Alpha Assassins Guild: (Complete Series: Books 1-5)

by Juniper Leigh

  She hurried to it and opened it just a crack, meeting Rowan’s curious gaze when she did.

  “I just wanted to make sure you were all settled in,” he said, placing a hand on the door.

  “Ah, yep,” she confirmed, yawning.

  “I brought…” He held up a bottle of whiskey in his other hand. “Nightcap.” With a sigh, she granted him admittance into the room, absently noting that he was still wearing his tuxedo. She, on the other hand, was wearing a bra and a pair of jeans. Oh, whatever, she thought.

  “You’re going to have to let me sleep through tomorrow, and tomorrow night, you realize,” she said, glancing at the clock. 7:30 a.m., it blinked in red. “Holy hell, it’s morning. It’s like when normal people wake up, morning.”

  “Shh,” he said, moving to the corner of her room, where a small globe apparently opened up into a minibar. Fancy. “It’s still night so long as you have those curtains drawn.” He poured them each a glass of whiskey, neat, and handed one to her. “I like this new look of yours,” he teased.

  “I was changing for bed, Rowan,” she said, snatching the glass of whiskey from his hand and downing it in one quick gulp. She hummed against the pleasant warmth it created in the back of her throat and in the pit of her stomach.

  “I won’t stay long, then,” he said quietly, refilling her glass. “I just… I guess I was worried about you.”

  “Worried?” she echoed, canting her head to the side, shaking loose a few errant black curls. “About me? Rowan, you’ve sent me into harm’s way more times than I can count. I mean, it’s kind of your job, to send me into harm’s way.”

  “Yeah, and I know you can handle yourself, it’s just… he’s dangerous, they all are. Graham McCallum and his clan.”

  “I’m sure he’d say the same about you,” she mumbled, and sipped at her whiskey. Rowan was watching her curiously, and she could tell that he was guarded. She needed him pliant, she needed him open, she needed him with all of his walls down in a crumbling mass at her feet.

  Exhaustion had all but overtaken her, and perhaps she wasn’t thinking clearly, but she knew she had to get him to be as honest with her as possible. She sighed, finished her whiskey, and set the glass aside.

  He was watching her closely, his eyes tracking her every move. He watched her put her glass down, watched her unbutton her jeans, watched her shimmy out of them and abandon them on the floor. He watched as she raised her arms up high over her head and stretched, and he couldn’t look away as she reached behind her back to unclasp her bra. Tugging the thing away, she tossed it over a chair in the corner, and he tried not to stare at her breasts, round and pert as two ripe peaches. She lifted her hands to her breasts, and pinched her nipples between her thumb and index fingers; when he looked up, he saw that her eyes were fixed on his face. “Viola,” he began, unsure of what to say next.

  “We’ve had a long night, Rowan,” she said, turning her back on him so that he could admire the curve of her bottom behind the gossamer gauze of her black lace panties. “I think we’ve earned a little stress release, don’t you think?”

  Rowan swallowed hard, and when Viola looked back at him over her shoulder, she could see the bulge in his trousers. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, Vi,” he said, then, his voice firm and unwavering, “but I’m in no mood.”

  She climbed on her hands and knees onto the bed, spreading her legs just slightly, enough to entice him with the outline of what was hidden by the lace and cotton. “Sorry,” she all but purred, “if you’re not in the mood. But I am, so you don’t have to stay. I can take care of myself.”

  “Do it, then,” he said, remaining fixed in place. She felt herself blush, felt the fire in her cheeks, but she obliged all the same. Leaning forward, she pressed her cheek to the mattress in front of her knees, keeping her ass in the air for his viewing pleasure. She tucked her left hand inside her panties and began to touch herself, her fingers stimulating her clitoris and sending a shiver down her spine. All this time together, and they had never truly crossed the threshold into sexuality. With his eyes locked on her as she toyed with her sex, Rowan wondered why it had taken them so long.

  “What do you fantasize about?” Rowan asked, his voice husky and hushed. He loosened his bowtie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt as though the sight of her had taken his breath away. It had.

  “Fucking outdoors,” she said, surprised at her quick and truthful response. She could feel her juices begin to flow and coat her fingertips as she rubbed herself into a frenzied arousal. “Just the two of us, locked together, with nothing overhead but the treetops. Free, natural…”

  “Yes.” He saw her hand moving beneath the cover of her panties, and he caught a glimpse of more here and there, but he longed for a clearer view.

  “And just… being taken. Pushed down to the earth and spread wide, and… taken.”

  Rowan moved toward her then with shocking quickness and pulled her panties down, giving him a clear view of her glistening sex. But other than that, he did not touch her. Not yet. “Slide two fingers in,” he commanded, and she did as she was told, her index and middle fingers disappearing into her dripping wet orifice. “Good. Faster.” She quickened her pace, her breathing coming in quick little gasps, her heartbeat hastening. “I want to see you come,” he murmured, lightly running his fingertips up the back of her thigh, higher and higher until they brushed over her nether lips.

  “Help me, then,” she pleaded and withdrew her fingers, putting them in her mouth to lick them clean.

  “Get on your back,” he commanded, and she complied, adjusting herself so that her knees splayed wide. “Spread your pussy for me.” She blinked up at him as he unbuttoned his shirt, tugged it off, and laid it aside. “I said,” he repeated, “spread that pussy for me.” She reached down with both hands and spread the lips as much as she could comfortably manage, and she felt her blush deepen at being thus exposed. He gazed appreciatively down at her and dropped to his knees by the edge of the bed. He looked into her before reaching up and gently inserting one of his fingers into her entrance. She arched her back and a moan escaped her mouth, one that belied the desire she felt, had been feeling, ever since Graham kissed her. But no, she pushed Graham out of her mind and focused on the man on his knees in front of her. He thrust in and out of her with one finger, then added a second, plunging them both in up to the knuckles.

  “Please,” she groaned, writhing beneath him, “please…”

  “Please what?” he asked, playing at innocence.

  “Please fuck me.”

  “No.” He leaned forward, sating her if only slightly, by flicking his tongue over the pith of her sex. She drew in a sharp gasp and drew one hand away to make room for him, but he pulled away. “You keep it spread. I want you exposed to me.” There was something so naughty, so deliciously vulnerable about the whole thing that she immediately obeyed, and he went back to running his tongue over her engorged clit, even as his fingers worked in and out of her. Her turned his hand so that he could use his fingers in a gestured the beckoned, hitting her G-spot as he sucked at the kernel of her pleasure.

  He quickened his pace, and peered up over her pubic mound to see her breasts heaving as she gasped for breath. Her entire body was flushed pink with the onset of her orgasm, and he wanted nothing more than to witness her release. “Are you going to come for me?” he asked, pausing only briefly in his ministrations to speak to her.

  “Yes,” she said on the wings of a sigh, “yes, yes.”

  Her orgasm was a wave that broke on the rocks of her desire, and she came with a cry that wracked her whole body. He could feel the muscles of her sex contract around his fingers, could see them pulsing with the pleasure he had wrought when he drew his mouth away. As it subsided, he gently pulled his fingers out, doused as they were in her juices.

  “Mmmm,” she hummed happily, curling up onto her side to revel in the aftershocks. Rowan unbuckled his belt and shimmied out of his pants, crawling onto the b
ed beside her. He tugged her close to him, spooning her, wanting her only to feel sated and safe, wanting only for her to sleep.

  Viola briefly registered his warm, strong arms around her, the feeling of his chest against her back, and the feeling of his erection pressing against the fabric of his boxer briefs and, in turn, the flesh of her bare bottom. But she felt all of it only for a moment before she drifted into a deep and dreamless sleep.

  CHAPTER 4

  Morning turned into day, day once more into dusk, and dusk into the depth of night by the time Viola woke again, still wrapped warm in Rowan’s arms. Her eyes fluttered open, pupils dilating to adjust to the blackness in which they were engulfed. She blinked and looked down at their entwined bodies, immediately surmising that they hadn’t moved an inch all night. She was stiff and achy when she pulled herself out of his embrace, and reluctant to move away from the comfort of his warmth and presence, but after about thirteen hours of unconsciousness, she had to pee something fierce.

  She padded across the carpeting, careful not to disturb the still-slumbering Rowan, and pushed into the bathroom. As she switched on the light, her pupils constricted against the sudden glare, and she blinked the spots away until everything settled. Sitting down to pee, she admired the luxurious surroundings: white marble floors, Jacuzzi tub, dual-headed stall shower with a built-in bench, bidet, the works. Done with her business, she flushed and stepped into the shower, finding the water almost instantly warm, and almost giddy with the happiness that accompanied letting it wash over her.

  The bathroom was fully equipped with luxury products for her to use as well, so she helped herself to some salon-quality shampoo that smelled like lavender and soaped up. After a few moments, she heard a knock at the door and Rowan peeked his head in.

  “Vi? It’s just me.”

  “You can come in,” she called, her voice echoing against the marble.

  “You mind if I pee? I feel like I might burst.” She didn’t mind, entirely, and knew the feeling, so she simply turned her back to him to give him some more privacy, even though the glass shower doors were appropriately fogged up and hid them largely from each other’s view. She was just grateful that the water was loud enough and strong enough that she couldn’t hear it until he flushed. Then, he took the liberty of opening the shower door and stepping in with her. She instinctively moved to cover her breasts, but then remembered what they’d done together the evening previous — or, rather, earlier this morning. Or… whenever. She lifted her hands and leaned her head back to rinse the shampoo from her hair.

  “I want to ask you something,” he said, moving tentatively toward her.

  “What?” she asked, wiping the water out of her eyes.

  “Last night—”

  “This morning?”

  He grinned. “Yeah. Um. What was it about, exactly…?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, were you just like… really stressed out and needed to relax…? Or…?”

  “Or?”

  He averted his gaze, and took her hand in his, linking their fingers together underneath the spray of water. “Or do you actually like me?”

  She couldn’t help but smile. Never before had she seen Rowan so bashful. She was charmed. “Of course I like you, Rowan. You’re my best friend.”

  “How long have we known each other?”

  She arched one shoulder in a shrug. “Like eight years, I think?”

  “Viola,” he said, suddenly grave, serious, “I have loved you since the first second I ever laid eyes on you.”

  Her heart skipped a beat with the shock of it. Sure, they had flirted, were attracted to one another, teased each other mercilessly, but never had he ever given her any indication that he had real feelings for her. Her pulse was a timpani in the symphony of her cardiovascular system, and she was flushed due to more than the hot water beating down on her.

  “Rowan,” she said quietly, barely audible above the flow from the faucets, “why didn’t you ever tell me?”

  “There was never a good time, I guess,” he replied. “I never wanted to distract you from a mission by some… lame profession of love. I wanted your mind on your work, not on me. And for a while there, it was just one job after another, after another, and… but then last night I thought maybe, maybe she feels the same way I do.”

  He turned a pair of pleading green-yellow eyes on her, and she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know what she felt, had no idea what was in the confines of her own heart. In fact, for most of her adult life she’d cut herself off from any such luxury as love. But now, two different men in as many days had awakened something in her, something she felt she owed it to herself to explore.

  Her mouth could form no promises, and she wasn’t prepared to lie, not to Rowan, never to Rowan. So she simply pressed herself up against them, their bodies slick from bathwater, and caught his mouth in a kiss that, if nothing else, was full of real and genuine longing. He gripped her by the hips and kissed her back, his tongue making a tentative journey into the cavern of her mouth.

  They kissed like they were trying to find shelter in one another. Finding none, they kept searching over and over again. Finally, he pulled back and brushed his water-slick hair back from his face. “Do you?” he asked, and she watched droplets of water fall from the lips she’d just been kissing. “Feel the same way?”

  She blinked up at him, her mouth open with all the words she wanted to form but could not. Finally, she said, “I don’t know, Rowan.” He pursed his lips into a thin line and gave a sharp nod of his head. “But,” she continued, reaching down between them to curl her fingers around the shaft of his erection, “help me find out?”

  He crumbled at her touch, trembling with the force of his longing, and bent forward to kiss her again, even as she stroked him to full attention. She felt the pulse of her yearning between her legs and carefully lowered herself down onto her knees on the marble tile. His fingertips found the damp mass of her black curls, urging her forward. She puckered, pressing a series of fluttering kisses to the head of his cock, her tongue darting out to trace lines over its curve. Finally, she took him fully into her mouth, pushing the length of him into the back of her throat. He groaned, the sound of it bouncing off the marble, and she hummed her excitement as she worked him in and out of her mouth.

  Pulling away, she kissed her way back up his thighs and torso, trailing kisses along his shoulder and up his neck until he caught her mouth and wrapped his arms around her, sliding his hands under her ass. He lifted her easily against him, and she parted her legs to wrap them around his waist. She felt his hardness press against her entrance, then slide inside her as he lowered her down onto it. She gasped, clinging to his neck as she rolled her hips back and forth to help facilitate the movement of his cock in and out of her sex, slick as a waterweed.

  It felt so natural, this union, and she nuzzled into the crook of his neck as his strong arms hoisted her up and down, up and down. But he set her down eventually, sliding out of her just long enough to turn her around and bend her over. Her hands found purchase on the wet shower bench, and she spread her legs and arched her back so she could look over her shoulder at him as he entered her again. He dug his fingers into the flesh of her hips as he thrust into her, and she moaned and gasped and pressed herself back into him, to work him deeper into her.

  “Viola,” he grunted, his voice husky in his frenzy to find release, and she let out a cry as he pushed himself finally into her, his member pulsing with the force of his orgasm. He stayed inside of her as his breathing began to slow, and she rose up halfway so that he could run his hands up and over the curve of her breasts. At last, he pulled out, and she could feel the nectar of his stamen running down her thighs. She turned, and he encircled her in his arms, squeezing her with a protective, proprietary fierceness that she rather enjoyed. She felt safe there in the little bubble they’d created.

  So they both gave a start when a banging on the bedroom door broke them out of th
eir intimate moment and forced them back into the real world, where the fates of numerous clans rested in their hands alone.

  They parted and locked eyes on each other, and, after a moment, Viola scrambled to get out of the shower and wrap a towel around herself. She padded out into the main room, closing the bathroom door behind her, hoping that Rowan would remain silent.

  Opening the door just a crack, she peered out into the hallway, her eyes lighting on Katherine, the lioness. She cocked her head to the side, brows arched in question, and pushed aside the surprise that such a comparatively diminutive woman could knock so forcefully.

  “Sorry to disturb,” she said quietly, “but Mr. Weaver and the council would like to speak with you, at your earliest convenience.”

  “Of course,” Viola confirmed. “Where should I go…?”

  “There’s a conference room on the eleventh floor. You can go to them there.” She turned on her heel as though to walk away, but paused and came back. “Oh, and there will be food. Lots of food. We’ve been having this whole ‘lockdown’ catered.”

  “Lockdown?”

  “I mean, that’s essentially what this is. The whole clan is here, basically. And no one is allowed to leave.” She paused and offered a faint smile. “At least there’s food.”

  “Yeah.”

  Viola went to close the door, but just before it clicked shut, she heard Katherine say, “Oh, and ask Rowan to come too, would you?”

  ***

  “There will be about ten of them,” Rowan explained as he reluctantly pulled on the boxers he’d previously shed. But he hadn’t thought ahead enough to bring a change of clothes with him. “They will be the most powerful shifters in the clan — usually ‘power couples.’ Their offspring tend to follow in their footsteps. They keep the bloodlines pure.”

  “Listen,” she said, rifling through her bag to pull out a fresh tee shirt, “I’ve been thinking: I don’t think this has to be violent.”