Blood Assassin (The Sentinels #2)(76)

Fane planted his hands on his hips. “Not even close.”

“Oh, for God’s sake.” Brushing past the assassin, Serra grabbed the purse she’d left on the table next to the door and headed into the hallway. “Let’s go.”

She had reached the elevator when the men caught up with her, stepping into the small interior as soon as the doors opened.

The two men entered behind her, Bas leaning over her shoulder to press his key card into the console and punched in his security code.

“Serra,” he murmured softly.

“What?”

He spoke directly into her ear. “When we do have the time to measure our dicks, mine will be the biggest.”

She closed her eyes, giving a weary shake of her head.

“Christ, this is going to be a long day.”

It took Wolfe a minute to regain his balance as they arrived at the monastery in western Oklahoma.

Traveling by portal was always the fastest way to get from point A to point B. Unfortunately, it usually left his stomach queasy and his knees weak.

In an effort to disguise his momentary weakness, Wolfe studied the exquisite hieroglyphs carved into the stone walls of the chapel. The same hieroglyphs that were tattooed on the guardian Sentinel who stood next to the copper post in the center of the floor.

Guardians were the only Sentinels that had the necessary magic to travel by portal, and only from monastery to monastery.

Who had created the magical pathways had been lost in time, although they’d recently discovered an ancient temple that was revealing the truth of the high-bloods beginnings. The scholars were busy trying to decipher the hidden glyphs.

Wolfe was sure it was all very fascinating. But he was a man who looked to the future, not the past.

With a grimace his gaze slid past the dark-haired Sentinel to the female who stood at his side with a cool composure.

She was still dressed in her casual jeans with a pair of running shoes and a jade sleeveless sweater. Her hair was pulled into a tight knot at the base of her neck, and her pale face was devoid of makeup.

There was nothing to draw attention to her, but she had only to walk into a room to take center stage. It was more than her compelling beauty and the power of her magic that sizzled around her. It was a calm confidence that made people follow her without question.

She could be dressed in rags and sitting in a gutter and she’d still look like a queen.

With a shake of his head, Wolfe turned toward the young man dressed in a rough brown robe who entered the chapel. The boy’s lean face and recently shaved head marked him as a Sentinel in training, although he was still too young to have the tattooing of a guardian.

Smiling with a faint air of boredom, the novice met Wolfe’s piercing gaze, his eyes widening as he caught the distinct streak of white that stood out like a banner on Wolfe’s glossy black hair.

A flush stained the cheeks that still didn’t need a razor as he cleared his throat.

“Tagos.” He used the formal title, a hint of hero-worship in his voice. “Welcome to our abbey.”

“I need a vehicle.”

“Of course. And . . .” If the youth had been impressed by the sight of Wolfe, he was completely overwhelmed as he realized who was traveling with him. “Oh.” With a smooth motion he dropped to his knees, his head bowed. “Mave. We weren’t warned of your visit.”

“It wasn’t planned,” she said, sending Wolfe a wry glance.

“On your feet, son.”

As hoped, the boy instinctively obeyed the command in Wolfe’s voice, rising to his feet although his expression remained dazed.

“How can I be of service?”

Wolfe resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Novices.

“The car?”

“Oh . . . yes.” He backed toward the door, his gaze remaining locked on the Mave as if she were some myth that had magically appeared in the quiet abbey. “Right away.”

Lana held up a hand, her smile kind. “First I would like to speak with Father Valdez, if he’s not too busy?”

“No . . . I mean . . . he’s not too busy.” The boy turned to bolt toward the opening. “Follow me.”

Wolfe paused to hand over his bag along with Lana’s to the guardian Sentinel, commanding him to have them taken to the garage so they could be loaded in the vehicle they would use while in Oklahoma. After that the Sentinel would find rooms and wait for them to return.

Then, with long strides he caught up with Lana as she followed the novice out of the chapel and down a narrow corridor lined with a stone colonnade. They at last came to a large bay that was decorated with fine frescos and silver candelabras shimmering in the early morning sunlight peeking through high arched windows.

“If you’ll wait here I’ll tell the abbot you’re here,” the novice offered.

“Thank you.” Lana offered a small smile. “I didn’t catch your name.”

The smooth cheeks reddened, the poor schmuck falling beneath Lana’s potent spell.

“Landon.”

“Thank you, Landon.”

With an awkward bow, the novice turned and disappeared through a medieval archway.

“I hope he doesn’t trip on his tongue,” Wolfe said wryly.

Lana shrugged, moving to study a fresco depicting a row of scribes bent over their desks to write on scrolls with their feather quills.