Crimson Highlander (Onyx Assassins 2)

Tears stung the backs of my eyes, his words hitting every piece of my soul.

My father and I had never seen eye to eye, but Kyle? My brother? We used to sleep in the same room when we were children. Would stay up late with a flashlight and a stack of books. He’d read to me until I fell asleep.

“You’re as good as dead when we find you, Valor,” he said my name with such hate in his voice. The same hate he usually reserved for supes. “Forget Daphne. She’s where she belongs. I know you two were close, but I swear to God, Valor if she so much as hints to thinking like you…”

“She won’t,” I blurted out, true terror clanging through me. “She’s not like me. She doesn’t think like me. We were close, but I never…she won’t—”

“Good. Hate to have to kill Jared’s bride-to-be.”

Ice crackled through my stomach.

“Kyle—”

“You remember when we were kids, and we stayed on the Cooler’s family estate?”

I shook my head, my mind and heart jerking from the whiplash. “Yes.”

“You always begged me to play hide and seek.”

I stopped breathing.

“And you’d find the most clever places to hide. The coal shoot, the storage shed, the well.” He blew out a breath. “But do you remember what happened? No matter what?”

I swallowed a mouthful of acid. “You found me,” I whispered.

“Always.”

Tears streamed down my cheeks. “Kyle—”

“Ready or not, here I come.”

I forced my eyes open, a sizzle of heat and awareness spearing down my spine. The only force powerful enough to shake me from the ice-cold memory of my last conversation with my brother.

“You know my ancestors originated from Scotland,” a super sweet female voice said to my left. I didn’t need to turn my head to know Lachlan was close.

Didn’t need to, but did it anyway.

Fuck he looked good. All corded muscle showing beneath his leathers and those eyes…sharp and lethal enough to freeze the strongest of men. Let alone make my knees weak. Damn it.

“Is that right?” he asked, his voice dripping with boredom.

“Yes,” she continued, inching closer to him. She wore an elegant silver silk gown with a slit that showed off her thigh. I hated to admit she looked flawless and had kind eyes. “We have more than that in common too.” She reached for him, smoothing her fingers over the leather covering his arm and down toward his bare hand.

Fire ignited in me so hot and fierce I was moving before I could form a thought.

“Lachlan,” his name flew from my lips like I was scolding him. And for what? Speaking to another female? Holy God, this fucking mark was burning the sense right out of me.

“Valor,” he returned the tone, but my name rolling off his tongue? Damn him, it sounded like a promise drenched in pleasure and maybe a hint of pain.

“Is this your feeder?” the female asked in a soft tone, and I scoffed as I stepped up to Lachlan’s right. Just far enough into the space of the female to have her backing up a step.

“Hardly,” he said before I could answer for myself. “This one here is my…” he narrowed his gaze on me, his eyes traveling the length of my body. “Responsibility,” he said with about as much disdain as I felt. “What’s the matter, Val?” he asked, eying the glittering hunter green romper hugging every inch of my curves. “Couldn’t find a gown?”

The female hid a laugh behind her perfectly manicured nails, her eyes looking almost apologetic.

I straightened my back, the move pushing out my chest just enough to show off the cleavage straining against the deep V of the romper. The shorts of the outfit barely cleared my ass, making my already mile-long legs look ten times longer. “I’m not a ballgown kind of girl,” I said, arching a brow at him before glancing to the female who’d just had her hands all over him. “And something tells me that isn’t your type anyway.”

The female shifted, gaping at me. “I’ll just be going,” she said, dipped her head, and hurried across the ballroom. Guilt ate at my chest. Could I really blame her for wanting him? Jealousy chased the guilt away. He’s mine.

No, he’s not!

“Aye,” he said, cutting into my internal battle. “It isn’t. But you don’t know the first thing about my type, lass,” he said, shifting to face me fully.

The heat from his body practically sizzled on every inch of my skin, but I didn’t shy away from his gaze.

“Don’t I?” I challenged.

He smirked, the hard line of his jaw tensing. “Just because you bear my mark doesn’t mean you’re my type.”

Ouch. The mark in question burned and begged to fucking differ.

“And just because you look good in leather doesn’t mean you're mine,” I clapped back. I shifted on my heels, and his eyes tracked the subtle move like a predator. Then they lingered on my breasts, which, to be fair, I had on display thanks to the awesome romper. “Can you be mated to more than one person?” I asked after an intense stare-down. The change in direction must’ve surprised him because he blinked a few times.