Blood Lust

by Alexandra Ivy

  “No. We need to stay together.”

  Bas pressed his fingers to her lips, his expression somber. “I can move faster alone.”

  Her teeth clenched. She couldn’t argue with him. She might be faster than most humans, but she couldn’t come close to matching his speed.

  After trailing his fingers over her cheek, Bas turned to jog down the steep bank, keeping to the shadows of the river as he headed toward the arched bridge.

  Myst leaned against the tree, silently willing him to be careful. The sleepy countryside might look like something out of a travel catalogue, but they were surrounded by enemies.

  And worse, they were far away from any help.

  She watched as he crossed the bridge, but once on the other side of the river he disappeared over a low fence that surrounded the orchard.

  Wrapping her arms around her waist, she shivered as she forced herself to wait for Bas’s return. It felt as if the very air was rubbing against her nerves, which had been scraped raw.

  Bas would be fine, she told herself. Of course he would. He was a trained assassin who’d survived three centuries.

  What could possibly hurt him?

  Besides, he was too much of a pain in her ass for her to ever be lucky enough to get rid of him . . . right?

  She was still desperately trying to convince herself everything was going to be fine when the sound of gunshots shattered the golden silence.

  Oh . . . hell.

  Barely aware she was moving, Myst was running along the edge of the bank, crouched low to keep hidden behind the thick bushes.

  The shots had echoed through the valley, making it impossible to know exactly which direction they’d come from, but she suspected they came from across the river. Which meant that either Bas had been spotted by the local landowner or the Brotherhood was taking shots at him.

  All in all, she hoped it was an angry farmer.

  Intent on reaching the pathway that led down the bank, Myst came to a sudden halt as she caught sight of two shadows crossing the bridge.

  Crap.

  She shoved herself deep inside a bush, ignoring branches that scratched her face and tangled in her hair. She would have to wait until the men had passed her before she could try to find Bas and make sure he hadn’t been injured.

  Barely daring to breathe, she heard the sound of footsteps climbing the steep bank, but even as she waited for them to hurry past her, they instead came to a halt less than a hundred yards away. It was only then that she realized there were more footsteps approaching from the opposite direction.

  Peeking through the branches, she managed to catch sight of the nearest man, her heart sinking as she recognized him as the jackass who’d wanted to rape her in the cottage.

  The Brotherhood.

  Just. Freaking. Perfect.

  She tensed, preparing to flee if she was spotted.

  She wasn’t strong enough to take on all of them. Which meant if she wanted to help Bas, she would have to go for backup.

  Seemingly unaware of her presence, the four men huddled together in the center of the path.

  “Where’s the woman?” one of the men demanded.

  The man who’d been with her in the cottage spoke. “Hell if I know.”

  “Shit,” the first man muttered, his breath coming in tiny gasps as if he’d been running. “Where’s the Sentinel?”

  “He’s down.”

  Down? Had he been shot? Myst pressed her hand over her mouth to muffle her horrified cry.

  “Dead?” the leader demanded.

  There was a harsh laugh. “I won’t be sure until I cut off his fucking head.”

  Another man answered. “That can be arranged.”

  “If the Sentinel was here, then the clairvoyant can’t be far,” a fourth voice interjected.

  There was a moment of confusion as they all spoke at once, offering their opinion of what needed to be done.

  At last, the first man took charge.

  “Let’s deal with the Sentinel first, then we can spread out and search for the woman without worrying about the bastard sneaking up on us.”

  “Fine, but let’s hurry,” the man who’d been in the cottage muttered. “I want my hands on that bitch.”

  There was a sound of steel sliding against leather as the men pulled out their guns, then the scuffle of footsteps as they turned to head down the pathway.

  Myst grimly battled her way out of the bush, ignoring the blood that ran down her cheek from a deep scratch. It matched the others from the shattered glass the night before.

  Drawing in a deep breath, she struggled to think.

  She had a choice. She could run and try to find help. Or she could try and lead the men away from Bas until she could figure out some way to rescue him.

  It took less than a heartbeat to make up her mind.

  There was no way she had time to find assistance before the Brotherhood could return to Bas and kill him.

  Decision made, she retraced her steps, finding a spot on the bank that would not only give the men a good view of her from the bridge, but give her enough of a head start so she could hopefully escape.

  Her heart was thundering as she stepped to the very edge of the steep slope, refusing to think about anything but her overwhelming need to protect Bas.

  Expecting an instant reaction, Myst frowned as the men hesitated at the foot of the bridge. What were they doing? Changing the plan?

  Then, it finally struck her.

  It was one thing to bravely talk about killing a Sentinel. It was another to actually march up to one and try to do the deed.

  They were all dragging their feet, hoping the other guy would go first.

  Idiots.

  Dangerous idiots, she sternly reminded herself.

  Eventually the leader would herd the reluctant crew over the bridge and toward Bas. If he was hurt or somehow disabled . . .

  A fresh burst of fear exploded through her at the mere thought of Bas lying helpless as the bastards surrounded him. Leaning down, she picked up a rock and tossed it down the steep bank to land with a splash in the river.

  The sound at last attracted the attention of the Brothers, who turned to scan the tree line, eventually giving a shout as they caught sight of her.

  “Get her,” the leader shouted, pointing in her direction as she turned to disappear in the undergrowth.

  Myst darted through the trees, listening to the sound of pounding footsteps. Her lips twisted. Clearly the men were far more eager to pursue her than to try and take on a Sentinel. Even if he was “down.” Whatever the hell that meant.

  She made a low sound of distress, trying to shut out her frantic fear for Bas.

  Right now all she could do was try and lead away the danger. Once she was certain they were fully committed to following her, she could consider how she was going to lose them long enough to get back to him.

  One problem at a time.

  That was the story of her life.

  Reaching the edge of the road, she was forced to halt as the Brotherhood stumbled through the woods behind her. Christ. They’d already lost her trail.

  She stomped her feet, reaching out to grasp a slender tree and give it a shake.

  “This way,” a male voice at last called out. “I hear her near the road.”

  There was a sharp whistle as the leader took control of his floundering twits.

  “Call Roy and tell him that the clairvoyant’s headed back to the village,” he commanded. “He can cut her off at the gate.”

  Assured that the men were headed in the right direction, Myst hurriedly climbed the nearest tree, balancing on a slender branch as the men rushed past her.

  Watching their hasty dash down the road, she waited until they were out of sight. Even then, she counted to a hundred before she lightly dropped to the ground. Once assured that no one had the brains to leave one of the men to keep guard, she hurriedly doubled back.

  This time there was no hesitation as she reached the path
way that led down the steep bank. Plunging over the edge, she struggled to keep herself from tumbling headfirst into the river. The loose ground crumbled beneath her feet, the afternoon breeze tangling the fabric of her dress between her legs.

  She managed to reach the bridge, however, unscathed, and jogging across slick stones, she headed straight for the orchard.

  Like Bas, she ignored the gate, instead jumping over the low fence and melting into the shadows as she moved through the straight rows of trees. There was the potent scent of apples and more distantly the stench of manure, but it was the faint hint of blood in the air that she focused on.

  Damn. She darted toward the far corner of the orchard, her heart lodged in her throat as she caught sight of the male body lying on the ground.

  Bas.

  Her steps slowed as she reached him and dropped to her knees beside his motionless form. He’d fallen face-first onto the narrow path between trees, three gunshot wounds oozing blood from the center of his back.

  Oh God. How much damage had the bullets done?

  Not even a high-blood could survive three bullets through the heart.

  With a trembling hand she reached out to touch his too-pale face, a sob of relief wrenched from her throat as her fingers contacted the searing heat of his skin. A Sentinel burned even hotter when he was healing.

  Surely that meant he was going to survive?

  Settling back on her heels, she glanced around the isolated farm.

  Now that she was assured Bas was still alive, she needed to find somewhere for them to hide. The Brotherhood might not be the smartest tools in the shed, but even they would eventually realize she wasn’t hiding in the village. Once that happened she didn’t doubt they would come looking for Bas.

  Unfortunately there weren’t a lot of options for hiding places. In fact, her choices were limited to returning to the thick cover of the woods, or the barn.

  In the end, her decision was obvious.

  It had to be the barn since it was far closer.

  It was going to be difficult enough to transport Bas a few hundred feet without causing him more damage. She’d never make it back across the bridge.

  Rising to her feet, she moved to peer over the fence, making sure there were no prying eyes. Not only did she have to look out for the Brotherhood, but she had to make sure she didn’t attract the attention of the farmer or his family.

  At last convinced they weren’t going to be spotted, she hurried back to Bas and, crouching down, she gently slid her arms beneath him, hooking them around his shoulders so she could haul his upper body off the ground. She wasn’t strong enough to actually carry him, but she tried to lift as much of him as possible as she slowly dragged him toward the side gate.

  Terrified she might accidentally cause even more damage, Myst was careful not to jerk him as she moved out of the orchard one painful inch at a time. Sweat trickled down her back and her muscles were screaming in protest when she finally reached the barn.

  Bas was a slender male, but he was pure muscle. Not to mention the fact that Sentinels had a heavier body mass than humans. It all combined to make him feel as if he weighed a ton.

  No, not a ton. It had to be closer to two tons, she silently admitted, giving a grunt as she pulled him through the open door of the barn. Still, she refused to halt until she’d hauled him across the wooden floor and into one of the horse stalls that ran along the side of the barn.

  Tucking him at the very back, she carefully covered him with a horse blanket that’d been tossed over a low bench, and then gathered up loose straw to pile on top of him. Only when he was completely covered did she step out of the stall and take a close inventory of her surroundings.

  It was a traditional barn.

  Lots of farming implements placed in corners and hanging from the open rafters. A wooden wagon in one corner. Stacks of straw. And two tractors that looked like they should have been taken to the junkyard long ago.

  What she didn’t see was a vehicle that could help her escape.

  Either the farmer didn’t have one, or more likely, he was currently using it.

  She was searching for a weapon when she heard the unmistakable sound of approaching footsteps. Fear twisted her stomach as she glanced out the window to see two men headed directly toward the barn.

  Dammit.

  Crossing the floor, she grabbed a pitchfork and wedged herself behind the stacks of straw. It was the best place to remain hidden while keeping a close guard on Bas. No one would be able to sneak into the stall without her seeing them.

  Just seconds later she heard the men entering the barn, their breaths rasping through the thick silence.

  “Do you see anything?” one of them demanded.

  Myst peeked around the edge of the straw, watching as the men made a quick circle of the interior, not bothering to pull open the stalls or check behind the various tools.

  They’d obviously been commanded to do a sweep of the area, but they weren’t overly eager to run across the missing Sentinel.

  “No, it’s empty,” the second man muttered.

  Together they gave a last glance around before they were headed out the door and jogging toward the distant vineyards.

  Releasing the breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding, Myst cautiously inched her way back toward the stall, setting aside the pitchfork so she could kneel beside Bas. Carefully she brushed away the straw from his too-pale face, allowing her fingers to linger on his cheek.

  He was still warm, although not as hot as before. Was that a good thing? Or bad?

  Frustration blistered through her like acid.

  She had no way of knowing if he was getting better or worse. Then, almost as if sensing her violent emotions, Bas gave a low groan.

  “Myst?” he rasped.

  Terrified he might try to move, Myst stretched out beside him, carefully wrapping her arm around his neck and pressing her lips to his cheek.

  “I’ve got you,” she whispered softly as he drifted back to sleep. “Just hold on.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Bas had never been a big believer in heaven, although there’d been a time or two he was convinced he was in hell. But he was fairly certain that waking to find Myst pressed close to his side, her arms wrapped around him, was as close to celestial paradise as was possible.

  Of course, he could have done without the savage pain that was radiating from the center of his back down to the tips of his toes. And the debilitating lethargy that was making it almost impossible to drag himself out of the clinging darkness.

  Concentrating on the feel of Myst’s warm, delectable body, Bas forced his heavy lids to lift. It was a lot more difficult than it should have been, but at last he was able to take in the sight of the pale face only inches from him.

  Exquisite.

  “I smell honeysuckle,” he said, struggling to make his lips form the words.

  The tiny female stiffened, her eyes widening. “Oh my God. You’re awake. I’ve been so . . . so worried. . . .”

  Without warning Myst gave a choked moan and abruptly burst into tears.

  Shocked out of his mind, Bas ignored the pain that pulsed through him with ruthless force as he reached to gather her trembling body in his arms.

  “Shh, cara,” he murmured, rubbing his hand up and down her back. He knew he should feel regret at her emotional outburst. The poor female was clearly tired, terrified, and near the edge of collapse. The last thing she needed was to be forced to take care of him. But he couldn’t deny he was ridiculously pleased by the knowledge that she’d been so worried. Pathetic, but true. He pressed his lips to the top of her head. “Please don’t cry.”

  It took some time for the tears to slow, but eventually she gave a small hiccup and lifted an unsteady hand to lightly touch his face.

  “Are you in pain?”

  He grimaced. “I’ll live,” he said, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. “But I need a healer to remove the bullets before I can fully g
et my strength back.” He didn’t share how severe the damage actually was or that the blood loss had critically weakened him. She was frightened enough. “How long have I been out?” he instead demanded.

  “A couple of hours.”

  His breath hissed between his clenched teeth. He’d sensed that he’d been unconscious for a while, but he hadn’t realized it had been so long. No wonder Myst had been so frazzled.

  “I assume it was the Brotherhood?”

  “Yes.”

  “Dammit, I was an idiot.”

  He had a clear memory of crossing the orchard. He’d been concentrating on the nearby house, hoping to avoid an angry farmer, rather than considering the possibility the Brotherhood might be right behind him. Sloppy. The monks who’d trained him would be severely disappointed.

  “You couldn’t have known that they would be here,” she tried to soothe.

  “I knew they would be spread out looking for us. I should have been more careful,” he growled, then, with an awkward movement he lowered his hand to pat his pockets, realizing he’d managed to lose his phone during the attack.

  She made a low sound of distress as he tried to sit up, pressing her hands gently against his chest.

  “No,” she pleaded, her eyes dark with concern. “Don’t move.”

  He conceded to her demand. Okay, it wasn’t really a concession. It was more a collapse back to the wooden floor as his body refused to obey the commands of his brain.

  Muttering a curse, he allowed his gaze to take in the open rafters above him and the narrow wooden walls on each side. A stall, right? Which meant they had to be in the barn.

  “How did we get here?” he asked, relieved when his voice came out steady. “I don’t remember anything after I was shot.”

  “I led the men back to the village and then circled back to pull you into this barn.”

  He tangled his fingers in her silver curls, a strange sense of pride racing through him. It never failed to amaze him how such a tiny, fragile-looking female could have the heart of a lioness.

  “Clever girl.”

  She shrugged, her cheeks heating at his open admiration. “They searched the barn about an hour ago, so hopefully they won’t be back.”