Blood Lust

  “That I could discover how I was going to create such destruction.”

  His thumbs pressed against the pulse fluttering beneath the skin of her inner wrists.

  “If you knew what the weapon would be, you hoped you could change the future?” he asked in soft tones.

  “Or at least minimize the damage,” she admitted. “After I had Molly it was no longer my life I was worried about. If I can’t find a way to stop the vision, then I’ll have to—”

  “Last warning, cara,” he growled, his fingers tightening on her hands. “Unless you actually want to be tied to my bed? Because that can be arranged.”

  There was no way in hell that he was going to let her even consider the possibility of harming herself.

  No. Way. In. Hell.

  He heard her breath catch. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Try me.”

  The dark eyes flashed with a spirit that helped to ease the coldness that had lodged in the pit of his stomach.

  She wasn’t going to give up without a fight.

  That’s all he needed to know.

  “It’s not your decision, Bas,” she snapped.

  “It is now.”

  “No. It’s not.” She tried to pull her hands from his grip, only to concede defeat with a muttered curse. Frustrated, she glared into his stubborn expression. “Can you even imagine how I felt when I found out Molly had been kidnapped? I thought my family had found her and intended to use her as bait to force me out of hiding.”

  His lips twisted. He’d bordered on the edge of insanity when he’d discovered that Molly had been snatched from her bed.

  “Instead she was taken because of me,” he said dryly.

  Something that might have been regret fluttered over her face. As if she wished she hadn’t reminded him that it’d been his fault Molly had been terrorized.

  “It just proved that I’m running out of time,” she said in husky tones. “Either I find the answers I need or I make sure Molly is never hurt.”

  “Damn.” He abruptly straightened and pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Give me the name of the hotel where you’re staying.”

  She was instantly wary. “Why?”

  “Because I’m sending Kaede to get your things.”

  “My things?” She pushed herself out of her seat, her muscles tensing as she prepared to flee. “I don’t understand.”

  He selected Kaede’s number and waited for his friend to answer.

  “Hold on,” he said into the phone, meeting Myst’s shocked gaze. “You’re staying here,” he told her.

  “Here?”

  “I thought you wanted to be close to Molly?”

  “I do, but . . .” Her words trailed away as she caught sight of his grim expression. “Fine.” She wrapped her arms around her waist. “I’m staying on the third floor.”

  His brows snapped together. “Of this hotel?”

  “Yes.”

  Bas recalled the tape he’d watched that had caught her slipping out of the lobby and down the street.

  “Why did . . .” Realization hit, making him feel like an idiot. Dammit. He better than anyone knew the worth of a good diversion. Once she’d shaken his guards, she’d obviously doubled back. It was no wonder she’d managed to stay hidden for so long. “You knew I would try to have you followed.”

  She shrugged. “So you see, there’s no need for me to stay here.”

  “What room?” he pressed.

  “I just told you. . . .”

  “What room?”

  He heard her suck in a sharp breath. “You are a pain in the ass.”

  “So I’ve been told,” he murmured.

  “Shocker,” she muttered before grudgingly conceding defeat. “Three eighteen.”

  “Three eighteen,” Bas repeated to the waiting Kaede, his gaze savoring the sight of Myst’s sparkling eyes and flushed cheeks. She looked like she was considering the pleasure of kicking Bas in the nuts, while all he could think of was tossing her onto the nearby couch and kissing away that prickly annoyance. “Get her things and then bring them to my rooms. Be prepared to stay. I need to take off for a few hours.”

  Her eyes widened as he shoved the phone back into his pocket.

  “You’re leaving?”

  He headed toward his desk, pulling out the keys to his silver Lamborghini parked in his private lot. Then, moving across the room, he placed his hand against the electronic scanner, waiting for the hidden panel to slide open so he could pull out a handgun.

  He closed the panel before he turned to meet Myst’s confused frown.

  “I should be back by morning.”

  Her delicate features hardened with a mounting suspicion. “Where are you going?”

  “For reinforcements,” he promised.

  “Bas.”

  Realizing there was no time to give her the reassurance she desired, he contented himself with crossing the floor to wrap an arm around her shoulders. Yanking her tight against him, he waited for her lips to part with an indignant protest. Only then did he lower his head to claim her mouth with a brief kiss that seared through him like wildfire.

  “Trust me,” he whispered against her lips, stealing one more kiss before he was forcing himself to release his hold on her and head toward the door.

  * * *

  The Mave’s office in Valhalla had been designed to intimidate.

  Decorated in pure white with contrasting black accents, it had built-in bookshelves on two walls and low, leather chairs that were set opposite the heavy ebony desk.

  The floor was covered by a white carpet with a black geometric pattern. And the far wall was made of floor-to-ceiling glass to provide a perfect view of the formal rose gardens.

  It’d been carefully chosen by the current leader of the high-bloods, just as she had carefully honed her reputation as a ruthless leader who would do whatever was necessary to protect her people.

  Not that Lana Mayfield had ever dreamed she would one day be the ultimate leader of the high-bloods.

  Actually, she’d rarely allowed herself to dream at all.

  She’d been born nearly four hundred years ago, a time when the eye-shaped birthmark on her upper breast meant she was condemned as a demon.

  Her entire life had been a fight for survival.

  Since becoming the Mave she’d tried to use that grim endurance to lead her people.

  She didn’t want the children to ever endure the same prejudices that she had. Or to ever think they were freaks because they were different.

  They still had a long way to go, but she hoped she was making a difference.

  Unfortunately, becoming the Mave wasn’t without cost.

  Most of her life had been lived in isolation. When she’d been young it had been a simple matter of necessity.

  But there’d been an all-too-brief time when she’d been a part of a larger group who’d banded together to form a safe place for all high-bloods. They’d shared their lives, their dreams, and occasionally their hearts as they’d tried to build a place that was worthy to be called Valhalla.

  She’d been happy during that time, despite the turmoil and danger. For once, she hadn’t been alone.

  Then the previous Mave had proven unworthy to be a leader and Lana had found herself thrust into the role.

  Which meant she was once again isolated.

  Unless she counted the tall, whip-cord lean man who was standing in the center of her office, studying her with a scowl that would make most people tremble with fear.

  Wolfe, the current Tagos and leader of all Sentinels, was barely civilized under the best of circumstances.

  Oh, he could play the part of a politician when necessary. He was a hunter, so he didn’t have the tattoos of a guardian Sentinel, and he could lay on the charm when it suited his purpose. And Lana was well aware that he wasn’t opposed to using his intoxicating sexual magnetism to manipulate others.

  But there was no mistaking the fact that he was a lethal predator.


  Leaning against the edge of her desk, she absorbed the impact of his male beauty.

  In ancient times he would have been worshipped as an Egyptian god, with his rich, copper skin, his proud, hawkish nose and sharply angled cheekbones. His arched brows were heavy and set over eyes as dark as ebony. His lips were sensuously carved along generous lines.

  It was the sort of intensely masculine face that made women swoon when he walked past.

  If that wasn’t enough, he had thick, satin-smooth black hair that fell past his shoulders with a wide streak of shimmering silver that started at his right temple.

  Tall, dark, and dangerous wasn’t just a cliché when it came to this man.

  He was also bossy, arrogant, and fiercely overprotective.

  For the most part, Lana appreciated his constant concern, and the knowledge that he always had her back. His loyalty was priceless.

  But there were times when he was convinced he knew what was best for her.

  And more than willing to let her know.

  Like tonight.

  Dressed in black jeans, shit-kickers, and a white tee that was painted over the chiseled muscles of his chest, Wolfe planted his fists on his hips and gave a shake of his head.

  “No.”

  She rolled her eyes at his blunt response.

  “I was informing you of my decision, not requesting your permission, Tagos,” she said, deliberately using his formal title.

  “It’s my duty to protect you, Mave,” he snarled in return.

  Her lips parted, only to snap shut as she forced herself to draw in a deep, steadying breath.

  No one else could stir her temper like this male.

  Hell, most of Valhalla referred to her as the Ice Queen behind her back.

  And that was a problem.

  If Wolfe was merely bossy she could handle him with ease.

  She’d spent most of her life dealing with pushy males.

  But their perfect working relationship was increasingly threatened by a smoldering awareness that neither had been able to purge over the years.

  If anything, it’d only grown sharper, more intense.

  More than once she’d toyed with the idea of giving in to her explosive need. Maybe if they got it out of their systems it would go away.

  Thankfully she’d come to her senses before she did anything stupid.

  Allowing Wolfe into her bed would screw up everything.

  And worse, she was terrifyingly certain that giving herself to Wolfe would only intensify her need, not end it.

  So they both danced around the elephant in the room, trying to pretend it wasn’t waiting for the perfect moment to go on a rampage.

  Lana straightened from the desk, managing to meet Wolfe’s glare with a bland smile.

  “If Bas wanted to hurt me he wouldn’t have requested to meet me,” she pointed out. “He would have just crept into Valhalla and done his business.”

  “He could have tried,” Wolfe growled.

  “He did it before,” she said with a grimace, recalling Bas’s ability to sneak in and poison Serra.

  Only one of many reasons she’d issued an arrest warrant for the assassin.

  The room prickled with the heat of Wolfe’s temper. “If you’re trying to piss me off, you’re succeeding.”

  Hardly a difficult task. Anything connected to Bas managed to piss off the Tagos.

  Not only because Bas had slipped past the considerable defenses of Valhalla and compelled Serra to search for his kidnapped daughter, but because Lana had been forced to admit she had a past with the assassin.

  “Bas is an assassin. He works in the shadows,” Lana said.

  “Your point?”

  “My point is that he doesn’t conduct his business at public diners.”

  Wolfe’s lips thinned, unimpressed by her logic. “He’s a wanted criminal.”

  “And a father,” she countered.

  “What the hell does that have to do with anything?” Wolfe demanded, the intensity of his personality consuming the office until it felt far too small.

  “He’s managed to elude us for days.” Lana held the dark gaze, one of the few in the world that wasn’t intimidated by the lethal Sentinel. “There’s no way he would be willing to risk being separated from the daughter he nearly destroyed the world to retrieve.” Her brows drew together as she tried to imagine what would be so important that Bas would contact her. Nothing good. “Not unless it was important.”

  “Then he can come to Valhalla and speak with you.”

  Lana arched a brow. “So you can arrest him?”

  Wolfe didn’t bother to lie. “He belongs in the dungeons.”

  Lana couldn’t argue. Not after she’d been the one who’d issued the orders to have him tracked down and brought to justice.

  But a part of her remembered Bas when they’d both been young and idealistic. Before their paths had parted into two very diverse directions.

  “Perhaps, but first I want to discover why he contacted me.”

  Wolfe muttered a curse, taking a step toward her. “You’re allowing your emotions to cloud your judgment.”

  She narrowed her eyes. The male was treading toward dangerous territory.

  “My emotions?”

  Predictably he ignored the warning edge in her voice. “You have a history with this male.”

  She conjured her frostiest expression. The last thing she wanted was to discuss her old lover with the male who routinely played a starring role in her sexual fantasies.

  “A history that included me trying to kill him,” she reminded her companion.

  Bas had a habit of living on the wrong side of the law. This wasn’t the first time he’d earned her punishment.

  Wolfe folded his arms over his chest, his body vibrating with male outrage.

  “Which only makes it worse.”

  She frowned in genuine confusion. “Makes what worse?”

  Wolfe ignored her question, his lean face set in lines of grim purpose.

  “If you insist on meeting him, then I’m coming with you.”

  “Wolfe—”

  “That’s nonnegotiable.” He overrode her instinctive protest. “You’re too important, especially now.” He held her gaze, silently daring her to deny the truth of his words. “Our people need a sense of stability. If something happened to you it might fracture Valhalla.”

  Their gazes clashed, Lana’s chin tilting even as she conceded he was right.

  Over the past weeks the high-bloods had endured a crazed necromancer followed by the near catastrophe of having one of their most dangerous high-bloods released to cause chaos among the humans.

  The last thing they needed was the sudden loss of their leader.

  “Fine,” she muttered, heading toward the door. “You can come, but I speak to Bas alone.”

  Grabbing her arm as she tried to sweep past him, Wolfe tugged her against the hard length of his body. Slowly, bending his head, he spoke directly in her ear.

  “Do you still have feelings for him?”

  Lana shivered, the bittersweet desire clutching her stomach.

  “I’m the Mave,” she said, her voice husky with the need she couldn’t entirely disguise.

  His lips brushed her temple, the caress so light she might have imagined it.

  “And?”

  For a crazed second she leaned against his solid strength, absorbing the raw power that pulsed around him. It’d been so long since she’d allowed herself to be a woman.

  So very, very long.

  She trembled, tendrils of desire curling through the pit of her stomach. Dammit. She desperately wanted to turn, to forget who she was so she could melt into his arms.

  But there was no forgetting. Not when this male threatened to destroy the hard-earned barriers she’d built around her heart.

  With a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, she firmly pulled away and continued toward the door.

  “And I’m not allowed to have feelings for anyone.”

/>   * * *

  “The destiny I have promised is at hand,” Stella Newcombe announced, a hidden microphone allowing her words to be easily heard by the gathered crowd. “Soon we’ll have what we need to bring an end to the mutants.” She paused for the predictable cheer. Really, it was like shooting fish in a barrel. “Valhalla will become nothing more than an empty shell and the Brotherhood will triumph over the high-bloods.”

  Standing on the balcony, Stella gazed down at her faithful followers, keeping her disdain hidden behind a charming smile.

  She knew what they were seeing. A woman with thick auburn hair that tumbled down her back and wide eyes that were so dark blue they looked purple in the Wyoming sunlight. Her face was heart shaped with lush lips and skin that had a faint copper tint. She’d chosen to wear an ivory robe that was modest enough to appeal to the male-dominated Brotherhood while emphasizing her seductive curves.

  Stella had discovered at a young age that her sexual appeal was a potent weapon. One she could use to climb out of the trailer park on the edge of Vegas.

  Not that her dream had been to be in charge of a bunch of fanatical whackadoodles. But power was power, and she understood that she was in a position to use the idiots to create the life she’d always dreamed would be hers. And at long last her plans were falling into place. With any luck she would soon have all she’d ever desired. And that she so richly deserved.

  Giving her soldiers a last wave, Stella turned to reenter the lavish A-frame house she’d recently had constructed to resemble a French chalet. Gilbert, the former leader of the Brotherhood and her longtime lover before his death, might have been content to live in a squalid cabin in the middle of nowhere, but she demanded luxury.

  Ignoring the chants that filled the air as her followers celebrated their soon-to-be victory, Stella entered the large bedroom that had polished wood floors, open-beamed ceilings, and a stone fireplace that blazed with a welcoming heat. In the center of the room was a four-poster bed where a middle-aged man was leaning against the heavily carved headboard wearing nothing more than a pair of boxers.

  Stella managed to keep her smile intact.

  Peter Baldwin wasn’t a man that a woman would willingly choose as a lover. He was short, pudgy, with a chubby face and rapidly thinning hair. His eyes were an unremarkable brown and his charm nonexistent.