To Mate an Assassin: The Lost Alphars Series, Book 1 (28 page)

Cymbeline watched from her advantageous spot in the trees as Rhiannon rushed off to the sidelines with Carter, getting him to safety. The Vryk would be fine. Smart man that he was drank from Mara before he escaped, strengthening his healing capabilities. Rhiannon would look out for him. And Cimby would look out for Kerrick.

She took aim, using her preferred Savage 110 BA sniper rifle, moving swiftly from tree to tree, branch to branch, as Vryks attempted to hinder Kerrick’s fight with Mara. It was a brutal battle but he had the power of his people supporting him. Every few minutes the man would shift into a new animal, forcing the Vryk bitch to change her fighting tactics, keeping her confused and on her toes. Cimby had a manic need to burst out laughing, nearly giving away her position, when Kerrick shifted into a wooly mammoth, a species of Were long since extinct. What was he thinking? Crazy, wonderful bastard.

Mara and Kerrick were battling in a blaze of power and color. They barely even touched but blood was being spilt from the force of their power alone. Mara, besides the fast-healing wound that Carter had left in her chest, seemed to be bleeding heavily from her inner arm among other superficial wounds. But she was still moving and taking swipes at Kerrick as if she were the very embodiment of the wind. So swift and light a person might barely know she was there, save when she cut you. Kerrick was pure strength. His battle style a dance routine of feints and dodges. He would make the slightest hint of moving one way and surprise them all by nearly flying another. He was magic and power wrapped in a fiercely spun package, one that changed every few moments as he shifted forms on a dime, as if it cost him little to no energy.

Having cleared the field of obstacles for Kerrick and Mara to continue their battle for the time being, Cymbeline turned her attention to the rest of the troops. Aaron and Jeremiah fought side by side, directing their people of where to go, supporting those who needed help.

She spotted who she was looking for near the edge of the burning facility. Zach, their ace in the hole, glowed like the rising sun and used his magic to quell the flames. Cymbeline had questioned Kerrick’s decision to keep Zach out of the battle, especially since he was supposed to be this magic-using prodigy. She convinced Kerrick, with Zach’s help, the night before the battle to sneak him in unannounced. Kerrick was powerful, but Mara was an ancient, there was a fair chance she could overpower him. No one said this had to be a fair fight though. Zach had eagerly agreed to help with the battle. Cimby thanked the Gods Kerrick had agreed to let Zach join the battle, thinking he might possibly be able to use that impressive magic to snuff out the flames. Maybe there were still souls to save inside that burning building.

Cymbeline jumped out of the tree line, slinging her rifle over her back and pulling out a handheld gun, running in Zach’s direction but keeping a tactical eye out for those who would attempt to help Mara. She stopped for a moment to incapacitate a few Vryks heading in Zach’s direction. They dropped to the ground before they knew what hit them. With every kill she felt the gnawing of the Beast within her. Not her Wolf, but the thing she had been trained to quell. Her former missions had always been solitary, calm endeavors with a singular purpose. This was chaos. Blood and violence surrounded her, tempting the thing to come forth and break her control. She shook her head, pushing it back down and focusing on her goal. She needed to get to Zach. Needed to protect him and Kerrick as they battled.

Two female Vryks with fangs the size of her middle fingers were heading in Zach’s direction, almost on top of him. Cimby shot, aiming for their hearts, but something was protecting them. Some form of magic shield. Her bullets were useless.

“Rhiannon!” she yelled, chucking the rifle at Rhiannon as she passed the woman. “Watch Kerrick’s back.” Cimby ran for the two Vryks. Protect Zach. Kerrick had said Zach would be the priority if they implemented this plan, and she would trust her mate to take care of himself, but tossing that rifle at Rhiannon felt like she was betraying him. Her instincts told her to look after Kerrick, look after her mate. The Beast pressed at her boundaries again, wanting to use her weakness to its advantage. She growled, pushing it back down.

Looking past the grand battle between Mara and Kerrick, Cimby found her targets nearly on top of Zach. A comforting and quiet concentration took over her body as she met them head-on, intercepting what would have been a killing blow to Zach’s head he had been oblivious to as he focused on the fire.

“A little Wolf Princess coming out to play?” One of the Vryks chided while the other circled. The woman had clearly made some kills, her pale face dripping with blood and the scent of violence coming off her aura in waves. Cymbeline deducted she wasn’t that old by the power coming off her, possibly one or two centuries. Nothing Cimby couldn’t handle.

“Whatsa matter with your face, wolfy?” the second Vryk taunted. “Looks like it’s been through the meat grinder.”

“Yummy.” The bloodied Vryk licked her lips.

Cimby lunged at the Vryk, not utilizing all the strength in her muscles to keep the bitch on her toes. The bloody Vryk was prepared for Cymbeline though, and with a speed far beyond anything Cimby thought possible for a Vryk her age, palmed a knife in her left hand and sank it into Cimby’s thigh. Cimby cried out, her confidence draining as each Vryk attacked, barraging her with endless advances and hits. She pulled the knife from her thigh and threw it at the Vryk, the space in which she missed was laughable. She screamed in rage, her emotions ripping free of her control, bit by bit. She was better than this.

Shaking the pain of the wound off, Cimby focused her mind and vision on the women in front of her. They were deadly and skillful but she had a Beast inside her waiting to be let out and allowed to join the party. Cimby appealed to her Wolf for help and she felt the tingles in her muscles telling her the Beast was taking control of the human body her and her animal spirit shared. It was almost out, almost free.

Cimby lunged again, chucking her gun and pulling the blade from a sheathe along her spine, quicker and with an agile grace that spoke of her years as an assassin, as her Alphar’s Incendiary. Their weapons clanged and the look on the Vryk’s face was that of surprise. It gave Cimby no end of pleasure. She parried, she thrust towards her and she dodged. On and on they did their dance. Cimby’s cries of fury for the humans needlessly murdered and the rising tide of rage within her provided the music to their fight. Eventually a recovered Carter came and took one of the Vryks to fight himself, giving Cimby a second wind and saving her ass. She really needed to make sure Kerrick didn’t kill him.

Cimby’s wound began to ache furiously and she couldn’t keep her mind off the pain, it made her confused and difficult to focus on control. But she didn’t quit. The metallic bell sound of their swords hitting one another gave her the jolt she needed to stay motivated. She had a second of reprieve after she kicked the Vryk’s abdomen, sending her flying to the ground. Cimby used that time to survey the damage in her leg. She should have gotten a better look at the dagger before throwing it. This was not a normal gash. The flesh was literally hanging from her leg and it looked as though something was eating away at her skin.

Cimby looked up at the Vryk, her smile was toxic. Just like the poison that must have been on the end of that dagger. She growled at the bitch, enflamed by the disgusting trick.

“You cheated,” Cimby rasped, dragging herself up to full height.

“Please. This is war, wolfy. Aint no such thing as cheating.” The Vryk brought her sword up to her face and licked some of Cimby’s blood off it, making a face. “A little gamey for my tastes but it will do.”

“I am going to laugh when I kill you.” Cimby ran for her again.

They fought for what felt like forever, but it didn’t matter as long as she kept them away from Zach. Her thigh burned from the acid eating away at her skin. That was twice this month she’d been attacked by some sort of poison. She needed a vacation. But the Vryk was right, this was war. There was no such thing as fair or unfair. Cheat or follow the rules. The game was death. And Cimby dealt in death. She could play this game.

She dodged out of the way of a strike that aimed for her neck. Twisting on the ground she brought her foot up to her knee and kicked with all the power her strength and steel-toed boots had to offer. The Vryk shrieked as Cimby broke her kneecap, falling down to the ground. Cimby didn’t hesitate. She pinned her and pulled the safety from a gun in a hidden back sheathe, and shoved it in the bitch’s mouth.

“How’s this taste? Still too gamey?” Cimby said, needing the last word on the chatty bitch, and pulled the trigger. She sat back on her heels and moaned with pain “Why didn’t I just do that earlier?”

“Because you do not listen to your own advice.” Cimby turned to her right to see a scorched and bleeding Jeremiah approach.

“Well, she called me gamey. I wanted to hit her.” He helped her to her feet. She ignored the searing pain in her leg and surveyed the battlegrounds. There were so many Vryks gaining on the Weres. They were losing. No, they couldn’t be losing. “Shouldn’t you be fighting?”

“I’m supposed to be protecting you, actually,” he said, a grimace on his face as he put pressure on his left leg. It wasn’t bleeding very badly but something must have twisted or broken to make Jeremiah show pain.

“Looks like you need a bodyguard yourself.” She gestured to his leg.

“What is wrong with your thigh?” he asked, squinting at the way her flesh was beginning to curl and reveal the muscle beneath.

“Nothing.” Cimby pulled away from him. They needed as many hands on the field as possible, and if Jeremiah saw the state of her now-charred flesh, he would take her away to safety. Cimby scanned the meadow and her heart skipped a beat.

“Where is Kerrick?” she asked, panic lacing her voice. When Jeremiah didn’t answer fast enough, she sprinted onto the field, searching for her mate, forgetting her task of protecting Zach.

She couldn’t find Kerrick or Mara anywhere and she wanted to scream. She ran through the small battles and scrimmages, shooting Vryks in the head as she went, trying to help any shifter that she could.

Cymbeline should have felt them. That much power being used should have smoldered the morning air, making it almost hard to breathe from the thickness of it. A fog of power. But the air was clear besides the smoke from the burning building. Panic was well and truly on its way from her heart to her mind and that was never a good sign. Dread was a surefire way to lose control over her emotions completely, and that was a battle she was already worried she’d lose.

Nobody, except the trainers and the Alphars, really understood what the Incendiary was. Why they were chosen. She’d been born to a blood-possessed human woman, as all Incendiaries were in the beginnings of their lives. The Vryk blood, aiding in the development of the fetus, changed her cells, made the baby stronger and more powerful than any human child had a right to be. It also made her slightly crazy. The insanity was balanced by Turning the child, making them Were. The animal spirit calmed them, but also gave them the potential to be even more dangerous. It was why they needed to be rigorously trained and cut off from the world before the Turn, so they could learn to control their emotions and keep the rage at bay. Cymbeline was a berserker warrior, that fury and craving for violence a constant hum beneath her skin.

Cimby had never had a choice in what her life would be. She had been told what she was on her first day of training, her trainers explaining why she was dangerous and why she couldn’t play with other children. The Incendiary was just another term, a camouflage for a berserker warrior. Anyone could be taught how to fight, but it took years to master the control of her rage.

When she mated with Kerrick she thought it would mean the failure of her control and the release of her berserker nature. But Kerrick didn’t inspire rage and pain, only love and lust. But not being able to feel him, see him, pushed her to the edge of her control. She wanted to use the mate link to find him but she didn’t know whether the poison in her leg was magic or physical. If it was magic, she didn’t want to risk it travelling to him via their link, so she kept it shut tight.

“Cimby!” she heard Zach cry out above the panic swelling in her mind. “Cimby, come back!”

She couldn’t find her mate, she couldn’t feel his power. He could be dead. Kerrick could be dead. Dead. No. She screamed and the berserker released.

Kerrick used the small yet powerful charm Zach constructed to consume himself and Mara in a vacuum. They were invisible to the rest of the battle and her focus was for him alone. The ancient was powerful enough to spare magic for those around her, striking them down while simultaneously raging against him. He needed her to concentrate her will on him completely, as a simple touch from her twisted magic would kill any other shifter in his protection in an instant. He alone had the power to take the bitch down.

Within the sphere, that could have been disturbed if one wandering soul crossed over the boundary, Mara and Kerrick ceased their physical battle and turned their power inwards to the mental plane. A physical battle between two beings with such strength and an endless amount of people to draw their power from could have potentially lasted for weeks. Mara knew what he had meant when he challenged her. A true test of the innate power that came with being a man born to be an Alphar, and a woman who had well over a millennium to amass her power.

After they engaged mentally, Kerrick opened his mind’s eye to see the battlefield littered with bodies. Aaron with his caramel skin so pale and a dagger sticking out of his heart. Rhiannon’s blonde hair dyed blood red in a puddle of her own viscera. Zach, consumed by the power of his own magic and turned into a creature from the young man’s darkest nightmares. Cymbeline…Cymbeline taken prisoner, forced to be caged like an animal, her wild spirit broken by the Vryk’s sadistic pleasures.

He wrenched himself out of the nightmare, Mara’s cold beauty grinning back at him. Kerrick felt his heart stutter from the onslaught of visions, his power waning from the soul-crushing realization she was far more advanced than he. But a singular thought bolstered him. She may have had a millennia to gain her power, but he had thousands of people who loved and needed him, who respected him, willingly lending their power to his victory. It fortified him, and he shoved his mental fingertips into her psyche and pulled the darkest nightmare to the fore of her mind.