Blood Lust - Alexandra Ivy Page 0,3
his body temperature ran hotter than other people’s. Especially when they were pissed off.
Or in the throes of passion . . .
She slammed shut the door on that agonizingly vivid memory, watching as the bronze eyes narrowed, his heat spiking.
Almost as if he’d managed to catch her wicked thoughts.
“Myst—”
“Mommy,” Molly called from the bed.
Myst released a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Thank God for a timely interruption.
“Coming.” She moved to step around the male only to come to a halt as his fingers tightened on her arm. She tilted back her head to glare at his painfully beautiful face. “Let me go, Bas.”
He refused to release his grip, but his fingers instantly eased. She blinked in confusion. Was he afraid he was hurting her?
That seemed very . . . unassassin-like.
“Have you been sneaking in to see Molly?” he growled.
She shook her head. “No.”
“Then how did you tell her a fairy tale?”
Myst hesitated. She wanted to lie, but she feared he would sense she wasn’t telling the truth.
Probably not the best way to convince him that she could be trusted with their daughter.
“We’re psychically connected.”
His dark brows lifted in surprise. “You told me that you’re a clairvoyant.”
“That’s one of my gifts,” she agreed, her voice carefully devoid of emotion.
“One?”
Her lips twisted in a wry smile at the disbelief in his tone. She was used to being dismissed as a mere scribe with meaningless powers.
“Yes.”
He looked . . . offended.
“You didn’t tell me you were a telepath.”
She shrugged. “You didn’t ask.”
“You applied for a job. I assumed you would have shared your complete resume.” He leaned down, wrapping her in the scent of clean male skin and scotch. “Or were you keeping secrets even back then?”
His lips brushed the top of her ear, sending streaks of lightning through her body.
Danger, excitement, and pure lust twisted her stomach into a knot.
Dammit. She’d spent the past four years isolated in the bowels of a Russian monastery. She wasn’t prepared to deal with the cascade of sensations.
She struggled to suck air into her lungs. “I wasn’t a telepath when I applied for the job,” she said in hoarse tones.
He frowned, his fingers resuming their absent path up and down her arm. Was he even aware of what he was doing?
Her skin shivered with delight.
“Is that supposed to be a joke?” he demanded.
She grimaced, understanding his annoyance. High-bloods were born with their mutations, even if some didn’t reveal themselves until after puberty. Most people only had one, but a rare few could claim a combination.
Like Bas, who’d been born with both the magic of a witch and the superior strength of a Sentinel. And even more rare were those powers that appeared later in life, seemingly out of nowhere.
None of the healers had an explanation.
It simply happened.
“The talent didn’t reveal itself until I was pregnant,” she grudgingly confessed.
He lifted his head, genuine amazement in his eyes. “A spontaneous manifestation?”
“Yes.”
He studied her with a searing intensity. “Fine. You should have told me you were in contact with Molly.”
She forced herself to hold that raptor gaze. Bas was a natural leader with a male confidence that easily intimidated others.
In other words . . . an arrogant ass.
He would run her over completely if she didn’t try to stand her ground.
“As I said, you’re not my boss.”
“No, but I am Molly’s father.”
“I know that—” she started to snap, only to bite her tongue. Well, hell.
He was right.
“And?” he prompted.
She grimaced. It was true he was an arrogant ass, but he’d taken in a baby that he hadn’t known existed, without question and without hesitation, and surrounded her with the sort of love every little girl deserved.
As much as it might pain her to stroke his bloated ego, she owed him her eternal gratitude.
“I’m truly appreciative that you’ve done such a wonderful job with Molly.” She managed to force the words past her stiff lips. “She’s a very special little girl and I know that you had a very large part in that.”
He blinked, a flare of color staining the sharp line of his cheekbones.
Had she managed to knock him off guard?
Amazing.
Then his lips abruptly thinned. “You’re very good at deflecting my questions,” he accused.
She dropped her gaze to his thousand-dollar Italian shoes.
“Then stop asking them.”
“Myst.” His finger curled beneath her chin, tilting her head up. “Why didn’t you let me know you were in contact with my daughter?”
A fresh pain sliced through her heart. “Our daughter,” she corrected in fierce tones.
His lips parted, but before he could