In response, heat flared up her back, and she sucked in a startled breath.
She turned her back to the mirror and slowly lifted up the bottom of her shirt and camisole.
Embossed across her back was a full phoenix, his wings spread wide, his drab feathers replaced by pure fire, the colors almost metallic as they glimmered under the light. Reds, golds and yellows were fanned over Morgan’s ribs, the very tips tinged with green and blue, shimmering like the flames were actually moving. Dozens of long tail feathers curled down her spine, the endings blooming out into a dramatic display of flames.
“Holy fuck.”
That explained what happened to the bird…or not.
She didn’t have a clue what it meant, other than they were all three tied together.
She probed the edges of the bird, only to have the wings flutter in agitation, his claws gouging in her back, as if staking claim. A single drop of blood beaded up under one of his claws.
She jerked her hand back, and the claws slowly unclenched from digging into her flesh. “Okay, you don’t feel safe here. Neither do I.”
Unfortunately, they were both trapped.
Very gently, she rolled her shirt back down, completely flummoxed. A hint of metal caught her eye, and she pulled out her necklace to see the end had formed a tarnished, old skeleton key.
But what did it unlock?
“You okay in there?”
She jumped at Draven’s concerned voice, and shoved the necklace back down her shirt. She quickly snatched up the gargoyle, held it for a moment, uncertain what to do with him, then sighed and shoved him back down her camisole, too. “Sorry, little dude.”
He wiggled around to find a comfortable spot, snuggling against her side, curling around her until the little beastie was hugging her close, leaving a small, nearly indistinguishable lump under her shirt. For better or worse, they were tied together until she could figure out what the hell had actually happened.
Since she wasn’t in any immediate danger, she would worry about herself later, after she had a chance to reunite with her team and figure out what the blazes was happening in the primordial realm.
Morgan pushed open the bathroom door, and stopped short, her head snapping up as she scanned the room. Warmth flashed across her skin, every cell coming alive, and her breath caught in her throat.
“What’s wrong?” Ryder snapped to attention, taking position in front of her.
Draven remained slouched against the wall, his knee bent, his foot flat against the wall, his casual stance belying the way he intently scanned the crowd from under his lashes.
“Ascher and Kincade are back.” She smiled, but her nerves were drawn up tight, remembering their last conversation. What if nothing changed? What if they kept treating her as an outsider? She wasn’t sure her heart could take it anymore.
She could barely stand still, scanning the room again, not sure which direction they would emerge.
Then she saw Ascher and Kincade slice through the crowd, every inch the predators, people scurrying out of their way. Ascher wasn’t in hellhound form, but barely. He wore pants slung low on his hips, his form-fitting shirt displaying each and every muscle in fine detail. Steam practically rose from his skin as his eyes locked onto her. His eyes were glowing with emotions, and when he smiled, his canines were more pronounced.
She couldn’t move.
Seconds later, he was standing in front of her.
He enveloped her in a hug, until she was cocooned in his charcoal and fire scent. His skin was so scorching hot, she was marveled that all she felt was…like coming home. When he leaned back, she didn’t want to let him go. He cupped her face, staring into her eyes, as if searching for something. Then he rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. Touching her seemed to calm him, and the slight smoky residue that rose like a mist around him faded.
“Be gentle with him. His heart isn’t made of stone,” Ascher whispered in her ear, then reluctantly lifted his head.
Morgan gave a start of surprise, uncertain how to reply.
Neither man cared for the other, only tolerating each other for her sake. To have Ascher request a boon for Kincade made her heart wrench in her chest.
Her worry over Kincade intensified, the molten silver marks on her arm aching as she tried to read him—it was like running into a brick wall.
Kincade was a hard-ass, never bowing to anyone.
It was one of the things she liked best about him.
She didn’t want to change him, she only wanted to be a part of his life…but maybe she was asking for too much. The last thing she wanted was to turn him into someone else.
Ascher ran his fingers down her arm, distracting her as the heat of his touch chased goosebumps across her shoulders. He caught her hand in his, gave her one last squeeze, reluctantly releasing her and stepping to the side.
She immediately missed his warmth.
He didn’t go far, as if afraid to let her out of his sight.
She felt the same way.
She barely resisted the urge to reach out, pull him close, and never let him go.
When Morgan turned away, her gaze connected with Kincade’s turbulent light green eyes. His look was intense, eating her up with his heated gaze. There wasn’t any warmth in his expression. He was too absorbed in examining her from head to toe. He looked like hell—his clothes wrinkled and unkempt, his face haggard.
She suspected the only thing holding him upright was sheer, stubborn willpower.
She approached him cautiously. His expression was so forbidding, she wasn’t sure if he would hug her or wrap his hands around her throat. When she stopped only a hairsbreadth away from touching him, he flinched. She felt like he’d punched his fist through her ribcage and squeezed her heart.
She narrowed her eyes on him, gritting her teeth while the molten silver mating marks on her arms ached, as if they were being ripped out of her arm.
Even though he stood only inches away from her, it was like he was already gone.
To hell with that!
She wasn’t letting him go without a fight.
She took the last step separating them and wrapped her arms around him, unable to forget what it felt like to have his lips on hers.
He stiffened until she felt like she was hugging a rock, but she couldn’t tell if it was his alternate form or if her touch revolted him that much.
It was all she could do not to lean back and drop him to the floor, anything to get a reaction out of him.
She ran her hands up his chest to his shoulders, then skimmed them around to the back of his neck, sinking her fingers into the dark, messy strands of his shoulder-length hair. If she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend there was nothing wrong.
“I knew you wouldn’t give up. I always knew you would come for me.”
“Even though you regret our bonding?’ His hands rested lightly on her hips, as if afraid she was a figment of his imagination who would vanish if he touched her. When she leaned back to look at his face, he grumbled low in his throat, and wrapped his arms around her so tightly, her ribs creaked.
Morgan barely resisted the urge to smack him. “I never said any such thing. Never.” She yanked his head back by his hair until she could see his face, not caring about his hiss of pain. “I want a partner. I don’t need a guardian or a parent or a teacher. I need you to be my friend and mate. I need you to stop being an ass, and stop pretending there’s nothing between us. Understand? I won’t survive this world alone. If we don’t work together, I fear no one from the Academy will either.”
Emotions flooded those wonderful eyes for one heart-stopping second. Then he managed to gain control of himself and became all business. “What’s going on?”
“We need to find Atlas.” She shook her head, conscious they were not completely alone. Fragile hope that he finally understood what she’d been trying to beat into his thick skull soared through her, and she grabbed it with both hands, wanting to cheer at the
small victory.
His expression sharpened subtly, and she suddenly got a sinking feeling in her gut. She pulled away and crossed her arms.
“What do you know.” It wasn’t a question. The bastard was keeping something from her.
“It’s not my place to say.” His jaw tightened stubbornly, and Morgan threw up her hands in disgust, her magic rising with her annoyance.
The last thing she needed was to draw more attention. She could already feel eyes on her wherever she went.
“Look, you either tell me, or I’m going to head off and figure things out on my own.” She lifted her chin, determined to be just as stubborn as him. “Your choice.”
He cast her a calculating look, possibly measuring her resolve, then scowled when he didn’t find a crack. “Atlas was not on a sabbatical. He was banished from the elven lands. He refused to stay in the primordial realm, and went on a self-imposed exile to the Academy.”
Morgan shook her head in confusion, not understanding what he was trying to tell her. “So?”
“This castle is on elven land. When he led the students to this castle, he knew the consequences of returning.”
“They would’ve died if he didn’t.” Morgan was outraged, then went light-headed when the rest of what he said registered. “What do you mean, consequences?”
Kincade shook his head, his face grim as he raked his fingers through his hair. He refused to look at her. “The reason for his return doesn’t matter.”
“Like hell it doesn’t.” She was so furious, she couldn’t stop shaking. “Where did they put him?”
But she already knew.
This was a castle.
There was only one place to put him—the dungeon.
Magic rose, bubbling up from her bones at her outrage, burning to be used. The runes on her back grew heavy against her skin, the markings burning ice cold.
Find Atlas.
Chapter Nine
Morgan wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting when she commanded her magic to obey, but nothing certainly wasn’t it.
Her magic skimmed over the tattoo etched on her back, then seemed to fizzle out. Loki wiggled enthusiastically, using his talons to claw his way up her body, leaving behind bloody welts. He peeked out from the collar of her shirt, rested on her shoulder for a few seconds to nuzzle her chin, then sprang into air. Before she could catch the little bugger, he jumped to the floor and scampered away on all fours.
“Loki!”
“What the fuck!?”
Morgan ignored the others and raced after the beast, watching his tail swish back and forth as he romped between everyone’s legs like a hyper puppy. He reminded her of a baby dragon, but his jaw was squarer, he had a hide instead of scales, and lacked horns. His tiny wings weren’t large enough to carry him, but they did flare out for balance when he scrambled for purchase against the floor.
As she blindly followed, edging through the crowd, she noticed that no one else paid any attention to the little beast.
They can’t see him.
Morgan almost caught up with the pest when he skidded across the stone floor on a sharp turn and sprinted straight through a stone arch she hadn’t noticed even a second ago. When she charged through the doorway, magic splashed against her, revealing the spell keeping the passageway hidden.
Clever.
That’s when Morgan realized where Loki was going…to find Atlas.
Her magic hadn’t vanished, it had awakened the mutt from whatever stasis that had been holding him.
“Son of a bitch.” Kincade curled his hands into fists as he watched Morgan flit through the crowd, chasing after the gardog she just called Loki—a creature that was supposed to exist only in legends. Heart thudding against his ribs, he charged after her, not about to let her out of his sight.
He’d come too close to losing her too many times, spent too many nights dreaming about her…nightmares showing him how easily he could lose her if he didn’t find a way to curb her impulsive nature, but nothing he did could restrain her natural wildness.
Trying to control her only made her more reckless, and left him on the outside, helpless to protect her. He shoved at a kid who crossed into his path and blocked his view of Morgan for a few seconds.
Panic sent his pulse thundering in his ears.
He was no longer willing to keep his distance, not if it meant losing her.
He lost everything once and barely survived.
Losing her would destroy him.
She attracted danger—hell, she practically threw herself into it. He wanted to ask her to stop hunting, but she was so good, it was like it was bred into her blood and bones—hell, her very nature. But only one thing stopped him…she would never forgive him.
If she lived, even a day longer, he wouldn’t give a fuck if she remained pissed at him, but her bloodlines meant she would always be in danger.
He’d finally decided the only thing he could do was make sure she was prepared, even if it meant she ended up hating him in the process.
But the more time he spent with her, the harder it was to keep his hands to himself. Distance didn’t help either. He tried concealing his emotions, but his plan failed spectacularly. The little minx had found a way to block their connection. He woke up in a cold sweat when their connection disappeared from his mind.
Every day she pulled farther and farther away.
Every day it felt like she was gutting him.
He knew he would eventually die protecting her, and he would give his life gladly.
What he couldn’t live with was her risking her life without him there to guard her back.
He shook his head ruefully at his own folly.
Not only did his plan backfire, it ended up putting her in even more danger.
In this realm she needed their protection more than ever, and she didn’t even know it.
Even imagining the dangers she’d encountered without him nearly sent him to his knees.
And she no longer trusted him—the connection between them was all but shattered by his stupid-ass decisions.
Worse, he didn’t know how to fix it.
To hell with distance.
It wasn’t working.
No, now that they were stranded in the primordial realm, he had no intention of leaving her side. He had no problem chaining her to him if that’s what it took. Determination solidified in him, and he began to close the distance between them.
When she ran full speed into a wall, his lungs seized, and it took his brain a few seconds to comprehend that, instead of hurting herself, she had disappeared right through the stone.
Kincade didn’t hesitate, running full tilt after her.
Morgan slowed as she entered a dim, dingy passageway, wondering if she’d stepped into a different world. The main area was at least maintained…but not this section of the building. It was as if they couldn’t spare the magic for the castle’s upkeep.
Thanks to her enhanced senses, she didn’t need light to see in the dim, stifling corridor. Apparently, neither did Loki. He practically shimmered, the flame on his chest seeming to come alive. He zipped down the hall, dashing up the walls as if gravity didn’t apply to him, using his wings to glide through the air for a few seconds.
“Morgan.” Kincade’s husky growl caused her insides to tighten and her heart to go all mushy. She hadn’t heard him speak like that in a very long time, and her heart gave a betraying leap of hope.
Afraid the guys would try to stop her, Morgan increased her speed through the twists and turns of the tunnels, swearing under her breath when they easily kept pace.
“What the hell is that?” Draven asked.
“The myths call them gardogs.”
Morgan slowed her pace when she heard Kincade speak, and she realized he didn’t intend to stop her. She expected a long lecture about the dangers of running off on her own, and a twinge of guilt made her wince, because she knew he was right.
“They are said to appear in times of gre
at danger, and can only be awakened by those they deem worthy. They are literally guard dogs to their masters. They’re fierce, never show any fear. When they get bigger, they can be unstoppable killing machines.”
Kincade’s voice was almost conversational, not barking out orders as he had been over the past few weeks, and she found herself slowing her pace even more so she could listen to his wonderful, resonant voice. A wispy smell of warm stone curled around her, a telltale sign that he was deliciously close. It was hard not to reach back and touch him, make sure he was real and not a figment of her dreams come back to haunt her.
The further they traveled under the castle, the danker the passageway became. The darkness became more invasive, trickles of slimy water and moss trailed down the walls, while the saturated air sat heavily in her lungs. Large, broken stones lay abandoned in their path from where they’d crumbled from the ceiling and walls, everything so degraded she half expected the building to come down around them, and she was grateful to have the men at her back in case she fell through the floor.
She slowed, wanting to prolong the peace between them, when the hair on the back of her neck rose.
They were no longer alone.
She searched for the threat, when she heard a cat give a ferocious hiss and snarl. “Watch where you’re going, you clumsy oaf.”
Morgan glanced down, gaping in shock to see a mangy-looking tomcat…speaking to her? The creature sat on his haunches, running his tail through his paws as he inspected it for damages.
“You almost tromped all over me.” He glared up at her with yellow, feral eyes, his face slightly flattened. His orange striped fur was ruffled and standing slightly on edge, but that wasn’t what held her mute. No, that would be the wings that flickered against his back in agitation. Not-so-dainty claws snicked out of his paws, and he pointed one at her. “You’re lucky I don’t take a chunk out of you.”
A flash of movement out of the corner of her eyes caught her attention, and Morgan turned to see Loki charging down the hall, his tiny fangs bared in challenge, a tiny growl rumbling from his chest.
Heart of the Assassins (An Academy of Assassins Novel Book 2) Page 9