Circle of Desire (Damask Circle 3)

“You were expecting me?”

“You seem surprised.”

“A little.” He folded onto the chair opposite Gwen. “Though Benton told me you were both psychics.”

Kat sat crossed-legged on the floor and grabbed her coffee. “But you didn’t believe him.” It was a statement rather than a question. One that had echoed through their entire lives.

His gaze met hers. There was nothing to see in those rich depths now. No emotion, no heat. What had passed between them at the door had been carefully controlled and thrust away.

“I had no reason to. I still don’t.”

A werewolf who didn’t believe in the supernatural? Interesting. She shared a glance with her grandmother, then said, “So what did you come here for?”

“To satisfy curiosity.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Perfect. Thanks.”

Kat ducked her head to hide her smile. He might not believe, but he wasn’t about to query. Not when he wanted help.

It was Gwen who continued. “Ask your questions, werewolf. It’s been a long night, and we both need our rest.”

A raised eyebrow was the only reaction Gwen got to her calling him a werewolf. Maybe he thought ignoring the statement was better than confirming what he was. “You found the body of the second victim. How?”

His tone was deliberate. Controlled. Looking at him, you’d never guess his niece was one of the missing kids. Still, you didn’t have to be psychic to see where this line of questioning would lead. Kat glanced at her grandmother. Usually Gwen didn’t go too in-depth with details, but she had an odd feeling it would be different with the werewolf.

“Scrying,” Gwen answered.

“Which is?”

“You want the short form or the proper explanation?”

He hesitated. “Proper.”

“Then it’s a type of divination in which a trance is induced that allows the practitioner to see events or people—be they past, present, or future. My preferred method is via a crystal ball, but any polished surface will do in an emergency.”

“Then you’ve tried finding the other victims?”

Absolutely nothing showed in his face. But then, he was a cop, long schooled in the art of questioning without revealing. And despite the earlier instances of sensing his emotions, right now Kat was getting zip.

“Yes, but it’s not something you can turn on and off. It often takes time.”

“Time those children might not have.”

“We know that, Detective.”

He nodded. “Does talking to the victims’ families help?”

“No. It usually only muddies the psychic waters.” Gwen hesitated. “You do know the chances of your niece still being alive are small, don’t you?”

He didn’t react, not physically. Yet his anger stepped into the room, became a presence that was almost overwhelming. “Until I see her body, I won’t give up hope.”

“That’s as it should be.”

“So will you try to find her? Now?”

Gwen pursed her lips. “I can’t guarantee—”

“I’m asking you to try, not guarantee.”

His voice was brusque, harsh. The voice of a man not used to asking for anything.