Reaching the end of the glyphs, Zak lowered himself to his knees and pulled the coin from his pocket.

A strange hush filled the air, an electric buzz racing over his skin.

It was as if the world held its breath, waiting for him to complete his destiny.

Barely aware he was moving, Zak leaned forward to place the coin in the shallow indention.

He wasn’t sure what he expected.

A burst of heavenly light.

A chorus of angels.

A lightning strike that would turn him to ash.

Instead the ground shook beneath his knees and a rock dislodged from the ceiling to smack him on top of the head.

Pain blasted through his skull, blood dripping down his neck as he toppled face first onto the stone floor.

So much for his moment of glory.

Chapter Nineteen

Callie settled into the front seat of Duncan’s car, her mind shifting through what they’d discovered.

It wasn’t much. They didn’t have an address. No phone number. Not even a name.

But she was convinced that the clothing that Leah had been wearing had been bought by Anya. Which meant that the witch was still with Lord Zakhar. And that they were in the Kansas City area.

It was a start.

“Are you hungry?”

Duncan’s question jerked her out of her thoughts and she turned her head to study his chiseled profile.

Out of nowhere she was struck by a jolt of intense awareness.

God Almighty.

She struggled to breathe as she took in the stark beauty of his face. How many times over the past few years had she covertly snuck glances at the golden-haired cop with the grim expression? How many nights had her dreams been filled with ripping off his tight tee and faded jeans?

And now that she actually knew just how it felt to spend the night in his arms, his lips kissing paths of destruction down her throat as he slid deep into her body . . .

It was enough to make even nice girls think about handcuffing a man to her bed and having her wicked way with him.

Obviously puzzled by her sudden silence, Duncan sent her a searching glance. “Callie?”

A blush stained her cheeks as she cleared her throat. “Actually, I’m starving.”

“Good.” Returning his attention to the growingly narrow streets, he weaved his way through the traffic with the ease of a native. “I know a little joint that has BBQ to die for.”

Her gaze slid down to the broad chest outlined in magnificent detail by the T-shirt. Was the temperature rising? Suddenly it felt way too hot in the car.

“Do they deliver?”

“Of course.” He gave a lift of his shoulder. “It’s a beautiful day. We can go to the park or—”

“Your apartment?”

His knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel. “That’s an option.”

Callie lifted her brows at his carefully bland response. “But?”

“But I thought I was supposed to behave myself.”

She gave a relieved laugh. For a second she’d wondered if he’d lost interest.

“You can’t behave yourself at your apartment?” she teased.

The hazel eyes flashed in her direction, a searing desire turning the gold flecks into molten need. “No.”

Her mouth went dry. “You’re at least honest.”

“Not always, although my ma tried her best.” His lopsided grin was strained. Callie felt her shirt stick to her damp skin. “She was convinced washing out my mouth with soap would cure me of my tendency to bend the truth.”

“She has my sympathy.” Callie tried to match his casual tone even as they both shivered beneath the sensual tension pulsing in the air. “My guess is that you were a precocious brat growing up.”

“And you weren’t?” he challenged.

“Not really. I was usually the shy kid sitting in the corner.”

“Serra never talked you into breaking the rules?”

She wrinkled her nose. Serra had been a vivacious child and a natural leader who’d taken huge pleasure in causing chaos. Of course, unlike Callie, she also had loving biological parents who often collected her from Valhalla when her teachers and foster family needed a break.

She never had to fear she might lose her only home.

“Maybe once or twice,” she conceded.

Without warning, Duncan pulled into an empty parking lot, turning to study her with a somber expression.

“Look, sweetheart, we can go anywhere you want, and I promise to try and keep my hands to myself.” His fingers brushed her cheek in a gentle caress. “But I want you in the worst way and I’m not entirely sure it wouldn’t be better to stay in public.”

She stilled at the fierce edge in his voice and the tight knot of muscles that throbbed in his jaw.

“Are you saying—”

His finger moved to stroke her lower lip. “What?”

“That you crave me?”

Their gazes clashed at her deliberate choice of words. No doubt a more experienced woman would have kept the question to herself.

Most men didn’t like to confess vulnerability. Not even with their lovers.

And she’d all but demanded to know if he desired her more than he’d desired his own wife.

Yeah, not too pushy. Yeesh.

But even as she was desperately trying to find a way to laugh off the question, he was surging forward to claim her lips in a kiss that was all raw male possession.

“Hell, yes,” he admitted without hesitation.

Oh. Her heart melted.

Tangling her fingers in the short strands of his hair, she determinedly ignored the warmth that spread like honey through her body.

She wasn’t about to ruin the moment with silly emotions.

“I want to be alone with you,” she murmured against his lips.

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely, positively.”

He pulled back, studying her for a long minute. Then clearly satisfied she was as ready as he was, he flashed a smile filled with sinful anticipation.

“Hold on, baby.”

Turning to face front, he shoved the car into gear, then with a flick of his finger he had the siren blaring.

Callie’s lips parted, but before she could speak he was pulling out of the parking lot and hurtling across town with speed that made her grip the dashboard.

She had brief glimpses of redbrick factories that gave way to warehouses. Then small, family-owned stores that were situated between shabby houses and squat apartment buildings.

They squealed to a halt in a narrow parking lot. Duncan shut off the engine and the siren with a twist of the key, leaving them in a strangely thick silence.

Callie swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. “Are you allowed to do that?”

An astonishing hint of color lined his narrow cheekbones. Was he embarrassed? “I’d rather you didn’t mention this to Molinari.”

She hid her burst of amusement. He looked like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Well, maybe not a kid, she conceded as a white-hot lick of excitement curled through the pit of her stomach.

More like a sexy beast who wasn’t entirely tamed.

Clicking the lock to release her seat belt, Callie closed the small distance between them and pressed a kiss to the hollow just below his ear.

She’d already learned it was a particularly sensitive spot. “My lips are sealed,” she promised softly.

“Shit,” he groaned, fumbling with his own seat belt. “You’re killing me.”

Lingering just long enough to suck in the intoxicating scent of his warm, male skin, Callie scooted back across the seat and out the door.

She had time to glance at the faded brick structure that matched the connecting buildings to form a bland wall of depressing architecture before Duncan was scooping her off her feet and they were entering the nearest doorway.

He was forced to set her down so he could unlock his apartment, but he kept one arm wrapped around her, as if he thought she might bolt.

Poor sap. There wasn’t a chance in hell he was getting rid of her.

Hustling her inside, he closed and locked the door. Then, still keeping a tight grip on her, he led her into the kitchen-slash-dining room, pausing to toss his keys on the square Formica table.

“Do you want me to call for lunch now or—”

“Later,” she interrupted.

“Later is great,” he admitted with a groan of relief, leaning down to kiss her with a frustrated hunger that had nothing to do with BBQ. “Much later would be fantastic.”

He glanced toward the table, obviously debating the pleasure of immediate satisfaction against the comfort of a bed and a soft mattress.

She didn’t know what tilted the balance, but one minute she was glancing at the pictures set on the china cabinet of various men and women who looked enough like Duncan to be family, and the next she was abruptly being tugged through a tidy living room with furniture that was worn but surprisingly homey, with more pictures on the wall.

A few steps later and she found herself in a bedroom that was decorated in shades of tan and chocolate. Her brows lifted as she studied the comforter that was neatly spread across the double bed and the lack of clothes on the carpet.

“I’m surprised,” she murmured.

He carefully removed his holstered gun as he nuzzled a trail of kisses down her neck, the feel of his whiskers against her sensitive skin making her shiver with pleasure.

“I warned you it’s a shithole,” he husked.

“No, I meant . . .” She lost her train of thought as his hands skimmed beneath her top, his fingers moving like the brush of a butterfly wing over her ribs to rest just below the swell of her breasts.

“You meant?” he prompted with a hint of amusement.

Not about to let him have complete control, she grabbed the hem of his tee and yanked it over his head, exposing a delectable expanse of bronzed skin stretched taut over chiseled muscles.

Oh . . . yum.

It was like a feast for her senses.

“It’s cleaner than I expected,” she explained, her hands lifting to explore the triangle of golden hair on his upper chest.