Morgan was baffled about his change in behavior. “What do you mean?”
He studied her face, searching for something.
If anything, his expression turned grimmer, and her stomach sank in dread.
“Do you know I’m a siren?”
Morgan blinked at him at the sudden switch in conversation and shook her head.
“Not even when you asked me to sing?”
Again, she shook her head. “I don’t think it mattered to the gremlins. All I knew was my voice didn’t carry far enough to capture them.”
Draven rubbed his jaw as he continued to stare at her. “I really can’t tell if you’re playing dumb or if you really don’t know.”
Morgan was becoming offended. “Just spit it out.”
“He’s a werewolf.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, pointing at Ryder in the back seat.
“Okay.” She knew that, then her mind flashed to the wolf she ran with the first night, and the light dawned. It had been Ryder. Then blushed wildly as she recalled the way she ran her hands all over him. “Oh.”
“And the light dawns.” Draven grumbled under his breath as he leaned against the van.
She snapped her attention to him. “Don’t be an ass. It’s not like people go around wearing signs.”
But she should’ve known he was the wolf out on the front lawn.
Instead, she let his pretty face distract her.
Draven pointed to himself. “I’m a siren.”
“Yeah, you said that before.” She scowled, not sure she liked this side of him. It smarted that he would rub salt in her wounds. “Not everyone is lucky enough to know their past.”
His eyebrows disappeared in his hair, his mouth dropped open, then he began to sputter. After a few seconds, he burst out laughing.
Fed up, Morgan shoved him so hard he thudded into the van hard enough to leave a dent.
“Oh, I like you. I really do.” He raised his hands in surrender, grinning like a loon, and Morgan threw up her hands, completely baffled at the swing in his emotions.
“Gah.” She stalked away from him, shaking her head. “You’re insane. It’s the only thing that makes sense. You hide it so well, I didn’t even suspect.”
The snorted laugh behind her only served to annoy her more.
She whirled to find Ryder had opened the window, leaning his forearms against it, the two men talking in hushed whispers until they saw her staring at them. She kept her distance at their innocent looks. “Do I even want to know?”
“How much time have you spent around other primordial creatures?”
Morgan crossed her arms defensively and scowled at them. “Very little if I can help it.”
“You were raised in the Maine coven.” It wasn’t a question, but clearly a probe for more information.
“You could say the witches and I didn’t get along. Torture has a way of doing that.”
Their expressions darkened, but it was Ryder who spoke. “What?”
When neither seemed willing to let the matter drop, Morgan heaved a sigh, wishing she’d kept her trap shut. “MacGregor found me living in the forest when I was ten. I had no memory of anything before then, still don’t. I had been surviving on my own for a few months when he took pity on me and convinced me to go back to the mansion with him. Duty done, he handed me over to the witches.
“It quickly became apparent that I didn’t have any magical talent, but when they noticed I seemed to be immune to their spells, they took it upon themselves to run a few invasive tests. When they pushed me too far, I fought back.” Morgan studied her short nails, picking at them as remembered pain rippled down her spine. “That’s when MacGregor took interest in me and decided to train me himself.”
“I became off-limits. Mostly. They took their revenge by having their hunters join in my ‘training’ in guise of weekly beatings.” She gave them a fierce grin, not caring that it wasn’t friendly. “So no, I wasn’t raised with any other primordial creatures.”
The door to the warehouse banged open, breaking the awkward silence, and the rest of the team emerged from the infested warehouse unharmed.
“Finally.” She shoved Draven aside, opened the door and climbed in her seat, refusing to acknowledge either of them. To sour her mood more, she spotted Kincade and Harper walking side by side like a lovey-dovey couple.
Another reminder that she wasn’t good enough.
Well, fuck them.
She was raised as a hunter by one of the best.
She had a mission to accomplish.
There was no sense in making friends when she would be leaving as soon as she found the killer.
To discourage conversation, she grabbed the earplugs and cranked up the music as loud as it would go.
Chapter Fourteen
They arrived back at the school well after midnight. Everyone piled out of the vehicle and scattered, relieved to be free of the oppressive silence. As soon as Atlas stepped out of the van, he headed toward the exit and escape. Morgan was hard on his heels when Kincade spoke.
“Report to the infirmary and get checked out.”
Ryder strode not-so-casually on one side of her, Draven on the other, and both nodded.
Morgan easily slipped away from them and headed toward her room. She had a murder to solve. “Morgan?”
“Hmmm.” She glanced up to find everyone’s eyes on her. “What?”
“The infirmary.” Ryder peered at her, his brows furrowed in concern.
“No need. I’m fine.” No one even moved. “See?”
She held out her hands.
Draven snatched at her wrists and inspected her injuries with a frown.
The worst of the wounds had healed over, the nasty claw marks now resembled nothing more than cat scratches.
“How?” He ran his thumb over her skin in a light caress that send her stomach soaring. Uncomfortable at his closeness, feeling her resolve to keep her distance weaken, she wiggled her fingers free and retrieved her hand.
“We’re primordial creatures.” She clenched and unclenched her fingers, still remembering his touch, and shrugged. “We heal fast.”
“Not that fast.” Draven kept his eyes locked on her, trapping her, then jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “Only Ryder can heal so quickly.”
When she glanced over his shoulder, she saw Kincade bearing down on her, full speed. Morgan unconsciously backed up until she smacked into the wall behind her. He placed his hands on either side of her head, effectively trapping her, and ducked until he was right in her face.
Her stupid heart fluttered at his nearness.
The smell of fresh earth and warm stone curled around her, inviting her to stretch against him and linger.
Then he went ahead and ruined her fantasy by speaking. “You will either follow my orders, or you will remain behind when we’re called out on our next mission.”
Morgan jerked back, whacking her head against the wall in the process—too bad it didn’t seem to knock any sense into her. She glared up at him while she rubbed the spot, baring her teeth in a snarl, and finally muttered the answer he wanted. “Fine.”
“Come.” Draven struck his hand between them, snagged her shirt in his fist, then dragged her free. “I’ll show you the way. A trip to the infirmary is mandatory for anyone with an injury after a mission. They check us over and clear us for our next mission.”
He gently nudged her toward Ryder, and both of them hustled her off down the hall. When she glanced over her shoulder, Kincade had not moved, his head dropped forward to rest on his chest.
Her skin crawled when Harper placed a hand between his shoulders and leaned forward to whisper in his ear.
“Those two deserve each other.” Morgan resolutely turned away.
“No one deserves that,” Draven countered, then shrugged when he caught her staring at him.
They reached the infirmary in ten minutes.
A woman stood from behind her desk, setting aside her book. “Who’s f
irst?”
Ryder whipped off his shirt, and Morgan nearly swallowed her tongue, fascinated by the way the muscles of his back flexed when he moved.
“Down, girl.”
Without taking her eyes off Ryder, Morgan shot her elbow back, hitting Draven in the gut so hard he grunted.
Ryder sat on an exam table, giving her an even better view of his chest and mouthwatering abs. Then she noticed the dozen or so bruises and scratches littering his body. None appeared too deep, but they had to sting, yet he didn’t complain when the nurse began to dab iodine on them.
Morgan tore her eyes away, glancing around the room. They appeared to be in a front office. There were two exam tables, one desk, and three cabinets full of different types of medicine and bandages. At the far end of the room was a wall with one large observation window, granting them a clear view into the next room, and a single door leading into it. Beyond the window stood a row of twelve beds, none of them currently occupied.
“You’re next.”
Morgan whipped her head around at the soft voice and grimaced to find the nurse staring expectantly at her. She ungraciously thrusted out her hands. “I’m fine.”
The nurse merely lifted a brow, and gestured toward the table.
Morgan snorted. “Not happening.”
“Then you don’t hunt.” The nurse smiled politely, but there was a bite to her tone. “Next.”
Draven promptly removed his shirt, smiling charmingly at the nurse like the ideal patient.
Bastard.
The nurse’s touch lingered on his skin well after she placed the last bandage. Draven kept smiling, but his blue eyes had cooled considerably.
“Done?”
The nurse startled at her voice. Draven jumped off the table and slipped his shirt over his head before the girl had a chance to turn around again.
For her trouble, Morgan received a scowl from the nurse.
Once more she lifted her hands. “You’re not getting my shirt off.”
The runes on her back rested heavily against her skin.
No one could ever know about them.
She would not become some lab rat.
“Er,” Ryder looked suddenly uncomfortable. “We’ll wait in the hall.”
Without waiting for an affirmative, he grabbed Draven and dragged him out the door.
“Fine.” The nurse glowered, slapping iodine not so gently on her scratches, not even bothering to splash any on her legs. “Not my problem if you want to get yourself killed. Females don’t last long fighting. Just don’t get the others killed while you’re out there trying to prove something.”
Morgan jerked her hands away from the viper, sick to her stomach to realize everyone else must think the same thing.
Even Kincade.
The nurse resumed her seat, picked up her book, and began reading.
Ryder and Draven were waiting in the hall for her, both snapping to attention at her appearance. “She’s wrong.”
Of course they heard.
She mentally heaved a sigh.
“Is she?” Morgan discovered she felt protective of them, especially since she knew she would be leaving. “You can’t dispute that I’m disrupting your team. It puts everyone in danger.”
“That’s one way to look at it. How others might see it.” Draven turned serious. “Let us walk you to your room.”
Something about his tone made her feel vulnerable. “Sure.”
One man stood on either side of her. Instead of feeling uncomfortable and crowded, Morgan actually relaxed a bit. They were on the second level, only one more floor to go to her room, when she inhaled deeply and braced herself. “Okay, spit it out.”
“I’m a siren. When people find out, they shy away from me. Since we can manipulate other people’s emotions with nothing more than our voice or touch, they automatically don’t trust me.” He hunched his shoulders a little bit, and her throat ached at his dull tone. “Sooner or later, everyone I meet questions themselves.”
“Not everyone,” she protested. “Your team members trust you implicitly.”
“Over time.” He reached for the pommel of his dagger, gripping it unconsciously. “Both men and women seek me out, wanting to forget, or seeking a thrill, and I give them what they want.”
“You crave touch.” Morgan felt queasy at what he was forced to do.
“It’s the siren. Giving in to cravings keeps the demons at bay.”
Meaning, if he didn’t keep the siren fed, he could accidently kill someone with no more than a brush of his fingertips. “I understand.”
He swallowed hard at her words, his breathing harsh.
They were only a few doors down from her room when Ryder heaved a sigh. “I’m a werewolf. We don’t make friends. If we’re lucky, we’re either born into a pack or join one. The rest of us are either hired guards or servants. I chose this team. They are my pack now.”
Morgan stopped outside her door, not wanting them to leave. “I don’t get it. Why are you telling me this?”
Ryder snorted, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s why.”
Morgan just blinked, completely baffled.
“Because you don’t care.” Ryder gave her a broken grin. “I sang in front of you. While the others had to plug their ears so they wouldn’t be affected, you just paused, then went about your business.”
Ryder reached over and opened her door. “Not to mention that on your first night at the Academy, you were confronted by a pack of werewolves…and you didn’t attack. Instead, you ran with them.”
Draven gently nudged her into her room. “Whether you know it or not, you’re one of us.”
She gaped at them in stunned surprise, feeling her heart wrench open at their words, offering her something she’s never known she wanted…acceptance…family…unfailing friendship. While she was staring at them mutely, they both smiled and closed the door in her face before she could formulate a reply.
Morgan tossed and turned for most of the night, unable to forget what they said, obsessing over it. At the first touch of dawn on the horizon, she hopped out of bed, unable to stand being alone with her revolving thoughts for another second.
Although she arrived at the gym over an hour early, every member of her team was already going through maneuvers. Atlas stood on the small mat in the corner, holding two staffs, clearly expecting her.
He caught sight of her hovering in the doorway, gave her a brisk nod, then tossed her a staff. “Ready?”
The smack of the wood against her palm felt good, and Morgan removed the half dozen weapons on her body, then met him on the mat. As other students arrived, they paired off and began sparring. A few of them would stop every now and then, watching her get her ass kicked, before they were waved away to start their own match.
The team wove their way through the groups, offering suggestions, giving tips.
Thankfully, Kincade kept to the other side of the room, only sparing her a glance when she took a particularly nasty hit. He would scowl, as if disappointed in her performance, before returning to his own training.
After three hours, Morgan was drenched in sweat and groaning when she tried to force her back straight. Atlas, the prick, barely looked rumpled as he collected the staff from her. “You did well. In a week, you might even be able to take me.”
He strode off, and Morgan was tempted to slit his throat to stop the torture, stifling a groan at the thought of another full week of training at his hands.
“Fall in.”
Morgan jumped, startled when Kincade barked out his command. She hobbled across the room, taking her spot at the end of the line. The only thing that made her feel any better was none of the other students were in much better condition.
“Three of you have already dropped out of training or were dismissed after the first day.” Morgan stood up straighter in surprise, uncertain why Kincade allowed her to remain on the team after last night. “There is no shame admitting you can’t cut it.” Everyone glance
d back and forth down the line, trying to gauge who hadn’t made it. To her disappointment, the loudmouth and his friend were still there. Unfortunately, the only other girl was not.
“Today’s test involves tracking and evading.” Kincade rocked back and forth on his feet, his hands still clasped behind his back.
Morgan’s heartbeat sped up at the chance of spending time outside by herself, doing what she did best…hunting.
Then he went and ruined it.
“You are the target.” Kincade gave her a devilish smile, practically rubbing his hands together. “My team and I will be stalking you throughout the school. Your job is to evade us. You will be graded on how long it takes us to locate you, and whether you have the ability to slip away before we catch you.”
Groans sounded up and down the line. Morgan nearly joined them, her good mood splatting on the floor at her feet.
Kincade had now made her job hunting the killer nearly impossible.
When she glanced up, it was to find herself pinned under his gaze, and she immediately knew he created this test specifically for her.
He wanted to keep an eye on her, and would use every method at his disposal to spy on her.
The bastard.
She narrowed her eyes, determined to turn his ploy against him. He must have caught something in her expression, and his smugness dropped away. He only looked more determined. “Dismissed.”
The game was on.
Chapter Fifteen
For the next hour, Morgan decided to use her time to search each of the victims’ rooms. As she expected, they had been cleaned. Unfortunately, they had also been magically wiped. Primordial magic saturated the rooms, leaving behind no traces of the girls or their murderer. She touched the furniture at random, hoping to pick up on the horror that had taken place, but everything seemed so normal it gave her the heebie-jeebies.
The next two rooms were the same.
All personal effects were gone.
The students very existences were wiped clean.
Leaving her exactly nowhere.
For the first time, she began to doubt she would find the killer on her own before he struck again.
Academy of Assassins Page 14
