Page 54 of The Huntress

“She’s still a detective? Are you insane?” Syl hissed. “I need her off my ass. Convert her already. I don’t want to have to kill her if she gets close to the truth.”

Rage ripped through Gabe at his brother’s threat. The force of it snatched his breath, trembling his hands. If Syl was beside him, he would’ve gripped his throat and thrown him against a wall, brother or not.

“You willnottouch her, Syl,” he ground, putting all his anger in his voice. Silence met him, followed by a deep sigh. Every muscle in his body clenched.

“I won’t harm her, brother, not when she’s soon to be my sister. Just talk to her, please.”

Gabe’s muscles slackened as relief filled him. “Why not try the truth? Knowing Callie, she’s imagining all sorts of horrors exist in that canister.”

“She implied it was Schrodinger’s cat, Gabriel.” Syl chuckled. “I like her, I do. I just can’t handle her curiosity. Please…”

Syl begging alarmed Gabe. His brother had invested in this, had placed all his hope on the chemical concoction within the canister.

“I’ll bring her to you. Tell her the truth,” Gabe said, seeing it as the only option that would calm both parties.

“Moon above! Fine, fine! But if she goes to the law with this…”

“Then I’ll kill you, and it won’t matter,” Gabe said, not liking his brother threatening the life of his woman. He sighed when the call ended with Leo’s laughter in the background.

Gunshots drew his attention, and his head whipped up as another body hit the ground. He wondered, and not for the first time, why he believed she needed protection. Against humans, she never missed, never hesitated. He respected her skill, her finely honed instincts that kept herself and Barrows alive, day after day.

Gabe sniffed the air. The only scents he discerned were from the dead bodies, Barrows’s strong cologne, and Callie…delicious Callie. He levitated down to her and looped his arm around her waist, surprising her from behind. She froze before melting into him. He loved that she did this—it made him tremble with need.

“You’ve killed them all or chased them away.” His words feathered her neck as he dragged his fangs along her pulse. “I sense no more heartbeats.”

“Damn it,” she mumbled, even as she arched her back, thrusting a breast into the palm of his hand.

“They did drop a container in their haste,” he said as he fondled her through her uniform.

He imagined lowering himself to bury his face between her thighs, tasting her as he pleased. She gasped at the sensation he projected.

“Did you just…?” Her voice broke on a throaty moan.

“I have many talents,” he mumbled, and she shivered in reaction to a psychic finger sliding into her. With trembling fingers and hasty movements, she holstered her gun before placing a hand on the brick wall.

“Hot damn.” Her words came between pants, and her nipple puckered in his palm.

He claimed her mouth then, as he mentally sucked on her nub again. The taste of her, along with her reaction to his bombardment, had his balls spasming with need. He hadn’t used psychic seduction on anyone in centuries. It’d been his preferred seduction, his enticement for feeders. The festivals and nightclubs had done away with the necessity to hunt.

With Callie, it was different.

It was more than her blood. He needed her explosive reactions, her orgasms, her breathless sighs. He swallowed her throaty moan as she splintered under his onslaught. Her need drenched her panties, and he inhaled the delicious, alluring scent of her.

“Make your jeans disappear,” she said, and he did, eager for whatever she planned.

The lustful expression that hooded her eyes had his erection bobbing. She dropped to her knees and the heat of her mouth wrapping around his arousal ripped a groan from his throat. He shrouded them so that no one—not even clueless Barrows loitering somewhere on the docks—could see or hear them.

Callie rubbing enticing circles on his balls grabbed his full attention as she blessed him with a drawn-out suck. He imagined burying himself in her heat, and at the same time projected it. Her breath stuttered, and she arched her back, giving him access as if he’d buried his physical erection in her.

“I’m going to…”

She released him to lick his balls, while she pumped his length. He roared his orgasm, the real and psychic sensations merging to blur his vision, his senses, his inhibitions. With a flick of his wrist, he vanished her police trousers. He spun her to face the brick wall, and he buried himself in her, thrusting his way to another orgasm, taking her with him, demanding she partake in their glorious union. She screamed his name, clenching around his length. She was the victor and he the conquered with the way she affected him and rattled his control.

He wanted to hold her in his arms, to convey how much she meant to him. Yet the time and place weren’t conducive to that.

After withdrawing his ever-present erection, he dressed them both before pinning her to the wall again for a kiss.

“You don’t like to swallow?” he asked into her parted mouth.

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