Assassins: Target Read online

  Assassins: Target

  By J Chen

  A Gay Shifter Erotic Episodic Series

  Episode 1 of 12

  Prologue

  Budapest, Hungary

  December 12, 1747

  “Laszlo.”

  There was something almost forbidden about the way my name rolled off of his tongue, and I rolled my own in response, gaining an audible gasp of pleasure as my prize. Octavian Dragos: Beta of the Dragos Clan; son of Mar Dragos and brother to Genevieve, was stronger than I had imagined; broader shouldered and angrier in person than his sister's stories had prepared me for. I could not speak in response, but I knew no answer was required except for me to continue what I was doing.

  Was I supposed to be doing something with my hands? Was the pressure enough? Too much? Did he enjoy what was happening? Did I? The questions swam through my hazy mind as I attempted to remain calm, though fear made me worry that I was not doing things quite the way they should have been done. I had no frame of reference, nor any shred of an inkling as to what men did with one another, save for this, but in the back of my mind I feared what would come after.

  I had never imagined myself to be the type of man who would end up on my knees; hands gripping leather-clad thighs as my mouth, tongue, and throat worked over the rigid cock of a man who was entirely too old to be in my bedroom. I gagged yet again around him; my throat closing over his rigid length as the thought was chased from my lust-addled brain, the same brain that thought it was a good idea to allow a killer to face-fuck me in the middle of the night.

  I shouldn't be the one blamed, however. I was completely new to all of this, but Octavian...I was damn certain that he had been a Sex-God unlike any other in Romania, his entire presence practically roaring at me from the moment I laid eyes on him. He was built like a Greek god- the perfection in every single dent and dimple on his toned and rippled body caressed with my now traveling and needy hands.

  I, on the other hand, was still a virgin, and completely inexperienced to the Wolven way of life. I was still new to the unnatural healing and strength, the soul-shaking growling that came from his throat when he said my name, and the apparently animalistic lust that drove our kind into needing to mate. New to sex and sexuality, even. If I had to be honest, I had never even been kissed, had never felt a lover's tongue caress my own; but that didn't stop me from closing my eyes tighter and allowing him to slide his cock in and out of my willing, yet inexperienced mouth.

  “Fuck, yes. Yes, Laszlo, just like that.”

  Octavian's gruff voice startled me briefly, and I had a moment of clarity in which I realized exactly who it was I was currently pleasuring. The Assassin's grip tightened in my hair, pulling me closer as I began to gag on the full length of him as he slipped down my throat again. I tried to remind myself, this was the same man that had been sent here to kill me days earlier, by the very same clan of warriors who were likely responsible for the death of my parents, Andras and Elita Varga.

  What the hell had come over me?

  I could hardly breath around the sheer girth of him, but that didn't stop him from driving his surprisingly large manhood into my mouth as I held on to him as tightly as I could. My eyes were closed tightly but I remained aware of everything around us; from the way the ship bobbed up and down as it was moored the dock, and the muffled voices of the other Hungarian travelers who were stowed aboard in tiny rooms such as our own. I wondered what they were thinking, hearing me choking and panting as Octavian called out my name in pleasure.

  I was also painfully aware of every single inch of him, the way his breath hitched in his throat as he hissed, the way his heart rate nearly tripled as I pleasured him, his inner calm completely undone by the way my tongue swirled over the tip of his cock. The older man denied that there was a bond between us, but I could feel it just under the surface of our skin; a strange energy in the air that passed between us and drew me to him even more.

  Something animal in me had be awoken, and I had tried to deny it, though Octavian had shown me the truth. For the first time in my life, I knew exactly who I was, and it was all because of him. The enemy Dragos had inexplicably become my lifeline and savior. I wanted nothing on this earth more than to please him in that moment, but I feared it would undo me.

  “I won't ignore my need for you, Laszlo, but I will not love you. Do you understand?”

  The words had stung as he spoke them minutes earlier, but I said nothing, continuing to allow him to pleasure himself with my body; and the mouth that never shut up was finally unable to speak a word. I could not tear myself away from him no matter how much I wanted to. My soul and heart craved him in ways my body was not yet ready to, making me tremble with a mixture of fear and desire as he allowed himself to take whatever it was I was willing to give.

  I had been drawn to his sister from the beginning as well; our blood seemingly calling to each other as I found my place steadfastly by her side. Though Genevieve had been my closest friend, her older brother quickly became my one and only desire; though I had struggled to put a name to what I felt as we were unwillingly thrust together, hopeless allies in an ancient war that would have us rip each other's throats out instead. Genevieve's disappearance had forced us together, but I longed for us to never again be apart.

  We were no closer to finding her, and it struck us both with a heavy sense of burden, one in which we sought each other out for comfort and reassurance, though neither of us could put a name to our inexplicable need for each other. I had a sudden thought; the need for Octavian to claim me; to mark me and make me his in the way of our Wolven kind. The Black Book had shown me everything I needed to know about us, and even carefully hidden in the tales were the ways of our couplings. Though the desire I felt was inescapable, it did not outdo the fear I felt, and so I was reluctant for things to go further than they already were.

  What would happen if I wear to step away from him, remove my clothing and kneel on all fours in front of him, my ass displayed and ready for him to love me the way my body craved? Would he respond the way I wanted him to? Would he turn me away? I trembled on my knees imagining his cock sliding in and out of an even tighter hole, and I dreamed my desire would finally outdo my inexperience and allow me to make the first move.

  I knew in my heart that Octavian would never allow it to happen. He would never allow our lust to turn into something more. I was shocked that he would even allow...this, whatever it was. I was of the Vargas Clan, as he had reminded me time and time again, and a Dragos would never lower themselves to truly mate with us; the lesser, defeated enemy. So what was it exactly that we were doing? Was this a one-time thing, or the promise of something more?

  Octavian slowed his movements, sensing my hesitation, but continuing to drive his cock into my throat as deeply as he could; his hand cradling my head as he did so. My fingernails dug into his clothing; gripping his muscular thighs as he called out my name. That the two of us would take such a risk; Assassin and Target, made the event all the more thrilling to my young mind. Nothing tasted better than the forbidden, and the barely healed scars of the secret war between our families did nothing but make our pairing all the more sweeter.

  His gentleness gave me hope, and the way his heart beat faster every time our eyes met made me certain he felt the same as I did, but Octavian was a warrior, and a warrior would never allow himself to be defeated by something as weak and ineffectual as love. Love. The word made my knees weak as I thought of being in love with him, but I had never felt anything like what I was feeling, leaving me uncertain and nervous in his presence.

  As he slowed his movements with a hiss, I took control; my hands leaving his body to encircle his cock, my lips and tongue teasing the tip as I looked up at him. My brown eyes met his gree
n ones, and it felt as if there was a storm brewing somewhere in the air between us. I felt a flood of emotion from him: Regret, Fear, Desire; but I did not, could not, stop pleasuring him. Without warning, he pulled my mouth away from his organ, a shining strand of saliva connecting us still as I looked in his eyes, searching for a sign that this was right.

  “Please don't stop, Octavian. Please, let me...”

  He hesitated, eyes searching mine for something neither of us could name. I knew he found it there, because I had unexpectedly found the same in his eyes as well. My pleas died in my throat as he grabbed my face again, his grip tender yet demanding as he pressed his cock into my mouth once more. I moaned around his length, tears prickling the corner of my eyes as I was overwhelmed with the unexpected emotions of our coupling.

  It was too much to handle, and just as I began to struggle to breath, Octavian pulled back as he soothed me with gentle hands upon my face, though I remained gasping and drooling on my knees in front of him. The older man had terrified me since he had practically kidnapped me days earlier; though I had harbored no intention of ratting Octavian out to the law, especially when the Assassin was supposed to have taken my life days ago, and I was still alive.

  As I looked up into his eyes, I became aware that something had changed between us in the short time we had been together, but I was not so much a fool as to try and put a name to what we were becoming. Below deck, we were well hidden from the view of the world, though not so removed that I was not acutely aware of the danger we were thrust into within the tiny confines of the cabin. Should the Dragos Assassins find us here, we wouldn't stand a chance.

  It didn't seem like a mistake well-trained Octavian Dragos, Beta of the Dragos Clan and second only to his mother, Mar Dragos, would easily make. I simply believed it to be a tactical move; perhaps someone was on board that he needed to keep an eye on. Little did I know, our presence in the confined cabin had just as much to do with him keeping an eye on his own errant men, as the fact that the older man had a burning need to have a moment alone with me.

  And my mouth.

  And so I indulged him, knowing full well that I needed it as much as he. Little did I know that it would be one of many firsts I would share with Octavian Dragos in our journey to find the truth about what had really happened to his younger sister, Genevieve Dragos, and the truth of who I, Laszlo Varga, truly was.

  ***

  Chapter 1

  Godollo, Hungary

  Three Days Earlier

  How could I have been so goddamned blind?

  I was eighteen years old. Eighteen! I had been training since I had learned to walk, and I had been made aware of all the wicked ways of the world in ways that a commoner could never imagine since then. The strange emptiness of the market that day should have alerted me. We were far from the city, and our plaza, where the tiny grouping of merchants set up shop was usually bustling with commoners trying to make a living, though on that day there had only been a few stalls open; peppering the tiny, abandoned street that ran along the main road.

  Even the way the disturbingly pale, scar-faced peddler had kept his eyes on Genevieve; his mouth twitching as she and I took our time looking through his wares should have been enough of a clue to get me moving. There was no excuse for me to have not grabbed the young Dragos heir and get her to safety as quickly as I could. The peddler had kept to the shadows as he leered at her, but I did nothing but giggle stupidly at his antics, thinking him simply infatuated with her beauty.

  I had simply let the stolen spirits get the better of me.

  We had begun the morning in a tavern, as Genevieve had been intending to head to Budapest for a few days while we were on break from our studies, and we wanted some time together before she left. It had been a slow, easy beginning to our day, but our Tavern crawl had quickly become an affair of debauchery, though I had been wholly unprepared for the level in which Genevieve chose to debase herself.

  It seemed to me that she was rebelling; acting out against her Queen Mother and the rules of the Dragos clan she had been forced to steadfastly follow. I had no idea that it would manifest in her practically fucking a young maiden on the tavern table in front of the inebriated patrons who would forget come morning, though it was not something that would soon leave my mind. It was only when Genevieve had gestured for me to join them that I balked, my inexperience and disinterest in the fairer sex a secret I wasn't ready to have out on display. This was my homeland, after all, and the locals still knew me and my family well.

  Against my better judgement; against my training, I had let my senses become dull and muted despite this, leaving me unable to fight when the time had come. Genevieve had pulled me into a more private room, bringing forth a young man the same age as myself, and his beauty made me gasp before I tried to regain my composure, but I knew then that somehow she had known my deepest secret. He had groped me immediately, and I allowed his hands and fingers to work their magic over my body as I closed my eyes and let the heavy feeling of the drink wash over me.

  When his mouth clumsily fell over the head of my cock, I opened my eyes to see Genevieve watching me with interest, though it was something completely different that the gaze of a lover, and something about it disturbed me to my core. Was she...studying me? The thought faded as my pleasure grew, and I let my gaze drop fro Genevieve to the young man in my lap, watching with fascination as he continued to suck and tug at my cock until I spilled my essence with a grunt. My clothes were clumsily replaced as the young man continued to lounge in my embrace, but I soon grew nervous under the scrutiny of others.

  I knew that if my father had still been alive, he would have been ashamed of me, not only for allowing another man to pleasure me in public, but also for letting things happen the way they did as Genevieve and I left the Tavern and danger followed close behind us. She had smiled and looked back towards me; the last image I had of her before the man had crept up behind me, his hand covering my mouth and his blade inches from ending my life. I maneuvered quickly, landing a blow to his chest and another to the back of his neck as he leaned forward in pain, sending the blade scattering across the road and into the ditch.

  I spotted Genevieve struggling with another assailant, and I yelled for her, the sound of fear in her voice the last thing I heard before being knocked on my back. I looked above me, squinting as the shine of the discarded blade glinted, now back in the hand of the man who had tried to kill me. A rhythmic pounding began in my ears, and for a moment I believed it to be a death knell, though the sound grew louder and I recognized it for what it truly was. I heard a growl of frustration from the man who stood above me moments before he reared his fist back and hesitated to make the final strike, but not before I caught the glimpse of something familiar on his wrist.

  In the blink of an eye, Genevieve was gone. I was able to crawl away from my assailant as he escaped the marching soldiers, and I collapsed into the muck and earth in pain before everything around me went dark. In my dreams, a man came to me: his eyes a mesmerizing sea-green ignited with a terrible glint; and his smile beautiful and dangerous and sinful as the body that carried him to my side.

  He reminded me of Genevieve, yet not; but as I watched his smile turned to blood and teeth, and his body contorted as he suddenly fled from me into the dark. I was afraid, and yet I still desired him. My body, naked and cold, yearned for him visibly; though I felt no shame at my arousal as I stood alone and waited for him to return to me.

  When he did so, he did so as a man; tall and broad and rippling with muscles. His chest sprouted a healthy growth of hair I was yet unable to attain, and his manhood swung thick and long between his legs as he came to me, kissing me deeply as I parted my legs and let him lay over me. Darkness took me again, and I was alone once more, though I still tasted him on my lips as if his kiss was only seconds behind me.

  Awakening moments after sunset, I tried in vain to remember anything else about the men who had taken Genevieve, only to come up empty and
frustrated with myself at my failure. I had to have been out for almost half the day. Whoever had taken her would be long gone by now, if she was even still alive. No one would risk taking a girl of Genevieve's standing unless they were willing to risk an open war, or they simply had no idea who she was.

  But my mind went back to the wrist tattoo, knowing I had come across the very same symbol in an old book in my father's library: The Black Book, to be precise. I had to get home, to my father's forgotten books and find out what I could about the symbol. I tried to push away the voice that told me it was simply a book of children's stories, knowing well that stories for children would have never been made so terrifying and graphic.

  Could there have been some truth to the stories I had grown up with?

  I could almost hear my father Andres scolding me at that very moment, yelling at me in our native tongue as I shook my head with regret. But my father had been considered dead for two long years now; what little of him that had been returned to me was buried beside my mother's wedding dress in a tiny, empty grave the household staff had erected in their honor a year after they disappeared.

  I struggled to my feet as the memories slipped away from me, the sky having grown dark as I lay unconscious on the side of the stone roadway for the past several hours, but even as I stood up and shook my head the cursing and yelling in Hungarian had not ceased.

  I turned towards the direction of the market where the voice was coming from as I wiped at the dried blood from my left eye, only to catch the large knuckle of a balled-up fist in my right one, the impact sending me sprawling back into the ditch where I had been discarded earlier. I moaned in pain but became hyper-aware; my training kicking in and bringing me to my feet despite no longer being able to see.

  The man yelled again in Hungarian, but I could hear the notes of a Romanian accent underneath his words, and I knew the situation needed to be brought under control. I placed my hands up in a gesture to indicate I didn't want to fight, but the man growled and jumped at me, his fists balling into my shirt and bringing me closer to him.