to Caitlin Donovan’s touch.

Meeting the FBI profiler
and touching her had brought all the memories of Dylan’s past back like a tsunami.

“Dylan?” Garr tap
ped his shoulder. “You disappeared for a minute there. What’s going on?”

Things were bad when Garr decided to get all touchy feely.

“I didn’t realize.” Dylan’s lips curled, but the effort was a half-assed attempt at a smile. It wouldn’t fool anyone let alone the wolf.

“You
thinking Amyra created more rogues when she was here?” the Lycan asked.

He glanced at the werewolf
and shrugged, “Aren’t you?”

When he noticed Garr had the car seat pushed back for extra
leg room, Dylan reconsidered his decision to switch cars. His rational reason had to do with the Lamborghini’s speed. His ulterior reason had to do with trying to impress the beautiful Ms. Donovan.

Garr did a slow head bob.
“From the numbers we had to take down to get Kyle back, I’d say she created some after she arrived here. Do you think there were more? Others we missed in the clean up?”

“More ’n likely. From what I know of Amyra, she’d want back up and then some.” Unfortunately, Dylan knew her better than most. Niccolai’s blood or not, he wasn’t sorry to see her sent to ground. There’d never been any love lost between them.

“The anti-venom Victor and Max are working on should protect the jaguars from infecting anyone else. Max is heading back to the lab, in the morning.”

“I wish him
luck with that. But it’s not the jaguars that worry me. Perhaps, I’m just begging trouble…”

“…or?” Garr leaned forward.
“What is worrying you?

“Demons.” The word was a quiet cur
se. The rash of recent killings made to look like animal attacks had Dylan worried. “I’m afraid one of the gates is still open and someone else is involved. Any demon on the other side could slip through—fake these murders to look like they were done by animals.”

“It’s not a stretch. I can see why you’re concerned. Dylan, who knows where these gates
are?”

“I don’t know.”
He shook his head. “It would take someone with demon blood to locate them.”

“
Max?”

“Aye.”

“What can the pack do?”

“Keep your eyes open for anything unusual. New people
in the area, strangers, or any behavior out of the ordinary.”

Garr
turned a surprised expression on him. “What’s it really, then? I don’t have to have your ability, but I do know something is very wrong.”

“
The FBI. They have a profiler with psychic abilities. She’s good.”

Her mental pattern felt familiar. He sensed her the minute they touched. A familiar fae pattern.
And there were other memories, too. Her losses, too many to count—and his over the long years before Niccolai found him. Losses that smacked him in the face yesterday when the pretty FBI Agent had shaken his hand and turned his world upside down. The effect of her touch had sent a bolt of recognition straight to his brain and a kaleidoscope of visions, centuries of memories—and not all of them were hers.

“The FBI
is all over this, Garr. We can’t afford to let them find out anything or they’ll turn all of us into science experiments. We need to keep a low profile for a while.”

“
Something else has been bothering you. Since yesterday—after the meeting—you keep zoning out on me.”

“
Like I said…she’s real good.”

“If you say so,” Garr said and gave Dylan a weird look.

“Look, we need Max. The demon blood he inherited through Kyle when he changed came indirectly from Amyra. It could be a great asset if we need it, and we need to keep him under control.”

“I can work with him on a few things.”

“Good, because I’m worried we’ll have to deal with more of what Amyra left behind.”

“I think the cemetery entrance
is over there to the right.” Garr pointed with his thumb. “Yeah, there’s Ramon.”

~~~~

The music pounding through Caitlin’s headphones was nothing more motivational than screaming hard rock to keep her going since she wasn’t ready to sleep. The last three weeks on the west coast had her internal clock off. She’d already done two miles on the treadmill, and the more she thought about yesterday’s events, the more energy she had to burn.

Caitlin expected the Cajun woman’s scrutiny.
She’d grown used to the psychically sensitive recognizing her peculiarities. What she’d grown tired of were her co-workers’ weird glances and their attitudes. She’d worked too hard to earn the respect of her team members back in Arlington to start over with a new task force. According to her supervisors, it was exactly what they expected of her.

When the government recruited her after college, she thought she could actually use her gift. Instead, they gave her a handler of sorts on every job. No one really trusted her abilities.

Caitlin sighed and thought about the local psychic free-lancer. What was up with her reaction to him?

The business suit and French cuffs battled with the image his huge, muscular body and long, sandy blond hair evoked. At least he wore it in a masculine fashion, tied back at his nape. She’d never been attracted to anyone at first sight, let alone a man like him.

His type? Too controlling, too bossy, too sexy. The guys she dated—well, not like there’d been many—but they’d been comfortable. Friends. There’d never been a heartthrob or a big sexual attraction she’d read about or heard about in songs. The relationships started and stopped without fanfare. Yeah, she knew what a climax was and even had experienced one a time or two. Come to think of it, not with any of them, and never during intercourse.
Hmm, what the heck?
Why hadn’t she ever expected more?

The
local police liaison, yesterday… Something about him told her he wouldn’t leave her hanging. What was his name? Something Scottish. The faint burr in his accent, a slight lilt to his speech, and a strange old-world manner in his sentence structure confirmed what she suspected. He was intriguing to say the least.

Macgregor. Dylan Macgregor. She remembered the way his name rolled off his tongue like thick molasses when he introduced himself.
And he smelled…hmmm, delicious…like nothing she’d ever smelled before. Her mind returned to that moment—to his scent.

The
sensual response she had to his touch almost had her climaxing in the middle of the task force meeting. His scent alone had her heated. Then add the come-hither look in his gaze when his eyes met hers. A response she’d read about and discounted to romantic fantasy. The effect reminded her of some ridiculous romance novel heroine.

Nevertheless, she couldn’t deny the connection she felt when they touched. The look of incredulous surprise told her he’d sensed it too.

He’d even backed up a few steps.

Truth be told, Mr. Macgregor was the reason she couldn’t sleep. Since meeting him, her entire system had been on high alert, DEFCOM RED.

She was on her third mile and second workout for the day when the phone call interrupted her music. The place had been almost empty this evening, and now she was the last one left. She slowed the treadmill so she could answer, and when she realized it was Wallace from headquarters, she brought everything to a dead stop.

W
iping her face with the towel she had wrapped over her shoulder, she answered and heard the administrative team leader’s voice. “Locals have another suspicious body. How soon can you be ready?”

“Can you give me twenty minutes?”
She glanced back at her phone, noting the time she’d be picked up.

“Fine,”
Wallace agreed, “I’ll have Murtaugh pick you up.”

Caitlin mentally groaned.

“Don’t bother sending him in. I’ll be waiting out front,” she replied. No need to have that creep any closer to her private life than necessary. Briskly calculating her steps as she left the fitness room to pick up her keys from the locker, she listed the things she’d need.

The hot tub bubbled enticingly, tossing mist and heat into the surrounding air as she passed.
No hot tub tonight. The passion vines, filled with purple fragrant flowers, flourished from the warm steam. Her muscles tightened up just thinking about the cold shower she needed in order to stay mentally alert.

Her mind drifted back to the Scotsman. Never mind. Relaxation wasn’t on her agenda anyway.

A strange mental image of Mr. Macgregor formed. He was hidden in shadows, not truly in focus, but she knew he was the one she sensed. Her heart picked up a beat, and she felt flushed when she wondered if he would be called to the scene, too. She had to stop mooning over a liaison for the local police as if she was some kind of teenybopper with a high school crush. What was it about him that had her reacting so out of character? She’d been around handsome men before. Hell, her occupation threw her into situations with some of the most alpha males there were, but none had inspired the lust she felt for this stranger.

The workout space was in a spa like area right outside the cottage where her rooms were located. No swipe of a key card here. The ancient skeleton key Marie gave her to unlock the door had a long chain. The woman suggested she wear it around her neck so she
didn’t misplace it. She added it to the other necklace she always wore, placed them on the dresser, and prepared for her shower.

Strange, how the key made her feel secure.

With a quick glance at her smartphone, she calculated her budgeted time. Caitlin grabbed her underwear out of the drawer and rushed to the bathroom. A quick shower, a scrunchy for her ponytail, and a dab of makeup was all there was time for tonight. She slipped into a pair of standard black slacks, the black FBI t-shirt she preferred to the white, and her unofficial leather jacket. New Orleans could be chilly this time of year, especially later at night. There was no telling how long she’d be tied up.

Caitlin picked up and stashed her other equipment into her workbag, slung it over her shoulder, and prepared to face the team on her first local assignment.

She took a few deep breaths to steady her nerves. The team members weren’t the reason she was jittery or why her stomach was doing little somersaults. Dylan Macgregor was.

He had a psychic gift of sorts, too. She wasn’t sure what it was or how strong it was…just yet. Although they’d mentally connected as soon as they’d touched, she felt him shut down the same instant she did. A little late and completely unexpected. Nothing like that had ever happened to her before—not even dur
ing all the tests or with the other subjects. She’d never seen anything documented in any of the studies she’d heard about, either.

It made her
wary and nervous…and not a little curious about the man who could affect her this way. She was about to come face to face with one of the most mouth-watering temptations she’d ever encountered. In spite of the warning signals coming from her head and her usual good sense, Caitlin was sorely tempted to test the forbidden fruit.

~~~~

Dylan slowly pulled up to the crime scene, checked his rear view mirror confirming Max was still on his tail, and noted the strange lack of police in the vicinity.

Garr noticed, too. “The place is empty except for Ramon.”

“Yeah. Looks like they were here and he sent them packing.” Crime tape cordoned off the perimeter where the body lay at the far end of the most popular cemetery on the local ghost tour, and across the street from the Black Diamond Club.

The street lamps gave off an eerie glow to the surroundings, and when the Cajun detective approached the car alone, Dylan rolled down the window.

“Pull into the alley over there out of sight.” Ramon suggested pointing to the side of the club. “Then join me on foot. The back gate looks like an interesting place for you to start your investigation, Garr.”

Dylan’s favorite contact knew everything about the
perps and the streets. The young Cajun detective, a local bad-boy who’d apparently left the dark side and made good, straddled both worlds, human and supernatural, but that was about all he knew about him.

When he pulled to a stop in the alley, Dylan made sure both vehicles remained in the shadows. The bar was another favorite Goth hangout, not quite as upscale as the Dungeon.