Crimson Highlander (Onyx Assassins 2)

Our breaths matched in pace, our skin slick with sweat as he rolled us on our sides.

And I let him hold me while my mind came back to this planet—because he’d sent me to the fucking moon.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” I whispered, and he tucked his chin over my shoulder.

“Not a thing,” he whispered back.

And my heart laughed at how fucking dumb we both were.

11

Lachlan

My head swam, and hunger beat at me, parching my throat. Two weeks. I’d been in Valor’s bed for two weeks, and though we told ourselves every time that it didn’t mean anything, the bond clearly had other ideas.

It wasn’t just stronger now. It was a tangible, visible thing, a stream of a billion shining lights and threads that connected us. Even now, though I sat in our war room, or the bat cave, as Ransom called it, I could feel her in the gym, located through the tunnels just to the right, training with Olivia.

My female needed to train. She might be strong by human standards, but a vampire could end her in thirty seconds flat. And sure, we might not want the bond, but that didn’t mean my scent wasn’t all over her, warning other vampires away while simultaneously putting a giant fucking target on her back.

“Are you paying attention?” Ransom snapped.

I yanked my head out of the fog and blinked, trying to clear my thoughts and focus as Ransom pointed to the monitor on the wall.

“I’m here,” I responded.

Benedict scoffed.

Hawke rolled his eyes.

Alek studied me carefully, his eyes narrowing.

“Right. As I was saying, with the new judgments that came down from Conclave last night, we’ll have to spread ourselves thin.” Ransom scrolled through the monitor.

“We’re already spread thin,” Hawke argued.

“Then spread thinner,” Alek barked. “Nothing can fall through the cracks. Do you understand me? Nothing.”

Every male in the room nodded. These meetings were limited to the Order, the five of us. The room itself was built for this exact purpose, containing the long, onyx table we sat at, a wall of computer monitors and data systems that gave Ransom a hard on, and even a small living quarters with a kitchen and seating area in case we needed to seal the royal family in. It was big enough to accommodate fifteen of the Order and their mates.

The fact that there were only five of us said volumes about the status of our race.

“These three need to be taken out tonight,” Ransom scrolled over the worst offenders. “I’ve already told Genevieve and Luka that we’d be in their territory for that exact reason. The others can wait until tomorrow night, if you agree.” He looked at me.

I studied the list and sighed. “The demon, Marcus, needs to be handled tonight. If he’s been convicted of treason, we can’t afford to let him run to the Sons.”

A grumble of agreement went through the group, and Alek nodded.

Ransom moved him up the list, his brow furrowing.

“I’ll take care of him,” I said, putting the combat master out of his misery. “It’s fine. I can handle him and still meet you at the rendezvous.” Odd, but dispensing the justice of Conclave had always been our intended purpose, and now the ongoing war with the Sons of Honor was quickly taking precedence.

Everyone looked at Alek, who shifted slightly in his seat, weighing the options. “Fine,” he answered after a few minutes. “But you take Hawke and two trainees with you.”

“Agreed.”

“Excellent,” Hawke added. The guy never passed up an opportunity to get a little bloody.

“Remember, we have Julian and Gabriel coming in tomorrow night to update us on how the antidote is coming along,” Benedict added as we all stood from the onyx table. “And before any of you ask, I’m fine. It left a scar, but I’m just thankful the Night Thistle didn’t render me completely mad.”

Lyric was the only known source for the antidote for the painful, maddening vampire poison, and the development of a synthetic had been in the works for the last seven months.

“As much of a pain in the ass as you are, we all prefer you sane,” Ransom joked, slapping Benedict on the back with a grin.

“Speaking of sane, are you seriously considering waking the Hunters?” Hawke asked, flipping his dagger end over end. The man seriously needed a safer fidget cube.

A stone sank in my stomach—the kind that recognized the shitty inevitability of a coming problem.

“I haven’t decided,” Alek answered quietly. “From what we’ve learned over the last few months, the ranks of the Sons are only increasing—not only here, but in other territories—and we can’t exactly say the same for the Order. Luka’s pack is stable, and they’re more than willing to defend their territory. The same can be said for Genevieve’s covens and Xavier’s legions, but…” His jaw ticked as he glanced at the marked-up map that consumed the section of wall next to the computer monitors. “I’m not sure we have enough fighters without knowing what they have planned. Waking the Hunters would be dangerous, yes, but it may be necessary.”