Amanda Bonilla - Shaedes of Gray - A Shaede Assassin Novel

The Dungeon Mistress led the way, and as we walked deeper into the warehouse, I sensed the presence of others I could not see. But I smelled their unique aroma and felt the weight of their eager stares.

As I drew closer to an unoccupied chair, I realized it looked too much like a throne for my taste. I turned a wary eye on Tyler, who shuffled next to me with a very human lack of stealth.

“Did you set me up?” I asked, fearing the answer.

“No.” His tone was low, seriously on edge. The look he gave me spoke volumes about his own surprise. “Why would I set you up?” His gaze flicked from me to the entrance and every darkened corner in the place. Ty’s stance shifted, one foot in front of the other, slightly crouched, as if ready to defend in the event of an attack. His body, so relaxed before we’d entered, was rigid, wary. And he looked flat-out pissed.

For a moment, I felt bad about my plans to scare him out of his infatuation with me. I hadn’t given a passing thought to his safety, only guarding my own heart. If I’d been more in touch with my softer emotions, I might have done something to make sure he’d be safe. Those tender feelings had sure picked a shitty time to rise to the surface. Too late now. I threw back my shoulders, my attention focused on the throne, a mysterious king, and the possibility that this would be my last night of existence.

Our escort stopped short of the throne and genuflected, an act that caused laughter to bubble up like carbonation from my stomach. The bowing tickled my funny bone—and I don’t have much of a sense of humor. But bowing to an empty throne? That sent me over the top. Hilarious.

Until I realized the throne held the assembling form of a man.

“High King Alexander”—she looked at me with disdain—“the girl is here.”

The leather-clad Shaede’s humble voice betrayed her outfit and her previous attitude, as far as I was concerned. But he wasn’t my king, so I couldn’t judge her.

Silence followed, and the air around the throne stirred, becoming thicker and more substantial. Shadows gathered around the seat, swirling and finally coming together to form a very real creature.

My jaw took on a stubborn set, and my eyes narrowed like a hunting cat about to pounce. The high king smiled at me, and his golden eyes glinted with a calculating and mischievous light.

“ You’re the king?” I asked in the most disrespectful tone I could muster.

The woman hissed—actually hissed —at me, and before I could close my mouth, she stood behind me, holding a very old, jewel-encrusted dagger, point up, underneath my chin.

“What the hell is this?” Tyler shouted, reaching for the Glock he kept tucked in his waistband. He looked ready to jump right out of his skin, pulse pounding at his temple, jaw flexing. The Shaede jerked the tip of her blade toward my neck, and Tyler froze. His eyes blazed with an angry fire.

“You should be killed for your disrespect,” she seethed in my ear. “You are nothing—less than nothing—and I won’t need much of an excuse to cut your throat.”

“Try it,” Tyler’s voice came as a growl. “I’ll fuck you up if you draw even a drop of her blood.”

“That’s enough, Anya,” the high king said. “Let her go. I’d hate to see anyone . . . fucked up tonight.”

I felt her become little more than a whisper, and she reappeared behind the throne, glaring at me with her dangerous purple eyes. She kept the dagger visible, twirling it against her palm as if silently daring me to step out of line again. I had a problem with being treated like a second-class citizen, and Anya was pushing all of my hot buttons. It might have been because of my solitary existence or my reputation in certain circles, but in my book, you had to give respect to earn it. And neither Anya nor her king had earned an ounce of mine.

Tyler moved in close, his body touching mine in more places than was appropriate, considering the circumstances. He wrapped a hand around my wrist as if ready to drag me out of the building, if need be. The other hand he kept wrapped around the Glock, his finger dangerously close to the trigger. I’d never seen him on high alert like this. Then again, I’d be willing to bet he’d never been in close proximity to so many supernatural beings before. For that matter, neither had I. His stress was making my blood pressure rise. I couldn’t help but feel flattered, though. Here he was, a hell of a lot more breakable than anyone else here, and ready to throw himself in the path of danger to protect me.

I pointedly ignored my leather-clad antagonist, as well as Tyler’s manacled grip on my arm, and stared at the Shaede who’d been in my living room just the night before. “You hired me to kill . . . you?” I asked incredulously, because, well, who does that?

“Yes,” Xander answered, like that was the sanest thing in the world to do.

“Wanna fill me in as to why?”

“Would you have answered the Summons?”

I wanted to say “hell, no,” but I thought that might be something Anya would use as an excuse to skewer me, so I opted for, “Probably not.”

“But you certainly would want to meet the man face-to-face who endangered your existence?”

“I don’t like to be played with.” An answer and a threat, to an extent.

I had the distinct feeling that this guy—king, Shaede, whatever—was full of shit. There was something else; I could feel it. His story held as much water as a rusted-out bucket. If he’d merely wanted me here, the ruse he’d concocted with the fake assassination would have been enough. Why even bother to show up at my apartment later?

Tyler’s grip loosened and tightened again on my wrist like a pulse, reminding me that I wasn’t standing alone in the presence of my own kind. “My friend should leave.” I made the suggestion hoping Tyler would be regarded as inconsequential to the goings-on. All I could think about was keeping him alive and in one piece. “He delivered me, held up his part of the bargain. He should go.”

The king looked at Tyler as if he’d only just realized he was standing there. He tilted his head as if pondering the fate of the world, and with a wave of his hand said, “Fine.”

“Bullshit!” Tyler stared down the king and took a protective step in front of me. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re insane if you think I’m leaving her alone here with you.”

Xander laughed. His mocking tone did nothing more than stoke the flames of Tyler’s indignation. “Stay, go—it matters little to me. I know who you are, and don’t think it worries me in the slightest. You’re not the one I need.”

Not good . Tyler was the human in a vat of supernatural stew, and he’d seen too much already. Xander’s reaction meant whether he stayed or left, he’d be dealt with in due time. Where would he be safe? I couldn’t handle the threat inherent in the king’s tone. I had to protect him, whether it offended his tough-guy persona or not.

“Tyler, go to my place,” I whispered in his ear. “Wait for me there and don’t go anywhere else.”

“Not a chance, Darian.”

Okay, so I should have known he’d puff out his chest and beat on it. Shit .

My eyes delved into his, and I nearly lost focus on everything else around me. I could see the resolve etched on every line of his face, and I wondered how in the hell I’d get him out of here without an argument.

“Darian, I’m not leaving you unprotected,” he said in a soft but stubborn tone. “So don’t even bother.”

I repeated my request, adding a sweetly spoken “please.” Kind words from me were rare, but my feelings for Tyler made me a little more sentimental than usual. “Unless you know something I don’t, there’s no danger here. Right? So if you didn’t set me up, he’s just a regular paying customer.” I jerked my head toward the throne. “Right?” He nodded, his gaze trained on the Shaede king. I couldn’t tell if he refused to look at me because of a bruised ego or if it had more to do with asserting himself to our host. I sighed, realizing I might have to bash him over the head just to get him out of here.