Born in Blood

Page 47

Lost in the fantasy, it wasn’t until a golden brow arched that she was jolted out of her lovesick daze.
She grimaced. Man, she had it bad, bad, bad.
“Only if there’s coffee,” she forced herself to tease.
His grin widened. “Your wish is my command.”
He bent down to grab a cup of coffee he’d set on the floor, waving it beneath her nose before pressing it into her outstretched hand.
Breathing deeply of the rich aroma, she took a sip, sending Duncan an appreciative glance. He’d remembered she took three sugars with a dollop of cream.
“Perfect,” she murmured, setting aside the coffee to break off a corner of the top waffle to dip it in the syrup before popping it into her mouth. “Is there a reason I’m being so shamelessly spoiled?”
He shrugged. “Because I like to spoil you.”
She believed him. Duncan was a tough, macho cop, but he was also a generous lover who would always seek to please his partner.
“And because you’re worried about me?” she asked softly.
“That too.”
She grabbed a strawberry and pressed it to his lips.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“For what?” He took a bite of the berry, his gaze never wavering from her face. “Breakfast?”
“That too.”
They shared an intimate smile, both recalling the long night filled with enough passion to light the world on fire.
The gold shimmered in his hazel eyes, suggesting that Duncan would like to do more than just remember the pleasure they’d shared.
“What time will your watchdog be arriving?” he asked, his voice a husky rasp.
Leaning to the side, she grabbed her cell phone off the nightstand to read the message she knew would be waiting for her.
She wrinkled her nose. “In half an hour.”
“Damn,” Duncan muttered, leashing his ready desire. “Where are you supposed to meet him?”
“In the parking lot.”
He frowned. “What parking lot?”
“Here.” She watched his frown deepen. “Is something wrong?”
“How does he know where I... wait.” He held up a hand, rolling his eyes. “Stupid question.”
She nodded. It had been a stupid question. “Fane is nothing if not thorough.”
His jaw tightened, but he made a visible effort to keep his expression bland. “Will you return to Valhalla?”
“Yes. I have to report to the Mave.”
“A shame.” His gaze traveled down to where the blanket barely covered the curve of her breasts. “I have a much better way to spend the day.”
“Don’t you have to work?”
“Yep.” His smile was wicked. “But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t rather spend the day with you.”
Impulsively she leaned forward, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips.
“I know the feeling.”
“Mmm.” His hand cupped her nape as he parted her lips to stroke his tongue into her mouth, tasting her with blatant hunger before pulling back with a rueful sigh. “Eat your breakfast before I forget we don’t have time for this,” he commanded.
She gave his lower lip a tiny nip. “Time for this?”
“Behave yourself, woman.”
Firmly settling her back against the headboard, Duncan reached for a strawberry and held it to her mouth.
Callie obediently took a bite, savoring the tart juices that exploded in her mouth. Duncan was right, it was a shame. Hell, it was more than a shame.
She’d much rather be feasting on his hard, male body, but time was slipping away too fast to indulge their need.
Neither wanted Fane coming to look for her.
With an indulgent smile, Duncan urged her to clean her plate, then while he whisked away the tray, Callie took a quick shower.
Returning to the bedroom she discovered her clothes had been freshly laundered and laid out on the bed and her heart melted a little more.
Crap.
This man understood women far too well.
Romance wasn’t about flowers or remembered birthdays, or surprise trips to Paris.
Not that all of those things weren’t great.
But it was the tiny, everyday thoughtful gestures that made a woman feel appreciated.
Loved.
Pulling on her clothes, she struggled against the aching disappointment at having to leave.
Someday she would put her foot down and insist she have the freedom to explore her relationship with Duncan.
But not today.
Until the danger was past, she had to be extra careful. Her nightmare had forced her to realize that she wasn’t taking Boggs’s warning as seriously as she should.
The vision of herself poised in front of Valhalla while a dark tide of death rushed past her was seared into her brain, chilling her to her very soul.
She didn’t know how or why her blood could call the dead, but if there was the slightest chance the rogue necromancer could use her in his sick plans then she had to stay out of his reach.
And if that meant cowering behind the protective walls of Valhalla, so be it.
Squaring her shoulders, she forced her feet to carry her out of the bedroom into the living room where Duncan was tucking his gun into his holster.
She choked back a groan.
His golden male looks might have been too pretty if it wasn’t for the dangerous edge to his features and the hard, lean body that was built for violence.
Instead he looked... mouthwatering.
Barely resisting the urge to cross the short distance and press herself against the sexy invitation that was Duncan O’Conner, she forced a smile to her lips.
No moping in front of the delectable cop. He was already worried enough about her.
“Thanks for the clean clothes,” she murmured. “I had no idea you could not only order a breakfast that was to die for, but you can also do laundry.”
“I’m multitalented.”
“You most certainly are,” she whispered.
He stilled as their gazes entangled, sharing all the words they couldn’t say. “Callie—”
“I should go,” she abruptly breathed, slipping on her reflective glasses. “Fane will be here soon.”
His jaw clenched, but he moved to place an arm around her waist, leading her toward the door. He might hate the fact that Fane was her guardian, but he wouldn’t jeopardize her safety.
“I’ll wait with you.”
There was no point in arguing, even if she’d wanted to.
Duncan wasn’t going to let her out of his sight until he’d handed her over to Fane.
Which might have been insulting if she hadn’t accepted that her pride had to take a backseat until the necromancer was found. In her mind she might be a kick-ass Xena warrior, but in reality... yeah, not so much.
Leaving the apartment, Callie felt a strange chill brush over her skin. Almost as if she’d been touched by death.
She shivered, hastily looking down the narrow hallway that ended at a heavy fire door. There wasn’t much to see. A few plastic plants in dire need of dusting and a shallow alcove that led to the second apartment.
So why did she feel as if there was something lurking just out of sight?
“What is it?” Duncan demanded, his hand on his gun.
She gave a last glance down the hall before giving a shake of her head. Obviously the nightmare had affected her even more than she’d realized.
She was jumping at shadows.
She shook her head. “Nothing”
Duncan nodded, continuing to lead her out of the building, but his hand remained on his gun.
She wasn’t the only jumpy one.
They stepped into the parking lot, briefly blinded by the late afternoon sunlight.
Callie blinked, scanning the lot for a sign of the heavy vehicle that Fane always preferred.
A Hummer, a truck, an armored tank.
When there was nothing beyond the expected minivans and midsize clunkers, she glanced at Duncan in surprise.
“Not here?” he demanded.
“No. Strange.” She pulled her phone out, discovering she’d missed Fane’s text. “Oh. He had to wait for the monks to arrange a car. He should be here any minute.”
“Good.” Without warning Duncan wrapped his arms around her and dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose. “We have time for a little PDA.”
“PDA?” She tilted back her head with a lift of her brows. “Dare I ask?”
“Public Display of Affection,” he murmured, his sexy smile suddenly freezing as he glanced over her shoulders. “That guy looks familiar and not in a good way,” he said, in full cop mode as he shoved a key into her hand. “Here. Go back to the apartment and lock the door. I’ll call when Fane gets here.”
She glanced over her shoulder, catching sight of the barrel-chested man with dark hair slicked from his bluntly carved face. He was half hidden behind a Dumpster, peeking around the edge in a way that had been guaranteed to catch the attention of a wary cop.
Callie didn’t like it.
It screamed TRAP.
“But—”
“Please, Callie,” Duncan muttered, his voice tense.
Knowing her companion wasn’t going to back down until he was certain there was no danger to her, Callie heaved a resigned sigh.
“Fine.” She sent him a warning glare. “But if you let yourself get hurt, I’m not going to be happy.”
His answer was a gentle push toward the door and Callie heaved a resigned sigh as she reentered the building and headed the short distance to Duncan’s apartment.
Halting in front of the door, she fumbled trying to fit the key into the lock. She was consumed with the knowledge that Duncan might very well be walking into danger.
He was a good cop. A great cop. But his obsessive determination to protect her made him vulnerable.
She didn’t doubt for a second he would put himself in danger if he thought it was necessary.
Barely capable of concentrating on the simple task of unlocking the door, Callie was oblivious to the shadow that slipped through the doorway at the far end of the hall.