Page 33 of The Huntress (The Blood of Legends #1)

Chapter Thirty-Three

TO BE A SUCK-BLOOD

“T o make something from within yourself, you need to imagine every aspect of it, every detail. Hold it in your mind and will it to appear.” A ruby-red rose formed in Gabe’s fingers, close enough for its fragrance to tickle Callie’s nose. “As much detail as you can think of will solidify the conjure. Weak vampires create illusions. Ancients and masters create substance.”

“I’m exhausted, Gabe. We’ve been at this for hours, and I’m lucky if I get pixie dust.” She stomped her foot in frustration, and hell, even that drained her.

“If a talentless youngling can conjure, so can you.” He stood before her and crossed his arms over his muscular chest. “Besides, if you don’t master these skills, you’re staying home.”

She glared, hating that she agreed with his threat. He was right to demand she learn because without these skills, she'd be a liability.

She took a deep breath, focusing on an image of a rose. She imagined the velvet petals, the light playing on them, the sweet, intoxicating scent, and a thornless stem. After five minutes of willing it to appear in her hand, all she got was another shimmer of pixie dust—a swirl of peach light. A vague outline of a rose appeared, but she filed that under an overactive imagination and a desperate need to conquer this skill.

Try something you are familiar with.

She huffed at his thoughts. It implied she hadn’t received many roses in her life to imagine the delicate flowers well enough. He was right, of course.

His continued patience and calm acceptance of her failures encouraged yet saddened her. She didn’t want to disappoint him. Warmth and energy flowed through their link, strengthening it the more they used it.

An image of a berretta formulated in her mind, complete with a personalized engraving on the grip and a telescopic lens. She imagined its internal mechanisms, the sound of it cocking, and the peach glow came sooner. She held her breath, tense with hope and excitement. Within seconds she held a loaded handgun.

“Awesome.” She bounced on her toes as she tested its scope. Her grin cracked her cheeks in half. The euphoria saturating her chest had her giggling.

“Good.” He gave a mouthwatering smile. “Now make it vanish. Imagine it dissolving into molecules, and draw the energy back into yourself.”

The gun turned into ash, which coated her palm like a thick layer of paint before fading into her skin.

Unusual but it worked.

“Unusual good, or unusual bad?” She studied her palm.

“Just different. You can do that for your body as well. Imagine it fading into microscopic molecules, then reforming. Though, that requires extensive practice. How we see ourselves isn’t always reality. Now try clothes. Evaporate your shirt and don another.”

With a slow wave of her hand, her T-shirt dissolved, and another wave had her in a black bustier with satin ribbons. His breath hitched, and judging by the images fluttering through their connection, she had his full attention.

A flamboyant wave later, she completed the ensemble with knee-high boots plucked from his mind. The stockings and garters with micro-panties were her idea. His desire, the strength of it, bombarded her through their link, and she couldn’t halt the heat rippling through her body at his vivid fantasies.

“Is that all it takes?” she teased, albeit with a breathless tremor in her voice.

Yes.

An hour later they were back in the exercise room he had constructed for training. She wore her gym leggings and a sports bra, which suited the current lesson—learning how to burst with speed. When the room went black, her instincts kicked in. She didn’t need them. The panic that pumped adrenaline through her veins subsided. She could see Gabe in the dark even as her hearing sharpened and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat called to her.

He’d yet to drink from her, and she wondered about that. Was he concerned she was still weak?

Yes, I’m concerned.

“I thought it’s because I’m not delicious anymore.”

“Never, my love. I long to sate my thirst, to feel you orgasm around me when I do.”

“I am well enough, Gabe. Drink from me tonight.” The promise of pleasure swirled low in her belly. She cleared her throat. “Now, why do I see you in night-goggle-green, and you see me in infrared?” She shifted between her own vision and his shared one, undecided on which one she preferred.

“You were human, sweet Callie. It’s logical for your mind to grasp familiar explanations. I’m an ancient predator. We didn’t have technology when I was human. This is how I see in the dark.”

“Shit. I was so na?ve.” Her last stakeout came to mind. She was lying on top of the container with her pistol in hand. No wonder suckbloods had never taken humans seriously.

He chuckled, circling an arm around her waist to kiss her temple. Ready to try running?

Within seconds, brand-new sneakers adorned her feet. She stared at them with her green-tinted vision and sighed. That she could conjure them amazed her. How long would she find that talent incredible before the novelty wore off? She suspected never.

You don’t need sneakers. Your feet won’t touch the ground.

As soon as they stepped outside under a full moon, she burst into a run, pumping her legs as hard as she could. Sweat beaded her forehead and upper lip as she struggled to breathe. She wasn’t unfit by any stretch of the imagination, but this was ridiculous.

“You are running like a human.” He chuckled as he jogged alongside her sprinting self.

“Running is running.” She panted between words. “Pump legs, move forward. It’s physics.”

“Can you feel the wind’s touch?”

She gulped, fighting for breaths, but shook her head.

A wind picked up, tossing her hair around her. It cooled her flushed face and neck, summoning a blissful sigh from her. “I feel it now.” She flashed him a smile.

“Call to the wind and allow it to carry you,” he said.

“What?” She stumbled to a halt and bent over, gripping her knees while sucking in air.

“Imagine you weigh no more than a feather adrift. Direct the wind and manage its speed.”

“Holy shit.” She straightened to rest her hands on her hips. “Are you freaking kidding me?”

He gathered her hand in his, palm upward, then swirled his fingers over it. Gray smoke twirled in a gentle tornado, tickling her. “Now you try.”

She raised her fingers above the mini-vortex only for it to fall flat. He grinned, flicked his fingers again, and it spun upward. She glared at it, determined to win. She twirled her fingers in the opposite direction, and with a gasp, the micro-tornado halted mid-spiral and spun counterclockwise.

“Now call on the air around us, have it press against your back.”

She did, whipping her hair forward to blind her. With a wave of her hand, her hair braided itself. She drew in a deep breath, still winded from her sprint, and imagined her feet lifting off the ground. With a yelp, she tilted forward, losing her balance. He grabbed her shoulders, and she formed a fist to smother the gray smoke still spiraling on her palm. He looped an arm around her waist and pressed his lips to her ear.

“Light as a feather,” he said, his warm breath sending tingles along her neck.

She closed her eyes. The wind pushed at her back, and she twisted so it caressed her face.

You’re so sexy. His masculine voice floated through her mind.

I am? An excitement of another sort set her insides on fire.

Your strength of will, your stubbornness. Lord of the moon, Callie. I love you. Love everything about you.

She giggled. What brought this on?

You’re flying, my love.

“What?” she squeaked, opening her eyes to see the ground several feet below them. “Holy…”

Gabe released her to hover beside her. It’s not me doing this. It’s you. “Now propel yourself forward.”

Joy—hot, intense, and overwhelming—gripped her, and she laughed, spinning in the air before darting forward. Running’s the same?

Yes, just inches off the ground.

“Am I ready for Stavros?”

“Not yet. You are ready to train with Dimitri and his pal’tsy , though. They’ll hone your skills.”

“Okay. Gabe?” She held out her hand, asking for his. “Show me your world.”

He laced his fingers through hers and shared the beauty of the night—the moon’s pale silver caressing the ocean waves. The predators on the hunt. By the time they returned home, she had realized one important thing about herself. She was where she belonged.

She spun into his arms and scraped her fangs along his neck. His answering shiver rippled through her. She envisioned sliding her hands along his inner thighs as she nipped at the pulse in his neck. She projected latching her mouth on a certain part of his anatomy, and his breath caught, his fingers flexing on her hips.

“You play dirty,” he said, his voice hoarse, flashing visions of his own, his psychic touch making her tremble with need.

By the time they made it to their home, they’d vanished each other’s clothing. He pinned her to the wall with his arousal teasing her. With one thrust, he bit into her shoulder. Across their link, his orgasm mingled with hers, along with the chocolate flavor of her blood. She arched her back, bombarded with sensations on all sides, and shattered again, feeling as if the sheer pleasure would kill her.

She drifted back to reality, now nestled in his arms in their bed. He feathered kisses along her shoulder, spooning her from behind. The emotions coming from him were too intense, overpowering, and breathtaking for her to comment. Instead, she snuggled deeper into his embrace and kissed his forearm gripping her against him.

Gabe?

Yes, my love?

I love you too.

Callie didn’t know how she felt about their plan or that they’d conceived it without her input. Sure, she’d eavesdropped to stay informed. She hadn’t realized that as soon as they’d decided on a strategy, it would fall into place with immediate effect. Turns out, the beast’s alpha, Rhys, hadn’t known about Stavros’s plan. In an unheard-of move, Rhys agreed to a truce and to play the role of a conniving beast. As she waited outside Metcalfe’s open office, the suckbloods and beasts were mobilizing their forces and spreading rumors of an impending war.

Judging by her captain’s expression, she’d just received the word. There was something to be said for suckblood hearing, because without any effort on her part, Callie could hear the mayor breathe through the phone line.

Metcalfe placed the phone down, stunned. A wince of guilt pierced Callie, and she sighed, accepting that what she was about to do would place Metcalfe under pressure. Warmth flooded through her, and an image of her hesitating formed in her mind—a projection from Gabe to show he was there for her. She flashed him an intimate image, something like yesterday’s sensual endeavors, and his teasing, tormenting bombardment of his sexual fantasies ceased.

“Captain, do you have a minute?” She poked her head through the door.

Johanna had pulled her graying hair into a tight bun at the back of her head, and her pantsuit was crisp. It dared not crease, even after many hours of office work. She wouldn’t have stood for it. “What do you want, Devereaux?” She gestured for Callie to enter her office.

She did, closing the door behind her. She faced her captain, who frowned at the door. Had Callie’s need for privacy startled her, or did she see a shrouded Gabe leaning against the glass?

“This must be unwelcome news.”

“You did task me to liaise with suckbloods, and despite everything going on, I managed…” Callie tried to smother a grin. Yup, liaison as in wife? That could work.

“No need to explain. There’s time. I can’t expect immediate results, Devereaux.”

“Good, because I’m resigning.” Callie said the words in a rush, taking the leap over the roiling emotion clambering inside her for supremacy.

Metcalfe blinked. “What? This is your life, your dream.”

“I met a man, and he needs me to be something else. This job’s no longer feasible.” Callie smiled.

Choosing sides had changed her life for the better.

And my life too. Gabe wrapped psychic arms around her, his appreciation of her blossoming warmth inside her, as always.

“A man makes you give up your dream, and you agreed to it?” Metcalfe shoved back from her chair before striding around the desk to lean her backside on the front of it. “I never thought you’d be an idiot over a man.”

“I’m a suckblood, Johanna.” Callie raised her top lip to reveal her fangs.

Metcalfe’s eyes widened, then she pursed her lips.

Yes, this was more like it. Her captain had an unholy dislike of suckbloods. Having gotten to know them better, Callie could argue their merits, but not when it came to Syl. He still rubbed her the wrong way. Whenever she saw him, the urge to spank his backside persisted, and not in a sexual way.

Gabe chuckled. I used to feel the same way.

“What the hell happened?” Metcalfe asked. “I said liaise not fucking join them.”

“I got claimed. It’s their version of marriage, just for eternity, with no possibility of divorce.”

“Shit.” Her shoulders slumped.

“I must build a suckblood police force. Y’know, to bridge the gap between our two species.”

“Our?” Metcalfe asked with an arched brow. Her lips curled in a half-smile, which had Callie’s breathing a sigh of relief.

“You know what I mean. I would suggest you and I brainstorm the hell out of this. It would look good on your resume, and I get to practice law enforcement, just for the other team this time.”

“Intriguing.” Metcalfe tapped her fingers on the edge of her desk. “Go on.”

“Suckbloods have their own way of dealing with disobedience, and it’s far more lethal than our…your justice system. Minor infractions receive a reprimand, a slap on the wrist. There’s no documentation, and their…our way relies on memory.” Callie darted her gaze at Gabe, who hovered by the door.

He flashed her an image of taking her on Metcalfe’s desk, over the scattered documents, and she couldn’t fight the flush on her cheeks. Didn’t even bother trying.

“Want to meet him?” she asked, her gaze lingering on the width of his shoulders, the curve of his neck. Just one glimpse and her heartbeat thumped loud enough to deafen her. He flashed her a knowing smile that pooled desire in her core.

“No.” Metcalfe shook her head.

“Suit yourself. He’s with me all the time, shrouded.”

“What?” Metcalfe’s eyes widened in horror before she cleared her throat, collecting herself. “I didn’t know they can do that.”

“Now do you want to meet him?”

“Do I have a choice if he’s in my damn office?” Metcalfe slapped her desk.

Callie shrugged at the outburst. Metcalfe always yelled and demanded, but Callie doubted she knew any other way to behave.

“Can you shroud?”

Callie frowned. “Not yet, still learning.”

“I will teach her,” Gabe said as he revealed his presence, having strolled to the window. “Hello, Captain Metcalfe. It’s a pleasure to meet you, face to face.” He strode forward to offer his hand.

Metcalfe accepted it, a little in awe and a lot in shock. Her hazel gaze traveled Gabe’s body in disbelief.

“A pleasure to meet you too, Mr. de Winter.”

Oh, shit. She recognized him. What the hell?

Callie quickly understood why, and she wanted to facepalm. Gabe was Syl’s brother, and since Syl liked tuxedoes, it made sense that he schmoozed with the city’s elite. Hell, Gabe might even know the mayor. Once again, her superpower of deduction had failed her.

“I apologize for stealing Callie from you, but one look at her and I knew.” Images flashed across their bond, memories of when he met her, held her, first kissed her, all saturated with the emotions he’d felt at the time. Gabe wasn’t kidding when he said he’d known from the start.

“I’m stunned at this turn of events. She’s one of my warriors, determined to mete out justice no matter the species,” Metcalfe said, surprising Callie.

She’d always assumed she was a burr on her captain’s backside.

“She’ll continue as a justice warrior. The only difference is that she’s mine now.”

“You had a suckblood on the force for over a week, Captain. I’m more than willing to do interviews if it will help your image.” Callie looped an arm around Gabe’s waist.

“Since the vampire is you, that makes it tolerable, Callie.”

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Callie teased.

Metcalfe blushed, and at her dismissive gesture, Callie dragged Gabe out the door.

That went better than I expected. Gabe laced his fingers through hers.

Metcalfe isn’t stupid. She sees the benefits of working closely with the Crimson Corps.

The what? He arched a brow.

She flashed him a smile. Thinking of names for the new police. How about Suckblood Squad?

He shook his head.

Blood Battalion?

He chuckled, drawing her against him for a sideways hug.

Vamp Force?

Better.

He kissed her then and there, in front of her ex-colleagues. They whooped and whistled, so she introduced Gabe as her husband. That shut them up before they crowded her to pound her back in congratulations.