Order of Terminus Page 2

  Dr. Walsh nodded for Crime Scene to come into the bedroom, and Josie and Detective Jones followed her out of the small house. This time the crime scene was situated in the bad area of Franklin known as Meth Row. As before, a swarm of reporters, even more manic in their attention and activities than last time, was lined along the street behind the yellow tape.

  “I hope to God that we don’t have a serial killer in our midst,” Dr. Walsh said in a hushed tone to Josie and Jones. Josie maintained her stoic appearance while Jones ran a meaty hand over his shaved head.

  The coroner made her exit, and after gathering what little bit of information they could from Crime Scene and tight-lipped neighbors, they made their way back to the department.

  The autopsy report had come in for the Gomez murder. Josie read over the details, and one thing stood out: not all of Ms. Gomez’s blood could be accounted for.

  Her brows knit together. In her four years in homicide, she’d never seen anything like this. Did they have a serial killer with a blood fetish? The idea made her stomach roll over.

  Would the arsonist make an appearance at the Montgomery home?

  A patrol car in the area was assigned to make frequent trips through the neighborhood to keep an eye on the house. Josie’s gut told her she should swing by the crime scene herself on her way home.

  Later that night she cut her headlights and crept by the house, her eyes straining to pierce the darkness. There was the slightest shifting of shadows behind the home, and Josie stopped the car.

  Were her eyes playing tricks on her?

  Deciding to check things out, she put her car in park and cut the engine. She eased the door open, making sure the overhead light was off beforehand. She stepped out. Somewhere down the street someone was blasting heavy metal music, and crickets chirped despite the chilly night air. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but Josie had a hand on her service revolver just in case.

  Her gaze scanned back and forth as she strained her ears for the slightest sound, a footstep or a snap of a twig. Stopping at the chain-link fence around the backyard, she pulled out the small flashlight she’d brought along and clicked it on. A narrow beam of light danced around a few feet in front of her, but a heavy fog was rolling in, obscuring anything further out.

  Josie considered calling for backup, but discarded the thought. Most likely her exhausted mind played tricks with her. Besides, she was confident she could handle pretty much anything, and a patrol car would be driving by any minute.

  She opened the side gate, praying it wouldn’t squeak or grate. To her relief, it remained silent. She stepped inside, searching the thick blanket of mist that was almost an icy drizzle of rain against her skin. Hair had come loose from her bun, and she felt the strands plastering to her forehead and neck.

  She’d stepped into some type of B-movie horror flick. All she needed was a flash of lightning to outline Wolfman next to the home and a few old tombstones in the backyard. As if on cue, a dog let out a long, lonely howl in the distance, and goose flesh broke out over her already chilled skin. The scent of her damp wool coat filled her nostrils, mingling with the odor of cold, wet earth.

  Get a grip, Josie.

  She shook herself mentally just before a shadow jumped from the weighted mist. Josie didn’t have a chance to scream.

  Chapter 3

  Grant scooped up the lifeless body of the detective who lay on the kitchen floor, blood pooling beneath her from the laceration on her neck. Misshapen designs had been smeared on the laminate flooring with her draining blood.

  He clutched her body to him, surprised to hear the faint, fluttery sound of her heartbeat, signaling she somehow maintained a thread of life. He carried her out the back door as smoke filled the home.

  There was no time to move her car or cover his tracks. The place would be swarming with cops within minutes.

  Several acres of forest lay behind the neighborhood. Within seconds of leaping the four-foot chain-link fence, he disappeared like a ghost into the heavy April mist, the detective cradled in his arms. After traveling a safe distance from the house, he gently laid the woman on a pile of moist, dead leaves and considered his options.

  Her life had all but faded completely, and the heavy coppery scent of her blood filled Grant’s head, making his heart quicken. He ran his tongue over his lengthened canines, able to taste the odor on the back of his tongue. It was heady, and the craving swamped him, causing his whole body to quiver.

  He wanted to taste her.

  He shook his head.

  Should he let her die?

  It had been so long since a woman had stirred his blood, and except for an occasional liaison with a vampiress, he lived a private and lonely life.

  Doubt flooded his mind even as he bit into his own wrist, flinching at the pungent, soured taste of his vampire blood, a natural deterrent to keep them from feeding on their own kind. He pressed his bleeding wrist against the detective’s slightly parted, full lips. With his other hand, he stroked back her bloodied, knotted hair.

  In the end, he might have to destroy his own creation, but he had to give this woman a second chance. He ignored the fact that perhaps it was for his own selfish reasons.

  * * * *

  Josie’s eyes drifted open, finding a strange aura of colors dancing within her vision. She blinked several times then sucked in a ragged breath. Her body felt sore and feverish, and a dull throb had settled deep within her left temple.

  What happened to me?

  Her mind was blank beyond her last memory of leaving the police department. It had been dark before her blackout, but she was sure it was daylight now.

  The colorful aura was fading, and the daylight grew stronger. Josie moved her limbs, but they seemed made of lead, and she groaned under the effort.

  “You’re okay,” a male voice said over the ringing in her ears. “Lay still a little longer. The change isn’t complete.”

  Her lips were dry, and she tried to lick them, but her mouth was sticky. An odd, soured taste clung to her tongue. “I…” Nothing more would come from her hoarse, dry throat.

  A hand stroked hair from her forehead, then gently caressed down her cheek. “You’ll be good as new in another hour or so.”

  Josie tried to focus on his face which hovered above her own. The rainbow of lights distorted her vision, and frustration welled inside of her. By nature a fighter, she tried to sit upright. Hands gripped her shoulders, and she thought he’d push her back down. Instead, he guided her up then held her steady in a seated position. Vertigo hit her, and she swayed under the strong hands.

  “What…” Josie began, her voice cracking.

  She cleared her throat and made an effort to swallow. The taste in her mouth was absolutely awful, and she smacked, trying to place it. Her tongue hit a sharp spike in her mouth. Her brows knit together as her tongue searched over the peculiarity and found another, then a third and a fourth. With shaking fingers, she traced the oddities protruding from her gums.

  Why did her teeth feel so weird? Had she been drugged?

  “They were a shock to me too,” the man said. “I spent the first few weeks biting my cheeks and tongue whenever they’d grow in.”

  Josie felt her strength returning with each beat of her heart, and the Technicolor aura had finally almost gone. She focused on thick, sandy brown hair, sharp masculine features, and dark brown eyes that peered at her in a mixture of concern and amusement. A gentle smile tugged the corners of his full mouth.

  He looked familiar.

  They were in a tent, the flap open, and a cold gust of wind stirred the strands of her damp hair that hung freely down her back. The chilled air caressed her bare arms, and for the first time, she noticed she was dressed in a large, red t-shirt and baggy, black athletic shorts.

  “What happened to my clothes?” she asked before her hand went to her hair. “Why is my hair wet?” Worry began to thread its way through her.

  “Your clothes were ruined, and your hair needed t
o be washed,” the man said. “I’m Grant, by the way, and I’ve brought you to the nature preserve near Franklin. It’s the safest place for you right now.”

  “Ruined? Why did my hair need to be washed?” Nothing was making sense. “Why do you look familiar?”

  The heavy fog. The backyard of the Montgomery place... The slip of a memory popped into her mind. She grasped onto it, trying to eke more information from it.

  “Things are different for you now, Detective Lewis,” Grant said gently.

  Her tongue again tested the sharp points of her canines. How did she know him?

  “I couldn’t let you die.”

  His words sent an electric shock through her body.

  Something lunged from the thick mist, knocking her to the ground. Before she could utter a sound, it struck her across the temple. A dark, massive figure with a white gleam set into the shadowy outline of a face. A few moments later, she was in the kitchen, and though she wanted to cry out and fight, she found both her voice and body paralyzed. The white gleam hovered above her, and she realized she stared at teeth. Teeth that slashed into her throat as she lay helpless.

  “Oh my God,” she said with a gasp.

  She gazed at the stranger, his sandy brown hair and square jawline triggering recognition, and she raised her hand to her mouth.

  He was the man from the crowd outside of the Gomez home!

  She crab-walked backward, putting as much distance as she could between Grant and herself. Her back came up against the side of the two-man tent, leaving Grant between her and the door. She was trapped with what she was quite certain was a serial killer.

  Great.

  * * * *

  Grant knit his brows in concern, and he moved back from her, giving her what extra space he could in the confined area.

  The deep, blackened-red color that had filled her eyes had faded, and he could see her eyes were an intense shade of sapphire. They were wide with fear, and confusion glimmered in their depths. Perhaps this would be too much, and he wouldn’t be able to control her. The thought made him shudder.

  The detective hissed, exposing her lengthened canines. The sound obviously shocked her, and she shut up.

  “I know it’s a lot to take in right away, Josilynn, but I swear it gets better,” he said, reaching a tentative hand toward her. She stared at his hand as if it had grown teeth, and he pulled it back.

  Her scent had been evolving since he’d shared his blood with her, and now her own softly feminine, human fragrance was laced with the spicy aroma of the vampire blood coursing within her veins. The virus had taken hold; she was a half-blood.

  How would he explain to a twenty-first century woman that she was now half-vampire?

  A friend and fellow coalmine worker had turned him at the beginning of the twentieth century after a cave-in. He hadn’t known his friend, Mack, was a vampire, and was shocked to see Mack turn on him, teeth bared, like a caged animal. Grant’s lower body had been crushed under rubble, and he was helpless to defend himself against the assault.

  Mack, apparently appalled by his actions, had passed his blood to Grant, thus saving his life. After Grant himself fed off a worker moments after the man had passed, they were able to use their combined strength to dig themselves out.

  During that time period, being bitten and changed by a vampire wasn’t such a stretch of the imagination.

  “Why did you attack me?” she asked, her soft voice drawling out in a distinctly southern fashion. “And that’s Detective Lewis to you.” She ran her fingertips over her canines again.

  “I know how it looks, but you’re safe with me. The canines will retract soon.” He smiled at her puzzled expression.

  She frowned and sucked her rosy top lip between her teeth. Her color was returning, the pallid, bluish shade of her skin replaced with her natural, creamy hue. Freckles were popping out over her nose and the peachy apples of her cheeks.

  A healthy dose of male appreciation washed through him, catching him off guard. His mind wandered to her lean, athletic body hidden beneath his borrowed clothes. He’d done his best to avert his gaze while disrobing and cleaning her before redressing her in his clothes. But he’d still caught a glimpse of soft, round breasts and the dark hair that marked the juncture of her thighs.

  Desire flooded his veins, and his cock grew rock hard. He remained in a squatted position in hopes he covered his hard-on. He certainly didn’t want to frighten the woman any more than she already was.

  “Let me go. Every cop in the county will be searching for me,” she said, her voice growing stronger. “I’m of no use to you.”

  “We can’t be separated right now, Detective Lewis.”

  Her eyes widened then narrowed. “Do you really want assault and kidnapping on your back? If I leave now, I’m sure I could get you some leniency. Of course, you’ll still have to answer to the two murders and the arson.” She crossed her arms over her breasts and set her face into an unreadable mask.

  “I’m not worried about those charges. You will be free to go as soon as I see that you’ve adapted to the…change,” he said, deciding the word virus might cause her to panic.

  Detective Lewis’s gaze roamed over his body then hovered for just a moment too long on his crotch.

  Grant tried again. “In a few—”

  His breath knocked from him in a whoosh as the detective lunged forward, her fist driving toward his groin. His reflexes were lightning quick, and he shifted in time so her punch landed into his inner thigh. Detective Lewis’s increased strength and speed caught him off guard, and they both tumbled through the door of the tent. He wrapped an arm around her waist in a steely grip. She struggled, trying to drive an elbow into any part of his body she could.

  * * * *

  “Let me go!” Josie shouted as she wrestled on the ground with her kidnapper.

  She tried every self-defense move she could remember from training, but he deftly pinned her on her back. His large, strong hands gripped her wrists over her head, his lower body pinning hers to the ground.

  She stared defiantly into his face, thrusting her body against his in a fruitless attempt to dislodge his heavy body. Her nerve endings flared to life, and heat pooled in her belly. His scent flooded her nostrils, an overtly masculine odor that overwhelmed as it tantalized. There was something different too, a spicy scent that a part of her found intoxicating.

  Josie couldn’t deny the attraction she felt for him, despite the fact that he was a suspect in two murders, along with her assault and kidnapping. He robbed her of her senses, and she began thrusting her pelvis in a rhythmic motion, her mind drifting from suspicion to something much more basic…

  And pleasurable.

  A look of surprise and confusion crossed his face. Josie groaned as his hard body pressed into hers. Her breath caught in her throat at the feeling of his hard dick against her thigh. It was as if a switch had been flipped on, and she’d never wanted—never needed—something so much. She began to writhe. Wet, her pussy hot and aching, she licked her lips.

  Grant pushed away from her and stood. Her effect on him was still obvious by the strain of his cock against the denim of his jeans, and her frustration peaked.

  She hopped to her feet in a lithe movement and went to him, pressing her willing body against his. Her hand slipped down to cup his crotch.

  He pushed her to arm’s length. “You’re responding to the surge of vampire hormones,” he said, his voice deep and husky.

  “Vampire?” Josie asked, her mind not quite able to grasp onto his words.

  “It’s a natural cycle, and your body is adjusting in its own way, I suppose. Plus, your human side is affected by my vampiric attraction. That’s the part of us that attracts our…” He paused, seeming to consider his words. “It attracts humans to us.”

  Josie’s confusion grew. Her body felt energized, and there was only one way she wanted to use that energy. She wanted to fuck him stupid. In one deft movement, she discarded the oversized t-
shirt. The shock of cold air against her bare skin was delicious, and her nipples hardened.

  His gaze darted down then quickly back to her face.

  Josie smiled. She was a competitive person and thrilled at the challenge he held for her. Never in her life had she ever felt so…feral. Like a wild cat in heat.

  “Look, once your body settles into its new state, this will all be a horrible memory, I assure you,” he said, his deep voice a gravelly plead. He held his hands out, trying to keep her at a distance.

  Josie tilted her head before giving the already baggy shorts a slight push. They dropped into a little black pool around her feet.

  Chapter 4

  “Oh God,” Grant groaned. His body hardened, tightened, and tingled all over. His stiff cock felt as if it were going to explode.

  His gaze raked down Josie’s body of its own accord, traveling from her deep, cobalt eyes down her long neck. Delicate collarbones were set across narrow shoulders, which framed small, round breasts that begged to be cupped by his hands. Farther down, below the planes of her flat stomach, he found the dark hair that led a tantalizing trail to her pussy.

  Josie watched him intently. She raised her hands to her breasts and toyed with her rosy-beige nipples. Then one hand drifted down to find the little thatch of hair before delving further. Her head rolled back as she stroked the folds of her wet pussy.

  His body quivered with restraint. It would be wrong for him to take advantage of a woman in her current state. But the way she was looking at him, her eyes filled with lustful promises...

  “Put your clothes back on, Detective Lewis,” Grant said through his clamped teeth that felt as if they’d shatter at any moment. He hoped the added emphasis to her name would snap some reality back into her.

  She wavered, blinking several times, looked around at their wooded surroundings, then back at him with a frown creasing her brow. She peered down at her nude body and let out a hard breath.