He’d taken a sip of water from a bottle he’d swiped out of the mill gym’s mini fridge; he choked on it when he realized what she thought he’d asked. By the time he got the coughing under control, Robin had spilled out everywhere she and Reynolds had done it. “Damn, Robin. Shut the hell up. I’ll never be able to touch one of those gym mats again without a can of Lysol. Shit.”
“Hey, you asked.” She laughed, and the sound was so infectious he couldn’t help chuckling himself.
“I meant feeding. I wondered if he fed from you after Mirren said not to. Holy Mother of God, I didn’t want to hear the rest of that. Glory’s sofa? If Mirren finds out you and Reynolds fucked on his sofa, you are both going to be roadkill.”
“He won’t know unless you tell him.” Robin smiled. “I like Cage.”
He glanced over at her. “Like like? Or love like?”
She didn’t answer, and at first he thought she’d fallen asleep. In which case he was turning this rig around and going to bed.
“It’s not that simple with shifters, you know.”
Nik had always wondered about Robin’s family and what her life had been like before she’d moved to New Orleans. It was as if she’d sprung fully grown and fully formed into her lower French Quarter third-story flat, not far from his family home. He was curious but respected her enough to avoid being nosy.
“You know if you ever want to talk about your life before, I’m here, right? No pressure. Just if you ever want to.”
Her voice was soft. “I know.”
The case in Houston they’d just finished had involved a wolf shifter who’d basically been sold by her parents into an arranged marriage. Robin had been even more infuriated by it than the rest of the team, and she was impatient with the woman for not going against her family sooner. It had made Nik wonder what the eagle-shifter culture was like. He’d done some research into the wild raptors, the golden eagles. They mated for life. They spent most of their lives in a fairly small area. They were expert trackers and hunters.
Yet here was little Robin, an expert tracker, but one who was ready to hit the road and go wherever it took her, keeping people at arm’s length. So who knew? She’d tell him when she wanted, and not a second before. He had to respect that.
“Where are we going again? A greenhouse? Why would a vampire have a greenhouse?”
“It was Aidan’s. The way I heard it, he was a farmer back in Ireland, and this was a way he could still work the land. And greenhouses hold sunlight, so I think it helped him stay in touch with who he was before he was turned.”
He drove slowly once they’d passed the clinic, and he made a right onto Mill Trace Lane. “It should be up here on the right. I think we missed Cage, though. The whole street looks dark and empty.” In fact, if he hadn’t known the greenhouse was there, they wouldn’t have found it. This far in the country, dark meant really dark.
“You got a flashlight? Let’s look around as long as we’re here.”
Nik’s inner voice, which he usually heard in the form of his grandfather Costa, told him this was probably a bad idea, but he pulled over and killed the truck. “I have flashlights in the hatch, in the toolbox.”
“Always prepared.” Robin hopped out, and by the time he got to the hatch, she was holding out the largest flashlight and had the other tucked under her arm. “Okay, where is this greenhouse?” She looked around and zeroed in on what looked to Nik like a big black blank. “Never mind. I see it.”
“You see it? I don’t see it.” He squinted into the night, but if not for the flashlight he wouldn’t have been able to see an inch in front of his nose.
“I’m a raptor shifter, remember? We’re night hunters.”
Great, something else about which to feel inferior. Nik followed her through the overgrown side yard, scanning the ground for debris so he wouldn’t trip over it and add that embarrassment to a collection that had begun when Robin had doubled his bench-press maximum in her first Ranger School workout.
“Wait.” He knelt and traced the flashlight beam over the area he’d just passed. “There’s a wet trail here.”
Robin squatted next to it, reached out, and scrubbed a fingertip over the grass. She lifted it into the beam of his flashlight. “Blood, and it’s fresh.” She lifted it to her nose. “It’s vampire, not human.”
“How can you tell?”
While they talked, they’d been following the path of blood drops and ended up at the greenhouse. “It doesn’t have that iron scent like human blood; it’s richer, or meatier or something. I don’t know—I just had that one little freakout sip from Mirren. I just know it smelled different.”