Free NocC 026 - Lauren Hawkeye - The Darkling's Desire - Harlequin 2012-11 by Nocturne

Chapter One
    Anastasia Duras had been born to kill.
    The thought reverberated through her mind as she twisted her
body into the impossibly complicated ustrasana yoga
pose, her muscles quivering like jelly. It was not until the quivering turned
into the unbearable heat of a serious burn that she relaxed, dropping to the
ground with the grace of a predatory cat.
    She had started practicing yoga in her teens, on the advice of
her mentor, twisting her body into complicated poses before every training
match. Yoga helped her to focus before she zeroed in on a target. It cleared her
mind, let her training take over.
    Kill or be killed. The mantra had
been ingrained in her since birth. Though this was only her second mission, she
knew what she had to do.
    Find and kill the rogue
Darkling.
    She had no idea why she, of all the Amazons, had been chosen
for this mission. Though it was not spoken of loudly, she had heard the
whispers, the ones that spoke of the discovery of a rare Witchling and his
Darkling love.
    This Darkling was her target. She had no idea what the
Witchling would do, could do, to keep his lover
safe.
    Running a hand over the blunt edges of raven dark hair that
fell just below her ears, Anastasia rolled her head from side to side, working
out a kink in her neck before crouching down in the damp leaves that covered the
ground. Esme’s Magic Emporium backed onto a small forested area, and though it
was late fall and the leaves that should have dangled from above instead
carpeted the frozen ground beneath her feet, she was still grateful for the
cover.
    Ignoring the little voice in her head that said she was no
match for this mission, Anastasia slowly breathed in, then out. She imagined
herself in one of her intense training sessions back in Lviv, pictured herself
hiding in the densely forested Carpathian mountains that were her home.
    She could overcome the stiffness that wanted to take over her
legs, could ignore the numbness that crept into her fingers from the moist
evening chill.
    This might have been her first real mission, and she might have
a ball of nerves wound tight in her belly, but she was not afraid of Darklings
as a species—they were the vampires of legend, the ones who drank blood, true,
but they were not collectively evil. No, they had the good and the bad in their
ranks, as did humans, and she had been raised with this knowledge. Her people
honored a long-held pact with their council, after all.
    Still, her nerves skittered beneath her skin like a thousand
tiny spiders. Though she was a Carpathian Amazon, a warrior trained to hunt and
kill the rogue Darklings, and though she had excelled at her training, she had
never actually killed a sentient being before.
    She had been born to kill. And kill
was exactly what she had to do.
    *
    Jasper Nagorsky perched high in a barren oak tree,
staring down at the small figure huddled in the leaves. Having heard the
heartbeat as soon as he’d come close to the magic store, he had secured his
vantage point in the sturdy branches. The tree supporting his weight was devoid
of green, but it was closely surrounded by conifers.
    He knew that the creature below him hadn’t detected his
presence as he had detected its.
    The heartbeat didn’t sound entirely human, and he thought for a
minute that it might belong to his quarry. Dr. Gavin Thibodeau was a newly
turned Witchling. The organization that Jasper worked for—the Karpaty
Council—wanted to know more about this rare and lethal creature, this creature
that had become a legend in recent times.
    Jasper absently rubbed his fingers over the rough surface of
the tree bark as he watched and waited to see what the creature below him would
do. He understood the importance of his mission. This Witchling had annihilated
a dozen Darklings at once, turned them to ash. He had powers that Jasper could
not even dream of, and also the advantage of walking during the day. His thirst
was slight enough to drink only every few