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

by Ceri Grenelle

  “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.”

  “How old was she then? She can’t be more than nine or ten now, that’s too early for a Wereborn’s first shift.” Eight or nine, the years just before puberty were the appropriate time for a Wereborn to begin shifting. The shifts were usually spontaneous and the child needed to be taught rigorous control to gain the upper hand over their unruly animal spirit. It was not the human half alone that goes through bodily changes during that time of life. The animal can have mood swings as well.

  “She is older than she looks.” Cimby rested her chin on Kerrick’s chest, gazing up at him with a worried frown. “She has not aged properly, which is something else we need to look into while she is residing here. I first thought it was malnutrition, but I’ve made sure the kid is fed properly since knowing her. I think it’s a magic thing, zapping her energy.”

  That assessment of her improper aging felt right, but from the constant glances Cimby cast towards The Mansion, there was more to the story concerning the waifish redhead. “Did something happen to the adopted parents?”

  “The mother died when she was around three, I think. The father became a religious zealot and…she did not have an easy childhood,” she said, pushing away from him. “Let’s leave it at that.” Kerrick didn’t know how to make this better. She clearly cared for the girl, was connected by deep emotional ties, and yet she spoke of this girl’s dark childhood like an automaton. There was no passion, no angry indignation of how the child had so obviously been abused. Was this the only way for Cimby to process emotion, by glossing over it? Kerrick reached to tangle his hands in her hair and pull her close, needing to feel what was really happening under her stoic façade.

  She turned away from him to pull another bag out of the trunk and let it fall to the ground. Her voice was deep and empty, devoid of any feeling when she spoke again.

  “She had the most beautiful golden-red hair.” Her hands curled into fists, betraying the first hint of true emotions. “It was so long and thick. He had her shave it as a punishment.”

  When his mate turned back to him, there was more than enough fire in her eyes to prove that she wasn’t some empty weapon to be used at the Alphar’s disposal. In fact, Kerrick could see, despite her training to do otherwise, his Cimby felt all too much. How had she lived in seclusion for so long, coming out of hiding only to kill? And why her? Why was Cymbeline chosen at birth to be the Incendiary? What made her so different from all the other shifters that she had to be raised and trained in solitude?

  “So you took her from her adopted father?”

  “Excuse me?” she snapped, focusing her golden, anger filled eyes in his direction. Her rage was potent, simmering just beneath the cap and about to boil over if she didn’t giver herself an outlet. “You would have rather I put her in the human system? Because that is what would have happened if I had reported to the authorities that her father, her father, the man responsible for her, had been torturing her for most of her life.” She slammed the trunk closed, the force of it breaking the glass of the taillights, and through it all her face remained impassive while her feelings bled through her eyes. “I should have taken her away from that bastard years ago. Hell, when I first met her. I justified it in my mind though, saying it wasn’t my place as Incendiary to step in. I wasn’t supposed to involve myself with normal people. Had to keep my distance.”

  “Cimby,” Kerrick said softly, seeing her limbs begin to shake and worried for the tenuous hold she had on her anger and frustration. “I’m not criticizing your choice in taking her away from the bastard. You did the right thing. She’ll be safe here.” He placed his hand under chin, forcing her to look at him. “I’ll keep her safe. I promise. Did her father do this to you?”

  She nodded, her lips thinning.

  “He’s dead.” She gave a quick nod in affirmation even though he hadn’t
asked a question. He would never have expected his mate to leave that man alive after hurting the child and then scarring her face.

  She stared at him for a long moment, her hard eyes flickering from side to side, taking in his face, searching for something. He didn’t know what. “I hate you,” she said with such vehemence he almost believed it. But there was something else there. A bewildering yet wonderful emotion he’d been feeling since he first laid eyes on her.

  “What did I do now?” he asked, trying not to smile, knowing it would not be appreciated.

  “You made me miss you—you asshole.” She punched him in the shoulder. He was again impressed by her strength since the punch actually hurt a little. “Even though you were keeping me here, chained like a dog.” She punched him again, this time in the chest and slightly more painful. “Like your own personal sex slave. You do not do that to people. You do not do that to the person you think is your mate.” He went to hold her but she pushed away, her anger riding high now.

  “I thought I would just find her a new family here, but after this, I don’t think I could trust another family to take care of her.” The tension drained from her shoulders and she rested her hip against the car, her righteous anger deflating like air out of a balloon.

  “Why can’t you be her new family?” He kept his distance but walked around to see her freshly burnt face. The twisted flesh enraged his Beast. Kerrick’s sadistic side wished the bastard was still alive so he could do that to every inch of his body. Over and over again.

  She looked at him like he was daft. “Please, explain to me how you think an assassin is a good role model for a young girl.”

  Kerrick shook his head with a frustrated laugh, unwilling to let that go on any longer. “Cymbeline.” She raised her eyebrows upon hearing her full name and the serious tone in his voice. “We can fight about this all you want later, but for this moment I am going to speak.” She growled. “And you are going to listen.” She crossed her arms and frowned but didn’t interrupt. Miracles did happen.