Page 94 of The Huntress

As he opened his mouth to bite her, his teeth elongated. Anger vibrated through her, and she envisioned a long sword, sharp enough to slice through wood. It formed in her other hand. Curiosity won out, and she kept it hidden from him. He’d tasted her blood before, so what would a second sample reveal to him?

His purple-pink tongue—reminiscent of rotting meat—slid out and lapped at her bleeding wrist. The sight of it disgusted her. She shuddered and smothered her gag reflex. Stavros groaned and squeezed her wrist until she thought he’d snap it. The pain was excruciating, a vise so tight she fought the urge to whimper, to tug her arm free. She bit her lip to silence any sound escaping her.

“I taste garlic, cilantro, tomato.” He stared at her, unblinking. “He guards a myth. Oh, how heroic of Gabriel. A heady mixture of power beneath that. I expected Gabriel’s, but Darius’s power flows through your veins.” Stavros’s eyebrows arched upward, and he scowled. “It appears he deceived me. How surprising. It’s small but there, the blood of an original—Antistia.” His smirk was back. “Or did Darius not know?”

She didn’t understand why her blood mattered or who this Antistia was. Callie gripped the hilt of the sword, the leather binding biting into her palm. The weight of it was comforting. Why had she imagined a sword instead of a gun? Did she have time to debate this?

Stavros was still talking, calling her back to the present. “…to have such power in your veins, with the knowledge of a child is a waste.”

Shit.He’d said something important, and she’d missed it. She doubted he’d repeat himself if she asked him to. Although, the expression on his face would’ve been priceless.

“Blood aside, Stavros, explain yourself. Where the hell were you taking me?” She shot another broad-sweeping glance around her and frowned.

Forests surrounded her. Sounds, undisturbed by humans, ebbed and flowed with discordant life—except for the old man.

She studied Stavros, assessing whether he knew about the sword. Could she slice off his head and summon lightning? She doubted the latter.

She was utterly alone. The darkness in her heart surprised her. Where Gabe had once been, now was cold silence, a vacuum of emotion as if he and their connection had never existed. The devastation of it decimated her, and she whimpered, fighting the wall of depression that threatened to overwhelm her. A fresh wave of tears stung her eyes, and she blinked them away, willing them to wait.

“Does it matter? You broke my mental hold, Callista. You chose this location for our final encounter.”

“Our what?” she asked, then a gun formed in his hand like she should have chosen. “You do know bullets can’t kill me, right?” She kept her focus on his face.

Any nuance would reveal his impending attack. As a threat, he was minor. What crippled her was the crushing weight on her chest. It was a familiar one—of mourning. Fear and despair were swift, numbing her limbs and affecting her ability to breathe.

“Kill you?” Stavros laughed, the gun bobbing as his shoulders shook. “Incapacitate you long enough, yes. One shot to the head, then I’ll toss your body into the ravine.”

“Ah, thanks for sharing, evil villain.” She hoped her sass would ground her. She would try to dissolve—a skill Gabe said required practice. Fuck, she hadn’t tried to do it once! She was stubborn, ofttimes reckless, so what better opportunity to test this out than in a life-or-death situation?Idiot.

The corner of his mouth twitched, and she dissolved a second before the burn of a bullet bored through her. Thankfully, it didn’t harm her in her current form. She hoped she could envision herself well enough to reform and prayed she didn’t materialize deformed with duck lips or a sagging ass.

She solidified, swiping the sword. Stavros jerked back, the blade slicing a thin red line across his throat. She dissolved again and shifted behind him, reforming to swing the sword. He spun to meet her attack with a blade of his own. The kiss of steel rang loud in the now-silent forest.

“A sword? You are a constant surprise, Callista.”

“I’m happy I entertain you, Stavros.” She jumped back to avoid his thrust. She smacked his blade away with hers and lunged forward expecting him to dodge her attack but not the new sword in her left hand. She sliced across his throat, drawing a steady stream of blood.

His face morphed into disbelief. He stumbled backward, falling to his hands and knees to watch his blood pool on the rock beneath him.

“Twice you drew my blood.” His words gurgled, then his shoulders shook as he chuckled. “It’s not enough for one as old as I am, my dear.”

Wait. He’d said, “He guards a myth,”notguarded. Saturating joy roared as it rejuvenated her soul, deafening her.

Gabe’s alive!

Gabriel de Winter! If you don’t answer me this instant, so help me.

As threats go, color me unimpressed.His teasing voice had relief flooding her, and she sucked in a shuddering breath.

Where the hell have you been, you damn suckblood?

A groan called her back to Stavros. She dissolved and reformed in front of him to cross her blades, pinching his throat between them. He stilled, his eyes widening. This time she smelled his fear, an acrid stench.

“Who’s afraid now, Stavros?”

“You won’t kill me, Callista. It isn’t in your genetics.” The bleeding stopped, with the gurgle no longer affecting his voice. He was healing.

Gabe, do you want to kill him, or should I?

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