Dustin, the White God's chief assassin and commander of the western hemisphere, awoke in a cold sweat with his heart racing.
She collapsed on top of the still assassin, her healing powers flowing unabated.
The window rolled down, and his chief assassin glared at him.
Dusty, his heartless assassin, had found his mate.
"Absolutely," Damian said and smiled to himself, marveling again at the turn of events that led to his chief assassin, Dusty, mating with the Black God's sister.
"Does Dusty …" "I'll let him know," Damian said, well aware of how prickly the assassin got whenever Damian interfered with how he ran the Western Hemisphere.
"Retired assassin," she corrected sweetly.
The assassin obliged without question, stripping off weapons and handing them to Jule.
The assassin gave a trace of a smile, closed his eyes, and disappeared.
As a former assassin and interrogator, Dusty didn't much care for people to begin with.
Like the assassin who obsessed about birthdays and clothing, there were two sides to the man before her: the warm, friendly stranger with whom she'd felt so comfortable she confided to him over the phone without knowing anything about him, and the tattooed thug before them in snug biker leathers.
Past-Death adopted Gabriel, trained him, turned him into a killing machine, her top assassin and lover.
Deidre turned to find the assassin staring at her.
Instead of responding, the assassin knelt.
He had done it every day he served her as her lead assassin and he was doing it now as Death.
"Gabriel, why does this keep happening?" the red-headed assassin asked, frustration in her voice.
A competent, methodical assassin, she didn't make the mistake of trying to collect from someone not on the list.
"I went to the soul I heard," the assassin said.
He'd never been guilty in his role as an assassin or as Death, until sitting with her on the beach.
The assassin he'd killed earlier had a handler, one that acted as a messenger between him and Darkyn.
You're my best assassin, and you're the only one who can trespass in Hell and return.
The assassin left him in peace, and he stayed awake the rest of the night, watching over her.
Katie stood between the assassin and the demon.
As Death.s best assassin, Gabriel wasn.t the type of person anyone ever wanted to run into, let alone when awaking in a dark room after a nightmare.
You are still my top assassin, assuming you don.t fail in your executions.
Death.s assassin turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadow world.
Rhyn kept his distance, knowing just how jumpy an assassin could be.
Fortunately, Death's assassin didn't wait long to shake her. Katie awoke from the dreamland and sat up groggily.
I was her only voluntary assassin. I traded her my soul for the life of a friend.
"I see – " "Katie, quiet!" the assassin ordered, body bristling with tension.
"Not that I know of," the assassin said.
The assassin shook his head and crouched near her, warming his hands by the fire.
On the morning of June 28, 1914, Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria and his wife Sophie, Duchess of Hohenberg, were shot dead in Sarajevo by nineteen-year-old assassin Gavrilo Princip.