Page 25 of The Edge of Dawn

Free to pursue their mates.

If Dragek chose wisely, he could turn this situation to his advantage.

The last thing he wanted was to be a mindless drone for the rest of his life, pinned under the will of another.

He just wanted to taste freedom. As an assassin, he’d seen enough, done enough. Amidst the darkness of his existence, he’d caught glimpses of beauty. In order to seek his targets, he, the killer, had been ordered to travel. He might be physically blind, but he wasn’t psychically blind, nor was he stupid or completely obtuse.

It was one thing to be a mindless drone, dealing death as easily as if it were a puff of atmospheric dust. It was quite another to be trapped in a web, perceiving things on the outside but never being able to reach them.

But he saw. He remembered.

He yearned.

There were worlds beyond the harsh confines of Kythia and the Empire. Remote, relatively untouched planets scattered throughout the Universe where he could see himself making a bolt-hole; places where he could exist in peace, away from malign politics and the machinations of ambition and greed.

Where it was quiet.

Despite all the violence he’d wrought, Dragek just wanted a dose of peace and quiet to go along with his freedom.

What a fucking dream.

Well, he was on Earth now. It wasn’t exactly peaceful or quiet, and there was the not-so-minor inconvenience of a human female who seemed to have the ability to draw him toward her in their dreams…

Well, he might as well tell Ashrael about his Talent. The alternative was for it to be forced out of him, and he didn’t want to give that bastard any reason to forcibly interrogate him.

“Ashrael,” he said quietly, concentrating his ka’qui into a small but intense burst—just enough to irritate. Then, he released it, intentionally slapping his new master in the face with an invisible fuck you of psychic energy. “Get your hand off me, and I’ll tell you.”

Ashrael shook his head slightly as if surprised at himself. “Very well.” And suddenly, the pressure was gone. “You know, you should consider it an honor that I find you so much of a threat.”

“Tch,” Dragek scoffed aloud, but secretly, he was tickled that the infamous Ashrael—the Silent One that all Silent Ones yearned to surpass—perceived him this way. Of course, he would do everything in his power to ensure he reached a level where he could truly smash Ashrael’s smug, irritating face in.

He wasn’t quite there yet.

Even he could admit that.

For now, I am defeated. His lips curved into a sardonic smile. “Sometimes, I detach.”

Ashrael raised a dark eyebrow. “Detach?”

“When I enter the void beyond consciousness, I can sometimes leave my own body and inhabit another space. Doesn’t happen very often, and when it does, I can’t control it.”

The other Silent One was unreadable. Even his ka’qui was silent. He didn’t say a word; he simply watched.

And waited.

Quiet.

Still.

Dragek knew this stillness. It was so very characteristic of their kind—his kind. It was a stillness borne of revolutions upon revolutions of forced patience, being chained to the will of another, made to wait and desperately control one’s thoughts lest they be invaded.

And Ashrael’s stillness was deeper than his own. In comparison, he was impatient, kinetic.

A sharp puff of exasperation escaped his lips. He made a quick mental calculation and decided there was no harm in telling Ashrael about her. In fact, Tarak and his ilk were probably the only beings in the Universe who would go out of their way to help her.

He shook his head as he remembered the human—confused, terrified, hapless, caught in an utterly ridiculous situation. But then, who was he to talk? Not too long ago, he’d been at the beck-and-call of the Mistress.

He should have just killed those two human males once and for all to ensure they didn’t come after her.

---