A Dark Passion by Natalie Hancock Page B

everything up. Why? Why had she hesitated? Why had she let that one night get to her?
    “Do you speak of my death, or the night you were clearly remembering right before you nearly plunged that death dagger into my chest?”
    Alara glared at Tyroz and when he smiled at her, her hand twitched on the dagger in speaking. “You find this funny now, but you wouldn’t have been laughing if I hadn’t frozen.”
    “You regret not killing me?” He seemed surprised as though he was wondering why anyone would want to kill him in the first place.
    “Of course I regret it! I’m an assassin, Tyroz. There are rules—it’s either kill or be killed, and seeing as I’m neither, I’m in your debt because you saved me. I’d rather take death than be by your side.”
    “You weren’t complaining the first time.”
    Alara threw the dagger hard and smiled with satisfaction when it sank into his shoulder and Tyroz grunted with pain. She pulled out one of her smaller, less threatening daggers and pointed it at him. “We don’t speak of that night. No innuendos, no snarky comments. Nothing. Do I make myself clear?”
    “Incredibly so,” Tyroz replied. He pulled the dagger out with another grunt of pain.
    Alara thought she was going to really enjoy herself in Tyroz’s company.
     

Chapter Two
     
     
    Tyroz rubbed his shoulder as he led Alara through his home, not stopping to give her a tour. Her scent pulsed over him, making him throb with need. He clenched his teeth to stop himself from grabbing her and taking her up the wall like he did all those years ago.
    He could still remember her touch. After taking her up the wall from behind the first time, he’d been quick to have her facing him the second time so he could watch the ecstasy transform her as she came under his touch. He could feel her soft and delicate skin as she wrapped her long legs around him, pulling him in deeper while he pulled on her dreadlocks and nibbled on her throat.
    They’d had sex for hours that night, and in the end he’d got what he wanted and explored her body thoroughly, making sure none of her was left untouched.
    Alara chuckled behind him. “Still hung up on that night, huh?”
    Tyroz stopped with his hands clenched into tight fists. “I can throw you to your assassins, Alara,” he threatened.
    Alara pressed her body against him and cupped him through his trousers. “Honey, by the feel of it, the only place you would throw me, is on your bed.”
    Tyroz spun and pushed her against the wall. A sense of déjà vu washed over him when she wrapped her legs around him and pulled him closer to the heat of her body.
    Alara raised a pencil-thin brow when he faltered. “What are you going to do, big boy?”
    With a growl, he dropped her to her feet and stalked away, trying to ignore her laugh when it followed him down the hall and around the corner. He stopped in front of the first door. “Your room. Get settled in and I’ll send someone up about clothes.”
    “Why don’t you just tell them my size? You explored my body quite thoroughly last time we were together. Surely you haven’t forgotten?”
    No, he hadn’t forgotten. That was the problem.
    Tyroz turned and walked away, more frustrated than ever.
     
    “Master Tyroz.”
    His men bowed when he entered his training hall, and then left. They knew he preferred to train alone.
    Once alone, he pulled off his t-shirt and stood in front of his punching bag. He attacked it with all the speed and strength he possessed, and slowly his frustrations leaked out of him with each punch. Yet Alara’s face still lingered in his mind and her laugh shattered the peace that came with training, causing him to clench his teeth together, hard enough to slice his tongue open with his fangs. He swallowed the blood and continued to take out his frustrations on the punching bag.
    When it split open, sending sand cascading to the floor at his feet, he inhaled deeply, trying to compose himself before replacing it and