Nikita Slater

Hi, my name is Nikita Slater and I'm the International Bestselling author of The Queens series, Fire & Vice series, The Sanctuary series, Driven Hearts series and several standalone novels. I've loved the written word my entire life and am an avid reader, as well as a writer. I live, eat and breathe books and I'm always working on something new!
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I live on the beautiful Canadian prairies with my son and crazy awesome dog. I have an unholy affinity for books (especially dark romance), wine, pets and anything chocolate. Despite some of the darker themes in my books (which are pure fun and fantasy), I am a staunch feminist and advocate of equal rights for all races, genders and non-gender specific persons. When I'm not writing, dreaming about writing or talking about writing, I love to help others discover a love of reading and writing through literacy and social work.

Assassin’s did not keep angels.

Yet, the first time David laid eyes on his dancer he knew he would take her away from the light and keep her. Take her away from the men who touched her as she twirled and smiled, bowed and leapt upon a stage. Remove her from the audience that coveted the angel as much as him. He would chain her to his side and keep her with him in the shadows.

Obsession wasn’t supposed feel this way. It wasn’t supposed to change his plans. Because eventually his wife would have to go. Except the more time he spent with her, the more he clipped his angel’s wings, the more selfish he became, the more time he wanted. Until she saw the assassin in the dark and ran away from him.

Natasha should not have fought back.

He could have spared her the horror of knowing the truth about her husband. She could have gone to sleep and never woken up. His dancing angel, frozen forever, perfect and beautiful. Now she would know the monster.



The Assassin's Wife

"Natasha, pay attention," David said sharply, coldly.


He rarely spoke to her that way anymore. In fact, she had grown so used to him speaking to her in soft, warm tones that it was almost startling to have him speak rudely to her. Or it would be, if his rock-hard chest weren't plastered against her back and his crotch molded against her soft ass. It also didn't really faze her because his thick arms were bracketing hers, helping her hold them steady as she extended his silenced gun toward a seemingly innocent tree in the clearing behind their cabin.


Chapter 44