Page 12 of The Huntress (The Blood of Legends #1)
Chapter Twelve
A MYTH
G abe paused at the front door, trying to control his breathing and his heart rate. He willed his erection to subside, but it was a foolish hope. Not that he wanted it to go, when everything within him longed to bury it in her softness and have her scent drench him.
His mind’s eye lingered on where he’d rather be, what he’d rather be doing, with the vision of Callie in the throes of passion with her blood dribbling over a taut nipple. He shuddered, his erection throbbing with his heartbeat. The need for her was painful, and he relished the burn, the novelty of it.
Drawing in a deep breath, he acknowledged the reason behind Syl’s minions intruding. Darius. Not that it made dealing with them easier. He could smell them—their fear. They had a right to fear him. Now more than ever. They had interrupted what would have been a treasured experience.
His mind drifted to Callie again, unable to cease returning to the temptation of her. Her hooded green eyes, her parted lips, the rise and fall of her lace-encased breasts… Leo had been right to find her fascinating, to form a fondness for her. She was beautiful—her auburn hair against her creamy skin was its own enticement.
Her taste. How was it possible? Gabe shook his head. He suspected her blood changed with what she consumed. She was a myth. In all his centuries, he’d never met one such as her.
Goosebumps rippled along his sensitized skin. Yet another sensation he hadn’t felt in centuries. Eagerness, need, pleasure, pain, fury, frustration—too many emotions to experience in one day.
He sensed the impatience of his visitors, but he didn’t care. If it wasn’t for their intrusion, he’d have her pinned to the wall, tasting her and her delicious blood as she orgasmed. With a grunt, he wrenched the door open. This entrance was one of three—two known, one secret.
“What?” he demanded of the two vampires—a tall woman and a stocky blond man. Gabe didn’t know either and didn’t care to.
“Lord Sylvester requests you bring your captive,” said the tall brunette woman, her skin glistening, and her lips pouting.
He didn’t pay attention to her lure. Their kind used their physical wiles to attract dinner, for the most part. Turbulent, selfish, vain, vampire women were far more trouble than they were worth.
He rested his forehead on the hand that held the door open. “Did Darius complain?” When had his life become so complicated? Fragrant Callie arrived to torment him, yet her stubbornness was a barrier he looked forward to breaching. Now he had visits from his brother’s sycophants.
The blond man nodded.
“I’ll be there.” Gabe slammed the door in their faces and strode to the bathroom.
The shower was running. A vision flashed before him, burning into his retinae. Callie rubbing her body with the soap dancing down and over her curves in rivulets. Her breasts upright, her hips curved, her thighs strong and firm.
He groaned and again rested his head on the doorframe as dizziness assailed him. To not follow orders tempted him. The urge to defy Syl, his authority, hissed across his mind. Delicious and sinful as the thought was, it would bring many vamps down on Gabe, perhaps harming Callie in the ensuing battle. No, he had to obey. The sooner the better. A tiny lie or an innocent secret became monstrous over time. Revealing who she was, how special her blood was, should be done now.
He cursed, thumping his forehead on the doorframe. Once they knew how precious she was, they’d hunt her, challenge him for the right to her. Worse, enslave her. He sucked in a sharp breath. Not on his bedraggled soul would he allow harm to befall his untamed Callie.
He opened the door and walked into the spacious bathroom. Steam filled the room, adding to the romance of it.
She cried out, slamming her body against the tiled wall as if to hide her nudity. “Gabe?”
“Yes.” Moving the high-back chair closer to the shower, he sat, spreading his knees to accommodate his arousal.
“What the hell? There are boundaries. A shower means privacy.” She waited, as if he would leave. When he didn’t, her shoulders slumped, and she continued to soap her body.
Despite the misty glass obscuring her, his gaze trailed her hands as they traveled over her body. The reality was better than his vision. A flick of his wrist cleared the glass to reveal her nudity in pure clarity. His mouth watered in anticipation.
“Who was it? What did they want?” She stepped under the water to rinse off.
“They want you.” He opted for honesty.
The squeak from her showed she hadn’t expected that. She switched the water off. The shower door slid open, and she popped her head out, a breast pressed against the now transparent glass.
He groaned and studied her. Did she know what she did to him? How sexy he found her? How her every move aroused him? Was she sent to torment him, to deceive him? He didn’t have any enemies he could think of, though vampires did have extensive memories, carrying grudges far longer than they should.
Her brow furrowed. “Because of Darius, or because I didn’t die or convert?”
“A little of both.”
She was smart. He admired that.
Fear darkened the green of her eyes. Her expressive face twisted his insides something fierce. “Will they harm me?” she asked. “I’m out of my depth here. No weapons, no badge.”
“Badge?” He remembered she was a detective, but having her admit it meant she wasn’t here to deceive him.
“Detective Callista Devereaux, at your service,” she said as she twisted the water from her hair.
The fact she was law enforcement explained so much about her. Her courage under fire, her ability to resist their pheromones, her muscled yet supple body, and the inner core of strength running through her.
“They won’t harm you,” he said. “I’ll be there with you.”
Her smile of gratitude pierced him with the startling revelation that she didn’t—and perhaps never had—feared him. He, the most formidable vampire in the region, feared by vampires and shifters alike, didn’t scare this human woman.
“Good.” She flashed him another smile, and hooked the towel, pulling it into the shower to dry off. She didn’t close the door, and that left an unhindered slivered view of her.
Air rushed from his lungs. Naked, glistening with water droplets trickling off her, disappeared behind the thick terry cloth.
“You did mention dressing me in something less provocative.” She paused. “Do I want to know whose clothes I’ll be wearing?”
“Yours.” His voice was gravel incarnate, scratching his throat as he spoke.
“Mine?” She slid the door open and stepped out with the towel wrapped around her body.
“This is less provocative.” He bolted from his chair and pinned her to the bathroom wall. “What are you doing to me?” he asked, burying his face in her neck, licking the water droplets, tasting her skin, scraping his fangs across the pulse there.
She shivered, and he smiled, pleased at her reaction. He crushed his lips across hers, conquering her mouth—a desperate attempt to bury himself in her and consume her very essence.
“We don’t have time for this now.” He cupped a towel-covered breast, massaging it, teasing the nipple with the pad of his thumb. Her breathless moans threatened his self-control. “Your first time with me should be slow and thorough.”
“My very first time with anyone should be quick and painless.” She gripped his shoulders, and he didn’t know if she meant to pull him closer or push him away.
She was a virgin? His erection throbbed in eagerness.
The word pain ricocheted through his mind. He never wanted to cause her pain.
“You deserve slow and thorough.” He trailed his hand over a breast to her belly button. “A shirt with your jeans should be okay for now?” His gaze returned to hers, and he growled.
Her hooded eyes were intense with a longing that mirrored the need pounding at his control.
“Callie.” He wanted to kiss her, to ravage her mouth again with a desperation he’d never experienced before. He peeled himself away from her, his hands shaking with restraint. “We need to go.” He cursed his brother under his breath.
“Very well.” She released a slow sigh. “A shirt like this?” She fingered the sleeve of the black T-shirt he wore, meeting his gaze with boldness. She waited, as if he would leave and return with the items.
At her expectation, he snapped out of his daze and opened a wooden panel. He tossed her a towel for her hair before choosing another black T-shirt, offering it to her.
“So that’s where you hide these? I thought those panels were decoration.” As she rubbed her hair, she flicked her gaze to the door, a silent command for him to leave. But he pinched his lips, folding his arms across his chest as if to say he wasn’t budging.
She huffed. “This is unusual, rude, and all kinds of messed up.” She pulled on her jeans under her towel. “You’d think you haven’t seen your share of naked women.”
“Somehow, with you, it’s different.” He scowled, not wanting to admit she impacted his emotions, his control. She was right though. They didn’t know each other well enough for him to assume certain liberties.
Sighing, he gave her his back, wishing he could watch her yank on the shirt, with her breasts bouncing. The shirt might have caught on her nipples on the way down. Just the idea of it froze the air in his lungs. Only after the slap of a wet towel hitting the rack did he turn around. When she bent to slip on her sneakers, her wet hair had darkened the shirt’s fabric.
“Ready.” She rubbed her hair with a hand towel. It was darker when wet and made her skin glow. She pursed her lips when he didn’t move, instead stood there, watching.
“Fuck.” He needed to get her back here ASAP and start his seduction because she wasn’t leaving him until he had her beneath him. He grabbed her hand and led her out of the bathroom. The hand towel dropped in his haste.
“My hair. It’ll be a wreck.”
He narrowed his gaze on her temple for a second before dragging her toward the front door. He didn’t need towels. Vampires had power over some of the elements, including air.
He glanced at her vibrant auburn hair, tempting him to linger. But he couldn’t afford to. Syl first, then Val, then maybe, by then, Callie might trust him a little.
Fuck.