Free The Assassin's Blade by Kaitlyn O'Connor Page A

indecision, or a slowing of reflexes that might mean failure and death.
    Unfortunately, the Emperor’s staff had made no allowances for the possibility of a Kilrathi assassin among the guests. She’d just requested a glass of water when she felt warmth at her back. A hand—a very large hand—skated across her lower back and settled on one hip, just above the waistband of the skirt that rode low on her hips.
    Faylyn did not jump, but, despite her training, she could not refrain from stiffening. Slowly, she turned her head. As tall as she was, as accustomed as she was to finding herself looking down at the average man, or at the very least, eye to eye, she found herself gazing at a very broad, very muscular chest. That strange, unidentifiable emotion washed through her again, more intense than before, more disorienting. With an effort, she lifted her gaze, noting a strong, youthful neck, a square jaw and decisive chin, a hard mouth, curled faintly in a smile beneath the mask, before her gaze at last met the one bent upon her.
    “I thought my eyes had deceived me … or, at the very least it was no more than a part of your masquerade. You are a blue, an Earth woman.”
    Faylyn wasn’t certain of how she should respond to the comment. It was a statement, after all—not a question. His surprise was understandable. Her race had been all but obliterated when their world was destroyed. The handful that had survived were scattered across the known universe. She had only once met one of her own kind herself--not surprisingly since she’d spent fifteen of her twenty three years of life inside ‘the citadel’ of Kilrathi— but she was well aware of their rarity and might have met no others even if she had not been cloistered.
    His obvious pleasure, however, confused her.
    “As you see,” she responded finally.
    She steeled herself as he reached toward her, relaxing only fractionally when he grasped a lock of her hair and lifted it to study the gleaming mass.
    “What are you called?” he asked when he released the lock of hair at last and met her gaze once more.
    Faylyn hesitated, then forced a coy smile. “I thought the point of a masquerade was to allow you to pretend to be someone else for one night?”
    He frowned, but finally smiled ruefully. “This is not the game I wish to play.”
    She was taken aback by the comment, briefly at a loss for words. “I’m not at all certain I want to know what game you had in mind,” she said dryly.
    His rueful smile broadened into a grin that made her heart skip several beats. “I like to flatter myself that it’s one you would enjoy as much as I.”
    To her surprise, she felt a blush rise to her cheeks. Although unaccustomed to the art of flirtation and seduction, she was fairly certain she knew his meaning.
    He frowned as he noted the blush, but his surprise was quickly replaced by a heated look that made her blush more pronounced. “You’ve not experienced the awakening?”
    It was more a statement than a question. Disconcerted that it was apparently so obvious, Faylyn turned away. “You are far too bold for my taste,” she said coldly. “If you will excuse me….”
    He grasped her arm when she would have departed. Faylyn looked down at his hand pointedly before she gave him a cold, unflinching stare. She dared do no more, however. At another time, in another place, he would have not seen death coming so swiftly would she have retaliated for his audacity, but she was of no mind to allow the oaf to jeopardize her mission.
    “I did not give you leave,” he said coolly, his tone and manner an odd combination of surprise, indignation and amusement.
    “I did not ask it,” she responded tightly, regretful that she could not even wipe the smirk from his face by depositing him in an ignominious heap on the floor.
    A deep chuckle escaped him. The heart stopping smile returned, though leavened with a touch of self-mockery that went a long way to appeasing her indignation. He