by A. K. Koonce
We don’t need an electric show so close to the water, guys.
Gritting my teeth, I know my own eyes flash with aggression and frustration. I’m tired of playing games. “Explain.” I shift on my feet, losing the casual posture I had before. The tension running through my body lends me the lethal air I’ve perfected from years of working as an assassin.
“I can take away your powers just as easily and graciously as I granted them.” Archer lets his words hanging in the air, settling heavily between us as my breath escapes my lungs. “Your marks can be stripped and your powers removed like that.” His long fingers glide together in a snap that reverberates in the silence. Birds halt their chatter instantaneously. The natural melody of wildlife in general, which I’ve never even thought about, ceases immediately. The only other sound I can hear is the lapping water under the bridge and the drone of the city beyond. “Is that what you’d like, Huntress? To be normal again?” The way he drawls out the word ‘normal’ makes it sound just as boring as it would be to actually be normal. I can’t imagine not having my powers. They’re a part of me. Practically embedded into my DNA. Literally marked on my skin. A possessive weight blankets my heart and I spin on my heel, done with this conversation and needing to see Tylin.
Fucking now.
“Tylin wants to see you at your earliest convenience,” Jameson orders, tossing a business card toward Archer, and I glance over my shoulder to see it flutter to the rocky ground at his black boots.
I’m too unnerved to stop walking. His threat to unmake me claws through my body with an alarming amount of anxiety.
My powers are the only thing I’ve ever really been able to count on.
And this man can take them away single-handedly.
“Tell your leader I’ll be seeing him soon.” Archer gives us a small salute that ends with his middle finger raised, and his pointed smirk stays with me as we disappear back the way we came.
My heart drilling hard with every step I take.
Nine
Post PMS
I slam through the front door of the mansion, uncaring of the two assassins trailing behind me as I leave them in my wake.
The now smooth, white walls of the house make the remodeled room seem endless, but also incredibly vacant. My steps echo through the cavernous space of the foyer, the only sound that precedes me as I crash into the kitchen. The aura of pissed off female must be enough to make the other male assassins scatter to the edges of the room. That, or they’ve learned of my reputation—my powers—and have decided not to mess with me.
A good choice while I’m this anxious and upset. My sights zero in on the tall, dark, and handsome assassin with the pencil gripped between his teeth.
I hate his handsome face right now.
Tylin’s standing on a step ladder with a level in his hand, checking for straightness on the molding he’s installing on the top of the cabinets. I beeline toward him.
“You didn’t think to tell me?” I snarl, my hands flying to my hips as I grind my teeth and stare down my boss—because that’s what he is right now. Boss first, and then my boyfriend. And I’m angry at both for different reasons.
Why does he always do this to me? If Tylin could pause for one second to fill me in on the whole plan before sending me out, I wouldn’t be so confused about whether I want to kiss him or kick his ass most of the time.
Rory’s gaze slides to mine as he pauses in his work, snapping the tape measure back with a satisfying click, which is the only other sound in the room other than slow murmurs and the sharp, punctuated sounds of breathing coming from all the quiet assassins in the room. Right next to me, Mason snaps the last steak knife onto the magnetic stripe above the kitchen counter and pretends not to notice my rage toward his pathetic friend.
He’s so sweet like that.
Something I never knew before getting in a relationship with an excessive amount of men— arguing with an audience...it’s super awkward.
But that’s not going to stop me.
My heart beats a steady, hard, pounding rhythm in my chest, but I don’t back down. He should have fucking told me what his plans were with Archer before sending me after him. Instead, he made some vague comment about him being dangerous and then sent me—his girlfriend—after the guy who could strip her powers. Without a word!
To say I’m fuming would be an understatement as I stand here, slinging sharp daggers toward Tylin with my eyes.
But that isn’t enough to bring his attention away from his project.
And then I snap.
My fingers grip the first steak knife from above the counter, and I fling it from my palm with perfect precision. It flips end over end before slicing solidly into the flawless molding just above Tylin’s fingertips.
The man’s entire body stiffens, but he doesn’t immediately turn to me.
Is he seriously going to ignore me right now? Is that fucking molding really that important? Is it?
Another knife is cool against my fingertips, and I sail it across the room with a satisfying thud, sinking it right next to the other.
“That was for wasting my time when we first met, literally jerking off and making me miss my first target in my entire life.” My voice shakes with rising anger and no one stops me when I fling the next blade right above his head. “That one was for not giving me all the details on Armond’s higher power, AKA, my fucking dad.” Another knife, another solid hit. “That one was for not giving me all the information on the sex club. A fucking sex club!” I shriek, another knife already flying toward the motionless man who stands completely still with his back to me. It hits. He never flinches. “And that one, that one is for fucking sending two babysitters with me, but not bothering to tell me our target could take away the one thing I need in this fucked-up world.”
I huff out a sigh, my lungs deflating and taking away some of the pressing tension in my chest. I look over and there’s one blade left. I grab it. I toss it. It hits. My anger soothes just a little bit from seeing all the blades in a perfect line on the newly remodeled wall.
“What was that one for?” Mason asks calmly.
I bite the inside of my cheek, glance from the random blade and over to his dark eyes, before dropping my voice to barely a mumble. “Mostly because there was only one left. And it was kind of a stress relief once I got in the groove.”
He nods in understanding.
He’s so damn sweet.
“Is it that time of the month for her? Is this what PMSing for assassins looks like?” one of the new guys stupidly whispers from somewhere across the room, and the assassin shrinks behind another man when I swing my gaze toward him.
“Just what do you expect to use him for?” My question is hard-edged, and I see the way Tylin is tensing. His entire body changes then from relaxed workman to deadly assassin in two point zero seconds. A sliver of apprehension slashes through me, but I push it away and continue my stare off, completely ignoring the little voice of sanity in the back of my head that’s jumping up and down, waving red flags of warning to get my attention. And I realize too late that perhaps I shouldn’t have challenged him quite so publically.
Is it too late to blame it on my period that I had two weeks ago?
Tylin’s steely gray gaze narrows on my face as he turns and takes agonizingly slow steps down the small ladder he’s on. The extra height just gives him that added air of authority and it doesn’t diminish as he descends.
Listen guys, I’m just post PMSing, I apologize for the rack of knives that are lodged in the beautiful molding you guys spent so much time on. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just skedaddle right on out of here and get out of your hair for now.
Judging from Tylin’s cutting gaze, I’d say it’s a bit too late for that speech.
“Alexa.” His voice snaps at me like a whip, but I’m prepared for his backlash. I straighten my spine and don’t let myself waver against the calm, yet lethal storm I can tell is brewing beneath his carefully placed persona. Th
e gray of his eyes darkens, and I jut my chin higher, refusing to be cowed by him and his building wrath. I’ve got enough wrath to battle his right now, and I’ve never truly been afraid of Tylin. I don’t plan to start now.
“I want answers.” I speak it lowly, and it slips easily between the short distance that separates our bodies. The words are meant only for him. I see his jaw tic, and without a word, he strides forward, his shoulder bumping into mine as he stops next to me. Turning his head, he looks down at me with an unreadable expression, and then saunters forward, heading out of the kitchen. It’s a silent demand he wages, and I don’t even have to ask. There is no questioning what he wants, so I turn on my heel and stalk after him on quiet feet.
Just before we’re out of earshot, he calls back to the crew left standing in the kitchen, watching us with varying states of awe, confusion, and interest. The moment he tells them to finish the job before leaving for the day, they get right to work.
The way the other assassins toss looks at me as I follow Tylin from the room makes me feel like the kid in class that just got called to the principal's office. I meet their gaze straight on, challenging them until they avert their eyes and do as they were ordered.
But it triggers a reality I knew, but never really thought about before.
We need structure here. What we’re building, all of this, it’s incredibly new and fragile. Tylin’s in charge for a reason, the lion of his kingdom. And I just taunted him in the worst way.
I trail after Tylin as he winds through the house to a doorway I haven’t bothered to explore yet. Rory and Jameson walk behind us, and then Mason joins wordlessly. The way they surround me doesn’t make me feel good or give me any of my usual fluttery, sexually deprived butterflies this time. Instead, the tension between us all is at an all time high.
The doorway opens to nothing but darkness beyond, and Tylin flips a switch on the wall that illuminates the bottom of the staircase with a soft, golden glow. A musty smell assaults my nose as I climb down the steps and follow Tylin into a wide, barren basement complete with concrete floors, cinder block walls, and exposed piping everywhere.
My anger simmers as I wander around the room, and the door upstairs closes, before the sound of footsteps thunder overhead as the others jog down to join us.
“What the hell are we doing down here?” I demand as Jameson, Rory, and Mason all take up positions around the room, watching Tylin and me like we’re about to put on a damn show.
Maybe we are.
So much for my protective boyfriends. I stop myself just before rolling my eyes at the situation, as a crack of apprehension forms in my invisible armor.
Tylin sighs and drives a hand through his hair. “I don’t exactly have an office.” His complaint is a grumble and he eyes Rory, directing, “After your side project, that’s the next space we’re renovating. I’m tired of having no privacy and each day more assassins are showing up. This place is growing faster than I anticipated.”
“So, this is your office?” I peek around the room, a smirk appearing on my lips. “How very mob boss of you. All you need is an uncomfortable metal chair, a hanging light, and some rope.”
Tylin arches a brow at me and tucks his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He’s going for a casual appearance today, and I try not to notice how good the tighter jeans look on him.
“I’m sure I have rope somewhere in this basement. I can think of a few things that would put it to good use.” Dark danger blankets Tylin’s expression before he continues, “Your little knife display was quite impressive. I have a feeling you’ll have less push back in your next class.”
“I wanted answers.” I cross my arms over my chest in defiance, not feeling the least bit bad for my knife slinging ways. “By now you should know not to leave me in the dark. We’re a team. You should know not to play with me.” It’s a growl of words I can’t contain.
The fire that always blazes to life when him and I are near, almost burns the whole room up when we fight.
It should be weird that a little thrilling part of me likes it so much.
Walking closer, Tylin circles me and I tense, refusing to track him with my gaze.
“I’m not so sure about that,” he challenges, and it’s all I can do not to respond to his bait about not playing with me. “You have to learn to trust me, Alexa.” Every step Tylin takes echoes around the room until he stops and faces me head-on. A slow tilt of his head, and a narrowing of his gaze draws out his assessment of me.
And I can’t stand it.
“And you have to start providing answers, Tylin. It’s called communication. It wouldn’t kill you to have a conversation once in a while.” I prop my hands on my hips, unintimidated by Tylin’s performance as a controlling asshole.
It’s a great performance, don’t get me wrong.
“And what would you like me to say in a house full of listening ears? You want me to let them all know that there’s a man out there capable of changing who we are on such a fundamental level? I haven’t even earned their trust yet. You want to know that I already have a line of waiting assassins ready to strip their powers so they can live normal, mundane lives while they try to cope with the shit that Armond, and ultimately Derek, have put us through for all these years?” Tylin checks off his mental list of bullet points, but I’ve already stopped listening.
My hands leave my waist with a weighted numbness as the reality of what he said sinks in. “There are Hunters and Huntresses that want to strip away their powers?” It’s a breathy question. I’d never actually considered the possibility that Tylin was actually trying to recruit Archer to help people in the most opposite way. Once I’d learned the full extent of Archer’s powers, I’d only seen them as a threat.
“Yes. Did you think I was planning on forcing that kind of a change on people, Alexa?” The hurt in his voice is a real, living thing between us as his gray eyes search mine. “I watched my mother struggle through chemo for years. For so long, she just wanted peace in the end. I don't like feeling powerless while someone else hurts, and I don’t like to see people suffer.”
There’s so much rawness in his silver gaze that it softens his features and breaks my heart all at the same time.
And now I feel like the asshole.
“I honestly reacted before I thought about it.” I let the admission slip out quietly.
Slow footsteps echo through the room, pulling my attention away from Tylin.
“In her defense, Archer has a way of making everything sound malicious. That dude seems suspicious of everyone and everything,” Jameson interjects, coming to my rescue, and I award him with five protective boyfriend points for having the balls to insert himself into the tense conversation that’s taking place.
“He has to be. Think of the kind of power he possesses and the kind of people he’s had to deal with in his life. What kind of life he must have had under the intense pressure and danger of Armond and Derek. He could have been used if he let his guard down. Archer’s greatest act of rebellion was holding his own against the powerful forces behind the League, which should tell you just how powerful he truly is. However, that doesn’t mean he’s not just as battle scarred as the rest of us are from our time in the League, even though he never hunted.” Tylin resumed his measured pacing and I watched his control of each movement.
“So, you’re not planning to strip other assassins?” I asked.
“I never said that.” Tylin’s reply is low and subtle, but I hear it. And my anger, which had cooled, flares to life again.
Why does it have to be like this between us?
“Dammit Tylin, just answer the fucking question,” I demand, and his stormy eyes flash like some of Jameson’s lightning.
“I think our little Huntress needs to remember who is in charge here. Wouldn’t you agree, Mason?” Tylin let’s his gaze slide to Mase, who smirks at me from behind the black rims of his glasses. Holding out his hand, Tylin arches a brow, and addressing Mason, says, “I think it�
��s time we reminded her who she belongs to. I need your shirt.”
Part of me wants to rebel and tell Tylin he doesn’t own me like a piece of property, but my inner bitch is already rolling over, spreading her legs, and ready to fuck from the way Tylin claims me with mere growling words.
I can’t help the way my gaze traces over the defined muscles of Mason’s chest as he peels his shirt off of his body. His eyes meet mine with a dark heat as he hands his shirt to Tylin. It’s only when I hear a ripping noise that I break the intense connection that’s growing between us.
Tylin’s shoes click on the concrete as he nears, and then my wrists are in his hands and he’s wrapping the soft cotton of Mason’s shirt around them, binding them together tightly but not so much that it hurts.
“Wh-what are you doing?” I hate the way my voice catches in a mixture of excitement and apprehension. I’ve never let someone tie me up before, and it’s having a strange effect between my thighs. I press them together as he cinches the knot.
Oh fuck!
“Reminding you that you can trust me, Huntress,” he murmurs in my ear, his breath lightly caressing as he brings another strip of fabric to my eyes and blinds me with it. All I hear is my own breathing as Tylin’s body heat disappears, leaving me alone with the chill in the basement.
“I do trust you.” It’s a mumble in the quiet space.
“Do you?” he drawls, and I can feel his eyes on me as another body shifts into my personal space.
The scent of Jameson’s body wash teases my nose, and I feel his hands land on my hips before the pads of his fingertips work under my shirt, lightly tickling over the flesh of my sides before dipping down to my pants, and making quick work of sliding them off of my body. Then the sharp tug at my underwear produces a rip, and I feel the chill of the basement cool my already heated pussy. The heady feeling evokes a gasp, parting my lips.
