Midnight Sins (Midnight #2)(3)
Author: Cynthia Eden

Keeping the chain in place at the top of her door, she swung the dead bolt and opened the door two inches.

A badge was immediately shoved into the opening. “Cara?”

Frowning, she said, “Yes.” The badge was right before her eyes, all shiny and official looking.

“Cara Maloan?”

She nodded.

The badge disappeared. “I’m Detective Todd Brooks of the Atlanta Police Department.” A pause. “I want you to open the door and let me inside.”

She couldn’t see much of his face from the angle she had. Just a hard jaw. Sharp cheekbone. Brown hair that was cut brutally short.

Let me inside. His words rang in her head and she blurted the question that immediately sprang to mind, “Why?”

His hand rose, pressed against the door. It was a strong hand, long-fingered, bronzed from the sun. “I don’t want to talk about this outside. Your neighbors might overhear.”

Doubtful. Her yard was big. Private. That was why she’d bought the house.

Besides, she wasn’t exactly clear on what “this” was. Her fingers tightened around the doorknob. “Who’s with you?”

“My partner.” A touch of impatience coated the man’s drawl. “Now I’m trying to ask nicely here, Ms. Maloan. Let me inside.”

What would happen if he stopped asking so nicely? A hot spurt of fire stroked through her gut.

Uh, oh. She did not need to get turned on by a dark, rumbling voice.

She also didn’t need cops on her doorstep.

Cara released the chain and hurriedly jumped back as the door was shoved open. Then the men stormed inside, and her heart pounded too fast as a shiver of fear skated down her spine.

It wasn’t the guns in their hands that made her wary, though they were a definite concern. Bullet wounds hurt like a bitch—she knew, she’d been shot once. Not exactly a stellar memory.

No, it wasn’t the weapons that made her tremble. It was the men.

The first guy, Detective Brooks, he was tall, a couple of inches over six feet, and leanly muscled. There was power there, in the tight lines of his body, a strength that hung in the air around him, and, damn but the guy was handsome. Sharp, clean lines defined his face. A straight nose, a chiseled jaw and chin. His top lip was a little too thin, but strangely sexy. And his eyes, they were dark brown. They looked…warm.

A deception, she was sure, but there was something about him…something hot. Dark. A curl of heat unfurled within her, and a rampant thought raced through her mind. I want to taste him. All of that wonderful power swirling just beneath his surface. He’d be delicious.

The demon inside her trembled with hunger even as the woman fought to hold on to her control.

With an effort, Cara managed to shift her attention to the other cop. He stood farther back, his bright blue stare trained on her. The guy looked like some kind of football player—big, muscled, but his face resembled that of a predator. Tight, sharp. High cheekbones, broad forehead, and a jaw that was clenched.

He was a good-looking guy, in a rough, scary way. One of those guys who looked like he could beat the shit out of a man and never even break a sweat.

Despite his obvious power, he didn’t spark a hunger within her. Not like the other man did.

Cara swallowed. “I-I don’t think the guns are really necessary.” What in the hell was going on? Her heart was beating in a double-time rhythm now, nearly shaking her chest. Her breath began to pant out as she eyed the weapons. Okay, for the first three seconds, the guns had just been an annoyance, but the longer the two jerks kept holding the weapons, well, the more nervous she was becoming.

As fear and adrenaline flooded through her, she began to feel the sting of her power racing through her veins.

The second cop, the partner yet to be named, suddenly emitted a hard growl. Her gaze flew to his face. His nostrils flared, as if he were catching a scent in the air.

Oh, damn, damn, damn.

Her pheromones. When she got scared or excited, she lost control of them. Mortal men usually responded instantly to the scent of her kind—sometimes, they could respond too strongly.

The scent of a succubus could be a powerful weapon in seduction…or in death.

The guy’s nostrils widened again. He’d definitely caught the scent. So he should—

He took two quick steps back, shaking his head.

Cara realized she was in serious trouble. Only other supernaturals could hold out against her scent. Actually, in her experience, only shifters could resist the smell. Demons, vamps, and charmers—well, they usually flocked to her like she was some kind of tasty dessert treat.

Shifters. Hell. They were some of the most dangerous and often homicidal supernaturals. This cop, the one who looked like he routinely ate nails, or perhaps even small children, he was one of those two-faced killers. Not a good thing.

But what about Detective Brooks? She turned her head slowly, wary of finding another killer in her midst.

His dark stare was locked on her. His eyes were wide. His nostrils flared slightly and she knew that he, too, had caught the new scent. Her scent. Sex and woman.

Cautiously, she took a step toward him. If he was like the other guy, he’d move back.

Detective Brooks took a step toward her, licking his lips.

Oh, that was a good sign, that was—

His gun lifted, pointed straight at her. “What the hell are you doing to me?”

For a moment, her heart stilled. Damn it.

Human, but, unfortunately for her, a sensitive human. One with enough latent psychic talent to be trouble.

The night had just gone to hell.

“Don’t get too close to her.” The order came from the shifter.

Her chin lifted as she raised her empty hands “I’m not exactly armed.”

“Aren’t you?” The shifter rumbled and Cara ground her back teeth together.

He was pissing her off. They both were, and she still didn’t know why they were in her house. “Look,” she gritted, “I want to know what’s going on and I want to know now. ”

The human smiled at her, flashing a set of perfectly white, even teeth, and a dimple in his left cheek. “We have some questions for you.”

Bullshit. “Then get rid of the guns.” She was practically waving her empty hands in their faces. It should be obvious to the morons that she wasn’t hiding any weapons.

What was going on?

He inclined his head slightly and then finally lowered his gun. “Ms. Maloan, I’m going to need you to come downtown with us.”

Oh, she didn’t like the sound of that. “Why.” A stark demand. She was tired of this crap. They’d all but forced their way into her home, aimed guns at her, terrified her. She wanted to know why.