Crave the Darkness: A Shaede Assassin Novel

by amanda bonilla

  Raif and Xander were already seated and eating when I walked into the dining room. Whatever. It didn’t bother me. It’s not like I expected them to sit and wait for me before they dug in. The food smelled too delicious for my empty stomach to ignore, but it didn’t improve my sour mood. I took a seat in one of the pristine Chippendale chairs across from Raif and as far from Xander as possible. Light from the chandelier above glinted off the crystal goblets and gleaming white and gold china setting. I wondered how long it took Xander’s kitchen staff to prepare for the many meals they served their king and whether or not he made them take their own meals in the kitchen. His house wasn’t a castle, but the opulence—not to mention abundant staff—was a reminder that I was, in fact, now living in a royal household. Before I could even put a napkin in my lap, a silver platter of food was displayed for my inspection. When I didn’t acknowledge her, the poor Shaede looked at her king expectantly and once he gave a nod of approval, began to dish the food onto my plate. She must’ve been waiting at the kitchen door, poised and ready for the moment I decided to sit my ass down, which made me feel a little guilty for showing up late.

  “Good morning,” Raif said, a little too pleasant for me. “Did you sleep well?”

  My response was a bitchy sort of grunt from deep in my throat.

  “That well?” Raif asked. “I’d say if your glowing attitude is any indicator, today should be an absolute joy.”

  I didn’t react to his needling. Instead, I focused my attention on the French toast, fresh fruit, and bacon. It wasn’t exactly a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios, but it would do. I was so hungry, I was pretty sure I could eat my body weight in bacon. Head down, eyes on my plate, I ate in stoic silence. But in my peripheral vision, I couldn’t help but notice Xander. He’d set aside his fork, propped an elbow up on the arm of his chair and rested his chin on his fist. His eyes were hooded by lowered lashes, but I could tell he was watching me, just the same.

  “Good gods, I see broody attitudes are contagious this morning,” Raif replied over the lip of his coffee cup. “Can’t anyone wake up on the right side of the bed?”

  His comment went unanswered. I wished Xander would quit staring at me. It made me feel like I had something embarrassing on my face.

  “As long as you’re going to be uncommunicative”—Raif indicated the stack of folders I’d set on the table next to me—“we might as well discuss the candidates for your team. Out of the nine candidates we’ve recommended, you need to narrow the selection to four.”

  “Why four?” I didn’t look up to meet his face.

  “Four is a lucky number. One team member to represent each of the cardinal directions. That way, you’ll always have someone at your back.”

  “If there’s one member for each direction, what does that make me?”

  “You are the center of the compass,” Xander answered. His voice was smooth, darker than usual with an undertone that gave me delicious chills.

  Goddamn him.

  “Are you sure you’re giving me a task force to help find who’s threatening Anya?” I paused to sip my coffee. I needed a caffeine boost. “Or are you having me choose my own babysitters?”

  “Do you need babysitters?” Xander said in that same infuriating tone.

  “No. I don’t.”

  Xander sighed and clamped his jaw shut. I noticed the muscles working in his jaw as he ground his teeth together. He pushed his chair out from the table and threw his delicate linen napkin down before nailing me with an accusing glare. His purposeful stride as he all but stomped out of the dining room let me know that my mood had, in fact, rubbed off on him.

  “What was that all about?” I looked from Xander’s now empty chair to Raif, who was watching the doorway as if he expected his brother to stomp back into the room.

  Raif shrugged, but turned his attention to his own breakfast in a way that made me think he knew exactly what Xander’s pouty routine had been about. “I stacked the files in order.” He indicated the pile of folders. “Top recommendations first, and so on.”

  I mopped up the last of the syrup with French toast and popped it in my mouth before pushing the plate away. Damn. I was still hungry. I really did need to take better care of myself. I slid the files in front of me, noting how neat and precise each one had been kept. No doubt to Raif’s standards. I wondered what he’d do if I spilled coffee on one of them. And I didn’t dare mention that I hadn’t bothered to look over any of the files yet. “All trained by you?” I asked as I opened the first file.

  “For the most part.” The pride was unmistakable in Raif’s tone. “Though my brother made a suggestion or two. All are fine warriors.”

  Of course they were. Raif would never settle for anything less. “By what criteria did you base your picks?”

  “Skill in battle, stealth, intelligence. I wouldn’t have you working with an unseasoned trainee or upstart who might be tempted to question your authority.”

  Gee, thanks for your undying faith, Raif. “Afraid your troops won’t take kindly to me?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Raif’s face became the serious mask of the warrior that frightened so many. It was the expression I admired the most. “They know an order from you is as good as an order from me. But remember, Darian, there was a time when even you didn’t think twice about questioning me.”

  True. I’d been a little full of myself the first time I’d met him. But it hadn’t taken long before he put me in my place. No one fucks with Raif. I flipped through the first file, and the second, and then the third. Each new candidate seemed as good as the last. How would I ever make a decision? “Maybe you were right about seeing these guys in action.” Not that I liked admitting it. “I’m not getting anywhere reading their stats. I might as well be looking at baseball cards.”

  “I figured you might say that. They’re assembled in the gym.”

  Always prepared. Raif was a goddamned Boy Scout. No need to sit around reading about his carefully handpicked troupe of Shaedes. Time to see the goods firsthand. “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  The gym was silent when we pushed open the double doors. The kind of silent when you know everyone was talking about you moments before. They may as well get an eyeful while they had the chance, because five of them were going to get the boot.

  Like good little soldiers, Raif’s candidates lined up against the far wall, feet braced wide and hands clasped behind their backs. Expressions of inspired awe crossed their faces when he entered the gym, and I couldn’t help but smile. Raif was indeed inspiring on many levels. Identical in dress, the candidates would’ve put a battalion of Army Rangers to shame. Dark blue fatigues, long-sleeve, formfitting black knit shirts, and polished combat boots, Raif’s potential task force members showed up battle ready.

  I cross-referenced each file’s picture with a face as I looked over the assembled warriors. Three women and six men waited for the honor to beat each other to a pulp only to prove they were worthy of Raif’s recommendation.

  “Let’s get to it, then,” Raif said, eyeballing each Shaede individually. “Louella . . . and . . . Julian.” Raif jerked his thumb behind him. “Start us off with a decent sparring.”

  “Hear that, Loulie?” The one called Julian elbowed a dark, feisty-looking girl in the ribs. “You get to be the first ass-whoopin’ of the day.”

  She didn’t respond to her opponent, just walked, eyes facing front toward the mats. I liked her. Even before she caught Julian off guard with a low, sweeping kick to the ankles, I knew she’d be the first member of my team. Louella was shorter than me by a good four inches. Her petite build, coupled with wide, brown eyes and bronze skin made her look more like an innocent girl than a trained killer. But she put every inch of her body to good use and managed to pin her much larger male opponent to the mat in under a minute.

  Julian lay still, catching his breath. Six feet tall and as fair and blond as Louella was dark, he watched her walk back to the wall with a goofy smile plastered
on his face. I had a feeling he enjoyed every second of the beating, and his good-natured attitude definitely earned him a spot at the top of my list.

  Raif gave Julian a hard, appraising stare as he hauled himself upright. “You went a full ten minutes before she bested you last week.”

  The cocky smile quickly vanished from Julian’s face, and he bowed his head. When he looked up, Raif jerked his chin toward the back wall, and Julian retreated like a scalded dog. Raif never had to say much to get a reaction and no one wanted to disappoint him. And when you did, well, the disappointment was far worse than any punishment he could ever dish out.

  A tall, lanky redhead stepped forward, and I flipped through the files until I found the right one. Myles Caffray. He didn’t really look like a Myles. Taller than Julian, his green eyes glowed against ivory skin. His freckles made him look unassuming and almost boyish, but something about the catlike slant to his eyes made me think twice about my first impression. Without being asked, he stepped onto the mat, feet braced and standing at ease. Apparently, he wanted to go next and wouldn’t wait around for an invitation from Raif. Nice.

  “Fine,” Raif said to no one in particular, but the annoyance seeped through his tone. “You’re so eager—you can go up against Liam.”

  Liam stepped forward, a big, scary son of a bitch. He looked older than the rest, or, at the very least, more battle hardened. Blue tattoos chased a swirling pattern on his bald head, running down his neck and disappearing beneath his shirt. Both of his ears were gauged with large black plugs that only accentuated the aura of brutality that surrounded him. I had a feeling he could break Myles in half if he wanted to. And from the expression on his face—he wanted to.

  “Weapons?” Liam asked, his voice like gravel in a cement mixer.

  Raif inclined his head. “But remember, this is a training exercise only. Nothing more than an exhibition.”

  I have to say, Liam looked a little put out. He walked to the back wall of the gym, perusing the weapons like he was a suburbanite window-shopper. If I hadn’t had the emerald key to O Anel hanging around my neck, the sound of seconds ticking away while he made his selection would have driven me insane. He finally settled on a wooden bokken, which he tossed to Myles, and then he simply walked to the mat. Unarmed.

  “Really, Liam?” Myles asked, giving the wooden version of a samurai sword a couple of practice swings.

  “I figure you can use all the help you can get,” Liam answered, cracking each of his knuckles.

  “This should be interesting,” Raif whispered in my ear. “Liam has an axe to grind with Myles.”

  “Over what?”

  “What else.” Raif shrugged. “A woman.”

  Wasn’t it always? If they couldn’t put their petty bullshit aside for a couple of minutes, I didn’t think I wanted either of them. Liam looked like he wasn’t worried about the outcome of the sparring exhibition. In fact, his sheer size and hulking muscle coupled with the bored expression on his face would have sealed the deal for any odds maker.

  But my money was on Myles.

  In the course of my life, I’d learned it was the unassuming ones you had to watch out for. And those shrewd, calculating cat eyes didn’t miss a thing. Myles observed every minute shift of Liam’s weight with an intensity that made the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. Myles was deadly. Myles was a killer. And I would know.

  Liam circled Myles, his arms like tree trunks swinging with every step. Myles smiled, inviting the challenge, twirling the bokken once, and then again. He lunged forward, jabbing with a quick, well-maneuvered extension and Liam jumped back, surprising me with the deftness of motion. Their battle dance continued: lunges, reactions, and still Liam circled his prey. No words passed between them, not the cocky, self-absorbed bragging that accompanies an approaching fight. These guys were dead serious. This wasn’t a game to them. It was personal.

  Raif shook his head in disgust, apparently rethinking his decision to let them air out their differences on the mats. He took a step forward, and I threw out my arm, stopping him. “You said Liam had an axe to grind. Let him do it.”

  “Perhaps this isn’t the place,” Raif said.

  “If they don’t do it here, they’ll go somewhere else to settle the score. And believe me, if they take the fight out of this gym, one of them isn’t going to walk away from it.”

  Raif relaxed, but I knew he wasn’t happy. He was all about control and in the blink of an eye, his carefully orchestrated demonstration had turned into a full-on grudge match. At least here, under supervision, we could make sure both parties lived to fight another day. And in my opinion, letting the testosterone run its course was the best and only option.

  Myles lunged again, this time with an upward cut, and rather than jump out of the way, Liam parried the thrust with his arm. The bokken cracked as it made contact and I couldn’t help but wince. Liam’s arm had to have hurt like a bitch, but he didn’t even flinch. I had to give it to him, the guy was tough.

  I stole a glance at the candidates lined up against the wall, watching, like me, with intense interest. The one named Louella leaned in to whisper in the ear of the female standing beside her and she nodded, her eyes wide. It impressed me that none of the Shaedes seemed to take a side. Instead, they kept their expressions mostly neutral. Taking in the goings-on with ambiguity solidified the fact that ultimately they were all on the same team. I admired them for that.

  “Why can’t I just take all of them?” I asked Raif, my gaze still passing over the candidates. My eyes met feral amber, and I stopped. Stared straight through the kid giving me look for look.

  “Four.” Raif said. “Numbers aren’t open for discussion.”

  I wanted to argue, but I’d lost my train of thought. By my estimation, the Shaede ignoring the fight to stare straight at me was the youngest man in the room. Probably even younger than my own one hundred and twenty-one years. His eyes were lighter than Xander’s by a couple of shades. Translucent and wild. White-blond hair, shining, thick, and wavy reached to about his collar, giving the impression that he ought to have a skateboard tucked under his arm. I couldn’t shake the look in his eyes, though. As I took him in, I wondered what had happened in his life to make him look so hard.

  “How long has he been with you?” I inclined my head toward the boy.

  “Not long. But he’s smart. A quick learner, too. And tough as any hardened soldier. One of Xander’s recommendations.”

  I tore my gaze from the boy and turned my attention back to the mats. Liam had managed to wrestle the bokken from Myles, and the two were throwing punches and kicks like an action movie fight scene right out of the eighties. Liam was big, not to mention strong. But Myles was quick and managed to keep the upper hand despite his opponent’s strength. Bloodied, panting, sweat beading on their foreheads—I realized they could go at it all day. Neither one of them would be willing to drop any time soon.

  “That’s enough!” I shouted over the din of fighting.

  Liam and Myles froze in a tangle of arms and legs. Usually, I’d be thrilled to have thrown my weight around. But today, I wasn’t in the mood. I just wanted to get the selections over with and go back to bed.

  “We all get it,” I said, approaching the edge of the mat. “You’re both big, tough motherfuckers and can kick each other’s asses raw. Point made. You’re done and can get back in line.”

  The two detangled from one another and shot me a matched set of sullen stares as they made their way to the group.

  “One more thing.” Liam and Myles froze, though neither turned to look at me. “If I see you two fighting over petty bullshit again, I’ll bring a world of hurt down on both of you personally. And I can guarantee you won’t be walking out of this gym without help.”

  Raif didn’t chime in. He knew he didn’t need to. He’d told me to be a leader, and whether I liked it or not, I’d stepped up to the plate. Guess it was too late to back out now.

  The remaining candidates sparred in m
ixed groups, Louella fought twice, impressing me even more the second time. Asher, the wild towheaded blond, was everything Raif said he’d be. Quick, skilled, precise. That kid was lightning in a bottle. I wondered what would happen when someone finally pulled the cork.

  “You’re all dismissed until further notice,” Raif said once the parade was over. He waited until the gym door closed behind the last candidate, the sound reverberating off the cement walls. “Would you like a couple of days to make a decision?”

  “That’s not necessary,” I said, flipping through the files one last time.

  “All right, then. Who would you like?”

  “Louella for sure. That girl can fight. And Julian, because I have a feeling he’s usually not too far from Louella anyway.” I scanned the files again. Julian hadn’t been an impressive fighter, which might have been because he was too preoccupied with his apparent crush on Louella to put serious effort into sparring against her. But his file indicated that he was smart. Genius smart. And I needed brains as well as brawn.

  “Good choice. Though you’ll have to watch out for Julian. You have to use a heavy hand if you want to keep him on task. That leaves two empty seats,” Raif said. “Who else?”

  “Myles.” I flipped through the files once more. I didn’t know how I’d handle the both of them, but I never did anything halfway. “And Liam.”

  “Will it matter to you if I advise against taking them both? I’d suggest keeping Liam and dismissing Myles.” That surprised me. If anything I’d thought he’d want Liam left off the list. He seemed the most hotheaded.

  “You said I made the final decision. Liam has the muscle, but Myles is ruthless. I need ruthless as well.”