“I think it’s more that I’m his.” Morgan watched in awe as Shade crouched and held out his hand, a genuine smile breaking across his face, making him look incredibly young.
Loki pounced, tackling him to the floor, and the two began to wrestle.
“You said the book was a gift.” Draven edged in front of her, standing between her and the two guys, despite knowing if it came to a fight, she would be better suited to fighting off a god.
Stubborn ass.
But she didn’t protest his interruption, wanting to know the answer as much as him.
And something warned that she wasn’t going to like it.
Menace darkened Draven’s face as he pulled out another blade, one of many he kept hidden on his person. “If the book isn’t from either of you…who gave it to her?”
Ward stiffened at the question, as if bracing himself, before he turned to face Morgan. “The King.”
“Shit.” All amusement bled out of her, and the book seemed to burn in her arms.
Everything she needed to keep her people safe was in those pages.
A nearly crippling pain lit her every nerve ending when she was forced to let it go, the book thumping heavily on the table when she dropped it.
She grabbed the chair again with both hands to keep her legs from buckling. “Shit.”
Loki wiggled away from Shade and came to a stop next to her, leaning heavily against her legs, offering his support. He focused on the others with narrowed eyes, the red in them flaring bright, making him look menacing.
“He knows about me?” The words were barely a whisper of air as she struggled to breathe past the constriction in her throat. She pushed herself upright, relieved her legs could support her. “How?”
“I told him.” Shade rose to his feet, freely admitting his betrayal. “When I explained why I took the book, the king gave it to me…so I might offer it to you. Consider it a gift—one that he expects you to return when you’re finished.”
The ramifications of everything hit her at once.
Not only did the king know about her, but instead of sending people to kill her, he sent her a priceless gift. “I don’t understand.”
“Word about your existence is spreading.” Ward edged closer, concern sending the silver in his eyes swirling. “He was bound to find out the truth eventually. It was better the news came from us.”
Draven swore viciously.
“Us?” Morgan glanced at Ward, acid churning in her gut.
She’d known the truth would leak out eventually, but she thought she would have more time with her guys first. Panic tightened around her heart…she wasn’t anywhere near ready to say goodbye to them. Her throat was raw as she watched her world shatter. “Why didn’t you stop him?”
“When Shade disappeared, he made his way to the capital.” Ward looked uncomfortable under her reproachful gaze, but not repentant. “The King knew of your presence the moment you crossed into his realm.”
“He was pleased to learn that you survived, but because of the recent troubles and the assassination attempts you survived, he decided it would be better to keep your return silent.” Shade leaned against the wall, his pose casual, and he nodded to the book in front of her. “He gave you that as a gift of goodwill.”
Silent…as in the better to kill you without anyone noticing silent? She had the sinking feeling that they weren’t telling her something important. “And?”
Ward and Shade shared a glance that promised nothing but trouble.
“We are here to train you…as promised.” Shade gave her his best winning smile, but the sharp edge to it reminded her that he wasn’t human and was not to be trusted.
“You were ordered to keep an eye on her.” Draven sounded disgusted, absentmindedly flipping the blade in his hand over and over, as if contemplating how best to take them apart one piece at a time.
“No, we were ordered to guard her.” Ward countered.
If that was the case, why didn’t Morgan feel all warm and fuzzy and protected?
Why did it feel they were more jailers than friends?
“The King will be sending an emissary.” Ward kept his face expressionless, but his tone was full of bite. “They will be the one to decide your future.”
To decide if she lived or died.
Ward nodded to the book. “We must train you—”
“But not too much.” Shade interrupted, his charming face belying his deadly words. “The last thing you need is for the King to see you as a threat.”
“When will we be leaving the Academy?” She was already mentally packing, deciding what she should take with her. She managed to sneak out last night, so she could do it again. She would not allow the others to be dragged into danger with her. Hell, only Atlas would even be able to survive in the other realm. The others would slowly suffer from magical sickness.
There was no way to protect them when magic infused the very air.
“We have permission to remain in the human realm for now, until things become more settled and you can better protect yourself.” Ward didn’t seem pleased at the turn of events, and Morgan wasn’t sure if he wanted to turn her over to the crown or protect her from it.
She couldn’t tell if the two men before her were friend or foe.
She only knew that until she figured out what they really wanted, she couldn’t trust either of them.
Before more could be said, a great Viking horn trumpeted through the silence, reverberating through the room like a gong, sounding different from the battle cry she heard the last time.
Morgan glanced at Draven, more than ready for something physical she could fight. “Trouble?”
“Worse.” His expression was grim when he turned to face her, his expression so hard and bleak, magic surged in her veins. “Visitors.”
Chapter Eight
Atlas ran through the hallways, shoving others out of his way when they didn’t move fast enough. He had to get to Morgan before the visitors entered the Academy.
That damn fool Draven never told her the truth, and she needed to be told by one of them that her life was about to change irrevocably, and not let her be caught unawares by a stranger.
He held out his hand, grabbed the corner, and used his momentum to swing himself around the adjacent hall without slowing. When he saw Morgan ahead, something loosened in his chest, her beautiful face making his breath hitch. Then he noticed Ward and Shade, and his mood darkened.
Those two meant nothing but trouble.
Then his focus settled on Draven.
Without slowing, he charged forward, grabbed the damn siren by the throat, and slammed him up against the wall, the darkness swelling inside him. “I warned you what would happen if you didn’t tell her the truth.”
“Atlas!”
He struggled to ignore Morgan when she grabbed his arm, her touch sending shocks through his system. It was all he could do not to drop the asshole, gather her to him, and protect her from what he knew was coming.
If she lost one of them it would destroy her.
She would fight for them, but he wasn’t sure it would be enough. Maybe the real question was—would she go as far as to start a war to keep them?
She was too important to risk over something as trivial as saving a man that wasn’t even officially her mate.
“What the fuck, man!” Draven struggled in his grip, but Atlas refused to loosen his hold.
He got right up into Draven’s face and snarled, “Your family just arrived. They’re waiting on our doorstep.”
The fight went out of Draven, devastation crossing the kid’s face, and he went limp, defeat darkening his eyes. The coward couldn’t even bring himself to look at Morgan, and Atlas released him, setting him gently on his feet.
Draven wanted a few more precious seconds with Morgan. It was something Atlas could understand, since neither of them were sure why she found either of them worthy.
Draven didn’t believe Morgan would fight for him.
&nb
sp; The fool.
“Tell her,” Atlas warned.
In reply, Draven’s face shut down, his blue eyes devoid of emotion, the animation draining out of him.
“Someone better tell me what the hell is going on right now.” Morgan was more than ready to smack the both of them for acting like boys in a staring contest, their expressions turning almost vicious, and she didn’t like it.
Draven should be thrilled to see his family…he hadn’t seen his sister since she disappeared when they were children.
So why wasn’t he happy?
Instead of answering, Atlas stepped around her, then wrapped her in his arms, absently brushing his thumb over the mating mark on the inside of her arm.
Atlas never showed public affection, and she very much doubted that he was comforting her, and that scared the crap out of her.
He knew something she wouldn’t like, and she braced herself for the fallout.
“He—”
“Don’t!” The tortured protest was ripped from Draven, the sound barely above a whisper.
“If you care for her even a little bit, then have the decency to tell her the truth.” The compassion in the softly spoken words from Atlas sent a shiver down her spine.
“The truth?” Morgan hated the way her voice shook. Something told her she didn’t really want to know…that the truth would destroy the life they’d been building.
Draven ran his fingers through his hair, refusing to look at her. “When my sister vanished, I went looking for her.” He gave a bitter laugh. “What I didn’t know was how very few male sirens there are in the world. Even though I was only a half-breed, I was still considered valuable.”
Her heart clenched tight at the defeated slump of his shoulders—he aged ten years in the span of a heartbeat. When she moved to go to him, Atlas tightened his arms, and her stomach churned…something worse was coming.
“I managed to escape their clutches, but not before one of them placed a claim on me.”
Morgan just blinked at him, not understanding.
When Draven glanced at her, she recoiled from the resigned expression on his face. “The queen took an interest in me and decided I would make a lovely addition to her harem.”
“That’s not possible.” Her heart seized, as if he’d torn open her ribcage and squeezed the exposed, still-pumping flesh, and she was grateful for Atlas’s arms around her when the strength went out of her legs.
It took two beats of her heart before she could get over the shock, but then she shook her head. It made no sense. She refused to believe it. “You don’t bear her mark.”
“It doesn’t matter.” He twisted his head side to side, his neck cracking, as if bracing to do something really foolish or dangerous—or both. “She’s my queen. I must obey her. When she demands I return with her, I’ll have no choice.”
“Bullshit.” Morgan tore herself away from Atlas. “That’s not going to happen.”
Draven moved fast, stepping in front of her, cupping her face. She didn’t have time to catch her breath before he slanted his lips over hers, and then she didn’t care as the craving for more roared through her. She found herself pressed between both men, her body longing for even more.
The kiss was full of desperation and hunger…and tasted like goodbye.
Draven tore himself away from her, his sea blue eyes stormy while he searched her face as if memorizing her features. Then he turned and stalked away, his shoulders back, his stride stiff as he headed toward the gallows, every inch of him the proud prince.
Morgan would’ve stumbled after him like a lovesick fool if Atlas hadn’t caught her close. She touched her lips while she watched Draven disappear around the corner in bemusement. “Does he really believe he’s not mine? That I won’t fight for him?”
She twisted and glanced up at Atlas, wondering if they all felt the same way. She risked everything to save the elf when he was trapped in a dungeon and sentenced to death by his own kind.
Something in his dark green eyes softened, the dark burnt umber never quite leaving them, revealing his alternate nature. “We’re hunters, a dime a dozen. Even when claimed by a mate, many are thrown away, nothing more than trash.”
Morgan was sickened by the acceptance in his voice, but she knew he spoke the truth. The coven where she lived often pitted the males against each other to earn favors, uncaring if they were hurt or killed. The more vicious the fighting, the better the reward.
She couldn’t live that way, and she didn’t understand why they didn’t revolt.
“Not acceptable.” She pushed away from him, and stalked down the hallway after Draven, then glanced at Atlas over her shoulder. “Though he’s not marked, he’s still mine, and he’s worth fighting for.”
Atlas cursed, and she couldn’t resist picking up her pace, smiling a little when he chased after her.
“She’s his queen. Obedience is his only choice.” Atlas sounded worried, and that pissed her off.
Morgan halted so abruptly, he almost ran her over, barely managing to swerve and avoid plowing into her. He scowled down at her, and she planted her hands on her hips. “I am his queen. And if I had to bet, I would say my standing is higher than hers. If it comes to a fight, I will win.”
She had no choice.
Atlas watched her, swiping his hair away from his face in a rare show of emotion, his pointed ears barely peeking out from the silken strands, and she found her anger melting.
“It could mean war.”
Morgan narrowed her eyes suspiciously at his mild tone. She’d swear she spotted a slight curl to his mouth, as if he was suppressing a smile.
The bastard was enjoying himself. If he ever had any doubts about her commitment to them, they were gone now, and she smiled back at him. “I’ve fought a dragon and won. How much trouble could one queen be?”
Morgan stalked through the school, unable to find hide nor hair of Draven so she could give him a good thrashing.
Thankfully, his queen and her entourage were occupied with the headmistress.
After another pass around the school, she stopped and heaved out a frustrated sigh. She stood outside, the back courtyard of the Academy giving her a breathtaking view of the mountains, but she saw none of it.
The rat bastard was ducking her.
“Of course he is.”
Morgan jumped when Ryder answered her, not realizing that she’d spoken out loud. “What?”
She whirled to see the big shifter push away from where he was casually leaning against the school. He’d been following her all morning, and she suspected he’d been assigned to keep her occupied and out of trouble. She’d also spotted each of the other guys over the past hour where they had staked out different areas around the school to watch her, their concern palpable. It felt like they were closing in on her.
“He’s been in love with you from the moment he laid eyes on you.” Ryder stopped inches from her, his wonderful heat washing over her. Shifters were supposed to be prone to violence, but he’d been nothing but gentle with her. His whisky brown eyes were soft when he gazed down at her. “The last thing he wants is to allow you anywhere near the bitch queen.”
“So he’s trying to protect me.” Morgan touched his chest, loving the solid feel of him. “Don’t I have the right to protect him, too?”
Something in Ryder’s face hardened, and she knew no matter how much she batted her lashes at him, he would not cave, and she resisted the urge to dropkick him. Instead, she shoved him until he stumbled away from her. “Why the fuck not?”
“It’s our job to protect you—even from yourself.”
“Of all the idiotic, stupid, moronic—”
“You must be the woman who’s preventing my brother from returning home.”
Morgan turned to see a stunning woman casually stroll gracefully down the stairs. She was a little slip of a thing, her curves a little too lush, the way she moved pure seduction. Her hair was dark, the straight, wispy strands reaching past her butt, her bl
ue eyes deeper and more vivid than Draven’s, if it was possible.
Morgan could see why men would lose themselves in her gaze. She was a combination of innocence and sex appeal that would bring any guy to his knees to worship before her.
Morgan shook her head, and whatever spell the woman cast on those nearby faded. “Excuse me?”
The girl’s brows scrunched up for a second before smoothing out. “My name is—”
“Tamara.” Morgan crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes, the hair on the back of her neck rising at the complete lack of emotions the girl showed.
Kincade strolled through the gathering crowd, making his way toward her, trying to appear casual, but not fooling her for an instant.
Tamara’s shrewd eyes assessed her back, as if the siren was debating how to proceed. “My brother usually comes home to visit once a year. When he didn’t show up this year, I knew there was something wrong.”
“Wrong?” Morgan hesitated. The girl almost sounded concerned, but something didn’t add up. Draven had implied that his sister was lost to him. Instead, he’d known where she was the whole time. “What do you mean?”
“You don’t know.” Tamara paused, her eyes widening slightly. “A siren can’t survive away from the ocean. He may only be half siren, but if he refuses the call of the sea, he will begin to sicken.”
A slight curl of derision twisted her lips when she said he was only a half-breed, as if he was a lesser being because of his birth, completely ignoring the fact that Tamara was a half-breed herself.
“And you think I’ve kept him from returning?” Then Morgan dismissed the question and focused on what concerned her more. “Sicken how?”
Ascher didn’t even try to be subtle as he walked through the Academy doors and strolled down the stairs like he owned the place, coming to a stop near the others.
Tamara frowned at the guys when they seemed to pay her no attention, replying to Morgan distractedly. “Water is life.”
Claimed by the Assassins (An Academy of Assassins Novel Book 3) Page 8
