by A. K. Koonce
My breath catches as more of it drifts into me, but I quickly lock my jaw against the sharp pain that’s scraping beneath my skin now. His big palm wraps around my wrist.
“That’s enough, Alexa.” My name is a breathy sound against his full lips, and my attention lingers there as I press another finger against his chest.
I pull and pull and pull until power vibrates against my every nerve ending, and I don’t stop until the stiffness of his shoulders lowers with an exhale that fans against my lips. I breath in that sigh of relief and my hand shakes just slightly when I finally disengage from the deadly source of energy. My fingers skim against his shirt when I lower my hand.
I swallow down the pain that’s still tingling through my body. It’s more of a numbing sensation now. It’s something I’ll have to expel later but it’s not unbearable.
For the moment.
“What does it feel like now?” I look up into the purest green eyes. The glare that I’m used to seeing in his gaze isn’t there. They shine with something that seems similar to euphoric.
Relief perhaps?
“It feels like I can breath again. For the first time in decades, I can breath again.” He stares at me in awe and that current of energy buzzes through me with pride. He leans a fraction of an inch closer and our chests almost brush. “Because of you.” Those simple words make his eyes widen.
Very carefully he takes a step back from me. His boots are heavy as they stumble against he old flooring.
“I—Thanks, Alexa.” A smile almost touches his lips but doesn’t quite make it. Another careful step is placed between us.
Before I can reply, he’s jogging upstairs. If there was a better place to hide, I’m sure Rory would have chosen it. But he walks as far away as the small loft will allow until he’s completely out of sight.
And then I’m alone.
Again.
Fifteen
The Hunted or the Hunter
For the rest of the morning, I throw myself into Mason’s notes. It’s literally the most boring thing I’ve ever read in my entire life. Dozens of single spaced pages typed out with justified formatting, complete with special bolded headers and page numbers as if my favorite nerdy assassin was prepared to turn this info into the dean of students instead of tossing it into a miscellaneous folder on his laptop.
I reread what I already know in hopes of triggering something my mind missed at the very start. Allison went missing two days after her best friend, Cassie Reeves, passed away on November second. Friends and family reported no changes in behavior prior to her disappearance. And sometime during those two days she doodled the Mark of the Hunter in her college notebook.
But the death of her friend seems to be an important detail for Mason. He’s underlined that date. My eyes narrow as I dwell on that fact.
My mother died. Kioko died. At least it’s my best guess. Tylin’s mother died… of cancer. Mason’s grandmother died. Jameson’s father nearly killed Scarlett… Rory…
“Rory?” The abrupt sound of my voice echoes along the second floor overhang above my head just loud enough to draw his attention. The two of us are the only ones who still occupy the loft.
A beat passes and I wonder if he’s actually asleep.
“Yeah?”
“Did—how did you become an assassin?”
“What?” His footsteps sound heavily against the old boards.
“How did you get into the League?” There’s a hint of impatience in my tone, but I try to reel it back in as he comes down the stairs finally.
“Armond showed up when I was getting off work one night.”
I nod. I don’t know how to ask what I need to ask without sounding like an uncaring asshole. So I try for subtlety.
“Where did you work?” I stare up at him as he comes a little closer. A look of suspicion is in his pretty eyes, and I can’t help but shoot him a pretty smile.
He’s smart. He should be suspicious.
“My brother and I worked construction for years.” He doesn’t give much details. Just facts. As always.
Slowly my gaze lowers all the way down him. Down his broad chest, lean hips, and strong thighs. He looks like he could work construction. Rory fits that sexy construction build to a tee.
Fuck, did I just say sexy and Rory all in the same sentence?
I blink the thought away.
“Your brother?”
“Yeah, we were twins.”
Aww Rory’s a twin. There’s another angry man stomping around out there just like this adorable asshole.
“Wait, you said were.”
“He died in an on site accident.” He swallows hard and my throat tightens even as I connect the dots to what’s going on in all our lives.
“And then Armond showed up and offered you a place you felt you belonged.”
His brows tense, but then he nods slowly.
Ho-ly fuck.
None of us found the League during dark times in our lives.
The League created dark times in our lives.
They trained us to be Hunters and Huntresses, when all this time we were no more than the prey.
Sixteen
A Long Hard Night
“I think Armond pushed us into the League. I think he’s responsible for every death that happened to us before we met him.”
“Except my mom died of cancer,” Tylin says flatly.
Maybe. Or maybe it was something else.
I force myself not to say that. I can't say that to Ty. Having a conversation like this has to be carefully worded.
“My mom died a suspicious death. I know,” I pause, and I don’t look at Rory as I say, “I know others lost someone they loved in just as mysterious of ways.” Jameson is lucky he didn’t lose his sister. The actions of his father still pushed him into this life, but I’m happy he has someone he can count on.
“I have to go. Meet me at Crystalline in a few hours. The office there opens at seven, we want to be there before the staff shows up.” Mason looks to Tylin before turning his attention to me.
“You’re not going to sleep? You should sleep, Mouse.” My fingers tangle in his and he leans into me the moment I’m close. His other hand spreads wide against the small of my back as he holds me harder against him.
“I’ll be back soon,” he whispers against my lips. The kiss he presses there is firm, wanting. His tongue slips against mine slowly as his fingers fist into the hem of my shirt. I barely have time to push my fingers through his thick hair before he’s pulling away from me. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I nod quietly as he leaves. It’s selfish, but I wish he would stay. What he’s doing is more important than my need for reassurance right now.
I just feel… out of place since my words with Jameson. I was so sure of my place on this team, of my place in their lives. Now I’m not sure of anything.
“I have to get a few hours of sleep before heading out at three, I’m sorry I can’t talk right now. You’re probably right. I’m sure the League was involved in our lives before we realized. With the symbol you showed me and the fact that Allison lost her friend, I know the League is meddling in all of this.” Tylin’s palm brushes down the side of my arm and his dark eyes hold mine as he peers down at me. He looks like he’s trying to see inside me right now. “You’re doing good, Alexa. You’ve found vital information for this case. Don’t second guess yourself.” His fingers arch against the inside of my wrist and rub back and forth there slowly for half of a second. And then he carefully pulls away.
His footsteps echo against the few rails of the ladder as he climbs up into the top bunk.
“Shit.” Rory’s whisper is so quiet I barely hear it.
“What?” I turn to him. He stands just a few feet away near the couch, staring at Tylin as he gets comfortable on the top bunk.
“That’s—That’s where I normally sleep.”
I arch a brow at him? Is this seriously an issue right now?
“Take the bottom bun
k.” A sigh slips over my lips. I swear sometimes I live in a house full of children.
“I told Scarlett she could have the bottom bunk from now on.”
Aww. That’s nice.
And he fucked himself out of a bed in the process. Stupid but nice.
My attention drifts to the old couch. I stand staring at the ripped and lumpy couch while a perfectly large queen size mattress rests upstairs. Am I that big of an asshole to tell him about the couch in the middle of our living room that he’s already fully aware of?
“There’s room upstairs.” My arms fold awkwardly when he looks at me with a confused look scrunching his brow.
“There’s only one bed upstairs.” That confusion only deepens as he stares at me.
Does he really not understand my suggestion?
“Yeah, but there’s room for both of us.”
Damn, is he good at making this uncomfortable.
Seconds pass as he seems to consider my suggestion.
“Okay.”
My brows lift high at his simple response. Wow, this is going to be interesting. I fully expected him to tell me he’d sleep on the roof instead.
I lead the way up the staircase and his heavy footfalls follow. My head tells me this isn’t a big deal, but the way my heart is thundering in my chest makes me wonder if that’s true or not. Only the wide windows let in any light. Pale moonlight shadows our features to one another. My hands tense and I’m suddenly not sure what to do.
We’re doing too well with not pissing each other off. If I do the wrong thing, will it all fall apart?
Normally I’d sleep in my underwear. Normally I’d also sweat to death from Jameson and Mason’s excessive body heat too…
Without removing a single article of clothing, I slip beneath the blankets. I stare up at the ceilings high above while I pretend not to over analyze the last few days.
The sound of clothes hitting the floor demands my attention. The broad span of Rory’s chest is shadowed but the lack of lighting doesn’t stop me from staring at his smooth skin. I lie still against my pillow, looking up at him with curiosity.
His jeans remain in place as he crawls beneath the blankets. The bed dips, but I don’t follow the motion down. I cling to my side. Keeping about a foot of space between us. But I watch him in the dark.
His hands fold behind his head. Sharp elbows extend out as he rests his head back on his hands. His long legs extend perfectly straight out.
Even as he sleeps he appears tense and uncomfortable.
“Is that really how you sleep? Every night?” My whisper is a hissing sound that makes his eyes fling open.
He glares at me from the corner of his eyes.
“It’s my comfort, why does it matter to you?”
I curl in on my side and really stare at him. My attention makes him shift, his hip skimming my knee as he tries to settle back into that comfort he was telling me about.
“Do you ever relax?” My lips pull up at the corner as he shifts awkwardly once more.
“I am relaxed. Fuck. Go to sleep.” A growling sound accompanies his words and it only makes me smile more.
“This is you relaxed?”
“Yes, I can actually breathe today, I feel one hundred percent relaxed. Or at least I would be.” His head tilts to the side until he’s fully looking at me. “What does relaxed look like? Tell me.” His eyes narrow on me and my taunting smile.
“Turn on your side. Let the tension ease out of your big fucking shoulders and I promise, it’ll feel good.”
He rolls his deep green eyes, shaking his head the whole time.
But to my surprise, he rolls. His left arm stays in place as he keeps it shoved beneath his head. Stiffly he lies to one side, staring hard at me as he waits in silence for the comfort to come.
“This is uncomfortable as shit.”
“Wait.” Before he can turn away my fingers slip around the hard muscle tone of his bicep. Every part of him is solid. Hard. My words fall back down my throat as my fingers tense against the bulge of his arm. He’s built from fucking stone, I swear. My throat clears and I try to remember what the hell I was talking about before I made the mistake of touching his hard body. “Relax your shoulders. Let them fall.”
Hesitation slips between, us and for some reason, I keep my hand in place against his smooth skin rubbing my fingers against the curve of his muscle as I secretly steal a little more of his pent-up energy that’s drilling away inside him. It slips out of him and into me with ease. Then he visibly melds against the softness of the bed. His body releases all the tension in his frame until he looks purely comfortable.
“Better?”
“Yeah,” he whispers. He turns away, falling against the mattress onto his back. “But I’m still not sleeping all curled up like a newborn dear.” Laughter kisses his words.
My lips thin as I realize he’s mocking me. I slowly shift until I’m on my back. My limbs are straight out and my body begs for me to roll back into our normal comfy fetal position.
A long sigh drifts out of me and I force myself to keep this ridiculous position. I glare up at the ceiling, refusing to appear weak even in my sleep.
Soon even breaths are all I hear. I peer over at him, with his arms still folded securely behind his head, his back stiff as a board as he lies sleeping at my side. My eyes roll at how completely different the two of us are.
We’re just not meant to fit together.
Just as I’m about to turn back into my sweet, comfortable newborn dear position, the mattress dips. The weight of a big arm wraps around me and the smooth panes of a strong chest melds against my back. My breath halts as Rory pulls me closer, curling into me in the adamant way he said was uncomfortable as shit just moments earlier.
Warmth spreads through my chest as a smile pulls at my lips. My fingers push down the length of his forearm until they stop just above his hand. His body heat is all around me and I shift just enough to match his position perfectly. He holds me like we’ve lain like this together our entire lives.
He feels good. Strong. Safe.
But god is he going to be annoyed when he wakes up in the morning.
Seventeen
Not So Vanilla
I wait all afternoon for the guys to return. I wish Jameson would return. He was gone all night and it hurts not to know where he is.
For the most part, Rory and I have avoided each other. Not rudely. Just… very intentionally. He got up before I did and I keep wondering if he knows how he held me all night.
Not that either of us are talking about it.
I busy myself with making a frozen pizza for Rory and me. I burn it in my distraction but I made it all the same.
And to my surprise, he eats it without comment. We sit at the table now. The crunch of the crust makes my nose scrunch up as I watch him take another big bite out of the charred triangle of what’s supposed to be a sausage and pepperoni pizza. His throat tightens and it takes real effort for him to swallow the dry, ashen food down.
“It’s good, huh?” I force myself not to laugh when he winces with the next audible bite.
“Yeah, good.” He nods as he takes a large gulp of water. He looks like he just swallowed gravel instead of pizza.
I sit across from him, picking at the toppings and unburnt cheese on the top of my slice. The small table doesn’t give us much space but he’s here. He’s eating. He’s even being polite for fuck’s sake.
“You know to be friends with someone you have to put in more of an effort than just two word sentences.”
“Really, I had no idea.” His tongue swipes across his lower lip but there’s a rare, small smile at the corner of his lips.
“Well that was five so you’re definitely showing improvement.”
“I try.”
My eyes narrow on his short reply and the smile that’s creeping across his face.
“You’re an asshole.”
“So are you.” He shrugs and I can’t help but agree with him.
>
“What was his name?”
At the sound of my serious question his gaze drifts to the glossy tabletop. “He was my best friend. I’ve never told anyone about him.”
“Not even Tylin?” My heart aches as I think about all the things Rory keeps to himself.
But it also strikes me that none of these guys have bothered to research their friends. For a group who thrives in delivering information, I’m shocked. The trust, or the stupidity, is enlightening. Almost heart-warming, depend on which way you view it. They care about each other. They trust each other. The way I want them to trust me.
“Tell me. What was his name?”
The short beat of silence doesn’t span long. He wants to talk. I really believe he wants someone to talk to.
“Reese. My mother always wanted a girl to name Ruby, really keep that R tradition going. But she only ever had me and Reese.”
My heart warms the more he talks. I can’t help but notice how relaxed he looks. The way he speaks, his posture, everything in him is calmer ever since this yesterday. His long leg is extended out in a careless position, but I don’t think he notices the way our shoes touch just slightly.
“Did he look like you?” My attention trails over his dark beard, and the brightness of his eyes is a sharp contrast.
He’s handsome. I note the scar that cuts through his lower lip, a smile spreads across his mouth and I realize he’s more than handsome.
“Our friends used to say we were identical in the face except—”
His words stop abruptly and his teeth sink into his lower lip as he smirks hard. A curious smile pulls at my mouth and I’m dying to know what he isn’t saying.
“Except what?” My voice raises, exposing how curious I am.
He licks his lips and keeps his attention on the empty plate that’s in front of him. His big palm slowly pushes down his face and whatever he isn’t saying is making the brightest flush creep up his cheeks.
“You have to tell me.” I’m almost begging now.
