Harlequin Nocturne March 2016 Box Set by Megan Hart Page B

moment, grief rose in her throat, choking her. Her husband had been full of sayings like that. Most of them had made her laugh, even when his tendency to try to make everything a joke was making her angry. Suddenly, fiercely, but not unexpectedly, she missed him with a deep and wretched longing that would slaughter her faster than any monster ever could—if she succumbed to it.
    There, right there, she almost did. She almost went to her knees on the bricks and wept. It was too hard, sometimes, to keep herself from giving in to sorrow. She had ways to manage the terror that came from the dreams that were really memories, but this...oh, this was something else, and nothing could make it pass but time.
    Monica did not go to her knees, though she did close her eyes against the burning slide of tears. At the taste of salt, she let out a low, shuddering sigh. She rode the pain for a moment or two before steeling herself and shaking it off.
    Carl had died, and nothing could bring him back. The most she could do was honor him by doing her best to prevent more death. And that was exactly what she intended to do here.

CHAPTER 10
    J ordan had lapped the entire perimeter of DiNero’s estate, eyes open for any signs of destruction in the wall but finding none. He’d exhausted himself, sweating, panting and finally aching, before he slowed to a walk. The night air was thick and humid, but he sucked it in greedily. No scent of anything weird, just the familiar mingled smells of the animals and, from farther off, dinner coming from DiNero’s house. The guy was having another party, which meant that sooner or later Jordan could expect a call to give a tour. DiNero loved showing off his pets.
    For now, though, Jordan walked to clear his head and soothe his muscles. He wanted a hot shower and something to eat but didn’t dare go back just yet. He’d managed, barely, to fend off the hunger he’d tried to satiate with Monica.
    Monica.
    Damn, the woman had managed to get under his skin. He’d been stupid, he knew that, but no matter what she said, he was only human. Not even his twisted, tangled combination of DNA could make him less than that.
    Still, there was shame, instilled in him for as long as he could remember by parents who’d wanted anything but this for their only son. They’d never tried to make him embarrassed about what he’d inherited; if anything, their staunch and devout insistence that he could learn to control his “condition” had been meant to make him feel better about it. But all they’d ever managed to do was repeatedly underline how different he was. How he could try and try, but he would never be the “same.”
    That made him want to run again, but there was no getting away from the past. He’d learned that long ago. No way to run away from himself. The best he could do was learn to control it, the way his parents had taught him. To keep the hunger at bay.
    And still he felt it constantly, always under the surface. Waiting to rise to something as simple as a steak or a beautiful woman or a thousand other things that tempted him to give in to his baser impulses. Not human, Monica had said, but she had no idea.
    No matter what happened to him, Jordan thought grimly, he was always a man. Nothing could take that away from him. He wouldn’t let it.
    For a moment, he leaned against the wall to feel the heat left from the earlier sunshine. It felt good, heat upon heat. It slowed things down. Made him languorous rather than agitated. He let himself press against it, then took a seat in the soft grass DiNero had spent a fortune to grow and maintain. If there was one benefit to his condition, it was that the night bugs left him alone.
    If he stayed here a little longer, maybe she’d be asleep by the time he got back. Her windows would be dark. He wouldn’t be tempted to go in and see her... Jordan’s eyes drifted closed.
    * * *
    â€œMaybe