Guardians of the Assassins (Academy of Assassins #5)

Chapter Eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN

M organ ignored the heat that filled her cheeks and focused on the task at hand.

Ferals.

Danger.

Not sexy thoughts about getting her mates naked.

The asshats were doing it on purpose, working her up, wanting to stake their claim. That was the only reason she didn’t rip them a new one. She had no interest in any males other than her mates. If they needed to posture and act all alpha to put other men in their place, she’d let them play their game.

Men seemed to take their threats more seriously than when she turned them down.

“So we have two problems—finding out who is cursing the wolves, and finding the ferals before they hurt anyone. Any ideas?”

“There is no sense guessing who’s behind it until we have proof.” Kincade crossed his ankle over his knee and leaned back against the couch. “If we catch a feral, we might be able to learn something from them.”

Ryder shook his head, his expression grim. “You’ve never come across a feral. They’re nothing more than beasts. Any humanity in them has been stripped away, leaving behind a ravenous creature with no impulse control.”

“That’s not what he means,” Draven interrupted, his voice contemplative. “You think we’d be able to track the curse or whatever magic that was used on them back to the culprit.”

“Wolves usually take care of the ferals themselves, just putting them down.” Kincade drummed his fingers along his leg, the movement stilling when he turned toward her, his light green eyes landing on her with the weight of a boulder. His posture was deceptive, his lanky body ready to leap into action. “It has been many generations since there was an alpha queen.”

Morgan released a stuttering breath, part in hope, part in nerves. “You think I might be able to call them back?”

“Maybe.” He shrugged, as if unconcerned, but the tension thrumming through him said that he wasn’t any happier without having answers. “I don’t like placing you in danger, but it’s something we can’t dismiss.”

Smoke rose from Ascher at the mention of her in danger, his voice all growly when he spoke. “You want to use her as bait.”

“Want to? Fuck no.” Kincade dropped his foot to the floor, leaning forward to place his elbows on his knees. “But we might not have a choice.”

Tension spiked in the room, everyone turning to glare at Kincade.

“He’s right.” Caedmon shrugged when everyone turned their scowls in his direction. “If the ferals scent her, they will come. They won’t have a choice. It would be better that we control the situation and set a trap than let them stumble upon her without us there to protect her.”

Everyone fell silent at the dire pronouncement.

“Fuck me.” Ryder began to pace, raking his hand through his hair. “We traveled to the Assembly and back, which means if any ferals lingered in the area, they will follow her back here.”

Draven stiffened and pushed away from the wall where he was leaning, his stormy blue eyes darkening. He crept toward the window and peered out, like he expected to find an army waiting on their doorstep. “How much time do we have?”

“Best guess?” Caedmon rubbed his chin, his eyes flicking toward her, the compassion there making her heart thud against her ribs. “A few hours at most. If we want to set a trap, we need to do it now.”

“Since they’re wolves, I’m not sure if the wards will keep them out or not. They’re not set to hold out animals.” Morgan straightened and pushed away from the desk. “I want to lead them away from the coven.”

“It’s too dangerous.” Atlas stepped in front of her, blocking the way to the door. “It would be safer for you to remain inside the coven.”

Morgan placed a hand on his chest, his heart thumping hard against her palm. “You know I’m right. We need to protect the coven first.”

He reached up and trapped her hand against his chest, a muscle ticking in his jaw with the need to make her their priority. Then he grabbed her chin, lifting her face up to his. “You will do everything we say. You will not put yourself in danger. Understand?”

She was used to being in danger, it was the nature of their job, but this mission put them on edge. “You think this is connected to me, don’t you?”

Though he didn’t look away, his eyes flickered for just a second, betraying his agitation. She reached up and squeezed his wrist. “I will do everything in my power to come back to you.”

She reluctantly pulled away, her mind whirling. “What if they targeted the wolves for a reason?”

“What reason?” Ascher cocked his head, seeming unaware that tiny holes were burning into his clothes, the hellhound not the least bit pacified despite his calm expression.

She whirled and faced Ryder and Louis. “You’ve both said over and over that wolves are good for one thing—hunting and tracking. What if they were turned feral in order to be used to hunt and track something specific?”

The guys hesitated and glanced at each other. Ryder was the first to speak. “Ferals can’t be controlled. They?—”

“And no one is supposed to be able to turn them feral either, but obviously it’s happening. We can’t rule it out.” Morgan crossed her arms and glared at them, instinct warning her that she was right. The way they were turned wasn’t natural.

Before anyone could argue, Caedmon rubbed the tattoos dotted along his temple then down the side of his face. The black lines and swirls looked like braille and had to hurt like a bitch to get. “If what you say is true, then the real question is what or who are they hunting?”

The room fell silent, each looking at each other before their combined gaze landed on her once more. She barely resisted rolling her eyes. She gritted her teeth and held up her arms in protest. “No way! If they wanted me, it would’ve been a simple enough thing to track me to the coven, just like Louis had done.”

Ryder grunted, clearly not convinced, but they couldn’t argue with her logic.

Until Caedmon opened his big fat mouth.

“Unless they’re not familiar with this realm…” He trailed off when she pinned him with her glare. Instead of being intimidated, he raised a single brow in challenge.

Biting back a growl, she turned to smile at the others, but feared it came off more as a bearing of teeth from the way Draven’s chuckle turned into a cough. Morgan released a heavy breath, rubbing a hand down her face. “We don’t have much time to get into place if we want to set a trap. What do you want to do?”

As much as she wanted to run out and fight something, she trusted her men’s judgment. If they thought it was too dangerous, the last thing she wanted to do was put them at risk, knowing they would fight tooth and claw to keep her safe.

Though none of them looked happy, they didn’t argue with her joining the hunt. She suspected it had more to do that they didn’t want her out of her sight than agreeing with her, but she wasn’t going to argue with it.

She followed the others to the armory, joining them when they began strapping on weapons. She only grabbed a few extra blades, but she watched in wide-eyed amazement as the guys nearly emptied the room.

She wasn’t sure where they hid them all.

Except Draven.

She bit her lip to hold back her smile at seeing him practically bristling with sharp and pointy items. The guys normally didn’t fight with blades, each of them weapons in their own right, and she was surprised at how sexy they looked decked out with the hardware.

Ascher noticed her preoccupation first, giving her a flirty wink. Unfortunately, much to her disappointment, he refrained from doing anything about it.

The rest of the guys seemed to find her pouting amusing.

Well, except Ryder.

He purposely turned his back to her, his shoulders hunched, refusing to look, and a secret thrill went through her at knowing he wasn’t able to resist her when she batted her lashes at him.

As they headed outside, the amusement fell away, each of them becoming deadly warriors.

And damn were they a sight, enough to steal her breath when they all turned to look at her.

At the door, each of her mates gave her a kiss, something that was quickly becoming a custom she loved when they went out on a mission. Kincade and Atlas both kept things light. Ascher lingered at the taste of her lips, his eyes heavy lidded when he pulled back. Ryder and Draven didn’t care who watched, kissing her like their life depended on it, leaving her head spinning, and a hungry moan escaped her.

Ryder and Draven puffed out their chests at her reaction, which only served to amuse the others. She touched shaky fingers to her lips, thanking her lucky stars for her mates .

They made her hellish existence bearable.

She’d gladly go through everything again if it meant having them in her life.

Louis looked amused at the guys’ antics, but it was Caedmon’s reaction that had what little remaining breath in her lungs catch.

There was so much yearning in his expression that it was painful to witness. He locked his eyes on hers, but instead of shutting down or turning away, his yellow eyes blazed with emotions she had no hope of deciphering.

“I’ll gather the others.” Then he was gone, breaking the connection, and the ground seemed to shift under her feet.

She took a step after him, not sure what she intended, and nearly stumbled off the last step. It brought her back to herself with a nasty thump, and she absently reached up to rub her chest, unable to get over the feeling that she’d lost something precious.

Not liking the unsettling feeling, she peered at the guys, wondering if they’d noticed the exchange, but they were double-checking their weapons and she couldn’t help but wonder if she imagined the whole thing.

Then it didn’t matter when a dozen werewolves joined them. They were followed by a group of shifters that were a mix of Louis’s men and a few strays that sought to join the coven. Much to her surprise, more and more showed up each week, ever since the Academy opened up their doors to shifters. She wasn’t sure if they were looking for a place to belong or wanted to prove to the world that they were more than just beasts in human form.

Ryder said that they were drawn to the coven because of her. While the thought left her a little queasy, she welcomed the added protection. She had been much like them once, looking for a new start to life. A family.

It was only because the Academy gave her a chance that she left her old life behind. She was determined to do the same for any who wanted a second chance.

As they headed out on foot, she spotted Loki hunkered down, trying to blend in with a few wolves. His head and shoulders were slunk low to the ground, but it left his ass sticking out in the air, his tail pointed almost straight up.

Since he was taller than the wolves, it was like having a sign pointed right at him.

She tipped her head to the side as she watched him, then snorted when it looked like he was walking on his tip toes. It was so exaggerated that his whole body looked like he was moving in slow motion.

The others noticed her distraction, looked over their shoulder, and couldn’t hold back their grins.

She stopped and stood to the side, letting the others pass, only to step in front of Loki.

His nose hit the tip of her boot, and he froze.

Balanced on the tips of his toes.

Nothing moved but his eyebrows as he slowly lifted his gaze up to hers.

“Sorry, big guy, but I need you to stay behind and watch over the coven.” He heaved a massive sigh, his whole body seeming to melt to the ground in a puddle of sad puppy, and she felt like a monster for denying him. She squatted in front of him, scratching him behind the ear. “I need you to do something for me.”

Though he refused to look at her, his ears perked up and swiveled in her direction. “Keep watch over MacGregor, Stanley, and Séamus for me. You know how easily they find trouble if no one is watching them.”

The massive gardog cocked his head to the side, as if debating his answer. Then he gave a soft woof in reply, something that he was picking up from the shifters. He shot to his feet, his tongue lashing out, slapping her on the side of her face, leaving a swath of slobber from her chin to her forehead.

“Ack!” She grimaced and nearly fell back on her ass. She lifted her arm, swiping her face clean, and glared at the not so little mutt.

Morgan would swear to the gods the little shit actually snickered before he turned and pranced back toward the coven. He glanced back at her every five feet, waiting to see if she would change her mind.

She rose to her feet and crossed her arms, waiting until he disappeared back in the trees before she turned and joined her mates. The miles passed swiftly, the shifters slowly herded her and her mates until they were at the center of the group. Morgan glanced at the others to see if they noticed, then had to bite back the smile at the consternation on their faces.

Draven gave her the side eye, his face twisted in a grimace. “Tell me we aren’t that annoying.”

“Worse.” She couldn’t resist the chuckle when he winced.

When the shifters saw they easily kept pace with them, they picked up their speed until they were running at a fast jog. The miles passed swiftly, some of the shifters and werewolves breaking off in pairs to investigate scents.

It was almost eerie how swift and silent they could move through the forest. While most humans wouldn’t notice her, she was clumsy in comparison to them. They just flowed through the trees and underbrush like they were one with nature, and she sighed enviously at their natural grace.

Ryder flashed her a smile when he saw her disgruntled expression. “If you want, I can take you out with a couple of the other loup garou trainees and teach you how they mimic our movements. You have enough natural grace that you should be able to hone your skills to almost match the wolves, given enough time.”

She grinned, excited by the prospect of running with the pack again. She didn’t realize how much she’d missed it until he offered. “I would love that. Thank you!”

Pleasure blazed in his amber eyes, his white teeth flashing as he beamed at her. His long hair flowed behind him as he picked up his pace, his legs stretching, and she watched in awe as he took over as lead of the pack.

Alpha.

He carried the extra weight of responsibilities with ease, helping others instead of beating them down. It was one of the things she loved most about him. Wanting him to know exactly how much she appreciated it, she touched the almost metal webbing that was tattooed between the skin of her thumb and forefinger, a tiny wolf print caught along the web, allowing him to see himself as she saw him.

And squashed a smile when he stumbled, shooting a wide-eyed, starved look in her direction like he was seconds away from turning around and pinning her to the nearest tree.

“Naughty girl.” Draven nudged her shoulders, and she hated that she got flustered when he shot her a knowing smirk. She shouldn’t be surprised he noticed every time she was distracted by the guys—he was a siren, after all. She was getting used to being called out by him. It was cute, almost like a game. She suspected he did it not only to see her rattled, but reassure himself that what she felt for them was real.

That what she felt for them wasn’t just lust.

Being a siren, he was confident in his skills to read other women.

She loved that he was uncertain around her.

It meant that she mattered.

The rest of the guys kept pace with her, not venturing far from her side, always alert for dangers.

Instead of being annoyed by their hovering, she found it sweet.

A way to show that they cared.

They treated her like a child at times, watching what she ate, making sure that she slept, even setting out clothes for her. It wasn’t that they thought she was incapable of taking care of herself, they just felt that it was their job now as her mate.

It was adorable, watching the tough warriors stumble around trying to accommodate her, like she was a strange alien in their mist.

Then all her musings were cut short when Caedmon jerked to a halt, his nose lifting in the air. His head snapped to the right, and he took off at a run, his form just a blur through the trees. The rest of the pack moved with him without hesitation, and like a school of fish or flock of birds, they remained within formation.

Morgan put on a burst of speed, determined to keep up with them, the stretch and burn of muscles feeling good. A few miles ahead, they burst into a clearing, the wolves in the lead barely stopping from plunging into the lake.

Chest heaving, doing her best not to pant, she glanced around the shore, her gaze coming to rest on a cabin across the way.

And nearly jumped out of her skin when the sound of a shotgun blast shattered the silence.

Growls and howls erupted from human throats, and the pack took off in a looping run. That was when she saw the old man from the grocery store standing on his porch, the butt of his rifle at his shoulder. The same man who had been captured by the wendigo and stuffed in a cage to be used as a snack for later.

She tried to recall his name and came up blank.

She dug deeper, and a sharp burst of pain pierced her skull like her head was being crushed, then it was gone and information flooded her brain.

“Arthur?”

“Who’s Arthur?” The hair on the back of her neck lifted at Draven’s question and his blank look.

How was it possible that neither of them remembered the old man?

Before she could voice her question, Draven was distracted when a few of the wolves around them tugged off their clothes and shifted with a snap and crack of bones. She winced at the painful transition, their wolves looking almost dainty next to the ferals.

Morgan glanced back at the cabin, narrowing her eyes on the old man, trying to recall any detail. It was like trying to remember a dream that kept slipping through her fingers. He had trained with the wolves for a few weeks before he just disappeared, but the fine details of his stay were just gone. She pushed away the mystery, feeling disoriented for a second .

When she turned to see where he was shooting, her breath caught.

Ferals.

Ryder said ferals were different, but she hadn’t understood what he meant until now. The wolves were massive, like stripping away their humanity released them from the constraints placed on them. Their teeth were longer, dripping with saliva—all the better to eat you with.

Their fur was denser, giving them an almost fluffy look, so it was harder to reach flesh and take them down. Their murder mitts were huge, their claws twice as long as normal, where one swipe would eviscerate their opponent.

They were deadly in every sense of the word.

It was like looking at the prehistoric version of wolves, and her eyes widened in realization. “Dire wolves.”

The awe at seeing such majestic beasts shattered when she saw her pack heading right for them.

With Ryder and Caedmon in the lead.

It was going to be a massacre.

Heart in her throat, she reached for the mates nearest her, grabbing on to Ascher and Kincade, then ripped open a portal. She launched herself forward, the other two following her lead, though Kincade cursed the whole way.

Void magic wrapped them in its hold, warmth infusing her like a caress, then they were spit out near the bottom of the porch. Traveling through the void gave the appearance of disappearing from one place and appearing in another.

Only it wasn’t that simple.

Their bodies didn’t disintegrate and reform, it was more like a rip through space and time where they stepped through a doorway. While most people found the void cold and suffocating, it reminded her of home.

Ascher landed next to her, breathing hard, while Kincade stumbled before catching his balance.

“A little more warning next time,” he muttered under his breath, unable to repress a shudder that went through him .

“Hey!” She gave him a playful smirk. “At least give me credit for not running off alone this time.”

He leaned down and kissed her forehead, and she couldn’t resist leaning into him, loving his warm stone scent. His hard body had partially shifted into his gargoyle form as he went into protection mode, but she only felt comforted by the warm stone.

“Thank you.” The words barely passed his lips before he promptly pushed her behind him, and she rolled her eyes at his back at the caveman tactic. Ascher shot her a sympathetic look but did nothing to rectify the situation.

There were seven ferals in total, though three of them appeared a little rough around the edges. One limped, favoring his right rear leg, while two others had fur matted with blood along their neck and shoulders…like they’d fought each other before whomever was controlling them managed to put a stop to it.

Which confirmed her worst fear.

Someone had purposely turned them feral.

The callousness left her sick to her stomach.

The ferals paced restlessly, seeming confused by their sudden appearance, like they weren’t sure who they were supposed to attack. A couple glanced at her, their agitation seeming to ease at her presence.

A few of the werewolves ripped their shirts over their heads and shifted. The crunch of bones wasn’t any less brutal than the wolves, but it looked more unnatural as the body stretched before filling out with muscle and bones.

Caedmon was different from the others, the change more natural, like his form just bulked up. There was a beauty to his creature, his hair full and thick, his face more expressive, sharp intelligence reflected back in his bright yellow eyes.

He towered over the others by at least a foot, topping over nine feet. The scent of fire and brimstone still clung to him. It should repel her, but the smell called to something inside her. The massive wolf locked eyes with her, scanning her as if searching for fear, but she could only stare at him in awe .

He chuffed softly in amusement, his ears swiveling, his teeth flashing in a parody of a smile. She’d swear to the gods that he actually winked, and she couldn’t help but chuckle, charmed by his antics. One of the ferals began pacing and inched forward, a yearning in them to get near her, and the change in Caedmon was instantaneous.

Gone was the playfulness, his demeanor replaced by a monster who snarled savagely at the threat. The ferals whined and ducked their heads like the sound had hurt.

A bird dropped from the sky, swooping low over the ferals, his caw piercing. The hawk was mammoth, the dark shadow he cast ominous as he swept low to the ground. She almost suspected a shifter, but there was nothing remotely human in his intelligent citrine eyes.

Even before the bird veered back toward the skies, the ferals lost their shit.

It was like they were hit with a massive shock of adrenaline. Their eyes flashed, any calm they gained at her nearness faded, and they launched to their feet and charged with a ferocious snarl.

Caedmon and the werewolves didn’t hesitate to meet the challenge. Caedmon caught one wolf by the throat mid-leap. Though the feral snapped and clawed at him, he didn’t relent, drawing the beast closer, then he opened his mouth and let out a fierce roar that echoed eerily across the lake.

Whatever he did seemed to work. The feral went limp in his grip and blinked at him groggily. He tossed the now docile feral at Ryder, who remained in human form. He easily caught the enormous beast and subdued him, slipping a muzzle over the creature’s head to prevent him from snapping his teeth. He used the reins to hogtie his legs, leaving the feral immobile, securing the wolf in less than a minute. The familiarity with which he was able to do it was heart wrenching.

Five wolves had one of the ferals cornered. The creature snapped like a wild beast, but the wolves easily danced out of the way. When the feral would charge at one of them, other wolves would slam into his side, knocking him head over tail.

They would do it over and over again, until one of the werewolves leapt on top of the feral and pinned it to the ground and quickly bound it. He then picked up the wiggling feral and flung it over his shoulder with all the concern of a bag of sand.

When she took a step forward to help, Ascher caught her arm and shook his head. “You’ll just be a distraction.”

Draven came to a stop at her side, and Kincade gave them a nod, his skin hardening into stone, before he joined Ryder in the capture.

They managed to subdue four ferals when a sharp caw caught her attention. She jerked her head up to the sky just in time to see the large bird of prey swoop low once again, the five-foot wingspan more than a little ominous.

She very much feared if the hawk managed to give another order, the ferals would kill themselves in order to fulfill their mission.

Without hesitation, she lifted her arm. Fire tingled along her veins, the hunter’s moon symbol etched into her arm shimmering, then the ebony bow appeared in her grip an instant later. She drew back on the string, and a smoky black arrow flashed into existence.

She quickly took aim, then released the string.

The arrow shot true, flying through the air like a black streak, a smudge of smoke trailing behind it. Even as the bird veered away, it was too late, and the arrow hit its wing. A squawk of distress escaped the bird, feathers puffed in the air, and it plummeted to the ground. Despite the injury, the bird managed to regain flight before crashing into the earth, its wing flapping weakly as he disappeared into the trees.

She took a step to go after it, wanting to track it back to its master, when Draven stepped in her path. “Don’t. You can’t go after it on your own.”

“But—”

“The ferals are almost all captured.” Draven leaned in closer, the yummy chocolate goodness that was him distracting her. “We need to stick to the plan. We can’t dismiss that this is a trap to distract us and take you.”

Morgan rocked back on her feet, sagging in disappointment.

Because he was right.

As much as she wanted to catch the ones responsible, it was too dangerous to go off alone.