He began to make his way toward her, menace building in the room around her.
“Oil.”
His deep laughter filled the room again, revealing row after row of sharp teeth that should be too big to fit in his mouth. “You think to burn me.”
Morgan eyed the distance between them, keeping her hands beneath the water. As he came within touching distance, she grinned. “No, something better.”
She pushed off the broken crates, shot through the air, and brought up her arms. Before he had time to scatter, Morgan sank her blades deep. His squeal of pain nearly pierced her eardrums, and it was all she could do not to cover them with her hands.
“How?” The raspy word was barely audible, the first hint of fear sending him stumbling backward.
“You picked the wrong bitch to back.” She pulled out the blades, then sliced again, aiming for his throat. Green, pulpy slime dribbled down his chest, and he clutched at the wounds as he staggered backwards. Morgan followed, bringing up her blades one more time.
“The blades of the gods.” He tried to drop beneath the water and flee, but she couldn’t risk him attacking her men. Creatures like him couldn’t be allowed free to terrorize the world.
Without a second’s hesitation, she slammed the blade deep into the top of his skull. The blade hummed slightly in her grip, as if in pleasure, and she could feel the magic keeping the creature alive slowly fade.
Then shark-man slid into the cloudy water and disappeared from view. Even as she watched, his skin began to slough off, resembling a corpse that had been in the water for a week. The form began to bloat, and Morgan hastily lifted her leg and shoved him away with her boot, half expecting him to explode and spew a bunch of rank nastiness all over her.
Morgan brought up her black blades, shocked that her ploy had worked. Kincade said the blades could kill anything paranormal, but she’d never tested the theory, especially since Draven made it pretty clear that only fire would kill creatures.
The water pouring into the room slowed to a trickle, the near-deafening noise quieting, bringing back the racket of battle.
Morgan eyed the broken stairs but decided against them.
The guys were fighting for their lives, and she needed to help them.
She closed her eyes and focused on the front stairs of the house. Tingles spread through her, but this time she could feel the particles pull apart, her stomach felt like it dropped to her feet as wind began to swirl around her. The tingling came back again for a few seconds, then cold air slapped her in the face.
The floorboards of the porch dipped beneath her feet, and Morgan grabbed the railing to keep her knees from buckling. She swallowed hard and glanced at the chaos in the yard around her. The guys were working in tandem, like a cohesive group, each seeming to know where the other was at all times.
And all of them were soaked to the bone.
Even as she watched, Kincade sliced into an alligator sort of creature, only for the animal to pop like a balloon in a spray of water. Unfortunately, dozens of the creatures were slowly and methodically putting themselves back together, using whatever spare parts that they had on hand. One had three arms, another had two left hands, while the last one didn’t even have legs, resolutely pulling himself toward the battle.
Not to mention that half of the body parts weren’t even human.
The creatures were clumsy on land, more fish than man, like they’d taken whatever spare body parts they could find that might help them walk instead of swim. She was afraid the remains must have been relatively recent, because the flesh wasn’t rotting off them. They were possibly sailors pulled into the depths of the sea, or more likely new “recruits” abducted after the creatures were summoned.
When one of the creatures began to creep up behind Atlas, Morgan leapt over the railing and swung her blade…and was gratified to see the body drop to the ground dead. It didn’t reanimate or burst into water. It was just dead.
Atlas swung toward her, the only sign of his surprise was the slight widening of his eyes when he caught sight of the dead body between them. Then his gaze locked on to her as he scanned her from head to foot, noting every bruise, every cut. “You were supposed to be safely inside.”
Morgan raised a brow at his accusing tone. “Yeah, well, someone should’ve told the enemy that the house was off limits.”
His lips quirked, but he didn’t smile. When his eyes flickered behind her, Morgan whirled and stabbed the creature limping toward her, dragging a leg that was a bit too long behind him. The creature gasped in surprise at the knife in his chest, then dropped to his knees and keeled over dead.
“Interesting.” Atlas studied the blades a little enviously, but didn’t try to take them.
“Use me as a weapon.” Morgan waited, half expecting him to turn her down. To her shock, he nodded, then glanced up at the roof, where the gargoyle was knocking off creatures right and left. He turned, then calmly held out his arm to her.
Without hesitation, she reached for him.
As soon as he latched onto her arm, he swung her around…then she was airborne. She landed on top of the house, then began to run up the roof, slicing two creatures through the back, then kicked the third one behind the knee, and slammed her knife through his chest when he stumbled.
The gargoyle turned toward her and scowled, then launched through the air, catching her up in his arms before swooping down and gently setting her on the ground, lightly nudging her toward Ascher and Draven. “Safe.”
She watched as Ascher and Draven systematically destroyed every creature as soon as they emerged from the water. Steam rose from Ascher. Anyone stupid enough to get close enough to him ended up being evaporated…if that’s what you wanted to call it. He would touch one of the creatures, their faces barely formed yet, and it was like he would boil them from the inside out. The body would begin to smoke, then shrivel, until only a husk would remain, the spirit burned out until the body caught fire like so much kindling.
Draven was just as effective, keeping most of the creatures from leaving the boggy swamp. While he wasn’t able to kill the creatures, he dismantled them faster than they could reform. Ryder rounded the side of the house, his eyes immediately locking on her. As a creature came toward him, he barely spared it a glance, just reached into his chest and ripped out the man’s spine. The creature melted slowly until he resembled nothing more than a slimy glob with fish parts suspended in the sludge.
Ryder’s shirt was plastered to his torso, revealing every delicious inch of him, and Morgan couldn’t stop herself from staring.
Draven chuckled. “Check the drool, babe.”
Morgan blinked, blushing when Ryder came to a stop in front on her, a little growl of displeasure rumbling from his chest.
And my, what a very well-sculpted chest it was.
When Draven chuckled again, she snapped her mouth shut, jamming her elbow back into his ribs before he could dance away. Heat burned her cheeks, and she ducked her head, discreetly checking her mouth for drool in case he wasn’t making it up.
Then wanted to kick Draven again when he caught her at it.
“What’s the plan?” Morgan eyed the men as they lined up in front of her, then systematically began tearing apart the Fomorians. “I can try to skip us away from water or try to open a portal.”
“No.” Draven didn’t even hesitate.
“Don’t even think it,” Atlas warned.
Ryder didn’t even bother to speak, and latched on to her arm to prevent her from disappearing.
Morgan barely resisted rolling her eyes.
“We can’t go back to the Academy until sunrise.” Kincade rounded the house, his eyes warming when they landed on her. He glanced at the horizon, then surveyed the small group. “We just need to keep them busy for another hour.”
Which was easier said than done.
By the time the hour was done, she was still drenched, the frigid air pebbling her skin. Worse…she smelled like spoiled, briny fish.
All she wanted was a hot shower and a warm bed.
As the sun crested over the horizon, the creatures fled back into the bog…or what was left of them did. The few bodies that remained behind melted to ooze, soaked back up into the earth in minutes.
As the sun rose higher, the only thing that remained were hacked-up bodies and piles of charred corpses.
Draven came to a stop next to her, bumping her shoulder, then plucked a piece of dead fish out of Atlas’s hair. “Shushi anyone?”
Ryder huffed while Ascher and Kincade groaned. The thought of eating any type of fish made her stomach churn.
“Not funny, fish boy.” Atlas glared at Draven with hard eyes, the dark elf in him retreating to his more formal self. His skin lost its pale lavender hue, the brunt umber fading slightly from his emerald green eyes. He withdrew a blade from somewhere on his person, then gave Draven a fierce smile. “It would be easy to add one more to the pile.”
Draven spread his arms innocently in a silent dare, then chuckled madly, ducking behind her when Atlas advanced, and she found herself pressed between two men. Both of them stopped moving the instant they came into contact with her skin, their attention snapping to her, all their aggression changing to something far more compelling.
Atlas remained still, as if struggling to make himself move away from her…and failing. The darker Atlas would’ve taken what he wanted, but not the old Atlas who hated to lose control.
“Dude, either kiss her or step away.” Draven’s amused comment caused Atlas to stiffen and scowl, but much to her shock, he didn’t move, and she realized that he was afraid…of touching her…of hurting her…of being rejected.
Ignoring her many aches and pains, Morgan leaned against Atlas and pushed herself up on her toes. She didn’t think he was even breathing, and something inside her softened at the rigid way he held himself, as if he didn’t want to scare her away.
“Kiss me.” The words were just a breath of air, but his green eyes seemed to shimmer, the edges darkening with the beautiful burnt umber.
Then his mouth was on hers, his lips slowly and gently…exploring her, testing to see what she liked. After a second, he sank his fingers into her hair, jerking her roughly against him, completely losing himself in the kiss, his mouth becoming demanding, asking everything of her and giving even more.
The cinnamon taste of him was exotic, leaving her with tingling lips and craving more.
Only when someone cleared their throat loudly right in her ear did Morgan jerk away, remembering once again where they stood. Ascher smothered the snort that said he’d been trying to get her attention for some time.
“We need to check your injuries.” Ascher gently took her hand and led her away.
Morgan glanced over her shoulder to see that Atlas hadn’t moved, only turned his head to watch her hungrily, his chest heaving as if he was struggling to hold himself back from following.
When he took a step after them, Ascher squeezed her hand. “Don’t encourage him.”
Morgan whipped around to stare at Ascher in shock. “I did no such thing.”
Ascher snorted. “You looked at him, didn’t you?”
Morgan shook her head in disbelief. “But I—”
“We all gravitate toward you, but none of us would lay a hand on you without permission. You never have to fear us.” He released her hand and indicated that she should sit on the porch. “But know that if you ever want more from any of us, all you have to do is ask.”
His words left her dazed, as if he hadn’t just blown up her world, and she sat mutely while he set to work on cleaning the wounds scattered all over her. Most of her injuries had already healed thanks to her heritage, but there had been a lot of them, which slowed the healing process a little.
When Ascher finished inspecting the last of her injuries, he ended up kneeling at her feet. He rose, then took a seat next to her, and pulled her into his arms. “The others should be back soon with a ride. Rest. We’ll watch over you.”
Chapter Fifteen
Ascher ignored the scenery as it flew past the window, conscious only of the woman who was snuggled up against his chest, sound asleep. Despite the stench of the fish people, her own intoxicating scent of warm wildflowers that reminded him of home wafted around him, and he couldn’t resist leaning down to sniff her hair.
He tightened his arm around her, pleased when she snuggled deeper into his arms, and he slowly upped his body temperature, his heart skipping a beat when she tightened her hold on him instead of turning away.
The hellhound raised his massive head, huffing in exasperation over Ascher’s concern that his beast form would scare her away. She was stronger than any of them.
And she had no idea how precious she really was to them.
He was afraid that if she ever discovered it, the knowledge would scare her away. According to her, she didn’t do commitment, she didn’t have friends, and he had to smile at the way she so diligently tried to avoid drawing any kind of attention.
And failed miserably just by breathing.
She’d reluctantly opened herself up to the team, mostly against her will, and became their whole world. She was strong—stronger than any of them—and she could survive without them, but the group would shatter without her to keep them together. They would continue hunting, but the heart of them would be gone.
And they’d come too close to losing her today. They were so busy trying to protect her that they nearly lost her by treating her as something less than an elite hunter. And if he had to guess, that bitch queen of Draven’s wouldn’t stop until Morgan was dead, Wild Hunt or not.
He stifled a growl of denial, unwilling to disturb Morgan’s much-needed sleep. They would all die before letting anything happen to her, but he was afraid it very well could come to pass before the hunt was over. They’d barely survived one night, and they had two more to go.
Morgan shifted in his arms, tightening her hold around his waist, and he stilled when the beast quieted and settled down as meekly as a kitten. He was afraid to move, completely shocked at how deeply and powerfully she affected him. It had taken him years of practice to keep the beast from spilling out of his skin at the tiniest sign of any emotions, and even more years to gain mastery over the volatile creature and not set fire to anything he touched.
All Morgan had to do was touch him or look at him with those stunning bluish-violet eyes, and his beast would obey her every command.
Hell, who was he kidding?
So would he.
As they drove up the road to the Academy, he was able to feel her slipping away even while he held her. The world was changing faster than they could protect her. She was too stubborn to listen to what was best for her, not when she only thought of keeping them safe.
The team was her whole world.
He wasn’t sure how she was going to balance them with her new role as queen, but he knew she would never give up on them, never leave them behind, no matter the cost.
It was going to be up to them to protect her, both from herself and others.
After they pulled up to the Academy, no one exited the vehicle for a moment, and he knew similar thoughts were going through everyone else’s head.
They could leave right now, put everything behind them, and just be hunters without having to deal with any of the bullshit politics.
Kincade heaved a sigh and shut off the vehicle. He stole one look in the rearview mirror at Morgan, then opened his door and left. The others followed.
They knew the truth.
Trouble shadowed Morgan wherever she went. She was an honest-to-goodness goddess, a queen. Though she might be a little rough around the edges, she was the paranormals’ best hope for a peaceful existence earthside. She was one of the world’s greatest defenders, and she didn’t even know it. No matter how much they wanted to leave, run and protect her, fate had a way of finding her, no matter what.
He reluctantly released his hold, his heart tightening when she stirred in his ar
ms.
“Are we home?” She blinked up at him sleepily, her face almost soft, and so damn beautiful his heart clenched.
She was his home. Wherever she went, he would follow, and he desperately hoped he was up to the task of keeping her alive.
“We’re back at the Academy.” Unable to help himself, he leaned over and brushed his lips against hers in what he intended to be an innocent kiss.
But when she leaned into him and opened her mouth, his good intentions vanished. He sank his fingers into the soft strands of her hair and deepened the kiss, staking his claim, the taste of her intoxicating. Only when the slightly singed smell of clothes reached him did he jerk back in alarm…and realized that his own shirt had caught fire.
He quickly scanned Morgan for any signs of burns and found nothing but the enchanting blush that swept her cheeks. Before he could give in to temptation and kiss her again, he opened the door and threw himself out of the vehicle, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath and not crawl back into her arms.
Her sultry chuckle made his shoulders tighten and he hunched away, refusing to look at her as she crawled out of the vehicle, or he would never let her go. When she brushed against him as she walked past, he inhaled reflexively, his breath catching at the seductive sway of her hips as she headed toward the Academy. But when he saw her pace wasn’t as steady as usual, it ignited a warm glow in him to know he had such an effect on her.
He shook himself out of his thoughts and followed, conscious of the stink clinging to him and anxious to get the smell off. Of course it had nothing to do with the image of Morgan standing naked under a stream of warm, soapy water. Ascher ignored the scorched stone where his feet touched the ground and picked up his pace.
He might have entered her life as a slave, battling the compulsion to kill one of the few lone female hunters, but she effortlessly captured his heart instead. He could no more hurt her than tear out his own heart…and if anyone tried to touch her, he’d send them straight to hell.
None would escape the fire and brimstone he would rain down on them.
Claimed by the Assassins (An Academy of Assassins Novel Book 3) Page 16
