Born in Blood (The Sentinels #1)(23)

“Yeah right.”

Perhaps recalling his coroner’s reaction to her presence only hours ago, he took a deep swig of the beer.

“Change takes time.”

“So they say.”

He leaned back in his seat, setting aside the beer bottle. In the overhead lights his pale hair had the smooth sheen of polished gold and his lean features were more starkly beautiful than ever.

It made her regret her decision to choose the public dining room instead of her apartment.

At least until the next words fell from his lips. “Tell me what happened with Boggs.”

It was the question she’d been expecting since they’d left the Mave’s office, but it still managed to catch her off guard.

“That’s none of your business.”

He focused on her with that stubborn concentration that made him such a good cop.

And an annoying dinner companion.

“And what if I want it to be my business?”

She shifted to make sure her back was to the rest of the room. If any of her friends caught sight of her scowl they’d be charging over in a heartbeat to rescue her.

“Are you willing to let me pry into your privacy?”

He lifted one shoulder. “What do you want to know?”

“Did you love your wife?”

He sucked in a deep breath, his hand clenched on top of the table. “Straight for the jugular, eh, Callie?”

“Not so eager to play now?” she taunted.

There was a short, explosive pause before he folded his arms over his chest. “I knew Susan from the first day of kindergarten,” he said in clipped tones, his expression screwed down tight. “She was a good Catholic girl from the neighborhood who seemed exactly the sort of woman I should marry. My parents were delighted.”

She knew she should back off. It was obviously still difficult for him to discuss his wife.

Ex-wife.

And she had no right to press. But a part of her had to know. It was like a thorn beneath her skin that was becoming unbearable.

“That didn’t answer my question,” she said, her gaze never leaving his hard expression.

There was another long, painful pause.

“I was truly fond of Susan, but I didn’t crave her like a man should crave his wife,” he abruptly admitted.

“Crave?” She blinked in surprise. “That’s an interesting choice of words.”

He surged forward, grabbing her hand and pressing her inner wrist to his lips.

“A relationship shouldn’t be a comfortable arrangement,” he growled against her racing pulse. “It should be heat and passion and raw emotions.”

An electric jolt of excitement arrowed straight through her, making her squirm in her seat.

Yow. Talk about heat. She felt singed.

“I get the picture,” she breathed.

Lowering her hand, he kept his fingers wrapped around her wrist, his thumb teasing the spot he’d just kissed.

“Tell me about Boggs.”

She sighed, but she made no move to pull away from his light grasp. If she were to be honest, she needed the comforting warmth of his touch. The memory of her visit to Boggs wasn’t something she wanted to dredge up.

Not ever.

“He sent word to the Mave that he’d come across an artifact that spoke about a coming threat,” she said in low tones.

“The usual mumbo jumbo of supposed prophets?”

“Exactly,” she said, her skin growing clammy as she remembered the dark cave that had been filled with stale air and piles of strange objects that looked like they’d come from a Hollywood set. It’d been creepy as hell. Especially for a girl who’d rarely left Valhalla. “He insisted that he needed to speak with the ‘young diviner with the eyes like sapphires.’”

“He did get the eyes right,” Duncan murmured. “Are they unusual?”

“Most diviners have green or brown eyes.”

“How many diviners are there? Or is that a secret?”

“There are less than twenty spread around the world.”

He seemed startled by her confession. “A rare gift.”

She shrugged. “Yes, but not the most rare.”

He frowned, as if wanting to know exactly what else might be out there that was even more rare than a necro, but then he gave a sharp shake of his head.

“So Boggs demanded to see you?” he asked, clearly refusing to be distracted.

“Yes.”

“And what did he say?”

She shuddered. Even after twelve years she could still recall the sight of Boggs when he shed his robe and revealed his hidden power.

“That the dead rest uneasy in their graves.”

He studied her carefully bland expression. “You weren’t impressed?”

Her lips stretched in a humorless smile. “I’d have been more impressed if he hadn’t kept me waiting in a damp cave for ten hours only to tell me the exact same thing I’d heard from a carnival fortune-teller when I was twelve.”

“The fortune-teller told you the same thing?”

Damn. She wished she hadn’t let that slip.

It made the coincidence seem far more important than it was.

Or at least, more important than she’d always hoped it was.

Now ... well, she wasn’t so sure.