Masters of the Hunt: Fated and Forbidden

by Sarra Cannon

  “Who is it?” Abby whispered as Violet disappeared into Val’s hair.

  Val shook his head. “I don’t know. I can’t see them yet. I can hear them though and they—”

  There was a low growling behind them and the group swung around. Abby’s eyes widened. A wolf, the biggest one she’d ever seen, was standing only ten feet away. His eyes were a bright, glowing green, and his grey fur was rippling in the breeze.

  There was more soft growling as two other wolves appeared out of the darkness.

  “Does anyone have a weapon?” Abby whispered quietly. She had lost her sword as the orb had sucked her in and she could see the sheath around Val’s waist hanging empty.

  Michael gave a soft grunt and held up the dagger that Faren had given him. “I have this.”

  “We don’t need weapons.” Maria said softly. “We have Val.”

  Val hissed at the wolves, and they chuffed in surprise when they saw the fangs protruding from his mouth.

  “Val, wait.” Abby grabbed his arm. “Just wait and—”

  The largest wolf suddenly began to ripple and they watched as the fur receded and the wolf became a man. He was a giant of a man and he studied them quietly as the other two wolves shifted and joined him.

  “Shifters.” Faren breathed. “Perhaps we are still on our world, after all.”

  One of the men frowned and glanced up at the larger man. “What manner of creature has teeth like that, Kane? And why do they smell so,” he wrinkled his nose, “dreadful.”

  “I do not know, Hanif.” The man named Kane replied.

  Faren sighed loudly. “Fuck. Not our world. Stupid fucking ball of light sending us who the fuck knows where.”

  Kane stiffened and frowned at him. “What did you say, creature?”

  “Creature? I have a name.” Faren snapped.

  Kane growled loudly and Faren hissed at him as Abby held her hands up hurriedly.

  “Okay, um, before we get off on the wrong foot, let’s just everyone take a deep breath. My name’s Abby and these are my friends, and we’re not from around here. So we’re just going to head on out and um, it was really great to meet you. Take care, okay?”

  Kane growled again and took a step toward her. Val pushed Abby behind him and bared his fangs at the large, naked man. “Take one more step toward her and I’ll have your head.”

  “I would like to see you try.” Kane said softly. “I don’t know what you are but you do not frighten me.”

  Val glared at him. “You would be wise to be frightened of me, shifter.”

  “Val, stop!” Abigail squeezed his arm and gave Kane a friendly smile. “We’re friendly, honestly. And if you would just step aside, we’ll be on our way.”

  “You are on my lands.” Kane said quietly. “Tell me, and do not lie about this, if what the creature said about the ball of light is true.”

  Abigail hesitated and then nodded. “Yes, it’s true.”

  The smallest of the three men squeezed Kane’s arm before inhaling deeply in Abigail’s direction. “She smells like Reese.”

  “Yes, Theran. I am aware of that.” Kane said quietly.

  He studied them for a moment before coming to a quick decision. “You will come with us.”

  “I don’t think so.” Val said sharply.

  “You have no choice.” Kane said simply.

  “There are only three of you and six of us.” Val replied softly. “You do not stand a chance.”

  Kane surprised them by laughing loudly. “You are a brave one. Foolish, but brave.”

  He lifted his head and barked roughly. Abby gripped Val’s arm when a chorus of barking responded and the trees around them were lit with dozens of glowing eyes.

  Sienna gave a soft whimper of fear and Neil hugged her close. “Do not worry.” He gave her an encouraging smile but his face was pale and he swallowed thickly as more eyes appeared in the darkness.

  “Our pack is large.” Kane said with a hint of pride in his voice. “You are returning to our home and you will neither fight nor try to escape. Do you understand?”

  Val opened his mouth to argue and Abigail gripped his arm and gave him a warning look before smiling at Kane. “Of course. Thank you for the hospitality.”

  Kane grunted in reply and shifted to his wolf form before turning and loping into the trees. The other wolves surrounded them in a tight circle and Maria cleared her throat nervously. “What do we do now?”

  “We go with them.” Abigail replied. “He’s right - we don’t have much choice.”

  She took Val’s hand and gave him a faint smile as they began to follow Kane and the others through the trees. “Everything will work out. We will find Sara, and you and I will make a new life together on this world. I love you, Val.”

  He raised her hand to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. “I love you too, little dove.”

  The End

  *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

  Ramona Gray is a Canadian romance author. She currently lives in Alberta with her awesome husband and her mutant Chihuahua. She is addicted to home improvement shows, good coffee, and reading and writing about the steamier moments in life.

  Want to read more about Abigail and Val? Catch up with them in Book 4 of the Other World Series, “Rescued by the Wolf”.

  Follow Ramona Gray online at:

  http://www.ramonagray.ca

  http://www.facebook.com/RamonaGrayBooks

  http://twitter.com/RamonaGrayBooks

  *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

  Tangled Web

  By Crista McHugh

  Heat Level: Steamy

  High Fantasy

  The deadliest assassin in the empire just got too close to her target…

  Azurha, a former slave turned deadliest assassin in the empire, has just been offered the ultimate challenge—seduce, then murder the new Emperor. But Titus is not the tyrant his forefathers were, and his radical ideas might be the glimmer of hope the empire needs.

  Titus Sergius Flavus has yet to master the powerful magic of his ancestors—magic he must wield if he's to protect his people—but his father's death has left him no choice. Rule the Deizian Empire and attempt to right his ancestors' wrongs, or watch her fall to his greedy kin.

  More than just Titus' ideas hold Azurha captive. Night after night, he awakens desires she thought lost, and uncovers the magic of her hidden lineage. As her deadline approaches, Azurha is forced to make an impossible decision—complete her job and kill the man she loves, or fail and forfeit both their lives.

  Chapter 1

  You’ll never find a knot you can’t unravel.

  The old soothsayer’s words mocked Azurha more loudly than usual tonight. She strained against the hemp ropes that bound her wrists and ankles to the thick wooden posts, sending new trickles of blood down her copper brown arms.

  For three days, she’d been forced to stand in the center of the room like this, a plaything for her master and his friends. For three days, she’d endured whatever sick fetishes they wanted to satisfy.

  For three days, she fought hard to keep her spirit from breaking. She whispered a string of curses, taking care to speak softly so she wouldn’t wake her master and his friends. The first birdsongs of dawn filtered from the courtyard, and the purple light of a distant supernova gave way to the brighter yellow sun. She cringed. How much longer would the wine dull their senses and leave them adrift in their drunken slumber? Would they let her go today?

  Footsteps shuffled outside. Ramina peeked into the room and shook her head at the mess strewn across the floor. Azurha could almost imagine her fellow slave clucking her tongue if she had one, but their master had cut it out years ago.

  Azurha beckoned her over by jerking her head. Her throat rivaled the blue sand deserts to the south, making speech impossible. Her cracked lips formed the word, “water,” and the other slave nodded. She tiptoed past the sleeping men and lifted a glass to Azurha’s mouth.

  The woman’s small act
of kindness nearly freed the sob lodged in Azurha’s chest. Most of the other slaves regarded her with suspicion. Some even accused her of being cursed. She almost agreed with them. With her bright teal eyes, she stood out from the other Alpirions, which was why she had captured the unwanted attention of her master.

  “Thank you, Ramina,” she whispered once she’d soothed the dryness in her mouth.

  The older woman stared at the hemp ropes and shook her head. The sadness in her eyes told Azurha she wasn’t the first slave to be bound like this. Ramina turned to one of the men. A snarl curled her lip. She nudged him with her foot.

  “No, don’t wake him, please,” Azurha begged. When he didn’t stir, Ramina drew her foot back to deliver a stronger blow. Content that he was sleeping like the dead, she gave Azurha a sly grin and pulled a small pouch from her pocket. She poured some of the dark green powder into the wine jar, shaking with silent laughter the entire time.

  The old woman had drugged them. No wonder they were sleeping like the dead now. Was this a poison to finish them off? Azurha prayed to the gods that it was.

  The other slave held her finger to her lips, urging Azurha not to tell anyone. As if she would. Their master’s death would be a blessing on them all. He had no heirs. When he died, they would gain their freedom, unless he’d already arranged to bequeath them on the next territorial magistrate.

  Ramina bent down and picked up a broken piece of crockery. She flipped it over and examined it before she approached Azurha with the same wicked smile on her face.

  Azurha’s heart jumped into her throat, blocking all air from entering her lungs. By the gods, Ramina wasn’t going to kill her, too?

  Instead of aiming for her flesh, Ramina sliced the sharp edges across one of the ropes binding Azurha’s wrists. Some of the tension eased against her skin, and after a few more swipes, the hemp gave way. She was free.

  The older woman smiled and pressed the clay fragment into Azurha’s palm. What kind of blessing was this? She’d have her freedom in more than one way today. Hope warmed the chill from her soul, and she silently thanked Ramina for giving her this opportunity.

  The sound of voices echoed across the villa. Her pulse raced. The other slaves were waking up, and she only had a short time to cut through the rest of the ropes before they discovered her. She’d borne enough humiliation during the last three days without having the disapproving glares of her fellow slaves on her.

  Ramina ducked into the courtyard, leaving Azurha alone. The voices faded back into the kitchen area while she sawed through the next rope. Her raw skin stung when the air hit the wounds on her wrists, but the prospect of freedom dulled it. She made quick work of the ropes around her ankles, her breath coming fast and quick, as if she was already running away.

  A snort nearby paralyzed her with fear. She huddled in the corner, waiting for whoever it was to roll over and go back to sleep. Instead of listening to her prayers, the gods mocked her. Her master opened his groggy eyes and, despite his drugged state, focused his gaze on her.

  Sweat prickled at the base of her neck, and her stomach lurched. What kind of punishment will he have in store for me now? How could anything be worse than what I’ve already endured? As soon as she asked the question, she knew the answer. Death would be kinder than his punishments.

  Her vision turned red, and fire raced through her limbs. She sprung from the corner, the ropes around her ankles whipping her shins as she pounced on him. The piece of crockery had lost its sharp edge after sawing though the hemp, but she still drew blood when she raked it across his throat. The second slice pierced his windpipe. The deep gurgling noise blocked his cries for help. A cough splattered her face and arms with blood, but she continued to push the fragment deeper into his neck until she hit bone.

  For a brief second, a twinge of horror raced up her spine. But one glance at the torn flesh over her wrists revived her memories of all that had happened at his hands. He would pay for raping her over and over again, for torturing Ramina and the other slaves. Men like him didn’t deserve to live.

  Her hands shook as the life drained from his eyes. What was done was done. There was no turning back. And although she’d just won freedom for her fellow slaves, she’d practically signed her own death warrant.

  The clay fragment slipped from her fingers. Time became her enemy now. How many seconds did she have to escape before one of the other slaves discovered his body?

  Azurha grabbed a sheet to cover her torn tunic and ran across the courtyard, not pausing at the fountain to wash the blood from her hands. Never in her wildest nightmares had she expected this. She tightened the thin fabric around her chest and scrambled over the wall. Hopefully, she’d be miles away by the time they found his body. Away from here and a free woman.

  The cobblestones cut into her bare feet, but the streets were mostly empty at this time of morning, the skies free of any Deizian airships. No one to see her blood-splattered body and face. No one to care that her master had bound her and forced himself on her. No one to watch her flee from the villa.

  Tears stung her eyes as she replayed the last few days in her mind. She ducked into an alley and hid in the shadows while she let them fall. The law called for the swift punishment of murderers, but as a slave, she didn’t have the right to a trial. She would be like a beast, hunted by anyone who recognized her. No chance to tell her side of the story, to describe the hell she had been subjected to.

  A hand clamped down on her shoulder. “What do we have here?” a deep voice asked. “A runaway slave?”

  Azurha’s heart skipped a beat. A thick cowl covered his face, and his grip tightened when she tried to free herself. “Please be kind,” she whispered.

  He moved closer to her. “I mean you no harm. You’ve just saved me the trouble of killing your master.”

  Her mouth went dry. She was as sure as dead once the authorities caught her. But was this stranger any safer? “What do you mean?”

  His laughter mocked her. “Come with me, little rabbit, and I will make you more than you are.”

  Chapter 2

  7 years later

  You’ll never find a knot you can’t unravel.

  The soothsayer’s words from years ago sent a shiver down Azurha’s spine. The last time she’d heard them was the day she’d slit her master’s throat. It did not bode well for this job.

  She’d barely been more than a child when an old crone had approached the home of her master, promising to tell him of his future. Her master had shoved her out into the street, claiming he made his own future and didn’t need to listen to old woman’s rants. Feeling pity for her, Azurha snuck outside to offer her drink of water, never knowing how much the soothsayer’s words would come to haunt her.

  That felt like a lifetime ago. Since then, she learned pity could be a liability in her occupation.

  She strolled along the market and pretended to read the inscription on one of the columns that celebrated the Deizian victory over the Alpirions at the Battle of Silbus. The ore deposits in Silbus had magnified the emperor’s magic, collapsing the ground from underneath the Alpirion army. It was the same battle that had turned her parents into slaves. She didn’t need to be reminded of that.

  Her mind focused on the conversations around her. Her contact had told her he would find her by use of a password. A distinct phrase that would not seem too out of place in a market. She edged closer to the fishmongers.

  To her left, a middle aged Elymanian woman crept alongside her and murmured, “Fresh fish tastes better after the Spring Equinox.”

  “Yes, but pork is always pleasant when it’s freshly killed,” she replied.

  The woman looked up at her, her hands shaking, and nodded. The scent of sweat that clung to her skin revealed her to be a member of the lower classes dressed in a gentlewoman’s clothes. An old ruse, but one Azurha readily saw through. She followed the woman through the crowded market and up the hill where the wealthier merchants and government figures lived. Elaborate m
ansions replaced the simple homes below, becoming more ostentatious the higher they climbed. Some of the chill eased from her body. At least she would be guaranteed a nice sum of money for this job.

  The woman glanced over her shoulder and entered the gate before disappearing into the shadows behind an extravagant Deizian chariot adorned with elaborate gold filigree. Apparently, the lord of the house wasn’t satisfied with the fact it required neither wheels nor horses to fly over the streets. He needed to proclaim both his possession of magic and his station in the gaudiest way possible.

  Azurha’s gut clenched as the soothsayer’s words echoed in her mind. She straightened her tunic and brushed her hands over the two daggers concealed beneath the fabric. Her keen eyes surveyed the wealth of her prospective employer. Marble statues of the gods lined the walls of the garden. A glance further down the colonnade showed another courtyard with a gurgling fountain. Two courtyards was a symbol of wealth in this town, and the masts of the airship that rose over the roof signaled this was the home of a powerful Deizian. She needed to watch her manners. Any perceived insult could end in unnecessary bloodshed.

  The woman opened the door to a room on the other side of the courtyard, and the color drained from her face. She waited for Azurha to enter. The tremor in her hands intensified.

  When the doors closed behind her, Azurha checked the room for any possible traps. Not seeing any, she then searched for escape routes and alternative weapons. It was one of the first lessons Cassius taught her when he took her under his wing—an assassin was always prepared. He’d been a strict teacher, but what she learned from him had proved invaluable. And he’d given her freedom by teaching her the business, an occupation where she could support herself without selling her body.

  Voices echoed from the courtyard, and the door inched open. Azurha crouched behind an urn. Her fingers wrapped around the hilt of a dagger, ready to draw it if needed.