Not that he was in the mood to appreciate her beauty. Unlike most men he wasn’t controlled by his cock.
Not ever.
“True, but every general needs a few expendable soldiers to do the grunt work,” he reminded his companion.
“A pity they have to be so stupid.” She halted next to the desk, the scent of herbs and blood clinging to her. A sure indication she’d been in her rooms brewing up some concoction or another. “It’s entirely their fault the body was found by the authorities.”
Zak steepled his fingers beneath his chin. He didn’t need the reminder.
He’d been furious when his servant had returned to the house without the female that Zak had personally selected. That didn’t mean, however, he was prepared to accept defeat.
“Charles paid for his mistakes.”
“Perhaps, but—”
Zak narrowed his eyes as the words deliberately trailed away. “Say what you have to say, Anya.”
“You should have chosen another female.” She was the only creature in the world with the nerve to lecture him, although her tone was carefully devoid of censure. “It’s too risky to take the body from the police morgue.”
“It took us twenty years to track down Calso and another six months trying to find a way past his security.” He curled his lips in disgust. “Did you want to throw it all away because you have cold feet?”
“Not cold feet,” she denied in petulant tones. “But I’m not going to be happy if we’re forced to move again.”
With a deliberate motion, Zak pushed himself out of the chair, the swirl of his power tugging on Anya’s hair in icy warning.
The witch had saved his life when he’d been burning on the stake. She was also the one who’d managed to stumble across the means for his ultimate triumph.
But he’d been born during a time when only the strong survived and he didn’t believe in democracies.
He was in charge.
Which meant he didn’t confess just whom he’d encountered while he was in Leah’s mind. Or that he’d all but thrown down the gauntlet to those fools who cowered behind the walls of Valhalla.
He was done waiting for his unjust rewards.
“There will be no more running.”
Belatedly realizing she’d crossed a dangerous line, Anya took a step backward. “No, of course not,” she hastily purred, lacing her words with a spell of soothing. As if her magic could actually sway a man with his powers. “Soon you will have endless followers who will be worthy of your greatness.”
“So you have promised for the past—” He deliberately paused. “How long has it been, Anya?”
Her lips tightened. “Nearly three hundred years.”
Zak grimaced. He had a vivid memory of the night he’d been captured by the local villagers and burned at the stake. Hard not to. It played and replayed every night. Like his nightmares were stuck on one channel.
The next hundred years had been spent in a protective cocoon of magic Anya had wrapped around his burnt body that had barely clung to life, followed by another tedious century of regenerating his physical form. Time that was fuzzy in his memories.
Thank the gods.
The past hundred years had been devoted to restoring his former powers. And more importantly, to locating the key to unlocking the ancient secrets to his ultimate destiny.
“My patience is at an end,” he informed the witch.
“I understand, I truly do, but our enemies are searching for you,” Anya attempted to soothe. “It’s too dangerous to draw such attention to yourself.”
Zak stepped forward, the overhead light catching in his faceted eyes until they shimmered with blinding glitter that filled the room.
“Is there a reason you want me to wait?”
“I don’t want you taking unnecessary risks.” Her chin tilted. “I have devoted my life to you.”
“You have devoted your life to the hope that I will make you a queen.”
He watched her shrug. “So what? I’m a woman with ambition.”
“Just make certain you’re a woman who is prepared to travel to the temple.”
“I will be prepared,” she promised with an arrogance that could rival his own. “So long as you don’t get both of us killed before you can get your hands on the coin.”
“Careful, Anya. You aren’t the only means of taking me where I need to go.” He smiled. “Understood?”
The very gentleness of his threat made Anya grasp the small amulet hung around her neck even as she hurried toward the door.
“Bastard.”
“So they say,” he murmured toward her retreating back.
Duncan had done some stupid things in his life.
Hell, he’d done stupid on a spectacular level.
There was the time he’d emptied his savings account to buy a piece of shit sports car that died before he got it out of the driveway.
The night he’d chased a perp into gang territory and had the crap beaten out of him.
The day he decided to swing by home to surprise Susan only to find her enjoying a little afternoon delight in their bed.
And ten minutes ago when he’d promised Callie all he wanted was a kiss.
Anyone who knew him realized that he had impulse control problems.
Like a five-year-old, he never believed in deferring pleasure when he could have immediate satisfaction.
But Callie had naively accepted his promise, melting into his arms with such trust he couldn’t possibly take advantage of her.
Dammit.
Grimly shackling his desire that thundered through his rigid body, Duncan concentrated on the intoxicating taste of Callie’s lips. Until this minute he’d considered kissing a necessary step to getting a woman naked beneath him. It might be enjoyable, but only because it led to the ultimate destination.
He’d never truly appreciated the pleasure in simply ... smooching.
Now he savored every slow brush of their mouths. The wet heat when he dipped his tongue between her lips. Her shudder when he spread tiny caresses over her upturned face.
Cupping her nape with one hand, he allowed the other to stroke through the silken strands of her hair. It was perfect for this woman. Soft, yet with a spunky fire that would always keep a man in place.
At least any man fortunate enough to earn a place in her secluded world.
The reminder that he would soon be returning to his life of murders, sleepless nights, and empty apartments while this extraordinary woman remained hidden behind the magic of Valhalla had him fusing their lips with a kiss that bordered on desperation.
She returned the heat and fury for a blissful second, then with a faint frown she pulled back to study his brooding expression.
“Duncan?”
“I’ve wondered for so long what you taste like,” he rasped.
Her tongue peeked out to touch her swollen lips in an unconscious gesture that made him groan in agony.
He might have developed a sudden addiction to sweet Callie-kisses, but that didn’t mean his cock was happy to be all revved up with no place to go.
“And what’s the verdict?” she asked.
“Danger.”
She blinked, the stunning gemstone eyes shimmering with an inner glow.
God ... they were glorious.
Mesmerizing.
“I taste of danger?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not sure what that means.”
His lips twisted. If she’d been any other woman he would never have offered her such a powerful weapon. History had taught him that women, even good women, enjoyed holding the whip if a man was foolish enough to put it in her hand.
And knowing that a man was willing to give anything, pay any price, to have a female in his bed was one hell of a whip.
“Good.”
She shook her head. “Do you always speak in riddles?”
His eyes lowered to her lips. “I’d rather not be speaking at all.”
A blush
stained her cheeks, but even as his gut clenched with anticipation there was a sharp rap on the door.
“Go away,” he snapped, his gaze never shifting from the invitation of her lips.
“You have a call.” A male voice floated through the wooden barrier.
“Take a message.”
“Duncan, it could be important,” Callie chided.
“I’ll call back later.”
“It’s your chief,” the voice said with an unmistakable hint of satisfaction at the untimely interruption. A friend of Fane’s or just another male anxious to be with Callie? “She says it’s important.”
“Shit.”
Reluctantly, Duncan dropped his arms and stepped back. If Molinari was calling then it had to be important.
Which meant his brief time with Callie was well and truly over.
Obviously coming to the same conclusion, Callie moved to pull open the door just far enough to speak to the handsome young man standing in the hall. “Has the call been transferred?”
The man nodded, his gaze shifting over her shoulder to stab Duncan with a glare of open dislike. “Yes, line two.”
“Thank you, Mel.”
“No problem.”
The man sent one last glare through the doorway before turning to stalk down the hallway, but Duncan was already crossing the room to punch the extension number as he pressed the receiver to his ear.
“O’Conner.”
“We have a problem.” As always Molinari was blunt to the point of rudeness.
The five-foot-five middle-aged woman didn’t weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet, but she ruled the station house with an iron fist.
“Another one?”
“The body’s missing.”
He sucked in a sharp breath. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but it sure the hell wasn’t that.
“Leah?”
“Yep.”
“What the fuck happened to it?”
“No one knows.”
Distantly he was aware of Callie politely stepping away, giving him the illusion of privacy despite the fact she couldn’t help but overhear the conversation. It wasn’t as if he or Molinari were bothering to keep their voices lowered.
“A body doesn’t just disappear,” he growled.
“You think I don’t know that?”
“You checked the tapes?”
“Clean.”
“And no one saw anyone enter or leave the morgue?”
“No one.”
“What about—”
“You wanna come do my job?” the chief interrupted, her tone warning he’d trespassed on her last nerve. “Maybe wipe my ass while you’re at it?”
Duncan grimaced. “I want to know what the hell is going on.”
“Then find out.”
Rubbing his forefinger against the pain beginning to shoot through his temple, he tried to think.
Something that would have been a hell of a lot easier if freaky shit didn’t keep happening.
“The usual chop shops wouldn’t risk stealing a body from the police morgue,” he muttered, referring to the gangs that occasionally made a grab for bodies in the hospital. If they could get them fresh enough the organs went for a fortune on the black market. “Unless there’s a new player in town.”
“I have Caleb checking out the usual suspects,” Molinari said.
“What do you want from me?”
“Find out if the freaks have an extra body hanging around.”
Duncan rolled his eyes. “Great.”
Callie leaned against the bar that separated the small kitchen from the living room.
Despite the rumors, all high-bloods were taught proper manners. She knew that she should leave the room so that Duncan could speak to his chief in privacy.
But she couldn’t deny an irresistible curiosity to discover if the human police had learned any information on the dead female. If they could determine why she’d been chosen as the victim, they would surely be one step closer to finding the murderer, right?
And more importantly, she simply wanted to remain close to Duncan. At least for a little while longer.
Unconsciously her fingers lifted to touch her lips, still swollen from his kisses. She’d half expected to be disappointed. After all, the sexy cop had filled more than one fantasy over the years. How could he possibly live up to her obscenely high expectations?
But he’d not only lived up to them, he’d blown past them as he’d tutored her in the vast array of kisses from tender sweet to raw, bone-melting perfection.
She’d been lost in the sensations that seared through her. The pounding of her heart. The squeeze of her lungs as she struggled to breathe. The aching need that twisted her stomach.
And all from a kiss ...
She wasn’t sure she could survive a full-out assault.
Not that she wasn’t willing to give it a try, she acknowledged with a shiver.
Realizing that Duncan was slamming down the phone, Callie fiercely squashed her renegade thoughts. A dead girl was missing. Now wasn’t the time to be wishing that they’d ignored the knock on the door.
They would have time later to explore the heat that sizzled between them. She intended to make damned sure of that.
Pushing away from the bar, she watched as he turned to meet her steady gaze, a surprising hint of color on his cheekbones.
Because his chief had called them freaks? Or because they were still considered suspects?
Probably both.
“You heard?” he demanded.
She nodded. “I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop.”
“It doesn’t matter.” He shoved his fingers through the pale gold of his hair, making her breath hitch at the desire to smooth the short satin strands. “We need to find out what happened to the body.”
Damn. With an abrupt jerk, she was heading across the room. She couldn’t concentrate when she was alone with this man.
“We need to share this information with the Mave.”
She opened the door before he managed to capture her arm and tug her back to meet his hooded gaze.
“Callie.”
A shiver of anticipation crept down her spine. “Yes?”
He leaned down until they were nose to nose. “This isn’t done.”
“You said a kiss,” she reminded him, not about to admit that she’d already made the decision to lock him in her apartment until he proved whether the rest of his skills lived up to her fantasies.
His ego was big enough, thank you very much.
“A kiss for now,” he corrected, his voice gruff.
“And later?”
He pressed his lips to the edge of her mouth before lifting his head.
“I want ... everything,” he whispered in warning.
They were standing there, staring at one another in emotion-charged silence when the sound of approaching footsteps had them both turning to the door.
Once again it was Mel. The healer had clearly broken some rule that demanded community service. Not unusual for a young, impetuous man who’d barely left his teens. And he wasn’t a bit pleased with his duty of carrying messages.
Especially when that duty included playing servant in front of an aggressive male norm.
He glared toward Duncan. “The Mave wants to see you in her office.”
“Good news travels fast,” Duncan muttered.
Callie grimaced. Nothing happened in Valhalla that escaped the Mave’s attention. And a call from the human police chief would have hit her radar at record speed.
“Would you rather speak to her alone?” she asked.
“Hell no.”
There was a snicker from Mel, as if he’d never wet his pants when the Mave called him to her office.
“I’ll show our visitor to the Mave,” she informed the young man.
He sent Duncan another glare. “Should I alert the dungeons they’re about to have a guest?”
“Enough,” Callie said in dismissal, waiting until Mel turned to
stroll down the hallway before leading Duncan in the opposite direction.
She kept the pace brisk, but there was no missing the cold, suspicious glances that followed their path.
“Friendly bunch.”
“As friendly as your fellow cops would be if I strolled into the station house,” she pointed out in low tones.
“Touché,” he muttered.
“This way.” Callie turned the corner, headed directly for the Mave’s office. It wasn’t until they were standing in the small alcove directly in front of her door that she realized Duncan was dragging his feet. Halting, she glanced over her shoulder in confusion. “What’s wrong?”
“I’ve heard a lot of rumors about your leader,” he confessed.
“Which rumors would those be, Sergeant O’Conner?” the Mave asked as she pulled open the door to offer Duncan a serene smile. “The one that claims I have actual horns and a tail? Or my personal favorite, the one that suggests I’m nothing more than a myth? Like the Wizard of Oz?”
Chapter Six
Duncan was accustomed to shoving his size twelve foot into his mouth.
It was one of his few talents.
But he wasn’t used to being struck speechless.
Holy shit. He felt like he’d been kicked by a mule as he caught his first glimpse of the mysterious Mave of Valhalla.
It wasn’t just that she was drop dead gorgeous. He had a distinct preference for flame-haired pixies with eyes of sapphires. Or that she displayed her witch’s mark with obvious pride. It was dark enough to warn even a thick-skulled norm that she had enough magic to turn them into something nasty if they didn’t keep their prejudices to themselves.
No, it was simply the power of her presence.
It was etched onto the pale, perfect oval of a face. In the storm gray eyes. And flickered in the aura only his gaze could detect.
Even if he didn’t know a damned thing about this woman, he would realize she was a force of nature.
“Good god,” he breathed.
“Not quite, Sergeant O’Conner,” she murmured as she stepped back and waved an arm toward the black and white room behind her. “Will you come in?”
Awkwardly moving past her slender form, he headed toward the nearest chair. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.
Born in Blood (The Sentinels) Page 6
