Blood Assassin

  The woman’s breath hissed through her clenched teeth. “You work for Bas?”

  Fane’s lips twisted at the implication he would work for the assassin.

  “We are . . . reluctant allies,” he grudgingly admitted. “Give us the girl and we’ll leave. No one has to get hurt.”

  The gun was pressed even harder against Serra’s temple. “You don’t get to give the orders here,” the woman said, her voice shrill. “This is how it’s going to happen. You turn around and leave. Once I know you’re off the property I’ll release your woman.”

  His woman?

  Serra rolled her eyes, continuing to probe at the edges of the female’s mind. Once she found the weakest point she would strike.

  Fane shook his head. “I can kill you before you squeeze the trigger.”

  “I don’t believe you,” the woman rasped. “Besides, there’s a spell around Molly. If you try to take her from the room she’ll die.”

  Fane arched a brow. Obviously the woman didn’t realize that a guardian Sentinel was capable of breaking through all but the most lethal spells.

  “I know it’s a cliché, but I’m going to give you to the count of five to release her.” Fane lifted a fist, straightening his index finger in a slow motion. “One.”

  The woman made a sound of desperation. “You can’t get Molly.”

  Another finger straightened. “Two.”

  “Jael will kill you,” she stammered. “She’s a powerful witch.”

  Another finger. “Three.”

  “Wait, I . . . argg.”

  The woman’s words turned into a shocked scream of pain as Serra released a psychic burst of power, slamming into the woman’s brain with enough force to shatter her consciousness.

  With a heavy thud the female hit the ground, the gun skittering harmlessly across the wood floor.

  Serra barely had time to catch her breath before strong arms were wrapped around her and she was being hauled against an unyielding chest.

  “A little premature,” Fane growled in her ear, his voice not entirely steady. “I hadn’t reached five.”

  It was a struggle to breathe as Fane’s arms tightened around her, but Serra didn’t protest.

  She needed this moment as much as Fane.

  “I always did have trouble with math,” she murmured, savoring the heat and strength that cocooned her in a sense of well-being.

  When she was in this man’s arms, she would always feel safe.

  “Will she survive?” he asked, running a comforting hand up and down her spine.

  Reluctantly pulling away, Serra turned to send a dismissive glance toward the woman collapsed on the floor. She could sense a faint pulse, but it was erratic.

  “Maybe,” she said, giving a shrug. The woman had worked with Jael to kidnap an innocent child. Serra didn’t give a shit what happened to her. “We have to get Molly.”

  With a nod, Fane stepped over the woman and through the hidden door that remained open. Serra followed closely behind him, using her mind to sweep for any hidden guards.

  She couldn’t detect another mind in the house, but she remained on guard.

  There was always the off chance that there could be a guardian Sentinel like Fane in the area. They could slip beneath her psychic radar.

  In front of her, Fane crossed directly toward the narrow bed where a tiny child slept beneath a pink blanket.

  Her breath caught at the sight of her mussed mop of silver-blond curls that were spread across the pillowcase and the little rounded face.

  God almighty.

  Who could ever have threatened this sweet, innocent child?

  Kneeling on the cheap carpeting, Fane held out his hand, his eyes closing as he tested the magic wrapped around the bed.

  Serra took a cautious step forward. “Can you break the spell?” she asked softly.

  “Yes.” Fane opened his eyes and glanced over his shoulder. “Make sure we’re not interrupted.”

  “Yes, sir.” She rolled her eyes at his sharp command, but obediently moved to the door to keep watch on the hallway.

  Minutes passed, then she heard Fane give a deep, shuddering sigh.

  “Serra.”

  Whirling around, Serra headed swiftly back to his side. Dammit. Had Jael left a trap that would somehow harm the child?

  “Is something wrong?” she breathed.

  “The spell is broken.” He nodded toward the stirring form beneath the blanket. “I think she’s about to awaken.”

  Relief flooded through Serra as she perched on the edge of the mattress, offering a smile as the child opened her eyes that were the same startling shade of bronze as her father.

  “Hi, Molly,” she said softly.

  Sitting up, Molly glanced warily around the room, inching toward Serra as she caught sight of Fane’s massive form.

  “Where’s my daddy?”

  Serra tucked a silver curl behind Molly’s ear. “I’m going to take you to him, muffin.”

  With a heartbreaking trust the child climbed into her lap and rested her head over Serra’s heart.

  “Is he mad at me?”

  Serra wrapped the tiny body in her arms, resting her cheek on top of the soft curls.

  “Never,” she insisted in fierce tones. Whatever Bas’s faults, and they were numerous, he was a devoted father. “He loves you.”

  The small body shivered. “He didn’t come.”

  “I’m here, pet,” a dark male voice said from the doorway.

  Serra gave a tiny jerk of surprise as Bas stepped into the room. She’d been too distracted with the child to notice his arrival.

  Fane, however, had already shifted to stand between the assassin and the bed. Clearly he hadn’t been caught off guard.

  “Daddy!” Molly called out, her expression one of pure joy.

  “Not yet,” Fane warned as Bas stepped forward. “Where is Jael?”

  “Gone,” the assassin muttered, his gaze locked on Molly. “For good.”

  “You’re certain she was the mastermind?” Fane pressed.

  “Yes.” Bas sent Fane a lethal glare. “Now step aside or die.”

  Fane folded his arms over his chest. “Not until you’ve removed the spell from Serra.”

  Bas touched the dagger at his side, his hair tousled and his face looking distinctly haggard.

  “Let me have my daughter,” he snarled. “Once she’s in my arms I’ll remove the spell.”

  Fane stood in front of Serra. An unmovable force.

  “Not a chance in hell.”

  Molly squirmed in Serra’s lap. “Daddy?”

  Fane stepped forward, his body rigid with the effort to leash his fury.

  “Look in my eyes and know that I will do whatever is necessary to protect Serra,” he said, his voice a ruthless warning.

  Heat filled the room as the two warriors squared off, the threat of violence making Serra shiver.

  “And you know what will happen if you do anything to harm Molly,” Bas countered, his hand stroking over the handle of his dagger.

  Serra made a sound of impatience.

  Men.

  “Oh for God’s sake, remove the spell so you can comfort your daughter,” she snapped, glaring at the assassin as she stroked her hand over Molly’s satin-soft curls. “She needs you.”

  There was a tense minute as the two men hovered on the brink of battle. Then, glancing toward the tiny girl dressed in a frilly nightgown tucked in Serra’s lap, Bas gave a sharp nod.

  “Fine.”

  The assassin stepped forward, only to be jerked to a halt by a suspicious Fane.

  “What are you doing?”

  “It will be easier if I touch her.”

  “No—”

  “Fane, it’s okay,” Serra interrupted.

  She didn’t trust Bas any more than Fane did, but what choice did they have?

  Without him removing the spell, she was going to die.

  Shaking off Fane’s hand, Bas moved forward, his gaze locked on h
is daughter even as he knelt beside Serra and placed his hand on the side of her neck.

  Fane growled as he moved forward, but Bas was already whispering low words. Icy tingles began to flow through her blood, the sudden chill making her shiver.

  “Serra,” Fane rasped in concern.

  Serra glanced up to meet his searching gaze. “I felt something, but I have no idea if it was the removal of the toxin.”

  “The spell was removed,” Bas corrected, reaching into the pocket of his slacks to remove a slender gold box. It looked like an old-fashioned cigarette case, but when he flicked it open it revealed several small vials of potions. “This is the antidote for the toxin,” he said, handing over one of the vials to Serra.

  Without giving herself time to wonder if this was a trick Serra lifted the vial and downed the contents.

  She gagged at the bitter taste, struggling to keep herself from heaving the antidote back up as it hit her empty stomach like a small nuclear explosion.

  When she at last was confident she was going to keep the potion down, she glanced up to see Bas reaching for the child in her arms.

  “Give me my daughter.”

  Serra allowed Molly to be scooped into Bas’s arms, even smiling as the child threw her thin arms around his neck and buried her face against his chest.

  “Daddy,” she said in sleepy satisfaction.

  Bas stepped back with Molly cradled in his arms, his gaze on Fane.

  “Now what?”

  Fane shrugged. “Now we take you to Valhalla.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Without warning, Bas tossed the golden case in Serra’s direction. Instantly Fane leaped to knock her to the side, covering her with his large body as an explosion rocked the entire building.

  Serra coughed as dust from the crumbling ceiling lodged in her throat, her body bruised.

  Slowly, Fane lifted his head, shaking off the debris that had threatened to bury them.

  “Are you okay?” he rasped.

  She nodded, allowing Fane to pull her to her feet as they both tried to slap the dust off their bodies.

  The explosion had only done cosmetic damage, but it’d given Bas the opportunity to escape.

  “Yes, but he’s getting away,” she said.

  Fane gently plucked a piece of plaster from her hair, his gaze remaining locked on her upturned face.

  “Let him run.”

  She blinked at his surprising lack of interest in the fleeing assassin.

  “I thought you were so determined to kill him?”

  “I will . . . eventually.” His thumb brushed a smudge of dirt from her cheek. “Now all that matters is getting you back to Valhalla. I want the healers to check you out.”

  Serra released a shaky breath, still trying to wrap her brain around the fact that the hideous days of constant fear and danger were in the past.

  Really, truly in the past.

  “Is it over?” She needed to be reassured. To know that this wasn’t some dream.

  “The toxin is gone.” He leaned down to place a tender, lingering kiss on her lips. “Molly is safe, the majority of the mercenaries are being held at the lab, and there’s nowhere Bas can run where I can’t find him,” he assured her softly.

  Her lips parted as she was struck by a sudden thought. “What about Anna?”

  “I received a text while I was scouting the building from Wolfe,” he assured her. “The Mave managed to transport her to Valhalla. She’s safe in a magically enhanced room.”

  She released a shaky breath. “We’re going home?”

  He pressed another kiss to her lips. “Together.”

  Fane stood in Wolfe’s office, his arms folded over his chest as the Tagos studied him with a furious expression.

  “What the hell do you mean you’re leaving?”

  Fane shrugged. It’d been nearly two weeks since they’d returned to Valhalla.

  Since then Serra had been taken to the clinic so she could be thoroughly checked out by the healers. From there she went to her foster family who’d fussed over her before her biological parents had rushed to Valhalla to lavish their daughter with endless attention.

  Eventually she’d returned to her private apartments, but she hadn’t been left alone for a minute as her friends, ex-boyfriends, and assorted high-bloods who’d insisted they needed to spend time in her company crowded into her home.

  Fane had frankly come to the end of his patience.

  He wanted to be with the woman he loved.

  Alone.

  This morning he’d awakened and set into motion the one certain way to have Serra to himself.

  “Serra’s been given a clean bill of health,” he said with a shrug. “We want some time together.”

  “Then take a weekend at Vegas,” Wolfe snapped. “There’s no need to travel to Tibet to be together.”

  Fane studied the Tagos with a lift of his brow. The man was always aggressive. Hell, he had enough testosterone for three men. But, over the past two weeks he’d been prowling through Valhalla like a man looking for a fight.

  Not surprising, the residents had swiftly learned to flee when he stepped into view.

  “Is there a particular reason you’re so reluctant for us to go?” Fane demanded.

  “Let me see.” Wolfe leaned on the edge of his desk. “I have a high-blood in stasis who’s a potential time bomb just waiting to happen. I have a dungeon full of traitorous high-bloods who are waiting for their trial. Bas is on the run. The Brotherhood is obviously becoming a threat,” he growled. “Do you need any more reasons?”

  Fane studied his companion. Wolfe was dressed in the same casual style as Fane. Jeans, T-shirt, and combat boots. But there was an unmistakable tension etched into the lean face.

  “Just the real one.”

  Wolfe shoved his fingers through his dark hair. “I’ve had word from the scholars who’ve been translating the hieroglyphs on the ancient temple.”

  Fane frowned before realizing Wolfe was referring to the temple in the deserts of the Middle East that had been revealed by the necromancer.

  “And?”

  “And some of them imply a destined time of trouble for our people.”

  Fane rolled his eyes. “Prophets always claim there is going to be some future disaster. It keeps them in business.”

  Wolfe held his gaze. “I agree that most of the time it’s foolishness.”

  “But?”

  “But the clairvoyants have begun to see blood in the future.”

  “Blood?” Fane repeated, not particularly impressed. Was there something else going on with Wolfe? Something that could explain his restless tension besides a vague threat of future trouble?

  “That’s all they can give me.” Wolfe waved a hand toward the stack of files on his desk. “But several have had the same vision. That alone is highly unusual.”

  “Fine,” Fane grudgingly conceded. Dammit, all he wanted was to take Serra to a remote Tibetan mountaintop and live out his life in peace. Was that so much to ask? “If this mysterious trouble reveals itself I’ll return. Until then I intend to enjoy my beautiful woman.”

  Turning to head to the door, Fane was halted as Wolfe straightened from the desk.

  “So when are you two going to tie the knot?”

  Fane heaved a resigned sigh, already having had a tiny taste of the massive, chaotic, nerve-wracking project that would eventually lead to a wedding.

  “Apparently it takes no less than a year to prepare for the big day,” he admitted with a shudder. “If it was up to me we would already be wed. I’m not taking the chance of ever letting her escape me again.”

  Wolfe grimaced. “No wonder you’re so anxious to get to Tibet.” Stepping forward, the Tagos clapped Fane on the shoulder. “Enjoy yourself.”

  Fane smiled, heading out the door. He fully intended to enjoy Serra.

  As often and as thoroughly as she would allow him to.

  Stepping into the hall his heart slammed against his c
hest as he caught sight of Serra leaning against the wall, her lush body shown to perfection in her leather pants, red halter top, and four-inch boots.

  Christ . . . he went up in flames just looking at her.

  With a small, wicked smile that revealed the clever psychic knew her exact effect on him, she pushed from the wall and moved to wrap her arms around his neck.

  “Well?”

  Fane studied the exquisite face of the woman he loved.

  He’d fought it for so long.

  Too long.

  Now he just wanted to savor each and every minute with her.

  “Are you packed?” he asked, his voice rough.

  She tilted her head to the side, studying his face with the knowledge of a woman who knew him better than anyone in the world.

  “He wasn’t pleased was he?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Wolfe thinks every Sentinel should live and breathe for their jobs.”

  “And what do you think?”

  “I think my life is yours, milaya.” His low voice was filled with promise. “For now and all eternity.”

  She framed his face in her hands, her eyes shimmering with love.

  “Now that was romantic.”

  He lowered his head, burying his face in the curve of her neck.

  “I’m just getting started.”

  Epilogue

  Downtown Kansas City

  Bas was studying the skyline from his penthouse suite of the luxury hotel.

  His first impulse after fleeing from St. Louis was to go underground. Keeping a low profile was easy for a man capable of altering his appearance.

  But after only a few days in a squalid house in the middle of nowhere, he’d realized he couldn’t possibly drag Molly from one location to another.

  She needed stability in her young life.

  Not to mention three meals a day and a warm bed complete with her stuffed hippo, Daisy.

  All things impossible to ensure when he was on the run.

  Instead he’d headed to this hotel that was owned by his corporation.

  Eventually the Mave would track him down, but he was confident he had a few weeks before she unraveled his complicated accounts and numerous false names to connect him to this hotel.

  Until then he intended to plot his future in comfort.

  Sipping his brandy, he watched as the sun dipped low in the sky, lost in his thoughts until he heard the pitter-patter of tiny feet.