Amanda Bonilla - Shaedes of Gray - A Shaede Assassin Novel

I had been alone for so long—the only one for years. I’d developed a comfort zone and lived my life within its boundaries. Well, that was shot to shit now. I turned toward the picture window, staring out across the dark city peppered with random white lights.

The rain had started up again and pounded on the skylights like it wanted in. I watched the water bounce and land, running in rivers down the pitched glass. Making my way to the bathroom, still watching the rain on the skylights, I shucked my robe and started the shower. I never used the cold water; I like my showers hot, and the temperature didn’t damage my preternatural skin. Within moments, the room filled with glorious steam, and I joined its company for a single second as I glided under the water. I could have taken the extra couple of steps, but why exert the energy?

The steam was welcome as I inhaled and held it in my lungs. I gave off a perfumed aroma like any Shaede, but mine smelled like summer blossoms in the late-afternoon sun. Sitting on the tiled shower floor, I let the scalding water pour over my skin until it ran cold. I passed through the steam again—lazy, I know—and ended up next to my robe. After running a comb through my hair, I collapsed into bed and drifted off to sleep, wrapped like a mummy in fluffy white fleece.

Xander’s visit prompted me to dream about Azriel that night. His perfect image floated nearby, just as I remembered him. With olive skin and black hair, he looked like someone of Middle Eastern or Indian descent, though he’d been cut from an entirely different cloth. His eyes were nearly black—cold and devoid of emotion. But when he smiled, a spark lit in them and they danced to life with a mischievous gleam that rendered me helpless. He was neither kind nor cruel; he simply was.

He made me, left me, and taught me nothing.

My eyes were thick with sleep but I pried them open, fighting against the dream. My heavy breathing filled the air, though I lay still as death on the bed. Banishing every thought of Azriel, I closed my lids and forbade myself to dream.

The next morning, I sat at the table, working on my second cup of coffee, when I heard the lift. My apartment, which used to be old warehouse space, occupies the entire top floor, hence the lack of an actual door. No locks, no security code. Just an old freight elevator protected by an iron gate. Some people might have been put off by the lack of security, but I’d never worried about my personal safety. A proper visitor would’ve thought about ringing the bell before coming up, but this guest didn’t have a problem with barging in like he owned the place.

Tyler.

He had a recognizable signature for a human, and my unique senses had no problem picking him out, even in a crowd. His smell was different from most of theirs—homey and comforting with a dark, spicy edge. I’d wondered about it, but it’s not like I lost any sleep over it. Maybe it was his aftershave. I loved the way he smelled. One breath of him could make me feel almost normal, but I would never tell him that.

He helped himself to a cup of coffee, knowing that I wasn’t going to extend any kind of Martha Stewart hospitality, before taking a seat next to me. I didn’t look at him. For some reason, Xander’s visit made me feel as if I’d betrayed Tyler somehow, though the Shaede’s invasion of my privacy left me more rattled than enamored. I hoped Ty couldn’t sense my leftover discomfort, and I prayed he’d come this morning because he had good news.

Tyler never disappoints.

“It’s set up,” he said. “Tomorrow at midnight.”

My scalp prickled and the chill continued down my arms. Something didn’t add up. “How’d you get him to do it?” I asked, still not making eye contact.

“It took some coaxing, but I convinced him.”

“ You can’t even get face time with the guy. But suddenly he’s warmed up to the idea?”

“More or less,” Tyler said. “I told him there was a complication and you wouldn’t do the job without seeing him in person first.”

“How do you know I didn’t get the job done?” My suspicion of Tyler grew by the second. But every instinct in me screamed that he’d die before allowing any harm to come to me. Still, no matter who’d orchestrated it, the whole situation reeked of a setup.

“Look, Darian. We’ve worked together for a long time. When you called last night, you didn’t say the job was done, and you’ve never given a passing thought to the identity of a client before. What happened? Was the mark a kid or an old man or”—he paused to sip from his cup—“something else?”

As a rule, I never take jobs that involve innocent people. It rests a hell of a lot easier on my conscience to know I’m being paid to clean the streets of one more asshole, and Tyler felt the exact same way. Thugs, criminals, thieves, drug dealers. The dregs of society were this assassin’s cup of tea. But I never forgot that equally nasty people paid me for that service. They’d get theirs eventually. Shit always had a tendency to roll downhill.

Tyler hit one nerve and then another by implying the mark may have been anything but human. We didn’t usually discuss my otherness. He knew more about the supernatural than a human should, and he brokered in things far from my scope of business.

I turned to look at him and snatched up my cup, deliberately displaying my more than human speed. I expected to see fear, but only admiration crossed his gorgeous face.

His eyes took on that feral look that all men get when desire takes possession of their minds. He wasn’t observing the creature in me. He saw only the woman: soft, sleep-tousled, with luminous eyes and a pouty mouth. And he wanted to kiss me. I could tell.

Boy, did I want him to. I’m not going to deny that the thought of seeing him naked and in my bed left me feeling a little more than flushed. But I didn’t mix business with pleasure. The last thing I wanted was to put Tyler in danger, no matter how well he could handle himself. I looked across the table as he brought the coffee mug to his lips, a frown marring his normally unworried forehead. Something wild and sweet bloomed in my chest, and it scared the hell out of me. I’d been burned more than once, and for that reason, I just didn’t do love. Besides, I cared about Ty too much to let him get dragged into whatever mess I’d landed myself in. Xander had popped in and out of my studio with ease, showing that if he could find me, anyone could. And now the mystery client wanted to meet with me.

In my line of work, nothing happened that easily.

Chapter 4

Tyler agreed—well, demanded, actually—to accompany me to the meeting that night. He told me he’d pick me up at eleven thirty, and since he was never late, I knew my timing would be perfect.

He pulled up to my building at eleven twenty-nine, probably allowing the extra minute to come up to my studio. But I had prepared to give him a show, hoping to demonstrate to him that meddling in the affairs of the nonhuman variety could be hazardous to his health.

I appeared as soon as his foot hit the sidewalk. A trace of dark mist trailed out behind me, and he nearly bumped into my body as it became corporeal. I had never let him see me pass from shadow before, and I hoped I’d shaken him up.

Abandoning my signature black, I was decked out in white from head to toe. My white-on-white striped blouse buttoned up to the swell of my breasts, with my white bra visible underneath. I’d tucked the shirt into a white pencil skirt that reached to my white satin heels and hugged my hips perfectly. Business attire, to an extent.