Marked by an Assassin (31 page)

If he had been alone, it might have proven a problem.

But he wasn’t.

A black snarl sounded from behind Harbin, words growled in the elf tongue, and a dark wave rolled over him, malevolence in its purest form. It seemed to suck what little light there was from the alley and all the warmth from the air.

The hairs on the back of Harbin’s neck prickled and his eyes widened as he spun to face the clone, saw the flash of a silver blade in his hand, and realised he wouldn’t be quick enough to block the blow aimed straight at his neck.

His heart lodged in his throat and he swiftly brought his blade up, even when he knew he wouldn’t make it.

Black jagged smoke exploded behind the copy and blood sprayed over Harbin, drenching his bare chest.

He stared blankly at the black clawed hand protruding from the clone’s chest, dripping with dark liquid, and then beyond the male to the one who towered behind him, a vision of grim death.

Fuery’s lips peeled back in a grin, flashing enormous fangs, and the corona of violet shining around his pupils stuttered, beginning to fade. A chill went through Harbin as that ring of dying light changed shape, stretching into points at the top and bottom.

His pupils were turning elliptical.

“Fuery,” Harbin barked, dropped one of his blades and dragged the clone away from him, shoving the body to one side so he could reach the elf. “Fuery, listen to my voice. Stay with me, Buddy.”

Fuery bared his fangs on a snarl that chilled Harbin’s blood.

The remaining violet in his eyes burned crimson.

Hartt muttered a ripe curse and appeared in a flash of silvery light, between Harbin and Fuery. He swung his left hand, his palm striking Fuery’s cheek so hard that the crack of flesh-hitting-flesh rang around the alley.

“Pull yourself together,” Hartt growled and Fuery blinked, and Harbin could only stare as the red in his eyes faded, the violet shining through again. Hartt grabbed the elf and pulled him into an embrace. “Fucking hell… I thought we’d lost you that time.”

Fuery mumbled something in the elf tongue and pushed away from Hartt, an awkward edge to his expression as he called his blade back to his hand and looked down at his boots.

“Pull back,” Hartt said but Fuery ignored him, shifting into a warrior’s stance as his dark eyes danced between the two remaining clones.

He turned to face the witch.

Grinned.

Disappeared.

Fucking hell. Harbin had never seen Fuery actually complete a teleport, and it had happened twice now. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but the concerned look on Hartt’s face said it was bad.

“Get him out of here,” Harbin barked and lashed out at one of the clones, driving it away from its remaining companion so he could fight it one on one.

“Not going to happen.” Hartt’s voice was a dark growl as he teleported and appeared behind the other copy, his blade a black blur as he slashed up the male’s back. The clone gave an agonised bellow and swung with his silver knife as he turned on his heel to face Hartt. The elf blocked with his sword, following through and knocking the clone back. His violet gaze leaped to Fuery where he battled the witch, a menacing shadow that Harbin couldn’t track as he dodged each spell the male cast. “I have to let him finish this or he’ll lose control again.”

Closure.

Hartt had warned him once not to get between Fuery and an enemy, because Fuery would kill anyone who got in his way once he had locked on to a target. He wouldn’t let anyone steal that kill from him. He always finished what he started.

Harbin could understand that.

He looked towards the end of the alley again as he blocked another attack, his senses stretching outwards, scouring the city for Aya. She had gone after the huntress alone, she intended to take the bitch down, but he couldn’t let her do it. He needed the closure.

“Go,” Hartt barked again and Harbin kicked the clone away from him, sending it slamming into the wall.

He looked back at his boss, saw the determination in his eyes and that it was an order this time. One he would be an idiot to disobey.

“We can handle this.” Hartt brought his blade down in a swift arc, slashing down the clone’s chest and sending him to his knees.

The witch howled in pain and threw his hand out in the direction of the injured clone. Pouring more magic into it. He was healing them on the fly, trying to keep the remaining two alive, but each time he used a spell on them, he weakened himself and left himself open. Fuery attacked in that moment, raking claws over the witch’s extended arm and slicing through his black robe.

Blood spilled, the scent of it rank, tinny and sharp, laced with death.

Fuery grinned.

The witch turned on him, hitting him with another blast of magic, sending him crashing and tumbling across the tarmac. The second he stopped rolling, he was on his feet and springing at the witch, clashing with him again.

“Go,” Hartt said and Harbin obeyed, certain that his two comrades could handle the witch and the two remaining clones.

They were powerful elves and he believed in them, knew in his heart that they would win.

Aya needed him more than they did.

He roared, the sound echoing around the dark streets, and kicked off, his blood pounding with a need to reach her.

He focused wholly on her as he ran, aware that she would sense him coming towards her.

“Hold on, Aya,” he whispered, praying to whatever gods would listen to him that they would protect his mate until he reached her, watching over her and keeping her safe for him.

He couldn’t lose her.

He couldn’t lose someone he loved again.

Harbin sprinted through the city streets, following his nose and the buzzing inside him that warned she was nearby. It grew stronger the closer he came to her, running barefoot and bare-chested along quiet residential roads surrounded by elegant townhouses. Something unsettling also grew with it, an echo of her pain in his side, his arm and his thigh. The huntress had injured her. He banked left at a square and then backtracked when a sharp grunt sounded in the leafy area in the centre of it to his right.

Aya.

He growled and ran in that direction. When he reached the wrought iron fence that surrounded the small park, the scent of blood hit him hard. Not just mortal blood. Aya’s blood too.

His heart hammered against his chest and he vaulted the fence, landing in a crouch on the leaf litter on the other side. He ran through the barrier of trees and out onto the cool dewy grass.

Aya slammed hard into the blonde huntress, knocking her back before flipping away from her, growling and snarling through her fangs as she fought for space. His heart almost stopped when he saw the blood coating her right thigh, slick on her jeans, and the slash across the left sleeve of her dark jumper over her biceps. Both looked as if they had been done with a blade.

He readied his remaining one, wishing he’d had enough sense to grab the one he had dropped before rushing off to find Aya. He had been consumed by a need to reach her side again though, and that need still rolled through him, commanding him to protect her from the huntress that had brought both of them so much pain.

Moonlight bathed the park in sombre hues, stealing the colour from the world.

It brightened as his animal side rose to the fore, his vision sharpening together with his senses, until he could detect every twitch in the huntress’s body, could almost see her moves before she made them.

The blonde female attacked, a frantic and wild thing as she lunged with the knife she tightly clutched in her left hand and fired bolts from the compact crossbow in her right at the same time.

Aya back-flipped and kicked right the moment she landed, hurling herself out of the path of one of the bolts. It exploded on impact, showering earth upwards, filling the air with its rich scent.

The huntress aimed the bow at her again as she recovered from the shockwave from the blast.

Harbin roared and hurled himself at the huntress, catching her attention and distracting her, buying Aya time to find her feet. He brought his right leg up hard, smashing it into the female’s arm and sending the crossbow flying from her hand. A pained cry cut through the still night air and the huntress stumbled away from him, readying her blade at the same time as she brought her other arm to her chest.

He flipped his knife in his hand and circled around her, forcing her away from Aya and placing himself between the two females, shielding his mate.

Aya’s agitation flowed through him, and he knew it was because he had shown up. She wanted the kill, craved vengeance too, but he couldn’t let her have it. He needed it more.

He drew down a deep breath and prepared himself.

The huntress eyed him and then Aya, and then looked beyond them both, doubt surfacing in her green eyes.

“Twenty years,” he growled and narrowed his gaze on her, drawing her focus back to him. “Twenty godsdamned years I hunted you… and now I have you. Now you die.”

She surprised him by laughing. “No, now
you
die.”

He doubted that.

She lunged at him and he strafed left to dodge her wild thrust and swung his fist at her. She ducked back but his blow glanced off her cheek, sending her stumbling to one side and fighting for balance. He pressed his advantage, lashing out with his black blade. The huntress brought hers up, managing to block his attack, and shoved forwards.

Hoping to throw him off balance too?

That attack might have worked on Aya, but it wouldn’t work on him, and the huntress knew it. He was stronger than his mate and that was before he had spent two decades training as an assassin and honing his skills.

She didn’t stand a chance against him now.

He dropped low as she lunged again, sweeping his leg around at the same time and taking her ankles out with the kick. She hit the ground hard on her back and grunted. He brought his blade down fast, aiming for her chest, and she rolled away from him. His knife struck the grass and he growled as she rolled back, her blade a silver flash through the darkness. It sliced across his left arm, and the strong scent of his blood joined that of Aya’s and the huntress’s.

He pulled his knife free from the dirt and swung at her, but she was already on her feet. Aya moved closer and he growled over his shoulder at her, sending her a warning to keep back and not intervene.

This was his fight.

The huntress swiftly dodged each attack he made, edging towards the far end of the park. Her gaze darted off in the direction he had come from, the wild edge to her green eyes growing with each glance. Her heart sounded hard in his ears as he advanced on her, stalking towards her, his blade held down at his side. She brandished hers, holding it in front of her, and he smiled as it shook in her grip.

She had realised that the witch wasn’t coming to aid her.

She was alone.

His lips curled into a slow smile and he kicked off, his bare feet sinking into the soft ground as he lunged at her. She fumbled her block and cut across his right forearm, slicing deep into the muscle. He snarled as pain rolled through him, the fiery burn only driving him to fight harder, tugging at his primal instincts to defeat his prey and protect his female.

His fangs emerged, canines sharpening into four deadly points that he wanted to sink into her throat.

He slashed at her and she threw herself at him, hitting him hard in the chest and catching him off guard. He lost balance and fell with her, landing with her on top of him. She rammed her blade towards him and he brought his arm up and blocked her.

The silver knife plunged deep into his forearm and he howled in agony, blinded by the pain, his blade falling from his grip.

The huntress pulled her knife free of his flesh and he launched a hand out at her, catching her around the neck. He grimaced as he tightened his hold on her, choking the life out of her as she stared down at him through wide eyes. The second she overcame her shock, she lashed out at him again, slashing across his chest with her blade, a frantic feral thing as she tried to escape his hold. He growled and caught her arm, twisted it and tried to make her drop the knife so he could grab it and end her with it.

She used her free hand to take the blade from the one he grasped and lunged at him with it.

A bark left her lips and she recoiled backwards, her right shoulder jerking hard. A bolt protruded from it.

Harbin didn’t hesitate.

He grabbed the short arrow, yanked it free of her flesh and plunged it deep into the centre of her chest. Her cry cut short, her eyes enormous as the tension fled her body and she dropped her head to look down at the crossbow bolt sticking out of her heart.

She raised a hand to touch it, a frown flickering on her brow, and slumped onto the grass beside him.

Harbin tipped his head back and looked at Aya where she stood just a few metres away, upside down in his vision, the crossbow still aimed at the huntress.

Damn, she was a wonderful mate.

He had never had a partner before, but he was glad that he had one now, because she had helped him find the closure he needed. They had found it together.

He pushed the huntress off him and sat up, looked down at her and waited for it to sink in that it was over. He had finished the twenty-year-long mission to avenge his kin.

Warmth spread through him.

He looked back over his shoulder at Aya, and the heat that had been spreading through him, the light that had been chasing back the shadows, turned icy and black.

She rested on her side on the wet grass, her face ashen and eyes closed, clothes stained with dark patches that glinted in the moonlight.

She was hurt worse than he had thought.

His heart pounded as he pushed to his feet and rushed to her. His knees hit the dirt hard beside her and he pulled her onto her back and into his arms.

“Aya,” he whispered and jostled her, fear closing his throat and burning through him, destroying the sane part of him that said she would be alright and replacing it with poisonous words about her leaving him.