Blood Lust

by Alexandra Ivy

  He was a killer. Pure and simple.

  But with Myst he wanted . . . what?

  He gave a sharp shake of his head as he cautiously made his way down a steep slope and followed the bank of a river toward the sleepy village. He wasn’t going to worry about his illogical responses when it came to this female. Not until the danger had passed and he could return to his life as a ruthless mercenary.

  Keeping to the shadows, he easily spotted the three-story house that had been transformed into a bed and breakfast. Entering the side garden, he lowered Myst to her feet and briefly closed his eyes, using his finely honed senses to assure him that no one was near.

  Not that he could fully trust his instincts. He’d only sensed a vague disturbance in the air as a warning before he was attacked at the farmhouse.

  Still, he didn’t have any choice but to hope they were alone.

  “I need you to stay here and wait for me,” he murmured softly.

  She tilted back her head, the moonlight playing over her pale, perfect face.

  “Why?”

  He was abruptly seized by an almost uncontrollable urge to lean down and capture her lips in a searing kiss. As if to assure himself she was safe and once again in his care.

  Madness.

  Myst was clearly still weakened from the drugs she’d been given and in need of a bath and a warm place to sleep. Not to mention the fact that there was the smell of impending rain in the air.

  The sooner he had a room the better.

  Taking a step back, he forced himself to concentrate on his magic, weaving a spell of illusion. With practiced ease he altered his features, making them pleasantly plump and lined with age. He thinned his hair and turned his eyes to a pale blue. His body was equally transformed into a dumpy shape that was covered in clerical black pants and black shirt with a white collar tab.

  To the world he suddenly appeared to be an elderly priest.

  “When the Brotherhood comes looking for us they won’t ask about a lone, elderly priest,” he answered her demand to know why he wanted her to wait in the garden. “I’ll let you in the back door once I have a key to the room.”

  “Okay,” she muttered.

  He arched a brow. No argument? She truly must be ready to collapse.

  Giving one last glance toward the empty street, Bas entered the building, forced awake the manager to request a key. There was a brief delay as he was told that the rooms were all filled, but at last accepting that Bas wasn’t going away, the manager gave him the key to the attic.

  Tottering out of the lobby, Bas waited until he was certain the manager was once again snoozing in his chair. Then, moving through a small parlor, he pulled open a door and gestured for Myst.

  Not hesitating, she hurried across the garden and slipped through the door. Bas wrapped an arm around her shoulders and urged her toward the nearby stairs. In silence they climbed to the top floor.

  There were a few squeaky steps, and the scent of old furniture polish was thick in the air, but the owners had maintained the old-world charm with the original wooden paneling on the walls and an ornately carved banister.

  Thankfully, they’d also had the attic converted into a comfortable space with a small sitting area at one end that had a brocade couch and matching chair. And at the other end of the long, narrow room a brass bed was tucked beneath the eaves. There was also a detached bathroom with a claw-foot tub and small washstand.

  Most guests would no doubt find it charming, although it could hardly match his own elegant chain of hotels in America, and the steeply slanted ceilings were most certainly not intended for a man well over six foot.

  Glancing down at Myst’s pale face, he gave her a gentle push toward the bathroom.

  “Take a hot bath,” he murmured. “It will help to ease the cramps in your muscles.”

  She frowned. “But you were the one who carried me. . . .” She allowed her words to trail away with a sigh, no doubt catching sight of his uncompromising expression. “Never mind. I’m too weary to argue.”

  He reached to grasp a silver curl that nestled against her cheek, giving it a light tug.

  “A miracle.”

  With a roll of her eyes she entered the bathroom, firmly closing the door behind her.

  For a crazed moment Bas lingered in the middle of the room, listening to the sounds of water filling the tub and the subtle whisper of Myst’s sundress sliding down her body.

  He instantly hardened, his feet taking a compulsive step toward the bathroom before he was jerking back and swiftly forcing himself to leave the room.

  Christ, where was the iron control he’d always taken such pride in? His cool, aloof ability to smirk at the lesser creatures at the mercy of their emotions?

  Right now he’d give his vast fortune for one night with Myst in his arms.

  Covertly slipping out of the building, he headed down the main street. He paused long enough to borrow clean clothing from an elegant boutique. Okay, some might call it stealing. Bas didn’t care as long as Myst had something clean and comfortable to wear. Then, he headed to the bakery on the corner where there was already a light burning.

  Within half an hour he was back in the converted attic, tossing aside the clothing and setting out the warm croissants, fresh butter, honey, and hot tea on a small table in front of the couch.

  He’d just finished when the door to the bathroom was pulled open and Myst warily stepped into the main room. Bas sucked in a sharp breath, feeling as if he’d been slugged in the stomach.

  Holy hell.

  Even though her slender body was covered from neck to toe in the large guest robe, her face was rosy from her recent bath and her hair was left free to tumble down her back, shimmering like moonlight in the shadowed room.

  Their gazes locked, both acutely aware of the desire that smoldered just below the surface. The air heated with the intensity of his need, but even as he was calculating how quickly he could wrestle her out of the robe, she was jerkily moving past him to settle on the sofa.

  “This smells amazing,” she murmured, busying herself with slathering a croissant with the butter and honey before sipping the tea. “Where did you get it?”

  Heaving a rueful sigh, he settled on the cushion beside her. The warm bath and the food were clearly restoring her flagging energy, but she was still trying to pretend they weren’t both on the edge of going up in flames.

  “The small bakery down the street was willing to take mercy on a poor old priest,” he said. “It’s fresh out of the oven. I will reimburse them and the boutique that supplied your clothes eventually.”

  She polished off two croissants and her cup of tea before leaning back with a small yawn.

  “That was delicious, thank you.”

  He was reaching toward her before he could halt the movement, tucking her hair behind her ear.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Better.” Her cheeks heated as his fingers brushed down the curve of her neck, lingering on the pulse that beat at the base of her throat. “I think the drugs are almost gone.”

  “They should be completely out of your system in a few hours,” he assured her, his hand cupping her delicate cheek as a blast of fury trembled through him. “Bastards,” he hissed, once again consumed by a fierce urge to track down the Brotherhood and destroy them.

  Slowly, painfully.

  Her lashes lowered in a belated attempt to hide the hunger that flared through her dark eyes.

  “I overheard my captors talking,” she said, no doubt hoping to distract him. As if anything less than a nuclear bomb could divert the increasingly painful need. “They had some way to know that we were going to be at the farmhouse.”

  “Yeah, Kaede heard the same thing,” he muttered, his brooding gaze locked on her mouth. “He called Valhalla to warn the Mave when he couldn’t get ahold of us. Unfortunately, it was too late.”

  She shivered as his thumb brushed her lower lip. “How did they know?”

  “They have a
new leader who claims to have a direct connection to God.”

  She abruptly glanced up, her eyes wide. “She speaks to God?”

  He gave a dismissive shrug. “It’s a predictable tool to keep her followers loyal to the cause. Kaede’s working to discover the truth of how she’s getting her information.”

  Her brow furrowed as she considered the various possibilities, easily coming to the same conclusion he had.

  “It had to have come from Valhalla,” she breathed.

  “Lana swears it couldn’t have come from there,” he said, his voice distracted.

  He didn’t want to waste their time alone talking about the Brotherhood or the potential betrayal of Valhalla.

  Hell, he didn’t want to be talking at all.

  Without warning, Myst stiffened. “You spoke with the Mave?”

  Bas frowned at her unmistakable annoyance. Then, realizing what had caused her irritation, he felt a burst of smug satisfaction.

  His beautiful clairvoyant was jealous.

  “Briefly,” he murmured.

  “She—”

  “It’s a worry for another day, cara,” he interrupted, done with the conversation. In this moment they were alone, and safe, and conveniently close to a bed. He was done waiting. Rising from the sofa, he grabbed her hand and gently tugged her to her feet. “We should get some rest.”

  Her tongue peeked out to wet her lips. Bas swallowed a groan, his cock pressing against the zipper of his slacks.

  “We’re staying here?” she demanded.

  “Yes.” His thumb brushed her inner wrist, covertly tugging her closer. “The Brotherhood will expect us to be on the run. It’s safer to stay here until the initial search moves on.”

  She hesitated, as if trying to consider the flaw in his plan. Then, at last, she gave a slow, grudging nod.

  “I suppose that makes sense.”

  His lips twitched. “Then why are you so nervous?”

  She glanced toward the far side of the room. “There’s only one bed.”

  “It’s big enough for both of us,” he murmured, his fingers skimming up her arm. “We might have to squish together, but . . .”

  She tried to glare in outrage, but he didn’t miss her tiny shiver of pleasure, or the leap of her pulse as he traced the gaping neckline of her robe.

  “That’s not funny,” she breathed.

  The tips of his fingers rested against the gentle swell of her breasts.

  “Are you afraid you won’t be able to keep your hands off me?” he teased.

  Her dark eyes narrowed. “I’m afraid your oversized ego might smother me in my sleep.”

  He chuckled, lowering his head to brush his lips over her forehead and down the narrow length of her nose.

  “My ego isn’t the only thing that’s oversized,” he said in soft tones. “Do you remember?”

  She sucked in a sharp breath. “No.”

  “I do.” He pressed a slow, lingering kiss on her mouth. “I remember every second. From the moment you stepped into my office until you groaned in pleasure as I emptied myself in your body.”

  “Bas,” she breathed, the scent of honeysuckle drenching the air.

  “Nothing has ever been so perfect.” He lifted his head to study her flushed face with a brooding gaze. “It’s no wonder no other woman could capture my interest.”

  “You shouldn’t say that.”

  He studied her with a curious gaze, not missing the fragile tension that shimmered around her.

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s a lie,” she breathed, her arms wrapping around her in a defensive motion. “I was nothing more than one more female in a very long line.”

  Anger stabbed through Bas as he abruptly framed her face in his hands.

  “Oh no, you don’t,” he growled, glaring down at her startled expression.

  “Bas . . .”

  “What we shared was special.” He lowered his head until they were nose to nose, the air prickling with the heat of his temper. He might have been pissed for the past five years that this female would dare to walk away from him, but he never, ever underestimated the power of what’d happened between them. “I’m not going to let you ruin it. Admit the truth.” His hands slid so he could tangle his fingers in her hair, breathing deep of her honeysuckle scent. “Say it, cara.”

  Her hands lifted, her fingers curling around his wrists. He narrowed his gaze, prepared for her to deny the truth.

  For whatever reason, she was determined to believe he was a villain. Maybe it was the same reason he’d tried to convince himself she was a heartless bitch.

  Survival.

  But she managed to throw him off balance when she licked her lips and breathed out the words that eased the empty ache that’d plagued him since her disappearance.

  “I . . . it was special.”

  “That’s better,” he whispered, brushing her lips in a light kiss before pulling back far enough to gaze deep into her eyes. “When I say there’s been no one else, I mean it.”

  Her hands tentatively lifted, fluttering like butterflies before they finally came to rest on his chest.

  “You haven’t been with another woman?” she asked.

  His lips twisted. He wasn’t sure why he’d confessed that little tidbit of information. It wasn’t something a male went around bragging about, but her brittle attempt to view him as some sort of ruthless sex addict had struck a nerve.

  Now, catching sight of the vulnerable fear she was so desperately trying to hide, he was glad he’d told her.

  “Not since a silver-haired clairvoyant disappeared with my desire,” he admitted, stepping forward so her hands slid up to his shoulders and he could feel the sweet press of her breasts against his chest. Instantly his cock hardened, a fierce hunger twisting his gut. “Now I intend to make up for lost time.”

  She shivered, her nails unconsciously digging into his flesh. Not that Bas objected to the pinpricks of pain. Desire curled through the pit of his stomach, heating his blood.

  “I thought we were going to rest,” she breathed.

  His hands traced the delicate line of her shoulders before smoothing down her sides.

  “Is that what you want?” he demanded, tugging the sash that held the robe together.

  Her eyes darkened, her breath leaving her lips on a tiny sigh. “No.”

  “Thank God,” he rasped, already feeling as if he was on fire.

  He didn’t know what it was about this female, but she set off a chain reaction within him that was impossible to combat.

  Hell, if he was honest, he didn’t want to combat it. Why would he? The excitement that seeped through him by just having her near was addictive. Now that he held her in his arms it was saturating him in sheer lust.

  He was a junkie and Myst was his high.

  Skimming his hands up her back, he burrowed his fingers beneath the robe and slid it over her shoulders. On cue the garment fluttered down the length of her body to pool at her feet.

  Oh . . . hell.

  His heart forgot to beat as his gaze slid over the slim curves that were perfectly formed.

  Holy shit.

  She was stunning.

  Her milky skin shimmering in the low glow of the lamp. The small, perfectly formed breasts tipped by rosy nipples. And a narrow waist he could span with his hands.

  Just as he remembered every night in his dreams.

  Not that there weren’t a few changes. There was an added curve to her hips that came from carrying their beloved daughter, and a newfound maturity in the way she carried herself.

  His cock twitched. If she’d been gorgeous five years ago, now she was staggeringly beautiful.

  Half afraid he might be jerked awake to discover that this was just another fantasy, he gently palmed her breasts.

  “You are exquisite,” he rasped, molding the small globes as he sucked in a deep breath drenched in honeysuckle. “I ache for you.”

  Her lips parted on a tiny gasp, her face flus
hed as she quivered beneath his touch.

  “Bas.”

  He slowly dipped his head, allowing his tongue to touch the pulse fluttering at the base of her throat. He smiled as he felt her jerk in surprise at the electric pleasure that jolted between them.

  He traced his lips up her throat, finding a sensitive hollow beneath her ear before at last covering her mouth in a kiss that hinted at pleasure yet to come.

  “No more talking.” He nuzzled the corner of her mouth, his fingers finding the hardened nubs of her nipples. She gave a soft groan. He used the tip of his tongue to trace the sumptuous curve of her lower lip. “I’ve waited far too long to have you back in my arms.”

  Her mouth parted in an unspoken invitation even as she pulled back her head to meet his smoldering gaze with a frown.

  “You should know that I still have the same spell I had when I got pregnant with Molly,” she murmured.

  He frowned at her strange words.

  “And?”

  “And I can’t be certain it isn’t faulty.”

  Without warning a savage surge of satisfaction raced through him.

  There was no way she wouldn’t have seen a witch to ensure her birth control was working properly if she had taken another lover.

  “Good,” he said, his voice thickening as he continued to tease her sensitive nipples, watching her eyes darken with hunger that matched his own. “I hope it is faulty.”

  She blinked, clearly having difficulty following his conversation.

  “What?”

  “We make beautiful babies, cara.”

  Taking swift advantage of her dumbfounded reaction to his blunt admission, Bas reached down to scoop her off her feet, heading toward the narrow bed tucked beneath the sharply angled ceiling.

  It was going to be a wonder if he didn’t knock himself out on one of the open beams.

  Leaning forward, he gently laid her on the mattress before crouching beside the bed.

  “Your hair fascinates me,” he murmured, allowing his fingers to run through the silver strands, carefully spreading them over the pillow. “And your skin.” His fingers drifted over her cheek. “I’ve never seen such flawless perfection.”