speaking softly and slowly, “that when you climbed the southern wall, the scent of the night jasmine growing on the wall would cling to you. That was your mistake.”
Amina blinked. Was the man even human, that such a thing could wake him from sleep?
She didn’t let such thoughts distract her for too long. As Tarak reversed his grip on her wrists, Amina brought up her leg into a savage kick. Her foot connected with the solid flesh of his stomach, and Tarak grunted in pain as Amina jumped back, settling into a fighting stance.
She was light on the balls of her feet, ready for any attack. What she didn’t expect was Tarak’s speed. He rushed towards her, trying to grab her arms. He was fast. But Amina was faster. She danced out of the way and kicked again, catching Tarak in his thigh.
There was a swift exhalation, the only sign she had caused him pain.
In the faint moonlight, Amina realized that Tarak was naked.
As Amina reached for the short dagger she kept strapped to her thigh, Tarak recovered his balance. He moved with the measured steps of a master fighter, feinting to the left, dodging to the right, a dark blur in the dim light. Amina drew the knife and held it out in a defensive stance. Tarak danced back, wary of her blade. He was too close for her to throw it. She would have to make this quick, aiming for his belly, delivering a swift, killing thrust. Stabbing him in the neck would be difficult for her; he was too tall, too swift.
Disembowelment was safer. Men rarely survived such wounds. If they didn’t bleed to death outright, they eventually died of sepsis.
Amina came in low and fast, aiming for Tarak’s belly. But he sidestepped, spun and grabbed her wrist, squeezing the fine bones in a grip like steel. Amina gasped in pain, the dagger clattering from her hand. She lashed out with her other arm, landing a solid punch to his face.
Amina caught a flash of teeth in the dark as Tarak grimaced. Or was that a smile? He didn’t falter. He caught her other hand and twisted, forcing her backwards.
The man’s fighting style was unorthodox, unpredictable. And he was terribly strong. In terms of size and power, Amina was outmatched. One-on-one combat wasn’t her strong point.
The reason she was so good at her job was her stealth. Most of the time, her victims never knew she was coming. She had never expected Tarak to wake up.
Gritting her teeth through the pain, Amina raised her knee, aiming for Tarak’s groin. But he anticipated her move, and sidestepped. Gathering momentum, he pushed her towards the bed. Amina landed on her back amongst the silk sheets.
Then, Tarak was on top of her, his warm, naked body pressing into hers.
Amina froze, feeling the heat from his bare skin seeping through the thin material of her tunic. She was clad in light, skintight black from head to toe, with only a thin slit revealing her eyes.
In the shadows, she was all but invisible.
Amina struggled, but Tarak held her down. “You know,” he whispered, placing his lips beside her ear, “if you had climbed the northern wall, I would be dead right now.”
Amina remained silent as Tarak lifted his head and met her stare. In the faint light, she could just make out his dark, piercing gaze.
“Now who is the genius who sent an Inue assassin to kill me?”
“If you know about the Inue, then you know we never reveal our clients.” Under his hard body, Amina was tense, her heart pounding. But she kept her voice low and steady. Tarak’s eyes were like dark, bottomless pools, ringed by shadow. As she stared into their depths, she reached within herself and started to regain control.
She didn’t dare move.
She could feel the lean, defined contours of Tarak’s chest and stomach pressed up against her. She could feel his rough hands, like steel, wrapped around her wrists.
She could feel the hard length of his erection.
Her breath caught.
With great effort, Amina exerted her
Amina blinked. Was the man even human, that such a thing could wake him from sleep?
She didn’t let such thoughts distract her for too long. As Tarak reversed his grip on her wrists, Amina brought up her leg into a savage kick. Her foot connected with the solid flesh of his stomach, and Tarak grunted in pain as Amina jumped back, settling into a fighting stance.
She was light on the balls of her feet, ready for any attack. What she didn’t expect was Tarak’s speed. He rushed towards her, trying to grab her arms. He was fast. But Amina was faster. She danced out of the way and kicked again, catching Tarak in his thigh.
There was a swift exhalation, the only sign she had caused him pain.
In the faint moonlight, Amina realized that Tarak was naked.
As Amina reached for the short dagger she kept strapped to her thigh, Tarak recovered his balance. He moved with the measured steps of a master fighter, feinting to the left, dodging to the right, a dark blur in the dim light. Amina drew the knife and held it out in a defensive stance. Tarak danced back, wary of her blade. He was too close for her to throw it. She would have to make this quick, aiming for his belly, delivering a swift, killing thrust. Stabbing him in the neck would be difficult for her; he was too tall, too swift.
Disembowelment was safer. Men rarely survived such wounds. If they didn’t bleed to death outright, they eventually died of sepsis.
Amina came in low and fast, aiming for Tarak’s belly. But he sidestepped, spun and grabbed her wrist, squeezing the fine bones in a grip like steel. Amina gasped in pain, the dagger clattering from her hand. She lashed out with her other arm, landing a solid punch to his face.
Amina caught a flash of teeth in the dark as Tarak grimaced. Or was that a smile? He didn’t falter. He caught her other hand and twisted, forcing her backwards.
The man’s fighting style was unorthodox, unpredictable. And he was terribly strong. In terms of size and power, Amina was outmatched. One-on-one combat wasn’t her strong point.
The reason she was so good at her job was her stealth. Most of the time, her victims never knew she was coming. She had never expected Tarak to wake up.
Gritting her teeth through the pain, Amina raised her knee, aiming for Tarak’s groin. But he anticipated her move, and sidestepped. Gathering momentum, he pushed her towards the bed. Amina landed on her back amongst the silk sheets.
Then, Tarak was on top of her, his warm, naked body pressing into hers.
Amina froze, feeling the heat from his bare skin seeping through the thin material of her tunic. She was clad in light, skintight black from head to toe, with only a thin slit revealing her eyes.
In the shadows, she was all but invisible.
Amina struggled, but Tarak held her down. “You know,” he whispered, placing his lips beside her ear, “if you had climbed the northern wall, I would be dead right now.”
Amina remained silent as Tarak lifted his head and met her stare. In the faint light, she could just make out his dark, piercing gaze.
“Now who is the genius who sent an Inue assassin to kill me?”
“If you know about the Inue, then you know we never reveal our clients.” Under his hard body, Amina was tense, her heart pounding. But she kept her voice low and steady. Tarak’s eyes were like dark, bottomless pools, ringed by shadow. As she stared into their depths, she reached within herself and started to regain control.
She didn’t dare move.
She could feel the lean, defined contours of Tarak’s chest and stomach pressed up against her. She could feel his rough hands, like steel, wrapped around her wrists.
She could feel the hard length of his erection.
Her breath caught.
With great effort, Amina exerted her
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