The Kindred

own. In this, Luther had her at his mercy.

Untenable.

Somehow, someway, she’d have to overcome this awful requirement of him.

Going to the trunk at the end of the unused bed, she opened the combination lock and removed her current work in progress. Writing graphic novels served as the only outlet for her frustrations. She needed to write and draw now more than ever.

Because the room didn’t have a desk, she arranged everything on the floor and then sat cross-legged and went to work. Downstairs she could hear Luther and Ann speaking, and then a few minutes later, she recognized Luther’s familiar tread on the stairs. He didn’t come to her room, but instead went to the room she would sleep in with him.

The room where she’d presented herself naked on his bed, only to be called away.

Fuck.

Concentrating anew, Gaby threw herself into the ink depictions of a long-toothed bloodsucker feeding off an innocent who screamed in soundless agony as her lifeblood drained away.

Heart racing, Gaby let her muse take over—until she really saw the woman she’d drawn.

This woman was different from the corpse they’d found. Darker, younger.

Shit, shit, shit. Would she be next?

Pausing, Gaby studied the drawing that her subconscious had conjured. Gaunt, fragile, eyes hollow with abuse, the dark-skinned woman looked like any of a hundred addicted transients who clogged the alleyways.

Somehow, Gaby had to find her, and save her.

Then, hand shaking, she noticed something that showed from just behind the woman’s leg.

A child.

“Gaby?” The doorknob twisted, but the lock kept Luther from entering.

Sick at heart, Gaby stood and stared down at the pages on the floor.

A young girl, not more than ten years of age.

God no. Please. Not that, not an innocent kid.

But the image remained, mocking her with the portent of what would come.

She backed up, removing herself from the harsh reality and going closer to Luther’s soothing voice.

“Gaby?” His fist struck the door in an annoyed knock. “Open up.”

Gaby rolled in her lips, breathing hard. “Yeah, hang on.” Not until her hand touched the doorknob was she able to draw her gaze from the papers. After a deep breath, she stepped to the side of the door and opened it a little. “What?”

His jaw loosened.

She hadn’t bothered with clothes yet, and he was now fully suited in a way befitting a detective. He looked nice. He smelled nice.

The way he’d touched her . . .

“Damn, Gaby.” His chest expanded. In a low, nearly reverent voice, he whispered, “You’re still naked.”

She stared at his throat and at a small bit of chest hair showing from the open collar of his shirt. His tie hung loosely around his neck, his dark blond hair was mussed. “Yeah, well I didn’t feel like getting dressed. Sue me.”

“I’d rather eat you up.”

Her gaze shot to his gorgeous brown eyes. She could tell that what he said held some significant sexual innuendo, just by the way that he said it. But the meaning escaped her.

“Damn, Gaby, you’ll be the death of me.” He trailed a finger along the curve of her breast, down to her nipple. He circled it once—and his hand dropped away. His eyes closed, his jaw locked, and then he firmed his resolve. “I have to go.”

Of course he did. Now that he had her heart pumping too hard again. Jerk. “So then why are you bothering me? Go.”

He cupped the back of her head and his voice gentled. After several heavy beats of silence, he asked, “You okay?”

“What do you care? You have a job to do—go do it.”

His palpable irritation struck her. “I care, and you know it.”

“Then stay and finish what you started.” She knew he wouldn’t. She knew he couldn’t. But, damn it, she didn’t really care about his problems at the moment.

Pained, he dropped his hands and stepped back from her. “Ann is waiting in her car.”

Some strange emotion that felt too much like jealousy took a bite out of her pride. Gaby shoved him back several feet, using more strength than she meant to. “Then fucking go to Ann! Damn you, Luther. Nobody asked you to hang around anyway!”

“You did.”

“Well I take it back.”

So quickly that she didn’t have time to think about it, Luther jerked her through the doorway and slammed her to the wall. One of his pants-clad legs came between her naked thighs, his chest pinned her. And then his mouth was on hers, kissing her hard and deep, giving her just a small taste of what she so desperately wanted and needed.

Gaby considered leveling him.

It’d be so easy to make him hurt the way she was hurting. But she held back.

That kiss of his . . . it robbed her of spiteful intent, and instead ignited new fires.

Easing up, his mouth still touching hers, Luther whispered, “Please be here when I get home. I promise that I’ll make it up to you.”

Before she could answer, he kissed her again, his tongue in her mouth, his hot breath on her cheek. It was wonderful and scorching, and it melted her temper.

“I swear, Gaby, I’ll be thinking of you every second that I’m gone, and that’s dangerous. So tell me you’ll be here.”

Lying never fazed her. Gaby did what she had to do when she had to do it. But right now, feeling Luther pressed to her, she didn’t have enough wits to consider a more prudent reply. “I don’t know if I’ll be here or not.”

Fury took him two steps from her.

Not that Gaby gave a damn about his anger issues.

“Look, Luther, the truth is I have some stuff that I have to do.” She rolled a bare shoulder, cocked her hip, and crossed her arms. “I don’t know how long it’ll take me. Might be a few minutes, might be all night.”

His gaze burned.

Outside, Ann laid on the horn, causing Luther to curse. He ran a frustrated hand through his brown hair.

“What?” He narrowed his eyes in demand. “What do you have to do that’s so important?”

Gaby enunciated “Stuff” in a way guaranteed to annoy. But how could she clarify more than that when she didn’t yet know herself what had to be done?

His jaw worked, he breathed hard, and then, very slowly, he smiled.

An evil smile.

God help me. But, as usual, God ignored her, leaving her to palpitate over what Luther planned.

Leaning in close to her, he breathed in her ear at the same time that his hand pressed between her legs. “When I say that I want to eat you—that means my mouth on you, Gaby.” His hand pressed against her. “Here.”

A shock of sensation ran over her.

His tongue touched her ear and stole her breath. “Everything I do to your mouth, the way I lick with my tongue, the way I suck on your tongue . . . ”

She swallowed and said, “Yeah?”

“That’s what I’ll do to you here—” His fingers toyed with her, long enough to send her need skyrocketing, too briefly to give her any satisfaction.

He leaned away, removed his hand, and left her wanting.