Born in Blood

“He’s waiting for me to report.”



Callie grimaced. Wolfe was the Tagos, the current leader of the Sentinels, and the only man scarier than Fane.



An amazing accomplishment.



“He’s going to cause a riot,” she muttered. “You know how he hates to be kept out of the loop.”



“I’ll deal with the Tagos.” He sent her a warning glare. “You ... be careful.”



She flashed a teasing smile, drawing her finger over the middle of her chest. “Cross my heart.”



With a shake of his head, he left the office.



Callie waited. No point in leaving until she was certain Fane was out of sight. If he knew she didn’t intend to return directly to her apartment, he would throw her over his shoulder and carry her there.



At last she slipped from the room and headed down the white corridor, which was painted pink by the encroaching dusk. The overhead skylights offered a perfect view of the sky, despite the magical dome that surrounded the compound. From the outside the spell hid Valhalla from prying eyes, but from the inside it was invisible.



She turned the corner, ignoring the gleaming silver elevators that would take her to her apartment.



Valhalla was a vast complex that sprawled over several thousand acres, with a number of workshops, garages, barns, a school, and a fully equipped hospital. The central building was constructed in the shape of a pentagon with a large inner courtyard.



Most people never saw beyond the official offices on the main floor or the formal reception rooms, although a small number were allowed the rare honor of being given guest rooms if their visit was expected to last more than a few hours. Certainly no one was allowed to explore the nine levels of private quarters and secret labs that were dug deep into the earth.



Ignoring the speculative glances from the occasional high-blood she passed, she followed the corridor until she took another turn. This one into the guest quarters.



Her steps slowed as she suddenly realized that she didn’t know what the hell she was doing.



Well, she knew that she didn’t want to return to her empty apartment.



And that she had an odd compulsion to speak with the aggravating, sinfully sexy human cop.



But beyond that ... what was the plan?



It wasn’t like she intended to march up to Duncan O’Conner’s door and start pounding. And she could hardly spend hours walking up and down the hallway, could she?



Busy mulling the wisdom of turning around and heading to her apartment, fate took the choice out of her hands as the door just down the corridor was yanked open and the man who’d been gnawing at the edge of her thoughts since they’d arrived at Valhalla stepped out of his rooms.



She came to a halt, her brows arching as he wandered in an absent pattern, his arm lifted over his head and his head tilted back.



“Duncan?” She cleared her throat. “What are you doing?”



His head snapped down as he realized he wasn’t alone, his hand shifting to reveal the cell phone tucked in his palm.



“Trying to find a damned signal.”



“Oh.” She pointed toward the skylight that offered a view of the darkening sky, reminding him of the invisible spell that was wrapped around the area. “Cell phones don’t work at Valhalla.”



“Of course not,” he muttered, shoving the phone into the front pocket of his jeans even as he prowled toward her, his hazel eyes studying her with an unnerving intensity.



“There should be a landline in your rooms,” she said, barely resisting the urge to back away. She didn’t know what it was with this man. He fascinated her even as he made her as twitchy as a deer caught in headlights. “Or if it’s an emergency the Mave can send a telepathic message.”



“It can wait.”



His husky growl brushed over her skin like a physical caress. She shivered. Oh god. This was crazy.



She licked her dry lips. “I should go.”



“No.” His hand lifted to cup her cheek, his brows drawing together as his piercing gaze seared over her face. Belatedly she remembered that she’d left her glasses in the Mave’s office. “Stay,” he husked.



She stilled, wondering what he saw. “Is something wrong?”



“You have shadows.” His finger brushed the fragile skin below her eyes. His expression was grim, but his touch was gentle. “Are you in pain?”



“No. The healers took care of the damage.”



His expression only hardened. “Do you know who ... or what ... it was?”



“Not yet,” she admitted. “The Mave will want to speak with you. She has some questions.”



His finger stroked down her cheek to trace the lower curve of her mouth.



“So do I.”



Her eyes abruptly narrowed at the reminder. “Yes, you’ve made your suspicions of our intent to protect a killer very clear.”



He didn’t apologize. She doubted he knew how.



“At least tell me that your Mave has some way to make sure the bastard can’t get inside your head.”



Her skin tingled beneath his light caress, as if every nerve ending was being set on fire.



“No one can say for sure, but I suspect his powers are similar to a diviner’s, not a telepath’s.”



“Which means?”



She hesitated. The golden rule of every high-blood was never to discuss mutant powers with the norms. Not only did it give them another reason to fear the freaks, but talking about a person’s talent was like talking about sex.



Way too intimate to be shared with just anyone.



But Duncan’s position as a cop meant he had greater access to the secrets of Valhalla than most.



And more importantly, she suspected that he had a few secrets of his own.



“I doubt he’ll be able to touch my mind unless I’m using my powers to enter the memories of the dead.”



“Then you’re officially off duty.”



Briefly lost in the gold-flecked hazel of his eyes, it took a beat for Callie to realize she’d just been given an order.



Big mistake.



Pulling away from his lingering touch, she planted her hands on her hips. “Not your call, Sergeant.”



“Duncan,” he insisted, the muscle in his jaw bulging with frustration. “And I can make it my call. All it takes is one word whispered into the ear of the Head of Justice.”



Oh, he didn’t just go there, did he?



“I don’t need your protection.”



“It’s not just about you,” he shot back. “If word gets out there was some sort of interference during your divining, then any info you manage to get will be tossed out of court.”



She stiffened. What the hell had she been thinking? She should have gone straight to her apartment. She could have been relaxing in a hot bubble bath with a nice glass of Chardonnay. Instead she was fighting the urge to kick this aggravating man in the nuts.



“Fine. I’m off duty.” She turned on her heel, marching back down the hallway. “Which means that we have nothing left to discuss.”



With a speed worthy of a Sentinel, Duncan had moved to block her path.



“Where’s your guard dog?”



She blinked at the unexpected question. “If you’re referring to Fane, he’s also off duty.”



A sinful smile curved his lips as he reached forward to grasp her wrist and tugged her back down the hall.



“Good.”



Duncan had never been a Zen sort of guy.



His temper ran hot, his foot was perpetually stuck in his mouth, and he had all the charm of a pissed-off badger. But he was smart enough to know when he was being a jackass.



There’d been no need to bark out orders like he was at the station house dealing with the usual dregs of society. Callie was an intelligent, reasonable female who would already have realized that she couldn’t be called in on police cases. Not when there was some stranger lurking in the minds of the dead.



Unfortunately a dark fear that he’d never felt before had roared through him with enough force to knock his brain off-line, leaving him at the mercy of his most primitive male instincts.



Never a good thing.



Now it was time for damage control.



And if he hadn’t truly screwed this up ... maybe a chance to catch a glimpse of the woman beneath the diviner.



Reaching the door to his rooms, he pushed it open and pulled Callie over the threshold, getting her far enough inside to close the door before she was whirling to send him a wary scowl.



“What are you doing?”



“We need to speak in private.”



Duncan watched as her gaze shifted to the small but tidy living room that was furnished with a pale green couch and matching chairs. There was a large window that offered a view of the surrounding countryside and a built-in kitchen painted a cheery yellow. He assumed the connecting door led to a bedroom, but he hadn’t had time to check it out.



“We have no need for privacy,” she at last muttered.



He deliberately leaned against the door, folding his arms over his chest. “Afraid, Callie?”



“Should I be?”



“My morals might be questionable, my manners are often compared to a rabid pit bull, but I would never hurt you, Callie Brown.” He held her wary gaze, his expression somber. “And I’ll kill anyone who tries.”



She blinked, clearly caught off guard by the lethal edge in his voice. And she wasn’t alone, he wryly acknowledged. This female brought out a side of him he didn’t recognize.



“Do you have a thing for freaks?” she demanded.



“Only one.”



Blink, blink. “Why?”



His lungs tightened at the sight of the gemstone eyes glittering in the overhead light. Oh man. With those eyes and her flame-kissed hair she reminded him of the birds his ma used to take him to see in the zoo.



Brilliant. Exotic. And so fucking fragile.



“Why what?” he asked in a distracted voice.



“You barely know me.”



“Something I intend to correct.” He straightened, catching a whiff of her sweet, feminine scent. Instantly he was hard. As if the enticing aroma had a direct connection to his cock. “Do I need to lock the door?”