Crimson Highlander: An Onyx Assassins Novel

by Whiskey, Samantha

  His shoulders dropped, just a fraction, and elation ripped through my heart.

  “Okay, but you’re not—”

  I spun around, my hair quite possibly smacking him in the face I opened the door behind me so fast. I hurried to where Ransom waited at the end of the hall, not caring to look over my shoulder to see if Lachlan had followed.

  I knew he had.

  No, not me. The stupid mating bond knew he was there.

  “What—”

  “No time. Show me the message,” I cut off Ransom’s question. He glanced behind me, and I’m guessing he got a nod because he reached in his pocket and retrieved a cell phone. He turned the screen toward me after pushing a few buttons.

  I snatched the device from his hand, thankful I didn’t have to race through the residence to whatever place they kept their security system.

  A choked gasp ripped from my throat as I read and re-read the email on his screen.

  Finally managed to earn some Netflix time. It only took a few days of begging. I think my…new family realized how bored I was getting doing nothing but staring at the wallpaper in each new room they shove me in. Besides my “lessons” from my soon-to-be mother-in-law, I’m not allowed outside of it. I eat in a room, sleep in a room, shower in a room…you get the picture. The only thing that changes is the wallpaper. Sometimes it’s floral. Sometimes it’s yellow and peeling—picture me shivering, bleh. Sometimes there is no wallpaper, just paint and curtains. I like the ones with curtains best. You know my favorite kinds, thick, loud, bold prints? Peacocks or the rainforest. Anyway, my…fiancé snuck me an iPad with Netflix uploaded on it. I found Bridgerton and instantly binged. I can’t help but relate to the ladies being presented at court—eager but nervous. Will I be enough? Am I pretty enough? How can I improve the family and all that. You know how much I want to please the family, but you also know how much I worry. I know you worry too, know you wanted to please the family. I don’t believe the lies they told me about you. Not for one second. I’m always telling Jared that. I think he believes me. I think he knows you’re too valuable to leave outside our family’s walls. Sigh. I could really go for one of Foghorn’s burgers and triple caramel shakes right now, you know? Those fix everything, amIright?

  Tears bit the backs of my eyes, but surrounded by two powerful vampires, my body refused to let them fall. Moorehouse genetics at their best—never let the enemy see your weakness.

  But they weren’t my enemy. Not anymore.

  “Foghorn’s is in human territory in Edgemont,” Ransom said once I’d torn my eyes off of the screen. The sapphire blue gems stared at me with an analyst’s gaze—sharp and calculating. “We can wend there in under a minute—”

  “She’s not there,” I hurried to interrupt, nearly breathless at the heat I could feel sizzling down my spine. Lachlan, reading over my shoulder. I tossed the phone back to Ransom and shifted so I could look at both of them.

  “She said she wanted a burger and a shake. It doesn’t get clearer than that,” Ransom challenged. “She also said an awful lot about a family—”

  A low growl reverberated from Lachlan’s chest, and Ransom dipped his head in a silent look that said it had to be said.

  I rolled my eyes. “Give me a fucking break.” I raked my palms over my face. “You have three hours and forty-five minutes until sunrise. You can question me on her entire message later.” And I knew they would. Knew they had to. But Daphne was fucking sharp. Of course, she said those things about lies and family and wanting to be enough. She was smart enough to know we may get caught. She was covering her tracks, just like I taught her.

  Pride rippled through my chest, but I hurried on.

  “Foghorn’s is too easy. It’s a decoy.”

  Ransom glanced to Lachlan, then me.

  “What stood out to you?” Lachlan asked, and my knees almost buckled at the lack of skepticism in his voice. Was this hatred between us turning into something else? Lust, that was for fucking sure, but…maybe a flimsy trust?

  I couldn’t dare to hope.

  “The curtains.”

  “Come again?” Ransom leaned in, eyes wide.

  “She mentioned loud curtains.”

  “She also mentioned wallpaper and paint and loving a period piece romance series.”

  I raised my brows at Ransom—if it was any other time, I’d just love to ask him how he knew what Bridgerton was about—not that anyone here had offered me Netflix.

  Not. The. Time.

  “Right, and if you were anyone other than me reading it, you’d either get bored with how much information she put in the email and skim it, or you’d skip to the end, realize she gave a name to a location, and watch that one.” I looked between the two vampires, my lips parted.

  Lachlan nodded. “She’s leading anyone who may be monitoring her emails to another location. People who would expect us—as a favor to you—to come after her.”

  “Yes,” I breathed the word. “Fucking finally.”

  He shot me a look that was equal parts warning and promise, and my toes curled in my shoes. Liquid…the man made me liquid. But stronger than my want for him—my irrational, stupid fated want for this vampire—was my need to save my very innocent and very in danger cousin.”

  “So where is she?” Ransom asked, and I raised my brows at him.

  “The best hacker in the vampire world can’t run a mental list of what hotels or establishments have the most elaborate curtains?”

  Ransom opened and closed his mouth a few times, and Lachlan did something between a growl and a bark, and it didn’t matter what it was it made me shiver.

  Fucking. Hell.

  I clenched my eyes shut, retreating inward, flipping through every single piece of information ever gleaned from my family and their habits. Images, phrases, codes, plans, laws, rules, rhetorics…they flashed behind my eyes like a strobe light—

  “The Clementine,” I said, the name of the boutique luxury hotel bursting over my tongue. “They have a Victorian theme, and each room has different curtains with a luxury animal print.”

  “Peacocks,” Lachlan muttered under his breath.

  I nodded, hope building in my chest like a storm. “It makes sense why she’d mention Bridgerton too. The Clementine prides itself on collecting art and pieces from the same century.”

  “It’s in human territory too,” Ransom said, nodding.

  “I told you, the Moorehouses didn’t deal with other supes…other species,” I hurried to correct myself. Although Daphne wasn’t technically a Moorehouse anymore—she was betrothed to Jared Atherton. Even so, the Atherton’s were closest to my father and most likely Kyle, and they didn’t deal with supes either. Not like some of the other families who’d decided if you want to fight fire you better get some equally powerful fucking fire.

  Lachlan flashed Ransom a look. Ransom winked at me before he blinked out of sight. I jumped a little at the quick exit, still not used to the powers the assassins possessed. Would I ever be?

  I held out my hand, knowing from Lyric’s stories of wending with Alek that it was absolutely possible. Sure, I may feel sick afterward, but I’d chop off my hand if it meant getting Daphne away from the Sons.

  That familiar guilt ate and stung my insides. I should’ve gotten her out months ago. Years ago. I should’ve damned all my efforts to save money enough to make us disappear—even from the Sons—and just fucking done it. I shouldn’t have been afraid of my own father—

  “You’re. Not. Going.” Lachlan’s words were enough to rip me from my shame fest.

  I glared at him, then took off running down the hall as if I could find my way out of this place and run to The Clementine on my own.

  I skidded to a halt when two very warm, very strong hands gently gripped my shoulders and pinned me against the nearest wall. I heaved a breath, my senses swarmed with all things Lachlan. His eyes were churning with want and anger and hate and lust, and fucking hell I wanted to kiss that damn look off his face.
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br />   “She means everything to me!” I snapped.

  “I understand,” he said with lethal quiet. “But if you go, I’ll be…distracted.” He had to force the word out as if some invisible force had been choking him and he’d had to speak around it. “I won’t be able to focus knowing that you will be at risk of capture by those hate-filled, fear-mongering sons-of-bitches you used to call family.”

  I snapped my jaw shut at his reference to the past-tense of my family. That acknowledgement alone cooled some of the flames inside me.

  “What do you care if I got hurt? Or captured?” I swallowed hard, knowing I’d pay that price a million times over if it meant they’d get Daphne out.

  He tilted his head, such a subtle, powerful move. “You know why.”

  And I did.

  It’s the same reason I’d felt like my skin was too tight the entire time he was in Ottawa. Felt like everything I ate was nothing but rusty nails and acid. I couldn’t sleep from not knowing if he was okay, and it was the most infuriating thing in the world. Why did people want this? A mating bond complete with nothing but a cosmic torture chamber of worry and fear and the absolute certain knowledge that if the other person died? You’d fucking jump right into that unknown with them. Because the alternative?

  I blew out a breath.

  The alternative of living a life knowing your mate wasn’t? It felt like a thousand hot pokers being stabbing in my chest over and over again. And that was just a thought. I could see the bastard right in front of me, smell him, feel him. He was fine. Safe.

  For now.

  What if my brother was there with Daphne? What if he had Night Thistle? What if he got Lachlan to get to me—

  The breath in my lungs froze.

  “It’s a two-way street,” I begrudgingly admitted, glaring up at the hulking highlander. I arched a brow at him. “If you get hurt? I’ll fucking kill you.”

  Lachlan grunted, shaking his head. “I have no doubt, lass.” He released my shoulders, taking a few steps back. “Look at us,” he said. “Cooperating.”

  “Don’t get used to it.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, almost to the other side of the hallway now. The distance felt like an ocean.

  “Especially if you don’t bring her back completely unharmed. I want her laughing, Lachlan,” I demanded, despite knowing it would be unlikely. She’d been raised against all things that go bump in the night just like me.

  “Laughing is Ransom’s department.”

  “And yours is...?”

  “Getting what I want,” he answered without a blink.

  I jolted a little, heat rocketing through my core.

  You are not what he wants, remember?!

  Right. “You’re wasting moonlight.”

  “You should go to bed,” he said, a slight smirk to his lips. “Dream of all the ways you’ll repay me when I get you what you want most.” He tilted his head. “I’m partial to red lipstick smeared on my cock.”

  A warm shiver burst along my skin, but before I could fire something back, he blinked out of sight.

  I walked on shaky knees back to my bedroom—right next door to his—and sank onto my bed.

  I didn’t sleep. Couldn’t.

  Not with how worried I was about Daphne.

  And, if I was being honest, how every cell in my body agonized over Lachlan’s safety too. If something happened to him…

  Nope.

  Not going there.

  I’d be free of the bond if he died.

  The thought alone had me rushing to the bathroom. I puked into the toilet once, twice, before nothing else remained. I brushed my teeth and splashed cold water on my face before returning to the bed.

  I didn’t love him.

  Didn’t want his damn mating bond.

  But I sure as hell wouldn’t survive anything happening to the bastard.

  That terrified me enough to have me pacing my room for the remaining hours of moonlight. And when I knew dawn was just about to break the horizon, a cold sweat broke out on the back of my neck.

  He should be back by now.

  If they weren’t than that meant—

  Screams interrupted my thoughts.

  Agonized screams loud enough to shake the whole damn residence.

  I raced from my room, following the now searing thread of the mating bond between Lachlan and myself—weaving through hallways I’d never seen before, flying down staircases I’d never traveled before.

  Until I burst through the wooden doors of an unmarked room that looked a hell of a lot like an infirmary.

  Five pairs of vampire eyes snapped to mine—four I recognized: Hawke, Alek, Ransom, and Lachlan, the other…the one who scrambled around a table that Benedict currently wailed on, I didn’t know him, but I assumed he was a doctor.

  Two heartbeats later, Lachlan gripped my arm, not enough to hurt but hard enough to haul my ass out of the doorway and slam it behind us, the wood splintering as he rushed me farther down the hallway.

  “What happened to Benedict? Is he okay? Where is Daphne?” The questions tumbled from my lips so fast I wasn’t sure if he understood a word of it.

  He jerked us to a halt, his eyes burning.

  Anger.

  No.

  I rechecked the damn bond flaring between us.

  He was fucking livid…and just this side of…hurt?

  “Benedict could be dying, Valor!” he snapped, raking his hands through his hair. His fingers were trembling. “We don’t have the antidote perfected yet!”

  “I don’t understand!” I snapped back, my heart racing in my chest, stealing my breath. The flight or fight instinct was real, but I didn’t have a clue what to do.

  Lachlan went so still and cold I took a step away from him.

  He followed my retreat, but there was no hint of desire in his eyes.

  “Don’t you?” His voice was icy-quiet. “You led us into a fucking ambush. They were armed to the teeth with Night Thistle, and there was absolutely no sign of your cousin.”

  My heart dropped to my stomach.

  “If Benedict dies…” He shook his head, eyes like fire on mine. “I’ll wipe out every fucking person ever tied to your family.”

  My lips parted open, a knot in my throat clogging the words desperate to escape—that it hadn’t been a trap, that I’d read the code correctly, that I must’ve missed something—

  But he blinked out of sight.

  And the walls shook with another scream.

  7

  Lachlan

  “Dorchester was in a mood tonight,” Alek said quietly as we walked across the courtyard toward the residence. The increasing attacks meant aristocrats were also increasing their requests for audiences and accommodations.

  Pretty soon, we’d have half the species under our roof if we couldn’t get a foothold in this war. Thank God Alek kept the residence for Order, mates, and talem only, or I would have personally volunteered to fight in Ottawa. For some reason, the matchmaking mamas of the aristocracy didn’t give a fuck if we were currently battling for the survival of the supernatural world—they were still thrusting their sweet little debutante daughters our way.

  “Dorchester’s been in a mood since his wife discovered his mistress seventy years ago,” I countered, scanning our surroundings. The estate was safe, but I was still never comfortable letting my guard down. That shit got you killed.

  Alek muttered a laugh under his breath, then slowed his steps.

  “Alek?” I matched his pace, coming to stop on the grass.

  “We can’t afford another night like Tuesday.” The muscle in his jaw ticked.

  “I know. We’ll be…better prepared next time.” We had to be.

  His gaze flickered toward the residence. “I’m not saying you can’t trust her—”

  “I already know I can’t trust her,” I countered, knowing it was Valor he spoke of. If anyone else had even implied differently, I would have shed their blood right there and let it water t
he juniper bushes, but Alek was my king. And as for Valor…I hadn’t spoken to my mate in two nights, and she’d done the smart thing and steered clear.

  “Leave it to you to immediately twist what I just said.” Alek sighed.

  “It’s pretty fucking obvious that I shouldn’t be sharing state secrets with her or anything.” I pulled my hair out of my face, securing it above my head with an elastic band. “I never should have—”

  “She’s your mate.”

  I flinched, and folded my arms across my chest.

  “It’s true. Whether or not you choose to accept the bond, it’s growing stronger every day, and I don’t have to use my powers to see it, either.”

  “It might be growing stronger, but it’s making me weaker.” I never would have taken that intel at face value from anyone I’d known less than a decade, let alone a flimsy year.

  “Damn, you’re stubborn. Listen to me. Mates are given to us for a reason. They complement our strengths, bolster our weaknesses. Take Lyric, for example. The one thing in this world I’m vulnerable to is Night Thistle, and her blood is the cure.”

  “Lucky you.” I turned away, but he grasped my shoulder.

  “She has something you need!” he snapped. “Even if you’re too much of an obstinate jackass to see it!”

  “What I need is to not be mated to a fucking supernatural slayer!” I shouted. “You saw what happened back at that house. They were ready for us.”

  “Yeah,” he said, nodding slowly. “They were. That doesn’t mean she was in on it, though. I was…” He searched for a word, looking toward the residence, where our females waited. “I was so fucking frustrated that a fragile, human mate had been handed to me, the most hunted vampire in the entire world. I saw her as a weakness, locked her up, and it did nothing but cause us both a shit ton of strife. Learn from my example. I said that we can’t afford another night like Tuesday, not don’t trust your mate.”