Blood Lust - Alexandra Ivy Page 0,12
pulled the lids off the chafing dishes to reveal the crisp green salad, bowls of creamy squash soup, and the portabella mushrooms stuffed with wild rice.
“Did you order this?” she demanded.
“I did.” He arched a brow. “Why?”
She studied the meal with a faint frown. “I assumed you would be a steak and potatoes kind of guy like most Sentinels.”
Bas shrugged. Sentinels tended to burn through enormous amounts of energy and needed high doses of protein to keep up their strength.
“I used to enjoy a fine steak, but like you, Molly prefers a vegetarian diet, so I’ve learned to adapt,” he said.
Her head snapped up, something that might have been fear tightening her features.
“How did you know I’m a vegetarian?”
He held her gaze. She needed to know just how ruthless he could be when he wanted answers.
“Five years ago you had lunch at a small diner near my office in St. Louis before you came in for your interview.”
She looked confused. “Were you having me watched?”
“Unfortunately, no.” He filled a plate with the lightly dressed salad and placed it in front of her before serving himself. “After your disappearing act I went in search of you.”
“Why?”
His lips twisted as he recalled his reaction when he turned from his untimely phone call to discover the warm and welcoming female he’d left sated and drowsy on his couch had done a vanishing act. His furious disbelief had lasted for days.
“Because I wasn’t done with you.” He deliberately paused. “Not even close.”
There was no mistaking the meaning of his low words, and a pretty blush stained her cheeks.
“I . . .”
“Eat,” he commanded as she floundered for a response.
Clearly rattled, Myst picked up her fork and attacked her salad. Keeping a close watch, Bas instantly had the soup placed in front of her the second her plate was clean, sipping his wine as he shared amusing stories of Molly when she was just a baby.
He waited until she’d polished off the mushrooms and rice before he leaned back in his seat and studied her with an expression that warned that he was going to get answers from her.
One way or another.
“Now.” He tapped his finger on the table, his gaze taking in every nuance of her body language. He didn’t have the ability to read minds, but he’d been trained to sense a lie. “We start at the beginning. Your name isn’t Myst, is it?”
There was a tense silence as she wavered between answering his questions and trying to make a dash toward the door. Perhaps realizing there was no way she could outrun him, she heaved a sigh of pure resentment.
“Not originally,” she admitted between gritted teeth.
He ignored the scent of charred honeysuckle. The search for the truth had gone from a casual itch to a relentless quest.
“What’s your real name?”
“I won’t tell you.”
The words and her expression were uncompromising. Bas didn’t press.
For now.
“Why did you change it?” he instead demanded.
“Because my family sold me to the Brotherhood.”
Bas froze. If she’d meant to shock him, then she’d succeeded. Beyond her wildest dreams.
He silently studied her tiny face.
“You’re serious?” he at last demanded.
She grimaced. “It’s not something I would joke about.”
His fury heated the air as he shoved himself to his feet. Her family sold her to their enemies?
It was . . . inconceivable.
He paced to refill his wineglass, struggling to leash his emotions.
“Humans,” he growled, wanting to punch something. His own uncle had skinned him when he’d barely been out of the nursery. He’d claimed he was trying to rid Bas of his demons. “They will never accept us.”
“It wasn’t about acceptance,” she corrected, the words clipped. “It was a financial decision.”
“Financial?”
“Yes.”
Bas drained the wine, sensing he hadn’t heard the worst.
The Brotherhood was a secret organization of humans who devoted their lives to the elimination of high-bloods. For years they’d hidden in the shadows, forgotten by Valhalla. But recently they’d started to make pests of themselves again.
“Bastards,” he hissed.
Her expression tightened. “My parents never wanted me once they found out I was a high-blood.”
His brows snapped together. “If they knew you were a high-blood why didn’t they send you to Valhalla?”
Many high-bloods were sent to Valhalla so they could be raised by foster families. Some because their human parents were unable to give them the proper care, and some because they were abandoned.
And overall the system worked well.
“They lived off the grid in a remote community in Alaska,” she said, the words obviously painful. “The colony believed that Valhalla would come and round