made her heart race with panicked horror. Of course not. It was just . . . Molly needed him.
Yep. That was the reason.
“Wolfe is sending in Sentinels to deal with the clairvoyant.”
Myst nodded, knowing there was more. “And?”
He grimaced before forcing himself to say the words. “And the Mave has set up another opportunity for us to meet with Boggs.”
She felt a flare of relief. She’d feared the elusive Keeper of Tales would refuse to set up another meeting. Not that she was entirely convinced the mysterious male could help her. Still, she had to feel like she was doing something.
Otherwise . . .
A cold ball of dread settled in the pit of her stomach.
Otherwise she had to seriously consider Plan B.
Taking herself out of the equation, by whatever means necessary.
She shook off the depressing thought as Bas’s eyes narrowed, almost as if he could read her dark thoughts.
“Where?” she abruptly demanded.
“An old cathedral a few miles north of here.” He continued to study her with a piercing gaze. “Are you willing to take the risk?”
She shrugged. “I don’t have any choice.”
“There’s always a choice.” He stepped forward, his hand wrapping around the side of her neck with a casual intimacy. “I can take you back home.”
She shivered at his gentle touch, a familiar sadness tugging at her heart.
“I don’t have a home,” she whispered. “I’ve never had a home.”
“Myst.”
The shimmering bronze eyes darkened with a sympathy that shook her out of her momentary bout of gloom. Abruptly she stepped back. The last thing she wanted from this male was his pity.
“I should take a shower.”
He stiffened, almost as if he was hurt by her emotional retreat. Then his stunningly beautiful features settled into a mocking expression.
“Do you need help?”
She gave a shake of her head. As tempting as the thought of sharing the cramped shower with this delectable male was, she had to accept their time together was at an end.
Deep inside she could feel a growing sense of urgency. Time was running out. She had to find a way to avoid her fate or . . .
“I think I can manage.” She forced herself to answer his teasing words, backing toward the bathroom.
His gaze drifted down her body, swathed in the oversized robe.
“I just want you to know that I’m here to be of service.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah right.”
His gaze returned to linger on her lips, which were still swollen from his kisses, before he reached to grab the package he’d brought back last night.
“I’m going to make sure there aren’t any bad guys lurking around,” he said, handing her the bag. “There are clean clothes in there.”
She swallowed a small sigh. Of course he’d thought to bring her clean clothes.
The male was . . . perfect. Even when he was being an arrogant, annoying ass.
“Be careful,” she said before she could halt the words.
His eyes softened to melted bronze. “You’re worried about me?”
She hunched a shoulder, unable to admit the truth.
“You’re Molly’s father,” she instead muttered. “She would be devastated if anything happened to you.”
He moved forward, crowding her against the door of the bathroom. “And what about you, cara?” he demanded, his fingers threading through her tangled hair. “Would you be devastated?”
Her mouth went dry as she forced herself to meet his brooding gaze. He had to sense that she was terrified he would be hurt.
Why was he so determined to make her admit her unwelcome obsession with him?
“What do you want from me, Bas?”
His lips twisted as he studied her pale face. “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”
She made a sound of annoyance. “Riddles.”
Swooping down, he claimed her mouth in a kiss of utter possession.
“Take your shower,” he at last growled, reaching behind her to shove open the bathroom door. “I won’t go far.”
Whirling on her heel, Myst darted into the cramped room and slammed the door behind her. She wasn’t angry at Bas. No. She was furious with herself.
It was embarrassing to admit, but despite knowing she could never be like other women, she fiercely wanted to fantasize about a future with Bas.
White picket fences. Silver-haired, bronze-eyed children. And an icily beautiful assassin who turned to fire in her arms.
She dropped the robe and stepped into the shower cubicle, turning the knob to hot, although it was barely lukewarm. Only then did she allow the tears of regret to track down her cheeks.
Less than half an hour later, she had her damp hair pulled into a braid and had slipped