His free hand brushed my side, sliding teasingly past my breast. Something akin to electricity flashed through every nerve ending, and a low-down ache leapt into focus. Tiny beads of perspiration skated across my skin - moisture raised by the sheer heat of his body, and my own crazy longing.
I knew I should step away, should retreat from the kiss and from all the tangled, unsettled emotions that it raised. But I couldn't. Call me weak, call me a fool, but the reality of this kiss was so much better than the dreams that I could only stand there and enjoy.
It was just as well his cell phone chose that moment to ring, because we both knew where that kiss would have led otherwise.
Brodie growled low down in his throat, a sound that seemed to echo through my lips and body, then pulled away, his breathing harsh as he dragged the phone from his pocket.
"What?"
To say he sounded annoyed would be an understatement. It was probably the closest thing I'd heard to a growl from him when he was still in human form.
His expression got darker as he continued to listen, and I knew without doubt it was work. I took a deep breath to regroup my thoughts and steady my riotous heart rate, then, rather determinately, tied a double knot on the dressing gown. It wouldn't stop him or me, but it was the action that mattered. It was a way of reminding my scattered self-control and exuberant hormones that I did have a choice, and that I could do what was best for me.
Although after that kiss, I wasn't so sure what, exactly, that was right now.
I picked up my coffee and moved back to the fire. I wasn't cold - far from it - but it was the farthest point away from him without getting too obvious about retreating.
He hung up and made another low, growly sound.
"Work?" I said, trying not to sound relieved and failing miserably.
He gave me a dark look. "Yeah, there's been another murder."
My stomach sank. "But it's after midnight."
"I noticed. He obviously didn't."
"Why can't they send someone else? Why us?"
But I knew the answer. The squad was a small one, and this was our case. And there was no such thing as standard hours or being off duty when it came to the Para-investigations squad.
He simply said, "You want to get dressed?"
"I really don't want to wear that elf costume - "
"Well, Mom's clothes won't fit, because she's much bigger than you. So unless you want to wear the robe, we're stuck."
I swore under my breath and stomped out of the room. "We wouldn't have been stuck if you'd just taken me back home like I asked."
"But I wouldn't have had the chance to kiss you if I'd done that, now, would I?"
"Not a snowflake's chance in hell," I muttered. I closed the laundry room door, then quickly pulled the clothes out of the dryer and got dressed. There was a thick pair of woolen socks sitting on top of some clean washing, so I took those and put them on before dragging on my wet shoes.
He was waiting in the kitchen when I opened the door, and his gaze drifted down my length, heating me as quickly as any caress or kiss. "The white socks spoil the look. And they're my brother's."
"Well, your brother just donated them to my cold feet. Where are we going?"
"The cemetery."
"So he didn't attack a collector this time?"
"Nope. Gravedigger."
"They're digging graves at this hour of the night?"
"Death doesn't stop just because it's almost Christmas, you know."
He placed his hand against my back and guided me out of the house. My feet jingled merrily as I clomped down the steps, suggesting a mood I couldn't reach and annoying the hell out of me. So I bent and ripped the stupid bells off.
Silence fell. It was heavenly.
We zoomed through the streets at record speed, and all I could do was thank the stars that there wasn't much traffic about at that hour.
The cemetery's main gates were locked but that wasn't much of a problem to a werewolf. Once he'd broken the lock and opened the gates fully, we drove around to the left, following a road that was lined by bare rosebushes.
"Who reported the murder?" I asked, eyeing the gravestone-filled darkness with some trepidation. Cemeteries were not a favorite place of mine. There were too many ghosts wandering about, and not all of them were the pleasant type.
"It came in anonymously, and they weren't on the line long enough for a trace."
"No caller ID, then?"
"Nope."
"Unusual."
"It could be, but a lot of folks don't want to get involved any more than necessary."
Especially when it came to non-human activities. Still, this time it niggled, and I had no idea why. He pulled to a parking spot and climbed out of the car. I grabbed the stakes and my coat, then followed suit, relieved that I'd torn the bells off my shoes. The jingle would have clashed against the somber feel of the cemetery.
I slammed the door shut and moved to the front of the car. "Where is the body?" I said, my gaze sweeping over the varied headstones sitting in orderly soldier rows. There were no ghosts out there, and for that I had to be glad. I wasn't in the mood for their chatter tonight.
His nostrils flared slightly, then he caught my hand in his and said, "It's this way."
I didn't question his certainty. He was a were, so if there was blood on the breeze, he'd be smelling it. But as we wound our way through the headstones, a chill began to creep across my skin and goose bumps formed.
Something was out there.
My steps slowed. "Brodie - "
"I know," he said softly. "We're being paced at the moment."
"Can you smell what they are?"
"No. They're slightly downwind. But I can hear their steps." He squeezed my hand lightly, but if he meant it to be reassuring, then it failed miserably. "There's only one, so it won't be a problem."
"Maybe not for you, but I'm human." And though I could fight, I still had nowhere near the strength or speed of a non-human. Which was a bummer when it was my job to fight the bad apples amongst them.
"They have to get through me to get to you, and trust me, that's not going to happen."
I couldn't help smiling. Werewolves were so damn confident in their own fighting prowess it was sometimes scary. But at times like this, that was also damn comforting.
The smell of fresh earth touched the cold night air, and within minutes we came across the body. He was lying on his back beside a tractor, right next to a freshly dug grave, and the look of shock frozen onto his face suggested he hadn't even seen his attacker. His neck had been slashed wide open by something jagged, but not much blood had seeped into the collar of his overalls and thick jacket. Someone - probably our vamp with the shattered canines - had sucked it all up.