To Mate an Assassin: The Lost Alphars Series, Book 1 (18 page)

Cymbeline stood on her knees with all the strength she had left and crawled out of the room. She couldn’t let Irisi go in there. Couldn’t let her see up close what she’d done. Once past the threshold she collapsed, rolling onto her back and gasping for air, trying to breathe through the pain.

“Cimby! No, Cimby I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.” Irisi was there, touching her shoulders and looking in horror at her face. Just another day, just another scar, right? Cymbeline couldn’t decide whether or not Irisi’s horrified expression was from the burns or her father’s blood.

The pain overwhelmed Cymbeline and she moaned, wanting to cover her face but knowing the simplest touch would be like setting fire to her already burning skin. Footsteps and a small hand taking her by the elbow forced her eyes open. Irisi helped her sit up without a word and wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her to stand and leading her into the hallway bathroom.

Irisi pushed Cimby’s hips so she could lean on the counter. Cimby refused to turn and look at herself in the mirror. She must look like something out of Irisi’s darkest nightmares. She could feel the skin peeling off her face.

Kerrick would never lust for her again after getting a good look at her. Mating problem solved. She put that thought away for now, looking down at her bloody hands. She needed to wash the blood off and bandage up her face before they headed out.

Irisi seemed to know what she needed as she began to help Cimby strip and take a shower, a very cold shower. Her skin couldn’t take any heat. The shower was fast and Irisi was gentle, not commenting on whose blood she was washing off of Cymbeline’s skin. She dressed in clothes Irisi found in the attic that her adopted mother had stored when she was still alive. They were dusty and dated but at least they were blood free.

Impressed beyond belief by Irisi’s fortitude, the trooper helped Cimby put a tincture meant to heal burns on what she now knew were acid burns, and bandaged them up as good as any battlefield dressing. If the poor girl didn’t need therapy before, she most definitely would now. There was no way Irisi did not at least hear what was happening while Cymbeline had been, Lords, eating her father.

The thought made her stagger against the wall as they made their way from the hallway bathroom towards the stairs.

“Cimby?” Irisi asked, the first thing she’d said since finding her burned and covered in blood on the floor.

“It’s Okay,” Cimby grunted. She could barely move her lips on her left side to speak. “I’m good. Did you get the necklace? Get the necklace and let’s go.”

“I can’t go in there with him…I can’t.”

“Right. Yeah, all right.” It hurt but she moved slowly back into the stinking room. The stench of rotting flesh was putrid and made her stomach rumble, a stark contrast to just an hour ago when she’d craved the taste of it. She sighed and began to search for what Irisi had described as a small, velvet jewelry box holding her birth mother’s pearl necklace. She found it, sitting on some sort of alter that had been converted from a dresser.

Dozens of low-burning candles and hundreds of what looked like Egyptian hieroglyphics and tokens littered the altar. Gold coins and four bowls of jewelry covered the base. One gold, chipped and burnt necklace seemed to be the focus on the table, a strange cross-topped with an oval, that one looked familiar. An ankh. But the wall beyond it was covered with one symbol repeating over and over. Two small stick-like images joined together to form an X. How had she not seen the candles through the darkness before? Whatever curse or spell he had woven to block her senses had been frighteningly powerful. A human couldn’t use this much power on his own without corrupting his soul.

Once they erased any evidence of them being in the house, staging it like a break in, Cimby called a local law enforcement shifter who owed her a favor. He didn’t know she was the Incendiary but she’d saved his ass during a takedown she’d happened to be in the neighborhood for a few years back. He promised he would be the first on the scene and make it look like Irisi had either never existed or run away a long time ago. Shifters were good at making people disappear.

Cimby could barely see through her left eye but that would have to be enough for the moment. She’d stop at an apothecary before getting on the main highway to buy an average numbing potion to control the pain. Anything stronger would make her pass out and then how would they get back to California? Irisi may be older than she looked but she didn’t know how to drive a car yet, nor were her legs long enough to reach the pedals.

No, she needed her wits about her. For Irisi and for the damn forty-five-hour drive they had ahead of them.

“Ready, kid?” she said, putting on a brave smile for Irisi.

“Don’t talk, Cimby,” Irisi said, reaching her hand up and tinkering with the tape sealing the bandages to her face. Gods, she must look horrid to put that expression on Irisi’s face. “It’s okay,” Irisi whispered. “I’m okay. Just try not to pass out at the wheel.” She gave a half-hearted smile.

“Will do.” Cimby nodded, taking Irisi’s hand and walking away from that forsaken house of nightmares. Looking back at the quaint house, Cimby swore to herself Irisi would never suffer pain or want for anything ever again. She knew, deep down within the confines of her soul, that Kerrick would take care of Irisi. He would make sure she was safe and loved, no matter where Cimby’s Incendiary duties took her.

“Cimby?” Irisi tugged on her hand.

“Yes?”

“Thank you for saving me. Again.” The slip of a girl looked up at her with wide yellow-green eyes full of tears she rarely let herself shed. “Thank you for killing him so I wouldn’t have to.” Cimby pulled her into a hug so tight she could have suffocated the girl. But she needed that affection as much as she wanted to give it. It had been a rough week.

“You never need to thank me, and I would never have let you do that, sweetheart. I’ll always be here to slay your demons. I promise.”

“I know.”

Chapter Thirteen

“I do not like risking any more of your people, Leah,” Kerrick said as he watched the two Gator shifters gear up for their reconnaissance mission. “Cristoff’s people are equally suited for this task.”

“You won’t convince me, Alphar,” Leah said, her hands clasped behind her back. “They were my pack and my people will be a part of this. They know the dangers they face.”

“There are so few of you already.”

“And whose fault was that?” She snorted, her shoulder-length dreadlocks dancing as she shook her head. “My people refused to mate with other species of shifters, refused to touch humans, and now we’re all but extinct. The old ones may have been dumb hicks but they taught us a thing or two about lying in wait for our prey to forget we’re even there, and then snap!” She clapped her hands loudly, startling Zach into jumping as he walked up to the Gators. “They’re in our jaws and sliding down our gullets.” Her unnerving Gator eyes, emerald green with a single slit of black down the middle, focused in Zach’s direction. One side of her mouth tripped up in a primal grin. “We love all kinds of white meat.”

Zach growled deep in his throat and Kerrick could feel the Coyote side rousing to the fore, wanting to cause a bit of mischief. Kerrick nodded Zach off, telling him with a look to stand down.

“Try not to piss off my Magic Tech, Leah.”

“And why is that,
cher
?” Leah asked, the endearment trained in Zach’s direction. One facet Kerrick never would of thought to assume of a Gator’s nature was their inherit sensuality. As the scaled beasts could dance and glide across the top of water, Leah did so on land. Her curvaceous hips, Cajun accent, and dark, flawless skin brought to mind hot, humid nights in Louisiana. Most shifters caved to the temptation she offered, but few could handle the reality of her dominant sensuality. Kerrick, for some reason, had never given in to her invitations, preferring to laugh at those who trailed in her wake like lost puppies. The woman was more a black widow than a ferocious Gator.

“Gators aren’t the only shifter with a bite.”

“You think I’m scared of coyotes, Alphar?”

“A Coyote with his amount of raw power? Not scared, but it would be wise to be wary.” He gestured to the door. “If you need to sate a craving while you’re here, go sate it in town. My soldiers need to be focused.”

Leah grinned but bowed her head. “I can’t help if being around all these masculine soldiers is making my teeth hurt, Alphar.”

Kerrick began to respond as Rhiannon dashed into the room, her boots hitting the floor with a steady beat. She’d known to leave the prim and proper suits at home now that they were preparing for war.

“Alphar,” she said, coming to a stop and leaning in to whisper in his ear. The words she spoke sent an electric jolt directly to his heart.

“Take over, Zach,” he said to the Magic Tech as he strode toward the door. “We’ll speak later, Leah.”

The past few days had been spent dealing with the incoming soldiers from packs around the country, shoring up their defenses, and planning for a strike against Mara. But there wasn’t one moment of his day Cymbeline hadn’t been on his mind. He saw her beautifully wild face every time he closed his eyes, could smell her scent on his bed sheets. He’d nearly broken more than once in the quiet of night when the yearning his Beast felt for her rose from the depths of his soul and tried to consume him. But he’d made her a promise, and he trusted her to come back. So he waited and every hour without her was agony.

Kerrick’s emotions kindled like firewood, a slow burn building higher and higher as he watched the car roll through the front gate and park in the gravel lot. He stood by a side entrance to The Mansion, waiting for her to get out of the car, waiting to look into those magnetic golden eyes again. But the passenger door opened first and he tensed in surprise as a scrawny girl stepped warily out of the car. She couldn’t have been more than ten years old, with big yellow-and-green-ringed eyes, and a pale, closely shaved head of red hair. She wore an over-sized black T-shirt and gray sweatpants that had been cut at the bottom so they wouldn’t drag. A million different thoughts rushed through his head about who this girl could be, all more terrifying than the last.

The driver door opened and he scented his mate before he saw her. She stepped out, bracing herself against the car door with her back to him. Her short hair was pulled back in a small French braid, curly tendrils coming loose and blowing in the wind. Her back was tense, sensing him watching her as he could sense her. His awareness of her was as clear as knowing the sun was in the sky. He watched her shoulders rise and fall in a deep breath before she turned to face him.

Rage and pain shot through his heart. His breath knocked out of his lungs as swiftly as if he’d been kicked. What happened to her face? He growled at the sight, wanting to fight and kill anything or anyone who would dare to hurt her. The animal thrust itself to the front of his mind and took over his body. He walked over to her and in a matter of seconds was cupping her face, running his fingers over the bumps and twisted marks. Her hands rested on his wrists but they didn’t push him away.

“Who did this?” His voice was a low growl, almost sub vocal. Kerrick’s mouth came down over the raised flesh, breathing the scent of her in, wanting to take away the pain. The scars looked old, but he knew that was just the shifter healing advancing the scarring process. Usually scars such as these would eventually disappear, but he could smell the magic in these fresh marks, and he feared they might never fade completely. His tongue and mouth kissed her skin and her breath hitched, her hands tightening on his wrists. Kerrick pulled back with a final kiss to her lips. It felt so good to have her back, safe in his arms. Fuck, her whole body could have been scarred and he would have still thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, a confused look on her face as her hand rose to push his hair off his forehead. He sighed into the gesture, unable to take his eyes off her. “It’s been taken care of.” Her gaze blinked over to the child. The young girl’s eyes were wide with surprise, staring at how intimately Kerrick held Cimby.

“Oh my Gods, I knew there was something different about you since you came back! You’re mated!” She looked over Kerrick and her eyes widened farther before darting away, unable to stand the force of his dominance. Her big eyes and gaping mouth made the skinny girl look like a bush baby even more than she already did. “You’re mated to the fuckin’ Alphar!”

“Language. And what do you know about mating?” Cimby asked, and shit it was heaven when she turned her face into the hand he cupped her cheek with.

“I know enough.” The girl shrugged nonchalantly. “I’ve seen mated Weres before.”

“You’ve seen Weres mate? What brothel were you raised in?” Cimby was joking. His serious, assassin mate was joking with this little girl.

The girl rolled her eyes in that sarcastic teenage way they all instinctively knew how to do.

“How much is enough?” Cimby asked, stroking Kerrick’s arms before pushing away from him and walking over to the girl.

“Don’t worry about it.” The kid shrugged again, leaning against the car and crossing her arms, trying for an air of indifference. Kerrick wasn’t fooled however, and unfortunately for the girl, neither were any of the older shifters in the vicinity. The scent of her terror was palpable.

“I am going to worry about it. You’re my responsibility now that you’ve clamped your little fingers around my neck.” Cimby poked the girl’s ribs a few times, teasing her.

“Hey!” The girl laughed nervously, playing with Cimby but never letting her eyes stray too far from Kerrick or the soldiers patrolling the grounds. Despite the girl’s apparent mistrust, Kerrick smiled at their interaction. His first reaction to the girl’s shorn hair wasn’t a positive one, but she didn’t need hair to be lovely. Her smile was beatific and would be even more so if it reached her eyes. The girl would be a knockout once she was fed up a bit.

“My name is Irisi,” she said to Kerrick, having recovered from giggling.

“Irisi…Kendall?” Kerrick asked, raising his eyes to Cimby quickly.

Those skinny shoulders shrugged again, the kid apparently didn’t know any other gestures. “She wishes I was her kid.”

Kerrick eyed Cimby, slightly annoyed with the secrets his mate kept, no matter the fact they had only known each other a few days. “Were you ever going to mention Irisi to me? Is she why you went back?”

Her mouth tightened and she shook her head quickly. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Kerrick lifted his eyebrow in question but he’d promised himself he wouldn’t press her. “What animal are you, Irisi?” he asked, turning back to the girl.

“You can’t tell?”

“I can, but I’d like for you to tell me.” He wanted to get to know this frightened girl his mate relaxed with, laughed with.

“Raccoon,” she said, acknowledging his suspicions. Well now, that was a rare breed. Unlike their wild cousins, they were all but extinct in the shifter world.

“Aaron!” he called, knowing his Captain and Lieutenant were right beyond the door to The Mansion, eavesdropping on the conversation.

“Yes, sir?” the big man asked, walking out with a grand smile.

“Please escort Ms. Irisi to the adolescent quarters and get her settled.” There was a small group of kids her age residing at The Mansion. They were orphans who’d lost their parents for various reasons, or strong dominants in need of special training. If their pack didn’t want them or couldn’t keep them, which was a rare situation, Kerrick accepted no other option than having them reside at The Mansion. He refused to foster the lost children onto some unwilling pack. Here they were wanted and would be cared for, no matter their troubles.

“No!” the girl yelled angrily, dropping the calm façade she’d put on since her arrival. “You promised you wouldn’t leave me here.”

“I’m not, kid.” Cimby pulled Irisi into a hug, holding her close and kissing the top of her head.

“I’m staying with you.”

There was anger in Irisi’s voice, but terror in the shaking of her shoulders, in the way she clutched Cimby like she was her last and only lifeline. Cimby looked up at him blankly, not giving him a hint of what she wanted him to do. Did she think he would force the terrified girl into a situation she clearly wasn’t emotionally ready to handle? The lack of faith his mate had in him was beginning to irk, especially after he’d let her go without chasing. “Aaron, change of plans. Give Ms. Irisi a room near mine, where Cimby will be staying.” Oh, his mate had a facial expression for that statement. He ignored it.

“Go on, Iri.” Cimby held Irisi at arm’s length, looking her in the eyes. “You walk in there with your head held high. You’re a Raccoon shifter and you could run circles around any other Were in this place, right? Be wiley.”

“Okay. Be wiley. Gods…” Irisi mumbled, constantly glancing around her like a bad twitch, keeping all the unfamiliar shifters in her sight. They watched her walk off with Aaron, the big man talking about something inane to get her to open up. Aaron was good with kids, although there was something beyond her years Kerrick couldn’t quite place. The general aura surrounding her was more mature than a girl of nine or ten.

Once Aaron and Irisi turned the corner, and their speech faded into distant echoes, Kerrick focused his attention on Cimby, who was pointedly not looking at him. For a woman who had clearly been through hell the past few days she still looked unspeakably beautiful, her gold-ringed eyes a siren song, beckoning him closer. Her finely muscled legs were ensconced in tight blue jeans and a black T-shirt. The right leg of her jeans had a rip in the knee, displaying a small circular scar he hadn’t noticed the night of their run. Cimby’s scars were like the pages of her life, telling a story of never-ending hunting, a life without peace. Kerrick wanted to give her that peace, but he’d never be able to give her anything if she wouldn’t even look at him.

“You need to get that checked,” Kerrick growled, since it was clear she wouldn’t be the one starting the conversation they needed to have. The more he looked at the scalded skin, the worse it seemed. He told himself nothing would have been different if he had been there to protect her. She was a trained assassin, and most likely took every precaution when in dangerous situations. But logic didn’t matter when his mate was in pain, and she never would have been injured if she’d just stayed at The Mansion with him. He wanted to chastise her for getting hurt yet cuddle her to make her feel better, and couldn’t figure out which he wanted to do more.

“It should be fully healed in a couple days, but whatever it was, it will leave a scar.” Cimby’s hand moved to touch the mark before she changed her mind and curled her fingers into a fist at her side. She took a deep breath and unlocked the truck, retrieving some duffel bags filled with clothes and what smelled like oil and gunpowder. Weapons. “I didn’t plan on coming back right away, I wanted to look into who’s been sending me on assignments,” she said bluntly, finally looking him in the eye. “But Iri needs to be here, she’ll be safe here.”

“What happened, Cimby?” He grabbed the bags away from her and dropped them to the ground, his frustration with his inability to protect her boiling over. He pulled her tight against his chest, wrapping his arms around her petite waist and breathed her in, relaxing as the subtle mating undertones in her scent sparked a soul-deep recognition. She was his and he just needed to hold her, and fuck, it felt so damn good to have her back. Kerrick didn’t know what he would do if she left again, his Beast railing at the idea of being away from her. But keeping her chained again was out of the question, he needed her to
want
to stay.

“Iri was adopted through a human agency,” Cimby started, relaxing into his hold and burrowing her face into his chest for a brief moment. “Lived with humans her whole life and they knew nothing about shifters. I met her five years ago. She’d just begun shifting into her Raccoon form on a regular basis. The little runt was so scared.”