BloodBound: Book One of the Ace Assassin Series Read online

  BloodBound

  Book One of the Ace Assassin Series

  Kaija Rayne

  Kaija Rayne Books

  Contents

  Content Warnings

  Series Title

  Prelude

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Sneak Peek

  SoulBound-Content and Trigger warnings

  SoulBound-Chapter 1

  Appendix

  Notes

  Citations

  About the Author

  How to connect

  Other titles by this author:

  Afterword

  This book is for my life partner, Kieru.

  I could not do any of this without you.

  Thank you for sharing my life.

  Content Warnings

  Rough sex with willing participants (R.A.C.K. Kink)

  Reference to tickling as coercion

  Graphic Violence

  Discussion of depression

  Suicidal ideation and past attempt

  On page panic attack

  Ableist language as self-reference

  Allusion to rape

  Blood-letting, consumption, and exchange

  Reference to self-harm

  Motor-vehicle crash

  Disrespect of Asexuality

  Child Death

  Alcohol

  Food

  Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content, which may only be suitable for mature readers, rough sex with willing participants and R.A.C.K (Risk Aware Consensual Kink) BDSM.

  BloodBound

  Ace Assassin, Book One

  By Kaija Rayne

  writing as Kaelan Rhywiol

  Prelude

  No one wants to open the door to confront me or one of my brethren on their threshold.

  No one.

  Part and parcel of the whole God’s Messenger gig.

  I grimaced something resembling a smile at the terrified otherkin who’d opened the door. It didn’t help. If anything, I panicked her even more; she trembled like a leaf in a gale. I cleared my throat and passed her my burden. A child wrapped up in my shadowfur lined cloak and sound asleep. The moment her gaze fell on the four-year-old, she gasped and her face radiated joy.

  A young male otherkin came up behind her, rested his arm around her waist, looked at me with a petrified distortion meant to be a smile, then turned his attention to their child. The only youngling I’d been able to bring home.

  I nodded my head and stepped back off their steps. When the silent couple went to unwrap the tyke, I lifted my uninjured arm. “Keep it, please. They’ve had a rough time of it. Tell them they were very brave, and that one of Lord Arawn’s messengers said so. If nothing else, it’ll be worth enough for a good start in life. Let them keep it.”

  I backed several strides away and turned. Messengers, our job title was Messenger, but we were assassins. All of us. Usually, the only message Arawn bade us deliver came courtesy of a bladed edge. Written in sanguine ink.

  Night had fallen long ago, and the air smelled of wood-smoke, animal scat, and something sweet cooking in the cabin. I cast a last glance behind me; the small family sat cuddling on the doorstep. Joy tried to balance the heaviness in my heart, but it couldn’t.

  A black and gold furred cat stood next to the man’s hip. They had their eerie golden gaze pinned to me and when I looked at them, they hissed. Lifting their fur and lashing their tail, warning me off.

  I turned away and slid my foot into the stirrup. Hauling my achy body up one armed was a pain in the ass, or the arm, if you want me to be specific, but I managed it. My leather armour squeaked as I settled into the saddle. I gathered Cimmerian’s braided reins and checked to make sure her burden was tied well to the back of the saddle. I reached back and adjusted my sword to a more comfortable angle.

  Cim stomped a dinner-plate sized hoof ringed with black feathers of hair and tossed her dual-horned head. Impatient for home. I reached down and patted her powerful neck. “Soon, love. Soon.” Then I pressed her side with my knee and laid the reins along her neck to turn her. I clicked my tongue, and she stepped out.

  The mud from the evening rainstorm had yet to dry, and it squelched under each hoof fall. A bitter little laugh escaped me. “I should be happy for the mud, Cim. I really should be. I owe my life to that mud.”

  Cim snorted. Unamused by my attempt at conversation.

  Huddling in the saddle with my arm held close to my ribs, I sighed heavily. My breath fogged the air, and I shivered, cold without my cloak in my wet gear. I clicked again and Cim broke into a trot, then a canter. One last thing to do before I could go home. One, last, hard thing.

  It took us some time to wind through the eldritch forest to where the spirit hounds dwelled. I took deep breaths of the misty air laden with the scent of ozone and green growing things. The full inhalations helped me control my pain levels. Arm, thigh, waist, ankle, and a nasty scratch across my cheekbone close to my left eye. Leagues away from their den, a pale shape emerged from the brume. The first of the gleaming, white, hound-like beasts known as cwn annwvyn. Bigger than the biggest Irish Wolfhound ever dreamed, gleaming in silky smooth, graceful lines. As shiny as fine silk. Their blood-red ears and topaz eyes tracked me and my burden as I rode closer.

  I discreetly touched the daggers on my thighs and shifted my shoulders to reassure myself that my sword was still where it should be, cross sheathed on my back for a fast over-shoulder draw. I turned my attention inward to check my magical status. My energy was low after the earlier battle, but I’d still have enough oomph to survive a fight if I needed to.

  I kept my gaze ahead of me, between Cim’s ears. At first, only rarely did a hound show themselves. Then, the closer I got, the more packed they sat until I rode through a double, gleaming channel of cwn annwvyn. Their eyes fixed on me, and I kept mine trained ahead. We all knew why I was here.

  My arm ached, burning, but I gritted my teeth and bore it. It wasn’t my first injury in the line of duty, and I doubted it would be my last.

  I pulled Cim to a halt in front of the cavern mouth of their home. A single hound sat in front of the entrance to the earth. She wore the cuffs of rule on her front paws. Exact visual duplicates, but lacking the powerful spells of the originals. At least she’d get those back now. I breathed out a soft breath and closed my eyes for just a moment.

  Finish it, Risk.

  I nodded and swung a leg over Cim’s neck to slide off my saddle. I ignored the heightening, searing pain in my forearm when I landed. Then I turned to Cim’s haunches and the cord I’d used to wrap her
burden. I swallowed a hard gulp of sorrow as I eased Halley’s form over my shoulder. The ichor had defiled the silk grave cloth I’d wrapped around her. The cold tackiness of blood-soaked fabric brushed the side of my face, but it’d be a dark day when I flinched away from the ink of my trade.

  I winced and struggled to hold my work-face as I slung the body into my arms. The weight against my torn vambrace made my wounds smoulder like coals held to bare skin, all the way to the bone. But even that, I didn’t allow to show.

  I turned carefully, balancing my burden, then walked to the hound. My snuggly laced boots squelched a little in the mud. She said nothing, simply watched me with heartbroken eyes. I kept my face still, cold. I was just the instrument. This message came from a God.

  Slowly, I went to a knee, and refusing to shed any tears, I laid the body of one of my oldest friends at the feet of the new hound-queen.

  I bowed my head to her and held my position for a moment. My hand on the body’s head. I’d already said my apologies, and truly, I was just the God’s weapon.

  That didn’t help my heartbreak.

  Standing, I nodded brusquely to the Queen of the Cwn Annwvyn and turned away so she could mourn her mother in peace. Silence accompanied Cim and I on the long ride out of their territory. The sky held the soft, dark grey weight of pre-dawn on the horizon. Still, they lined the path, so I rode between two gleaming white lines.

  I’d brought Halley home. Now it was time for me to do the same. Go Home.

  Little did I know exactly how true that would turn out to be.

  1

  One: Remember Your Vows

  RHIAN

  “This is a story of vengeance, magic, lust, what it means to love, and what you’ll pay to have it. It’s not a pretty story, but it’s mine, and it’s real. Oh, and I swear a lot. Fair warning.”

  One handed, I pushed the door closed softly behind me, hoping to avoid my pixies and their scolding. As silently as possible, which honestly wasn’t very, I unbuckled and–strapped my weapons and armour. The arm gave me trouble, but eventually I managed to pry the dented, torn, and pitted vambrace away from my forearm. After Halley… I swallowed, hard. After, I’d tightened the buckles to stem the blood flow. She’d caught me good, but because she’d slipped in the mud, I’d had time to get my arm in the way of her magically enhanced jaws.

  The wounds, of course, gouted onyx droplets all over the foyer wall and oozed blood again. The warmth of the low fire crackling in the living room area of my treehouse eased my cold, mud, and blood-soaked skin. A pixie assigned as fire-keeper that night had fallen asleep on the raised hearth. Hawthorne, holly, and henbane… I needed a bath.

  I placed the pieces of my shadowleather armour against the wall, sweaty side facing the room so it could air out and dry. The chain-mail at the joints jangled a little in the silence. The clan of pixies who made their home with me would clean it, and they’d have their work cut out for them. This had been one of my harder contracts, one of the rare ones where I’d almost died.

  The black, quilted gambeson I habitually wore under my chest-plate clung damp, sweat-soaked, and nasty. I peeled it off—bleeding and cursing—then left everything else with it next to the shadowleather.

  Naked, I made a detour to my kitchen. It was still early enough most of my pixies would be asleep. Night owls, like me, small mercies. A carved and polished wooden table longer than I am tall took up the bulk of the space. Copper pans hung on the wall in gleaming splendour, and behind the table stood the vast fireplace.

  Inside it, to the left, sat a small box stove; coals burned on the hearth and the delicious scent of venison stew filled the room. Different sizes of spits, roasters, and tools took up space above the mantel, next to branched candleholders.

  The slight, soft light of late morning drifted down from the large, stained glass window that made up the ceiling. Although it never got truly bright in this part of Annwvyn. Willow leaves cascaded over the top of it, and the light filtering through had a slight green haze to it.

  Casks of ale and wine took up the corner, stacked on racks. Assorted hand-thrown pottery dishes stocked the cupboard next to it. Along the tree-branch rafters hung bound herbs drying for the winter. Simple, yes, but comforting and enough for me and my pixies’ needs.

  I went to the far side of the room to fill a clay jug with wine and grab a glass. The date written in chalk on a slate against the wall made my gut roil, and I froze. “It’s today? Figures.”

  I clenched my jaw and one-handed made a plate of snacks, because I fully intended to get drunk tonight. Anything to get rid of the images from earlier off the inside of my eyelids. Anything to bury the past. The regular splat, splat, splat of my blood landing on the polished willow-wood floor presaged another lecture about not bleeding everywhere. Enh, it wouldn’t be the first scolding I’d received, and definitely not the last.

  I went out the backdoor to my small, green-walled sanctuary. The ancient forest encroached close to the opposite side of the riotous yew hedge studded in red berries. I’d planted a beautiful multi-coloured thyme—dark green, lavender scented foliage covered in pale purple flowers—to carpet the clearing. It and the lavandula bushes lining the foot of the hedge sent a soft, spicy scent into the air.

  Just the aroma helped my tense muscles ease up. Candle lanterns hung from the trees and dangled from gracefully carved wooden posts. In the centre of the space lay a deep, magical pool. It was always hot, clean, and scented with my preferred aromas. It glowed with a soft, blue-green, eldritch energy. The contract to pay for the Coblynau to craft it for me had been so worth it.

  As I stepped down the carved risers into the steaming water, the matriarch of my pixie clan, Carys, came buzzing down from the afternoon sky. At six-inches tall, she had burly muscles and long saffron hair. “Ach. There ye be. I’ve had the news. Halley was it?” Carys snapped her fingers, and the candles scattered around my garden whooshed alight.

  I nodded my head silently and waded my way across the pool to where I liked to relax. The water stung on the thigh and ankle bites. I set down my loot and glanced at her.

  She floated where I’d left her, a worried expression on her face. “Would you like me to fetch a chiurgeon, My Lady?”

  I looked down at my still bleeding arm. Took a quick look at the rest of my wounds and shrugged. “They’ll mend.”

  “Aye, that they will. Faster and with less pain if you’d let me call the damned healer.”

  I just shook my head.

  “My Lady, you don’t have to bear that pain. It was a job. Just a job.”

  “Carys.” I pinched the bridge of my nose and squinched my lids closed. “Hawthorne, holly, and henbane, please stop. I love you dearly and will you please make sure the kids take care of Cimerrian for me? I took her tack off and filled her bins, but she needs a bath and a good grooming. She’s almost as disgusting as I am, right now.”

  My pixie nag stomped her foot in mid-air and turned to buzz off in a huff.

  This pain was my penance, and I’d choose the paying of it.

  Everything ached. I lay back in the steaming water lapping around the curves of my breasts and inhaled the intoxicating aromas of jasmine, rose otto, and sandalwood. I needed to restock my essential oils next time I went Earth-side, or maybe just pay someone to go for me. I didn’t really like going to Earth anymore; it brought back too many bad memories. So many things I’d rather forget.

  I lifted my foot and tried to let the cascade of drops from my toes distract me.

  It didn’t work.

  My heart burned like molten lead in my chest, and my eyes stung with unshed tears. Between Halley and the date… today had not been a kind day.

  It’d been three hundred and eight years ago, tonight, since I’d fled our small garret apartment. I’d carried nothing but my clothes and my beloved husband’s guitar.

  My family had welcomed me with open arms, and I’d started training in their arts the next day. I rubbed my fingers together over the f
lat roughness of my bow-string calluses. I’m not sure I would’ve come if I’d known they were assassins. Not even with my father’s threat.

  I dropped my head back against the curve of my pool and let the scalding heat of the water soak into my bones. I couldn’t age, but my years weighed heavy as the depths of the sea god Manawydan’s dark home tonight.

  I opened my eyes to find dusk had stalked in on kitten paws as I soaked. The coronas from my candles gleamed sparkling gold through the steam rising in drifting curlicues on the evening air.

  Eldritch hot tubs were so much better than the kinds on Earth. Or so I tried to convince myself. I leaned forward to refill my glass, then settled in to rest against the curved and polished bottom of the pool to sip my wine.

  Hoping it would ease the ache of repressed tears as well as numb the pain in my arm.

  I finished my drink, and the glass clicked against the white polished stone lip of the pool. I needed my solitude, especially tonight. With a glance, I took in the wild pixies zipping over my garden and then listened with closed eyes to the buzz of their wings. All underscored by the mournful howls of the spirit-hounds as they cried their grief.