Seduced by Blood Page 3

  “Good work,” he said begrudgingly.

  She shot him a faint smile, like all of this was no big deal, that she could’ve done it in her sleep.

  There was nothing hotter than an attractive woman who could handle her own, especially when the odds were stacked against her. As his gaze roamed unintentionally over her curves, the heat of desire rushed headlong through his veins, muddling all rational thought for a moment. He was acutely aware of the thin fabric of her shirt stretched tightly over her breasts, molding to her narrow waist, and how her yoga pants hung low on her hips.

  Since vampires’ sexual needs were much stronger than humans’, it wasn’t uncommon for friends or coworkers to sleep together. It was a safer, much more accepted way to expend extra energy than infighting or feeding on the blood of a host. But there was something different about this woman. Something unpredictable and unknown making him feel as if he had to tread carefully around her. That a roll in the sack would be a mistake. But for the life of him, he couldn’t quite figure out why, because, damn, she was attractive.

  Reading beneath the surface of people was a skill that had served him well as region commander and he’d learned to trust his gut instincts. He had the vague sense that the two of them would clash. And that it wouldn’t be pleasant. No, he needed to keep the gorgeous Roxanne Reynolds at arms’ length and nix any thoughts of bedding her. She might be capable and loyal, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t trouble.

  Determined not to be drawn in by her beauty, he did his best to ignore it. He preferred dealing with finite things that were within his control. Besides, he didn’t do women with baggage. His counterpart down in her region had hinted that she had some.

  “Where did you say you charcoaled that other DB?”

  She turned and pointed into the woods. “Over there.”

  And that’s when he saw it. The tattoo on her shoulder. A small infinity symbol over a red rose. He took a half-step backward.

  Damn. That explained the woo-woo shit and why he had such a strange feeling about her. He hadn’t known she was dakai, a member of the same blood-worshipping cult as his sister. Like Roxanne, Rosa had been a capable woman, with her whole life in front of her, until she’d gotten involved.

  The dakai worshipped blood goddesses and required members to contribute their wealth in order to purify their lifeblood. Once their blood was “purified,” it was extracted and combined with other “clean” blood into the Chalice la Sangre from which they would all drink. Pure blood led to acceptance by the Great Mother, so that when they died, they’d ascend and become blood goddesses, as well. Or so they believed. It was all a bunch of horseshit as far as Santiago was concerned.

  Roxanne stood with her arms hanging loosely at her sides. “Want me to show you where he is?”

  “No, we’ll handle things now.” Sidestepping away, he texted the capture team and told them to get back here. He didn’t want this woman any more involved in agent enforcement issues than she already was.

  “Need help tracking the scent back to their den?” she asked him when he finished. “I’d be happy to do that. It’s odd that they’d locate one so close to the region office.”

  Her words were a rusty barb under his skin. He didn’t need a stranger—a dakai, no less—reminding him that this Darkblood operation was right under his goddamn nose.

  “We don’t require your assistance any longer.”

  Her eyes darkened with an emotion he couldn’t quite read. Was she pissed to be taking orders from him? Well, this was his jurisdiction and his decision. And this was his problem, not hers. He’d take care of the whole damn situation himself without further involvement from her.

  “Will you be taking the young man, the sweetblood, back to region for a debriefing and a health check?”

  “Yes,” he snapped. Just because a couple of DBs brazenly set up shop nearby didn’t mean things were out of control or that protocols weren’t followed. Those were standard procedures when a Darkblood prisoner was found. “We do things up here just like the big boys do down in Florida.”

  He half expected her to argue with him, but the earlier fire in her eyes had been replaced by a flat nothingness, as if this sort of thing had happened to her before. He ignored the tiny voice inside his head that said he could be such a prick sometimes. Being a good leader meant that not everyone was going to agree with you or want to be your Scrabble buddy.

  “Very well.” She rubbed her hands over her bare arms.

  Good. She knew where he stood and what her role in Guardian affairs was while she was here—nada.

  “I’ll wait by my car for you to collect him, then I’ll be on my way.”

  Which, unfortunately, was to the same place he was headed.

  * * *

  A SOFT KNOCK on the door interrupted Roxy’s concentration. She looked up from the student files spread on her desk to see a flaxen-haired woman in hospital scrubs enter the classroom. She smelled faintly of sweetbloods—several of them.

  “You must be Roxanne.” The woman held two coffee mugs emblazoned with the Guardian logo, but from the scent permeating the air, Roxy could tell they contained tea. “I’m Brenna Stewart. I work here at the medical center.”

  Roxy smiled stiffly. She wasn’t exactly the best audience for a welcoming committee, preferring instead to keep to herself most of the time. Not that she didn’t like people, but she’d learned to be wary.

  “Please, call me Roxy.” When people said her full name, it reminded her of her mother, who used it to get her attention. As a pre-change youthling, Roxy had had a habit of getting so engrossed in what she was working on that she’d forget the outside world existed. Although her mother had been gone for years now, she still got that ache around her heart whenever she thought of her.

  The woman—Brenna—set one of the mugs on the desk then pulled up a chair. “Roasted green tea. Lily said it’s your favorite. Careful though. It’s hot.”

  Roxy liked the woman’s comfortable, easy vibe. “You know Lily?”

  “Yeah, she’s a good friend of mine. Sorry I didn’t come earlier. I meant to stop in and say hello as soon as you arrived, but we were treating several injured Guardians yesterday and then a sweetblood human came in needing to be rehabilitated. Things were pretty crazy in the clinic for a while.”

  “No problem. I went straight to bed as soon as I got in anyway.” As she’d been bone-tired from the long trip and then that business with the Darkbloods, Roxy was glad the woman hadn’t popped in. She wasn’t used to idle chitchat anyway—most of her friends from her Guardian days had distanced themselves after what had happened with Ian and she’d never bothered to cultivate new ones at the Academy. Instead, she’d immersed herself in her work, reminding herself that if you didn’t let people in, you were less likely to get hurt. “How’s Mason doing? The sweetblood.”

  Brenna looked confused. “You know him?”

  “I was the one who found him walking on the side of the road yesterday.”

  “That was you?” Her green eyes went wide. “I heard that someone took down the Darkbloods who were after him, but you’re not even an agent.” She didn’t say it maliciously or with condescension, so Roxy didn’t take offense.

  “Yep. That was yours truly.”

  “Well, I am superimpressed. No wonder you were exhausted when you got here.”

  It had to have been someone on the capture team who’d told Brenna what had happened, not Santiago. She recalled how he’d arrived on the scene and taken charge, as if he was the one who took those guys down and not her. He was a typical domineering male who worked on the Agency side of things. It had come as no surprise that he didn’t take her up on her offer to help track the DB den. Men like him preferred to do things themselves and get all the glory, which was fine with her. She preferred to work on her own as well, though she’d just as soon stay out of the limelight.

  From what she’d heard about Santiago, she figured he’d have a forceful personality, but she hadn’t be
en prepared for how formidable he looked. With short dark hair, a square jaw peppered with stubble, and a rigid, soldierlike posture, he was six and a half feet of pure dangerous male. And then there was that strange tattoo on the side of his neck, which stretched into his hairline. She hadn’t been able to see where it began or ended and even now, she found herself wondering how far it went. To his shoulder? His arm? Maybe down his torso?

  And that voice of his. Oh, God, that voice. Rough around the edges like the gravel that had worked its way into her shoes during the Darkblood scuffle, and just as hard to ignore. She wondered what her name would sound like on his tongue. But then she remembered those eyes—hard and unforgiving—framed by equally dark thick lashes. It was as if he had the ability to look straight into her soul and didn’t like what he saw.

  He was definitely a man to be avoided. She shoved him from her thoughts and turned her attention back to Brenna.

  “Lily wanted me to tell you about Finn, my husband-to-be. He’s human and a sweetblood, which…ah…explains the smell on me. Most don’t notice it, but Lily said you definitely would, considering that you basically trained all the trackers working in the Agency today.”

  Roxy had noticed the scent but assumed it was because Brenna worked in the clinic. “I don’t know about all of them.”

  “Most then. How’s that?”

  It was somewhat unusual for a vampire to be in a relationship with a human, much less a human who was a sweetblood and knew that he was in love with someone who could kill him.

  Brenna continued, “Finn’s a helicopter pilot for the Seattle field but doesn’t come to region much. Not all of us can be trusted being around a sweetblood. I still worry about myself sometimes, although he has been trying to talk his way into becoming a changeling.”

  Although changelings were relatively rare, Roxy had met a few of them over the years. Except for those who’d been illegally turned against their will, most went through the transformation because they fell in love with a vampire. A painful process that required the blood of two vampires, it had to be approved by the Council after a long waiting period, but it was possible.

  “There must be something really special between you then. Sounds like he’s totally in love with you.”

  “Yeah,” Brenna said, staring into her cup. “And I’m crazy about him, too.”

  Roxy detected some reluctance. “You don’t want him to become a changeling?” Some vampires thought of themselves as monsters, was that it? Brenna didn’t want the love of her life to become like her?

  “Oh, God, I want nothing more than to live out our long lives together without worrying about my friends and coworkers being around him. And he wants to be just one of the guys in the Seattle office. It’s just that I’m worried about the actual process, you know? It’s not without risk. He could die. Given my line of work, I see the worst of the worst. Motorcycle accidents, gunshot wounds, regeneration problems, head traumas, silvies that miss the heart by inches. To knowingly put my man in danger like that is not something I’m prepared to do. I like him the way he is. Alive. But believe me, he’s trying to wear me down.”

  Roxy wrapped her hands around the mug and found it to be just a notch below scorching now, so she took a sip. “Roasted green tea. Lily knows me too well.”

  Brenna smiled, the trace of worry gone from her eyes. “Speaking of Lily, have you heard how she’s doing?”

  “No, and I’m not really expecting to either.”

  “You’re not?”

  Roxy shook her head. “I told her if she so much as checks in with anyone here, I’ll know about it.”

  “Sounds like she listens to you. I could’ve told her that but she never—” Brenna’s pager vibrated. She glanced at it then stood up. “Gotta go. Hey, do you run? I could show you some great trails around here.”

  “That’d be nice, but isn’t it too cold to be outside?” She remembered just how chilly it was when she found Mason. Would her warm-weather body be able to withstand the frigid elements well enough to go running? She certainly didn’t have the right workout clothes. Hell, when she got to her room after yesterday’s adventure, she’d never been more thankful in her entire life to see an electric blanket on her bed. “I’m kind of a wimp when it comes to cold weather.”

  “It’s actually been mild for this time of the year,” Brenna said, her hand on the door, “but I forgot you’re from Florida. Do you swim? We’ve got a great pool.”

  The two women made plans to meet later so that Roxy could get a tour of the region’s pool and gym facility located on the far end of the complex.

  Besides, she had a lead—albeit a slim one—about Ian’s death that pointed to the Seattle area, so she wanted to ask the woman a few more questions about Agency operations here. Although she didn’t hold out much hope—all her previous leads had gone nowhere—she couldn’t not investigate.

  CHAPTER THREE

  SANTIAGO AWOKE EARLY. His sheets were sandpaper against his skin, his pillow a contoured brick under his head.

  He threw back the covers, his feet hitting the cold tile floor with a thump, and stumbled to the small refrigerator he kept in his sleeping quarters. He ate a piece of leftover pizza and chugged orange juice directly from the carton.

  With the sun still high in the late-September sky and his delivery not coming till later, he couldn’t leave for the Ridge yet, though he was antsy to get up there. Only a handful of his top people knew he had a home located in a remote part of the mountains but even they didn’t know what he did there. Frankly, it was no one’s business but his own.

  He hadn’t been expecting to go again so soon, but running into Ms. Reynolds had changed his plans. When she’d pointed out the fact that Darkbloods had located a den so close to region HQ, he didn’t need to see the disdain for his leadership in her expression—he could hear it in her voice. But then, as always, he needed to be realistic. She’d identified his weaknesses and, as much as he hated to admit it, things had to be dealt with.

  Although he could’ve used her help in tracking down the den, he’d managed to find it on his own. Given that Darkbloods were notoriously sloppy and the tiny house had been clean, almost barren, it was obvious that the place hadn’t been in operation for long. Even their coffins—which most DBs were sleeping in nowadays as a nod to their violent ancestors—weren’t there yet. He and the capture team had lit the place on fire and watched it burn to the ground.

  But her subtle criticism remained, ringing in his ears long after he got back and taunting his nightmares. Sure, she hadn’t come right out and said anything specific, but he could tell she was thinking it. Thing was, she was right. No way should a den have been located that close to region. It reflected badly on him and his leadership ability and could hurt his reputation among his kind. Despite his best efforts, somehow he’d let himself get lackadaisical and careless and that just wasn’t acceptable. Winners didn’t allow their enemies to take advantage of them and make them look like fuckups. Only losers did.

  After quickly showering and dressing, he made his way from his chambers to his office before anyone else was up. Normally he liked the quiet, but after last night, he was on edge. His hands and feet began to tingle, but it had nothing to do with the chill. By the time he sat down at his desk and began working, the numbness had snaked its way through his gut, making it hard to concentrate.

  His errors could not go unpunished. He would do what he needed to do in order to get rid of this deadlike sensation. These feelings of nothingness threatened to overtake him whenever he made a mistake and caved to weakness.

  On virtual autopilot, he worked throughout the late afternoon and into night. He took a few calls, had a few meetings, talked to one of his counterparts down South who was having trouble with a particularly aggressive den of Darkbloods, and reviewed all the sweetblood reports that the field offices had recently turned in. Then he approved a few big-ticket expenditures from both the region’s medical director and from Jackson Foss’s fiancée, A
rianna, who was starting a sweetblood refuge home just over the border in Washington State.

  Fortunately, the delivery came shortly before dawn, so rather than wasting time until night fell again when he could comfortably get to the Ridge, he’d be able to leave now.

  He pulled back the heavy damask drapes in his corner office. The early-morning sky had lightened to an inky purple. Given the cloud cover, the UV light wouldn’t be too strong yet, and although he’d still feel the pull of the energy drain as he headed out, after today he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference anyway.

  He gathered up a few files from his massive mahogany desk and put them into his briefcase next to the laptop. Although he wasn’t sure why he bothered. He never looked at work when he got to the Ridge. It was more a formality and, he had to admit, for appearance’s sake, as well.

  “Jenella, I’m taking the next few days off, so I’ll need you to handle my calls and inquiries.” He stepped out of his office and pulled the door shut behind him.

  His assistant tucked a pencil behind her ear as she placed a notebook on the shelf behind her desk and selected another. “Yes, I know, sir.”

  She did? How? He hadn’t said anything to her yet.

  He must’ve had a confused look on his face because she added, “You had me move tomorrow’s staff meeting to next week, you blocked off the next few days on your calendar and you tidied up your office. That’s what you always do when you leave.”

  God, was he that predictable?

  But then, not much got past Jenella, which was why he liked her. That, and because she was the only one who would put up with him. She was efficient and knew what needed to happen whether he was there to give her the specifics or not. She didn’t need to be babysat. But there still were a few things she didn’t know about him. No one would. He preferred to keep some details all to himself.

  “Very good. If Eddie calls, tell him I haven’t forgotten our plans. I’m still flying out next week to visit.”