Shaedes of Gray: A Shaede Assassin Novel Read Online Free PDF Page B

want to be too close to him. You don’t often drop in on the assassin who’s been hired to kill you, and I didn’t think he’d stopped by for a cup of tea.
    “From whom did you acquire your skills?” he asked.
    “From myself,” I snapped.
    A deep, rumbling laughter erupted from his chest, and another round of thrilling chills trickled across my skin. Shaedes are alluring by nature. Azriel’s eyes, voice, and laughter often had the same effect on me. I wondered, though: Could it be something more?
    “I’ve come with a message,” he said.
    “Oh yeah? What’s tha—?”
    Before I could finish, he appeared in front of me in a wisp of darkness. His form became solid and his face demanded my attention.
    “You are summoned to the king’s guard,” he said.
    “Whose king?” I asked. Certainly not mine. I was my own woman, and I had no country or master to swear allegiance to.
    He brought his hand up to my cheek. I could feel the heat before he touched me, but when he did, I felt as if he’d laid my skin against one of those electric heating pads that humans use to ease their aches and pains. Wonderful.
    He brushed his thumb across my cheek before dropping his hand to his side. I couldn’t break his hold on me, and my eyes didn’t leave his. I swallowed. Hard.
    “ Your king,” he whispered, and vanished.
    I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. Well, this has been a shit-tastic day, I thought, leaning against the kitchen counter to steady my quaking body.
    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