Blood Assassin (The Sentinels #2)

Blood Assassin (The Sentinels #2)
Alexandra Ivy




Sentinels

The history of the Sentinels was mysterious even among the high-bloods.

Most people knew that there were two sects of the dangerous warriors. The guardian Sentinels who possessed innate magic. They were heavily tattooed to protect themselves from magical attacks, as well as any mind control, and were used to protect those high-bloods who were vulnerable when they were forced to travel away from the safety of Valhalla.

And then there were the hunter Sentinels. They had no magic, but they were equally lethal. Hunters were used to enforce the laws of Valhalla, and since they were able to “pass” as human and capable of moving through the world undetected, they were used to track down high-bloods who might be a danger to themselves or others.

It was also well known that both sects of Sentinels were stronger and faster than humans, with an endurance that was off the charts. And both were trained by monks to kill with their hands as well as with most known weapons.

But that was as far as public knowledge went.

How they were chosen and how they’d become the protectors of the high-bloods were closely guarded secrets.

No one but the Sentinels knew what happened behind the thick walls of the monasteries where they were trained.

Chapter One

One glance into the private gym would send most humans fleeing in humiliation.

What normal male would want to lift weights next to a dozen Sentinels?

Not only were the warriors six foot plus of pure chiseled muscles and bad attitudes, but the very air reeked of aggression and testosterone-fueled competition.

Hardly a place for the weekend jock trying to battle the bulge.

It was, however, the perfect place for the Sentinels to work off a little steam.

The vast fitness center was filled with mats, punching bags, and treadmills. And, at the back of the room, there was a row of weight machines where the baddest of the badasses was currently bench-pressing enough weight to crush a mortal.

Fane looked like he’d been sculpted from stone. A six foot three behemoth, he had the strength of an ox and the speed of a cheetah. A result of the natural talents that came from being born a Sentinel, and the fact he’d been honed from his youth to become a weapon.

He was also covered from the top of his shaved head to the tips of his toes in intricate tattoos that protected him from all magic.

The monks who’d taken him in as a young child had trained him in all the known martial arts, as well as the most sophisticated weapons.

He was walking, talking death.

Which meant very few bothered to notice the dark eyes that held a razor-sharp intelligence or the starkly beautiful features beneath the elegant markings.

Something that rarely bothered Fane. For the past decade he’d been a guardian to Callie Brown. All people needed to know about him was that he would kill them the second they threatened the young diviner.

Now, he . . .

Fane blew out a sigh, replacing the weights on the bar so he could wipe the sweat from his naked chest.

Three months ago Callie had nearly died when they’d battled the powerful necromancer Lord Zakhar, and during the battle she’d fallen in love with a human policeman. Or at least Duncan O’Conner had been passing as human. Turned out he had the extra powers of a Sentinel as well as being a soul-gazer, which meant he could read the souls of others. He was perfectly suited to take over the protection of Callie.

Fane’s hand absently touched the center of his chest where he’d once felt the constant connection to Callie. They’d transferred the bond last week, but he still felt the strange void that was wearing on his nerves.

He needed a distraction.

The thought had barely passed through his mind when a shadow fell over him and he glanced up to discover a tall, lean man with copper-tinted skin and ebony eyes. Wolfe, the current Tagos (leader of all Sentinels) had a proud, hawkish nose, with heavy brows and prominent cheekbones that all combined to give him the appearance of an ancient Egyptian deity.

It was a face that spoke of power and fierce masculinity. The sort of face that intimidated men and made women wonder if he was as dangerous as he looked.

He was.

Just as arresting was the shoulder-length black hair that had a startling streak of gray that started at his right temple. There were whispers that when Wolfe was a babe he’d been touched by the devil.

Something Fane fully believed.

Swallowing a curse, Fane tossed aside his sweaty towel. Damn. This wasn’t the distraction he’d been wanting.

Wolfe was dressed in jeans and a loose cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He had his arms folded over his chest and was studying Fane with an expression that warned he wasn’t pleased.

Around them the gym went silent as the other Sentinels pretended they weren’t straining to overhear the potential confrontation.

“I heard through the grapevine you’ve taken a position as a trainer,” he said. That was Wolfe. Always straight to the point.

Fane scowled. It’d been less than twenty-four hours since he’d made the decision to seek a position as trainer in a monastery halfway around the world. How the hell had word spread so fast?

“The grapevine should mind its own business.”

The ebony eyes narrowed. “And I shouldn’t have to listen to gossip to learn when one of my Sentinels is leaving Valhalla.”