“She’s putting distance between us.” Ryder didn’t look away from the door she disappeared through. “I can’t hear her in my head anymore. She’s beginning to block us for longer periods of time. Sooner or later, she’ll be able to block us altogether.”
Acid churned in Kincade’s gut, because he knew the shifter spoke the truth.
And they all blamed him.
He raked his fingers through his hair.
They didn’t understand.
He needed to keep her safe.
“I’ll talk to her.” He turned toward her door, ignoring the way Ascher and Draven snorted.
He stopped short when Morgan popped out of her room, and the men came to attention. “I’m going to change out of my sweaty clothes, then we’ll talk. I suggest you head to the roof and think of new and better ways to convince me why I should stay where I’m obviously not wanted.”
Kincade couldn’t move, feeling like his heart had been ripped out of his chest, his body slowly turning to stone as the more primitive side of himself spiraled out of control. His fangs snapped down, his claws burst from his fingertips, and it was all he could do not to turn. The last time he lost his shit, people died. He couldn’t allow it to happen again. He had to maintain control. He had to keep his distance from her, no matter how badly his beastly side wanted to snatch her up and stake his claim—make her understand she was his world.
But that wouldn’t keep her safe.
He wasn’t enough to keep her safe.
He nearly lost her a few months ago.
He couldn’t go through it again.
He would simply have to find a way to make her understand.
A rumble of an enraged wolf emerged from Ryder, his eyes glowing as his beast rose.
Kincade looked like she’d clobbered him with a two by four.
Draven scowled at the guys, while Atlas ignored everyone but her. The elf participated in her training, but kept his distance, the ass always watching her, as if waiting for an alien to pop out of her chest or something. He insisted she was the only one who could stop the spread of a deadly mist in the primordial realm.
Except no one had a clue how she was supposed to save the world.
No pressure.
Ascher narrowed his blue eyes, small wisps of smoke rising from his chest, a sure sign of his agitation. He remained at the Academy only because of her. She hadn’t known he was a shifter when they first met, and he’d used his hellhound form to worm his way into her heart.
She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to leave the men without shattering into a million pieces. Scurrying away from them before her resolve crumbled, she shut the bathroom door behind her, barely able to catch her breath past the ache in her chest.
She couldn’t lose them.
They had to find a compromise.
She stripped and scrubbed until her skin was red and stinging, but the shower did little to alleviate the numbing ache of loss spreading through her. No matter how she examined the situation, she couldn’t think of a way she could stay without destroying the team who had come to mean everything to her.
They no longer hunted because of her, and the tension between her and the team couldn’t go on the way it was without the fragile balance among the guys breaking completely.
She couldn’t bear to be the one who destroyed the team.
When she exited the shower, she hastily dressed, hesitating slightly when she exited the bathroom, relieved and disappointed to see the room was empty. She dropped her clothes at the foot of her bed, then came to a stop when she saw a small, sculpted gargoyle dog resting on her pillow.
The little creature was no more than the size of her fist, but the details were exquisite.
Every week for the past few weeks, she’d been finding a small present in her room. Kincade had demanded to know which of them were leaving her gifts, almost coming to blows when they all denied it. It drove the guys batty when they couldn’t figure out how a stranger was sneaking into their dorm to leave the presents. They set up patrols, cast spells, but nothing they did ever exposed her secret admirer, and it only pissed them off more.
Though Morgan should be as concerned as the others, she wasn’t.
She carefully scooped up the small gargoyle, swearing she could feel warmth rise from the creature. Her magic curled around her bones at the contact, a hum of interest rising, but she couldn’t detect any sign of a threat.
The opposite, in fact.
Her magic hummed softly to the gargoyle, and she would swear it respond by wiggling in her palm, which was foolish…right?
Not wanting the guys to see her admiring her new acquisition—or “fawning over the blasted thing,” as they called it—she shoved the gargoyle in her pocket.
Knowing she couldn’t put off the inevitable, Morgan took a shaky breath for courage and entered the bathroom, using the secret hatch to climb to the roof.
When she reached the top, she heard the men arguing.
“You’re pushing her too hard.” Draven’s voice was insistent.
“She needs to know how to protect herself.” She easily recognized Kincade’s voice. “She almost died. I refuse to let anything like that happen again.”
The raw emotion in his voice rocked her, and she froze, clinging to the rungs of the ladder.
It was more emotion than she’d heard from him in weeks, and the knot in her chest unraveled enough that she no longer felt like she was suffocating.
“You need to back off.” Ascher snarled the words. “I won’t lose her because you’re being a fucking idiot.”
“Besides, she knows how to fight. She’s had to fight for everything in her life.” Atlas sounded unconcerned. “What she doesn’t know is how to see through your bullshit. You need to get closer to her, not allow her to pull away, or you will lose her.”
Morgan bit back her snort.
Truer words had never been spoken.
Morgan finished her climb and pulled herself onto the roof. From their too-casual expressions, she suspected the guys knew she’d been listening.
She glanced at each of them, her heart so full she couldn’t speak, so she turned away from them and stared out over the school grounds, terrified that anything she said would put a bigger wedge between them when it was the last thing she wanted.
“Ever since you learned about my lineage, you’ve changed radically. I went from being a friend and valuable teammate to a pariah. You’ve been acting like I’m…untouchable.”
“But you are royalty.” Atlas spoke so matter-of-factly she wanted to smack him, but there was no denying the truth.
And she hated it.
She missed her friends.
She’d never felt so alone when surrounded by people. Back at the coven, it didn’t matter. With the guys, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could go without cracking. “We’re supposed to be friends. A team. You’re treating me like royalty, but I’m just a hunter, nothing more or nothing less. It’s what I’ve trained to be all my life.”
She placed her hands flat on the wall of the castle, able to feel it hum under her touch. “I will do my duty, but you need to decide what you want. If you can’t be the team I need, then you have to let me go.”
A loud Viking horn blared in the wake of her words, filling the deafening silence, and she almost jumped out of her skin.
The alarm.
She turned, expecting to see the men run for the door, but none of them moved.
“Morgan—”
But she didn’t hear the rest of what Kincade said because the stone beneath her palms sent shocks through her hand. When she glanced down, a movement in the garden caught her attention.
Or more precisely, the gargoyle statue.
As she watched, cracks zigzagged up his form, the stone encasing him crumbling into shards at his feet.
Awe rippled through her as she saw the gargoyle stretch, his powerful muscles almost hypnotizing to watch. That wonder changed to unease when he arched his spine
and released a challenging roar.
“Um, guys?” Morgan carefully backed away from the wall.
Her necklace twisted tight around her neck, and she reached up to touch dozens and dozens of long, thin pieces of metal, almost like feathers, forming a delicate set of wings.
She barely registered the other statues breaking free of their prisons when the gargoyle’s head snapped up, and her eyes locked on his pure black orbs. The beast took a few running steps before his wings snapped out, and he took flight.
Morgan was drawn forward against her will, following his progress.
When she thought he would smack into the wall, he rotated his wings, twisting in a feat of incredible power until he flew straight up.
Before she could jump back, he was in front of her, all seven feet of rock solid muscle. He landed on the surface she’d been touching seconds ago, the clawed tips of his toes sinking into the stone as he crouched. His giant wings arched well above his head, and he snapped them smartly around his back. His tail lashed back and forth as his gaze zeroed in on her as if nothing else was important.
His skin had a grayish-purple tint, his chiseled body intimidating, the stone having turned to solid muscle, leaving only a small loincloth for modesty. His long black hair whipped around in the wind, revealing his pointy ears. He had a big forehead, a prominent brow, his face perfectly proportioned, even handsome. His expression was both fierce and intense as he surveyed his domain.
Large fangs protruded from between his lips. He hunched lower as he stared at her, a pleasant hum rumbling in his chest as he inhaled. Magic practically poured off him.
Familiar magic.
It felt like the Academy…and the miniature statue in her pocket.
He was her secret admirer.
She registered the guys yelling, but couldn’t pull her attention away from the stunning creature just a foot away. She’d visited and fed the gargoyle many times over the past few weeks. He was a sounding board, listening to her problems without judging. She felt a strange affinity with him.
Never had she imagined he would rouse and come for her.
The gargoyle didn’t have any problem turning toward the men, pinning the guys with his black eyes and scowling at them. Without hesitation, he reached out and wrapped her in his arms, then launched them backwards off the roof. A startled scream was caught in her throat as they spun madly seconds before his wings snapped open.
Then they were flying, skimming a few feet above the ground.
The muscles of his chest flexed as his wings pumped, and they soared higher and higher.
He smelled a bit like Kincade, the warm stone a comfort, but there was something sharper, more primitive about him that hinted he was centuries old.
Suddenly worried for her guys, she looked back to see that Draven and Atlas had tackled Kincade to the ground. Despite the extra weight, Kincade was dragging himself closer to the edge of the building, ready to fling himself over the edge and go after them. Ryder had shifted to his wolf, already charging for the door, but she knew he would never be able to cover the ground quickly enough to catch them.
When she could no longer see them, she turned her head and sucked in a sharp breath at the vista below her. Instead of awe, stark terror pummeled her. Hundreds of paranormal creatures were pouring out of the tree line in their battle form, heading straight for the Academy, the scale of the attack almost beyond comprehension.
The school was going to be under siege, and she’d left the guys behind to deal with it on their own.
“We have to go back.”
In answer, the arms around her tightened possessively.
She tried to wiggle out of his hold, but he might as well still be cast in stone. The continual flap of wings, while comforting, irritated the hell out of her as he put more and more distance between her and her men.
So much heat radiated off the gargoyle, she barely felt the cold. Wind tugged at her clothing and whipped her hair into knots, the speed in which they flew causing the landscape to blur and sting her eyes. It was the only excuse that she had for not seeing the squadron of harpies flying right toward them.
The gargoyle tucked her closer, spinning and whirling to elude them, making her feel weightless one second, then a thousand pounds the next.
The maneuvers did no good.
There were far too many of them.
She had the feeling the gargoyle could escape, but her added weight was slowing him down.
“Drop me.”
The only reply she got was a deep growl that vibrated down her back.
Seconds later, one harpy dove at them from above.
Large, leathery wings wrapped protectively around Morgan, and they dropped like a stone from the sky. Her stomach lurched up into her throat as they free-fell through the air. The harpy plowed into them, causing them to go into a spin.
His wings snapped open, and she saw the ground rapidly approaching.
Another harpy swooped low, and a grunt escaped her kidnapper.
He’d been hit.
Another creature flew directly toward them with the speed of a freight train. The harpy had the body of a woman, though her hands and feet resembled that of a bird, the sharp talons created to rip open flesh. Her scalp was a combination of hair and feathers, her face full of angles, her body stretched awkwardly long. Her eyes broadcasted murderous glee, and she smiled to reveal a row of fangs instead of teeth.
Morgan ached to call for her weapons, but feared she would be more of a hindrance than help. They needed to land and be on solid ground for her to be of any use.
Seconds away from colliding, the gargoyle twisted, flying upside down, but the harpy raked her claws down his stone hide. He shuddered, his wings snapping open again, but his flight was now uneven.
He was injured.
Droplets of blood splattered her face and arms with each beat of his wings.
The screech of triumph from the harpies nearly burst her eardrums.
If he continued flying, they would shred him to ribbons.
“We need to land.”
The gargoyle tucked her closer, ducked his face into her hair, a low grumble of denial in his throat.
“You can’t protect me and fly at the same time.”
“No.” The sound was like an avalanche of rocks, and she wanted to growl back in frustration.
“If you don’t land, I’ll jump.” It wasn’t an idle threat. She would not have him sacrifice himself for her. “I can fight.”
He must have sensed she was telling the truth, because he angled his wings and they began to drop. She glanced behind her to see at least a dozen harpies closing in on them. Unable to help herself, her attention darted toward the Academy in time to see creatures swarming over the walls.
They would get no help from that quarter.
Then there was no more time to worry as the gargoyle swung his legs down, twisted his wings, and he landed in a crouch, his large, muscular thighs absorbing the impact. Half the harpies dropped from the sky, while the remaining ones continued to swoop lower and lower, dive-bombing them.
He carefully released her, grabbed one of the harpies who had gotten a little too close, and ripped off her wings. Blood splattered everywhere and the harpy screeched bloody murder, clawing at him. Small scratches appeared on his skin, but the claws barely penetrated his stone-like hide. For good measure, he flung the body to the ground and stomped on the harpy’s head until the skull shattered like a melon.
The gargoyle bellowed in triumph, his wings snapping wide. That’s when she noticed one of his wings drooped lower than the other, trickles of blood flowing down his back. It was a miracle he could fly at all, much less land without crashing.
His black eyes landed on hers, worry churning in them—not for himself, but for her.
Then his eyes widened in alarm.
He leapt toward her, his wings snapping open, soaring over her and tackling the harpy aiming for her back. His tail wrapped around the creature, flinging
her to the ground seconds before he pounced and silenced her shrieks.
Leaving her to face the harpy slinking low to the ground, trying to sneak up on him.
Without a thought, her rings and cuff melted down, rivulets of liquid metal running down her hands to form a pair of black blades. She didn’t hesitate, launching forward, slashing out with her knife, catching the startled harpy in the neck. The creature lashed at her with sharp claws, trying to tear out her throat, but her reach fell short. She was losing too much blood. Weakening too fast. Morgan lunged closer, slamming her blade into the creature’s temple, putting her out of her misery.
She turned to see the gargoyle surrounded.
Morgan might be the target, but the harpies were smart.
They were trying to take out her guard and leave her vulnerable.
Too bad they miscalculated.
She would not go down without a fight.
But the instant she stepped forward to enter the fight, the gargoyle roared in denial. His black eyes glowed, the magic infused in the Academy seemed to swell around him, until she recognized a familiar portal opening up to her right.
“Go.” The gargoyle’s word was a rumble of rock on rock.
Morgan shook her head. “Not without you.”
She edged closer, but she took no more than a few steps when his tail lashed out, slamming against her chest, and knocking her off her feet. As she flew through the air, the last thing she saw was the gargoyle being overwhelmed by harpies before the portal flared bright and yanked her into its grip.
“Nooo!” The pull on her wavered at her demand, but it wasn’t enough, and the world around her vanished.
Chapter Four
Pure darkness of the void surrounded her until bright lights flickered into view, reminding her of a stunning, star-studded evening sky. But they weren’t stars, they were doorways to new worlds.
And she needed to find a way back to the Academy.
Heart of the Assassins (An Academy of Assassins Novel Book 2) Page 3