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An amused sound hums past my lips, and I advance on her, sliding my palm along the slope of her neck as I back her against one of the trees. Because we’re made of combustible elements, I crave her vitriol as much as her passion. She can lash out at me and I’ll swallow every harsh word, drink it right from her sultry, venomous lips.
I lower my mouth near hers, claiming her breath as my own. “My smell is all over you.I’mall over you, my violent little muse.” She latches on to my hand, trying to free herself with a weak fight. “Fuck, the way you want to hurt me right now…want me to hurt you…” I lick the flavor of her on my lips. “I’ll make the pain taste so sweet, Halen, you’ll beg me to never stop giving you such sick pleasure.”
Her rioting pulse kicks against my palm in challenge, but the stoked embers in her hazel eyes reveal that fire that wants to burn us both to cinder. A broken whimper escapes to rouse my cock, but she bites it back.
“That’s a shame,” I say, jaw clenched around my disappointment. “I don’t mind if you take it out on me. But if you do, use your claws.”
Her mouth hardens. “This is how it’s going to be with us,” she says, livid, her tone questioning. “Fighting, fucking…hurting each other.”
“Sweetness, you can fuck me and fight me at the same time. Whatever you need.” I glide my thumb over the thrashing pulse in her neck, drinking in every expressive emotion. “I’ll even fight you for us if I have to. Hell, I’ll be the one to fightforus. But you can't lie to me, you need the fight. The hurt wouldn’t feel so good otherwise.”
“You’re a deviant,” she snaps. “A fucking sexual sadist who gets off on punishing me for having feelings for you. I know you, Kallum. Anger excitation is nothing unique. No matter how charming and intelligent you are, you’re still just a textbook deviant trying to fulfill his psychosexual needs.”
I tighten my fingers around her throat, loving the way her skin pinks, her eyes flare, the tantalizing frisson vibrating through her body.
“Hmm. Psychoanalyzing me gets my little profiler so fucking hot,” I say, catching her bottom lip between my teeth before I release her. “But don’t sell yourself short, Halen, it’s where you live, too.”
Her narrowed eyes threaten to flay me, but the reflexive tremble of her body exposes that buried need.
“What do you fear?” she demands, lowering her voice to control the tremor. Our first night on the case, she asked this of me, and I refused to give her any answer. “Come on, Kallum. You’ve probed all my fears to get your rocks off. I want to know what terrifies the notorious bad boy.”
The earthiness of pending rain mingles with her alluring scent to test my control.
“In twelve hours, I’m boarding a plane to the Graystone Institute,” I say, dropping my heated words in the charged air between us. “That’s the time you have to find whatever answers you need to part with this case.”
She runs her fingers over her neck, the delicate space between her brows creases. “Crosby got you the transfer.” Her insistent gaze touches mine, demanding the truth.
A confirmation would alleviate some of the guilt she’s drowning in at my incarceration, but she’s not wrong in her analysis; I really do enjoy seeing her squirm.
The squelching sound of footsteps disturbs the gathering tension as a shadow falls across the moonlit reeds.
“Dr. Keller, you have impeccable timing,” I say as the woman moves into view. She is more of a nuisance than Stoll ever was.
Keller glances between me and Halen. “Agent Rana is asking for you and Miss St. James.”
I pull farther away from Halen. “Doctor,” I correct her as I move out of the shadows. “It’s Dr. St. James.” To Halen, I say, “Twelve hours.”
Agitation strings my sinew tight as I advance toward the scene and dip beneath the caution tape to meet Agent Rana and Hernandez inside the perimeter. “So who found the body?” I demand, surprising Rana with my direct question.
“Officer Michaels.” Rana nods to one of the local uniforms. “The vic has been ID’d already as Bethany Elsen.”
As Halen appears at the fringe of the scene, Hernandez hands over her gear across the band of tape. “I recognize the victim from the mine. She was the Thyrsus holder.”
Rana seems to understand that role amid the priestess’s Dionysian ritual, requiring no further details. A stark contrast from Alister. “ME’s estimated TOD is between two-to-six hours, but there’s no clear cause of death. Elsen was discovered an hour ago. We can’t patrol every inch of the killing fields and search the mine tunnels at all times.” Her tone is bordering on exasperated. “But I’m more interested in why this site is so cryptic and deviates from the others.”
“I’m not sure it’s cryptic,” Halen says, motioning to the woven patterns in the web as she unzips her bag, her movements hurried to disguise the lingering tremble in her hands. “The yarn work is similar, still encompassing an esoteric connection. While the artistry is ritualistic, this is not a rite or ritual in and of itself.”
“Childs obviously spent a good deal of time here.” Rana props her hands on her waist. “If it’s not connected to her objective, why risk exposure?”
“You’re only looking at Childs for this,” Halen points out, dropping her camera around her neck. “The Harbinger killer likes to leave nonsensical riddles with the victims.”
I swipe a hand over my mouth. Though she may want to, Halen can’t exonerate Devyn of every crime, especially when there’s a flaw in her logic. If she wants closure on the Harbinger killings, then she can’t revive the killer from the dead in Hollow’s Row.
Choices choices.
Agent Rana tilts her head. “How likely is it that the Harbinger is actually here? It’s more plausible that Childs was using a link to you, one of your past cases, for her own purpose. It’s Occam’s Razor, St. James.”
I study Halen’s profile, noting her open stance. Despite her own agenda, she appreciates Rana’s logical outlook.
