Blood Lust - Alexandra Ivy Page 0,83

squeeze. “Be brave and know that you’re not alone.”

She watched as the man easily climbed onto the tractor before she burrowed beneath the straw and pressed herself against Bas.

You’re not alone.

The words echoed through her mind as she pressed her lips to Bas’s forehead. Despite her fear, and the sick ball of dread lodged in the pit of her stomach that told her she was making a horrible mistake in returning to Valhalla, she couldn’t deny a tiny flicker of warmth.

For the first time in her life she wasn’t alone.

It was . . . astonishing.

* * *

Lana studied the leader of the Brotherhood with a jaundiced gaze.

The woman was stretched on the cot, propped up by a pile of pillows like she was some reincarnation of Cleopatra. There was even a faint smile on her lips that had only briefly faltered when Lana had strolled into the cell instead of the male who she’d no doubt been expecting.

Lana leaned casually against the locked door, silently admitting the woman had balls. Maybe not literally, but Lana had seen trained Sentinels curled in a corner, pleading for mercy the moment the Mave stepped into the room.

Of course, it could be that Stella was just too stupid to realize her danger. Being a leader didn’t equate to brains whether you were male or female.

Over the years she’d met kings, clan chiefs, and presidents who were as dumb as stumps.

Rising from the cot with a languid movement, Stella gave a toss of her auburn curls.

“So you’re the infamous Mave,” she drawled. Her voice was low, sexy. A sensuous invitation.

A pity for her, Lana wasn’t interested.

She flicked a brow upward, using her superior height to peer down her nose.

People hated that.

“Infamous?”

Stella shrugged. “The Brothers are terrified of you. After listening to their stories I expected you to have horns and a tail.”

An icy smile curved Lana’s lips. She’d deliberately chosen to wear an emerald silk top that scooped low to emphasize her witch mark.

“They don’t go with my outfit.”

The woman smirked, her dark blue eyes shimmering with amusement. Once again Lana was caught off guard by her sheer lack of fear.

“Is this where we go through the tedious game of good cop/bad cop?” she mocked.

Lana pushed away from the door, allowing a hint of her magic to fill the room. Enough was enough.

“This isn’t a human jail,” she reminded the idiotic woman. “There are no cops. No attorneys. No rights.”

Stella gave a disdainful sniff. “You can’t just hold me here.”

“Actually, I can.” The magic filled the cell, not enough to cause pain, but as an unmistakable warning. “I’ve already spoken to the legal authorities who have given their blessing for Valhalla to punish you and your men.”

The first hint of uncertainty rippled over her heart-shaped face. Taking a step back, Stella flicked a swift glance toward the locked door.

“I don’t believe you,” she muttered.

Lana shrugged. “Believe whatever you want.”

“There are laws—”

“My laws,” Lana interrupted.

She wasn’t just trying to intimidate the leader of the Brotherhood. She truly did make the laws of Valhalla. As well as doling out the punishment.

She did her best to be fair, but in the end she always had to choose what was best for her people.

The woman gave a tiny shiver before her eyes narrowed and she was tilting her chin.

“You’re trying to frighten me,” she snapped.

“If I wanted to frighten you I can assure you there wouldn’t be any doubt,” Lana asserted. Just for a second she considered creating the illusion of spiders crawling across the floor or Stella’s flesh melting from her bones, only to rapidly dismiss the petty thought. Giving in to the impulse wouldn’t prove her power. It would only allow the other woman to know that she was getting under Lana’s skin. “Do you think I lead the high-bloods because I won some popularity contest?” she instead demanded.

Stella stiffened her spine. “You won’t hurt me.”

Lana studied the woman’s arrogant expression, an odd chill inching down her spine.

She understood the woman was trying to put on a brave face. That’s what she would do if she was being held captive by her enemies.

But this was . . . more.

“Why are you so confident?” she brusquely demanded.

The woman lowered her lashes, as if hoping to prevent Lana from reading her mind.

“You obviously want information from me.”

Lana wasn’t a psychic, but she knew when a prisoner was trying to hide something from her.

“A lie,” she accused.

“Believe whatever you want.” Stella threw Lana’s earlier words back in her face.

Bitch.

“You haven’t