killed her…” Nix gave a quick shrug. At his questioning glance, she reminded him, “Werewolves eat people. And the internal organs are the yummiest.”
“Oh, hell.” He grimaced. “I really didn’t need to be reminded of that. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing stuff like this.” He hooked his thumbs in his belt, fingers framing the large silver buckle. “I wonder what’s keeping Knox?”
“I don’t know.” Nix looked around the crime scene for any sight of the quadrant vampire liaison. It was unusual that he wasn’t here yet. She stared down at the tarp, her heart beating like bongo drums in her chest. Amarinda was the second vamp to be killed, and Knox was late. What if… She drew in a breath and held it, trying to calm her fears. She hoped he was all right.
Dante gazed toward the edge of the scene where the techs were beginning to pack up their cases. “Hey, Marks!” When the man looked up from the computer tablet he was jotting notes on, Dante asked, “Did you get word to the council dispatch that the vic is a vamp?”
The man nodded.
Dante glanced at Nix. “Then they should’ve called him by now.” He brought up his wrist to look at his watch. “Wonder what’s keeping him.” He dropped his hand, hooking his thumb over his belt again. “So, what can you tell me about your friend here?” He gave a quick nod toward Amarinda’s tarp-covered body.
Nix wet her lips. She realized she was thirsty and reached into her bag for a bottle of water. She usually carried at least one bottle with her because in the low humidity of the desert it was easy to become dehydrated. “She came through the rift somewhere around 330 BC, give or take. There are vamps older than her, but not many.” Being immortal, like a vampire, didn’t mean you couldn’t be killed. It just meant it took a lot to do it, especially the older a vampire was. “She works…” Nix broke off and swallowed, surprised at how much this hurt. She twisted off the cap of the bottle and took a swig of water, using the few seconds to recap and replace the bottle to get her emotions under control. “ Worked with Maldonado.”
“The quadrant’s vamp leader?” Dante gave a low whistle. “Someone must have a death wish, to take out one of Byron Maldonado’s people.”
“They may not have known. Or cared,” Nix said.
“Who didn’t know or care about what?” The raspy bass voice with a flavor of South Carolina came from behind her.
That deep voice stopped her heart. She turned, and when she saw Tobias Caine duck under the crime scene tape her stomach lurched. He was pulling on latex gloves as he walked. His thick black hair was in its usual rakish mess with a few strands falling over his forehead. He straightened and loped toward them with an easy long-legged stride that belied his underlying intensity.
Five years. It had been five years since he’d walked out on her. Five years since he’d thrown away her love.
It was like a dagger to the heart, seeing him again. He looked the same as ever, tall, lean, handsome as sin. His gray shirt matched his eyes and his leather coat fell to midthigh, drawing attention to those long legs encased in dark blue denim. He looked damned fine. His presence revved up her pulse and that made her mad. There should have been some sort of sign that he’d suffered as much as she had, the bastard.
Nix stiffened her legs, telling herself it wasn’t seeing him again that made her weak in the knees. There was no denying that lust surged through her body in tune to her quickened heartbeat. It didn’t seem to matter he wasn’t hers anymore.
Some people used meth. Others drank themselves into a stupor. Her drug of choice was Tobias Caine. And it seemed that even after five years of sobriety, she was still as addicted as ever. Her eyes began to burn, signaling the rise of her demon. Tobias had always had that effect on her, as if his darkness called to her own. When they’d been in the
“Oh, hell.” He grimaced. “I really didn’t need to be reminded of that. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing stuff like this.” He hooked his thumbs in his belt, fingers framing the large silver buckle. “I wonder what’s keeping Knox?”
“I don’t know.” Nix looked around the crime scene for any sight of the quadrant vampire liaison. It was unusual that he wasn’t here yet. She stared down at the tarp, her heart beating like bongo drums in her chest. Amarinda was the second vamp to be killed, and Knox was late. What if… She drew in a breath and held it, trying to calm her fears. She hoped he was all right.
Dante gazed toward the edge of the scene where the techs were beginning to pack up their cases. “Hey, Marks!” When the man looked up from the computer tablet he was jotting notes on, Dante asked, “Did you get word to the council dispatch that the vic is a vamp?”
The man nodded.
Dante glanced at Nix. “Then they should’ve called him by now.” He brought up his wrist to look at his watch. “Wonder what’s keeping him.” He dropped his hand, hooking his thumb over his belt again. “So, what can you tell me about your friend here?” He gave a quick nod toward Amarinda’s tarp-covered body.
Nix wet her lips. She realized she was thirsty and reached into her bag for a bottle of water. She usually carried at least one bottle with her because in the low humidity of the desert it was easy to become dehydrated. “She came through the rift somewhere around 330 BC, give or take. There are vamps older than her, but not many.” Being immortal, like a vampire, didn’t mean you couldn’t be killed. It just meant it took a lot to do it, especially the older a vampire was. “She works…” Nix broke off and swallowed, surprised at how much this hurt. She twisted off the cap of the bottle and took a swig of water, using the few seconds to recap and replace the bottle to get her emotions under control. “ Worked with Maldonado.”
“The quadrant’s vamp leader?” Dante gave a low whistle. “Someone must have a death wish, to take out one of Byron Maldonado’s people.”
“They may not have known. Or cared,” Nix said.
“Who didn’t know or care about what?” The raspy bass voice with a flavor of South Carolina came from behind her.
That deep voice stopped her heart. She turned, and when she saw Tobias Caine duck under the crime scene tape her stomach lurched. He was pulling on latex gloves as he walked. His thick black hair was in its usual rakish mess with a few strands falling over his forehead. He straightened and loped toward them with an easy long-legged stride that belied his underlying intensity.
Five years. It had been five years since he’d walked out on her. Five years since he’d thrown away her love.
It was like a dagger to the heart, seeing him again. He looked the same as ever, tall, lean, handsome as sin. His gray shirt matched his eyes and his leather coat fell to midthigh, drawing attention to those long legs encased in dark blue denim. He looked damned fine. His presence revved up her pulse and that made her mad. There should have been some sort of sign that he’d suffered as much as she had, the bastard.
Nix stiffened her legs, telling herself it wasn’t seeing him again that made her weak in the knees. There was no denying that lust surged through her body in tune to her quickened heartbeat. It didn’t seem to matter he wasn’t hers anymore.
Some people used meth. Others drank themselves into a stupor. Her drug of choice was Tobias Caine. And it seemed that even after five years of sobriety, she was still as addicted as ever. Her eyes began to burn, signaling the rise of her demon. Tobias had always had that effect on her, as if his darkness called to her own. When they’d been in the
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