Page 8 of A Killer Crescent Valentine

Edison’s answering touch to my soul was smouldering enough to scorch me, and my pussy throbbed, reminding me our sex session was far from finished.

“As much as I’d love to stop and fuck you against a tree, Blossom, we’ve got a killer to catch.”

I pouted.

“Are you pouting?” he laughed without turning, his focus on the feather.

“No,” I said sulkily.

“I don’t believe you.”

“This is my normal face,” I muttered, grunting when the slight incline became a steep one. Rocks jutted out of the dirt, making it ten times harder to find my footing. “Why do we have to go up hills, Thomas? You know I don’t like hills.”

Hugh chuckled.

“Stop,” Edison panted, “laughing. You only—encourage her.”

I swore when my ankle threatened to buckle, my foot hitting a rock at the wrong angle. Slasher’s hand pulled out of mine, and he knocked my legs from under me so he could sweep me up into his arms.

I laughed, grinning as we raced up the hill at top vampire speed. My head spun; I watched the tree canopy swirl into a pretty spiral.3

When the canopy stopped swirling, my eyes caught on a bundle of colours and white, that scent—sweetness and vanilla—hitting my nose in a far more concentrated dose.

Got you.

“I can smell them,” Slasher hissed, his fangs bared and nostrils flaring as he dragged the scent into his lungs.

“Up there.” I pointed to the crook of two high branches where it looked like several blankets had been slung into a makeshift nest. With the nest… definitely winged. Definitely the Cupid.

I grinned and turned, waiting for the others to catch up. “We found their nest!” I proclaimed. “Last one there’s a rotten egg!”

I raced off towards the tree and began climbing, a spurt of vampire speed making me faster. Hell yes, I could go super fast!

“You don’t even like running,” Edison panted.

“And you hate joggers,” Dean added. “Running’s as bad as jogging.”

My wolf loved running, and was thoroughly insulted. I climbed hand over hand, hooking myself onto branches and swinging for the next one like a badass Olympic climber.4

“Running is not as bad as jogging,” I shouted down from the branches where the nest was built. I studied my mates long enough to see their worried, grumpy faces as they followed me.

Slasher reached the tree first, but I didn’t wait for him. I rummaged through the killer’s belongings, searching for clues to their identity. They weren’t here now, which meant Edison was right about his magic pulling him in two directions—one to the killer, the other to their things—but the scent was heavy and fresh. They’d been here a few hours ago, maybe sooner.

I picked up a white feather and examined the smear of blood on it. The killer’s, or their victims? I stashed it in my pocket for Dean or Hugh to smell—they’d be able to tell the species of blood from one whiff. Me? Still learning. I’d only been a wolf for less than a year, and sure I’d aced all the things that were instinctual, but the rest was a work in progress.

Slasher reached the branch below me, not even sweating.5 “I’ll catch you if you fall, biscotti!”

“I’m not gonna fall,” I promised him, reaching under a dirty fleece blanket and—grazing steel. Jackpot! “There are weapons up here.”

On the ground, my mates grumbled.

Ah. This might have taken the wind out of their Valentines sails.

“You guys can keep them,” I offered. “You need knives more than me and—hey! This one’s mine. What the hell?”

I snatched up a knife with a swirl of stars and moons stamped in the handle, and frowned deeply. I knew I’d lost this; I spent a whole hour trying to find it last week. I hadn’t seen it since. Because someone stole it. Bastard.

Hunting down my Blake Hall family was one thing, but stealing my shinies? Now, it was personal.

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