Microsoft Word - Assassin Master final for conversion

by Assassin Master [Whispers] (mobi)

  she’ll be the one getting you,” Roll advised, seeing the hesitant look on Tyr’s face.

  “I’m an assassin,” Tyr reminded him coolly. “I

  have no compassion or mercy.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Roll replied with a smug smile.

  * * * *

  Carrie watched with mounting apprehension as the large man approached her. Judging by his enormous size, she estimated him to be at least six- foot four. With the amount of muscles bulging and straining against his clothing, she assumed him to weigh over two hundred and forty pounds. His rich brown hair reached just to his ears, curling softly, red and blond highlights caught the sun shining into the

  tiny window. His eyes caused her to be wary. Beautiful blue eyes rested intently on her.

  She could feel him stripping her with his thoughts,

  undressing her mostly unclad body. She knew he had helped Roll bathe her and her cheeks flamed red with the thought of his large hands roaming her naked body. This was the man she had thought to be her savior. She pulled the blanket tightly around herself. She had seen the same smoldering look from many a man. On him it was predatory. Her pulse quickened; she could hear her heartbeat thump in her ears. His masculinity oozed from his pores like a heady cologne of pheromones, causing her to clamp her legs together, protecting her extreme vulnerability.

  Tyr smiled slightly as she shifted. Her hands came

  up to cover over her breasts, pulling her blanket around her shaking body more snugly. She lay wheezing on the small bed, her chest aching painfully. She coughed, then gagged on the phlegm lodged in her throat. Tyr held a steaming cup in his hands. He sat on the chair before her. He was watching her silently; his intense expression almost unnerved her.

  “I don’t want it,” Carrie rasped. Her jaw quivered, then rose in challenge.

  “What? Oh, you mean my soup. I don’t remember offering you any,” he said. He lifted the cup to his lips and swallowed noisily.

  “What do you want?” Carrie asked. The heavenly

  scent of chicken noodle soup wafted to her nose. She

  was so terribly hungry. Her chest ached and she knew she was battling pneumonia. She could imagine the heated soup soothing her aching throat.

  “I just thought you might like some company,” Tyr said, taking another long healthy sip of the savory soup, his heated eyes never leaving her own.

  “No.”

  “Too bad. I’m not into Roll’s type of work, you know. I thought you might be interested in a deal,” Tyr said. He rose to leave.

  “Wait!” Carrie rasped. “What kind of deal?”

  Tyr ventured slowly back to the chair. Lowering his long legs, he sat, sighing. He regarded her with narrowed eyes; his thoughts looked as though they lumbered throughout his mind. It was apparent he was choosing his words carefully.

  “Like I said, I’m not in the same business Roll is

  in. I just came out here to do some fishing.” Carrie’s heart quickened. “Swear?”

  “Oh, I swear, all right. I think it’s a damn shame

  he grabbed you. Pretty little thing like you deserves her own family, a decent husband, a couple of sweet kids, maybe even a dog or cat,” Tyr said casually. He once more sipped at the soup.

  “Will you help me?” Carrie pleaded. He had, after all, saved her once before. She had been so elated while clasped within his strong embrace. From his words it sounded as though he really had been thinking of her sad situation. She so badly wanted all

  of those things he had listed. She could only dare to dream...

  “Well...I don’t know. I mean, I should get

  something out of it, after all,” Tyr said, pondering.

  Carrie’s eyes flickered, her thoughts racing. What could he possibly want? She had nothing of value; she didn’t really have a dime to her name except perhaps a few hundred dollars in her savings account. She wondered how much Roll would make by selling her and highly doubted she would be able to come up with even a meager portion of it. Her eyes began to tear in desperation. She fought to control her emotions, not wanting him to see how desperate she was, but failed miserably.

  “I would give you whatever you want,” she

  begged.

  “You have money?” Tyr asked.

  “I would get some,” she said quickly. “How?”

  “I would find a way. Oh please, I will find a way, I

  promise,” she whimpered. Her voice sounded so pitiful to her own ears, she felt ashamed.

  Tyr once more seemed to ponder their dilemma, rolling the mug in his large hands. Carrie waited. “I already have a lot of money. Roll would be furious with me. He is sort of a friend, though not a good one,” Tyr mentioned.

  Her face fell at the disclosure. “Please, there

  must be something I could give you,” she begged. She

  coughed once more and sobbed as her sore throat flared up, her unsteady hand clasped to her chest.

  “You’re a very beautiful woman,” Tyr said to her,

  and his eyes settled onto her with a small leer.

  Carrie looked at him. She had been right, he was interested. But how interested? She began shaking. “I have never been with a man before.” She laid all of her cards on the table; the ball was now in his court. She would just have to see where he would lead…

  * * * *

  “Really?” Tyr said with unveiled interest. He watched as her face colored. He could see where her train of thought was taking her. She must be feeling desperate. Good. Very good.

  “I swear,” she replied.

  “I might be interested, but of course you will have to prove it to me. A show of good faith,” Tyr informed her.

  Carrie’s shaking increased, her unveiled confusion was apparent. “How?”

  “I could tell by a simple touch,” he told her. He allowed his eyes to drop to her lower extremity, wanting her to be absolutely certain of his intent.

  “No!” she sobbed in fright. Her eyes widened in

  understanding; her arms wrapped about herself protectively. “You’re so big.”

  “All right, I guess you have nothing else of value to me,” Tyr said, and rose to leave.

  “Wait!” she cried to his retreating back. “You

  promise you won’t hurt me?” Her small, panicked voice shook.

  He stopped and turned, controlling his elation. He

  felt smugly victorious. “I would be very gentle.” Nodding stiffly, she lay back onto the bed as her

  eyes flowed with tears. Tyr approached her slowly, placing his mug on the floor beside the bed, then moved between her legs. Carefully, and with gentle hands, he eased her slightly resisting thighs apart, exposing her to his eager eyes. Her slender legs shook as his fingers slid the length of her pale, silky skin, trailing down the inside of her slim thigh to her mound. She’s so beautiful! he thought to himself.

  Carrie was whimpering before him, her hands balled into fists at her sides. He watched her expression as two large fingers flicked around her vulnerable lower lips. Her quick intake of breath had him hardening uncomfortably. Spreading her, the tip of his finger delved within her. He felt himself harden further as he explored her deeper. She was incredibly tight and he paused briefly to remove himself and wet his finger with his saliva for an easier entry. Her taste was sweet.

  “Please,” she wept, frightened.

  Tyr knew she was realizing she was alone with a powerful man. He could do whatever he wanted to her, whether she allowed it or not. It was impossible for him to hide his deepening desire. She tried to clamp her legs together once more, but he had

  anticipated her reaction and held her firmly.

  “Easy, sweetheart, I won’t hurt you,” he said gruffly in response to her skittish behavior. He had already known she would be untouched when he reached her barrier. Roll had told him. Roll would know; he was a professional, he would have checked. Yet Tyr could not help but continue his gentle discoveries; careful of her exquisite tight heat,
he ran a soft thumb back and forth across her nub while his fingers continued their probe.

  She was now moist and hot, and he would have

  liked nothing more than to capture and taste her lower lips and take her right now, Roll be damned. He could imagine his tongue laving her, sliding inside her, readying her to take in his long, hard length. Her heat would close to envelop him, and she would dance beneath his body with wild abandonment, so tempting, so teasing.

  His other hand captured an ankle, lifting her slightly, exposing her further, moving closer, wanting her. His eager erection was now pressed painfully up against his uncomfortably tight zipper, demanding to be released and his fantasy acted upon.

  His breath quickened. He could see her breasts

  rise and fall with his lingering touch. His flannel shirt was huge upon her tiny frame, the top two buttons missing, and it had slid low, exposing the soft creamy whiteness of her flesh.

  Tenderly he kissed the inside of her delicate

  knee, his lips trailing feather-light, moving up her thigh, and all the while he watched her. Her tears had stopped flowing. She swallowed heavily, and he grinned when she moaned beneath him instead of whimpering. Her small pink tongue darted out quickly to moisten two dry lips. He could see he was eliciting a response. Her eyes had closed, yet he could make out certain confusion on her pale, innocent face.

  He was so close to reaching his desire he could

  smell her heat. His anticipation magnified, he wanted to be her first, and he wanted her so desperately he ached with yearning.

  Suddenly Carrie jerked almost upright; she

  coughed and wheezed once more, gagging. Her body cringed from the pain she was in. Tyr pulled away from her immediately, giving himself a sound shake— the spell was broken. He sighed, realizing now was definitely not the time. He regained his control and removed his finger from her.

  He reluctantly released her ankle. Rising, he

  strolled back over to the chair, trying to achieve an easy stride, though he could feel his lower extremity quiver with his disappointment. He watched as Carrie covered herself once more with the blanket, huddling under it. Her cheeks were flaming a bright red. She looked dazed and confused from the feelings he had aroused within her.

  Tyr was positive no one had ever touched her like

  that. And though she looked frightened, he could see

  the erratic pounding of her pulse at her throat from the sensations still lingering, even though he had ceased his explorations.

  “You’re a very pretty girl. How did you manage to keep the boys off you?” he asked with interest. So many started too young in this day and age.

  Wiping a quick hand over her flushed face, she

  gazed up at him. “It was a gift meant for my husband. The only true gift I have which is mine alone to offer.”

  “But you’re willing to give it up,” Tyr asked.

  “I will be raped repeatedly for the rest of my life if you don’t help me. I will never have a husband to love me, or the children I want someday.”

  She was right, he thought. Once again he battled

  his almost overwhelming compassion for her. Damn, this was more difficult than he had thought it would be. How the hell did Roll do this continuously? He needed to shelve his compassion and mercy as Roll had suggested.

  “I could be persuaded to trade you for your freedom, but right now you’re not very appealing,” Tyr informed her cruelly.

  Carrie coughed again and once more choked on

  phlegm. Her wrist dragged across her runny nose. She put her hands to her flushed face, looking desolate.

  “Maybe if you get a bit better I might be more interested,” he said thoughtfully, as though still considering her offer.

  She lowered her hands. “What is it you want me to do? I will do anything for you, anything at all if you will help me,” she begged. Her expressive, deep blue eyes gazed upon him so hopefully, with so much meaning.

  Tyr felt his heart skip a beat; she was offering herself to him. Images of her small pink tongue licking her full rosy lips came to mind. Her sweet taste lingered in his mouth, and once more he felt himself harden uncomfortably. Damn it, she was so tempting! And way too vulnerable. Exasperated, he ran a quick hand over his face and shifted into a more comfortable position. He handed her the now warm mug of heavenly smelling soup.

  “Roll went to get you some medicine. He’s leaving

  again once he gets back. You’ll be here alone with me. Take the medicine, do as I say. Eat and get better. When Roll returns I’ll tell him I’m buying you. Half of you belongs to me already, since I found you out there and saved you. It’s kind of a code of ethics really; he won’t be suspicious. He can fly us out of here and after you fulfill your end of the deal, I’ll let you go.”

  “Swear?” Carrie asked. Once more her beautiful,

  innocent eyes looked at him hopefully. “Swear.”

  Carrie dutifully drank the soup.

  Chapter Four

  Carrie lay on the small bed, wheezing in agony. Her temperature spiked to one hundred and four degrees. She moaned as Tyr once more placed a cool cloth over her forehead. Her arms and legs lay limply, unmoving.

  “Tyr?” she whispered. Her tiny voice sounded eerily ghostlike in the nearly empty room.

  “I’m here, sweetheart,” Tyr said.

  “Please don’t let me die. I want a family.”

  She began weeping. Her lower lip trembled and her eyelids blinked rapidly a few times to try and stop the tears' descent, but her efforts proved futile. Tyr was amazed even now she fought to control her display of emotion. The one single sentiment her weeping caused her was dismal inward loathing, although she had given him reason as to why.

  Her stepfather had laughed uproariously,

  belittling her when she or her mother had wept, calling them weak, pathetic, vile pieces of worthless human flesh. Angered with this insight, he had sworn he would never ridicule her for something as simple as crying. He couldn’t imagine why a grown man would find a woman's or child’s sadness so amusing.

  Carrie lost her emotional battle as slow tears trailed a path from the corners of her eyes to land on the bed sheets. Her breathing, ragged and uneven, told the story of her unbearable pain and heartache.

  “I won’t let you die,” Tyr promised. Tenderly, he

  used another cold cloth to wet her parched lips and soothe her heated flesh. He trailed the moist coldness across her throat, down to her chest, which he bared for the briefest of moments, trying to lower her ever rising temperature.

  Carrie’s condition had worsened steadily over the

  last two days while Tyr waited impatiently for Roll to return with medication. He felt he now understood why Roll had raised his hand to her. He was watching her die right before his eyes and all he wanted was to shake her, to scream at her to get well.

  He dropped the cloth into the plastic bowl filled

  with water and melting ice cubes he had situated by the bed. He ran a quick hand over tired eyes. He was angry with the compassion he was feeling for her. He reminded himself for the hundredth time he was an assassin and he was good at it.

  He killed heartless, sadistic, evil people who murdered the innocent. Yet gazing into Carrie’s flushed face, he realized she wasn’t heartless, sadistic, or evil. She was an innocent. She hadn't asked to come here, Roll had stolen her. She was frightened and alone and now seriously ill. All she had was Tyr. A very unnerved Tyr. He took lives, not saved

  them.

  He was at a loss as to what to do for her. For a brief moment he wished his sister-in-law, Casey, were here; she would know what to do. Then he realized it was best she wasn’t. One look at Carrie’s sweet, angelic, tear-filled face and she would crack both him and Roll over the head with a rock. No doubt with his brother cheering her on enthusiastically.

  Once more Carrie jerked as another ragged cough

  was torn from her throat. Tyr gathered her in his arms, w
atching helplessly as she struggled to recapture her stolen breath. She gagged and gasped, and for a moment couldn’t breathe.

  “It’s all right, sweetheart, you’re not alone,” Tyr said, trying to calm her as her wild panicked eyes settled onto his, her small, trembling hands rested against his chest. His hand ran the length of her small back soothingly while he cuddled her. She felt so small and helpless. She was so small and helpless.

  “I want lots of children,” Carrie gasped out.

  “They’ll all be beautiful, just like their mother,”

  he said.

  She smiled weakly up at him. Her blue eyes unnerved him with their gentle innocence. He held her, rocking her until she settled, calmed by his touch, by his words, trusting in him. Cautiously, he lay her back down. She was shaking, and he pulled the blankets up to her chin, wondering if he should keep her warm while she quivered from cold or use the

  cloth to bring down her fever. He was at a loss, not knowing what to do. Damn it, Roll, where the hell are you?

  For a while he just sat watching her, holding her hand. He found the rise and fall of her chest comforting. Though her breathing was labored and heart wrenching to listen to, at least she was breathing.