Born in Blood (The Sentinels #1)(51)
Author: Alexandra Ivy

A deep, aching regret clutched at his heart. Her words were simple, spoken without bitterness. But to a man who’d grown up surrounded by loving family and a community who’d easily accepted him, it made him want to hit something.

What kind of world forced a little girl to remain hidden behind protective walls or risk being attacked by small-minded vigilantes?

He had an easy answer.

It was the same world that would happily demand her help when her “curse” could help solve a murder.

With an effort, he squashed his surge of anger. He couldn’t change Callie’s past. All he could do was try to show her that there were good and beautiful things to be discovered beyond Valhalla.

They stepped onto the sun-drenched street just a block from their destination.

“You’ve never been to the Plaza?” he asked as they strolled along the sidewalk.

“Not.”

“We have time if you want to look around.” He nodded toward an exclusive jewelry store across the road. “Maybe do a little shopping.”

The sun glinted off her reflective glasses as she turned in his direction. “You assume because I’m a woman I must love to shop?”

He leaned down to steal an all too brief kiss. “Absolutely, sweetheart.”

Chapter Eighteen

Callie did her best to hide her smile as she planted her hands on her hips.

Deep inside she had to admit that she was enchanted by Duncan’s teasing. She’d never spent her days indulging in light flirtations like other young girls. Not because she didn’t want to, but people treated diviners differently, even among high-bloods. It might not always be suspicion, but at the very least . . . wariness. And Callie was by nature more serious than many of her friends.

Now she couldn’t deny a giddy enjoyment at being treated like a pretty woman who’d caught the attention of a virile, drop-dead sexy man.

Of course, she might be naive, but she wasn’t stupid. Duncan was a man who expected to have his way, either with charm or sheer arrogance. If she didn’t keep him in line, he’d trample all over her.

“I think we should find the boutique before I punch you in the nose,” she threatened.

“All right.”

He held his hands up in mock surrender before turning to stroll down the street. Well, stroll wasn’t exactly what he did. Like Fane, he was on constant guard, his eyes searching for potential enemies among the passing pedestrians and his body angled to make sure any approaching danger had to go through him first. A panther on the prowl. She smiled wryly. The Sentinel would be proud of her companion. Even if he’d rather have his tongue cut out than admit it.

And she wasn’t the only one to notice the potent appeal of his dangerous appearance.

A dozen female gazes were laser-focused on the hard muscles beneath his tight tee and faded jeans, while another dozen were lingering on the chiseled perfection of his face, which was kept from being pretty by the golden stubble on his stubborn jaw and the lethal shimmer in his hazel eyes. Even with the pale, satin smooth hair tumbled onto his brow there was no mistaking he was all male.

Ruthless, unattainable.

Perhaps sensing her growing annoyance at the female ogling, Duncan flashed her a wicked smile. “If you don’t shop, what do you like to do?”

She shrugged, forcing away her ridiculous stab of jealousy. Okay. Women liked to stare at Duncan O’Conner. Who could blame them? It certainly wasn’t worth ruining this rare opportunity to enjoy the city.

And, despite her grim duty to locate the dangerous necromancer, she intended to appreciate her time away from Valhalla.

“Different stuff,” she said with a shrug.

The hazel eyes studied her with open curiosity. “You don’t have a hobby?”

“Do you?”

“I work too many hours, but if I did have the time I’ve always wanted to coach Little League,” he answered with an easy frankness that she envied.

She was too used to keeping her thoughts and feelings to herself.

“Little League?” She lifted a surprised brow. “Really?”

“I love kids and I love baseball.” He shrugged. “It seems the perfect choice.”

Suddenly she had an image of him surrounded by rambunctious boys, his expression stern while his eyes twinkled with indulgent merriment.

“Yes,” she abruptly admitted. “It does.”

His gaze narrowed. “Are you mocking me?”

“No, not at all. I think you would make a great coach.”

His expression remained wary, as if not sure whether she was insulting him or not. “Because I still act like I’m five?”

“There’s that,” she teased.

“Thanks,” he muttered. “Anything else?”

A rare chuckle escaped her lips. He even sounded like a petulant five-year-old.

“Yes,” she murmured, deciding to put him out of his misery. “You’re also a natural leader without being overbearing. Your fellow cops obviously respect you. And you have a certain amount of charm when you aren’t being an ass.” She elbowed him in the side. “The kids would adore you.”

He reached to brush his fingers through her short, spiky hair. A silent thank-you for her belief in him.

“What about you, Callie?” he asked in a husky voice. “What makes you happy?”

She paused, truly considering his question. There were a lot of things she enjoyed. Being with her friends. Working in the garden. A quiet night in her apartment reading a good book.

“Spending time in the nursery,” she at last said, for the first time realizing just how much she depended on the pleasure she found surrounded by children.

“Ah.” He grinned in appreciation. “A sucker for the babies, are you?”

“Not just babies,” she corrected. “At Valhalla all children under the age of five spend at least a few hours every day in the nursery.”

He seemed fascinated by the glimpse into a world that was shrouded in mystery for most people. “Is there a particular reason?”

“To make sure they become accustomed to being with kids who aren’t like them. In such a confined space we can’t afford prejudices,” she explained without hesitation. It wasn’t a state secret. And besides, Duncan wasn’t just another norm. “It also helps them to learn to control their powers when they’re in public.”

“That’s what you meant when you said you had a lot of mothers?”

“Yes.” Warmth flowed through her at the memory of being surrounded by love. After seeing the trauma of children brought into Valhalla who’d been neglected and even abused, she understood what a gift her childhood had been. “High-bloods aren’t like most people.”