Blood Assassin (The Sentinels #2)(25)

He very nearly missed the faint tremble in her voice. His acute senses were homed in on the feel of her slick satin wet skin, and the scent of chamomile that clouded his mind with the promise of sweet paradise.

But even as his fingers began to lower so he could cup her soft ass, he gave a low hiss and lifted his head.

What was he doing?

He’d come into the shower to offer her his strength. And more than that, to convince her that she wasn’t in this alone.

Not to seduce her when she was weak and tired and at the mercy of her stressed emotions.

Pressing a rueful kiss on her forehead, Fane reached over to shut off the water. Serra shivered and he swiftly opened the shower door and grabbed a towel off the heated rail.

“Hold on, milaya,” he murmured.

Her brows lifted. “Milaya?”

He ignored her reaction to the Russian endearment. It’s how he’d always thought of her in his mind even if he’d refused to allow the word to slip past his rigid guard.

“Let me help,” he insisted, using the towel to dry off the droplets of water, before wrapping it around her damp hair. Then, taking her hand he urged her from the stall. “Come.”

She allowed him to lead her out of the bathroom and into the nearest bedroom with a wary frown. Not that Fane was stupid enough to think for a second she’d accepted his driving need to become her guardian. No. Nothing could be that simple with Serra.

She was merely too weary to continue the fight.

Without him asking, she crawled beneath the covers of the king-size bed that was covered in a black and gold satin comforter, snuggling against the mound of pillows. Fane took just a second to appreciate the sight of her as she reached up to remove the towel around her head.

She was every man’s fantasy with her satin fall of dark hair and pale, ivory skin. Her light green eyes shimmered with the wicked enticement of a vixen and the stubborn set of her chin dared a male to try and earn her elusive attention.

She was beauty and intelligence and a sexual challenge in one lush package.

It was no wonder that every male at Valhalla had tried at one time or another to earn their place at her side.

Pain sliced through his heart at the thought of her with another man. It was a familiar ache. One he’d endured for years. But today it was . . . unbearable.

Was it because he’d finally given in to his combustible need to touch her? Kiss her?

Or was it because for the first time ever he’d been forced to consider a world without her?

Whatever the explanation, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that no other man was ever going to try to take this woman away from him.

His hands balled into fists, the urgent need to crawl onto the bed and drag her into his arms pulsing through him.

Thankfully, his sensitive hearing picked up the sound of the elevator opening before he could give in to the impulse. He’d already discovered the danger of trying to offer comfort when they were both wet and naked.

She was never going to get the rest she needed if he touched her again.

With a low growl, he was crossing to the nearest closet to find a white robe and yanking it on. Then, unable to meet her wary gaze, he left the bedroom, picking up one of his handguns before moving to open the front door.

This was why most guardians tried to avoid becoming lovers with those they bonded with. It turned a highly trained, perfectly logical warrior into a seething mass of insanity.

Opening the door just far enough to reveal the muzzle of his gun, he pressed himself against the wall, allowing his senses to determine the threat.

He picked up the sound of approaching footsteps. The pace was light, quick. So a female. And she was pushing a cart. He heard the squeak of a wheel and caught the heavy scent of food.

There was no hiss of a blade being unsheathed, and no odor of gunpowder. Nothing to indicate she was armed, but Fane wasn’t in the mood to take chances.

“Leave the cart and return to the elevator,” he commanded.

There was a momentary silence, as if he’d caught the woman off guard. Then, with a last push to arrange the cart in front of the door, he heard the sound of her swiftly rushing back to the elevator.

He waited until the elevator closed before he inched open the door, glancing up and down the corridor before grabbing the cart and pulling it into the suite.

It wasn’t fear for Serra that made him cautious. For now, Bas needed her. Besides, he’d already turned her into a ticking time bomb. The rat bastard.

But he didn’t doubt that the assassin would be happy to get rid of anyone who would try to protect her from his manipulations.

And Bas damned sure understood that once the toxin had been removed from Serra’s body, Fane was going to kill him.

Locking the door, Fane wheeled the cart into the bedroom, his lips twisting as he realized Serra had found a matching robe to slip on. A pity, but no doubt for the best.

His body remained hard and aching, his control on a hair trigger.

Another glimpse of her naked body and he wouldn’t remember she was in desperate need of food and rest.

He’d have her flat on her back and finishing what he’d started in the shower.

Arranging the cart next to the bed, Fane stepped back to watch as she pulled the silver covers off the food and placed the tray on her lap.

He folded his arms over his chest, his brows rising as she poured the maple syrup over the huge stack of pancakes.