To Mate an Assassin: The Lost Alphars Series, Book 1 (6 page)

Carter stared at her like she was an idiot. “Rhi. C’mon, don’t bullshit me. It’s part of my job to know everything about you guys.” Kerrick growled again, the Vryk didn’t know when to keep his mouth shut. “I’m the Vryk ambassador to you people. Of course I know who the fucking Incendiary is. Hell, I was there when Riddan chose her to be the Incendiary. She was a fierce bit back then. Still is, in fact. I’ve worked with Cymbeline a few times over the years, taking care of some stuff around the area. She’s good to have in a pinch when it comes to rogues.”

So that was her name. Cymbeline. The Incendiary was a real thing? It wasn’t just a myth? How could a Vrykolakas know about this but the Alphar didn’t? Kerrick couldn’t let on that the Alphar was completely unaware of the existence of what seemed to be, at least to Carter, a person of some importance.

“How were you allowed to be there for that?” Rhiannon asked, and Kerrick could tell she was on the same wavelength with him, rocked by this new information.

“It was a coincidence.” He shrugged, playing with the brim of his hat until the sun streaming in through the windows became too much for his pale hands. He placed them back in his pockets. “I came to report a rogue Were on Clan territory and Riddan was in the room, alone with the girl. I overheard him congratulate her on the new appointment.” Rhiannon folded her arms over her chest, her eyebrows raised as she waited impatiently for Carter to elaborate. He huffed, finally capitulating to her silent demand. “Fine, I wasn’t exactly supposed to be there. Riddan was never aware that I overheard.”

Kerrick turned around, staring Carter directly in the eyes, letting him feel the heat of his power as it filled the van. He didn’t care if his actions threatened the negotiation process. All that mattered in that moment was his mate and the tsunami of need he felt to protect her.

“You will not speak of this to anyone, Carter,” he said, not bothering with threats, the man too intelligent and well versed in Were customs to miss what was happening. “Understood?”

Carter glanced over at Rhiannon for a brief moment before nodding, keeping his silence on the matter of the unconscious Incendiary. “Ready to go? The sun is starting to itch.”

Kerrick turned back around, but not before noticing Rhi’s hand as it stretched to pat Carter on the shoulder. Their friendship, whatever it was as Kerrick had never thought it important enough to ask, had always been one that confounded him. For as long as Kerrick and his two cousins had been back in the states, she’d been a friend of Carter’s. But with the heightened tension between his people and Mara’s clan, Kerrick made a mental note to address the situation, not wanting Rhiannon to go down a path she couldn’t climb back from.

He put the van in gear and looked over at Cymbeline, still unconscious. There was a decent pool of drool dripping down her chin. She would look almost cute if it weren’t for the myriad of scars he could see littering her visible skin, hardening her visage. So this was the feared Incendiary, his mate. Cymbeline. He grinned and pulled out onto the road, heading back in the direction of The Mansion, and wondered what other secrets he would soon be learning about the mysterious woman.

Chapter Four

“Alphar.”

Kerrick looked up from playing his mandolin to see Rhiannon standing across the bed, her face pensive and miraculously out of her phone for once. He’d planted himself in his favorite armchair and began playing his mandolin since carrying Cymbeline from the van. She was still unconscious, lying in his bed, and he refused to leave his mate until he was sure the Vryk blood didn’t have any adverse effect on her system. He didn’t know a thing about her and wasn’t willing to take a chance. Some shifters reacted abnormally to Vryk blood, aside from the usual period of unconsciousness. Kerrick also wasn’t ashamed to admit he just wanted to be there when she woke, see those glorious and angry eyes focused on him.

“What is it, Rhi?” he asked, continuing to change chords along the fingerboard.

“She’s stirring. Should I have food sent up?” It wasn’t a bad idea as shifters usually awoke ravenous after a Vryk blood dose. But Kerrick heard a note of apprehension in her voice, sensing there was something besides his mate’s hunger on his cousin’s mind.

“Out with it, Rhi.” He knew Rhiannon too well to allow her to withhold her true feelings from him. Their relationship was based on trust, and he needed her to trust him completely in order to lead. He couldn’t let something fester between them, even if that something was the delicate subject of his mate.

“Is she really your
mate
?” she asked, crossing her arms and looking down at the insentient woman with open disdain. “She’s so…” Her head tilted to the side in perplexed curiosity. “Itty bitty.”

Anyone else and he would have shot them down a peg or two at the impertinence of the question. After finding their mates, shifters were aggressive and possessive, and as the Alphar, he would be even more so. But this was Rhi, and she was family. She was also a nosy Fox shifter who needed to have her curiosity satisfied and would annoy the hell out of him until he capitulated to her will.

“Yes. My Beast recognized his mate the second she came into focus.” His eyes trailed over the woman.
His mate
. If she accepted him, the chances of him going crazy from the Alphar power would be minimalized exponentially.
If
she accepted him, and things weren’t looking very positive after she thought running from him was the better option.

“Kerrick,” Rhi said, not looking him in the eye but at Cymbeline. “She attacked the guards.” She took a deep breath and glanced at him, confident in her opinion, but knowing what could happen if she angered an Alphar regarding his mate. “She’s dangerous.”

“Stop hesitating and just tell me, Rhi.”

“She came here to attack you and she injured ten of our soldiers. I understand she’s your mate, and I know what that means. She comes first. But you are in a delicate position, Kerrick. You’re not a regular alpha or just some dominant, you’re the Alphar. The people of this territory need you and the example you set. The health of the land you rule depends on you and your power. If she turns out to be an enemy…” Rhiannon looked away, her lips a thin line as she struggled with what she had to say, what Kerrick knew he needed to hear. “You can’t abandon your people for her, Kerrick.”

Kerrick stood and held his hand out to Rhiannon, beckoning her to his side of the bed. She came swiftly, never once losing the self-possessed grace she was so well known for. But as she crumpled into his chest, burrowing her head and breathing him in deeply, Kerrick was reminded that he wasn’t the only one who had sacrificed and suffered to bring about change for the territory. Rhiannon may be a stubborn bitch at times, caustic and sarcastic to those close to her, but Kerrick knew her as a child and watched as she left her family to train with him in England. They’d forged an unbreakable bond, Aaron included, and he would never abandon them.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered, nuzzling the top of her head, giving the affection even the most solitary Weres needed.

“You can’t leave your mate.” She looked up at him, confused and in anguish for him. “What if she was contracted by Mara to attack you?”

Kerrick framed her face, comforted by the concern Rhiannon felt for him. “Stop worrying when we don’t even know the situation yet. We’ll cross those bridges when we get to them.”

Rhiannon nodded, pulling away from Kerrick and squaring her shoulders. Her eyes lit devilishly as they looked back up at him. “Your mate kneed you in the balls.”

Kerrick growled, knowing that was not going to be forgotten anytime soon. He liked that his mate hadn’t been afraid of him, knew he needed a woman with strength. He just wished she’d aimed somewhere else. “And she ran from me. Have you ever heard of someone running from their mate after meeting them?”

“I would have run away from your scary face too.” She huffed, using the touch pad on the bedside table to send an order for food down to the kitchen. She pulled two metal items out of the bag she brought in and showed them to Kerrick.

“No.”

“Kerrick, Alphar, she is an unknown residing in house with innocents. I’m not going to say she can’t be here, we need to learn more about her, but she can’t roam around The Mansion unchecked. You know that.”

“I know.” He sighed, running his hand down Cymbeline’s sleeping face. “Put them on.”

Rhiannon quickly placed the magic-infused cuffs on his mate’s wrists. She pressed a button to activate an enchanted set of links connected to the base of the bed, keeping Cymbeline from moving farther than ten feet from the bedposts. They were treating his mate as a threat, keeping her chained, the sight anathema to him.

But Rhiannon was right. This woman, no matter who she was, was an unknown element who could pose a threat to the innocent children and families residing in The Mansion. Those people were under his protection and these cuffs would incapacitate her if she tried to harm anyone, including herself. They also prevented her from shifting, which was why Zach, the creator of the cuffs, liked to call them the collar. It was painful for a shifter to be so cut off from their animal, but until Kerrick knew more about this woman and her motivations, he had no choice but to collar her. She’d come intending harm, and he wouldn’t let her succeed in her goals.

“She’ll wake soon, I’ll get Lottie to come back and check up on her.” Rhi paused by the door before exiting. “At least she can’t knee you in the balls anymore with the collar on.”

“Harpy,” he called after her as the door clicked shut, appreciating her attempt to lift his spirits no matter the backwards manner she did it in.

Kerrick let his gaze fall back to his mate. He took advantage of the moment of solitude with her and moved closer to the bed. She was the first woman to sleep in this bed during his reign as Alphar. Hell, the first to enter this room who didn’t work for him and wasn’t family. What did that say about Kerrick? That the first woman he wanted to spend any actual time with was his mate.

Shifters were by nature sexual and tactile creatures, they needed touch and close proximity to others to maintain their sanity. It wasn’t unusual for him to seek out the company of a woman every now and then, but he’d never wanted more than one night with them before now. He’d always kept himself distant, even from women he genuinely liked and thought would be worth spending more time with, worth getting to know. But his status as a potential Alphar, and now as the Alphar himself, had always hung over his head. He didn’t want a mate, because to be the mate of an Alphar was to constantly be in danger. But he did want a mate, because to have a mate as an Alphar was to stave off the madness. But was that fair to this woman? Did he only want her because he was afraid he’d devolve into the psychotic man Riddan had become?

But his side of the coin wasn’t the only to consider in a mating. Yes, he was the Alphar, but if Carter and this woman were to be believed, then apparently his mate was the Incendiary. And the Incendiary itself was a real thing.

Kerrick gently laid his hand on her fingers as they rested palm up on the bed. He traced the creases and scrapes on her palm, enjoying the subtle scent of sweat and forest that clung to her. He was glad Rhiannon had used the larger collar on her so she could lie comfortably without any metal digging into her pale skin.

“It’s not all bad here,” he said to the sleeping woman, hoping against hope she wasn’t an assassin sent by Mara or some other combative Alphar. Kerrick was too new to have made any enemies among the other Alphars, but there were always those with ambition to look out for. Kerrick’s territory was large and a major power within the Alphar circle. Now that it was no longer led by a crazy man, the North American Weres were once again gaining a solid standing as a world power.

He sensed someone approaching the door with what smelled like a heaping plate of food. As the recognizable tread approached he stood quickly to open the door for her. Lottie, The Mansion’s head physician, had been in and out of the room since Kerrick had arrived with Cymbeline. He trusted no one else, except perhaps Zach, to examine and take care of his new houseguest.

Lottie nodded in thanks, sticking her tongue out at him as she passed. The gesture was out of character for the usually thoughtful woman. When he gave her a puzzled look she said, “Rhiannon told me to do that to you.” Kerrick chuckled and moved back to his position on the bedside chair. He picked up the mandolin and began to play once more. The woman’s breathing soon became irregular and he waited as she roused, playing a simple tune to lure her from sleep and into the waking world, to welcome the Incendiary to her new life as his mate. Whether she wanted to take part in this new role remained to be seen.

Cymbeline woke abruptly to satin sheets, a heavy down comforter and soft lilting music. A string instrument plucked and played somewhere to her left. It wasn’t a recording. She could tell from the lack of catches and misplaced background noise her sensitive ears could usually pick up off a track. The sound was lovely. The tune was a hypnotic lullaby, lulling her Wolf to stay calm. She wanted to relax farther into her pillow and let the chords carry her back to the sweet vacancy of sleep. But she wouldn’t. Someone was in the room with her, playing that instrument. And with the way her Wolf was gleefully wagging its proverbial tail, she damn well knew who it was.

“
Gamό
,” she cursed in Greek. Something a Vrykolakas she’d once worked with taught her.

“Awake?” A hushed female voice to her right spoke, treading softly enough for Cimby to have missed the movement. “Surprising. It’s been only thirteen hours. Usually Vryk poisoning knocks a Were of your species out for at least twenty. Impressive.”

“Who are you?” Cymbeline asked, her voice croaking and mouth dry as sandpaper.

“Don’t be afraid.” She heard a tray of metal settle on a hard surface, then more scuffling around whatever room she was in. There was a fireplace smoldering directly in front of her, she could smell the wood burning and hear it crackling, providing a pleasant ambiance to go with the instrument’s melodic tones.

“I am not afraid. I am pissed off and have to use the facilities,” she grumbled, closing her eyes, not wanting to remain in whatever reality she had landed herself in. Thirteen hours…she had been gone from her cottage for nearly five days. That was too long. She promised Irisi she would be back in a week.

The woman laughed, husky and deep, almost as scratchy sounding as Cymbeline’s, like she wasn’t used to laughing. After a few more moments of scuffling sounds, a gentle hand slipped under Cymbeline’s back and lifted her to a sitting position. The instrument’s music wavered for a moment as she struggled to remain upright, worry rising that she didn’t have full use of her limbs yet.

“Why can’t I move?”

“The symptoms of the Vryk blood wears off slowly, but it will wear off,” the woman said. “You’ll have full use of your faculties soon enough.” The music started up again, almost as if the musician had been waiting for that answer.

“How do you feel, Ms. Wolf-who-attacked-our-guards-and-would-be-wise-to-not-do-that-again?”

The woman sat on the bed in Cymbeline’s line of sight now. She shook her head to dislodge the short, frizzy red curls flying about her ears. She was skinny, too skinny, almost as if she was wasting away. There were dark patches under her green eyes and her skin had a sallow look to it. She wore a black T-shirt, lab coat and old jeans that she probably hadn’t looked drowned in at some point in her life. A knee rested on the edge of the bed where she sat, revealing bare feet. On any other day she would have appreciated the woman’s eccentricities, but not today.

“Like I cannot move and am being held captive against my will.” Cymbeline grunted, trying not to stare at the woman. That waifish look and red hair reminded her of Irisi.

“Well, at least your cognitive reasoning skills are intact,” the woman said with a wobbly smile as she placed a breakfast tray full of delicious smells over Cymbeline’s lap.

“Brilliant,” Cymbeline said sarcastically as she tried to raise her hands off the comforter to take the food, but her strength had not returned completely. She could barely even wiggle her fingers.

“Ah.” The woman saw her struggle. “I know it’s frustrating but your motor functions will return quickly now that you’re awake. Here, drink this.” She grabbed a glass of water. The woman gently placed the straw to Cymbeline’s lips and waited for her to swallow. She could sense the magic-infused water and drank with fervor, feeling instant relief.

“This will give you use of your arms and hands at least.”

“Thanks,” Cymbeline said grudgingly, grabbing a cut-up piece of steak from the breakfast tray and tossing it into her mouth. It was bloody and barely cooked, just the way she liked. The sooner she loaded up on calories and replenished her energy, the sooner she could skip out.

“The food will help you heal as well,” the woman said, nodding in satisfaction as she watched Cymbeline eat.

“I know,” Cymbeline said, annoyed with the two people watching her eat and what she now realized were magic-infused cuffs on her wrists. She was not leaving anytime soon, apparently.

“So how long have you been the Incendiary?” The redhead asked curiously, pushing back her frizzy hair with a trembling hand. The lab coat insinuated that this woman was a medical practitioner of some kind, even though it looked like she needed a doctor of her own.