Circle of Desire (Damask Circle 3)
“Where’s Kat?” he said the minute he saw Gwen.
The old woman lowered the newspaper and raised an eyebrow. “Out chasing a lead.”
“Where?” His voice was brusque, but right then he didn’t care.
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Gwen crossed her arms, her expression amused. “She’s working, wolf, and you have no right—”
“She’s in trouble.”
Amusement fled from the old woman’s face. “What do you mean?”
“I mean she needs help. That without it she could be seriously hurt.” Perhaps even killed. The thought twisted something deep inside him, and for a minute he couldn’t even breathe.
Gwen studied him, her green eyes intense, almost otherworldly. As if she were seeing things those of the mortal world never could. Then she blinked and rose, hobbling into her bedroom. “How do you know this?” she asked over her shoulder.
He hesitated, but if anyone would understand his certainty, it would be this strange old woman. “I don’t really know. It’s just a feeling—a conviction—I have.”
“Precognition,” Gwen said. “I thought you might have that. She’s at the restaurant you stopped at yesterday.”
He felt like cursing. A two-hour drive was going to stretch his nerves to the limits. He swung to leave, then stopped. “Why is she there?”
“Because the werewolf that tore apart the kid will be there trolling for victims to slake his lust on. She’s going to stop him.”
The ice in his gut grew. “You sent her out alone after that thing?”
“She’s hunted far worse than werewolves.”
“When the moon is high, there is nothing worse than a berserk werewolf.” He knew that for a fact, having seen it back home as a cub. He briefly closed his eyes, forcing away the images of the woman who’d been attacked, and tried not to imagine Kat in her place.
Gwen snorted as she came back out and handed him a small first-aid kit. “Werewolf, you have no idea of the world we walk in.”
Maybe not. But he knew werewolves, and despite all their experience, these two obviously had no idea just how dangerous a berserker could be. And Kat was out there, facing one alone. He picked up his car keys and walked out the door.
And knew with certainty as he jumped into the car that he was not going to be in time to stop her from getting hurt.
KAT GLANCED AT HER WATCH FOR THE UMPTEENTH TIME. IT was close to eight, and still she had no sense of the werewolf’s presence in the crowded room.
She sipped her champagne and let her gaze drift across the dance floor. There were plenty of women here, and plenty of men. All of them dancing and flirting and generally having a good time. She had no doubt that, to a sensitive nose, the smell of lust would hang heavily in the air. And maybe that was the reason the werewolf intended to hunt here tonight. The pickings would probably be easy for a wolf in the midst of moon heat.
A chill raced a warning across her skin. She looked toward the door as it opened, and her stomach dropped to the vicinity of her toes.
The man who entered was tall and powerfully built, with chiseled features and dark blond hair. The sheer sexual energy radiating off him told her this was the werewolf she sought. But he was not the reason for the sudden rush of fear. That honor went to the petite Asian woman who stopped beside him. The soul-sucker.
The woman scanned the room, and Kat dropped her gaze. Though she now wore a blond wig and colored contact lenses, she wasn’t about to risk the mara recognizing her. The heat of the soul-sucker’s gaze lingered for a moment, then moved on.
Relief surged through her and she looked up again. The mara headed left, the werewolf to the right. Kat hesitated, half thinking about going after the soul-sucker. But in reality, she knew that was a move best kept until they knew more about what would kill it. For now, it was better to chip away at the mara’s defenses by getting rid of her lieutenants.
She finished her drink in one gulp, then walked to the bar and ordered two more. Once back in the shadows, she slipped the herbs into one glass and watched the werewolf prowl around the room. The force of his aura rolled before him like a wave, hitting men and women alike. Obviously, this particular wolf wasn’t too choosy as to what sex he mated with. Their sighs and stares followed in his wake, but he didn’t stop, his gaze continuing to hunt the room.
Her stomach began to churn. She checked to make sure the herbs had disintegrated, and then she walked toward him.
The heat of his aura hit her like a punch to the stomach. It left her breathless, hot, and yet oddly uneasy. Because while this werewolf’s aura was every bit as powerful as Ethan’s, there was an undercurrent of violence in his energy that shook her to the core. Sex with this man would not be pleasant … maybe not even survivable.
She stepped in front of him, forcing him to stop. His gaze collided with hers, and deep in the blue depths she saw madness and hunger. A chill ran down her spine, but she forced a smile and offered him a glass. “You look like a man in search of a drink.”
His smile was high wattage, sexy, yet one that left her cold.