Yvette's Haven

She’d always been able to control it and rein it in. This time she hadn’t. This time, she’d been unable to control the lust; instead, it had controlled her and whipped her into an uncontrolled frenzy. All she’d been able to think of was that she wanted to feel him inside her. No other thought beyond that had existed.

“You used me,” Haven mumbled, his expression a mix of humiliation and regret. “If you ever touch me again, I’ll stake you.”

Yvette turned away from him, unable to continue looking into his eyes. He hated her. And she knew she had to hate him too. And she would do her best to make sure she succeeded in squashing those pesky little tendrils of sensations that seemed to grow inside her, wanting to morph into feelings and emotions. She wouldn’t allow it. Haven was her enemy. She would treat him as such.
Thirteen

The dog that had barked outside of Samson’s house hadn’t been Yvette’s, and Zane’s hope had deflated quickly. Nobody knew where the beast that had been following Yvette could have gone to. For now, it was a dead end. Luckily, they had other avenues to explore.

Thanks to the tracking device, the limousine that had carried Yvette and Kimberly had been found in the Outer Richmond neighborhood of San Francisco, a sleepy residential area. It was clear that the car had been dumped there. Amaury was currently going through it for any traces of Yvette and Kimberly that might tell them what had happened and where they could be. Luckily, no blood of either one of them had been found.

Zane glared at the driver of the limousine as he pressed him against the car behind him. It was still daylight, but Zane had one of the human Scanguards employees drive him to the house in the outskirts of San Francisco where the man lived. He’d been hiding at home, pretending not to be there, but the human driver had broken into the house, overpowered the occupant, and locked him in a supply cupboard in the garage before driving the blackout van inside so Zane could exit securely.

The large garage appeared to be used as an illegal mechanics shop; all windows were boarded up so the neighbors couldn’t see what activities were performed inside.

Zane looked at the trembling man again and repeated his question. “Why did you abandon the car and your passengers?”

The man’s eyes darted nervously in all directions, fear and mistrust written in their depths. “No can be involve in this.” His speech was heavily accented, hinting at Eastern European roots.

“In what?”

“Police. No involve.”

Zane grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and inhaled the man’s sweat. It reeked of fear. He abhorred the stench. “I’m not the police. I’m worse.”

“INS?” he whispered.

“INS?” Zane wrinkled his forehead. The man was afraid of Immigration and that’s why he’d run off without notifying anybody? How pathetic. “Listen, I don’t care if you have a visa or not, if you’re illegal or not. Hell, I don’t even care if you pay your taxes. All I want to know is what happened to my friends. Do you get that?”

The man swallowed hard and nodded, his eyes still wide and round as saucers. “You no tell Immigration?”

For an answer, Zane gave the man a brief, rough shake. “Now talk.”

“Some guy, he attack them just when they reach limo. I get out and want help, but Miss Yvette, she just going at him, like she some Ninja fighter or something. So I figure she handle him. And it look like she did. But then some strange smoke come, you know, puff” —He placed his hands in front of his face and made a theatrical expanding movement with his hands— “and she just collapse.”

Zane listened intently. Smoke? “What kind of smoke? Was there a fire?”

“No fire. Was weird. Smoke, no fire. Like maybe what have in nightclub to make fog. You know?”

Damn, that sounded like something he just didn’t want to deal with. Smoke without a fire was never a good thing, and what the driver described sounded more and more like the kind of smoke that was coming from a witch’s kitchen. “Did you get a good look at the guy who attacked them?”

He nodded. “Yes. Tall, big muscle.”

That wasn’t enough to go by. But Zane knew a surefire way to find out what the guy looked like. “You’re coming with me.”

“No, I told everything I know.” The man struggled against his hold, but it was no more effective than the pathetic struggles of a mouse against a cat.

Zane dragged his victim to the blackout van and opened the door, shoving the man inside despite his protests.

“Get us to Gabriel’s house. And make it quick,” he ordered his driver and slammed the door shut, embracing the darkness inside the van as he blocked out the scared whimpers of the limo driver.