Page 71 of The Huntress

LOSING TIME

Thedooropened,creakingunder its weight, its impenetrable thickness now revealed.

Callie rose to her feet, standing strong despite the desire to cover her nudity. Doing so was futile, and she accepted that. The man who strode through the door was not Darius. Darkness moved with him, an evil that saturated his every pore. He smiled in a father-like fashion, but it was insincere. There was no kindness, no mercy in his eyes. He approached her, and she fought the urge to step away from his encroaching evil.

She grimaced, now realizing that Darius hadn’t taken her for his selfish pleasure. He’d done so under this man’s instruction. Were his posture and strides regal? She smothered a snort. Every tall, distinguished suckblood fit that description. She couldn’t just assume this man was the missing key to her case. Perhaps Syl could organize a lineup.

Not wanting to ask Syl for anything, she curled her lips in distaste.

“He could have clothed you, at least,” the stranger said with a sigh, flicking a hand.

In an instant, crimson leather encased her in an outfit a dominatrix would’ve been proud to own. Her hair fell down her back in thick waves, as if she’d visited a hair salon. A leather bustier hugged her waist, thrusting her breasts upward, promising them freedom. Crimson knee-high boots clung to her calves, and garters wrapped around her upper thighs. A suspender belt in leather and lace completed the ensemble.

Such a vampire cliché. At least she was clean andsomewhatclothed.

“I can’t thank you enough for this wonderful adventure and exquisite clothing,” she said, bringing her legendary sarcasm into the conversation. “Now to what do I owe this inconvenience, and of course, your scintillating presence?”

Tasting her own blood was the only warning she received. He slapped her head to the side. Her inner cheek smashed against her teeth, and blood pooled in her mouth as the sting of the cut made itself known. He grabbed her jaw, squishing her lips open to press his mouth to hers, sucking the blood out of her.

A shiver of disgust racked through her at his warm lips on hers, at the scent of him. He didn’t stink, per se, just smelled oily. It was the same smell she came across at gruesome murder scenes, usually the ones involving the mutilation of children. As if evil lingered in the shadows and gathering crowds, watching her work even as it planned its next brutality.

She jerked away, surprised that she managed to. She smeared her bleeding mouth on her hand, grimacing at the sight of the crimson streaks along her inner wrist to her palm.

“Your taste is unique, but nothing out of the ordinary. What is it about you that has Gabriel de Winter claiming you?”

“I’m fantastic in bed.” She dodged his swinging palm—she wasn’t a fool. “So what do you want?”

He smirked, folding his arms across his massive chest. On his designer suit’s lapel was a pin—a bird on fire with a delta symbol in relief.What the hell?Phoenix meets delta? Could he be the Carter connection?

“Darius informs me Leo cannot read you?”

“That’s why I’m here, so you can ask me a question? A phone call was beyond you? I find your hospitality lacking, and your decorator should be fired.” She gestured to the empty cellar. No food, no chair? She tutted. “Perhaps send a driver next time you need to speak to me? Or a text message would do. Try it sometime.”

“I can remove your tongue for you, woman.” He stepped closer, his posture threatening.

Her legs locked in place, the bottom part of her not afraid of the walking-death-dealer in front of her. The rest of her trembled. “No, Leo cannot read me. Or so he says. It still doesn’t explain why you went to these lengths to take me.”

“Detective Callista Devereaux, you disappoint me.” He tucked a curl behind her ear and caressed her jaw as he leaned back. His fingertips were smooth, as if he’d never done a day’s labor in his life.

She clenched her jaw under his touch, withdrawing, but not enough to lose face.

“Tell me, as a youngling, are you not hungry? Thirsty?”

“Iamthirsty. A bottle of water would be wonderful.” She licked her dry lips, tasting her own blood, but the thought of water made her salivate.

“Water?” He chuckled, the cold sound skittering along her nerves.

His fangs dimpled his bottom lip as he raised his wrist to his mouth. He sliced his skin, and a thin ruby rivulet flowed, dripping onto the dirt floor. The scent of it made her stomach coil. In his other hand, a chilled bottle of water appeared. Without thought, she grabbed it before he vanished it. With trembling fingers, she fumbled with the lid before gulping down the cool liquid, a moan of appreciation humming along her throat.

“Water?” His surprise was clear in his voice, but she didn’t look at him, intent on quenching her thirst.

When she did regard him, it was in time to catch him licking his wrist to heal his wound.

“I came here to kill you, my dear.”

She blinked, amazed at his candid words. Fear spiked through her. Death by his hands would be a gruesome one, not the possible one Gabe would have offered her.

Swallowing past the new lump in her throat, she tamped down the fear before it consumed her. To stay alive meant keeping her wits about her.

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