Midnight's Master. Cynthia Eden

push a girl to the edge of reason.

      The adrenaline thrill of the darkness. The sensual thrill of the man.

      Right, like she was the first girl to fall prey to him.

      Not the first, and, dammit, not the last, she’d bet.

      The hands she’d curled around his shoulders slid down to his chest and pushed. “But I know better than to take everything I want.”

      He didn’t move for a beat of time, ignoring the press of her fingers. Standing there, trapped within his embrace, with the heat of his body all around her, Holly realized just how strong Niol was.

      And how helpless he could make a woman.

      She licked her lips, tasted him—a rich flavor of man and sex—and waited.

      The right side of his mouth hitched into what really wasn’t a smile and he stepped back, taking his warmth with him.

      Holly became aware of the aches and pains in her body then.

      She’d forgotten about the pain when he touched her, and only thought of him.

      Holly slipped around him. She paced toward her couch. The bed she’d longed for now seemed very far away. Glancing back over her shoulder, she found his gaze on her. Hooded. Watchful. “Niol…” Her brows lifted. “Why are you here?”

      “You were…hurt.” Stilted. Almost uncertain, and he wasn’t a guy given to uncertainty.

      So he’d broken into her house? “How did you know my security code?” She’d thought she was safe here. On the good side of town. With respectable neighbors. A state-of-the-art alarm—

      “I know a lot of things about you.” Assessing now, his gaze drifted over her. His nostrils flared, just a bit. “How’s the wrist?”

      “How’s the—” Her mouth snapped closed. And how had he known that? Her shirt had long sleeves and completely covered both wrists.

      She’d twisted her right wrist when she fell—a futile attempt to break her fall—but other than sporting a really lovely purple and black bruise pattern that looked like a tattoo bracelet, she was…“I’m fine. Bruises, cuts, but no major damage, okay?”

      One gliding step forward. “You won’t be fine next time.”

      She turned around to fully face him. “What do you know?” Next time. She didn’t want to think she’d ever tangle with a two-ton vehicle again.

      “Come on, Holly, do you really think this was just some random accident?”

      For a moment, the image of the van flashed before her eyes. She saw the gleaming hood, the tinted windows—and the van, aiming right for her. Swerving, not to miss her, but to hit her. “No,” her voice was soft. “I don’t.”

      “You were working the case.” Not a question. “Following up on that dead kid.” A rumble rolled from his throat. Animalistic. Dark. “I told you to drop this—”

      “I told you I was doing my job, with or without your help.” Her hands fisted on her hips and she ignored the twinge that shot from her right wrist. “I got the impression that you didn’t give a damn what happened to me.”

      He stalked toward her. “Oh, I care—” Niol reached for her.

      The doorbell rang. The peal echoed, breaking through Niol’s words.

      His eyes narrowed. “You expecting someone?”

      Not this late. “No.” She stepped forward.

      He grabbed her hand. “Wait.”

      The door shook as a furious fist pounded against the frame.

      Niol’s fingers tightened around her. “I’ll get it.”

      “No, don’t—”

      But he was already striding back across the room. Curling his fingers around the doorknob. Holly hurried after him, aware of a tension in her gut, one that had nothing to do with her mixed-up sexual hunger for Niol. One that felt a lot like the heavy pull of fear.

      The door frame shook again.

      Niol wrenched open the door—

      “What the hell are you doing here?”

      The stunned question came from the last man she’d expected to find at her door.

      Holly pushed to Niol’s side. Police Detective Colin Gyth and his partner, Todd Brooks, stood waiting, both glaring at Niol.

      Niol didn’t bother answering Gyth. He just crossed his arms over his chest and gazed back, as calm as you please, at the detectives.

      Holly cleared her throat and tried to figure out why two of the city’s best detectives were outside her home in the middle of the night.

      Maybe Niol had tripped her alarm after all, maybe—

      “Ms. Storm.” Detective Brooks finally tore his stare from Niol and cast a frown of concern toward her. “Are you all right?”

      He’d been on the scene after the hit-and-run. He’d had the same worried look in his brown eyes then, too.

      Holly cleared her throat. “I’m, ah, fine. There must be some sort of—of mistake.” She reached for Niol’s hand and curled her fingers over his. The demon was gonna owe her. “My alarm just—”

      “We’re not here about an alarm.” Worry wasn’t in Colin’s crystal-blue stare. Suspicion was.

      “Oh.” Holly tried to ease her hand away from Niol and realized that she wasn’t about to escape his now steely grip. “Then just why are you here, detectives?”

      Gyth glared at Niol. “We need to talk alone, Ms. Storm—”

      Niol gave a husky laugh, then said, “Not gonna happen, shifter.”

      Shifter. Holly almost choked. Talk about not being subtle.

      Gyth’s glare burned even hotter.

      “Say whatever you need to, then get the hell out of here.” Niol lifted Holly’s hand. Kissed the top of her knuckles. “You’re interrupting.”

      Brooks swore. “Thought you’d have better taste, Storm.”

      Gyth grunted. “Yeah, well, demon…” Uh, oh, looked like the gloves were off. The shifter detective pushed back his coat, exposing the badge that was hooked to his belt and revealing the butt of his gun. “Murder has a way of interrupting things.”

      “Murder?” Holly stood straighter. “Is this about Carl? Have you found out who attacked him?”

      “We’re not here about Bronx.” From Brooks. A pause, then, “Ms. Storm, do you know why Sam Miters would have been in possession of your business card?”

      Sam. Holly’s face iced over, then prickles of heat seemed to burst from her flesh. She knew the score and the foreboding that swept over her at the cop’s question had her swaying.

      “Yes, I-I know. He’s a—” Source. Informant. Friend. Holly exhaled, aware that Niol had slanted her a quick, searching glance. She cleared her throat and met Brooks’s stare. “What’s happened to him?” But she knew, dammit, she knew even before Gyth said—

      “Why don’t you come downtown with us? We’re gonna need you to identify the body…”

      Chapter 4

      Cops weren’t exactly his friends. Never had been. Maybe because they looked at him and saw him for what he was.

      A killer.

      Niol tightened his grip on Holly’s arm as they headed toward the morgue. The scent of death was too strong down here, stopping up his nostrils with the cloying odor.

      Holly was stiff