Page 87 of The Huntress

Yes, it’s what claiming can do. A bond forms that surpasses all boundaries. With this complete, we are married, Callie. You are mine, at last.

Have I told you I love you, Mr. de Winter?She trailed her fingertips along his collarbone.

His heartbeat pounded out a new rhythm. She loved him. He’d suspected, had wanted to ask her many times, but to have her tell him, of her own free will…it was precious to him.

No, you haven’t, Mrs. de Winter.“Youhaveshown me though.”

She leaned closer to feather her lips along his neck. “There’s power in the spoken word.”

He agreed, then again, she had power over him, by word and deed.

“It changes hope to reality.” He plucked the words from her mind. “Tonight, I have other plans for your lips and for your tongue.”

She giggled, lifting her sparkling emerald gaze to meet his.Show me.

Chapter Thirty-Three

TO BE A SUCK-BLOOD

“Tomakesomethingfromwithin yourself, you need to imagine every aspect of it, every detail. Hold it in your mind and will it to appear.” A ruby-red rose formed in Gabe’s fingers, close enough for its fragrance to tickle Callie’s nose. “As much detail as you can think of will solidify the conjure. Weak vampires create illusions. Ancients and masters create substance.”

“I’m exhausted, Gabe. We’ve been at this for hours, and I’m lucky if I get pixie dust.” She stomped her foot in frustration, and hell, even that drained her.

“If a talentless youngling can conjure, so can you.” He stood before her and crossed his arms over his muscular chest. “Besides, if you don’t master these skills, you’re staying home.”

She glared, hating that she agreed with his threat. He was right to demand she learn because without these skills, she'd be a liability.

She took a deep breath, focusing on an image of a rose. She imagined the velvet petals, the light playing on them, the sweet, intoxicating scent, and a thornless stem. After five minutes of willing it to appear in her hand, all she got was another shimmer of pixie dust—a swirl of peach light. A vague outline of a rose appeared, but she filed that under an overactive imagination and a desperate need to conquer this skill.

Try something you are familiar with.

She huffed at his thoughts. It implied she hadn’t received many roses in her life to imagine the delicate flowers well enough. He was right, of course.

His continued patience and calm acceptance of her failures encouraged yet saddened her. She didn’t want to disappoint him. Warmth and energy flowed through their link, strengthening it the more they used it.

An image of a berretta formulated in her mind, complete with a personalized engraving on the grip and a telescopic lens. She imagined its internal mechanisms, the sound of it cocking, and the peach glow came sooner. She held her breath, tense with hope and excitement. Within seconds she held a loaded handgun.

“Awesome.” She bounced on her toes as she tested its scope. Her grin cracked her cheeks in half. The euphoria saturating her chest had her giggling.

“Good.” He gave a mouthwatering smile. “Now make it vanish. Imagine it dissolving into molecules, and draw the energy back into yourself.”

The gun turned into ash, which coated her palm like a thick layer of paint before fading into her skin.

Unusual but it worked.

“Unusual good, or unusual bad?” She studied her palm.

“Just different. You can do that for your body as well. Imagine it fading into microscopic molecules, then reforming. Though, that requires extensive practice. How we see ourselves isn’t always reality. Now try clothes. Evaporate your shirt and don another.”

With a slow wave of her hand, her T-shirt dissolved, and another wave had her in a black bustier with satin ribbons. His breath hitched, and judging by the images fluttering through their connection, she had his full attention.

A flamboyant wave later, she completed the ensemble with knee-high boots plucked from his mind. The stockings and garters with micro-panties were her idea. His desire, the strength of it, bombarded her through their link, and she couldn’t halt the heat rippling through her body at his vivid fantasies.

“Is that all it takes?” she teased, albeit with a breathless tremor in her voice.

Yes.

An hour later they were back in the exercise room he had constructed for training. She wore her gym leggings and a sports bra, which suited the current lesson—learning how to burst with speed. When the room went black, her instincts kicked in. She didn’t need them. The panic that pumped adrenaline through her veins subsided. She could see Gabe in the dark even as her hearing sharpened and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat called to her.

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