To Mate an Assassin: The Lost Alphars Series, Book 1 (15 page)

“I’m sorry, but you heard the situation the territory is in right now. I have to go.”

“Kerrick—”

“Goodbye, Isabelle.”

He turned off his camera but not the video screen. She couldn’t see him, but he saw the smile fade and the lines of frustration form on her face. His relationship with his mother had always been strained. It was hard to reconcile how easy it was for her to essentially give away her first-born son to be raised in another country by strangers. She always said she hadn’t had a choice but she did. She could have kept him, even though that meant he would not have learned the proper magic to fulfill his potential and become an Alphar. Potential Alphars had become rare in recent centuries, so the moment a hint of power was detected in a child, said child was to be trained by another Alphar. But it wasn’t law. His mother could have chosen to keep him. As a surly teenager he’d felt she’d done the easy thing when faced with a child who might have been too much for her to handle on her own. In truth, he wanted to be the Alphar and would not have appreciated a life deprived of this chance. But the fact that she mated with a man he had never met just a few months after his departure, then proceeded to have a family he never even knew about until his late teen years, was where the true resentment was born.

His mother had not been mated to his father. They loved each other, married like humans, and bore a child together. Kerrick’s father, George Masterson, died in the Civil War. As a child, Kerrick thought his mother’s mating was disrespectful to his father’s memory. Now an adult, he would not wish her to live the rest of her life alone especially if her mate was out there and she could be happy. But there would always be that part of him, that teenager, who was bitter for being kept in the dark about half siblings. She had made it clear he wasn’t a part of that family and it would be an abuse of his power to demand to see them, so he let it be.

“Kerrick! Kerrick!” He shut her image off and turned away from the screen to see Lottie’s enthusiastic son, Evan, running into the room, shouting his name and jumping up and down. Kerrick picked the kid up over his head and seated him on his shoulders. He loved and cared for all the children residing in the Mansion, whether temporary or not. But there was a special place in Kerrick’s heart for Lottie’s rambunctious sons. Evan was only five when Kerrick, with Jeremiah’s help, had delivered the twins. It had been a long and agonizing birth for Lottie and Evan had planted himself immediately outside the delivery room, insisting his mother might need his help. Evan may act reserved to those outside his inner circle, but Kerrick knew an introverted and reserved nature did not mean he would grow to be a submissive. He felt the strength and dominance in the boy waiting to expand and shape his being. There was also some other facet to Evan’s nature that Kerrick couldn’t quite put his finger on, something important that was just beyond his reach, hidden from sight.

“What are you doing here, Superman? Your mom’s going to be worried.” Kerrick duck-walked out of the room so Evan wouldn’t hit his head on the doorframe. As he turned in the direction of the family quarters, Evan stopped him with a tap to his forehead.

“No, you want to go that way, Kerrick. I know I told Jeremiah I wouldn’t watch but I couldn’t
not
watch, so go that way.”

“To the gym?” Kerrick asked, following the direction of Evan’s pointing. “And watch what?”

“No, they were in the gym first and then she wanted to go outside. She’s amazing, Kerrick. Like Superwoman but better.” Evan’s little hands gripped Kerrick’s hair in his enthusiasm.

“You were watching the training session Cymbeline was helping with?” He groaned but turned in that direction anyway. “Your mother will geld me if she finds out you’re watching more training.”

“I can’t help it if I’m a natural fighter.”

Kerrick laughed, enjoying when Evan was open and talkative. “Yeah well, don’t use those natural fighting abilities too soon, all right, kid? Why did they move out of the gym?”

“Your woman—”

He pinched the kid’s thigh in reprimand. “Treat her with respect, Evan.”

“Sorry. Cymbeline said she wanted to kick their asses in fresh air.”

“Don’t. Just please—really don’t repeat that to your mother, understand?”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

Kerrick took the long way down to the practice field. He enjoyed his time with Evan. The kid didn’t get enough moments to himself just to relax and be a child. His mother was also pressed for moments of peace between acting as The Mansion’s head physician and the mother of three boys, of which two were exceedingly riotous twins who didn’t seem to have an off button. But no matter what he and Evan discussed in their time together, he never spoke of Lottie’s fading strength. He would never burden the eight-year-old with that knowledge.

Upon reaching the field, Kerrick stopped short at the entertaining, yet terrifying, sight in front of him. It was a feat of pure insanity. There must have been twenty-five new and weathered soldiers facing off against the single woman in the center of the circle. Her short hair was tucked behind her ears and a mad grin lit her face. Christmas had come early for the Incendiary. Kerrick figured it was that grin that kept most of the soldiers at a distance. The grin was freaky as hell, even for him.

She flipped them, punched them, clawed them. It was a no-holds-barred brawl and Cymbeline was undoubtedly kicking their asses. It was embarrassing. Jeremiah stood off to the side with a frown on his face. He looked equally embarrassed by the sorry state of his soldiers. These new recruits were supposed to be the strongest of their age group, volunteering from packs around the territory. If they couldn’t overpower one Were, how could they face a clan of Vryks?

After another ten minutes of the brutal beating, Cymbeline raised her bloody fists with a triumphant grin and commanded. “Yield!”

“We yield,” was heard around the field from his battered and trampled soldiers. Jeremiah would require them to work overtime just to make up for that humiliation.

Cymbeline’s look of triumph faded to one of smugness as she spotted Kerrick and Evan on the sidelines.

“Care to take a spin with me, Alphar?”

“Not in front of the children, dear.” Kerrick laughed, setting Evan down on the ground.

“Ass,” she grumbled, turning her back on him, amazingly, to help the fallen soldiers up and give them tips on how they could each improve. She hadn’t only fought them, she’d studied them and learned their moves within a matter of seconds. His mate was remarkable.

“Hmm,” Jeremiah grunted from off to the side, his gaze on the nearest entrance to The Mansion.

Kerrick followed his disgruntled expression and muttered, “Crap.”

Evan was the last to chip in after he spotted his irate mother walking towards them, “You guys are gettin’ castrated.”

Chapter Nine

“Evan!” Lottie growled, tromping barefooted across the field toward the guilty-looking boy. “Evan, what the—” She shook her head, the frizzy curls flying about her ears and her eyes glowing amber as the Bobcat rose within her. Again Cymbeline observed how skinny she was…too skinny for a woman she now knew had birthed three sons. Lottie looked even more frazzled than when Cymbeline had first met her. She caught the corners of Jeremiah’s mouth tighten as the angry woman approached.

“Evan, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” She dropped to her knees in front of the boy and grasped his shoulders. “You can’t just run off like that all the time, you’re gonna give me a heart attack!”

“It was my fault, ma’am,” Cymbeline volunteered when she saw Jeremiah stepping forward to take the fall. She liked the man. Jeremiah was transparently honorable and cared for the progress of his soldiers. She would also have to be blind to not see the glow in his eyes as he’d talked about Evan’s mother earlier. “Evan found me reading his comics in the Alphar’s room and we got to talking about them. I brought him out here to observe a training session since he seemed so interested in the—”

“In the fighting, Evan?” Lottie said, looking beyond exhausted. “What did I tell you? Becoming a soldier is not for you, sweetie.”

“But, Ma, I swear, I’m really good at it.”

“I know, baby.” She stroked his red-tinged cheeks and pulled him into a hug, lifting him off his feet and cradling him close. “You’re just not at the height limit yet, okay? Promise me. You always said you’d keep your promises, remember? That’s important.”

“I promise.” He clenched his little fists in her oversized sweater and leaned his head against her shoulder. The moment tugged at something in Cymbeline’s heart. Seeing the little boy cling to his mother’s shirt reminded her of how hard it had been for her to do that with Irisi the first time—let her barriers fall just enough to give a small girl comfort. Irisi. The girl needed her. It was time for Cymbeline to go home, no matter how badly she wanted to stay with Kerrick. The Alphar. She had responsibilities that didn’t allow for personal happiness, and one involved a sickly girl she’d promised to protect. As Lottie said, it was important to keep a promise.

“Lottie,” Jeremiah said, making his presence known. “I am sorry, I should have brought him home when I found him in Kerrick’s room with Cymbeline. It is my fault.”

“No, Miah. It’s fine. He’s just so sneaky.” She smiled halfheartedly, her gaze lingering on Jeremiah half a second before turning to go back into The Mansion.

“Let me walk you—”

“We’re fine, Miah. We’re fine, you keep doin’ what you’re doin’.” They watched her walk about fifteen feet away when Jeremiah shook his head shortly, growling in frustration, and went after her. Cimby could hear them arguing about his needing or not needing to walk her all the way into The Mansion. Well, it was mostly Lottie that argued. Jeremiah just grunted her concerns away.

She turned to walk back towards The Mansion as well, waving at the trainees. “Until next time, troops,” she called with a nasty smile as they all groaned. Cymbeline chuckled, running her hands through her sweaty hair.

“You enjoyed demolishing my soldiers, didn’t you?” Kerrick asked with a smarmy grin.

“Of course. You of all people must recognize what that kind of ego boost can do for you.”

“Is the Incendiary allowed to have an ego?” he asked perceptively, which really pissed her off, destroying the calm she’d cultivated while kicking the soldiers’ asses. She couldn’t get a hold on her emotions around him, especially after their meeting last night. She’d been heading in a downward spiral since she’d arrived at this hellish mansion.

“No,” she said, bitterly. “We are slaves, made to please the Alphar in any way.”

“Cymbeline.” He stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I was teasing.”

Looking up at his face, which clearly showed regret for the words, she said, “Well, I do not like it.”

“I bet there’s a kind of teasing you
do
like.”

She rolled her eyes. Lusty bastard.

“Not when the teasing is done maliciously or to prove a point.” She looked at him pointedly as he held the door to The Mansion open for her.

He held her arm again as she moved to pass him, suddenly serious. “That wasn’t my intention. I’m sorry I was an ass last night, but I’m not apologizing for wanting you, and I’m not going to deny that you are my mate.” He pulled her closer to his chest, cupping her cheek and playing with the curly tendrils of hair falling over her ear.

“You’re an assassin, Cymbeline,” he said as she tried to pull away, fed up with his persistence yet wanting to give in at the same time. “Look at the facts and be honest with yourself.” He shook his head, moved his hand down to hers, entwining their fingers, and pulling her back out the door.

“That’s it,” he growled, a decision seemed to have been made in his mind.

“What? Are you kicking me out?” she asked, her voice going a weird high pitch she wasn’t very fond of.

“We’re getting out of here.”

“I am tired, Kerrick. I just sparred with the trainees—” Her speech cut off as she neared the gate, the cuffs on her wrists warming and sending a slight buzz through her fingers and arms. “Kerrick, your shock collars are about to shock me!”

He looked down at the cuffs and grinned. “Ha, no they won’t, I promise.” He stopped about twenty feet from the gate, the buzzing consistent but mellow. It actually felt rather pleasant. “Take your clothes off.”

“Are you high?” she yelled, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I’m gonna throw you over the gate if you don’t take your clothes off right this second.”

“How dare you—”

“I’m counting down from five.”

“I will not—”

“Four.” He touched the cuffs, adjusting them in some way that made them buzz hotter.

“—stand for this treatment—”

“Three.”

“—you demonic—”

“Two.”

“—bastard—”

“One!”

“—of an ingrate! What the holy fuck!”

As Kerrick shouted the number one, he grabbed her at her hips and launched her over the gate. Gods, the man was strong. She flew and couldn’t do a damn thing to stop her trajectory. But as she inched closer and closer to the gate, the buzzing in the cuffs intensified until her body was covered in flames. Flames that didn’t burn, they didn’t even touch her skin. But they sure as hell touched her clothes.

Cimby landed swiftly on the other side of the gate. The cuffs were cool as ice and she was buck-ass naked. She rolled her eyes and stood, hands on hips, refusing to act embarrassed by her nudity. Kerrick stood thirty feet away on the other side of the gate. Laughing his fully clothed ass off at her.

“C’mon over here, Alphar,” she called to him. “Let me show you just how funny I am when you piss me off!”

“Shift!” he called to her through his laughter, texting something on his phone.

“What? You better not be sending a picture message of me to someone!”

“Shift, we’re gonna go for a run. Blow off some steam.” He closed his phone and tucked it into his jeans. “I was texting Aaron where to find me if there are any urgent issues.”

While she was thoroughly excited by the prospect of a run there was something she needed to take care of first. “Come here first and then I’ll shift,” she said, deepening the tonality of her voice and adding a husky quality to it. Kerrick stilled, hearing the enticing offer.

“C’mon,” she said, not needing to shout, knowing all his attention was on her. She quirked one side of her lip up and turned away, walking deeper into the surrounding forest, swinging her hips with just the perfect amount of sway to reel him in. She’d studied this technique from other females in bars around the country when she searched for sexual partners. It was quite effective.

Cymbeline heard him land with a thud on the outer side of the gate and sensed him silently stalk her. Just as he was about to put his hands on her naked body she turned and grabbed his balls, which were fully on display since he’d also decided to strip. Cymbeline almost lost her trail of concentration as she saw and held his naked testicles. Gods he was a virile specimen. Perfection in every muscle, every cut, hard inch of him.

But she didn’t falter in her purpose. When she was sure she had his attention she twisted the delicate—and large—testicles, ever so slightly.

“Ah— Are you kidding—”

“The next time you want me to shift, ask me to shift and tell me why.” She squeezed harder for a second then abruptly let go, shoving him back a few steps. Or at least she tried, the man was an immovable mountain. “Don’t tell me after you strip me of my clothes, against my will by the fucking way. You are such an irascible asshole I can’t even begin to— Argh!” She stalked away, needing some space from that magnificent body to keep her anger fueled, and yet she couldn’t stop herself from glancing back over her shoulder for half a second to take another look.

Kerrick massaged his balls in one hand and raised the other in surrender. “I give up, woman, I give up. I’m sorry.” He fell to his knees, looking up at her with what some women called sad, puppy eyes. She thought of them as “twist my balls again because I’m a moron who just happens to be blessed with sexy pouty lips and sexy eyes” eyes.

She crossed her arms, looking away from him in stereotypical female annoyance. It would not behoove her to admit she was enjoying their repartee. He held out one hand to her and stood, having recovered from her rough grip, the other rested against his heart. “I am sorry, Cymbeline. I was teasing again.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, unconvinced by his genial behavior. She knew he was more devil than angel, his mischievous nature all too clear. She possibly liked that a tad more than she should.

“Run with me?” he asked, his hand reaching.

The moment became heavy, weighted with things unsaid and issues greater than the both of them, issues that needed resolving. She wasn’t for him. Not even the howling of her Wolf within her soul could convince her.

“Kerrick—”

“Don’t think,” he said, stepping forward to kiss her forehead. “Just run with me. Nothing more.”

She stepped back, letting the Wolf’s presence of mind gain an edge. Her Wolf yipped in joy and pressed the shift upon her body. It wasn’t a painful thing as some humans thought. The shift was a magical phenomenon and shifters were made of magic. To shift was light within the soul and joy within the heart.

Cymbeline twisted in on herself, a core of warmth spreading from her heart to touch every corner of her body. She looked down and saw her paws, her red and amber fur, and felt completely at home for the first time since she’d arrived at this topsy-turvy circus. Without a backwards glance she forgot everything around her and just ran.

The dirt was a cloud her paws barely skimmed as her lupine nature dodged between the trees. The grass flying past her legs was cool rain petting her fur. Her Wolf leapt into the air with such joy to be free that she nearly cried. They were whole. Shifted into her Wolf form was the only time Cymbeline felt as if she’d been born to be a shifter not Turned as part of some grand design. She yipped and howled with excitement, completely out of character for her but just so damn fun.

After a few moments Cymbeline remembered there was someone running beside her. She turned her head and there was Kerrick, in all his Alphar glory. He’d chosen a Wolf for his shifted form, a beautiful and grand gray Wolf with eyes as black as coal. It was the gift of the Alphar, why they were the strongest and most dominant of all the shifters. They were true shifters, not stuck in one animal form but blessed with the ability to change into all of them. An impassioned look of triumph graced his face as he ran beside her and she finally allowed herself to feel it. Shifting into her Wolf form broke down one of the few remaining barriers she had erected to keep the full effect of the mating from influencing her emotions. But she felt it now. He was hers. Undeniably and undoubtedly hers. She would never choose another; never need another. And her faith in him was unwavering. He would always be true, always be there for her no matter how much he teased or joked. She’d never had anyone belong to her like that before, and she never would again.

Her Wolf opened her maw in a toothy grin and darted to his feet to give him a playful nip before dashing in the opposite direction. A few moments later she tripped over a bump in the ground, too busy staring at her handsome mate. He stopped and nudged her with his cold nose. He wanted to run with her some more and he wasn’t going to leave her behind. She quickly got back to her feet and dashed alongside him.

Running as a Wolf was one of the few joys in her life as an Incendiary. It represented freedom, endurance, and simplified all the human emotions into something pure and uncluttered by shades of gray. She used to push herself to run when she’d first begun shifting. Treating it as another test her trainers would put her through. She would run for hours, tugging and pulling at her limits, stretching them beyond what anyone thought she could do. It wasn’t until after her first assignment, sitting in the small house she’d been living in at the time, thinking about the rogue she’d just killed, that she stripped down to her skin and for the first time just ran for the hell of it. She ran to honor the man she’d killed. She ran as a pledge to protect the safety of the innocents, not just to do her Alphar’s bidding. She’d run that first night for herself. And she’d never felt more alive.

Until tonight.

Kerrick sat with his back against the tree trunk. Cymbeline was on the other side. She’d said she didn’t care if he saw her naked, nudity wasn’t exactly taboo in shifter societies. He told her if he looked at her breasts one more time he would pounce on her. It was hard enough to leave her be when her delectable scent kept wafting his way.

“It’s just surprising, that’s all,” he said, playing with a broken branch.

“Why? I’m not just a Wolf, Kerrick.” He loved that she was saying his name now. “There is a human side to me as well.”

“True, but wolves just don’t climb trees. It’s not natural.” He looked down the length of the tree they were sitting in and grinned in amusement at his mate’s quirk. They sat about thirty feet off the ground, straddling branches and just chatting. He’d never been more at peace.