Kincade’s lips flattened, his dislike of working with Morgan clear, and his rejection cut deep.
Morgan wasn’t any happier.
While she knew the runes would eventually kill her, she had no intention of taking him down with her. “Pairing us wouldn’t be wise. It will put him at risk.”
“You have no access to magic, so you decided to train as a huntress. The only way you will achieve your goal by training with the elites.” The headmistress tipped her head toward Kincade. “That means working with him and his men. This school creates only the best graduates…for a reason. If you can’t work with others, how do you expect to be a succeed? Your job is about more than killing. It’s also about protecting the innocents…even if that means you have to work with contentious people. The choice is yours.”
She threaded her fingers together and set them on the blotter in front of her. “Unless you no longer want to hunt. No one would blame you. Women are more suited to working magic. There is a reason there are so few huntresses in history. It’s harder on women, because we’re called to give more, sacrifice more. Are you up for it? Or is MacGregor’s faith in you misplaced?”
Morgan couldn’t stop hunting.
It was in her blood.
The headmistress was right, failure was not an option. This wasn’t about her. It was about stopping the greater evil, and they had a murderer to catch. “With or without magic, I am a hunter first. I know nothing else.”
“Good. Now that we have that settled,” the headmistress released a heavy breath, still focused on Morgan. “I have some bad news. Your coven has been attacked.”
Morgan couldn’t speak for a moment, not sure she heard her correctly. More and more nasty creatures were entering through the rifts, but attacking a coven directly took balls.
Unless they were desperate and searching for something.
Or someone.
Her.
Guilt was like a meaty hand tightening around her throat, threatening to strangle her.
“Were there any survivors?” Sounds intensified, drowning out her surroundings, her world narrowing down to a pinpoint. Her guts twisted into a Gordian knot as she waited for the answer.
The headmistress’s face softened. “It is unknown. We’ve had no contact since they reported the initial attack. Kincade and his team will secure the mansion and the rift. We’ll keep you informed as soon as we learn anything.”
“What? No!” Morgan held out her hands beseechingly. “You need me there. I know the coven. I know the forest. More, I know where the rifts open. You need me.”
She couldn’t let them leave without her.
They would be in more danger than they even knew.
“Her emotional attachment to the coven will make her a liability. My team will be more effective without her.” Kincade’s betrayal gutted her, souring the kiss they shared earlier.
She had been foolish to believe, even for one second—she shook away the thought before it fully formed. She hated knowing her hands still tingled from touching him, and she itched to reach for her blades, wanting to cut him as deeply.
Everything she held dear was falling apart. She refused to abandon her coven, too. “The headmistress just told us to work as a team, but at the first opportunity, you’re cutting me out. I’ve proven my abilities to MacGregor, and I won’t sit here on my hands like a helpless female. I’m going—with or without you.”
Kincade rose to his feet and stomped toward her, his mouth opening to tear into her.
Morgan was braced for a fight when the headmistress held up her hand. “She’s right. We can’t afford to turn down help. She has the skills to keep herself alive. She goes with you.”
“Fine.” Kincade’s scowled, but something in his eyes raised her hackles. “But on one condition—she must obey me.”
Chapter Seventeen
Morgan prowled her corner of the basement room, not trusting herself near the others. She glared at the wall-size mirror, wishing she had the ability to activate the spell without them so she didn’t have to wait.
Kincade and his group stood around a table at the center of the room, looking serious and deadly while they studied aerial maps and grid placements, going over strategies. She wanted to march over there and demand they hurry, but Kincade made it clear he didn’t welcome her help.
Not that it would do any good to speed them along.
They were waiting for the support team to finish their preparations.
Once Kincade and his team cleared the mansion, a second team would travel through the mirror, bring the wards back up, and prepare a triage. While she understood they needed to be prepared, they were also stopping her from helping MacGregor.
It had been twenty minutes since she’d learned of the attack, and every second counted in battle.
“How are you holding up?” Mistress McKay magically appeared at her side…although it could be that Morgan was so busy glaring at the others she hadn’t noticed her approach.
“Impatient.” Morgan welcomed the distraction, absently noting the tightness around McKay’s eyes, the strain thinning her lips.
McKay was worried, too.
Not good.
Morgan bounced on her feet, trying to rid herself of nervous energy.
She wanted to move now.
Every second they delayed could cost lives.
When she scanned the room for any signs of progress, she saw Kincade glare at her, rubbing his arm like she’d given him cooties or an STD or something. Pain ricocheted in her chest, and she wanted to march over there and smack him.
“He’s a good man. He’s just not used to anyone like you. It leaves him off-balance.”
“He’s an ass who doesn’t even bother to hide his dislike. It was there the first time he set eyes on me. He didn’t even try to give me a chance.” Morgan turned away when she remembered the rest of what McKay’s said, and grabbed the distraction with both hands. “What do you mean, like me?”
“I would say, since you’re still here, he is giving you a chance.” The small rebuke from McKay smarted, cooling off her ire a tad. “Kincade has been trained from birth to be the best hunter, but his time is limited. Sooner or later, he will be paired with a witch, and his duty will be to protect her.”
Morgan scowled. “What do you mean paired?”
“I see MacGregor failed to teach you everything.” Mistress McKay rolled her eyes, then sighed. “The magic inherent in a witch’s blood can cause a chemical reaction in a hunter. This reaction will bind the witch and hunter together.”
“Like slavery.” Morgan shuddered at the thought of being trapped in such a way after years of watching the witches at the coven treat their guards worse than dirt. “A hunter has no choice but to protect his female. I can’t understand why so many here look forward to it.”
“They don’t get a choice of who they’re pair with. They must trust fate.” She nodded to Kincade. “He knows his time is growing short.”
Morgan could understand his dread. The thought of him being tied to some female against his will made her physically sick. “How awful.”
“No.” Mistress McKay stepped in front of her. “Not at all. In the old ways, it was considered an honor. Some witches have perverted the pairing, but most take it seriously. When he’s selected, his DNA will alter, and he will want to protect her. Everything he’s been through is considered training for his true mission—to protect his mate.”
A deep yearning to be loved that fiercely tore through her, but Morgan didn’t trust it. She’d seen it go bad too many times to believe in fairy tales.
Though she didn’t actively practice magic, she was keenly aware that she had the potential to cast magic if it ever woke up. The thought scared the crap out of her. It was why she vowed never to choose a mate and risk it going so horribly wrong. As if picking up on her volatile emotions, the markings on her back rippled and stretched, wanting to hunt. Morgan bit back a groan of pain, not sure how much longer she could contain
the magic.
“This is taking too long.” She glared at the mirror impatiently.
“MacGregor is tough. He won’t go down without a fight.” Despite her bracing words, worry shadowed McKay’s eyes. “He’ll hold them off.”
Morgan nodded, but she knew the old man wasn’t invincible. He hadn’t been actively hunting for years. She was also afraid that given an opportunity, Catalina would stab him in the back to clear the way for her to become the new head of the coven.
As her aggression swelled, the runes sank more heavily into her body, the magic seeping into her flesh and bones…spreading. The necklace she wore absorbed most of the magic, and the metal twisted and turned, spiraling up her neck until her throat was protected by a layer of chain mail.
“Oh, my.”
At McKay’s reverent whisper, Morgan reached up, covering her necklace self-consciously, cursing that she’d forgotten the woman’s presence. The torque almost never changed in front of anyone, and if it did, most didn’t notice when it happened. “The metal is imbued with magic, and reacts to my emotions to protect me.”
McKay tore her attention away from the torque, reluctantly looking up to meet Morgan’s gaze, her eyes shimmering with knowledge. “Yes, it is protecting you, but—”
“Time to go.”
Her blood turned molten at Kincade’s words, her curiosity regarding the necklace’s origin forgotten. The men headed toward the mirror, and Morgan prodded them to hurry.
“Bring him back to us.” McKay spoke to her alone, a fierceness in her eyes that matched MacGregor’s indomitable will. For the first time, Morgan saw how the two of them worked together…they would have been unstoppable.
Morgan nodded once. “I’ll do my best.”
McKay stepped between the towering men. Though she might be small in stature, the sheer power she gathered around her caused everyone to turn, parting for her as she strode toward the mirror.
As the magic built, it felt like the runes on her back were being peeled off her skin, fighting against being called forward. A flash of heat splashed into the room when the magic was released, the blast catching the mirror dead center, causing the silver surface to ripple. The sigils surrounding the frame glowed a bright gold as the spell sprang to life.
“Traveling through a mirror can cause motion sickness if you’re not used to it. Most people can’t handle the impact of pure primordial magic. It’s a hundred times more potent than the magic witches use, so you must be careful and not linger. The longer you’re in contact with the void, the more seriously it will affect you. Consequently, the purer your heritage, the fewer adverse effects it will have on you.”
Not caring about what price she had to pay, Morgan grabbed her weapons and charged forward.
“Morgan, wait!”
She dodged the arms reaching for her, raised her fists to shield her face, and leapt through the portal.
“Son of a bitch.”
The last echoes of Kincade’s voice faded as the mirror sucked her into the void. The darkness wrapped around her in welcome, the runes on her back growing heavy…but the expected pain never came. The markings became fluid, seeping under her skin, spreading, slipping into her bloodstream, lighting her on fire as it sped through her system.
Nothing she did halted the warm burn.
It felt…comforting.
And Morgan knew that was a bad sign.
She raised her hands, feeling like she was almost floating in a warm liquid, cocooned and protected.
Oddly enough, it felt like the home she’d never known.
Then a bright light blazed in the distance, jerking her forward, and she was spit out on the other side. Being kicked out of the void wrenched the warmth from her bones, shoving her back into the brutal world. Pain slammed into the marks along her spine like thousands of needles piercing her body as the runes rose toward the surface of her skin once more. The torque took longer to respond than normal, and she feared it was because the markings were growing in strength. Soon, the necklace wouldn’t be able to help regulate the pain at all.
She allowed herself a few seconds to mourn the loss of the peacefulness in the void, then shrugged it off and focused on the mission.
Finding and saving MacGregor.
Morgan was surprised to see the guys had arrived first.
Atlas was staring at the mirror, steadily flipping his knife, when his gaze caught hers. He fumbled the blade, slicing his finger. His perfect hair was ruffled for the first time, revealing his pointed ears.
They were…cute.
When she opened her mouth, Atlas tipped his head toward the center of the room.
Kincade prowled back and forth, everyone standing some distance away, dangerous energy snapping around him. His broad shoulders and impressive chest stretched his black shirt with his every move. His brows were lowered, his jaw clenched, everything about him lethal. He wasn’t handsome, more like striking, even more so with the pissed-off expression on his face.
Morgan stepped toward him, then stumbled when the world twisted away from under her feet.
After the void, this reality no longer felt familiar.
As soon as she stumbled, Kincade’s head snapped up. In seconds, he was at her side, catching her arm and yanking her up against him, knocking the breath out of her—no way would she admit she’d lost her breath for any other reason. Her palms tingled at the contact, the yummy static of him spreading up her arm. Her fingers craved to explore more, wanting to touch every inch of him.
This feeling was different from when she sensed magic.
Something more.
The scent of warm earth and hot stone eased the churn of nausea trying to twist her inside out. His pale green eyes scanned her face once, then again, as if to reassure himself. His arms tightened around her, and her heart skipped a betraying beat.
Then his brows slammed down, and he released her, dismissing the incident as if nothing had happened. As if he didn’t feel the connection. “You should feel better soon. Vertigo is not an uncommon side effect of the void.”
Mortification burned her cheeks at the abrupt change, and she wondered if she’d imagined their connection. She jerked her eyes away from him to see Draven standing sentry by the door, the devil-may-care look gone. His blue eyes softened when they met hers, the dead look in them fading, and he gave her a quick nod of greeting. The black leathers he wore were slim, revealing his deceptively muscular body. Normally covered from head to toe, tonight he had his sleeves rolled up.
She gasped.
Every inch of his forearms was covered with scars.
Questions burned the tip of her tongue, but she bit them back. It wasn’t her place to ask. Everyone had secrets. She had no right to pry, not unless she was willing to reveal her own.
Ryder stood by the windows, the big man nearly two heads taller than herself. His size should be impossible to miss, but he stood so still, it was unsettling. His skin was tinged a bit green, one hand gripping the window frame, and she wasn’t sure if it was to keep him upright or to keep him from ripping something apart. Instead of staring outside, his gaze was on her. His sandy brown hair was knotted, his whisky eyes practically glowing as he pinned her to the spot. Held tight in his right hand was her blade.
“Ryder?”
He blinked, his human side returning, and he dropped his gaze, turning away from her.
Instead of being relieved, his withdrawal only troubled her more.
Morgan turned away, surveying the room, and froze.
They had landed in MacGregor’s study, only the destruction was so complete, she hadn’t recognized it.
The total devastation gutted her as efficiently as a knife.
The once peaceful room was decimated. Books were yanked off the shelves, bindings ripped, pages shredded, the shelving snapped in half. The desk wasn’t in much better shape, the wood smashed into slivers no bigger than toothpicks. Even the bricks of the fireplace were broken and cracked. Everything that made the room
her haven had been destroyed.
This went beyond rage.
This was complete annihilation.
As if, when they didn’t find what they wanted, they couldn’t contain their fury.
Her.
This was all because of her.
The room spun and twisted, breathing becoming a struggle.
She had to know. “MacGregor?” She winced at the hope in her voice. She knew exactly how unlikely it was for anyone to have survived.
Ryder eased closer to her, gently gathering her to his chest when she thought her knees would give out. She grabbed his shirt, barely managing to remain upright.
He ran his hands up and down her back soothingly, over and over, as if she was on the verge of shattering. She wasn’t sure he was wrong. He radiated heat, but it scarcely warmed the chill ghosting along her skin.
It took her a few moments to realize the rumbling in his chest was him speaking. “He’s not here. He must have gotten the witches out. He’s not here.”
Kincade’s sharp eyes scanned her face. “Ryder, stay here with her. The rest of us will scout the mansion and report back in five.” The men were already in motion when she shook her head.
Instead of abandoning her or cursing at her, Kincade offered her compassion.
“Wait.” She pushed away from Ryder, embarrassed by her meltdown. The wolf reluctantly released his hold, but remained within touching distance, and she wasn’t sure if she was annoyed or relieved. “I’ll be fine. We need to move fast. The longer we wait, the less likely the chance of finding survivors.”
Kincade strode toward her, his movements sleek and deadly. He grabbed her jaw, tipping up her face, his touch surprisingly gentle. He studied her, clearly undecided, and she knew he was going to leave her behind by the way his mouth tightened.
“If you leave, I’ll find a way to slip out of the mansion without you.” She jerked her chin away from his touch, her voice hardening. “I won’t wait for you to clear it. I’ve lived here for years, I’ve been ruthlessly hunted by the witches here, so I know every nook and cranny. From one step to the next, you won’t even notice I’m gone.”
Academy of Assassins Page 17