The Darkest Assassin: A Lords of the Underworld Novella

by Gena Showalter

  One of the two female Sent Ones rushed at William. Or tried to. The silvery-haired woman lifted and aimed a gun. Boom! The female flopped to the floor.

  Two other Sent Ones ran at William, who’d already climbed to his feet. He went low, raking his claws over one, then the other. They, too, flopped to the floor, where they writhed in agony.

  Others approached the prince and received the same treatment.

  “Go, William!” the woman on the bed called. “You’ve got this, baby!”

  Seemingly empowered by her cheers, William threw an elbow at Bjorn, who’d thrown his body at the other man. “Tell me what you think I did, or I stop playing nice.”

  “You tell me where she is!” Bjorn’s words lashed like a cat o’ nine tails.

  Slash, parry. “She who?”

  Slash, slash. “As if you do not know!”

  “I don’t.” William flapped his smoky wings, jumped up and kicked out, nailing Bjorn in the nose. Cartilage snapped, and a stream of blood spurted. William didn’t fall to the floor, not right away, but remained in the air to twist and hurl a dagger between another Sent One’s eyes.

  As the male collapsed, William opened a portal behind his body, ensuring the Sent One slipped through…and reappeared directly in front of William.

  The only other female Warrior was in the process of swinging her sword at William, and she could not stop her momentum. Her sword slicked through the Sent One, his intestines spilling out.

  Realizing what she’d done, she dropped her sword and gaped, horrified. William lobbed the man’s body at her, sending her crashing into the far wall.

  “That’s what you get,” called the woman on the bed.

  Bjorn was the last man standing. He and William circled each other in the air.

  “I’m guessing the her in question is Fox the Executioner,” the male said.

  Hearing her name spoken in such an irreverent tone only added fuel to the flames of Bjorn’s fury. “We saw you stab and grab her.” Bjorn swung a dagger, then another, William blocking, then parrying.

  “Not me.” Swing. Parry. “I haven’t stabbed a woman. Not today, anyway.”

  They plowed into furniture, overturning side tables and chairs. Vases shattered, glass shards flying.

  Bjorn scowled and grated, “Do you hope to blame Axel, since you look so much alike?”

  “No doubt it was Lucifer, who shape-shifted to look like me,” William grated right back. “The same way he shape-shifted into Axel to attack me.”

  “You lie!”

  “Often. But think, you fool. All Sent Ones have the ability to taste lies. What do you taste right now?”

  He tasted a truth, which didn’t mean he tasted the truth. But even still, Bjorn halted and lowered his daggers. What if Lucifer had taken Fox? Then I waste precious time here. Time that Lucifer could use to do what he did best: rape and torture.

  The urge to vomit returned. Lucifer showed no mercy; he maimed and murdered with abandon. Age, gender and species never mattered to him.

  Gazing at the carnage wrought in this room, Bjorn withered inside. When he caught the white-haired girl’s eye, he withered further. She remained at the edge of the bed, now dressed in a T-shirt, glaring murder at him.

  “Tell me everything,” William snapped, lowering to the floor and yanking on a pair of leathers so forcefully, he ripped the waistband.

  Drowning in foreboding, urgency, and panic, but needing their help, he admitted, “I’d done it. I’d captured her. Fox was my prisoner.” Pain coated his words. “She ran from me. You—Lucifer appeared, eviscerated Bjorn and vanished with her.”

  William scrubbed a hand over his face, looking fatigued. “Apologize to Sunny and vow not to kill Fox, and I’ll consider helping you get Fox back.”

  The need to get to Fox grew, overtaking him completely. Frantic, he blurted, “I apologize for frightening you, for damaging your bedroom, and threatening your man.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “How dare you!? I was never frightened.”

  Bjorn pivoted back to William and said, “I cannot vow that I won’t kill Fox. The order for her death came from Clerici himself. But. I will vow not to kill her without first coming to speak with you.” Or at all. He ground his teeth. “Agreed?”

  The male appeared to be fighting to maintain his stern expression and might have even bitten his tongue to stop a laugh. Why laugh? “Very well. Agreed.”

  “Tell me where Lucifer keeps—” Bjorn’s ears twitched. He heard a commotion outside, the noise drifting through a crack in the window. He thought he detected Fox’s name. Heart galloping, he rushed over to peer outside. One look, and horror crept icy fingers down his spine. A bloody, wounded Fox was crawling into camp, cursing anyone who attempted to aid her. “Never mind.”

  Bjorn hurried from the bedroom, determined to reach his woman.

  Chapter Nineteen

  More frantic by the second, Bjorn shoved his way through a growing crowd of Sent Ones. As if the Most High reached down from the heavens and swept the soldiers apart, they parted like the Red Sea, a path to Fox opening up.

  The moment Bjorn spotted her, more shock, rage and horror stabbed him, slashing his insides. His body shook uncontrollably. She still hadn’t rallied the strength to stand; she could only crawl. One of her eyes was swollen shut, blood smeared over the rest of her face. The left side of her body had been scorched, including her hair. Every individual strand looked as if the end had been used as a candlewick.

  “Fox!” It was then, in that moment, that the truth hit him so forcefully he nearly toppled over. It was a moment of total clarity unlike any he’d had before. He didn’t just care for this woman, and he had been fighting his feelings, allowing fear to dictate his actions. But fear lied and destroyed. Fear never led anyone in the right direction. Fear made you a fool and brutally murdered hope. The same reason he’d lashed out at her earlier. A mistake he could never undo. All he could do? Fight to make it right. Because he loved her with every fiber of his being.

  My woman. Mine! The truly startling revelation? He loved Fox the Executioner more than he loved his own life, and he would happily die for her if necessary.

  No longer would he let fear take the wheel. No longer would he worry about going all-in and losing her. No more wallowing in betrayal and pain. No more resisting change. Whether or not he loved and lost Fox, he would face betrayal and pain because life was pain. And why fight change, when the life you currently lived consisted of misery rather than happiness? Bjorn needed change.

  He needed Fox.

  Cannot imagine a future without her. The words infiltrated his mind, all passion and fire, before solidifying in his bones. I. Love. Her. He loved her and craved her nearness in ways he’d never loved or craved another. She didn’t just make him smile and laugh; she didn’t just blow his mind with every kiss and caress; she didn’t just encourage and help him. No, she anchored him in the here and now, rendering the horrors of the past insignificant. An abundance of blessings awaited him—because of her.

  Desperate to touch and hold her, to beg for forgiveness, he raced closer. Halfway there, he dove and skidded across the ground. At her side, he blurted, “I’m here, vixen, I’m here.” Gently, he drew her into his arms. White-hot tears trickled down his cheeks. “What did he do to you?”

  Voice weak and thready, she told him, “He planned to chain me in a graveyard of souls he referred to as his spice rack. I declined. We fought. I escaped. Just don’t…don’t touch me.” She wiggled out of his embrace, and he quashed a thousand protests, each one louder than the last. “I’m here to tell you William isn’t William but Lucifer. That’s it. Now I’m leaving. If you try to stop me…don’t try to stop me, Bjorn.”

  He flinched as though she’d stabbed him. The outcome of a conversation had never been as important as this one. Giving up wasn’t an option for him. “I learned the truth a few moments before your arrival. I went to William, the real William, as soon as I awoke. We fought—” Not importa
nt right now. Bjorn had a narrow window of time—very narrow—to apologize, to beg, to do whatever proved necessary to win her over. “Don’t go. Please don’t go. I must know…” What, what? “Is Lucifer dead or on your trail?”

  “Not dead. Maybe on my trail. Not sure.” She rubbed her temples. “I left him chained, but I suspect he’ll escape at any moment, if he hasn’t already.”

  “Do you recall where you left him?” If Lucifer was chained, there was no better time to slay him.

  “I barely even have the strength to breathe.”

  Another pang, this one stronger. “I’m so sorry, vixen. I saw you crouched over an unconscious Sent One, a weapon at the ready, but I should have trusted you.” He said the words loudly, for one and all to hear. “You’ve been—”

  “Let me stop you there,” she snapped. “You and I are not happening. I came here to warn you, nothing else. If you don’t want me to leave, you’d better kill me, because nothing will stop me.”

  Window of time—closed, locked and barred. His panic was resurrected, clawing at him once again. “I will pay you to take me to the Realm of Phantasia. Name your price.” Though decades would pass for their friends, the war in the Underworld raging without him, he would have Fox.

  “No thanks. Not interested.” She offered no qualifiers, no room for negotiation.

  His panic sharpened. “I’ll pay you to take me to Alana, then.” He would kill the woman, ensuring she never threatened Fox again. If he died in the process, he died. No more playing things safe. Look where he ended up when he did. “I’ll doctor your wounds and guard you while you rest.”

  “No.” Again, she offered no qualifier. Eyes slitting, she dragged her tongue over her teeth. “I can doctor myself. I just need a place to hang out until I have the power to return to Galen.”

  Pang, pang, pang. “You may stay in our cabin as long as you desire. Please, Fox. If you don’t want me there, I won’t come inside. I’ll remain outside and ensure no one enters without your express permission. I just need to know you’re in a safe place.”

  She cast him a death-glare. When she tottered, about to pass out, he scooped her up and pushed to his feet. Once again, the Sent Ones parted, creating a pathway. The Warriors who had not attended his meetings stared at him with wide eyes and open mouths. He lifted his chin, unashamed.

  Thane and Xerxes stood at the forefront, ready to stop anyone who thought to act against him.

  How Bjorn thanked the Most High for those two. The worst experience of his life had led to the best friendships, something beautiful growing from something hideous. Exactly what happened with Fox. Ugly situation, exquisite love. It was time to prove his claims with action.

  “This is Fox the Executioner, once a fugitive to our people,” he called as he marched on. “Like so many of us, she killed innocents while overcome by the heat of battle. Unlike us, she did it while simultaneously dealing with the demon of Distrust. She has since received forty lashes for her crime, with a whip laced with infirmədē. She also received a beating from Lucifer.” Not to mention mistrust and betrayal from Bjorn. “If the order to kill her is not rescinded—the order must be rescinded.” If not, he would fall. He’d let her down once, but never again. He would do anything to keep his vixen safe. “I love her, and I will protect her with my life. Attempt to harm her, and it will be the last thing you ever do.”

  She sucked in a breath. “Y-you lie. You cannot love me.”

  “I can. I do. And I will. Forever.”

  Slowly she exhaled, and he began to hope…but she didn’t speak up again.

  “I, too, protect Fox with my life,” Thane announced then. “A strike against her is a strike against me.”

  “I protect Fox with my life,” Xerxes called, thumping a fist over his heart. “A strike against her is a strike against me.”

  My most treasured friends. He’d known they would support him, no matter the path he decided to walk, but this...this went above and beyond.

  Bjorn directed his next words directly to Fox, at a much softer volume. “I love you, Fox.” He didn’t try to hide the emotion, didn’t blank his expression or put up new guards because he feared she would issue another rejection. If she rejected him, she rejected him. He would deal accordingly. How she might react wouldn’t and shouldn’t dictate how he proceeded. If he wanted to keep her—and he desperately wanted to keep her—he had to risk everything.

  No risk, no reward.

  “I love your sense of humor,” he continued, still marching. “I love your fearlessness. I love your mind, and I love your body. I love your honesty and loyalty, both a rare and precious prize. I love your strength, and I love your vulnerability. I love your everything, and I hate the way I treated you and made you feel. You built me up, yet I tore you down.”

  Though she remained silent, tremors rocked her against him. When he reached the cabin, he shouldered his way inside and carried her to their bed. As gently as possible, he laid her upon the mattress and tucked her under the covers. He sprinted to the bathroom, afraid she would tell him to leave if he took too long; he grabbed and wet a towel to gently, tenderly wipe the soot and blood from her face…collar…arms. When no protests rang out, he took the TLC to the next level, and trimmed the ends of her hair. He didn’t want her waking up, smelling the stench of burnt hair, and remembering what happened. Again, she issued no protests.

  When he noticed one of her cuts had opened up, blood welling, he collected the droplets as gently as possible. He knew what to do with them. Though he would have severed every limb to climb into bed beside her, he remained standing at the side, telling her, “I will go now, but I will be close. If you have any need of me, you have only to shout and I will come running.” Pause. “I am so very sorry, vixen. What I did to you…what I considered doing…there is no excuse. If I could go back…if I could kick my own ass…I am so sorry,” he repeated.

  Looking past him, she admitted, “I do understand why you thought the worst of me. But you were so cruel and cold, willing to part with me and even let me die. That hurt far worse than your accusations or the whipping.”

  His chest tightened, constricting his airways. “I will regret my words and actions for the rest of my life, but I will make it up to you. Somehow. I will not stop until I take my last breath. You are an incredible woman, and I love you. I didn’t show you before, but I will show you from this moment on.” He dropped to his knees. “Never again will I allow past hurts to color my perceptions. Never again will I fear the things you make me feel. Never again will I doubt you.”

  “Easy to say. Harder to do.” Though she opened her mouth to say more, she quickly pressed her lips into a thin line, released him, and rolled to her side, showing her back. Deserved. “Tired. Going to sleep now.”

  Heart heavy, he placed two daggers on the nightstand closest to her, wanting her to feel safe. He also added the drops of blood he collected to the bloodline, saying, “Around the house, there is a bloodline. That is what prevented you from portaling. But now that I’ve added your blood to the mix, your powers will be restored to you fully.”

  Her eyes widened. He said nothing more, just strode to the porch and took a post in front of the door. Had he lost this battle? Yes. Badly. Would he lose the next one? Probably so. Would he give up? Never! He would work up a game plan. One way or another, he would win back Fox, and have the happily ever after he’d never before expected.

  * * * *

  Shouts woke Fox. With a gasp, she jackknifed to an upright position. Took her a moment to orient herself. She was in the cabin…after returning to Bjorn…after being abducted by Lucifer… after being accused of a crime she hadn’t committed. Tears burned her eyes and blurred her vision. Ugh! When did I become such a baby?

  The shouting had stopped, at least. Maybe she’d dreamed it?

  With a sigh, she flopped backward, reclining on the mound of pillows. Silvery moonlight seeped through the room’s only window. Getting back to sleep would be impossible, her mind too ac
tive, her emotions too raw. She should go on emotional lockdown but…she kind of wanted to embrace the pain. Maybe then she would wise up and refuse to go back to Bjorn…who she still craved more than air.

  He claimed to love her. Her! He claimed to want a second chance with her, and he’d openly acknowledged his feelings in front of his peers, as if proud to be with her. As if a Sent One and a demon-possessed assassin weren’t the oddest couple ever.

  Should she give him another chance, though? Did he truly love her, or did he simply feel guilty for the way he’d treated her? Could two opposites have a fulfilling life together?

  Don’t be a fool. He’ll never trust you. You’ll get hurt again, only worse.

  Stupid Distrust! She sprayed a little mental Windex on her brain, and wiped away her every thought. That was when little aches and pains registered in different places on her body. No doubt she had a couple of broken ribs, a bruised liver and kidneys, and a fractured wrist. Thankfully, she’d healed quite a bit.

  “You will come with me, Bjorn.” Alana’s voice seeped through the window. “Do not even consider resisting. I’m in a mood.”

  Horror inundated Fox. The shouts. The shouts had come from her. Realization: the bitch had come to Hell. She prepared to take Bjorn back to her lair, no doubt to drain his life-force again. And, as angry as Alana sounded, she’d probably take more than before. Would he recover?

  Foreboding prickled the back of her neck. Can’t let her leave with him. Not this time.

  Heart thudding, Fox jumped up and raced to the closet. At some point, Bjorn must have returned to the cabin and changed her. No longer did she wear her singed, smoke-scented clothing. A pink tank graced her up top, and a pair of boxers covered her intimate area below. She donned a pair of boots and spun, searching for a weapon, any weapon. There! The daggers Bjorn left on the nightstand. She swiped them up and hurried to the front door—closed.

  Bjorn’s voice sounded at last. Unlike Alana, he maintained a moderate tone.