An Assassin's Deception Read online

  “Good to know my degree in Business Analytics didn’t go to waste.”

  Business Analytics. And he didn’t even flinch when he said that.

  “You have a degree?”

  “The astounded way you say that is only a little bit insulting.” His thumb brushes at a leisure pace back and forth against my knuckles. The smile against his lips is subtle. Sweet.

  “I just didn’t know. I had no idea.”

  It’s not that I’m just now realizing how intelligent he is, it’s that my ovaries are just now realizing how fucking intelligent he is. It’s not a physically attractive trait but something in my mind is twisting it into the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. My ovaries are over here stuttering analytics over and over against like it’s their new theme song.

  “What happened? How did you get from there to here?”

  “I got a desk job the moment I graduated at a massive up and coming corporation. I was promoted. And then I was promoted again.” There’s no pride in the words he’s saying. He sounds bored just talking about this part of his life. “My grandma was so proud of me. Proud of how I was taking care of her. Nothing says you’ve made it like rolling into bingo in a state of the art electric wheelchair.” His words are quiet but his eyes shine with a smile that I feel inside my chest, but it’s a short lived glimpse of happiness. “And then she died. And then it was all just mundane. Every day I sat at the same desk with the same data and dealt with the same bullshit meetings. Every. Single. Day. There was no progress. Not really. My career was evolving. But my life wasn’t. I started learning hacking just to have something to keep me busy at home.” The defeat in his words is a strange monotone that hurts to hear.

  My fingers tighten around his.

  She died.

  “And then?” I whisper on a voice so quiet I barely even hear it.

  “And then Armond happened. He showed up. Walked right past security and straight to my desk. He said I was wasting it in that mysterious way that he always had. He said I was wasting the talent that I was really capable of. He gave me this alluring speech and that was all it took to convince me of the Lifeless League. Honestly he could have just offered me something better than my prescription of Zoloft and I would have followed him right out of that building in a heartbeat.”

  Zoloft.

  My stomach twists and I realize how much he’s not looking in my eyes right now. His attention lingers on the way my hand is holding his. Mason was alone. And depressed.

  And the only person who showed up for him was Armond.

  My body melds to his as my temple presses against his soft hair. I hate that I wasn’t there for him then. I hate that he was alone like that.

  “What about you, how did you get here?” His sweet eyes peer up into mine.

  He wants to move past the sad way I’m looking at him. I can tell by the change in his voice. The forceful sound of strength that he’s shoving into his tone tells me he doesn’t want to be pitied.

  And that’s okay.

  “I was homeless when Armond found me.” There’s no sorrow in my words. It’s a fact. Nothing more. “A woman named Kioko took me in and raised me for a few years when I was little. She wasn’t very engaging. We had a communication barrier between us but she took care of me. I was fed. Clothed. I attended school for three days when I was fourteen and that’s the longest academic career I have.” A smile pulls at my mouth and he traces the curve of my lips with his gaze. “The moment that foster family laid a hand on me I ran.” My voice dips just slightly but it’s just a small dip among my stream of words.

  “How—no offense but how are you so calculating and—”

  “Smart? Functioning?” I laugh softly and he holds me closer to his chest. “Libraries are safe for children. It was the safest place I’d ever been in when I was little. For a while I would just hang out there among the towering aisle of encyclopedias in the back while Kioko was at work. Eat their cookies and drink from the water fountain and just try to stay under the librarian’s radar. Then one day a woman dropped her card. I pulled a book with lots of pictures off a shelf and I took it and the card to the front desk.” I turn to him with big eyes and he smiles at the excited look on my face. “And they let me take that book, Mouse. They didn’t even ask for money for it. They fucking scanned the card and gave the book to me.” A small, mellow laugh shakes through him at the sight of my smile. “I read it that night the way Kioko used to encourage me to read menus out loud to her. The next day I returned it and took three more. Every day. I read three books a day, every day, for years.”

  His lips press to the side of my head before he whispers against my hair.

  “What happened to Kioko to put you into the foster system?”

  “I don’t know. She left one morning for groceries and never came back. It—it messed me up for a long time when I was a teenager. I thought she’d left me left me, but now that I’m older I don’t think she did. All of her clothes and belongings were still there.” A long breath slips over my lips and Mason’s fingers push my hair back from my face, letting himself really study my features in this moment. “For a while I felt like everyone in my life always left me. I didn’t know my mother died when I was only a toddler. I thought she didn’t want me. And I was too juvenile to understand that Kioko never would have just left me for no reason after caring for me for almost a decade. But when you’re little everything is face value. And monumental. The smallest pin prick feels like a dagger to the heart when you’re little.”

  Soft lips press to my temple and he lingers there, his warm breath skimming against my skin as my eyes close slowly.

  “It’s not always like that. Childhood isn’t always painful, Alexa.” His hold on me tightens and I hope like hell he was loved. I hope he was loved just the way he deserves. “Someday you’ll have a family and you’ll see first hand just how sweet and carefree the world should be.”

  My heart stutters almost painfully at the sound of his words.

  Not because the idea of having children scares me.

  But because when he placed that seed of possibilities into my mind, a beautiful, futuristic family filled my thoughts. It was a vision of untouchable happiness. I was happy. I was perfect.

  And I was with Mason.

  Seven

  Friendship and Other F Words

  It’s quiet when I wake. Sweat dampens my skin from the amount of arms wrapped around my body. I shift beneath the blankets. Then I shift again. And again.

  “I’m never going to get tired of your morning lap dances, Al.” Jameson rocks his hips against the curve of my ass, pressing the length of his hardness against me until I shift once again. His palm skims beneath my shirt. His thumb brushes slowly along underside of my breast just slightly, making my lashes fully open for the first time.

  Mason’s gaze trails over my features from his spot on our pillow. The intense way he watches me, the way he tries to capture every minor detail in my features makes me self-conscious of what I’m giving away.

  He knew something was up last night when I rushed off to bed. He knew then. And he knows now.

  I thought about my messy feelings all night in bed and I’ve decided, I'm not afraid to care about them. The opposite really; I want Mason. I trust him. I want to care about him. But I’m terrified that that’s not what this is for him. For any of them.

  We’re friends. Aside from fantastic sex and that one moment of real connection we had last night, we’re just friends.

  I shouldn’t push it. I like having these amazing men as friends.

  I turn, my ass skimming hard against Jameson’s cock until he groans. When I’m on my back I prop myself up until I’m staring down on his beautiful eyes. The way he studies me is different from the way Mason does. He doesn’t look at me in an assessing way. He looks at me like he can’t believe I’m here.

  It’s an empowering look that I feel inside myself. It’s a… romantic look.

  “You’re thinking about me sucking your co
ck right now, aren’t you?” I whisper.

  His eyes close slowly as a smile spreads across his lips. “The opposite actually.”

  My brows tense but before I can question it, he pulls the covers over his head. He moves beneath the tan quilt and when his weight settles over me, my legs part to make room for him. I glance to Mason as his friend’s head hovers above my hips. Mason watches every detail, pushing his palm beneath his head to get a better look. The outline beneath his thin black boxers is hard and straining and makes my sex clench just looking at it.

  Lace is soft against my thighs as Jameson pulls down my underwear, his hands heavy against my body. My thighs tense just slightly with pent up anticipation but his palms push them down fully against the mattress. A shudder shakes through me. And then pale blue light strikes up beneath the blanket. It tingles against the sensitive skin high along my thighs and it takes me a minute to realize he’s casting light over my sex.

  He stays there for a second, his thumbs brushing slowly back and forth, almost touching my center but not quite. His tongue meets my pubic bone as he kisses me slowly just above where I really want him.

  “We actually have to be downstairs to train with Ty in—” The clock on the far wall across from us taunts me with the dwindling time. “—nine minutes.”

  “Mmm.” His tone hums against my skin. “That’s plenty of time.” And then his mouth presses over my folds, his tongue slipping along my clit hard enough to make me gasp.

  Mason’s lips crash against mine, his fingers threading tightly though my hair as he quiets my moan with a deep and caressing kiss. His chest presses against mine and before I can even think, he pins my arms down on either side of my head.

  Jameson’s fingers dig into the inside of my thighs as he opens my legs wider for his tongue to delve in deeper. I’m spread beneath them, their hands holding me down in the most deliciously dominant way. My hips thrust against his rolling tongue but it only makes the tension coiling through my core tighten to an unbearable feeling of need.

  A reverberating sound hums through me and Mason pulls back just enough to let the sound of my pleasure escape between us while his teeth rake roughly along my lower lip. His tongue runs over the painful, stinging feeling before he sucks there hard enough for me to feel the sensation right down to my core.

  Waves of emotions tremble through me and just as I’m about to come, Jameson releases his hold on me. It’s a quick transition that I don’t even notice until his fingers thrust into me hard, his tongue swirling against my clit while two fingers arch deeper inside of me, grinding into me just right.

  My orgasm soaks down his hand and he groans the moment he tastes my release. His palm slips away, holding my thighs in place one more time while the flat of his tongue glides fully over my sex. He teases me so slowly I moan once again and he lifts himself from me.

  Mason presses a gentle kiss to my lips, releasing my hands before pulling away. I sit up unsteadily. When messy blond hair peeks out from the blankets and pale eyes meet mine, I just stare at Jameson while he stares at me. Neither one of us have ever gone this far. It’s always teasing laughter that defines our relationship.

  That easy amusement is nowhere to be found in this moment. Only heated looks and heavy breaths are between us right now. Tension like I’ve never felt presses between him and me.

  I’ve mostly made a point to avoid sexual situations with him. I’m almost adamant about holding our friendship in place.

  Because I need it. I need his friendship more than I need anything in the world.

  Little did I know Jameson’s mouth was capable of more than just bad jokes and taunting nicknames. All I can hear is the demanding sound of my pounding heart. It’s a cautious warning really. It’s screaming at me not to screw up the only structurally sound friendship I have.

  Don’t do it.

  I slam my mouth against his. Big hands grip my hips hard, pulling me into his lap as my tongue meets his. My fingers push down the solid lines of his chest until they meet the soft waistband of his sweatpants. I shove them aside in an instant and settle my hips against his, letting my slickness slide against the thickness of his shaft. I take my time teasing both of us, using the head of his cock to brush against my clit, grinding my sex against him but never thrusting down on him like we both want.

  He groans as I lift my hips for him but he pulls back, tearing a gasp from my lungs. Hooded eyes look up at me with so much lust held in them.

  But something else is there too.

  “Alexa, there’s no way I’m fucking you in under two minutes.”

  The word fucking is louder than the rest of his statement in my mind and it takes me a moment to realize what he said.

  “Rise to the challenge, Jay.” Amusement tinges Mase’s words and Jameson gives his friend a pointed look from over my shoulder.

  “I didn’t do that because I wanted to fuck. I just—I wanted to taste you.” His words flutter through me as he places a slow kiss against my lips, flicking the salty taste of his tongue against mine.

  My fingers slowly tangle through his and neither of us move while I sit straddled over his lap. The smallest shift could throw us into new territory. I fully believe Jameson would crumble if I slid my pussy down his shaft. That’s all it would take.

  But I don’t want to. In a way, I want what he wants. I want our first time together to be unrushed. And maybe just slightly more private. The sound of heavy footsteps crossing the space downstairs echoes through the room.

  Mason presses his lips to the back of my neck, sending a tingling sensation down my spine. I slip his hand in mine as my gaze collides with his, holding both men to me for just a moment longer.

  Maybe not… too private.

  Eight

  Something More

  My lungs burn just watching them.

  Mason’s entire body holds tension. Every one of his lean, bronze abs, his hard chest and the straining curve of his biceps work together as he takes his time pulling himself up against the pipe running the length of the room. His body extends, his arms loosening as he lowers himself before doing it all over again with another set of repetitions.

  Jameson does this back and forth leaping exercise that eventually turns into him jumping up to grab the second floor railing and pulling himself all the way upstairs. The slick muscles of his back constrict, his biceps flexing hard as he fully lifts himself up. He rests there for a moment, perched against he black metal banister high above us all. He winks at me when he notices me staring.

  God does he love an audience.

  I just barely refrain from rolling my eyes at his cockiness.

  The small loft is a circus of sexy men displaying their strength. And I’m currently just enjoying the popcorn and beautiful performers.

  “Your turn. Breaks over,” Rory growls at me as he turns. The slashing black lines of his mark cover nearly all of his back. They arch up high along his broad shoulder blades and veer down low along his spine. I’ve never gotten a good look at his mark before, but it’s just as violent as his power itself. The small Mark of the Hunter along the stubble of his jaw appears delicate in contrast.

  He looks to me and nods to the spot in the middle of the living room where he and Tylin were previously beating the hell out of each other.

  There’s no finesse with them. Where Jameson and Mason prefer to work out to improve their bodies and strength, Tylin and Rory work out to resolve frustrations.

  And it doesn’t seem to be working for them at all really.

  Rory’s hard glare rakes over my black yoga pants and sports bra like my toned stomach and soft curves are the most offensive thing he’s had to look at in all his life. I guess I can’t blame him, he’s built like a brick wall.

  With the personality to match.

  “Do you want to do a round with me or him? I’ll go a little easy on you if that helps.” Tylin’s words cause my lip to curl. There’s no teasing to his tone at all. He really is offering that kindness up to m
e.

  As if I want him to go easy on me.

  Without replying I move to walk past him. My steps are gentle against the worn rug in the middle of the floor; delicate steps sway my hips with the perfect appearance of female innocence. At the very last second, I strike my fist into the slick muscles of his taut abs. A groan shakes out of him just as I sweep my leg up in one swift motion. My pink and black shoe rises high and just before it collides with the side of Rory’s face he catches my ankle with one big paw-like hand.

  “Both of us, really? I don’t think you can handle both.” His eyes narrow while he holds my leg, stretching my muscles as I keep my balance, my hands held in loose fists.

  “I don’t know, I think she’s very capable of handling two men at once.” Jameson’s amusement hums through the room, catching my attention for just a moment.

  “Shut up, Jameson.” Mason glares up at his friend. He leaps, his hands gripping the bottom of banister bars and he hauls himself up next to him. They pass one another a look that I can’t see before staring down below at the three of us.

  It seems I'm the performer now.

  Tylin stands up with stiff posture behind me, his height shadowing over me as I’m tilted and held in place. It’s odd how easily Rory lets me move while in his grasp. I can't help but test the meager freedom he's giving me. I turn, my hips letting my weight pull me from one angle to the next. He’s not forceful. He gives me a moment to back down from my choice of taking both of them on.

  And I pretend to consider that choice.

  He’s tall. Taller than me by almost a foot. It’s possible he doubles my weight too. Solid muscle, a frightening glare, and powers that are a loose cannon if pushed too far.

  Is that really what I want to take on this early in the morning? Before I've even had my coffee?

  In a flash of piss poor decisions, I arch my spine, my hand gripping the back of Tylin’s neck before jarring him forward. His skull smacks against Rory’s and the grip on my foot is released. Strong shoulders meet my palms as I push down on Tylin until my knee collides with his stomach. A breath hits my lungs for less than a half of a second before my fist meets the hard line of Rory’s jaw and mouth.