Amanda Bonilla - Shaedes of Gray - A Shaede Assassin Novel

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 Bonillalives 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.”

Azriel stroked his finger along my jaw and his eyes burned with an intensity that had nothing to do with business. “It matters little to me if he shows or not. Either way, my night won’t be wasted.”

I flushed at the innuendo, knowing all too well where a jobless night would lead us. Not that I’d complain . . .

An engine growled in the distance, followed by the squealing of tires. The Cadillac LaSalle Roadster came to a halt inches from where I stood, and the driver’s expression was full of adrenaline-infused excitement. Lorik loved flashy cars, and despite the fact that he needed to lay low, he could never resist showing off. What’s the point in not putting that engine and sleek body to use? He’d consider it a waste. Besides, I had a suspicion that the combination of fancy car coupled with his pinstriped suit and fedora pulled low over his brow made Lorik feel like he’d just pulled a bank caper. Driving into the sunset and immortal glory would be the icing on the cake. And I’d be willing to bet a Chicago typewriter rode shotgun to round it all out. I mean, what self-respecting gangster didn’t have a machine gun in the front seat?

“Looks like your clothes will be on for a while longer, my love.” Azriel leaned down and pressed his mouth to the pulse point just below my ear.

I shivered at the contact, suddenly not caring whether Lorik’s life was in danger or not. Though the guy’s father did pay our bills, I supposed I could put my erotic thoughts on hold. But if he didn’t get down to business—and soon—he could rot in hell for all I cared.

“What are you looking at?” Tyler asked again, his tone bemused when I didn’t answer him right away.

“Nothing,” I finally said as I stared at the spot near the alley where that LaSalle had come to a skidding stop all those years ago. “Not a damn thing.”

God, I hadn’t thought of that crazy Armenian in decades. He had to have been dead for a while now, if someone hadn’t managed to do the deed in his youth. Lorik had been the closest thing Azriel had to a friend. I always wondered about it, the comfortable way Azriel had with him. Usually we lay lower than low, but with Lorik, Azriel had allowed us to let our guard down a bit. Maybe I’d do some digging just for shits and giggles. Find out what really happened to him after he went off the grid. Because I had so much free time on my hands these days.

My annoyance wasn’t so much about memories of Lorik—and Azriel—intruding on my thoughts. Or even my lack of actual downtime. Rather, it was due to the fact that I stood at yet another dead end. It’s damn hard to catch someone who’s always one step ahead of you.

And chasing an Oracle is like chasing the wind.

I drove my katana into the scabbard at my back. Yet another close call, and the bitch had slipped right through my fingers. You wouldn’t think someone as blind as a bat could escape so easily.

But she had.

For months.

Time and again.

A discarded can nudged at my toe and I kicked it, sending it sailing down the sidewalk toward the street, narrowly missing a parking sign. I was beyond frustrated, and my agitation settled as a knot between my shoulder blades. I stretched my neck from side to side in a futile effort to ease the mounting tension. Raif, my mentor and the best friend I’ve ever had, laid a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry,” he said. “We’ll get her.”

Tyler took a step closer, his body touching mine in more places than was appropriate for work hours. He snaked an arm around my waist as he brought me against him, his eyes narrowing in Raif’s direction. Jeez, touchy much?

Raif shook his head. He looked at me, his expression saying, Is he for real? I raised my brows, which was as good as a shrug. I had no idea what had gotten into Tyler, but I could almost hear the predatory growl, the low rumble of a wary bear. “Relax, Jinn,” Raif said, tucking a dagger into a sheath at his side. “You look a little wound.”

“Not hardly,” Tyler said, his tone just on the edge of becoming hard. “In fact”—he lowered his face to the top of my head and nuzzled my hair—“I’m pretty damned relaxed right now.”

Again, Raif gave me a look. And again, I gave him the equivalent of a facial shrug. Hell if I knew why Tyler was acting like a high school jock facing off with the opposing quarterback. Maybe we all needed to take it down a notch and hang it up for the night.