“Not unless you want me to.”
That sounded waaaay too easy.
“It isn’t some sort of duty to report high-bloods?”
“Not for me.”
Ah. Now the catch.
“But?” he prompted.
She hesitated, as if considering her words. “I’m sure Fane would have sensed your powers.”
He’d suspected as much, but that didn’t stop his stab of annoyance. The last thing he wanted was the pain-in-the-ass Sentinel to have something to hold over his head.
“And he said nothing?” he growled. “I find that hard to believe.”
“Nothing to you,” she corrected, snuggling deeper into the mattress, the short strands of her damp hair glistening like licks of flame against the white pillow. “But he would have reported to the Master of Gifts.”
“Master of Gifts?” He made a sound of disbelief. It sounded like a character from a video game. “Is that a joke?”
“No. Calder and his order search for high-bloods around the world.”
Great. There was an entire order searching for high-bloods.
“Should I expect to be hauled to his office?”
“The truth?”
He actually considered her question.
He’d been going along just fine by pretending his abilities were nothing more than a quirk of nature. Like being double jointed or color blind.
Why rock the boat?
Then the realization that if Fane knew he had powers, the boat was not only rocked but in danger of capsizing. He heaved a sigh of resignation.
“Hit me with it.”
“They would already have checked you out and determined you aren’t a threat to yourself or others.”
Oh. He wasn’t dancing for freaking joy that he’d been secretly checked out, but really was it that much different from Internal Affairs?
Besides, if it meant he was going to be left in peace, he’d take it.
“So they’re not going to try and keep me here?” he asked, not about to take anything for granted.
You know, assumptions making asses out of gullible cops.
“Valhalla isn’t a prison.” She paused, clearly realizing she wasn’t being completely honest. “At least it’s not a prison unless you’ve committed some sort of crime.”
He wasn’t going to dig into the justice system set up by the high-bloods. Cops who poked their noses where they didn’t belong soon had them chopped off.
“And they won’t say anything? My chief—”
“Your secret is safe, cop,” she assured him, abruptly yawning as the stressful day caught up with her. “Now can we go to sleep?”
“We can,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the nape of her neck.
Closing his eyes, Duncan allowed himself to appreciate the simple joy of having Callie in his arms.
It didn’t matter that he was hard and aching with a desire to consume her. Or that her robe rubbed roughly against his bare skin.
The creepy Boggs had warned that Callie was the center of a coming darkness, and whether the doppelganger was the real deal or just a nut-bar, Duncan sensed that this moment of peace was going to be a rare commodity in the future.
He intended to savor every second of holding her close.
Unfortunately, as much as he was enjoying the feel and scent of his beautiful companion, he couldn’t shut off his mind as it shuffled and reshuffled through the implications of his secret no longer being so secret.
Assuming that Callie had fallen asleep, he was caught off guard when her hand lightly brushed over his fingers, still clutching the belt of her robe.
“Duncan?”
He squeezed his eyes shut as a jolt of heat speared through him at her light touch.
“Hmm?” he managed from between clenched teeth.
“What’s bothering you?”
His eyes popped open with surprise. How the hell had she known something was bothering him?
“Are you psychic?”
“Female intuition.”
“Yow.” He grimaced. “Now that I’m all too familiar with. My ma and sisters could sniff out a lie a mile away.”
“Then you know it’s a waste of time to deny that something’s wrong.”
“Not wrong,” he denied.
She squeezed his fingers. “Talk to me, cop.”
Wild horses couldn’t have dragged the question from him if it had come from anyone but this woman.
But Callie was different.
She ... understood. In every way.
“Are there other people like me?” He asked the question that had been gnawing at him.
“Soul-gazers?” She seemed startled by his interest. “Of course.”
“Here?”
“Yes.” A short pause. “Do you want to meet them?”
Did he? There was no denying a tiny temptation to actually speak with someone who shared his talents. Perhaps even to discover how to hone it so it would be a more effective tool.
But was he truly prepared to come out of the closet?
“I don’t know,” he said, his voice tight. “Not yet.”
“There’s no need to hurry,” she assured him, her tone distracted, as if she were troubled by a sudden thought. “In fact, it might be better that your gift doesn’t become common knowledge.”
“Why?”
She paused. “It’s just a theory.”
“Tell me.”
“If the necromancer we’re searching for can truly raise the dead then we need to be able to spot them.”
Yeesh. Walking dead? They belonged in B-rated movies. Not shuffling along the streets of Kansas City.
“I would think walking corpses would be a little obvious in a crowd.”
“Not if the magic gives them the appearance of life.”
“Damn.” Duncan scowled. Like the thought of rotting zombies wasn’t bad enough without the possibility that dead people could be waltzing around without anyone knowing. “I suppose I can’t just start shooting people to see if they’re alive or dead.”
“I would prefer you didn’t.” Slowly she turned her head to glance over her shoulder. “There’s an easier way you could help.”
He braced for her answer, already sensing he wasn’t going to like it. “How?”
“A dead person has no soul.”
He studied her pale face in confusion, wondering if she were teasing him.
Then he sucked in a sharp breath.
Of course. He could see the auras that flickered around people.
Which meant if there was no aura, he was seeing a corpse.
“You want me to be a zombie-hunter,” he muttered.
“Who better?”
“Shit.”
Chapter Eleven
Callie wasn’t entirely shocked that she managed to sleep through the night. She’d been on the verge of utter exhaustion, both mentally and physically.
And there was something to be said for having her own private heater to keep her toasty warm.
But she’d been so tense when he’d snuggled in behind her that it seemed difficult to imagine that she could actually relax enough to fall asleep.
Slowly coming awake, she managed to pry open her heavy eyes, surprised to discover the room still shrouded in shadows. Usually she had to set her alarm clock if she wanted to wake up before noon.
So why was she awake at such an ungodly hour?
It took several minutes to realize what had pulled her out of her dreams. Probably because the feel of warm, male lips stroking over the sensitive skin of her neck was precisely what she’d been dreaming about.
Clearly sensing she was awake, Duncan buried his face in the curve of her neck. “Mmm.”
She shivered, but it wasn’t with nerves. After an entire night of erotic dreams, she was no longer tense at the thought of spending a few hours in the arms of this man.
Actually, she felt all melty as he spooned close enough for her to feel the hard length of his arousal pressing against her lower back.
“You woke me,” she murmured, her voice husky.
“Did I?” His tongue traced up the back of her neck, pausing at the tiny dip just below her ear. “You smell like apples.”
She trembled at the rasp of his morning beard, instinctively pressing her head deeper into the pillow as she invited him to continue his sensual exploration.
“What time is it?”
“Early,” he breathed in her ear, giving her lobe a sharp nip.
She jerked in pleasure, her heart picking up speed. “Then why aren’t you sleeping?”
He trailed his lips along her jaw, his touch seeming to sear her skin.
“I’m a morning person.”
Of course he was. She wrinkled her nose.
“Ugh.”
“Hey.” His arms tightened around her, surrounding her in delicious heat. “‘Ugh’ isn’t a word a man likes to hear from the woman waking in his arms.”
Callie swallowed her moan as he pressed his cheek to hers, his breath brushing her lips with the promise of a kiss.
“Then you shouldn’t have woken me up in the middle of the night.”
He chuckled. “Haven’t you heard that the early bird gets the worm?”
“Fine, you go hunt your worms and I’ll ...” She forgot how to speak as his hand slid beneath her robe to cup one aching breast. “Duncan.”
With a skill that made her eyes slide shut in feminine bliss, he circled her nipple with the tip of his finger.
“You told me to go hunting,” he reminded her. “You’re the only prey I’m interested in.”
Her hand clutched his arm as he tormented the sensitive bud with light, teasing strokes.
“I don’t think I like being called prey.”
“Okay.” With a speed that caught her off guard, Duncan had her robe pulled open and was yanking it off her body. “You be the bird and I’ll be the worm.” He pressed his fully engorged cock against the bare skin of her ass. “I have better equipment for the role.”
She gave a husky chuckle as he pressed a line of kisses down her shoulder.
“You’re such a man.”
“I try.” He growled low in his throat, one hand continuing to pleasure her breast while the other slid down the flat plane of her stomach. “My god, you feel so good in my arms.”
She arched her back, shocked by her sizzling reaction to his every touch. It was as if she were perfectly tuned to his seduction.
Or maybe he was so practiced in pleasing a female he knew just how to elicit the response he wanted.
The thought was oddly troublesome.
“Do you do this often?”
His lips explored down her shoulder blade, his hand skimming along her hip and over her thigh to slip between her legs.
“Hold you in my arms?” he teased. “Not nearly often enough.”
She pulled in a shaky breath, barely capable of thinking as he gently tugged her leg up and over his hip, leaving her exposed to the caress of his searching fingers.
“Wake up in strange beds,” she managed in a strangled voice.
“I haven’t been with a woman since my divorce,” he confessed, his lips settling at a tender point on her nape as his fingers drew absent patterns on her inner thigh.
She groaned, a damp heat forming between her legs as his fingers strayed ever higher.
Oh ... baby.
It was almost more than she could stand. The tingles of electric pleasure darted from the tips of his fingers straight to the aching void in the pit of her stomach. The gentle tug on her hardened nipple. And the brush of warm lips up and down her nape.
No man had taken such care to ensure she was so fully aroused.
“Why me?” she demanded.
His fingers traveled another inch higher. “There’s the obvious reason.”
She grasped his forearm. Not to stop him. Hell, she might strangle him if he tried to halt.
But it was becoming increasingly difficult to remain still beneath his bold caresses and she had to do something to keep from squirming right off the bed.
“And what’s that?”
“I can’t be in the same room with you without imagining you stripped naked and spread across the nearest bed.”
“That’s ...” She squeaked as his fingers at last found the tender cleft, his touch so feather-light it only added to her rising frustration.
“Dangerous,” he whispered in her ear. “But not as dangerous as the less obvious reasons.”
Oh lord, it was hard to follow his words.
Her nails dug into his arm, her hips angling forward in a silent plea for satisfaction.
“Should I ask?”
His fingers gave a tug on her nipple, sending a blast of heat through her taut body.
“You fascinate me.”
Trembling beneath the onslaught of sensations, Callie lightly raked her nails up his hair-roughened arm, ridiculously pleased when he gave a low hiss of pleasure.
Hey, what was good for the gander was good for the goose.
Or something like that.
“Because I’m a freak?” she asked, her heart missing a beat as one finger slid into the slick heat of her body.
“Because you’re clever.” He stroked deeper. “And strong.” Another mind-destroying stroke. “And aggravatingly elusive.” Stroke, stroke. She bit her bottom lip, straining to contain her building explosion. “Your talents are just the icing on the cake.”
How did he always know exactly what to say?
“I’ve never thought of them as icing,” she teased.
“Callie, you’re sweet goodness from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.” With a swift motion he had her turned flat on her back. Before she could even catch her breath, he was poised above her, offering her a wicked grin. “Let me demonstrate.”
An exquisite shudder shook her body. Oh lord, she was more than eager for a demonstration.
In this moment, she no longer cared that there was a powerful necromancer out there potentially raising an army of the walking dead. Or that Boggs had more or less implied she was supposed to stop them.
Or even that Duncan would soon be returning to his world of norms while she was destined to remain at Valhalla.
There were times when a woman had to grab at happiness, no matter how fleeting it might prove to be.
As if sensing her capitulation, Duncan growled low in his throat, his hands skimming restlessly over her bare skin as he lowered his head to scatter tiny kisses over her face.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he muttered, his tongue outlining her lips. “Too long.”
Callie gave a welcoming groan as one roaming hand returned between her thighs to stroke through her growing dampness.
“No one’s stopping you,” she pointed out, breathless.
He crushed her lips in a searing kiss. “I want to worship you,” he husked as his finger slid into her tight flesh. “Slowly.”
Callie instinctively dug her heels into the mattress as she arched her hips upward.
“Slow is fine. But, this is ... is ...” Oh man, his finger was creating the most delicious sensations as he dipped it in and out of her. “Torture.”
His lips cruised over her cheek, then down the line of her jaw. “No, sweetheart, this is torture.” He pressed a kiss to the pulse racing at the base of her throat. “And this.” His mouth trailed down until he could latch onto the tip of her breast. “And this.” He used his tongue to lash the delicate nipple until she was panting with need.
The aggravating man. He wasn’t playing fair.
Lifting her hands, she shoved her fingers in his golden hair and wrapped her legs around his hips.
“You’re going to pay for this, cop.”
Pulling back, he regarded her with a faint smile, the flecks of gold shimmering in the hazel eyes.
“Do you promise?”
She deliberately rubbed herself against the granite-hard length of his erection.
“Oh, I promise.”
He started to lower his head, only to pause as his gaze caught sight of the tiny tattoo hidden behind her ear. His finger brushed the delicate black hieroglyph.
“What’s this?”
“A spell of protection against common diseases.”
“You can’t get sick?”
“Not by any human illness.”
His eyes narrowed as a blush stained her cheeks. “What else?”
“It keeps me from becoming pregnant until I’m ready to have children.” She shifted beneath him. “Of course I have to have sex before I need to worry about that possibility.”
His breath caught. “Callie.” Bracing himself on his elbow, he shifted until the tip of his cock pressed against her entrance. “Are you sure?”
She tugged his hair, meeting his oddly watchful gaze. “I’m a big girl. I know what I want.”
“I just don’t want any regrets.”
“Duncan, if you don’t get on with it, I’m going to—”
Not giving her time to complete her empty threat, Duncan tilted his hips forward, sliding into her with a slow, relentless thrust.
Hissing softly, Callie clutched at Duncan’s shoulders, her nails digging into his skin. Yes, yes, yes. It felt ... perfect.
Achingly perfect.
Already prepared for his entry, her body readily accommodated his erection. Still, there was a delicious sense of fullness, and a startling connection, that she hadn’t been expecting.
In this moment she was joined to Duncan. Joined in a way that seemed far more poignant than two bodies simply having sex.
It was ...
Her mind instantly veered from examining the powerful feelings that sizzled through her. Dammit. This wasn’t supposed to be more than a fleeting pleasure.
“Callie,” he whispered close to her ear. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, just don’t stop,” she moaned, burying her face in the curve of his neck.
“Stop? Not even if there was a gun pointed to my head,” he muttered, pulling from her body before pushing back in with an increasing urgency. “I’ve never felt anything so good.”
Callie agreed as he was once again withdrawing and thrusting forward with a rhythm that stole her breath. Mmmm. This was what she’d wanted from the minute she’d laid eyes on Duncan O’Conner.
Squeezing her eyes shut, Callie scored her nails down his back, pleased when he hissed in pleasure. She dug her nails deeper, rewarded as his lips found hers in a wild, demanding kiss.
His hips rocked faster, his hands scooping beneath her hips to angle them upward to meet his deep, steady thrusts.
“Duncan ... hurry,” she muttered against his lips, her body clenched so tightly she felt as if she might shatter.
“Just let it happen, sweetheart.” Angling his head downward, he tormented her tender nipple, his hips pumping faster and faster as she arched off the bed to meet him.
Callie’s breath rasped through the shadows, her concentration narrowing to the precise point where Duncan’s body surged in and out of her.
She was racing toward a critical goal.
And she was close.
So close.
And then ... it happened.
With one last surge he catapulted her over the finish line, sending her into a convulsion of exquisite bliss.
He muffled her scream of pleasure with a fierce kiss, continuing to pump into her shuddering body until he stiffened with his own release.
Dropping his head into the curve of her neck, Duncan struggled to catch his breath.
“My god.”