25. What Micah Knows #2
Micah visibly shudders, and I hold back a smile that he can’t hide the animosity Vamps feel for Weres.
‘A Vampire would not want to go into a Werewolf’s mind. It’s linked to others in their Pack, making it difficult not to be detected. It’s also half animal.’ Said with all the disdain of a species that sees themselves as superior. A lot like humans among our different races.
‘But this Vamp did. Someone strong enough not to be detected. His Packmates noticed he was acting differently.’ He knows who it is, and he’s still not willing to tell me.
‘Does this help you solve your case?’ Micah asks before I can push him on it.
I think I see a hint of discomfort fleetingly cross his face, but I can’t be sure; he’s too good at shielding his emotions. There was a time I would have seen through the veneer to the truth of his feelings below the surface.
‘The case is basically solved. We just need to catch them. I’m trying to make sense of it all. Tying up loose ends. I can’t figure out why Jason and Evan were targeted. Or why the killers seem to be trying to start a war between the Packs. And why involve the Cartel?’
‘City-wide chaos.’ As if it’s obvious.
I frown at the Vamp standing in the same immovable position, hands in his pockets, while I’ve been moving my feet around and putting my hands on my hips, then crossing them and dropping them back to my sides again.
It makes sense if I’m correct in the rest of my assumptions that these serial killers are trying to pull in all the factions of the city, including the police. As a distraction. Sleight of hand.
‘Lila was for you. A challenge, or…,’ I let it hang between us.
‘Lila was for me. The message was clear.’ He doesn’t tell me what the message is, and I tamp down my frustration.
He holds his cards close, never showing more of his hand than he has to.
But he never used to be this way with me.
The loss of what we had rushes over me unexpectedly in a wave of grief, and I suck in a breath to steady my emotions.
‘What happened? To her body?’ I change the topic before I scream with frustration at getting nowhere with him.
Vampires don’t do funerals the way humans do. They’re far less sentimental. And far more used to death.
‘We interred her in the catacombs beneath the Coven when I got back this morning.’
‘I didn’t know you had catacombs.’ Or that New York even had them.
‘Catacombs is a loose term. It’s not exactly Paris.’ Another wry smile that’s almost a grimace.
Micah never told me where he originally came from.
His accent is a mix, as if it’s changed with every place he’s lived in his unending life.
At times it’s New York, others a hint of Creole from his New Orleans days, occasionally cultured British.
He speaks multiple languages, and not all of them are modern.
I’ve heard him speak Latin fluently. But I’ve always thought he sounds most at ease when speaking ancient Egyptian, Arabic, and Hebrew dialects.
‘I’m sorry I wasn’t here for it.’ I step closer and rest my hand on his arm. It’s cold, forged steel beneath the soft warmth of my skin. I wonder again when he last drank or rested.
Micah says nothing in response, only stares down to where my skin meets his, covering part of the tattoo swirled there.
‘Do you mind if we continue this after you shower.’ It’s not a suggestion.
‘Are you saying I smell?’ I take a step back and pretend to be offended, hands on my hips. I’m surprised it took him this long to comment on it.
‘All humans smell. You reek of Wolf. I’d rather not have it all over my furniture.’ He’s looking down his nose at me, mouth twitching, and I feel heat sweep across my cheeks and down my neck.
‘And sex.’ The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. I refuse to look too deeply into why I want a reaction from him.
Micah’s midnight eyes darken as they rake over my face and body, taking in every inch of me until my body tightens in response.
Primal hunger flares in his enigmatic eyes, along with a flash of fangs, before it’s swept away.
I know he can hear my heart rate pick up, and I can only hope he thinks it’s from anger.
‘So, about that shower,’ I say into the silence that is not silence at all. It’s heavy with unspoken words I can almost see hovering between us, clear as a holo.
‘You can shower in the guest room. There are plenty of towels and toiletries. Unless you’d prefer to use mine?’ He says it as if he’s offering to accompany me, a cat playing with a mouse.
My mouth runs dry at the thought of his naked body slicked with water. I have never been inside his Coven bedroom, and I don’t intend to start now.
‘The guest bathroom is fine. What about my clothes?’ I’m not flirting, just being practical.
Looking down at my jeans and t-shirt, I grimace.
I’ve been wearing them since we left New Orleans before dawn, and my carry-on is still at the precinct.
I was planning on collecting it after seeing Jake, but I stayed all afternoon, and then I was too tired and hungry to go back for it.
As if thinking about food reminds my body it hasn’t eaten since an early breakfast on the hydro-jet, it rumbles loudly.
‘I’ll have clothes and food sent up.’ The twist of his perfect lips has more heat flowing through my veins.
I’m not sure where he’ll get them from, but he’s Micah Saint James, and the Coven has stores and restaurants within its walls. Not to mention those in the surrounding blocks, all belonging to him. He not only rules this chunk of the city; he owns it. These sorts of things are minor details to him.
‘After I’m clean,’ I turn toward the guest room on the opposite side of the suite from his bedroom, ‘you’re telling me who she is.’
Because I’m now one hundred percent sure the rogue Vamp is female.
What is it with Micah and murderous, psychopathic women?