Into the Darkness (30 page)

dying, too.”

chapter

18

hessa strode into the station, waving to the

Cdesk sergeant as she passed through the metal

detectors. Her steps felt light, her mood brighter

than she could remember in a long while. Her trip

to the “blood bank” with Natalie had turned out

very interesting indeed.

And dammit, she was really starting to like the

younger woman.

Natalie had handled herself well. Had managed

to drink unsupervised without incident, and even

helped her thwart Fernando’s plans to take a bite

from her lovely throat. She might just make it on

her own.

She rounded the corner of their cubicle and

found Rene sitting forward in his chair, staring at

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a manila folder dangling between his fingertips—a grimy,

worn, tear-stained manila folder.

She drew up short, and her gaze shot to her filing cabinet.

The lock looked like it had been filed. The bottom drawer

was pulled open.

Chessa stared, unable to raise her gaze to Rene’s. She felt as

though he’d plunged his fist into her chest and was squeezing

the life out of her heart.

“You shoulda told me, Chessa, what this was really all

about,” he said, his voice sounding hoarse. “You shouldn’t

leave a partner,
a friend,
swingin’ in the wind with only half

the story. I been flyin’ blind with this case.”

“It’s not your concern—where it all started,” she said,

forcing the words past frozen lips.

“Damn, if it’s not. It started with you!” he shouted, slapping the folder on the desk. He lurched from his chair and

gripped her upper arms. “It all started with you!” He shook

her. “With your husband . . .
your child
!”

Chessa tried to shrug his hands off, but he wouldn’t let go.

Because she wasn’t willing to hurt him to make him release her,

she lifted her face and let him see the tears filling her eyes. “Yes,

I was the first!” she shouted. “The first to be hunted! The

first to lose everything! It’s why I’m here. Why I’m a cop.” She

turned her head, and her gaze landed on the black and white

photographs spilling from the edges of the folders.

“I lived in
Ardeal,
” she whispered, “before the wall . . . in

a little cottage. I came into my moon-cycle and found a man

I wanted for mine.” She stopped to breathe, realizing each

indrawn breath hurt. “We had a child . . . I came home and

found them both . . .”

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Her eyes closed to shut out the picture of her baby girl’s

small broken body. She couldn’t finish it. Couldn’t get the

words past the lump in the back of her throat. She stood suspended by his hands and cried the way she hadn’t been able

to forty years ago.

Rene cursed and pulled her against his chest. “Cheech, Jesus.

I’m sorry.” He rocked on the balls of his feet, hating himself

for his anger and her for not telling him the truth.

If he’d known . . . if he’d been prepared . . . oh hell, he’d

still have fallen for Natalie like a ton of rocks. The pictures of

the little girl, Ana Tomas, could be his own.

“Shhhh . . .” He cupped the back of her head and pressed

her face into the corner of his neck and held her while she

cried. By the layer of dust he’d brushed from the file, she

hadn’t looked at the pictures in a long, long time. She’d hidden the hurt away, out of sight. Covered her heart with a

thick layer of hedgehog spines and tough-talking insults.

Kinda like he’d done after Elaine had died in his arms.

Until one pretty little blonde in a pink dress twitched her

ass and made him want something more. Only this time, he’d

attempted to refuse his fate. He didn’t want to head down

the same tragic path. But he’d already let Natalie down when

she’d been abducted and compounded the blunder when he’d

been taken as well. He’d been mad as hell at Chessa and not

willing to forgive . . . himself.

“It’s all right. Don’t cry anymore.” He kissed her hair and

hugged her again.

Her sobs were softer and her arms lifted from where they’d

hung limply at her sides to clutch his waist.

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Rene hadn’t forgotten how to soothe a woman’s tears. His

hands smoothed up and down her back and he stood still, letting her drench the front of his shirt. “You know I’m useless

at drying tears. Look at me. My shirt’s all wet.”

Chessa’s laugh sounded more like a sob, and she drew away

to wipe her tears with the backs of her hands.

He bent over her and pulled away her hands, and then used

his thumbs to gently sweep them away. “Your little girl was a

pretty thing. Just like her mama.”

Chessa’s smile wobbled. “She’d just learned how to say

‘Shit.’ Her daddy taught her. He thought it was funny and I

got mad.”

“I bet he knew you didn’t mean it.”

Her grateful smile tore at his heart. “Inanna fostered

all the children out after that. Built that big damn wall

around the grounds. Turned humans in exchange for their

service guarding the place. We weren’t safe in this world

anymore.”

“Why didn’t you stay there?” he asked, already knowing

the answer.

“Because I didn’t care if they got me. And I wanted to go

after the bastards and tear them apart, limb by limb.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Figuratively?”

A shaky smile stretched her lips. “Literally, actually.”

“You’re the woman to do it.”

“Yes, I am.” Her smile faded, and she leaned toward him.

“Thanks.” The kiss she placed on his lips was chaste.

The one he gave her back was not. “Chessa,” he groaned

as he tore his mouth away, “I thought if I put some distance

between myself and Natalie—”

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She placed a finger over his lips. “You can’t help this. It’s

too late to even try to resist.”

He sat and pulled her onto his lap, kissing her like he loved

her, his fingers clutching her hair as he desperately tried to

still the desire clamoring to be fulfilled. And he did love her,

in a way. “I don’t get how I can do this with you, when I’m

crazy for Natalie.”

“It’s a curse,” she murmured in between wet glides of lips

and tongue. “We love and fight like this. Our passions all

intermixed.”

“But I’m not turned. Not a damn vampire. Why do I feel

this way?”

“You’re linked to us now. She was a virgin when she bit you.

It’s something mystical. Something you can’t really fight. The

same way she will always come back to you, you will never be

free of her or this lust. You will want others.” She slipped off

his lap and took a step back.

Rene didn’t stop to think. He thumbed the button at the

top of her trousers and skimmed them down her legs, pushing her soggy socks and shoes away.

When he sat back in his chair, she reached for his pants and

opened them, helping him wrestle them just past his hips to

free his cock.

“Do you think we’ll finish conversations like this often?”

he asked, his voice rasping with need.

“Only if Natalie ever lets you out of her hotel room.

Hurry!” she said, and slid a leg over his lap to straddle him.

“You realize we’ve worked together four years and this is the

first time we’ve ever fucked? How’d that happen?”

He centered his cock between her slick folds and groaned

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as she wriggled to ease down his shaft. Moist heat surrounded

his cock, robbing him of the ability to speak. “Stupid . . .

stubborn . . .”

She rose with her toes barely touching the ground on either

side of him and lowered herself again, dragging her pussy up

and down his shaft.

He wanted more. More to taste, more to feel. He shoved

her jacket off her shoulders and pushed her shirt up under

her holster to free her breasts. He latched onto a small pink

nipple and groaned, all the while sucking hard.

Chessa rose and fell, faster, harder. The metal chair rolled

forward and back, creaking beneath their frantic movements.

He leaned back as far as the chair would allow and hammered upward to greet each downward stroke. They worked

in opposition, blending naturally like they’d done this a thousands times before.

“Rene?” Her cry was feminine, small, uncertain.

“Yeah baby, I’m here, I’m holdin’ you. Come for me. Come,

now!” He planted his feet on the tile floor and jounced on

the seat, trying to tunnel deeper, trying to break beyond

the crest of the wave, until suddenly they were both thrust

high.

When their breaths slowed, Chessa snuggled next to his

chest. “We need to get back to the hotel room. Natalie . . .”

He should have felt guilty, but he didn’t. What did that

mean? “Yeah, she shouldn’t be alone.”

“Neither should you.”

“I was just about to say the same thing to you.”

Chessa lifted her head and gave him a lopsided smile. “I

was thinking about the storm.”

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He lifted one dark eyebrow. “Do you think . . . ?”

“Let’s play it by ear. Don’t wanna scare her off just yet.”

Natalie sat huddled in the chair watching the newscast. Earlier, delicious-smelling men with heavy tool belts had barreled into the room to latch and nail the window shutters

closed. The storm had made landfall and was sweeping across

the city, hammering New Orleans with rain and hundredmiles-per-hour winds. At least the weather would provide

some kind of protection from anything stalking her on feet,

paws or wings. At least for now.

She thought of Chessa and Rene working to find a way

to make her life safer and ensure she had a future, and she

wished she could help in some way. Unaccustomed to waiting

for others to do for her, a deep agitation settled over her, a

restlessness she knew she had to control.

For the restlessness only speeded her metabolism. She

needed to be busy, moving, doing . . . something. Instead,

she was warehoused here in a hotel room, more isolated than

before.

The soft snick of a lock preceded the door swinging open.

Chessa and Rene walked inside carrying rain-spotted bags.

“Fajitas?” Rene asked, holding up one for her.

“Meat! Yes!” she said, reaching eagerly for the bag, grateful for something to fill her belly until the craving for blood

returned.

She set aside the wrapped tacos and dove into the thin strips

of beef. “They overcooked it,” she said, speaking around a

mouthful of spicy, bloody meat.

“They barely seared the outside,” he said, smiling as he

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seated himself at the small desk. “And we were lucky to find

any place open.”

“Any cooking is too much, right Nat?” Chessa said, perching on the edge of the bed.

“I shouldn’t gripe,” Natalie said sitting cross-legged on the

bed in her undies and long T-shirt. “I’m just a little testy

after being holed up here all night.”

Natalie noted a glance between Chessa and Rene. It registered they’d shared several since they entered the room. She

set aside her Styrofoam box and inhaled slowly, trying not to

make it too obvious she was scenting the air.

But it was there. The smell of sex. On both of them. Natalie ducked her head and busied herself putting away the remnants of her meal.

“Not hungry?” Rene asked.

She shrugged and gave him a weak smile. After all, she

couldn’t rail at him. She’d gotten off with a total stranger in

a seedy bar. He’d only fucked his best friend.

Her indiscretion was so much worse. But his still hurt.

“I have to get a shower,” Rene said, avoiding her glance.

He grabbed his duffel and headed into the bathroom, leaving

Natalie alone with Chessa.

The camaraderie she’d felt earlier at the blood bar was

tainted now by her jealousy. She felt badly that this was happening, because really—what right did she have to feel possessive of Rene? She was planning on leaving anyway.

“You know you needn’t worry I’m stealing him from you,”

Chessa said quietly, plucking at a loose thread on the coverlet.

Since she’d brought the subject up, Natalie pinned her

with a quelling glance. “You two had sex.”

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267

Chessa’s eyebrows rose. “Your nose is getting good. We

did. But it was comfort, not love.”

Natalie swallowed against the lump burning the back of

her throat. “I guess I’m just trying to get used to the rules.”

“When it comes to pleasure,” Chessa said softly, “there are

none for us.”

No rules. What a heady thought. “Go with the flow,” Natalie said, her tone wooden. “You said that before.”

“That’s right. We have to use humans to survive, and our

lusts are too closely intertwined to get too fussy about crossing lines.”

Natalie ducked her head, wanting to ask but feeling more

than a little embarrassed. “When you did that to me . . . before at the bar . . . was that pleasurable for you?” She peeked

up beneath her lashes to catch the policewoman’s expression.

Chessa’s smile was slow, and she lay back, resting on an