Marked by an Assassin Page 20

  Harbin had never seen him attempt it before, and he felt sorry for the guy now that he had witnessed how much losing that ability had clearly hurt him. If he had to hazard a guess, he would say it was the price he paid for the hold the darkness had on him. What other abilities would Fuery lose as he sank into the black abyss?

  He had the impression that Hartt meant the world to Fuery, and so did this job, just as it meant a lot to him. The thought that he might not be able to fulfil his duties as an assassin didn’t sit well with Harbin and he had only been working with Hartt for a couple of decades. Fuery had been with Hartt for centuries.

  He couldn’t imagine how Fuery felt as he stood on the precipice, in danger of losing the abilities that were vital to his work as an assassin and that were a deeply rooted part of who he was.

  Did he feel he was losing himself?

  Did he feel he would lose Hartt too?

  Aya shifted position, pulling Harbin’s focus away from the empty doorway to her where she moved out to stand beside him.

  He looked down at her, meeting her steady gold-silver gaze, feeling cold and hollow inside as he considered that he did know how Fuery felt after all.

  He knew how afraid the elf was as he stood on the brink of losing everything that was dear to him.

  Only Harbin wasn’t sure whether he was thinking about losing the guild, his work and Hartt, or whether he was thinking about losing Aya.

  Harbin turned away from her and walked to the black chest of drawers against the same wall as the door at the foot of the bed. He pulled the middle drawer open, grabbed one of his clean black t-shirts and tossed it at Aya. She squeaked as she quickly caught it, stopping it from hitting her in the face.

  “Put that on,” he grumbled and shoved the drawer closed, and opened the one below it. All of his jeans would be too large for her, but there was no damned way he was going to let her wander the corridors of the guild hall in his robe or that godsforsaken little slip of hers.

  He groaned. A slip that he had left in the main reception room.

  He viciously yanked a pair of dark grey sweats from the drawer and slammed it shut. He would pick up the infernal slip on his way through to Hartt’s office. It had better still be there or he would be tracking down whoever had stolen it and teaching them a lesson they would never forget.

  When he turned to face Aya with the sweatpants, his breath left him in a rush and his chest suddenly felt too tight.

  She stood before him in just his t-shirt, the robe discarded in a pool around her bare feet. Her hands shook as she tugged at the hem of the t-shirt, trying to get it to cover more of her shapely thighs. His mouth dried out. Her eyes darted up to him, a pretty blush staining her cheeks, and he averted his gaze, turning his face away from her, and held the pants out to her.

  Heat bloomed on his cheeks as she took them from him, tugging them free of his grip. Fuck, she wasn’t the only one with shaking hands now. He kept his eyes pinned on the black stone floor, giving her time to cover herself, and hoped to the gods that she didn’t notice that he was blushing like an idiot.

  He had been inside her just minutes ago, pinning her to the wall and taking her hard, and now he was blushing because he had seen her bare legs? What the hell was wrong with him?

  He blamed his hormones. They were playing with him, messing him up worse than ever now that being on the cusp of maturity had clashed with finding his female in Aya.

  She shuffled away from him and he breathed a sigh of relief as the soft click of the bathroom door closing reached his ears.

  Harbin twisted and flopped onto his back on the bed, his arms splayed out at his sides. He needed to get his head on straight and kick his heart back into line, but it seemed impossible when she was near him. He couldn’t focus on his mission or what he was going to say to Hartt. He could only focus on her where she moved around in his bathroom, making herself at home in his tiny quarters.

  He blew out his breath and then chuckled.

  He had never brought a woman home. He had never let them get close to him. He was breaking all his rules with Aya and he had a terrible feeling he was going to pay dearly for it. She had torn down his defences and shaken his world all over again, rocking it and leaving him reeling.

  His heart was on the line again and this time he felt certain he was going to lose it.

  Gods, if he was honest with himself, he had wanted to lose it to her forty years ago, and it had hurt him when he had thought she didn’t want it.

  Now part of him suspected that she had desired to steal it from him.

  She still desired it.

  Only now things were different. He wasn’t the innocent boy he had been then, wide-eyed and awed by the world. He had seen too much darkness and blood, had spilled too much of it to be a good man. He had no status, no standing, no pride. He had gone against everything he had been taught and in doing so he had destroyed the boy he had once been and built a dangerous man in his place.

  One too dark and twisted to be worthy of a female like Aya.

  The bathroom door opened and he looked across at her as she stepped out, rolling the waist of his sweatpants over so they fitted snug against her rounded hips.

  Gods, she was beautiful.

  Damp strands of her black hair hung forwards, her gold-silver eyes intent on her work, making her oblivious to him. Rose still coloured her cheeks and her lips were still swollen and dark from the ferocity of his kiss. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  Not even when she stilled and slowly lifted hers to meet his.

  Her blush deepened and he wanted to stand, cross the room to her and gather her into his arms and kiss her again.

  He wanted to hold her close and never let her go.

  He closed his eyes instead and inhaled deeply, pushing away the tempting thoughts because they were nothing more than torture to him. He wanted what he couldn’t have, and no good could come of that.

  “Ready,” she whispered, her soft voice trembling.

  He lifted his feet up and flipped onto them, grabbed his t-shirt from the bed, and pulled it on as he headed for the main door. “Just stay close.”

  He pulled the black door open and stepped out into the corridor, and was a few strides down it before he realised that Aya hadn’t moved. He backtracked and peered into his room at her where she still stood between his bed and the bathroom. Her wide eyes shifted from the corridor to him, her fear hitting him in powerful waves that had him crossing the short strip of floor between them and taking hold of her hand. It shook in his and he sighed.

  “You have nothing to fear, Aya,” he husked and resisted the temptation to brush his fingers across her cheek when she lifted her chin and looked up at him, her silvery eyebrows furrowing and the fear he spoke of growing stronger in her rather than abating. “I would never let anything happen to you. You know that, don’t you?”

  She hesitated, her gaze flicking to the hall before returning to him, and then nodded. “I know. It’s just…”

  “I know. You don’t have to say it. I didn’t feel comfortable here when I first arrived either.” He looked away from her when her eyes widened and wished he hadn’t confessed that to her. She did a good enough job of tearing down the barriers around his softer feelings without him helping by opening them up to her. He tugged her towards the door, a little harder than he should have, and she stumbled into him. “Hartt is waiting and he gets pissy if you make him wait.”

  She nodded and closed the door behind them, and then did something that threatened to completely blast his barriers into smithereens.

  She looped her free hand around his arm and huddled close to him, her breasts pressing against his bare skin, jiggling beneath her t-shirt with each step she took.

  He gritted his teeth and forced himself to focus on the corridor and his surroundings as he led her through the guild building. It was a struggle until someone came into view, a young new recruit. His senses immediately sharpened, his instinct to protect Aya driving him to go
on the defensive. He tightened his grip on her hand and stared the assassin in the eye, locking gazes with him and holding it until the male had passed. He tracked him with his senses then, monitoring him until he was far away enough that he no longer posed an immediate threat to Aya.

  He did the same with every male that crossed their paths, gaining a few odd looks from some of them. He didn’t care that he was acting territorial.

  He wouldn’t let anyone frighten Aya.

  He would protect her as he had promised.

  They reached the main reception room. It was mercifully empty for once. His focus jumped to her cream slip where it lay on the floor where he had left it. He diverted course, bent and scooped it up, and held it out to Aya.

  “You lost something.”

  Her cheeks blazed and she grabbed the satin slip, scrunched it into a ball and shoved it into her pocket.

  Harbin smiled, unable to contain it. She was even prettier when she blushed like that and it made him want to say things that would keep that red stain on her cheeks.

  She edged her eyes up and he schooled his features, adopting a flat expression that would have hidden his thoughts from anyone but her. Her little smile said she had sensed his amusement and his desire. It was hard to hide anything when she was connected to him already, the depth of it allowing her to sense things in him. Such a powerful bond was vaunted among his kind, most of his species wishing it for themselves when they found their mates and cherished by those who were gifted it by fate. It was rare though.

  Many believed it made things easier for fated mates who shared such a connection.

  From where he was standing, it made the whole damned thing more difficult.

  Because it was making him fall for her.

  CHAPTER 18

  It had been three days since the meeting in Hartt’s office, and while Harbin hadn’t come out and told her straight how annoyed he was by the decision she had made and the fact the elf had backed it, he was definitely showing her how much it had angered him.

  Harbin’s right fist slammed into her cheek, sending her stumbling a few steps before landing hard on the padded floor of the gym. She lay sprawled out on the rubber mat on her front, breathing hard and fighting to quell the pain. Every inch of her ached, but she wasn’t going to give up. He wanted to make her throw in the towel and go back on their plan, and she was determined to survive what he had termed ‘training’ and go through with it.

  “You gonna lay there all day?” he bit out and she pressed her palms into the black rubber, drew down a deep breath and pushed up onto her knees.

  Aya looked back over her shoulder at him and couldn’t miss the anger in his silver eyes. They glowed brightly, shining like liquid metal under sunlight. He paced the mat, radiating tension at a level that had her wary of him. He had grown increasingly aggressive over the past few days and she knew why.

  He was worried about her.

  This was his way of dealing with it and she had to admit it wasn’t a very good one. After the shouting match he’d had with Hartt about the plan the elf had put on the table, and the furious way he had looked at her when she had agreed to play bait, she had tried to talk to him about it.

  He only responded in one of two ways each time she attempted to discuss things with him.

  He either gruffly stated that he would protect her or he said it was her funeral.

  Not entirely the most helpful of responses. His mood had been mercurial, swinging between those two feelings, but one thing had remained constant.

  His desire to train her.

  Gods, he was pushing her hard and he knew it. The bastard probably savoured it, thinking she would give up if he kept shoving her harder and harder, hitting her with everything he had and holding nothing back.

  Well, she had news for him. She couldn’t give up, no matter how much she wanted to collapse on the smelly rubber floor and sleep until her aching body healed.

  She couldn’t give up because she wanted vengeance too, hungered for it now that she knew the truth and knew that the one responsible was within her reach. If she could play her role and lure the Archangel huntress out of hiding, then both of them could turn the page on a chapter of their lives that had been a nightmare.

  They could begin a new life.

  Aya sat back on her knees and looked up at Harbin as he stopped before her, a towering mountain of muscle and menace, his eyes flashing dangerously. He was angry with her and Hartt, but she could feel other emotions in him. She could sense the underlying tension born of the realisation that he was slowly closing in on the target that had eluded him for two decades, the one responsible for using him and killing so many of his pride. She could feel that he was eager to put the plan into motion, near desperate for her to reach a point in her training where they could set the trap for the huntress, and that waiting was killing him.

  He wanted to rush to the final step.

  She could understand that.

  This moment had been twenty years in the making and she felt the full weight of her part in the plan on her shoulders. He was relying on her to carry it out flawlessly. She would. She wouldn’t fail him.

  He held his hand out to her and she slipped hers into it. Warmth flowed down her arm from where they touched, heating her blood and making it burn for him. She stifled the need it birthed, a fierce hunger to have him touching her again that had been steadily growing since they had made love. She had hoped the passionate moment they had shared would scratch her itch for him, allowing her to focus again, but it had only made things worse.

  The wicked hungry look in his silver eyes said that she wasn’t the only one aching for an encore.

  The second she was on her feet, he released her and backed off, placing a few metres between them. The room was huge, all of the equipment moved to the edges of the floor, but she still felt as if there wasn’t enough space or enough air for her to breathe easily.

  Every morning she arrived here ahead of him from her assigned quarters nearby, dressed in the tight-fitting sports tank and sweatpants he had gotten her from the mortal world. Every morning she warmed up alone in the huge room.

  And every morning when he stalked into it, a grim look on his handsome face and his eyes instantly locking on hers, he sucked the air from the room and it closed in on her, feeling suddenly cramped and confining.

  That sensation only grew worse as they sparred, each blow he landed sending mixed signals through her body, making her angry that he had managed to strike her but thrilled by the feel of his skin on hers.

  Gods, she was messed up.

  Fighting with him turned her on, and she hadn’t failed to notice that it affected him too.

  He had stormed away from her enough times, slamming the door and leaving her alone for long minutes before eventually returning and acting as if nothing had happened.

  And every time he returned, she ached for him to grab her and pin her to the wall and take her as he had in his bedroom, wild and frantic with need, lost in his passion and desires.

  He never did.

  She had sworn what they had done would be a one-time thing, but she couldn’t stop herself from wanting more from him. She didn’t think this yearning for him would end until they went their separate ways.

  She wasn’t sure it would end even then.

  Was she doomed to spend forever aching for Harbin?

  Aya exhaled hard.

  She had made her mind up about him and she would stick with that decision, no matter how fiercely she desired him.

  She readied herself again and he did the same, shifting his feet further apart and adopting a stance that she was familiar with now. She knew which direction he would attack from and she would defend against it, just as he had trained her to do.

  He launched his left fist forwards, a lightning-fast strike that had caught her off guard the first few times they had fought. She blocked with her right arm, knocking his aside, and swung her left fist, aiming low. Her blow connected with his side be
low his ribs, tearing a grunt from his lips that she refused to feel bad about. He wasn’t pulling his punches so she refused to go easy on him in return.

  Harbin dropped his right hand and went to snare hers. She whipped it back, raised and aimed again, throwing her weight into the blow. He growled as it smashed into his cheek, snapping his head back, and then dropped into a low crouch.

  She always hated this bit.

  She cried out as his fist struck her in her stomach, sending pain splintering outwards, and recovered a second later, in time to grab his hair and shove his head down as she brought her knee up. It cracked into his face and she released him as he fell backwards from the force of the blow, landing on his backside. He rolled backwards and pressed his hands into the floor above his shoulders.

  Every powerful muscle on his torso flexed, distracting her.

  She missed her cue as he flipped onto his feet and his fist smashed into her cheek, sending her crashing onto the mats.

  “For fuck’s sake, Aya!” His bark was startling in the quiet room, the volume of it hurting her buzzing ears as her body swiftly tried to heal the damage he had done, bringing her senses back on line. “I’ve told you a thousand fucking times… side step, elbow to my face. I’ll block it and you can kick out at my ankle to knock me away.”

  She flinched with each of the first few words but rallied as he went on, her anger mounting as he bore down on her, fury flashing across his face.

  “I’m not an idiot,” she snapped and found her feet, coming to face him. She planted her hands on her hips and glared at him. “I was distracted.”

  He huffed and folded his arms across his chest, causing his biceps to flex and distract her all over again. Gods damn him. They could have made her mate ugly in every way, but no, they made him fricking perfect.

  “If you’re distracted in here, what the hell are you going to be like when you’re out there and your life is on the line? They have to buy the bullshit we’re peddling, Aya.” He stepped closer to her, until she had to tip her head back to keep her glare locked on his face, a face she wanted to smash her fist into right now. Maybe if she messed it up enough, she wouldn’t feel so hopelessly attracted to him. “What the hell is there to be distracted by in here anyway? I’ve removed everything that could possibly make you lose focus.”