Free Firestorm: Heart of a Vampire #5 by Amber Kallyn Page B

High-handed male. “I wasn’t done.”
    “He’s not going to tell us one damn thing more.” He dropped her arm and moved down the hall toward the elevator. “Between loyalty to the pack and whatever is scaring the hell out of him, he’s useless.”
    “What could make him so afraid?” She followed, anger bubbling. “He’s a Judge, for crying out loud.”
    “Dunno,” Eric absently replied. He reached to hit the elevator call button, but she grabbed his hand and stopped him.
    Eric stared at her, jerking his hand away. The urge to step back was clear in his blue eyes.
    She barely stopped herself from poking a finger at his chest. “You expect me to accept all this? We didn’t find out anything new. Nothing to help.”
    Eric clenched and unclenched the hand she’d touched. “Not true. I’ll talk to the coroner. He’s bound to know more.”
    She wedged herself between him and the elevator buttons. Not that it would prevent him leaving if he truly wanted to. Take the stairs, jump out a window. Either would be an easy way out for a vampire.
    Finally, he sighed, as if resigned. “Fine. We will go talk to the coroner.”
    Cat smiled and pushed the call button herself, then willed the elevator to hurry before he changed his stubborn mind.
    * * *
    Sitting in the warm SUV as Eric drove, the world turned into a mystical snow globe around them, Cat tried to calm her worry and fear. Settle the thoughts uselessly circling the same questions, like a dog trying to capture the reflection of a bone.
    Nothing would come of it without answers that it seemed they’d never find.
    Sure, go see the gorgon coroner. Even if he knew anything, why would he talk to them?
    She risked a surreptitious glance at Eric from beneath her eyelashes. Yes, he was intimidating. He probably couldn’t even help it. He was so big. Not just his height, but the rippling muscles on his arms and across his chest.
    Slowly following her directions—though to give him credit, New Orleans natives weren’t exactly used to driving in snow, as evidenced by the many accidents they passed—Eric finally reached the city morgue.
    The building towered darkly over the parking lot. Made of gray stone weathered by age, it was three stories tall. The top two floors were dark this time of night. A few streetlights cast scattered, fragmented light onto the lot.
    Eric grabbed his huge axe as he left the car, strapping it over his shoulder and patting the handle once as if for assurance.
    She followed him to the front door. By the time they made it inside, her heels and stockings to mid calf were soaked. Her hair had passed beyond wet, into the realm of frozen.
    Eric reached back and grabbed his braid, drawing it from beneath his shirt. Like his immense size, his hair kept coming and coming. The silvery-blond plait was thick and long. But not nearly as impressive as when it had hung loose around him the other night. She must have made some noise, because he pinned her with an intense glare.
    As if he could read her mind, the heat of a blush crawled up his neck. He licked his lips as his gaze flickered down to her chest. Her nipples stiffened as she imagined him seeing her naked. Her libido—crazy around him—sent her thoughts down a distracting path.
    Without a word, he turned and continued down the hall to the head coroner’s office.
    With a shrug, she followed. She was getting to him and didn’t bother to hide her smile at that knowledge. Maybe he’d stop giving her the brooding, silent treatment.
    At the office door, Eric didn’t bother to knock, just pushed inside. It was empty.
    “Great,” he muttered.
    They headed down the hall, Eric opening every door until they found someone. “Doctor Argus?” he barked.
    The man inside quivered in his seat, then pointed to the right. “Autopsy.”
    Eric continued on.
    “Thank you,” Cat said to the man as she passed his office.
    The autopsy room smelled like a hospital, making her stomach churn at the overpowering