Page 22 of Blood Gift

7

Gentry

The first thingI noticed when I saw her get out of the sleek, black car was her beauty. I would have to be blind not to notice.

That face, those pouty lips, those luminous eyes. I had spent decades surrounded by Hollywood starlets, but none of them came close to her.

She had a sort of magic that hung in a cloud around her, like perfume, and it drew the attention of strangers as they walked past.

She didn’t notice any of them. She only had eyes for me.

The next thing I noticed was her brother. What the hell was this?

My temper had been infamous in my circle and well beyond for as long as I’d lived in LA. I was the guy who everybody wanted to be friends with, if only to taste the lifestyle I enjoyed, but that adoration came with a price. And I had known it, and I had loved it.

The fear even my friends felt toward me. The almost comical deference of everyone from the guy who washed my cars to the staff at my favorite restaurants. They knew how volatile Gentry Duncan was.

Stories about me were legend in the underworld in which I’d traveled.

That familiar stirring of rage began in the pit of my stomach. I hadn’t felt it in weeks, not since my humiliation back in LA. I didn’t know whether to dread it or welcome it. At least one part of me hadn’t disappeared when I lost my powers.

This isn’t you anymore, I reminded myself, but that voice was nothing compared to the growing roar of frustration as the two of them approached.

I shoved my hands into my coat pockets before tightening them into fists. What I used to do with those hands…

“I think there was a misunderstanding,” I said, looking straight at him without saying hello to her first. “This was supposed to be dinner for just the two of us.”

“And she explained to you that I provide protection for her. That means everywhere she goes,” he growled.

Oh, what I would’ve done to him. I would’ve loved every second of it and replayed it for my amusement again and again.

Maybe I’d have set his shoes on fire for starters and laugh while he screamed and jumped around. Or I’d sic a few dozen rats on him—it was New York, so there were bound to be plenty nearby. Or I’d make the skin bubble and melt off his smirking face until he writhed and shrieked in agony

But no, I couldn’t do any of that. Not a single thing like that.

Instead, I turned to her. “Do you feel that you need protection from me?”

“No, but it would make him feel better if he could wait outside. He won’t be coming in with us.”

That was something, anyway.

I held his gaze—at least, I thought I did, though there was no telling with him wearing those ridiculous sunglasses.

Who wore sunglasses after sunset?

Assholes, that was who.

Men who felt the need to intimidate others with their appearance.

I had always kept in shape and knew my way around a boxing ring, but I had never tried to lord my physical strength over strangers.

Because you didn’t need to, a nasty, taunting voice reminded me as I opened the restaurant door for her. You had your powers. You were nothing but a stupid, petty little bully. Do you think anybody you sparred with would’ve dared knock you out? Stop kidding yourself.

I tried to shake it off, just as I had shaken it off throughout my cross-country drive. There was little else to do when traveling down seemingly endless stretches of empty highway other than get lost in thought.

“I’m sorry about him,” she whispered once we were inside.

“I’m sorry if I caused any trouble with him, for your sake.” I helped her with her coat and swallowed hard at the sight of her body in a sweater dress which hugged her like a second skin.

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