Circle of Desire (Damask Circle 3)

“Are you sure of that?”

“Yes.”

The swirl of emotions that had surrounded him died abruptly. It was as if some door he couldn’t see had slammed shut. The sudden stillness felt cold. Lonely.

“You’re wrong, you know.” Her voice was soft, detached. With the emotive eddy locked down, he couldn’t read what she was feeling, but in many respects, he didn’t need to.

“No, I’m not.” Because he’d given his heart long ago, and there was nothing left to him now but moments. “I warned you before we started this that I wanted nothing more than a good time. Nothing we share is going to change my mind.”

No matter how good it felt. No matter how right.

She shifted, her movements full of controlled anger. If he had any sense, he’d walk away now, before this got messy. But he couldn’t. He needed these two to find Janie. They were his best hope—he was sure of that. And he couldn’t deny his need for Kat. The moon’s spell was far from over, but he had no desire to find another partner right now. He wanted her. Only her.

“So, who is the woman who captured your heart and left you unable to love?”

Surprise rippled through him. Had she read his mind, or did she know a lot more about werewolves than what she’d admitted? Not that he knew a whole lot about them himself—it wasn’t as if he’d grown up in a pack or anything. He’d had only his small family unit, and all they could impart were truths as they saw it.

And he was beginning to suspect many of their truths were not the reality. “It doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“It does to me, especially if she’s still around.”

“I didn’t lie to you, Kat.” His voice was grim as he stared out into the star-bright night and tried not to remember. But pain rose regardless. The pain of betrayal. Hurt. “And she’s definitely not still around.”

“Did she die?”

He snorted softly. “No.” She was living in Denver with her very normal husband and three kids, and probably didn’t even remember the lives she’d destroyed when they were both still teenagers.

“Then why—”

Gwen groaned, and he’d never been so g

rateful for an interruption in his life. He didn’t want to relive that moment of his past, not even briefly. Whoever it was that said time heals all wounds was wrong. Time only made them more unforgivable.

He turned and watched Kat tend to her grandmother. The older woman was pale and shaking, her hands locked into a clawlike position. He grabbed the oil off the coffee table and sat down next to her.

“Let me massage these for you.” He poured the oil into his hands and began to rub hers gently.

Gwen’s smile was tremulous. “Thanks.”

He nodded. “Did you see anything of use?”

Kat sat down opposite him. He was aware of her gaze but didn’t meet it, keeping his focus on easing the tension from Gwen’s knotted hands. Right now, he didn’t have the energy or desire to answer Kat’s questions.

“I saw a couple of things,” Gwen said. “First off, your boss is chasing a wild goose. That murder has nothing to do with this case. It’s a custody battle gone wrong.”

Just as well he hadn’t followed instinct and gone after them, then. “You sure of that?”

She nodded. “It doesn’t follow the pattern. They’ll discover that as soon as they get there.”

“Do we need to rescue the kid anyway?”

Gwen shook her head. “No. The cops will get the father soon enough, and the little boy is safe. But there is another kid you have to worry about.”

His gut clenched. Not Janie, he thought. Not this soon. Please …

“The soul-sucker?” Kat rose and moved over to the phone table.

“Yes,” Gwen said, rubbing her temple with her free hand. “Here, in this town, sometime tonight.”