Blood Assassin (The Sentinels #2)(83)

The warrior had obviously concealed himself on the roof and dropped onto the unsuspecting man when he passed beneath him. That would be enough to knock anyone’s brain offline.

Serra could only hope that it came back on.

And soon.

Leaving her hiding spot, Serra joined Fane as he reached the door and pulled it open. She frowned as she studied the unconscious man draped down his back.

He looked surprisingly young. Under thirty, with black hair cut short and a body that was whipcord lean. His features were pale, revealing he spent little time in the sun. Of course, a killer would feel more comfortable creeping around in the dark, wouldn’t he?

Or maybe he was pale because he was dead.

“You didn’t kill him, did you?”

“He’ll live,” Fane muttered, not particularly concerned with the man’s impression of a wet noodle.

Together they entered the shed, Fane pulling the door behind him before dropping the stalker’s limp body on the dust-covered floor. Then, with brisk steps he was taking a quick inventory of the shadowed interior, shoving aside oilcans, rakes, shovels, and long neglected lawn mowers.

Once he was certain they were alone, he turned to toss a small object toward her.

Serra instinctively caught the weapon that was the size of her hand and shaped like a Taser. A closer inspection revealed the electrical impulses were designed to fill the air, not to press against someone’s body.

She grimaced. “Is this the mind-stunner?”

“Yep.” Fane knelt beside the stalker, removing a thin wire from his pocket and slipping it around the man’s neck.

One yank and the wire would slice off a head.

Serra ignored his efficient movements. She was far more concerned with the nasty device in her hand.

With a sound of disgust, she dropped the mind-stunner on the ground and began crushing it with her heel. Over and over, she stomped on the weapon, not halting until it was beyond any hope of repair.

Glancing up, she discovered Fane watching her with a faint smile.

“Feel better?”

She shrugged. “Yes.”

“You know, that might have come in handy.”

With a hiss, Serra kicked away the broken pieces. “I would never use a nasty device like that on one of our people.”

He studied the stubborn line of her jaw. “You can’t always be so noble when it comes to war.”

She knew that he spoke the truth. Hell, they’d barely survived the attack by the necromancer.

She still felt no regret for the destruction of the weapon.

“Maybe not, but I won’t become my enemy,” she said, her chin lifting to a defensive angle.

“And that’s why I love you,” Fane murmured, his voice so soft she barely heard him.

She caught her breath in disbelief.

Holy crap. Did he just say what she thought he said?

She licked her suddenly dry lips, studying the stark beauty of his face.

“Did you just say the ‘L’ word?”

His gaze slid down to linger on her damp lips. “That’s probably a discussion we should postpone to a more appropriate time and setting.”

Her heart fluttered. Just as if she were one of those girly-girls.

But she didn’t care.

She’d waited to hear those words for so long.

An eternity.

She cleared her throat. “What kind of setting would you prefer?”

He kept his voice low. “Music, candles, wine.”

She lifted a teasing brow. “Flowers?”

“White lilies,” he answered without hesitation.

Oh hell. He knew.

White lilies had always been her favorite.

“You’re right,” she said with a shaky sigh. “This isn’t the place.”

In the blink of an eye, he was back into Sentinel mode, his face as hard as granite.

“You can wait outside and keep watch.”

She scowled. “No. Way.”

He sent her a dark glare. “Serra, this guy isn’t going to give up info without . . . encouragement.”

He didn’t have to explain what he meant by encouragement.

“I’m not completely naive,” she assured him.

“It’s not that.” He held her gaze. “I don’t want you to see.”

“Trust me, I don’t want to see either,” she said. Not because watching Fane beat the shit out of the stranger would change her opinion of him. Nothing on this earth could do that. She simply refused to allow him to take the risk. “Have you considered the possibility this man might be spelled like the others?”

“I don’t intend to kill him.”

“That doesn’t mean he won’t have a trigger to kill himself.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What do you suggest?”

“Let me tranq him.”

Fane barely managed to battle back his instinct to shut down the suggestion. In fact, the “oh hell no” was on the tip of his tongue before he managed to swallow the words.

It wasn’t just because he knew that it would fracture the fragile trust she was slowly beginning to offer. Serra would never tolerate a man who tried to interfere with her talents. Not if she thought they could help.

But because he was well trained enough to realize when it was better to use cunning than brute strength.