Marked by an Assassin Read online

  Harbin huffed.

  It was typical of Fuery to place a claim on the most powerful enemy present.

  Although, in this case, it did leave two clones for him and two for Hartt, which was more of an even split than Fuery normally managed. Harbin was surprised he hadn’t attempted to take on all five at once. It seemed that the mad bastard still had a shred of sense left in his twisted head after all and knew he wouldn’t be able to tackle both the witch and his copies alone.

  Divide and conquer.

  Harbin tossed one blade into his left hand, curled his fingers around the black leather hilts and assessed the two clones on his side. He had to end this quickly. Killing the copies would weaken the witch, and give him the chance to deal the final blow so he could go after Aya.

  She was growing distant, still chasing the huntress. He couldn’t sense any pain in her, but the connection was becoming hazy as she moved away from him. If she moved much further away, she could be hurt without him sensing it. He might not reach her in time to protect her.

  His gaze strayed to the direction she had run.

  Every fibre of his being said to forget the witch and go after his mate and the huntress.

  “Go,” Hartt barked as he lashed out with his black blade at one of the clones, forcing the male to quickly strafe right to avoid the blow, opening a gap in their defensive line.

  Harbin glanced at his boss, caught the steely determination flashing in his violet eyes as he clashed with the clone again, and didn’t hesitate.

  He ran for the opening Hartt had created for him.

  Another clone stepped into his path and he growled as he slashed with his twin blades, cutting through the air in vicious arcs. The male raised his arm to block, deflecting Harbin’s left blade but leaving himself wide open for his right one. He grinned as it sliced down the male’s chest, leaving a gash in his black tunic, revealing a strip of white flesh and crimson. The clone grunted, his pale blue eyes wide and dark with pain as he stumbled backwards and brought his arms up to his chest.

  Hartt snarled as he thrust his blade forwards, a violent blur in the low-lit alley, and the copy he had been fighting cried out. Harbin glanced his way as the male staggered into view, the end of Hartt’s black sword protruding from his back and his hands clutching the blade in front of him.

  Harbin’s eyes widened as the clone gritted his teeth and pushed the blade out of him despite Hartt’s attempts to drive it deeper, forcing the elf back. They were growing stronger.

  He whipped his head around towards Fuery and the male witch where they fought, two wraiths illuminated only by the violent flashes of colourful light as the witch employed spells to weaken Fuery.

  But he was weakening too.

  Each spell he cast, drained his magic. Each injury they dealt his clones, weakened him too. He was trying to keep them alive, pouring more strength into them. He was desperate.

  Harbin thought that only made him more dangerous.

  He whirled on his heel, bringing his right blade up at the same time. It connected with the neck of the clone Hartt had been fighting and he drove through the obstruction, growling as his blade sliced deep through bone and flesh. Blood sprayed, slapping onto the tarmac, followed by the dull thud of the clone’s head as it dropped and the slam of his body that fell after it.

  The male witch barked out a feral roar as he hurled his right hand forwards, unleashing a blast of green light that hit Fuery square in the chest and sent him flying across the alley. The elf smacked into the brick wall with such force that the blocks fractured, fault lines splintering outwards from where he had impacted. He grunted and dropped to the ground.

  Motionless.

  “Fuery,” Hartt breathed and silvery light flashed over him, almost blinding in the darkness.

  He reappeared next to his comrade in a crouch, his blade held horizontal in front of him and Fuery, sharp edge facing the enemy. He kept his eyes locked on the witch as he ran his free hand over Fuery’s neck. Searching for a pulse.

  The brief spark of relief in Hartt’s violet eyes before they suddenly darkened was all Harbin needed to tell him that Fuery was fine.

  Hartt slowly rose onto his feet, coming to face the male witch.

  Harbin ducked beneath a blow one of the remaining clones aimed at him, his heart pounding faster as he tried to keep all three of them with him. They needed to buy some time, giving Fuery a chance to come around, and Harbin couldn’t let any of the clones turn their focus on Hartt. The elf couldn’t fight the male witch and protect Fuery from the clones at the same time.

  Harbin growled as fiery pain shot across his side and turned on his heel, swiftly facing the one who had attacked him. He lashed out with his right blade, forcing the male to block, and drove forwards with his left. The clone snatched his left wrist and twisted it. Harbin gritted his teeth and grunted as pain bolted through his bones and turned his body with his arm, stopping the male from breaking it.

  It seemed the less clones there were, the stronger the remaining ones became.

  Not a problem.

  He just had to move faster, not allowing them to land any attacks or see his moves coming. He flipped his right blade in his hand and slashed at the clone’s head. The male’s blue eyes shot towards his hand and he tried to dodge it, but he wasn’t quick enough to completely evade the strike. Harbin’s blade swiped across his cheek and rivulets of red streamed down to his jaw. The clone shoved with the hand that still held Harbin’s wrist, sending him staggering backwards.

  Giving him the space he needed.

  He couldn’t shift, because the witch would force him to change back, just as he had Aya, and it would weaken him. He was slower in his human form, but still as agile as and even more dangerous than he was in his snow leopard form.

  He flipped his other blade in his left hand, so the black knife ran along the underside of his forearm, his thumbs near the end of the hilts, and sprang at the clone. The male blocked, his forearms and fists knocking against Harbin’s with each blow he tried to land. It seemed the witch was on to him, making his clones more agile. Silver short blades that matched Harbin’s appeared in the hands of the clones around him. The witch was trying to gain the upper hand, arming his slaves with the abilities and weapons they needed to take him down.

  If he had been alone, it might have proven a problem.

  But he wasn’t.

  A black snarl sounded from behind Harbin, words growled in the elf tongue, and a dark wave rolled over him, malevolence in its purest form. It seemed to suck what little light there was from the alley and all the warmth from the air.

  The hairs on the back of Harbin’s neck prickled and his eyes widened as he spun to face the clone, saw the flash of a silver blade in his hand, and realised he wouldn’t be quick enough to block the blow aimed straight at his neck.

  His heart lodged in his throat and he swiftly brought his blade up, even when he knew he wouldn’t make it.

  Black jagged smoke exploded behind the copy and blood sprayed over Harbin, drenching his bare chest.

  He stared blankly at the black clawed hand protruding from the clone’s chest, dripping with dark liquid, and then beyond the male to the one who towered behind him, a vision of grim death.

  Fuery’s lips peeled back in a grin, flashing enormous fangs, and the corona of violet shining around his pupils stuttered, beginning to fade. A chill went through Harbin as that ring of dying light changed shape, stretching into points at the top and bottom.

  His pupils were turning elliptical.

  “Fuery,” Harbin barked, dropped one of his blades and dragged the clone away from him, shoving the body to one side so he could reach the elf. “Fuery, listen to my voice. Stay with me, Buddy.”

  Fuery bared his fangs on a snarl that chilled Harbin’s blood.

  The remaining violet in his eyes burned crimson.

  Hartt muttered a ripe curse and appeared in a flash of silvery light, between Harbin and Fuery. He swung his left hand, his palm
striking Fuery’s cheek so hard that the crack of flesh-hitting-flesh rang around the alley.

  “Pull yourself together,” Hartt growled and Fuery blinked, and Harbin could only stare as the red in his eyes faded, the violet shining through again. Hartt grabbed the elf and pulled him into an embrace. “Fucking hell… I thought we’d lost you that time.”

  Fuery mumbled something in the elf tongue and pushed away from Hartt, an awkward edge to his expression as he called his blade back to his hand and looked down at his boots.

  “Pull back,” Hartt said but Fuery ignored him, shifting into a warrior’s stance as his dark eyes danced between the two remaining clones.

  He turned to face the witch.

  Grinned.

  Disappeared.

  Fucking hell. Harbin had never seen Fuery actually complete a teleport, and it had happened twice now. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but the concerned look on Hartt’s face said it was bad.

  “Get him out of here,” Harbin barked and lashed out at one of the clones, driving it away from its remaining companion so he could fight it one on one.

  “Not going to happen.” Hartt’s voice was a dark growl as he teleported and appeared behind the other copy, his blade a black blur as he slashed up the male’s back. The clone gave an agonised bellow and swung with his silver knife as he turned on his heel to face Hartt. The elf blocked with his sword, following through and knocking the clone back. His violet gaze leaped to Fuery where he battled the witch, a menacing shadow that Harbin couldn’t track as he dodged each spell the male cast. “I have to let him finish this or he’ll lose control again.”

  Closure.

  Hartt had warned him once not to get between Fuery and an enemy, because Fuery would kill anyone who got in his way once he had locked on to a target. He wouldn’t let anyone steal that kill from him. He always finished what he started.

  Harbin could understand that.

  He looked towards the end of the alley again as he blocked another attack, his senses stretching outwards, scouring the city for Aya. She had gone after the huntress alone, she intended to take the bitch down, but he couldn’t let her do it. He needed the closure.

  “Go,” Hartt barked again and Harbin kicked the clone away from him, sending it slamming into the wall.

  He looked back at his boss, saw the determination in his eyes and that it was an order this time. One he would be an idiot to disobey.

  “We can handle this.” Hartt brought his blade down in a swift arc, slashing down the clone’s chest and sending him to his knees.

  The witch howled in pain and threw his hand out in the direction of the injured clone. Pouring more magic into it. He was healing them on the fly, trying to keep the remaining two alive, but each time he used a spell on them, he weakened himself and left himself open. Fuery attacked in that moment, raking claws over the witch’s extended arm and slicing through his black robe.

  Blood spilled, the scent of it rank, tinny and sharp, laced with death.

  Fuery grinned.

  The witch turned on him, hitting him with another blast of magic, sending him crashing and tumbling across the tarmac. The second he stopped rolling, he was on his feet and springing at the witch, clashing with him again.

  “Go,” Hartt said and Harbin obeyed, certain that his two comrades could handle the witch and the two remaining clones.

  They were powerful elves and he believed in them, knew in his heart that they would win.

  Aya needed him more than they did.

  He roared, the sound echoing around the dark streets, and kicked off, his blood pounding with a need to reach her.

  He focused wholly on her as he ran, aware that she would sense him coming towards her.

  “Hold on, Aya,” he whispered, praying to whatever gods would listen to him that they would protect his mate until he reached her, watching over her and keeping her safe for him.

  He couldn’t lose her.

  He couldn’t lose someone he loved again.

  CHAPTER 22

  Harbin sprinted through the city streets, following his nose and the buzzing inside him that warned she was nearby. It grew stronger the closer he came to her, running barefoot and bare-chested along quiet residential roads surrounded by elegant townhouses. Something unsettling also grew with it, an echo of her pain in his side, his arm and his thigh. The huntress had injured her. He banked left at a square and then backtracked when a sharp grunt sounded in the leafy area in the centre of it to his right.

  Aya.

  He growled and ran in that direction. When he reached the wrought iron fence that surrounded the small park, the scent of blood hit him hard. Not just mortal blood. Aya’s blood too.

  His heart hammered against his chest and he vaulted the fence, landing in a crouch on the leaf litter on the other side. He ran through the barrier of trees and out onto the cool dewy grass.

  Aya slammed hard into the blonde huntress, knocking her back before flipping away from her, growling and snarling through her fangs as she fought for space. His heart almost stopped when he saw the blood coating her right thigh, slick on her jeans, and the slash across the left sleeve of her dark jumper over her biceps. Both looked as if they had been done with a blade.

  He readied his remaining one, wishing he’d had enough sense to grab the one he had dropped before rushing off to find Aya. He had been consumed by a need to reach her side again though, and that need still rolled through him, commanding him to protect her from the huntress that had brought both of them so much pain.

  Moonlight bathed the park in sombre hues, stealing the colour from the world.

  It brightened as his animal side rose to the fore, his vision sharpening together with his senses, until he could detect every twitch in the huntress’s body, could almost see her moves before she made them.

  The blonde female attacked, a frantic and wild thing as she lunged with the knife she tightly clutched in her left hand and fired bolts from the compact crossbow in her right at the same time.

  Aya back-flipped and kicked right the moment she landed, hurling herself out of the path of one of the bolts. It exploded on impact, showering earth upwards, filling the air with its rich scent.

  The huntress aimed the bow at her again as she recovered from the shockwave from the blast.

  Harbin roared and hurled himself at the huntress, catching her attention and distracting her, buying Aya time to find her feet. He brought his right leg up hard, smashing it into the female’s arm and sending the crossbow flying from her hand. A pained cry cut through the still night air and the huntress stumbled away from him, readying her blade at the same time as she brought her other arm to her chest.

  He flipped his knife in his hand and circled around her, forcing her away from Aya and placing himself between the two females, shielding his mate.

  Aya’s agitation flowed through him, and he knew it was because he had shown up. She wanted the kill, craved vengeance too, but he couldn’t let her have it. He needed it more.

  He drew down a deep breath and prepared himself.

  The huntress eyed him and then Aya, and then looked beyond them both, doubt surfacing in her green eyes.

  “Twenty years,” he growled and narrowed his gaze on her, drawing her focus back to him. “Twenty godsdamned years I hunted you… and now I have you. Now you die.”

  She surprised him by laughing. “No, now you die.”

  He doubted that.

  She lunged at him and he strafed left to dodge her wild thrust and swung his fist at her. She ducked back but his blow glanced off her cheek, sending her stumbling to one side and fighting for balance. He pressed his advantage, lashing out with his black blade. The huntress brought hers up, managing to block his attack, and shoved forwards.

  Hoping to throw him off balance too?

  That attack might have worked on Aya, but it wouldn’t work on him, and the huntress knew it. He was stronger than his mate and that was before he had spent two decades tr
aining as an assassin and honing his skills.

  She didn’t stand a chance against him now.

  He dropped low as she lunged again, sweeping his leg around at the same time and taking her ankles out with the kick. She hit the ground hard on her back and grunted. He brought his blade down fast, aiming for her chest, and she rolled away from him. His knife struck the grass and he growled as she rolled back, her blade a silver flash through the darkness. It sliced across his left arm, and the strong scent of his blood joined that of Aya’s and the huntress’s.

  He pulled his knife free from the dirt and swung at her, but she was already on her feet. Aya moved closer and he growled over his shoulder at her, sending her a warning to keep back and not intervene.

  This was his fight.

  The huntress swiftly dodged each attack he made, edging towards the far end of the park. Her gaze darted off in the direction he had come from, the wild edge to her green eyes growing with each glance. Her heart sounded hard in his ears as he advanced on her, stalking towards her, his blade held down at his side. She brandished hers, holding it in front of her, and he smiled as it shook in her grip.

  She had realised that the witch wasn’t coming to aid her.

  She was alone.

  His lips curled into a slow smile and he kicked off, his bare feet sinking into the soft ground as he lunged at her. She fumbled her block and cut across his right forearm, slicing deep into the muscle. He snarled as pain rolled through him, the fiery burn only driving him to fight harder, tugging at his primal instincts to defeat his prey and protect his female.

  His fangs emerged, canines sharpening into four deadly points that he wanted to sink into her throat.

  He slashed at her and she threw herself at him, hitting him hard in the chest and catching him off guard. He lost balance and fell with her, landing with her on top of him. She rammed her blade towards him and he brought his arm up and blocked her.

  The silver knife plunged deep into his forearm and he howled in agony, blinded by the pain, his blade falling from his grip.

  The huntress pulled her knife free of his flesh and he launched a hand out at her, catching her around the neck. He grimaced as he tightened his hold on her, choking the life out of her as she stared down at him through wide eyes. The second she overcame her shock, she lashed out at him again, slashing across his chest with her blade, a frantic feral thing as she tried to escape his hold. He growled and caught her arm, twisted it and tried to make her drop the knife so he could grab it and end her with it.