Read Born in Blood (The Sentinels) Online
Authors: Alexandra Ivy
Born in Blood (The Sentinels) (13 page)
She blinked, as if coming back from a long distance. Then slowly she turned her head to meet his narrowed gaze. “I was just thinking.”
“And it brought a frown to that lovely face?” His finger moved to trace the furrow that marred her brow. “You promised you weren’t going to regret what happened in this bed.”
“I wasn’t thinking about”—a lovely blush stained her cheeks—“that.”
“That’s even worse,” he chided, captivated by the sight of her gemstone eyes catching and reflecting the first strands of light. Man. Had there ever been anything more beautiful? “I’m already a distant memory.” Using his free hand, he stroked down the curve of her back, pressing her against his stirring arousal. “Maybe I should remind you the kind of fireworks we strike off each other.”
Her breath caught. “Trust me, I’m never going to forget.”
He smiled at her husky tone, his gaze lingering on her lips, which were still red and swollen from his kisses.
“That’s what I want to hear.”
She rolled her eyes. “Arrogant.”
His smile faded as he sensed her lingering distraction. As much as he longed to drown in the silken pleasure of her body, Duncan wanted her full and complete attention when he was seducing her.
“Okay, Callie,” he murmured. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I was just thinking about what Boggs said.”
“Before breakfast?” He gave a dramatic shudder. “No wonder you’re not a morning person.”
She ignored his teasing. “He said that ‘to see into the future you must look into the past.”’
Duncan snorted. Boggs had unnerved him more than he wanted to admit, but he didn’t want Callie taking risks just because some crazy doppelganger implied that he’d seen her in some psychic vision.
“He said a lot of ridiculous things.”
“Maybe.” She chewed her bottom lip. “Maybe not.”
His spidey-senses jangled. He knew that look. And it was never good.
“So what are you scheming?”
She didn’t even blink at his impressive ability to read her expression. Why would she? She’d been raised among people who could peer into her every thought.
“There has to be some way we can discover more about Lord Zakhar.”
He stiffened, desperately battling against the primitive male urge to inform her that there was no way in hell she was going to put herself in danger. His sisters had taught him that the swiftest way to get a woman to do something was to tell her she couldn’t. Sexist? Maybe. But the knowledge had come in handy on more than one occasion.
“Internet?” he instead suggested. “I know a computer whiz at the station who could locate any information you need.”
“I prefer to find original journals if possible. They tend to be a little more reliable.”
Of course she preferred the originals. It couldn’t have been that simple.
“Will you travel to Russia?”
“Yes. Fane can take me.”
“Great,” he muttered.
She arched a brow. “It’s his job.”
It was. That didn’t mean Duncan had to like it.
“Fine. Then I’ll do my job and start a search for a strange Russian who has recently come to town.” His mind was already shifting through his various contacts. “If there’s word in the streets I’ll hear it.”
She reached up to touch the whiskers that shadowed his jaw. “You sound like a cop.”
“I don’t feel like a cop.”
“No?”
He turned his head to press his lips to the center of her palm. “No, I feel like a man who wants to lock away his lover to keep her safe.”
She jerked her hand away, her lips thinning in silent warning. “Duncan.”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he hastily assured her. “I might occasionally act like a caveman, but I’m well aware I can’t drag you off to my cave.”
“Not if you want to keep your family jewels.”
He flinched. “Point made.” He smoothed his fingers through the rumpled crimson silk of her hair. “Besides, I understand better than anyone how important your gifts are to the world. It would be a sin against nature not to share them.”
She frowned. “You don’t have to mock me.”
“Is that what you think I’m doing?” He shifted his hand to cup her cheek as she tried to turn away. “Callie, look at me.”
Grudgingly she turned back to meet his somber gaze. “What?”
“I know what you’ve done.”
“Done?”
“Every time you take a murderer off the street you save lives.” He brushed her bottom lip with his thumb. “I can’t even imagine how many people owe you their future.”
She blushed, clearly uncomfortable at being praised for her gifts. “Hopefully a few.”
“A few?” He made a sound of disbelief. “Smithfield alone was on a pace to kill at least one child a week. He would have slaughtered hundreds of innocents.” He leaned forward to steal a kiss. “You saved them.”
“Not just me,” she protested, her voice breathless as he traced her mouth with the tip of his tongue. “He wouldn’t be off the street unless you tracked him down.”
“We make a good team.”
“A team?”
“Why not?” He pulled back to study her startled expression. “We’d be perfect together.”
Her eyes darkened with an emotion she was swiftly hiding behind a pretense of indifference. “You barely know me.”
He smiled with sinful enjoyment. “I’d say I know you better than most. Although I’m not opposed to further exploration.”
She punched his chest. “That’s not what I meant.”
His smile faded. “I know you, Callie Brown. At least what you’re willing to share. Which isn’t much.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like me you’re forced to wade through the muck to accomplish your job.”
She grimaced. “True.”
“Which means you never celebrate when a killer is arrested because you remember the death and destruction that you weren’t able to prevent.” His fingers lightly traced the stubborn line of her jaw. “Am I right?”
A hint of need softened her expression. “Yes.”
“And, like me, you keep others at a distance because you know they don’t see the world with the same eyes.”
She studied him for a long minute. Wary. Or maybe cautious. “You think we’re the same?”
He paused. It would be easy to make a flippant comment. A teasing remark that would deflect her attention without revealing his growing vulnerability.
But meeting the sapphire gaze, he knew this was important.
“I think we connect on a level that goes way beyond the physical, don’t you?”
“It’s—”
“Scary as hell?” He filled in the blanks. “Yeah, I know.”
Her eyes narrowed as his hand smoothed down the curve of her ass, urging her onto her side so they were face to face.
“You don’t seem particularly scared,” she accused.
He lost a heartbeat as she pressed against the thrust of his erection.
He was so hard the mere brush of her hot skin was nearly enough to send him over the edge.
“I have other things on my mind,” he muttered.
She wiggled against him, a small smile curving her lips. “Not just on your mind.”
His teeth clenched at her teasing. Oh ... hell. When did she become so bold?
“No, it’s kind of an all-over thing,” he managed to rasp, his fingers digging into the softness of her backside as he tried to leash his hunger, which was swiftly spiraling out of control. “So if you want me to stop, tell me now.”
Without warning, she pressed her hands to his chest, exploring his rigid muscles with a light, devastating touch.
“Is that what you want?”
“Hell no,” he groaned, brushing his mouth over her parted lips. “But you’re a temptation I can’t resist, and if you don’t say no then I’m going to take everything you’re willing to give.”
She nipped his bottom lip, her hands skimming downward. Duncan hissed, his stomach muscles clenching in anticipation.
Oh ... hell.
Did she even know her soft touch was setting him on fire?
“You’re many things, Duncan O’Conner, but weak isn’t one of them,” she murmured.
He squeezed his eyes shut, desperately wanting to roll her onto her back and unleash his most primal desires.
“I am when it comes to you, Callie Brown,” he admitted in thick tones.
He felt her lips plant butterfly kisses along the rough edge of his jaw before following the line of his throat.
“I’m glad.”
“That I find you irresistible?”
She licked the pulse that pounded at the base of his neck. “Yep.”
“You like me in your power?”
“Oh yeah. I want you begging for me.”
His cock jerked, as if trying to prove to the tormenting female just how much he wanted her.
His hands slid up her back with an impatient caress. “Shit, Callie, you shouldn’t say that when we’re in bed.”
She chuckled, nibbling along the prominent line of his collarbone.
“Where would you prefer I say it?”
He buried his nose in her apple-scented hair, struggling to suck air into his lungs, which felt oddly tight.
“I’m hanging on by a thread here, sweetheart.”
“Let go, cop,” she whispered, wriggling downward to lick one flat nipple before softly blowing on it until it pebbled in arousal.
“Callie?” he gasped, his eyes wrenched open in shocked pleasure.
“Hmm?” She found his other nipple, giving soft licks as he shuddered in helpless response.
“What are you doing?” he croaked.
She tilted back her head to regard him with eyes that were far more rare and beautiful than any sapphires.
“I promised revenge, didn’t I?” she said, smiling with wicked intent as she returned to her slow, intimate exploration.
He nearly leapt off the mattress as she kissed a path down his stomach, at last taking the tender tip of his cock into the silken heat of her mouth.
Oh ... hell yeah.
She could have all the revenge she wanted.
Chapter Thirteen
Morning had fully arrived by the time they at last crawled out of bed, and then spent another half hour in the shower.
Callie felt deliciously sated as she pulled on the terry cloth robe and dried her hair with a towel.
And something else.
Something thrilling and dangerous and completely unfamiliar.
Something she wasn’t ready to examine.
Sensing Duncan pull on his jeans and tee behind her, Callie wandered into the living room, not sure what etiquette covered the “morning after wild monkey sex” procedure.
Did she suggest they go to breakfast? They’d used a lot of energy—a massive amount of energy—and Duncan had to be starving. But what if he didn’t want to spend more time with her? Would he feel obligated?
Maybe she should just go back to her apartment and—
The abrupt knock on the door interrupted her idiotic musings, making her stiffen in surprise.
“Can I hope that’s room service with our breakfast?” Duncan drawled, moving to stand beside her.
She snuck a peek to the side, admiring the way the tee clung with loving perfection to the hard muscles of his chest, before lifting her head to meet his amused gaze. She wrinkled her nose at him. So smug.
“You can always hope.”
“That doesn’t sound promising.”
There was another pounding on the door. “Neither does that.” Accepting her time with Duncan was at an end regardless of what she wanted, she moved forward to pull open the door. She blinked in confusion at the sight of her guardian. Sentinels were never used as messengers. Which meant his arrival couldn’t be good. “Fane. Is something wrong?”
His tattooed face remained stoic, although the heat from his body warned he wasn’t pleased by her presence in Duncan’s rooms.
“The Mave wants you in her office.” His dark gaze never strayed from her flushed face. “Bring the cop.”
With his message delivered, Fane turned on his heel and swiftly disappeared.
Yeah. Not happy.
Not happy at all.
Swallowing a sigh, Callie briefly rued ever leaving Duncan’s bed. Tucked against him, she’d felt warm and secure and almost normal. Like any other woman who’d spent the night in the arms of her lover.
Now reality had intruded. With a vengeance.
“I need to go to my apartment and change,” she murmured, still standing in the doorway gazing down the empty hallway. “I’ll meet you at the Mave’s office.”
With surprising speed, Duncan snapped out his hand to grasp her upper arm. “Callie.”
She kept her gaze averted. “We should hurry.”
He muttered something beneath his breath before slowly dropping his hand.
“Fine. But don’t think for a minute that I’m going to let you lock me out,” he warned, his voice cop-hard. “We’re way beyond those games.”
“I need to go.”
Dashing away like a naughty child, Callie ignored the feel of his glare burning a hole in the back of her head.
I am a coward.
A genuine, Grade A coward.
But it wasn’t entirely her fault. She’d made the decision to have sex with Duncan. She was a grown, unattached woman who was free to share the bed of an equally grown, unattached man.
And the sex had been magnificent. The stuff of fantasies.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t quite the uncomplicated night of fun she’d been hoping for.
Taking the elevator to the private quarters, she’d actually managed to reach her door when she at last realized someone was calling her name.
“Callie.”
Glancing over her shoulder, she caught sight of the tall woman with long raven hair and light green eyes. As always Serra looked ravishing, with her lush curves shown to advantage in a pair of black satin pants and halter top. She was sex walking in Manolo Blahnik boots.
She was also intelligent, witty, loyal, and one of the most powerful psychics ever recorded.
If Callie didn’t love her like a sister she would have been obligated to shove her off a high, high ledge.
“Oh, Serra.” She offered an apologetic smile as she placed her thumb on the tiny screen that released the door lock. “I’m sorry but I have to meet with the Mave. Maybe we can get together later.”
Callie entered the small but tidy living room painted a soft cream with lavender accents. Her sofa and chairs were the same cream with glass coffee tables in the center of the floor and a plasma TV on the wall. The floors were a polished hardwood with hand-woven rugs tossed in a casual pattern.
There was nothing fancy about it, but it was comfortable. More importantly, it was home.
She headed directly for the back bedroom, which was decorated in the same cream tones, but with peach accents, not at all surprised when Serra followed in her wake.
The two had been raised by the same foster parents. Which meant she knew that nothing was going to make Serra leave until she’d dug out whatever information she wanted.
“Does that mean you won’t be spending more quality time with your cop?”
Ah. She’d heard that she’d spent the night with Duncan.
Predictable.
Gossip traveled with hyperspeed through Valhalla.
“He’s not mine,” she denied, trying to ignore the tiny pang at the truth of her words.
What would she do with him if he was hers?
Serra moved to sit on the edge of the bed, leaning back on her elbows as she studied Callie with a knowing gaze. “But you’re not denying the quality time you spent with him?”
Callie tugged off the robe, heat jolting through her body at the memory of Duncan’s demanding touch.
Her previous experiences had been with callow youths.
The cop had been all man.
“It was top-notch quality.”
“You go, girl.”
In the process of pulling on a clean pair of panties and matching bra, Callie regarded her visitor in confusion.
“I thought you didn’t trust him.”
Serra’s lips curled. “I don’t trust any man. They’re all bastards.”
Callie carefully considered her response. Despite their unbreakable bond, they had learned never to discuss Serra’s fierce attraction toward Fane. It wasn’t that Serra was jealous. But she was frustrated by the Sentinel’s refusal to think of anything beyond his duty to Callie.
“Not all,” Callie protested, pulling on a pair of faded jeans. “What about Arel?”
Arel was a hunter Sentinel who was sinfully beautiful with honey brown hair and eyes of pure gold. Serra had dated him the previous year.
“Charming. Beautiful. And a thorough bastard.” Serra paused, studying Callie with a searching gaze. “Still, I haven’t seen that pretty flush on your cheeks for a long time. And if he hurts you I can always kick his ass.”
Callie chose a stretchy top in a bright yellow, pulling it over her head and tucking it into her jeans.
“I can do my own ass-kicking, thank you very much.”
“You could, but you’re far too softhearted,” Serra pointed out. The lovely psychic was three years older than Callie and had appointed herself Callie’s ass-kicker from the day she’d been brought as a baby to Valhalla. “How long is the cop going to be hanging around?”
Callie moved to the attached bathroom to run a comb through the short strands of her hair, pretending she didn’t notice the lingering glow that blushed her cheeks and shimmered in her eyes.
“I don’t know.”
“What do you know?”
She returned to the bedroom, slipping on a pair of running shoes before turning to meet her friend’s curious gaze.
“He scares me,” she admitted with blunt honesty.
Without warning Serra was on her feet, her eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “Okay, that’s it. I’m going to chop off his dick.”
Oh hell. Callie dashed to block the dangerous psychic from leaving the room. “No, Serra.”
“What?”
“What I meant was that he makes me feel things that scare me.”
Serra blinked, startled. Callie was the sensible one. The one who never took risks. Who never tumbled in and out of lust with every cute guy who crossed her path. Who preferred an evening spent with a good book to hitting the nightclubs.
“Are you falling in love with him?”
Callie bit her lower lip. “That’s what concerns me.”
Seeming to wrap her brain around Callie’s startling confession, Serra gave a slow shake of her head. “Why are you concerned?” she asked. “I was only with him for a few minutes, but I can promise that he’s obsessed with you.”
“Obsessed?”
“You’re constantly on his mind.” Serra’s lips twisted in a self-derisive smile. “Something most women would envy.”
Callie reached to lightly touch her friend’s arm, offering an unspoken comfort.
“Whether I’m on his mind or not, we live in two different worlds.” She wrinkled her nose. “And that’s not a cliché. We literally live in two different worlds.”
Serra arched a brow. “Are you so sure?”
“What do ...” Callie made a sound of disapproval. Clearly her friend had used her powers to peek into Duncan’s thoughts. It was the only way she could know that the cop wasn’t entirely normal. “Serra, you know you’re not supposed to be rummaging through the minds of our guests.”
Serra shrugged. “I wanted to make sure he was no threat to you.”
Callie gave her companion’s arm a squeeze. “I love you, too.”
Serra shifted her feet, as always embarrassed by Callie’s open display of affection. She was far more comfortable in her role as bad-ass.
“So he confessed his secret powers to you?”
“After a little prompting.”
“Then you realize you’re not from separate worlds. He’s one of us.”
Callie shook her head. Duncan had been painfully clear.
“Not so long as he chooses to keep his gift secret,” she said. “For now he prefers his life with the norms.”
Serra snorted. “Why?”
“He loves his job as a cop, which he’d never be allowed to keep if it was discovered he is a soul-gazer. Plus, he’s very close to his family.” She heaved a faint sigh. “Both potent reasons to keep the status quo.”
Serra slowly smiled. “Then I suppose you’ll have to give him a more potent reason to switch teams.”
Could she?
More importantly, did she
want
to?
want
to?
She hastily shoved aside the question. She wasn’t ready to open that particular can of worms.
Not until she had the time to deal with the consequences.
“Something to consider,” she murmured vaguely. “First, however, I have to survive whatever latest disaster is waiting for me.”
Duncan wasn’t overly fussy.
He had only a handful of items on his “never want to do” list:
Wrestle a gator.
Eat a turnip.
See his wife banging the delivery man.
And share a private tête-à-tête with Fane the pain-in-his-ass Sentinel.
A damned shame that he’d been forced to endure every single item on his list.
Pacing the hall, he did his best to ignore the tattooed bastard who leaned against the wall, standing so still he could have passed as a statue. Well, if a statue had obsidian eyes that held the promise of death and could pump enough heat into the air to make any man sweat.
“You seem nervous, cop,” the Sentinel drawled, folding his arms across his bare, tattooed chest, which was broad enough to put an ox to shame.
Steroids? It’d be nice to think so.
“I doubt we were called here because of good news,” Duncan growled. “Unless you know something I don’t.”
Fane snorted. “What I know that you don’t could fill libraries.”
Duncan ignored the taunt, studying the man’s face. It looked like it had been carved from stone, giving it an ageless quality.
“Just how old are you?” Duncan felt the temperature in the hall amp up another degree.
“That’s not a question you ask a high-blood.”
Yeah, like I give a shit.
“There are rumors that the Sentinels are immortal.”
“There are rumors that the Sentinels are immortal.”
“There are a lot of rumors about Sentinels.”
“At least one of them is true.”
“Oh yeah?”
“You’re all pricks.”
The door to the office opened, revealing the impressive form of the Mave dressed in a white cashmere sweater that was scooped low enough to reveal the shimmering emerald of her witch mark and a black pencil skirt with black pumps. Her hair was pulled into a tidy bun at the nape of her neck to enhance the pale perfection of her face and the slender length of her neck.
“You two done playing?” she murmured with a lift of her brow.
Fane shoved away from the wall, his gaze never leaving Duncan. “For now.”
She stepped back. “You may come in.”
Duncan frowned. “Callie—”
“I’m here,” Callie announced, rounding the corner on cue.
Well, maybe not on cue. The Mave no doubt had seen her approach on a security monitor. Or perhaps she had witchy powers that warned who was in the vicinity.
Either way, Duncan was far more concerned about the pale strain he could easily detect on Callie’s pretty face.
What the hell had happened? When she’d left his rooms she’d been flushed and sated and delightfully flustered.
Now she could barely meet his gaze.
He reached out, intending to halt her and demand an explanation of what had caused her sudden discomfort with him only to let his hand drop as the Mave sent him a curious glance and Fane gave a low growl, deep in his throat.
Shit.
Any private chat was going to have to wait.
In silence they shuffled into the elegant office, Fane taking his familiar position in the corner so he could keep an eye on the door and window, his large body leaning against the wall even as his muscles remained coiled to attack.
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