Circle of Desire (Damask Circle 3)

THE RUMBLE OF THE MUSTANG’S ENGINE WAS THE ONLY sound to be heard. It wasn’t the sort of car Ethan had expected her to drive, but nothing about Katherine Tanner was what he’d expected.

He shifted and studied her profile in the moonlight. Her features were slightly sharp, and her hair short, but thick and wavy. It tended to stick up at angles, reminding him oddly of night-colored feathers. She wasn’t slender, nor was she fat. Just a woman with lots of curves she wasn’t afraid to show.

He let his gaze slip to her wonderfully full breasts. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and the ridiculously small T-shirt left little to the imagination. Her nipples hardened as he watched, stretching the faded cotton to its limits. The moon might be raging through his system, but he wasn’t the only one who hungered tonight. He could smell her desire as clearly as he felt his own.

Perhaps he wouldn’t have to go far to satisfy his needs. Maybe he’d found the perfect release right here with this woman. He certainly intended to keep an eye on both her grandmother and her anyway, if only because they seemed to have a better idea of what was going on than either he or the rest of the department. If he wanted to find his niece and catch the bastards behind these kidnappings, these two might be the key—however unorthodox their methods.

And in many ways, he had no other choice. He didn’t have the time to search for another partner, and with the full moon drawing close, it was getting harder and harder to control his hunger. If she knew what he was, she undoubtedly was aware of the effect the moon had on his system. And she was certainly outspoken enough to tell him to back off if she wasn’t interested.

But right now, his needs—and hers—would have to wait until they’d searched the warehouse.

He looked out the side window. It was nearly three in the morning, and the streets in this section of Springfield were crowded with the usual mix of night-crawlers. The city had recently set up “exclusion” zones to keep the drug users, prostitutes, and other problem types out of the downtown area, which was successful in itself, but in reality had only shifted the problem to another area. And while police crackdowns usually kept the streets clean for several weeks, everything eventually drifted back. He’d long ago come to the conclusion that it was all a waste of time, and that those in the government hadn’t the political will or the knowledge to truly tackle the problem.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly. He loved being a cop, but sometimes the sense of futility was almost overwhelming. No matter what he or Mark or the others did, it just didn’t seem to make a difference. The pros still hawked their wares, people still got killed, and maniacs still kidnapped innocent little girls and did God knows what to them …

“You got a name?” Her voice was sharp, as if she’d sensed the turn of his thoughts. Given the events of the night so far, nothing would surprise him. She continued on, her voice a little softer. “Or are we keeping this strictly formal?”

He could hardly keep it formal when he intended to have sex with her. “Ethan. You?”

“Kat.”

“Suits you more than Katherine.”

A smile tugged her generous lips. “You’re not the first to note that.”

He supposed not. He let his gaze linger on her lips for several seconds, then said, “What was wrong with your grandmother’s hands?”

“Arthritis. The visions make it worse.”

“Then why doesn’t she stop?”

She glanced at him, green eyes bright in the moonlight. “Can you stop the effects the moon has on you?”

“I can control it. Up to a point.” Up until the night the moon bloomed full.

“Exactly.”

“But she has a choice—”

“No, she doesn’t. Neither of us does.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

She took a deep breath, then puffed out her cheeks. “You’ll see soon enough.” She stopped the car. “We’re here. There’s a flashlight on the backseat.”

He grabbed it, then climbed out. The warehouse was at least six stories high and, like the warehouse in which they’d found the last kid, had been fouled by vandals, time, and the elements. His gut clenched. He didn’t want to see what he knew he’d find in there—be it Janie or the other missing kid.

Kat came around the car, her face pale as she studied the warehouse towering above them. He was half tempted to tell her to wait here, but he very much suspected she’d tell him exactly where he could shove such a suggestion. So he handed her the flashlight and said, “Keep behind me.”

She didn’t argue, which surprised him—especially after her stubbornness earlier. They pushed through a hole that had been cut into the chain-link fence and walked across cracked concrete littered with weeds. The wind moaned through the window’s broken glass, and tin flapped. Somewhere a door creaked, creating an uneasy soundtrack that very much belonged in some B-grade horror movie.

He pressed open the door and looked inside. Though the darkness was complete, he had no trouble seeing. The moon sharpened all his senses, and his sight was wolf-keen. There was no one here.

But the metallic smell of blood hung on the air, mingled with the aroma of rotting flesh. He had to go on, had to see, but there was no reason for Kat to do either. “Why don’t you go call—”

“Don’t even think it.” Her voice was terse. “You want to call the cops, then you go do it. Right now, I have to go up those stairs.”

She pushed past him, the flashlight’s bright beam dancing across the graffiti-strewn walls as she crossed the empty expanse. He caught her at the stairs.