Cautiously he scooted closer, wrapping his arms around her waist.
“Do all high-bloods keep themselves so isolated?”
She settled her head on the pillow, her gaze absently studying the oil painting depicting a field of daffodils that hung on the wall.
“It does seem to be a common trait.”
“Is it because you’re afraid of trusting anyone?”
She struggled to concentrate. She told herself her jitters were because she’d never cuddled in bed with a man and tried to have a conversation. Her few sexual encounters had been brief with little in the way of actual chitchat.
It was bound to be awkward the first time, wasn’t it?
Certainly it had nothing to do with the intrusive images of what would happen if she shimmied out of her robe and turned to face him.
“For some.” She was forced to clear her throat. She wasn’t going to imagine rubbing herself against all that male hardness. Or her sensitive ni**les being tickled by his golden chest hair as he nuzzled kisses down the curve of her neck. Nope. Not gonna do it. “Most have special abilities that mean they have to maintain constant control when they’re around others,” she managed to continue. “They need time and space just to relax.”
“I get that.” His warm breath puffed against her nape, sending arrows of pleasure down her spine. “Cops don’t have special powers, but after a day spent in the gutters they need some serious decompression. Not all spouses understand why we want to go to a bar and toss back a few shots or lay on the couch and try to pretend that we can forget the sight of a young woman found dead on her kitchen floor.”
She stilled. For once they were completely alone with no danger of being overheard.
“That’s not entirely true, is it?” she asked softly.
“What isn’t true?”
“That you don’t have special powers.”
He tensed, remaining silent for a long minute. Callie bit her bottom lip, regretting her impulsive question. It was beyond intrusive to prod into a person’s private gifts. Even the youngest high-blood knew that.
If Duncan wanted her to know about his powers he would have told her.
The apology was on the tip of her tongue when Duncan abruptly broke the silence.
“How long have you known?”
“I don’t know anything for certain,” she assured him. “You work very hard to keep them hidden.” She hesitated, torn between curiosity and the manners that had been drilled into her from the cradle. Curiosity won. “Are you ashamed?”
“Not ashamed,” he clarified, his voice pensive but thankfully not angry. “But when I was very young my ma warned me never to speak about my ... gift.”
A typical response. Mothers around the world did what they could to protect their children.
Well, except for hers. Her loving parents dropped her in the nearest trash can.
“Did she think it was a curse?”
“No, she was worried I might be taken from her.”
“Ah.” She kept her gaze trained on the daffodil painting even as she was vividly aware of his lean body pressed against her back. It was somehow easier to share confidences without being face to face. “Will you tell me?”
Another pause before he answered in a voice so low she barely heard him.
“I see auras.”
She sucked in a startled breath. “A soul-gazer.”
“Soul-gazer.” Duncan allowed the words to rattle around his brain. He’d never heard the term, but it seemed oddly right.
“You can see the souls of people, right?” Callie asked, the very casualness of her tone easing the raw knot of discomfort in the pit of his stomach.
Revealing his darkest secret was like stripping in a crowd and allowing a bunch of strangers to measure his dick. The fact that she treated his “big-reveal” like it was an everyday occurrence made him feel less ... exposed.
“Yeah, I guess that’s what I do.”
“A rare gift,” she murmured. “No wonder you’re such a good cop.”
He frowned at her soft words. He’d worked his ass off over the years to reach his position of sergeant.
“Hey, it takes more than a flash of color around a perp to make me a good cop.”
“But it doesn’t hurt.”
His lips twitched with a grudging humor. Okay. Maybe he’d used his abilities to sense the guilt or innocence of a perp.
“No, it doesn’t hurt,” he agreed, his fingers absently toying with the belt of her robe.
When he’d first climbed into bed with Callie he’d barely been able to think beyond the fierce desire that had pounded through him. He wasn’t an animal. Or at least most of the time he wasn’t an animal. But being in bed with the female who’d haunted his dreams for more nights than he wanted to admit was doing wicked things to his libido.
He wanted her with a compulsive need that was becoming downright painful.
Only the memory of her trembling unease when he’d come out of the bathroom kept him from sliding his hands beneath the robe to explore the ivory silk of her skin.
When he became her lover it would be when she was soft and melting in his arms.
Not skittish with nerves.
“No one but your mother knows?” she asked, thankfully unaware of his struggles.
“No.” He was struck by a sudden thought. “Are you going to tell anyone?”
“Not unless you want me to.”
That sounded waaaay too easy.
“It isn’t some sort of duty to report high-bloods?”
“Not for me.”
Ah. Now the catch.
“But?” he prompted.
She hesitated, as if considering her words. “I’m sure Fane would have sensed your powers.”
He’d suspected as much, but that didn’t stop his stab of annoyance. The last thing he wanted was the pain-in-the-ass Sentinel to have something to hold over his head.
“And he said nothing?” he growled. “I find that hard to believe.”
“Nothing to you,” she corrected, snuggling deeper into the mattress, the short strands of her damp hair glistening like licks of flame against the white pillow. “But he would have reported to the Master of Gifts.”
“Master of Gifts?” He made a sound of disbelief. It sounded like a character from a video game. “Is that a joke?”
“No. Calder and his order search for high-bloods around the world.”
Great. There was an entire order searching for high-bloods.
“Should I expect to be hauled to his office?”