Prologue

Deadly.

The one word that described Phoenix perfectly.

She smiled grimly and closed the door, making sure no one would see the corpse until morning. She stalked through the dark halls, walking quietly as to not disturb the rest of the household. Her job was done here. The Duke of Banchester was dead.

As she crept out to the stable, the Duke's face burned in her mind; the look of surprise before she made the final blow. It had been a quick and easy task, especially since he had invited her into his bedchambers for a "late night visit."

She teased him by taking off her shirt, leaving her band on, but exposing enough flesh to make him pant. She smiled seductively, straddling him where he sat. The assassin allowed him to place wet kisses on her smooth, creamy skin, byt her mind worked like a ticking clock. Looking over his shoulder for a weapon, her eyes fell on a heavy, gold candlestick.

She feigned a moan and whispered enticingly into the Duke's ear that they move to the bed. Without a moments hesitation he stood up—with the woman still wrapped around him—and made his way toward the large, canopied bed. As the couple—more like one being than two—moved toward their desired place, the woman grabbed the shining object and sent it smashing into the Duke's head. He fell to his knees, and with one last blow, the lustful eyes of the man shut forever.

She moved toward the chair, picking up her black shirt and putting it back on. She snatched a sack of gold that had been left on the desk carelessly and left the huge Banchester Manor. Grinning solemnly the assassin mounted her large, black stallion and fled into the distance, leaving a trail of blood and tears, for the Deadly Phoenix had not heart.

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shanice