(Completed)
Two assassins were set to kill a girl. No questions asked. Just kill her and claim their prize. That was their mission. Except one of them was not supposed to visit Volney, the land of the dead and the other fall in love with a girl and...
I had actually planned to update on the coming Thursday, but with my finals next month, I don't think I can do that. Perhaps just two more updates before my finals. Guilty:(
This chapter is dedicated to @sloth_sleep for being an amazing reader!
In case you have forgotten, Caelin is an assassin trained under Vritra.
Anyway, Enjoy!
Red As Dawn
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
**********
He flung the glass, splashing the wine. He asked for a beer and that puny bastard brought him wine. Red wine. The colour he hated. It reminded him of her. Dawn. She and her red ways.
The doors of his dark room opened. She stood at the entrance, allowing her blond hair to flow back. She wore a thin red, almost transparent dress, covering her skin, yet the neck was low enough to show the soft skin of her breast. The light in the hallways illuminated behind her, making her appear as if she was a Spirit. However, he knew better. She was anything but angelic.
"What do you want?" he snapped. He could not bear to see her face. How his Master favoured her, only the Spirits knew.
"Heard a noise, so I came in to check," she said, inviting herself in.
"Why do you care?" He rolled his eyes. "And who gave you the permission to enter?"
She laughed and there was nothing sweet about it. "I might relieve you from your stress."
"Did I ask you?" he asked, turning his face.
"You might as well ask." She shrugged and sat beside him. "Diryn is dead. He was a traitor, was he not?"
"None of your concern," he said. He was grieving the loss of his friend and she had to rub salt in it. "Not the way your lover is."
"My lover?" she asked, biting her lips. "I have no lover."
"Then who was it I saw in your room last night?" he asked. "Don't tell me that you are sleeping with everyone here."
She snickered. "If you want to sleep with me all you have to do is ask. I cannot refuse you." She trailed her finger along his arm and slipped her finger inside his tunic top. "As for your question, that was my spy in my room last night."
What she aimed as husky and sultry came out like a desperate harlot. Her finger repulsed him. Yet he refused to take her hand away.
"You fuck your spy?" he laughed. "How wonderful!"
"Yes," she admitted unashamedly. "He thinks we are lovers, that's how he helps me." Her left hand traced his chest, his scars.
Her touch ignited nothing in him. Even a feather's caress would be soft. He held her stroking arm. "What do you want?"
