Deadly Desire

A smile flirted with his lips, then he glanced past me. "There's a table available over there." He nodded toward the locked and guarded side door. It wasn't the only spare table, of course, but it best suited our purpose. "How about we take that?"

"Perfect." I tucked my arm through his, letting my hips brush against his as we walked. Tension rose between us-all sexual-until it fairly crackled.

The guard didn't even look at us as we stopped at the table. His scent said he was human, so he wouldn't overhear any conversations as long as we kept it low.

Like all the other guards in this place, he was wearing a wire, but there was also what looked to be a small two-way radio hanging around his ear. Every now and again he'd murmur something, and the camera would react by moving.

It wouldn't have surprised me if they were monitoring conversations, so we'd have to keep an eye on the camera position to make sure it wasn't pointed our way. And while we could talk telepathically, that would look suspicious to anyone who might be watching.

"So what happened to the old man?" I asked softly as Kye racked up the balls.

"He's laying in a rubbish bin as we speak." He picked up the cues and handed me one. "You going to break?"

I glanced up at the odd emphasis he placed on "break" and saw the teasing, almost mocking, light in his green eyes. I arched an eyebrow. "I never break unless it's absolutely necessary."

"Really?" he drawled. "Maybe I should test that little statement."

I took the cue from him, then leaned a little closer and whispered, "This from the man who absolutely didn't want a lap dance."

"Oh, I still don't. But then, I'm not the one aching from head to foot, am I?"

"Oh, really?" I chalked the end of the cue then bent over right in front of him, so that my butt casually brushed his groin. The man was definitely understating his current state of desire.

"That sure feels like a whole lot painful to me," I murmured, drawing the cue back and sending the little white ball spinning into the others. Colored balls scattered everywhere, none of them going into the pockets. The cue ball come to rest close to where I was standing, so I remained where I was, forcing him to come closer.

"I think we need to check out one of the private rooms," I said. My breath hitched as he casually lined up the shot and his fingers brushed past my side.

"And why would we need to do that if you're in no danger of breaking?"

He eyed his chosen target rather than me, and I waited until he was about to play the shot before saying, "Because Hanna Mein killed someone in the Arabian room last night, and I think we need to check it out."

His shot didn't miss a solid ball, but it didn't send one into a pocket, either. I smiled.

He stood back and chalked his cue. "And how is what she did in the Arabian room related to what we're interested in achieving?"

I shifted slightly and lined up the ball sitting near the far corner pocket. "Because if someone did die, then the body is either still concealed in that room or there's another way in or out. No one saw anything resembling a body leaving the club."

I went for the shot, but a second before the cue tip hit the ball, his hand snaked down my back and butt, a caress so light and yet so heated that it practically singed.

Needless to say, I missed the ball.

He moved around to the other side of the table and began to line up the same ball I had. "That still doesn't explain the connection to our current case."

"Don't be obtuse."

He smiled and drew back the cue. I waited until the last possible moment, then shifted my arms so that my top rode up my breasts, and leaned over the table, giving him an eyeful.

He missed the ball even worse than I did.

He swore under his breath, then said, "So you think this hidden doorway could lead to one or both of our sorceresses?"

"They haven't been seen in the club all day."

"Maybe they're simply resting at home."

"Maybe. Except that this place is listed as their residential address as well and given there's not another floor, we're left with the possibility that either they're behind the locked doors, or there's other hidden areas." I quickly lined up the ball and made the hit before he could do anything to distract me. There was a satisfying clunk as it went into the pocket.

"You play dirty," he murmured.

"No dirtier than you, wolf," I returned. "Remember that."

His gaze met mine for several seconds, and it was hard to know what he was actually thinking. And while I could raid his mind, that just might leave me open for a mind raid attack from him. Which shouldn't be possible-given my shields and his lack of telepathy skills-but this wolf kept doing things he wasn't supposed to be able to. Which was a pain in the ass. I had a bad feeling that I really needed to know what was on his mind right now.

When he smiled, it only increased my sudden wariness. "Then I guess I'd better go book that room, hadn't I?"

"I think that's a good idea. We can always come back here if it proves a bust."

"Oh, I'm sure something will bust if we're not very careful." His gaze skated to my breasts and his desire surged, so strong I could almost taste it. "The rooms are monitored, so there isn't going to be much of a chance to look around without raising suspicions."

"Oh, I'm sure a clever wolf such as yourself can do something about the cameras without raising too many suspicions."

I glanced at my watch. A good fifteen minutes had passed since I'd been in the staff lounge, so the blonde's appointment in the Arabian room should be finished by now. I hoped no one else had booked it in the meantime.

"I'll see what I can do," Kye murmured.

"Well, you'd better hurry," I said, putting a little tartness in my voice. "I'm a much-in-demand dancer, you know, and someone else just might grab me."

"Then I'd have to beat them up, wouldn't I?"

"That would work," I agreed sagely. "You get thrown out, I get inside the room and investigate without your interference. Clever."

His smile was cool and calculating. "You're not finishing anything without me, wolf."

And one look into his eyes made me realize he wasn't just talking about the case. A shudder that was half anticipation, half fear, rolled through me.

He put down his cue. "I'll go book now, then see what I can do about the cameras."

"Sounds like a plan."

"Meet you there, then." He walked away without a backward glance.

I let out a breath, then smiled at the eager young man who rushed to pick up the abandoned cue and who couldn't have been any older than nineteen. I played out the game, giving him lots of little touches and glimpses of breasts and butt, leaving him flushed and smelling of desire. But he didn't say anything about a dance-either private or lap-so I walked over to the bar.

"Any bookings come through on my card?" I asked the heavy-set bartender.

He pressed a couple of keys on the computer, then nodded. "One for twelve in the Arabian room."

Twelve was a good hour away, so either he was taking time to cool down, or it was going to take him longer than I'd thought to take out the cameras.

"That's it?"

"Yeah, it's been a pretty slow night, although the patrons are drinking well."

Which was good for them, bad for the dancers. "Thanks."

He nodded and served another patron. I turned around, saw two guys playing at the table I'd evacuated, and headed over there to chat them up and keep an eye on the door.

The money men did go through with the hourly clearings, but I didn't get a glimpse of anything more than another corridor. I couldn't see a safe let alone private living accommodations.

But if these doors just led to vaults, then where was the sorceresses' den? It had to be here somewhere, if only because both women actually lived here. I couldn't imagine they'd want to be too far from their place of deep magic.

Just before midnight I headed down to change into my "Arabian" costume, which consisted of a barely there bodice with filmy sleeves, and a skirt piece that consisted of detachable scarves that were gradually stripped away to reveal a tiny jeweled G-string. Then I reached into my bag and grabbed the remaining bottles of holy water, taping them under my breasts. Big boobs, I thought with a grin, certainly had their uses, but hiding little bottles under them had to be one of the more unusual ones. I closed my locker and walked down to the hall to the private rooms.

The Arabian room was probably my favorite of all the fantasy rooms. Scrumptious golden curtains lined the four walls and framed the ceiling, so that it felt like you were standing in some sultan's luxurious tent. The furnishings enhanced this feeling, mixing rich wood tones with gold paint and deep red fabrics. The carpet was thick, lush, and patterned-just perfect to walk barefoot in-and the air had a light rose and cinnamon scent.

Kye was standing in the middle of the room when I walked in, and said telepathically, So what do we do now?

Obviously, he trusted the paper-thin walls as much as I trusted him.

I closed and locked the door. We pretend to discuss what you want while actually talking about why were here. How long have we got before the cameras go down?

Ten past twelve. Thought it was safer to seem "involved" when the lights go out.

I raised my eyebrows and said out loud, "How long did you take the room for?"

"A full hour." He gave me a wicked smile that would have blown my socks off had I been wearing any. "You'd better be worth it."

I smiled slowly, and flared my nostrils as his desire surged. Such a sweet, sweet scent. "Why don't you take a seat on the chaise lounge, and we'll find out."

"It looks rather skinny," he said, barely even glancing at it.

"But it's perfect for what we need." I added telepathically, "And if you don't sit soon, they may think something is wrong."

As he sat down, I muted the lights and turned up the music. With the erotic, exotic music filling the silence, I walked over and straddled the lounge-and him.

"Now I see why it's smaller." A smile teased his luscious mouth as he lay back on the lounge and watched me with hungry eyes.

"It would be awfully hard to be sexy when a normal chaise lounge is considerably wider," I agreed, and slowly began to move in time to the music, my dance as sensual and erotic as the music.

I was only straddling his legs at the moment, allowing him plenty of time to admire my body and movement. As the tempo of the music increased, so did mine. Little by little, I edged my way up his body toward his crotch.

"Can I ask a question?" he said after a while, his voice several tones huskier than normal.

So much for being unaffected. "You can ask anything you want. Whether I answer is another matter."

What those strange bulges under your bodice, or is that a trade secret?

I smiled. A woman has to keep her holy water somewhere close and safe, because you just never know when another hellhound is going to pop out at her.

He snorted softly. You really are a most intriguing woman, Riley Jenson. It's a shame you work for who you do.

And why is that? I shook loose one of the scarves and tossed it lightly at his face.

He caught it with a smile, his nostrils flaring as he drew in the scents on it. Because you and I would make a rather good team.

No, we wouldn't. Were totally different.

We're both killers, Riley, whether you like to admit it or not.

That may be true, but I kill to save others. You kill for profit.

You kill because you like the kill. Admit it.

I kill because I've learned the hard way that others suffer or die if I don't, I don't deny I enjoy the chase, but the kill? Never.

I don't believe you. You re too good at what you do for it not to be enjoyable.

I opened my mouth to refute his statement, but the words never came out because the room suddenly got colder.

Colder in an all too familiar way.

Goose bumps raced up my arms and I looked away from Kye, my gaze doing a sweep of the room. There was no smoke, no insubstantial wisps, hiding in any of the corners, and yet there was no mistaking the fierce chill that suddenly rode the air.

There was a soul here somewhere, and it wanted to speak.

"What the fuck?" Kye said, his head suddenly whipping toward the right corner.

There was no soul to be seen there, yet it did seem to be the main source of the chill.

But how the fuck was he sensing it?

I glanced at him sharply, briefly stopping the dance then forcing myself to keep going as I remembered the watching cameras. What do you feel?

I don't know. He frowned. It feels like death. Cold, cold death.

And he should know, having dished it out often enough.

How the fuck are you feeling that? I wanted to grab him and shake him-hard-and finally get some answers out of the damn man. He wasn't clairvoyant-hell, he even admitted to not being telepathic-and yet here he was, telepathic one day and clairvoyant the next. He might be listed as having no psychic talent, but something sure as hell was going on. And maybe, just maybe, I knew what it was. Have you got some weird ability to siphon the talents of others?

He glanced at me, and though his expression had suddenly gone blank, he gave a short, sharp nod. Tell me what I'm-we're-sensing.

Tell me the fuck about your talent, I snapped back. Just how far does it extend?

He didn't answer. I clenched, then unclenched my fist. Tell me, Kye, or I will call in the Directorate and get your ass thrown in jail And trust me, it wouldn't even blow this operation wide open, because the Directorate has guardians who can seize control of every man and woman in this place, regardless of whether they were wearing wires or not. And they wouldn't even remember it. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">