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  She braced herself, prepared for Bas’s shock, or even revulsion, at her revelation.

  Instead it was anger that tightened his aquiline features. “And your family decided that the answer was to sell you?”

  She blinked.

  She’d just told him she was destined to bring blood and death to Valhalla and his response was to be angry at her family?

  That was . . .

  Myst sternly squashed the flare of tenderness that threatened to destroy the barriers she’d built around her heart. She was vulnerable enough where Bas was concerned, thank you very much.

  “They understood that the Brotherhood would pay a great deal for such a lethal weapon,” she tried to explain.

  The bronze eyes narrowed. “And the Brotherhood agreed?”

  She didn’t miss the hint of disgust in his voice.

  “Of course.” She shrugged. “They’ve been waiting forever for a chance to destroy the high-bloods.”

  The bronze eyes flared with fury. “Your parents should have protected you. They were your family.”

  Her lips twisted. Her definition of family was considerably different from most people’s.

  Not that she intended to share the raw sense of betrayal. Or the stupid wish that things had been different.

  “I’m not the only person to have a crappy childhood,” she said, keeping her tone deliberately light.

  Almost as if sensing she felt disturbingly exposed, he leaned forward, wrapping her in the heat of his body.

  “True,” he murmured, his tone wry. “Shortly after I was born my uncle tried to skin me, and when that didn’t kill me, my father tried to drown me. Tough to top that.”

  She blinked. Was he joking?

  “Why would they try to kill you?”

  Bas shrugged. “They saw my birthmark and assumed I’d been spawned by the devil.”

  She gave a tiny gasp. Good Lord. She thought her parents were horrible for selling her to the Brotherhood. At least they hadn’t tried to murder her when she was just a baby.

  Instantly she forgot her unease, unconsciously lifting her hand to touch the eye-shaped mark on the side of his neck. God. The thought that he might have died before they’d ever met . . .

  It made her heart clench with an unexplainable pain.

  “How did you survive?”

  “My mother fished me out of the river and ran off with me clutched in her arms.” His jaw tightened, his eyes revealing an ancient wound that he swiftly disguised behind a humorless smile. “She left her home and family with nothing more than me in her arms and the clothes on her back.”

  “She must have loved you very much,” Myst said, thinking of her own mother, who’d barely hidden her joy the day Myst had been picked up by the Brotherhood.

  Myst never knew if that happiness came from the pile of cash in the middle of her floor, or the sight of her daughter being hauled away by complete strangers.

  And in the end, it didn’t really matter.

  “She did,” he said, his expression bleak. “Unfortunately, in those days a female had no way to make her own money. She either married or became a prostitute.”

  “Oh my God.” Her hand skimmed to cup his cheek. It was in her nature to offer comfort, she told herself. It had nothing to do with an overwhelming urge to savor the abrasive scrape of his five o’clock shadow and the searing heat of his skin. “The poor woman.”

  Holding her gaze, he reached up to press her hand tightly against his face.

  “I was barely eight when she was killed by one of her patrons.”

  “Bas,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

  For a breathless moment they stared at each other in silence, something intense passing between them.

  The world faded away, narrowing until there was nothing but this fiercely gorgeous man. Then, with a sharp curse, Bas was surging upright, his face smoothed to an unreadable mask.

  “I was lucky enough to be taken in by the local monks,” he said with a lift of his shoulder. “You, however, weren’t so lucky. What happened after you were sold to the Brotherhood?”

  Myst blinked as he abruptly turned the conversation back to her own childhood. Clearly he’d said all he intended to say.

  End of story.

  Her lips parted before she abruptly snapped them back together. There was no need to be told that Bas had just revealed more about his past than he ever had before. There was no way she was going to disrespect his trust in her.

  She grimaced, reluctantly recalling that god-awful day. “I don’t know how my parents contacted the Brotherhood, but one night four men came into our house and tossed a bag of money in the middle of the floor. My mother told me to pack a few things, and the next thing I knew I was in a truck headed to Wyoming.”

  Something dark and scary flared through the bronze eyes.

  “Did they hurt you?”

  She gave a swift shake of her head, startled as the floor trembled beneath the force of his fury.

  “Not in the way you mean,” she assured him, unconsciously wrapping her arms around her shivering body. When the men had tossed her into the back of their truck she’d been terrified they intended to rape her. Thankfully they considered high-bloods as little better than animals. That protected her from a sexual assault. Of course, that didn’t keep them from dragging her by the hair or kicking her like a dog when she didn’t move fast enough. “Once we reached the ranch where they lived I was tossed down a mine shaft.”

  His brows snapped together in confusion. “A mine shaft?”

  She wrinkled her nose. At the time she hadn’t understood either. If they truly believed her vision enough to buy her from her family, then it didn’t make sense to keep her in a hole in the middle of nowhere.

  It was only after she’d overheard a conversation between two of the Brotherhood that she’d understood their delusional plot.

  “They assumed by keeping me isolated and in constant discomfort, I’d use my magic to create the mystical weapon from my vision.”

  “What magic?”

  She snorted. “The Brotherhood assumes that every high-blood has magic.”

  “Idiots,” he growled.

  He wasn’t wrong. Most of the jackasses who had brought her meals and occasionally clean clothes had clearly been incapable of original thought. They were sheep that had to be herded or they would have spent their lives wandering in aimless circles.

  Still, they’d been deeply indoctrinated by their leaders, and had fully signed on to the crazy-train.

  “Not only idiots, but true fanatics,” she muttered.

  His nose curled with disgust. “A lethal combination.”

  “Yes.”

  “How did you escape?”

  “Nothing very exciting,” she admitted, grimly fighting back the memories. What was the point of reliving the nagging terror that she would die alone in that dark, desolate prison? “I spent most of my days digging a small tunnel into an adjoining cave.” She lowered her head, her gaze locking on her clenched hands. “Once I was free I stole one of the trucks they kept near the stables and took off.”

  She heard him suck in a sharp breath. “Christ. You had to dig your way out?”

  “There weren’t a lot of choices,” she muttered.

  Bas knelt in front of her, his hand cupping her cheek as he studied her with a brooding gaze. She quivered, tiny tingles racing through her body.

  “I can’t imagine how much courage that must have taken.”

  Her lips parted. Was this lethally dangerous assassin actually implying that she was brave?

  Good Lord. Something warm spread through her heart.

  Something that was treacherously close to pride.

  It was stupid. What did it matter what this male thought of her?

  But abruptly she recognized that it did. She didn’t want him thinking of her as the spineless female who’d abandoned her own daughter.

  Then just as quickly her pride was smothered by the heavy sense of desti
ny that followed her like a constant cloud.

  “No.” She gave a sharp shake of her head, knocking away his hand. “I’m a coward.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Why would you say that?”

  Somewhere in the back of Myst’s brain was a voice warning her to shut her mouth.

  She’d already put herself at risk just by admitting the truth. For all she knew, Bas might be plotting to get rid of her by hauling her to Valhalla.

  After all, if the Mave discovered she was destined to harm Valhalla, the powerful leader would most certainly try to lock her away. Then Bas would never have to worry about her bothering Molly again.

  But now that she’d revealed her dark secret, she couldn’t seem to stop herself from sharing the fear that had plagued her since she’d first had her vision.

  “If I had true courage I would do what was necessary to ensure that I never create a weapon that could be used against our people,” she pointed out.

  It took a second before Bas realized precisely what she was saying. Then his eyes blazed with a bronze fire.

  “Stop.” His tone was hard, uncompromising.

  She ignored his warning.

  “I told myself that I could alter the future,” she continued, the words spilling over each other in a need to get them out. “That I had time to discover what my vision meant before I had to do anything drastic. But there are days when I think I’m just being a selfish coward. If I truly cared about our people, about Molly, I would . . .”

  “I told you to stop.” He leaned down until they were nose to nose. “If I hear those words again I’m going to chain you to my bed.”

  She licked her dry lips. “We’ll see.”

  His jaw tightened, the heat in the air so intense it caused a thin layer of sweat to coat her skin.

  “No, we won’t,” he informed her, his voice harsh even as his thumb tenderly stroked the curve of her lower lip. “I’m not going to let you hurt yourself. We’re going to figure out what the vision means.”

  For a crazed moment she allowed herself to be swayed by the fierce certainty in his voice. As if this male could actually offer her the promise of a future.

  Then she gave a sharp shake of her head. No. There was nothing more dangerous in her life than false hope. It blinded her to the painful decisions that had to be made.

  “What do you care?” she demanded, deliberately reminding herself that this man wasn’t her friend. Hell, he considered her the enemy. “I thought you wanted me out of your life?”

  His lips thinned. “You’re the mother of my daughter.”

  “But—”

  “You were fifteen when you were taken by the Brotherhood.” He overrode her words. “How long did they hold you captive?”

  She swallowed her fierce demand to know why he was willing to help.

  Dammit, she was exhausted. The sooner she answered his questions, the sooner she could return to her hotel room and get some sleep.

  She’d never realized how arduous spending the day with an active four-year-old could be.

  Not that she would have missed a single second.

  “Three or so years. I lost track of time.”

  His anger only deepened. “They held a baby for three years in a mine shaft?”

  Baby? She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

  “I don’t think I was ever allowed to be a baby,” she assured him in dry tones. “From the minute my parents realized I was . . . different, I was expected to take care of myself.” She shook her head. “I think they were afraid I might contaminate them.”

  He pulled back enough to sweep his gaze over her upturned face, lingering on her mouth.

  “How old are you now?”

  She blinked at the unexpected question. “How old?”

  “It’s a simple question.”

  She made a sound of annoyance. Most humans assumed that she was in her early twenties, but she was over thirty.

  Not very old by high-blood standards, but that didn’t mean she was going to reveal the truth to Bas.

  It was none of his damned business.

  “I’m socially awkward and even I know that’s not a polite thing to ask a woman.”

  “Tell me,” he commanded.

  Knowing he wasn’t going to let it go, she sent him a glare.

  “I’m older than I look and that’s all I’m saying.”

  “I hope to God that’s true,” he muttered, a strange smile twisting his lips.

  “Why?”

  “Because there are occasions when I look at you and feel like a perv.”

  She shivered as his hand reached out to cup her cheek, his thumb teasing her lips apart.

  “What are you talking about?”

  The bronze eyes darkened, his entire body tensing before he was abruptly shoving himself away.

  “Nothing.” He studied her with a smoldering gaze, the air suddenly thick with an electric awareness. “What did you do next?”

  Myst struggled to think as her body shuddered with a need she hadn’t felt since the last time she’d been in the presence of this male.

  “I changed my name and went on the run,” she managed to say. “I never stayed in the same place more than a few months. Then I heard about you.”

  He lifted a dark brow. “How?”

  “I was doing fortune-telling out of the back of a tattoo shop in St. Louis when one of your psychics came in,” she said. Before Valhalla had been established, many clairvoyants had made their living by telling fortunes, although her inability to read personal futures meant she could only offer vague promises of love and happiness. Barely good enough to allow her to scrape by. She lifted her hand as Bas’s expression tightened with disapproval. The last thing she wanted was to get the psychic who’d tried to help her in trouble. “He didn’t tell me anything about you, I swear, except that you hired high-bloods like me who wanted to keep a low profile.” She shrugged. “I made an appointment to meet with you in the hope I could stay in one place.”

  He folded his arms over his chest. “You should have told me the truth.”

  “I couldn’t risk it.” She tilted her chin, silently warning him that her trust wasn’t something she offered. Not to anyone. “For all I knew you could have sold me back to my family. Or even Valhalla.”

  His face smoothed to an unreadable expression.

  Her heart skipped a beat.

  What was he trying to hide?

  “Where did you go after you left St. Louis?” he demanded.

  “I went to New Orleans for a few weeks,” she answered. There was no point in trying to lie. “That’s where I realized I was pregnant.” She gave a small shiver, still able to recall her disbelief when she grasped why she’d been so tired. “I couldn’t believe it.”

  “Why didn’t you let me know?”

  She shrugged. “I was terrified the Brotherhood would track me down before I could give birth. Then once I had her . . . once I held her in my arms . . .” Myst was forced to halt and clear the lump in her throat. No one would ever know the price she’d paid to protect her precious daughter. “I knew I couldn’t condemn her to sharing my life. As much as it hurt to think of living without her, Molly deserved so much more.”

  Chapter Four

  Bas ground his teeth, belatedly wishing he’d never started this damned conversation.

  Twenty-four hours ago he was quite content to assume Myst was some unfeeling bitch who’d been too self-absorbed with her own life to give a shit about her daughter.

  It made it easy to hate her for crashing into his life, turning it upside down, and then disappearing like a whiff of smoke.

  Now he was forced to accept that she’d truly been trying to protect Molly. And that he wasn’t going to be able to simply toss her out the door and forget about her.

  Shit.

  “Did you go back on the run?” he demanded, leashing the urge to pace around the suite like a caged panther.

  Trained Sentinels learned to conserve their energy. And since
he was slowly coming to the conclusion he was going to have to reach out for allies among people who wanted him dead, he was going to need every ounce of his strength to survive.

  “I traveled enough to cover my tracks,” Myst said, unaware of his dark thoughts. “I didn’t want anyone to realize that I did anything but pass through St. Louis on my way to Chicago.”

  “And then?” he prompted.

  Her fingers absently toyed with the tiny bow that held together the neckline of her dress.

  “Then I traveled to Russia.”

  Bas studied her with a flare of curiosity. “Why Russia?”

  “Because the monastery there has one of the best libraries in the world.”

  “True.” He deliberately allowed his gaze to skim over her slight form, lingering on the tempting swell of her breasts. Surely it was a sin against nature to have her shimmering beauty hidden in a dark, musty library? Of course, if he was going to be completely honest, he didn’t actually want to see that beauty anywhere but in his bedroom. Her hair spread like liquid moonlight over his pillow and her bare skin glowing like satin in the firelight . . . Hell. He was going to have blue balls if he didn’t get a grip on his fantasies. “Are you a big reader?”

  Easily sensing his X-rated thoughts, Myst straightened her spine and sent him a chiding glare.

  “As a matter of fact, I am. The monks were kind enough to train me to become a scribe.”

  “Why?”

  “After I had Molly I was tired of running.” She wrinkled her nose, her expression unconsciously wistful. “I wanted to see if I could find some clue to the meaning of my vision among the other prophecies. I hoped—” She bit off her words with a sharp shake of her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

  Bas was moving before he could halt his impetuous need to touch this female, crouching down so he could grasp her hands in a tight grip.

  “What did you hope, cara?”

  Her thick fringe of lashes lowered in a futile effort to hide her vulnerable emotions.