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

by Stacey Brutger

  Everything was silent and calm, and she was beginning to suspect that she made a mistake when a moan sounded from down the alley, coming from the other side of the dumpster. The guys spread out, then began to move as a unit toward their target.

  But the closer she got to the dumpster, the more the lust-induced haze from inside the club faded.

  They were going the wrong way.

  She stopped. “Guys, wait.”

  Chapter Three

  Everyone turned, giving her incredulous looks, like they couldn’t believe that she disturbed their hunt. Then they were in motion.

  Ryder leapt forward, shoving the large dumpster out of the way with a lazy swipe of his hand. It skidded across the narrow alley, its metal casters screeching in protest, before the metal box slammed into the opposite building, and she watched the brick wall sway dangerously.

  By the time she turned back, her team was already in motion. Draven stood over the fallen guy, Ryder stood protectively in front of her, while the other guys surrounded a little slip of a girl who couldn’t be any older than Morgan.

  Atlas reached back, drawing his sword and swinging it in a series of smooth movements that could only be duplicated with long practice.

  “Stop!” Morgan reached out, as if she could physically stop him, and a curl of magic sizzled along her veins and sparked around them. Dread burned in her gut. She didn’t know how to use a lick of magic. Every time she attempted it, things usually ended in disaster. The only time she’d ever been successful was when she used her blood and created a sigil to focus her power.

  Thankfully, Atlas listened, the blade halting just a fraction of an inch from the girl’s neck.

  “Thank the gods!” She took a step forward, nearly shaking with relief, when the first inkling that something was horribly wrong hit her.

  No one was moving. “Aw, shit.”

  Her shoulders drooped, disappointment churning through her, and she slowly stepped in front of Kincade. His furious gaze met hers, a garbled sound coming from his closed mouth, and she just knew he was swearing up a storm.

  At her.

  She watched his chest, unable to breathe for a few seconds, until she saw it rise slightly.

  Her knees weakened, and it was all she could do not to hug him, though he no doubt would rather strangle her than be anywhere near her at the moment. Instead she awkwardly patted his chest, wincing when she gazed up at him. “I’ll fix this. I promise.”

  Where the hell was Ward when she needed him?

  She rescued the man from the void, where he’d spent generations with the worst criminals and murderers of his world. He was a guardian, a berserker with the skills to take on an entire army single-handedly, but his time inside the void had tainted him. He was now able to control the potent magic from the void…the same magic that ran in her veins. He’d promised to come back and teach her, but he disappeared instead.

  Along with Shade, a fabled god from Greek mythology whom she accidently brought back from the dead.

  Oops!

  Morgan stepped back and studied the scene. She needed to think logically if she was to find a way out of this mess. Magic served a purpose. When she called it to life, it had been with one thought in mind…to save the girl.

  If she wanted to break the spell, it would make sense that she would need to eliminate the reason why the magic was called in the first place.

  Save the girl.

  Morgan skirted around the guys, careful not to touch them, more than a little freaked out to see them frozen like manikins, their eyes creepily following her every move, the feeling similar to that of giant spiders walking along her spine with their super-nasty hairy legs.

  To avoid looking at their frozen forms and feeling the sickening dip in her stomach again, she focused on the girl. She had long blond hair, her face more pretty than beautiful. Physically, her body was more toned than lush, but it was her eyes that were captivating…deep pools of green and blue.

  Then she noticed the colors were swirling slowly.

  If that wasn’t odd enough, the girl’s form almost seemed to flicker, ghosting in and out of view. It was barely noticeable, but the closer she got to her, the more the temperature dropped—like the Grim Reaper’s ice-cold fingers were running down her spine.

  Revulsion shuddered through her, and she skirted around the girl, almost afraid to look away in case the blonde moved.

  “This is all a misunderstanding. We’re after a murderer who’s hunting on the grounds. These men took in the scene and mistakenly thought you were the culprit.”

  Morgan glanced at the boy on the ground…the perfectly healthy and obviously sexually satisfied guy. “Sorry. I’ll get this fixed shortly.”

  Morgan carefully backed toward Atlas. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, knowing the fury burning off him in waves was directed at her.

  “So sorry.” She touched the arm holding the sword, blowing out a heavy breath when she felt warm skin beneath her fingertips. She reached for the weapon, but unfortunately his hold was solid. She was afraid if she forced his fingers to release the handle, she’d end up breaking them in the process, the very idea making bile rise in the back of her throat.

  The necklace she always wore warmed, twisted and spun, but when she glanced at it the only thing she saw was a simple heart-shaped locket.

  “What the fuck does that mean?”

  “Mmm mmm mm-umm.”

  Morgan glanced at Atlas, then rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that’s not helping.”

  But she followed his gaze as he pointedly looked at her, then the sword, then back at her.

  She stared down at the locket, searching for a simplest meaning, and could only come up with one thought…she was literally wearing her heart on her sleeve, and a flush heated her face.

  The metal twisted again before reforming once more into the simple heart locket, and she wanted to smack herself—if she wanted to free the ones she loved, she needed to use her ability to control metal. Her face flamed, and she refused to peer up at the guys. One look at her face and they would know what her first thought had been.

  She cleared her throat and nodded at Atlas. “Ah, yes, of course.”

  Morgan lifted her hand, then looked at him out of the corner of her eyes and grimaced. “I hope this wasn’t your favorite weapon.”

  Then she touched the blade.

  Magic tingled along her veins, warming her skin, until it hit the sword. The metal seemed to turn to liquid mercury, so fluid it twisted and spun hypnotically, changing one of the most wickedly sharp weapons known to man…into the shape of a tiny bunny rabbit.

  The bunny clanked to the ground, the rabbit hopping a few steps before it seemed to freeze as the magic seeped out of it, leaving Atlas holding air.

  It was only when everyone stared at the rabbit that she realized it had worked.

  They were no longer frozen.

  But before she had a chance to say anything, Atlas grabbed her arm and spun her away from the girl as soon as he was free, pulling her tight to his chest, protecting her with his body.

  “What the hell…a rabbit?” Draven looked completely bemused, seemingly unruffled in spite of being held immobilized, and he turned toward Ryder. “Go get it, wolf boy.”

  Ryder flashed his fangs and gave him the finger, barely shifting his attention from her for more than a second.

  Morgan glanced around his arm, and smiled at the girl. “Sorry! We didn’t mean to interrupt your…er, fun…and almost kill you.”

  The girl blinked a little owlishly before her gaze flickered to the barely conscious kid on the ground. Draven grabbed the drunken guy’s arm and dragged him up, dusting the kid off before shoving him toward the club door. “Looks like you might have had a bit too much to drink, chap. Best go back inside to your friends.”

  The man cradled his head in his hands like it weighed a ton. No one spoke as he staggered away and disappeared inside.

  “Even if she wasn’t killing him, she was
feeding on him.” Kincade glared at the girl. “Which is still illegal, and grounds for expulsion back through the veil.”

  The girl stiffened, her eyes darting among the guys, who still had her surrounded.

  “Please.” Morgan rolled her eyes at Kincade’s rigid ways, wiggling out of Atlas’s hold and darting over to the girl. “Leave her alone. You obviously didn’t see the same thing I did. That was purely mutual, which is not illegal. You either need glasses or more practice.”

  For the first time since she’d broken the spell, his gaze snapped toward her, his green eyes darkening with hunger, and he took a step toward her, as if taking her words as a challenge. It was all she could do to hold her ground, heat flooding her, and she swallowed hard, looking away quickly so she wouldn’t be sucked under his spell.

  The girl just watched them without saying a word, her form once again solid, her expression avid, more interested in the interactions between them than afraid, as if they hadn’t just tried to kill her.

  Curiosity got the better of Morgan. “Why aren’t you scared?”

  “Today isn’t my day to die.” The girl shrugged and their eyes clashed.

  Morgan shivered, almost able to feel the girl’s gaze digging into her soul, seeing more than she wanted anyone to know. “What are you?”

  “A banshee.”

  Ascher and Draven swore, while Atlas blanched. Ryder edged toward Morgan, then grabbed her hand, tugging her backwards, nearly jerking her off her feet when she refused to budge.

  The girl continued to stare at her, cocking her head with a frown. “You didn’t know? But you stopped them from killing me anyway.”

  She seemed confused.

  “Well, yeah. We don’t kill innocent people.” Morgan scowled at everyone, yanking her hand away from Ryder. Despite his human form, his wolf whined in distress, and the hairs on the back of her neck rose as she wondered why the guys were reacting so oddly. “I thought banshees were extinct.”

  “There are few of us left.” The girl nodded solemnly, her tone reserved. “Banshees don’t kill people either.”

  The girl’s eyes flickered at the mention of murder, like she knew what existed beyond death and wouldn’t wish it on her worst enemy.

  “Anyone who kills a banshee is cursed.” Kincade’s face was hard, a muscle in his jaw jumping. “It’s said that their spirit won’t leave until everyone their murderer loves is dead, saving them for last.”

  “But that’s just a myth, right?” Morgan glanced back at the banshee and waited, but the girl remained suspiciously silent.

  “Banshees are directly connected to hell. Many believe they are the living descendants of demons, often called hell’s angels.” Atlas spoke as if he was reciting something he’d read in a book.

  “Come back with us to the Academy,” Morgan offered.

  “Morgan!” Kincade barked, while Ascher and Draven winced and Ryder’s rumbling growl vibrated the air as he hovered near her back.

  “What?” She didn’t understand their protest, but something urged her not to let the banshee go. “You said yourself their race is nearly extinct. We can help protect her. Isn’t that the whole point of being a hunter? To help and protect the innocent?”

  “They don’t need protection.” Draven waved at the metal creature she’d created. “That would be like asking your bunny to protect a wolf.”

  “But—”

  “They’re right.” The girl strode forward, but halted when the men tensed, the guys moving protectively closer to Morgan. “My touch…can be unsettling for many. Not to mention most people don’t like to know when they’re about to die.”

  Morgan blinked, completely confused. “That’s just stupid. Why the hell not? How else are they supposed to change their fate?”

  “I like you.” The girl’s face brightened, her eyes settling to a crystal blue color. “If things were different, I think we could’ve been friends.”

  Something about the banshee’s sad tone had Morgan wanting to smack the guys. “I don’t have many girlfriends, much less friends for that matter. I think I’d like that. We’re at the Academy. You have an open invitation to visit me at any time.”

  The guys didn’t bother to stifle their groans, which only made the other girl’s smile grow. A vulnerable look entered her eyes. “The others—”

  “—will support me.” Morgan crossed her arms, pleased that her title could actually be used for something once. “Trust me. I have some pull at the Academy. You would be welcome. They’ll have to take us both or neither of us.”

  The girl didn’t say anything for a moment, but yearning had her biting her lip. As if coming to a decision, she thrust out her hand. “I’m Breanna.”

  Relief lifted a burden off of Morgan’s shoulders. Something about the girl tugged at her. They needed her. The scent of oleander—a beautiful but deadly plant if a person didn’t handle it carefully—whirled around Breanna, and, without hesitation, Morgan reached out and shook her hand. “Morgan.”

  The instant their skin touched, a numbing cold swirled up Morgan’s arm, tugging something deep inside her. It wasn’t painful, more like the kind of discomfort you get when you’re shocked by a battery. Breanna’s eyes whirled once more, as if reaching into Morgan’s soul.

  “Be careful.” She pulled away, a frown marring her brow. “Death is coming to your Academy. If you don’t make the right decisions, it will come for you and your men.”

  Without another word, she turned on her heel and strode away, her strides quick but stiff. The guys froze. When it looked like they were going to charge after her and demand answers, Morgan cleared her throat. “What do you say we head inside and catch a killer?”

  Chapter Four

  Knowing the guys would follow, Morgan hurried back inside the bar. Ryder didn’t hesitate and trailed a step behind her. There was some swearing from the others, and frantic whispering as they tried to decide what to do.

  “You don’t want to go after the girl and interrogate her?” She raised a challenging brow at the wolf.

  Ryder shrugged those big shoulders of his. “No need. She’ll come to the Academy eventually.”

  He seemed so sure. “How do you know?”

  “Because you asked.” When he saw her blank face, he gave her a gentle smile that made her breath catch. “She liked you. Friendship is hard for her kind, and you offered it without reservation. For many people who have nothing, what you offer is a lifeline.”

  Morgan wondered if he was talking about Breanna or himself, and her heart cracked a little. She grabbed his arm, slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow, and hugged him close. Warmth surrounded her, his fresh green scent inviting her to snuggle closer. Unable to resist, she reached up and cupped his jaw. “Some people can be stupid. They don’t know what they’re missing.”

  His eyes darkened, and she swallowed hard, suddenly understanding what girls meant when they said a man smoldered. Boy, could Ryder smolder. Her lips tingled under his gaze, and she couldn’t look away from the flames dancing in his whisky brown eyes. He leaned down, his hair sliding forward like a curtain until they were in a world of their own.

  But he was moving too damn slow.

  She needed to taste him before the others interrupted.

  She pressed her hands against his chest for balance, then stretched up on her toes, brushing her lips against his. His reaction was instant. He pushed her back until she hit the wall hard, his mouth turning demanding, the hunger addicting, lighting her body on fire, and she didn’t want him to stop.

  When she kissed him back, he growled and pressed up against her until she was surrounded by him. He skated his hands up her sides, wrapping them around her back, the heat of them like a brand. He tightened his hold, gripping her shirt like he was trying to stop himself from picking her up and taking everything she offered.

  “Hu-um.” From a distance, she heard someone clear his throat.

  A low rumble vibrated Ryder’s chest, and he hunched over her, his
bulk covering her from head to toe, protecting her…or claiming her like a dog with a bone…she wasn’t sure which. The big wolf glared at the guys over his shoulder, then he straightened and blinked a few times, as if he couldn’t remember where they were.

  Gods above and below, but she knew that feeling.

  Ryder surveyed the club, recognition lighting his eyes, and a flush of color flooded his cheeks. Ignoring the guys, pretending like they didn’t have an audience, he turned back toward her, using his body to once more block out the world. He very gently lifted a strand of her hair to his nose and inhaled deeply before he reluctantly tucked it back behind her ear.

  “You okay?” Morgan set her hands gently against his waist, running her fingers up and down his sides, marveling at the way his solid muscles twitched, as if eagerly seeking more.

  He didn’t answer, brushing his fingers down her neck, as if he couldn’t stop touching her, the small strokes seeming to calm his wolf. The dew-covered metallic spiderweb across her lower palm that connected the two of them together tingled, and she ran her thumb gently over the embossed-metal web. The delicate strands thrummed, and the spider perched next to the little wolf pawprint stirred.

  Instead of sensing the spider, she felt pure wolf humming under her touch, the beast crouched in submission, enjoying her attention, his tail thumping in pleasure.

  He released a heavy breath, as if it pained him, and took a step away.

  “Ryder?” Concern tightened its grip on her heart, and she had moved to follow when Draven wedged his way between them, spinning her away.

  “The big wolf is fine, he just needs a few seconds to calm down.” He smiled his devastating smile, but his sea blue eyes were hard.

  He was wearing his mask, hiding things from her. Again. He had been doing it more and more recently, and she was starting to worry. But now was not the time or the place to bring it up. They had a murderer to catch first. They took a few more steps down the dark hallway, but the ominous feeling she had when she walked past the bathrooms had vanished.