To Mate an Assassin: The Lost Alphars Series, Book 1 (30 page)

“I’m going to make the first incision, Iri. Let me know if you feel anything.”

Irisi’s hand darted out to grasp Kerrick’s from resting on the edge of the bed. He sat in a wooden chair, stroking her fuzzy head, and now squeezing her hand in reassurance. Her eyes were wide with fear, her teeth gnawing at her bottom lip. Kerrick nuzzled her hand, and wished he could shield her from the fear and pain. But he thought of some other way he could distract her.

“Just relax, Iri, and let me tell you a story. It will distract you.”

“I’m not a child, I don’t need to be told stories,” Irisi grunted, the rapid squeeze of his hand betraying her annoyance for the nerves she was feeling.

“You may not be a child, but you are a Were. All Weres need to know this story.”

That piqued her interest. “What story?”

“The story of where shifters come from.” He took a deep breath and said, in his best booming, narrative voice, “Once upon a time—”

“You seriously going to start this story like that?” Kerrick’s tension eased as he saw her mouth kick up in a smile at his attempt to tease her.

“Cimby’s right, you are a pest.”

“You love it.”

“Hush and listen. Many millennia ago, before there were Weres or Vrykolakas or Mages, there were higher beings. Creatures made of a magic so strong, so ethereal, that there is currently no modern word to describe their magnificence.”

“Were they Gods?”

“No. They could die, like us, but they were something different. Something more. There was a small group of these beings who could take the form of any creature, whether flora or fauna, it didn’t matter, that’s how attuned to magic they were. The time itself was a period when magic was the food of the earth, and these select beings were the caretakers of that magic. Harvesting and working it for the good of the people. But power can corrupt, no matter how well it is cared for. Not all are strong enough or have the support they need to maintain that precious balance.

“A war broke out between these beings. For centuries the quest for territory and power held sway over the earth.”

“What stopped the war?” Irisi asked, the procedure all but forgotten as he weaved a tale more familiar to him than any other.

“In essence, it was rage born from a broken heart. A man, all we know of him is his name, Alphane. He was the ruler of a secluded territory and tended to favor peace over war. But he had allies, and Alphane, being an honorable man, would quickly go to the aid of those allies whenever he was needed. Alphane was also one of the few rulers who had a partner who helped keep him whole, keep him unsusceptible to the pull of the magic’s corrupting power.”

“You mean a mate?” Irisi asked.

“Yes. He had a mate, a soul-mate. A woman he loved and would do anything for. He loved her so deeply that he harnessed a special kind of magic to prove his love, binding their souls together so he could feel her with him always.”

“Okay,” she sighed. “Even I need to admit that is crazy romantic.”

“Well, you do crazy things for the people you love.”

“Like adopting crazy daughters?”

Kerrick leaned forward, kissing her forehead before settling back. “I didn’t do that for Cimby.”

Irisi smiled roughly, her face scrunching in an attempt to hold back some fierce emotion. “Go on.”

“One day, Alphane was called away to the aid of one of his allies. A man he had known since his inception on the earth.”

“Inception?”

“These creatures were not born, Iri. They were created, made from magic itself. Alphane of course left to help his friend. But while he was away he felt the unimaginable, the severance of his connection to his mate. She was dead. He later discovered the man he thought his friend had actually hatched a plot to lure him away from his people and take over the territory. The takeover was successful, but he did not understand the depth of the bond Alphane had with his mate. When she died, she took any civil nature left in his soul with her to the afterlife.

“Alphane was enraged. He lost his mind, blaming the war and his fellow magic users for the death of his mate and the destruction of his peaceful people. He hunted them down and he killed them all.”

“How did he kill them if they were so powerful?”

“We don’t know. But what we do know is that upon their deaths he absorbed their magic, gaining more power and energy in his quest for vengeance. Eventually, after he had hunted them all and he was the last, his rage no longer had anywhere to be directed. He amassed the power he absorbed from their deaths, and split the power in two. One half was spread out around the world, assimilating itself with certain people deemed worthy, giving them only a hint of the shifting power the higher beings had to begin with.”

“Weres,” Irisi whispered, captivated by the tale.

“Yes, exactly. The birth of Weres, fractions of that immense power Alphane had consumed during his quest for retribution spread across the globe and expanded as generations spanned the centuries.”

“How did those people pick what animals they would be? How did Turned Weres start happening? And what happened to the rest of the power?”

“We don’t know how the different species of Were came about. Some think that those gifted with the power to shift, turned into whatever animal spirit aligned with theirs. Turning a human into a Were is a delicate process that involves quite a bit of magic or carelessness and blood on a Were’s part. It probably began with carelessness but we don’t really know. As for the rest of the power, Alphane split it into fifteen concentrated masses. The power came with a message for whomever was granted the immense gift. The message is in a long-forgotten language but it doesn’t need modern speech to convey the thought.”

“What was the message? How do you know it?”

“It’s a secret.” He leaned forward, his voice a whisper. “And I know because all Alphars hear the message when absorbing the power.”

“So there are fifteen Alphars in the world right now?”

“No, unfortunately. There are only nine. We are missing five seats of power.”

“How is that possible? I thought that sort of energy couldn’t be destroyed.”

“Either the Alphars died who did not name heirs to pass the power onto or they may have been challenged and killed by someone who was not a potential Alphar. There can be many reasons for why the power didn’t transfer to someone new upon that Alphar’s death, but we do know one thing for certain. You are correct, the power is indestructible and will never disperse. It’s out there somewhere, waiting for the Were to be born who will fit its mold, become the Alphar that power needs to thrive.”

She shook her in disbelief. “So this is real, all this actually happened?”

“Yes, as far as we can tell from past records kept by Alphars. There is a sensationalized part of the story I usually keep out about the second coming of Alphane. It’s too—”

“Preachy?”

“No, it’s more akin to King Arthur, the once and future king.” Kerrick took on a mockingly forbidding tone. “Alphane will be reborn amongst us once more, in an altered form. He will lead and reunite the territories and seats of power once more.”

Irisi snorted, rolling her eyes at his pathetic attempt to sound like some sort of prophet or oracle.

“Done,” Lottie said, popping her head over the sheet and smiling down at her. “How are you feeling?”

Irisi smiled at Kerrick, surprise lighting her face. “I didn’t feel a thing. Thanks.”

“Anytime,” Kerrick said, a warm feeling of contentment spreading through his heart at her trusting smile.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Cimby groggily opened her heavy-lidded eyes to see Kerrick’s expansive, muscle-laden back rising and falling with the cadence of sleep. She thought it odd he was facing away from her, as the possessive man always seemed to be watching her as she recovered. With a bit of effort she pushed her head off the pillows to see what he had been watching over before falling asleep. A fair-sized hospital bed had been set up in their room, along with touchscreens for information readouts and machines to monitor vitals. Irisi lay propped up on the bed. She was awake, calmly flipping through a comic from a stack Evan had no doubt given her. She looked…different. Cimby couldn’t explain it but the hollow, emaciated girl she had come to know over the past few years was gone, replaced by someone with glowing skin and a developing musculature.

“Iri?” she called quietly, her voice still raspy with disuse.

Irisi’s head snapped up with a frantic grin and she rapidly removed herself from the machines, limped over to Cimby’s bed, climbed over Kerrick—who remained fast asleep—and snuggled herself into Cimby’s chest.

“Christ…you’re taller.” Cimby framed Irisi’s face, pulling it away from her chest so she could examine her. The dark circles from beneath her eyes were gone, her face was filling out and, holy shit, her hair had grown at least an inch.

“How long was I out for? A month?”

Irisi grinned a smile so effervescent Cimby could have sworn she herself felt the glee the girl was radiating, her joy infectious.

“Just another day. Lottie did the thing to my thing.” She pointed at her hip where a neon-pink bandage was protruding from beneath her shirt. Cimby raised her hand to inspect it but Irisi stopped her. “It’s still tender. But Lottie thinks with how much I’m eating I’ll be healed fast. It will just be a scar. My first battle wound!” the crazy girl said proudly as her stomach gave a loud complaint.

“Will you please tell your stomach to shut the hell up,” Kerrick grumbled like a giant waking from a century-long sleep. He turned over, his black hair deliciously tousled and his mouth quirked up in a smile, betraying his grumpy tone.

“Good morning,” Kerrick’s deep voice rumbled, leaning his head on his hand. “You both look well rested.”

“You look like shit.”

“Thank you, mate of mine. Ever the sweet and blooming flower, you are.” He grabbed the pillow from beneath Irisi’s head and pulled it down over his face, mumbling about the eccentricities of women.

Irisi giggled, a sound Cimby had never heard come from the girl before, and removed the pillow over Kerrick’s head to kiss him on his cheek. Cimby was shocked by the open affection she showed him.

“I think I’ll go find Zach and bug him a bit.” She squirmed from the bed and hopped toward the door, the lithe energy she had was astounding, a full turnabout from the weak girl she’d been not one day ago. But that didn’t stop Cimby from worrying.

“Are you sure it’s all right for you to wander around? You look like you’re limping, get back into bed—” Kerrick’s hand came down over her mouth and pulled her into his arms. Irisi rolled her eyes and waved a goodbye before slipping out and closing the door behind her.

“She’s fine,” Kerrick said, pulling her even closer, his arms wrapping around her back and his lips kissing up her cheek. “I was with her when they removed the mark, the changes began almost instantaneously.”

“You stayed with her?”

“Of course.”

Cimby let out a relieved breath, thankful that Irisi hadn’t been on her own during the procedure. “Thank you,” she whispered, kissing his lips lightly, looking into his dark eyes. Eyes that held a love she felt to the deepest, darkest places of her soul.

“You never need to thank me where our girl’s care is concerned.”

“Our girl?”

“Our girl. She’s ours. Like you’re mine and I’m yours.” His kiss was a dark flame as he rolled her onto her back, sipping at her lips as though they tasted of the finest champagne. He pulled back, a smile she could only describe as indulgent making his lips even more tempting. She moved to kiss him again but he pulled away.

“What is it?” she asked, lying back down on the bed.

“I have something to tell you. An answer to a question.” Kerrick helped her sit up on the bed, propping about a thousand pillows around her to make sure she was comfortable.

“What question?”

“The question you wanted answered when you first came here.” He then told her about the memory he’d pulled from Mara’s head and her weak confession she made on the brink of her death.

“Mara?” Cimby asked, perplexed by this odd turn of events. “But…she didn’t know what I was.”

“She did. Anything Riddan knew, she knew. After thinking about it for a while, she was probably the reason he went insane, always whispering inside his mind, influencing him and telling him what to do.”

“She couldn’t predict you taking over the Alphar seat, though, could she?”

“No, I derailed her plans to control the Weres.”

“More than once.”

“I’d like to think at one point Riddan was not the crazed man I knew at the end, so driven by her influence and the power of his loneliness that he was consumed by it.”

Cimby entwined her fingers with his, noting the dark shadows lingering in his eyes. “A loneliness you will never have to face. Don’t let her have control over you too.”

“Cimby…”

“I see nightmares in your eyes Kerrick, no matter how much you smile when you look at me. Let her go.” She reached up, framing his face and bringing their foreheads together. “Be with me.”

“I’m here,” he said, kissing her deeply. “I’ll always be here.” And she felt his soul release the tension it had held during her sleep. He settled in her arms and closed his eyes, returning to his own form of a healing sleep, one where she could watch over her mate and care for him.

Chapter Twenty-Three

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, the sounds of children playing could be heard across the grounds, enemies had been vanquished, and Cymbeline was lying naked on the grassy roof with her equally naked mate. She lost count of how many times they’d spent themselves on one another that day, including now, as she came with the heat of his powerful body and feel of his heaving chest fueling her never-ending need for him. Each time with her mate was different and yet familiar in its essential nature.

“Again, Alphar. Your mate wants more.” She nibbled the mating scar on his neck. It hadn’t changed into the traditional mating tattoo of her kind. It remained bestial, twisted and scarred. Kerrick thought it was because he had so many Beasts within his soul, his mating mark would never revert to something more pleasing to a human’s eye. In turn, her mark remained scarred to match his. It was perfect.

“Ha, I don’t know how long this concealing spell will work. You don’t want the flight-capable shifters getting an eye full of your ass as I fuck you.” He ground against her, quickly hardening within her tight sheathe once more. “I don’t care, though. Let them watch.” He groaned against her neck, supporting his weight on his elbows above her, fucking into her hard and fast. “They all need to know you’re mine, Incendiary.”

“Yes,” she said, flipping him onto his back, a move she took perverse pleasure in and knew he enjoyed as well. She ground her sex onto his cock, milking him, taking him as only she could. “You’re mine.”

He sat up, gripping her ass and urging her to pick up the speed. “Give it to me again, mate.” He licked her mating scar and the pleasure from that simple touch had her coming without warning, not worrying about the sound of her scream as it echoed across the grounds, the concealing spell would cover up any trace of their rooftop rendezvous.

“Yes,” he groaned, coming inside her once more, wrapping his arms around her waist and sucking her nipples into his mouth. He lapped at the stiff peaks with that miracle tongue, and once finished, rested his head on her breasts, nipping and kissing the plush curves lovingly. She sighed, playing with his hair and just giving herself a moment to feel his love surrounding her.

“How’s the hip?” he asked, not moving his mouth away from her breast.

“No change. No pain, but still ugly. Same as the face. Zach may not have been able to fix me but at least Irisi is getting better.”

He reached up to lick and kiss the mangled scar on the side of her face, from what they now knew was a magical acid, commonly used in Egyptian curses. There was no cure, no reconstructive surgery that would return her face back to what it was. Cimby wasn’t a vain person, but she felt bad that Kerrick didn’t have something even remotely pleasing to look at anymore.

He smacked her ass. Hard.

“What the fuck, Ker!” she yelled, smacking his shoulder in retaliation.

Kerrick flipped them, landing on top of her with a grunt. “I know what you’re thinking. Stop that.”

“Stop thinking? I’d need to be dead first.”

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself.” He lifted her legs and smacked her ass again. “I will keep spanking you until you quit feeling sorry for yourself.” Another smack, and Gods help her, her pussy was getting wet from it. “Ah, maybe I won’t stop spanking you anyway. You like this, do you, baby?”

“No!” she moaned after another resounding smack. “You’re a barbarian.”

He slipped his length inside her, resting her legs on his shoulders, baring her ass for easy access spanking. What, did the man have a magical well of cum that never ran out? They’d been fucking for hours. Thank the Gods for Alphar stamina.

“I may be a barbarian, baby, but I’m the barbarian who loves you.”
Smack.

“You’re gonna get it, Kerrick.” He thrust into her. Her skin stung from the reddening of her ass, but the feel of his flesh connecting with hers felt amazing. Gods she loved this man, she loved the way he loved her.

“I’m counting on it.”

Kerrick took his mate over and over that day, giving them the time they needed to just exhaust themselves on one another. Cimby hadn’t really needed to be reassured of his love for her. She knew her scars turned him on as he proved with every powerful loving he gave her that day. He loved that his mate was a warrior woman, the scars speaking of the fierce and fiery nature hiding under her outwardly calm façade. Only he was allowed the privilege of truly seeing into those depths. He felt her fear, her joy, her lust, every moment of every day.

By the time the sun began to set, he dressed them, feeling the magic of the concealment spell begin to wane. No matter how much he boasted of letting his people know who she belonged to, he didn’t actually want anyone to see her naked ass in such a compromising position.

“Ready to go check on Iri?” he asked, helping her stand on her wobbly legs. He couldn’t help but feel some male satisfaction at making her go weak in the knees.

“Do you have the papers?” she asked, her short, chocolate-colored hair gleaming in the setting sun, highlighting little strands of red and gold hidden within the brown color.

“Why can’t you just call them what they are? Adoption papers. Adoption. We are adopting Iri. Say it with me. Adoption.”

“She might change her mind.” Kerrick threw his arm around her shoulders, trying not to smile at this peculiar self-conscious side of his mate.

“She’s not changing her mind. You’re already pretty much her mother with how much you baby the girl. She’s grown three inches in the last month, Cimby. She’s going to be fine. Give her a break or you’ll smother the kid to death. Teenage shifters do not thrive if they are smothered, and our girl is going to thrive.”

“I do not smother,” she said with an adorably annoyed frown.

Kerrick couldn’t stop himself, he pulled her close and kissed her, gently pushing her up against the wall where the door to the stairwell was located. She moaned, carding her fingers through his hair and holding him close.

“We’ll go in a bit,” he growled, pulling away to kiss her neck.

“Okay,” she whispered, undoing the buckle on his jeans.

“The concealment spell is gone.” He pushed down her shorts, the button already undone.

“Don’t care. Make love to me or I will make you work for it before we go to bed tonight.”

She made him work for it anyway, and he loved her all the more for the challenge.