Elemental Assassin 03 - Venom

Most men would be running for the door at this point,” I replied. “Blubbering and screaming all the while.”
    He grinned. “I’m not most men.”
    No, he wasn’t, a fact that intrigued me more and more, as did the complete lack of judgment in his violet gaze. I could have told Owen that I was a librarian and gotten the same reaction—or lack thereof. Not surprising. He’d seen me after I’d used my Stone magic to collapse Tobias Dawson’s coal mine on top of the dwarf. Owen knew that I’d somehow survived and dug my way out of the rubble. Maybe he hadn’t realized that I was an assassin at that point, but he’d known that I was a survivor. Not much difference, really.
    “Besides,” Owen continued. “If you’re as good as you say you are, I wouldn’t make it to the door anyway.”
    “No, you wouldn’t,” I replied in a quiet voice.
    His grin widened. “You know you’re not helping my ego, Gin.”
    “Oh,” I said in a lighter tone. “I think you’ve got plenty of confidence to spare, Owen.”
    He kept grinning at me, the expression softening his rough features into something more pleasant—and enticing. I looked at his solid frame, his broad shoulders, the apparent strength in his arms. Too bad Finn was on his way over to pick me up. Otherwise, I might have stepped forward and explored this attraction that sparked between Owen and me. Provided, of course, that Owen wasn’t really quaking with terror on the inside over my gruesome revelations. Somehow, though, I didn’t think his calm facade was an act.
    “But to answer your question, yes, I do have a name.” I drew in another breath. “One that you’ve probably heard of.”
    The grin dropped from his face, and he was serious and somber once more. “And what would that be?”
    Instead of answering him, I slowly uncurled my hands and held them out face up, so that he could clearly see the spider rune that marked each one of my palms. A small circle, surrounded by eight thin rays. The symbol for patience. Owen knew what the rune was as well as I did.
    “The Spider,” he said in a quiet voice. “You’re the Spider.”
    “I was.” A grim smile curved my lips. “I actually retired from the business a couple of months ago. But it doesn’t seem to have sunk in yet.”
    Owen’s eyes narrowed, and he regarded me with another shrewd, knowing look. “Tobias Dawson. You killed him too. That’s why you were at Mab Monroe’s party and asked me to introduce you to him. So you could get him alone and kill him.”
    I nodded. “That didn’t quite work out the way that I’d planned, but since I’m still breathing and he’s not, I can’t complain too much.”
    Owen crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head to one side, as if trying to get a better look at me. As if trying to see past the cold mask of my face and into the blackness that coated my soul. “And did you kill Jake McAllister that night as well? Are you the one who stuffed him into one of Mab’s bathtubs?”
    So he’d heard about Jake’s body being found at Mab’s party. Seemed like the Fire elemental hadn’t squashed that pesky rumor nearly as well as she would have liked to. Or maybe she was just putting it out there herself to see who would be stupid enough to take credit for Jake’s death so she could pay him a personal visit. Either way, there was no point in denying anything now.
    “Seemed like a good idea at the time,” I said.
    I didn’t tell Owen that Jake McAllister had threatened to rape and murder me. I wasn’t going to make excuses for myself. I’d made that mistake with Donovan Caine. Tried to make the detective see that while I might be something of a monster, there were worse ones out there than me. That occasionally, I took out the big bads to make things better for folks. That Ashland needed someone like me. Someone who could work outside the corrupt legal system. Someone who couldn’t be bought or bribed or intimidatedinto backing down. Donovan hadn’t been able to understand, much less accept that simple fact. It went against everything the detective had believed in—about the system and himself.
    I wasn’t going to make the same mistake with Owen Grayson. Whatever this thing was between us, he was going to know exactly what kind of person I was, what kind of cold, calculated violence I was capable of and had executed so many times throughout the years. I wasn’t going to sugarcoat anything for him or try to explain away all the