Crimson Highlander (Onyx Assassins 2)

“No.” The answer was final and solid and carried just a hint of anger to it.

I tipped my chin up before motioning to where the female had stomped off. “She was trying to get you to touch her. Like half the other vampires in this room desperate for a mating bond.”

Lachlan shrugged. “It’s not new, lass. Being mated to one of the Order is a high honor, second only to the royal bloodline.”

Shit, was it really? And here I was treating it like a drunken mistake. “Not in my world,” I said instead.

He dipped his head down, lowering his voice between us. “You don’t have a world anymore.” The heat of his breath hit my cheeks, and his scent swarmed every one of my senses. Pine and mountains and sin.

But his comment—while true—hit home. Like a knife to the chest.

I stepped back an inch, needing to breathe air that didn’t have his scent on it.

He tilted his head, scanning my eyes, my face. “Oh, come now, lass,” he said, genuine concern coloring his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re going soft on me.”

I swallowed down the pain, shaking off the memory of losing my brother, my father, and Daphne all with one decision. Lachlan was right. I didn’t have a world anymore. Because, sure, Lyric may love me and want me to waltz into this family with a mating mark as an invitation, but we both knew I didn’t belong here.

Lachlan knew it.

I knew it.

Then why the hell did his words hurt so damn much?

“Soft?” I forced a laugh, digging up the bitch persona I’d had to call on often over my years battling my father. “I was raised on hate. Trained on how to hurt your kind since I was three.” I stepped into his space again, holding his gaze. “Make the wrong move, Lachlan…” I drug out his name, and a muscle in his jaw popped. “And I’ll put you on your back.”

His lips twitched in an almost smile, and his eyes churned with a kind of fire I didn’t know if it was meant to melt or burn, and I didn’t give a damn.

Despite everything in my body begging me to touch him, claim him, get him inside me in every way possible…

I turned around and headed through the crowd toward Avianna’s table, my original destination before the damn memories and mating jealousy swallowed me whole. I made sure to swish my hips as I walked away, feeling very much like a rubber band had encircled my waist, tugging me, begging me to go back to him.

By sheer strength and anger-fueled hurt alone, I made it to the princess’s table.

And when I turned around?

Lachlan stood in the same spot, eyes on me like a fiery brand.

I just didn’t know if he wanted to claim me or kill me.

And I didn’t have a clue which one I wanted more.

5

Lachlan

"Welcome home, sir." Owen met me at the door to the residence, a steaming cup of coffee already in hand.

"Thanks." I took the coffee with a nod, and he shut the door behind me. It didn't matter how many times I told Owen not to call me sir. The talem pretty much did whatever the fuck he wanted. It was one of the reasons we got along so well.

"There he is!" Ransom slid down one of the winged banisters, his arms outstretched for balance.

"What are you? Five?" I grumbled, sipping my coffee.

"Young at heart." His grin slipped. "How was Ottawa?"

"Polite, as usual." Four days overseeing the army to the north had been more than enough. "We need to talk to Alek."

"We?" Ransom's brows shot up.

"He's going to want your opinion, too, so yeah. We." I took another long drink, savoring the heat and flavor of the coffee as it slid down my throat, telling myself that was the only reason the knot that had lived in my chest for the last four days was easing.

Ransom let out a shrill whistle from the foyer, and then we headed into the living room, which had become our not-quite-secret war room. Our actual war room, about fifteen feet below where I stood now, held all the information Valor didn't know.

"So if I take the trainees—" Benedict started, pausing with a grin as Ransom and I walked in.

"You look..." Alek's mouth pursed as he studied me, no doubt seeing the exhaustion that beat at every line of my body

"Well-rested?" Ransom suggested, sinking into the armchair opposite our king.

"Not quite," Alek muttered, his gaze turning shrewd. "Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

"I ate and fed earlier this evening. I'm fucking fine, so can we move on?" I folded my arms across my chest and leaned back against the wall.

"Right." Alek's jaw ticked.

"Welcome home. You look like shit," Hawke said as he walked past and took up his favorite spot in the corner.