Strangers of the Night Read online

  It hadn’t been the booze, he knew that. But something screwy had been going on when he sat up to look at her and it seemed for half a second that there was an entirely different woman in his bed. Just for a blink he’d seen Persephone writhing beneath him, her body arched and shaking from the orgasm he’d given her. Only for a blink, and Jena or Maria or whatever she claimed her name was had been back again, and he’d gone all wiggy and sent her home. So what the hell, he thought, was up with that?

  He’d done a search on Persephone before but had also found nothing. No criminal record at all. Not even a parking ticket, which wasn’t so odd considering that as far as he could tell, she didn’t own a car.

  Swigging beer, Kane tapped his computer to wake it up, then let his fingers rest on the keyboard. If he kept digging, he was going to find out who she was and where she came from. The question was, did he really want to know? What would happen when she was no longer a mystery? And what would he do, he thought, if he found out something he’d feel compelled to take action on?

  So many questions, and he wasn’t usually the sort of guy to dwell on this kind of thing. Damn, the woman had gotten deep in his head and under his skin. It had to be more than just that she didn’t seem to want to give him the time of day. Sure, he’d had more than his share of women who’d been eager to jump his bones, but there’d been a number whose heads hadn’t even turned, just like any guy. He’d always considered it part of the game and moved on.

  Until Persephone.

  Now, while he dug into his lo mein and sipped at his beer without noticing much of the flavor, Kane started searching again. A friend of his who’d gone into private detective work had taught him some tricks about finding evidence of people who didn’t seem to have left any tracks, and he put them into play now. Finally, just before he meant to give up and turn on a movie instead, something popped up.

  The article was brief, the mention that had been linked to his searching no more than a sentence or two. It was the photo that caught his attention. A group shot of a bunch of children dressed identically, boys and girls with the same haircuts, all long hair past their shoulders, so it made it difficult to tell them apart. Most of them were smiling—at least there was that, considering the accompanying text told a horrific story about the cult at Collins Creek.

  Kane hadn’t heard about this group before, but that meant nothing. Cults were far from his area of expertise. Collins Creek turned out to be a fairly obscure cult as well, more mythical than anything according to the article. It said that rumors of the atrocities at Collins Creek were widespread and pervasive but had not been substantiated.

  At Collins Creek, it had been all about the children. Pregnant women had purposefully exposed themselves to chemicals, drugs, sleep deprivation, while the men had also undergone voluntary exposure to environmental and mental stressors designed to not only affect the unborn babies but change them at conception. What the leaders had been trying to do was the subject of some controversy, but it seemed as though they’d been attempting to force mutations. To create psychic powers. The success rate was unknown, although there were plenty of rumors about that, too. Mostly, though, the only truth anyone could corroborate was that at some point about twenty years ago, a private group had invaded Collins Creek and taken away as many of the children as they’d been able to. At least the ones that had survived. And after that? All signs of the place had disappeared. Like Area 51, Collins Creek existed, but nobody would admit it or talk about what had gone on there.

  Kane did not believe in aliens. He understood conspiracy theories only as the workings of people who had too much time on their hands and big imaginations. Looking at this article, he would usually have scoffed at the idea that there’d been a large farm full of psychically enhanced children running around it only a few hours’ drive away. But looking at the photograph, seeing the smiling faces of all those children, something like a chill skittered up and down his spine. He recognized the smiles on the faces of not one of those children, but two, and there in the fine-print caption below the picture, he saw the list of names.

  One of them was Persephone.

  Chapter 6

  Meeting a horny businessman for cocktails and domination was not exactly the worst way to spend the afternoon, Persephone thought. The hotel was upscale, the food was good and he was paying for it.

  He’d ordered room service, as she’d told him to do in advance, along with a bottle of very nice champagne that she hadn’t requested. She eyed it as she took a seat on the desk chair. “Celebrating?”

  “Every date with you is reason for celebration,” he said.

  Persephone paused to look at him. “Are you falling in love with me, Werner?”

  Werner looked uncomfortable for a second before nodding. “Yes. I think so.”

  “Don’t.” She raised a finger when he made to speak. “We talked about this right up front. What did I say?”

  “You said that it would never be emotional, that it was purely business. It’s what I said...” He coughed, cutting his gaze from hers. “I said that was what I wanted.”

  “Which is why I agreed to it.” She frowned, running a finger along the champagne bottle. For Werner, she wore her body older, taller, strong. Dark pageboy hair streaked with silver. She turned to him, still frowning. “You know this is only business, Werner.”

  “I know. But it’s so difficult...” Incredibly, his voice hitched. He closed his eyes. Everything about him turned inward, away from her.

  Persephone had seen Werner behave as though he was ashamed many times. It was part of his kink. One thing she had never seen him do was be genuinely distraught by anything they’d ever done. She took a step toward him in concern.

  “Hey.”

  His fists clenched. “It’s hard to find someone. Someone who gets it. Who...likes it. Well, who at least doesn’t make me feel like some kind of creep for liking what I like. Do you know how hard it is, Chelsea? To find someone who doesn’t make you feel like a freak?”

  She sat next to him on the bed, aware that he was completely naked but not bothered by it. He’d been naked so many times in front of her, after all. Never quite like this. Nude skin, yes. This was different.

  She took his hand. “Yes. I understand how hard it must be to find someone.”

  Hell, it was hard enough to find someone just to go out with on a date, much less who didn’t mind making you beg for orgasms. Men like Werner could pay for sex, but the companionship also came with a price, and he’d always known it. She understood how it could finally have started to pale.

  His shoulders hitched, and he still turned away from her. “I’m sorry. I know this wasn’t the agreement. You can leave. The money’s on the table by the door.”

  “I’m not going to take your money, Werner.” Persephone stood, for one moment taking his chin in her hand the way she’d done many times before. This time not to chastise, scold or humiliate him. This time she held his face still when she brushed her lips over his cheek. “You take care of yourself. Okay?”

  He’d closed his eyes at her kiss. She felt him straining toward her, but she didn’t kiss him again. He didn’t open his eyes. She stepped backward, for an instant catching a glimpse of herself in the wall mirror. Her own self, not the one she’d presented to him over the months of their acquaintance. If he looked at her now, he would still see Chelsea, but that was how it should be.

  Without saying goodbye, Persephone ducked out of the hotel door. She paused to shuck the heels and replaced them with a pair of flats she had in her bag. She didn’t take the time to do anything with the tight, cleavage-baring dress that hit her midthigh, but she did shrug into a long loose-fitting cardigan.

  She’d made it all the way through the hotel lobby and to the sidewalk beyond without so much as turning a head before a male voice stopped her short. She turned, certain she must