Page 20 of The Huntress

When they reached the door, she leaned forward to open it before helping him through it. As soon as she entered the well-lit room, she moaned at the beauty that greeted her. Lush Persian carpets, wall-to-wall mahogany shelves holding thousands of books—some of them looked ancient—and comfortable leather-bound chairs filled the large room. Various doors led off it.

“You live here?” she asked before facing him.

With a gasp, she rushed to him, replacing his hand clutching her bloodied shirt to his wound. His home had surprised her, and in her stunned delight, she’d forgotten about his wound.

“Sorry,” she said before guiding him to a nearby chaise lounge. “Your home is beautiful.”

“Thank you.” He lay on the chaise, but she got the impression it was more to appease her than from any need on his part.

“What can I do?” Shooting glances around, she wrung her bloodied hands, hoping he’d offer guidance. She didn’t have the time to waste on nursing him, not with Val on the verge of dying.

She stood before him in her low-riding jeans and a white lace bra, which did nothing to hide her abundant assets. A sports bra would’ve. She fought the urge to shield herself, knowing it would draw attention to her sparse coverings. Damn it, why had she offered him her shirt? She’d have to race after Val in just a bra.

“I need blood,” he said, his focus intense like he expected her to go bat-shit crazy at the mention of blood. She shouldn’t; she wasn’t a feeder. Still, the quicker she helped him, the quicker she could leave.

“Of course you do. You’re a vampire,” she said, trying to confirm her initial assessment. After all, he had handled Darius like a ninja assassin.

“Yes.”

“Why don’t you participate?” She didn’t need to elaborate. by his dismissive expression he’d understood her.

“It’s barbaric.” He winced as he adjusted his frame in the uncomfortable-looking chair.

She nibbled on her bottom lip. He had saved her, and it was only fair she reciprocated. Not that she wanted to be his feeder, but she needed him healed. He might be able to find Val and save her before she died or stop her conversion if she survived. An ally would be wonderful, right about now.

“Here, take from me.” Callie offered her wrist.

It looked delicate and pale, marred with blue veins and scratches from her mad dash. Would he notice them? Gabriel glanced at her wrist then at her face. She must have startled him with her willingness to feed him.

“You offer your lifeblood freely?” His voice was above a whisper, denoting his disbelief.

What the hell? This day was one of her weirdest to date.

He spoke the words in an otherworldly way, formal. He waited for her response; his focus intense as if he required a verbal confirmation from her.

“Yes, I offer my bloodfreely.”

He breathed in, his eyelids fluttering shut, showing his unforgivably long lashes. A deep inhale was a suckblood’s way of smelling her.Thanks, Darius, for that lesson.

She sniffed her armpit and winced. “I can wash first if I smell…bad.”

His eyes flew open, a smile tugging at the corners of his sinful mouth. If he had dimples then life wasn’t fair.

“You heard what Darius said. You smell delicious.”

Heat stained her cheeks, and she ran a hand over her face, not believing the situation she was in. The urge to bolt overwhelmed her. If she ran, it wouldn’t be for fear of her life. She’d be running from him and what he invoked within her. Vulnerable, naïve, and lost in a situation she’d never been in before—there was nothing in her officer handbook on how to handle this.

“Like food?” Her stare was unblinking.

If he said yes, she was leaving his ass on that couch, bleeding or not. He’d heal, but not as quickly without her fresh blood.

“No, like sex.”

At his words, silly need coiled in her belly before traveling lower to throb. Well, that was unexpected.

“Pure, unadulterated sex.”

“Oh.” Heat traveled down her throat to her exposed cleavage. His gaze traced the path of her flush. His blatant interest had her kneeling beside him, conscious of her state of undress, his blatant admiration blasting away her usual confidence.

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