She nodded and led us inside. Brad’s room was at the rear of the house, and had easy access to the back door and the garden beyond. It would have been a simple task for a determined teenager armed with a key to get out of the house without his parents knowing.
I stepped into the room, gaze sweeping walls hung with pictures of semi-naked women. Jon had football stars. Maybe Brad was more sexually advanced than his mate—and perhaps that was a factor of him going first. If, indeed, we were dealing with an energy vamp.
“Anything?” Ethan asked.
I shook my head and stepped further into the room. Scents and emotions swirled around me, fading wisps of teenage hopes and dreams. But no darkness, no shadows.
I turned and looked at Ethan. His gaze roamed the pictures.
“The energy vamp didn’t enter this room,” I said, a touch sharper than I should have. Not that I actually cared if he ogled pictures of other women, I just wanted a little attention on the job. Damn it, if I could find the strength to resist base emotions and concentrate, then so could he.
Amusement briefly flared in his bright eyes. “She might have called him out. It looks like Brad was more sexually motivated than Jon.”
I picked my way through the clothing-strewn mess on the floor to the window. “I still don’t understand why this vamp would be going after teenagers. If it’s sexual energy she wants, older men would be more viable and strong, wouldn’t they?”
Ethan followed my steps, a heat I could feel more than see. He stopped just behind me, his breath brushing warmth across my neck, sending little flash fires of desire skittering across my too aware, too hot skin.
“It would depend on whether she prefers innocence or experience.”
“I didn’t think vamps of any kind were picky when it came to sustenance.”
“All creatures do what they must to survive. Doesn’t mean they aren’t picky when they have a choice.”
I looked over my shoulder and raised an eyebrow. “Even werewolves?”
His bright gaze was still aware, still watchful. For what, I wasn’t entirely sure. “A werewolf has to have sex during the week leading up to the full moon, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t more choosy beyond those times.”
“And yet werewolves have a reputation for wanting sex twenty-four-seven, and for not being particularly caring about who their partner is.”
He reached out, and lightly brushed a hair from my cheek. His fingers barely even touched my skin, but I was a moth to his flame, and a shudder of sheer delight ran through me.
“Enjoying sex is not a crime. And I, like most werewolves I know, am more choosy than you seem to believe.”
It didn’t matter, I wanted to say, because we weren’t going to happen, and whatever I might think or feel wasn’t important. But I couldn’t force my tongue around the words.
Because probably sooner rather than later, we would happen.
I knew it, he knew it. All my protests to date were merely delaying the inevitable. He might not be the right man, this might not be the right situation, but it just didn’t seem so important any more. Not to hormones that had hungered for so long. I might not be a creature whose needs were swayed by the blooming of the moon, but I was still a wolf, still a woman, and I still needed the touch of another every now and again.
I stepped sideways. Fighting the inevitable just that little bit longer. “What next?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. It didn’t do much to hide the bulge of his erection. It was good to know I wasn’t the only one aching.
“We need to talk to the other kids. In the meantime, we’ll get Frank to check the database and see if there’s any records of an energy vamp being active in this area.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Would there be records?”
“Vampires tend to be territorial, so maybe.” He shrugged. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
He didn’t touch me this time. Perhaps his control was as tenuous as mine.
I followed him out, and let him answer the mother’s questions with his usual charm and reassurance. He was better at that sort of stuff than me. The werewolf aura and all that.
We got into the car and headed back to Mari’s to collect the list of Jon’s friends. There were four other teenagers in his gang, and after interviewing three of them, one thing became clear.
They were all lying.
“But why?” I asked, as we climbed back into the car after interviewing the third kid. “It just doesn’t make sense. They were all scared that what had happened to Jon and Brad would happen to them, so why wouldn’t they want to do everything they can to protect themselves?”
“We’re talking about teenage boys here.”
I frowned at him. “So?”
“So,” he said, starting the car. “Teenage boys don’t tattle on their friends, especially if they were doing something illegal.”
“And you think they were?”
He shrugged. “Logical reason for the lies. You want to grab some dinner before we interview the last kid?”
I looked at my watch and nodded. “We’ve got an hour or so before he’s home.”
“Time enough.”
There was something in the way he said those words that had my pulse skipping. “Time enough for what?”
He gave me one of those to-die-for smiles. “Time enough to eat. What else do you think I meant?”
“I have absolutely no idea,” I muttered, looking away from his knowing gaze.
He laughed softly. I continued to ignore him.
We grabbed a couple of burgers and some chips, and headed on down to the beach. Ethan parked, then grabbed a blanket from the back seat and climbed out. I followed with the food and drinks.
“So,” I said, once the blanket was spread over the sand and we were munching our burgers. “What sort of illegal activities do you think the boys were up to?”
He shrugged. “It could be anything, from peeking into bedroom windows to breaking into houses. Whatever it is, they’ve obviously made a pact not to talk about it.”
“Boys are weird.”
He raised an eyebrow, amusement playing around his lips. “And girls aren’t?”
“It’s a well-known fact girls are the sensible species. You boys are just all hormones and need.”
“Meaning girls don’t need?”
“Meaning girls aren’t a prisoner to their needs.” And this was a conversation I should not be having. Not with this man.
“Oh, really?” That gleam was back in his eyes, stronger, lustier, than before. “Want to bet on that, Ravioli?”
I finished my burger and brushed the crumbs from my hands. All the while avoiding his heated, steady gaze. “I told you before, I don’t bet.”
“And why is that? Afraid you’ll lose?”
My gaze rose to his. “Yes.”
He somehow seemed closer, though he hadn’t actually moved. Maybe it was merely a sharpening in my awareness of him. Maybe it was simply the erotic and sensual heat of him wrapping around me, cradling me like a lover.
“Afraid of me?” he asked softly.
“No,” I answered. “Afraid of me.” Afraid of wanting more than would ever be offered.
“Ah.”
If one single word could say many things, then that one word did. He understood what I meant. But as I stared into bright gaze, I realized understanding did not equate to backing away or backing down. That it had, in fact, only hardened resolve.
“Don’t,” I said, my words a bare whisper quickly whisked away by the wind, “play with me.”
He rose on all fours and moved toward me. I watched him warily, knowing I should move and yet not wanting to. He straddled my legs and stared at me eye to eye.
“I have never played with you, Grace.”
The delicious scent of man and musk and spices swept around me, sending my hormones into another wild dance. He raised an eyebrow, as if daring me to retreat.
I couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Not this time.