Page 2 of The Huntress (The Blood of Legends #1)

Chapter Two

FORMING AN ATTACHMENT

L eo strode away from the balcony, his feet tingling like lead. An odd sensation for a vampire. Never had he regretted leaving a morsel as tempting as her. But Syl had summoned him, so he obeyed. Not that he feared his king, but he’d given a vow of loyalty, one that went deeper than blood.

“How was she?” Syl asked when Leo re-joined the party.

Beneath Syl’s jovial demeanor lay a heart of gold. Most only saw what he portrayed—a charmer and a decadent vampire. His ability to assess a person’s character was a gift Leo admired.

The overly perfumed women crowding his king irritated Leo tonight, his usual serenity absent. Shock and disappointment immobilized him—two emotions he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

The bounty within Callista’s veins had called to him, rumbling his stomach and moistening his tongue. He’d been too distracted to bother reading her thoughts, and now he wished he’d taken the time.

Glancing around the hall, he frowned at not spotting her. Had she left? He doubted Duhamel knew her. She wasn’t his usual preferred guest, meaning Leo couldn’t syphon any information from him. He sighed, not that he enjoyed trawling a human’s mind. It felt…dirty, as if a thousand baths could not cleanse him.

“You called me back, so I didn’t find out. Strangest thing, Syl. She didn’t succumb to my pheromones” Leo rubbed his nape before dropping his hand with a drawn-out sigh.

To earn his loyalty, all Syl had done was kill Leo’s sire, the bastard who’d massacred his family. The vampire forced him to watch as the blood ran freely from their sliced throats. His parents fought the hardest, wanting to protect their two children. He drained Leo’s younger brother, tossing his corpse like a discarded rag, then licked his lips in absolute delight. Even as a young man, Leo hadn’t been strong enough to fight off an ancient determined to father a son.

“Off your game tonight?” Syl teased.

It happened. Not taking offense at the implication, Leo spun to the closest woman, a brunette, and smiled, releasing the same amount of attraction he’d used on Callista. The woman gasped. Her cheeks flushed as her nipples pebbled, tenting the silk of her cocktail dress. Her pupils dilated with her mouth parting on a throaty moan. As she reached for him, Leo switched it off and stepped back, leaving her disoriented. He didn’t allow her to stumble. It wasn’t her fault he’d found better prey that evening.

“Game is fine.” He scowled at a blonde distracting Syl. “She complimented my cologne and walked away, unaffected.”

“Intriguing.” Syl slipped a hand up the woman’s dress, baring her thighs in full view of the hall.

No one noticed. She could’ve given him head. Hell, he could’ve fucked her on the buffet table and remain unseen if he chose to hide his antics. Their existence might be public knowledge now, but the full extent of their powers they kept hidden, for the most part.

“To say the least,” Leo said.

“Her thoughts?” Syl nuzzled the woman’s neck as his fingers stroked her core.

She released a breathless moan, and the scent of her arousal—like budding roses, thick and heady—permeated the air to tease Leo’s nostrils.

“Snippets. Nothing solid.”

At Leo’s disgruntled tone, Syl’s head shot up. His gray eyes met Leo’s, and he arched a brow, but his fingers didn’t cease their sweet torment.

“What I could pick up was her desire for a scotch, her self-directed anger over a lost pistol, and a woman called Valerie.”

Mourning the missed opportunity, Leo did another slow turn, hoping to catch her auburn hair at a bar counter. The heads of the crowded hall hindered his line of sight.

“I’ll do a walk around.”

“If you find her, bring her to meet me.” Syl glanced down when another woman unzipped his black tailored trousers.

Leo grunted, acknowledging the command and strode to the center of the dance floor. No one bumped into him, as expected. The mentors taught such a skill to younglings. Vampires secreted specific scents which triggered a human’s flight response. Wherever he stood or walked, they’d avoid him without realizing it.

He closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath, and opened his mind. Images and thoughts bombarded him. Greed, lust, murder…the usual. He discarded each one as if he flicked dominoes across a table’s wooden surface. Until…Captain Johanna Metcalfe. He located her with ease, a woman with a perpetual frown. Callista’s name flitted across her mind, stained with disbelief and anger. Callista Devereaux, a detective at the Inner City Precinct. He had her full name. At last. A sweet burst of satisfaction sang along his veins. She was at a bar. He knew that already. Her final words stated her intention, but which bar?

He followed the mental link and couldn’t prevent the smile denting his cheeks when he found Callista seated on a bar stool, with a tumbler of scotch in one hand. He strode toward her, his vision tunneling as if a spotlight illuminated her glorious mane of flaming hair. She’d crossed her legs at the knees, leading his gaze to travel along their length to her delicate feet then back to her cinched-in waist and bountiful breasts straining a gown not made for her.

She raised the glass and sipped, then licked her lips to savor every drop. An appreciative hum vibrated up her throat, and Leo had to admit—it was a sensual sound. Her eyelashes fluttered in ecstasy. Her expression snagged his focus, and his heart paused.

“Devereaux, what the hell are you doing here?” her captain asked, anger pitching her voice.

Callista opened her eyes, and an impatient expression crossed her delicate features. She didn’t look guilty, even though he’d suspected she hadn’t received a formal invitation. As he closed the distance between them, her focus fixed on him, her eyes widening, before her narrowed gaze settled on her captain.

“Callista’s my guest,” Leo said, but he didn’t glance at Metcalfe.

He remained focused on Callista’s emerald-green eyes. Her ruby lips parted, and she flashed him a grateful look.

“Oh, Mr. Travisano. I didn’t know you two were acquaintances.” Metcalfe’s tone turned respectful, but a hint of suspicion remained.

“We met under serendipitous circumstances.” He stood behind Callista’s chair to slide a hand around her waist.

She stiffened before relaxing against his chest, playing the part he wanted her to.

“Yes, it was.” A smile curled her lips.

He blinked, dazed by her white teeth dimpling her lip. His heart skipped a few beats as he lingered on the curve of her upper lip and the tempting plumpness of her bottom lip. He sucked in a shuddering breath, inhaling her unusual scent. An essence in her scent eluded him. No matter how deeply he inhaled, he was unable to trap it within his lungs. His body cried out for that elusive fragrance, needing to saturate himself in it. He coiled his trembling fingers into fists, forcing his sharp nails to recede.

Gathering Metcalfe’s hand in his, he peered into her eyes. He placed a single thought there…to leave these two lovebirds alone. She blushed, the splash of color taking years off her complexion. After flashing a parting look at Callista, she scurried away.

“Weird, but whatever you did, I thank you.” Callista unfolded and refolded her legs, revealing a silky toned thigh and the tip of a dagger.

Leo’s fingers twitched as he fought the urge to stroke her skin along the scabbard.

“My pleasure. How do you know Johanna?” He went through the motions even as he drew in a deep breath, trying again to inhale as much of her essence as possible.

He couldn’t explain its addictive quality. It had the same effect on his senses as if she’d released pheromones. No otherworld undercurrents clung to her, implying she was pure human.

His mind reeled. Arousal would deepen, darken, and intensify her scent, making it more potent. Despite his pheromones, she remained unaffected. He amped the amount he used, testing her resistance.

“I’m a detective. She’s my captain,” she said, wrapping her lips over the rim of the glass.

He lingered there, wondering what she’d taste like with or without scotch.

“Ah, not a suicide attempt?” he teased. He focused his gift, staring into the emerald depths of her eyes with a delight he hadn’t expected.

“I’m investigating someone,” she replied.

Illicit images of the mayor with a young blond man entered his mind, although she made no internal comment or judgment on the salaciousness of the photographs. Determined, he intensified his search, delving deeper. As he broke through her mental barriers, he found himself swimming in dark murky waters, thick and cloying. Random memories floated on the surface, like discarded advertisement flyers and abandoned photographs.

He lunged for one, and it dissolved through his fingers to reform blurry and illegible on the surface. Growling, he grasped for another floating nearby. It too disintegrated and reformed just out of his reach. He snapped back to the present, furrowing his brow.

What was she?

“You don’t have to answer,” she said.

His frown deepened into a scowl. He could pull a question from a person’s mind as it formed. Deep within her mind, he hadn’t sensed her thoughts.

“Long day?”

“Yes.” He sighed.

Longer after he’d met her. She did pose a dilemma, though. An unpredictable detective, one he couldn’t read, would complicate things. Perhaps Syl could add enlightenment. Leo checked on his king’s status and found the woman’s mouth on his cock.

Now wasn’t the time, judging by Callista’s disdain as she followed his distracted glance.

“Your…friend is somewhere in there under those bobbing women?” she asked. “You should rescue him. Those women could gift him with more than what he asked for.” She paused and arched a brow. “Are your kind even susceptible to our human diseases? Never mind, don’t answer that. It’s mean of him to imply he can sexually satisfy them all. I don’t care how much of a stud he thinks he is.” She stepped off her stool, crowding Leo.

He didn’t move aside, needing the heat of her skin as she shuffled past him, eager to smell her for a little longer. Exhaustion pounded off her, darkening the shadows under her eyes. He shifted closer to bury his nose in her hair, to inhale her essence then jerked back, discerning another female’s scent clinging to her. One infinitely sweeter than Callie’s.

“Whose gown are you wearing tonight?” he asked. Reacting like this to one woman was possible, but to two?

“My sister, Valerie’s.” Curiosity flitted across her features. “Thank you for being my knight, Mr. Travisano.”

For the second time that evening, and certainly in the last century of his life, a woman walked away. He admired a mole on her bare back where it rested above her left hip undulating with her strides. The realization she was about to leave him had him bolting forward. He caught her wrist and spun her into his arms…and landed on his back, with her elbow at his throat.

Too startled by her speed, he hadn’t shrouded them in time. The crowd responded with alarmed murmurs. Sprawled across him, she had placed a bare knee at his waist. He raised his fingers to brush over her hips, finding traction there.

He squeezed as he whispered, “My name is Leo.”

She peeled herself off him, not in the least bit sorry. With an admirable tolerance, she endured her captain’s chastisement, dutifully apologized as if her boss was her mother, and made a hasty retreat before he could stop her. She didn’t spare him a backward glance.

Why she twisted his insides, he couldn’t explain. The entire time Metcalfe reprimanded her, he’d stared at Callista, dazed, forgetting to blink. Her scent was delicious, but not as intriguing as her sister’s.

Grumbling over the twist to the evening, he faced Syl and sighed. The image of his debauchery shimmered—a tell he held a glamour in place for any would-be voyeurs. His lips were on the blonde’s neck, blood trickling and staining her white gown, as another female sucked him off. Leo squeezed the bridge of his nose, attempting to halt the headache forming. Another rare experience for a vampire.

His life was dull. There lay the crux of the matter. A situation he’d pondered more of late. He was tired of whoring his way through his time, from a fuck to a feed too many. After dropping into the seat Callista vacated, he imagined the residual heat from her backside remained. He gestured to the bartender to refill her tumbler. The rich scent of scotch intensified, but the smoothness of it didn’t compare to the taste of her lingering on the glass.

He tugged out his cellphone and dialed. “Callista and Valerie Devereaux. I need our best man on it.”