Born in Blood (The Sentinels #1)(63)

Of course, she might be naive, but she wasn’t stupid. Duncan was a man who expected to have his way, either with charm or sheer arrogance. If she didn’t keep him in line, he’d trample all over her.

“I think we should find the boutique before I punch you in the nose,” she threatened.

“All right.”

He held his hands up in mock surrender before turning to stroll down the street. Well, stroll wasn’t exactly what he did. Like Fane, he was on constant guard, his eyes searching for potential enemies among the passing pedestrians and his body angled to make sure any approaching danger had to go through him first. A panther on the prowl. She smiled wryly. The Sentinel would be proud of her companion. Even if he’d rather have his tongue cut out than admit it.

And she wasn’t the only one to notice the potent appeal of his dangerous appearance.

A dozen female gazes were laser-focused on the hard muscles beneath his tight tee and faded jeans, while another dozen were lingering on the chiseled perfection of his face, which was kept from being pretty by the golden stubble on his stubborn jaw and the lethal shimmer in his hazel eyes. Even with the pale, satin smooth hair tumbled onto his brow there was no mistaking he was all male.

Ruthless, unattainable.

Perhaps sensing her growing annoyance at the female ogling, Duncan flashed her a wicked smile. “If you don’t shop, what do you like to do?”

She shrugged, forcing away her ridiculous stab of jealousy. Okay. Women liked to stare at Duncan O’Conner. Who could blame them? It certainly wasn’t worth ruining this rare opportunity to enjoy the city.

And, despite her grim duty to locate the dangerous necromancer, she intended to appreciate her time away from Valhalla.

“Different stuff,” she said with a shrug.

The hazel eyes studied her with open curiosity. “You don’t have a hobby?”

“Do you?”

“I work too many hours, but if I did have the time I’ve always wanted to coach Little League,” he answered with an easy frankness that she envied.

She was too used to keeping her thoughts and feelings to herself.

“Little League?” She lifted a surprised brow. “Really?”

“I love kids and I love baseball.” He shrugged. “It seems the perfect choice.”

Suddenly she had an image of him surrounded by rambunctious boys, his expression stern while his eyes twinkled with indulgent merriment.

“Yes,” she abruptly admitted. “It does.”

His gaze narrowed. “Are you mocking me?”

“No, not at all. I think you would make a great coach.”

His expression remained wary, as if not sure whether she was insulting him or not. “Because I still act like I’m five?”

“There’s that,” she teased.

“Thanks,” he muttered. “Anything else?”

A rare chuckle escaped her lips. He even sounded like a petulant five-year-old.

“Yes,” she murmured, deciding to put him out of his misery. “You’re also a natural leader without being overbearing. Your fellow cops obviously respect you. And you have a certain amount of charm when you aren’t being an ass.” She elbowed him in the side. “The kids would adore you.”

He reached to brush his fingers through her short, spiky hair. A silent thank-you for her belief in him.

“What about you, Callie?” he asked in a husky voice. “What makes you happy?”

She paused, truly considering his question. There were a lot of things she enjoyed. Being with her friends. Working in the garden. A quiet night in her apartment reading a good book.

“Spending time in the nursery,” she at last said, for the first time realizing just how much she depended on the pleasure she found surrounded by children.

“Ah.” He grinned in appreciation. “A sucker for the babies, are you?”

“Not just babies,” she corrected. “At Valhalla all children under the age of five spend at least a few hours every day in the nursery.”

He seemed fascinated by the glimpse into a world that was shrouded in mystery for most people. “Is there a particular reason?”

“To make sure they become accustomed to being with kids who aren’t like them. In such a confined space we can’t afford prejudices,” she explained without hesitation. It wasn’t a state secret. And besides, Duncan wasn’t just another norm. “It also helps them to learn to control their powers when they’re in public.”

“That’s what you meant when you said you had a lot of mothers?”

“Yes.” Warmth flowed through her at the memory of being surrounded by love. After seeing the trauma of children brought into Valhalla who’d been neglected and even abused, she understood what a gift her childhood had been. “High-bloods aren’t like most people.”

He ran his fingers down the center of her back, the light caress making her toes curl in her shoes.

“Actually, I pretty much worked that out for myself.”

“I mean that ninety-nine percent of the time they aren’t born to high-blood parents,” she said, relieved when her voice was steady. No need feeding his outrageous ego with the fact he could make her melt with one careless touch. “So they’re brought to us as abandoned babies or as children who can no longer live with their biological families. They need the reassurance they’re wanted and valued by their new community.”