The Trouble With Trying to Save an Assassin (Murder Sprees and Mute Decrees #2)

by Jennifer Cody

Do I look like the kind of guy who discriminates against vaginas? I’m not, and if you’re the kind of reader that does, just don’t read the Thea books.

Confidence is sexy as fuck, in case you’ve forgotten or you’re randomly reading book two without having read book one, in which case there’s something wrong with you and you need to go to the hospital immediately. You can tell them I sent you. It’ll be fine.

Romily Butcher isn’t the panic-mode type—that’s me, by the way. Sexy, slender, curly blond hair and brown eyes.

I’m not turned on by two of the hottest men alive kissing like they’re about to go find a private corner; you are. These are my future in-laws.

Two hot men kissing is a turn on. It’s better if it's you and me, but I’m allowed to appreciate your genetic donors since they created you.

Fox stops in his tracks, turns around, pulls me into his arms, and does that thing where he tries to shut me up with a kiss. Honestly, I’m mute. I can’t be silenced with kisses. Distracted by them, yes, but not silenced.

Amos is Fox’s demon father, in case you forgot already. I know, keeping track of the names and people is hard, so I’ll keep reminding you when it matters, because I’m nice like that.

Maybe someone should have been clearer in book one?

It’s only been like eight weeks. I’m allowed to take my time getting used to not being a homeless squatter.

Oh dear me, its only been 8 weeks??

My phone buzzes just as I’m getting to the good part of my current read. It’s the 50% sex scene; you know what I’m talking about. We spent thirty percent of the book playing will-we-won’t-we, and then twenty percent getting ready for the yes-we-will, and now we’re at the gonna-do-this-thing, and I am here for it.

Oh dear gawd

Me: We slick them up with lube to make them shiny and attractive. We can admire how they look pressed against each other. Future Husband: I do enjoy how you admire my cock. Me: My cock would probably want to kiss yours a few times. Maybe rub up on it.

Does my ward even protect against microbial terrorists that could give me some weird illness that might hospitalize me, and then I could die because it’s such a foreign bacteria that the doctors can’t figure it out before it eats my brain, and also where is Dr. House when you need him???

Gaia, right? So like Final Fantasy Gaia, probably, but then we’re talking about the moon, so Luna? Who is that goddess? Nyx? No, she’s nighttime? Maybe. Ugh, romance books are not the best at giving me an education in mythology for real. I’m going to call the spirit of the moon Luna, then, and assume that the connection is like Gaia cults. So Luna wolves worship the spirit of the moon? I bet it’s a fertility thing, isn’t it? It’s always about sex.

Where’s his Assassin’s Creed outfit when he needs it?

Ok, before you get all in my face about that, I want you to really think about how many names of emojis you know and what it would be like having to read my words aloud if I used them. Trust me, I have cut out the possibility of being misinterpreted by spelling them out. All y’all who want audiobooks need to think about these things…

Excuse me?

“We have to find Omp’s phone before Pater does. I do not need another step father.” This is the problem with having an open polycule of immortals for fathers.

Someone needs to get on the Arthur-Merlin fanship and make this happen for me. I also take book recs if you know of something that already exists. Ahem.

Bellamy sighs, but he has long since surrendered to our parental love. “Thirty-five years of keeping myself alive doesn’t count toward my life-skills at all, does it?” I kiss his cheek, Fox kisses his other, and I shoot him a bright smile. “Now you’re getting it,” Fox murmurs.

Moments after I hit the floor on top of Bellamy, a head lands right next to my face. Gross. What I wouldn’t give to be able to tell these idiots that they could have lived if they’d kept their heads about them… *snicker* *side eye*

I’ve recently binge-read a bunch of super cute, sweet BDSM romances and it’s a very submissive pose, if you know what I mean. It was last week; I found an author with like a hundred books in her back list between two pen names. I’m so into her puppy play books, FYI, and I could totally see Edovard putting on a hood and chasing a ball. He’d be adorable.

What’s your name? “Yeah, I’m not telling you that. I’m getting paid to drive you; I’m not giving away any kind of information that could be used to find me when you’re done killing random people.” Ok. We’re going to call you Buttercup. Because that sounds as ridiculous as his reasoning for not sharing his name. “Sure. Call me Buttercup,” the driver deadpans. Bellamy quietly huffs a laugh beside me, making no attempt to hide his amusement. “Onward, Buttercup. There’s fuckery to spread.”

Look, if the verbal are allowed to combine words to create new languages like Franspanol and Spanglish, I’m allowed to name my main form of communication too. We are now calling it Mutese. Wait. Mutish. No. Mutiny. *laughing while crying emoji* We’ll stick to Mutese.

No, I am not reading into a Bellamy-Edovard ship. There will be no Bellavarding in this house. They’re not at all complementary. Hard pass. Bellamy needs someone more assertive who appreciates his assets. Clearly our Edovard is not that person. They’re more like brothers.

It’s something to cogitate though. First Fox finds the most perfect Harbinger in all the worlds, then his perfect Harbinger grabs up the best Acolyte and now has found an amazing Augur, a functional member of the community that can’t happen unless they’re found by someone in the community. Pfft. Convenient, amiright? Convenient enough for an overarching plot line in a multi-book series. *side eye*

We both look at the man with a death wish standing in our open bedroom door. Edovard stands behind him with a very confused look on his face, and I just…how is this man that strangely innocent? He surely knows what sex is, right? Right? Someone tell me I don’t have to have the sex talk with an actual adult.

“What was that stuff on Romily?” OMFG.

“Why’re you looking at me like you just found my jizz in your favorite pocket pussy?” Darcy sure does have a way with words. You’re not even imagining how that sounds with a hillbilly accent, are you? I’m listening to it, and it’s always just astonishing how gross he makes things.

Sometimes I am genuinely jealous of magic users. Don’t get me wrong, I have magic of my own now, and I am grateful for it, especially when it sends Luna wolves flying off in random directions after they charge me, but look at that tiny little Asian boy from Arkansas and tell me it wouldn’t be amazing to be able to crush a wolf skull with one punch.

I—I don’t know how I feel about this. On one hand: snookered. *x for eyes emoji* On the other: aww, he cares enough to want to keep tabs on me. *smiling with floating hearts emoji* On the other: he wants to keep tabs on me. *grimacing emoji*

Gosh, it’s nice that no one has to shush me. *snicker*

Jeff Gordon, the evil council dude, not the other one—well, I mean, they could be the same person; I don’t know what the other one looks like and have zero knowledge except in passing of the famous drivers in Nascar—holds up his hand like he’s waving us down.

Look at my Fox being more powerful than even his father gives him credit for. *heart eyes* *drool* *eggplant* *waterdrops* Don’t try to kink shame me. This is a kink shame free zone.

(The epilogue, because y’all seem to think I end stories too abruptly)

Uh

We rented out the arena for the executions of everyone we decided needed dying as an example of what happens when you fuck with the Foxilys. Yes, that ship name is happening now; just go with it. I love the fuck out of it, and next time we change our government IDs it’s going to be our surname.