Midnight’s Master (Midnight #3)(10)
Author: Cynthia Eden

And he’d be fine. He wouldn’t get trapped by the meth again. It would just be one time.

One time.

He took a step forward, hands already up to reach for the pipe. "I-I don’t have much cash…"

Another smile, one that seemed too cold. The man’s eyes glinted like chips of ice. "I don’t want your money."

He needed that pipe. "What?"

The pipe was shoved back into the bag. "Information. All I want from you, Sam, is information."

Sam blinked. How did the guy know his name?

"Tell me what I want to know, and I’ll take you on a ride you’ll never forget."

Blood on the ground.

He slammed his hands over his ears, but he could still hear the voice.

The man walked toward him, the black bag now thrown over one shoulder. He caught Sam’s hands and tugged them down. "Hurting, are you?"

A fast nod.

"I’ll make the pain stop. Just tell me what I need to know."

Another fast nod. He would have traded anything right then.

The f**king voice had to stop.

"The reporter…Holly Storm…what did you tell her today?"

Holly. She’d helped him-

The stranger’s eyes caught his, held him in that grip of ice. "What did you tell her?"

"N-nothing." True. "Not working…w-with her anymore." He didn’t want her to know about the voices. Something was wrong with him, had to be, or he wouldn’t hear the killers.

Like to like . That was the way of the supernatural world.

No, no, he wasn’t a killer. He wasn’t-

"But she came to you because she wanted something, right?"

He tried to think. His mind was a blur of death, hunger, and fear.

He had to get his dragon.

Holly’s voice trickled through his mind. He’d been desperate to get away from her, wanting only to run and hide.

"What did Holly Storm say to you?"

His lips shook. "Niol!" The word burst from him. "She thought he-he knew about the kid’s death-" Hadn’t she thought that? Yeah, yeah, she’d mentioned Niol, he knew she had.

Those frozen eyes narrowed. "Did she?"

Sam’s control snapped. He grabbed the man’s shirt, balled it beneath his fingers. "Give me the drug!" He meant for his voice to be a roar. It came out like a whimper.

Cut them.

"Of course…" The man’s gaze flickered behind Sam for a moment, toward the darkened street.

"Come with me."

He would have followed him to hell.

Sam stumbled behind the man as they tracked behind the buildings. Twisting and turning, snaking into the secret parts of the city.

Then they were at a door. A black door, heavy, behind yet another building, with the scent of garbage and smoke heavy in the air.

The stranger pushed open the door. "Go inside. I’ll give you what you need…"

He ran inside. A lab-maybe there was a whole damn lab waiting for him.

A small, bare bulb hung from the ceiling, glinting, casting light over the shadows. Something crackled beneath his feet.

He glanced down. What the hell?

Looked like plastic. Spread all over the floor, all the way to that table-

Slice them.

The hair on his nape rose.

Sam swallowed. No, this wasn’t right. He turned toward the stranger and felt the hot cut of a knife against his flesh.

He fell back, a scream on his lips.

Too late, he realized he wasn’t staring at a man.

"Don’t worry, Sam, I’ll make the voices stop." The knife, coated red with his blood, rose again.

"I’ll make them stop…forever."

"No!" Sam lurched forward to fight the bastard.

The knife came at him again.

When Holly stepped inside her house hours later, she was tired, sore, and desperate for bed.

She kicked the door shut behind her, flipped on the lights-

And found Niol standing in her living room.

"Ah!" She stumbled back, slamming her elbows into the wooden door.

He raised a brow.

Holly glared and fought to suck in a deep breath. She really, really hadn’t needed this shit tonight. "What the…" another deep breath, "hell are you doing in my home?" Her gaze shot to the left and she glared at her damn ineffective security system. A system that was even now beeping because she hadn’t punched in her code.

Niol didn’t speak, but he walked toward her. A tall, dark, threat.

She swallowed and met his black gaze.

He kept coming toward her. Her breath hitched.

You know what he’s done.

A killer.

But he saved me.

Surely he hadn’t come to her house to-

He stopped before her. Close enough to touch. He leaned forward. Put one hand beside her head, palm flat against the door. The other hand rose-

And his fingers punched in her security code.

The beeping ceased.

Holly exhaled. Nice. "Breaking and entering…that’s against the law, Niol."

He shrugged. Then he took hold of her chin, lifting her face toward the light. Toward him. His mouth tightened and he said, "You look like hell, love."

Just the compliment she needed.

"And you look like a criminal who has just broken into my home. " A sexy criminal, yeah, dressed in black as he was-as he always was. Tight black shirt. Low-slung jeans. Tousled hair that looked like a woman’s fingers had just raked through it, and they probably had.

Another shrug. "I needed to see you." He inched ever closer, so close that his chest brushed hers.

"I watched you on the news tonight."

A lick of what was not excitement curled in her belly.

The black stare drifted over her face. "You looked like hell then, too."

Her breath shot out on a growl. "A demon criminal who knows how to compliment. Just what I was dreaming of-"

He kissed her. Drove his tongue past her lips and tasted her. The muscled length of his body pushed against her, his legs nudging hers apart. The length of his cock, long and heavy with arousal, pressed through his jeans, and the feel of his erection had her gasping into his mouth.

Gasping not with horror, as she probably should have been.

But with pleasure.

Dammit, she wanted him. Jerk, criminal-she wanted him.

Her fingers locked around his shoulders. Holly needed him closer. She wanted to feel every hard inch of his flesh against hers.

The kiss became harder, deeper. The man kissed oh so well. He knew just how to move his mouth, how to slide his tongue, and how to demand a response that she was only too ready to give.

The fingers that held her chin slid down her throat. Over the pulse that raced too fast. Callused fingertips, rough, but gentle on her.