Academy of Assassins

by Stacey Brutger

  His lips twitched with a hint of a smile, then he seemed to shrink as he leaned back into bed.

  “You knew they were after me.”

  MacGregor shook his head, wincing when his neck protested the movement. “I suspected. You were always special. I always considered it my job to keep you safe. Sending you to the Academy was the only way I could assure your safety anymore.”

  Morgan leaned her ass against the bed next to him, suddenly exhausted. “Do you know who I am?”

  “Enough to know you’re someone very, very important.” He waved a hand as if to shoo away her questions. “You were a fast learner, always too smart for your own good. You were beyond skilled. Others sensed the difference in you and felt threatened. I gave you what I could. I tried to protect you by teaching you what you needed to survive.”

  Pride filled his face as he gazed at her. She stared at his tired, faded blue eyes, and couldn’t be angry at him for keeping secrets. He was a rigid taskmaster, a slave driver who pushed her past her breaking point, then demanded more.

  He was also a warrior who had never mated.

  Nothing about him was soft.

  And she realized he didn’t know how to be anything but a hunter.

  But he’d tried to be more for her.

  He gave her everything he could, did what he thought was best for her. Though he didn’t show it, she knew he would give his life for hers. She rubbed her right hand, trying to ease the sting of the growing marks, and he instantly noticed her furtive movement. His eyes narrowed, his attention shooting to her face, as if searching for something, then nodded to himself and released a deep sigh. “Stay close to those young men of yours. Dangerous times are still ahead. The ones who want you won’t simply give up because they failed.”

  She scowled, wanting to protest that she could protect herself, but the worry in his eyes stopped her from voicing her thoughts. He would crawl out of bed to protect her if she didn’t heed his warning. Instead, she stood and pulled his blanket up, smoothing away the wrinkles, surprised by how deep her affection for him went. Though he might not be the best father material, she loved him more for trying to raise an orphan girl for no other reason than she needed him. “Rest and get better. I still need you, old man.”

  He closed his eyes with a grunt, grumbling under his breath for her to go away, but the way his eyes crinkled at the corners told her he was pleased at her fussing.

  When she slipped out of the room, she nearly ran over Mistress McKay. The teacher clutched a book to her chest, blushing slightly as she straightened her glasses. She’d done something to her hair…left it in a loose knot at the back of her head, softening her appearance. “Thank you for returning him to me…us.” Her blush deepened, and fiddled with the book she held. “I thought I would read to him.”

  “Good idea.” Morgan stepped away from the door, biting her lip to keep from smiling at McKay’s nervousness. “You clearly have the tougher job of getting him back on his feet again.”

  Determination flooded her face, and she lifted her chin. “Let me worry about that.”

  The tough, no-nonsense teacher she first met was back. Mistress McKay gave Morgan a brisk nod, then breezed past her, the door snapping shut smartly behind her, and Morgan had no doubt MacGregor would be on the mend in no time if McKay had anything to say in the matter.

  A jarring bell blared overhead, and Morgan glanced around in confusion.

  “Time for classes.” Ryder spoke from her elbow. He moved so silently, she jumped.

  “Class?” She groaned at the idea of getting her ass handed to her after a long night of no sleep.

  Ryder gave her a sympathetic smile. “You best hurry, unless you want Kincade to single you out.”

  And the bastard would do it, too. She growled, then took off at a run. She quickly dropped by her room to change, then headed toward the gym. By the time she arrived, she was out of breath, and tried to slip into the back of the room without anyone noticing she was late.

  Thankfully, when she scanned the front of the class, she didn’t see Kincade.

  Concern stirred in her gut for a split second, then Atlas stepped forward and took over the class. Through it all, Ryder remained at her side. While the other students were paired up, he raised a brow at her, and she heaved a sigh. “Let me guess…you’re my partner?”

  Ryder nodded. So not good. He was stronger and faster than most, his wolf giving him the edge.

  “Where—”

  “Kincade is meeting with the headmistress, preparing alternate plans of attack.”

  Morgan trailed after him as he led her to the corner of the room, unable to tear her eyes away from the way his broad shoulders stretched the black shirt he wore. She followed the sleek lines down his back, unable to keep her eyes from dropping and admiring the way his ass filled out his pants. When he stopped, she nearly slammed into him, quickly dancing around him, but not before his tempting wild, fresh green scent went straight to her head.

  All playfulness vanished when she found the two weapons waiting for them. The blades were a dull black and wicked as hell. “The infamous void weapons?”

  Ryder nodded, carefully straightening the blades in front of them. “Usually only third-year students are given the option to train with them. It takes years of practice and skill to wield the dual weapon and magic combination.” He picked up the nearest knife, then closed his eyes. After a moment, sigils on the blade shimmered and glowed a pale blue. “Void weapons are deadlier than any other. They can kill anything. If you have enough training, if you can focus on the blade, it will alert you to danger and guide your hand.”

  He stepped back, gesturing for her to pick up the other weapon.

  She clenched and unclenched her hands, staring at the innocuous blade, surprised she missed Kincade’s overbearing, bullying presence. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, he pushed her for more, challenged her to do better. Without him there to steady her, her nerves began to fray.

  “Why you?” She lifted her arm, allowing her hand to hover over the pommel. “Atlas lives in the primordial realm. Shouldn’t he be training me?”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw, and she winced when she realized how it sounded. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “No. You’re right. Kincade is the best. I’m a distant second. Most shifters don’t have any skill with void weapons, but I had some training with them before my first shift.” He frowned down at the blade he held. “The transformation only enhanced my natural talent.”

  He wasn’t telling her everything. “But?”

  “Just like when I step out of a rift, once I release the primordial magic, I crash hard.” He shrugged away the fact that he would be violently ill and suffer for helping her.

  Morgan didn’t like it. “And Atlas?”

  “Not his skillset.” Ryder didn’t say any more on the matter, gesturing for her to pick up the last blade. “Go ahead. I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  Though he would try, they both knew he might not have a choice. She needed to learn to fight her own battles. Taking a deep breath, she lowered her hand, and snatched up the weapon before she lost her nerve.

  The expected pain never came.

  Nor did the sigils glow.

  “Maybe everyone was wrong.” She wanted to cheer.

  Ryder studied the blade, then shrugged. “Or the torque could be blocking you.”

  Her smile vanished at his more logical answer.

  “Come.” Ryder guided her toward the center of the mat and dropped into a fighting stance.

  Two guys nearby laughed, and Morgan glanced over at them. One of them was the snide guy from the first day. “No fair training with a wolf. When you get cornered, all you have to do is smack him on the nose, and he’ll back off.”

  His partner laughed nervously, but began to shuffle away when he caught the expression on her face.

  “Excuse me?” Morgan unconsciously brought up her weapon and advanced on them.


  Their eyes dropped toward the knife, then quickly flashed up to her face. They raised their hands in surrender, nervously clearing their throats.

  “Leave them.”

  Morgan barely heard Ryder’s command. “They need to be taught a lesson. A broken bone or two, a bruised spleen or kidneys should work.”

  He edged between her and her prey, gazing down at her curiously, and some of her aggression tapered off. “What?”

  He shook his head, as if completely baffled by her. “Nothing you can say or do will change their opinion that shifters are an inferior species.”

  “That makes no sense.” But she allowed him to draw her away after one last glare at the kids.

  “Many shifters, upon their first change, never return to being fully human again, and some never return to their human form at all. To them, we’re nothing more than beasts.” He shrugged away the matter, and avoided looking directly at her. He did that a lot around her, as if trying not to intimidate her.

  She found it…cute. Truth to tell, she liked his size, and enjoyed seeing all those muscles in motion. She eyed his wide shoulders, those amazing biceps, and shook off her thoughts. “You’re beasts, and we’re monsters. I don’t see the difference.”

  Ryder raised a brow at her, motioning for her to drop into her fighting stance. “You’re oversimplifying things, and you know it. They need no more proof than the wolves on duty outside these walls. They’re pure wolf, barely human enough to understand orders and stand guard. I can tell the difference when I run with them. Nothing human remains in them.”

  Morgan instinctively countered Ryder’s moves when he began circling her. “It’s more than that. They listen to you.”

  “Most werewolves who can control their shifts are stronger, more dominant. The other wolves obey…mostly.” He shrugged it off as no big deal. Though she didn’t believe him, she dropped the subject.

  “Tell me how to activate the weapon.” She hefted her blade up, then spun sideways when he lashed out with his weapon. She kicked backwards in retaliation, but he was already gone. His foot shot out, knocking her leg to the side, both moving until they ended up facing each other.

  When he lunged forward, she flung herself backwards, landing on her ass with a thump. She planted her feet in his gut, using his momentum to fling him over her head. He wasn’t distracted in the least, bringing his blade down toward her neck midflight, and she barely brought up her own knife in time.

  Sparks flew when the weapons met.

  Ryder continued to sail over her head, landing on his shoulder, then rolled to his feet, crouched before her. To her shock, a deep violet mist lit up the sigils on her blade. Magic crawled through the metal and bit into her palm like a snakebite. Ice burned through her blood like venom. She tried to drop the knife, but she couldn’t seem to make her fingers obey.

  The runes along her spine shifted restlessly, then began to absorb the extra magic. As the pain faded, everything appeared sharper, the room brighter, the air fresher. Ryder stood over her, peering down at her with concern, and she was reminded again of how handsome he was.

  A dusky blush colored his face, and she realized she must have been thinking out loud. She should be mortified, but she was too charmed by his reaction to care. “Why aren’t you mated?”

  “Are you okay?” His lips tightened as he tried to squash his smile. “I should’ve warned you the magic can have unusual side effects—like taking away your inhibitions and flooding your system with adrenaline.”

  Morgan leapt to her feet, waving away his concern. “Stop avoiding the question. You’re older than the others. Why stay at the school?”

  The sparkle in his eyes died, and he dropped his gaze. “We’re not exactly human.”

  “None of us are.” She barely waited for him to turn before she swung. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

  He easily dodged away, only to come back swinging. “Not when you’re a shifter. Most don’t consider me human enough.”

  “That’s just stupid.” Morgan leaned back to avoid having her throat slit.

  “We’re not like the other students. Vampires and shifters were purged from the primordial realm thousands of years ago. Lycanthropy and vampirism were viruses that spread throughout the realm. The rulers refused to condone mass genocide, so they lifted the ban between worlds, and expelled everyone who carried the virus.”

  Morgan ducked and dodged, barely keeping ahead of his swings while he spoke.

  “The viruses were contained here, but they mutated. Now, lycanthropy and vampirism can only be passed through the bloodlines, or by those who were bitten and survived the transition, which is rare. Since we can no longer return to the primordial realm, we’re considered second-class citizens.”

  “But you’re a paranormal creature like them.” She dashed forward and slashed out with the knife, and nearly lost her blade when he kicked at her exposed hand, missing it only by centimeters.

  “Only to humans.” Ryder gave her a cynical look. “They consider us diseased, or an accident of birth.”

  “All life is a mutation.”

  He stared at her like she was an oddity, then replied grudgingly. “Maybe to some. Others would fight you to the death for even suggesting it.”

  Then talking stopped as they began to fight in earnest. Every time he neared, she was already moving, almost able to read his intentions before they were formed. After twenty minutes, she noticed he was pulling his punches, slowing down for her, and she growled in frustration. He hadn’t landed any blows harder than a light tap. “I won’t learn anything if you’re too afraid to hit me.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, he nodded. Magic splashed into the room as his wolf rose to the surface. The smile he flashed showed sharp teeth, though his claws remained carefully hidden. Despite the longer hair, she could see his slightly pointed ears, and her fingers itched to touch them.

  He didn’t give any signals when he attacked this time. The fighting was dirty and brutal, and she landed on her back more than once with him leaning over her.

  Every time he neared, he sniffed the air, and she wondered if her sweat offended his acute wolf senses. After the fifth time, she began to get a complex. She kicked him in the chest and confronted him on it. “Do I stink or something?”

  His whole body tensed, a deep red climbing up his collar, and Morgan immediately felt like a shit. She edged closer to him, and spoke softly so she wouldn’t spook him. “Ryder?”

  “Trying to figure out your heritage. Never smelled anything like you.” His eyes were a combination of wolf and human when he peered at her, then he quickly dropped his gaze. “Smell good.”

  Morgan stiffened, not moving under his predatory gaze, uncertain how to react at having a hungry wolf tell you that you smelled good.

  He flinched at her reaction as if she’d struck him.

  Only then did she realize the hunger in his eyes was for something else entirely.

  All expression disappeared from Ryder’s face, and she knew she’d disappointed him, but decided not to correct his impression. She had too much to worry about right now, mainly keeping herself and the guys alive. She didn’t have time for friends, much less a boyfriend.

  The playfulness of his wolf vanished, as if he locked the best part of himself away from her. It stung, but she couldn’t say she didn’t deserve it. She was being an ass, and she knew it.

  She glanced down at the blade in shame. While the primordial magic was active, the torque was keeping it contained in her body, and it was taking its toll, eating her from the inside out, wanting its freedom.

  The longer she held the blade, the harder it was to concentrate and make her body obey.

  Her moves were slowing.

  Becoming clumsy.

  Ryder frowned at her, the blade lowering to his side. “What’s wrong?”

  Draven smirked from the sidelines, rocking on his feet as he nodded toward the door. “Kincade just walked in.”

  “She wouldn’t let
him distract her.” Ryder didn’t take his eyes off her. “Drop the blade.”

  She shook her head, rubbing the back of her hand against her leg, but it did nothing to ease the burning heat. “Just sore. I can fight.”

  “Let me see.” He didn’t take no for an answer, grabbing her under her elbow, and lifted her arm, then froze.

  The beautiful, almost dainty filigree marks had spread and darkened. Obsidian black and molten silver swirled from the tips of her fingers, twisting halfway up her right arm. “The blade is just reacting to the runes. I’m fine.”

  “These marks have nothing to do with your runes.” Ryder’s voice sounded strained. “These symbols have very specific meanings.” He carefully pried the weapon from her grip, handing them both off to Draven.

  She blinked up at him in confusion. “Then what is it?”

  “Mating marks.”

  “Mating marks?” she replied stupidly. “As in plural?” Her voice rose to a squeak. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Calm.” Ryder lifted his hands. “Easy.”

  “Who?” She hadn’t been aware she was advancing until he began to retreat. “Who would do this to me?”

  Darkness rose, and the metal torque around her neck heated, trying to stop her from losing control.

  “Christ. She’s freaking out.” Draven waved to someone across the room, and she snapped her head in his direction. “No one did this to you. It’s natural selection. Females are paired with males, and they become your protectors.”

  “No.” Morgan shook her head frantically. “No way. I would never bind anyone to me. It’s archaic—worse than slavery.”

  Draven eyed her critically, his face softened when he realized she was serious, and he approached carefully. “These marks aren’t a choice. They are an honor bestowed upon hunters by their chosen one. The markings can be formed by something as simple as a touch.”

  “What?” Morgan felt like she’d been punched in the gut. “Who?”

  The guys exchanged a look, then each one rolled up his sleeves.

  Their arms were bare.