Born in Blood (The Sentinels) (23 page)

Duncan was proving how wrong she’d been.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Hektor said something about the coin being needed to unlock the door to the underworld where there’s a mysterious chalice,” he explained. “Whatever the hell that means. Unless the door to the underworld is hidden in Kansas City . . . god forbid . . . the necromancer will have to travel to get to it.”

Ah. So not just arrogance.

She sucked in a deep breath, trying to ease her seething anxiety. “I suppose you’re right,” she said, wrinkling her nose at the persistent sense of danger. “Fane made sure to warn the monks to keep an eye open for a diviner with diamond eyes. If he tries to travel with a Sentinel he’ll be easily spotted.”

“Clever Fane,” her companion muttered.

Callie blinked at the unmistakable edge in Duncan’s voice. “Would you be happier if he was stupid?”

With a swift move, he rolled on top of her, his expression hard with a jealousy he made no effort to hide. “I would be happier if I was your guardian.”

Her legs instinctively parted to allow him to settle against her. She swallowed a small sigh of satisfaction. It felt so right to have his heavy weight pressing against her, the scent of his maleness teasing at her nose and the feel of his warm skin branding her with pleasure.

Here, in this bed, she felt protected. Safe.

Loved . . .

Her heart slammed against her ribs as the perilous word whispered through her mind.

Oh, gods.

A part of her knew that this wasn’t the time to add yet another layer of complication to their relationship. It was already a minefield of disaster that threatened to blow up in her face when she least expected it.

Hadn’t her afternoon at the police station proved that?

But the L word wasn’t as easy to dismiss.

Not when Duncan’s hand was running an intimate path down the line of her collarbone and his hazel eyes were shimmering with flecks of molten gold.

“Only a Sentinel can be a guardian,” she reminded him, not surprised when her voice came out a breathy whisper instead of the stern warning it should have been.

“Says who?”

Hmm. Good question.

“Tradition,” she at last suggested.

“Screw tradition,” he growled, lowering his head to stroke his lips down the line of her jaw. “We can make new ones.”

She shivered, her hands reaching up to thread through the short strands of his hair.

“I doubt the Sentinels would agree.”

He slowly pulled back, studying her flushed face with an expression that was impossible to read.

“And what about you?”

“Me?”

“Would you trust me to be your guardian?”

She hesitated. This was important.

She didn’t need the sudden tension in Duncan’s shoulders or the way he didn’t quite meet her gaze to warn her just how much her answer meant.

But she also understood that she couldn’t put any pressure on him to make a commitment he might end up regretting. Duncan O’Conner was far too much like Fane. A man with his own moral code.

He would stand by his word, even if it put him through hell. Hadn’t he stayed in a loveless marriage until he’d caught his wife cheating on him?

The trick was to soothe his male pride without making any demands.

Yeah, no problem.

And next she would solve cold fusion.

“That depends,” she murmured, forcing a teasing smile to her lips.

His brows drew together. “On what?”

She lifted her head to give his chin a small nip. “You have to apply for the position.”

His tension eased as a wicked glow chased the shadows from his eyes.

“Is that right?”

She licked his bottom lip, forgetting this was supposed to be a distraction.

Hell, she was the one distracted.

In the best possible way.

“Mmm.”

He groaned deep in his throat, his swelling cock pressing against her inner thigh.

“And how would I go about that?”

“Oh, it’s a very rigorous process,” she breathed.

“I can be rigorous.”

She chuckled, remembering the sound of the headboard slamming against the wall less than an hour ago.

“You most certainly can,” she agreed, a husky edge of lingering pleasure in her voice.

It had taken a while to convince the stubborn man that she was far stronger than most women he’d known, and that she fully approved of his . . . rigorous . . . lovemaking.

He captured her lips in a deep, drugging kiss. “Or I can be slow and thorough.”

The shudder of anticipation started at the tip of her toes and rippled all the way through her.

“That works.”

“But first.”

Lost in the sensual spell he could cast all too easily, Callie was puzzled when Duncan pulled back to study her with a narrowed gaze.

“What?”

“I want you to tell me the truth.”

Was this a game? If it was, she hoped it included more of those slow, thorough kisses.

“The truth about what?” she asked, willing to play along.

“You’ve been quiet since we left the station. What happened?”

Oh . . . crap.

She’d convinced herself that she’d managed to hide her distress at Frank’s unwelcomed confrontation. The last thing she’d wanted was to cause trouble with Duncan’s friend.

But she should have known she hadn’t fooled him for a second. Sergeant Duncan O’Conner missed nothing.

“If I tell you—”

“Callie?” he prompted.

“I don’t want you to overreact.”

His jaw instantly clenched and Callie heaved a resigned sigh. What the hell was wrong with her?

Just warning him not to overreact was a sure way to make him overreact.

“What makes you think I’ll overreact?” he snarled on cue.

“You’re male.”

He blinked at her blunt accusation, then his lips twisted into a rueful smile. “Fair enough,” he muttered, his fingers lightly stroking her cheek. “Tell me.”

Despite his gentle touch, he was wearing his cop face.

He wasn’t going to let this go.

“Your friend Frank was concerned that you weren’t thinking clearly,” she grudgingly confessed.

His fingers tightened on her cheek, but there was no surprise that Frank had been the one to approach her. The coroner had never been particularly discreet in his dislike for high-bloods.

“About you?” he asked between clenched teeth.

“In part.” She ran her hands down the length of his rigid back, her touch soothing. “He believes you’re devastated by the marriage of your wife.”

“Ex-wife.”

She tried not to be pleased by his fierce correction.

But hey, she was human. Or at least, she had the usual human emotions.

Her fingers skimmed back to his shoulders. “He’s convinced that she was your soul mate and that you’re going to regret our relationship once you come to your senses.”

The hazel eyes darkened with the threat of violence. “He said that?”

She grimaced. “Yes.”

“The bastard. I’ll kill him.”

“No, Duncan, he’s your friend,” she said in urgent tones. This was exactly what she feared. “Of course he’s going to be worried about you.”

“He hurt you.”

She shook her head. “No he didn’t.”

His fingers cupped her chin as he held her gaze with a somber intensity. “Callie, if this is going to work we have to be honest with each other.”

He was right. The words that Frank had spoken were already festering deep inside her. Threatening to destroy the joy she felt when she was with Duncan.

The only way to deal with it was to get it out in the open.

Like lancing an infected wound.

“He didn’t hurt me, but he did remind me of the cost you’ll have to pay to be with me,” she said, her voice so low he had to lower his head to catch her words. “It’s . . . not going to be easy for you.”

He stilled, as if surprised by her words. “Not just me, Callie,” he finally said. “It’s going to be difficult for both of us.”

She reached up to touch his jaw. “Are you sure you’re ready for it?”

He studied her concerned expression before he slowly dipped down to kiss her with a tenderness that brought tears to her eyes.

“I’m trying,” he murmured against her lips. “Although I can’t guarantee that I won’t get pissed off when I think you’re being insulted.”

“I don’t want you losing your friends.”

Another kiss. Slower . . . deeper.

“If they’re truly my friends then they’ll understand when I tell them to fuck off.” His tongue stroked a damp path along her lower lip. “And if they want to be turd-heads, then they can get the hell out of my life.”

She gave a reluctant chuckle. “Turd-heads?”

“Yep, turd-heads.” He trailed a line of kisses up her jaw before he lifted his head to regard her with a hint of question. “And you? Are you ready for it?”

She held his gaze. “When I’m with you I feel like I can face anything.”

His expression softened, some undefinable emotion smoldering in his eyes.

“Even jackass cops?” he rasped.

“I’m more afraid of your mother.”

He smiled with a sinful intent, his hand sliding over her shoulder and down to cup the swell of her breast.

“You know, I have a perfect way of taking your mind off my ma and interfering friends.” His thumb rubbed the tip of her nipple into a tight peak. “Oh, and the potential end of the world.”

“Hmm.” Her nails scraped down his back, a honey-heat flowing through her body. “This had better be a damned good distraction,” she teased, her foot stroking up the back of his calf.

He gave a soft moan, burying his face in the curve of her neck. “Oh, I think you’ll like it.”

“Just like it?”

His lips found the pulse that thundered at the base of her throat.

“If I’m very lucky, you’ll love it,” he whispered, angling his hips and sliding deep into her body with one smooth stroke.

“Duncan—”

Dawn had barely crested when Zak left his private chambers and entered the small room at the back of the house. As always, a full breakfast was waiting for him, along with a stack of the morning papers.

He ignored the sizzling sense of anticipation that filled his veins like the finest champagne as he went through his morning routine with a careful precision. The lure of the chalice had haunted him the entire night, but now wasn’t the time to be bewitched by the whispers of power.

No.

He needed an orderly mind.

An utter state of calm.

And the realization that the closer he came to achieving his destiny, the more careful he had to be.

Today he put his pawns in position and prepared the last of his strategy.

And of course, cleaned up his loose ends.

On cue, Tony entered the room, looking worse than many corpses Zak had raised.

The servant had clearly not slept. Or even bathed. His dark hair was sticking up in small clumps and his cheeks were unshaved. He’d made an effort to dress in a clean pair of slacks and a white shirt, but he’d forgotten his shoes and his belt hung unfastened around his thick waist.

“Tony,” Zak murmured softly. “Where’s the cop?”

The servant anxiously shifted his feet. “He’s in the kitchen having a cup of coffee. I told him I had to check and make sure my employers weren’t up yet.”

“Excellent.” Zak laid aside his napkin and rose to his feet. “He doesn’t suspect he’s being led to a trap?”

“Nope.” Tony did more shifting. “He knows I occasionally . . . barter information for cash.”

Zak rounded the table, absently straightening the cuffs of his black Armani suit. Unlike Tony, he understood the importance of presenting an image of strength.

“Use the tunnels to bring him into the basement.”

The man scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “He’s going to be armed.”

“Human weapons don’t frighten me.”

“They do me,” Tony muttered.

Zak shrugged. “Once the cop is in my private laboratory you may leave.”

“Always supposing he doesn’t shoot me in the back before we get there.”

Zak smiled with a cold indifference. “It’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

Tony lost what little color he had left. “Fantastic.”

Indifferent to his servant’s barely contained panic, Zak strolled out of the room and down the hall. It was still early, but he had tasks to finish before the cop arrived.

Reaching his office, his steps slowed as he caught the unmistakable scent of candle wax and blood.

Anya.

An icy smile touched his lips as he cautiously pressed open the door and scanned the room to make sure there were no unwelcome surprises.

Nothing was out of place. Not unless he counted the slender, redheaded woman who was covertly searching through the drawers of his desk.

Stepping into the room, he closed the door and silently glided across the carpet to stand directly behind the intruder.

“I thought I might find you here, witch,” he murmured.

With a gasp, Anya whirled around to face him, her eyes wide with fear.

“Zak.”

Holding her wide gaze, Zak leaned to the side and released the hidden lever. With a click the panel slid open and he reached into the compartment to remove the chalice.

“Is this what you were searching for?”

She wisely shrank back as he straightened to hold the chalice between them.

“Of course not.” She swallowed, then with an obvious effort, she forced a stiff smile to her lips. “I was searching for an amulet that I dropped here yesterday.”

Zak clicked his tongue, carefully setting the chalice on the desk.

“You really are a terrible liar,” he drawled.

“I . . . I have no reason to lie.”

“True. Such days are behind us.” He reached to wrap his fingers lightly around her throat. Not hard enough to hurt. Not yet. “Tell me, Anya, why did you do it?”

She went rigid, but she was smart enough not to try and break free.

“Do what?” she croaked.

“Betray me.”

“I don’t . . .” She gave a choked cry as his fingers tightened. “Zak, no.”

“I’m not stupid, Anya.” The words were edged with ice. “There’s no one else who could have kept the coin out of my grasp for so long.”

“The Brotherhood—”

“A band of idiots who would never have been capable of outwitting me if they hadn’t had a spy to warn them when I was about to strike,” he interrupted, his narrowed gaze watching the emotions dart over her face.

Fear . . . desperation ... cunning.

“A spy?” she finally tried to bluff.

His thumb pressed against the pulse that thundered just below her jaw.

“You.”

Her laugh was laced with a barely concealed hysteria. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’m very, very serious,” he said softly.

“But—” She struggled to recall the glib excuses she’d used for years to divert his suspicions. “If it was me, then why wouldn’t I have warned Calso?”

His gaze drifted down to the unsteady line of her lips. “I admit I thought that it was a trap until I had my hands on the chalice. Now I can only assume that something went wrong.” Her breath quickened, a certain sign that his guess had been a good one. “So what happened, my dear? Did they fail to heed your warning? Or did you realize I was becoming suspicious and decide it wasn’t worth the risk?”

“It makes no sense, Zak,” Anya stubbornly insisted. She was nothing if not tenacious. It was the only reason she’d survived over the centuries. “My fate is tied to yours.”

“So I thought.”

She licked her lips, growing alarmed by his refusal to accept her innocence.

“I rescued you from the flames,” she reminded him. “I stood guard over your mutilated body for a century. I led you to the hidden temple. Why would I sacrifice so much only to betray you?”

He arched his brows. Surely she wasn’t hoping to stir a sense of gratitude? This woman better than anyone should know he didn’t indulge in human emotions.

“That’s what you’re going to tell me,” he assured her. “So start explaining.”

“I’ve told you—”

He heaved a mock sigh of disappointment, his fingers slowly, ruthlessly tightening around her throat.

“We have been together a very long time, Anya. I didn’t want to have to hurt you.” His fingers slowly, ruthlessly began to crush her throat. “But I will.”

“Don’t,” she managed to croak, tears streaming down her ashen cheeks.

“Tell me, witch.” He leaned down until they were nose to nose, the chill of his power swirling through the air. “Tell me why.”

She shuddered in pain, her hands lifting to grasp his wrists.

“Because I love you,” she hissed.

“Love?”

His humorless laugh echoed through the study. This woman was capable of lust, greed, and a narcissistic ambition. But love?

A barracuda had more of a heart than she did.

“Yes,” she insisted, a sudden color returning to her cheeks. “You can’t be surprised. Why would any woman devote her life to a man if not for love?”

“You truly must believe me to be a fool,” he sneered, his fingers easing just enough to allow her to suck in a shaky breath.

He wanted this to be slow.

And painful.

Very, very painful.

“It’s the truth,” she pleaded.

“I don’t claim to be an expert on human emotions, but I’m fairly certain that love doesn’t include treachery.” He met her wary gaze, his expression cold, merciless. “Not unless you happen to be a character from Shakespeare. And you know how much I detest Shakespeare.”

“It didn’t start off as treachery.”

“No?”

“No.” The amulet around her neck glowed with a faint light. No doubt a last-ditch attempt to sway him into believing her imploring words. She’d always had a talent for coercing others. Unfortunately for her, he’d never been susceptible. “When we first met I was attracted to your power. That was why I assisted you in gaining the attention of the czarina.”

He made a sound of disgust. “I didn’t need your assistance.”

“Maybe not, but you would never have known of your destiny unless I had revealed the temple to you.”

“It would have been revealed eventually. My fate has been waiting for me since the dawn of civilization.” Zak lifted his shoulder in a dismissive gesture. “Besides, I promised to make you queen of the world. A fair trade for your information.”

“And that’s all I desired. Even after I rescued you from the flames and protected you from your enemies. It wasn’t until—” She deliberately allowed her words to trail away.

“Until?”

“Until we became lovers that my feelings deepened.”

“Lovers?” His lips twisted into a humorless smile. “We had sex to ensure my ultimate victory.”

She swiftly disguised the fury that flared through her eyes.

“Call it whatever you want,” she said, lowering her voice to a seductive invitation. “I spent night after night in your arms and it created a bond between us.”

Zak snapped his teeth together, struck by her soft words.

Christ. He’d just sworn he wasn’t a fool, but it was obvious that’s exactly what he’d been.

This . . . female . . . had used his lack of interest in the tedious details of procreation to hold him hostage.

And the most galling part of all, was that he hadn’t even suspected he was being played.

“You clever little bitch.”

With each frigid word his fingers tightened, his nails digging into her skin until blood dripped down her throat.

“Zak,” Anya squawked, her eyes bulging. “Stop.”

“You claimed that your dark magic made it almost impossible for you to conceive,” he snarled, his lips curled with disgust. “A lie, wasn’t it, Anya?”

It took several tries before she could speak past the pain. “Not entirely.”

“A lie.”

“No.” She helplessly gripped his wrists, trying to pry away his punishing hand. “It truly is more difficult.”

He studied her pale face with an uncharacteristic loathing. Emotions were a waste of energy. Regrettably, there were times when they refused to be suppressed.

Like now.

“But you made certain it was impossible.”

“Yes,” she rasped. “I knew once you had what you wanted you would no longer invite me to your bend.”

“So why—” He bit off his question, abruptly recalling the days before Anya’s announcement she was at last pregnant. “Of course. I said I was weary of your lack of production. I intended to find another woman to carry my seed.”

She lowered her gaze, artfully allowing her lips to quiver. Such a fine performance, he sourly acknowledged. A pity she didn’t have an audience to appreciate her effort.

“I couldn’t allow you to take another lover.”

“Allow?”

“I was desperate,” she said in tragic tones. “In the end, all I could do was give you the child you wanted and hope that you could see that we were so much more than mere partners.”

He made a sound of disgust. “You were never my partner.”

Her performance faltered as a surge of bitterness darkened her eyes.

“No, I was merely a means to an end,” she muttered.

True enough. His fingers tightened, making her shudder in agony.

“When did you begin betraying me to the Brotherhood?” he asked.

She clutched at his arms, a panic twisting her face as the bones began to pop in her neck.

“I can’t . . . breathe.”

“Oh, I think you can if you really try, my dear,” he drawled. Witches didn’t have the healing capabilities of a Sentinel, but they did have a higher tolerance to damage than mere humans. “Now, one more time. When did you begin betraying me to the Brotherhood?”

The amulet glowed, but this time it wasn’t a futile effort to glamour him. No. Anya was frantically draining the stored magic to keep herself alive.

“Not long after you realized you could sense their presence,” she grated.

How many years had been wasted because of this bitch?

How long had he been denied his fate?

Anya would pay for each and every day she’d cost him.

“You never intended for me to take my place as ruler.”

“Of course I did,” she tried to plead. “I hoped that once you were truly committed to me—”

“Ah. You wanted a puppet you could lead around by the cock,” he sliced through her words, understanding at last.

Clearly Anya’s definition of love was beguiling a man until he was blinded by lust.

She dug her nails into his wrists as her legs began to sag. He was keeping her on the edge of death and her body was only minutes from a total collapse.

“And what about you?”

He shrugged. “I prefer not to be the puppet of an overly ambitious bitch.”

Any pretense of affection drained from the emerald eyes to reveal the bitter resentment that festered beneath the surface.

“I meant that you’re no better than me,” she hissed. “You had no intention of making me your queen.”

His laugh was mocking. “I promised you, didn’t I?”

“An empty promise.” Her head fell back, her skin becoming a pasty white as her magic faltered and the full impact of her injuries took their toll. “You’re willing to sacrifice anyone, including your own family, to achieve your goals. I have never doubted for a second that I would be as easily destroyed once I was no longer any use to you.” She gave an agonized laugh, blood dripping from the corner of her mouth. “I could only hope to make myself indispensable.”

“Ah. No one is indispensable, Anya,” he taunted, his fingers tightening until her windpipe was crushed. “A pity.”

With the last of her strength, she reached up to rake her nails down his cheek.