Crimson Highlander: An Onyx Assassins Novel Read online

  Crimson Highlander

  An Onyx Assassins Novel

  Samantha Whiskey

  Contents

  Also by Samantha Whiskey

  Now Available in Audiobook!

  1. Lachlan

  2. Valor

  3. Lachlan

  4. Valor

  5. Lachlan

  6. Valor

  7. Lachlan

  8. Valor

  9. Lachlan

  10. Valor

  11. Lachlan

  12. Valor

  13. Lachlan

  14. Valor

  15. Lachlan

  16. Valor

  17. Lachlan

  18. Valor

  19. Lachlan

  20. Valor

  Ransom

  Connect With Me!

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Copyright © 2021 by Samantha Whiskey, LLC All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you’d like to share it with. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Also by Samantha Whiskey

  The Seattle Sharks Series:

  Grinder

  Enforcer

  Winger

  Rookie

  Blocker

  Skater

  Bruiser

  Wheeler

  Defender

  The Carolina Reapers Series:

  Axel

  Sawyer

  Connell

  Logan

  Cannon

  The Raleigh Raptors Series:

  Nixon

  Roman

  Hendrix

  An Onyx Assassins Novel:

  Crimson Covenant

  Crimson Highlander

  A Modern-Day Fairytale Romance:

  The Crown

  The Throne

  Now Available in Audiobook!

  Grinder

  Enforcer

  Winger

  Rookie

  Let the Seattle Sharks spice up your morning commute!

  For those who fight with passion

  1

  Lachlan

  For a human with limited resources, frozen accounts, and an incredibly recognizable face, Valor Moorehouse was a pain in the ass to find. I’d been searching for six fucking months only to come up empty every time.

  Six. Fucking. Months.

  It wasn’t like she was some master of disguise or could blend into a crowd, either. Fuck no, that woman was a knockout. Long, auburn hair that made me miss the highlands, coupled with pale green eyes the shade of the water just off the Florida coast and that wasn’t where her charms stopped. That body of hers was lithe and toned, with firm, high breasts that made a man’s mouth water, and I wasn’t even going to start on those fucking legs of hers because that would only lead me to her ass, which wasn’t up for discussion, especially since I wasn’t about to pull up to the shittiest motel in Lycan territory sporting a hard-on.

  Which is what always happened when I thought too much about the most inconvenient human on the planet. I’d been in a state of semi-arousal that only rivaled my annoyance the last six months. Chasing Valor was sucking the joy right out of my life.

  Nothing tasted sweet anymore, not even pussy. Feeding—damn, did I love feeding, had become a chore. Something to accomplish before heading out again for the next dead lead. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d taken a female of any species to bed.

  The never-ending search for Valor had consumed my whole existence.

  I killed the engine of my Rover and cursed the clock. June meant longer days and shorter nights. And there was too much shit to get done at night to lose even a minute of it.

  “You Lachlan?” a kid in his twenties asked, rolling his shoulders in a way that told me he hadn’t transitioned at a full moon yet. Once lycans hit the change, they stopped acting like badasses and just became them.

  “Aye,” I answered. “You called about a witch problem?”

  As the second in command to Alek Markov, I wasn’t just the general of his armies or his right-hand man, I was also one of the Onyx Assassins, a member of his elite guard that dispensed justice when Conclave—or Alek—demanded it.

  And lately, that had been a lot.

  With the Sons of Honor—those traitorous human sons of bitches—running amok, attacking supernaturals in broad moonlight, or daylight for the sun-walkers, doing their best to slay every creature with a drop of supernatural blood, our nights weren’t exactly peaceful anymore. The thing about vermin is they’ll hide while they can, but once they’re out in the open, exposed for the shit they are, it’s all teeth and claws.

  “My father is in his office,” the kid nodded toward the blinking neon sign that read vacant. “He’s a friend of Luka’s, you know. They’re tight.”

  “Is that so?” I managed not to roll my eyes. If someone was actually close to the Lycan Alpha, Luka, we knew about it. The guy was an asshole, but he made sure to protect what he loved.

  “Yeah. They went to school together or something.” The kid nodded as a human hit a button on a nearby vending machine with the side of his hand, dispensing a can of whatever cancer tasted the sweetest. The guy didn’t look our way twice, but most people didn’t.

  If humans noticed us, we were fucking up in more ways than one.

  The kid twisted the rusted out doorknob and yanked the slab of aluminum across the concrete, the door sending a nails-on-a-chalkboard cringe down my spine.

  “Dad, he’s here.”

  I stepped back to give the guy some space. Wolves were always going on about that shit, and if it made my job easier, I could go with it. Fine. It wasn’t like my Glocks weren’t locked and loaded right under my arms. I’d even holstered the one with the silver bullet magazine.

  Vampires didn’t survive hundreds of years like I had without taking a few precautions.

  A muscled guy who stood about six-two, three inches shorter than me, walked out of the office. Clean cut. Classic rock T-shirt. Cargo shorts.

  Then again, I was in tactical pants and a black wife-beater, so I wasn’t exactly earning the style points my friend Benedict prided himself on.

  “You’re James?” I asked.

  He nodded. “You’re one of the Onyx?”

  I hooked my finger into my strap and pulled on the leather strap until my carved onyx medallion popped free. “Lachlan. You have a witch problem?”

  The guy’s entire face darkened as he nodded. “This way.” He ordered his kid to man the desk, then led me up the rickety, external stairs of the motel to the second floor. The first door we passed was quiet. The second blared loud rap music that I could appreciate. The third—

  I paused at the door frame, putting my hand on the thick red paint that covered the heavy wooden door. My heart’s cadence changed, and my stomach turned, not in nausea, but…anticipation? And that scent…

  Underneath the lingering, stale odor of cigarette smoke and—was that apple cider vinegar? What the hell was that person doing? Dying Easter eggs?

  “She’s in this one,” James said, unlocking the next door and jarr
ing me from whatever the hell that was. He pushed open the door and flipped the light switch on just as I came into the room after him.

  “Tied her to a chair,” he said with a grunt, stepping to the side and bringing her into full view.

  “You tied a fucking witch to a chair?” And it wasn’t just any witch glaring up at me with lilac eyes that held a promise of death.

  “She kept trying to wave her hands around and cast spells or some shit,” he answered with a shrug. “She’s not supposed to be here. We’re five miles inside lycan territory,” he said directly to the girl.

  “You should probably back up there, friend,” I tried not to laugh, knowing that the second she was free, James was fucking toast.

  “Fine. Just do whatever the hell it is you guys do for trespassing.” He glared at the witch. “What is it nowadays? Tar? Starvation? In my day, if you were caught in another territory, we took a thumb,” he snapped at her.

  “Okay, well, seeing as we’re all immortal in this room, and it’s always our day, we’re going to let the lass keep her thumbs.” I pulled a dagger from the sheath at my thigh and moved toward the witch.

  She didn’t bat an eye at the knife, but firmly fixed her glare on the lycan.

  “So what’s it going to be?” James asked, the hairs on his forearms rising.

  I sighed. There wasn’t enough time in my day for this bullshit. Ransom could have sent one of his trainees down here to handle this. Then again, a trainee wouldn’t have known what to do with a hundred and thirty pounds of pissed off witch. “James, you should really go. I’ll handle it from here.”

  “Really?” The guy looked disappointed.

  “Really.” I pointed to the lass who sat with her hands and mouth duct-taped in the chair. “Because she’s not just any witch. That there is Jocelyn, Genevieve’s heir, and I really don’t think you want Genevieve down here asking why you taped the lass to a chair. Do you?”

  The guy had the sense to go a little pale. “She’s the… Fuck.”

  Jocelyn raised a haughty eyebrow.

  “Go on. I’ve got this.” Hopefully, if he left quickly, I could talk the lass out of not castrating him with a flick of her wrist.

  “Yeah. Okay.” He practically ran out the door.

  “What the hell are you doing here, lass?” I asked, ripping the tape off her mouth in one long pull. “Does your mother know—”

  “I’m going to yank his intestines out of his belly button and then make him use them as a fucking belt,” she hissed.

  “You’d think that purple hair of yours would be enough warning, but alas, here we are.” I paused, the tip of my knife at the edge of the bonds that held her wrists. “How the fuck did you let yourself get tied to a chair?” I looked over at her with raised brows.

  “That would be none of your business.” She tilted that stubborn chin of hers.

  “Right.” There was a story here. “Okay, I’m going to cut you free, but I’ll have your word that no harm is going to come to that lycan or his issue.”

  She scoffed, then sighed once she realized I was serious. “Fine. I swear not to harm the territory-police over there. Fuck, it’s just a damned border. It’s not like I’m sneaking around his house at night.”

  “Uh-huh.” I slit the first piece of tape, then the other. “Those borders are all that hold the Covenant together, and as the heir to the Witches, you should know better.”

  “Please, do mansplain a little louder.” She smiled sweetly at me.

  “Jocelyn,” I snapped, coming to my feet. “When your mother hears—”

  “Then don’t tell her.” She rose from the chair, rubbing the red patches on her wrists. “I was here to help…a…” She fumbled with her words, no doubt seeking for the word closest to the truth without actually being the truth. “An acquaintance.” She nodded, pleased with herself.

  “Right. Let’s get you the fuck out of here before Luka decides to make a point out of you.” I pointed toward the door.

  “Pity they didn’t send Benedict. It’s so much more fun to lie around that one,” she said over her shoulder as she walked to the door. I closed it behind us, and Jocelyn leaped over the balcony railing, lowering herself slowly as her hair fluttered around her.

  “No need to show off,” I muttered. Fucking witches and their flying.

  I passed the next door, again feeling that subtle pull, and paused, taking a deep breath and breaking apart the scents one by one. Smoke. Sweat. Sex. Apple cider vinegar…. My fucking heart stopped. Bergamot and lime.

  An acquaintance.

  No fucking way. Right? The idea of it was absurd.

  Or was it?

  “Are we going or what?” Jocelyn called up, her voice pitching higher at the end in a nervous tell.

  I kicked open the door, splintering the wood and sending what remained crashing into the wall beside it as it swung wildly on its hinges.

  A set of pale green eyes flew wide from where the human sat on the queen-sized bed, her hair a glorious cloud of auburn and her bare legs tucked up under shorts too short to call decent.

  “Valor,” I growled.

  The human had the nerve to switch off whatever program was droning on in the background, then put the remote down slowly. But there was a fine tremble to those elegant fingers.

  “You used apple cider vinegar to hide your scent from me?” I stalked toward her, noting that her eyes didn’t dart for an escape route. She was well and truly caught, and the lass knew it.

  “It worked for six months,” she said with a shrug. “You’re going to shit bricks when you realize just how many times you almost had me.”

  “I should—” Fury took off like wildfire through my veins, which was second only to the punch of my cock at the zipper of my pants and the lengthening of my fangs as her scent hit me full-on, burning my throat, filling my lungs, and jolting my heart.

  “You should what?” she spat back, scrambling to her feet. “We both know you’re not going to hurt me. Just let me go now, so no one else does.”

  “Oh, we both know that, do we?” So the fuck what if she was right? I was the general of the vampire army. The second to the king himself. “Would you like to test out that theory? I’ve been chasing your ass for six fucking months at the request of my queen, and now you think you have what? Immunity from your crimes?”

  She tilted her chin. “I know what you do. You’re an assassin. Once judgment has been given, you carry it out. You kill the criminals.”

  “Aye, I do.” I stalked her like the predator I was, my mouth watering at the thought of tasting her. Did that citrus scent carry into her blood, too?

  “So if you’re here, it means I’ve been judged.” She backed away slowly, but my predatory nature was still triggered, ready to pounce.

  “You don’t know anything about our world, lass. Just the lies those bigoted, murderous assholes you call family filled your head with.” The ones who had kidnapped my queen and tortured her. The ones who put out hits on every royal lineage among the immortals. Her. Fucking. Family.

  “I know that you can’t hurt me.” Her breaths came quicker, and her scent altered, tinging with fear that I both appreciated and loathed. I wanted her to suffer for making me chase her for six months. I just wasn’t sure how I felt about her fearing me. Odd. Usually, I didn’t give a fuck what women thought as long as they got out of my bed after they’d come a few times.

  “If I’d been sent to find you after a judgment, I wouldn’t be here to fetch you or hurt you, Valor.” I backed her into the wall, then caged her in with my arms.

  “Well, you can’t kill me, either.” She tilted her chin and stared at me with as much defiance as I’d ever seen a human muster.

  “And why is that?”

  She laughed, but the sound wasn’t happy. Then she turned slightly and pulled her hair away from the nape of her neck. “Because I guess this stupid thing means I’m yours.”

  My mating mark stood out stark against her pale skin.


  Fuck me.

  2

  Valor

  The chill of the stone seeped through my clothing as I leaned back against the dungeon wall. At least, I assumed that’s where I was. Lachlan hadn't exactly been chatty as he'd hauled me out of the motel room and driven me here.

  I was back in the vampire lair—the residence, as they called it.

  "You put her in the dungeon?" Lyric's shout of disbelief echoed down the stone corridor, sending a jolt a relief through my chest.

  She was my best friend, and sure, I'd been hiding from her for the last six months too, but I had good reason.

  First, I was the one who had inadvertently put her in danger. Okay, maybe inadvertent wasn't the right word since I was the youngest Moorehouse, which meant I came from a long, determined line of vampire hunters.

  My second reason for hiding? My best friend hadn't just fallen for a vampire while we'd finished up our doctorates last year—she'd mated their freaking king, which meant Lyric was now the Vampire Queen.

  And the third reason—

  "And don't even start with me that this isn't a dungeon." Lyric's voice was growing louder.

  "She has a damned pillow," a familiar Scottish burr answered, raising the hairs on the back of my neck, right along the tattoo that had appeared nearly six months ago.

  Talk about a shocker.

  "She shouldn't even be here," another voice joined in as their footsteps grew closer.

  How fucking long was that corridor? I hadn't exactly seen it—or anything—after Lachlan had bound my wrists and covered my eyes with a blindfold.