Crave the Darkness: A Shaede Assassin Novel

by amanda bonilla

  “All right,” Raif responded slowly. “What’s this about?”

  “I’m not sure.” Yet. I planned on finding out, though. “Just tell her.”

  “I’ll deliver your message,” Raif said.

  “Thanks. I owe you one.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m keeping a tally,” he said and hung up.

  I turned off my phone—just in case Xander took it upon himself to call—tossed it onto the couch and surveyed what looked like a residence hastily abandoned in a zombie apocalypse. Grabbing a trash bag and my recycling bin from the cupboard under the kitchen sink, I started by tossing an empty Cheerios box into the bin. Followed by an empty milk carton. Then, I tossed a wad of discarded paper towels and some overripe oranges into the trash bag. I filled the sink with hot water and began to soak the dirty dishes that had been sitting for a couple of weeks. Dirty clothes made their way to the washer, and I stripped the bed, ready for fresh linens.

  It wasn’t much, but it was an improvement.

  And with these small steps toward moving forward—and totally in my control—I felt the burden of my sorrow finally begin to lift.

  Chapter 25

  By the time I left my apartment the next day, it somewhat resembled the standard of order and cleanliness I was used to. I’d stayed up most of the night cleaning, straightening up, washing months of discarded clothes, dishes, and linens. I waited until well after lunch to return to Xander’s house. Anya was under the watchful eye of my team, and I knew with the PNT ball later that night she wouldn’t be leaving the house until Xander’s entourage left for the event.

  I’d been dragging my feet, not wanting to give the Shaede King any opportunity to pull me aside for a little “one-on-one” time. Just because Tyler had asserted that he wanted our bond left intact and I’d cleaned my apartment didn’t mean I was completely healed emotionally, and I worried that Xander would use whispered words of passion to spur me into action. Honestly, I didn’t think Xander cared how he got me into bed, whether it be through love and affection or a need to show Tyler that I’d moved on. He just wanted me in his bed.

  As I headed toward Capitol Hill, I thought of Xander’s confession that Azriel was not, in fact, his son. In the end, his own selfish desires had been his undoing and he’d kept the truth of Azriel’s paternity from everyone, his own brother included. Even after his death, Xander wasn’t going to reveal the truth, and I couldn’t help but wonder why. And why he’d chosen me to finally confide in. Perhaps he kept the memory of Azriel as an innocent child close to his heart. The child he hoped to raise with honor and compassion, so unlike his demon father and black-hearted mother. When I asked Xander if he’d loved Azriel’s mother, he hadn’t given me a direct answer. I wondered: had he ever been in love? He claimed to love me, but I wasn’t such a fool as to believe him. He didn’t even know me. Not truly. He loved the idea of me, the prospect of claiming me. Like Azriel’s mother, he wanted me just to prove that he could have me. And the fact that I was an oddity among our kind made me even more desirable. We were a fine pair: me using him to help forget about my heartache, and him using my heartache to maneuver me right into his bed. Maybe we deserved each other.

  When I finally made it to the front door, it swung open before I could even get my hand on the latch. I expected Xander to be waiting for me, exasperated and annoyed that he couldn’t keep me under his thumb. But instead, I was met with the frazzled countenance of one pissed-off fashion dictator.

  “How’s it hangin’, Caitlin?” I asked, the epitome of innocence.

  I thought her eyes were going to bulge right out of her head. She exhaled in what appeared to be great relief—or maybe frustration—and dragged me through the doorway by the arm. Damn, that skinny little thing was stronger than you’d think. She hauled me through the foyer and right up the stairs to my room. “Where have you been?” she huffed, slamming the door behind me. “I’ve been waiting for you for hours! As it is, I’ll be surprised if we can manage a decent hairstyle by the time you have to leave.”

  “Keep your pants on, Caitlin,” I said, flouncing down on the bed. God, I loved memory foam. I hadn’t slept much the previous night, and a nap sounded pretty good right about now. “It’s still early. We’ll have plenty of time to get me ready.”

  Caitlin seemed to go into some kind of shock, her mouth working but no words issuing forth. “We have less than seven hours!” she finally exclaimed. “Get up! Get in the shower! Get moving!”

  * * *

  “You look so lovely,” Mary said with a sigh, smoothing one last curl into place. “All eyes will be on you, ma’am.”

  I hoped not. Eyes watching meant tongues wagging. I did not want or need the shrewd eyes of the local gossips on me. I knew my place this evening. I’d been schooled by Henry early on in our marriage. We attended social events for one reason and one reason only: to be seen. To keep up appearances. To provide the local socialites—not to mention the friends of our aristocratic families—the perfect picture of marital bliss.

  Mary draped a lace shawl around my shoulders and I took the stairs as slowly as I dared toward the foyer. My steps were those of the condemned, my feet reluctantly leading me to my doom. Henry waited for me by the front door, impatient as always. He checked his pocket watch and let out an exasperated sigh. “My, don’t you look lovely tonight,” he said with absolute disinterest before opening the door for me. “After you,” he urged, waving his hand before him in invitation.

  We walked. After all, the party was only three houses down the street, and Henry kept a respectable distance from me—that being, far enough away you wouldn’t even know that we were acquainted, let alone husband and wife—until we reached the Brightons’ haughty mansion. Once we stepped foot on the long walkway that led to the front door, he tucked my hand in the crook of his arm and bestowed upon me his most charming smile. God forbid someone would happen to notice us from the window and see anything less than a doting husband and adoring wife.

  Once inside, he spun me around to show off my dress to every woman who crossed our path, and to his gentlemen friends he simply bragged that his life couldn’t be any better: his practice was thriving and he had the most desirable woman in all of San Francisco on his arm. The more he boasted, the more I hurt from his deceptive words. After we’d made the rounds, greeting our “friends” and placing a gift under the fifteen-foot-tall Christmas tree adorning the Brightons’ grand ballroom, he left me to mingle with the other wives while he retired to the library with the men for cigars and scotch.

  “Behave, my dear,” he murmured in my ear as if whispering secret, heated words. “Be the dutiful, gracious, humble wife the community expects you to be.”

  I wanted to tear my arm from his grip and shove him away from me. His close proximity made me nervous, the way his fingers bit into my skin as he held me to him made my heart race with fear. I’d be the wife he’d trained me to be and no one would be the wiser to the truth for the rest of our lives. I smiled as I took my leave and approached a small group of women sipping champagne by the tree. Polite laughter bubbled up from my chest as the ladies made light of something . . . I hadn’t really been paying attention. I cast Henry a sidelong glance as he strolled from the room, confident I’d do what he’d trained me to. I knew what awaited me if I didn’t. And besides, I could be very, very convincing when properly motivated. . . .

  * * *

  “Gods, you’re . . . stunning,” Xander breathed as I met him at the bottom of the stairs. He gave me a mischievous grin, grabbed me by the hand, and spun me around. Then, for good measure, he took me in his arms and kissed me. Once. But that brief contact spoke volumes about how he hoped the evening would progress. I took a step back, needing a moment of personal space, but as far as Xander was concerned my actions had more to do with assessing his own appearance than anything.

  “How do I look?” he asked, spreading his arms wide.

  No doubt his black tux had been tailored specifically for him. No way i
n hell would the Shaede King wear anything off the rack. But I had to admit, he wasn’t exactly hard to look at. His caramel eyes seemed lighter in contrast with his dark clothes, the amber flecks almost citrine. The golden hair he usually wore pulled back hung loose, almost brushing his shoulders, giving his formal attire an edgy elegance. He could have stepped off the runway of an Armani fashion show. And the smile on his face told me that his confidence had kicked into overdrive.

  “You know you look good,” I teased. “Why do you always need to have everyone around you confirm it?”

  “I don’t need everyone to confirm it,” he said. “Just you.”

  I smiled at the sensual tone in his voice. If I wasn’t careful, he’d easily break through my resolve to keep him at arm’s length. “Oh, Xander.” I sighed in mock exasperation. “Always after a good ego stroking.”

  “Oh, Darian,” he answered, his voice as warm and soft as velvet, “by the end of the night, you’ll be stroking more than just my ego.”

  He reached out for me, but the sound of someone clearing his voice made Xander pause. Raif stood at the top of the staircase, looking just as dashing and royal as his brother in a similar tux. It always made me laugh to see him dressed in modern clothes, since he favored a more antiquated getup when he wasn’t out among humans. “Check you out.” I spoke a little on the loud side, just to be sure anyone within earshot would hear me. “Damn, Raif, you clean up good.”

  He rolled his eyes and continued down the stairs as if he just didn’t have the patience for my juvenile behavior. “I could say the same for you.” When he got to the bottom of the stairs he took my hand, bowing as he bestowed a polite kiss upon it.

  I laughed, finding Raif’s gallantry utterly hilarious—and charming. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to this.” I indicated my dress. “This’ll be the first and last time you see me dressed up.”

  “Not much room for toting weapons in that dress, is there?” Raif asked.

  No, there certainly wasn’t. I couldn’t carry an arsenal on my body, but that didn’t mean I was going anywhere unarmed. I’d strapped the silver dagger Ty had given me to the back of the dress, artfully hiding it in the folds of satin fabric. A quick tug was all it would take to free it from the sheath. Caitlin had been appalled at the notion of securing the dagger to the delicate gown, but I told her if she didn’t hush with the protests, I wouldn’t let her do my hair. Shut her up instantly.

  Xander looked a little put out as Raif and I exchanged witty banter about what and where we’d stashed weapons in our fancy outfits. While Raif and I chatted, Xander moved behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist as he listened to us talk. A moment of surprise flashed in Raif’s eyes, which I’m sure echoed my own expression exactly. It was such a . . . normal, almost . . . domestic thing to do, and it momentarily caught me off guard.

  I relaxed into Xander’s arms as he joined the conversation, pointing out how hundreds of years ago a warrior gave up his weapons once he entered a king’s hall. I leaned in closer. I couldn’t help it. I wanted the reassurance, the comfort of having someone hold me close. This wasn’t about jealousy or proving anything to anyone. This was about me, needing to feel connected to someone. He pressed his lips to my temple, breathing deeply. “You smell good,” he whispered close to my ear.

  “Caitlin’s idea,” I said. “Bergamot.”

  “Mmm.” He took another deep breath. “It’s perfect.”

  A motion from the hallway leading to the sitting room caught my eye and I turned to see Anya striding toward us. My jaw just about came unhinged as I took her in. She was absolutely stunning. I’d heard of “pregnancy glow” but I’d never seen it before. Anya had it and then some. Life seemed to radiate from her in a bright aura that softened her usually hard edge. She’d abandoned her typical leather outfit for a strapless chiffon evening gown that drifted around her like a delicate cloud. The deep marigold color complemented her violet eyes and dark lashes. Her long hair had been braided and curled and wound in such an intricate pattern it boggled my mind at the skill it must have taken to create.

  I disengaged from Xander’s embrace and walked toward her, noting that I no longer felt animosity toward her. It’s not like we’d formed some kind of unbreakable bond and she’d make me her baby’s godmother or anything, but it was easier between us. Nice. “How are you feeling?” I asked.

  “Much better,” she answered. “Don’t we make a fine pair, impersonating delicate ladies?”

  “Yeah,” I scoffed. “We’re the very definition of feminine grace and charm. Look,” I said, pulling her aside, deeper into the sitting room, “I know this isn’t a great time to bring this up, but I ran into Kade last night.”

  “Ran into him?” Anya asked with suspicion.

  “Well, I think more to the point, he tracked me down. Anyway, Raif gave you my message, right? Kade thinks you have something he wants. If he keeps to his timeline, I’m thinking you’ll have to pony whatever it is up by the end of the night.”

  Something flashed in Anya’s eyes, an emotion too fleeting for me to identify. “I have nothing to give him,” she said. “Kade’s messing with you. He probably did it to arouse your mistrust. I told you, he likes to play games. He’ll use any means at his disposal to torment me.”

  I wouldn’t put it past the son of a bitch. The first time I’d met Kade, he asked me to deliver a message to Anya. Last night’s episode didn’t seem to be much different. I think, like all egomaniacal shitheads, Kade just liked the sound of his own voice and got off on terrorizing Anya. He didn’t want to run in and bust a cap in anyone’s ass right off the bat.

  “Okay,” I said, leading her back out of the room. “But you’d tell me the truth, right? If you had something else he wanted . . . you’d tell me?”

  “Relax, Darian,” Anya said. “You shouldn’t be on edge tonight. This is supposed to be a nice evening.”

  A nice evening. Yeah. Right. I couldn’t help but be a little twitchy. Tonight was Anya’s first night out after being attacked and then sent to bed rest after a near miscarriage. Despite Xander’s assurance that they’d be well protected by the PNT’s wards, I felt like a nice evening would be her and Dimitri shut up in their rooms with a hundred or so guards watching over them. Taking them out for a night on the town was anything but nice. Speak of the devil, Anya’s husband had arrived in the foyer, and he, Xander, and Raif were just chatting up a storm. Again, the normalcy of it all struck me as odd. Odd, and somehow comforting. But all the “normal” in the world wasn’t going to take the edge off. I’d been so busy getting my extreme Caitlin makeover that I hadn’t had time to meet with my team. They were escorting Xander’s entourage as additional security tonight, but it didn’t sit well with me that I hadn’t been able to snag them before they’d left. Damn it. I hated feeling unprepared.

  “What’s wrong?” Raif asked as we filed out the door. Xander’s limo waited a few feet away, the driver holding the door for us. I sighed. How I hated the pomp and circumstance.

  “I wanted to talk to the team before they left,” I said. “They need to really pay attention to—”

  “Darian,” Raif interrupted. “Relax. I spoke with your team, and they know their duties tonight. Now, get in the car before Xander ruptures a blood vessel.”

  I looked into the car and Raif was right. Xander did look like he was about to pop something. Jeez. Anxious much? It wasn’t exactly easy getting into the car: the long hem of my gown kept catching on my heels, but I eventually managed to sidle in next to the king. “What?” I asked at his exasperated expression. “Afraid we’re going to be late or something?”

  “Nonsense,” Xander said, sounding very much like the king he was. “I’m always fashionably late. But we do have to arrive before they close the wards over the building or we’ll never get in.”

  At least I could be thankful for the PNT’s military precision and preparedness. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be a complete waste of time after all.

  Chapter 26
/>   Once you’ve seen one ball, you’ve seen ’em all.

  Of course, this was the first supernatural soirée I’d ever been to. Most of the ball-goers had let their glamours slip, allowing them to appear as the less-than-human creatures they were. And the dresses and suits were as diverse as the attendees—some resembling medieval garb and others in more current styles. We arrived fashionably late just like Xander wanted, with minutes to spare before the wards were placed on the building. The PNT didn’t dick around when it came to security, and as soon as the moment came to lock the place down, several Fae stepped forward to cast the magical wards that would not only protect the preternatural partiers from harm, but nullify every supernatural ability of those enclosed within the binding magic.

  Tricky.

  And super-fucking smart.

  Xander handed me what looked like a glass of champagne, but after I took a sip I realized that the pale pink liquid in the glass was some sort of faerie wine. The flavor was like nothing I’d ever tasted before, sweet, but not overly so, and smooth without any bite. The carbonated bubbles seemed to burst in my mouth as I drank, sort of like biting into a fresh piece of fruit. A curious sensation, but not unpleasant. I found myself smiling as I took sip after sip, enjoying this new experience.

  “I’m easily amused,” I said, shrugging when I caught Xander watching me.

  “As am I,” he murmured in a husky voice that brought chills to the surface of my skin. “I could watch you all night.”

  I cleared my throat nervously, looking around the crowded ballroom to distract myself from Xander’s heated gaze. I noticed Dylan McBride; with him was a young woman, mid – to late twenties, maybe, with curling mahogany hair that brushed her shoulders and eyes the color of the ocean at night. Not quite gray, not quite blue. Pretty. I wasn’t the only one who’d noticed, either.