“You’re mercenaries,” she said in shock.
He shrugged away his lack of concern that he was breaking one of the high-bloods’ most sacred laws. Since the formation of Valhalla it’d become illegal to peddle talents to the norms. Once high-bloods had bartered their services to survive. Gypsy fortune-telling, magical conjuring, and sideshow acts had been the most famous, but most weren’t nearly so harmless. Sentinels had hired themselves out as warriors and bodyguards and trackers. Paid killers. Psychics had compelled norms to become little more than slaves. And witches had used magic so dark it had tainted entire swaths of land.
Now high-bloods were forbidden from using their gifts for financial or personal gain. They were dedicated to benefiting society.
Or at least, that was the goal for most high-bloods.
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. . . .