Midnight's Master. Cynthia Eden

Emily Drake, a human, she could discover all their secrets in less than a few seconds’ time.

      And the fact that she was sleeping with the detective, well, that meant he had pretty much immediate access to Emily’s wonderfully interesting mind—and her powers.

      “Don’t concern yourself with Emily,” Gyth growled.

      Ah. Some real emotion from the detective. He was a possessive bastard, but most wolf shifters were. Possessive, and often psychotic.

      “Why’d you do it? Why him? Did he piss you off?”

      Niol sighed. He really didn’t have time for this crap. He needed to get Holly and get her home. Then he had to start hunting a killer. “Don’t look to me for this one.” His hands weren’t clean of blood, but, this time, the crime wasn’t his.

      “Then who?” Gyth grabbed the chair across from Niol. Twisted it around and straddled it. “That first night, you knew the kid, and I think you knew who killed him, too.”

      The detective was getting warmer, but still damn off track.

      “Tell me, Niol, tell me. What the hell is going on in this city? Why am I stumbling over dead demons? And why are you sniffing around Storm?”

      Because I want to sniff her. Sniff her, kiss her, take her. But that was none of the detective’s business.

      “Don’t look to me,” Niol said again and rose. This interrogation was over. He didn’t have to put up with this shit.

      “Then who?” A snarl.

      “The humans, shifter. This time, the killer’s one of them.” He’d bet on it.

      A human, killing demons.

      The world just wasn’t safe anymore.

      “Why’d Sam have your card?”

      Holly blinked and tried to shove the image of Sam’s ravaged face out of her mind.

      But she knew she’d be seeing that image in her nightmares for months.

      Christ. Sam. “He—he was one of my sources.” No sense lying. She rubbed her eyes. Dammit, she hurt. Her body ached, her heart felt like it had been ripped out, and she wanted to get out of the cramped interrogation room with the flickering light that made her temples throb and just go back to the safety of her house.

      “What kind of information was Sam feeding you?”

      Her fingers dug into her forehead and she didn’t look at Todd Brooks. The guy was human, like her, but he was also very heavily involved in the demon world.

      The guy’s girlfriend was a succubus, so yeah, in Holly’s book, that qualified as involved.

      “Ms. Storm?” The groan of a chair’s legs as he yanked back the chair next to her and sat close, crowding her.

      She hated being crowded.

      “Just what kind of information was Sam giving you?”

      Her hand dropped and she met his stare. That deceptively warm, I’ll-be-your-friend, come-on-trust-me brown stare. The good cop, to Colin Gyth’s badass. Right. Holly almost snorted. Both cops knew the game, and they’d do anything to catch their prey.

      And now they thought she was that prey. “Sam was a demon.” She didn’t glance toward the shining mirror on the right wall. She knew somebody had to be behind that glass, watching her. Holly just hoped it was someone who knew the score, and not some paper pusher who was gonna try to get her committed to Reed Infirmary’s Psych ward in the next hour. “He was teaching me about his world.” Feeding her bits of information, one tiny crumb at a time.

      He swore, then muttered, “Couldn’t you leave ’em alone? They nearly killed you before—”

      “Not they.” Her jaw was clenched and she gritted the words. “He. One man.” Not all demons were killers; she’d learned that. Just as she’d learned all humans, even those who wore badges, weren’t to be trusted.

      Just seven months ago, her cheating ex-fiancé had sure hammered that lesson home.

      Holly drew in a deep breath and tried to calm her racing heart. Todd wanted her to lose her cool. The guy thought she was involved in the murders, and, okay, she could even see where he was coming from. She’d been on the scene of the first crime, she’d known the guy was a demon—she’d known him. Carl had been one of her sources, just like Sam. Wouldn’t take a genius to connect the lines back to her.

      But she hadn’t killed them. “Sam wasn’t a bad guy, okay? He was getting clean.” She sure knew how hard that had been. She’d watched her brother fight that battle, and fail. “He was harmless, he was—”

      “Butchered.”

      Holly flinched. She didn’t need that visual. Really didn’t. I’m so sorry, Sam. Until that last meeting, they’d always gotten along so well.

      Until that last meeting…

      Her heart didn’t slow down. It sped up as realization dawned.

      Sam had been desperate to get her away from him. Because he’d known he was a target? And the hit-and-run right after she’d left him—no damn way would she buy that as a coincidence.

      “When was the last time you saw Sam Miters alive?”

      A quick swipe of her tongue over her lips. “Um, lunch.” Was that yesterday? She glanced at her watch. Nearing six A.M. “Yesterday.”

      “And did he seem…agitated to you?”

      Sweat coated her palms as she met his measuring stare. “Yeah, you could say that.”

      “What exactly did he say in that meeting?”

      Watch your pretty ass, Storm. Hell’s coming to town.

      Her gaze held his.

      Sam had known. He’d known that a killer was loose on the streets. But had he realized he’d be the next victim?

      “What. Did. He. Say?” Voice harder now. More demanding. Good cop starting to disintegrate into bad. Her shoulders rolled in a shrug. Where was Niol? And why had Gyth wanted to question him? Did he think Niol was involved?

      Then she remembered what Sam had muttered when she’d asked if Niol had warned him away from her.

      “Niol’s involved? Fuck, I’m out of here.”

      Oh, shit. Just what had she stumbled into?

      “Storm.”

      She blinked and realized Brooks was glaring at her. Time to answer the cop, or partially answer him, anyway. “He told me our arrangement was over. That I should lose his number.” Her wrist and arm were throbbing again. She could really use an aspirin. Nothing stronger because she never took pain pills or anything that might make her—

      “And how did you respond?” His fingers tapped out a quiet rhythm on the table.

      I asked if Niol had scared him. “He left. I got hit by a van.” A shrug that made her arm ache more. “End of story.” Not really. The real end had come when Sam got sliced to pieces.

      Not the way he should have gone. Not right—for him or Carl.

      “You’ve got two dead sources, Storm.” Storm. He always called her by that name. Whatever. She always thought of him as Brooks. Not exactly on a good, first-name basis. “Two dead, demon sources.”

      Yeah, and she knew it looked bad. “I didn’t kill them.”

      His brows rose. “I never said you did.”

      Well, good. But why the hell was she in Interrogation when—

      “But your new boyfriend…” A hard exhalation of air. “Now he’s another story.” His lips curved down. “You’re in over your head, lady.