Bitter Blood (Blood and Moonlight Book 3)(35)

“Your…your neck…” He stumbled back and rammed into the brick wall. “I bit you.” His face reflected his horror.

Her hand lifted to her neck, and Jane felt the blood drops there. “It’s okay, Aidan.” She tried to make her voice soothing.

But he shook his head, once, hard. “No, no, it’s not. I drank your blood.”

“Aidan…”

His hands were at his sides and she could see the claws curling from his fingertips. His eyes were glowing, such a bright, intense blue. A blue that seemed to pierce Jane right to her soul.

“I bit you…and I want to do it again.”

Her lips parted in surprise. She reached out to him once more.

“Don’t touch me.”

Her hand stilled, hanging in the air between their bodies.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” His voice was stilted. Not Aidan’s. A stranger’s. “And if you touch me…” That glow in his gaze just deepened. “I think I will.”

They stood there, staring at each other, a cold and dark stand-off. Jane tried to figure out what to say to Aidan. Their lives were too twisted. They had to get everything straightened out.

But…as she stared into his eyes, she saw a beast staring back at her, a beast with the claws of a werewolf and the bloodlust of a vampire. Fear slid down Jane’s spine. She’d trusted Aidan completely because she knew his control was always in place. Yet right then, she could see his control unraveling before her eyes.

And an Aidan without control…

He will be a monster.

She shook her head against the thought. No, no, Aidan was not a monster. He was hers. Her friend. Her lover. Her—

Jane made herself reach out to him. “We’re going to be okay.”

But Aidan gave a hard shake of his head.

Before her fingers could touch him, the scream of a siren broke the early morning silence.

Jane flinched at that sound, caught off-guard for an instant because she’d been so lost in Aidan. She thought the sound would die away after a moment, but…it grew louder. Her head turned and her heart kept racing in her chest as she saw the patrol car approaching.

Aidan swore and he turned his back on that car. She wondered if he was trying to hide his fangs.

Or maybe his claws.

The patrol car braked to a stop just a few feet away. The door opened and a uniformed cop leapt out.

“Detective Hart!”

She recognized the cop hailing her. It was Mason Mitchell, one of the more fresh-faced members of the New Orleans PD.

“Dr. Heider told me you were here.” He rushed toward her, his breath panting out a bit. His eyes were wide, worried. “You would not believe the stories I heard circulating about you! Some people were even saying you were dead.”

Aidan gave a rough laugh, but he didn’t turn to look at the young cop.

“We have a problem,” Mason told her. “A big one. I-I tried to reach you last night as soon as the call came in, but then that six alarm fire broke out—”

He was rambling. She’d worked a few cases with Mason before and she knew that when he got nervous, he rambled. “Mason.” She said his name with a hint of warning.

He blinked. “Right.” He licked his lips. “I’m…I’m sorry to tell you, Detective Hart, but there was an incident at the Hathway Psychiatric Facility yesterday.”

Jane shook her head. No, no, this could not be happening. There had to be a limit to the amount of absolute shit that a person could deal with during a twenty-four hour period. She was at her limit, thank you very much.

“Your brother…he attacked the guard that Captain Harris had left with him and he—Drew Hart escaped.”

“No,” Jane snapped out the denial. “He’s not out. He can’t be out.”

Mason nodded. “I’m sorry…but he is, ma’am. We’ve got a search going for him. But, considering that he attacked you and, ah…” His gaze cut to Aidan’s tense back. “Mr. Locke over there, I thought you two would want to take precautions.”

Jane pressed a hand to her chest. Her galloping heartbeat hurt. Drew won’t stop. If he’s out, he’ll be coming for me and Aidan. “What happened to the guard?”

“Drew used a chunk of broken mirror to slice his throat and stab him in the stomach. The guard survived the attack, though I sure as hell don’t know how,” Mason admitted starkly.

He survived because he’s a werewolf, and werewolves are harder to kill than humans.

“You want to help with the search?” Mason pushed. “Captain Harris…she’s on her way to the station. She radioed me and asked me to bring you in.”

Right. Going back in. Hunting Drew. Another day…

Another nightmare.

“Go, Jane,” Aidan said, still not turning to look at her.

“But what about Paris?” She didn’t want to leave. He would need her. He would—

“He’s my pack. I’ll take care of him.”

Her gaze shot to Mason. Had he heard Aidan? Heard the word “pack” spoken so easily?

But…no, Mason was just standing there, waiting patiently. He didn’t look suspicious or scared. That was good, right?

She hoped it was good.

“You could be in danger, Mr. Locke,” Mason said. The guy was so earnest it was almost cute. “Do you want a protective detail? Do you—”