Page 11 of The Huntress (The Blood of Legends #1)

Chapter Eleven

A LIFE ALTERED

C allie jerked awake with Gabriel’s name on her lips.

How long had she been asleep?

Asleep? She snorted. She had fainted, good and proper. Throwing a hand to her head, she searched for the lump but didn’t find it. There wasn’t any pain, either. If it wasn’t for her blood-matted hair, she would have doubted the memory.

Swinging her legs over the side of the chaise, she blinked at her surroundings. What was she doing when she passed out?

Oh, yes.

She lifted her wrist to study it, seeing no marks or scars. Ignoring the blood smears, hers and his, pleasure zinged through her at the memory of his lips on her skin. She rubbed where he’d bitten her, trying to erase the erotic sensation that lingered.

Damn suckbloods, using their unnatural gifts so willy-nilly. There should be a law for that. She snorted—who would enforce it? Law enforcement was understaffed as it was, which was why she investigated Carter in her private time.

“Gabriel?” she called, standing up and stretching. It had been a while since she had slept so well. With a gasp, she remembered her sister. Idiot. How could she forget?

“Gabe, damn it!” Panic dominated her voice.

Her heart leaped and bounced, affecting her breathing. On trembling legs, she rushed to where the door used to be, but there was no seam, no handle. There had to be a mechanism somewhere, anywhere. Her heartbeat hammered in her ears. She rubbed her hand along the doorframe, searching for a dent, a button…hell, she’d be happy with a crack.

“What is it?” Gabriel asked, leaning against another doorway.

She paused. Clothed, he was gorgeous, but with a towel wrapped low around his hips, his chest bare, his black hair damp...he was devastating .

Focus, Callie.

“Wh-what is the time? Is the race finished? Do you know who crossed the finish line? Have the conversions taken place yet?”

He strode across to her, grasping her shaking hands in his damp ones. “Tell me everything.”

She fought his hold, the fire of his touch. “I don’t have time to explain it. Crap, I shouldn’t have stayed. Val needs me.”

He held firm, peace pouring off him as if time was at his beck and call. “Spare me a few minutes.”

His gaze snared hers, and she nodded, pinching her lips.

After guiding her back to the chaise, he sat next to her. She tried to concentrate, to gather her thoughts in some sort of order, but he smelled so damn good, and heat emanated from him. She trailed his ripped torso with her fingertips where his wound had been. The skin was smooth—there wasn’t even a scar.

His stomach trembled, and he grabbed her hand in his, stilling her stroking fingers. “Start with your name.” His voice was hoarse.

The sound of it had her ovaries sparking velvet butterflies in her core.

She hesitated, fighting to calm her breathing—her heartbeat—and to squelch the lump forming in her throat. “My name is Callista Devereaux. My sister is Valerie. She has cancer, and the chemo isn’t working. In absolute stupidity, she signed up to participate in this.” She fluttered her hand, indicating the race above ground. “I rushed here to stop her, but she wouldn’t talk to me.”

A tear slipped out the corner of her right eye and traveled down her cheek as she remembered Val’s expression, one of determination.

“I won’t survive losing her.” She wiped at her tears with her free hand, realizing she was smearing old blood across her face but didn’t care.

Argh. She hated to cry, but she had to admit it had been a long time coming. “I’m selfish to want her to live one more day for me.”

He stood, taking her with him toward a bookshelf in the corner. With a forefinger, he tugged on a red book, and the bookshelves separated, exposing an expensive screen. A keyboard slid out with a mouse, and the screen switched on. He clicked on an icon, and the screen lit up like a sports results panel. Names of the dead ticker taped along the bottom. A presenter gestured with animated flamboyance, but Gabe muted the sound. On the righthand side, a mini screen showed the highlights, and on the top right was a scrolling panel with the names of those who’d survived conversion.

“You treat festivals like a sports event?” She scanned the names of the dead, dreading finding Val’s name.

“There.” He pointed to the top corner. “Your sister survived the conversion.”

Air whooshed out of Callie in relief as she read Val’s name for herself.

“She survived?” she asked in disbelief, glancing between Gabriel and the panel.

She squealed and hugged him, laughing and crying at the same time as sweet and intense joy burst through her—it was uncontainable. His arms wrapped around her, firm yet comforting, and she allowed herself the enjoyment of his embrace.

“I’m so happy.” Her laughter dwindled into a grin.

“Her conversion would’ve been difficult. It can kill a healthy human. Her blood would’ve been unpleasant for her sire.” He grimaced, the action not marring his attractiveness. “I’m pleased you’re happy.”

“Don’t humans taste like each other?” Callie asked in surprise, having not given the taste of O positive versus AB negative much thought. It made sense that Val wouldn’t taste good with all those chemicals in her system. “She doesn’t taste like me?”

“No one tastes like you,” he growled, his arms tightening around her, trapping her to his bare chest. Heat and his spicy scent radiated off him.

She blushed and glanced down, a surge of shyness constricting her throat, then wished she hadn’t. His nipples were hard, and his skin looked like molten caramel. She had the unbearable desire to kiss and lick him. The urge was ludicrous for her. Besides, what would the poor man think? Unless he was using his pheromones on her?

Relief slumped her shoulders, and she smiled at her silliness. Of course he was. This wasn’t normal behavior for her, and he was a suckblood. Then why did she succumb to his scent, but not Darius’s or Leo’s?

She frowned. Time to focus on the matter at hand and not her sudden overactive libido.

“Can I see her?” She drew in a shuddering breath, fighting to keep her attention on his chin. She didn’t want to meet his gorgeous eyes or linger on any part of his anatomy lower than his collarbone.

“No. We keep new converts or younglings away from the Hold until they quench their voracious thirst.”

“I’m supposed to take your word for it?” She scowled, glancing around the underground home, anywhere but at his sculpted chest.

Sighing, he flicked a button. An image appeared on the screen, one with metal bars and screaming women. He switched between security cameras until pausing at a single cell holding Valerie. She sat on a bed looking none the worse, swinging her feet like she used to when they were little.

“She’s in her own cell, which is good.”

A private cell was still imprisonment. Callie’s nostrils flared, and she bit down on her bottom lip, halting the barrage of curse words burning her tongue. “A prisoner? How long until she quenches her thirst?”

She didn’t like seeing Val in jail, as if she were a criminal. What galled her the most was his blasé attitude, like imprisoning people, even his own kind, was an acceptable thing to do.

They’d placed Val in isolation as if being alone was good? The other younglings were rabid, clawing at the walls and bars. It was a stark contrast to Val’s serene expression.

“When can I see her?” Callie glanced at him, then lowered her gaze. Could he please put on a damn shirt? “When will you release her?” She placed emphasis on “you,” blaming Gabe and his kind for this nonsense.

“In a few days. Conversion affects humans in different ways.”

“Holy crap. I can’t just go home, then come back for a visit?” She ran a hand over her face, fighting the need to scream. At least Val was alive…sort of.

“Go home?” He arched a brow as a smirk curled his upper lip.

Her breath caught, and she shot glances at the doors. One of them had to lead out of here.

“Gabe?” She stiffened, preparing to struggle at the possibility she was as trapped as Val. “Am I a prisoner too?”

He frowned before he pinned her against him to nuzzle her hair. The gesture was so unexpected she could do nothing but grab onto his forearms for stability. “You are mine, Callista.”

Shit, that didn’t sound good. Like she was his pet. An animal. She’d heard of a few suckbloods who owned humans. The fucking balls on this sexy…um, annoying man. Part of her exploded in tingles at his dominant nature. The detective part wanted to shoot him where he stood.

She’d have lost her virginity years ago if any man had shown such audacity. That it was him left her torn. A suckblood as hot as this one, with the capability to seduce her with his scent alone? How could she stand against that? Did she want to? Damn it, yes. She hadn’t survived this long to succumb with such ease.

She lowered her gaze, tracing a water droplet’s path down to where their bodies met.

“By mine , do you mean your feeder ?” she asked. Images rose of those women with the bite marks, and she gulped.

Heat burned her cheeks, sudden and intense. Not from fear, but embarrassment. She didn’t mind in the least if Gabe fed from her. Oh, how the judgmental have fallen, but she could do it with her freedom intact, thank you very much.

“No,” he said, his tone hard, almost brutal. “You fed me your blood to heal me, and that was an admirable thing you did.”

She bit her lip as she searched his face. “Not a prisoner and not a feeder. Then what? Can I leave? Will you hurt me if I try?”

His gray eyes darkened, and the shadow crawling across his face reminded her that he was a predator.

There was no fear, and her instincts stayed silent. Odd. He was a suckblood. Yet…

“I’d like you to stay, as my guest.” He brushed escaped curls off her temple, his touch gentle. “You’re a mystery, Callista. One I need to solve.”

Mysteries she understood. How they delved into one’s psyche, demanding resolution and often becoming obsessions. Saving lives and sharing blood had bypassed formality, but she had to admit the way his name or nickname rolled off her tongue felt sinful. Great. So much for her impartiality, and all it had taken was a pair of gray eyes.

She avoided suckbloods and beasts because of their innate sensuality. This was dangerous territory. Sleeping with either meant she’d pick a side, and the law had to remain neutral. She smothered a snort. One sensual look from him and she became a blushing sixteen-year-old girl, all aflutter.

She was still a detective, and someone who’d resented, feared—if not hated—suckbloods for over a decade. Trust didn’t come easy to her, and she wouldn’t change just because her dormant ovaries had broken into applause.

“You can call me Callie,” she said. “I’d like to see Val now…please.” She met his gaze with hers. Stubborn, demanding, expectant. The same one she used on her fellow officers. “I don’t know you, so I have no reason to trust you.”

He nodded, and his hold tightened, raising her suspicions as if he had something to hide. At this point, she needed him to find Val whatever his agenda was.

“I like when you call me Gabe.” His deep voice rumbled as he pressed his mouth to her temple, his breath hot.

She gasped when he buried his face in her neck, pressing his lips to her pulse. She clenched her thighs together, fighting a throbbing, growing need. He stiffened, his breathing deepened, and a hoarse sound tore from him. Her body’s reaction ought to embarrass her. If that had been his intent, to embarrass her, then it only proved she was susceptible to him, which was a new experience for her.

“Are you using your pheromones on me?” she asked.

He leaned back to meet her gaze. His eyes widened before he laughed. The sound of his humor was rich, enticing…unexpected.

Oh, scales of justice, please say yes. She’d like something to blame for the weakness in her knees and the loss of her mental processes.

“No. Do you want me to?”

She stared, chewing on her bottom lip. If he wasn’t enticing her, then all of him was for real? Her reactions were her own and not some chemical-induced lust tainted with shame? She’d liked to succumb to pheromones at least once, though, out of curiosity.

“Yes, please. I need to know the difference.”

She fought a snort. What she wanted was to prove him a liar. All suckbloods were. If she succumbed to him, then none of what she felt was her fault or within her control. She needed to know—something in her soul demanded she make certain.

“Very well.”

He drew in a deep breath, his chest expanding enough to close the distance between them. Her fingers itched to touch him, to learn his every ridge of muscle, to follow the trail of hair that dipped below his towel.

She licked her lips. She’d never encountered a man this sexy.

His cologne called to her, and yet, even as he spread his pheromones, she only wanted to nibble on every inch of his skin. But there was no crazed lust, no desperate need to eat him up . Well, not more than there already had been. What the hell?

“So?” he asked as he tugged her closer to him.

She let him. The heat of him was enticement enough.

“You smell as good as before. I want to lick you, just not in a way that jeopardizes my sanity. I expected your pheromones to make me go fuck-you-crazy.” She didn’t avert her gaze despite her burning cheeks.

He had to know she found him attractive. What was the point of hiding it? Suckbloods were masters of seduction, and she was an unskilled student eager for a sharp learning curve. Not that he had to be the teacher. If this incident had taught her anything, it was time to find a lover. It wasn’t as if he’d complain though, not with this you’re-mine nonsense. Still she’d play it cautious with hopes of an escape, because making a fool of herself was out of the question.

“Fuck me crazy?” His gray eyes darkened, his voice roughened with the rapid rise and fall of his chest. He grumbled, his arms crushing her against him.

So he liked that? Shit, the way he looked at her had her second guessing her plans for freedom.

If he continued to hold her, she knew where that would lead. She did want him, anyway he would have her, and that’s what scared her. Succumbing to these needs would start her down a path she couldn’t envision the consequences of.

Well, maybe she could envision some of the consequences. Losing her job for one.

Her stomach twisted then gurgled. Right, food then Val. Why hadn’t she snatched a protein bar on her mad dash to get here? “Gabe? Perhaps you should put clothes on…and feed me for a change?”

Anything for a distraction. Besides, with Val converted, Callie had time to lull him into a false sense of security. She could slip out after seeing her sister and escape his mesmerizing presence. Freakin’ addictive, seductive suckblood.

He chuckled into her neck, sending pleasure shooting through her again. Her nipples peaked against her lacy bra. She suspected he didn’t laugh often. Just like that, the virginal whore in her wanted to stay. Something felt different with him. It defied logic.

“Typical woman. Only thinking of her needs,” he teased as he drew away from her, and damn it, there were the dimples she’d dreaded.

Her mouth fell open in awe, mesmerized by the beauty of him. He looked better than cunning Sylvester the bastard, even better than Leo the stalker, and that was saying a lot. The image of Gabe in a tux made her breath catch.

“What…what needs do you have?” She couldn’t prevent herself from asking, something primitive compelling her. Her heart paused, time stretched, and an unquenchable thirst assailed her. She licked her parched lips.

“Callie.” His gray eyes swirled into molten silver. “Please don’t look at me like that.”

Tingles at her nape sent fiery shivers down her spine. She didn’t appreciate his chastisement, as if she was at fault for looking at him in a particular way.

She straightened her shoulders but glanced away, trying to tamp down her guilt and self-disgust. She hated suckbloods, something she needed to remember.

Smelling delicious to him didn’t mean he liked her, after all. It might be better if he wanted nothing more to do with her.

“I’m sorry.” She yanked away from him. Not touching him might help her gain perspective. Might break the hold his sensuality had over her.

“Don’t be.” He slid his hand up her neck to grasp her chin, guiding her gaze to meet his. He feathered his lips across hers, so soft she thought she had imagined the caress.

He nudged her to yet another door. “The kitchen is through there.”

He disappeared through the open doorway that must have led to his bathroom.

If she knew where the damn doors were, she could bolt now. Wait, not without seeing Val first. Videos were easy to manipulate. She needed to see her sister with her eyes, touch her face, speak to her. Callie sighed before entering the impressive kitchen constructed of light wood and stainless steel. There were the usual appliances, all looking brand-new, and the sink was small, suitable for one person’s needs. A large industrial fridge dominated the room, with a glass front revealing the fridge’s contents. There were bags of blood placed in meticulous rows and a lone carton of milk.

She frowned.

So he’d lied about needing blood? Strike one. Arrogant effing suckbloods. She’d freely offered, so she wasn’t angry with him for feeding from her, but Dad hadn’t raised a fool. If he lied to her again, then she was out—O.U.T.

Shivering from the remembered euphoria skittering across her sensitive nerves, she rubbed her wrist again where the feel of his lips lingered. Her reaction belied her conviction. Damn.

With a deep sigh, she washed her hands at the sink, splashing water onto her face in the process. She opened the fridge to take the milk before searching the cupboards, hoping to find real food. Breakfast cereal? After placing it on the table, she went in search of the bowl and spoon she’d seen in passing.

Minutes later, she sat at the kitchen table, munching on cereal for dinner, but she didn’t mind. The aching coil in the pit of her stomach had to mean she was starving. That explanation was better than the alternative. Besides, finding cereal in a vampire’s home was a Godsend.

She pondered her volatile reaction to him.

The need to spread her thighs was new for her. She didn’t know how long she had—whether she’d survive today—and meeting a man hot enough to melt her socks had certain thoughts claiming her focus. Before she died, she wanted to do it at least once, and it would be glorious if it was with him. She could even squeeze in a few more times before her death, if he was willing. He’d had years to master his technique .

Her breath caught, and she choked on a mouthful of cereal.

Her face burned as she planned how to proposition the man. For the first time in years, she wished she’d taken one of the many offers thrown her way. If she managed to resist the temptation now, she’d find one of those offers. Better a human man than a suckblood. No matter how devastating Gabe was to her senses.

Under Dad’s watch, both her and Val had struggled to find men not scared of him. After his death, Mike had assumed the role of cock-blocker. She sighed, chastising herself for feeling embarrassed at her inexperience. She couldn’t do someone at her precinct, so it had to be a fireman or a bodyguard. She shrugged. If he wasn’t interested, she’d walk away. No harm, no foul.

Gabriel strolled into the kitchen, dressed in low-riding jeans and a tight black T-shirt. In an instant, her mouth dried, and the cereal turned into sawdust. He prepared a pot of coffee as she swallowed the now tasteless cereal because she needed the nourishment.

“You found the cereal.” He flashed her a small smile, enough to curl a lip.

“It’s strange food for a vampire to have,” she said between mouthfuls. “You like coffee?”

“Cereal doesn’t nourish me, but I enjoy the texture regardless. Vampires can only taste bitter flavors. During the conversion, we lose the ability to taste salty or sweet human foods. Only when feeding might we encounter other flavors, and those are on the savory side.”

He took out two mugs and placed them on the table in front of her. He added several packets of sugar and two teaspoons. The coffee aroma permeated the room. She breathed in its tantalizing scent. He placed a filled mug in front of her, to which she added milk and sugar. Taking a sip, she moaned in pleasure when the caramel sweetness coated her tongue.

“I hope they have coffee in heaven,” she said, aware he sat there with his unwavering stare on her. It made her feel awkward. She gripped the cup to hide her trembling fingers. She wondered what he thought when he looked at her like that.

“I hope they have you in heaven.” His chest rose as he fought for breath.

She whipped up her head then glanced away, unable to deal with that much intensity. Heat hurried from her cheeks down her neck, and shyness struck again. She jumped up to take her empty bowl and cup to the sink to hide her awkwardness. While there, she started on the dishes, desperate to hide her reaction but aware of his stare boring into her back.

“You should take a shower while I find you something less provocative to wear.”

How kind of him to offer. She couldn’t visit Val in her bra. Sure, she felt vulnerable, exposed, but more so without her weapons.

She smiled her thanks, hearing the amusement in his voice as she placed the cup on the drying rack. At the sight of his full smile, the cup slipped from her hand. With a curse, she lunged to catch it and sliced her hand on the knife in the drying rack. The sharp burn of the wound had her crying out.

“Callie, it’s okay,” he said, her bleeding hand now cradled in his. He’d used his preternatural speed to reach her—a blur she’d seen from the corner of her eye. “It’s just a mug.”

He leaned forward and licked her cut, dragging his rasping tongue across her palm. Her senses were alight, her nerves on high alert, so much so that his touch curled her toes.

He moaned, and his eyelids fluttered shut—his facial expression was one of pure bliss. He was beautiful to look upon, like an angel raising his face to God’s loving gaze.

“Your blood tastes like caramel,” he rasped in amazement. “From the coffee?” He opened his eyes to meet hers. “What are you, Callie?” He returned his lips to her hand, tasting, licking until he’d healed her wounded palm.

“Gabe.” She drew in a shuddering breath, surprised she’d let him lick her. “Ready to take me to Val?”

He dropped her hand and gestured to her chest. “Perhaps a quick shower?”

She huffed, tugging her hand back to rest on her hips. Sure, her palm tingled as if she held fizzing pop rocks, but he didn’t need to know how he affected her.

“You’re stalling.” She narrowed her gaze as scenarios played out in her mind. Could she take him? That was a hard no. Could she outrun him? To where, the lounge? So, also a no.

She folded her arms across her chest, hoping to hide her nipples tenting her silk bra.

“I’m not.” He scowled. “I don’t want others to see you like this and if you use the soap in the green bottle, it will mask some of your scent. Let’s not create a feeding frenzy when you visit Val.”

All valid points, damn it. She nodded then stilled when he grimaced.

“What?” she asked as he stepped away from her.

“We have visitors.” He brushed a curl off her temple. “I’ll get rid of them. You go shower.” He pushed her toward the kitchen door.

She hesitated, needing to see where the door was. But he waited, watching, and she stumbled to the bathroom before closing its door behind her.

Visitors? She assumed that meant more suckbloods. Trying to eavesdrop, she pressed her ear to the door.

Despite his allure, she would leave after Val. Argh. Callie was so out of her depth it was laughable. His sensuality was off the charts. She should escape and find a safe human man for her first time. Now that she’d had a sample of lust, she wouldn’t shy away from men.

If she stayed and succumbed, Gabe would rock her world. Could a normal man ever compare? But could she walk away without experiencing his expertise?

Giving up on hearing anything, she opened the bathroom door. The living room was empty with no sounds to guide her, so she closed the door. A shower, a visit to Val, then she’d leave.