Shadow Assassin: An Alien War Romance (Galactic Order Book 7)

by Erin Raegan

  He watched them, his red skin gleaming in the sun, his blades relaxed, but a wild, malevolent grin fastened to his lips.

  The first Juldo met him and was quickly cut down. Four more followed, then several more. I’d never seen anything move so fast. He was a blur of movement and I finally understood. I finally got why everyone was so terrified of him.

  He was a force that could not be reckoned with.

  “Why all of them at once?” I asked, my voice shaking in reluctant admiration. Why not individual challengers? Vyr had said they wouldn’t team up against him, and though no one Juldo was fighting alongside another, they were still hammering him from all sides.

  “Fair fight,” Lyno said.

  “For fight for who?” I gaped as Chyn severed the heads of three Juldo in one blow. I had to cover my mouth and hold my breath so I didn’t heave all over the ground. I was suddenly grateful Chyn hadn’t allowed me to eat yet. I would have lost it all anyway.

  “His opponents,” Vyr grunted.

  9

  Chyn

  The assassin felt her eyes on him. His skin crawled and warmed at once.

  The gods beat against their cage in his mind. Begging to be set free and partake in the bloodbath. Not long ago, Chyn wouldn’t have hesitated to let them trim down the Juldo population. Not long ago, he would have rather ended the spectacle before it began.

  But that was before.

  Before she gazed upon the evil lurking inside him and recoiled.

  So he denied them.

  For the first time since before he knew what it was to feed them and keep them sated, he refused them.

  And they hated her for it.

  He hated her for it.

  10

  London

  Eighteen minutes.

  I counted them.

  All it took him was eighteen minutes. Eighteen minutes to slaughter over a hundred massive, well-trained Juldo warriors.

  And he barely broke a sweat.

  When the last one fell, the sand was coated in blood. He was coated in blood. Head to toe, drenched.

  If not for the last year, I would have had a real struggle witnessing it. But I had seen slaughters that were, in some ways, worse. I had seen the Vitat cut through my species without a care for the pain they inflicted.

  Those Juldo who challenged Chyn knew what they were signing up for. They hadn’t been ambushed, and Chyn did not drag out their deaths. Instead, he seemed to make each one as quick and painless as possible while somehow still allowing them to retain their dignity. He didn’t make it look easy, as hard as that was to believe. He was just so far out of their league, and I knew—I knew—he could have done it faster. But not one shadow touched those who challenged him. Not one horrific mist of smoke. They were not devoured. They died in battle and that was their choice. Chyn had allowed them that choice.

  It was not a blatant display of supremacy. It was a dance. A show of power. Of who their master was and of what he was capable.

  The crater was silent for a beat, awe and shock bleeding from the massive crowd. Then Chyn lazily raised his branded arm into the air, a bloody dagger in his fist, and the crowd roared its approval.

  “There may be more who step forward,” Lyno said. “It’s not over yet.”

  I eyed him. Lyno was tall and well-built. Humanoid in stature but less so in the face. More feline. And though his voice was deep and rumbly, I got the impression he was slightly anxious, excited but holding back.

  He liked Chyn.

  A lot, if I was reading him right.

  Lyno seemed to believe there was more to come, maybe hoping those before them had weakened him, and Chyn stood silently in the center of the crater. But there was no one.

  No Juldo, that was.

  “Bour,” Tohn spat in shock and disgust.

  I followed his line of sight to see a tall, grey-skinned male step into the pit. He wore a long pale blue cloak and had a glittery gem in the center of his smooth crown. He looked nearly identical to the one I’d seen Chyn stab right through that gem in Uthyf’s castle. But I knew that was impossible. There was no recovering from a stab wound in your skull.

  Chyn twirled a blade in his hand and crossed his arms, waiting stoically as the Bour walked to him.

  “How can he challenge? He is not Juldo,” Wohn muttered.

  A growing sound of discontent moved through the crowd. The Juldo were not fans of the Bour challenging Chyn.

  Vyr shook his head. “A challenge is a challenge. The Juldo now would see it as a slight to their traditions, but they would be wrong. Juldo of old would respect the challenge and allow the Bour to meet him in battle.”

  “He’s going to fight him,” I whispered, watching as Chyn and the Bour circled each other, ignoring the anger of the crowd.

  Vyr nodded gravely.

  “Can he best him?” Tohn asked, a hint of worry in his voice.

  I looked at Tohn in shock. Somehow, some way, all of us standing up here together, we were rooting for Chyn. It hadn’t even occurred to me to consider an alternative. Not even if a new Juldo Master defeated him and wouldn’t know to look for me as Vyr vanished with me. I couldn’t find it in me to root against Chyn. And apparently neither could Tohn.

  Neither Vyr nor Lyno answered him, and I found myself looking their way. Lyno grinned at me, but I saw the slight worry in his eye. He wasn’t sure.

  Vyr looked completely calm though. His eyes riveted on Chyn but still somehow looking his customary bored—so like Chyn it was eerie.

  “Before Lydia was attacked and my own Dahk turned on my commander to harm his babe, I wouldn’t have thought it was possible that anything could destroy the assassin,” Wohn confessed, completely losing me. “But now?” He shook his head. “The Bour are reclusive. They have not made a move for power in my lifetime, nor that of any Dahk I know. There is so much we do not know.”

  “The Kilbus Lord says Chyn is familiar with them,” Tohn muttered. “He is the only living being who could have faced them on the battlefield.”

  “How old is he?” I asked. How old were any of them? I knew the Dahk had much longer lifespans, but it was kind of a taboo subject back home. They weren’t forthcoming, and Pop wasn’t pushy.

  Vyr grinned darkly. “Old.”

  “Wow,” I whispered. Chyn didn’t look much older than thirty in human years. Even Wohn looked older than him.

  “His true age is unknown,” Lyno added. He watched Chyn converse with the Bour.

  The Bour said something, his brows scrunched in frustration. Chyn leaned away and grinned at him. Lifting a bag from his pocket, he tossed it at the Bour’s feet.

  Whatever was inside made the Bour back away quickly. Chyn dogged him, matching his steps. Then he whispered something and grinned again. The Bour froze and shook his head fast, but Chyn was faster, and I looked away as the shadows bled from Chyn’s body. I couldn’t stomach seeing that ever again.

  Wohn sucked in a breath.

  “It is done,” Vyr said low.

  The crowd was silent once more. I peeked beneath my lashes at Chyn. He stood in the center of the crater, alone, his eyes on me.

  I relaxed against the seat in the tent. After Chyn misted from the crater, Vyr and the others escorted me up and out and quickly through the crowd that was paying me more and more attention. Vyr wanted to move me out like Chyn had, but he quickly realized telling me he could do the things Chyn did only made me flinch away from him, so instead Vyr glowered at anyone that got too close.

  I didn’t even understand why Chyn had brought me here to begin with. Why have me witness that horror show? But if I asked…yeah, I wasn’t risking going back into that cell.

  We eventually reached a field of tents and Vyr ducked inside one, sealing it behind us.

  Chyn was there, in the nude, rinsing blood from his skin with a bucket of water.

  I couldn’t contain my blush as he stood in front of me, daring me with his eyes not to look away. Just another game in the many ways he
liked to control me.

  “Explain,” Vyr growled.

  Chyn flashed a grin, still watching me as he scrubbed between his legs. It took every ounce of self-control I possessed not to lower my eyes past his chin. But that didn’t stop my mind from conjuring the brief flash I’d caught while entering the tent of the heavy weight that hung there. A trickle of sweat beaded at my nape and trickled down my spine.

  “You knew the Bour would come,” Vyr growled again.

  Chyn shot him a brief look of irritation before locking his eyes back on me.

  “Brother,” Vyr rumbled.

  “I knew,” Chyn rasped deeply.

  I flinched along with Tohn and the others—all of us except Vyr. I didn’t know what was wrong with Chyn’s voice. Just that it was distinctly ethereal in the worst way.

  “And did you get your answers?” Vyr asked.

  Chyn flashed him another grin. “I did.”

  “Why did he react that way to the satchel?” Tohn asked.

  Chyn dropped his grin and scowled at him, looking pointedly at the distance between Tohn and me. I rolled my eyes and stepped away from Tohn, dropping into a soft chair and lowering my eyes to my lap to avoid anything thick and soapy hanging at eye level.

  Chyn chuckled. “Has your healer looked for himself?”

  “No,” Wohn snarled. “You disposed of the only Bour we had on hand.”

  Chyn grunted, and the wet slap of feet echoed across the tent. I looked beneath my lashes and caught a tight red ass before I looked at Wohn. A bag went flying at Wohn and hit him in the chest.

  “I now have a spare. Tell your king he now owes me a debt.”

  “Brother”—Vyr pinched his brow between his claws— “spare us the cryptic retorts and elaborate.”

  A dark feeling moved through the room and all eyes were drawn to Chyn. He stood stiff, all traces of amusement gone from his face. “I may not have wanted this, brother, but it is done. There is no going back now. The Dahk king wants my aid? He will earn it first.”

  Vyr looked strangely stunned, but Tohn and Wohn did not look surprised at all.

  “What do you want?” Wohn asked wearily, as if just the idea of it wore him down.

  “I want to open a trade avenue between our worlds,” Chyn muttered. His voice was growing hoarser, as if the words were being dragged from him or like he was forcing them up. There was a strain behind his mouth that wasn’t usually so pronounced.

  Tohn and Wohn gaped at him.

  “No,” Vyr muttered. “He will not open his borders to you or our brothers.”

  Chyn chuckled. “That is my price.”

  Vyr cursed. “You’re being unreasonable.”

  Chyn looked him over with a sneer. “Go back to your new master and tell him he will open his borders after Viytenus is eliminated.”

  That got everyone’s attention.

  “You’re hunting him,” Vyr muttered in surprise.

  “Tell your healer he can find the cure to their sickness inside their minds.” He nodded at the sack.

  Wohn swallowed heavily. “You’ve known about this for some time.”

  Chyn ignored him, and Tohn looked at Vyr. Vyr sighed heavily and disappeared with them both.

  11

  London

  Noises outside of the tent filtered in as the short day drifted into dusk. It felt far too early for the sun to go down, but the very long night was about to begin—and I was in a much crampier space with a Shadow Born Assassin who was now the leader of an alien species that not only had a penchant for warring and battle but also slaves.

  He’d spent his day slaughtering over a hundred of his own kind, then taking the life of a Bour using some kind of ability that was violent and merciless.

  I knew very little about him, but he had some reason for keeping me as a prisoner, and he liked to play games to keep me compliant.

  All that mess aside, he was in a mood.

  I didn’t know if he was pissed at me specifically or if I was just receiving the brunt of his anger after his tense conversation with the others, but he’d been glaring at me ever since they left. I briefly thought about testing the air, but one look at him and my courage seemed to leak out of me like a sad little balloon. He scared me, and if I managed to get past that, then he pissed me off.

  I was so uncomfortable in this tent, I could barely look at him as he cleaned his weapons. Instead I wandered the bare room, eyeing the tray of food he occasionally picked at. He’d said earlier that morning that he would feed me, but he hadn’t offered, and after the events of the day, it felt like too big of a risk to ask him for something. He had originally struck me as a calm yet lethal character, but today, he seemed completely the opposite. It felt as if he was on a hair trigger, and without knowing how he snapped or if I would bear the brunt of it, I was too wary to draw much attention to myself.

  That didn’t stop me from discreetly glancing with longing at his full tray of food.

  My fingers danced over chests and sculptures as the tent darkened and filled with low glowing light from the fire bowls around the room.

  A much smaller bed than the one from last night in the center of the room separated us from each other. I was on one side, drifting from end to end of the tent, as he sat on floor cushions at a low table, cleaning and oiling his many blades. Most of the other Juldo carried some variation of an automatic weapon—lasers if my sci-fi movie collection was a good reference. But not Chyn.

  His vibe was distinctly old school. I couldn’t seem to stop thinking about his age, and suddenly that felt like a good, somewhat safe, icebreaker.

  “How old are you?” I looked at him beneath my lashes as I fiddled with a small golden orb. The orb was translucent and held a green seed, but the finish was gold and so smooth, I couldn’t seem to keep my fingers from it.

  His cloth stopped on the tip of a blade, and he looked at me in the same way I was looking at him. Beneath his hooded brow, almost discreetly. “I imagine far older than you.”

  “Like how much older?” Hundreds of years? Thousands? What was the scale, and how was that possible in terms I could understand? The longer I was around him, the more my curiosity expanded. I had hundreds of questions bubbling inside me. Like a volcano, I was going to burst if this lasted much longer.

  “I’ve lived much, much longer than a human could contemplate.”

  I huffed in annoyance. That was a roundabout way of saying I was naïve or stupid. Knowing him, probably both.

  “What’s wrong with your voice?” If he wasn’t going to answer a small question like age, then I was going for something bigger.

  He stiffened again and looked back at me. I looked at the scar marring his throat, assuming that was what caused the weird voice, but knowing that was naïve. Something far more sinister was the cause.

  Chyn’s oiled thumb lifted to his neck and ran across his neck. “This was a gift.”

  I turned to face him fully, leaning back against the chest. “Female friend get sick of your games?”

  He huffed a quiet chuckle. “It was a parting gift from my brother.”

  I looked at my sandals, swallowing thickly. “Brother like Vyr or like a real brother?”

  “We do not associate familial ties as you do.”

  “You don’t have a family?”

  “No.”

  “Not ever?” How was that possible?

  Chyn looked at his blade and ran his thumb down the sharp edge. “Perhaps in a past life long forgotten.”

  I pushed from the chest and walked to him hesitantly. Through hooded eyes, he watched me come closer. I stopped at a cushion by his and bit my lip, debating. When he didn’t shoo me away, I knelt, folding my legs to the side. My sandals came off next, and I rubbed my sore feet. He watched me do this, his thumb still running down the sharp edge of his knife.

  I cleared my throat, looking at my feet. “So he cut you and it messed up your voice?”

  I didn’t know why I was pushing, but I needed an answer. May
be I was hoping he would lie to me and I’d never again have to wonder about the preternatural quality of his voice. I could put it from my mind.

  He flipped the knife over in his hand and used the hilt to tilt up my chin. Catching my eye, he smirked. “You don’t believe it’s an old battle wound that ails me.”

  I shook my head, holding my breath.

  He bent close, dropping his lips to my ear. “Do you have gods where you’re from, little human?”

  I swallowed thickly, clenching my toes in my fingers. I nodded, making his lips scrape down my ear and to just below it.

  “Do they speak to you?”

  I shook my head and it dislodged his lips. He pressed the hilt of the knife to my chin and grasped me around it with his warm fingers, pulling my ear back to his lips. The sharp tip of the knife grazed the apple of his throat. I watched it, suppressing a shudder.

  “My gods speak to me,” he whispered. “They speak through me.” He pulled me closer, nicking himself in the throat. A thin line of blood dribbled down. “Do you want to know what they say to me about you?”

  My eyes watered and burned and I didn’t know why.

  “Do you?” He tightened his grip on my jaw, nodding my chin himself. I felt his lips spread into a grin against my throat. “They don’t like you.”

  “Are you going to let them hurt me?” Like you did that Bour? Like you did those Juldo?

  He hummed against my neck, spreading his mouth and sinking his teeth lightly into my throat. My thighs clenched and my nails dug into my thighs. “I haven’t decided.”

  I squeezed my eyes tightly and lifted my hands to his thick forearm, holding it.

  “Still curious?”

  “I don’t want to die like that,” I whispered, tears leaking from my eyes.

  He leaned away until his nose was an inch from mine and the sharp edge of his knife slid smoothly against the side of his throat and the jagged scar there. The black orbs of his eyes roamed my face, the sheen of them rolling and catching the light before he leaned forward again and sniffed my cheek. He groaned from the back of his throat and flicked his tongue at my tears, catching one.