Crave the Darkness Read Online Free

belt that held the six small knives and waited. I shook off the wave of anxiety threatening to pull me down to the fetal position and jacked my chin up a notch while willing my spine starch-stiff. I don’t know what I expected. A ghostly apparition of an Armenian mobster, perhaps? The intoxicating aroma of Shaede reached my nostrils long before the open elevator compartment came into sight, and I drew a knife from the holster. I knew the scent well, and though it wasn’t the specter from my past that I’d anticipated, this was one visitor I wasn’t about to entertain. Waiting, hand drawn back and ready to throw, I let my breathing slow. You need a certain stillness to throw a knife with accuracy. Stillness and patience. The elevator came to a halt, and the gate slid to one side. Heavy footfalls crossed the elevator’s threshold and I inhaled. Held my breath. Then let the knife fly.
    The throw went wide and the knife buried itself to the handle in the drywall. So much for stillness and patience. God
damn
it.
    “Your aim is shit,” Xander said, strolling through the living room like he had every right to be there. The King of Shaedes never let anyone forget who he was. Least of all me.
    I took another knife from the holster, and sent it hurtling toward my mark. It glanced off the fireplace in a flash of silver, landing with a dull thud on the carpeting.
Son of a bitch
.
    As if he hadn’t noticed me trying to scar his beautiful face, Xander stopped at the dining room table, idly shuffling through my mail like it was all addressed to him. My heart skipped a beat as he came across the postcards, which he flipped over, seeming to read with interest. But he discarded them as easily as he had my water bill and turned to face me. “I said you could thank me later for intervening with the PNT.” He smiled. “It’s later.”
    Knife number three left my hand before I could even think through what I was doing. It bounced off the polished concrete of the kitchen countertop and came to a skidding halt on my stove.
    Xander cocked a sardonic brow. “Not quite the show of appreciation I was exp Cionhank me lecting.”
    “Fuck off,” I snapped. My comebacks were as bad as my aim.
    Xander pivoted on a heel and changed his course for my bed. I instinctively reached for another knife before I noticed the gleam in his eyes. Butterscotch flecks glowed in molten caramel depths. He was hoping I’d throw again. It always made my day to keep Xander from getting what he wanted, and so I sheathed the knife and tucked the belt back under my pillow. I wasn’t in the mood to play his games.
    “I could have left your fate in Amelia’s hands,” his tone dripped with reproof, “but you are my employee. Paid on retainer, if I’m not mistaken. And I have a job for you. I couldn’t have the PNT detaining you when you have work to do. So, my darling, whether you want to admit it or not, you owe me for convincing the council to drop the charges against you.”
    “Screw you,
Your Highness
.” I lounged back in bed, and pulled the covers up nice and cozy. “You can show yourself out the way you came in, because
frankly
, I’m not interested in doing anything for you, and I’m not moving any time soon.”
    Xander bent toward me, and I reached for my knives. I drew one of the blades from the holster—which, honestly, wasn’t long enough to do any real damage—determined to send him on his way. I may have been out of my mind to threaten a king with a weapon, but hell, I’d thrown three of the knives at him when he arrived. What’s one more offense?
    I didn’t have my usual
oomph
to lend credibility to the act. Instead, I sort of held the knife out in front of me, my elbow drawn in like I had no idea how to use the thing. Fact was, I had no interest in picking a fight with Xander. I just wanted him to leave me alone so I could continue to wallow in self-pity, undisturbed.
    “You look like a frightened girl, holding that knife,” Xander