Assassin's Kiss Page 2

  A…cat?

  It stared up at him with big yellow eyes.

  “Get that thing out of here.” Orser reached for it, but it jumped fluidly toward Scorpio, fitting its lithe body between the bars.

  Orser frowned at it. So did Scorpio. He wasn’t a cat person. Or a dog person. Or even a people person. He preferred weapons and obstacle courses, tactical plans and espionage gadgets.

  Those didn’t expect anything of him.

  The cat looked at him knowingly, then, turning to face Orser and Inga with its head high, it parked its skinny rump on Scorpio’s foot.

  Inga stifled a snort.

  Orser shook his head. “You wanna die, cat, go ahead. He’ll probably eat you.”

  Scorpio slid his foot from beneath the furry bundle. Witches and their damn animals. It was amazing one hadn’t gotten in here before today. In fact—

  Honeysuckle. It drifted up to his nose, faint but tangible.

  Frowning and incredulous, he turned to the feline, who lifted a delicate paw to wash its face. He stooped to pick it up by the scruff of its neck and its body went slack as he raised it to eye level. As he held it closer to his nose, the remarkable scent was clear. “Whose cat is this?” he demanded.

  “We have dozens of cats here. Fuck if I know,” Orser muttered.

  Inga gave Scorpio a scrutinizing look and turned to Orser. “Anyway, the prisoner is healed.”

  “Good,” Orser said. “Now we can get on with your punishment or sentence or whatever the Chief has in mind. I don’t know what twist of fate brought you here, but I can tell you this. I’m not the only one who can’t wait for justice to be served. Come on, Inga.” Orser strode to the door and waited expectantly for the healer.

  “I’ll be right there,” she said in a clipped tone, then held up a hand at his ensuing growl. “No. I’ll be fine. Go.”

  Slam!

  The wall of the tiny building shook as the door smacked hard into the frame. Scorpio lowered the cat, who went back to its bath as if it hadn’t just added to the confounding mystery of this place.

  Inga sighed and paced. “It goes against my nature to sanction torture. Inherently I will want to help you, but I cannot.”

  “I understand the concept of loyalty,” Scorpio muttered. Loyalty was as essential as breathing to him, right along with his work as a warrior. Pledged to his commander and to his siblings, he understood integrity and allegiance. Hell, his hands would be forever reddened by actions he’d taken in the name of protection.

  Inga opened her mouth but Scorpio kept talking. “I can take whatever your friends dish out. You wanna help me?”

  “I am conflicted, demon. I know you had no choice, yet I also sense no remorse. Where I can read most people’s emotions, in you, I feel mostly a void. Cold.” She walked to the door. “I don’t think I can help you.”

  Scorpio lunged forward in the cell. “Find out who the cat belongs to.”

  Inga’s eyes slid from Scorpio to the feline. “I also cannot put a sister in harm’s way.”

  “Then get out!” Scorpio bellowed. He shook the steel bars as rage poured through him. Rage that had nowhere to go. If not for the stupid dampening spell, he’d have healed in a day. He’d have burned down these walls and found the female.

  The door snicked shut as Inga left without a word. Scorpio stalked to the cot that served as his bed and plunked himself down, the wood frame groaning under his weight. The damn cat seemed to take it as an invitation, jumping up next to him and setting two paws on his thigh.

  Scorpio shook his head and grudgingly ran a hand over the animal’s back, surprised at how soft its fur was. He couldn’t remember petting an animal in affection. Sure, he’d fought dire wolves and hellhounds and had to touch them, but their fur was rough and stank to high heaven. “Who’s your mistress?” he asked.

  The female’s scent clung to the cat and as Scorpio touched it, more was released into the tiny space. All it did was make him furious with the need to find this female and…and…do what? It’s not like he could take her to dinner. It was more likely she wouldn’t speak to him.

  None of this made sense. He didn’t know anyone who smelled like honeysuckle. This couldn’t be an old fling. He inhaled again as his brain flipped through females he knew, attempting to catalog it.

  On top of that, he needed to contact his commander. His body had taken seven days to heal. Arawn, the leader of the Lash Watchers, would be pissed. Scorpio had never been AWOL for a week.

  He ran a hand over his almost-bald head. He kept his head shaved, but after a week it was starting to grow back. It was a pain in his ass, plus, the ridiculous color he’d been born with was all wrong for a warrior.

  The cat bumped his hand with its head and then settled on Scorpio’s lap, purring as loudly as a dragon and apparently deciding to stay a while. Beyond the walls, Scorpio heard hints of voices as the witches did whatever they did in their daily routine.

  He dropped his head back against the wall. Extra sleep was something he didn’t need, but that would benefit him later. Honeysuckle invaded his nose and hung in the air, insistent and strong despite the dampening spell. That female…he needed to match the scent to the person. Then he could formulate an escape plan. He’d gotten in and out of nightmares in his jobs for Dalamos, and this little coven of witches would be a snap.

  C

  HAPTER 2

  THE SCRAPE OF METAL ON metal was Scorpio’s only warning before the prison’s outer door opened. He shot to his feet, dislodging the cat. The glow of one tiny fire bulb hovering outside his bars was a pitiful buffer against the black night.

  Several men entered, each carrying weapons and lengths of blue glowing rope. It looked like barely more than a length of ribbon, but once it bound someone, it couldn’t be undone without a spell. And the bound individual would be unable to do it themselves.

  Scorpio expected no less. The group was led by a tall broad-shouldered male with dark hair. Gray streaked his temples. He carried no weapons—no blades or arrows—but only a staff. It hummed with a constant thrum of magic. The male exuded authority and power, and a sense of knowing that what he ordered would be done. Or he’d do it himself.

  “The infamous mercenary Scorpio.” The man’s deep voice rumbled as he stopped in front of the cell. “Hard to believe you just dropped out of the sky and into my coven. Did you miss us?”

  “I’m no longer in that line of work. I’m a Watcher now,” Scorpio muttered. Hell, he wasn’t sure if the coven knew that, despite the realm’s common knowledge of Dalamos’s death.

  “So we’ve heard.” The man clasped his hands behind his back. “Yet you left a path of destruction a goddamn mile wide.”

  Scorpio glared. “You’re Hallon?”

  The man nodded.

  “The past is done. Nothing will bring your leader back.”

  “Those words may be true, but your presence has evoked a new, unrivaled anger. Do you have any idea what we’ve gone through in the last twenty years?”

  “No.” Scorpio shook his head. “I had a job to do.”

  “That you didn’t have to take!” Hallon’s eyes sparked with anger.

  “I didn’t have a choice.” Scorpio drew on reserves of mental strength to keep his voice cold. No sense getting furious with a person whose mind was made up and who couldn’t understand life under Dalamos’s thumb. “You have no idea what Dalamos was capable of.”

  “And you have no idea the damage your action caused!” Hallon stepped close enough for Scorpio to touch, if he’d wanted to. The guards hovered, blades drawn to protect their chief.

  “It looks like we’re at an impasse,” Scorpio growled.

  “Not for long. Hands out.” Hallon nodded at one guard, who held up a pair of black manacles. “Through here.” He tapped an opening in the grid that was large enough for Scorpio to fit both hands through.

  The guard slid the black metal over Scorpio’s wrists and, with a crackle of energy, the cuffs tightened to fit. Ensorcell
ed. He couldn’t take them off or use his hands to create demonfire. Again, this measure was not a surprise.

  The cell door opened and more guards rushed in, quickly restraining him with rope threaded through the cuffs and around his neck. As long as they were in the cell, the dampening magic was still in effect, so the men worked fast. When done, they shoved him through the open door.

  Scorpio took a deep breath, drawing untainted air into his lungs. His muscles tingled as they shook off the dulling effects of the spell. He was still cuffed and bound. Not to mention at the wrong end of deadly weapons.

  But he was out of the damn cell.

  They pushed him to the door and the first breath of outside air was heaven. Overhead, stars dotted the sky in thick clusters, and Torth’s two moons hung half full, side by side. Scorpio held his head high and drew another deep breath.

  “Don’t get any ideas, demon,” Hallon muttered as he strode ahead of the group. “I, too, know what it feels like to be free of a dampening spell. But you’re going straight to a new cage.”

  Scorpio stifled a satisfied look. The coven could think whatever it wanted. He’d broken in and out of so many places, many with layers upon layers of security, both magical and physical. He could find a way out of here.

  But not before he assigned a face to that intoxicating scent.

  Rough hands held his biceps, and one guard in front of him kept a tight hold on the rope through his cuffed hands. Soft dirt crumbled under his booted feet. Dirt? Bronwy should’ve had stone paths. He must be farther from the main village than he thought. A new prison, maybe? Pine trees swayed quietly around them.

  They rounded a bend and Scorpio blinked in surprise. Rows of clapboard and wood frame homes filled a cleared area of trees to one side. These weren’t the Bronwy homes he remembered. Those were stone, all varying heights and shapes and facades. They had reminded him of a whimsical toy village set that his sister Kira had played with when she was young.

  These looked makeshift and hastily thrown together. Still, wards vibrated from them, a reminder of the coven’s power.

  To his other side, another clearing stood, roughly the same size. It contained a tiny playground and an area that looked like it was used for gatherings or meetings.

  And it was full of witches.

  A steel cage glinted in the light of a fire. He suppressed a snort at the irony of being captive in what obviously served as the town square. A demon in the midst of witches.

  The cuffs and rope subdued his body, but not his senses. As they moved closer, every face was clear to him, as Lash demon vision was perfect at night. Each voice, the whispers of wonder and hate, and each scent.

  Eagerly his nose sorted through the plethora of witchy smells, detecting an overwhelming amount of cedar—their usual scent. But no honeysuckle. Not even from the cat…

  He glanced to the ground. No cat. Shrugging, he refocused on the group ahead. The feline was the least of his concerns.

  They reached the center, where dozens of eyes pinned him. Hallon nodded at the cage and the guards pushed Scorpio inside. The lock engaged, and Hallon spoke the words to a dampening spell.

  Scorpio gritted his teeth as the familiar heavy, tired feeling settled in his muscles, stronger than what had been in the building cell. A guard reached through the bars and gestured for Scorpio to hold out his hands. In seconds, the manacles were off. The rope came next.

  Small help. They were minor compared to the dampening spell.

  The cage had a metal floor and roof, but otherwise was open and barred on all five sides. Five. He shook his head. Witches loved their pentagrams. If they invoked a spell, the shape could intensify its effects.

  “Behold, the killer, Scorpio,” Hallon called out to the group.

  Murmurs zipped through the crowd and mouths curled in disgust. Scorpio thought about announcing that he was a Watcher now, but figured there was no point. Vengeance was written on their faces and reflected in their posture.

  “Scorpio is unaware of the changes we have experienced as a result of his actions,” Hallon continued. “Perhaps we can enlighten him?”

  A witch rushed forward, fury in her eyes. “My son was lost to the dark side and killed! It’s your fault!” A blue burst of witchfire sped toward him and he ducked, barely avoiding it with his slowed reflexes.

  “We lost our homes!” A mage held out his hand. Magic crackled in a red arc from his palm to Scorpio’s cage and suddenly his skin was hotter than the fires of hell. The whole cage broiled though no flames existed. Fuck! He fought to stay upright in the center of his five-sided prison because, even without tangible fire, the metal bars and floor would conduct the magical heat and burn him. And like before, he’d heal at a snail’s pace.

  No sooner had the heat spell dissipated than another man flung a handful of pebbles into the cage, and as soon as they slipped through bars, they enlarged to heavy rocks as big as Scorpio’s head. He was forced to duck and dart to avoid them as they ricocheted around. “Because of you, we’re forced to pay Vespera part of our income!”

  What the fuck? Scorpio glared at the group. None of this made sense. Yeah, he’d killed their former leader, Pennar. But how they handled things after was their own problem.

  Right?

  More witches and mages shrieked at him, listing grievances and doing their best to injure him with spells. Each accusation and each spell was crazier than the last. Almost like they’d been waiting, saving their fury for someone.

  Finally, Hallon held up his hands. “Enough for tonight.”

  The group quieted, huffing out angry breaths.

  “We will reconvene tomorrow,” Hallon said.

  Great. Scorpio rubbed a lump at the back of his head, resulting from one of the pebbles-turned-rocks.

  “We’ll go into detail then about the havoc you’ve wrought, demon.” Hallon and his guards headed into the crowd.

  Fuck this. Scorpio remained silent as he watched them talk amongst themselves. Rocks still lined the floor of the cell, some of them chipped. The heat may have weakened the bars. A battering by stone might have further strained them. Scorpio was fully rested, so he could take as much time as he needed to go over every inch of the pentagram prison and find any compromised areas. He’d mentally record them and factor them into the plan he would formulate once he met the cat’s owner.

  As if on cue, gray streaked by at his feet. Again? Scorpio glared at the cat. “Nice of you to show up now that they’re done—”

  “Jinx!”

  Scorpio’s heart stuttered. All the air whooshed out of his lungs as a sensation that was both totally new and also felt like home shot through him.

  He whirled to the sound of the voice. Musical and sweet and husky all at once. Time seemed to slow as his body ramped into overdrive.

  “Jinx!”

  Now the smell of honeysuckle invaded his nose. He sucked air desperately, needing the oxygen as well as that fragrance inside his cells. Holy fucking shit. It was like a drug and an orgasm rolled into a massive triple shot of I-need-this-right-now.

  “Ji—” A woman jerked to a stop on the very path he’d been brought in on. She froze, one hand halfway to her slim hip, eyes widening as she scanned the cage.

  A woman. A witch. An angel? Gods above, she was the most beautiful damn creature he’d ever seen.

  One possessive emotion shredded his rational thoughts. One thought dominated his mind. Mine.

  He launched himself at the bars, gripping tightly. If not for the spell, he’d have broken them down. His skin twitched. His muscles screamed against the dampening effect. A roar started deep in his chest, pushing up without his conscious thought. Need her.

  She stared at him, pretty mouth open, sapphire eyes darting to the cat at his feet and back to him. “J-Jinx.” This time, her voice was a cracked whisper as if she were somehow affected as well. “Come here.”

  Scorpio’s body shook with need to get to her. His blood rushed to his groin as her presence licked his every
nerve in a sensory caress. Thick black-brown hair cascaded around her narrow shoulders. A tight black tank top hugged her firm breasts, and dark pants encased slender legs. A muscle in her toned bicep flexed and her breathing sped up. Her chest rose and fell, pushing her breasts up and down, and her pulse ticked rapidly at her neck.

  Holy hell, she was living, walking feminine perfection. His cock pushed against the zipper of his pants, aching with the most intense need he’d ever felt. His hands burned to hold her, to pull her body against his and claim her. The primal beast inside him clawed for escape as his lips pulled back, breath heaving. One thought shot through his mind as everything else shorted out. His voice growled, low and primal. “Mine.”

  She gaped at him in horror, revulsion, and shock.

  No! Scorpio dug one hand into the metal and shoved his other hand through the bars. Not that look. She couldn’t have that look on her face. She was his. He snarled, not meaning to, but his mind was scrambled with the visual and scent of the one female he had to have. His mate. “Mine,” he rumbled again.

  She gasped as if woken from a trance. Blinking, she backed up, still staring at him and shaking her head. Her beautiful blue eyes narrowed to anger. Raising one hand, she conjured a ball of blue witchfire.

  He watched in frozen wonder at her power and beauty, riveted by the flex of muscle in her arm, and by the way her mouth formed words that were probably lethal to him. He didn’t care. A tiny instinct screamed for him to duck, but his need to possess her overrode years of tactical training and refused to allow him to move away from her.

  She hurled the blue sphere as she shouted a spell. The fire blasted his chest a second later, knocking him back with the force of an electric shock. His head slammed the bars at the back of his cell, the bone-jarring hit reverberating all the way to his toes. He slumped to the metal floor. His last sight was of her black boots running away.