Page 64 of The Huntress

“I’ve sent a few of our spies. A few human ones too,” Syl said as he trailed a finger down the woman’s chest, parting the silk of her gown. A pale globe popped free. He cupped it and rubbed a finger over her taut nipple.

“Before we invested, did we test the product inside the canister?” Gabriel asked, raising his glass to his lips, wishing he was sipping scotch from Callie’s veins, instead.

He tamped down the rising excitement, imagining the long-forgotten tastes that awaited him—cherries and oranges, to name a few.

“You scented the test subject’s fertility.” Syl guided the woman’s hand to his groin. “She has yet to conceive, but it’s the closest we’ve come in centuries.”

“To be able to father children…” Leo’s voice hitched.

A strong, sharp need hit Gabriel, clenching his chest in a breath-snatching vise. To father children with Callie was beyond his greatest desire.

“Gabriel,” Leo said.

The urgency and fear tainting his voice startled Gabriel, who raised his gaze to meet Leo’s.

“Callie’s gone.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

FROM BLISS TO A NIGHTMARE

Thebeddipped,summoningher from her light slumber, and she mumbled a welcome, throwing out an arm in supplication. She touched fabric and moaned in displeasure, rolling over to cradle his dressed form. The bed on his side was cold, but they’d warm it up soon enough.

“Naked,” she said, struggling to open her eyes against her exhaustion.

She ran her hand over his hip, her fingertips brushing over studs and stitching. In an instant, it went from denim to velvet skin.

“Better.”

His naked heat drew her, and she spread her body across his, shivering from his warmth. Rubbing her cheek against his chest, she threw an arm around his waist, sighing with contentment.

“Drink, Callie,” he whispered, and she obeyed, latching her mouth onto his skin yet finding no blood.

Licking her way across, she lapped at the droplets above his left nipple.

It tasted funny, different, not Gabe’s sweet, addictive flavor.

Come to think of it, he didn’t smell the same either. When the last tendrils of lassitude dissipated, she didn’t change her posture. Forcing herself to remain relaxed, she pretended to drink the blood of this unknown suckblood. Cold tendrils of fear fought against her control, wanting to stiffen her muscles, to send shivers down her spine as adrenaline pumped through her veins. Her only option was to distract her rising panic by trying to come up with solutions, but she couldn’t pretend much longer.

Gritting her teeth, she faked a lustful groan even as her heartbeat climbed to a deafening roar. Damn it, where had she left her arsenal? On the bookshelf?

Too far away to help her. Her instincts roared their unhappiness, and she snorted at their sudden revival. Where were they before she’d drunk a stranger’s blood? Her stomach roiled, not liking what it now held. It twisted, and a sharp pain speared through her. At the unexpected agony, she couldn’t swallow the cry that tore from her, lacerating her throat, revealing her pretense.

“What have you done?” She rolled away from the intruder, taking the sheet with her in an attempt at modesty. Gathering it to her chest, she sat up and gasped. She recognized the stranger who would dare to force her, to violate Gabe’s sanctuary.

Darius.

She had to admit, his audacity didn’t surprise her.

“Hello, my pet.” He rose from the bed as he grinned in that irritating way of his, his arrogance palpable. “You’re mine now.”

She blinked in disbelief, wondering if he was stupid or deaf. Gabe had claimed her in front of his people and received Syl’s blessing. Where the hell did Darius think he could go after tonight? Because if Gabe didn’t hunt him down, she sure would.

Backing away from him, she bumped into the headboard behind her. “I’ll never be yours, asshole.”

“You won’t call me that again, youngling.” His voice dropped a few degrees on the chill factor as he appeared before her, so quick he blurred.

Red stained her vision, with her blood pounding in her ears, drowning out her instincts, whispering a warning that her usual sass wouldn’t help the situation. She ignored it. “Wanna bet, asshat? Or do you prefer asswipe?”

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