A knotted, twisted scar climbed out of the collar of his shirt, wrapping around his neck, announcing to the world that he had nearly been beheaded. Half a dozen new scars littered his body, a few roughly healed, until his skin resembled a jagged jigsaw puzzle. He looked a wreck, his silver hair wilder than normal, so instead of resembling a shaggy sheepdog, he looked like he stuck his finger in a socket. Wrinkles creased his face, giving him a severe expression, made worse because he hardly ever smiled anymore.
The room was twice as large as a normal dorm, more of a suite of rooms, and every surface was packed with books, papers, and an assortment of weapons that he would never carry into battle again due to the severity of his injuries.
He was trained in the old ways.
True warriors didn’t retire.
They died in battle.
“You’re snarly and bored. What if I can find you something to do?” That caught his attention, and his head snapped up like a hound scenting prey. Sharp, faded blue eyes raked her from head to toe without giving away a hint of what he was thinking, the intelligence in them intimidating, even after all the years she trained with him.
He’d nearly been killed two months ago in battle, during which he lost the mansion where he was the leader of an elite crew of warriors and witches. It was unknown when the bespelled mansion would be rebuilt, or whether a new MacGregor would be selected, but by the slump of his shoulders, her old mentor knew.
His last task would be to train his replacement.
Mistress McKay was keeping a strict eye on him ever since the last skirmish. If left to his own devices, the old man would only get into trouble.
Being relegated to an advisory position, not being in the thick of things, was driving him batty.
He was the closest thing she had to a father, and nearly losing him scared the bejesus out of her, but coddling him would only lead to disaster. He was teetering at the end of his rope. She was terrified it would take only one push to turn it into a noose.
“What do you have in mind?” MacGregor eyed her suspiciously, and rightly so. The two of them got into trouble more often than not, sneaking around the Academy, the school helping them disappear for a few hours at a time to train like old times, and they both caught hell for it.
Morgan reached into the hall and dragged the kid in behind her. “This is Kalvin.”
She gave him a shove, and the kid stumbled until he was in the center of the room. Then she began to back up. “I think you need a squire.”
Both men turned toward her. MacGregor scowled, while Kalvin gaped at her. “Morgan—”
“This is a castle, and you need a project or you will go insane. Think of it this way—if you’re busy training, you won’t be stuck in your room at the mercy of anyone who walks past.”
MacGregor’s eyes shone at the chance of escaping his warden, Mistress McKay, and he turned to study the kid speculatively.
She eyed Kalvin, commiserating when she saw he was as white as a sheet. “This is your chance to escape your sister.”
She gave both of them a stern look. “Make this work.”
The MacGregor narrowed his eyes on her at the order. When she lifted her brows and nodded at the kid, understanding finally flickered across his face.
He was the one who taught her to trust her instincts, and they were screaming at her that Kalvin was important.
She backed out into the hall, then slammed the door on their astonished faces. She hovered in the corridor until she heard them start to speak. “Neil was my older brother. I’ll understand if you ask me to leave.”
“Do you plan on following in your brother’s footsteps?” His gruff voice was harsh.
“No, sir.” She could practically hear Kalvin gulp.
“If you stay, you’ll have to work twice as hard just to be treated fairly. They won’t forget what your brother did. They won’t forgive.”
“I can do that, sir. Anything.” The eagerness in his voice was heart-wrenching.
Morgan grinned at the mischief her meddling would cause and took off down the hall. The MacGregor saved her life, and she was determined to do the same for him. Like a cornered animal, he was snapping at everyone who got close to him. Sooner or later he would go off on his own and get himself killed. She refused to allow it.
And Kalvin was the key.
There was something special about the kid, and her instincts said he shouldn’t leave the school. Until she figured out what it was about him that nagged at her, the two men could keep an eye on each other.
She practically skipped down the hall, her good mood restored.
At least one thing had gone right today.
She halted abruptly when she found herself outside the room she shared with her men. Suddenly uncertain, she grabbed her necklace when her nerves began to fray. What happened in the next few minutes would decide the rest of her life, and she wasn’t sure she was ready yet to make such a final decision.
What if they didn’t choose her?
The decision was made for her when the door was wrenched open, a surprised Atlas stepping aside to let her enter. The elf promptly followed her into the room, revealing none of his emotions. He pretended to be a cold bastard, but she was beginning to suspect it was a lie. He was a man with too many secrets, always maintaining his distance from others. When she caught him studying her when he thought no one was looking, those haunted green eyes of his would darken with some unnamed emotion he refused to allow himself to feel.
“Where the hell have you been?” Kincade straightened away from the wall and stalked toward her, the gargoyle as rigid and unforgiving as his stone counterpart.
She stiffened at his words, lifting her chin defiantly at his accusation. No matter how long they’d been apart, the sight of him always stole her breath, and she cursed the way her body betrayed her. His stern, sculptured face always sent a tingle down her spine, and made her want to both run away and make him smile.
A little over six feet tall, he was deceptively lanky and lean, his muscles like carved granite, a skilled warrior and leader of an elite set of assassins tasked with protecting humans from creatures of the paranormal world. It was a title he earned through hard work, and it was sexy as hell that he could handle himself in any situation. Stubble on his jaw made her fingers itch to touch, but the frost in his green eyes kept her rooted to the spot, and the distance he’d placed between them over the last few weeks came crashing back.
For one crazy second, she forgot they were no longer a team, and her spirits deflated as reality returned.
His voice was low, not even bothering to work up enough energy to yell at her properly, and the pain in her heart rippled through her chest.
That’s when she noticed the rest of the men were staring at her with varying degrees of disapproval—even Draven, that traitor. He was supposed to be her friend, but the devil-may-care man from two months ago had vanished.
She missed him terribly.
As if reading her thoughts, a flash of sympathy shimmered in Draven’s eyes before he turned away, ruthlessly blocking any camaraderie that once existed between them. He was a siren with the ability to get anything he wanted with nothing more than a touch or a softly spoken word. With a trace of a finger or a seductive kiss, he drew energy from others as easily as breathing.
But his powers didn’t work on her.
Morgan wasn’t sure if he was keeping his distance out of fear, or if he had been ordered to do so by Kincade.
Ryder glowered in the corner, the big wolf clearly fighting a snarl as he scowled at Kincade, his beast nearly spilling out of his skin. He refused to look at her, his shoulders bowed in submission, his fists clenched at his side, and his rejection made the back of her throat ache.
Ascher glared openly at Kincade, clearly disagreeing with how Kincade treated her, but he didn’t break ranks. The hellhound had been her companion for years, and his betrayal bit the deepest.
Apparently, her newness to the team had worn off.
Her attraction to them no longer distracted her from what colossal asses they were being.
Morgan crossed her arms and raised her brow. “You mean for the whole ten minutes that I deviated from your schedule?”
Chapter Three