Page 21 of Wind with a Chance of Wolfsbane

I grunted. “I just want to go back to bed.”

ChapterSeven

Jonathan

The bright overheadlights illuminated Jonathan as he spread out the reports and files on the sizable mahogany conference room table in front of him. The lights were harsh and bothered his shifter senses. Normally, he would have soldiered on, but lack of sleep was taking its toll on him.

Living out of a suitcase and staying in seemingly endless hotels was nothing new to Jonathan. He couldn’t attribute his sleep issues to travel. It had more to do with dreams he’d been having for the last two weeks. Ones he couldn’t remember fully. He’d come awake with only bits and pieces there, in the back of his mind, as he clutched the sheets, a sheen of sweat coating his skin.

Each time it happened, his thoughts locked onto one thing—the night he’d arrived in Detroit. Specifically, the incident outside of the airport, near the extended parking area. He couldn’t get one of the twins out of his mind. While he couldn’t recall much from the dreams, he did know they weren’t sexual. At least not to start.

Last night that all changed.

Instead of waking in a cold sweat, feeling as if he was about to lose control and shift fully before going into a blood rage, Jonathan had come awake with a raging hard-on and the burning need to track the young woman.

To hunt her.

To find her.

To kiss her.

That urge alone had left him sitting in his hotel room, reluctant to close his eyes again, or else he might have a dream about a woman who was far too young for him.

He tensed, his thoughts going to the red journal that was in his hotel room. It, along with the Murray family coin, was in the safe there. While he’d scolded Dwayne about the diary being private, Jonathan had given in and found himself reading passages from it. At first, he’d tried to reason his actions away by telling himself he was trying to find a clue as to the young woman’s identity so that he could return her diary and necklace. When it became abundantly clear she’d written the diary entries in a way that prevented anyone from learning who she was, Jonathan hadn’t stopped reading them. He’d tried, but each night the pull to read more left him doing just that.

Dwayne had been wrong. The diary wasn’t full of bad hair days or teen crushes. It was a glimpse into the soul of a young woman. Of the heartache that she’d endured. In the isolation she felt within her own family and how the only person she trusted in the world was her sister, whom she referred to as “M” all the way through the diary.

It also spoke in detail of a man she referred to as Creepster. Whoever he was, he made her nervous and didn’t like her. Should Jonathan ever find a way to get the journal back to her, he’d make a point of figuring out who Creepster was and remove the man’s head from his shoulders.

I’ll rip him into tiny shreds.

As the beast that resided in him grew restless, he sat up in his chair and cracked his knuckles, his gaze locked on the freestanding corkboard near the side wall. Behind it was a massive logo for Van Helsing Industries. Pictures and information from the deluge of crime that the city had been under were pinned to the corkboard. The crime scene photos were gruesome and left nothing to the imagination.

He rubbed his temple as he leafed through the reports, each talking about werewolves, vampires, and other supernatural creatures wreaking havoc in the Motor City area.

The blood in the photos was tempting in a way that made the wolf want to create a scene itself. It wanted to shed blood. Wanted to hunt, to kill. Such had been the case all day. It was why Jonathan had sent the rest of the staff away for a thirty-minute smoking break in hopes of regaining his focus and control.

It hadn’t helped.

The wolf didn’t want anything to do with office work. There were too many concrete and man-made structures as far as the eye could see for the wolf’s liking. It wanted to run free in nature. Not be confined within him, sitting in a conference room twenty floors up in a steel building, with artificial lighting masking the fact that dusk had fallen. It cared little for designer clothing, fast cars, or fancy things. It liked open air, dirt beneath its feet, and hunting prey.

It loved to kill.

It wasn’t pleased in the least and had been making that much clear since he’d come to the city. Sleep had been elusive, and everything was shaping up to be a recipe for disaster.

“I brought donuts,” said Leo as he came bursting into the conference room, yanking Jonathan from thoughts of the past. Leo was carrying a large white box. “I don’t smoke, but Idoeat donuts.”

A second later, Reggie Van Helsing entered, his brows raised. “Did I hear someone say donuts? And I absolutely smoke, but I totally eat donuts too.”

Jonathan cast a slow glance in the direction of the table at the far side of the conference room. It was also stocked with numerous fast treats for late nights. Most of it was junk food and held no appeal to Jonathan. There was a fruit basket that was always stocked with fresh items. And someone had seen to it that fresh meat and cheese were placed there each evening. Last night, there had been sub sandwiches on a tray for everyone. There was an electric teakettle that was still in the box when Jonathan had first arrived, along with an assortment of tea. There was a pot of coffee as well as water bottles, and some cans of soft drinks that were in a bucket of ice.

Donuts weren’t needed.

Jonathan hadn’t learned everyone’s names at the branch yet, but whoever was taking the extra time to ensure there was more than greasy crisps and pre-packaged baked goods needed a raise. “There is food on the table.”

Leo went right for the table in question and pushed aside the healthier choices to make room for the box of donuts. “Yeah, but like, now there are donuts.”

Reggie grabbed one from the box and bit into it, leaving jelly squirting out and onto his shirt. He scooped the jelly from his shirt with his finger and proceeded to lick it clean.

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