Born in Blood (The Sentinels #1)(82)

He was right. The words that Frank had spoken were already festering deep inside her. Threatening to destroy the joy she felt when she was with Duncan.

The only way to deal with it was to get it out in the open.

Like lancing an infected wound.

“He didn’t hurt me, but he did remind me of the cost you’ll have to pay to be with me,” she said, her voice so low he had to lower his head to catch her words. “It’s . . . not going to be easy for you.”

He stilled, as if surprised by her words. “Not just me, Callie,” he finally said. “It’s going to be difficult for both of us.”

She reached up to touch his jaw. “Are you sure you’re ready for it?”

He studied her concerned expression before he slowly dipped down to kiss her with a tenderness that brought tears to her eyes.

“I’m trying,” he murmured against her lips. “Although I can’t guarantee that I won’t get pissed off when I think you’re being insulted.”

“I don’t want you losing your friends.”

Another kiss. Slower . . . deeper.

“If they’re truly my friends then they’ll understand when I tell them to f**k off.” His tongue stroked a damp path along her lower lip. “And if they want to be turd-heads, then they can get the hell out of my life.”

She gave a reluctant chuckle. “Turd-heads?”

“Yep, turd-heads.” He trailed a line of kisses up her jaw before he lifted his head to regard her with a hint of question. “And you? Are you ready for it?”

She held his gaze. “When I’m with you I feel like I can face anything.”

His expression softened, some undefinable emotion smoldering in his eyes.

“Even jackass cops?” he rasped.

“I’m more afraid of your mother.”

He smiled with a sinful intent, his hand sliding over her shoulder and down to cup the swell of her breast.

“You know, I have a perfect way of taking your mind off my ma and interfering friends.” His thumb rubbed the tip of her nipple into a tight peak. “Oh, and the potential end of the world.”

“Hmm.” Her nails scraped down his back, a honey-heat flowing through her body. “This had better be a damned good distraction,” she teased, her foot stroking up the back of his calf.

He gave a soft moan, burying his face in the curve of her neck. “Oh, I think you’ll like it.”

“Just like it?”

His lips found the pulse that thundered at the base of her throat.

“If I’m very lucky, you’ll love it,” he whispered, angling his hips and sliding deep into her body with one smooth stroke.

“Duncan—”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Dawn had barely crested when Zak left his private chambers and entered the small room at the back of the house. As always, a full breakfast was waiting for him, along with a stack of the morning papers.

He ignored the sizzling sense of anticipation that filled his veins like the finest champagne as he went through his morning routine with a careful precision. The lure of the chalice had haunted him the entire night, but now wasn’t the time to be bewitched by the whispers of power.

No.

He needed an orderly mind.

An utter state of calm.

And the realization that the closer he came to achieving his destiny, the more careful he had to be.

Today he put his pawns in position and prepared the last of his strategy.

And of course, cleaned up his loose ends.

On cue, Tony entered the room, looking worse than many corpses Zak had raised.

The servant had clearly not slept. Or even bathed. His dark hair was sticking up in small clumps and his cheeks were unshaved. He’d made an effort to dress in a clean pair of slacks and a white shirt, but he’d forgotten his shoes and his belt hung unfastened around his thick waist.

“Tony,” Zak murmured softly. “Where’s the cop?”

The servant anxiously shifted his feet. “He’s in the kitchen having a cup of coffee. I told him I had to check and make sure my employers weren’t up yet.”

“Excellent.” Zak laid aside his napkin and rose to his feet. “He doesn’t suspect he’s being led to a trap?”

“Nope.” Tony did more shifting. “He knows I occasionally . . . barter information for cash.”

Zak rounded the table, absently straightening the cuffs of his black Armani suit. Unlike Tony, he understood the importance of presenting an image of strength.

“Use the tunnels to bring him into the basement.”

The man scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “He’s going to be armed.”

“Human weapons don’t frighten me.”

“They do me,” Tony muttered.

Zak shrugged. “Once the cop is in my private laboratory you may leave.”

“Always supposing he doesn’t shoot me in the back before we get there.”

Zak smiled with a cold indifference. “It’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

Tony lost what little color he had left. “Fantastic.”

Indifferent to his servant’s barely contained panic, Zak strolled out of the room and down the hall. It was still early, but he had tasks to finish before the cop arrived.