Marked by an Assassin

by Heaton, Felicity

  “It’s called an alarm. They raise it when something bad happens.” How little did dragons know about the mortal world? Harbin knew they couldn’t be in it, but surely they could keep up to date somehow. He didn’t have time to explain everything to Loke, not when the crushing need to escape was growing stronger by the second, and not when each of those seconds that ticked by stole more of the dragon’s power.

  “Then something bad has happened.” Loke moved closer still.

  Now that Loke was nearer to him, Harbin could feel that he was already drastically weaker than when he had first arrived in his cell. Too weak to break the glass and aid Harbin in his escape?

  That thought had his throat closing, his stomach twisting, and his snow leopard side pushing for freedom, wild with a need to run free.

  Harbin shoved away from the wall and started pacing again, breathing hard and fast, struggling against his animal form as it rippled over his skin. No good would come from changing. It wouldn’t give him the added strength he needed in order to escape the cell, but he couldn’t stop the urge that ran rampant through him, stronger than he had ever felt it.

  He had to shift.

  He snarled, his canines lengthening and his claws emerging. He couldn’t take it anymore. He had thought he was strong enough to survive a few days in Archangel’s hands but he wasn’t. Being here, being near the female and discovering what he had done to her and what Archangel had done to her and others because of him, was too much to bear. His heart couldn’t take it. Not when the female had softened it, leaving it vulnerable once more.

  He clawed at his chest, punching holes in his black t-shirt.

  Fur rippled over his skin, a flash of silver marked with darker spots.

  The alarm started again, the red flashing lights stinging his sensitive eyes and making him growl through his fangs.

  A shriek pierced the wailing noise, not mechanical but made by a living creature. The scent of blood crept into his cell. Was Archangel under attack?

  His claws grew longer as more grunts sounded and the metallic clash of weapons reached his ears. A battle. He itched for freedom for a different reason as the noises grew louder, coming closer to his cell. He wanted to fight too. He wanted to make Archangel pay for everything they had done.

  He prowled closer to the glass, his breathing turning heavier and harder, his chest heaving as he struggled for control and fought for patience. His time would come. Archangel would pay in blood for the things they had done to him and his kin.

  They would pay for the things they had done to the female.

  The need to avenge her burned hot in his blood and he couldn’t contain the feral roar as it rose up his throat, his primal instincts forcing it from his lips as every inch of him coiled tight, ready for the coming battle, itching for it. He would avenge her.

  “Can you see anything?” He managed to push the words out, more growl than syllables when his animal side was at the helm and he was barely suppressing the shift, holding himself in mortal form by sheer will alone.

  “Nothing.” Frustration laced that word, speaking of Loke’s deep desire to escape.

  A desire that matched his.

  The sounds grew closer, the fight near enough that a splash of blood landed on the pristine white tiles outside his cell. Whoever had invaded Archangel this time meant business.

  He pressed his palms and his cheek to the cool glass front of his cell, desperate to catch a glimpse of the fight and the ones responsible for shedding so much Archangel blood so swiftly.

  The alarms ceased and the lights stopped flashing, the brighter white ones coming back so suddenly that Harbin flinched.

  When he opened his eyes again, they widened.

  Clad in skin-tight obsidian armour, his blue-black hair dishevelled by the violent clash and crimson splattered across his pale skin, and his violet eyes filled with displeasure and irritation, his boss was a formidable sight, but Harbin’s heart leaped in his chest all the same.

  “Hartt!” he barked and the elf slid him a thoroughly unimpressed look as he strode towards him.

  “What the Devil made you toss yourself into this predicament?” Hartt stopped outside of Harbin’s cell and he was about to answer when he felt the familiar and unsettling sensation that only one person caused in him.

  He looked off to his left, to the other elf standing there, glaring into Loke’s cell, his jet black eyes no doubt narrowed on the shifter.

  Fuery curled his lip at Loke, flashing a hint of fang, and then waved his hand in the air, producing a cloth. He methodically wiped his long black blade on it, cleaning the blood from the metal, the look in his eyes relaying the dark thoughts in his mind. He wanted to kill Loke too, and probably every other poor fae, immortal or vampire in the cellblock. Fuery didn’t distinguish between friend and foe, because he saw only foes.

  Tainted bastard.

  Harbin felt sure that Hartt was the only one capable of keeping Fuery in line, and that without his boss holding the mad bastard’s leash, the elf would have killed Harbin and every assassin at the guild a long time ago.

  “Fuery, get your backside in gear and deal with those guards.” Hartt pointed towards the end of the corridor they had come from.

  Fuery grinned, sick excitement flashing in his black eyes as he turned to face his new enemies and crooked his armoured clawed finger, beckoning them to their doom. His pointed ears flared back against overlong blue-black hair that he had drawn back to reveal them, securing the top half into a ponytail with an elegant silver clasp but leaving the rest down to curl around the neck of his obsidian armour.

  He bared his fangs and disappeared in a flash.

  Hartt watched him go, his carefully schooled expression not hiding the wariness he felt. The regret.

  Harbin growled, regaining his attention. Hartt could be as cold as Fuery when he needed to be, but the elf still had a little too much heart at times, was swayed by it when he should have been stronger. Archangel deserved what Fuery was dishing out to them and if Harbin were free of his cell, he would be fighting alongside the elf, no trace of regret or pity in his veins.

  Hartt sighed out his breath and slowly slid his violet gaze back to Harbin, and this time the compassion in it was for him. He bared his fangs at his boss, reminding him that he didn’t need his pity and that he had sworn to keep everything Harbin had told him to himself. If Fuery caught Hartt looking at him as if he was a special snowflake and needed someone to take care of him, it wouldn’t be long before the entire guild was talking about him behind his back, trying to figure out why Hartt treated him differently from the rest of them.

  “Stand back.” Hartt pulled a small black device from the air, twisted it and pressed it to the glass of Harbin’s cell. He flicked a look at Loke. “I suggest you move back too.”

  Harbin did as instructed, striding to the back of his cell and curling into a ball in one corner, covering his head with his arms as he tucked it close to his knees. He sensed Hartt move and braced himself. A bright flash, a deafening bang, and then a shockwave rocked him and a thousand needles stung his flesh as pieces of the glass hit him. He grunted and grimaced, his ears ringing and the tiny lacerations stinging for a few seconds before his body began to heal them.

  In the distance, Hartt muttered several curses in the mortal tongue.

  Boots crunched on the fragments of glass.

  “I suggest you escape this place.” Those words weren’t directed at him. Hartt was speaking to Loke.

  Harbin had to do something. He couldn’t leave the dragon behind. They could all escape together. He pushed onto his feet and carefully crossed the treacherous span of glass-littered tiles to the front of his cell, grimacing whenever a piece cut into his bare soles.

  “Desist!” The deep commanding voice had Hartt whipping his head in the direction of the end of the corridor and Harbin’s stomach dropped as he sensed the wave of power that washed through the cellblock.

  There would be no escaping that way, not w
hen the newcomer was blocking their path. Whoever he was, he was too powerful for them to fight, and Hartt seemed to know it. Even worse, Fuery seemed to know it too. The elf was suddenly beside Hartt, a stunned expression on his face that quickly morphed back into dark lines that said he was ready to challenge this new foe, even when he wasn’t sure he would win the battle.

  Mad bastard.

  Harbin reached the front of his cell. “Take the dragon.”

  Hartt flicked him a look that made his stomach sink lower. “I cannot teleport three. I am sorry.”

  His boss dropped his violet gaze to his boots, a sorrowful edge to his expression, and then drew in a deep breath.

  Harbin didn’t have a chance to argue with him. Hartt grabbed him with one hand and collared Fuery with the other. He caught a flash of a bare-chested male with bright blue hair standing beyond the cracked glass front of a cell, and then darkness swallowed him whole.

  Dammit.

  He shirked Hartt’s grip the second they landed in an unfamiliar dark city street and paced away from him, the cuts on his feet stinging with each stride across the wet tarmac. Hartt’s steady gaze followed him, and he could sense the elf’s desire to apologise. He shot Hartt a look that told him it wasn’t necessary, because he knew that if he could have, he would have taken Loke with them. Hartt would have seen it as a golden opportunity to add a dragon shifter to their ranks.

  Hartt drew down another deep breath and slowly sank to his haunches. He rested his elbows on his bent knees and stared straight ahead, his violet eyes turning unfocused. Harbin knew better than to ask if he was feeling alright. Teleporting three took a lot out of him when one of the three was Fuery. As mad as the elf was, he was extremely powerful, and that meant he drained Hartt’s strength. The rule with teleporting went that the more powerful a being an elf teleported with them, the bigger the drain on their power, and the longer it took them to recover.

  They would have to wait for Hartt to recuperate and they would have to do it somewhere in the mortal realm.

  Carrying both him and Fuery just a short distance from Archangel would have sucked the strength from Hartt. There was no way he could teleport all three of them back to Hell without killing himself.

  They needed a place to hide, and Harbin needed answers, and there was one place they might find both of those things.

  Underworld.

  CHAPTER 10

  Harbin was sure he was about to make the biggest mistake of his life yet.

  He stared at the black steel door of the closed nightclub, his heart thundering against his ribs, slowly building up the courage to knock on the damn thing and accept whatever fate awaited him. Whatever happened once that door opened, it was going to be tough to handle and he wasn’t sure he was ready.

  He wasn’t sure he would ever be ready.

  He had spent the time it had taken to locate the nightclub and then the long walk to it mulling over everything and gathering the balls to go through with the plan, but now he was here, that strength had fled him and he wanted to forget it and find somewhere else to lay low and discuss everything he had discovered about his mark.

  The two elves staring at him as if he had gone mad propelled him into action when they both stepped forwards, their armour peeling back from their hands in unison as they raised them to knock.

  He growled at both of them and they glared at him, but relented when he blew out his breath and approached the door.

  He could do this.

  How bad could it be?

  Images of his older brother killing him sprang to mind.

  Or worse, Cavanaugh looking bitterly disappointed to see him again.

  His hand fell, his stomach dropping with it. He couldn’t do it. It had been too long and Cavanaugh probably blamed him for everything that had happened and hated his guts, and he wouldn’t blame his brother one bit, but he didn’t think he could take seeing the anger and resentment in his brother’s eyes.

  Not again.

  “For the love of the gods.” Hartt grabbed him before he could move a muscle and darkness swallowed them.

  When it evaporated, all three of them were standing in the middle of the closed nightclub with several fae and some mortals staring at them. A slender mortal female near the long black bar that lined the wall opposite him turned towards him, her blonde hair swaying across her shoulders as she shifted and pinned him with large dark eyes. His own eyes widened when he saw beyond her, catching sight of the unconscious blue-haired male laid out on the bar top, the coloured lights rotating above him washing him with sombre hues.

  Loke.

  Harbin looked back at the female. Was this the one who had betrayed Loke? He would have growled at her had the male standing beside her not been staring at him so intently, radiating familiar power that had him carefully considering any move he made.

  The one who had commanded Hartt and Fuery to halt their attack.

  Another elf.

  The male’s violet eyes glimmered with keen intelligence and his blue-black hair was preened and perfect, neatly clipped at the sides and back, revealing his pointed ears. Black scaled armour hugged a lithe physique that belied the power this male held within his grasp.

  It wasn’t only physical power. He radiated power of another nature, his regal bearing and confidence speaking of a male who commanded respect and seemed to have it from all those around him—a mortal female, a jaguar shifter, an Archangel huntress and a demon king.

  Even Harbin’s two elf companions seemed at a loss and unable to bring themselves to look at the male, which led Harbin to suspect he was some sort of leader of their kind.

  The elf’s pure violet gaze darkened and the hand he held against the blonde female’s neck tensed. “Ignore them. Thorne and Sable will deal with them.”

  That didn’t sound good.

  The blonde female nodded and returned her focus to Loke, and the black-haired Archangel huntress and her burly russet-haired bare-chested companion advanced on him. The big demon grunted, his red eyes glowing like embers as he rolled his thickly muscled shoulders and his dusky horns began to curl from behind his pointed ears.

  The huntress Harbin might be able to handle, but the demon was going to prove a problem, especially since he had the sinking feeling the pair were bonded. If Harbin tried to take out the huntress, the demon would lose his shit, and an enraged demon was far too powerful for him to take down, even with two elves on his side.

  A door to the left of the black bar shot open and Harbin’s breath rushed from his lungs as his gaze shot towards it and landed on another tall male clad in just a pair of pale grey sweats.

  Fuck, maybe letting the demon kill him wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

  The new male’s silver eyes verged on wild, his equally silver short hair mussed on top, as if he had been sleeping just seconds before.

  Just seconds before he had smelled Harbin in the club.

  The male stormed towards him and Harbin struggled to breathe, fighting to settle his heart and his nerves, and find a sliver of strength and courage to face the male who was looking at him as if he was staring at a ghost but was throwing off dangerous vibes that had Harbin’s animal side prowling and ready to push for freedom and attack.

  The big snow leopard male was pissed as all Hell and Harbin could hardly blame him.

  But at odds with the anger rolling off him in tangible waves was something that gave Harbin the courage and hope he needed.

  Incredulity filled the male’s pale eyes.

  The sandy-haired jaguar shifter moved into the path of Sable and Thorne and folded his arms across his chest, causing the dark grey t-shirt he wore with his paler grey sweats to tighten across his back. “I have a no fighting policy in this club, as you’re well aware. At least until I know what the fuck they want.”

  Sable’s golden eyes darkened and Harbin had the impression she wanted to ignore the shifter and attack them anyway. She looked like the type that loved to fight. Maybe the almighty train wreck
that was about to hit him and spill the story of his life would provide enough entertainment for her and everyone else in the room.

  Harbin sucked down a breath and blew it out. “Brother.”

  Everyone turned to look at him, but the jaguar shifter’s stunned expression won first prize. “You know them, Cavanaugh?”

  His brother nodded, his silver eyes locked on Harbin. “I like to think I knew one of them anyway… it’s been a while since we’ve seen each other. I might be wrong.”

  Those words cut him and he dropped his gaze to his bare feet, clenched his teeth and tried to weather the hurt that welled up inside him. He cursed the softer part of him, the emotions the female had unleashed, breathing new life into them, because they only caused him pain. They were the source of so much agony and he had kept them contained, had locked them away to spare himself, and now he couldn’t so much as breathe without feeling as if he was dying, each gulp of air scraping in his lungs.

  He sensed Fuery and Hartt flanking him, and silently thanked them for their support. Hartt knew the story of his life, but Fuery didn’t, and Harbin hadn’t expected him to care enough about him to have his back.

  Although, the mad bastard probably just wanted to fight everyone else in the room, and forming an offensive line with him and Hartt was a good way of pushing someone into attacking first.

  Harbin lifted his head and looked back at Cavanaugh, and the low-lit club and everyone in it fell away as he stared into familiar silvery eyes, at a face that took him back to better times and only made the pain in his heart grow fiercer.

  Sable shouted something and Hartt retaliated, but Harbin didn’t pay them any attention as he looked at his brother, fighting to find the right words to say.

  He had been keeping track of Cavanaugh’s movements over the years, using his network of contacts like spies to keep an eye on his older brother. It had surprised him when Cavanaugh had left the pride and come to London, but it hadn’t surprised him when he had learned that his brother had finally found his mate and brought her back to Underworld with him. He was glad for them in a small way, one he didn’t want to acknowledge, not when he knew that such an ending wasn’t on the cards for him. It was rare for a snow leopard shifter to find their mate, and Cavanaugh’s had been right in front of him from the start.