Crimson Highlander: An Onyx Assassins Novel

by Whiskey, Samantha

  I stopped breathing.

  “And you’d find the most clever places to hide. The coal shoot, the storage shed, the well.” He blew out a breath. “But do you remember what happened? No matter what?”

  I swallowed a mouthful of acid. “You found me,” I whispered.

  “Always.”

  Tears streamed down my cheeks. “Kyle—”

  “Ready or not, here I come.”

  I forced my eyes open, a sizzle of heat and awareness spearing down my spine. The only force powerful enough to shake me from the ice-cold memory of my last conversation with my brother.

  “You know my ancestors originated from Scotland,” a super sweet female voice said to my left. I didn’t need to turn my head to know Lachlan was close.

  Didn’t need to, but did it anyway.

  Fuck he looked good. All corded muscle showing beneath his leathers and those eyes…sharp and lethal enough to freeze the strongest of men. Let alone make my knees weak. Damn it.

  “Is that right?” he asked, his voice dripping with boredom.

  “Yes,” she continued, inching closer to him. She wore an elegant silver silk gown with a slit that showed off her thigh. I hated to admit she looked flawless and had kind eyes. “We have more than that in common too.” She reached for him, smoothing her fingers over the leather covering his arm and down toward his bare hand.

  Fire ignited in me so hot and fierce I was moving before I could form a thought.

  “Lachlan,” his name flew from my lips like I was scolding him. And for what? Speaking to another female? Holy God, this fucking mark was burning the sense right out of me.

  “Valor,” he returned the tone, but my name rolling off his tongue? Damn him, it sounded like a promise drenched in pleasure and maybe a hint of pain.

  “Is this your feeder?” the female asked in a soft tone, and I scoffed as I stepped up to Lachlan’s right. Just far enough into the space of the female to have her backing up a step.

  “Hardly,” he said before I could answer for myself. “This one here is my…” he narrowed his gaze on me, his eyes traveling the length of my body. “Responsibility,” he said with about as much disdain as I felt. “What’s the matter, Val?” he asked, eying the glittering hunter green romper hugging every inch of my curves. “Couldn’t find a gown?”

  The female hid a laugh behind her perfectly manicured nails, her eyes looking almost apologetic.

  I straightened my back, the move pushing out my chest just enough to show off the cleavage straining against the deep V of the romper. The shorts of the outfit barely cleared my ass, making my already mile-long legs look ten times longer. “I’m not a ballgown kind of girl,” I said, arching a brow at him before glancing to the female who’d just had her hands all over him. “And something tells me that isn’t your type anyway.”

  The female shifted, gaping at me. “I’ll just be going,” she said, dipped her head, and hurried across the ballroom. Guilt ate at my chest. Could I really blame her for wanting him? Jealousy chased the guilt away. He’s mine.

  No, he’s not!

  “Aye,” he said, cutting into my internal battle. “It isn’t. But you don’t know the first thing about my type, lass,” he said, shifting to face me fully.

  The heat from his body practically sizzled on every inch of my skin, but I didn’t shy away from his gaze.

  “Don’t I?” I challenged.

  He smirked, the hard line of his jaw tensing. “Just because you bear my mark doesn’t mean you’re my type.”

  Ouch. The mark in question burned and begged to fucking differ.

  “And just because you look good in leather doesn’t mean you're mine,” I clapped back. I shifted on my heels, and his eyes tracked the subtle move like a predator. Then they lingered on my breasts, which, to be fair, I had on display thanks to the awesome romper. “Can you be mated to more than one person?” I asked after an intense stare-down. The change in direction must’ve surprised him because he blinked a few times.

  “No.” The answer was final and solid and carried just a hint of anger to it.

  I tipped my chin up before motioning to where the female had stomped off. “She was trying to get you to touch her. Like half the other vampires in this room desperate for a mating bond.”

  Lachlan shrugged. “It’s not new, lass. Being mated to one of the Order is a high honor, second only to the royal bloodline.”

  Shit, was it really? And here I was treating it like a drunken mistake. “Not in my world,” I said instead.

  He dipped his head down, lowering his voice between us. “You don’t have a world anymore.” The heat of his breath hit my cheeks, and his scent swarmed every one of my senses. Pine and mountains and sin.

  But his comment—while true—hit home. Like a knife to the chest.

  I stepped back an inch, needing to breathe air that didn’t have his scent on it.

  He tilted his head, scanning my eyes, my face. “Oh, come now, lass,” he said, genuine concern coloring his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re going soft on me.”

  I swallowed down the pain, shaking off the memory of losing my brother, my father, and Daphne all with one decision. Lachlan was right. I didn’t have a world anymore. Because, sure, Lyric may love me and want me to waltz into this family with a mating mark as an invitation, but we both knew I didn’t belong here.

  Lachlan knew it.

  I knew it.

  Then why the hell did his words hurt so damn much?

  “Soft?” I forced a laugh, digging up the bitch persona I’d had to call on often over my years battling my father. “I was raised on hate. Trained on how to hurt your kind since I was three.” I stepped into his space again, holding his gaze. “Make the wrong move, Lachlan…” I drug out his name, and a muscle in his jaw popped. “And I’ll put you on your back.”

  His lips twitched in an almost smile, and his eyes churned with a kind of fire I didn’t know if it was meant to melt or burn, and I didn’t give a damn.

  Despite everything in my body begging me to touch him, claim him, get him inside me in every way possible…

  I turned around and headed through the crowd toward Avianna’s table, my original destination before the damn memories and mating jealousy swallowed me whole. I made sure to swish my hips as I walked away, feeling very much like a rubber band had encircled my waist, tugging me, begging me to go back to him.

  By sheer strength and anger-fueled hurt alone, I made it to the princess’s table.

  And when I turned around?

  Lachlan stood in the same spot, eyes on me like a fiery brand.

  I just didn’t know if he wanted to claim me or kill me.

  And I didn’t have a clue which one I wanted more.

  5

  Lachlan

  "Welcome home, sir." Owen met me at the door to the residence, a steaming cup of coffee already in hand.

  "Thanks." I took the coffee with a nod, and he shut the door behind me. It didn't matter how many times I told Owen not to call me sir. The talem pretty much did whatever the fuck he wanted. It was one of the reasons we got along so well.

  "There he is!" Ransom slid down one of the winged banisters, his arms outstretched for balance.

  "What are you? Five?" I grumbled, sipping my coffee.

  "Young at heart." His grin slipped. "How was Ottawa?"

  "Polite, as usual." Four days overseeing the army to the north had been more than enough. "We need to talk to Alek."

  "We?" Ransom's brows shot up.

  "He's going to want your opinion, too, so yeah. We." I took another long drink, savoring the heat and flavor of the coffee as it slid down my throat, telling myself that was the only reason the knot that had lived in my chest for the last four days was easing.

  Ransom let out a shrill whistle from the foyer, and then we headed into the living room, which had become our not-quite-secret war room. Our actual war room, about fifteen feet below where I stood now, held all the information Valor didn't know.
/>   "So if I take the trainees—" Benedict started, pausing with a grin as Ransom and I walked in.

  "You look..." Alek's mouth pursed as he studied me, no doubt seeing the exhaustion that beat at every line of my body

  "Well-rested?" Ransom suggested, sinking into the armchair opposite our king.

  "Not quite," Alek muttered, his gaze turning shrewd. "Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

  "I ate and fed earlier this evening. I'm fucking fine, so can we move on?" I folded my arms across my chest and leaned back against the wall.

  "Right." Alek's jaw ticked.

  "Welcome home. You look like shit," Hawke said as he walked past and took up his favorite spot in the corner.

  "Anyone else need to get a shot in?" I growled, staring each of my brothers down.

  "Well, now that you mention it, you do look a little pale," Ransom answered with a shit-eating grin.

  I slipped my dagger free and threw it in one smooth motion, so it landed right between his legs, about three inches from the tip of his dick.

  His jaw slackened.

  "There, now we both look a little pale." I tipped my finger at him.

  "For fuck's sake." Benedict rubbed his hands down his face.

  "It's fine," Ransom said as he tugged the dagger free. "We all know he's been a little on edge since his mate showed up."

  "Fuck you. I have three more daggers where that came from, and next time I'll aim higher."

  Ransom was right. Every warrior in this room knew it—including me.

  That knot in my chest wasn't easing because I'd drained a cup of coffee. It was easing because the bond between Valor and me had been stretched to a painful length while I'd been in Ottawa. Fuck, the bond wasn't supposed to be this strong.

  She was human. I was a vampire. We weren't even the same species, for fuck's sake. I'd exercised the will of a goddamned saint and hadn't touched her, hadn't kissed her, hadn't tasted her—much to the disappointment of my instincts. It shouldn't have hurt that much to be gone for four days.

  And it still hurt. There was a persistent, throbbing ache behind my ribs that was fucking with my entire life.

  Blood tasted like sandpaper. My stomach recoiled every time I forced myself to feed, and then it was a battle to keep it down. I hadn’t looked at a woman sexually in months, with the exception of Valor.

  She was the fucking exception to everything. It was her blood I craved. Her scent I wanted entwined with mine so others would know she'd been claimed. Her body I wanted underneath mine.

  Stupid. Fucking. Bond.

  "We're just stretched too thin," Ransom said, motioning back toward the map.

  There had been seven attacks on supernaturals this week alone, and we were only one city.

  "Ottawa is seeing the same," I added. "Not Moorehouse tactics, though." That bond in my chest started to...glow, and I continued anyway. We'd need her input. "They were bolder. Attacked vampires during the day."

  Avianna gasped in the doorway to my right. "How would they find their lairs?"

  "You don't need to be here for this, Avi," Alek said gently, opening his arms so Lyric could sit in his lap.

  "I have just as much right to hear this as anyone in this room."

  Hawke paused his incessant knife-flipping.

  "You do," Alek agreed. "But there's very little you can do about it, so I don't want to worry you."

  That bond started to fucking shine like I was some sort of Care Bear, and sure enough, Valor stepped into the doorway.

  Just seeing her was a punch to the gut. Her long, auburn hair was down, falling in soft waves to the middle of her back. She wore a green, sleeveless blouse that made her eyes even brighter, and her little white shorts had all but precious inches of those mile-long legs exposed to the view of every male in this room.

  My chest rumbled.

  Valor's gaze snapped to mine and widened. She dropped the sandals she'd been carrying. Of course, the woman was barefoot.

  "Very little I can do about it?" Avianna snapped, fisting her glove-covered hands on her hips. "Why? Because I'm a woman? You don't have a problem with Olivia fussing and training with Ransom."

  "Avi..." Alek rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I just don't like you to worry."

  "Alekxander, there are vampires dying in their beds, so I think as the second in line to the throne, I should probably be a little worried! And just because I don't have any visible powers doesn't give you the right to treat me like I'm some pretty, caged-up little butterfly who can't handle a stiff wind!" Her cheeks pinkened, and she swung her pointed finger in Hawke's direction. "And that goes for you too! If I want to have dinner with Baron Van Der-whatever, that's none of your business!"

  Hawke arched a single brow. "Van Der-whatever? Yeah, you were real interested there, Princess. That asshole had to go before Conclave two years ago because he knocked up his wife's best friend and didn't want to own up to support. That's why he's newly single. I did you a favor."

  Avianna's jaw dropped slightly before she managed to pick it back up. "Fine, then that's his business. And it's my business to choose with whom I spend my time! Stop making my choices!"

  "Make better choices, and I won't have to." He shrugged.

  Avianna reached for the glass vase on the end table, but Olivia got there faster. Damn, that female was a quick one.

  "Okay, and back to the Ottawa problem?" Olivia said smoothly, handing the vase to Lyric before taking her place at Avianna's side.

  Ransom offered her a thankful smile. "Right. So you were saying their tactics were different?" he asked me.

  I was too busy staring at Valor to answer. Fuck, had she gotten more beautiful in the four days I'd been gone?

  Taste. Touch. Claim. My instincts roared.

  She was my mate.

  Mine.

  "Lachlan?" Benedict prompted.

  I ripped my eyes away from Valor. "Right. The warfare up there is more obvious...and I think they might have the witches on their side."

  "What?" Alek's arms tightened around Lyric.

  There was a murmur of disbelief in the room.

  "That's what Elias thinks. It's the only way they'd be able to detect the glamours we use to keep the lairs hidden." The Duke of the Northland wasn't prone to overreaction, or wild speculation, which meant we were in trouble.

  "Can..." Valor cleared her throat. "Does that mean they can find us?"

  "No," Avianna assured her, linking their elbows. "Alek is the most powerful vampire on Earth—"

  Benedict coughed.

  "Fine, the most powerful vampire currently breathing on Earth. Is that better?" she asked Benedict.

  "Better. Quick, someone lie. I'm not walking around with this shit on my arm. It's enough to give a guy an inferiority complex." He lifted his arm, where a scroll of fresh black ink read, "Alek is the most powerful vampire on Earth."

  "Fine. My eyes are brown." Avianna rolled her ice-blue eyes. "Point is, you'd need a witch just as powerful as Alek's magic in order to detect the glamour on the estate, and there hasn't been one in a hundred years. We're safe here because the glamours weren't just built by Alek, but by our father and our mother. It's generational magic."

  Valor nodded slowly. "Okay. So witches can't see you when you're glamoured off the estate?" she asked Alek.

  His jaw ticked once, a sign I knew meant he was debating answering. Valor was both the strongest and weakest link in our armor, and we both knew it. "Witches can't see through my glamour, but they can see that something is there," he answered.

  He trusted her.

  His gaze shifted to meet mine, and he nodded subtly, no doubt having read my thoughts.

  Your shirt is stupid. No one listens to that shit anymore, I thought at him.

  He snorted. "You bought me this shirt, asshole."

  "Woodstock. I remember." The thought curved my lips. How could something like that seem like just yesterday when it had been over fifty years? And yet, my life now felt like it had just been decisively divide
d into two eras—before Valor and...now.

  "It's not a Moorehouse tactic," Valor said, her brow crinkling. "We would never ally ourselves with the witches..." Her eyes widened as her gaze jumped to the map. "But the Deveraux family would. They were the ones who brought in the demons who went after Avianna last year."

  My spine stiffened. "And you’re just now telling us this?"

  "My trust is earned," she shot back. "Once the threat had been neutralized, there was no reason to tell you. My father was livid at the Deveraux family not just for interfering, but for joining forces with..." Her voice trailed off.

  "With what?" I prodded, pushing off the wall. "Lowly supernaturals?"

  Her chin rose an inch. "I don't think like that. Not anymore."

  "Are you sure, lass? Because you just said 'we' and 'ourselves.'" Just when I thought we might be making headway and showing her that we weren't just some insects to be squashed, she spit out that shit.

  "There have been a few changes for me this last year, Lachlan. I'm doing my best." She yanked her gaze away from mine so abruptly it felt like a slap.

  "Okay." Alek's voice was calm. "Valor, can you tell us what you know about the Deveraux family?"

  "Not much." She crossed her arms and shook her head. "Each family in the Sons of Honor is responsible for their own district, but only the heads of the family know the details."

  "Fuck," Ransom muttered.

  "Guess it's a good thing we're on excellent terms with Genevieve," Benedict added.

  No one asked the obvious question. If the witches were helping the Sons in Ottawa, did their queen know?

  "What else do you have?" Alek asked, weariness seeping into his tone.

  "The soldiers are fit and strong. Elias has done well training them, but they're stretched thin, just like us. They're forcing trainees into the field before they're ready, and they've lost three in the last month."

  Every male hissed.

  There is something else, I thought toward Alek as I glanced in Valor's direction quickly.

  "And on that note, I'm sure you could do with a hot shower. You've been traveling." Alek gently moved Lyric off his lap. "Walk with me for a moment."