Born in Blood
Page 7

She took a step backward. “Only if you intend to hold me prisoner.”
“My charm is all I need to hold you prisoner,” he said with a smug smile. “I’m more concerned with Fane charging in here to rip off my balls.”
“If he decides to rip off your balls a locked door isn’t going to stop him,” she informed him, not appearing particularly worried at the fate of his dangly bits.
“Not comforting.”
She shrugged. “He’s only my guardian when I’m traveling away from Valhalla.”
“Have you told him that?”
“There’s no need.” A mysterious smile curved her lips. The sort of smile that should make a sane man run in the opposite direction. “I’m confident that someone else will soon convince him.”
Hmm. He strolled forward, pleased by the thought of Fane being distracted by someone other than Callie.
“Should I ask?”
“No.” A nervous color touched her cheeks as she abruptly turned to pace toward the window. “Are you satisfied with your rooms?”
With a snort he followed in her wake, careful not to crowd her. He might enjoy poking at her shell of composure, but he never wanted her to feel threatened.
Not by him.
“You wouldn’t ask that question if you’d ever seen my apartment,” he told her.
She glanced over her shoulder. “I don’t understand.”
“My ex-wife was smart enough to hire a barracuda for a lawyer. She ended up with the house, the larger chunk of my paycheck, and the dog.” His lips twisted. “Oh, and the delivery man, who she married yesterday.”
She tilted her head, the gemstone gaze studying him with open curiosity. “And you?”
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “A shitty apartment and a case of perfectly aged whiskey that I polished off last night.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he said gruffly.
He never discussed his ex-wife. And he sure the hell didn’t talk about the wracking guilt he felt at the painful demise of his marriage. But he needed Callie to understand that he wasn’t living in the past. That he might have regrets, but deep inside he was relieved that Susan had moved on. Which, of course, made him a true ass.
Why was it important that she know? A question to be considered ... never.
Yeah, never seemed perfect.
“Duncan?” she softly prompted.
“Susan was a decent woman who got tired of waiting for me to be a husband instead of a cop,” he confessed. “I couldn’t give her what she needed so she found someone who could.”
She nodded, her expression thankfully free of censure. “So you’re one of those men who live for their jobs?”
“Being a cop is who I am.” Truer words had never been spoken. “I can’t leave it at the office.”
“I don’t suppose you can.”
He risked moving closer, laying a hand on her shoulder so he could gently turn her to face him. “What about you?”
“Me?”
“You spend a lot of time in very bad places. It can’t be easy.”
He felt her stiffen at his question, as if no one had ever considered the cost of her gift. Strange considering she spent the last hideous moments in the mind of a victim watching a murder unfold in Technicolor.
“No,” she whispered, a shadow dimming the brilliance of her eyes. “It isn’t easy.”
His gaze swept over the pale perfection of her face. “Do you have nightmares?”
She frowned. “How did you know?”
“Because a man who’s had as many sleepless nights as I have recognizes the symptoms.”
“What symptoms?”
His hand trailed down the line of her arm until he could circle her tiny wrist with his fingers.
“For all your pretense of serenity you’re all hard angles and fragile edges.” He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the center of her palm. “One day I’m afraid you’re going to shatter.”
Chapter Four
Nightmares ...
Callie forgot to breathe as she allowed his words to seep through her fierce barriers.
He understood.
He truly, truly understood.
How odd.
She was surrounded by high-bloods, including three fellow diviners, and they all knew precisely what she did. But not one had ever asked her if she had nightmares.
Oh, it wasn’t that they didn’t care. The people of Valhalla were her family and they loved her. Not to mention the fact they would fight to the death for her.
But high-bloods were excessively protective of each other’s privacy. A much needed rule considering that many of them were psychics, telepaths, and a rare few empaths. They would never press her to share more than she was willing.
But this man ... this supposed norm ... had peered deep in her eyes and seen far too much.
Not only seen, but understood.
She ignored the warnings in the back of her mind. She already knew that his ability to pierce through her walls of protection was dangerous. Almost as dangerous as the jolts of excitement from the press of his lips to her palm.
Instead, she squarely met his knowing gaze. “How do you deal with the nightmares?”
“Whiskey.” His lips drifted to her inner wrist. “Work.” His tongue pressed against her thundering pulse. “Sex.”
She shivered, trying to pretend his touch wasn’t setting her on fire.
“Predictable.”
“Well, I’m a norm,” he murmured, a teasing hint of gold in his hazel eyes. “What did you expect?”
“Are you?”
If she hadn’t been watching him so closely she would never have noticed his sudden tension.
“Am I what?”
“A norm?”
He nipped the pad of her thumb, his gaze watchful. “What are you asking?”
“You ... see more than most humans.”
“I’m a cop,” he smoothly retorted. Too smoothly. “It’s my job to see what other people don’t.”
“Hmm.” She didn’t try to hide her disbelief. “I suspect there’s more.”
Without warning his arms were wrapped around her waist and she was tugged against his hard frame. He lowered his head until they were nose to nose.
“Become my lover and I’ll tell you.”
Logically, she knew he was trying to distract her. Physically, she didn’t give a shit.
White-hot excitement curled through the pit of her stomach, searing away her usual discomfort with allowing anyone to touch her beyond her most intimate friends.
It was ... terrifying, exhilarating. Glorious.
“Blackmail?”
“Incentive.”
She lifted a teasing brow. “Not so certain of those O’Conner charms you claimed would imprison me, are you?”
“It hasn’t just been my nightmares that are keeping me up at night, sweet Callie.” He placed her hand flat against the rapid beat of his heart, his breath brushing her cheek. “You share part of the blame.”
She quivered even as she tried to pretend that his touch wasn’t magic.
“Does that line actually work?”
He traced a line of kisses to the corner of her mouth. “For once it isn’t a line.”
She sucked in a shallow breath. “Yeah, right.”
He splayed his hands at her lower back, pressing her against his hardening cock.
“I don’t know why, but I can’t get you out of my head.”
“Because you want sex?”
His sharp laugh ricocheted off the walls. “That would be the preferable explanation.”
She tilted back her head to meet his brooding survey. “As opposed to what?”
“Yet another question I don’t intend to consider,” he muttered, his hand lifting to lightly cup her cheek. “Were your eyes this color when you were born?”
Wow. She struggled to follow his conversational leapfrog. Duncan O’Conner clearly had a narrow list of subjects he was willing to discuss.
“Yes.” She shrugged. “I assume they were the reason my parents abandoned me.”
“You were abandoned?”
She shrugged. “It’s not that uncommon. People expect to have a child who’s exactly like them. They don’t know how to handle a mutant.”
His expression tightened, as if he were angered by her answer.
“People can be shitty.”
“True.”
“I suppose I shouldn’t feel sorry for your parents, but I do.”
She frowned, wondering if she’d heard him right. Few among the high-bloods felt sympathy for the families who abandoned their own children. No matter how hard it might be to accept a freak.
“Feel sorry for them?”
His thumb stroked her cheek, as if fascinated by the texture of her skin.
“They have a beautiful, intelligent, outrageously sexy daughter who uses her gifts to make the world a better place.” He lowered his head to speak directly into her ear. “But they’ll never know you and that’s their very great loss.”
Desire, along with a far more dangerous sensation, spread through her until she feared she might melt into a puddle of need at his feet. Instinctively she lifted her arms to wrap them around his neck.
“Maybe you do have a small smidgeon of charm,” she grudgingly admitted.
The hazel eyes smoldered with pure sin. “There’s nothing small about me, Callie.” He tilted his hips forward, as if she’d somehow missed the rigid length of his arousal pressing against her lower stomach. “Let me prove it.”
She breathed in his warm, sexy scent. She’d never noticed the smell of a man before.
Of course, there were a lot of things about Duncan she noticed. The way his ass perfectly filled out his jeans. The stubborn line of his jaw that was usually shadowed by a hint of golden beard. The utter focus on his goal. Whether it was finding the bad guy, or making her tremble in anticipation.