Chapter Ten

She sat up, closed her eyes, throwing her head back, as his hand trailed down the center of her abdomen, and moved to grasp her hip. The slender arch of her body was the perfect sight, as he gripped her hips and let out a tortured groan. She slowly rocked back and forth, and just as she began to tighten around him, she stopped suddenly. "Oh, no you don't." He smiled.

Lifting a hip off of the bed, he rolled her over and under him. Still seated inside, he rocked forward, watching as her head dipped back into the pillow, her hair spilled like an ebony curtain against the fabric. As she exposed her slender neck, the scent of...jasmine filled his senses as he pressed his lips to her throat. He rested his elbows on the sides of her head, cradling her within his arms, as he thread his fingers within the soft and silky strands of her hair. His lips trailed up over her chin and finally covered hers to swallow her moan.

Connor had never had a dream like that before. He had been sitting up in his bed, staring at the now extinguished flames of the fireplace that nestled against the wall, opposite of his bed. Sweat dripped from his forehead, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand. For one, why in the world would he dream of something so intimate? And, two-well, he could still feel Maya beneath him; he could still feel her toned legs lock around his hips as he...Connor shook his head. No, he couldn't think of such things. It was disrespectful to her, and...strange for him.

He threw the covers back, and swung his legs to the side, placing his face into the palm of his hand as he rested his elbow on his knee. The dream seemed to have come as soon as he had drifted into sleep. It was almost too intense for him and felt so real. But, there was no possible way he would have known half of the acts performed in that dream. He hadn't known that one could place his mouth all the way down...there on a woman. Let alone enjoy it. And, by the Creator, Maya had done the same on him...and even the memory of it in that dream had caused his body to ache for it. Connor stood up, and walked towards the window, taking a deep breath. He needed to cool down the frustration-again. With the dream still within his vivid memories, it put a wrench in his plans to talk with her about the night's events. He would never be able to look at her without imagining his lips against hers; his fingers trailing down her thigh to hook under her knee to bend it up so he could sink inside her warmth. Yes; talking would be a bad idea.

Maya decided she was never having another alcoholic beverage again...ever. Not only had she woken with a huge headache from hell with no aspirin around to relieve it, but she also had made a huge jackass of herself. Her attraction driven lust had nearly put the whole world in danger, but Connor had not even wanted her. She couldn't really blame him; she'd been a bitch since she met him. And, to top off her misery, her mind decided to torture her with one hell of an erotic dream about him. The dream was so intense; that she could feel the emotion behind each touch, each kiss; and it scared the shit out of her. Her tattoos had darkened in her dream, as though they were slowly solidifying their presence on her arms; and she felt a sort of connection to Connor, feeling each emotion from him flow through her veins as though they were her own. She had to leave-now.

After donning the robes, and arming herself, she turned to walk towards the stairs of the cellar. It would be just a short trip to Boston upon the Aquila; Connor would drop off the supplies, a recruit, and hopefully, let her stay without putting up an argument. Achilles assured her he would talk with Connor about that decision, and that there should be no problem, so long as she had kept in contact with him regarding the progress. A shadow filled the doorway towards the cellar, causing Maya to stop and look up. Damn it. Connor stepped down the stairs, glancing at her, before silently passing her to the armory. After exhaling a breath, she didn't know she was holding she took a step forward, only to freeze after he spoke. "We need to talk."

Run.

"No, we don't."

"Yes; we do." He stepped out of the armory, slipping two pistols into the dual holsters at his hips. A sword, his tomahawk, two rope darts, a bow, and a quiver full of arrows had already armed the Assassin. How in the hell did he gear up so fast? He held another tomahawk in his hand; a smaller one than what was strapped to his hip. "Take this."

Maya glanced down at the smaller weapon, and then back up at him. "Why?"

"Because you need some kind of melee weapon. A stiletto is for stabbing." He held the tomahawk out to her.

"It does the job!"

"Will it parry a sword? Can you throw it accurately?"

Placing her hands on her hips, Maya lifted her chin as he towered over her. "I thought so." He scoffed at her, taking her hand.

Maya snatched her hand out of his grip before he could place the tomahawk into it. "Don't touch me." She tightened her jaw and reminded herself how much she was trying to avoid him, and avoid any kind of argument.

Connor rolled his eyes as he took her hand and quickly shoved the tomahawk into it. "Just take it. You will thank me later."

"Don't count on it." She spit the words out before she could stop herself. Damn, her mouth constantly got her knee deep in shit; verbally and physically.

As though her snippy remark reminded him as well, his brow narrowed over his near black eyes. "I want to talk to you about last night."

Maya let out a bitter laugh, as she concentrated strapping the tomahawk to her leather weapons belt. Her whole body warmed, and her pulse raced at the memory of the vivid dream she'd had of him; of his hand gripping her hip, his lips covering her own, her fingers digging into his broad, muscular shoulders, feeling the muscles flex under her hands as he slowly thrust into her. Damn it! "Oh, ho, no!" She laughed. "That will stay away from any kind of talking, memory, dream, whatever. There's nothing to talk about."

Connor shuffled his way to the front of her, blocking her only route of escape. "Get out of my way." Maya ground out through clenched teeth. "What the hell did I tell you about caging me in?"

"And what did I do to teach you a lesson about striking out against me?" He shot back.

Seriously? Maya's fists clenched at her sides. Taking a few deep breaths trying to calm her anger, she looked up at him, as she narrowed her eyes. "Look. Last night was nothing but a huge mistake. Everything about it was wrong. I meant nothing I said or did. I was drunk. You don't like being told what to do, and neither do I! Now," She attempted to shove her way past him, "Get out of my way!"

The dude didn't budge, and it pissed her off, even more, when he grabbed her arm. "You're running." He told her.

Jerking her arm out of his hold, she stepped towards him, jabbing her finger at his chest. "I'm not running, you asshole! I'm just trying to avoid making any more mistakes! For once, I'm not going to let myself screw up; especially on such a global scale! I was given a mission by a holographic bitch that gave me burning tattoos through some stupid artifact because of my cursed lineage!" She narrowed her eyes at him and could feel the markings on her arms begin to burn, but her anguish at herself, at the situation, trumped the pain. "In order for me to go home, back to my time, and help your descendant save the goddamn world, I have to do what I came to do! And I can't do it if you keep-" She stopped herself before she revealed too much. Shit. She did reveal too much.

His eyes widened in surprise and shock, but Maya turned and bolted up the stairs, ignoring his call for her. Grabbing her backpack at the doorway, she made her way towards Achilles, who stood at the front door, waiting. "Thank you, for everything," Maya told him. "I will keep in contact on the progress made with the Brotherhood."

She heard footsteps come to a halt behind her, knowing Connor had caught up and was now standing behind her. Achilles held out a small leather bound book, "This is the writings of the last Courtesan with the original Colonial Brotherhood. It may help with your recruitment efforts."

Maya swallowed harshly, as she took the journal from his hand. She glanced up at him, noticing a look of sadness within his expression as he gazed at the book. "Thank you so much, Achilles. I will return this to you. I promise." She told him.

"It is yours to keep. From one Courtesan to another. Safe travels, Maya." Achilles touched her shoulder gently, before turning to leave.

Maya gazed down at the journal in her hand. Writings on how another Courtesan handled themselves in the current time would be extremely handy to her. She turned to Connor, as she placed the journal in her bag. "Look, everything was a mistake. Forget I said anything, forget I did anything. I'm sure Achilles told you the new plan?"

He answered her with a nod. "Good. That way, you can concentrate on your own hunt, while I help expand the Brotherhood. There's just no way you can rebuild and pursue the Templars in time on your own. So, I'll help where I can. I just don't think it's a good idea for us to even be around each other. If we need anything, I'll send a message. But," Maya slung her backpack over her shoulders, "After you leave Boston, you won't see me again unless it's absolutely necessary."

Before she gave him a chance to respond, Maya turned and walked out of the front door. She had left a note for him in his room, while he was gone that morning. Hopefully, he would read it, and just understand that she truly was sorry for what she'd done, and for her attitude towards him. At least she would be able to apologize for one mistake before it was too late. As she made her way towards the harbor, she had hoped that her time away in Boston would help her finish her mission, go home, and hopefully help her forget about Connor Kenway.

Connor,

First, please accept my apology for what I had done to you last night. I had not been in the right mind frame, and I had also been drinking too much of that damned ale. It will not happen again. I am going to be the one staying in the Boston safe house, and one recruit can rotate every few weeks until they are comfortable enough to take over their districts. Once that happens, I may go back to my own time, or I will work to continue to spread the Brotherhood. For some reason, my emotions are a mess, and I can no longer take it out on you. You do not deserve that. I have a horrible temper that I need to learn to control. So, I feel it would be for the best if we were to both keep a safe distance from each other. I cannot see you unless it is absolutely necessary. Things have gotten out of hand, and for that I am sorry. We are two different people, from two different worlds; I will return back to my own time, my own life; you will continue to live, spread the Brotherhood, build your own family, and continue a lineage that has consisted of legends through time. Continue on your path, Connor. Because I believe in you, and I have the faith that you will see this through.

Thank you, for everything.

-Maya

Connor gripped the letter in his hand, as his jaw tightened. Maya and Clipper had already been left at the safe house in Boston, with the needed supplies from the Homestead, and he had left with the Aquila to come back to the manor. Now, he had a letter from Maya-the infuriating, stubborn woman-saying she had regret what had happened between them. Two different people, two different worlds. Okay, so there was a sensible logic behind the danger of the attraction that had apparently been brewing between them both. He had initially tried to talk with her about the night before; about his attraction towards her. But, instead, she erected the walls she kept around her and pushed him out with her stubborn personality.

Now, she had rejected him; pushed him out, and he had let her be. However, he could not get the vivid memory of the dream he had that involved her, out of his mind. There was a connection between them both that he could still feel; he had felt the emotions rolling off of her in waves. In the dream, it was passion, lust, and...another feeling he could not pinpoint or even identify; but it felt wonderful. That morning, he felt her anger, her frustration, and fear. Her emotions had felt as though he slammed into a brick wall. But, as soon as she was gone, it diminished.

Connor stared at the letter in his hand. Maya said something about his own descendant; and how she needed to help him save the world. She had refused to speak with him after that. Not even a goodbye when he had left for the Aquila. His eyes narrowed as he resisted the urge to rip the letter to shreds. Instead, he opened a desk drawer and threw the letter inside. If she wanted her space, she would get it. Connor could not afford to become distracted any longer. He would hunt Templars; she would expand the Brotherhood. And she would leave. No longer will he be able to gaze into the eyes that have seemed to have him bewitched; no longer will the smell of jasmine flood his senses and his veins; she would never smile at him the way she had to the Clutterbucks. The thought had seemed to have put him in a caustic mood. Connor needed to forget about her.

So; Abigail Davenport was a Courtesan. Maya closed the journal and placed it onto the wooden nightstand near her bed. She had been reading the journal Achilles had given her over the past few months, learning about his own wife and her duties as a Courtesan within the Brotherhood. The revelation was a shock; she hadn't remembered anything mentioned of his wife being an Assassin during her education. But then again, Courtesans were rarely spoken of. Why that was, Maya had no idea.

Abigail had described her predator ways in the manner of the original Courtesans created in Rome. That was something Maya wanted; no sex, just charming their way into the vulnerability of their target; seduction worked in different ways. Either blind the target with feigned kindness or cloud their minds with lust. The Courtesan will strike at the quickest opportunity; before the target could comprehend that they were being hunted. There was a reason the Courtesans had looked the way they did.

The recruits had rotated throughout the past few months, helping Maya set up the safe house, and begin spreading the cause throughout the districts. She glanced at herself in the mirror and frowned. Her arms burned, as she remembered the numerous dreams she would have whenever she allowed herself to fall asleep. One in particular, from Minerva that bothered her to no end.

"You must stay on the path you were placed on."

Maya glared up at the hologram of the woman who had sent her back in time in the first place. She held her arms out to her, "What are these? What's wrong with me?"

"The markings you have received are a symbol of your body accepting the Shroud as its host. Once you have completely recognized it, you will be able to change what is, and complete your duties." Minerva answered her.

"But I am on my way to completing my duty that you had so lovingly charged me with! What else more is there to do?"

Minerva only stared at Maya, her expressionless gaze boring into her. "Listen to the Shroud that is within your blood. The power of the Shroud is too much for you to understand. You call it healing; we call it change. To change, what is."

Maya was even more confused than before. Her eyes narrowed, "Really? That's all you have to say to me? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You will know when it comes. Whether or not you choose to listen to it, is your choice. If you choose to ignore it, the world will surely parish, which will cause a chain reaction and destroy all you know."

Maya shrugged, "Well, no pressure." She darted a gaze to Minerva, "Fine. I'll listen to the Shroud, and complete my mission. I have already made one step, and I will continue to make more."

With a shake of her head, Maya tightened the bodice of her robes. "Stupid cryptic bitch." She ground out.

Why her? She had failed her team, failed the Order, and now, they're placing the fate of the damned universe in her hands? She looked up at the mirror again and began to braid her long ebony hair, allowing it to drape over her shoulder. The issue at hand needed to be dealt with; Colonists were beginning to escalate the riots within the city against the Redcoats. Which meant war was to come soon. It was time for her to meet Samuel Adams and the rest of the Sons of Liberty. She had made her way down the stairs and saw Clipper waiting for her near the door. She never wanted to get involved in the conflict, but if the Assassins could step in, perhaps they could get the situation under control. Fat chance, but it could happen. Maya was in the past; she needed to change what is. And that was exactly what she planned to do.