A horn honked as they reached the road. Cymbeline tried to lift her head and realized she was truly paralyzed when it just lolled with every step the bastard Alphar took. A large, black van was pulled over on the side of the road. A blonde woman in a crisp, navy-blue pants suit leaned against the van and was speaking on a phone as she waved them over.
“Leave me,” Cymbeline mumbled again as her vision turned hazy. He took a rough step and her head lulled towards his chest. She could scent the dark, intangible thing telling her she wanted to stay in his arms, that it was okay to give in to him. Ignoring the whispers, she fought like hell to stay awake. But try as she might to keep her eyes open and her senses keen, she knew she would pass out soon and did not want to be left in the tender care of this man, no matter how amazing he smelled. Seriously, was this natural?
Pissed off with her failing strength, she took out her anger on the closest victim. With the last of her ebbing energy she shot her hand up and smacked the Alphar’s forehead.
He stopped walking, staring down at her incredulously. “You used the last of your strength to slap me?”
She couldn’t speak anymore so she just glared, willing him to let her go with the power of her angry stare. Instead of reacting angrily or haughtily as she’d assumed a man of his status would, he shook his head and grinned, leaning in to place a small yet firm kiss on her forehead.
“Sleep. I swear no harm will come to you.”
Staring into his black eyes as she succumbed to darkness, she almost wanted to believe him. Almost.
Kerrick watched as the woman’s head lolled against his chest a final time and her eyes slumped shut. She was out like a light and would be for at least a day, depending on her tolerance to Vryk blood. While ingesting or absorbing Vryk blood into their bodies wouldn’t kill a shifter, it would render them paralyzed or weakened for a short period of time. To other preternatural species like Mages, Vryk blood could kill them. To the necromancers, it could enhance their speed and power. For humans, Vryk blood would either turn them into an addicted slave or into a Vryk themselves. That again, depended on the strength of the victim. Vryk blood was a powerful and dangerous substance, another reason he wanted to stay far away from a war with Mara’s clan.
As Kerrick reached the road Rhiannon slipped her phone back into her pants pocket, her curious gaze affixed on the woman in his arms. He really needed to learn her name so he could stop calling her “the woman”.
“Whatcha got there, Alphar?”
Kerrick growled, holding the woman tighter to his body for protection as Carter emerged from the van, long sleeves, sunglasses and a wide-brimmed hat protected him from the harsh sunrays. Kerrick stretched his senses outward to search for any more threats. He’d been so consumed by his mate he’d simply assumed Rhi had been alone.
“How did you know I was here?” he asked Rhiannon in favor of ignoring Carter.
“Aaron texted saying I was needed back at The Mansion. I figured it had to be important for him to text me during my meeting so Carter agreed to drive me back. I caught your scent a few minutes ago.” Her eyes flickered down to the unconscious cargo and Rhi lowered her voice so Carter couldn’t hear. “You’re letting off some pretty hefty pheromones, Kerrick.”
“We need to get back. Now, so Lottie can look over her.”
Carter opened the passenger-side door for Kerrick so he could place the woman in the seat. The man was a nuisance but he spent enough time around dominant Weres to know when not to get in one’s way especially one as powerful as Kerrick. A nuisance, but a smart nuisance, one Rhi swore was an honorable man. Kerrick gently placed his mate in the passenger seat and strapped her in. He caressed her cheek briefly, enjoying the warm soft skin under his fingertips.
“Thanks for the lift, Carter,” Rhiannon said as she and Carter jumped in the backseat with Kerrick taking the wheel.
“No problem, chica.” Carter eyed the woman, his mouth turned down at the sides.
“Stop staring at her,” Kerrick growled as he started the van, ready to jump in the back and tear the Vryk’s throat out.
“What’d she do? Go after the wrong rogue or somethin’?”
“What?” Rhiannon asked, startled. “What do you mean?”
“Cymbeline Kendall, the Incendiary.” He nodded towards her slumped form, leaning forward with his hands in his pockets. There was a slight breeze filtering through the open windows and his bleached-blond locks shifted in the wind, lending to his usual carefree air. “Can’t forget that pretty face.”
Kerrick tried not to strangle the Vryk ambassador for the comment and instead focused on the more important issue at hand.
“You know this woman?” Kerrick asked. Carter had called her the Incendiary, as if it were a real thing.
“You know Incendiaries aren’t real,” Rhiannon said with a flick of Carter’s knee, her ease with the Vryk all too clear, interesting as they were supposed to be on opposing sides of a serious negotiation.
Carter stared at her like she was an idiot. “Rhi. C’mon, don’t bullshit me. It’s part of my job to know everything about you guys.” Kerrick growled again, the Vryk didn’t know when to keep his mouth shut. “I’m the Vryk ambassador to you people. Of course I know who the fucking Incendiary is. Hell, I was there when Riddan chose her to be the Incendiary. She was a fierce bit back then. Still is, in fact. I’ve worked with Cymbeline a few times over the years, taking care of some stuff around the area. She’s good to have in a pinch when it comes to rogues.”
So that was her name. Cymbeline. The Incendiary was a real thing? It wasn’t just a myth? How could a Vrykolakas know about this but the Alphar didn’t? Kerrick couldn’t let on that the Alphar was completely unaware of the existence of what seemed to be, at least to Carter, a person of some importance.
“How were you allowed to be there for that?” Rhiannon asked, and Kerrick could tell she was on the same wavelength with him, rocked by this new information.
“It was a coincidence.” He shrugged, playing with the brim of his hat until the sun streaming in through the windows became too much for his pale hands. He placed them back in his pockets. “I came to report a rogue Were on Clan territory and Riddan was in the room, alone with the girl. I overheard him congratulate her on the new appointment.” Rhiannon folded her arms over her chest, her eyebrows raised as she waited impatiently for Carter to elaborate. He huffed, finally capitulating to her silent demand. “Fine, I wasn’t exactly supposed to be there. Riddan was never aware that I overheard.”
Kerrick turned around, staring Carter directly in the eyes, letting him feel the heat of his power as it filled the van. He didn’t care if his actions threatened the negotiation process. All that mattered in that moment was his mate and the tsunami of need he felt to protect her.
“You will not speak of this to anyone, Carter,” he said, not bothering with threats, the man too intelligent and well versed in Were customs to miss what was happening. “Understood?”
Carter glanced over at Rhiannon for a brief moment before nodding, keeping his silence on the matter of the unconscious Incendiary. “Ready to go? The sun is starting to itch.”
Kerrick turned back around, but not before noticing Rhi’s hand as it stretched to pat Carter on the shoulder. Their friendship, whatever it was as Kerrick had never thought it important enough to ask, had always been one that confounded him. For as long as Kerrick and his two cousins had been back in the states, she’d been a friend of Carter’s. But with the heightened tension between his people and Mara’s clan, Kerrick made a mental note to address the situation, not wanting Rhiannon to go down a path she couldn’t climb back from.
He put the van in gear and looked over at Cymbeline, still unconscious. There was a decent pool of drool dripping down her chin. She would look almost cute if it weren’t for the myriad of scars he could see littering her visible skin, hardening her visage. So this was t
he feared Incendiary, his mate. Cymbeline. He grinned and pulled out onto the road, heading back in the direction of The Mansion, and wondered what other secrets he would soon be learning about the mysterious woman.
Chapter Four
“Alphar.”
Kerrick looked up from playing his mandolin to see Rhiannon standing across the bed, her face pensive and miraculously out of her phone for once. He’d planted himself in his favorite armchair and began playing his mandolin since carrying Cymbeline from the van. She was still unconscious, lying in his bed, and he refused to leave his mate until he was sure the Vryk blood didn’t have any adverse effect on her system. He didn’t know a thing about her and wasn’t willing to take a chance. Some shifters reacted abnormally to Vryk blood, aside from the usual period of unconsciousness. Kerrick also wasn’t ashamed to admit he just wanted to be there when she woke, see those glorious and angry eyes focused on him.
“What is it, Rhi?” he asked, continuing to change chords along the fingerboard.
“She’s stirring. Should I have food sent up?” It wasn’t a bad idea as shifters usually awoke ravenous after a Vryk blood dose. But Kerrick heard a note of apprehension in her voice, sensing there was something besides his mate’s hunger on his cousin’s mind.
“Out with it, Rhi.” He knew Rhiannon too well to allow her to withhold her true feelings from him. Their relationship was based on trust, and he needed her to trust him completely in order to lead. He couldn’t let something fester between them, even if that something was the delicate subject of his mate.
“Is she really your mate?” she asked, crossing her arms and looking down at the insentient woman with open disdain. “She’s so…” Her head tilted to the side in perplexed curiosity. “Itty bitty.”
Anyone else and he would have shot them down a peg or two at the impertinence of the question. After finding their mates, shifters were aggressive and possessive, and as the Alphar, he would be even more so. But this was Rhi, and she was family. She was also a nosy Fox shifter who needed to have her curiosity satisfied and would annoy the hell out of him until he capitulated to her will.
“Yes. My Beast recognized his mate the second she came into focus.” His eyes trailed over the woman. His mate. If she accepted him, the chances of him going crazy from the Alphar power would be minimalized exponentially. If she accepted him, and things weren’t looking very positive after she thought running from him was the better option.
“Kerrick,” Rhi said, not looking him in the eye but at Cymbeline. “She attacked the guards.” She took a deep breath and glanced at him, confident in her opinion, but knowing what could happen if she angered an Alphar regarding his mate. “She’s dangerous.”
“Stop hesitating and just tell me, Rhi.”
“She came here to attack you and she injured ten of our soldiers. I understand she’s your mate, and I know what that means. She comes first. But you are in a delicate position, Kerrick. You’re not a regular alpha or just some dominant, you’re the Alphar. The people of this territory need you and the example you set. The health of the land you rule depends on you and your power. If she turns out to be an enemy…” Rhiannon looked away, her lips a thin line as she struggled with what she had to say, what Kerrick knew he needed to hear. “You can’t abandon your people for her, Kerrick.”
Kerrick stood and held his hand out to Rhiannon, beckoning her to his side of the bed. She came swiftly, never once losing the self-possessed grace she was so well known for. But as she crumpled into his chest, burrowing her head and breathing him in deeply, Kerrick was reminded that he wasn’t the only one who had sacrificed and suffered to bring about change for the territory. Rhiannon may be a stubborn bitch at times, caustic and sarcastic to those close to her, but Kerrick knew her as a child and watched as she left her family to train with him in England. They’d forged an unbreakable bond, Aaron included, and he would never abandon them.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered, nuzzling the top of her head, giving the affection even the most solitary Weres needed.
“You can’t leave your mate.” She looked up at him, confused and in anguish for him. “What if she was contracted by Mara to attack you?”
Kerrick framed her face, comforted by the concern Rhiannon felt for him. “Stop worrying when we don’t even know the situation yet. We’ll cross those bridges when we get to them.”
Rhiannon nodded, pulling away from Kerrick and squaring her shoulders. Her eyes lit devilishly as they looked back up at him. “Your mate kneed you in the balls.”
Kerrick growled, knowing that was not going to be forgotten anytime soon. He liked that his mate hadn’t been afraid of him, knew he needed a woman with strength. He just wished she’d aimed somewhere else. “And she ran from me. Have you ever heard of someone running from their mate after meeting them?”
“I would have run away from your scary face too.” She huffed, using the touch pad on the bedside table to send an order for food down to the kitchen. She pulled two metal items out of the bag she brought in and showed them to Kerrick.
“No.”
“Kerrick, Alphar, she is an unknown residing in house with innocents. I’m not going to say she can’t be here, we need to learn more about her, but she can’t roam around The Mansion unchecked. You know that.”
“I know.” He sighed, running his hand down Cymbeline’s sleeping face. “Put them on.”
Rhiannon quickly placed the magic-infused cuffs on his mate’s wrists. She pressed a button to activate an enchanted set of links connected to the base of the bed, keeping Cymbeline from moving farther than ten feet from the bedposts. They were treating his mate as a threat, keeping her chained, the sight anathema to him.
But Rhiannon was right. This woman, no matter who she was, was an unknown element who could pose a threat to the innocent children and families residing in The Mansion. Those people were under his protection and these cuffs would incapacitate her if she tried to harm anyone, including herself. They also prevented her from shifting, which was why Zach, the creator of the cuffs, liked to call them the collar. It was painful for a shifter to be so cut off from their animal, but until Kerrick knew more about this woman and her motivations, he had no choice but to collar her. She’d come intending harm, and he wouldn’t let her succeed in her goals.
“She’ll wake soon, I’ll get Lottie to come back and check up on her.” Rhi paused by the door before exiting. “At least she can’t knee you in the balls anymore with the collar on.”
“Harpy,” he called after her as the door clicked shut, appreciating her attempt to lift his spirits no matter the backwards manner she did it in.
Kerrick let his gaze fall back to his mate. He took advantage of the moment of solitude with her and moved closer to the bed. She was the first woman to sleep in this bed during his reign as Alphar. Hell, the first to enter this room who didn’t work for him and wasn’t family. What did that say about Kerrick? That the first woman he wanted to spend any actual time with was his mate.
Shifters were by nature sexual and tactile creatures, they needed touch and close proximity to others to maintain their sanity. It wasn’t unusual for him to seek out the company of a woman every now and then, but he’d never wanted more than one night with them before now. He’d always kept himself distant, even from women he genuinely liked and thought would be worth spending more time with, worth getting to know. But his status as a potential Alphar, and now as the Alphar himself, had always hung over his head. He didn’t want a mate, because to be the mate of an Alphar was to constantly be in danger. But he did want a mate, because to have a mate as an Alphar was to stave off the madness. But was that fair to this woman? Did he only want her because he was afraid he’d devolve into the psychotic man Riddan had become?
But his side of the coin wasn’t the only to consider in a mating. Yes, he was the Alphar, but if Carter and this woman were to be believed, then appa
rently his mate was the Incendiary. And the Incendiary itself was a real thing.
Kerrick gently laid his hand on her fingers as they rested palm up on the bed. He traced the creases and scrapes on her palm, enjoying the subtle scent of sweat and forest that clung to her. He was glad Rhiannon had used the larger collar on her so she could lie comfortably without any metal digging into her pale skin.
“It’s not all bad here,” he said to the sleeping woman, hoping against hope she wasn’t an assassin sent by Mara or some other combative Alphar. Kerrick was too new to have made any enemies among the other Alphars, but there were always those with ambition to look out for. Kerrick’s territory was large and a major power within the Alphar circle. Now that it was no longer led by a crazy man, the North American Weres were once again gaining a solid standing as a world power.
He sensed someone approaching the door with what smelled like a heaping plate of food. As the recognizable tread approached he stood quickly to open the door for her. Lottie, The Mansion’s head physician, had been in and out of the room since Kerrick had arrived with Cymbeline. He trusted no one else, except perhaps Zach, to examine and take care of his new houseguest.
Lottie nodded in thanks, sticking her tongue out at him as she passed. The gesture was out of character for the usually thoughtful woman. When he gave her a puzzled look she said, “Rhiannon told me to do that to you.” Kerrick chuckled and moved back to his position on the bedside chair. He picked up the mandolin and began to play once more. The woman’s breathing soon became irregular and he waited as she roused, playing a simple tune to lure her from sleep and into the waking world, to welcome the Incendiary to her new life as his mate. Whether she wanted to take part in this new role remained to be seen.
Cymbeline woke abruptly to satin sheets, a heavy down comforter and soft lilting music. A string instrument plucked and played somewhere to her left. It wasn’t a recording. She could tell from the lack of catches and misplaced background noise her sensitive ears could usually pick up off a track. The sound was lovely. The tune was a hypnotic lullaby, lulling her Wolf to stay calm. She wanted to relax farther into her pillow and let the chords carry her back to the sweet vacancy of sleep. But she wouldn’t. Someone was in the room with her, playing that instrument. And with the way her Wolf was gleefully wagging its proverbial tail, she damn well knew who it was.
To Mate an Assassin: The Lost Alphars Series, Book 1 Page 5
