“Are you a ‘freak’ groupie?”
“Hell no.”
“Hmmm.” She narrowed her gaze. “What do you want from her?”
He arched a brow. “You don’t have to read my mind to guess what I want.”
“Callie might not be a virgin, but she’s an innocent.”
“I know.”
There was a startled pause before the female strolled forward, circling him like a predator sizing up her prey.
“Well, well,” she at last drawled. “What secrets are you hiding, Sergeant O’Conner?”
Duncan went rigid with fury. “Get the fuck out of my mind.”
She chuckled, but before she could continue her tormenting there was a prickle in the air and a misty shape began to form in the center of the room.
“Serra,” a soft voice chastised.
Astonishingly, the Queen Bitch was hastily stepping forward to perform a deep bow.
“Forgive me, Inhera.”
Duncan frowned. The figure remained misty, making him assume that it was some sort of projected image. Like the TV on the far wall.
Technology or magic?
Impossible to say.
“Please see that a room is prepared for our guest,” Inhera commanded, the misty vision hinting at a female, although it was impossible to determine her features. “Then return to me so we can continue your studies.”
“At once,” Serra instantly agreed, her tone deeply reverent. Then, the second the image flickered she turned to send Duncan a glare. “O’Conner?”
He kicked his chin up a notch. “What?”
“You hurt Callie in any way, shape, or form and I’ll give you nightmares that will make you scream.” She smiled with an evil intent. “Literally.”
She left the room with the fluid grace that most freaks seemed to possess, her heels clicking on the polished wood floor.
Once again alone, Duncan heaved a shaky sigh. Teleportation with tattooed Sentinels, mind-reading chicks in SMBD leather, projections of females that could appear and disappear, and a necro who made his blood run hot even when she was treating him as if she were cold as ice.
“My da warned me to stay away from the freaks,” he muttered.
Chapter Three
The office of the Mave was designed for maximum impact.
Done in shades of black and white, it was lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and low leather chairs set opposite the heavy ebony desk. The floor was covered by a white carpet with a black geometric pattern. And the far wall was made entirely of glass to provide a stunning view of the formal rose gardens.
Not that the female currently seated behind the desk needed the traditional trappings to prove her authority.
The leader of the high-bloods barely looked thirty and was a stunning beauty with her smooth curtain of black hair and pale, oval face. But there was a thunderous power that shimmered in her storm gray eyes and a dignified calm that was oddly intimidating. And while the more daring men might covertly lust after the tall, slender body that was casually displayed in a pair of faded jeans and a cashmere sweater, it only took one glance at the birthmark on the upper curve of her breast that she deliberately exposed to make them treat her with respect.
The small mark in the shape of an eye proved that she was a born witch, and the brilliance of the shimmering emerald color revealed that her powers were off the charts. The darker the color, the greater her magic.
The fact she was also one of the most talented telepaths ever recorded only added to her considerable arsenal.
And her reputation.
Being called to the Mave’s office had been known to make the most bad-ass Sentinels piss their pants.
Thankfully Callie had already had all the piss terrified out of her by her unexpected powwow with the stranger in the mind of a dead woman. Now she was just desperate for answers.
The Mave sat perfectly still, her classically beautiful face unreadable as she considered Callie’s bizarre story.
“You say his eyes were clear?” she at last asked, her slender fingers drumming a steady beat on the glossy desktop.
“Yes.” Callie shivered as she recalled the cold brilliance of the stranger’s eyes. “They were faceted and shimmered like diamonds.”
“And his hair was gray?”
“More silver, I think,” she clarified, not entirely sure what might be relevant.
“From age?”
“I’m not certain.” Callie felt Fane’s hand gently land on her shoulder. The warrior stood behind her chair, offering a silent support that she desperately needed. “His face looked mature, but it’s impossible for me to guess his age.”
“Unusual.” Tap, tap, tap went the finger.
Callie didn’t know if that meant the Mave was troubled by what she was saying, or simply bored.
And she didn’t care.
She wasn’t leaving until she had some answers.
“And his power ...” She gave another shiver. “I’ve never felt anything like it.”
Fane gave her shoulder a squeeze, his growing disapproval heating the air. Sentinels’ body temperature naturally ran higher than others’. And the heat spiked with their mood.
It gave a whole new meaning to a man being smoking hot in bed. Not that Callie knew from personal experience, but she’d heard the rumors.
“She’s been over this a dozen times,” he growled, his tone respectful—barely. “She needs to rest.”
Callie reached up to pat her guardian’s hand, worried he was going to get himself tossed in the dungeons. And yes, there were dungeons.
“I’m fine, Fane.”
“No, he’s right. You’re weary and I need to do some research.” She sent them both a warning gaze. “For now I want this kept strictly between us. Until I know more there’s no point in allowing the gossips to get ahold of the story and cause an uproar.”
Callie nodded. “Of course.”
The Mave smoothly rose to her feet. “Rest for an hour or so and we’ll speak again.”
Callie was out of the chair before she even realized she was moving.
“What about Sergeant O’Conner?” Callie demanded.
A wry amusement shimmered in the smoke eyes. “A very stubborn man.”
“I can get rid of him if you want,” Fane promptly offered.
“No, we must work with the authorities. Our”—the Mave hesitated as she searched for the proper word—“relationship is difficult enough without humans worrying that we’re trying to hide a murderer. Besides, I have a few questions I must ask him.” She headed toward the door leading to her private quarters, pausing long enough to glance over her shoulder, a mysterious smile on her lips as she looked directly at Callie. “I’ve had him taken to the guest quarters if you’re interested.”
“Pity,” Fane muttered as the Mave left the office and closed the door.
Callie frowned. “What’s a pity?”
“I was hoping for the opportunity to kick his ass out of here.”
“Why do you dislike him?”
“Don’t ask foolish questions, Callie.” He moved to stand directly in front of her, capturing her chin between his fingers as he studied the faint bruises beneath her eyes. “What did the healer say?”
Fane had insisted on carrying her directly to the healers, growling at anyone who came close to her. Including Duncan, who’d been led off before she could say a word to him.
“There was evidence of pressure on my frontal lobe, but no damage.” She wrinkled her nose. “They suspect the stranger was searching my mind.”
The dark eyes glittered with the promise of revenge. “Bastard.”
She bit her bottom lip, disturbed by the mere thought of Fane coming up against the stranger who’d stolen a young female’s heart without leaving a trace. “I’m worried.”
“A premonition?”
“No, I don’t have any talent for seeing the future, but I do know that whoever, or whatever, I encountered isn’t done.” A chill crawled down her spine. “There’s going to be more deaths.”
His expression was as hard as granite. “We should go to the Tabuk.”
The monastery that was tucked in the Himalayas was a safe house for high-bloods who needed a time-out from civilization. It was not only hidden from the norms, it was so off the grid that it couldn’t be found by the usual technology.
She gently tugged free of his hold. If it was up to Fane she would be locked away for the rest of her life.
“I told you I’m fine.”
“You’re in danger.” The magnificent swirls and arcs of his tattoos appeared even more vivid against his skin as his muscles clenched with frustration. “This creature knows you. He’s been inside your head. I won’t allow you to be the next victim.”
She lifted a brow. “Allow?”
“I am your protector.”
“And I appreciate your dedication, Fane,” she said softly. “But if he had wanted me dead he could already have killed me.”
Fane wasn’t impressed with her logic. “Maybe he likes the hunt.”
She couldn’t argue. She sensed the predatory nature of the stranger. But who or what it was hunting remained a mystery.
“It doesn’t matter. I can’t leave. I’m the only one who can identify the man.”
The Sentinel scowled. “You won’t be able to identify him if you’re dead.”
She reached to brush her fingers down the rigid muscles of his forearm. “Fane, with this man’s power there’s nowhere I would be safe.”
“I won’t lose you.”
She felt a familiar tide of affection for this man who’d committed his life to keeping her safe. “I’m not going anywhere,” she assured him, then dropped her hand when his cell phone beeped. It didn’t take a genius to know who was trying to contact him. Fane lacked the sort of friends who would call him just to chat. “Wolfe?” she asked as he pulled the phone from his pocket with a soft curse.
