Dark Assassin

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Dark Assassin Page 8

by Dena Christy


  Standing up, he ripped the shirt from his body, preparing to go to bed. How he would be able to sleep he didn’t know, but he had to do something to keep himself away from her. He didn’t need the complication she would surely be. Once this mission was over, he could go back to the life he’d lived before. Back to the isolation of the rigs, where he only had to focus on the fruits of his own sweat, and the occasional woman when he had time off in town. The thought was not as comforting to him as it should have been.

  He stiffened when he heard a noise outside his door. Cautiously he made his way to the door, scenting the air. He reeled back when his brain finished analyzing what it was he was smelling. Blood, wolf and Samara. He ripped open the door with such force that it crashed into the wall, denting the drywall behind it.

  Ice flooded his body when he took in the sight of her crumpled body in front of him. He bent down, turning her over, praying she was still alive. The moan she let out once she was on her back assured him that she lived. She was covered in so much blood it seemed a miracle she was still breathing, and he picked her up as carefully as he could. Her eyes opened weakly, and Eric cringed at the pain he saw burning in them.

  “Who did this to you, baby?” he asked, although as soon as she was in his arms he knew the answer. Gordon’s scent was all over her and Eric ground his teeth. Walking into his room, he kicked the door shut behind him. He put her gently upon the bed, and forced everything from his mind except the need to care for her.

  Her breath came out in a sob, and Eric closed his eyes at how the sound tortured him with guilt and fuelled his anger. He should have been with her, should have done a better job of protecting her.

  “It’s okay, baby. I’m here. Nothing is going to happen to you. You’re safe.” He spoke to her in soothing tones as he unfolded her arm from its tight clasp against her chest.

  Pain had etched itself into tense lines in her face, and he would have done anything in his power to take it away from her. He unbuttoned her shirt so he could see the damage inflicted upon her. The knot of dread in his stomach loosened a little when he could see no visible wounds on her chest or stomach. The blood must have come from somewhere else.

  Gently he tried to pull the sleeve off her arm. Her scream of protest stopped him cold, and he placed her arm back on the bed. Going to the closet, he pulled out the first aid kit he’d seen there earlier before grabbing hand towels from the bathroom as well. Coming back to her, he rooted through the first aid kit until he found a pair of scissors. He used them to cut away her sleeve, bile rising in his throat when he looked at her arm. It had been savaged, and even through the blood he could see the ragged edges of the gaping wound. It looked like the wolf had tried to rip the flesh from her arm, and Eric didn’t think he would fix this with the contents of the first aid kit. The only good thing was it looked like the bleeding was slowing.

  “Baby, this is bad. I need to get you to a hospital,” Eric said, his voice rough as he pressed the towel against her arm, trying to staunch the remaining blood-flow.

  “No hospitals,” she said with a shake of her head. “I’ll be completely healed in a few days, and if you take me to a hospital they’ll ask too many questions. I just need you to help me get my arm cleaned and bandaged.”

  Eric went to the bathroom, wanting to argue with her, but couldn’t fight with her now in her weak and wounded state. He wanted to take care of her, to do anything in his power to heal her. It didn’t matter how many questions they asked at the hospital as long as they helped her. He would do what he could for her but if he thought she needed it, he’d take her to the hospital no matter how much she protested. He flicked on the tap and ran a washcloth under the water before wringing it out and grabbing another clean hand towel.

  Returning to her side, concerned bit at him when he saw how she looked. Her skin was so pale, it was almost transparent. He washed the blood from her arm, trying to be gentle, but he knew by the way her eyes were clenched shut that he was causing her pain.

  “I know it hurts, baby, but it has to be done. It’ll be over soon.”

  She nodded, although she didn’t open her eyes.

  “Don’t suppress your emotions, please,” she said, her voice coming out in a weak whisper. “My powers need to be recharged in order for me to regain my strength, and to do that I need you to let everything out.”

  Eric released the floodgates on every emotion churning inside him while he applied disinfectant to her wound. The concern, guilt and rage at what had happened to her poured out of him, and he could see some of the color returning to her cheeks. He placed a sterile gauze pad over her wound before wrapping it in a gauze bandage. She placed her right hand onto his cheek, and he looked down at her as he pressed his face against her palm.

  “It isn’t your fault, what happened. There is no reason to feel guilty,” she said, her voice soft as her pain-glazed eyes met his. His lips tightened as he read on her face the comfort she offered him, a comfort he didn’t deserve considering how he’d completely failed her.

  “I didn’t protect you,” Eric said as he withdrew, having done the best for her he could with the limited supplies he had. “Can you tell me what happened?”

  Anger burned hot inside him as she described being stalked and attacked by Gordon in his wolf form. There was also fear mixed in with the anger, as his imagination painted a vivid picture of Samara lying dead in the alley, had she not been strong enough to defend herself. How could he have not sensed the wolf in the area when he’d checked the perimeter of the motel?

  “Are you hurt anywhere else?” he asked, hoping the wound on her arm was the worst of her injuries.

  “Other than a few bruises, I’m fine,” she said with a weak smile at him. “I’ll be healed in no time. My body is getting stronger and I just need to have a little rest.”

  He could sense she was trying to minimize what had happened to her for his sake, but he knew better than to believe it. It was his fault she’d been out there alone and vulnerable, no matter what she said to assuage his guilt. He would set it right.

  “Do you think you killed him?” he asked, his voice lethally soft.

  “I’m not sure. He was struggling to get up, but I didn’t stick around to check. All I was worried about was running and getting back here.”

  Eric knew what he had to do, although he was loath to leave her alone. Rage burned inside him, and he had to find the wolf. If he was dead, so much the better, but if he wasn’t, he would be once Eric found him.

  “Where is your room key?”

  “It’s in my pocket,” she said as she shifted, wincing at the movement. Eric reached into her pocket and got it out before she had to do it herself. “You’re going after him, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. I have to make sure he can’t hurt you again.” He tried to keep the anger out of his voice, but he knew she could feel it. He made his way to the door.

  “Eric,” she said softly behind him. He turned immediately to see what was wrong. “Be careful.”

  “I will,” he said as he turned and walked out the door.

  He went over to Samara’s room and unlocked the door before bending down to leave the key under the mat. It would be easier to track the wolf who attacked her if he shifted, but he couldn’t do it out in the open. Rage churned in his gut as images of her bloodied body lying across his doorway flashed through his mind. He stepped into her room, stripping off his clothes before closing his eyes. Letting all thoughts leave his head, he concentrated on the shift. He braced himself for the pain he knew would come, and dropped down on all fours.

  His bones popped and snapped as his limbs shortened, the pain of it almost blinding in intensity, but he had shifted enough to know to relax and let it come. With a violent snap, his neck tilted back until his face was pointed toward the ceiling. It morphed into his elongated lupine face. The twitching in his gums was like having a hundred insects crawling around in his mouth as his human teeth were replaced by his canine ones. Black fur sprouted
from every inch of his skin, causing it to itch before settling. After what felt like an eternity of compression and squeezing that in reality only took moments, he finally collapsed on the floor, his transformation complete.

  He padded toward the door and edged it open with his nose. His body vibrated with the need to go tearing into the night at a dead run, but he held himself back as he put his nose to the ground and sniffed.

  Once he got an indication of the direction Samara had come from, he took off across the motel parking lot in an easy lope. It felt good to run down the sidewalk, his animal instincts rejoicing at the chance to hunt. He approached the alley where the scents of Samara, the wolf and blood were the strongest. This was where she’d been attacked. He went further into the alley to investigate. Catching a faint scent that raised the hackles on this neck, he lifted his head to look around. There was another wolf out there, whose scent was different from the one who’d attacked Samara. The wolf was watching in the distance, his scent only a faint whisper on the wind.

  A noise behind him caused Eric to spin around quickly. A grey wolf stood behind him, his belly covered with blood. Gordon crouched low, protecting his injured stomach and baring his teeth.

  Kill. The thought reverberated in Eric’s head as he approached his adversary, legs stiff and lips curled back from his teeth, a rumble starting deep in his chest to emerge into a full-throated growl.

  They slowly circled, each looking for a weakness in the other. Gordon lunged at Eric, his jaws snapping. Eric sidestepped and went on the offensive. They came together, up on their hind legs, fighting for dominance. Eric used his superior strength and body weight to flip his enemy onto his back, his jaws closing around his throat. The scraping of his foe’s paws against his face didn’t deter him as he squeezed his teeth together, cutting through his opponent’s vulnerable flesh. Gordon went limp with a final gurgling sound, and Eric dragged him further into the alley, hiding him from view.

  Glancing at the other wolf one more time, satisfied that he was dead, Eric made his way back to the motel. Senses on high alert, he could detect no other presence behind him, and knew he wasn’t being followed.

  Once outside the door to Samara’s room, he hid in the shadows. The change back to human form was just as painful as the change to wolf. When it was complete he retrieved the key from under the mat. He went into the room and closed the door. Blood covered his face and chest, and he went to the bathroom to wash. As he rinsed the evidence of the fight from his body, he debated about what he should tell Samara. He didn’t want to give her any more burdens to carry, and didn’t want her to have cause to be afraid. He decided not to tell her about the other wolf he’d sensed out here tonight.

  ALEX WATCHED Eric lope back to the motel in his wolf form, rage simmering in his veins. The wind stirred his hair, and when Eric paused he knew his scent had been carried to him. Alex didn’t care. He and the other wolf had never met, and he didn’t intend for them to, at least not yet.

  Once he saw Eric go into the motel room he shared with Samara, Alex made his way to the alley—where he was sure he would find Gordon’s dead body—with an old army blanket tucked firmly under his arm. His lips pressed together when he thought of how Gordon had failed him. He’d seen Samara fleeing the alley, covered in blood, and had known that Gordon had been unable to see past his notion of revenge. Sometimes it didn’t pay to involve others in his important work, but what choice did he have when he was known to Samara? He wasn’t yet ready to reveal his plans to her.

  He stopped in front of the eviscerated body of what anyone would suspect was a very large wolf, but what he knew to be that of his late associate, Gordon Lahey. If he had his druthers he’d leave him to rot, but a wolf of this size would definitely cause comment in a small city like this, and who knows, it might even get back to the Order. The last thing he needed was any sort of investigation, so it was now up to him to carry Gordon to his final resting place.

  Alex unfurled the blanket with a snap and spread it over Gordon, intending to wrap it around the werewolf’s body so he could carry it back to the trunk of his rental car. After that he supposed that he would have to dump Gordon somewhere, and really, it didn’t matter that much. The clueless idiot didn’t even deserve a burial, and Alex intended to get rid of him in the first secluded place he could find. Then he’d see if he could get better help. If not he’d be reduced to fulfilling his plans himself, and he was not ready to reveal Samara’s fate to her quite yet.

  CHAPTER 9

  Samara lay on the bed where Eric left her, her mind refusing to quiet. The fight in the alley replayed in her head over and over, like a nightmare she couldn’t wake from. She could see why Cadric had expressed his concern that she wasn’t ready for this kind of mission. She relied too much on her powers, and when they were ineffective, as they had been tonight, she’d almost lost her life.

  Sweat coated her skin and her heart raced in her chest even though she lay completely still. She couldn’t get the smell of her blood and the wolf out of her head. She rolled onto her side and got to her feet, her legs shaking as she staggered to the bathroom. Her mouth filled with saliva and she immediately lost the contents of her stomach. She gripped the back of the toilet, her legs quivering as they struggled to support her weight. Once she felt the trembling subside, she stood and turned to the sink, twisting on the tap. The water from her cupped hand filled her mouth, its cool sweetness taking the hot, sour taste away.

  Looking in the mirror at the ghost of the woman reflected there, Samara could hardly recognize the fear she saw in her eyes. Failure, the eyes of the woman staring back from the mirror seemed to accuse. The predatory odor of the wolf who had attacked her burned in her nostrils, and the trembling started again, crawling up her body until the muscles in her arm and hand vibrated with the fear taking over her body. Her eyes turned blood red in the mirror, and she turned away, unable to look at herself for another second. Sharp shards of terror reverberated through her head, boiling under her skin, and she had to get it off. The fear had a scent, and it was identical to the mingled smell of wolf and her own blood.

  The skin on her trembling hands turned a mottled silver color as her demonic side sought to escape and protect her. She swallowed hard, trying to push it down, trying to gain control of the panic creeping through her blood. She tore at her clothes; she had to get rid of the smell. Her clothes landed in a discarded heap on the floor and she shoved them aside with her feet.

  She turned on the shower as hot as she could get it and stepped in, barely remembering to close the shower curtain. Ignoring the pain as the water burned her skin, she watched the silver color of her flesh change to an angry red. She scrubbed and scoured her skin, but the smell wouldn’t go away and the images wouldn’t leave her mind.

  The curtain drew back and hand reached out to touch her. She fought against it, struggled against the arms coming around to encircle her. Cries of fear escaped her before the soft voice penetrated her fear. Eric’s voice.

  “Shh. It’s okay, baby. It’s me,” he said, his arms drawing tighter around her, and she collapsed against him. “What’s wrong? Are you in pain?”

  “I can’t get it off me. The fear, his smell… my blood…” Her voice came out in gulping sobs.

  She buried her face in his neck, hating that he was seeing her at her weakest. He kept one arm firmly around her, but the other left her and the water hitting her body changed, grew cooler until the boiling hot temperature melted into a cooler one. She huddled against him, not lifting her head nor looking at him. The warm glide of his soapy hands slowly eased the fear, washing it away from her body. It ran out of her limbs like inky black sludge and disappeared down the drain, leaving her empty. She reached up, encircling his neck with her arms, and registered for the first time his solid, naked body against her. He anchored her, keeping her from drowning in the panic that had consumed her earlier. Her desire for him filled her body, giving her strength.

  The water shut off and he drew h
er from the shower. Tenderly he dried her, and she couldn’t make herself move, could only stand there while he ministered to her. He left her for a moment to quickly dry himself, and wrap a towel around his waist, and the hollow feeling returned. She needed him, in a way she had not needed anyone before. He came back to her, and she felt weightless as he lifted her and carried her to the bedroom. The cool cotton sheets on the bed received her body, cradling her tenderly while she watched him move around the room. Lean strength rippled under his skin as his muscles expanded and contracted with his movements.

  He came back over to her, the first aid kit in his hand. He replaced her sodden bandage with a fresh one. Samara could no longer keep silent.

  “Eric, could you please hold me?” she asked, her voice sounding small.

  He set the first aid kit aside and got into bed beside her, holding her against him. She absorbed the warm, clean scent of his flesh, soaking in the masculine texture of his skin. The press of his erection nudged against her hip and she knew he wanted her. He pulled back, putting a small distance between them. She made a small sound of protest, not wanting to lose the comfort he was offering.

  “It’s okay, baby. No one can hurt you,” he whispered as he stroked a hand down her hair, holding her gently against his chest.

  “Is he dead?” she asked, needing to know, to stop the nightmares that would surely come if he wasn’t.

 

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