“Won’t it?”
The worry in her eyes tore at his heart, and Ryder shook his head. “Are you afraid of my beast?”
He held his breath while he waited, uncertain of her answer, kicking himself for even asking.
“Of course not.” Morgan snorted as if it was absurd and waved a hand. “That’s different.”
His relief was so deep, he nearly dropped to his knees, and he couldn’t stop the giddiness sweeping through him. “Do you trust me?”
The last thing he expected was for her to close the distance between them and place her hand on his chest. “Of course.”
He covered her hand with his, the simple touch nearly making him lose his train of thought. “You are a hunter. You will always be a hunter. Magic won’t change that.”
“Mind if I join you?”
Morgan startled at the sound of Draven’s voice. For the first time since she met him, he seemed uncertain as he stood in the doorway. He was freshly showered, wearing only a pair of shorts, his longish hair slicked back.
Before she could answer, Kincade came to a stop behind him. “Until the Wild Hunt is over, I think it’s best that we all remain together. I don’t trust the sea queen to keep her word and not attack during daylight hours.”
He clasped his hand on Draven’s shoulder, then moved away from the doorway, and she couldn’t help gazing after him, admitting, if only to herself, that she found his strategizing sexy as hell. He was confident in himself, never doubting his insight and abilities…she enjoyed being around his arrogant ass.
When he disappeared from view, Morgan blinked…only to find Draven smiling at her with a knowing quirk to his lips, and her face heated. The rat bastard always seemed to catch her whenever a slightly X-rated thought crossed her mind.
She narrowed her eyes, wondering if it was a kind of gift thanks to his siren heritage.
He winked, like he knew a secret, then turned to follow Kincade, leaving her alone once more with Ryder. The wolf repositioned the rabbit on the shelf like it was his prized possession, avoiding her gaze, and she touched his back.
His head dropped forward, his shoulders relaxing. “Morgan…”
The rumbled sound of her name had her wrapping her arms around his waist from behind. He rested his forearms against the wall, and she nestled her cheek against his spine. The erratic thrum of his heartbeat reminded her of his beast, and she rubbed her hand against his chest, almost willing to swear that she heard the pleased sigh of his wolf.
“Go and save me a spot. I want to check on Mal—”
Ryder straightened abruptly, rising to his full, giant height. “Mal?”
The ferocious scowl on his face sent the temperature of the room soaring as he took a looming step toward her, and another, until he was right up in her face. Morgan couldn’t help grinning, and she stopped him with a hand on his chest. “Yes, Mal. You know, the gargoyle who saved our asses?”
Ryder blinked once…twice…before the steam went out of him. “Oh. Yeah, good. Sure.”
He ran his fingers through his hair, then gripped the back of his neck, a red flush flooding his cheeks as he avoided her gaze.
She couldn’t suppress a chuckle. He gave her a shy, sideways glance from the corner of his eyes, and she reached up, grabbing the back of his neck until he bent down to her height. She rubbed her fingers along his jaw, then gave him a quick kiss on his cheek. “Save me a spot.”
Before she gave into temptation to taste his lips, she slipped out the door. The guys watched her exit, then relaxed and went about their business when she headed toward the bathroom. But she bypassed the showers and walked directly toward the middle door and the escape hatch that led to the roof.
Mal was right where she’d seen him last, overlooking the Academy. He was perched on the ledge, his wings slightly flared, as if ready to launch into the air at a moment’s notice. To her surprise, Loki lay curled up at his feet.
She gently brushed her fingers over the pup’s head, then smiled when he grumbled and curled himself into a tighter ball, his legs twitching as he fought whatever demons he chased in his dreams. She marveled at the grey leathery skin that looked so much like stone.
Blazed in the center of his chest was a phoenix in all its fiery glory. The tips of the gardog’s wings were dusted a pale gold, as if the bird had somehow brushed off onto the statue. It wouldn’t be long before he took to the skies, and she wasn’t sure how the heck they were going to be able to keep track of him and out of trouble once that happened.
She glanced at Mal, but couldn’t see any signs of battle, despite knowing that he’d been injured enough to have been landlocked for a time. Needing to know that he was healed, she reached over and very lightly traced her fingers over Mal’s clawed foot.
Warm stone met her fingertips, but she needed more.
Ryder’s warning about not fearing her magic came back to her.
She could do this.
Blowing out a heavy breath, she closed her eyes, concentrated on her intent, then raised her hand and began to trace the symbol that rose into her mind. The design was intricate and took longer than she expected. By the time she opened her eyes, she was exhausted, the long night having caught up with her.
But suspended in front of her was a ghostly sigil.
She hesitated one more second, debating the wisdom of working magic, then quickly called the black blade and nicked the tip of her finger. Without giving herself time to doubt what she was doing, she lifted her hand and pressed her palm against the smoky sigil, a final drop of blood activating the spell. A bright flash of light shimmered over the complex symbol, the lines sizzling as if catching fire.
The sigil turned to smoke, then began to curl around Mal, exploring every inch of him. She blinked, not sure what to expect, when a wisp of fog separated and reached toward her. Before she could back away, the fog shot down her nose like she’d inhaled it.
Morgan coughed as the air thickened and wiggled down her throat. Cold seared along her veins as the mysterious fog spread. Only when her whole body was infected did it stop.
The next instant, it felt like she was inside Mal’s body. She couldn’t see out of his eyes or feel his emotions, but awe filled her at his massive size. He was literally an unstoppable force of pure power and determination.
One thing she did not feel was a connection to him.
They were not mates.
Immediate relief filled her…along with an incredible sense of aching loneliness…a sense of something missing. That feeling belonged to Mal, not her.
But as she searched deeper, she could sense his exhaustion and pain. His wings felt heavy, pain radiating up his shoulder and down his back. A vise was wrapped around his head, the throbbing slowed to only a few beats per minute to match his heartbeat. He had a few minor bruises, but nothing stood out as life-threatening.
Satisfied that he would be okay, she tried to move back to her own body, but nothing happened.
She was stuck.
Well, shit.
She wanted to move, wanted to pace, but she was firmly locked into place…locked in stone, just like Mal, and she wasn’t sure how he could handle being held immobile day after day without clawing to get out.
A small rumbling caught her attention, and her body relaxed at the sound when she realized Mal was trying to soothe her rising panic.
She wasn’t trapped, not really, it was the spell. In order to be free, she needed to figure out the rest of it. Her only intent with the spell had been to help him. At the thought, heat gathered along her back, and she flexed her shoulders, trying to relieve the pain from the damaged wing. The more she focused on the pain, the more the injury burned. The fire spread between her shoulder blades, then up along her shoulders, until it was all she could do not to arch away from the burn.
As quickly as the searing heat came, it vanished, leaving the wing so light, she barely felt the weight on her back.
Of course.
Morgan focused on the tig
htness around Mal’s head next, then the miscellaneous bruises dotting his body. As soon as the last of the intense heat along her flesh faded, she felt herself falling forward…
…and landing in her own body.
She immediately dropped to her hands and knees, unable to control the way her limbs shook. Hell, she could barely push herself upright to keep from face-planting on the stone rooftop. Knowing the guys would be looking for her soon, she shoved herself upright, barely able to stay on her feet.
“You really are a royal, aren’t you? Too bad you don’t know jack shit about magic.”
Morgan was so startled she whirled, nearly falling on her ass, her blades automatically forming in her hands. Her heart hammered against her ribs until she felt like a wrung-out washcloth. Only when she saw Harper did she process that there was no threat.
She’d been vulnerable while she was helping Mal. If Harper wanted to harm her, she had plenty of time to do it while Morgan was incapacitated.
“You pull too much magic when a drop would do, and you let it burn through you too fast.” Harper sauntered farther out of the shadows. “You need to practice and learn when to pull back. You’ll be no good to anyone if you deplete yourself every time you work magic.
“Fuck.” Morgan reluctantly loosened her hold on her blades, blowing out a heavy breath as she struggled to find enough energy to stay on her feet and not drop back to her knees.
She must look worse than she felt, because she could’ve sworn Harper had been talking to give her time to recover, which was foolish since Harper had never been that considerate of others. That, along with her last cryptic meeting, put Morgan on edge. “You should know better than to sneak up on a person.”
Instead of bristling, Harper ducked her head submissively, almost meekly, something so out of character that the hairs on the back of Morgan’s neck rose. “What’s really wrong?”
“We’re friends…of a sort.” Harper didn’t wait for a reply. “And friends do favors for each other.” She twisted her hands for a few seconds, then dropped them, thrust back her shoulders and shook out her hair, some of her imperious attitude returning. “I need a favor.”
“A favor?” It obviously stuck in Harper’s craw to be asking for anything.
The witch’s face darkened, the hesitation and doubt melting away—the bitch was back. “I want to make a deal.”
Morgan took a mental step back. Despite her firm intention not to get wrapped up in any of Harper’s machinations, a thread of curiosity took root. Harper would never approach her unless she was desperate. She would demand, she would scheme, but ask? Never. “What kind of deal?”
“My family wants to send me to Mount Olympus. The deal was made at my birth, a trade…me in exchange for prestige and power.” Harper huffed out an annoyed breath. “I’ve always known my fate, and I agreed to go after my training here at the Academy. But things are different now.”
A heartbeat passed when understanding dawned. “Kalvin.”
Harper deflated, and Morgan noticed her haggard appearance under the cake of makeup she used to mask it. Harper had treated every man she came across as a servant and expendable. Hell, she treated anyone weaker than her the same way…people to be used and discarded.
But everything changed when she met Kalvin, her destined mate.
“I’ve learned tricks to keep myself alive, but I’m nowhere near strong enough to protect him. If I’m forced to fulfill the contract, he’ll die.” Harper’s lips trembled for a second before she could control them, and Morgan’s gut cramped with unease.
Damn it, she shouldn’t care.
She had her own fucking shit to deal with…but something about Harper’s silent desperation reminded Morgan too much of what it felt like when she had no one to turn to for help until she met her men.
“Explain.”
Kalvin was a berserker. With training and a few years’ experience under his belt, he would become an unstoppable force…a mate to be envied. Morgan didn’t see the problem.
“My family won’t give up the prestige of me being assigned my own coven. Only witches who have extra training from Mount Olympus are ever offered that position. Otherwise, it goes to hunters who’ve earned their rank.” Her face scrunched up in disgust. “My family will do anything for more power, but Kalvin isn’t strong enough to survive Olympus. If I take him with me, he will die. If I don’t go, they’ll hunt both us down and kill us.” She glanced down, twisting her fingers together. “I can’t let him go.”
Not won’t…can’t.
But Morgan understood—it was the same reason she was risking everything to fight for Draven.
“You’re asking me to protect him?” Morgan didn’t have a problem watching over Kalvin, but she did worry that the added distraction in her life would only end up putting him in more danger.
Harper gave a defeated, bitter laugh. “You think I’m a bitch, but I’m a kitten compared to the other witches. They’re vicious when they work together, and even worse when confronted individually.” Harper rubbed her brow. “They’ll change me—make me worse. The Mount Olympus trainers take witches and twist them. When they return to the human realm, while they’re more powerful, it’s like—”
“—the humanity has been sucked out of them?” Morgan joked, but there was more than a thread of truth to her words. She grew up in a coven with witches exactly like that…soulless.
Harper froze, then dropped her hand and met Morgan’s gaze. “Yes.”
She was dead serious, fear darkening her pale blue eyes. “They’re essentially spies, forced to serve those on Mount Olympus and do their bidding in return for more power. I’m afraid what will happen if…” She shook her head. “I’m not strong like you. I’ll bend to their will, and I’ll break.”
“You would give up everything you’ve worked years to achieve—to save your mate?” Morgan wasn’t sure what to believe. Harper had been a grade-A bitch from day one, and despite Morgan’s determination to keep quiet, suspicion darkened her voice.
“Yes.” There was no hesitation or doubt. “At one time leaving was my dream, everything I ever wanted. But things are different here now.” She looked up and met Morgan’s eyes directly. “Different because of you. You’re the complete opposite of everything I’ve ever believed. You’re a fucking walking disaster, but…you’ve accomplished something no one else has been able to manage…you give people hope, you make people believe in you.”
Confusion and anger crossed Harper’s face, her lips twisting as if she’d just been forced to eat her own shit. “I’ll do anything you want. Please.”
At one time Morgan would’ve been pleased to see Harper begging.
Now it just left a sour taste in her mouth.
Though they weren’t friends, they were at least allies. The least she could do was listen. “What do you want me to do?”
Harper didn’t move for a full minute, hope brimmed in her eyes. She lifted an eyebrow and shook her head. “You agree without even knowing the cost.”
Morgan shrugged. “You may be a bitch, but you’re honest.” So honest, her comments were often brutal. But not necessarily wrong. “What do you want? I’m assuming you already have a plan.”
Harper seemed surprised as Morgan was by what she said, and a first genuine smile brightened her face. Pure relief and a hint of devilish amusement lit her expression. “You’re royalty. A position on your staff will more than satisfy them. It would be more than anyone in our family has ever achieved.”
“My staff?” Morgan was suddenly uneasy.
“I forget you’re such a heathen.” Harper rolled her eyes, her sass front and center again. “You’re royalty, destined to be queen. You’re going to need to start acting like one sooner rather than later or they will eat you alive.”
Morgan stiffened, knowing Harper was right, and she was dreading the day she would have to give up everything that mattered to her.
Unless she didn’t have to give up anything.
S
he eyed Harper, and couldn’t suppress the slow, devious smile that crossed her face.
Something in her expression wiped the smugness off Harper’s face, and the witch backed up, a hint of doubt flashing in her eyes.
“You will be my liaison. You’re ruthless and cunning enough to deal with others, leaving me time to hunt monsters that are too dangerous to be allowed to remain on earth, and too powerful for normal hunters.”
Harper paused, her head cocked to the side, pure delight slowly brightening her features. “You have yourself a deal. You won’t regret giving me this chance.”
As if Morgan had ceased to exist now Harper had gotten her way, she practically skipped across the rooftop before disappearing through the door that led back into the Academy.
“You were kind to her.” Kincade came out of the shadows, pausing behind her before wrapping her in his arms and resting his chin on her shoulder. “Do you have any idea the kind of power that you just handed her?”
He sounded more amused than upset, and Morgan leaned against him gratefully. “You think I made a mistake?”
This time, he didn’t even bother to hide his chuckle. “Oh, I don’t think you could’ve picked a better, more ruthless person for the job. You gave her everything she’s ever wanted in her life. She’ll be more vicious than ever as she defends her territory…all on your behalf.”
Morgan snorted at his sense of humor. Then she looked at the gargoyle again and quickly sobered. “Will you ever become imprisoned by the sun?”
“No, not anymore. We only turn when we lose our human self, when we lose our will to live.” Kincade’s grip tightened, as if he never intended to let her go. “You would never allow that to happen to me.”
“Damn straight.” Yet her heart ached for Mal and everything he must have lost. She couldn’t stop herself from clutching Kincade’s arm a little tighter when she thought about the bleak life that had been his future.
“Enough talk. Time to rest.” Kincade pulled away, then quickly bent and scooped her up in his arms, ignoring her squeal of surprise. He turned and headed toward the hatch where, without releasing her, he jumped, bending his knees slightly to soften the impact.
Claimed by the Assassins (An Academy of Assassins Novel Book 3) Page 18
