Crimson Warrior (Onyx Assassins 3)

My family—both here in the palace and the ones I hadn’t seen in so long—they kept me grounded in a way I knew was precious. And here I was, about to throw a goddamn explosive on the whole system that had kept my life running smoothly for the last handful of decades.

“You’ll have to keep an eye on it,” Gabriel continued as he peeled back the sticky covering on one of the temporary tattoos. “And make sure you reapply it in the same exact spot.”

I swallowed hard, my eyes focusing on the intricate designs on the white square he held before him. A replica of Ransom’s mark, the same one I recognized from our times in the sparring ring together. It rested just under the left side of his collarbone in sweeping lines of blue-black ink that folded over one another to create a piece of art that could’ve been a symphony for the way it sang to me.

Foolish of me, I chided myself, for swooning at the sight of his mark. For loving him at all, really. We had a bond, yes. A friendship bond. One I knew neither of us wanted to be broken, and him discovering my true feelings for him would absolutely shatter that. Ransom was one of the most sought-after assassins when it came to lovers, and he never hesitated to indulge. I couldn’t blame him and did my best to satisfy my urges with willing no-strings partners as well, when the time allowed it. Which, for a royal bodyguard, was rare. And it didn’t matter how worthy the partner was or how stunning, it was always Ransom I pictured between my thighs.

“Where is a place you’d often touch, Ransom?” Gabriel asked, his eyes bouncing from Ransom who stood only a breath away from where I sat at the table, to me.

Ransom’s brows rose, that deliciously wicked glint flickering in his eyes. “Pick a place,” he crooned. “When I take a lover, I find there isn’t a place I don’t want to touch.”

The breath caught in my lungs. He flashed me that teasing smile I knew all too well, and the shock eased.

Teasing me. Like he always did. Trying to distract me from my nerves.

“You are so full of yourself,” I fired back, our banter easy, effortless. It always had been. Pretending he was my mate for a couple of weeks shouldn’t change that.

Keep telling yourself that.

I blew out a breath, hushing that inner voice.

“Amusing,” Gabriel said with the least hint of amusement in his voice. “Right top of your wrist okay, Olivia?”

“Sure,” I said, holding out my bare wrist to him. It would be a place Ransom would and could touch often. Plus, being easily visible to my family would certainly help with the lie.

Lies. So many of them. Enough to crumble what I’ve worked for—

“Ransom, you’ll have to be the one to put it on her,” Gabriel said, yanking me from my thoughts. “It needs to have your scent on it.” He extended the white square with ink to him. “You’ll need to wet her skin first,” he continued when Ransom had taken it from him.

“Oh?” Ransom asked, grinning at Gabriel’s obvious discomfort.

But why would he be uncomfortable? It was just a fake tattoo with a bit of magic spelled into it—

“I don’t see any wet cloth,” Ransom continued.

Gabriel cleared his throat, stepping back a foot, then another, until he was near his private office door. “A cloth won’t have your scent. Not enough to bind it to the magic Jocelyn helped me spell into the ink.”

Ransom’s grin deepened. My heart thundered against my chest.

“Leave the ink on for at least ninety seconds before peeling back the paper.”

“What do I need to use to wet her skin, Gabriel?” Ransom asked, his voice low, calculated.

“You’ll need to use your tongue,” Gabriel said before he disappeared through his door, shutting it behind him.

A snort ripped out of me at the way he’d retreated as if Ransom and I were truly mates and one graze of his tongue on my wrist might send us into a sexual frenzy—

Ransom’s fingers met my right wrist, the touch strong and warm and electric. I snapped my eyes up to his, all laughter dying on my lips.

“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice shaking as he lifted my wrist closer to his chest.

He furrowed his brow. “Why?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” I rolled my eyes. “For you being forced to pretend to be my mate. For lying to my parents at all. For never being allowed to tell you that I knew where the Hunters sleep—”

“Olivia,” Ransom cut me off, the sound of my name from his lips stilling everything inside me. “I understand why you didn’t tell me about the Hunters. You know there are several things from the Order I’ve never been able to tell you.” I nodded, and he smoothed his fingers over the top of my wrist as if he needed to mark the spot with his touch. “And lying to your parents? That was a lie of necessity, which I hate for you. I wish your family would be more understanding of what you do, because it’s incredible. Something to be proud of.” My heart hiccupped at his words, at the way his eyes never left mine as he bent his head toward my wrist. “And pretending to be your mate?” he asked, that wicked smirk on his lips. “That’s a role I’ve never gotten to play, and you know I love new games.” His lips brushed over the skin of my wrist, then his tongue.