Book 1: Assassins of Gravas
by N.J. Walters
Spear el Gravaso--prince of Gravas and assassin--is on a mission to find his brother. His hunt had led him to an auction of Gravasian weapons that can only belong to the missing man. He needs to secure the items, get any information he can, and kill all those involved. Nothing and no one will stop him.
Sass was taken from a harsh life on the streets as a child and trained to be an assassin by the powerful Artemis. The lives of those she loves is on the line if she fails her mission--to win the auction of Gravasian tech. Only one problem--Spear is in her way.
Their battle escalates, as does the explosive heat between them. When it comes down to it, they can fight each other and one of them will die or they can join forces. But can they trust each other?
"If you love flying among the galaxies, steamy, sweet romances, action, intrigue, danger, and mystery then you have to get your hands on the space world of Spear's Search."
Annetta Sweetko, Fresh Fiction
Excerpt from Spear's Search
© 2020 N.J. Walters
He carefully withdrew the razor-sharp dagger from the hidden sheath strapped to his arm. Made of the finest titansteel--a virtually indestructible metal only found on Gravas--it was easily concealed from security scans, lightweight, and could be used to kill with minimal effort.
Unlike a blaster, it was silent.
In a soundless rush, he was around the girder, thick forearm wrapped around his victim's neck and the sharp tip of the blade at the base of the skull.
The person didn't fight, didn't move a muscle.
He was dealing with a pro. Only another assassin would react in such a way.
"Want to tell me why you're following me?" It was second nature to change the pitch and tone of his voice and speak in Alliance Standard, the language most commonly spoken on all Alliance planets and stations.
The voice was low with a slight lilt that skated over his skin like a caress.
What in the depths of Gravas was going on? Why was he reacting in such a manner?
With lightning speed, he assessed his quarry. About six feet, slender, short dark hair. Not enough light to determine true color. The lightest fragrance of mint teased his nostrils and made his entire body clench.
"Try again." He wasn't leaving without answers.
The tiniest shrug caused the blade to scrap across the tender skin on the back of her neck. And it was a woman. The certainty settled in his bones.
Not that it meant anything. Some of the deadliest assassins in the world were women. Too many people underestimated them.
He wasn't most people.