The Promised One (The Turning Stone Chronicles) by C. D. Hersh

hours?”
    Alexi heard the rustle of sheets on the other end of the line. “Blame it on my bodyguard.”
    “You have a bodyguard? On your salary?” Her voice came across crisp and clear.
    She had Sylvia’s attention now. “It’s my partner, Rhys. He’s taken on the job of protecting me since my uncle’s murder and the break-in at my house.”
    “How caveman of him. Is that the problem?”
    “It’s a problem, but not the one I called about. Someone’s mimicking Baron.”
    “Who?”
    “I don’t know. There could be two mimickers. I need your help, Sylvia.”
    “We should meet somewhere.”
    “I can’t get out of the house by myself. Rhys is sticking to me like a wet swimsuit.”
    “Why don’t you use your alter ego?”
    “What?”
    “Come on. Do you mean to tell me that you never stuffed pillows under the bedcovers and snuck out of the house as a boy?”
    “Nope, but I’m betting you did.”
    “You can shift, can’t you?”
    “Of course I can.” Alexi ignored Sylvia’s jab and continued, “A man who’s Baron’s twin, wearing a Turning Stone ring, mugged a victim last night. I think he might be Baron’s killer.”
    “Go on.”
    “If he’s committing crimes mimic shifted, I figure he’s going to be easier to find if another shape shifter hunts him. It’s too risky for me to shift. I need you to track him.”
    “It’s risky for all of us, Alexi.”
    “This is my hometown. I could lose my job if someone catches me shape shifting.” And Rhys.
    “I’m a high level Homeland Security official, Alexi. If someone sees me it could have national repercussions.”
    “You said you’d help me. You begged to help.”
    “Help, not do the job for you.” Sylvia sighed. “It’s late, and this conversation is going nowhere. Think about what I said. If you want me to help, figure out a way to slip the caveman’s grip and come to my hotel. Say, tomorrow morning at eleven.”
    “I can’t.” A noise in the hallway caused her to stop. “I’ve got to go now,” Alexi whispered. “I’ll call you later.” She took her gun out of the nightstand drawer, flipped out the light, and crossed to the door.
    Easing the door open, she peered down the hallway. Rhys was starting down the stairs.
    “Why aren’t you asleep, Rhys?” You’re supposed to be asleep. I waited until two a.m. to call, thinking you’d be sawing logs, and here you are outside my door.
    He stopped and came down the hallway. “I heard a noise and was checking the house. Besides, how am I supposed to sleep when I know you’re so upset? You’ve barely spoken since we left the precinct. I know Baron’s face on that drawing upset you.”
    Alexi rested her forehead on the door. Rhys was right. She had been upset, was still upset. Her conversation with Sylvia hadn’t helped. Every idea she thought of to catch Baron’s killer without shape shifting fizzled into nothing. She drew in a shaky breath. She didn’t want to, but she had to risk shifting.
    “Lexi,” Rhys said, his voice, soft and husky, “Let me help you, sweetheart.”
    He stood in the hallway, his bare, muscled chest bathed in silver moonlight streaming through the landing window. The striped pajama bottoms, slung low on his hips, left nothing to her imagination. Alexi’s breath caught. He was so handsome, and she wanted him so much.
    Taking his hand, she urged him into the bedroom and closed the door. If she was going to risk everything by shape shifting, she was going to find out what was at stake.
    When Alexi laid her palm on his bare chest, Rhys wished for a tee shirt . . . and a pair of tight briefs to hide his growing passion. Her hand seared his skin and his soul. He gathered her into his arms trying to ignore the desire that snaked through him when she touched him. She seemed so forlorn. He had to tend to her needs, not his.
    “We’ll catch him. I promise,” he whispered.
    She murmured an unintelligible answer against his chest, her soft words tickling too