Born in Blood (The Sentinels) (24 page)
Read Born in Blood (The Sentinels) Online
Authors: Alexandra Ivy
“I’ll see you in hell,” she promised.
Zak heard the sound of the door opening behind him, and the muttered curse as the intruder caught sight of him ruthlessly squeezing out the last of Anya’s life. But his gaze never shifted from the emerald eyes, a smile touching his lips as he savored her slow death.
Yes. This was his finest talent.
And his greatest pleasure.
He heard the sound of metal scraping against leather as the man behind him drew a gun.
“What the fuck is going on here?” he growled, his voice not quite steady.
“Patience, cop,” Zak commanded, the dark power stirring deep inside him. “You’re next.”
Duncan wasn’t a sentimental kind of guy.
Or at least . . . he’d never thought of himself as sentimental. Not until Callie Brown.
Lying on his side, he studied the tiny female who was tucked next to him. He’d been awake for hours, enchanted by the sight of her sleeping in his arms.
The pale, delicate features. The fiery hair that reflected her indomitable spirit. The lush curve of her lips that hinted at her passion. And the slender body that held a strength that would have shocked most people.
He’d cared for Susan. He truly had.
But this woman . . .
She fit against him with absolute perfection. Like two puzzle pieces that had finally been assembled.
There, see?
Sentimental.
And something else. Something fiercely possessive and dangerously protective.
He grimaced, his fingers lightly stroking over her bare shoulder. Despite his assurances to Callie that he was prepared to deal with the inevitable prejudices, he was still anxious to put his fist in Frank’s face.
Friend or not, the man had no right to try and intimidate Callie. If he thought Duncan was making a mistake then he should have confronted him face to face. That he could respect. Not acting like a bully behind his back.
He gave a shake of his head, unwilling to mar the peace of this moment with such ugliness. There would be plenty of time later to worry about the rest of the world. For now it was just the two of them.
On the point of waking his sleeping beauty with a kiss, Duncan was caught off guard when she abruptly began to thrash against him, her tiny moans of distress piercing his heart.
“Callie. Sweetheart.” He sat up, pulling her tight against his chest.
She struggled against him, her breath coming in panicked gasps. “No . . . no.”
His hand pressed her head against his shoulder, his arms keeping her from tumbling off the bed.
“Callie, wake up.”
The low command in his voice seemed to do the trick. With a low moan she lifted her lashes, the brilliant clarity of her eyes clouded with a lingering horror.
“Duncan?”
He cupped her chin, brushing a soft kiss over her trembling lips.
“You were having a nightmare.”
“Yes,” she said slowly, a shudder wracking her body. “God, it was horrible.”
His lips moved to stroke her temple. “Do you want to share?” he asked. “Or just forget about it?”
“I was standing at the edge of Valhalla and—”
“Callie?”
“They were everywhere,” she said, bravely trying to swallow a choked sob.
“It’s okay.” His arms tightened around her at the feel of her trembling against him. “I’ve got you.”
“I couldn’t stop them.”
“Stop who?”
“The dead.”
His heart squeezed at her whispered words. Dammit. Couldn’t they leave her alone even in her sleep?
His hand ran a soothing path up and down her back. “Callie, it was just a dream.”
“No. Not just a dream.” She tilted back her head to reveal her troubled expression, her cheeks damp with tears. “It was real. A premonition.”
He ignored the cold chill that inched down his spine. No. He wasn’t going to start jumping at shadows.
They were both on edge. Wasn’t it more likely her dreams were a reaction to her stress rather than some omen?
He used his thumbs to brush away her tears. “Is seeing the future one of your skills?”
“No, but
“Then it was just a dream,” he insisted.
She sucked in a quivering breath. “It was my blood.”
“What?”
“It was my blood that called them from their grave.”
“Ssh.” He laid his cheek on top of her head, his hand reaching up to yank aside the curtain so the morning sunlight could spill over the bed. “Nothing is going to happen to you. Not as long as I have you in my arms.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Zak studied the small cut on his palm, fascinated as a drop of blood appeared only to vanish, reappearing in the chalice he’d left on the counter of his lab.
Inside he could feel the dark power that flowed through him like a river of ice. It was the same pulsing avalanche that threatened to sear the flesh from his bones ... and yet, different.
With the chalice it was deeper, more profound.
His senses were heightened to a near unbearable acuteness, as if his every nerve had been exposed. The fluorescent lights were almost blindingly bright, the faint brush of central air made his skin prickle, and the sound of Tony’s thundering heartbeat as he cowered near the door echoed through the air.
But above it all, he was aware of the shimmering strands of magic connecting him to the corpse standing in the middle of the floor.
This wasn’t the familiar slipping into the mind of the dead. He wasn’t controlling an empty shell that was rapidly deteriorating.
No.
A part of Frank Sanchez remained despite his death. He was imbued with a magic that flowed from the chalice and into Zak before flowing to Frank. The cop could walk, talk, and think for himself. The magic even made him seem alive. He blinked, occasionally sucked in an unnecessary breath, and his face could show a few sluggish expressions.
The magic also disguised the gaping wound on the side of his head where Zak had crushed his skull. Almost as if it was Frank’s own memory of himself that was being shrouded around his corpse.
But while he seemed alive, he was well and truly dead, and in the absolute control of Zak.
The perfect weapon.
A smile of satisfaction curled Zak’s lips as he slowly circled his newest creation. “You can hear me?” he asked softly, pleased when Frank’s gaze settled on his face, awareness shimmering in the dark depths.
“Yes.”
“You know who you are?”
“Frank Sanchez.”
“Shit,” Tony muttered from the doorway, his face a pasty white.
“Be quiet,” Zak snapped, his gaze never leaving Frank’s face as it scrunched into a puzzled frown. “What is it?”
“Who are you?” the coroner demanded.
Ah. So he didn’t remember the moments before his death.
Interesting.
“I’m your master,” he said with a stern simplicity.
The frown deepened. “Bullshit—”
Zak allowed his power to flow through the bond, halting the angry words and enforcing his will on the man.
“Who am I?” he demanded.
The frown smoothed away and Frank gave a bow of his head. “Master.”
“Very good.” Reaching into the pocket of his Armani pants, he pulled out his phone and held the screen toward Frank. “Do you remember this man?”
There was no hesitation. “O’Conner.”
“That’s right.” Zak skimmed his finger across the screen to pull up another image. “And what about this woman?”
“Necro.”
Zak narrowed his eyes. As soon as he was in command of Valhalla things were going to change. Beginning with humans learning their proper place.
“Her name is Callie Brown,” he said in a soft, icy voice. “Say it.”
“Callie Brown,” Frank obediently parroted.
Satisfied, Zak returned the phone to his pocket.
“I want her brought to me,” he commanded. “Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
With a speed that took Zak by surprise, the cop was turning to head to the door.
“Wait,” he growled, grabbing the man’s arm and spinning him back around. “You don’t know where she is.”
Some undefinable emotion briefly flared in the dark eyes. Or more likely it was just a memory of an emotion.
He doubted that the magic filling Frank could actually give him genuine feelings.
“She’s with O’Conner.”
Zak narrowed his gaze. “You’re sure?”
“She was at the station with him yesterday.”
“Was her guardian with her?”
“Not.”
Zak turned away, pacing toward the stainless steel counter.
Was it possible?
He’d waited so long, been denied so often.
Could destiny at last have taken a hand in ensuring his ultimate success?
Yes,
a voice whispered in the back of his mind.
a voice whispered in the back of his mind.
Fate had obviously chosen this moment for him to take his rightful place. Why wouldn’t the stars align so that Callie would be precisely where he needed her to be?
Slowly turning back, he resisted the urge to rush from the house and attain the female who was the last key to his glory.
Destiny or not, he’d be a fool to put himself at risk when he was so close to glory.
“I want you to find O’Conner. If Callie is still with him I want you to capture her and bring her straight here. If he’s alone I want you to keep an eye on him until she shows up.” He shifted his attention to the man who was trying to disappear into the shadows. “Tony will accompany you.”
“Hell no,” the servant barked, his eyes bulging as he shoved away from the door.
“Excuse me?”
Tony flinched at the lethal warning laced through Zak’s tone.
“Our deal never included being a sidekick to a zombie,” he muttered.
Zak smiled with frigid amusement. “Is your objection to being a sidekick or working with the dead?”
Unable to find the humor in the situation, Tony began backing out the door.
“I quit.”
“Tony.”
Zak’s voice was soft, but filled with enough power to make the henchman halt in his tracks.
“What?” Tony rasped, his belligerent attitude unable to disguise his fear.
“You will be assisting Frank,” Zak informed him, his tone flat. Uncompromising. “Whether you’re alive or dead while you’re assisting him makes no difference to me.”
“Hey, sleepyhead.”
Callie woke for the second time, her earlier nightmare forgotten as she felt warm, male lips tenderly stroking over her cheek and caught a delectable scent filling the air.
Oh... yum.
She couldn’t decide which was better. The arousing sensations of Duncan’s light caresses or the aroma of cinnamon and butter and warm maple.
It was the growl of her stomach that decided.
“Hmm,” she murmured, lifting her lids to discover Duncan seated at the edge of the bed with a tray filled with food perched beside him. “Do I smell waffles?”
He nodded. “I made them fresh.”
“You made them?” Scooting up to lean against the headboard, her eyes narrowed as she caught sight of the fluffy waffles perfectly browned and dusted with cinnamon and powdered sugar with a dollop of whip cream on top of the stack. Beside the plate was a tiny jug of maple syrup and on the other side a bowl of ripe, red strawberries. “Liar.”
“Busted,” he admitted with a boyish grin that tugged directly on her heart. “I did order them. Does that count?”
Callie swallowed a resigned sigh. He was unshaven, wearing a plain white tee with faded jeans, and his hair was tumbled onto his brow. He should have looked scruffy.
Instead, he was indecently, gloriously male and so beautiful she wanted to crawl into his lap and beg him to hold her for the next eternity or so.
Lost in the fantasy, it wasn’t until a golden brow arched that she was jolted out of her lovesick daze.
She grimaced. Man, she had it bad, bad, bad.
“Only if there’s coffee,” she forced herself to tease.
His grin widened. “Your wish is my command.”
He bent down to grab a cup of coffee he’d set on the floor, waving it beneath her nose before pressing it into her outstretched hand.
Breathing deeply of the rich aroma, she took a sip, sending Duncan an appreciative glance. He’d remembered she took three sugars with a dollop of cream.
“Perfect,” she murmured, setting aside the coffee to break off a corner of the top waffle to dip it in the syrup before popping it into her mouth. “Is there a reason I’m being so shamelessly spoiled?”
He shrugged. “Because I like to spoil you.”
She believed him. Duncan was a tough, macho cop, but he was also a generous lover who would always seek to please his partner.
“And because you’re worried about me?” she asked softly.
“That too.”
She grabbed a strawberry and pressed it to his lips.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“For what?” He took a bite of the berry, his gaze never wavering from her face. “Breakfast?”
“That too.”
They shared an intimate smile, both recalling the long night filled with enough passion to light the world on fire.
The gold shimmered in his hazel eyes, suggesting that Duncan would like to do more than just remember the pleasure they’d shared.
“What time will your watchdog be arriving?” he asked, his voice a husky rasp.
Leaning to the side, she grabbed her cell phone off the nightstand to read the message she knew would be waiting for her.
She wrinkled her nose. “In half an hour.”
“Damn,” Duncan muttered, leashing his ready desire. “Where are you supposed to meet him?”
“In the parking lot.”
He frowned. “What parking lot?”
“Here.” She watched his frown deepen. “Is something wrong?”
“How does he know where I... wait.” He held up a hand, rolling his eyes. “Stupid question.”
She nodded. It had been a stupid question. “Fane is nothing if not thorough.”
His jaw tightened, but he made a visible effort to keep his expression bland. “Will you return to Valhalla?”
“Yes. I have to report to the Mave.”
“A shame.” His gaze traveled down to where the blanket barely covered the curve of her breasts. “I have a much better way to spend the day.”
“Don’t you have to work?”
“Yep.” His smile was wicked. “But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t rather spend the day with you.”
Impulsively she leaned forward, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips.
“I know the feeling.”
“Mmm.” His hand cupped her nape as he parted her lips to stroke his tongue into her mouth, tasting her with blatant hunger before pulling back with a rueful sigh. “Eat your breakfast before I forget we don’t have time for this,” he commanded.
She gave his lower lip a tiny nip. “Time for this?”
“Behave yourself, woman.”
Firmly settling her back against the headboard, Duncan reached for a strawberry and held it to her mouth.
Callie obediently took a bite, savoring the tart juices that exploded in her mouth. Duncan was right, it was a shame. Hell, it was more than a shame.
She’d much rather be feasting on his hard, male body, but time was slipping away too fast to indulge their need.
Neither wanted Fane coming to look for her.
With an indulgent smile, Duncan urged her to clean her plate, then while he whisked away the tray, Callie took a quick shower.
Returning to the bedroom she discovered her clothes had been freshly laundered and laid out on the bed and her heart melted a little more.
Crap.
This man understood women far too well.
Romance wasn’t about flowers or remembered birthdays, or surprise trips to Paris.
Not that all of those things weren’t great.
But it was the tiny, everyday thoughtful gestures that made a woman feel appreciated.
Loved.
Pulling on her clothes, she struggled against the aching disappointment at having to leave.
Someday she would put her foot down and insist she have the freedom to explore her relationship with Duncan.
But not today.
Until the danger was past, she had to be extra careful. Her nightmare had forced her to realize that she wasn’t taking Boggs’s warning as seriously as she should.
The vision of herself poised in front of Valhalla while a dark tide of death rushed past her was seared into her brain, chilling her to her very soul.
She didn’t know how or why her blood could call the dead, but if there was the slightest chance the rogue necromancer could use her in his sick plans then she had to stay out of his reach.
And if that meant cowering behind the protective walls of Valhalla, so be it.
Squaring her shoulders, she forced her feet to carry her out of the bedroom into the living room where Duncan was tucking his gun into his holster.
She choked back a groan.
His golden male looks might have been too pretty if it wasn’t for the dangerous edge to his features and the hard, lean body that was built for violence.
Instead he looked... mouthwatering.
Barely resisting the urge to cross the short distance and press herself against the sexy invitation that was Duncan O’Conner, she forced a smile to her lips.
No moping in front of the delectable cop. He was already worried enough about her.
“Thanks for the clean clothes,” she murmured. “I had no idea you could not only order a breakfast that was to die for, but you can also do laundry.”
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