Extraits

I pulled his face down to mine and kissed him., and felt his arms wrap around me after a brief pause. I tried no to think about how good it felt to be held against a warm, hard male body, how much I missed just the simplicity of human contact, how much I didn't really want to let go of him.

"Vraiment ? et qui d'autre va croire que ta balle a décidée seule de merder sur sa trajectoire pour tuer ton partenaire ? Qui d'autre va croire qu'on t'a jeté un sort qui affecte tes émotions, ton habilité à réfléchir clairement, sans parler de ton self contrôle ?"

IL pâlit et s'assit sur son lit.

je secouais ma tête. "Je ne serais pas longue. Ne bouge pas et surtout ne tue pas Alex, ça m'énerverait vraiment ça, et en cet instant je suis ta seule amie en ce monde complètement dingue. "

The thing was, when it came to me and trouble, we went together like ice cream and pie.

He cringed, his body, stuck between human and wolf because he wasn't strong enough, and never would be, to switch between forms. Only the Alphas could do that; only the Alphas could pass for human. Most of the pack was like Alex, unable to switch between forms. To the contrary of what the world will tell you, being bit by a werewolf doesn't automatically make you a powerhouse. It only strengthens the traits you already have, takes them to the next level.

I was immune not just to the supernatural bites that could turn me furry of sunlight hating, bu immune to poisons of all kinds. I was also immune to most, but not all, magic and was invisible to most psychic probing. It was a sweet deal and not a part of my nature many people knew about.

2

Besides the cool, constantly blowing wind that was North Dakota waiting for me to step outside, there were also two FBI agents. My usual stalker, O’Shea, and what appeared to be another new partner. Imagine that. Considering O’Shea’s lack of people skills, it was no surprise. He went through partners like a woman changes her clothes.

“Adamson.” O’Shea barked at me.

I flinched at the use of my surname, a name I didn’t use anymore. Not since I’d started searching for kids nearly ten years ago.

His partner, a shorter version of O’Shea, I barely noticed. No angry vibes coming off that one. With O’Shea as his partner, I suspected he was taking a regular dose of Adavan just to get through the day. I would be, if I were in his shoes.

“What?” My distant teenage persona came to the surface with the snap back. He really brought out the best in me. He didn’t look like your typical Irishman, with his dark eyes and hair. But his temper fit. Standing at least 6’3, he was one of very few men able to intimidate me. And it wasn’t just his height, or the size of his muscled body, it was the history between us. For ten years he’d been trying to pin murder charges on me, and for ten years I’d stayed free. It rubbed him the wrong way for some reason.

1

The couple in front of me looked like any other parents who’d lost a child—their hands gripping one another, dark circles under their eyes, skin sallow from not enough food, water or sleep—except for the faintest glimmer of a possibility, a scrap of hope that someone had thrown them, by sending them my way. That was the only difference. A difference they were banking on. Every parent’s worst nightmare is the reason I have become the best at what I do. Or maybe more accurately, the only reason I do what I do.

“Please, the police, they say there is nothing; that they can’t help us. They say she’s gone, and there are no clues, and they just can’t find her. Please, we were told you could help.” Maria, the mother, pleaded with me, her whole body begging for me to do what no one else would even dare offer her hope for. Her voice was cultured, upper crust and very East coast snob. But right now she didn’t look it. Clothes rumpled, designer but not pressed or even that clean, hair in disarray, and bags under her eyes. A very childish part of me took pleasure in seeing the mighty brought low. I only wished it wasn’t because her kid had been snatched.

I didn’t answer her right away, though I had already decided to help them. Her fear and hope filled the room with a tangible weight that choked me, kept me from saying a single word. I wouldn’t leave a child out there if I could find her, not even if the kid’s parents were wankers. Which, looking at the child’s father as he puffed up and prepared to verbally assault me, was obviously the case. I guessed he was a lawyer, or maybe a judge.

I let him—Don, I think his name was—continue his tirade stalking around the cheap hotel room, but didn’t interrupt him. No point. He would talk until finally the silence would catch him and smother his words.