Crimson Covenant (Onyx Assassins #1) Read Online Samantha Whiskey

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Romance, Vampires Tags Authors: Series: Onyx Assassins Series by Samantha Whiskey
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Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
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My lids were heavy, but my mouth wasn’t dry and dusty.

My tongue was coated in a unique flavor—cocoa and cayenne and something else, something almost woodsy. Had I bought a cup from the coffee cart before I inevitably fell asleep in the library again?

The memories of the night before were sluggish, almost lazy as they rushed to the forefront of my mind.

Blue horns.

Razor sharp nails.

Growls. Struggles. Pain.

I snapped my eyes open, shooting straight up in—

A bed.

Omigod, I’m in a bed.

I shifted the black silk sheets around my body, sighing in relief when I found my clothes intact. The breaths in my lungs came fast and erratic as I scanned the area.

Black.

Almost everything in the room was black. Black sheets, silky against my trembling fingers. The ultra-soft mattress was supported by a massive ebony four-poster, the pillars intricately carved with sharp yet flowing designs. The walls were a slate-gray stone, broken apart by shuttered windows and thick, woven tapestries with midnight backgrounds and near-glowing white night-blooming flowers scattered across the top. An ebony wardrobe sat on the opposite side of the room, brass candelabras sitting atop, the black wax dripping from the heat of flickering flames.

Panic clawed up my spine, choking my airways. I jerked the sheets to the side, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. I hissed at the cold stone floor as it hit my bare feet. A quick search said my shoes had been stolen. I hurried toward the giant wooden door decorated with swirling black steel, and yanked on the handle.

Locked.

My heart raced, my mind trembling as I sucked in too much air too quickly.

Shit, shit, shit.

Why hadn’t I asked Valor to walk me to my car? Why had I insisted I’d be safe in the stark lights of the parking garage? Why—

No.

I couldn’t crumble right now.

Later.

I could do that later.

I tugged and yanked and jerked on that iron door handle. So hard my shoulder barked in pain, and the skin of my palm scraped.

“Only myself or those I choose are capable of opening that door, and the steel makes it impossible to wend through” a deep, masculine voice resonated from behind me.

I whirled around, and I swore my heart stopped.

Blue-gray eyes that nearly glowed, strong jaw, hair as black as midnight, and a body that could render mine useless in seconds.

“You.” The word was a strangled breath.

The man from the night before. The one who’d tried to help me before rushing off to help the other girls.

He slid his hands into his pants pockets—leather. Leather that clung to every glorious muscle. Notes of citrus, cocoa, musk, leather, and cedar hit me with his simple move. The scent as intoxicating as the taste in my mouth, and somehow, the two complemented each other. My body relaxed, my breathing slowed, but my mind? It was content in panic mode.

The man cocked a dark brow, not bothering to step toward me. Those eyes tracked my movements as I tried and failed to subtly edge toward the wardrobe. Toward the only space in the room with a potential weapon.

“Who are you?” I managed to ask, finding more of my voice as I neared that candelabra.

Amusement flickered in his eyes as if he could indeed read my intentions.

“Alek.” The name rolled off his tongue, and betraying chills raced across my skin. He oozed sexuality, but in a way that both terrified me and had my blood spiking without my consent. He’d haunted my thoughts the night before, and I’d only seen him for a few minutes. Here, now? In this locked room, complete with silk sheets and a scent that made my head spin?

“Omigod,” I said, reality hitting me like a bolt of lightning. I shook my head, subtlety all but forgotten as I snatched the lit candelabra off the table and wielded it before me. A few drops of black wax sizzled against my skin, just above my wrist that still tingled. Alek flinched at the sight. “No,” I said, the brass, burning structure before me. “I will not be sold. I didn’t hang onto my virginity for twenty-four goddamn years to have it auctioned off by some master of a sex-slavery ring.”

Alek’s full lips parted, just a fraction. He almost looked offended—a blink of emotion before he schooled his features into what I could only describe as a predator’s gaze.

God, how did I let this happen? I was usually so damn cautious. I practically lived at the library for shit’s sake! I barely drank, never took drugs, unless you counted my multivitamins. How the hell had I ended up in Alek-the-sexy-and-terrifying’s personal sex den?

That dark brow cocked again as he eyed the candelabra in my hand. “Are you going to do something with that or simply stand there and burn?”

I narrowed my gaze, anger sizzling white-hot in my veins at his condescension. “Let me go,” I said, mustering as much of a threatening tone as I could.



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