Born in Blood (The Sentinels #1)(45)

“I don’t know.”

“What do you know?”

She returned to the bedroom, slipping on a pair of running shoes before turning to meet her friend’s curious gaze.

“He scares me,” she admitted with blunt honesty.

Without warning Serra was on her feet, her eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “Okay, that’s it. I’m going to chop off his dick.”

Oh hell. Callie dashed to block the dangerous psychic from leaving the room. “No, Serra.”

“What?”

“What I meant was that he makes me feel things that scare me.”

Serra blinked, startled. Callie was the sensible one. The one who never took risks. Who never tumbled in and out of lust with every cute guy who crossed her path. Who preferred an evening spent with a good book to hitting the nightclubs.

“Are you falling in love with him?”

Callie bit her lower lip. “That’s what concerns me.”

Seeming to wrap her brain around Callie’s startling confession, Serra gave a slow shake of her head. “Why are you concerned?” she asked. “I was only with him for a few minutes, but I can promise that he’s obsessed with you.”

“Obsessed?”

“You’re constantly on his mind.” Serra’s lips twisted in a self-derisive smile. “Something most women would envy.”

Callie reached to lightly touch her friend’s arm, offering an unspoken comfort.

“Whether I’m on his mind or not, we live in two different worlds.” She wrinkled her nose. “And that’s not a cliché. We literally live in two different worlds.”

Serra arched a brow. “Are you so sure?”

“What do ...” Callie made a sound of disapproval. Clearly her friend had used her powers to peek into Duncan’s thoughts. It was the only way she could know that the cop wasn’t entirely normal. “Serra, you know you’re not supposed to be rummaging through the minds of our guests.”

Serra shrugged. “I wanted to make sure he was no threat to you.”

Callie gave her companion’s arm a squeeze. “I love you, too.”

Serra shifted her feet, as always embarrassed by Callie’s open display of affection. She was far more comfortable in her role as bad-ass.

“So he confessed his secret powers to you?”

“After a little prompting.”

“Then you realize you’re not from separate worlds. He’s one of us.”

Callie shook her head. Duncan had been painfully clear.

“Not so long as he chooses to keep his gift secret,” she said. “For now he prefers his life with the norms.”

Serra snorted. “Why?”

“He loves his job as a cop, which he’d never be allowed to keep if it was discovered he is a soul-gazer. Plus, he’s very close to his family.” She heaved a faint sigh. “Both potent reasons to keep the status quo.”

Serra slowly smiled. “Then I suppose you’ll have to give him a more potent reason to switch teams.”

Could she?

More importantly, did she want to?

She hastily shoved aside the question. She wasn’t ready to open that particular can of worms.

Not until she had the time to deal with the consequences.

“Something to consider,” she murmured vaguely. “First, however, I have to survive whatever latest disaster is waiting for me.”

Duncan wasn’t overly fussy.

He had only a handful of items on his “never want to do” list:

Wrestle a gator.

Eat a turnip.

See his wife banging the delivery man.

And share a private tête-à-tête with Fane the pain-in-his-ass Sentinel.

A damned shame that he’d been forced to endure every single item on his list.

Pacing the hall, he did his best to ignore the tattooed bastard who leaned against the wall, standing so still he could have passed as a statue. Well, if a statue had obsidian eyes that held the promise of death and could pump enough heat into the air to make any man sweat.

“You seem nervous, cop,” the Sentinel drawled, folding his arms across his bare, tattooed chest, which was broad enough to put an ox to shame.

Steroids? It’d be nice to think so.

“I doubt we were called here because of good news,” Duncan growled. “Unless you know something I don’t.”

Fane snorted. “What I know that you don’t could fill libraries.”

Duncan ignored the taunt, studying the man’s face. It looked like it had been carved from stone, giving it an ageless quality.

“Just how old are you?” Duncan felt the temperature in the hall amp up another degree.

“That’s not a question you ask a high-blood.”

Yeah, like I give a shit. “There are rumors that the Sentinels are immortal.”

“There are a lot of rumors about Sentinels.”

“At least one of them is true.”

“Oh yeah?”

“You’re all pricks.”

The door to the office opened, revealing the impressive form of the Mave dressed in a white cashmere sweater that was scooped low enough to reveal the shimmering emerald of her witch mark and a black pencil skirt with black pumps. Her hair was pulled into a tidy bun at the nape of her neck to enhance the pale perfection of her face and the slender length of her neck.