Blood Assassin (The Sentinels #2)(2)

Fane met his Tagos glare for glare. “I have no direct duties here, at least not anymore. I’m allowed to return to the monastery without clearing it with you.”

The air heated. Sentinels’ body temperature ran hotter than humans, and when their emotions were provoked they could actually warm the air around them.

“Don’t be an ass. This isn’t about duties, I’m worried about you.”

Oh hell.

This was exactly what Fane didn’t want.

He’d rather be shot in the head than have someone fussing over him.

“There’s nothing to worry about. You know that I was a trainer for years before coming to Valhalla. I’m simply returning to my brothers in Tibet.”

“You’ve just endured the removal of a long-standing bond. A traumatic experience for any guardian,” the older man ruthlessly pressed. “And we’re your brothers, you thankless son-of-a-bitch.”

Fane gave an impatient shake of his head. Wolfe was a hunter Sentinel, not a guardian, which meant he could never understand the truth of the bond.

“I know what you’re thinking, but you’re wrong.”

Wolfe slowly arched a brow. There weren’t many who had the chutzpah to stand up to him.

“What am I thinking?”

“Callie and I never had a sexual relationship.”

“Did you want one?”

“No,” Fane growled. “Jesus Christ. She was like a sister to me. She still is.”

The dark gaze never wavered. “And it doesn’t bother you that she’s with Duncan?”

“Not so long as he treats her right.” Fane allowed a humorless smile to touch his lips. “If he doesn’t . . . I’ll rip out his heart with my bare hands.”

Wolfe nodded. They both understood it wasn’t an empty threat.

“Good,” the Tagos said. “But that wasn’t my concern.”

Fane surged to his feet, his tattoos deepening in response to his rising temper. It was barely past noon, but it’d already been a long day.

“Does this conversation have an end in sight?”

Wolfe stood his ground.

No shocker.

The man always stood his ground.

“This past decade has been dedicated to protecting Callie. Now you’re going to have a void where the bond used to be. It’s going to make you . . .” He paused, as if sorting through his brain for the right word. “Twitchy.”

“Twitchy?”

Wolfe shrugged. “I was going to say as mean as a viper, but that would be an insult to the viper.”

There was a snicker from the front of the room. Fane sent a glare that instantly had the younger Sentinel scurrying from the gym.

He returned his attention to his leader, his gaze narrowed. “And f*ck you too.”

“I’m serious, Fane.” Wolfe insisted, standing with the calm of a born predator who could explode into violence in the blink of an eye. “You need to take time to adjust.”

Fane grimaced. “Don’t tell me your door is always open so we can chat about our feelings?”

“Hell, no.” Wolfe shuddered. “But I’m always available if you need a partner who isn’t terrified to spar with you.”

“Ah, so you’re offering to kick my ass?”

A hint of a smile softened Wolfe’s austere features. “And to offer you a place at Valhalla. I’m in constant need of good warriors.” The smile faded. “Especially after our battle with the necromancer. We lost too many.”

Fane ground his teeth at the sharp stab of loss that pierced his heart. During the battle against the necromancer they’d lost far too many Sentinels. Many of them brothers that Fane had served with for decades.

And while the threat of death was a constant companion for warriors, they had rarely lost so many at one time.

It had left them dangerously weakened.

“All the more reason for me to train the next generation,” he pointed out.

Wolfe refused to budge. Stubborn bastard.

“Someone else can handle the training. These are dangerous times. I need experienced warriors.”

Smart enough to avoid ramming his head into a brick wall, Fane instead changed the topic of conversation.

“Did you find any information on the Brotherhood?”

Wolfe muttered a curse at the mention of the secret society of humans who had been discovered three months ago. Like many norms they held a profound hatred toward “mutants,” but they were far more organized than most. And more troubling, they possessed a dangerous ability to sense high-bloods merely by being in their presence.

They were a new, unexpected complication.

The zealots might be nothing more than a pain in the ass. Or they might be . . . genocidal.

“Nothing useful,” Wolfe admitted, his tone revealing his barely leashed desire to pound the truth out of the bastards.

“I can do some digging at the monastery if you want,” Fane offered. “Their library is the most extensive in the world. If there’s information on the secret society, it will be there.”

“Actually I have Arel working on gathering intel.”

Wolfe nodded his head toward a young hunter Sentinel who was running on a treadmill. The overhead lights picked up the honey highlights in Arel’s light brown hair and turned his eyes to molten gold. He looked like an angel unless you took time to notice the honed muscles and the merciless strength that simmered deep in the stunning eyes.