Burned by Darkness - Alexandra Ivy Page 0,21

of herself.

“It’s only one of many,” he smugly claimed, lowering his head to halt her response with his dragon-kisses.

A good thing.

She fully intended to tell him that he was an arrogant ass.

Instead, she signed beneath the melting pleasure of his kiss as the exhaustion she’d been battling for the past few hours slowly won the war.

###

Unlike many mongrels, Craven could pass as human.

His face was square with bluntly carved features, and his blond hair was buzzed close to his skull.

True, he stood nearly seven foot tall, and had thick slabs of muscles that meant he had to have his T-shirts and jeans custom tailored. And his eyes flashed crimson when he was pissed off. Which was most of the time.

But most people assumed he was one of those steroid-crazed gym addicts who wore his wraparound sunglasses 24/7 because he thought it made him look cool.

Idiots.

For years he’d lived among them, being tutored by his mother in the art of black magic. She’d devoted her life to training him to kill the monsters who’d captured her when she was barely more than a child, and raped her. The fact that Craven was a product of that violent encounter only made the thought of revenge all the more sweet for his mother.

Craven had agreed.

Besides the powerful magic, he devoted himself to honing his fighting skills. By the time he was in his early twenties he was proficient in killing with every known weapon, not to mention his bare hands.

He was a lethal assassin who stalked the demons and destroyed them without mercy.

It wasn’t until his mother’s death that he’d doubted his ruthless quest.

As much as he enjoyed hunting demons, it didn’t exactly pay the bills. What human agency was willing to pay for the very fine troll head collection he had mounted on his wall? Hell, humans didn’t even realize they were mere cattle being stalked by predators that lurked in the shadows.

That’s when he’d made the decision to organize a small band of fellow half-breeds who had skills similar to his own, and began hiring out their services to the highest bidder.

Assassins, who would kill anyone or anything for the right price.

It was a well-paying gig, but still Craven wasn’t satisfied.

He wanted the big score. The one that would allow him to retire and live in the luxury he intended to become accustomed to.

It was a dream that had been destined to remain unfulfilled until twenty years ago when his top lieutenant, Reece, overheard a drunken troll bragging that he knew how to sneak into a dragon’s hoard.

Craven wasn’t stupid. He knew there was a good possibility the troll was blowing smoke out his ass. It was common knowledge that trolls liked to brag. But if there was even an off chance that the demon was telling the truth, it was worth the bother of kidnapping the creature.

Unfortunately, Skragg had proved to be a less than successful partner-in-crime. The troll claimed he knew of an imp who could help them, but so far he hadn’t managed to produce the elusive fey. The only thing he’d been able to offer was a few strands of the imp’s hair that Craven had used to cast his scrying spell.

Over the years, Craven had nearly forgotten about the damned thing. Until the spell had abruptly activated the day before.

Now he stood at the top of the stone staircase of the abandoned castle on the Norwegian-Swedish border, looking down at the troll who had just entered the great hall along with Craven’s lieutenant, Reece.

The large beast lumbered forward, his naked body covered by a thick brown skin and his features even more grotesque than most of his brethren. He had large tusks that protruded from his lower jaw and crimson eyes that shimmered in the torches that lined the paneled walls.

Reece, on the other hand, was a slender male who was half-fairy. He had long black hair that he kept pulled from his narrow face in a long braid. His features were delicate, which might have caused trouble among Craven’s rough and ready gang of outlaws if it wasn’t for the cold glitter in the green eyes.

Reece could kill as easily he breathed. And often did.

He also provided the portals the assassins used to travel around the world.

Keeping his gaze locked on the troll who came to an awkward halt at the bottom of the stairs, Craven planted his hands on his hips.

“Skragg,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “Where’s the female?”

The troll gave a shake of