Blood Assassin (The Sentinels #2)(6)

Callie wrinkled her nose, moving to lean against the marble-topped counter. “I know, you’ve been leaking.”

Serra clicked her tongue, pouring herself a shot. Because they’d grown up together they’d become connected on a psychic level. Which meant that Callie could sense the vibrations when Serra’s thoughts were slipping past her mental walls.

“I told you not to call it that. You make me sound like I have a bladder dysfunction.”

Callie smiled, but it didn’t disguise her concern. “What’s going on?”

Serra swallowed the tequila, savoring the fire as it slid down her throat. “Fane,” she at last admitted, knowing there was no point in trying to keep it a secret.

By now all of Valhalla would have heard of her latest, embarrassing encounter with the aggravating Sentinel.

Callie’s smile faded. “What’s he done?”

“You haven’t heard?”

“No.”

Serra shrugged, pouring another shot. “It doesn’t matter.”

“He’s still being an ass?”

Serra lifted her shot glass in a mock toast. “A grade-A, platinum-plated ass.”

Cassie shook her head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”

“Join the crowd,” Serra muttered before heaving a sigh. “Maybe I’m just deluding myself.”

“About what?”

“Maybe he truly doesn’t want me.”

Callie gave a sharp shake of her head. “He wants you.”

The tequila was spreading a warm glow through Serra. So why the hell was she shivering with cold?

“How can you possibly know?”

“I’ve seen how he stares at you when he thinks no one is watching. How he always waits until he knows you’re in the dining hall before he goes to dinner. How he takes twice as long to carve the figurines he creates for you.” Callie pushed away from the counter and crossed the short distance to gently remove the shot glass from Serra’s hand. “He wants you bad.”

“Then why the hell won’t he do anything about it?” Serra snapped, fiercely holding back the tears. By God, she wasn’t going to cry over the bastard. Not one tear. “I’m tired of being treated like I carry the plague.”

Callie set the glass on the countertop, biting her lower lip before she tentatively made the suggestion that Serra had been dreading.

“Do you want me to talk to him?”

“No.” She unconsciously pressed a hand to her heaving stomach.

Fane had not only been connected to Callie on a spiritual level, he’d also indulged her every whim.

God. The mere thought that he would force himself to show an interest in her to please Callie . . .

A low groan escaped her lips and Callie grabbed her hands to give them a gentle squeeze. “This can’t go on, Serra.”

Serra gave a sad smile. Callie was right.

This was it.

She’d tossed herself at Fane for the last time.

She wasn’t wasting another day on something so stupid as unrequited love.

“I know,” she admitted, a humorless smile twisting her lips.

Easily sensing Serra’s sudden resolve, Callie regarded her with open concern.

Understandable.

Serra tended to act on impulse. Especially when her feelings were hurt.

“What are you going to do?”

Serra shrugged. “What I should have done a long time ago.”

“I’m afraid to ask.”

“I’m going to find a man who isn’t afraid to love me.”

It was a promise that Serra had made a dozen times before, but this time there was no mistaking the grim sincerity in her voice.

Callie gave a slow nod. “If you need me—”

“I know.” It was Serra’s turn to give her friend’s fingers a comforting squeeze. “I’ve always known.”

“Good.” Callie took a step back, continuing to keep a worried gaze on Serra’s face. “Come to dinner tonight.”

Serra forced a teasing smile to her lips. “And watch you make goo-goo eyes at Duncan? No thanks.”

“Goo-goo eyes?”

Serra gave a dramatic shudder. “It’s sickening.”

“Okay, okay.” Callie gave a small chuckle, then her smile slowly faded. “Serra, I don’t want you to be alone.”

“I won’t. At least not for long,” she swore, abruptly deciding she needed more than tequila to improve her dark mood. “I have a new pair of Fendi boots that are just dying to go out dancing. I intend to oblige them.”

Callie hesitated, as if weighing her chances at insisting that Serra spend the evening in the protective custody of her and her new husband. It took only one glance at Serra’s stubborn expression for her to accept defeat.

“Arel’s here,” she instead murmured.

Serra’s smile became genuine.

Despite her pitiful love for a man who barely noticed her, Serra had occasionally sought out a partner who could help to ease her aching loneliness. Why not? It wasn’t as if Fane gave a shit what she did.

And Arel had been her favorite.

The hunter Sentinel was not only a charming companion, but he was a lover who understood exactly how to please a woman.