Page 73 of The Huntress

Imagine a door with my name written on it. Open it.

She drew in a deep breath and focused. It would be an ancient imbuia door carved with strange runes. Three letters burned into the wood. L. E. O., and in her handwriting. Grabbing the ornate brass handle, she yanked it open.

Shit!Leo voiced.Just a little, not all the way.

Sorry.She closed the door until a sliver remained.

We’ll find you, sweetheart.

She held her inner wrist to her lips and waited. Her pulse pattered, her senses alert to the sound, the scent of her blood pumping through her body.Argh.She didn’t know how to make her new teeth extend, but the sharp tug on her upper gums had her sighing.

Two incisors pierced her bottom lip, drawing blood—salt, spice, and iron coated her tongue. She smeared it across her wrist where she’d streaked her blood earlier. That was fortuitous.

The orange symbol glowed. She whispered Gabe’s name across it and spun in a circle. When there was a pulse, she froze. He was in the direction of the mosque. Excitement skittered through her, and she cried out, unable to contain her renewed hope.

He’d find her soon.

She ran the tip of her tongue over her lip, healing the tiny tear. Instant healing was a neat trick. Being on the opposite side of the playing field was strange. Cytotoxin-tipped daggers would harmhernow.

She clambered onto the bed again. George scurried up and curled into a ball on her chest, content to wait and rest as well. She smiled, stroked his little forehead with a fingertip, and allowed sleep to claim her.

Her eyes flew open at the first wooden creak. She doubted she’d slept for more than ten minutes. Exhaustion dogged her, along with a demanding thirst. She frowned at its persistence, accepting that it wasn’t a good sign.

George jumped up and down on her chest in eagerness, summoning a smile. He didn’t scurry away as he’d done with Stavros.

“So no one bad is coming, hey, buddy?” she teased, and he paused, twitching his nose. “Okay, off you get.”

He bounded off as she pushed herself into a sitting position. Her crimson boots and garters caught her eye, and she grimaced. It wasn’t the best outfit in which to entertain guests, but neither was her nudity. The sheets could be made into a toga. She pushed off the bed to fashion one when the door opened.

The tall man who strode in had hope spiking through her. Except the shape of him was wrong, drooping her shoulders in despair. She didn’t drop her guard, assessing whether he was friend or foe. Her instincts weren’t screaming, and George wasn’t hiding.

No man should look this good. Ebony curls cascaded over a face carved by angels. Strong square jaw, firm lips, and molded cheekbones to piercing green eyes. As she analyzed him, he studied her. Warmth swept her body, trailing the path of his emerald gaze. She drew in a deep breath and scented an ancient vampire. The power flowing off him was almost visible. Where that knowledge came from, she couldn’t say. His long hair, in various shades of black, brushed his shoulders as he entered her cell.

“Ah,tsvetok. I can see why Gabriel claimed you,” he said, his voice rough, she suspected due to an interwoven scar that ran up his throat.

A scarred vampire? Interesting.

He lifted his nose and scented the air, scowling as if he recognized it. “Stavros was here?”

“Yes, he implied he was curious, but I doubt you could go to the bank with anything he said.” She kept a set distance between them.

When he stalked forward, she scampered back. After all, he could be a friend of Darius, which would make him her enemy. Her instincts could be wrong or delayed in their warnings. They’d been lax of late.

“Stavros’s involvement complicates things. I thought I would ensure you were well, clothed, and fed before Gabriel descends those steps.” He admired the length of her again, pausing for a while on her garters. “I need not have bothered.”

“Gabe’s here?” She gasped, taking a step toward the open door before halting.

It could be a trap. Wariness was an unexpected gift from her forced confinement. For all she knew, he had a similar gift to Leo.

“Ah, you don’t trust me. It’s understandable. I’m a stranger. My name’s Dimitri Vasiliev, head of the Vasiliev Hold. It’s a pleasure to meet the woman who has inspired loyalty within two of the most powerful vamps I know.”

“Leo’s here?” Joy hit her, for if Leo was here then she could easily verify this man’s identity.Leo?

Yes, Callie?

Can I trust Dimitri?

Yes, though I’d advise you to stay below. Gabe’s dealing out justice, and it’s not pretty. Mike approves.

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