Dahlia's Kiss

5

LOVE NOTES

The restof the day dragged on, my thoughts occupied by a particular detective. There was no way I would give in and be his mate. Bond or no bond, that wasn’t the life I wanted to live. I’d seen what could happen to a Succubus who bonded with a male. Point in case, my mother. Her bond with my father consumed her. She ended up jumping off a bridge after she became convinced he had an affair, which he hadn’t. She couldn’t bear to live if her one true mate wasn’t faithful to her, and she couldn’t be convinced that it was all in her mind. The thoughts slowly drove her insane until there was no coming back.

After she was gone, my father followed her. He put a gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. I was five when I lost them both and went to live with my Aunt Niki. She was my mother’s sister and never found a bonded mate of her own. But she made sure to tell me that if her sister had just remained single, she would still be alive.

Bonding was a hard pass for me. Nope. Not interested. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. But I still wanted to fuck him. God help me, but my body craved Sterling like no other I’d ever encountered. The question was, if I got in bed with him, would I be able to hold my hard stance on being his after? That was a bridge I’d have to cross when I got there.

Drake nodded to me as we passed in the hall. CeeCee was talking his ear off, batting her eyes at him, and pressing her chest forward like a horny pigeon. He wasn’t interested. His eyes were glazed over in a stupor, his mouth slack. If he was any less interested, he’d be drooling and snoring. I almost giggled at the mental image of his sawing wood while she gabbed on. The girl was a firecracker in bed, but her personality left something to be desired.

When four o'clock hit, I collected my things and made for my car like a bolt.

The little Honda Civic was exactly where I left her, under the shade of a cypress tree dripping Spanish moss. I put my key into the door and turned the lock, anxious to get inside and get moving. Before I could get into the driver’s seat, I noticed a small slip of paper under a wiper blade. It was folded and inconspicuous. I nearly missed it in my hurry. Pulling it free, I unfolded it and read the text inside.

‘I can smell you and the scent is driving me insane. I know what you are. I am the same. Meet me at The Crescent bar on 1st street tonight at 8 pm so we can talk.

D.’

This was going to be the longest day ever. First Sterling and now this? It would be just my luck if it was the psycho killing my conquests. It made me uneasy knowing whoever this was knew where I worked. Did he know where I lived too? Crap. There was no one near my car, no one I could see, anyway. The street was empty save for a stray dog scratching its ass on the pavement. Somewhere in the distance, I heard a jazz band gearing up. But I didn’t see a single person anywhere. That in itself was odd.

The law office was nestled in the heart of New Orleans. Not quite French Quarter, but close enough that I could still walk to a decent coffee shop on my lunch break if I wanted to. Rarely was there a time when the streets were deserted. A chill crawled up my spine as I remembered the slip of paper in my palm and looked at it again. Was he out there? Watching me? Waiting to strike?

I shivered. Goosebumps raised on the tanned flesh of my arms. I brushed them away and reached for my phone. Sterling’s business card was still in the pocket of my skirt. Digging it out, I eyed the numbers on it and typed them onto my screen. His gruff voice was on the line in an instant.

“Detective Sterling.”

“Sterling?” I asked. I heard the long southern drawl in my voice as I spoke his name and hated it. My accent only came out when I was afraid. “I just got off work and there was a note on my car. I don’t want to say it has something to do with your case, but it creeped me out, so I wanted to at least mention it.”

There was rustling on the other end of the line. “Where are you?”

“Next to my car,” I said. “Why?”

“Dahlia,” he sighed my name through the receiver, drawing the syllables out. “How am I supposed to come to you when all you can tell me is you’re next to your car? Get inside, lock your doors, and give me directions to where I can find you. Do you have mace?”

“God, no,” I told him. “I’m parked in the employee parking lot behind the law firm. My car is hard to miss. While everyone else has a BMW or a Mercedes, I have a Honda Civic. A blue one, not that the color matters. I’m rambling about my car. Get a grip, Dahlia.”

Sterling chuckled. “I’ll be there in a second. I’m just a block over.”

“You don’t have to rush over. I could just bring it to the precinct tomorrow or something.” I did as I was told, locking myself into the little car. “I don’t need to be taken care of, Sterling. I’m a big, tough girl.”

An undercover police car pulled into the lot and parked beside my car. I could see Sterling peering at me with his big green eyes from the driver’s seat, a smile on his full lips. “Oh, I want to take care of you,” he murmured in a low voice. “But not in the way you’re suggesting.”

I hung up on him, sinking into my seat to avoid his gaze. When he knocked on the glass of the passenger window, I nearly jumped out of my skin. I rolled the window down a few inches and peered at him. “Don’t hit on me. I’m not your girl. I don’t want to be your girl. All I want is to know who put this stupid note on my car and not to have to worry about being killed by some crazy stalker. Can you manage that?”

“Let me in.” He grinned.

Sighing as I relented, I hit the button to unlock the doors, and he climbed inside.

“Give me the note.” He held his hand out, palm up, and wiggled his fingers at me. “I can’t make any promises about not hitting on you. It’s insanely hard not to grab the lever and lay your seat back. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t give to taste you, to run my tongue along your skin. Even now, I’m wondering if you would be sweet or tart. I’m curious what it would feel like inside you, how silky your folds would feel against the tips of my fingers. You’re dominating my brain. I’d heard it was like that when you found your bonded mate. But Council be damned, nothing prepared me for this.”

He wasn’t wrong. I could see his cock straining against the front of his pants, and it took everything in me not to flick the button open at the top of his trousers and free the beast inside. But I couldn’t tell him that. To acknowledge those feelings, to admit I wanted him as much as he wanted me, would result in be being on his lap. “Curb your appetite, fido. I’m not your bone.” I gave him the paper.

He read the words quietly to himself before handing it back. “Don’t you dare meet this man.”

“I didn’t plan on it.”