Page 28 of The Huntress

Her brow furrowed. “Because of Darius, or because I didn’t die or convert?”

“A little of both.”

She was smart. He admired that.

Fear darkened the green of her eyes. Her expressive face twisted his insides something fierce. “Will they harm me?” she asked. “I’m out of my depth here. No weapons, no badge.”

“Badge?” He remembered she was a detective, but having her admit it meant she wasn’t here to deceive him.

“Detective Callista Devereaux, at your service,” she said as she twisted the water from her hair.

The fact she was law enforcement explained so much about her. Her courage under fire, her ability to resist their pheromones, her muscled yet supple body, and the inner core of strength running through her.

“They won’t harm you,” he said. “I’ll be there with you.”

Her smile of gratitude pierced him with the startling revelation that she didn’t—and perhaps never had—feared him. He, the most formidable vampire in the region, feared by vampires and shifters alike, didn’t scare this human woman.

“Good.” She flashed him another smile, and hooked the towel, pulling it into the shower to dry off. She didn’t close the door, and that left an unhindered slivered view of her.

Air rushed from his lungs. Naked, glistening with water droplets trickling off her, disappeared behind the thick terry cloth.

“You did mention dressing me in something less provocative.” She paused. “Do I want to know whose clothes I’ll be wearing?”

“Yours.” His voice was gravel incarnate, scratching his throat as he spoke.

“Mine?” She slid the door open and stepped out with the towel wrapped around her body.

“Thisisless provocative.” He bolted from his chair and pinned her to the bathroom wall. “What are you doing to me?” he asked, burying his face in her neck, licking the water droplets, tasting her skin, scraping his fangs across the pulse there.

She shivered, and he smiled, pleased at her reaction. He crushed his lips across hers, conquering her mouth—a desperate attempt to bury himself in her and consume her very essence.

“We don’t have time for this now.” He cupped a towel-covered breast, massaging it, teasing the nipple with the pad of his thumb. Her breathless moans threatened his self-control. “Your first time with me should be slow and thorough.”

“My very first time with anyone should be quick and painless.” She gripped his shoulders, and he didn’t know if she meant to pull him closer or push him away.

She was a virgin? His erection throbbed in eagerness.

The wordpainricocheted through his mind. He never wanted to cause her pain.

“You deserve slow and thorough.” He trailed his hand over a breast to her belly button. “A shirt with your jeans should be okay for now?” His gaze returned to hers, and he growled.

Her hooded eyes were intense with a longing that mirrored the need pounding at his control.

“Callie.” He wanted to kiss her, to ravage her mouth again with a desperation he’d never experienced before. He peeled himself away from her, his hands shaking with restraint. “We need to go.” He cursed his brother under his breath.

“Very well.” She released a slow sigh. “A shirt like this?” She fingered the sleeve of the black T-shirt he wore, meeting his gaze with boldness. She waited, as if he would leave and return with the items.

At her expectation, he snapped out of his daze and opened a wooden panel. He tossed her a towel for her hair before choosing another black T-shirt, offering it to her.

“So that’s where you hide these? I thought those panels were decoration.” As she rubbed her hair, she flicked her gaze to the door, a silent command for him to leave. But he pinched his lips, folding his arms across his chest as if to say he wasn’t budging.

She huffed. “This is unusual, rude, and all kinds of messed up.” She pulled on her jeans under her towel. “You’d think you haven’t seen your share of naked women.”

“Somehow, with you, it’s different.” He scowled, not wanting to admit she impacted his emotions, his control. She was right though. They didn’t know each other well enough for him to assume certain liberties.

Sighing, he gave her his back, wishing he could watch her yank on the shirt, with her breasts bouncing. The shirt might have caught on her nipples on the way down. Just the idea of it froze the air in his lungs. Only after the slap of a wet towel hitting the rack did he turn around. When she bent to slip on her sneakers, her wet hair had darkened the shirt’s fabric.

“Ready.” She rubbed her hair with a hand towel. It was darker when wet and made her skin glow. She pursed her lips when he didn’t move, instead stood there, watching.

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