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

by Stacey Brutger

  To distract him, she tapped his ribs. “What are you doing here?”

  The last thing she expected was him to answer. “Protect.”

  She blinked dumbly up at him, then glanced at Kincade, hoping he would be able to shed some light. “I thought he protected the school. Why is he here?”

  “Protect.” The gargoyle’s word was guttural, but clear.

  She didn’t understand it. In all the time that she’d been talking to him, he hadn’t once uttered a word. She felt a little bit bashful at all the secrets she’d spilled to him. “Is he supposed to be able to speak?”

  “He’s waking up.” Kincade lifted the arm she had draped over her shoulders, and took her spot, bearing the near-crushing weight. The gargoyle sniffed him, his nose crinkling, then gave a huff and small grumble at the change. “We need to get going. I doubt that’s the only surprise we’ll run across tonight.”

  “Do you know where we are?” Morgan gingerly touched the crusted wound on Kincade’s forehead, relieved to see that it had already begun to close. The blood made the injury appear worse than it actually was. She expected Kincade to huff and pull away at her poking and prodding, but he held perfectly still, as if he enjoyed having her fuss over him.

  Very reluctantly, Kincade lifted his head and glanced around them, then grimaced. “We’re in the middle of nowhere. I was planning to take us to a secure site so we could monitor anyone that approached.”

  A muscle knotted in his jaw, and he glanced away from her, clearly calling himself all kinds of fool, and she cupped his jaw until his eyes came back to her. Then she leaned up and kissed his cheek. “We’re close. We only need to find a place to stay. Where?”

  Kincade shook himself, his green eyes bright when he sighed. “There was an abandoned farmhouse a few miles from here.”

  Ryder and Ascher emerged from the darkness a second later in their human forms. Ryder was dressed, while Ascher was pulling a shirt over his head, and they were each carrying a bag of supplies. Ascher was limping, while Ryder’s shoulder quickly bled through his shirt. Their movements were stiff, and it took everything in her not to go to them and at least inspect their wounds.

  There was nothing she could do to help them, not while they were out in the open and vulnerable. She needed to get them somewhere safe.

  Despite her resolve, she was about to hurry over to them when Atlas captured her hand and dragged her away. “We don’t have time. The van is inoperable. We’ll need to see if we can find another vehicle at the farmhouse or hole up there until morning.”

  Morgan craned her neck to watch the guys struggling under the weight of the wounded gargoyle. “But—”

  “The others have their hands full. We’ll take lead and scout ahead.” Atlas didn’t give her a chance to protest, but picked up his pace and dragged her along behind him.

  It took more than an hour for them to find the farmhouse, and by then Morgan was literally jumping at shadows. She didn’t like it that the Black Dog hadn’t returned, very much afraid that something much worse was heading their way.

  “What do you see?” Atlas nudged her, his eyes hard as he searched the darkness.

  “Huh?” Morgan nearly stumbled over her own feet at the unexpected sound of his voice.

  “You’ve been looking behind you more than you’ve been watching where we’re going. Is it the others?” He peered over her head as he scanned the darkness again.

  “You feel it, too, don’t you?”

  A muscle bunched along his jaw. “We’re being watched.”

  He didn’t say anything more, just picked up his pace.

  There was a stillness in the air that felt heavy, almost repelling her forward motion, telling her to turn back. But going back meant putting her men in danger and that wasn’t an option. The unnatural silence continued to deepen until the absence felt like they were walking underwater.

  As they began the trek up the long driveway, her spirits dropped. When Kincade said abandoned, he must have meant dilapidated, because the house looked seconds away from falling apart even as she watched. A stagnant pond that looked more like a boggy marsh took up the majority of the backyard, and a quick glance revealed there were no vehicles to steal or hot-wire, and she sighed. “We’ll need to clear the building before the others get here.”

  Although she and Atlas had hauled ass the last three miles, acting as decoys, the rest of the team was only a few minutes behind them. The run did little to work off her nerves, and as she walked up the creaky stairs, foreboding dug its claws deeper into her spine.

  Something bad was coming.

  They needed to hurry.

  The white paint of the house had flaked off decades ago, only a few stubborn chips remaining. The wood was so warped, the nails were practically falling out. The place was small, a two-story bungalow more than an actual farmhouse, and electricity had long since been only a memory.

  Inside, the rooms were tiny, probably built in the thirties and never updated. The plaster walls had crumbled eons ago, mildew and mold having corroded them away, and the floorboards were rotten and missing in spots. The place hadn’t seen a person in decades. Atlas pointed upstairs, and Morgan nodded and headed toward the basement.

  All it took was for her to open the door, before she slammed it shut again. The basement was filled with nearly four feet of water, the stench of stale water and mold whirled around her. The basement didn’t have stairs anymore, having long since collapsed, rotten bits of planks still floating in the water.

  By the time she headed back toward the front of the house, the others had arrived. Draven dropped the gargoyle’s arm, letting Kincade take most of the weight. The siren glanced up at the hole-studded ceiling, but appeared to have run out of snarky observations.

  For some reason, it made her infinitely sad.

  Like he’d already given up.

  Kincade slowly lowered the gargoyle to the floor, the creature appeared dazed by the nasty blow to his head, his wing still sitting lower than the other, but it looked like he could move it slightly. “Why did he come to our rescue…my rescue?”

  She spoke to Kincade, but couldn’t stop looking at the gargoyle. She wasn’t used to seeing him moving and so alive. The gargoyle hadn’t spoken again, but the moment he came through the door, his focus remained on her and her alone, and she shifted uncomfortably under the intensity…as if her survival was the only thing that mattered.

  She edged closer to the gargoyle, then crouched in front of him. The guys fell silent, each of them crowding closer, their aggression spiking, but Morgan wasn’t afraid.

  He would never hurt her…she was staking her life on it.

  “Upstairs is clear.” Atlas entered the room, his eyes immediately seeking her out, only relaxing when he found her. His attention dropped to the gargoyle, then he glanced back at her and answered the question she asked. “You taste of magic, the same magic as the school he vowed to protect. To him you’re one and the same. I also believe he knows the truth of your heritage, knows that you’re the true owner of the Academy, and switched loyalties to you.”

  That made Morgan shut up.

  Though she didn’t want blind loyalty, if that’s what it took to keep her men safe, she would take all the help she could get. She just hoped they both wouldn’t regret it.

  The gargoyle gazed at her with completely black eyes, but something about his brooding face didn’t look so beastly anymore.

  “What are you doing?” Kincade walked next to her, ready to rip her away if he thought she was in danger. He didn’t sound happy.

  “Atlas said we’re both part of the school. If that’s true, then I should be able to heal him.”

  Kincade crouched next to her, his stern face softening as he gazed at her. “I know you want to help him, but you need to conserve your strength.”

  Before she could argue, he brushed his fingers lightly down her cheek. “We have three hours before sunrise. They’ll come for us long before then.” Kincade scrubbed a h
and along his jaw as he surveyed the house. “And this place is a mess. We’ll never be able to defend it if they can just walk through the rotten walls to get inside.”

  “We’ve got incoming.” Ryder gestured to something beyond the window.

  Everyone took up positions by the windows and front door. At first, she only saw one shadowy shape, then two. After another minute, more and more began to lumber out of the darkness. They didn’t advance, but stood waiting. “Why aren’t they attacking?”

  It took a concerted effort not to grab for her black blades and charge outside.

  “We’ve got more out back.” Ascher spoke from the dining room overlooking the backyard.

  Kincade scowled, then picked up the to-go bags and dropped them on the counter, emptying them of weapon after weapon. “They’re trying to lure us out, split our forces.”

  Draven began loading up with weapons, and the others quickly followed. “They’re waiting for more forces to arrive. They’ll make their move soon. We’ll either have to run now or we’ll be forced to stand and fight.”

  “How are they tracking us?” A trickle of unease burrowed into Morgan’s subconscious. “There’s no sense running if they’re only going to keep following. They’ll eventually hunt us down, possibly take us by surprise before we have a chance to defend ourselves. We need to figure this out first.”

  “So we make our stand here.” Kincade went into alpha mode as he began searching the cupboards and drawers for supplies, taking whatever could be used as weapons, leaving her to figure out the trap before it was sprung on them.

  Morgan played everything over in her mind, not liking the idea of splitting the group to cover both the front and back. “I first thought they must have been tracking the van, but that doesn’t explain how they were able to find us here. Could they be tracking the geas?”

  “No.” Draven paused with his hand on a set of knifes, refusing to even look at her.

  Then he punched the cupboard.

  Once.

  Twice.

  Morgan wasn’t aware that she was moving until she caught his arm, and he nearly fell on his ass trying to scramble away from her, as if she was pure poison. Even as she watched, his split knuckles healed, which only seemed to piss him off more.

  “This is my fault.” Draven gripped the back of his head, threading his fingers together, and began pacing. “The queen’s natural element is the sea. She can scry through any surface of water— even a single drop of liquid is enough. She probably knew where we were every step of the way. Worse, I’m a creature of the ocean, hers to control. If I dry out and stay away from the water, I’m fine. But as soon as I enter any body of water bigger than a bathtub, she’s able to track me.”

  He dropped his arms, his eyes shuttered when he peered up at her, not able to even meet her eyes. “You need to leave me here. I’ll hold them back. Stay away from any water, and you should be fine.”

  Morgan didn’t think it was that simple.

  It couldn’t be.

  Only mates could track like that, and she refused to believe that Draven and the bitch queen were bound.

  “She’s tracking you, but not the way you expect.” She tightened her lips, refusing to give up on Draven, even if he’d given up on himself.

  Draven stopped pacing, and his head snapped up toward her, the scowl on his face formidable.

  “If she could’ve located you at any time, then she would’ve found you a hell of a lot sooner. It must be a spell that triggers when you hit the water.” She took a step toward him, and he backed up. When she took another one, he slammed into the wall behind him, bits of plaster raining down on him. She stopped abruptly, then held out her hand. It had to be his choice. She wouldn’t be like his queen and take the decision from him. “I’m immune to magic. If you allow me to touch you, I should be able to track the magic and break the spell.”

  Draven looked like she was about to torture him. She didn’t understand his reluctance. She thought he would be pleased to finally be free of the bitch queen.

  “And if it’s not a spell?”

  Some of the tension seeped out of her. He wasn’t afraid of her, he was afraid of the future…afraid that she couldn’t free him…afraid that she could. “Then we’ll deal with it.” She walked right up to him and cupped his face. “There is nothing that will make me give up on you.”

  He searched her eyes, his own a stormy blue, before he finally nodded. He took a shuddering breath, then nodded again. “Do it.”

  Morgan narrowed her eyes at his easy capitulation, but she’d take it if it meant she could help him. Kincade cleared his throat. When she turned to him, she saw him nod to the others. “We’re going to shore up the perimeter.”

  Morgan opened her mouth to protest them leaving the house, until Ryder squeezed her arm. “We’re not trying to handle things without you. You’ll know the instant the fighting begins. We’ll need to work together if we want to survive.”

  She swallowed her protest, knowing he was right, and silently watched them leave. Even the gargoyle lumbered to his feet. Unable to help herself, she reached out and brushed her fingers along his broken wing.

  The great beast froze, then magic shimmered beneath her palms, warming her hands. When the heat faded, she dropped her arm. His injured wing fluttered, then he flexed them both slightly before settling them more firmly against his back. She didn’t even have to direct her magic to heal him, it did it of its own accord. He headed out the door, then paused before crossing the threshold, giving her a nod. “Protect.”

  The guttural word made her think that he meant more than her this time…he would try to keep them all safe for as long as he could.

  “What’s your name?”

  He cocked his head, as if he tried to remember a time before he was a sculpture. “Mal.”

  Then he was gone.

  “I never wanted this for you.”

  Morgan turned to see Draven slouched against the cupboard, arms crossed as if to force her to keep her distance.

  Foolish man.

  “Not your decision.” Morgan moved closer to him, unable to keep from scowling. “I get to decide who I let in my life, who I love—not you.”

  She flinched at admitting her feelings out loud, painfully uncertain of his reaction. If he ran, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to heal from that kind of wound.

  Instead of terror, he looked poleaxed.

  “Love?” His voice cracked. He dropped his arms, and strode toward her, grabbing her shoulders in an almost painful grip. “You love me.”

  It wasn’t a question.

  His hold tightened when she didn’t immediately answer, lost in the wonder and awe on his face, like he never expected to receive such a treasure. When he swallowed hard, suddenly looking doubtful, she placed her hands on his chest. “Of course I do, you idiot.”

  Draven didn’t react, only stared at her, like he didn’t understand what she was saying…like he didn’t feel he deserved her love. Unable to bear seeing him so broken, she reached up and grabbed his face. “I. Love. You.”

  He seemed to unthaw, his stormy blue eyes glowing as he slowly lowered his head, giving her time to flee. Silly man. She expected to be ravished, but the kiss was so gentle, her breath caught, and her stomach did a slow somersault.

  When he lifted his head, he gazed down at her in wonder, like he just experienced his first kiss.

  “I love you.” As soon as he said it, something in him shut down. “That’s why I need you to leave.”

  Morgan flinched, his rejection wounding more deeply than any blade. Physical wounds she could heal, but she wasn’t sure if she would ever be able to recover from him sending her away. “I don’t understand.”

  “You’ll be safe if you leave. I can distract the attackers to give you time. They don’t want to kill me.”

  “No.” Everything inside her rebelled at leaving him alone to fight her battles. “You’re a fucking idiot. You might not be able to be killed, but you can st
ill be hurt. Your bitch queen sees your refusal to return as a betrayal. She will want her pound of flesh, and it’s likely to be extremely unpleasant.”

  She sidestepped quickly and smacked away his hands when he reached for her. “Do you really think that there’s anything you can say that will change my mind?”

  When he didn’t answer, she narrowed her eyes at him. “Why are you all of the sudden so hot to see me leave? Especially since it would leave me vulnerable without you to protect me?”

  “I’m trying to keep you safe, you daft woman.” Draven straightened abruptly and scowled down at her. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do.”

  Morgan couldn’t help but bat her eyelashes and blink up at him innocently, enjoying it when he backed up a step. “Do you mean the same thing that you’re trying to do to me?”

  A quick glance out the window showed the shadows had multiplied and more were coming. Morgan held out her hand. “We don’t have much time left. But take my word for it, we are going to do this one way or another, and I’d rather get it over with before the fighting begins.”

  His face hardened, his eyes going completely blank, hiding from her again, and she resisted the urge to punch him. When she took a threatening step toward him, he reluctantly lifted his hand. “Fine.”

  His don’t-give-a-shit attitude stung, but they didn’t have more time to argue. She reached out and grabbed his hand, then closed her eyes and waited for her magic to rise.

  Only it didn’t.

  Apparently, calling for her powers didn’t magically make them work.

  Hard way it is, then.

  She concentrated on Draven and focused on his magic. To her surprise, a whoosh of water filled her ears. Her murky surroundings began to clear, like she was under the ocean. A splash of blue shimmered in the distance as a shape moved toward her. When she got her first glimpse of the creature, her jaw dropped.

  It was Draven…but not.

  While he still had his human shape, she suspected due to him being a half-breed, he wasn’t human either.

  His skin was tinged a light blue hue, and it shimmered slightly, as if catching a ray of sunlight. His black hair was darker, his blue eyes even more vivid as they glowed. He wore cutoff jeans that did nothing to disguise his form. His chest wasn’t bulky, but it was so well defined, she couldn’t tear her eyes away. He was like a water king come to life, his exotic looks making him even more stunning, something she wouldn’t have believed possible.