Wolfe grimaced. “Truly a walking corpse.”
“Yes.”
“Christ.” They exchanged a hard glance that spoke of their mutual resolve to put an end to the necromancer’s gruesome magic. That’s what Sentinels did. Solved problems. “Where are you off to next?”
“Florida.”
“What’s in Florida?”
“A monk who can hopefully give me information on ancient Sumerians.”
Wolfe didn’t probe. The connection between monks and guardians was a sacred trust that was never discussed outside the monastery.
“I heard you returned without Callie.”
Fane clenched his hands. It had gone against every protective instinct he possessed to leave her behind. But he wasn’t a fool. Callie was a grown woman who was going to do what she wanted to do.
Trying to stop her would only have made her dig in her heels.
Women.
“She insisted on remaining with the cop,” he admitted in sour tones.
“Insisted?” Wolfe arched a brow. “That doesn’t sound like Callie.”
“She’s infatuated with the bastard.”
Wolfe studied him with a steady gaze that held curiosity without judgment. “Does that trouble you?”
“Only because I can’t be sure her emotions aren’t clouding her mind,” he said. Callie would always hold a place in his heart. She was his to protect. But she wasn’t the woman who stirred his passions to a raging fire. “Right now I think she’d risk any danger to be with him.”
“I feel your pain, comrade.” The dark gaze briefly flicked toward the closed door of the Mave’s office. An instinctive action that Fane doubted the Tagos was even aware of. “Females can be unreasonable under the best circumstances.”
Fane shrugged. “I have to trust O’Conner will protect her.”
“Is he capable?”
“Not as capable as I am, but he has more skills than he realizes.”
Wolfe was instantly intrigued. “A potential Sentinel?”
Fane smiled without humor. He’d recognized Duncan O’Conner’s hidden talents the minute their paths had crossed. Not only his ability to read souls, but his superior strength. It was the only reason he’d allowed Callie to remain in his care.
Otherwise he’d have her locked in the dungeons so she couldn’t sneak off the minute his back was turned.
“If I don’t kill him first,” he muttered.
Wolfe smiled in understanding, then both men froze as the smell of expensive leather and dangerous woman wafted through the air. Seconds later Serra rounded the corner, her stunning beauty a perilous weapon.
“Ah” Wolfe cleared his throat, careful to avert his gaze from Serra’s lush body shown to perfection in the skintight leather pants and lacy bustier. “She looks like a woman on a mission. I think I’ll leave the two of you alone.”
“Traitor,” Fane muttered, composing his expression to hide the familiar sense of frustration and raw, aching desire.
This woman was his greatest temptation.
And the promise of his doom.
Chapter Twenty
Duncan eventually called for the BBQ. He even allowed Callie to get dressed so they could eat like a civilized couple in the dining room with real forks and plates.
See ... he wasn’t a complete barbarian.
And astonishingly, he found amazing pleasure in sitting at the table arguing about music and movies and whether ice cream should be chocolate or vanilla while he fed her the finest brisket in the world.
This wasn’t about heat and lust and fireworks.
Instead it was fun and peaceful and so damned . . . right . . . that a part of him knew he should be terrified.
Snatching the last square of corn bread, he was busy buttering it when the ring of his phone broke the easy atmosphere.
Automatically he reached to answer it, then his gaze was snared by the faceted sapphire blue of her eyes and he deliberately returned to buttering the corn bread.
The ringing stopped. For all of two seconds.
“Ignore it,” he muttered as it started again. And again.
She reached to snatch the bread from his hand, a teasing grin tugging at her lips.
“I can if you can.”
His libido stirred as she took a bite, the butter shimmering on her lower lip. He should turn off the phone and haul her back to bed.
Or even sweep aside the dishes and indulge in his fantasy of eating dessert off that pale, satin skin.
The delectable image began to form in his mind.
Callie’s naked body stretched across the table. Her crimson hair shimmering in the late afternoon sunlight. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he ...
His phone once again intruded.
“Dammit.” Huffing out a resigned sigh, he reached to pluck the phone off the table. He was a Grade A idiot. It was no wonder Susan dumped his ass. “I’m sorry.”
Before he could answer, Callie reached to lightly touch his hand. “Duncan.”
He grimaced, bracing for the familiar lecture. “Yes?”
“Don’t ever apologize for being good at your job.”
Okay. That was the last thing he expected.
He studied her pale face, which revealed a calm acceptance that he was fairly certain he didn’t deserve.
“I think I’m apologizing for letting it consume me,” he muttered. “Or at least, that’s what I’ve been told.”
“By who?”
He shrugged. “My ex-wife, my mother, my sisters, the old lady next door—”
She held up a hand. “Yeah, I get it. They’re worried about you. But that doesn’t make your love for your job wrong.”
He reached to grasp her fingers, searching the depths of her stunning eyes for the truth.
Could she actually understand?
“I don’t want you to feel as if I’m putting you in second place.”
“I don’t” She leaned across the table to brush a light kiss over his mouth. “Of course, there’s a difference between being obsessed with your career and using it as a barrier to keep people at a distance.”
She did understand.
All too well.
“How did you know?” he demanded, grudgingly recalling the dates he’d broken because it was easier to stay at the station than spend a few empty hours trying to act interested. Or the Sunday family dinners he’d skipped because he didn’t want to be the target of his meddling sisters’ attempts to set him up with their endless parade of friends.
“Because I’ve used my fear of being rejected to do the same thing.”