Born in Blood (The Sentinels #1)(14)

“Feel sorry for them?”

His thumb stroked her cheek, as if fascinated by the texture of her skin.

“They have a beautiful, intelligent, outrageously sexy daughter who uses her gifts to make the world a better place.” He lowered his head to speak directly into her ear. “But they’ll never know you and that’s their very great loss.”

Desire, along with a far more dangerous sensation, spread through her until she feared she might melt into a puddle of need at his feet. Instinctively she lifted her arms to wrap them around his neck.

“Maybe you do have a small smidgeon of charm,” she grudgingly admitted.

The hazel eyes smoldered with pure sin. “There’s nothing small about me, Callie.” He tilted his hips forward, as if she’d somehow missed the rigid length of his arousal pressing against her lower stomach. “Let me prove it.”

She breathed in his warm, sexy scent. She’d never noticed the smell of a man before.

Of course, there were a lot of things about Duncan she noticed. The way his ass perfectly filled out his jeans. The stubborn line of his jaw that was usually shadowed by a hint of golden beard. The utter focus on his goal. Whether it was finding the bad guy, or making her tremble in anticipation.

“A friend warned me that if a man has to brag about his size it’s because he knows it’s going to be a disappointment,” she murmured, her fingers teasing the hair at his nape.

“Let me take a stab in the dark,” he said wryly. “Was this friend named Serra?”

Callie made a sound of astonishment. “You know her?”

“Our paths have crossed.” His lips found an exquisitely tender spot just below her ear. “Unfortunately.”

She arched against the welcome hardness of his body, strangely pleased he didn’t have the usual male reaction to her dearest friend.

“Most men find her irresistible.”

He kissed down the curve of her throat, the rasp of his whiskers making her tremble in pleasure.

“She’s a man-eater.”

It was growing difficult to think. “What does that mean?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he assured her, his hand gripping the back of her neck, his tongue doing wicked things as it traced the bodice of her stretchy top. “The only opinion I care about is yours.”

Her head fell back, offering Duncan greater access. He seemed to know what he was doing. Why interfere?

“Hmm.”

“I’ve never touched such soft skin,” he rasped, his lips lingering on the gentle swell of her breast. “It’s like heated satin.”

Her ni**les tightened, the tingles of excitement becoming a sharp-edged hunger that made her hesitate.

Okay. This was spiraling out of control way too fast.

And one of the first things all high-bloods learned was that bad things happened when they let themselves be out of control.

“What do you want from me?” she abruptly demanded.

“A kiss. That’s all.” He shifted to nibble her bottom lip. “Just a kiss.”

“I don’t—”

“Trust me, Callie. I won’t ever ask for more than you’re willing to give.”

Trust? Fane would tell her that she was crazy. That she couldn’t trust anyone.

Especially not a norm who all but accused the Mave of being willing to harbor a murderer.

But just for a few minutes she didn’t want to be a necromancer who was feared and even hated by others. Or the shy woman who often faded into the shadows.

And more importantly, she wanted to kiss this man.

“Okay.”

The word had barely formed before he covered her lips in a kiss that seared her to the tips of her toes.

Oh ... baby.

Serra’s three-inch heels clicked against the floor of the hallway as she walked past the wide doors to the dining hall and then the art center.

As always the two floors directly beneath the main structure were crowded with high-bloods. The shared area was a place to relax and mingle. Or, for those who were of a more solitary nature, there was a vast library and a Japanese rock garden.

And for the elusive Sentinels, there was a fully equipped gym and attached firing range that allowed them to hone their skills to a lethal edge, while releasing the aggression that was so much a part of their nature.

And that’s where she was headed.

Indifferent to the male, and a few female, gazes that followed her elegant body, shown to lush advantage in the black leather pants and red bustier, she gave a toss of her long, raven hair.

She was far more interested in the tall, lean man storming away from the gym with a thunderous scowl.

Even at a distance, Wolfe, the current Tagos and leader of all Sentinels, looked like a dangerous predator.

He was a hunter rather than a guardian like Fane, which meant he had no magic and no tattoos, but anyone stupid enough to think he’d earned his position by being a slick politician was quickly taught the error of their ways.

He was faster, stronger, and more ruthless than any other warrior. He was also a cunning bastard who could charm the birds from the trees when it suited his purpose. And of course, he wasn’t above using his potent sexual appeal to manipulate others.

With copper skin and eyes that were as black as ebony, he resembled an ancient Egyptian deity. He had a proud, hawkish nose and prominent cheekbones. His dark brows were heavy and his lips carved along generous lines. It was a striking face rather than handsome and so fiercely masculine that some women found it intimidating.