Since joining the Agency over a century ago, he’d been stationed in various parts of the world that most people only experienced by reading books and magazines, seeing pictures online or news clips on television. And he’d witnessed many astounding things. Tattooed pleasure workers in Thailand, secret Incan mating rituals, French courtesans well versed in the sexual arts. In short, he’d seen a lot, experienced a lot. There wasn’t much that could take his breath away.
Until now.
“And you must be Santiago.”
God, he even liked the sound of her voice.
She picked at a twig nestled in her dark blond hair, which fell past her shoulders in messy, tangled curls, but she wasn’t having much luck.
“Here, let me get that.” Without thinking, he reached over and had to use two hands to keep from pulling her hair too much. “There, got it.”
It was only after he was done that he realized how intimate an action it had been. He stepped away and folded his arms over his chest as he studied her.
Despite the frigid night air, she wore a cream-colored tank top with a surf shop logo that sported a few blood stains, dark brown yoga pants—the kind that felt different depending on whether you ran your hand up or down the fabric—and slip-on, once-turquoise tennis shoes that were now covered in mud. The juxtaposition between feminine perfection and scrappy street fighter was so utterly arresting that the world fell away for one brief moment.
Although none of her individual features stood out on their own—straight nose, golden eyes framed by dark lashes, and lips that were neither thin nor generous—when they were put together, she was striking. Her face was oval, her skin smooth and unblemished except for a smudge on one cheek. He had the sudden urge to brush his fingertips against her skin to see if it was dirt or blood. She wasn’t old, but the confidence reflected in her eyes indicated that her Time of Change, when a vampire youthling’s blood cravings began, was decades behind her.
“So what do we have here?” he asked, glancing at the charred remains. His tone was purposely sharp and businesslike as he attempted to shake off his lingering reaction to her. He didn’t like losing control of his thoughts like this.
She fingered her necklace. “Turned out I was able to handle the situation on my own.”
“And the human witnesses?”
“They’ll need to be dealt with. I didn’t have the energy to wipe their minds, only to insert a sleep suggestion.”
Very clever, he thought, noticing for the first time the weariness in her eyes. “What about the other Darkblood? You said there were two.”
“I took care of them both. Here—” she toed her sneaker against the pile of ash at her feet “—and over there about twelve to fifteen feet beyond that downed tree.”
“I don’t understand. You said on the phone you didn’t have any weapons.”
“I didn’t.”
“Then how—?”
“I used theirs,” she said matter-of-factly, as if disarming two Darkbloods who were probably high on Sweet was something a teacher dealt with every day.
It still didn’t make sense. His confusion must’ve been apparent because she continued.
“I pretended I was trying to get away from the sweetblood human, that I was concerned I might kill him, and needed their help.”
“So they knew you were a fellow vampire.”
“Yes, but they had no idea I knew they were Darkbloods. As soon as they didn’t consider me a threat and dropped their guard, it was a simple matter to strip their weapons and use them to my advantage.”
Jesus, Mary and Joseph.
This woman performed under pressure as well as any Guardian he’d worked with, and yet she was just a teacher at Tracker Academy. What happened to the adage, “those who can’t do, teach”?
“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