Crimson Warrior (Onyx Assassins #3) Read Online Samantha Whiskey

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Romance, Vampires Tags Authors: Series: Onyx Assassins Series by Samantha Whiskey
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Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
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“Good call,” he said, following me deeper into the chamber.

Forcing myself to focus on the mission at hand, I hurried over to the first opened tomb and bent myself over the closed lid—not in the way Ransom had hinted at—but in a way that I could get as close to the Hunter as possible. I inhaled deeply several times, my mind warring with each breath I took.

“Olivia,” Ransom said after I’d hurried to the other tombs as well, repeating the action with each Hunter. “Want to let me in on what you’re doing?”

All the levity, all the need and tension left my body in an instant. Ransom must have seen the panic in my eyes because he spanned the distance between us in one breath.

“What is it?” he asked, concern etching his features.

I parted my lips but clamped them shut. I had to be sure. I raced around the tomb again, unleashing the full power of my speed as I sniffed again and again and again.

“Olivia!” Ransom snapped, dread filling his tone. I halted before him once again.

“My training for Avianna,” I said, my tone a whisper despite knowing we were alone in the chamber. “I spent years studying poisons, all different strains and smells and variations. Studied them until I could tell them apart in my sleep,” I explained, swallowing hard. “Someone has injected the Hunters with a mutated version of Night Thistle. It’s a rarer herb, much harder to come by. It’s a lower dose, and whoever did it likely assumed no one would catch the scent. That we’d simply think the Hunters regression was due to their time spent in stasis.”

Ransom’s sharp eyes scanned the sleeping Hunter’s tombs before he returned his gaze to me. “Can we save them?”

I nodded, pulling my cell from my pocket. “There is only one cure,” I said, dialing Avianna’s number.

Ransom nodded, understanding in his eyes. “Alek will be furious,” he said.

“Let’s just hope Gabriel has enough of Lyric’s synthesized blood to spare.” The blood of our queen could heal any poison.

“We’ll need a cover for bringing it in. Whoever is doing this is on-site. They can’t know we’re on to them. We have to catch them in the act of sabotage.”

“Agreed,” I said, and Avianna answered. I quickly told her the situation, and in a matter of minutes, she hung up, taking on the task of delegating orders. I pocketed my phone and raked my hands through my hair. I glanced up at Ransom, sighing. “The cure is twelve hours away.”

11

Ransom

“You’re going to have to do better than that if you want to knock me on my ass.” I gave the four guards a cocky grin as they gasped for breath and repositioned myself in the center of the sparring ring, keeping my staff at the ready.

We’d spent the evening scouring security footage of the Hunter’s chamber, but only Olivia’s mother had visited the regenerating vampires, switching out their blood bags three times a day to slowly reanimate them.

My instincts told me that Duchess Sorokin had nothing to do with the poisoning, which meant the blood had been tampered with somewhere between the blood bank on the mainland, the refrigeration system here on the island, or in transit itself.

The need to beat the shit out of something—someone—had nothing to do with training the guards in front of me and everything to do with our inability to pinpoint the traitor in our midst.

I needed Benedict.

“Let’s go,” I motioned the black-uniformed guards with a crook of my fingers.

Two shook their heads, leaving the ring, while the other two panted against the ropes.

I pointed into the crowd of a dozen onlookers—Sorokin’s private guard—and made eye contact with two more. “Your turn.”

The two men swallowed nervously but climbed into the ring, taking the place of the others who were now resting against the wall. I’d decimated seven already.

“We’ll knock you on your ass, all right,” one of them muttered, wiping the sweat from his dark brow and taking up a fighting stance. “We are the elite guard. You are one man.”

“Ah.” I twirled the staff. “Big fish in a little pond. I see.” I nodded, sizing the guy up. He was bulky for a warrior, but I had three inches and forty pounds on him. “You should come to Edgemont sometime and see how you fare there.” I was the shark in the motherfucking ocean, and if this asshole needed reminding, I’d be happy to do so.

“Just hand me a Sig, and we’ll see who remains the combat master.” He gifted me with a smug grin under a thick beard.

Excellent. I was in the mood to fuck someone up.

“You’ve grown too dependent on firearms,” I lectured, spinning the bo staff between my hands, restless energy humming through my system. “Why do you think the duke asked me to train with you this evening?”


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