Kill Without Mercy

by Alexandra Ivy

  It’d taken hours, but at last Rafe had bundled her back to his grandfather’s house and she’d collapsed in his bed, wrapped tightly in his arms.

  The next few days had been consumed with police interviews and dealing with her brother’s affairs, which included a cremation and a very private funeral. They’d also finished cleaning out the small house so Rafe could hand over the keys to the Realtor.

  Thankfully, Rafe had stood staunchly at her side.

  Perhaps it’d been stupid, but she hadn’t been able to shake the fear that once the danger had passed, he would lose interest in her.

  But his steadfast devotion had never wavered. And certainly his desire had remained . . . avid, to say the least.

  And more surprisingly, his friends had adopted her into their small group, offering her the same fierce loyalty that they gave to Rafe.

  The first morning when they’d awoken to discover the yard filled with yammering reporters and TV cameras, it’d taken Teagan and Hauk less than a quarter of an hour to get them cleared away. And when Annie had to make her appearances in front of the various officials who were investigating the Newton murders, they’d surrounded her with a wall of silent protection.

  No one was allowed to approach her without their say-so, including her grandparents, who’d reached out after seeing a picture of her in the company of Lucas St. Clair. Rafe’s friend seemingly had powerful connections that had impressed her grandparents.

  Annie would decide later if she wanted to meet the elderly couple who’d willingly turned their backs on her.

  Instead she’d focused on completing her unpleasant duties with a brisk efficiency, allowing Rafe to help her when she needed him, but making her own decisions.

  She felt a growing confidence that came not only from knowing that the nightmare was over, but also from opening her heart to the man she loved.

  The past was done, and for the first time in her life she looked forward to the future.

  Once the most pressing obligations had been accomplished, Rafe had accompanied her to her condo in Denver to pack her belongings, and then they’d made a quick trip to her foster parents’ home.

  She’d expected their need to fuss and fume over her. She’d even managed to bite her tongue as they’d smothered her with kisses even as they’d called her all kinds of fool.

  It was how they showed their deep relief that she was okay.

  But she hadn’t expected their open welcome of Rafe. They’d treated him like a long-lost son. And amazingly, their delight in him hadn’t diminished even after he’d informed them he intended to whisk her away to Texas.

  Hell, they’d already started planning the wedding.

  Giving a shake of her head, Annie pulled her thoughts back to the present as Rafe slowed the truck and turned onto the drive that led to his ranch just an hour west of Houston.

  Her heart gave a small leap at the long, wooden house with a covered porch, and nearby stables where she could see a dozen horses in the attached paddock.

  Behind the homestead were wide, open plains with a few rolling hills that filled her heart with joy.

  “Rafe,” she breathed, completely enchanted.

  “What do you think?” He pulled the truck to a halt in front of the house and turned off the engine before sending her a wary glance. “I warned you that it was still rough.”

  She smiled, indifferent to the lack of paint on the house, and the barn that was clearly one stiff breeze away from complete collapse. “It’s perfect.”

  He reached to cup her cheek with his hand. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive,” she assured him softly.

  His eyes darkened with a familiar heat, but even as his head lowered, his gaze shifted toward the porch, where over a dozen people had suddenly appeared.

  Obviously the visitors had parked their vehicles behind the house to surprise them.

  “Shit,” he muttered, a wry smile curving his lips. “It looks like the welcoming committee has beat us here.”

  Giving her a swift kiss, Rafe exited the truck and was instantly surrounded by his friends. Annie hesitated.

  Not because she feared she was unwanted, but simply to savor the sensation of being a part of something so special.

  It was Teagan who came to help her out of the truck, shoving an ice-cold beer in her hand as he leaned down to press a light kiss to her cheek. “Welcome to the family,” he said softly, dodging Rafe’s fake punch as he strolled back to the group.

  “Family,” she murmured in wonderment, leaning against Rafe as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

  “Yeah, family,” he said. “Is that okay?”

  Her heart swelled with a happiness she never dreamed was possible.

  Not for her.

  “It’s more than okay.” She wrapped her arm around his waist, smiling as she watched Max and Lucas arguing over who should be in charge of the grill they were in the process of firing up. “It’s home.”

  “Yeah, it’s home.”

  She knew that beneath jokes and lighthearted teasing, they were all worried that Hauk was being stalked by evil.

  And they had a business that was just getting off the ground.

  But for tonight, they were all together. And that was enough.

  Arm in arm, Rafe and Annie walked onto the porch.

  Blessed and cursed by their hidden abilities,

  the Sentinels have no choice but to live, and love,

  on the edge of humanity . . .

  The Sentinel assassin, Bas, is facing the greatest challenge of his outcast existence. His young daughter, Molly, has been kidnapped. But her disappearance has brought the return of her mother, Myst, whom Bas has never forgotten—or forgiven.

  Haunted by a vision that she’s destined to create a weapon that will destroy thousands, Myst was never impulsive—until she met the irresistibly handsome Bas. But with the Brotherhood, the enemy of the high-bloods, hunting for her, Myst had to stay on the run, to keep her child, and the world, safe. Now, with the most important thing in both their lives at stake, she and Bas must embark on a treacherous journey to save Molly, to confront the truth of Myst’s fate—and to face their fierce desire for one another.

  Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek of

  BLOOD LUST,

  the next exciting installment of Alexandra Ivy’s

  SENTINELS series!

  Coming in June 2016

  wherever print and eBooks are sold!

  Prologue

  It had been over a century since the high-bloods revealed themselves to the norms.

  In that time they’d established Valhalla, the main compound for the high-bloods, and built it smack-dab in the middle of the United States, as well as several satellite compounds around the world.

  It was a way to try and convince the mortals that the witches, healers, psychics, necromancers, telepaths, and clairvoyants were just like them . . . only with special powers.

  And that the monk-trained warriors called the Sentinels could be trusted to maintain order among the high-bloods.

  What they didn’t bother to share was that there were several high-bloods with rare, sometimes dangerous powers who were kept hidden from sight. And that while the guardian Sentinels—who were covered in intricate tattoos to protect them against magic—and the hunter Sentinels—who remained unmarked to be able to travel among the people unnoticed—had been revealed along with the other high-bloods, there was another sect of warriors . . . the assassins.

  The faction of ruthless killers had been disbanded years ago, but a few had managed to survive.

  And a rare few had managed to prosper.

  Chapter One

  Bas had retreated to his penthouse suite in the luxury Kansas City hotel after fleeing from the clusterfuck that recently destroyed his highly profitable business.

  Not that he gave a shit about the money.

  He had enough wealth stashed in various properties around the world to last him several lifetimes
.

  And he gave even less a shit about ending his role as the leader of a renegade band of mercenary high-bloods who defied the laws of Valhalla to sell their various talents for an indecent price.

  It’d been fun, not to mention highly profitable, to create his merry band of misfits, but he’d made more than his fair share of enemies over the years. A fact that had come back to bite him in the ass when a former employee had kidnapped his precious daughter and used her as leverage to try and gain control over a volatile high-blood who could have started Armageddon.

  Now all he wanted to do was find someplace safe to raise Molly.

  He could, of course, have gone underground. Keeping a low profile was easy for a man who had his talent for altering his appearance. But he wasn’t going to drag Molly from one seedy location to another.

  She needed love and peace and stability in her young life.

  Things he fully intended to give her. Once he figured out how to avoid being arrested and thrown into the dungeons of Valhalla.

  He was in the process of plotting his future when he heard the pitter-patter of tiny feet.

  He turned to watch Molly enter the salon, her stuffed hippo, Daisy, clutched in her arms.

  Joy pierced his heart as he studied his daughter’s sleep-flushed face surrounded by her silvery curls. Christ, he still got up a dozen times a night to make sure she was safely tucked in her bed. Molly, on the other hand, barely seemed to remember her time as the witch’s captive. Thank God.

  “What are you doing out of bed? Did you have a bad dream?”

  She flashed a smile that could light up the world. “Mama called me.”

  Bas swallowed a curse. Molly often spoke about Myst, almost as if she was a constant companion instead of the woman who’d given birth to her and then promptly disappeared.

  “Called you?” He gave a teasing tug on a silvery curl. “On the phone?”

  She giggled, the dimple he loved appearing beside her mouth. “No, silly. In my head.”

  “It was a dream,” he gently assured her.

  Her bronze eyes that perfectly matched his own widened. “No. It was real.”

  “Molly.”

  “She talks to me all the time.”

  Bas bit his tongue. He couldn’t tell his daughter that five years ago he’d had a one-night stand . . . no, it hadn’t even been that.

  Myst had come into his office, desperate for a job. She’d claimed to be a clairvoyant, but she hadn’t been capable of providing even one reading of the future.

  He hadn’t had much choice but to tell her that he didn’t have a place for her on his payroll.

  Not only because she didn’t bring the skills that could make his business money, but because he’d been rattled by his intense reaction to her fragile beauty.

  He was nearly three centuries old. He’d had countless lovers. Some had been passing acquaintances, some he’d enjoyed for several years.

  But none of them had ever come close to making him a conquest.

  Which was why he hadn’t been prepared when Myst had stepped into his office, nearly bringing him to his knees with the force of his instinctive, gut-wrenching desire.

  Even now the memory of her beauty haunted him.

  Her pale, exquisite face that was dominated by a large pair of velvet-brown eyes. And the long, silvery-blond hair that looked as if it was spun silk.

  She was danger. Pure female danger wrapped in the warm scent of honeysuckle.

  Unfortunately, before he could get rid of her, Myst had caught him off guard when she’d burst into tears.

  He might be a bastard, but he’d been unable to toss a sobbing woman out on her ass. So instead he’d given her a good, stiff drink to calm her nerves. And then another.

  And the next thing he knew they’d been naked on his couch and he was lost in the spectacular pleasure of her body.

  Bas gave a sharp shake of his head, his hand reaching into the pocket of his slacks to touch the locket he’d carried for the past five years.

  He’d wasted too many nights recalling just how good it’d felt to have Myst pressed beneath him, her legs wrapped around his waist.

  The only thing that mattered was that she’d disappeared from his office the second his back was turned. And then, nine months later, slipped through his security to abandon Molly in his private rooms.

  What kind of woman did that?

  “Okay,” he murmured, fiercely attempting to disguise his opinion of Myst. “What does she say?”

  “That she has something she has to do, but she misses me,” Molly said. “And that soon we’ll be together again.”

  “I don’t want you to be disappointed if she can’t come,” he said gently. He tenderly smoothed her silken curls. “You have me. And I’m never going away.”

  “But she is coming.” Molly bounced up and down at the sound of the door to the suite being opened. “See? I told you.”

  Bas surged upright, his hand reaching for the gun holstered at the small of his back.

  What the hell? How had an intruder gotten past his security system?

  “Molly, go to your room.”

  “But it’s Mommy.”

  There was the unmistakable scent of honeysuckle drenching the air before a silver-haired female stepped into the salon, her yellow sundress swirling around her slender legs. Bas hissed, feeling as if he’d been punched in the gut.

  Christ.

  She was just as beautiful as ever.

  Perhaps even more beautiful.

  “Myst.” The name was wrenched from his lips.

  Her delicate features were impossible to read. “Hello, Bas.”

  He gave a shake of his head, trying desperately to dismiss his potent, intoxicating response to the sight of her.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Her gaze shifted to the tiny girl standing beside him, a luminous smile lighting her fragile features.

  “I’ve come for my daughter.”

  Myst had learned to endure living in a constant state of terror.

  It wasn’t like she had a choice.

  For years she’d attempted to avoid her inevitable fate, always on the run, always looking over her shoulder.

  Stupidly, she assumed that she’d become so accustomed to her sense of dread that nothing could rattle her.

  Until five years ago.

  The day she’d first met the man who was standing in front of her like an angel of retribution.

  Not that she’d felt dread when she’d walked into his office. She only wished she had.

  No. If she wanted to be brutally honest, she’d tumbled into instant lust. Who could blame her? Bas Cavrilo was a stunningly beautiful male.

  His features were carved by the hand of an artist. A wide brow. A narrow, arrogant blade of a nose. Full, sensuous lips that hinted at a passionate nature beneath his stern façade.

  His skin was a pale ivory and satin smooth unless you counted the small eye-shaped emerald birthmark on the side of his neck and the thin horizontal lines tattooed beneath it.

  In contrast his hair was as black as midnight and cut short to emphasize his male beauty.

  And his eyes . . . Lord, those eyes.

  A tiny shudder had raced through her at her first glimpse of the metallic-bronze eyes that held a cunning intelligence.

  She’d felt as if something vital had been switched off in her brain. That would explain why she’d so recklessly chugged the Scotch he’d offered after refusing to give her the job she so desperately needed.

  And then another Scotch had been chugged . . .

  The next thing she knew she was giving in to the passion that had exploded between them with electric force. Once sanity had returned, she’d slipped away, hoping to put the crazed incident behind her.

  Of course, she couldn’t be so lucky.

  Instead she’d discovered that she was pregnant, and she’d learned the true meaning of terror.

  Now she licked her lips, her heart thundering l
ike a freight train in her chest as she forced herself to meet the scorching bronze glare.

  “How did you get past my security?” Bas snapped.

  Before she could speak, Molly was darting forward, ignoring her father’s biting fury with the confidence of a child who knew that she was well loved.

  “Mommy, Mommy!” she cried.

  Myst fell to her knees, enfolding the wiggling bundle of sunshine in her arms.

  For a perilous second she closed her eyes, savoring the pure joy that briefly drove away the nightmares that were Myst’s constant companion.

  “Hey, baby,” she murmured softly.

  A shadow fell over her as the tall, lethally dangerous assassin moved to tower over her. “I asked you a question.”

  She pressed her cheek to the top of Molly’s soft curls, staring at the original Renoir painting that was hung on a far wall.

  “I heard you.”

  “Then you have no excuse for not answering.”

  “You didn’t hire me, remember?” she muttered.

  There was a startled silence. “I remember everything,” he at last said, the words oddly husky.

  Myst shivered. Heavens. His voice was magic. Low, and whiskey-smooth. Sometimes she woke in the middle of the night, imagining she could still hear him whispering words of pleasure in her ear.

  “You’re not the boss of me.”

  He snorted, unimpressed. “And?”

  “And I don’t have to answer to you.”

  Tiny arms wrapped around her neck as Molly smacked a moist kiss on her cheek. “I missed you, Mommy.”

  Her arms tightened around her daughter, tears filling her eyes. “I missed you too, baby. More than you could ever imagine.”

  She heard Bas swear beneath his breath.

  “Molly, go back to your bed so Mommy and I can have a little chat.”

  “No, I don’t want to go to bed,” Molly pouted, burying her face in Myst’s neck. “I want to stay with Mommy.”

  “Molly.” The edge in Bas’s voice warned that he was at the end of his patience.