“Ordinary?” I breathed a laugh. “And what would the mighty assassin call me if not beautiful?” He trailed his fingertip down my temple. “I would call you the soft glow of moonlight in a pitch-black world. A prayer I never spoke aloud, but somehow the gods answered anyway. The strike of lightning I dare to behold without flinching.” His brow flickered as he ran his thumb over my bottom lip. “The reason I breathe.”
