Art should look like art, trees and flowers and people, not weird shapes and splotches of color all smeared together.

Now, back to my vacation idea.” Finn grinned, showing off his perfect white teeth. “Just think about it. You, Owen, me, and Bria, all happily ensconced in a swanky hotel by a beautiful beach. Bria in a bikini. You and Owen doing your own thing, Bria in a bikini. Did I mention Bria in a bikini?

Oh, Finn isn’t an assassin,” I cut in. “He’s much, much worse. He’s a banker.

I pulled the trigger twice, cutting off his protests, and Finn joined my lover on the floor.

Instead, I cut him. Not deep, but there was enough of a sting in the wound to remind him of what I'd done to the dwarven mobsters in the parking lot - and that I wasn't just some chick with a knife who looked good in black.

Burn, baby, burn,” she muttered in a hard, satisfied voice. I cleared my throat. “As much as I hate to interrupt the supreme satisfaction you’re taking in watching the mansion blaze to the ground, I’d really like to get out of here before the whole house collapses on top of us.

That was my favorite dagger." She had a favorite dagger? Seriously? And she thought that I was a freak.