Circle of Desire (Damask Circle 3)

“I like your thinking.”

So did she. At least help was within yelling distance if she got into trouble. “Then let’s go.”

She stepped away and caught his hand, leading the way through the crowded dance floor. When they neared the restroom she released him, her smile teasing as she looked up. “I’ll just go check to make sure we’re alone.”

“Don’t be long.” His voice was brusque and edged with hunger.

The urge to run all but swamped her. She forced her smile and entered the restroom. It was empty. She checked the stalls anyway, then reached up to close the window.

A warning tingled across the back of her neck, telling her she was no longer alone. She ignored the urge to turn and face him, knowing she had to lock the window just to make sure no one else could join them. Especially the soul-sucker—though a locked window wasn’t going to delay her long if she decided to join the party.

He kicked the door shut, then slammed the bolt home. Her heart began a double-time dance that had nothing to do with desire. She slid her hand into her bag and clenched her fingers around one of the two silver knives she carried.

“Getting a might anxious, aren’t—” Metal slithered across her throat, cutting off her words. She reacted instinctively, thrusting a hand up to her neck as the wire snapped taut. A ribbon of fire began to burn around her throat and cut into her fingers. It wasn’t ordinary wire. It was silver, which meant she couldn’t shift shape to escape the garrote.

“Did you think a wig would fool us?” he whispered, his breath hot and unsteady against her ear.

She didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. The wire was growing tighter, cutting into her fingers and neck. Moisture pulsed down her palm, and her chest burned as air suddenly became scarce.

Energy blistered through every fiber, but she fought desperately against the urge to release it. She didn’t dare when he held the garrote so tight. She might just end up cutting her own throat.

“Scream for me,” he whispered. “Beg for your life.”

He slammed her face-first against the wall and began rubbing himself against her rump. He was thick and hard, his breathing fast and hot against her ear. Bile rose in her throat, threatening to finish what the garrote had begun. She closed her eyes, battling panic. Remembered the knife still clenched in her hand.

She lifted it free and stabbed backward. The blade sliced through flesh as easily as butter, sinking hilt-deep. He howled, and the noose around her neck cut deeper. She fought for breath, her lungs burning and heart pounding so fast it felt ready to leap from her chest.

The smell of burning flesh tore at the air, then metal clattered against the tiles. “You will pay for that.” His voice was little more than a husky growl. “I shall tear your limbs from your body, then drown you with my seed as your blood pulses around you.”

Magic shimmered around her. He was changing shape … but the garrote didn’t loosen. He must have tied it. Lights danced crazily before her eyes, and the whole world seemed to be roaring at her. Her heart thumped in her ears, and the burning in her lungs had spread throughout her body. Every muscle seemed to scream with the need to breathe.

She thrust a hand into her bag and felt desperately for the second knife. Heard the rumbling growl behind her and spun, stabbing blindly.

If she hit anything, she didn’t feel it.

She cursed, but the words seemed to lodge somewhere in her throat, the effort to speak choking her. She felt the breeze of movement and lashed out kinetically. Wildly. Something hit the far wall and anger rumbled around her. Her fingers twitched against the knife. She glanced down, surprised that she still held it, but couldn’t see anything through the darkness rushing into her mind. She closed her eyes, imagining the knife burying itself so deep into the werewolf’s heart that it pinned him to the wall. Felt energy burn through every fiber, as if in response. Then the darkness took hold, and she knew no more.

ETHAN THRUST OPEN THE RESTAURANT DOOR AND WALKED inside. His gaze swept the room, taking in the crowd gyrating on the dance floor and the overflowing tables and booths. Kat wasn’t anywhere near, yet she was still in the building. Her fresh scent teased his nostrils, drawing him on. As did the sensation of her pain.

He clenched his fists and headed left. Beneath the faint smell of sweat and alcohol, desire roamed. Given the full moon was closer tonight, that smell should have stirred his senses, made him hunger. Yet he felt dead inside. Dead and cold.

He didn’t stop to wonder at that. Didn’t dare.

A woman stepped in front of him. She was a pretty Asian, her face full, her body luscious. “Care for a drink, stranger?”

The invitation in her dark eyes suggested she was offering far more than a drink. At any other time he might have accepted both the drink and the sex, but right now he had something far more important to do. Someone far more important to find.

“Sorry, I haven’t the time to play.” He tried to walk around her, but she stepped in front of him again.

“What will a drink cost you?” she murmured, her voice a smoky promise of heat.

“Plenty.” Especially if Kat died. He picked the woman up and placed her to one side. “Sorry, but I’m in a hurry.”

He continued on. Up ahead, a crowd had gathered around the restroom. A security guard thumped the door, but he didn’t appear to be getting any response. The ice in Ethan’s stomach rose, settling across his chest, making it difficult to breathe.

“Police,” he said, pushing his way through the crowd. He reached the guard and flashed his badge, then said, “What’s the problem?”

“One of the ladies reported hearing fighting, but whoever is in there has locked the door and doesn’t appear to be responding.”