Shaedes of Gray: A Shaede Assassin Novel

what skeletons lurked in his closet. “Besides, I don’t give a shit about Xander’s kingdom. When I finish this, I’m done with him.”

Azriel laughed again; his rope was seriously unraveling. “You know, now that I think of it, I should have killed your little pet. He fell hard for you, though I don’t blame him. You are extraordinary. But you—you surpassed my expectations. Delilah knew your love for him was deep, and I doubted it. You were right—I am jealous. You certainly didn’t love me as much. How’s your true love doing, by the way? Not much of a wish granter anymore, I hear.”

I never said my moral compass pointed due north. My own skeletons needed a walk-in closet. I’d been paid, plain and simple, and I always followed through on a job. Always.

The dagger slipped from the sheath, quiet as a lover’s whisper. I choked up on the grip, the guard biting bitterly into my skin. Twenty years I’d spent with him. He’d seduced me and I’d thought I loved him. He could have been honest with me. If he’d told me the truth all those years ago and defied Xander, I would have taken his side. I would have followed him anywhere, and we might’ve been happy. Looking into the cold light of his eyes, though, I saw the truth. He wanted me dead. Me and every last person who’d wronged him. He could never be stopped or restrained or imprisoned. Raif was right. He was simply too dangerous, and I held to my standards: Never kill the innocent. I sucked in a breath, looked deep into the fathomless depths of his black eyes, and reached behind him, my face brushing his as I cut the Lyhtan hair with my dagger, freeing his hands.

“I’d rather die by your hand than live by anyone else’s,” he said, almost too low to hear. He reached for his boot, for the knife I’d seen hidden there.

Mercifully quick, I stabbed at his jugular, severed the carotid artery.

Bright crimson gushed from the wound, and the air tinged with copper. Eyes large and disbelieving, Azriel stared. He twitched, bent forward, and lurched upright. “That’s . . . my girl,” he said in a gurgling breath. The spark drained from his eyes, and he slumped to the floor.

I stumbled and found my back against the far wall. Sliding to the floor, I sat with my knees drawn up and the bloody dagger dangling from my hand. I’d always thought he was dead. And now he was. Once and for all, Azriel was gone. And my hand had dealt the blow.

Anya rounded the corner at a full sprint. She wore a canary-yellow jumpsuit in her signature leather. I wondered how much I’d have to pay her to get her into a nice pair of cotton Dockers. “What happened?” she asked, curiosity watering down her usual condescension. “I’ve never seen Raif so unsettled.”

“It didn’t go well,” I said, using the wall as leverage to push myself from the floor.

“You think?” She motioned to the door.

Three Shaedes entered, looking more afraid of me than the mangled and bloodied body lying on the floor. They skirted me by way of the opposite wall, and I did them a favor by getting the hell out of there.

Not confined to time of day, I became one with the very air and appeared at Raif’s back as he hurried toward the second flight of stairs. I drifted into my corporeal form and laid a hand on his shoulder to stop him. “Raif, there wasn’t any other way for this to end. You know that, right?”

“Do I?” he said, taking my hand and removing it from his shoulder. “I’m not so sure. Do you think he was telling the truth in there?” He jerked his head toward the stairs. “I always knew that Azriel had designs on Xander’s throne. But more than that? ‘This is only the beginning.’ That’s what he said. I was stupid to hope that merely killing the fool would put an end to this. And, frankly, I don’t need the headache.”

“Azriel was a liar. We both know that. There’s always hope, Raif,” I said.

“Oh, really?” His jaded tone screamed hardened, battle-weary warrior. And, perhaps, grieving uncle? “Do you have hope now? You’ve been wandering around this house for weeks like some sort of damned ghost, waiting for Tyler to wake up. Is that hope? Knowing there’s not a single thing you can do for him, but staying here anyway—is that hope? Living for a dead man—is that hope? Or is it just pathetic?”

Ouch, Raif. He’d stung me with his words, but deep down I knew I wasn’t pathetic. I did have hope. I hoped that Azriel’s plans died with him. I hoped we’d have some peace and quiet for a while. And I had to hope Tyler would be okay. And as Raif’s words came back to me, my hope transformed into a plan.

“I’ll show you what hope can do.” I disappeared, and like the ghost they all thought I was, drifted up the staircase to Tyler’s room.

I burst through the door and knelt beside him, put my mouth to his ear. “Tyler, I’m not letting you leave me. I’ve been alone for too goddamned long, and I refuse to allow you to break our bond.” I’d told Delilah, disguised as Tyler, that I loved him. But had I told the real Tyler? “You said I didn’t have to love you back, but I do. I love you, damn it. I love your smile and your smell and the annoying way you follow me around. I love that you love me despite my faults, what I’ve done, and who I am. And I love that you’re not afraid of me.” I laid my lips to his temple. “I. Love. You.”

If anyone was going to drink my oh-so-special blood, it was going to be Tyler. It had turned stone to flesh, and what I wanted right now was less a feat than that. He’d bound us by magic, perhaps something deeper still, and I was going to bind us by blood. I could heal almost instantaneously. Could my blood heal Tyler as well? I took the dagger stained with Azriel’s blood. I wiped it clean on my shirt and swiped it across my pants for good measure. Drawing a breath, I sliced the blade across my palm and waited for the ribbon of blood. It welled up and I made a fist, holding it over Tyler’s mouth, which I pried open with my other hand. Crimson droplets splashed against his teeth and dripped into this throat.

I healed so much faster now, I had to reopen the wound three times. Squeezing my fist each time, I willed every drop I could, and it came faster, running in a tiny stream. I didn’t know how much to give him. I wasn’t even sure if it would work. A few seconds passed, and I pulled my fist away and watched as the wound closed before my eyes. I marveled at the changes in me, but I didn’t have time to worry about it. I closed Tyler’s mouth and massaged his throat to aid in swallowing. I said a silent prayer, and then I waited.

Maybe I needed to chant a set of magic words, or something. My love for Tyler had been the ingredient needed to create life. Surely my love for him now was all I needed to save his. I sat for what seemed like an eternity, but nothing happened. He lay still and peaceful, his chest rising and falling as it had every day for weeks.

“If you don’t wake up in thirty seconds, I’m outta here—for good,” I said.

Turning on a heel, I walked toward the door, my steps in perfect time with the passing seconds. Three . . . two . . . one . . .

“Is there anything in your wardrobe that isn’t black?” Tyler’s voice was little more than a whisper, calling out from behind me. “Don’t get me wrong. You look great. Sexy in a badass sort of way.”

My heart swelled in my chest as I turned to face him. I smiled, finally wanting him to see the trace of warmth his nearness caused in me.

Tyler never disappoints.

Amanda Bonilla lives in rural Idaho with her husband and two kids. She’s a part-time pet wrangler, a full-time sun worshipper, and only goes out into the cold when coerced. When she’s not writing, she’s either reading or talking about her favorite books. For more about Amanda, visit www.amandabonilla.com.

Read on for a peek at the next novel in the Shaede Assassin series,

BLOOD BEFORE SUNRISE

Available from Signet Eclipse in July 2012.

“What are you looking at?”

I tore my gaze from the delicate curve of the dagger’s blade, my eyes drawn to Azriel’s dark, handsome face like a magnet to metal. “Nothing, ” I said, though that wasn’t entirely true.

“Ever lacking patience,” he said with humor. “You’ll never make it as an assassin if you can’t wait more than a few minutes to get a job done.”

True enough, I supposed. I liked to wait about as much as I liked to be doused with gasoline and set on fire. “Lorik’s late,” I said. “It’s not like him.”