by A. K. Koonce
Four
One Lie and the Truth
I wander down the creaky steps of the mansion and make my way into our mess of a kitchen. New cabinets are stacked in one corner from floor to ceiling, but there hasn’t been any time to rip out the old ones and install the new ones yet. Like a fumbling zombie, I cut through the maze of construction, following the smell of coffee.
Somewhere, hidden away, there is definitely coffee, and if I have to hunt the warm aroma down like a senior drug dog, I will!
“Looks like you need this more than I do.” Mase grins at me, his eyes twinkling behind his glasses, and I smile up at him as he presses a hot mug between my hands.
I call off the drug dog. For now.
“Thank you.” I lean against the cracked countertop and drink him in before lifting the coffee mug to my lips. The tousled, morning look is sexy as hell on him, and I let my gaze rake down his body, appreciating the way his white t-shirt clings to his chest and how the soft, dark grey pants he wears hangs off his ass just right.
My body betrays me like a bitch in heat and I can’t help the sexy daydreams that flit through my mind. Mason lifting me onto the old countertop. His cock rubbing against my center just right. How it would feel if he thrust into me, grinding against my clit.
Mason’s rumbling chuckle pulls me back to reality and he stares at me like he knows the R-rated route my brain just deviated down. Narrowing my eyes at him, I take a sip of my steaming drink and let out an orgasm worthy moan.
“So damn good.” I let my tongue trail along my lips to capture every last drop. Mason’s stare tracks the movement, darkening his eyes to a lusty shade.
If the guys want to play this game, I’ll play it like the best of them. Cocktease mode initiated.
Mason’s chocolate eyes sparkle with amusement, but he doesn’t move a muscle and I huff from the sexual frustration that’s been building for days on end.
He takes his own drink of coffee, holding my gaze as he makes a quiet sound of contentment deep in his throat. Then, his palm pushes down his abs sensually, piquing my confusion and attention all at the same time. He pats his hard stomach and leans in close.
“So fucking good,” he echoes on a rasping breath, which fans across my cheek.
He pulls back as quickly as he came, looking innocent and not at all like someone antagonizing me to the point of screaming.
“Need something?” His knowing smirk only irritates me further and I arch an eyebrow at him.
“Not a damn thing,” I force myself to reply, because I refuse to give him the power of knowing how much I want him. I’m nearly vibrating with the need to beg one of my guys to touch me. Really touch me. My orgasm quota for the week is way down, the numbers are not looking good, and if I don’t start seeing some progress, I’m going to have to take matters into my own hands.
Which is fundamentally wrong on so many levels when I have four men at my disposal.
They are going to be hearing about this when we have a quarterly review, for sure.
The next thing I know, he’s in my space, the hard planes of his chest pressing against my upper arm. He leans closer, his nose skimming along my temple and his breath caressing my ear, as he whispers, “That’s too bad.” The warmth of his palm lands on my stomach and holds there. I’m not sure how it’s possible, but the inactivity of his hand—the way it just presses into my lower abdomen and stays put—drives me insane. Mason knows the exact second my libido increases, because my breathing gives me away. “I was going to invite you to shower with me.” The words linger in my ear and I turn my face toward him, trying to assess the truth in his dark eyes.
I open my mouth to end my two second rebellion and accept his white flag of surrender, but Jameson—in all his eavesdropping glory—saunters into the kitchen before I can utter a single syllable.
“If you’re talking about the shower, my sister just occupied it,” Jameson declares, dumping a bucket of verbal ice water over my head.
“First she cockblocks me in my own damn room, and now she’s stealing shower sex too?” I shake my head on a weary sigh and take a healthy swig of my coffee like it’s a precious medicine that will cure all my ailments. “The things I do for a friend,” I grumble into my mug.
“Having a rough morning there, princess?” Jameson calls from inside the fridge. It’s the only new thing in the whole room. The shining metal appliance was deemed necessary by the men to hold all the food they’d need. With how packed that thing is, you’d think we were feeding an army already instead of just six hulking, male assassins. Scar and I eat a fraction of what those boys can put down in a single meal.
“Oh, I’m supercalifragilisticexpialidocious,” I sass through thinly pursed lips.
“Someone’s grumpy this morning.” Jameson’s head pops up over the door of the fridge and he raises his good brow at me. Every time I see that slashing scar on the other side, I think about Jameson’s loss of sight, it reminds me how grateful I am that the threat against us is dead.
The small flicker of doubt I have about the way Derek disappeared flares to life in my chest, but just like every other time it surfaces, I push it down.
I’m happy. I’m not going to let bad memories of my long lost father change that.
Immediately picking up on my changed mood, Mason hooks a finger under my chin and forces my gaze to his. “What’s wrong?”
The closing of the fridge alerts me of Jameson’s presence, moments before I feel his heat on my other side. Taking the mug from my hands, he sets it aside and then his palms land on my shoulders as he steers me away from the countertop, forcing me to face Mason fully. Slipping in behind me, Jameson sandwiches me between him and his friend.
They always do this—gang up on me in the sexiest, sweetest way possible.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love it.
I debate for two seconds about telling them what’s bothering me, but when I open my mouth, it’s a lie that spills out.
“I’m just worried about having to teach today.” I bite my lip and hope they don’t see through my bullshit. Although, it’s only partial bullshit. I am worried about this whole teaching thing.
Jameson scoffs, and replies, “You’re going to do great. Fuck, if I had a teacher as hot as you growing up, I might not have cut so many classes.” Strong fingers dig into my shoulders and I relax at the pleasurable pain as he works on the knots I’ve been accumulating from all the tension lately.
Tension that a good orgasm would take care of.
And we’re back.
Except now my own mood is my cockblocker.
I sigh and lean up to give Mason a sweet kiss across his lips. I let myself linger for a moment, enjoying the feel of his mouth playing with mine, and then I wiggle to turn and face Jameson, giving him the same treatment. Unwilling to let me go, he presses me harder into Mason, bracing me against his friend as he deepens the kiss. His tongue sweeps in to tease mine before pulling back, and I can taste the minty freshness of the toothpaste he must have used this morning. I nip at his bottom lip before ending our small make out session.
“Jameson is right. You’re ready for this. Tylin wouldn't have given you a classroom if he didn’t have full faith in you. We all do,” Mason whispers reassuringly, and I swallow my guilt for not being fully truthful about what’s bothering me.
Instead, I paste a small, fake smile on my lips as I reclaim my coffee and slip out of the enticing manwich I have going on—just proving that I’ve completely lost my mind.
“Thanks guys. If I’m going to make you proud, though, I better drink this and stake a claim on the shower.”
“You going to slip in with Scarlett? It’s environmentally friendly, saving on water and stuff.” Mason’s voice trails after me and despite his teasing, I don’t look back at them.
“Ew, that’s my sister, you sick fuck,” I hear Jameson say, his tone dripping with disgust.
It kills me to walk away from them, but my heart is a racing thing in
my chest and I need to go work through my panic attack on my own.
All I can see as I leave the kitchen is the image of Derek’s bloody body disappearing right before my eyes. He was there one minute and gone the next.
How can someone just vanish when they die?
When Vale speaks up, it scares the shit out of me.
“Interesting.” His deep voice is an echo in the cavernous space of the entryway and I jump, totally off my assassin game.
“Shit, warn a girl next time, will ya?” I snark, narrowing my eyes at the man. Unwilling to let his comment lie, I bite my tongue hard before giving in. Rolling my eyes, I play into his ploy, and inquire, “And what is it you find so interesting?”
“Your lie,” Vale crosses his arms over his chest. The pale green of his eyes fixate on me in a steady stare that I can’t seem to look away from.
I give myself credit for not blinking, flinching, or giving myself away. My poker face remains firmly in place as I face off with the human lie detector. Except, I’m not sure how to open my mouth and respond without setting off whatever internal alarm he has that will call me on my bullshit.
“I thought this little game was something you reserved for Scarlett.” I tilt my head to the side and study him back, trying to determine if my redirection tactic will work. Besides, whatever is going on between Scarlett and him is much more entertaining than my mindless theories on Derek’s disappearance.
I’ll take Soap Opera Love Triangle for five hundred, Alex.
Instead of answering me, Vale holds out his hand, with his palm facing the cracked, vaulted ceiling above our heads.
“Uh…” I stare at him, wondering what kind of Yoda voodoo he’s trying to pull.
I’m a Huntress who steals powers by simple skin to skin contact. So excuse me if I don’t rush out and randomly offer someone my hand.
“A trade.” He angles his head downward, making sure to catch my focus. “Siphon some and then ask me a question. Anything you want. If I choose not to answer it, I’ll give you a lie and our game will be over. However, if I give you the truth, you must also answer one of my questions in return with the truth.”
I purse my lips, unsure if I trust him or not, but so far, he’s given me no reason not to. The allure of his unique power makes me take a step forward, and the next thing I know, my palm is on his and I’m pulling at his energy source.
The feeling of it buzzes inside of me as I draw just enough and then release him.
My lips curve in a smirk, and I let my nosy question fly. “Why doesn’t Scarlett want to stay in your common room overnight?”
“You’ll have to ask her,” Vale recrosses his arm, looking smug.
Fuck. His power gives me an overwhelming feeling that says ‘truth’ like I’m a magic eight ball that’s been shaken too damn hard.
I try again. “From your perspective, why doesn’t Scarlett want to stay in your common room overnight?”
“Now you’re getting the hang of it.” Vale nods approvingly, giving me the pass. “I believe it’s because she’s slept with both Mars and myself. There’s… tension… amongst us.”
“Between you and Mars?” I couldn’t help but pry. If there’s something I can do to help Scar in her relationships, I’ll do it. And yes, it wouldn’t hurt if I also got my privacy with the guys back at night so I could jump their bones. I have to believe that Scar understands how important sex is.
Very fucking important.
Then again, so is friendship.
“That’s two questions.” Vale raises a brow and I nod, not ashamed to bend the rules a little.
“I’ll agree to two in return,” I offer.
He’s so easy going, he nods in an instant. Why on earth is there tension with him and anyone on the fucking planet?
“Very well. The jealousy seems to be coming from Mars more than myself.”
“You don’t care that she’s slept with another man?” I press.
“It seems to work well for you and your men, does it not?” His intense eyes watch me as both my eyebrows shoot into the air.
“That’s a presumptuous observation.” I’ll give it to the guy. He has balls.
“And yet it’s the truth. Or do they not share well?” He waits me out.
Deciding I have nothing to be ashamed of, I cross my own arms and answer, “They do.”
“Then it is possible.”
“Having a relationship with multiple people at once?”
He hums his agreement.
“Is that something you want?”
“If it makes Scarlett happy, then yes. You have to understand that the ratio of female assassins to male assassins is astonishingly different. Unless we give up this life altogether, it will be hard to find a monogamous relationship between one man and one woman. I believe the way you’ve joined with your four assassins will become much more common around here once the assassins start intermingling again. And why shouldn’t it? We should all be free to love whomever we please in whatever way we please.” His rumbling tone makes everything sound so much more wise. And sexy.
Scarlett’s an idiot.
“Truth,” I murmur. Vale surprised me, but my respect for him, and his less than critical attitude toward a lifestyle that isn’t the norm, grows. Outside of my sister and Scarlett, he’s the first person to know and accept me and my men, and the relationship we’re forming together.
It makes me feel good.
It almost makes me forget about the worry that’s still sitting in the back of my mind. Almost.
“Your turn.” Vale doesn’t give me any means of escape. “What was truly bothering you earlier when you gave a half-truth to Jameson and Mason.”
I debate lying for two second flat before I sigh and relent. The magic eight ball always knows, after all.
“The way Derek disappeared. It’s been eating at me, that's all.” I try to play it off like it isn’t a big deal or something that keeps me up at night.
He takes a step closer to me and lowers his voice like this is an important conversation. And maybe it is. “You don’t think he’s dead?”
I hesitate to answer. “I don’t see how he couldn’t be. He was impaled. There’s no way he could have survived that kind of injury.”
“Yet you worry.”
“Needlessly, I’m sure.”
Vale is quiet for longer than is comfortable, but when he speaks again, it’s soft and sincere.
“In all my years of having this ability, the one thing I’ve learned is to trust your gut. It very rarely steers you wrong.” His words sit heavily between us. “You’re a smart woman, Alexa, and a damn good assassin from what I hear. Trust yourself.” The warmth of his gaze alone settles me with strange calmness before he turns away.
His footsteps sound loud in the empty space around us, and I stand there, unmoving, as he leaves.
Even though I’m sure he’s too far away to hear me now, I whisper, “Truth,” as the remainder of the power I contain from him fizzles out.
Five
First Day of School
Okay. They’ve gathered a few more assassins than I imagined. The enormous room now feels smaller with all the students filling it. Roughly two dozen men and a single woman—thank god it’s Scarlett—stare at me. I fidget from one foot to the other as they stand motionless. Waiting. For me. To fucking speak.
Say something, Lex.
Clearly, I should have been preparing speeches and epic quotes to rattle off for moments just like this instead of mock play fighting with my boyfriend.
My heart seizes painfully.
Who knew public speaking was all it really took to kill an assassin. A slow, shallow breath slips out of my lips, and I force myself to say something.
“Good morning.”
Clever. Good job.
Now keep going, Al.
I clear my throat, feeling like I swallowed a fistful of gravel before walking into this room. Seconds tick by and Scar gives me a pitying arch of her brow, before slipp
ing through the crowd and coming to stand in the front row.
Her perfect smile tilts up, and she nods to me.
“In my classroom, we will be studying the best forms of defense, the most fragile parts of the human body, and the fastest way to harm, maim, and kill, should it be necessary.” My shoulders square, my chin tips up, and my gaze scans the assassins before me.
Even I’m mentally applauding that introduction.
Maybe I should write a memoir: An Assassin’s Diary, by Alexa Hart.
Eh, it’d have too many smutty scenes. Stuff like that probably doesn’t get published unless the authors are just completely shameless.
“Yeah, I already know how to harm, maim, and fuck shit up. Is there an advance course or am I stuck in the beginner’s play place?”
The man’s voice carries, his body unseen, until he finally pushes his way through the crowd. He’s big, with tousled blond hair, and his muscles bulge as he folds his arms across his wide chest to properly stare me down.
The arrogant fucker.
“What’s your name?” I ask, my gaze focused entirely on him.
“Wes Benton.”
I barely listen to him as my heart rate kicks up, preparing for all the ways I want to teach him.
“You work out, huh?” I take a few steps forward and I can feel the room watching us.
He smirks in response.
“What do you bench? Two thirty? Two forty?” I inquire.
His smug face remains.
“Three twenty.”
Fuck me.
I should shut up.
Nah. Keep going, Lex.
“Trust me when I say your attacker will not be impressed by that number.” I know. Because I am her.
In one quick move, my arm lifts, and instead of landing my fist into his obnoxious face, my elbow slams into his cheek. He stumbles back, groaning, and giving me just enough time to wrap myself around him like a vice. With all my strength, I lift my body, shifting his weight as I move, and throw him quickly to the ground behind me before turning on him. In one fluid move, I’m now the one staring down at him.
