Frolic-Exclusive Excerpt: The Darkest Assassin by Gena Showalter

Frolic-Exclusive Excerpt:

He quickened his steps, the tips of his wings collecting soot from the ground.  Once he finished with Alana, he must deal with Fox once and for all. 

Fox… Anticipation fizzed in his veins.  He couldn’t wait to breathe in her lusciously sweet fragrance, feel the sublime heat of her body, or gaze upon those arresting features.  He even enjoyed conversing with her; the woman wielded a ready wit he found appealing. She also displayed a talent for masking her emotions, making him frantic to dig deep and discover the truth beneath the unconcerned veneer.

The fact that he’d hardened while speaking with the murderess didn’t matter.  His dick ached for the challenge she presented, but his mind had not—did not—and never would.

A foul taste coated his tongue, and he scowled.  The bite of a lie. Had he just told himself an untruth?  Possibly. Fine, definitely. Fox’s standoffishness was so different from Alana’s clinginess, of course he liked it.

Careful.  Alana, Queen of Shadows, always sensed when Bjorn considered someone attractive…and mutilated their face.  She believed she owned him, spirit, soul and body. In her mind, no one else should play with her toy, even though said toy did nothing to encourage her advances.  Actually, he did the opposite. Anytime she’d invited him into her bed, he’d declined. Bjorn refused to pretend to crave someone he despised.  

To his delight, each rejection had infuriated and embarrassed her.  Eventually, she’d stopped asking.  

An agonized scream echoed through the cavern, jolting Bjorn from his dark musings.  He pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, irritated. Distraction was the number one killer of warriors.

Again, he quickened his pace.  When he reached the end of the darkened corridor, he paused to blank his features and raised his chin.  Then, he entered Alana’s throne room. Ice-cold air enveloped him, breath misting in front of his face to create a dream-like veneer.  Or a living nightmare. Different colored crystals dripped from the ceiling and glittered in the torchlight. Well, well. These torches hung from pikes, not people.  Relief rained over him. 

An army of Shadows lined the limestone walls.  Surrounding the royal dais, a cenote filled with something akin to motor oil.  And in the center of the platform, a throne of black mist.

Alana perched on it, her back ramrod straight and legs crossed.  Impatient, she drummed her long, pointy nails against the chair arms.  

She’d anchored her mass of silvery-white hair around a jagged ruby crown and changed into a more revealing scarf-dress the same shade as the rubies.  A bejeweled ring adorned each of her fingers, and strings of diamonds ran down both of her legs, creating a skirt-like effect. Anytime she moved, the strands parted, showcasing more skin.  On her feet, a pair of diamond slippers.

Beautiful on the outside, a hideous monster on the inside.