Witch Wolf (Camren) Book 1

Chapter 14

Two men in dark blue uniforms stood in the middle of the living room. A young man with blond hair was seated on the couch. He lifted his head when he heard the door open. When his eyes met mine, I saw that they were brown with striking gold around his pupils. His expression was unflinching as he watched me. "Evan Peters," Dylan said, "this is Preternatural Private Investigator Cabello." 

"I told you what I know," Evan said in a deep voice. It was a voice that didn't match the youthfulness of his appearance. Then again, neither did mine. "Mr. Peters," I said, smiling as professionally as I could. Given the fact that they'd woken me at four in the morning, it probably wasn't as professional as I hoped. 

"I have a few questions to ask you." Evan stood from the couch, moving until there were only a few feet between us. He looked down at me. "I told you," he said, voice deepening, "I've already told the cops everything I know." The smell of pine and moist earth hit me like a brick to the face. I stepped back, but it was too late. Evan's brown eyes widened as an unseen breeze of energy tickled the hairs on my arms.

My heart gave a fierce thump that echoed through every pulse point in my body. Dylan moved forward and his hand hovered above the gun at his hip. "Stay on the couch, Mr. Peters," he warned. Evan sat back down, but his gaze hadn't left my face. "Fine," he said, eyes flicking to Dylan. "If I have to talk again...I talk to her."

 "Duh, boy," one of the cops, an older man with white hair circling a shiny bald spot on his scalp said. "That's kind of what the nice detective here is trying to get you to do." Evan leaned back and smiled. "Alone," he said. I let out the breath I'd been holding. Dylan asked the question with his eyes and I nodded. He and his men went to wait on the porch. They didn't look happy about having to stand out in the cold.

 I placed one of the chairs from the kitchen opposite to Evan, and sat down. "So," I tilted my head to the side, "out for a midnight snack?" His eyes narrowed. "I didn't kill that woman." 

"Under the circumstances, I find that terribly difficult to believe." 

"I didn't do it!" his voice took on the edge of a growl. "I don't even know her!" 

I met his brown gaze. The sunny gold around his pupils expanded, fluctuating. He dug his hand into the arm of the couch hard enough that the wood creaked. I leaned forward and hissed, "I don't believe you." A deep bass growl trickled from between his lips. "I...did...not...kill...her."

 His chest was rising and falling too fast. He was angry, and that's not a good thing when you're a lycanthrope trying to stay in control. I wondered how bad Evan's temper was. Should I push him? Should I wait for him to lose control and shift all over the place? Then let the cops cuff him and stuff him? The problem was, if I did that, I knew without a doubt he'd out me. 

He had to be the killer. It was his land. He was a werewolf. Gods, he was sloppy, but it made perfect fucking sense. He'd lost control. I stood from my chair, pacing. "What happened, Evan?" My gaze flicked to him. I heard the wood pop again. "What did you do? Did you invite her back to your place? Bring her home for a nightcap and decide to munch on her?" 

My eyebrows went up. Evan growled and said, "No." I went to stand over him, leaning my face close. "What was it, Evan? The smell of her sweat?" I whispered. "Or the knowledge of hot blood pumping through her veins like sticky syrup? What made you lose control?"

Evan screamed. His hands hit my shoulders as he rushed me, shoving me across the room. My back hit the wall and the trailer shook with the impact. "I didn't fucking kill her," he growled in my face. "Liar," I hissed, waiting for him to hit me, waiting for his temper to finally erupt. Evan backed up, curling his hands into fists. His entire body shook. The energy of his beast made the air seem thicker.

 I felt the wolf stir in answer to that power and a warning growl started low in my throat. The front door clattered open, cutting off my growl. Dylan yelled, "Hands on your fucking head, now!" Evan glared at him, and then slowly, ever so slowly, put his hands on his head. He turned that light blue and gold gaze to me and I watched as his breathing steadied. "What happened, Mila?"

 "I pissed Mr. Peters off," I said, getting up from the floor. Evan hadn't put all of his strength into rushing me. If he had, I knew for a fact I'd be sitting ass first in the grass outside of the trailer, with a little hole left behind in the wall, like in one of those children's cartoons. 

Evan stared at me as if he thought he could burn a hole through me. "Go back out, Dylan," I said. "I think Mr. Peters will keep his temper under control now, won't you?" Evan said one word. "Yes."

 "Are you sure, Mila?" 

"I'm sure. If I need your help, trust me, Dylan, I'll scream."

 "Don't scream," Dylan said, "just shoot the bastard." I smiled darkly and turned that smile to Evan. "There is that," I said. The trouble was, Evan had already caught me off guard once. He'd been so fast I hadn't had time to go for my gun. There was no way I going to match him in strength around the cops. I wouldn't risk exposure.

 Dylan holstered his gun. A moment later, I heard the door click shut behind him. "They don't know you're one of us, do they?" This time, it was Evan who smiled darkly. "That's none of your business," I said. "Sit down." Evan sat and smiled at me like a happy four-year-old who'd finally managed to find the stash of hidden lollipops.

"I'll tell them," he growled. "If you arrest me, I'll take you down." I let the coldness I felt seep into my eyes and said, "I know." Evan frowned. I went to the kitchen, retrieving my neglected coffee. "Which is why I am going to tell you something that I rarely tell people, Evan."

 "What's that?" he asked. "Go to hell." I went to the door. I couldn't arrest him. If I arrested him now, in front of the cops, he was going to spill my beans. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. Then again, I'm a licensed paranormal huntress and a preternatural investigator. Arresting isn't what we do. We dig for facts. We hunt and execute. Evan Peters had just made it to the top of my shit list.