Claimed by the Assassins (An Academy of Assassins Novel Book 3)

by Stacey Brutger

  She blew out her breath, arched her back, twisted her hips, cranked her shoulders like she was playing a warped game of Twister, and determinedly wedged herself into the small crack some ass thought made the perfect tunnel. Rock scraped her hips and shoulders as she forced herself through until she popped out the other side.

  She stumbled, then caught her balance, straightening the clothes that had somehow managed to twist their way around her torso, the material on the verge of cutting off her circulation like a giant boa constrictor.

  When she straightened and looked up, it was to find the guys watching her in various stages of curiosity. Kincade was unreadable, the gargoyle hard-headed no matter which form he took. He was the leader of the team, standing just a little over six feet, his frame lean and lanky. She skimmed her gaze over his impressive chest, along those broad shoulders, past the stubble on his jaw, a combination guaranteed to make her think of long nights together, just the two of them. His pale green eyes were assessing when he glanced at her, and she flushed at the heat in them, his normal ruthlessness replaced by a different type of danger. She determinedly tore her eyes away before she did something stupid and simpered like a ninny.

  Ascher gave her a nod of welcome, and she flashed him a half smile at the welcome. She and the hellhound often hunted together before they joined the Academy, and she missed the simplicity of those days. Because he was a shifter, he was packed with pure muscle. His dirty blond hair was long and messy, the slight curl to it giving him the I-just-got-out-of-bed-after-ravishing-you-all-night look. His cool blue eyes scanned her from head to toe, assessing her, before they began to warm.

  Atlas looked pissed, but since he was an elf, it was his default expression. He had more of a pale lavender tint to his skin at night because of a spell that had reverted him to his more primitive form. To her surprise, she liked this more dangerous side of him. Though many believed he was deadlier, his beauty even more alien and jaw-dropping, she found him more approachable. His frosted brown hair had more of a silver tint after the change, but the biggest difference was the slivers of dark burnt umber in his emerald eyes that would simmer when she caught him looking at her when he thought no one was paying attention. It was like he could read her soul…and liked her despite what he found.

  Ryder towered over everyone. When she first saw him, she’d mistaken him for being part giant, not a werewolf. His sandy-brown hair was long and shaggy, and her fingers itched to touch, remembering what his fur felt like under her fingertips. He was not only incredibly gorgeous, he was built like a machine. Women were drawn to his animal magnetism in droves, but he never took them up on their offers, never even noticed them…until her.

  She’d somehow won over the shy wolf, and she thanked her lucky stars. Though wolves were prone to violence, he had been nothing but gentle and sweet with her. She thought he would be pleased to see her tonight. Though his eyes softened when he looked at her, he didn’t smile in welcome, and she couldn’t help being a little hurt at the rejection.

  A few seconds later, Draven casually strolled out of the tiny crack in the wall without a hint of resistance or a speck of dust, and she glared at him. “What the fuck!”

  She glanced back at the tunnel, only to find it had vanished completely.

  “Fucking magic,” she muttered under her breath. Then she turned and glared at the other men, more than ready to fight for her right to hunt.

  “Morgan has decided to join us tonight.” Draven walked past her toward the van and climbed in without another word. The guys exchanged one glance, then piled in the vehicle as well.

  Morgan hesitated when the expected argument never came, then scrambled for her seat in the middle of the van when no one barred her way. The van door shut with a slam, and she kept her head down and her mouth shut, afraid they would change their minds and kick her out if she so much as made a peep.

  It was only after they were a few miles down the road and off campus that she turned toward Draven, who sat next to her. “That’s it? No argument? No fight?”

  He gave a negligible shrug. “We knew it was only a matter of time before you made your escape. We’d rather have you hunt with us then go off on your own.”

  Not convinced, expecting a trap, she glanced at each of them suspiciously.

  And met Kincade’s hard green eyes in the rearview mirror. “MacGregor warned us what happens when anyone tries to contain you. He said if we were smart we would give in to your demands…that you’ll end up getting your way one way or another.”

  He looked both exasperated and curious about what she did to elicit such a reaction, and she couldn’t hide her smug smile. “I’ve been in a few tight places, and I learned how to crack a lock a long time ago.”

  She’d spent her fair share of time in the dungeon at the coven where she was raised, along with numerous other creatures the witches deemed worthy of interest. She rescued the creatures when she could, but the cages were usually repopulated within days. As if he read her thoughts, a growl rumbled from Ascher.

  “Fucking witches. I should’ve killed them,” he muttered under his breath, wisps of smoke beginning to rise from his clothes as his emotions intensified. He usually had tight control of himself…except when it came to her and her safety.

  Not wishing to have her outing cut short if the car caught fire, she reached forward and patted his shoulder. “But then I wouldn’t have so much fun tormenting them in turn. Pepper switched out to sneezing dust, sugar laced with hair-loss powder, mattresses stuffed with bugs that would burrow and crawl around the witches at night, pillows stuffed with burrs, slight food poisoning when their oil was switched out with ipecac that kept them in the bathroom for days, labels mysteriously missing from all their food and potions.”

  She looked down at her nails and shrugged. “They paid. Not enough, but they paid.”

  Ryder growled under his breath, and Morgan glanced at him over her shoulder. “While it might be more efficient to just kill them, it would cost a lowly hunter like me everything.” Ryder was a wolf, which many considered a third-class citizen. If anyone understood, it would be him. “My petty transgressions were dismissed, usually with nothing more than a reprimand. Worse, they never knew when I would strike. They usually backed off for weeks after one of my more inventive pranks.”

  She was a pro at finding a way around the rules and vindictive enough not to give into the bullies. While she’d come to learn not all witches were bad, she wasn’t sure if she was ready to be besties with any of them, either.

  Wanting to change the subject, she cast the guys a bright smile. “So, who are we hunting tonight?”

  After each team reported in for the night, they were given a dossier on their next assignment, allowing them a little time to prepare and stake out the target’s likely locations.

  “A nightclub.” Kincade didn’t sound pleased, but Morgan sat up straighter, her interest piqued. “People are being murdered at the Hellfire Club. It’s a hot spot for both paranormal and humans alike.”

  “Really?” She turned to Draven and grinned, a spark of excitement flickering to life. “I’ve never been to a club before.”

  Instead of being excited about getting in trouble with her, Draven almost looked sick at the thought of letting her loose inside a club.

  She smacked him on the arm.

  “Hey, what was that for?” He gave her a wounded look that most likely worked on other women. Unfortunately for him, she was immune to his charms…mostly.

  “You’re supposed to be my sidekick and partner in crime, asshole.” She glared at him for good measure, disgruntled by the change in the group’s dynamics.

  Becoming the next in line for the crown was seriously fucking up her love life, the men now too worried about protecting her to take what she thought or felt into consideration.

  Draven looked as glum as she felt for all of two seconds before his face shuttered and he hid behind that stupid mask of his. Because it pissed her off, she socked him again.
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  He huffed out a sigh and turned toward her in exasperation. “What did I do to earn that?”

  “You don’t get to shut me out.” She twisted away from him and stared broodingly out the window, the prospect of a fun night of hunting turning into a disaster. Being with them was supposed to close the distance she felt growing between them.

  Instead she’d never felt like more of an outsider.

  Maybe she just needed to work harder to get under their skins.

  Morgan studied each of them more closely, using their reflections in the glass, silently plotting their downfall.

  Kincade continued briefing everyone about the case like the interruption never happened. “The location of the club moves every two weeks or so to avoid suspicion. For the past six weeks, the last night before the club moves, a body has been found left behind. Murdered.” He glanced at her in the rearview mirror, his gaze assessing, no doubt to determine if she was up to the job. “The club will be moving sometime this week, so we need to find the killer, or another person will die and we’ll have to start over again in two weeks.”

  Morgan nodded in understanding.

  They needed to get this right the first time.

  Traffic picked up thirty minutes later, the streets becoming congested as they neared downtown. Kincade drove with confidence, easing smoothly in and out of traffic, and it wasn’t long before they were driving down the darker side roads behind the main strip.

  The van pulled to a stop in the back of a parking lot. To her surprise, the club looked respectable. The lights above the door were bright, the building itself newly redone in a tasteful way that said money and style. There was a small line of people by the door, every one of them seemingly absorbed in their cellphones while they waited.

  The moment Kincade turned off the engine the guys just kind of glanced at each other, as if none of them could make themselves look at her.

  No doubt they were trying to decide which one of them was going to man up and tell her she needed to stay in the vehicle.

  Fuck that.

  Without waiting for them, she reached across Draven’s lap and flung open the door, and hopped out quickly, not caring that he was getting a face full of her butt when she slid by him. While the men scrambled to exit the vehicle, swearing under their breaths, Morgan bolted toward the club, making her escape before they could grab her.

  “Morgan.” Kincade snapped at her, clearly expecting her to stop, but she only picked up her pace.

  She was no fool.

  “Here!” She didn’t bother to slow or look back, just held up her hand like she was answering roll call in class, her voice super bright and chipper, knowing it would piss him off.

  The building was two stories, the area a little secluded but clean. If this was where the paranormal nightlife went to party, she wasn’t surprised to learn they moved the location every few weeks to keep their secrets quiet. As it was, the only way a person learned about this club was by word of mouth.

  The big bouncer at the door spotted her immediately, his glance flicking behind her. With a smile that showed off white teeth against his flawless mocha skin, he opened the door and waved her through, murmuring in a low voice as she passed, “Good luck.”

  She shot him a cheeky grin. He winked at her, and she shot down the hallway, feeling almost giddy at the escape. Oh, she wasn’t trying to ditch the guys. She just wanted to remind them of an important fact of life—if they didn’t want to treat her as one of the team, then she would hunt on her own.

  The place smelled of liquor and the dangerous scent of paranormal creatures, while the softer aroma of humans lingered underneath. She was surprised by the cleanliness of the club, pleased her feet didn’t stick to the floor.

  Pounding music pulsed in the room, people at the bar hollering to be heard over the noise, while others were partying hard on the dance floor. Morgan held back, observing, not sure she would enjoy having perfect strangers grind up against her.

  One or more of these people was a killer.

  She headed toward the far end of the bar, where there was a gap in the crowd and more room to breathe. One guy spun away from the bar, coming face-to-face with her and giving her a slow smile as he looked her up and down. “Well hello, beautiful.”

  She nearly rolled her eyes at his smarmy tone, but she didn’t need to bother. She knew the instant the guys found her. The boy glanced over her shoulder, his eyes widening in alarm, then quickly turned and lost himself in the crowd, mumbling “Sorry” under his breath.

  When she reached the free spot at the bar, she turned to see the crowd part before the guys like they were gods. They headed straight toward her, their eyes hard and furious, their faces like granite, clearly not pleased by her antics. She settled for giving them a big, toothy smile and wiggled her fingers at them as they closed in on her.

  “For you.” One of the bartenders stopped in front of her, and set down a colorful drink at her elbow. The man was a cutie, his black hair slicked back, his eyes darkened with makeup, his clothes a little too tight, revealing mouthwatering muscles. He winked good-naturedly when he caught her checking him out, the gesture more friendly than sexual, the man purely professional as he pointed down the bar. “From him.”

  Strike the bartender off as their killer.

  He didn’t give off the vibe of a murderer. No dark sludge slid off him when she used her magic to stare at him, which would have been normal if he’d wanted to do her harm.

  She followed his pointed finger.

  A cocky blond with a stylish haircut lifted his own drink in salute, and she took an instant dislike to his too-unctuous smile. She could easily imagine the preppy college kid not giving a damn what anyone else wanted, but she pegged him as more of a rapist than a murdering thug.

  Morgan hesitated, then shrugged and picked up the drink with a nod toward Mr. Preppy. No sense in wasting a good drink. Ryder followed to where her attention landed and scowled, his eyes brightening at the thought of hunting prey, and the slimeball blanched before he quickly disappeared in the crowd, hopefully scared straight. She wanted to cheer, wishing she had the ability to scare men shitless like Ryder.

  Kincade stopped next to her, leaning his elbow against the bar, his broad shoulders blocking her view of everything but him. She took her time lifting her gaze up to his, expecting to see steam seep out of his ears.

  To her surprise, the harsh frown melted as he scanned her face, and he gave her a rueful look. “You’ve made your point. No more running off on your own, okay?”

  She eyed him suspiciously. It wasn’t like him to give up so easily, and he could be especially hard-headed when it came to her. “Really?”

  “We promise not to run off without you.” He was completely serious, his light green eyes warm and bright as he gazed down at her.

  “Really?” she whispered, afraid to break whatever spell had come over him.

  “Really.” He gave her one of his rare, devastating grins, the kind that had the ability to short-circuit her thinking process, and the bastard knew it.

  But he wouldn’t lie to her.

  She shuffled closer, then slowly slid her hands around his waist, laying her head against his chest. “Thank you.”

  He couldn’t know how much his promise meant.

  She’d been alone and abandoned her whole life. To have someone who truly cared about her was a novel feeling. He stiffened under her touch for a fraction of a second before his arms clamped tightly around her and crushed her to his chest. When he leaned over and rubbed his cheek against the top of her head, she snuggled closer.

  “You know, we all agreed as well.” Draven stood next to them with his arms open wide, a shit-eating grin on his face.

  Morgan snorted and pulled away. When she didn’t cave and give into his demand, Draven dropped his arms, pretending to pout, and she almost gave into the lug and hugged him too. The bastard was very persuasive, and often used it to his advantage, but there was something fragile underneath th
at would shatter if she didn’t tread carefully. Though many would consider him the most carefree of the group, he was the exact opposite. He buried his real self under the false cheer, and she worried that if she pushed the emotional bond between them too hard, the part she loved most about him would vanish.

  “I believe we came here to do a job,” she reminded them.

  Ryder was on the other side of her, and she rested her back against the skittish wolf, trapping his bulk against the bar, enjoying the way he leaned down to sniff her hair. He smelled like the freedom of outdoors, fresh and wild. When his hand came to rest possessively on her hip, Morgan blinked up at the sudden, unexpected possessiveness of the touch, and nearly swallowed her tongue at the lust darkening his whisky eyes…like he wanted to set her up on the bar and taste every inch of her.

  Morgan swallowed hard, forcing down the surge of lust that urged her to climb up on the bar so he could get started…

  …but was distracted by a light trace of magic lingering in the air, so faint she almost missed it. She turned toward the long hallway, struggling to trace the source of what was affecting her and not get distracted by the way Ryder was brushing his fingers lightly over her bare stomach just above the waistline of her pants.

  She tore herself away from the guys and pushed her way between Ascher and Atlas, heading down the darkened hallway before she gave into Ryder’s temptation. She had just past the bathroom when she spotted the exit sign ahead.

  The guys followed her without a word, their faces hardening into warrior mode. Ryder sniffed the air, but she suspected there were too many smells for him to decipher.

  When she hit the back door, she found it had been propped open by a rock. Not sure what to expect, she grabbed the blade she’d stuffed down the small of her back and pushed open the door when Atlas tapped her shoulder, then moved to place himself in front her. Ascher took advantage of her incredulousness and slipped out the door after him, leaving her biting back a curse while she followed them out into the night. The alleyway was dimly lit, the stench of rotten food from the dumpster an almost caustic cloud in the chilly air.