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

by Ceri Grenelle

  As the night pressed on and the shifters’ curiosity about Kerrick’s mate grew, he had Rhiannon warn them off. They would have an official celebration for their mating after the battle. Usually the celebration would be among a pack and family members but Kerrick was the Alphar, and he was associated with everybody’s pack. As it would have to be a formal ceremony, Kerrick would be obligated to invite the other Alphars to the ceremony. He hated the damn formalities that went along with being Alphar, but he would jump through hoops while wearing a stifling tux to claim Cimby as his own in front of the world. In fact, he would relish in every moment.

  At four in the morning Kerrick gave the signal and his people took their places in the helicopters. Cimby, Jeremiah, Aaron, Rhiannon and Leah were with him in the copter. Cimby wore what seemed to be her usual black jeans and black long-sleeved T-shirt. Tonight, however, she also wore a leather vest over the T-shirt that had been outfitted with knives and other fine-tuned weaponry. Her shoulders and hips were appointed with gun holsters holding .44’s and extra clips. Along her back, an arm-length katana was sheathed along her spine. She was power and steal in a sexy package but she didn’t need the weapons to project an air of menace. Kerrick had always known, from the moment she’d come into focus, that she was dangerous and as predatory as the best of them. But she was his mate and he worried what this night would bring for them, especially since she had been acting slightly off the entire evening.

  She had been jittery with anticipation for the fight since two hours before sunset. But now there was something humming beneath her skin. He could feel it. It was a need, like the one he felt radiating from her core when she lusted for him. But this was a different kind of lust. It was for blood and violence. Yes it was true, Kerrick knew she was dangerous. But it had never been clearer to him than at that moment how much she seemed to thrive off a battle.

  Cimby turned her restless gaze his way from her position against the window. A slow smile crossed her plump lips and sharpened teeth peeked out from the corners of her mouth. Next to Kerrick Rhiannon shivered, unknowingly feeling the need for violence radiating off Cimby. It was too powerful to be coming just from her Were side. This was something else.

  Kerrick moved to his mate and placed his hands on either side of her face, using his power as Alphar, and as her mate, to ground her.

  “Be safe,” he whispered.

  Her chilling smile faltered and she took a deep breath, shaking off her odd behavior with a quick nod.

  “Sorry. My Wolf is at the surface. She knows what we are going to do. It has been a long time since we’ve hunted this way.” She kissed his cheek softly, taking a moment to nuzzle his skin with her lips and lay her head on his shoulder. “She wants to sink her teeth into something meaty, feel the blood. I want it too.”

  “Cimby,” he said in a tone too low for the others to hear. “What you’re projecting doesn’t feel like shifter power.”

  She struggled with a thought for a moment before laying her head back on his shoulder. The sound of her voice came not to his ear, but in his mind. Apparently she wasn’t as opposed to their mind link as he had previously thought. “You’re right, it is not my Wolf. It is the reason I’m Incendiary.”

  “What does that mean?” he asked, worrying if this hidden need for violence was dangerous to her.

  “This is not the time—”

  “If whatever this is could affect the battle, or more importantly your safety, then it gods damn well is the time. Actually when we mated would have been the time, but we’ll discuss that later. Tell me now.”

  “The battle should be fine. I have control over it. That’s what the majority of training is when Incendiaries are young. We learn to control the rage and power. But Kerrick, if you see me acting odd, get your people out of there. The rage doesn’t differentiate between friend or foe. It just consumes.”

  “What makes an Incendiary, Cimby? What are the Incendiaries if they are not trained to be assassins?” He folded his arms around her body, looking into the depths of her eyes, needing to know who and what his mate was.

  “We are always born to humans. There will never be a Wereborn Incendiary because the women who birth us are—”

  Before Cimby could finish an explanation he very much needed to hear, an explosion in the distance shook the helicopter. Kerrick grabbed on to one of the support straps hanging from the wall and pulled Cimby into his body, protecting her in case the helicopter had been damaged in some way and they needed to make an emergency landing. After a moment the helicopter evened out and continued on its path.

  “Where did it come from?” Kerrick called to Jeremiah copiloting the chopper.

  “In front of us, sir,” he called back over the noise of the propellers.

  “Was it…?” Cimby asked, peering out of the window, the jittery exhilaration returning and coming off her in waves.

  “I think it may have been,” Kerrick said, his magic also resting just below his skin, ready to release at a moment’s notice. They waited a few more moments before the billow of smoke appeared above the mountains. Kerrick could feel a pulse of thick magic coming from the gray cloud consuming the sky, blocking out the sun’s rays. Cimby choked back a growl and dug her fingers into Kerrick’s hand.

  “There is power in that smoke,” Kerrick said more to himself than the others. The cloud pulsed outward, sending waves of what felt like protective energy to the ground. “Mara set the explosion to activate the magic.”

  “What kind of magic is it?” Cymbeline asked, staring at the cloud.

  “Protection—for the Vryks.” Kerrick looked to Aaron. “The dawn sun will no longer be an advantage for us. They will be at full strength.”

  “Mara wouldn’t,” Rhi gasped, staring out the window in horror.

  “She would. She doesn’t if that explosion killed some humans,” Aaron said, squeezing his cousin’s shoulder in support. “They must have known what we were planning to do, so she sacrificed their slaves to give her Vryks power to withstand the dawn.” Aarons voice was hard with anger, his words mirroring Kerrick’s thoughts. In order to do that, someone must have told Mara what was happening.

  “What should I do, sir?” Jeremiah asked from the cockpit.

  Kerrick looked over at the Weres closest to his heart, his most loyal advocates, and wanted to give them hope, hope that all that life hadn’t been uselessly wasted by the bitch Vryk. But he wouldn’t feed them platitudes. They knew what the woman was capable of and they would tear her apart for every life she’d sacrificed for her own selfish gain. It wasn’t just about the Weres she’d pointlessly murdered, it was now a matter of erasing her existence from the face of the earth. It was a necessary task for Kerrick to accomplish to keep his people safe. Kerrick looked at Cimby and she nodded, acknowledging the command he issued through their private channel of speak.

  “Go in, upwind of the smoke. We need to take stock of the field first. Tell the Weres who are moving in on paws to shift now. Inform all units to be ready for Vryks at full strength.” The call went out and they readied for battle. The helicopters made their descent to the clearing where the burning Vryk facility stood.

  “Bitch,” Cimby growled, the light from the flames reflecting in her eyes. She turned to him, pure fury and vivacious tenacity. His mate was ready for blood. “I made the mistake of thinking that the humans at the facility were irreplaceable.”

  “Everything is replaceable to a being over a thousand years old,” Rhiannon muttered resentfully, her hand resting on the glass as she stared at the blaze from the fire.

  The helicopter touched down and they stepped into the heat.

  The fire warmed Kerrick’s skin. There was enough distance between the glow of what used to be the facility, a massive conclave for Mara’s Vryks, and the army of Weres at his back. He could feel Cimby’s fury at the sight of the fire and it was all he could do to keep from sweeping her i
nto his arms and protecting her from what was coming, maybe even from herself. She would probably refuse the comfort even if they hadn’t been on the battleground, his proud assassin.

  She turned to him, a feverish smile on her face that only increased his worry for her. The black, magic-infused, leather battle gear with its many sheaths for knives and pockets for spare bullet clips suited her. He had seen her in many forms since first meeting her but this was her true self, a strong and lithe assassin, patient as a predator and waiting for the moment to strike. With a blown kiss she ran for the tree line, implementing their plan.

  Out of the corner of his eye he could see his people’s stance. Loose and ready to attack, waiting for his command.

  Bodies began to amass in front of them, almost appearing instantaneously, as if magically out of the smoke. The Vrykolakas had come to play. Their clothes looked scorched as if they had just escaped the blaze with their lives intact.

  It clicked in Kerrick’s mind what Mara’s goal was in blowing up the facility. She would send his people a message, speaking to the lengths she would go to keep her territory. And her own people, her Vryks, they would blame the murder of their humans on the Weres, a perfect frame job to garner full support from her people. The Vryk bitch would stoop to any level to remain in Kerrick’s territory and to hold it. She had always made the mistake of thinking him weak since he was so new to the power and position of the Alphar. It would be a fatal miscalculation of his power. He was the youngest Alphar in their known history, and with good reason.

  Once the fire-silhouetted Vryks took their places, Mara emerged from the flames like a haunting ghost from the pits of hell. Her wild, black hair trailed behind and whipped about in the wind like a flag. Her pitch-black eyes glowed as though they were iridescent, and her tall, deceptively delicate frame proved its strength by holding a man’s head, his body dragging along the ground, powerless and weak but still alive. There was blood dripping down his head and he wore nothing but a pair of black slacks. A low and threatening growl erupted from Rhiannon’s throat and her eyes began to darken. She knew the man.

  “Come!” Mara yelled with a slight Greek accent, taunting them. “You think to use one of my people against me, little Alphar? You destroy my people’s home, you murder those we love and care for, but we live on!” The bitch sure liked to grandstand.

  Rhiannon’s body was shaking with rage. Kerrick could see her muscles tense to run. She opened her mouth to speak and Kerrick interrupted. Aaron placed his hand on the woman’s shoulder to hold her back if necessary.

  “I challenge you, Mara. You and your people,” Kerrick called before Rhiannon could make a peep and destroy everything.

  “Kerrick,” Aaron growled in anger, thinking he was going against the battle plan to surround and overwhelm the ancient.

  “You are to kill those who would attack us and grant asylum for those who surrender,” Kerrick hissed at his Captain, never taking his eyes off of Mara. “I will take care of Mara.”

  “She’s an ancient, Kerrick,” Rhiannon hissed, finally pulling her eyes from the man in Mara’s arms. “She’ll kill you with barely a thought.”

  “Such little faith, Lieutenant?”

  She didn’t answer but she didn’t argue either, knowing any disagreement would have shown a lack of respect. Something she would never do in front of an enemy. Kerrick didn’t regret his underhanded methods to make her do as he commanded. Mara was stronger than him, there was no doubt about that. The woman had lived for over a thousand years to acquire that title. He alone could not defeat her but she never thought he would sacrifice his pride to destroy her with help.

  Mara nodded her acquiescence to his declaration with a smile, but before she could move the man in her arms reared up and bit Mara on her breastplate. She screamed in fury and Kerrick rushed her, using the distraction to his advantage. Rhiannon raced in front of him and grabbed the man before dashing for the trees. As he ran he amassed his power, gathering his strength and pushing it out towards his people. Kerrick felt their confidence boost and their courage muster. They were ready to fight. And just as he laid his first hit against Mara he felt Cimby within him, reassuring him she had his back. He could sense a threat coming at him from behind, but Cimby took the Vryk out with a well-timed shot from her rifle. His lethal, sexy assassin.

  Cymbeline watched from her advantageous spot in the trees as Rhiannon rushed off to the sidelines with Carter, getting him to safety. The Vryk would be fine. Smart man that he was drank from Mara before he escaped, strengthening his healing capabilities. Rhiannon would look out for him. And Cimby would look out for Kerrick.

  She took aim, using her preferred Savage 110 BA sniper rifle, moving swiftly from tree to tree, branch to branch, as Vryks attempted to hinder Kerrick’s fight with Mara. It was a brutal battle but he had the power of his people supporting him. Every few minutes the man would shift into a new animal, forcing the Vryk bitch to change her fighting tactics, keeping her confused and on her toes. Cimby had a manic need to burst out laughing, nearly giving away her position, when Kerrick shifted into a wooly mammoth, a species of Were long since extinct. What was he thinking? Crazy, wonderful bastard.

  Mara and Kerrick were battling in a blaze of power and color. They barely even touched but blood was being spilt from the force of their power alone. Mara, besides the fast-healing wound that Carter had left in her chest, seemed to be bleeding heavily from her inner arm among other superficial wounds. But she was still moving and taking swipes at Kerrick as if she were the very embodiment of the wind. So swift and light a person might barely know she was there, save when she cut you. Kerrick was pure strength. His battle style a dance routine of feints and dodges. He would make the slightest hint of moving one way and surprise them all by nearly flying another. He was magic and power wrapped in a fiercely spun package, one that changed every few moments as he shifted forms on a dime, as if it cost him little to no energy.

  Having cleared the field of obstacles for Kerrick and Mara to continue their battle for the time being, Cymbeline turned her attention to the rest of the troops. Aaron and Jeremiah fought side by side, directing their people of where to go, supporting those who needed help.

  She spotted who she was looking for near the edge of the burning facility. Zach, their ace in the hole, glowed like the rising sun and used his magic to quell the flames. Cymbeline had questioned Kerrick’s decision to keep Zach out of the battle, especially since he was supposed to be this magic-using prodigy. She convinced Kerrick, with Zach’s help, the night before the battle to sneak him in unannounced. Kerrick was powerful, but Mara was an ancient, there was a fair chance she could overpower him. No one said this had to be a fair fight though. Zach had eagerly agreed to help with the battle. Cimby thanked the Gods Kerrick had agreed to let Zach join the battle, thinking he might possibly be able to use that impressive magic to snuff out the flames. Maybe there were still souls to save inside that burning building.

  Cymbeline jumped out of the tree line, slinging her rifle over her back and pulling out a handheld gun, running in Zach’s direction but keeping a tactical eye out for those who would attempt to help Mara. She stopped for a moment to incapacitate a few Vryks heading in Zach’s direction. They dropped to the ground before they knew what hit them. With every kill she felt the gnawing of the Beast within her. Not her Wolf, but the thing she had been trained to quell. Her former missions had always been solitary, calm endeavors with a singular purpose. This was chaos. Blood and violence surrounded her, tempting the thing to come forth and break her control. She shook her head, pushing it back down and focusing on her goal. She needed to get to Zach. Needed to protect him and Kerrick as they battled.

  Two female Vryks with fangs the size of her middle fingers were heading in Zach’s direction, almost on top of him. Cimby shot, aiming for their hearts, but something was protecting them. Some form of magic shield. Her bullets were useless.

 
“Rhiannon!” she yelled, chucking the rifle at Rhiannon as she passed the woman. “Watch Kerrick’s back.” Cimby ran for the two Vryks. Protect Zach. Kerrick had said Zach would be the priority if they implemented this plan, and she would trust her mate to take care of himself, but tossing that rifle at Rhiannon felt like she was betraying him. Her instincts told her to look after Kerrick, look after her mate. The Beast pressed at her boundaries again, wanting to use her weakness to its advantage. She growled, pushing it back down.

  Looking past the grand battle between Mara and Kerrick, Cimby found her targets nearly on top of Zach. A comforting and quiet concentration took over her body as she met them head-on, intercepting what would have been a killing blow to Zach’s head he had been oblivious to as he focused on the fire.

  “A little Wolf Princess coming out to play?” One of the Vryks chided while the other circled. The woman had clearly made some kills, her pale face dripping with blood and the scent of violence coming off her aura in waves. Cymbeline deducted she wasn’t that old by the power coming off her, possibly one or two centuries. Nothing Cimby couldn’t handle.

  “Whatsa matter with your face, wolfy?” the second Vryk taunted. “Looks like it’s been through the meat grinder.”

  “Yummy.” The bloodied Vryk licked her lips.

  Cimby lunged at the Vryk, not utilizing all the strength in her muscles to keep the bitch on her toes. The bloody Vryk was prepared for Cymbeline though, and with a speed far beyond anything Cimby thought possible for a Vryk her age, palmed a knife in her left hand and sank it into Cimby’s thigh. Cimby cried out, her confidence draining as each Vryk attacked, barraging her with endless advances and hits. She pulled the knife from her thigh and threw it at the Vryk, the space in which she missed was laughable. She screamed in rage, her emotions ripping free of her control, bit by bit. She was better than this.