To Mate an Assassin: The Lost Alphars Series, Book 1

by Ceri Grenelle

  She smiled, but it wasn’t friendly. “I’ll leave that for you to decide, Alphar.”

  He grinned right back and gestured toward the door. “After you.”

  Exiting the room, they made a left down the hall and walked in silence. Her sharp eyes went everywhere, taking in her surroundings, probably plotting escape routes. He didn’t mind, he’d disliked keeping her locked up the past day, even though he hadn’t trusted her with his people enough to give her free range.

  “The windows,” she started before turning away.

  “What?”

  “Everything is so open here, your room too. It’s good for shifters.”

  “Even places this large can be confining. We have a lot of shifters living here and some of them come from troubled backgrounds. They need to know they’re free to wander, to explore as their animal desires.”

  “Troubled backgrounds? I thought this place was your headquarters.”

  “It is, but that doesn’t mean it’s off limits to my people. Sometimes shifters get into trouble, or lose their balance, it doesn’t mean they’re evil or turning rogue. There is usually some mitigating circumstances to consider. So they come here to heal or to train. It’s pointless to throw shifters away or have them hunted because they are a little antisocial.”

  “That is different,” she mumbled, her hand reaching up to trace the scar on her neck in thought.

  “From Riddan’s way of doing things?” She nodded. “I’ll take that as a compliment. How long have you been Incendiary?”

  “Almost thirty years.”

  “You only knew him during the worst times. He’d been on the edge of losing his mind a century ago, but a century ago I wasn’t strong enough to take his place. There were no other potential Alphars known in the territory at the time so I waited until I was confident enough in my powers to take the Alphar seat from him.” Her eyes were distant as he spoke, leading her slowly into the main wing of The Mansion where some of the more public rooms were located. Thirty years of having Riddan point the finger at who to execute, who to hunt. It must have been torture. Then again, it could have been longer if Jeremiah hadn’t convinced Kerrick he was strong enough to take Riddan.

  “I know what you are thinking,” she said suddenly.

  “Do you?”

  “I knew from meeting the former Alphar that he was not…right.” They stopped outside the library, one of the first rooms he wanted to show her. “There was little sanity left in him, I saw that. But he treated me with respect when we met, was very clear about my responsibilities. I never doubted the men and women he sent me to hunt were guilty, and the rogues were most obviously rogues. You cannot fake that wild madness they possess.”

  “He didn’t treat anyone here with respect, why you?” Kerrick asked, opening the door for her.

  She stopped before moving past him, her somber eyes meeting his. “An Alphar and an Incendiary are supposed to have a mutually respectful, delicate relationship. They may not meet often, the nature of the Incendiary’s life needing to be kept secret to have any sort of effect on the populace, but they need one another.” A small, considering frown hinted at how the unbalanced nature of their particular relationship bothered her. “That is how it is supposed to be. I always figured he had a long relationship with the Incendiary before me, otherwise he would have treated me with the same crazed suspicion he treated everyone else. Whoever the last Incendiary was, he or she was important to the Alphar.”

  They moved through the library quietly, stopping every now and then to speak to passing shifters. After the library they stopped in the large room he’d converted from a formal dining room and into a type of food court and community area. The kitchens were nearby so it made sense to have a place all the residents, soldiers and visitors of The Mansion could relax and gather. Shifters took strength from one another, and Kerrick often found the orphaned or cast-out shifters talking with the soldiers or elder members they could look up to and learn from.

  Seeing their Alphar was with someone, the soldiers and members of The Mansion left him alone for the most part. Some of the smaller children came up to him for a scruff or a smile, just wanting love and attention from their Alphar and the new shifter they were unfamiliar with. Cymbeline seemed uncomfortable with the interactions, even though she smiled when one of the kids shifted unexpectedly into a Tiger cub and began batting at the baggy fabric of her sweatpants. The cub’s older sister came to collect him quickly, apologizing to Cymbeline for the small tears in the fabric.

  “He hasn’t learned to not use claws yet, sorry,” the young girl said, cuddling the small cub into her chest as they walked back to the group of teens she’d been chatting with.

  Cymbeline hadn’t responded to the apology, just nodded and watched the girl resume her conversation with the other teens. Seeing something about this place bothered her, probably not used to witnessing so many shifters all together, he guided her out of the food court and back through the halls, knowing exactly where he wanted to take her next.

  Kerrick glanced over at the petite woman beside him sparingly, he didn’t want to come off overbearing as he pointed out certain aspects of The Mansion or where some corridors would lead. The most pleasing part of the day came at her uncharacteristic jaw drop upon his opening the door to the ballroom. He was thinking of how sly he’d have to be to get her onto the newly waxed parquet floor to dance with him when he scented Jeremiah, his top soldier, approaching.

  Jeremiah was Aaron’s youngest brother and he couldn’t have been of a more opposite nature. Where Aaron was playful and somewhat of a clown when not on duty, Jeremiah was nothing but professional year round. He’d been born for this role as a soldier in the Alphar’s ranks and had been one of the few warriors who’d carried over from Riddan’s rule and into Kerrick’s. Kerrick knew that Jeremiah would have no lingering loyalty to Riddan as a person, only loyalty to the position of Alphar of the people he protected. Not many knew, but Jeremiah had been Riddan’s unwilling soldier through the hard years, before Kerrick, Aaron, and Rhiannon returned from England where they spent their childhood and burgeoning adulthood training with Grace. He watched out for the younger and more vulnerable soldiers, keeping Riddan’s unwanted rage and attention diverted. Jeremiah protected his own at any cost, which made him indispensable as a warrior and an ally.

  “Alphar.”

  “Jeremiah,” Kerrick acknowledged formally. He knew getting the soldier to drop formality and call him Kerrick in public would be impossible. He’d stopped trying shortly after becoming Alphar, even though the stubborn man was his cousin and they had grown up together before Aaron, Rhiannon and Kerrick had been sent to England. Jeremiah stood with his hands in fists at his side, dressed in the traditional soldier garb of gray T-shirt and black cargo pants. He had the same caramel-colored skin as Aaron but with a buzz cut instead of the long black braid Aaron favored. His ice-blue eyes were remote and austere. Jeremiah’s personality had always been reserved and solitary, even when they were children.

  “Sir, sorry to interrupt but I wanted to let you know some new volunteer soldiers from Canada have arrived. I will be giving them the tour and then some preliminary training.” His eyes turned to Cymbeline’s wandering figure half a second, most likely recognizing this was the woman who decimated the gate guards, before giving his full attention to Kerrick once more. “I think we need to up our training regiment, even for those designated to guard duties.”

  Cymbeline snorted from where she meandered at the opposite end of the ballroom, her hands tripping over one of the marble columns carved with the image of hundreds of shifters. It was a work of art.

  “I think we need to reassess most of the old training regime, don’t you?” Jeremiah nodded, and even though he wasn’t smiling, he seemed pleased. “Thank you, Jeremiah.” The soldier turned to go, but Kerrick stopped him, a thought occurring to him. “Hold on, Jeremiah. Is the workout r
oom occupied?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Thank you.”

  Kerrick waited until Jeremiah had rounded the corner before turning back to Cymbeline. Even though she was on the other end of the ballroom, he knew she’d been observing him closely during the exchange.

  “Why don’t all your subordinates treat you with such deference?” she asked, walking back to the entrance, her hands clasped behind her back. “Should not your Captain and Lieutenant give you that blind respect all the time?”

  Her crude assumption that Jeremiah was a mere cog in the machine helping Kerrick run his territory angered him, as though she willingly remained ignorant of the spectacular people around her to keep herself detached. He knew he needed to approach their mating without pushing, but he wouldn’t treat her with kid gloves either.

  “Jeremiah would never give me blind respect. He is loyal because he trusts I’m doing what is best for our people. To expect blind respect as an Alphar is to fail my people. They’re my friends and family, individuals, each with something unique that makes this territory function. I am father to over ten million Weres across the continent. I am also leader and confidant to the shifters residing here at The Mansion. I do demand respect but I give it in return. Being Alphar is not as simple as giving orders and expecting them to be followed. If I wanted that, I would have robots. Follow me.” Kerrick, in his anger, turned to go but stopped when he heard the odd, almost strained tone in her voice as she spoke.

  “That is what I am, is what you are implying. I am a robot who blindly followed orders.” She was frowning and her eyes remained focused on the carved columns.

  “No. That’s not what I meant—”

  “Because that’s all I did. All I do. I receive my orders and I obey without question.” Her fists balled and her shoulders tensed, but through the hurt he could sense he dealt her, she bravely looked him square in the eyes. Then Kerrick saw. She wasn’t hurt, she was angry. “I have been taking orders from an anonymous source for over three years. Someone I thought was the Alphar. I have been killing innocent Weres for over three years. You would be right to think me a robot.”

  “No.” Kerrick crowded her, wanting to comfort her. He pulled her into his arms, nudging her head against his chest. She didn’t respond, keeping her hands at her sides, but that didn’t stop him from giving the comfort. “You stopped this last time. You said so. You would have sensed the innocence of the others as well.”

  She shook her head. “Innocence and guilt are not as simple as black and white. I know this, but a lot of the time I have to ignore it.” He felt her fingers clutch the fabric on the side of his slacks for a quick second before pushing away from him. He let her go, allowed her to shore up her defenses. For now.

  “You wished to show me more?” She took a deep breath and the tension in her muscles was gone, her face an expressionless mask once more. He would get her to discuss the whole mess, sooner rather than later. Kerrick could feel her Wolf needing the physical contact that had been denied her all her life. Shifters were such tactile creatures to the extent that a life as lonesome as hers would be considered a form of torture to some.

  “Follow me,” he said, this time more gently.

  Kerrick led her up a flight of stairs that framed the east side of The Mansion. A quick walk down a short hallway and he held open a bulletproof glass door. Upon entering the circular, window-lined workout room he’d led her to, a deep, melodic sound reverberated around the room, shooting straight from his ears to his cock. The sound was laughter. She was laughing. Low and husky and sexy as sin.

  “You want to spar?” She tossed her pink flip-flops off and walked across the room. Her body was grace and agility in a petite, tight-assed package. She placed her hands on the gray mat and made a show of lifting her legs above her head in a handstand. The minx winked at him from the upside down position and rolled into a cross-legged yoga stance.

  “Do you like to spar?” he asked, tempted by the sensuality of her athleticism.

  “I admit it has been a long time since I engaged an opponent worthy of my skills in a sparring session. There was always a measure of enjoyment when I would spar successfully with my trainers.”

  Kerrick took that as a yes and began to remove his buttoned shirt and shoes. Underneath the shirt he wore a thin white tank. She looked back at him to say something and froze. Her jaw clenched and Kerrick could see the pulse in her neck jump. His Beast purred with male satisfaction, enjoying the clear arousal the sight of his body instilled in her.

  “Would you like to have a go?” Kerrick gestured to the mat and her eyes glowed with tempered excitement. He was going to set that simmering, wild emotion free. Turning around, he decided to play with her a bit, wanting to learn what made the woman tick. Kerrick lifted his tank up over his head and tossed it to the side of the room, making sure to tense the muscles in his chest and abs for her viewing pleasure. He could see her staring at the reflection of his body in the windows. This was going to be fun.

  “If you pin me, you can have a closer look,” Kerrick said and his smile was as wicked as could be when he stepped onto the mat.

  “The view is adequate, I do not need to get closer, thank you.” Cymbeline stepped on the mat, mirroring his position. Her limbs were loose and her poise ready. His heartbeat ratcheted up a notch and adrenaline of a different kind began to thread its way through his veins.

  “Don’t hurt my feelings, mate,” he said, knowing saying the word would incense her. “Just so you know, I plan on getting a closer view. A much closer view.” He didn’t attempt to hide his gaze as it painted her body up and down. He held his eyes on her pert breasts a moment longer than necessary and imagined what the plump skin would feel like underneath his tongue. “Do you taste as sweet as you look, Incendiary?”

  She pounced.

  Her leg swung towards his head, and he caught it with a tight grip before she landed what would have been a severe blow. In a move Kerrick would have thought beyond her, she jumped in the air and freed her body, using her momentum to spin kick him with her right foot in the jugular. Kerrick coughed and let her go.

  Not allowing himself to get distracted by her tempting body again, or to underestimate her just because she was much smaller, he feinted right and dodged left, holding some of his strength back. She would not survive if this was a fight to the death, no matter how good she thought she was, which was damn good. He wasn’t being arrogant, although arrogance was part and parcel with being a male shifter, but he was the Alphar, and no one besides another Alphar or a being of equal or greater power could defeat him. If she had power equal to an Alphar, he would have sensed it the second she’d stepped into his territory.

  His hand caught her fist as it swung towards his ribs and dodged yet another kick. Her attacks were relentless. He grabbed her thigh faster than a blink and began to play dirty. Kerrick sent a lick of power crawling up her leg towards that luscious core between her thighs, shocking a very distinct and feminine gasp from her mouth as she felt him playing along her skin.

  She growled and pushed away from him. Before long she came at him again, a burning fire licking at his skin every moment her fists or heels grazed his body. Kerrick dodged and stoked the fire with a languid heat to caress her skin as they fought each other. She was magnificent, a deadly and worthy opponent.

  After twenty minutes of their dance, sweat dripped down both their bodies and she had lost all control of her carefully placed expression. The rise and fall of her breasts with each gasp of air made him impossibly harder and all of a sudden Kerrick’s Beast took over and didn’t want to wait anymore.

  She came at him one more time, a new and wicked grin illuminating her beautiful face. He kicked her legs out from under her. She landed on her back and he followed her down to the mat. Kerrick pinned her with a satisfying slam, knowing she could take it. The air rushed from her lungs and he waited, watching her as
she regained her composure. She looked quite put out that he’d won and ended up on top of her, but her adorable frustration wasn’t what made Kerrick forget himself. It was the adrenaline-filled look in her eyes. A look that spoke of anger mixed with lust. Two dangerous combinations when it came to his libido.

  The tension in his body spun from their sparring became painfully clear when she shifted her hips. Kerrick felt the heat of her pussy rub against his cock through their clothes. That feral portion of his soul came roaring to the fore of his mind as his body reacted in earnest to the only woman who enticed and intrigued him. A woman he could feel on an instinctual, spiritual level fit him in every way.

  Kerrick bent his elbows, lowering to lie chest to chest. He pushed the sweaty strands of hair from her face and she closed her eyes. The rise and fall of her chest pressing against him lodged a growl in his throat. She hadn’t worn a bra and her nipples were hard as pebbles. He lowered his face to her neck, inhaling salty sweat and the fading traces of soap. And underneath the surface there was strength and anger. Loyalty and passion and…lavender? What was that? It was delicious.

  His mouth was on the pulse of her neck and she gasped when his tongue darted out to lick the sweat off her skin. Her hands moved to his hips and jagged claws dug in with a needy eagerness. Her chest was heaving, brushing against his. He couldn’t ignore those tantalizing breasts any longer.

  Kerrick moved his head down her neck, flicking his tongue on her overheated skin until he found a nipple beginning to peek under the thin T-shirt. His tongue pressed against the fabric, soaking it and waiting for the bud to crest farther. Her hands found his hair and she gripped, a soft moan whispering in his ears. When the nipple was protruding against the fabric he took the breast in his hand and squeezed before biting it between his teeth. He felt the last semblance of her control crumble beneath him.

  “Ah!” she yipped in arousal, her eyes flying open and hands further carding in his hair. Kerrick massaged and plucked the breast like his mandolin. So delicate and enticing, this woman’s body was femininity and strength to the core. He needed to taste the hard bud without a barrier. He moved his hand underneath her sweat-soaked shirt and inched the fabric up and over her breasts. A low, guttural moan escaped Cymbeline’s throat as her toned legs rose to encompass his waist and press him hard against her. Her Wolf craved, he could feel her long unassuaged need as if it were his own. He tugged and teased the nipple, making her cry out in pleasure, before taking the bare flesh in his mouth and—