Crave the Darkness: A Shaede Assassin Novel

by amanda bonilla

  I folded my arms in front of me on the seat and rested my forehead on them. Drawing deep, steady breaths, I tried to calm my stomach from another round of cramping heaves. Go away, Xander, I thought, unable to speak. Leave me alone and let me yak in peace.

  “What happened to you this evening?” His voice was so soft, gentle. Damn him. “I have a feeling that rather than improve, you’ve just taken ten steps back.”

  Understatement of the century. What the hell did he expect me to say? Yep, Xander, you hit the nail right on the head. Ty’s back in town, and he’s shacked up with a woman so breathtaking, if you saw her you’d never look at me again. I don’t think so.

  I didn’t want to sit there all night face-first in the toilet, but I was afraid to move. What if the anxiety hit me again, and harder? What was the next step up from vomiting? Complete brain hemorrhage? “Not that I don’t appreciate you holding my hair and all”—I didn’t dare look up—“but I’m fine, Xander. You can go now.”

  “You’re not fine.” He was so close, I could feel his breath on my face.

  “Yes, I am.”

  Xander sighed. “Come on,” he said, pulling at my arms. “I’ll help you back to bed.”

  Once upright, Xander bent and swept an arm under my knees, gathering me up into his arms. “I’m not a child, Xander, I can walk on my own.” But, honestly, I didn’t think I had the willpower necessary to put one foot in front of the other.

  “No, you’re certainly not,” Xander chuckled. “Though you choose to act like one on occasion.”

  The panic drained out of me like an ebbing tide, and my stomach felt not just empty but raw. My throat wasn’t faring much better, burning from the acid, the only thing my depleted body had left to give. Utterly exhausted, it wasn’t just physical, but emotional and spiritual. I felt paper-thin and spent. I let my eyes drift shut as Xander carried me to the bed, but in my mind’s eye, Tyler’s face full of unspoken emotion loomed behind a vision of perfection. Would I ever be able to think of him again without having her face in my memory as well?

  Xander set me down with care, as far to the center of the bed as he could reach. He sat down beside me, his weight on the mattress somehow reassuring. I didn’t look at him, afraid he’d read in my eyes what I wasn’t willing to speak: that I might not ever be the same after tonight. He smoothed my hair away from my face, and I let him. A snarky comeback wasn’t what he deserved. He’d held my hair while I’d puked my guts out. That was enough to earn him a bye for the night.

  “I told you, you weren’t allowed to skip dinner again,” Xander’s voice broke through my thoughts.

  “Why do you care about Anya so much?” I didn’t want to talk about me and the train wreck I’d become. “What makes her so special?”

  Xander eased back onto the pillows and swung his legs up on the bed. “She’s younger than you,” he said. “By a few decades. Did you know that?”

  I didn’t know anything about her other than the fact that she had an atrocious leather fetish. Xander shifted, and rather than let my curiosity get the better of me, I turned my back to him and picked a spot on the wall, staring at the pattern on the fancy silk wallpaper until I lost focus altogether. Anything was better than closing my eyes.

  “If I’ve ever known a more infuriating woman than you, it’s Anya,” Xander continued, his voice lulling me. “Women like you aren’t meant for mundane lives, and Anya is no different. Raif caught her trying to break into my house and, curious, I had him bring her to me.”

  Anya, a criminal. Her loyalty to Xander was so uncompromising; I could never picture her trying to steal from him.

  “I suppose I should have let Raif turn her over to the area’s governing authority or at least, punish her himself. It probably would’ve only spurred her on, though. She had her reasons for breaking in, and at the time, she had no idea the house belonged to her king. They were homeless, hungry, desperate. She’d made Dimitri one of us by then, and I was curious. I’d never known anyone else capable of performing the feat.”

  Raif had told me Xander’s wife had once been human and he had changed her, but nothing more had ever been spoken of her. Probably why he’d been curious about Anya. I’m sure Xander, in his royal arrogance, thought only he could be strong enough to make another Shaede. My eyes grew heavy as Xander’s rich voice lulled me, and I blinked away the sleep. God, I was tired.

  “I know you find her . . . abrasive. And I realize that you’d rather not be here, watching her. I want you to know, however, that I care about her a great deal. You do me an honor by helping to protect her.”

  “Do you love her?” I don’t know why I asked. For some insane reason, I wanted to know.

  “She is like a sister to me,” Xander said. “Family. But just because I’d hate for you to be jealous, you should know that what I feel for her is nothing compared to what I feel for you.”

  “You don’t love me, you know.” My voice was weak, muffled by grief and exhaustion. “You just think you do.”

  His fingertips brushed my hair, feather light, and I shivered. “Shall I tell you how I love you?”

  “No,” I said, my throat constricting. “I’m not in the mood for lies.”

  “Or the truth, apparently.”

  The first tear slipped from my eye and rolled down my face onto the pillow. I didn’t want Xander to bear witness to my heartache and shame. I didn’t want him to see me this way—weak and vulnerable. “Do you want to know what I found out tonight, Xander?” I willed my voice to sound strong. “That love is bullshit and there’s always someone better out there to take your place.”

  “You speak like your heart is broken.”

  “I speak like a realist.”

  “How so?”

  “Love is like finding a shiny bauble on the ground. You think it’s the most wonderful, lovely thing you’ve ever seen, and you polish it, keep it safe, and cherish it. Until you come across something prettier, something more interesting. That’s love. You’re only perfect until you’re not.”

  “Did I tell you that your Jinn came here after you disappeared?”

  I knew. Raif had told me. “I know the story more or less.”

  Xander snorted. “I doubt that. He barged right through the door. Literally. Blew it right off the hinges. I have to say, I’d never seen a Jinn use the full force of his power before that day. Very impressive, indeed. He threatened to bring the house down around my head if I didn’t tell him where you were, and by the way the entire house shook on its foundation, I didn’t doubt his words.”

  I bet in hindsight, Tyler wished he hadn’t thrown such a fit. “It was my fault. I left him a note and took off while he was asleep. Don’t hold his actions against him; he only behaved that way because I gave him no other choice.”

  “Everyone has a choice, Darian.” Had he edged closer? I was pinned beneath the blankets, Xander on top of them. The bed suddenly seemed altogether too small. “You made a choice when you left to find my niece. Your Jinn made a choice when he knocked down my door and threatened me.”

  “I never should have left the way I did,” I said, barely a whisper. “I hurt him.”

  “You chose to come back. He chose to leave you.”

  The tears flowed faster, silent. “I did this. I forced his hand.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  Xander rolled away and I assumed he was getting up to leave. If he didn’t have an audience, I knew he wouldn’t want to stick around. I flipped over to my back, only to find that he hadn’t left, but had moved down onto the pillow beside me. Lying on his side, his head propped up in his hand, he studied me with a quiet interest that made my heart jump against my rib cage.

  He reached out, wiped the tears from my cheek. His touch was soft, careful. As if he didn’t want to frighten me away. “You are the shiniest of baubles.”

  I put my arm over my eyes to block him completely out of my vision. “You’re wasting your breath, Xander. Sweet talk doesn’t work on me.”

&
nbsp; “I never waste my breath.” He traced a finger across the bare skin of my forearm, up and down in a swirling, intricate pattern. “I would have chosen to stay.” He closed the distance between us, and I couldn’t have been happier for the heavy blankets creating a barrier between our bodies. His hair brushed my shoulder as he leaned in close to my ear. “I would do anything to have you.”

  Chills chased over my skin, and the panic rose up fresh through my chest, squeezing my heart. “Get out,” I said, my own breath speeding up to keep pace with my thundering pulse. If he didn’t get the hell off the bed and out of this room, I was going to spontaneously combust. I covered my face with both of my hands, fighting to slow my heart rate. “Go.” I choked on the word, a half sob.

  Xander went still for a moment before he pushed himself off the bed. I listened to his footsteps, quiet, each one precisely placed. He came around the bed and stopped beside me, placing his lips to my brow. “Good night, Darian.”

  Only after the door closed behind him did I allow my tears to flow unchecked.

  Chapter 8

  I gave the bag a nice, hard kick. Followed through with a right hook, then a left. Kick, jab, swing. Elbow up, I rammed the heavy sandbag where my opponent’s face would be. It swung back and forth on its chain, and I lunged out of the way, leapt, and rammed my heel at stomach level. Sweat dripped down my neck, trickled under the white Under Armour T-shirt and soaked into the waistband of my yoga pants. I’d rather fight a living, breathing opponent, one who could actually hit back. But this early, I doubted I’d find anyone willing to join me.

  Six in the morning, and I’d already been at it for two hours. It’s not like I could sleep. In fact, I doubted I’d ever sleep again. Fantastic. I’d done a total one-eighty, going from sleeping twenty hours a day to four. Somehow, though, beyond the pain of my broken heart, I felt a strange sense of calm. Not because Ty had found someone else to love—I’d never get over that—but rather, because I had answers. Before Tyler had left me, he’d said nothing was worse than the wondering. The not knowing. And he was right. At least I had an explanation for his silence. At least now I knew why he hadn’t called me when he’d come home. I rubbed at my sternum, trying to banish the hollow pain in my chest that would probably never leave me, before grabbing a towel and mopping the sweat off my face and neck. I thought I heard the gym doors swing open, but the sound was so faint, I almost hadn’t noticed. I closed my eyes, my hand easing to my side to retrieve the dagger I kept strapped to my thigh. Still and barely breathing, I let my unique senses do the work, zoning in on the sound and signature of the stealth-quiet form approaching, inaudible to anyone but me, and even I had to strain my ears and reach out with invisible feelers to both hear and feel the presence.

  When the hairs stood up on my arms and at the back of my neck, I knew it was time. Eyes open, I whirled around, grabbing my assailant by the collar—or rather, shirt—and pressing the dagger to his . . . er . . . chest instead of his throat.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you,” Asher said, too soft and calm for his size. I hadn’t noticed the first time I’d met him how big he really was. I guess the haunted look in his light amber eyes had distracted me from everything else. “I heard someone working out, thought I’d see what was up.”

  Interesting. “I didn’t think anyone would be awake this early.”

  Asher shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t sleep much.”

  “Me either.” Well, not anymore.

  Asher looked down at the dagger I was still holding to his chest. “I can leave—if you want to be alone.”

  I sheathed the dagger, seeing my salvation in the tall Shaede, probably strong enough to break me in half. He wasn’t as big as Liam, but pretty damn close. How did I not notice it before?

  I’d decided after Xander left me alone last night, that the only way to rid the image of Ty and that other woman from my mind would be to beat myself into exhaustion. Besides, I owed it to Raif to be in my best fighting form. I couldn’t protect dick moping around feeling sorry for myself. And who better to give me a run for my money than Asher? I swept my hand in front of me, an invitation.

  “Mind if I stretch, first?”

  Whatever floats your boat, buddy. I watched as he lifted an arm over his head, elbow to sky and palm to his back.

  “So,” he said, switching arms. “Why didn’t you pick me for your group of good little soldiers? Afraid I might be too rough for Raif’s star pupils?”

  The smirk on Asher’s face didn’t hide the hard glint of his eyes. I’d known tough guys like him. Hell, I was just like him. Acting like he didn’t give a shit was just a smoke screen to keep people at a distance. “Are you saying you want babysitting duty?”

  “Why not,” Asher said, moving on to stretch his hamstrings. “I haven’t seen much action lately.”

  Really? Action? Following Anya around sounded boring as hell to me. “I’m not sure what your idea of action is, Asher, but I doubt any of us are going to see much action tailing after Anya for the next couple of months.” Or longer. Shit.

  “Are you kidding?” He rotated his ankles, eyes sparkling with anticipation. “The last time she went out alone, someone shot the shit out of her ride. Sniper rifle. Fifty cal.”

  I guess Xander’s definition of “threat” and mine were a little different. I’d been thinking harassing phone calls, nasty letters in the mail—my stomach clenched involuntarily—a mysterious postcard or two . . . not exactly execution-style shootings. And a fifty-caliber bullet? The monster rifle capable of shooting that kind of ammo was more of a sniper cannon. Bullets that size would rip through a tree trunk from half a mile away. Someone meant business.

  “That’s not the best part, though.” There was a best part? Asher was bouncing on the balls of his feet, swinging his arms back and forth. “Whoever shot at her left a wicked calling card. The bullets were engraved with some sort of symbol. Nice touch, if you ask me.”

  He sounded way too adolescent-boy-excited for his tight, muscular build and feral gaze. I couldn’t help but crack a grin, and I wondered if my face would crack as well. “What did it look like? Could you draw the symbol for me?”

  “I can do one better. I can show you the bullets.”

  Good. Better than good, actually. Whatever this symbol was, it could be the first step in finding out who’d threatened Anya. “Later. In the meantime, you ready for a workout?”

  Asher stretched his neck from side to side and cracked his knuckles. “Ready.”

  I didn’t waste any time showing off. I figured the best way to assert myself as the new alpha in town was to prove right from the get-go that I was more than able to kick some serious ass. Melding with the light, I left my corporeal form, passing back to my solid body right behind Asher. A swift kick to the middle of his back sent him flying face-first to the mat.

  “You’ve got to be quicker than that,” I said.

  Before I could blink, Asher turned over and kicked himself up to a standing position. The kid was way faster than I thought. He’d been holding back during Raif’s exhibition matches, and I had a strange feeling he was holding back, even now. Food for thought.

  “That was awesome,” he said, adopting a defensive stance. “I heard you could do that, but seeing it firsthand is even better.”

  Not many Shaedes in Xander’s household had seen me merge with the light, though all of them—and most of Seattle’s supernatural population—had heard about it. I was used to being a freak show, but the novelty didn’t seem to slow Asher down. He didn’t stand around and wait for an attack. His defensive posture turned to offense in a single breath. He charged with steps as light as any assassin worth her salt and looked to my right shoulder. I spun left to avoid impact, but the glance had been nothing but a feint. Lunging left, he caught me just below the ribs with an elbow and I went down—hard.

  I so wanted to stay right there on the mat. I forced myself up, fought through the crippling ghost of pain stabbing through my chest. It wasn’t
real. Not truly physical. A broken heart couldn’t kill me. Asher didn’t give me time to recover. He spun, kicked his leg out, aiming for my head. I blocked with a forearm, before dissolving into nothing, reappearing at his left side. He favored his right side. Not good. He’d have to learn to use all of his body when he fought, or his opponents would capitalize on his weakness. I went for his knee. He needed to learn his lesson from me before someone else taught him the hard way. I rammed my heel where the joints met, careful not to exert enough pressure to break his kneecap. Asher buckled, and I followed up with a sharp jab to the lower left quadrant of his back. The kid didn’t even whimper.

  In fact, it seemed to only fuel his determination.

  I have to admit, since I didn’t have much in the way of formal training, Asher had me beat in the style department. Raif had primarily trained me in swordplay, though he’d thrown in some martial arts and hand-to-hand combat along the way. My own style was more like a sampling of several martial arts styles combined with a heavy dose of street brawl. Asher, on the other hand, possessed an in-depth knowledge of Tae Kwon Do and Kung Fu, and every movement of his body favored his expertise. Flowed like river water.

  His confidence impressed me, and his speed amazed me. Asher’s focus became unbreakable as he settled into a rhythm, his arms swirling above his head and in front of him, fists jabbing in quick succession. He alternated between knee kicks and straight-legged assaults that had me leaving my corporeal form time and again just to avoid impact. Fast. Lightning in a bottle. My first impressions are never wrong; Asher was definitely dangerous.

  My breath came heavy, sweat beading on my forehead and rolling down my back. Every contact made was a pain I welcomed because it made me forget for a moment about the hollow ache in my chest. Shaking off the sorrow, I forced the crippling emotion down into the deepest part of me and stepped up my game. I didn’t consider it cheating; I wasn’t the only creature in the world that could pass invisible in the daylight hours. A Lyhtan attack would be far worse than anything I could dish out.