An Assassin's Destiny: A Reverse Harem Series (The Huntress Series Book 3)

by A. K. Koonce

  “She’s only saying that because you’re the fastest at finding her g-spot,” Jameson teases, with a taunting smile curving his lips, even as he folds his apparently shitty cards on the table.

  “Well, that’s a lie,” Rory mumbles to himself, but every guy at the table pauses to look at him as he absentmindedly arranges his cards. He glances up at their raised brows, shrugs, and downs the rest of his beer.

  Men.

  Why are they like this?

  I peer over at Mason and I can’t help how safe his abilities make me feel. I’d even had him try to locate Derek after he disappeared, but the dead don’t carry the same signatures. It was one of the only comforts in my never-ending obsession with my late father. The fucking asshole.

  Mason and I both go back to the papers in our hands. About a half an hour later, I wave one white sheet in the air like I’ve finally found gold. “What about a shield? It’s not as impressive as your tracking abilities, but it’s a completely useful skill.” I smile sweetly and hope he likes my find.

  My heart pounds in the short silence that passes. I can’t explain why I care so much if he approves, but I do.

  “That could certainly work, let me see it.” I stand and hand him the paper, just as I hear shouting from the lower level.

  “Help! He needs help.” My blood turns cold in my veins as I recognize the voice as Archer’s, and my entire being braces for impact. The stack of paper I’m holding flutters to the ground in slow motion as I draw a breath. Before I even realize I’m moving, I’m over the back of the couch and out the door, flying down the steps, and skidding across the marble flooring.

  It’s Tylin.

  His blood stains the white marble, spreading in an ever growing puddle around his limp body. A breathy scream leaves my lips as I fall to my knees on the floor beside him, uncaring about the pain I receive from the impact. Mason’s at my side, but all I can focus on is the spreading crimson color that’s draining from the man in front of me.

  “Tylin!” His voice is a prayer on my lips as I reach for his prone body, my hands soothing over his abdomen, chest, neck, then his face. My fingers brush the hair off of his forehead and tears trickle down my cheeks at the pallor of his skin. “W-What happened?” I can barely ask the question, while my heart aches and skips in rhythm at the thought of Tylin dying on the floor of the entryway in my arms. He looks like he’s at death's door, and I search his body for the injury that’s causing him to lose so much blood.

  It’s everywhere.

  “I got him here as soon as I could. Thomas helped me, he’s a teleporter. Without him, I’m sure he would have died before I could get him back.” Archer’s eyes are wild and I look from him to the boy with the wide eyes standing just a few feet away.

  “Thank you!” My words are nearly a cry, and Scarlett rushes into the room just as I feel like I’m about to lose it.

  “Lex,” she breathes, dropping to her knees next to me. “Mason is getting Mars. It’s going to be okay!” She wraps one arm around me and holds me together.

  “Jameson. Rory.” They’re the only coherent words that spill past my numb lips. I need them here.

  “I’ll get them.” Allison’s voice trembles from somewhere nearby, but I don’t dare rip my gaze from Tylin.

  “I’ve never been so fucking helpless.” And it’s true. There’s nothing I can do for Tylin. I can’t even use my powers for him the way I did for Jameson, because Mars is somewhere in this house and I need him here instead of frozen in time. I can’t risk delaying the healer.

  They were right. We do need Mars.

  Thank god we have him.

  “An assassin attacked us,” Archer explains, his eyes locked on Scarlett as he delivers information I’m sure will be pertinent later. Especially when I hunt down the person who hurt Tylin and end their existence.

  Fury ignites through me, but I just keep soothing my shaking hands over Tylin while I wait for what feels like an eternity until Rory and Jameson hurry into the room and drop down on Tylin’s other side.

  “Fuck!” Jameson looks desolate as he hits his knees. His blue eyes are wide and shocked, and even Rory doesn’t have any words at seeing the condition his best friend is in.

  “No.” It’s the only thing that leaves Rory’s mouth.

  “Out of my way!” Mars demands, appearing behind Rory and Jameson, flushed and out of breath like he just ran a fucking marathon. His clothing is disheveled and his hair looks windblown as he shoves my men out of the way and settles next to Tylin, uncaring of the blood that’s staining his clothing just like it’s staining mine.

  “Fix him.” My eyes beg Mars, and I know he sees that I’ve put all the shit between us behind. I need him to fix Tylin. To heal him. To keep him fucking alive. Because if he doesn’t, I know as surely as I draw my next breath that I’ll want to die too. I need him. I can’t imagine my life without him, and I realize in that moment just how in love with him I am. How much I love each and every one of my men.

  They’re mine, and I’m theirs. And I need to tell Tylin. I need the chance for him to know how I feel.

  Why the fuck didn’t I tell him?

  “I’ll do my best.” Mars eyes flash with an unrecognizable gleam, and then his attention shifts to Tylin as he lays his hands on his chest, and let’s them heat and glow with his crimson powers so slowly, that I nearly expire from holding my breath.

  A gasping sound shakes from Tylin’s dry lips. My heart stutters just from the sound of it. Tylin’s breathing regulates and becomes a more steady rhythm in his chest. The pale color of his face warms slightly, just enough that I know he’s not turning blue with the sign of death.

  That’s good. That’s a good sign. It’ll be alright. Everything has to be alright.

  The pool of blood stops spreading, and while Tylin’s hands still feel cold, he’s alive. Breathing deeply, Mars pulls back and my eyes snap to his face.

  “Is he… are you done?” My voice is emotional and breathy and all the things I never show the world, but I don’t care right now, because my heart is fucking lying on the floor in front of me. Scarlett squeezes me closer to her, lending me the strength I seem to be lacking.

  “He’s going to live. He’ll be weak for a while. He’s lost a lot of blood. And just like with Jameson, I can only do so much. We’ll have to wait and see how he recovers from here. His body is in one piece, but his wounds were extensive and will need repeated healing.” He speaks the words slowly, carefully, like he’s measuring his phrases. And then my eyes flick to Vale who’s standing in the entryway of the kitchen surveying our gathering.

  “Truth,” he says, and I nod continuously like an idiot. A sob escapes my raw throat as the adrenaline in my body changes and the shock of what just happened sets in.

  My chest feels like it’s been slit open and stuffed full of complete pain.

  “Come on, let’s get you up and changed.” Scarlett tries to stand, but I refuse to move.

  “I’m not leaving him.” The whisper reaches only her, and she grabs my face gently, turning me to look into her blue eyes.

  “You’re not leaving him. We’ll take you to his room. I just want to get you cleaned up. The guys are going to carry him upstairs and get him into bed, okay? Let me take care of you so you can take care of him. You’re strong. You can do this.” The logic leaving Scarlett’s mouth makes sense, and I blink at her with wide eyes once, then twice, before finally nodding my agreement.

  “We’ve got him Lex,” Jameson promises in a low, husky tone that’s pure emotion and I nod some more, feeling like it’s the only thing in the entire world I know how to do.

  As Scarlett pulls me off the floor, Allison appears at my other side and wraps my arm around her neck, lending me the support of her body. Rory and Jameson reach down and with Archer’s help, they lift Tylin’s limp body and carefully begin to carry him up the steps. I move to follow but quickly stop and eye the young man—the teleporter—who saved Tylin’s life.

  “Thank
you.” The sentiment comes straight from my heart and I know he can feel it as strongly as I do. “Without you, he would be dead. I know what you were doing at the warehouse today, and I hope you reconsider. Your powers—they’re special and needed and so damn impressive. Stay. Stay here and give us a little time to show you a different way. A different life.”

  Vacant brown eyes stare into mine and he never replies. He saved Tylin. I don’t know his reasons, but he saved someone I love.

  I’ll help this stranger any way I can.

  It’s all the energy I have left, and I feel myself sag against my sister and my best friend.

  “Vale, get him set up in a room and give him a hot meal. Please,” I order as I head up the steps, taking one stair at a time in a slow climb.

  “Here, let me.” Mason touches Scarlett and Allison lightly on the shoulders, and then he lifts me and I’m in his arms, cradled like I’m the most important thing in the world to him. Climbing the stairs like I weigh nothing, Mason takes me to the bathroom and turns on the tub, filling it with steaming water as he helps me undress. Not even caring about nudity, I step from my clothing and then into the tub, just as Scarlett and Allison bring me a fresh set of clothing and take the bloody ones away. I hope they burn them. The coppery scent of Tylin’s blood will be burned in my memory for the rest of my life as it is, and I don’t want to ever see those clothes again.

  “He’s going to be okay, Alexa.” Mason soothes his hand over my hair in a loving gesture and helps clean me gently, each swipe of the warm washcloth done with care. With slow, even strokes, clean soap, and hot water, he takes care of me. I don’t know how long it lasts. I stare at the shine of the metal faucet, and I see hints of movement in its reflection as water rains gently across my skin. He doesn’t stop until my skin is glistening and the water around me is a faint pink color.

  As soon as I’m clean, I stand from the tub with Mason’s help, and let him dry me off. He pats me dry. His big hands and soft material brush across my skin, but I don’t even feel it. Hesitant, worried attention flickers over to my wide eyes, but he doesn’t speak as he starts to brush out the long, damp locks of my brown hair. Never in my life have I been so needy, but I let him care for me now.

  I’m not sure what I’m wearing. I don’t even care.

  Then, I’m dressed and standing outside of Tylin’s room. Mason glances at me, his lips parted without words. The pressure in my chest hurts too much for me to breathe, let alone say anything.

  “He’s strong, Alexa. He needs you to be strong too.” Warm lips press against my jawline, and strong hands cling to my hips, pulling me to him just before he moves back.

  Quiet steps fade away.

  And then I’m alone.

  Moving at the speed of a snail, I place my hand on the cool metal of his doorknob and turn it, hoping I see a living, breathing Tylin on the other side.

  The air catches in my lungs as I move inside, my gaze landing immediately on him. His skin is nearly the same shade of white as his pillow, and my heart cracks open in my chest just a little bit more from actually seeing him like this. I swallow the feeling down.

  Rory and Jameson stand silently in the corner, and watch as I climb onto Tylin’s bed, taking in the way his dark hair contrasts against the white pillow case. Because, of course, Tylin’s bed would be crisp and white and cleaned to perfection. Slipping beneath the sheets, I cuddle up close.

  The door clicks, announcing someone’s presence, and I barely glance away from Tylin to find Mason sitting a bottle of medicine on the dark dresser near the door.

  With each of my guys surrounding me, I rest my head on his broad chest and listen to the proof that Tylin is still alive—the steady pound of his heartbeat.

  He’s okay.

  He’s alive.

  He’s strong.

  And so am I.

  Eighteen

  Just You

  Two fucking agonizing days pass like that. I lie on his chest and he never moves. The guys come and go in intervals, checking on Tylin, as well as myself.

  It’s all… the same.

  Golden light shows the bruises beneath his eyes and across his nose. Bandages wrap fully around his chest, covering the slashing wounds crisscrossing there, and crimson blood seeps through the white gauze. He’s healed over and over again every day, but it doesn’t seem to be enough.

  Why isn’t it enough?

  “You should come eat, love,” a gentle voice croons, but I don’t look up immediately.

  Jameson sits at the very edge of the bed, his fingers brushing over mine, which are held over the top of Tylin’s.

  “Why isn’t he getting better? It’s been three days. He’s started coughing in his sleep. Blood! He’s coughing up blood, Jameson!” My jaw clenches and I’m no longer fragile and worried.

  I’m infuriated and terrified.

  The worst combination for someone in my position.

  “I’ll get Mars. I-I’ll fix it. We’ll fix it. He’ll be fine.” Jameson stands, his hands pushing down his tired face.

  “No,” I grind out. My fingers fist his clean sheets, and when I shift them I note the blood that’s dotting the material here and there.

  “His bandages need to be changed.” I push off the bed and Jameson tries to steady me, but I refuse his help and stumble onto the floor myself.

  “Mars said he’d handle that stuff,” Jameson whispers.

  “Fuck Mars,” I growl, and start setting up the gauze and supplies at the bedside table. “I need clean sheets again too.”

  “You just changed them yesterday, Lex.”

  My whole body starts to tremble, and I knock the tape and towels to the floor before fisting my hands so hard my nails dig into my skin.

  It’s a raging mixture of helplessness and anger that floods me all at once.

  “Why isn’t he getting better?” I gasp out through a choked breath that never fully hits my lungs. Hot tears slide down my cheeks and I don’t have the energy to stop them.

  A light touch slides across my abdomen, hesitant hands and a strong body pull me close, and it’s all I can do to stand there and not fall apart.

  Nothing makes sense right now.

  “He was trying to help those people. And they lured him into an attack.” My teeth sink into my lower lip and Jameson holds me tighter from behind.

  “Mason and Archer are still searching for the group who attacked him.”

  “Have they found anything?” I tip my head up to him, breathing deeply until my emotions are almost manageable, nothing more than a dagger-like pain slicing deep in my chest.

  “They’re trying, but everything keeps leading them in a circle. I think since they harmed Tylin, it’s muddling Mason’s abilities. He keeps circling right back here. It’s a mess, but he’ll find them. You know he will.”

  My gaze pulls right back to Tylin like my constant attention might keep his heart beating.

  “Sleep. Please. Just rest, baby,” he begs weakly. Jameson’s body covers mine, leaning down until his head settles on my shoulder.

  “I will. I just want to finish cleaning him up.”

  “I’ll change his bandages.” He sways back and forth, rocking me just slightly in his arms.

  “And his sheets,” I murmur.

  “Of course,” he vows, but I know he had no intention whatsoever of changing these sheets until now.

  His lips press over and over again to the side of my jaw, slow, worshipping kisses I know are just a plea to get me to give in.

  “I’m just going to rest in my room for an hour. Just an hour.” I turn to him and he nods, the tension easing from his shoulders the moment I agree.

  When I start to step away, heavy emotions roll in my stomach at the thought of leaving this room.

  “Come get me if he wakes,” I order, my gaze pinned on Tylin, but I sense Jameson’s agreement. “Or if he starts coughing again.”

  “I will.”

  “Make sure you turn him on his side if it gets to be t
oo much.”

  “I will.”

  “And the wound on his right side is the worst, don’t turn him that way and don’t press too hard on it.”

  “I won’t.”

  “And—”

  “Go to bed, Lex.” The dominant finality of Jameson’s tone causes the worried words to catch in my throat.

  My back presses to the cool, wooden door and I pause there for a single second before taking a deep, unreachable breath and forcing myself to leave.

  My shoulders slump and my arms fold as I walk down the dark, empty hall. Downstairs is a chatter of murmuring voices. When I glance below, Rory’s broad back is facing me. The rumble of his tone crawls the walls and lingers in the air as he instructs the assassins before him. He points to a paper in his palm, a paper that has Tylin’s handwriting on it.

  And my sweet assassin said he didn’t know how to talk to a large group of people…

  I love seeing them all step up like this, filling Tylin’s role and keeping this place running while he recovers. I just… hate it too.

  I nearly pass a quiet, dimly lit bedroom when I stop in my tracks to see whose room it is.

  Mason’s sigh is an endless sound that pushes more restlessness into my chest.

  The lamp on the table halos his bronze skin while shadowing his downturned features. He’s hunched over on the side of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees. Another page flips, sounding through the silent room while he scans line after line.

  I don't speak. I should get to my room and sleep while I can.

  All I want is to interrupt him, though, to pull him from his constant consuming thoughts that are so similar to my own right now.

  And so I do.

  My steps are silent, but I know he knows I'm here. Mason always knows. He even opens his arms for me when I slide my leg over his and straddle myself over his lap, pushing aside his work without thought.

  He needs a break. For just a moment.

  The way he smiles weakly up at me with the smallest tilt of his lips sends butterflies into takeoff mode in my stomach.