On the Hunt Read Online Free PDF Page A

with her refusal to follow Valhalla’s rigid rules and regulations.
    She felt stifled. As if the life was slowly being smothered out of her.
    So she bolted.
    She told herself she had to escape. But deep inside, she’d always thought this man would come for her....
    Bailey gave a sharp shake of her head.
    Dammit. She’d put the past behind her.
    It was too late to go back now.
    She forced a stiff smile to her lips. “They certainly don’t think with their brains.”
    He studied her with a brooding gaze, his own thoughts clearly traveling the same sad path as hers.
    “Some things never change,” he rasped.
    She flinched. Damn, this hurt.
    Gut-deep, to-the-bone hurt.
    She took another step backward, feeling the magical barrier press against her back.
    “If he’s chasing some girl, why don’t you leave him alone?” she asked.
    “Because the monks are worried. Brother Noland has asked for my help and I’m happy to offer my skill.”
    She grimaced. As usual, his simple explanation made her feel in the wrong.
    “Fine. Go search for him.”
    The dark eyes flashed with a growing exasperation. It was the only hint that he was anything but his usual stoic self.
    “You can’t keep him hidden.”
    “For the last time, I don’t know where he is.”
    He moved forward. “Bailey—”
    “Good-bye, Mika.”
    With one last step she was through the barrier, watching with a childish satisfaction as he tried to follow.
    “Not so . . .” Running into the invisible shield, Mika came to a sharp halt, his brows snapping together. “Damn.”
    She sent him a tight smile. “You see, I’m not so stupidly reckless as you assumed.”
    His hand lifted to press against the magical barrier. “How did you get a shield?”
    “I healed a witch who was very grateful for my services.”
    He stepped back, his expression unreadable. “This isn’t finished, little one.”
    “Is that a threat?”
    He held her gaze for a long, heart-stopping minute.
    “A promise.”
    The soft words were still floating on the air when Mika turned and melted into the thick undergrowth.
    Bailey grimaced, any sense of smug pleasure disappearing as tiny tremors of shock racked her body.
    Mika.
    “Damn,” she whispered.

    The monastery was truly an astonishing sight in the middle of the bayou.
    Built long before norms had made their way to the remote section of Louisiana, it was constructed of pure gray granite that had been mystically transported by guardian Sentinels from Scotland.
    In the center was the great cloister that included an unexpectedly whimsical fountain, surrounded by a chapter room, the monks’ and students’ dormitory, a library, refectory and kitchens. There was also a large yard that was used by the Sentinels for their weapon training.
    More recently the stables had been converted into a firing range, while a new garage that could hold up to twenty cars had been built near the gatehouse.
    And surrounding it all was a ten-foot stone wall that effectively turned the place into a fortress.
    Not that the walls were really necessary.
    Who would be stupid enough to try to sneak into a place that held at least six monks and two dozen Sentinels-in-training?
    That was the definition of a death wish.
    Entering through the kitchens, Mika ignored the speculative glances from the various students who were stuck on dishwashing duty.
    Acolytes were expected to do the majority of work around the monastery in between their training sessions, as well as learning some sort of craft that would teach them that there was more to their duties than just destruction. They could also create beauty.
    Mika had personally chosen to work with the scribes, learning the delicate task of calligraphy as he translated ancient texts into modern languages.
    Entering the central cloister, he headed directly to the back of the monastery where a small office was tucked next to the library.
    At his entrance a slender man with a lean face and long, narrow nose straightened from