Hotter After Midnight. Cynthia Eden

eyes narrowed. “How much do you know?”

      “Enough.” Most folks didn’t know about the creatures that lived right next to the humans, didn’t know about the dangerous world that existed in the shadows.

      People thought monsters lived in horror movies. Thought that life was about birthday parties, Christmas trees, and summer vacations.

      But he knew better. Hell, he’d lived most of his life in the darkness that everyone else feared. He knew the smell of evil, had seen firsthand just how perverted the world could be.

      Yeah, he knew about the monsters.

      After all, he was one of them.

      McNeal glanced around at the other cops. At least five other officers—three men, two women—were in the room. He jerked his thumb toward the kitchen.

      Emily nodded her understanding and led the way to the white swinging door.

      No cops were inside. The kitchen had already been cleared.

      McNeal waited until the door swung shut behind Colin, then he growled, “This doesn’t go past the three of us, got that, Gyth?”

      Colin nodded.

      “Good.” McNeal leveled his stare at Emily. “Well?”

      “He was human.”

      A grunt. “Good. At least I don’t have to worry about the ME finding two hearts inside the guy….” He blew out a hard breath. “After a couple of times, those explanations get harder to make.”

      Yeah, he just bet they did. Colin kept his attention on Emily. “So, Doc, any ideas about what might have done that to him?”

      She nibbled her lower lip for a moment, then said, “It could have been an animal attack, maybe a dog—”

      But the captain was shaking his head. “The owner of the house has one of those fancy security systems with cameras trained on the doors. We’ve got a picture of the perp—a guy in a black hood who was smart enough to keep his damn face hidden—and there’s no animal with him.”

      Emily’s eyes narrowed.

      “So what do you think, Doc?” Colin pressed. “What kind of thing could have done this?”

      Her head cocked to the side and she studied him with that too-knowing gaze of hers. “Well, Detective,” she finally murmured, “the way I figure it, there are three prime suspects.”

      He didn’t speak, just waited for her.

      She held up one finger. “A vampire.”

      A second finger. “A demon.”

      Third finger. “Or”—she stared straight into his eyes—“a shifter.”

      “A shifter?” McNeal whistled softly. “What kind of shifter would do that?”

      Her shoulders lifted in a faint shrug. “A bear. A panther, any kind of wildcat really, or…a wolf.” Her green eyes were still on him. Watching, weighing.

      Judging.

      With an effort, Colin managed not to squirm.

      McNeal made a faint hmmming sound. “Is there any way to tell for certain?”

      “The ME might be able to tell if it’s a shifter.” She pulled off her glasses, polished them absently on her shirt.

      Colin blinked. Oh, he liked her without the glasses. She looked softer, sweeter, like—

      “He can look for animal hairs. Compare the radius of the bite marks to let us know what we’re looking at.”

      Colin raised his brows, impressed. The doc might specialize in mind games, but she knew a bit of forensics too.

      Her gaze drifted to the white door that stood between them and the den, between them and the body. “There is so much rage here,” she whispered softly. “I can feel the echoes.”

      And just how the hell could she do that?

      The doc was a bigger mystery, and a hell of a bigger threat to him, than he’d originally thought.

      “You have to find this guy.” She swallowed, straightened her shoulders and seemed to shake off a heavy weight. “Before he does this again.”

      Colin stiffened. “Again?” He repeated softly. So far, they just had one body. Sure, the killer had obviously been in a fury—there was blood everywhere, pooled near the victim, smeared on the walls, the furniture, but that didn’t mean they were dealing with a serial—

      “He’ll do it again.” She sounded absolutely certain.

      McNeal swore beneath his breath. “You sure?”

      “Yes.”

      Colin stepped toward her, stepped right in front of her so that barely an inch separated them. “And how do you know that?”

      “Because now he’s gotten a taste for the kill.” Her gaze held his. Her breath blew lightly across his skin. Her scent, the light, fragrant scent of roses, filled the air around him. “Once a creature like this gets a taste, there’s no going back.”

      The good doctor sure as hell sounded like she knew what she was talking about. But he hoped, hoped with every fiber of his being, that she was wrong.

      Because if one of his kind really was off on a killing spree, then the humans were screwed.

      Chapter 2

      She couldn’t get the dead man out of her head.

      Emily stared blankly at the flickering TV screen, a bowl of Dutch chocolate ice cream in her lap, a spoon gripped tightly in her fist.

      She’d left the crime scene long ago. Been driven back to her office by one of the patrolmen on duty. She’d thanked the fellow, very politely, then gotten into her car and traveled home. And she’d been shaking the whole time.

      Dammit. It wasn’t as if that had been the first dead body she’d ever seen.

      She’d found her grandmother after her heart attack, and her father after his suicide.

      She stabbed the spoon down into the rapidly melting chocolate. No, it hadn’t been her first dead body, but the sight had still hit her like a punch in the gut.

      Jesus. There had been so much blood.

      And she currently had four vamps as patients, so it wasn’t as if she weren’t used to dealing with blood. Every time she touched their thoughts, images of blood took center stage.

      But tonight, that man…he’d been different. The vamps she saw treated blood like it was sacred. To them, blood was life.

      Yet when she’d seen the crime scene, the blood had meant nothing more than death.

      I have to stop thinking about the body. Emily took a big bite of the ice cream, feeing the cold, delicious chocolate slide over her tongue.

      Her toes curled into her carpet. Oh, that was better. That was—

      A flash of headlights lit up her living room.

      What in the hell?

      She pushed the bowl of ice cream onto her coffee table, rose quickly, and turned toward her window. Through the thin curtains, she could see a vehicle pulling into her driveway.

      The purring of the engine reached her ears, followed by the faint crunch of gravel beneath the tires.

      Her gaze darted back toward her TV stand, locking briefly on the VCR clock. Two-thirteen A.M.

      Who would be coming to visit her at two A.M.?

      A car door slammed. Footsteps rapped against her sidewalk.

      The image of a blood-soaked room flashed before her eyes. The image of death, of