Blood Lust

  Over the years she’d met kings, clan chiefs, and presidents who were as dumb as stumps.

  Rising from the cot with a languid movement, Stella gave a toss of her auburn curls.

  “So you’re the infamous Mave,” she drawled. Her voice was low, sexy. A sensuous invitation.

  A pity for her, Lana wasn’t interested.

  She flicked a brow upward, using her superior height to peer down her nose.

  People hated that.

  “Infamous?”

  Stella shrugged. “The Brothers are terrified of you. After listening to their stories I expected you to have horns and a tail.”

  An icy smile curved Lana’s lips. She’d deliberately chosen to wear an emerald silk top that scooped low to emphasize her witch mark.

  “They don’t go with my outfit.”

  The woman smirked, her dark blue eyes shimmering with amusement. Once again Lana was caught off guard by her sheer lack of fear.

  “Is this where we go through the tedious game of good cop/bad cop?” she mocked.

  Lana pushed away from the door, allowing a hint of her magic to fill the room. Enough was enough.

  “This isn’t a human jail,” she reminded the idiotic woman. “There are no cops. No attorneys. No rights.”

  Stella gave a disdainful sniff. “You can’t just hold me here.”

  “Actually, I can.” The magic filled the cell, not enough to cause pain, but as an unmistakable warning. “I’ve already spoken to the legal authorities who have given their blessing for Valhalla to punish you and your men.”

  The first hint of uncertainty rippled over her heart-shaped face. Taking a step back, Stella flicked a swift glance toward the locked door.

  “I don’t believe you,” she muttered.

  Lana shrugged. “Believe whatever you want.”

  “There are laws—”

  “My laws,” Lana interrupted.

  She wasn’t just trying to intimidate the leader of the Brotherhood. She truly did make the laws of Valhalla. As well as doling out the punishment.

  She did her best to be fair, but in the end she always had to choose what was best for her people.

  The woman gave a tiny shiver before her eyes narrowed and she was tilting her chin.

  “You’re trying to frighten me,” she snapped.

  “If I wanted to frighten you I can assure you there wouldn’t be any doubt,” Lana asserted. Just for a second she considered creating the illusion of spiders crawling across the floor or Stella’s flesh melting from her bones, only to rapidly dismiss the petty thought. Giving in to the impulse wouldn’t prove her power. It would only allow the other woman to know that she was getting under Lana’s skin. “Do you think I lead the high-bloods because I won some popularity contest?” she instead demanded.

  Stella stiffened her spine. “You won’t hurt me.”

  Lana studied the woman’s arrogant expression, an odd chill inching down her spine.

  She understood the woman was trying to put on a brave face. That’s what she would do if she was being held captive by her enemies.

  But this was . . . more.

  “Why are you so confident?” she brusquely demanded.

  The woman lowered her lashes, as if hoping to prevent Lana from reading her mind.

  “You obviously want information from me.”

  Lana wasn’t a psychic, but she knew when a prisoner was trying to hide something from her.

  “A lie,” she accused.

  “Believe whatever you want.” Stella threw Lana’s earlier words back in her face.

  Bitch.

  “You haven’t asked about your men.” Lana abruptly changed tactics. She’d been wrong. Stella wasn’t stupid. She was, in fact, very clever. It was going to take more than intimidation to force her to tell Lana what she wanted to know. “Aren’t you concerned about their safety?”

  Stella aimlessly paced toward the far end of the cell, pretending an interest in her scarlet-painted nails.

  “Not particularly,” she admitted without a shred of guilt. “The Brotherhood was a means to an end.”

  Lana wasn’t impressed. She hadn’t expected to like the leader of the Brotherhood. They were the enemy, intent on destroying her people.

  But this woman was . . .

  Revolting.

  She briefly reconsidered the pleasure of weaving some gruesome illusion. If she had to endure being stuck in a cramped cell with the smug bitch, she should be allowed to have some fun.

  Unfortunately, she didn’t have time for games.

  “What end?” she demanded.

  “Power. Wealth.” An unmistakable glint of envy flashing through Stella’s eyes. “Everything you possess.”

  Lana shook her head. How dare the woman try to compare their positions? They couldn’t be more different.

  “I’m not the Mave because I hunger for power or wealth,” she sharply denied. “A leader’s only concern should be the welfare of her people. I would lay down my life to protect them.”

  Stella gave a grating laugh. “Then you’re an idiot. They would sell you out in a heartbeat.” She flicked a disdainful gaze down Lana’s slender body. “I should know. It took one blowjob for the clairvoyant to forget his allegiance to Valhalla.” Her gaze returned to meet Lana’s glare. “Do you call that loyalty?”

  Lana had centuries of training to keep her expression composed. There was no way she was going to let Stella know she’d hit a nerve.

  She understood that not every high-blood was going to approve of her or Valhalla. There were always going to be those who resented authority, or refused to follow rules. But it troubled her that Peter would not only have turned his back on Valhalla, but that he’d be willing to sacrifice his own people.

  For what?

  This woman in his bed?

  Pathetic.

  “This is a free country,” she forced herself to say, her voice frigid. “Everyone is allowed to make their own choices, even if I might not personally agree with them.”

  Stella snorted, no doubt able to guess that Lana was far from pleased by Peter’s betrayal.

  “Very democratic,” she mocked.

  Lana released another burst of magic. Stella needed a reminder of who was in charge. And maybe Lana just enjoyed watching the pretty face drain of color as the faint prickles turned to actual pain.

  “Tell me about Peter’s visions.”

  Stella rubbed her arms, her face flushing. She clearly didn’t like the blunt proof that Lana had the sort of power she so desperately desired.

  “Fuck you,” she muttered.

  Lana stepped forward. “It will be much easier for you if you simply tell me.”

  “Or what?” Stella lifted her hand to wiggle her fingers in Lana’s direction. “You’re going to do some hocus-pocus on me?”

  Lana ignored the taunt. She’d proven her point.

  “I don’t need to,” she informed her companion. “I have several high-skilled psychics who can dig through your brain to extract any information I need.” She glanced toward the camera blinking in the corner of the ceiling. “They’re waiting for my signal to begin.”

  Genuine fear tightened her features as Stella took a jerky step backward. Swiftly, however, she was regaining her composure. Almost as if she was telling herself that Lana wouldn’t follow through on her threat.

  Was the woman stupid enough to think she was going to be able to escape? Or that the men she was so eager to dismiss as necessary baggage might be able to rescue her?

  “You know, we’re not so different,” she told Lana, her fingers running through her dark hair as she flashed a coy smile.

  Lana arched a brow. “Really?”

  “Of course. We’re both ambitious women who’ve struggled to survive in a man’s world.”

  Ah. So this was the “we are sisters” routine.

  Lana might have been more sympathetic if she hadn’t been born several hundred years ago. What did this woman know about suffering? Had she b
een bought and sold as property? Or compelled to run from angry villagers who intended to burn her at the stake?

  “We’re virtually soul mates,” she drawled.

  “Mock me if you want, but it’s true,” Stella insisted. “Men will never comprehend what we’ve been forced to sacrifice to earn a position of respect.”

  Lana gave a sharp laugh. No one, absolutely no one, would ever understand what she’d sacrificed over the years.

  “Peter was capable of knowing where Myst would be,” she said, turning the conversation back to the reason she’d sought out this woman. “Correct?”

  Stella hesitated before giving a nod of her head. “Yes.”

  “What else did he see?”

  “Exactly what you fear,” Stella assured her. “That the female clairvoyant will give me what I need to destroy you.”

  Lana frowned. There was truth in the woman’s words. The clairvoyant had foretold something that gave Stella the belief she was going to be victorious.

  But there was also a hint of uncertainty. As if things weren’t unfolding exactly as the woman had expected.

  “What is the weapon?” Lana demanded.

  Stella laughed, her expression mocking. “You can’t possibly expect me to tell you.”

  She hadn’t. But it would have saved time.

  Still, there was more than one way to get the information she needed.

  “Have it your way,” she said with a shrug, turning toward the door. “Although, I will warn you that the extraction method is always a painful process and”—she deliberately paused, giving a tiny shudder—“on some occasions destructive.”

  “Wait,” Stella rasped.

  Lana turned back to study the woman’s uncertain expression. “Yes?”

  Stella licked her lips, her clever mind no doubt searching for a way to gain time.

  She was a survivor.

  Lana might have admired the trait if Stella hadn’t been so willing to use and abuse people.

  “We might be able to negotiate a deal,” the leader of the Brotherhood grudgingly offered.

  Lana flicked a glance around the cell. “You’re hardly in a position to be making demands.”

  The woman’s jaw tightened. She didn’t like being forced to beg.

  “You want something,” she said between gritted teeth. “I want something—”

  Her pitiful attempt to gain a compromise was interrupted as the door was shoved open and a large Sentinel with a skull-shaved head and bulging muscles stepped into the cell.

  “Excuse me, Mave,” he murmured with a respectful bow.

  Knowing she would never have been disturbed unless it was important, she instantly turned her attention to the warrior.

  “Yes?”

  The Sentinel glanced toward Stella, choosing his words with care.

  “The Tagos wanted me to tell you that they’ve arrived.”

  Lana frowned before realizing he had to be referring to Myst and Bas. There would be no reason to hide anyone else’s identity from the prisoner.

  “Good,” she said, genuine relief flooding through her.

  Not just because the Brotherhood hadn’t managed to get their hands on Myst, even though that was obviously vital to the safety of Valhalla. But because Molly would be reunited with her parents.

  With a nod, the Sentinel slipped out of the cell. Lana moved to follow him, not surprised when Stella made a sound of distress.

  “No,” she grated. “Where are you going?”

  Lana paused long enough to send her prisoner a warning glare.

  “Consider how you want to play this, Stella,” she said in icy tones. “I can make your life sheer misery if you don’t cooperate.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Bas hovered in that weird place just before gaining full consciousness.

  For a minute he let himself drift, trying to figure out where he was and how he’d gotten there.

  He had a vague memory of excruciating pain and a very real desire to let go. It’d only been the sense of Myst pressed close against him that’d kept him from giving in to the lurking darkness.

  She needed him.

  Molly needed him.

  He would fight against death, no matter how painful.

  There’d been a fuzzy sense of movement, followed by more pain, and then . . . blessed relief. Taking a slow, inner inventory of his body, he realized the healers had managed to dig out the bullets and close his wounds.

  Which meant he had to be at Valhalla.

  Fear seared away the clinging fog, and he wrenched his eyes open to take stock of the crisp white room that was filled with a combination of stainless steel hospital equipment and wooden shelves that held ceramic pots of magical potions. The high-bloods used both human technology and their own powers to heal their people.

  A potent combination.

  Plus, there was a newfound healer who could actually change people’s DNA. It gave hope to those high-bloods born with genetic traits harmful to themselves or others.

  He muttered a curse. The knowledge that he’d managed to make it to Valhalla didn’t ease the fear that twisted his gut. Especially when he realized he’d obviously been in the infirmary long enough for his body to start recovering.

  “Myst?” His voice came out as a husky whisper.

  “Nope,” a male voice replied. “It’s just me.”

  He grimaced, watching as Kaede moved to stand beside the narrow hospital bed.

  The enforcer was dressed in his familiar black jeans and tee with his dark hair pulled into a tail at his nape, but as relieved as Bas was at the knowledge that his friend was safe, he was desperate to know that Myst hadn’t been allowed to slip away.

  “Shit.” Bas grabbed for the pad at the edge of the bed and pushed a button, levering himself so he was seated upright. He hissed as a dull ache spread through his chest, reminding him he had a long way to go before he was fully healed. “The last time I woke I thought I was in heaven,” he muttered. “This time I’m fairly certain I’m somewhere much warmer.”

  Kaede reached to lightly touch the side of Bas’s neck in a gesture of unspoken respect before he straightened to offer a mocking smile.

  “Is that any way to talk to your devoted servant?”

  Bas glanced around the room. “Where’s Myst?”

  “In the nursery with Molly.”

  He released a shaky breath. He’d been terrified she’d slipped away while he was unconscious.

  “You’re certain?” he pressed.

  “Of course.” Kaede frowned, easily sensing Bas’s concern. “I escorted her there myself.”

  Still Bas wasn’t satisfied. In fact, he was frustrated as hell.

  He understood her desire to be with Molly. He couldn’t wait to hold his daughter in his arms. But he needed to see Myst. To touch her and reassure himself that she was unharmed.

  “She wasn’t hurt, was she?”

  Kaede shrugged. “No, although she looks exhausted.”

  Bas scowled. Dammit. He needed to be out of this bed. Myst refused to take proper care of herself when he wasn’t watching out for her.

  “You should have made her rest.”

  Kaede rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. Have you ever had any success in making her do something she doesn’t want to do?”

  “Touché,” he muttered. Myst would no doubt have insisted on being with her daughter, even if she was on the edge of collapse. “Do you know how we got here?”

  Kaede gave a low chuckle. “She charmed a local farmer, who turned out to be a psychic, into hiding you in the back of a wagon and driving you to the monastery.”

  Bas’s lips twisted. He could easily imagine Myst twisting the farmer around her little finger. Unlike most females, she had no idea just how much power she had over poor, susceptible men. Which only made her more irresistible.

  “She’s astonishingly resourceful,” he said with a wry smile.

  “Is that another way to say stubborn as a mule?”

  ??
?She is that,” Bas readily agreed. For such a tiny thing, she was dauntingly persistent. He grimaced, reminded that her tenacious nature wasn’t always a good thing. Not when she was convinced there was only one way left to halt her vision. “I want you to keep an eye on her until I can get out of this damn bed.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t want her leaving Valhalla.”

  Kaede studied him with blatant confusion. “Are you afraid she might try to take off with Molly?”

  His hand unconsciously lifted to rub against the center of his chest. It wasn’t his wounds that bothered him. It was the gnawing anxiety that he couldn’t prevent Myst from doing something hasty.

  “No. She’s convinced there’s only one way left to halt her future,” he admitted in dark tones.

  “What . . .” Kaede’s words trailed away as he realized what Bas was implying. “Oh shit,” he breathed.

  “Keep her close,” Bas commanded.

  Kaede gave a solemn nod, accepting the responsibility for guarding Myst until Bas could regain his rightful place as her protector.

  “I swear.”

  Confident he could depend on his closest friend, Bas concentrated on the next worry.

  “What about the Brotherhood?”

  Kaede folded his arms over his chest. “We rounded up the Brothers in the Wyoming compound, but the ones who shot you in France are still MIA.”

  Bas wasn’t disappointed. “Good. I want to personally track down each one and have a nice, long chat.”

  “Why do I suspect the chats are going to involve a lot of blood and screams for mercy?”

  Bas shrugged, not denying there was going to be blood and screams involved in his chat.

  A lot.

  “They shouldn’t screw with an assassin if they don’t want to get hurt,” he pointed out in reasonable tones.

  Kaede’s lips twitched. “True enough.”

  “What about the clairvoyant?”

  The enforcer’s face tightened with frustration. “Dead.”

  “That’s unfortunate,” he muttered. He’d wanted to personally convey his displeasure at the man for betraying Myst and delivering her into the hands of the Brotherhood.

  “They have the female leader in the dungeon.” Kaede’s lips twisted. Obviously he wasn’t a big fan of the woman. “She might be able to give information on the weapon.”