The man started to relax until he caught sight of the amulet that was beginning to glow in the clinging darkness.
“What’s this?”
Zak managed to stretch the rigid lips into a smile. “Death.”
Calso stumbled back, fear and confusion twisting the pudgy face. But it was far too late. He’d barely taken a step backward when the amulet released its magic, slamming into him with a lethal force.
Zak watched Calso drop to his knees, the skin ripping like tissue paper as the magic inside him began to swell and expand.
Magic was never a pleasant way to die.
And this was a particularly nasty spell.
But effective, he had to concede, stepping back as the dead man fell face first onto the rare Persian carpet, swiftly turning into nothing but charred ashes.
Anya was nothing if not efficient.
Assured the man was dead, Zak turned away, crossing to the fireplace.
It took less than five minutes to find the trigger on the Picasso that allowed it to swing forward, revealing the safe set in the wall. Reaching up, he pressed his hand against the scanner, not at all surprised when he heard the lock click.
The arrogant bastard never considered his own lover might betray him.
Hubris.
The weakness of every wealthy man.
Reaching for the small handle on the safe, he tugged it open.
Anticipation hummed through him as he reached inside and shoved aside the papers to find the pale stone vessel that was shaped like a small vase with an odd winged creature etched on the front. With care he pried out the cotton that blocked the opening at the top of the vessel and turned it upside down to shake out the coin inside.
A mile to the north, his heart in his real body gave a sudden leap.
Soon...
Soon he would have the just rewards he so richly deserved.
Still struggling to catch his breath, Duncan shifted to lie on his side, studying Callie’s delicate profile outlined by the rosy promise of dawn.
Christ.
That hadn’t been good sex.
It had been ... cataclysmic sex.
Shattering.
But why?
Holding her close, he tried on a few excuses.
He’d been celibate for too long. A man wasn’t meant to be without a woman in his bed, right?
He’d been fantasizing about this woman for longer than he wanted to admit.
He was under a shitload of stress. Everyone knew that adrenaline made everything seem to be in Technicolor. Including sex.
Unfortunately he couldn’t make any of the lame-ass excuses fit.
What had just happened between them defied explanation.
A fact that should have scared the hell out of him.
Instead, it just juiced him up with the need to have her again.
And again.
And again ...
Already hardening with anticipation, Duncan abruptly frowned as he realized that while he’d been reveling in the image of round two, Callie was lost in thoughts that had nothing to do with him or hot, sweaty sex.
“Hey.” He brushed his finger down the thin blade of her nose. “Where did you go?”
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 m
y 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.
Born in Blood (The Sentinels) Page 13
