Tempting the Enemy (22 page)

His growl made her grin. But the moment of levity faded when he reached her side and took her arm. “Do not, under any circumstances, let him know you’re a Sibile. All he needs to know is that you’re a consultant on this case.” He paused, looking down into that beautiful face, wishing he was asking her to do anything but this.

“And that you’re mine.”

She couldn’t begin to know the satisfaction that filled him when her cheeks colored and all she did was nod.

Four minutes later, he’d signed them past the first security door and was leading her into a tiled white hall with a hand to the small of her back. That satisfaction sank deep because she didn’t shrug him off or push him away. She even leaned into him, her shoulder grazing him with the slightest slide of fabric, brushing her scent over him. Proprietary touches, trustful ones. Subtle, but indicative to any other Wolf watching that she was with him.

Not giving himself any time to build on his own dread, he opened the door to the morgue quickly, stepping 190

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in first, using his body to keep her shielded from the blond man on the other side of a cluttered L-shaped desk next to the doors. Thankfully, no bodies lay on either of the two gleaming autopsy tables. The wall of silver cabinet doors beyond them, however, were probably not as lucky. The rest of the autopsy room, with its smooth concrete floor and black-and-white tiled walls, was clinically clean. The chemical agents they used to keep it that way stung his nose. How Kroft managed to maintain his sense of smell was a mystery, though if he hadn’t, that might explain his oddities.

“That you, Rysen?” Kroft asked, not lifting his head from his ever-present paperwork as Jade took the place behind him that Pale indicated with his hand. Kroft knew without looking that it was him, of course—they were more than familiar to each other—but he played the game as well as any other Wolf.

At least until Jade’s scent hit him.

Pale’s gut clenched as Kroft froze in place. When he turned his head in their direction, it only clenched tighter.

Glazed blue eyes met his for a fraction of a second before Kroft began trying to see around him. His cool gaze traveled up and down however much of Jade was visible, interest—and something definitely darker—in his stare.

“Not alone this time, I see.”

Pale shifted to cover her more, his arm tucking her farther back. Business as usual, he reminded himself.

“Not this time, no. Do you have it ready?”

“Sure.” Kroft sounded friendly, but a fine tension filled the air. The first wrong move would lead to blood.

“Same thing as all the others, though. Doubt you’ll find Dee Tenorio

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anything that won’t be in the preliminary report we sent over to the station.”

Pale shook his head, keeping his gaze unblinking.

“Potential break in the case. Just need to take a look for a minute to see if we’re on to anything real.”

“Who’s your friend?” Kroft tilted his head, trying to see her better.

Jade picked a bad time to peer around Pale’s arm, that curiosity of hers at work again. The last thing he wanted was to let her get a look at another male, least of all one who looked uncomfortably close to a Sibile. All fair hair and pale skin. Lean enough to pass for harmless to anyone who didn’t know what he was. But Pale knew, and if she got a look at him, a sense of him, she could well decide Kroft was a more acceptable mate. He eyed the whelp piteously, finding flaws in every direction.

Not bloody likely.

Still, he let Jade take her look and waited, the same as Kroft. Nothing happened except her slow recoil behind him again, her fingers curling into his waistband. The grin on his face felt a little vicious, something Kroft seemed to note, his blue eyes turning steely at the clear rejection.

“She’s a consult from the mayor’s office,” Pale answered unnecessarily, shifting to stay in front of her.

That look was the last one Kroft would get of her.

“You’ll have to sign in, both of you,” Kroft tried again, pointing at the clipboard at the edge of the desk.

“To see the remains.”

Pale nodded. “We’ll do that while you bring them out.” It wasn’t a suggestion and Kroft seemed to realize that. He bowed his head, a submissive signal that Pale didn’t buy for an instant. Kroft backed up for several feet before turning to open one of the cabinet drawers.

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Jade’s grip tightened at the sound of the metal drawer clicking open. Her heartbeat began to beat so fast and heavy, the sound drumming in his ears, that Pale risked looking away from the other Wolf to turn to her.

“What’s wrong?” He reached for the clipboard, barely glancing at it before writing his name.

“There’ve been a lot of dead people in here,” she whispered, all color leached from her face, even her lips.

She wasn’t looking at him, instead peering around the room, her eyes barely focused. “Hundreds and hundreds…”

“Jade.
Jade
.”

Her gaze locked on his at the urgent tone.

“Can you do this?” A quick glance over his shoulder found Kroft unzipping a body bag. He turned back to her, pushing the clipboard into her cold hands. “If you can’t, we’ll get out of here now. We’ll find a different way.”

“There is no different way.” No melodrama. No self-pity, just a clear statement of fact he couldn’t refute.

And he didn’t give a shit about it. “That’s not what I asked you.”

She didn’t get any color back, but she did meet his stare steadily. “Yes, I can do this.”

He handed her the pen. She looked down at his scrawl on the blue chart and chose the line immediately beneath. Before she could put ink to the paper, he whispered in her ear, “Make only the first name legible and pick any name but yours. Scribble something after.

Whatever you do, make no eye contact with Kroft. He’ll take it for an invitation.”

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She bristled but did as he instructed. A good sign, he hoped, ignoring the twitch at the back of his neck that something was about to go horribly wrong.

She handed back the clipboard and they both turned at the surprising sound of a second drawer being pulled out. He should have been watching, he realized, should have blocked her a little longer because she wasn’t prepared for the grisly sight, not even with it across the room. Four body bags were unzipped, not one of them even half full. The remains had been laid as respectfully as possible, but the familiar shapes of arms and legs—in pieces no longer than the span of a piece of firewood—

spread out as if in a butcher’s glass case, would make anyone’s stomach revolt.

Jade spun into Pale’s chest, grabbing hold of his waist with both hands. She pressed her face to his heart, eyes closed, her claws threatening to ruin another shirt.

She tucked so close, he thought she might want to hide inside him.

“Give us a minute, Kroft.”

The other Wolf seemed to think about it before nodding. “You know the rules.”

Once he passed them, taking one more speculative glance at her form, Pale only waited for the doors to close before curving his hands around her shoulders so he could pull her back enough to bring his mouth next to ear.

“Slow breaths. In through your mouth, out through your nose. Slow.”

When she didn’t listen immediately, he growled, low and deep enough to rattle her. The sound of dominance.

She shuddered, then did as he ordered. He didn’t fool himself that it would work when she wasn’t inches from hysteria, but it was a nice millisecond fantasy.

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A few more breaths and she lessened the grip on his shirt. Taking a moment, she smoothed the front of it down his chest with flattened hands, fussing at wrinkles he couldn’t care less about.

“You knew what you would see here,” he reminded her, doing his best not to be too rough. “If I could do this for you, I would.”

“I know.” She nodded, rubbing her face against him just a little before moving out of his arms. “Keep him out a few minutes longer.”

“You can’t go near the bodies without a coroner present.”

“I don’t need to. Just, whatever you do, don’t distract me.” Visibly braced, she turned to face the bodies across the room. Pale watched her back, her rigid posture in drab gray clothes. As all the other times she’d used that second sight of hers, there was nothing much to see. But he could feel it, the hairs on the backs of his arms rising, almost as if a charge filled the air. The fluorescent lights overhead brightened with a growing drone of building electricity.

“So many signatures…” she breathed, reaching out her hand, turning in place, her expression one of dreadful wonder. “There’s been so much pain in this room.”

He didn’t want to imagine.

“Children.” She took a step. “Murderers. Police officers. Mothers… They’re all calling me.” She bowed her head into her hands. “They’re all I can see.”

“In the back, Jade. Just the ones in the back.”

“I’m
trying
, there’s just so many inbetw—” She jerked suddenly and at first he thought it was because he’d spoken, but then the lights began to whine, glowing too bright, a cracking noise breaking the silence.

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“Jade?”

“My God.” Her voice was hardly a whisper. Almost a thought, and it sent icy horror down his spine. She backed up, retreating. “No, no, no—”

“What’s wrong?” But the question was too late.

Whatever it was she’d been trying to escape, it had her. She rose up impossibly high on her toes, as if someone were lifting her, hands clawing at her throat while she choked.

“Jade!” But she wasn’t hearing him. Just like the night before, in the woods, she was completely immersed in someone else’s memory. Someone else’s death. He locked in on the pieces of women across the room. Fuck that. Arm out, he spun her around to face him, but it wasn’t quite Jade anymore. Her eyes had changed, the pupils so wide there wasn’t a trace of gold in the irises at all. Just pure darkness. Whatever she was looking at, it wasn’t him.

And whatever was looking back at him…wasn’t her.

“Let it go, Jade,” he ordered, hoping she could still hear him.

Her hands slapped onto his chest, over his heart, feeling him like a blind woman. Grounding herself? He could only hope.

Clamping his hand over them, he pressed his forehead to hers. “That’s right, honey. Feel my heartbeat.

Follow it back.”

“No,” she answered, her voice not remotely like her own. Slow. Cold. Odd and echoing…as if there were more than one of her. “She…must…help us.”

“Jade!” He shook her, without reaction.

“She draws…strength from…you.” The rippling voice lacked emotion of any kind. “Do not…let go.”

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It was all the warning he was given. Jade suddenly arched backward in his hold as if yanked, her back drawn tight enough to break, her face a mask of pure, unadulterated agony, and a scream like none he’d ever heard before tearing out of her throat. The lights blazed bright enough to blind, making it nearly impossible to see her, before shattering and throwing the entire room into utter blackness.

Just like that and an eternity later, it was over.

Panting, he looked down at Jade as she sagged in his arms, though even his vision wasn’t good enough to see in the absolute absence of light. But he could feel. She’d gone completely boneless, almost slipping out of his hold.

He shifted to swing her up against his chest.

Her weight was nothing to bear, but with his ears still ringing and his memory forever burned with her pain, she suddenly seemed the frailest thing he’d ever touched. He could barely feel her pulse, faint and thready, and he’d had to listen desperately to tell if she was even breathing.

The sound, when he found it, relieved the building desperation in his chest, but not by much. They had a bigger problem.

Mitch Kroft hadn’t come back in.

Jade’s trance—one that had set every hair on his body on end from the energy coming off her—had lasted too long, her scream too loud, for Kroft to still be politely waiting outside. Which meant only one thing.

Kroft had to be lying in wait. Pale couldn’t tell how much time had passed, was only able to hope fate was kind and Kroft would be waiting alone.

Holding her close to his heart, he prayed she’d found the answers she’d sought because by all that was holy, Dee Tenorio

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he’d never bring her back to this place again. He strode out through the doors, back to the main corridor. If they went out the way they’d come in, there’d be questions.

Unconscious women had that effect.

They’d have to use the back way out.

Working from memory, he pushed through the doors, finding the hall just as black. Her power had blown more than just the bulbs. The whole building had to be out of power. He opted for the turn that led to the private offices of the head coroner and the records room. Beyond them was an employee exit that led to the parking lot via an alley. The bad news was that it was Kroft who’d shown him the way before, so it wasn’t safe either, but it would have to do.

Pale pushed the door with his back, his night vision shifting as he stepped into the space between the buildings. The door slammed behind them. Looking left, then right, he started the walk toward the lit lot on the right. Twenty paces at most to the open area. Another thirty to the car.

He’d gone five when the scent hit him. Wolves.

Three, maybe four. He stopped for precious seconds, needing to be clear on who was coming from what direction. Two silhouettes peeled from the walls at the far end of the alley. Two more, closer to the light, closing off the safe end. Kroft had called in reinforcements.

The door to the building opened, revealing the assistant coroner. No white jacket. Shirt already gone.

Prepared to shift and challenge in Wolf form. So much for professional courtesy.

“She’s
mine
,” Pale snarled at the incoming interlopers. He didn’t expect to scare them off—her scent 198

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was probably already driving them crazy—but it was worth a try.