The King & Assassin (2)

~ Rhys ~

There it was again. The scent of orange and cinnamon. It was mouthwatering. Rhys smelt it on the balcony, but Baltir kept him from searching for the culprit with the alluring scent. His wolf almost tugged him forward in excitement like the unrestrained beast he was.

The fucker never got excited, not unless it was spilling blood. What made his vicious wolf act like some sappy pup? 

Rhys burst through the doors locating Jasmine ahead at the far end of the grandiose bed chambers.

She sat calmly at the end of the four-poster bed. Her eyes were lowered, long lashes brushing the top of her cheeks. Rhys licked his lips; the scent was almost suffocating, urging him to go to her. For once, he would show restraint because he had a gut feeling that he would be heavily rewarded for taking his time to deflower this princess. 

It was hard, though. Jasmine really was breathtaking. With long raven locks falling in waves around her face and chest, the sheer dressing gown was tight against her bodice that pushed up her breasts. His gaze dropped further to her thighs. 

They were more toned than he expected but sexy nonetheless. It aroused him even more. His wolf seemed to salivate as well. 

Rhys cleared his throat as he stopped before the beauty, who still kept her gaze lowered. He didn’t like that. He wanted to see her reactions to his touch. Did she also sense the electric charge that seemed to crackle between them?

What was he thinking? Was his wine drugged? Next, he was going to start suggesting peace with his enemies and exclaim the earth was flat.

“So this is the renowned beauty of Shador?” Rhys sounded disappointed, planting his hands firmly on either side of Jasmine on the bed, bringing himself just inches away from her ear and whispering ruthlessly, “I must admit I am impressed. I expected you to cry.”

A shiver ran through her, and Rhys looked at her face more closely. Jasmine had sharp features, high cheekbones, and soft pink full lips, but her eyes, they were a stunning emerald green. Yet she still acted shy. Rhys chuckled. It entertained him.

Others had attempted to quench his insatiable desires, pretending to be seductresses when they clearly lacked the necessary allure. Occasionally, their efforts bore fruit, but more often than not, Rhys refrained from acting upon his own carnal impulses, or his wolf killed them.

 But this shyness was new, making his wolf want to claim her all the more. 

Wait, claim her?

Rhys paused, eyes narrowing slightly. 

Jasmine swallowed, and he couldn’t help but watch how her throat bobbed or look at the curvature of her lips. “Do you want me to cry, my.. king?” She breathed. By the Goddess, her husky voice made him hard and want to go balls deep in her mouth and between her thighs. 

They should have called Jasmine an enchantress. Maybe she was more siren than fae, which was why they wanted to get rid of her. She was a dangerous creature indeed. 

Rhys pressed his lips to her throat and dipped his hand between her thighs, which opened willingly. “I’d prefer you crying out my name,” he growled, nipping at her neck as his wolf grew excited. The lace of her lingerie was so warm and inviting he started to move aside the material. 

“How about you cry out my name, Rhys.” Jasmine tugged Rhys down to hover over her on the bed as her legs wrapped around his waist, surprising him, but he didn’t mind the initiative. 

“That is very bold,” he murmured, caressing the outside of her thigh until he groped her backside and started to nip and kiss between her breasts. “To call a king by his name is punishable by death.”

“Punish me after then,” Jasmine breathed, her voice a little higher, making him chuckle at her reactions. 

Her hands deftly untied his thick robe, and he assisted in letting the heavy cloak cascade to the ground. It was swiftly followed by the small leather armour he wore as extra precaution beneath his waistcoat; the suit joined the discarded pile. Finally, his crumpled white shirt joined the ensemble, exposing his well-defined, muscular physique to her gaze.

“Now it's your turn.” Rhys pulled back to stare at the woman below him. His hands slid down her bodice, tracing the delicate contours before pausing at the strings. Her eyes were still cast down.

“Look at me,” he drawled, a slight rumble in his voice where his wolf was becoming impatient. Why was his wolf acting so strangely? The command made her shiver, but he didn’t expect much from using his Alpha voice; she was a fae..

How did he not sense the wolf’s presence beneath her skin? This woman was not fae or Jasmine! She was a werewolf!

Sensing his sudden rigidness, the woman babbled, trying to placate him, “I did not mean to upset you, my king. Jasmine was too distressed, and I was sent in her stead to help ease you from the night’s stresses.”

No. Something else urged Rhys to see her eyes. His wolf should have ripped the she-wolf’s throat out by now for deceiving them, but he had not. He was… calm in her arms; it unnerved him. 

“Look at me!” He repeated and inhaled sharply when her eyes finally locked with his. They weren’t just emerald green. They were mismatched. One a brilliant green, the other as red as rubies, so startlingly beautiful. But what made him pause was the whispers caressing his ears just as he knew they did hers.

‘Mate.’ It spoke softly, echoing the word and wrapping around them like some sort of silky ribbon to bring them together. 

“Mate?!” Rhys frowned. It was rare to have a mate, though he suspected long ago he did not have one and was being punished for it. 

It made sense why his wolf had seemed so tamed around this woman. But he did not feel the joy of finding her; his gut told him something was wrong. Those ethereal eyes he’d seen before…

No… 

Those eyes…

Of course, Rhys recognised those eyes. He snarled instinctively. The reports of the rebels… There were three leaders, one a conniving woman with mismatched eyes – one an enticing green and the other a devilish red. 

“Amira,” Rhys growled in recognition. He didn’t think Amira was part of the rebels. 

“Rhys,” she smiled sweetly before removing a dagger from the strap of her bodice and stabbing it into his neck, her smile not once dropping. 

A gargle caught in his throat as blood spluttered from his lips, eyes wide, as pain shot through him, but it wasn’t enough to kill him. Amira yanked the dagger out and sliced it through the air aiming for his ribs. “I reject-“

Rhys roared in outrage, snatching her wrist, instantly crushing the bones beneath his hand. “You do not reject me, you filthy little rogue!” He pushed his face closer to hers, snarling as his eyes gleamed a brilliant red, a sign his wolf, the demon, was fighting him for control.

Forcing his wolf to help instead of falling slave to this ridiculous notion that Amira was his mate, Rhys’ fingernails tore apart, slipping away for sharp black claws. He grabbed Amira by the throat and pierced her skin and windpipe, his intent clear. Amira’s eyes widened, tears pooling at the corners, halting him momentarily. 

Rhys felt a pinch in his chest like he didn’t want to follow through with killing the foolish rogue who thought she could kill him. That hesitation gave Amira an opening. She pulled another dagger from that blasted bodice and head-butted him in the nose before sinking the dagger through the space of his ribcage.

Hot white pain surged through him. He searched for her hand to pin them above her and finish this quickly, but she bucked her hips, smacked his hand away, and shoved him off her and the bed. 

Rhys shouldn’t have been so easily knocked to the ground. Whether the she-wolf was highly trained or not, he was the Alpha King. He clutched at the sudden throbbing of his temples, and his breaths grew long, struggling from the hole in his neck and lungs. Black dots clouded his vision as his arms and legs suddenly felt heavy. 

He couldn’t feel his wolf.

“You.. poisoned me?” Rhys rasped, crouching on the floor and looking at the rogue pressing a hand to her bloodied neck. 

Amira shrugged her shoulders, and as though they couldn’t say it quick enough, Rhys and Amira blurted out their outrage, shouting as harshly as possible,

“I reject you, Rhys!”

“I reject you, Amira!”

Rhys’ wolf snapped to the surface for a moment as a breeze swirled around the pair causing Amira’s hair to swirl around her, clinging to the stickiness of her bloodied neck. Ice pierced their chests, and an iridescent tether that connected the pair fell apart. The wind slipped away, leaving the pair gasping for breath. 

Amira's eyes shone back as though his rejection hurt. Silly wench. Though, Rhys had to admit the feeling stung. What stung more was his fricken neck and lungs!

If Demon was awake, he’d be pacing at the edges of his mind and breaking through his skin to finish this. Rhys looked up then at the sound of claws scratching at the ground. A black wolf with red eyes charged towards him, her jaws going directly for his neck.

Rhys scoffed, and without that strange connection from before, he smacked her with full force and without feeling guilty. The wolf flew back and straight into the standing mirror. 

The black dots persisted and grew worse in his vision, his body weakening further. The sound alerted the guards outside, but to be safe, Rhys connected to the pack's mind link to those nearest to him. 

“Assassin! In my chambers! Poisoned!” He snapped before his vision, and his body could not hold out any longer.

The Alpha King collapsed to the ground in a pool of his own poisoned blood.