“We’ve come to an agreement. His people I’ve let go. The clones will be held for study to ensure they have no Starr-implanted agendas in their subconscious.”
They’d already had an agreement in place, but I didn’t bother pointing that out. “And Iktar?”
He grinned. “Will be joining the Directorate’s new daytime division, along with a few of his people.”
“Don’t you think their featureless faces are going to be a little noticeable?”
“Just because it’s called a daytime division doesn’t mean it’ll actually be all daytime work.”
“Did you come all the way up here just to give me that cheery piece of news?”
His amusement faded away. “No.”
“Then what?”
“You can’t go home.” His gaze met mine. “Not immediately. We’re arranging a new apartment for you and Rhoan.”
I had no reaction to the news. I think I was simply too darn tired. “Why?”
“Gautier slipped the noose.”
“Bound to happen given he was our best guardian.” I rubbed my eyes wearily. “Maybe he’ll just move to another state and leave us alone.”
“You don’t believe that any more than I do.” He slipped a hand into his pocket and drew out his cell phone. “You’d better read this.”
He pressed a button then held the phone out. I took it and read the message.
Thank you for freeing me from the restraints of servitude. For that, I shall give you time to recover. But not long. We have unfinished business, Riley, and I fully intend to make good the promise I made in the arena.
I handed Jack back the phone but didn’t immediately say anything. Because what was there to say?
The Directorate’s best guardian had turned rogue. The hunter had become the hunted.
And the hunted was coming after me.
I hugged my knees a little closer to my chest. “I guess the one good thing is that bringing down Gautier will probably be a piece of cake compared to Starr.”
“If you think that, then you’re not as bright as I thought you were.”
“Way to kill feeble hopes, boss.” I blew out a breath. “So what do we do now?”
He shrugged. “We wait. And when he finally shows himself, we’ll kill him.”
How? I wanted to ask, When you couldn’t even contain him when surprise was on our side? When he didn’t even know he was being watched?
“He won’t get you, Riley. I promise.” Jack raised a hand and lightly squeezed my shoulder. “There’s a car waiting near the gates—why don’t you go see your brother?”
“And the cleanup here?”
“Could take days yet. But there’s plenty of people here to worry about it. You need to rest and recuperate.”
I blew out a breath, then rose. I’d go see my brother, then get the bath and coffee I desperately craved.
After that, there was nothing I could do but wait.
And worry.
Because death was coming after me, and it was going to take every ounce of strength I had to survive him.
About the Author
KERI ARTHUR received a “perfect 10” from Romance Reviews Today and was nominated for Best Shapeshifter in PNR’s PEARL Awards and in the Best Contemporary Paranormal category of the Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Awards. She lives with her husband and daughter in Melbourne, Australia.Four times the heat.
Four times the suspense.
Four times the sass.
Four months in a row.
This much excitement isn’t normal—it’s paranormal!
Now is your chance to fully immerse yourself in the wonderful world of
Keri Arthur
Smart, sexy, and suspenseful, the Riley Jenson novels are rapidly gaining fans worldwide. And now we are giving you the unique opportunity to read four books inside four months, as part of our exciting new publication schedule:
Full Moon Rising
January 2007
Kissing Sin
February 2007
Tempting Evil
March 2007
Dangerous Games
April 2007
Be sure not to miss any of these exciting novels—or this series of special previews, to give you a taste of what is still to come or what you may have missed….
FULL MOON RISING
On sale January 2007
The night was quiet.
Almost too quiet.
Though it was after midnight, it was a Friday night, and Friday nights were usually party nights—at least for those of us who were single and not working night shift. This section of Melbourne wasn’t exactly excitement city, but it did possess a nightclub that catered to both humans and nonhumans. And while it wasn’t a club I frequented often, I loved the music they played. Loved dancing along the street to it as I made my way home.
But tonight, there was no music. No laughter. Not even drunken revelry. The only sound on the whispering wind was the clatter of the train leaving the station and the rumble of traffic from the nearby freeway.
Of course, the club was a well-known haunt for pushers and their prey, and as such it was regularly raided—and closed—by the cops. Maybe it had been hit again tonight.
So why was there no movement on the street? No disgruntled party-goers heading to other clubs in other areas?
And why did the wind hold the fragrance of blood?
I hitched my bag to a more comfortable position on my shoulder, then stepped from the station’s half-lit platform and ran up the stairs leading to Sunshine Avenue. The lights close to the platform’s exit were out and the shadows closed in the minute I stepped onto the street.
Normally, darkness didn’t worry me. I am a creature of the moon and the night, after all, and well used to roaming the streets at ungodly hours. Tonight, though the moon rode toward fullness, its silvery light failed to pierce the thick cover of clouds. But the power of it shimmered through my veins—a heat that would only get worse in the coming nights.
Yet it wasn’t the closeness of the full moon that had me jumpy. Nor was it the lack of life coming from the normally raucous club. It was something else, something I couldn’t quite put a finger on. The night felt wrong, and I had no idea why.
But it was something I couldn’t ignore.
I turned away from the street that led to the apartment I shared with my twin brother and headed for the nightclub. Maybe I was imagining the scent of blood, or the wrongness in the night. Maybe the club’s silence had nothing to do with either sensation. But one thing was certain—I had to find out. It would keep me awake, otherwise.
Of course, curiosity not only killed cats, but it often took out inquisitive werewolves, too. Or, in my case, half weres. And my nose for trouble had caused me more grief over the years than I wanted to remember. Generally, my brother had been right by my side, either fighting with me or pulling me out of harm’s way. But tonight, Rhoan wasn’t home, and he wasn’t contactable. He worked as a guardian for the Directorate of Other Races—which was a government body that sat somewhere between the cops and the military. Most humans thought the Directorate was little more than a police force specializing in capture of nonhuman criminals, and in some respects, they were right. But the Directorate, both here and overseas, was also a researcher of all things nonhuman, and its guardians didn’t only capture, they had the power to be judge, jury, and executioner.
I also worked for the Directorate, but not as a guardian. I was nowhere near ruthless enough to join their ranks as anything other than a general dogs body—though, like most of the people who worked for the Directorate in any capacity, I had certainly been tested. I was pretty damn happy to have failed—especially given that eighty percent of a Guardian’s work involved assassination. I might be part wolf, but I wasn’t a killer. Rhoan was the only one who’d inherited those particular instincts in our small family unit. If I had a talent I could claim, it would be as a finder of trouble.
Which is undoubtedly what I’d find by sticking my nose where it had no right to be. But would I let the thought of trouble stop me? Not a snowflake’s chance in hell.
Grinning slightly, I shoved my hands into my coat pockets and quickened my pace. My four-inch heels clacked against the concrete, and the sound seemed to echo along the silent street. A dead giveaway if there were problems ahead. I stepped onto the strip of half-dead grass that divided the road from the pavement, and tried not to get the heels stuck in the dirt as I continued on.
The street curved around to the left, and the run-down houses that lined either side of the road gave way to run-down factories and warehouses. Vinnie’s nightclub sat about halfway along the street, and even from here, it was obvious the place was closed. The gaudy red and green flashing signs were off, and no patrons milled around the front of the building.
But the scent of blood and the sense of wrongness were stronger than ever.
I stopped near the trunk of a gum tree and raised my nose, tasting the slight breeze, searching for odors that might give a hint as to what was happening up ahead.
Beneath the richness of blood came three other scents—excrement, sweat, and fear. For those last two to be evident from that distance, something major had to be happening.
I bit my lip and half considered calling the Directorate. I wasn’t a fool—not totally, anyway—and whatever was happening in that club smelled big. But what would I report? That the scent of blood and shit rode the wind? That a nightclub that was usually open on a Friday night was suddenly closed? They weren’t likely to send out troops for that. I needed to get closer, see what was really happening.