Page 11 of The Huntress

“No change?” Callie peeled off her sodden uniform.

This one would need incineration. The clinic had offered, but the thought of running around the city in a hospital gown hadn’t sat well with her. Besides, where would she have hidden the canister, in her disposable panties? No taxi had wanted her as their fare in her sodden uniform, which meant she walked the twelve blocks to get to Val’s.

Her shirt came off with ease, but her armored pants made sucking noises as she tugged them off. She was grateful she’d chosen to wear her uniform and not civilian clothing. The force replaced uniforms damaged in the line of duty, after making her jump through various red-tape loops, of course.

A yellow flyer on the kitchen counter caught Callie’s attention. It advertised one of those suckblood festivals where a human could convert to a suckblood if she survived.

She was so livid she struggled to form words. “What the fuck is this?”

Snapping her head to meet her sister’s eyes, her vision tainted with fury. She snatched the paper off the counter with trembling fingers, the wave generating enough wind to further cool her chilled skin. A shiver coursed through her, but she didn’t look away from Val’s face, needing to gauge her reaction.

“The neighbors are trying to be helpful,” Val said.

Callie studied her, attentive to every expression or facial twitch. Judging by her sister’s downcast eyes, shehadconsidered it. Callie couldn’t fault her for dreaming of being healthy, but this came at high cost.

“I want you to kick this cancer in the backside, Val, but not as a suckblood. I couldn’t bear to have to hunt down my own sister.”

To convert was frowned upon. The government figured it didn’t help their cause if humans joined the suckblood forces. Yet the suckblood conversion festivals remained popular despite attempts to shut them down. Callie blamed the movie industry for romanticizing vampires.

“I wouldn’t even survive the run.” Valerie’s mumble disappeared into the blankets.

Callie nodded and left the conversation to use her sister’s shower for a good long wash.

Chatter reached her ears as she stepped out of the shower. She wrapped a towel around her head and body before padding through to the lounge.

“Devereaux.” Sylvester leaned his tall frame against the kitchen counter, the canister now firmly in his grasp. Right by his elbow sat her gun and her remaining arsenal, minus one dagger and stun grenade. Too close to him to do her any good.

“Shit,” Callie muttered, anger burning through her, setting her cooling skin ablaze.

She was unarmed, wrapped in a towel and—with her sister now involved—at his mercy. She should’ve known he wouldn’t let her keep the damn canister, that he’d tail her. She should’ve known coming here would endanger Val. Idiot! She must not have taken her smart vitamins this morning.

“First the ball, now here? You consistently surprise me,” he said in his smoky voice.

His lids lowered over his gray eyes as he scanned the length of her, making her shiver with revulsion and desire. The urge to cover herself warred with her protective instincts. Fucking suckblood. He had no damn right to look this good, not after the last few hours of hell he’d put her through.

“Take the canister and go!” Her self-directed anger hardened her voice, and she smothered a wince.

Pissing off a suckblood wasn’t wise, but he had to know she was prepared to fight to the death to save her sister. She twisted off her head towel and tossed it onto a nearby chair. If she needed to fight, it would get in the way. After tightening the knot on her towel and between her cleavage, maintaining her modesty, she shifted her feet into a fighting stance, ready for anything he might throw at her.

“How gracious of you,” he said in a bored tone. A small smile played across his sensual lips. “I shan’t be seeing you again, now that I have this.”

“Giving up a life of crime so easily?”

Her sister gasped at her sarcastic words, but Callie ignored her. The bastard was taking her canister. If he left them alone, she’d be happy with that. Yet it went against her genetics to allow him to leave. Allow? There was no allow with a suckblood. He’d do what he wanted, regardless of her opinion.

“What’s in the canister, anyway? Schrodinger’s cat?”

He chuckled, and warmth spread through her chest at his smile. Could he stop oozing pheromones for one frigging minute?

“Our future.” He glanced at Val, who nodded at him as if they had made some sort of arrangement.

Callie’s blood boiled underneath her skin. Not knowing and imagining the worst was killing her. As swiftly as he arrived, he was gone, closing the door behind him without a sound.

“What the hell, Val?” She glared at her sister.

“He walked through the door like he knew you were here.” Val gave her a pointed look.

“He must have waited for me to arrive, the bastard.”

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