Page 11 of In The Dark
He grins. “Oh, I’d recognize your sultry voice anywhere, but I think you were going to go back.” He glances down at my breasts, and I realize the mask I tucked between them has begun to fall out.Shit.“Tell me, did you think of me while you were with Bess?”
“No!” I grunt, lunging again as I attempt to swipe across his middle.
But he’s fast—so fast that his movements blur in the dim light and I barely see him move. One moment he’s in front of me, and the next, he’s behind. I blink, and an eerie chill scurries down my spine as I realize he’s no longer where I thought he was. My muscles tense as his arm comes across my neck, the other holding my arms down to prevent me from stabbing him.
Normally, I’d be able to get out of this maneuver, but he is… really fucking strong, and I grunt against his hold. His grip is firm but not tight enough to cut off my air. I pant beneath him, squirming to get free.
Usually, killing Fae is easy—a slice to the throat, the head, or even the heart, but this one knows how to fight and fightwell.
“I bet you did think of me,” he whispers low in my ear, causing a shudder to run through me. “But how would you feel if I told you I’ve been looking for you? And I’m not speaking about the Painted Bird.Youare Isa, the only female in the Veiled Brotherhood. Tell me if I’m right…” he murmurs, his breath hot against my cheek. “Let’s see, you’re best friends with Ezra, instructed by Ren Demaris, andcapturedat five… years… old.”
I squirm, using all my strength to break free, but he doesn’t budge. “What do you mean?” I grit my teeth. “Who are you, and how do you know who I am?”
My head spins, wondering who King Elion sent me to kill if he’s this skilled in combat and has been looking for me—howdoes he know that about me? He shouldn’t know anything about me, and I know that some of my targets can fight, but not like this. This is years’ worth of skill—centuries, even.
His mouth moves against my temple as if rising in a smirk when he whispers, “I’m your past, present, and future.”
My frustration bubbles, and I cry out right before my head snaps back, connecting with his nose. He releases me, and in an instant, I whirl around with my blade. He quickly ducks, flicking his tongue over the blood dripping down to his perfectly scarred lip.
“Mm,” he says, eyes gleaming with amusement. “I like when they’re mean.”
My eyes narrow. “Well, pretty soon, you won’t like anything.”
He twirls his daggers. “King Elion loves sending his assassins to do his dirty work, doesn’t he? You would know. You’ve been doing it since you were…” His auburn hair falls to his brow as he tilts his head to the side. “At what age does he give out missions? I’m guessing twelve.”
My face blanches. “How do you know that?”
No one knows specifics about the brotherhood, so how does he? I continue to watch his feet, calculating his movements, and notice how he hasn’t tried to hurt me. He’s made no swift strikes—no attempt at cutting me. Instead, he’s focused on dodging my blades, but every move of his is precise and calculated.
“I know all about you, darling,” he says, but his eyes go dark. “King Elion isn’t who you think he is, but I do think you should know who you’re killing.”
“And who’s that?” I snap.
Anger flashes in his eyes. He growls, “Innocents.”
A noise suddenly drifts by, causing his attention to briefly flick to the door, when I take advantage of the distraction and lunge. His eyes snap to me as he dodges, but I predict his move. And before I can question the sudden need to hesitate, I throw out a dagger.
The blade instantly hits its mark—his heart.
He grunts, holding his chest as his eyes go wide with shock, and takes a staggering step back, bracing a bloody hand on the wall behind him with a gasp. His breathing becomes labored as he holds my gaze and slowly slides down the wall. I stalk forward, a small smile creeping up the corners of my mouth.
“It’s a shame,” I mutter, looking down my nose. “I actually liked you.”
He chuckles despite a knife being lodged in his chest. “You put up… a good fight.” He breathes. “I’m impressed.”
I crouch down and let out a soft laugh, then gently slide the knife out of his chest. Blood drips from his mouth while he stares at me. Killing isn’t something I particularly enjoy, but I’m good at it.
“You should be. I’m the best,” I mutter, and intently scan his face again, committing his striking features to memory. Up close, I realize his blue eyes remind me of an ocean sunset, especially with the hint of gold in the middle.
I admit, killing the male that made me want to come on his face the previous night isn’t what I was expecting, but I kill who King Elion orders—no questions asked.
Even if they are beautiful.
“You’re going to… regret this in the morning.” He chuckles but it comes out rattled, and then he winces. “I really… hate dying.”
My brows knit as I frown, watching his face pale, and an unexpected sadness creeps in. And something else that’s a little hard to name. Guilt, maybe.
My eyes flare at the realization. Do I feel… guilty for killing my target? Since when do I feel guilty?