Assassin's Cowl Novels & Stories

“No, Sophia. I’m one hundred percent serious. I work for an organization that sanctions the assassination of men who have committed atrocious crimes against humanity. Men who have gotten away with it because they are rich or are protected by their country’s laws. That man that I’m scared might find out about you and hurt you used to be an assassin.” He must see the skeptical look on my face because he releases my waist, rubs his fingers across his mouth, then walks over to his headboard and presses some kind of tile. To my shock, the tile glows beneath his palm, like if it’s reading it. The headboard begins to shift until it splits off in opposite directions to reveal some kind of secret roo

But I didn't, not when all I was focused on as she started to circle the edge of my desk, was bending her ass over my desk and screwing my self into her body and soul, leaving her wrecked only to fix her back together. Kayla walked between me and the desk, the smell of orange blossom and vanilla filling my nose as she lifted her ass onto my desk, legs dangling just in front of my knees. "If this is what it'll take to stop you from breathing down my neck, then sure." she said softly. Locking her eyes with mine, she slipped her sandals off her feet, her tits spilled over her dress in the process, giving me more than an eye-full of her pale, milky tits.

Dresses aren't my thing. I'll pick a pair of jeans or sweats before I put on a dress. Dresses make me feel exposed and uncomfortable. I'm a warrior. I don't find killing myself to look good as a priority for the fact that I don't care about finding a mate. The mate bond is ridiculous, in my opinion. Falling for someone and losing yourself in them just because the Moon Goddess paired you two is utterly pathetic. Being an assassin, I learned that loving someone only leads to hurting them or yourself. Love makes people vulnerable and weak, and I want no part of it.

He agreed without asking for anything in return. "Clear," Denver's voice from the other line. What he meant by "clear" was that he had hacked the Grand Hotel's system and I could walk past the CCTVs that were no longer working. "Thanks. I owe you this one," I spoke softly to him. We can talk through my earing. My left earring is a high-tech microphone so I don't even need to hold a cellphone to talk to him. This is a very safe way to contact the other assassins especially when the mission is not a sole mission but a group.

Would be use as an evidence. Back then as an assassin, I always made sure I destroy every proof that I have. Every single one of them, I don't ever leave any trail or something that could stand as a weapon against me. I am always careful. There was this particular book that caught my eye, is actually the title that piqued my interest... The book title is, *The kidnapping of five kids.* This is so gross, killing people wasn't enough, he actually... Kidnapped kids! My father is a real psycho.

“Guess you can see that for yourself.” I remained silent, my expression unreadable. I started toward the door, but Casey shifted, blocking my path. “You know,” he said, voice casual, “I’m actually glad he’s gone.” That made me pause. My eyes narrowed slightly, a silent demand for him to continue. Casey’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “I knew what you were from the beginning. Assassin. A famous one, at that.” He tilted his head, watching me carefully. “I always wanted to warn Gerald, tell him exactly what kind of woman he was dealing with. But I didn’t, because I was afraid.”

“They waited for the toast.” Raven leaned up just enough to scan the mezzanine. The assassin was there, not a Corsetti foot soldier but a professional. Compact frame, matte-black rifle, the movement too clean, too sure. She took aim and fired before he could reset. The bullet caught his shoulder, spinning him backward into the glass railing. He fell without a sound. Another shot cracked the far window, Viktor flinched as a bullet grazed his arm. “There’s more than two!”

A lithe figure in a white cloak dropped from the ceiling, moving fast as lightning—a Light faction assassin. “You are an abomination,” the assassin hissed, unsheathing twin blades. “The goddess will not forgive what you’ve become!” The Eclipse Wolves snarled, but Caelum raised a hand to halt them. “She sent you, didn’t she?” His lips curled into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Liora is afraid.” “Iris would weep to see what you’ve done,” the assassin spat. “Then let her weep in the afterlife.”

Enzo began tickling Pamela, her mark shining brightly as her one sided shirt fell lower on her arm. The Assassin didn’t leave the coven. He monitored everyone and everything that moved among the property. He stayed in the shadows, barely coming out into the sunlight. I had heard that the Death Flock would not get their skin accustomed to the sunlight or light sources, so that their bodies were more attuned to the darkness and shadows. It was all a rumor from my days as a young fangling, but now watching him avoid the light on his skin made me think otherwise. The Assassin kept his mask drawn tight from under his eyes down to his neck. His sword still lay on his side, which had a constant han