Assassin's Bride

by C. J. Scarlett

  “Shit,” I said again. All I could do was stand at the torn edges of the tower and watch as Kypher shifted, white scales erupting from his body, his form elongating and glistening brightly in the pale morning light. He was even more deadly beautiful than I remembered, a thought that didn’t settle well with me as I took in the raw force that emanated from his very being.

  Clara, stay back, Atik warned me, as if I could do anything else. Meanwhile, he paced the ground below the great dragon that now clawed at the ice, preparing to make its first strike. I could see that other Ak-hal and other women gathered around to watch, but none of them interfered in this match. It seemed that this was a one-on-one encounter.

  My breath hitched as Kypher took the first blow. Claws struck out, but Atik managed to dodge out of the way just in time. Snow exploded from the ground where Kypher’s forearm struck the ground, his claws embedding for just a moment before he pulled free. But in that short time that he was caught, Atik managed to come around and make a swipe at him, catching him in the chest and landing a great blow. Kypher let out a great, ear-piercing screech like nothing I had ever heard before—it almost stopped my heart—and then swiveled around to strike at Atik again with his other set of claws.

  This blow got Atik in the shoulders, and for just a second, I thought it would be enough to stop my mate in his tracks. But Kamani were made of sterner stuff than that. He may have slowed down for a moment, but before too long, he was fighting again, up on his hind legs and bearing down on Kypher, his jaws clamping down on the great length of the dragon’s neck.

  Kypher struggled, but he seemed unable to break free. Not until he finally lifted off into the air on his massive wings, forcing Atik to release and drop to the ground, where he paced in circles, watching the dragon as it continually dropped and false swooped on him from the sky.

  Hearing movement behind me, I turned slightly, seeing that a few other women had come in from the lower part of the tower to see what the commotion was. They looked at me in confusion first, before spotting the hole in the wall and the fight that had broken out on the ground below.

  “God,” one woman murmured, staring down, placing her hand over her lips.

  I turned and looked at her. And froze. “Jessica?” I stammered.

  She looked at me, and her eyes widened. “Ah…”

  “I thought you’d been killed!”

  Apparently, the Ak-hal were being less picky about their mates than Kypher had led me to believe. Deciding to ignore this new revelation, I turned back to the battle. Kypher swooped down on Atik again, but my mate had managed to catch him by the wing and pull him to the ground. I held my breath as I watched. Would this finally be it?

  Perhaps not. Kypher pulled himself up, and so did Atik. They circled one another, each preparing to strike. The question was, who would strike first? I watched with bated breath… and then Atik lunged. In slow motion, I saw his jaws close on Kypher’s throat, tearing through the white scales, and then the dragon crashed to the earth.

  I almost couldn’t believe it. Was this really possible? It seemed like I was dreaming. But no. Atik had done it.

  Realizing that I had to move, I slid to the edge of the hole that had been torn in the wall and grabbed hold just as Atik came to me. I dropped down onto his back. Then I heard the words that, finally, brought me peace.

  Clara. Let’s go home.

  Chapter 14

  Shay explained some things to me about women who had been through traumatic experiences.

  “I’m no expert,” she said. “So, take this with a grain of salt. But sometimes people just can’t let go. They’re drawn back. They can’t let themselves heal. That’s what makes you different, Clara. All this time, you’ve been healing. You’ve been getting better. And now, you’ve found a mate who loves you. Who wants to take care of you. Who will make you even better and stronger than ever before.”

  I shook my head. Was I really so different than those other women? Sometimes, I caught myself thinking… it could have been me who chose to go back to Kypher, like the others who went back to their mates. One bad thought could have led me to flee my freedom, like those other women did.

  “I don’t think I’m special,” I insisted.

  “But you are,” she said. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you all along. I’ve known it since I first met you.”

  Leaving Shay, I set out for a walk on the Kamani compound. Things had been a bit more solemn than usual since everybody had found out what happened with the women who were taken, and we didn’t know what would happen now that the Ak-hal retrieved their ships. It was frightening to think they were in a better position than before to rebuild their empire on this planet, after everything that we had been through to take them down in the first place.

  “I will keep you safe, no matter what happens,” Atik told me when I brought up my concerns.

  “That’s not what I’m worried about,” I told him as we walked across the snow, my hand held firmly in his. He always reassured me that he would keep me safe, as if it were some sort of mantra. “There are just so many things to think about. Now, the Ak-hal can kidnap more women. And what will happen with the women who went back to them? So many of them will regret it, but…”

  “You always worry about everyone else,” said Atik. “But never about yourself.”

  I looked over at him. “What do you mean?”

  “You are important too.”

  “Well, I mean…”

  “To me, you are the most important person.”

  I felt my face heat up at this statement. The idea that I could be so important to anyone, but especially to someone like Atik… it sent my head spinning in a million directions. Thinking back to that shy girl I had been back in that ballroom, that girl who had willingly gone with the Ak-hal for the promise of what had seemed like love at the time…

  So much had happened since then. But I was still that girl. I had just learned a lot of hard truths about the world. More importantly, though, I had found someone to stand beside me. Someone who cared about my thoughts and my opinions. Someone who didn’t want to control me. Someone who would allow me to be me.

  As we walked back to our room, I looked over at him. I could never stop looking at him, and not just because he was beautiful. When I looked at Atik, I finally saw somewhere that I belonged. I knew that when I was by his side, I didn’t want or need to be anywhere else.

  “I love you,” I said. I couldn’t say it often enough.

  “I love you,” said Atik, turning around to me and leaning down, tracing his lips over mine as he tangled his fingers through my curls. I closed my eyes and breathed in softly as those lips trailed down, tracing a path along my jaw and my throat, finally coming to rest at that sweet spot on my chest that he knew drove me crazy. Then I felt his fingers undo the closures of my jumpsuit, and a chill crept along my skin as it was exposed to the cool air.

  Atik eased back onto the furred bedding, pulling me down with him. I smiled gently, laying my hand on his cheek as I stared deep into his eyes, still unable to believe that I had been so lucky to find him in all the trials and tribulations. Sometimes, I still thought I was only dreaming. But no… this was no dream. No dream could feel like this, I told myself as his hands reached up to touch my bare skin, to cup my breasts, and tease my nipples, sending shockwaves through my body.

  I made my way astride him, and eased myself down, feeling him push inside me. Then holding his hands, I moved, building up a rhythm, slow at first, then faster and faster…

  “You’re everything,” I said as I rode him. “You’re everything that I ever wanted.”

  He was my light in the darkness. He was my heart. But more than anything, he was the thing that had brought me out of the depths when I had most needed a way out. He had given me a reason to finally realize that it was all right to love myself. How could I not love the thing that he loved so much? I knew that things wouldn’t always be easy. I knew
that challenges still awaited us. Things hadn’t turned out the way we thought they would. But whatever happened, we could keep on fighting, because we had each other.

  I had been through so much, but with Atik by my side, I was healing.

  Spark

  Flames of Freedom (Prequel)

  C.J. Scarlett

  ***

  Like me on Facebook!

  Follow me on Instagram!

  Chapter 1

  Diego was late. Andrea knew what that meant, though she didn’t like admitting it, not even in her head to herself. She was in the restaurant. They never celebrated Valentine’s Day in February. The three years they’d been dating, they agreed it was something of an atrocious holiday invented by the candy and card companies to squeeze pennies out of people stuck in their honeymoon phase and people who were a little too lonely for their own good. So, they decided to do what any rebellious college kids would do—make a passive-aggressive statement.

  They celebrated in June when they could actually enjoy the weather. Diego always made the argument that they could actually sit on a restaurant patio and not worry about the slush getting on their shoes from the recent snowfall that always seemed to center itself around the middle of February.

  And now Diego was late. The restaurant was expensive and it had taken them several tries to get reservations after some couple finally gave up their table. Andrea liked to think they broke up or one of them tragically was shipped off to some other country. She’d managed to come up with the whole plot of it just by sitting there waiting, the water level in her glass getting higher and higher as the ice melted. She’d held off on ordering wine for fifteen minutes before she broke and got herself a glass. And then another.

  She checked her phone. Nothing. Part of her wanted to be worried. She wanted to believe something might be wrong. It was an awful way to think. She hated herself for it. But it was better than all the alternatives running through her head: some blonde bitch with her legs spread for him. She’d rather him hurt in a ditch than fucking another woman. That was love, right?

  She finished her third glass of wine and her patience wore thin. It was logged with California’s most expensive merlot because he’d given her his credit card to put collateral down on the reservation, like an idiot. Now he just paid forty-five dollars in glasses of wine alone. That was before she would order the caviar appetizer.

  “Anything to eat yet, ma’am?”

  She could tell the waiter was getting agitated. He paced back and forth and she could feel his eyes on her from wherever he stood across the room. He’d started with several tables to distract him from watching her like a hawk. But the longer she waited, the more the others began to shuffle out and he was left to notice just how long it was taking her date to arrive. Sorry, my boyfriend is an irresponsible fuck apparently, was what she wanted to say. She wanted the attention off her. Diego’s inability to show up anywhere on time recently wasn't her fault.

  “Caviar, please,” she said, punctuating her request with a loud pop as her lips connected with the glass and sucked down what was left. “And another glass.”

  “Right.”

  Little did he know she would tip him a horrendously large amount, thanks to Diego’s Capital One card tucked neatly into her clutch. This wasn’t the first time in the past few weeks he’d stood her up, but it was the last straw. This restaurant was expensive, the reservations had been hard to get. And now she was sitting here, nearly an entire bottle of wine deep by herself and she hadn’t even ordered appetizers yet.

  At the bar, there was a ruckus going on and she assumed it was something to do with the local sports team doing poorly or well. She didn’t care. Diego liked to wear a Lakers hat even though he’d never once been to a game, even when they came to play all the way out in their city. He liked screaming at the TV in bars and high-fiving strangers when something good happened, and they all spent way too much money on rounds of drinks for the table.

  Maybe he was doing that now; he got carried away with his plans to meet up with the guys and got too invested in the game, too drunk to meet her. She’d kill him for that too.

  She looked over at the TV and, instead of ESPN or some other awful sports channel with an acronym she didn’t know the meaning of, she saw the news up and on. A giant banner across the top flashed that the news was BREAKING and that a frantic reporter on the screen spoke fast into her microphone.

  “Turn that shit up,” someone yelled. “The captions are off.”

  The bartender unmuted the TV and turned up the volume to rival the jazz music that had been playing overhead in the restaurant proper. Andrea lazily turned in her chair, deciding to devote her attention to something other than the elderly couple in the corner constantly looking at her with pity all over their faces.

  “The store owner says the vandals wore Shifter Alliance logos on the ski masks, demanding every emergency road flare he had to sell. No word yet on what the motive was or the plan for the use of the flares, but police are on high alert for two suspects. Both are believed to be male in their mid to late twenties standing between six feet and six feet four inches. If anyone has any information on them, please contact the number below. Meanwhile…”

  Andrea tuned out. It was more of the same garbage political crap clogging the airwaves. Shifters this and shifters that. Everyone seemed to have an opinion on the situation, especially when Andrea didn’t care. Shifters existed, terrorists existed, neo-Nazis existed. There were all sorts of bad seeds in the world and she wouldn't get herself worked up over a group of people she’d never come in contact with.

  She’d never known a shifter, though she had heard a rumor in high school that Karen Gryke had been one, some kind of wolf shifter. She’d never talked to the girl and never seen it for herself; most shifters kept that part of their identity a secret. Though, if whatever fucking bill everyone was talking about recently went through, they’d all be wearing big bright signs identifying them on the street.

  Andrea finished her wine and conceded that Diego wasn't coming and he wasn’t planning on calling, so she asked for the check and the filet mignon to go. She would track him down and eat it in front of him.

  #

  She banged down on Diego’s door, the doorman letting her into the apartment building. He’d seen her plenty of times going in and out with Diego, but she wasn’t discounting the effect her deep-neck shirt had on revealing her cleavage. She’d worn it for Diego, but willing to use it wherever she needed to if that was the case. Maybe she’d give the security guard something to think about when he was alone tonight, just to get back at him.

  Now there was no answer on the door.

  “Diego!” she shouted. “You asshole, open the damn door right now!”

  She heard a shuffle inside the apartment. If the door didn’t open in five minutes, she was prepared to make a scene that his neighbors would never forget. But she saw something move across the shadow under the door, in the narrow strip of light between the bottom and the ground. She heard several clicks. Diego always had several locks on his door, claiming he thought the crackhead down the hall was stealing from people.

  When he opened the door, Andrea hadn’t expected to see what she did. He was dressed in ratty black sports clothes, his hair a mess. It looked like he’d just come back from playing football and hadn’t taken off all his underclothes. He yanked her in the apartment and slammed the door shut behind her, going back to reattach all the locks he’d just removed.

  “What the hell is going on?” she asked, slamming the to-go box on the table. She tossed the credit card at him. “By the way, thanks for taking me to dinner.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. He sounded stressed, but not like he meant it.

  He paced around the apartment, shoving things away. His cleaning spree should have been a sign that something was very wrong. He never cleaned. Not for her at least. She never once saw him exert effort to make his apartment look presentable in t
he many years they’d known each other. But there he was, shoving things away and out of sight.

  “What is it? Porn? Letters from your secret girlfriend?” she asked, crossing her arms.

  “No, it has nothing to do with any of that,” he said, sounding frustrated.

  “Not giving me much to go on here,” she said. “I’m three seconds from walking out that door again, but somehow I don’t think you’d care.”

  That got him to pause. He turned around with a desperate look in his eyes and dragged his hand down his face, massaging at the muscles there quickly. It didn’t do much. Bags still sat under his eyes and the visible vein in his neck and one in his temple both still throbbed.

  “I would care,” he sighed. “I promise. I’ll explain everything. I just need to make sure things are safe.”

  She felt something dark wax in the pit of her stomach and swallowed a little too painfully. He was scaring her now, rushing around the apartment in his strange clothes, hiding things away. Every time he passed the window, he peeked out of it through the crack in the curtains. The lights were off and three new locks that she’d never seen before now bolted the door shut. Something was very wrong.

  “Diego,” she said, softer.

  But it wasn’t enough to get his attention; instead, he raced around the apartment until every last scrap of what he looked to clean up had been shoved away. That’s when he dropped onto the couch and let out a breath. He ran his hands through his hair, succeeding in only making it messier. It had a sheen of sweat visible, even in the dark tufts sitting on top of his head. Some of it stuck to the base of his neck and behind his ears.