Born in Blood (The Sentinels #1)(83)

Reaching his office, his steps slowed as he caught the unmistakable scent of candle wax and blood.

Anya.

An icy smile touched his lips as he cautiously pressed open the door and scanned the room to make sure there were no unwelcome surprises.

Nothing was out of place. Not unless he counted the slender, redheaded woman who was covertly searching through the drawers of his desk.

Stepping into the room, he closed the door and silently glided across the carpet to stand directly behind the intruder.

“I thought I might find you here, witch,” he murmured.

With a gasp, Anya whirled around to face him, her eyes wide with fear.

“Zak.”

Holding her wide gaze, Zak leaned to the side and released the hidden lever. With a click the panel slid open and he reached into the compartment to remove the chalice.

“Is this what you were searching for?”

She wisely shrank back as he straightened to hold the chalice between them.

“Of course not.” She swallowed, then with an obvious effort, she forced a stiff smile to her lips. “I was searching for an amulet that I dropped here yesterday.”

Zak clicked his tongue, carefully setting the chalice on the desk.

“You really are a terrible liar,” he drawled.

“I . . . I have no reason to lie.”

“True. Such days are behind us.” He reached to wrap his fingers lightly around her throat. Not hard enough to hurt. Not yet. “Tell me, Anya, why did you do it?”

She went rigid, but she was smart enough not to try and break free.

“Do what?” she croaked.

“Betray me.”

“I don’t . . .” She gave a choked cry as his fingers tightened. “Zak, no.”

“I’m not stupid, Anya.” The words were edged with ice. “There’s no one else who could have kept the coin out of my grasp for so long.”

“The Brotherhood—”

“A band of idiots who would never have been capable of outwitting me if they hadn’t had a spy to warn them when I was about to strike,” he interrupted, his narrowed gaze watching the emotions dart over her face.

Fear . . . desperation ... cunning.

“A spy?” she finally tried to bluff.

His thumb pressed against the pulse that thundered just below her jaw.

“You.”

Her laugh was laced with a barely concealed hysteria. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’m very, very serious,” he said softly.

“But—” She struggled to recall the glib excuses she’d used for years to divert his suspicions. “If it was me, then why wouldn’t I have warned Calso?”

His gaze drifted down to the unsteady line of her lips. “I admit I thought that it was a trap until I had my hands on the chalice. Now I can only assume that something went wrong.” Her breath quickened, a certain sign that his guess had been a good one. “So what happened, my dear? Did they fail to heed your warning? Or did you realize I was becoming suspicious and decide it wasn’t worth the risk?”

“It makes no sense, Zak,” Anya stubbornly insisted. She was nothing if not tenacious. It was the only reason she’d survived over the centuries. “My fate is tied to yours.”

“So I thought.”

She licked her lips, growing alarmed by his refusal to accept her innocence.

“I rescued you from the flames,” she reminded him. “I stood guard over your mutilated body for a century. I led you to the hidden temple. Why would I sacrifice so much only to betray you?”

He arched his brows. Surely she wasn’t hoping to stir a sense of gratitude? This woman better than anyone should know he didn’t indulge in human emotions.

“That’s what you’re going to tell me,” he assured her. “So start explaining.”

“I’ve told you—”

He heaved a mock sigh of disappointment, his fingers slowly, ruthlessly tightening around her throat.

“We have been together a very long time, Anya. I didn’t want to have to hurt you.” His fingers slowly, ruthlessly began to crush her throat. “But I will.”

“Don’t,” she managed to croak, tears streaming down her ashen cheeks.

“Tell me, witch.” He leaned down until they were nose to nose, the chill of his power swirling through the air. “Tell me why.”

She shuddered in pain, her hands lifting to grasp his wrists.

“Because I love you,” she hissed.

“Love?”

His humorless laugh echoed through the study. This woman was capable of lust, greed, and a narcissistic ambition. But love?

A barracuda had more of a heart than she did.

“Yes,” she insisted, a sudden color returning to her cheeks. “You can’t be surprised. Why would any woman devote her life to a man if not for love?”

“You truly must believe me to be a fool,” he sneered, his fingers easing just enough to allow her to suck in a shaky breath.

He wanted this to be slow.

And painful.

Very, very painful.

“It’s the truth,” she pleaded.

“I don’t claim to be an expert on human emotions, but I’m fairly certain that love doesn’t include treachery.” He met her wary gaze, his expression cold, merciless. “Not unless you happen to be a character from Shakespeare. And you know how much I detest Shakespeare.”