Assassin's Kiss

by Paris Brandon

  Assassin’s Kiss

  Paris Brandon

  Book 1 in the Jaguar Assassins series.

  Kira, a two-natured jaguar shifter in heat, desperate for sex with her own kind, is moments from death at the hands of a band of rogue shifters when another jaguar rescues her.

  Sebastian, a lone Jaguar Council Assassin, knows he’s in trouble when he chooses to neglect his duty to kill the rogues he’s been following and instead rescues the female whose scent intoxicates him. He can’t resist the first touch of her naked flesh or her heated demands for the sex they both want.

  But Kira is the forbidden halfling of prophecy, the key to a secret that the Jaguar Council will kill to keep and their ancient enemy, the Brotherhood, will kill to possess. Tortured by a desire that neither can deny, even sex with Sebastian becomes dangerous for Kira, they fight their way through a growing list of enemies for the chance to be together.

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  Assassin’s Kiss

  ISBN 9781419924088

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Assassin’s Kiss Copyright © 2009 Paris Brandon

  Edited by Pamela Campbell

  Photography and cover art by Les Byerley

  Electronic book publication September 2009

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Assassin’s Kiss

  Paris Brandon

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to my husband and sons. Thank you for your constant love and support, for being my cheerleaders and for being the wonderful men that you are!

  Acknowledgments

  Life without family and friends would be pretty boring and downright depressing! As always, thank you from the bottom of my heart to the funniest, most honest critique group an author could have: Lynne Smith, Rose Gorham, Betty Winslow and Kathy Patti. I love you all!

  Thanks also to Francesca Hawley, for enthusiastically reading everything I send her way, cheering me on and being a great friend. You’re the best!

  I’d also like to thank my wonderful editor, Pamela Campbell, for her patience, counsel and hard work. I’ve learned so much. And last, but certainly not least, thanks also to the talented Les Byerley for my beautiful cover.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Braille: Braille Institute of America

  Hummer: General Motors Corporation

  Pick ’n Save: Roundy’s Inc.

  Terminator: Studio Canal Image S.A. Corporation

  Chapter One

  Kira recoiled at the first pull of the moon. Her vision clouded and a blood-red haze covered the lush green leaves and trees of the Guatemalan jungle. Her body arched, scraping her naked back against a tree, willing her stretched skin to give.

  This was how the change took her. The terrible heat came next, and then her bones shifted, muscles stretched, ligaments popped. Relief was only moments away. She fell to all fours and closed her eyes.

  “Hurry!” She prayed to any god who would claim her.

  Primitive, insatiable desire gripped her, twisting her as hard as the moon’s pull had twisted her body. No human lover would ever understand its ferocity or its terrible burning need. Not that she would chance a human lover. She screamed, frustrated and angry.

  And then she was off at a four-legged lope, her tawny, black-spotted fur brushing against the whipsaw branches of the dense, green underbrush as she picked up one steamy scent after another. She barely heard the churning river over the roar of her own blood. The water was wild, almost pulling her under when she dove in. Struggling against the current, she clawed her way up the rough, muddy bank, oblivious to everything but desire and the familiar riot of scents she’d followed for days. Her own kind. So close.

  At the edge of a small moonlit clearing, Kira’s heart expanded, stretched to take in the eight sleek, muscular bodies so much like her own. The familiar red haze darkened and the heat inside her built. She took a tentative step forward, sniffing the air.

  Living on the streets, she’d known better than to trespass on another’s turf without first learning the rules of confrontation. But the seven males and one female weren’t human and they weren’t simply jaguars. They were the shapeshifters it had taken her ten years to find. Street instincts aside, she was going in blind, guided only by the singular, red haze of desire that encompassed her narrow world.

  The largest male leapt upon a boulder just wide enough for him to perch. Other than his black-tipped ears, he was all spotted, tawny velvet and sinewy grace, regally surveying an equally large female sitting directly below him. The female bristled, emitting a breathy, asthmatic bark that, except for the menacing hiss accompanying it, was as familiar as Kira’s own.

  Ten years of homeless wandering told her this was no happy-to-see-another-of-our-kind greeting. Kira circled out of range of the larger alpha female. In her heat-induced state she’d been reckless but there was no going back now. Her challenger’s eyes narrowed and her muscular shoulders bunched right before the alpha bared her teeth. Oh hell. The six males on the ground backed away into an ever-widening circle while the larger male watched from his boulder.

  Jaguars were known as beasts that kill with one leap, piercing the skull or breaking their victim’s necks. Not really the way she’d planned on ending up. Kira stood her ground until the female was nearly on top of her. She dove to one side but not far enough away from the slash of a claw that ripped open her side. Dropping, she rolled away but the bitch followed, still slicing through the air with a determination that had the markings of a death match.

  Kira feinted right, twisted low and attacked, sinking her teeth into her opponent’s unprotected throat. She clawed into the alpha’s chest as her adversary screamed and tried to shake loose. Kira strained to hold on, her limbs shaking, her jaws locked. The female’s last cry was one of startled disbelief as one last breath shuddered out of her and she collapsed.

  Kira scrambled from beneath her dead opponent and crawled belly down and backward, searching for a place to defend. The pack slunk toward her, their wheezing barks turning into whines. Why had she thought they’d welcome her? No one else ever had.

  The large male sprang from his rock. Kira tensed, waiting for his attack until he grabbed the limp, bloody female in his jaws and dragged her into the jungle. Four young males darted past Kira. Bleeding and too weak to run very far, she inched back, her focus shifting between the remaining two. A sharp bark from above closed off any hope of safety in the trees. One of them must
have doubled back.

  Balancing his front paws on a splayed limb, Sebastian crouched in the notch of a low-hanging tree. His growl had netted him a snarl that warned the female was ready to shred his ass. Ungrateful bitch. His vow to protect the innocent trumped his assignment to kill the rogues he’d been tracking for days before her trail had crossed theirs.

  He was questioning his sanity as he watched the two young males circle the small female. Sheer determination seemed to be the only thing keeping her on her feet. He smelled her fear, and underneath it, the same pulsing desperation that clawed at his insides and begged to be answered.

  He forced a low purr and jumped in front of her, barking a warning when one of them feigned a charge so the other could cut the female from his protection. She flipped around, crouching and hissing, covering his back.

  Heat and confusion rippled off her in waves, calling to him as it called to the young rogues. Taking on two heat-crazed males was risky enough. Protecting a wounded female at the same time was asking for trouble he didn’t need. He was counting on ingrained behavior.

  Jaguar protocol demanded that the alpha female’s death during a moon ceremony be honored. With Fontaine, the Jaguar Priest, leading them, not even rogues would leave one of their own to rot without full ceremonial rites.

  The two males paced but their attention wavered between him, the wounded female at his back, and Fontaine’s demanding snarls, just beyond the clearing. They slunk off, one after the other. He whipped around to hiss a warning but the female lay on the ground, wide-eyed and panting hard, her tawny fur matted with blood, dirt and leaves.

  He cursed the vow trumping his mission, clamped down on the loose skin at the back of her neck and started dragging her. They needed to make the river before Fontaine sent the tracker, Diego, after them.

  Sebastian shook the female by the scruff of her neck, trying to revive her enough that she realized they were going into the water. She dug her claws into the earth and managed a weak hiss. There was no time to explain that Diego could track a fish through water if he weren’t so afraid of it. He wound himself around her, jerked her free and rolled them into the river.

  Water churned over them as he held her, struggling against the current. She was still fighting him when they went under a second time and then she started to convulse, her muscles and bones shifting. She’d drown them both before he could get them to safety inside the cave behind the waterfall. He had no choice but to release her and shift into his human nature while she reformed, sputtering and bobbing in the roiling water.

  One sure stroke brought him hard against her naked back and he cursed as she flailed, backhanding him. He snaked one arm around her, cradling her hips with his own, settling her over the ridge of his growing erection. She stilled instantly. Her rumbling purr seeped through his bones and muscles, belly and cock.

  Growling, he nipped gently at the side of her neck, nudging her jaw up enough to keep her head above water. She tasted of fear and excitement, heat and death. Primitive, feral desire twisted through him, answering the promise he’d followed for days. She whimpered and burrowed against his chest and belly while he kicked, propelling them backward until he felt rocks beneath his feet. Almost there.

  He half crawled, half dragged them both through the falls. The cave was little more than a shallow niche hollowed into the rock lit only by the moonlight filtering through the mist the falls produced. He wasn’t dragging her any farther without knowing who she was and what the hell she’d been doing following Fontaine’s mercenary rogues. Her dark, spiky curls tickled his nose when he scooted them into a reclining position.

  He was honest enough to realize that his panting was only partly due to the adrenaline rush of their escape. Even now her scent curled through him, drawing him into a promise he’d followed for days. Who was this naked, shivering woman he might have just imperiled an entire race to save?

  She must have been living hand-to-mouth for a long time. She’d passed out, clearly exhausted and close to famine thin, the muscles beneath her honey-colored skin, lean. The stubborn set to her full lips intrigued him.

  The crudely stitched old scar below her right shoulder blade intrigued him more. Jaguar People healed too fast to need stitches, unless silver had been used. The legend passed down through the ages was that their Makers hadn’t wanted the Jaguar People to be arrogant, so they’d given them a weakness. Their own scientists had unraveled their three-natured Jaguar DNA and found a definite silver allergy woven throughout the strands. But there would always be those who believed the old legends.

  Sebastian believed only what he could see, smell, taste, touch or hear with his own ears. He traced his tongue over the marks his teeth had made along the back of her slender neck. He palmed one taut breast and she arched into the caress. He grazed her nipple and it tightened. She drew a deep breath and pulled against the tug of his fingers. The harder he pinched, the deeper she sighed. He grazed her other breast and she quivered.

  He’d been without a woman far too long. At least that’s what he told himself as he clamped down on both of her nipples, drawing down until they peaked. Her sigh turned to a moan and she slid her ass cheeks over his cock. He pressed his erection into the cleft and didn’t know which he wanted more, to fuck her ass or roll her over and slide into her pussy.

  Sebastian shuddered, knowing he needed to get a grip on the situation but her hot, musky scent permeated the very air he breathed. He teased the back of her neck with his tongue once more, swallowing the scent that lingered. He rolled her nipples between his fingers before he splayed his palms and traced the curve of her breast, trailed his fingers downward over her taut belly. He knew he should stop but every breath, every touch, urged him to take more. Her arousal called to him, warring with the questions that made him curl his fingers, denying himself the tactile pleasure.

  A frustrated roar died in his chest. He uncurled his fingers, caressed the ridge of her hipbone and the flat of her abdomen, found her hot, slick cleft. She was so wet, so ready. He wanted to taste her, wanted her cream coating his tongue, his lips, his face. Wanted to feel her pussy close around his cock.

  She turned in his arms, pressing against his hand and he drew away until he was barely touching her. Balanced on his knees and elbows, he fought for control and felt it ebb away.

  “Yes,” she whispered, and her desperate plea sent him over the edge.

  Sebastian bent and licked a path to her breasts, sucked a nipple into his mouth, tugging and scraping his teeth over the hard little bead while she writhed and tried to pull him closer. He nipped over the tight muscles of her belly, burying his face in the dark curls covering her sex, drinking in her arousal while he held her open with his fingers and dragged his tongue against her quivering inner lips.

  He slipped his hands beneath her hips and held her steady, varied his strokes, first the flat of his tongue, then just the tip, delving into her with every other stroke until she raised her hips to meet his thrusts. Fucking his mouth while he gripped her ass.

  Her sweet scent, stronger now than when he’d picked up her trail, twisted him into a haze a desire that he knew he should ignore.

  He didn’t do desperate. He didn’t do need.

  He growled at her attempt to grab a handful of his shorn hair, hissed when she scored his scalp with her nails. He retaliated, clasping her clit between his lips, alternately suckling and flicking the hard little pearl with the tip of his tongue until she came hard, every muscle straining toward him.

  Shaking, he knew he should stop, but he only slowed to absorb the intensity of each quivering nerve as he stretched over her.

  She was still coming, still trembling and he wanted to roar like some ravening beast when he parted her slick folds and pressed his cock into her. She gasped, her surprised gaze widening as she tried to stifle a cry. There was no reason for pleasure to become pain except one. He was her first.

  Horrified, he came, shuddering as his seed pumped into her and he tried to pull awa
y. He struggled for sanity. She wrapped her legs around his hips and dug her nails into his shoulders. Her determined gaze challenged him. He arched away from all her slick, moist heat until she tucked her hips, enfolding his cock, holding him.

  “Don’t,” she rasped, her demand harsh and unmistakable. Her eyes glittered in the moonlight that filtered through the mist.

  His erection surged painfully and in the next instant he was hard again, panting, raging against instinct. “You want this?”

  “More than you know. More than you can imagine,” she said and tentatively pressed her lips to his. He froze. He never wanted the responsibility of caring for anyone. When he didn’t respond, she drew back, wary.

  “I don’t kiss.” Sebastian gritted his teeth and fought the urge to thrust into her welcoming heat. “You need a teacher or a firstmate, and I am neither.”

  She hooked her ankles behind his back and shifted her hips again so that he remained buried in all her wet, slick heat. “I need a shapeshifter who won’t run away screaming if I shift during sex…and I really do want to feel your mouth on mine. I want everything.” She lifted closer, holding onto his shoulders and skimming her lips over his ear and whispering, “I want you.”

  Her grip on him tightened, her demand made him harder than he could ever remember being.

  He should stop. Ask why she hadn’t known that she wouldn’t shift. Soothe the itch at the back of his neck that had nothing to do with her nails digging into his shoulders. It wasn’t enough pain to distract him. “You won’t shift,” he growled and sank deeper, stroked inside all her wet, slick heat while she moaned and tried to match his thrusts. She was fighting herself and he was going to need to help her. Fuck.