Page 5 of The Huntress

Mourning the missed opportunity, Leo did another slow turn, hoping to catch her auburn hair at a bar counter. The heads of the crowded hall hindered his line of sight.

“I’ll do a walk around.”

“If you find her, bring her to meet me.” Syl glanced down when another woman unzipped his black tailored trousers.

Leo grunted, acknowledging the command and strode to the center of the dance floor. No one bumped into him, as expected. The mentors taught such a skill to younglings. Vampires secreted specific scents which triggered a human’s flight response. Wherever he stood or walked, they’d avoid him without realizing it.

He closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath, and opened his mind. Images and thoughts bombarded him. Greed, lust, murder…the usual. He discarded each one as if he flicked dominoes across a table’s wooden surface. Until…Captain Johanna Metcalfe. He located her with ease, a woman with a perpetual frown. Callista’s name flitted across her mind, stained with disbelief and anger. Callista Devereaux, a detective at the Inner City Precinct. He had her full name. At last. A sweet burst of satisfaction sang along his veins. She was at a bar. He knew that already. Her final words stated her intention, but which bar?

He followed the mental link and couldn’t prevent the smile denting his cheeks when he found Callista seated on a bar stool, with a tumbler of scotch in one hand. He strode toward her, his vision tunneling as if a spotlight illuminated her glorious mane of flaming hair. She’d crossed her legs at the knees, leading his gaze to travel along their length to her delicate feet then back to her cinched-in waist and bountiful breasts straining a gown not made for her.

She raised the glass and sipped, then licked her lips to savor every drop. An appreciative hum vibrated up her throat, and Leo had to admit—it was a sensual sound. Her eyelashes fluttered in ecstasy. Her expression snagged his focus, and his heart paused.

“Devereaux, what the hell are you doing here?” her captain asked, anger pitching her voice.

Callista opened her eyes, and an impatient expression crossed her delicate features. She didn’t look guilty, even though he’d suspected she hadn’t received a formal invitation. As he closed the distance between them, her focus fixed on him, her eyes widening, before her narrowed gaze settled on her captain.

“Callista’s my guest,” Leo said, but he didn’t glance at Metcalfe.

He remained focused on Callista’s emerald-green eyes. Her ruby lips parted, and she flashed him a grateful look.

“Oh, Mr. Travisano. I didn’t know you two were acquaintances.” Metcalfe’s tone turned respectful, but a hint of suspicion remained.

“We met under serendipitous circumstances.” He stood behind Callista’s chair to slide a hand around her waist.

She stiffened before relaxing against his chest, playing the part he wanted her to.

“Yes, it was.” A smile curled her lips.

He blinked, dazed by her white teeth dimpling her lip. His heart skipped a few beats as he lingered on the curve of her upper lip and the tempting plumpness of her bottom lip. He sucked in a shuddering breath, inhaling her unusual scent. An essence in her scent eluded him. No matter how deeply he inhaled, he was unable to trap it within his lungs. His body cried out for that elusive fragrance, needing to saturate himself in it. He coiled his trembling fingers into fists, forcing his sharp nails to recede.

Gathering Metcalfe’s hand in his, he peered into her eyes. He placed a single thought there…to leave these two lovebirds alone. She blushed, the splash of color taking years off her complexion. After flashing a parting look at Callista, she scurried away.

“Weird, but whatever you did, I thank you.” Callista unfolded and refolded her legs, revealing a silky toned thigh and the tip of a dagger.

Leo’s fingers twitched as he fought the urge to stroke her skin along the scabbard.

“My pleasure. How do you know Johanna?” He went through the motions even as he drew in a deep breath, trying again to inhale as much of her essence as possible.

He couldn’t explain its addictive quality. It had the same effect on his senses as if she’d released pheromones. No otherworld undercurrents clung to her, implying she was pure human.

His mind reeled. Arousal would deepen, darken, and intensify her scent, making it more potent. Despite his pheromones, she remained unaffected. He amped the amount he used, testing her resistance.

“I’m a detective. She’s my captain,” she said, wrapping her lips over the rim of the glass.

He lingered there, wondering what she’d taste like with or without scotch.

“Ah, not a suicide attempt?” he teased. He focused his gift, staring into the emerald depths of her eyes with a delight he hadn’t expected.

“I’m investigating someone,” she replied.

Illicit images of the mayor with a young blond man entered his mind, although she made no internal comment or judgment on the salaciousness of the photographs. Determined, he intensified his search, delving deeper. As he broke through her mental barriers, he found himself swimming in dark murky waters, thick and cloying. Random memories floated on the surface, like discarded advertisement flyers and abandoned photographs.

He lunged for one, and it dissolved through his fingers to reform blurry and illegible on the surface. Growling, he grasped for another floating nearby. It too disintegrated and reformed just out of his reach. He snapped back to the present, furrowing his brow.

What was she?

“You don’t have to answer,” she said.

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