Blood Assassin

by Alexandra Ivy

  But not this man.

  “A necessary evil,” he said.

  Yeah, right.

  “Did you kidnap me to force me to become a part of your posse?”

  He blinked, something that might have been amusement shimmering in the bronze eyes. “Posse?”

  “Answer the question.”

  “Only a temporary member.”

  She rolled her eyes. He was delusional if he thought he could force her to turn against the Mave and work for him.

  “And it didn’t occur to you to pick up a phone and call me? I could have told you I wasn’t interested and saved us all a lot of time and trouble.”

  “Which is precisely why I didn’t bother calling.” He held her gaze. “Your agreement to help me is nonnegotiable.”

  Oh, he didn’t just give her an ultimatum, did he?

  Her spine stiffened, her eyes narrowed. Only an idiot told a female she had no choice.

  “You don’t know me very well,” she said in a low, dangerous tone.

  His gaze slid suggestively down her rigid body. “Something I hope to change once our unpleasant business is concluded.”

  She slapped her hands on her hips. “So not only do you assume I’m too weak to decide who I offer my services to, but that after I’ve been kidnapped and manipulated to become your unwilling employee you think I’ll still spread my legs for you?”

  His gaze lifted to meet her furious glare. “I can be very persuasive.”

  “Not a chance in hell.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “No. We won’t.” Whirling on her heel, Serra headed for the door. She should have left the second the spell was broken. “I’m leaving.”

  There was the unmistakable sound of a lock sliding into place.

  “I’m afraid we aren’t finished, Serra.”

  She jerked back to glare at her captor. “What do you want from me?”

  “I want you to find my daughter.”

  Fane stood at the edge of the small park hidden in the shadows of the trees as he studied the towering glass building across the street.

  According to Serra’s GPS she’d left her vehicle in the underground parking lot.

  The question was why. . . .

  Gritting his teeth, he ignored the screaming urgency to race across the street and rescue the female who’d claimed his heart years ago. He’d already gone to the trouble of circling the area a dozen times, making certain that he avoided the two cars that had followed her from the moment she’d hit the outskirts of town. He wasn’t going to reveal his presence until he was certain there was no other choice.

  Instead he pulled the cell phone from his pocket and punched his speed dial.

  The Tagos answered on the second ring. “Go.”

  “Wolfe. I need information,” he said, his voice a low growl.

  “You have her?”

  Wolfe hadn’t been happy when Fane called to say what was happening. Hell, he’d nearly busted Fane’s eardrum with his opinion of Sentinels who had shit for brains. They both knew Fane had waited until he was too far from Valhalla for Wolfe to forbid him to chase after Serra without knowing what was wrong with her.

  Now, however, Fane didn’t doubt the Tagos would do everything in his power to make sure Fane completed his self-imposed mission.

  “I’ve tracked her to an office building in St. Louis,” he said, his gaze shifting to the smoke-glass doors that were stenciled in gold. “CAVRILO INTERNATIONAL.”

  “Hold on.” There was the sound of tapping as Wolfe worked his magic on the computer. “Import/Export.”

  “Smuggling?”

  More clicks.

  “They’re legit,” Wolfe at last said, his tone distracted. “At least on the surface.”

  “But?” he prompted.

  “It’s too squeaky clean.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “Every company cuts a few corners when it comes to paperwork and regulations,” Wolfe said. “Unless they have a reason for not wanting anyone poking around.”

  Fane studied the building, instinctively counting entrances, surveillance cameras, and the guards who were doing their best to lurk unnoticed in the shadows.

  Even for a company worried about corporate espionage the security was over the top. Wolfe was right. This wasn’t just an import/export business.

  It was a place of secrets.

  And Serra was inside.

  “I intend to do more than poke.”

  “Fane,” Wolfe snapped.

  “What?”

  “Now that we have a location, I’m sending backup. Wait for them.”

  It wouldn’t take long for the backup. Now that they knew where Serra was, the Sentinels could use portals to travel from Valhalla to the local monastery. Still, it was an hour drive from the monastery to this spot.

  An hour too long for Fane.

  “No fucking way.”

  “Fane. Goddammit. You get yourself killed and I’ll—”

  In no mood to argue, Fane shut off the phone and shoved it into his pocket.

  If Wolfe wanted to haul his ass over the coals when they returned to Valhalla . . . fine. Right now, nothing mattered but getting to Serra.

  Chapter Four

  Serra was still pissed.

  No one screwed with her mind, forced her from her home, and terrified the life out of Serra without becoming her enemy.

  But she couldn’t deny the stark words had touched her heart.

  Dammit. She’d always had a soft spot for kids. Yes, she pretended to be a kick-ass, take-charge kind of female who didn’t have time for things like a family and a pack of brats. But beneath her brash image she was a huge sucker when it came to the precious munchkins, and she’d offered her services more than once to help the police locate a missing child.

  “Your daughter is missing?” The words slid past her lips before she could stop them.

  “Not missing.” A murderous fury glowed in the bronze eyes. “She was kidnapped.”

  “I know the feeling,” Serra muttered.

  “She’s four years old and a helpless norm,” Bas chided, his voice frigid. “I doubt very much you know how she’s feeling.”

  Serra grimaced. The man was a jackass, but if he was telling the truth then she could understand his desperation.

  What father wouldn’t be distraught?

  “You’re right,” she said. “But, if she really has been kidnapped then she’s in danger. You need the police, not a psychic.”

  “No police.”

  “Fine.” She shrugged. “Then pay the money and get her back.”

  He made a sound of irritation, the witch’s mark on the side of his neck deepening in color. She frowned as she realized beneath the eye-shaped mark were several small horizontal lines tattooed into his skin, disappearing beneath the collar of his expensive shirt. They looked like a barcode.

  An odd choice for a tattoo.

  “You think I wouldn’t give them every penny I could get my hands on to have Molly returned to me?” he rasped, offering a hint of the volcanic emotions that smoldered just below the surface.

  Serra hesitated. So the kidnappers weren’t demanding money? Unusual.

  “Then what do they want?”

  “It won’t matter once you’ve found my daughter.”

  Serra shook her head. “No.”

  The muscles of his jaw knotted, his expression closing down as he studied her with a ruthless resolve.

  “That wasn’t a request.”

  She tilted her chin, refusing to be bullied. Better men than Bas Cavrilo had tried. And failed.

  “Dammit, I’m not taking the responsibility for a young girl’s life,” she snarled. “Get someone else.”

  He leaned forward, holding her captive with the mesmerizing bronze of his eyes. “No one else has your talent for tracing.”

  Tracing was a rare gift that only a handful of psychics possessed, and even fewer could use with Serra’s skill.

&nb
sp; Some psychics could hold an object and catch a vague impression of who owned it and where it was from. Others could actually get a mental image of the owner. Serra, however, could touch an object and connect with the mind of the owner.

  It was why the police had called her in when a child went missing.

  “It’s not magic,” she told Bas, giving him the same speech she gave to everyone who came to her wanting miracles. “I don’t touch an object and instantly connect with the person. Especially not if that person is a norm.”

  Expecting another death glare and warning that she had no option, Serra was startled when he gave a slow nod.

  “I’ve been told it’s a matter of proximity. Is that correct?”

  She frowned. Told by whom?

  “Yes.”

  “How close?”

  “It depends on the person connected to the object.” She gave a lift of her shoulder. “The greater their telepathic powers the easier it is for me to touch their mind.”

  “Give me a rough estimate.”

  Bossy bastard.

  “For a norm I would need to be within a few hundred feet.” She folded her arms over her chest. “Not that it matters. I’ve told you, I’m not doing this.”

  He abruptly turned to pace toward the glass wall, his brow furrowed. “So close,” he muttered beneath his breath.

  Released from the potent power of his gaze, Serra sucked in a deep breath. “Did you hear me?”

  Abruptly he turned back, his impatience humming in the air. “We need a reason for you to be in St. Louis.”

  “You want a reason? I’ll give you a perfect one,” Serra assured him. “I’m here to haul your criminal ass back to Valhalla. The Mave has made it very clear she won’t tolerate high-bloods pimping out their powers.”

  She didn’t know why she was provoking him. Well, beyond the fact she was mad as hell that he’d kidnapped her and then tried to make her feel guilty for not rushing to rescue his daughter, despite the fact she quite likely would do more harm than good.

  But her taunting words didn’t piss him off as she’d hoped. Instead, a slow smile touched his lips.

  “You’re right,” he breathed. “That’s perfect. It might even buy me more time.”

  She threw her hands up in defeat. “Are you off your meds?”

  “No, it is perfect,” he assured her, the edge in his voice making her wonder which of them he was trying to convince. “Just think, if the Mave had heard rumors of high-bloods living outside her strangling reign of tyranny—”

  “Strangling reign of tyranny?” she mocked.

  “It’s all a matter of perspective.” He shrugged. “Then she most certainly would send someone to investigate. And who better than a psychic? I can claim that I need to lie low while you’re in town. That should give you time to locate Molly.”

  “Okay, I’m done,” she muttered.

  She didn’t know what the hell the man was babbling about, and she was quite certain she didn’t want to. Not when it obviously concerned her. But even as she started to turn back toward the door and try to force it open, there was a discreet beep and Bas was turning toward one of the monitors mounted on the wall.

  “Shit,” he muttered.

  She moved to stand at his side, instantly alarmed.

  Did this have something to do with his daughter? The thought made her stomach queasy.

  She refused to take responsibility for finding the little girl, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t horrified by the thought Molly might be hurt.

  “What?”

  “Sentinel.”

  Her fear converted to disbelief as her gaze focused on the tattooed warrior who was standing in the center of the outer lobby, his arms folded over his chest as he calmly studied Kaede who was blocking the door to the inner office.

  A nuclear bomb waiting to explode.

  “Fane,” she breathed.

  Fane had been taken into the monastery when he was ten years old. Before then he’d survived on the streets of Budapest, working as a pickpocket and thief until a monk had scooped him from the gutters.

  Those days had taught him to ignore the obvious. It was never the knife you could see that cut you. And the largest man in the room was rarely the most dangerous.

  Which meant that he wasn’t fooled by the lack of bulging muscles on the dark-haired man currently standing between him and Serra.

  Just a glance was enough to reveal the man’s perfect balance as he surveyed Fane for any sign of weakness, and the hand that was inching toward his back where he no doubt had a handgun tucked.

  A trained soldier.

  Perhaps even a Sentinel, although his powers were too weak to set off Fane’s natural ability to detect high-bloods.

  Fane hid his annoyance behind his stoic expression.

  He’d managed to slip into the building undetected and using his innate magic, he’d avoided the predictable security system. But once he had caught Serra’s scent in the penthouse office he’d accepted that he wasn’t going to be able to use stealth to enter.

  It was going to take a more direct approach.

  The man narrowed his dark eyes. “You must be Fane.”

  Fane stretched his lips into a humorless smile. “Have we met?”

  “Your reputation precedes you.”

  Good. Fane was a guardian. He understood that any fight might leave him weakened and unable to protect those in his care. It was always better to avoid physical confrontations.

  “Then you know you’re going to have to kill me if you intend to keep me out of that office.”

  The threat was delivered in a flat tone. The sort of tone that warned he wasn’t screwing around.

  The man foolishly remained between Fane and the door. “How did you get into the building?”

  Fane deliberately glanced down at the elaborate tattooing that covered his skin. The ancient symbols not only protected him from magic, but they also prevented psychic attacks and clairvoyants from messing with his mind.

  “Spells can’t keep me out,” he said as he pointed out the obvious.

  “And the electronic surveillance?”

  Fane shrugged. “Technology has its glitches.”

  “You can disrupt the signal?” The man scowled, clearly unaware that there were Sentinels capable of scrambling electronic devices. “Damn.”

  Fane took a warning step forward. “Stand aside.”

  The man spread his legs, his hand behind his back gripping the hidden weapon as he prepared for Fane’s attack.

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Fine.” Fane shrugged. “Then we do this the painful way.”

  Intent on each other, neither glanced at the door as it was pulled open. Not until a man with short dark hair and peculiar bronze eyes stepped into the office, closely followed by Serra.

  “I’m disappointed Kaede,” the man drawled, his voice edged with a punishing power that Fane could feel despite the powerful glyphs that were tattooed onto his skin. “This is the second occasion your security has failed us.”

  Kaede offered a low bow, his small flinch the only sign he was feeling the effects of the lash of power.

  “I take full responsibility.”

  “Yes, you will. Your punishment, however, will have to wait.”

  Kaede straightened. “What do you want me to do with him?”

  The bronze gaze settled on Fane. “A good question.”

  Fane studied the stranger, taking careful notice of the witch mark and the peculiar horizontal lines that ran the length of his neck.

  The man didn’t feel particularly strong in magic, but there was something . . .

  Something dark and dangerous that lurked just below the surface.

  Something Fane could sense, even if he couldn’t pin it down.

  He shifted so he could keep an eye on both men, allowing only a brief glance at Serra to make sure she wasn’t hurt.

  He couldn’t allow his fear that she remained in danger to interfere with his training.<
br />
  “Give me Serra.”

  The man frowned. “Does she belong to you?”

  “Belong? Are you a freaking caveman?” Serra growled, typically displaying more courage than sense. “I don’t belong to anyone. Not now, not ever.”

  Fane’s attention remained on the elegantly dressed man. He was the more dangerous of the two.

  “We’re not bonded,” he said, answering the question.

  “If you’re not her guardian, then how did you find her?”

  “Because he’s Fane,” Serra retorted, the bite in her tone revealing she was still pissed at him. Obviously rushing to her rescue didn’t earn him any brownie points. “Sentinel extraordinaire.”

  “Ah.” The leader waved a hand toward his companion. “Kaede. Do a sweep to make sure he came alone.”

  Kaede hesitated. “Bas.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  Fane snorted. “I wouldn’t count on it.”

  Kaede stepped toward his boss, his expression tight with frustration. “Dammit, Bas. Your arrogance is going to get you killed.” He jerked his head toward Fane. “This isn’t just another Sentinel.”

  Bas sent Fane a mocking glance. “You don’t have to explain, Kaede, even I have heard of Fane.”

  “Then you know this is no time to screw around,” the servant muttered.

  The bronze eyes held an unnerving confidence. “Trust me, Fane is going to behave himself.”

  “If you believe that then whatever you heard about me is a lie,” Fane assured him.

  A cold smile stretched the man’s lips. “No, I know that you’re one of the most feared warriors the monks ever trained.”

  Fane narrowed his eyes. “Then you know I won’t hesitate to kill you, or anyone else who gets in my way.”

  “Not if this female’s continued good health depends on your cooperation,” Bas taunted, grasping Serra by her upper arm and dragging her to his side. “Go, Kaede.”

  Serra hissed in outrage, yanking her arm out of his grasp. “Get your hands off me.”

  Fane growled low in his throat, the air heating as his anger slipped its leash. “Do you have a death wish?”

  “I am a man who is willing to use whatever methods are necessary.” Bas grimaced, indifferent to the fact that Kaede had left the room and he was now alone with one of the most dangerous Sentinels in the world. “Unfortunately.”