Page 27 of The Huntress (The Blood of Legends #1)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

LOSING TIME

T he door opened, creaking under its weight, its impenetrable thickness now revealed.

Callie rose to her feet, standing strong despite the desire to cover her nudity. Doing so was futile, and she accepted that. The man who strode through the door was not Darius. Darkness moved with him, an evil that saturated his every pore. He smiled in a father-like fashion, but it was insincere. There was no kindness, no mercy in his eyes. He approached her, and she fought the urge to step away from his encroaching evil.

She grimaced, now realizing that Darius hadn’t taken her for his selfish pleasure. He’d done so under this man’s instruction. Were his posture and strides regal? She smothered a snort. Every tall, distinguished suckblood fit that description. She couldn’t just assume this man was the missing key to her case. Perhaps Syl could organize a lineup.

Not wanting to ask Syl for anything, she curled her lips in distaste.

“He could have clothed you, at least,” the stranger said with a sigh, flicking a hand.

In an instant, crimson leather encased her in an outfit a dominatrix would’ve been proud to own. Her hair fell down her back in thick waves, as if she’d visited a hair salon. A leather bustier hugged her waist, thrusting her breasts upward, promising them freedom. Crimson knee-high boots clung to her calves, and garters wrapped around her upper thighs. A suspender belt in leather and lace completed the ensemble.

Such a vampire cliché. At least she was clean and somewhat clothed.

“I can’t thank you enough for this wonderful adventure and exquisite clothing,” she said, bringing her legendary sarcasm into the conversation. “Now to what do I owe this inconvenience, and of course, your scintillating presence?”

Tasting her own blood was the only warning she received. He slapped her head to the side. Her inner cheek smashed against her teeth, and blood pooled in her mouth as the sting of the cut made itself known. He grabbed her jaw, squishing her lips open to press his mouth to hers, sucking the blood out of her.

A shiver of disgust racked through her at his warm lips on hers, at the scent of him. He didn’t stink, per se, just smelled oily. It was the same smell she came across at gruesome murder scenes, usually the ones involving the mutilation of children. As if evil lingered in the shadows and gathering crowds, watching her work even as it planned its next brutality.

She jerked away, surprised that she managed to. She smeared her bleeding mouth on her hand, grimacing at the sight of the crimson streaks along her inner wrist to her palm.

“Your taste is unique, but nothing out of the ordinary. What is it about you that has Gabriel de Winter claiming you?”

“I’m fantastic in bed.” She dodged his swinging palm—she wasn’t a fool. “So what do you want?”

He smirked, folding his arms across his massive chest. On his designer suit’s lapel was a pin—a bird on fire with a delta symbol in relief. What the hell? Phoenix meets delta? Could he be the Carter connection?

“Darius informs me Leo cannot read you?”

“That’s why I’m here, so you can ask me a question? A phone call was beyond you? I find your hospitality lacking, and your decorator should be fired.” She gestured to the empty cellar. No food, no chair? She tutted. “Perhaps send a driver next time you need to speak to me? Or a text message would do. Try it sometime.”

“I can remove your tongue for you, woman.” He stepped closer, his posture threatening.

Her legs locked in place, the bottom part of her not afraid of the walking-death-dealer in front of her. The rest of her trembled. “No, Leo cannot read me. Or so he says. It still doesn’t explain why you went to these lengths to take me.”

“Detective Callista Devereaux, you disappoint me.” He tucked a curl behind her ear and caressed her jaw as he leaned back. His fingertips were smooth, as if he’d never done a day’s labor in his life.

She clenched her jaw under his touch, withdrawing, but not enough to lose face.

“Tell me, as a youngling, are you not hungry? Thirsty?”

“I am thirsty. A bottle of water would be wonderful.” She licked her dry lips, tasting her own blood, but the thought of water made her salivate.

“Water?” He chuckled, the cold sound skittering along her nerves.

His fangs dimpled his bottom lip as he raised his wrist to his mouth. He sliced his skin, and a thin ruby rivulet flowed, dripping onto the dirt floor. The scent of it made her stomach coil. In his other hand, a chilled bottle of water appeared. Without thought, she grabbed it before he vanished it. With trembling fingers, she fumbled with the lid before gulping down the cool liquid, a moan of appreciation humming along her throat.

“Water?” His surprise was clear in his voice, but she didn’t look at him, intent on quenching her thirst.

When she did regard him, it was in time to catch him licking his wrist to heal his wound.

“I came here to kill you, my dear.”

She blinked, amazed at his candid words. Fear spiked through her. Death by his hands would be a gruesome one, not the possible one Gabe would have offered her.

Swallowing past the new lump in her throat, she tamped down the fear before it consumed her. To stay alive meant keeping her wits about her.

“What for? You can’t trust Darius to do a good job?”

“I wanted to taste your infamous blood. Rumor has it you’re a myth. As usual, rumors are unreliable.” He waved a hand, and the room filled with furniture, antiques, lush carpets, lined bookshelves, and candlelight. “I will keep you alive for a little longer. Your disrespect is refreshing…for now.”

“Don’t do me any favors.” She wasn’t willing to admit that the bed did look inviting.

Hesitating, she chewed on her lip, weighing her options. A sharp tug from her stomach reminded her what was important here. She didn’t want any more favors from him but needed to keep her strength up. “But if you’re offering, how about a steak, a baked potato, and a green salad?”

Gabe was coming—it was her duty to be alive when he did.

A plate appeared on the Queen Anne table, along with a fresh bottle of water. Chargrilled steak perfumed the air, and her mouth watered in anticipation.

“Thank you.” Her words were sincere this time.

She pulled out the chair and sat, taking a deep breath. “Your name? Or should I be calling you master? Sire? Boss man? Oh-captain-my-captain?” She sliced a chunk of steak off and shoved it into her mouth, not caring that her manners were not at their finest. She was starving due to this idiot’s shenanigans. The steak was soft, done to perfection, and melted on her tongue. She moaned and fluttered her eyes closed in bliss.

“Stavros.” He flashed her a—surprisingly—genuine smile.

And she could envision the young attractive man he’d been before he’d sold his soul to an evil she hunted daily. He’d given his name with arrogance, as if revealing it would cost him nothing. Identifying him was all she needed to investigate further.

“So you’re not going to share why you took me? None of what you’ve said makes sense. Vendetta with the de Winters? Or with Gabe?” She needed to get this man talking, to gain clues, anything to help her escape.

“Gabe?”

“My fiancé.” She wrapped her lips around a forkful of steak.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught his head jerking up, and he scowled. The terrifying man who had entered her cell was back. Darkness reformed around him, and she nodded. As per her initial assessment, he was evil personified. They said Satan could be charming, charismatic, and if Stavros was his emissary, she’d believe it.

“How did they…?” He glared and advanced toward her. His head jerked again, and this time she heard it too. Footsteps on wood. “I’ve placed an ancient containment rune on this cell. They cannot find you.” He dissolved into mist and left through the door’s keyhole.

She gaped at the spot where he’d been a second ago. What the fuck? She hadn’t known suckbloods could do that…whatever that was.

George scampered from under the bed and up onto the table.

“Oh, so now you show yourself?” She cut pieces from her steak and potato and placed it on the polished wooden surface for George to nibble on. “Welcome back, buddy.”

As they ate, she listened for movement. The earlier footsteps had faded. She scooped up the second bottle of water, pressed her palm onto the wood so George could climb on, and moved to the bed. She placed him on the pillow and sprawled alongside him, not caring that her boots might ruin the covers.

“It seems my death is imminent, George.” Her eyelids drooped now that her stomach was full. Lassitude called to her.

As she drifted on the edge, she sent another plea, hoping Leo could hear her.

It’s about damn time, Callie. Gabe’s gone insane. It’s taking all my power to keep him calm. Where the fuck are you? His voice penetrated her mind, loud and angry.

She winced at his sharp piercing words, even though concern saturated his tone.

In a cellar, Leo. I can’t say where exactly, or what’s above me. How…how long has it been?

A day, at the most. Can you hear or smell anything that could guide us?

At his question, she squeezed her eyes shut and focused her hearing, having not thought to do so. She didn’t castigate herself for not knowing, since she’d been a human until yesterday. I can hear church bells and a play school. She paused to listen . A nightclub and a mosque.

Smear your blood across the symbol to strengthen it. I’ll let Gabe know.

Warm tears welled in her eyes. Don’t leave me, please, Leo.

Keep your mind open, sweetheart. You’re shutting me out.

She groaned. I’m sorry, I don’t know how…

Imagine a door with my name written on it. Open it.

She drew in a deep breath and focused. It would be an ancient imbuia door carved with strange runes. Three letters burned into the wood. L. E. O., and in her handwriting. Grabbing the ornate brass handle, she yanked it open.

Shit! Leo voiced. Just a little, not all the way.

Sorry. She closed the door until a sliver remained.

We’ll find you, sweetheart.

She held her inner wrist to her lips and waited. Her pulse pattered, her senses alert to the sound, the scent of her blood pumping through her body. Argh. She didn’t know how to make her new teeth extend, but the sharp tug on her upper gums had her sighing.

Two incisors pierced her bottom lip, drawing blood—salt, spice, and iron coated her tongue. She smeared it across her wrist where she’d streaked her blood earlier. That was fortuitous.

The orange symbol glowed. She whispered Gabe’s name across it and spun in a circle. When there was a pulse, she froze. He was in the direction of the mosque. Excitement skittered through her, and she cried out, unable to contain her renewed hope.

He’d find her soon.

She ran the tip of her tongue over her lip, healing the tiny tear. Instant healing was a neat trick. Being on the opposite side of the playing field was strange. Cytotoxin-tipped daggers would harm her now.

She clambered onto the bed again. George scurried up and curled into a ball on her chest, content to wait and rest as well. She smiled, stroked his little forehead with a fingertip, and allowed sleep to claim her.

Her eyes flew open at the first wooden creak. She doubted she’d slept for more than ten minutes. Exhaustion dogged her, along with a demanding thirst. She frowned at its persistence, accepting that it wasn’t a good sign.

George jumped up and down on her chest in eagerness, summoning a smile. He didn’t scurry away as he’d done with Stavros.

“So no one bad is coming, hey, buddy?” she teased, and he paused, twitching his nose. “Okay, off you get.”

He bounded off as she pushed herself into a sitting position. Her crimson boots and garters caught her eye, and she grimaced. It wasn’t the best outfit in which to entertain guests, but neither was her nudity. The sheets could be made into a toga. She pushed off the bed to fashion one when the door opened.

The tall man who strode in had hope spiking through her. Except the shape of him was wrong, drooping her shoulders in despair. She didn’t drop her guard, assessing whether he was friend or foe. Her instincts weren’t screaming, and George wasn’t hiding.

No man should look this good. Ebony curls cascaded over a face carved by angels. Strong square jaw, firm lips, and molded cheekbones to piercing green eyes. As she analyzed him, he studied her. Warmth swept her body, trailing the path of his emerald gaze. She drew in a deep breath and scented an ancient vampire. The power flowing off him was almost visible. Where that knowledge came from, she couldn’t say. His long hair, in various shades of black, brushed his shoulders as he entered her cell.

“Ah, tsvetok . I can see why Gabriel claimed you,” he said, his voice rough, she suspected due to an interwoven scar that ran up his throat.

A scarred vampire? Interesting.

He lifted his nose and scented the air, scowling as if he recognized it. “Stavros was here?”

“Yes, he implied he was curious, but I doubt you could go to the bank with anything he said.” She kept a set distance between them.

When he stalked forward, she scampered back. After all, he could be a friend of Darius, which would make him her enemy. Her instincts could be wrong or delayed in their warnings. They’d been lax of late.

“Stavros’s involvement complicates things. I thought I would ensure you were well, clothed, and fed before Gabriel descends those steps.” He admired the length of her again, pausing for a while on her garters. “I need not have bothered.”

“Gabe’s here?” She gasped, taking a step toward the open door before halting.

It could be a trap. Wariness was an unexpected gift from her forced confinement. For all she knew, he had a similar gift to Leo.

“Ah, you don’t trust me. It’s understandable. I’m a stranger. My name’s Dimitri Vasiliev, head of the Vasiliev Hold. It’s a pleasure to meet the woman who has inspired loyalty within two of the most powerful vamps I know.”

“Leo’s here?” Joy hit her, for if Leo was here then she could easily verify this man’s identity. Leo?

Yes, Callie?

Can I trust Dimitri?

Yes, though I’d advise you to stay below. Gabe’s dealing out justice, and it’s not pretty. Mike approves.

Mike’s here too? She flashed a huge smile at Dimitri, unable to contain it.

“Do you wish to feed?” He offered her his wrist. “I give freely.”

“No…thank you. The only suckblood I wish to drink from is Gabe.”

“Suckblood?” He chuckled. “So not starving?”

“Stavros summoned a steak for me. I’m super thirsty, though. Could I have another bottle of water?”

“Water?” Confusion furrowed his brow and narrowed his eyes, but he created a bottle out of the ether for her.

She took it, giving him a nod of thanks before opening it to drain it. She tossed the empty bottle on the bed and reached for George. He scurried up her arm to find a seat on her shoulder. Despite Leo’s warning, she climbed the narrow stairs, finding the steel-heeled boots easy to move in. She stepped into the moonlight, inhaling the fresh air deep into her lungs, picking up a myriad of other scents she couldn’t identify.

With a contented smile, she scanned her surroundings until she found Gabe with his fingernails embedded in Darius’s throat, drawing rivulets of blood as he lifted the man off his feet.

“Callie’s mine. My woman,” Gabe roared, his knuckles whitening as he squeezed harder, enough to silence the murmurs escaping Darius. “I will not allow this to go unpunished.”

Every curve and line of his face was visible to her, and she paused to memorize him, imprinting his furious yet handsome image into her mind.

“He’ll always be her sire,” Leo said.

Gabe grunted, ripped his fingers out, and severed Darius’s head with one smooth slash. He raised his bloody hand to the heavens, and a bolt of lightning struck Darius’s healing corpse, incinerating him in seconds. “Not anymore.”

She stumbled back, bouncing off Dimitri’s chest. “Holy shit.”

She had never seen the like. Gabe had said they had power over the elements, so that didn’t surprise her. What took her breath away was the beauty of her man seeking vengeance on her behalf. Desire made her core throb just as a white heat dropped her to her knees. She cried out under the sheer agony coursing through her veins. Wave after wave swept through her body. Tremors and spasms followed.

Gabe called her name like a whisper in the wind, but she couldn’t gather the strength to look for him. Dimitri scooped her into his arms as the blessed relief of darkness claimed her.