Assassin's HonorOrder of the Sicari #1
Monica Burns
Released June 1st, 2010
342 Pages
Penguin/Berkley
Source: Reviewer Purchased
Reviewed by: Jaye Shields
Confession #1: I’m a suck for a paranormal or an urban
fantasy, so when the title has the word Assassin,
the book grabs me by the bra strap and doesn’t let go.
Assassin’s Honor, an
Order of the Sicari novel, by Monica
Burns, had me at hello. Or should I say, Burns had me at a woman running
for her life in the first couple pages of the novel. And not the kind of
frantic chase that the heroine eventually realizes was nothing, we’re talking
full-on drama. Enter dark hero, is he a sexy villain with a wicked sword, or is
he her smoldering knight in shining armor? Well, let’s just say you find out how smoldering in the first couple
chapters.
Confession #2: Since I’m a sucker for archaeology, she
pretty much had me at “ancient tomb” in the second sentence.
I couldn’t get enough of the ancient conspiracies embedded
in the archaeology in the beginning of the book. Our heroine, Emma Zale, is a
master archaeologist, but she soon realizes, that the ancient myths are very
real. Real enough that she finds herself in the middle of a war between two
brands of ancient warriors. Pepper in the fact that Emma gets visions when she
touched artifacts, and we’ve got an incredible adventure with danger and
historical intrigue.
Evidence #1: Our hero, Ares DeLuca is descended from a group
of ancient warriors known as the Sicari. Their mission is justice, divvied out
on their own violent terms. Ares is brutal in his quest for justice and
vengeance, but he’s equally devoted to keeping Emma safe…and pleasured. *sigh*
I heart Ares.
I’m not going to say anything else, because Burns does a
great job keeping readers in suspense throughout the novel. I read all 342
pages in one day. That’s how “unputdownable” it is.
Parting words: Readers will love both Emma and Ares, and
love them even more together!
Caution!!! Love scenes will have you squealing, so make sure
you read them alone. Burns mixes both hot
and heartfelt with ease.
I’m already dying for the next book in the Sicari series. As
a matter of fact, I’m ordering it the minute I finish typing. After you read Assassin’s Honor, you too will be
sucked in by the courageous, endearing characters featured in the follow up
novel.
And now…drum roll please…Monica Burns in her own words!
Jaye Shields: Okay,
so I'll keep it short and sweet since your a busy woman. P.S. I am sooo excited
for Lysander's book! *excitedly claps hands together for Assassin’s Heart*
Monica Burns: I'm glad you're excited about Lysander. He's got to be my favorite heroes of all I've ever written.
Jaye: From
what I know of the Sicari historically, their work as assassins went
hand-in-hand with religion. You took the Sicari Assassins in a whole new
direction, which I loved!
Monica: The interesting thing about the Sicari is that it's a
Latin word that means assassin. The info on the web makes it sound like they
were a particular sect or group of people. They weren't really; they just did
work for anyone willing to pay them. :lol: I used that feature as a way to make
my heroes have a "race." They took on the name Sicari because the
Praetorian's (originally from the Praetorian Guard that protected the Caesars)
forced them into become assassins.
Jaye: I’d
love to know what inspired you to create this new brand of smoldering,
psychically-gifted Sicari.
Monica: I got the idea for the series when I was watching Ciaran
Hinds playing Caesar in ROME the HBO mini-series. While watching, the DH
hollered at me from downstairs. I looked for the remote to pause the DVD. It
was on my desk, which meant I had to get up. I'm lazy and thought if only I was
telekinetic. I looked at the screen and James Purefoy as Marc Antony and I had
the series.
Jaye: You’re
love scenes are absolutely steamy in the best way. So I have to ask, when
you’re writing love scenes, do you often listen to a particular type of music?
Do you write in the dark? I’d love to know what kind of ambiance helps give
birth to such sinfully beautiful sexy-time.
Monica: I don't have any particular modus operandi for when I
write sex scenes. Sometimes I listen to music. Other times, I write in silence.
The truth is I HATE writing sex/love scenes. They're exhausting to write. They
have so much emotion in them so that they don't go stale and read like a been
there, read that type of scene. Sometimes their easy. What I find easy to write
is the foreplay. That's the easiest, sexiest thing to me.
Jaye: Foreplay!
Yes, gotta love it! Thank you so much, Monica, for stopping by and giving this
fan some insight into a really, really great book. I’m already stoked about Assassin’s Heart and I can’t wait to get
my hands on it.
Jaye: Monica, you mentioned that Assassin’s Heart is your favorite
in the series. I’m already dying to get my hands on that one because Lysander
and Ares’ sister Phae stole my heart! What aspects of Assassin’s Heart make it
your favorite. Besides sexy tormented Lysander I mean…
Monica: The action and the past life story intertwined with the
present day story. I loved Cassiopeia and Maximus so much, and seeing them live
again in Lysander and Phae was wonderful. Below is my favorite scene in the
entire book in everything I've ever written. It's an action scene from ancient
Rome where Cassiopeia and Maximus 's story takes place. The battle really
happened, but the villian and heroes in the book are fictional. However, when I
wrote this, I was there. I think it's why I love it so...I feel like I'm really
with Maximus
October 28th, 312 A.D.
Tiber River, Italy
The screams of dying men filled his ears as Maximus wheeled
his horse about on its haunches and raced along the rear line of the
Praetorians he commanded. His men were being slaughtered, and with their backs
to the Tiber River, there were few options to choose from when it came to
saving them.
Damn Maxentius to Tartarus for destroying the Pontis
Milvian. He’d told the bastardo they’d need the bridge if something went wrong.
But the incompetent fool had been so confident of a victory he’d refused to
listen. The Emperor had ordered the stone bridge destroyed and next to the
remains, he’d built a flimsy wooden structure that was unlikely to hold up
under the weight of the men, let along the ration wagons.
As Maximus raced toward the nearest cohort, an image of Cass
filled his head. Jupiter’s Stone, she was going to be a widow despite his
promises to her. No. He wasn’t ready to give up that easily. He wasn’t going to
leave Cass or Demetri to the likes of that treacherous fuck, Octavian. He
tugged on the reins and the animal carrying him slid to a halt at the rear of
the first company in the cohort.
“Retreat,” he shouted as his Prefect turned toward him. A
split-second later, the man sank to his knees with an arrow jutting out of his
throat. The soft whistle accompanying the deadly shaft said there was more on
the way. Cak.
“Testudo. Now.”
The minute he roared the command, the men threw up their
shields and moved quickly into formation, their armor creating a tortoise-like
shell to protect them. The whistling sound grew louder, and Maximus growled
with anger at the arrows flying towards his men. Just before the projectiles
reached him, he threw up an invisible shield to block the arrows from touching
him or his horse. In front of him, several missiles found targets through
cracks in turtle-like formation, filling the air with more screams of pain, but
most of the men had survived.
“Where’s the Centurion?” The din of the ongoing battle was
so loud Maximus wasn’t sure any of the men had heard his shout. A soldier
pushed his way out of the small company to slam a fist against his chest before
flinging his arm outward in a salute.
“The Centurion is dead, Legatus.”
“Not any more he’s not. You’re promoted to the rank of
Centurion,” Maximus roared. “Now get these men down to the riverbank and get
across the Tiber the best way you can. Regroup at the Porta Flaminia.”
Maximus didn’t wait for the man to answer as he urged his
horse forward to the next small company. At each group of soldiers, he ordered
retreat. The air was thick with dust and smoke the closer he got to the bridge.
Constantine had closed the gap between his army and Maxentius’s Second Legion,
positioning catapults within striking distance of the front line.
Flaming missiles from the massive weapons sent men
scattering like roaches exposed to light as the deadly balls of fire fell from
the sky. With the line broken, it was impossible to hold off the advancing
army. The fighting had not yet reached the river, and Maximus saw two of his
Tribunes directing the retreat across the makeshift structure that barely
passed for a bridge.
Men staggered their way across the less than sturdy planks,
while horses, some with riders, swam against the strong current in their effort
to reach the opposite shore. Carefully, Maximus negotiated his way through the
carnage to where his Tribunes were shouting orders in first one direction and
then another. Quinton was the first to see him.
“Fuck, what are you still doing here! You said you were
going to cross more than an hour ago.”
“I was detained. How many have crossed?”Maximus snarled.
“Two cohorts.”
“Two,” he exclaimed as his gut twisted. Less than a thousand
men out of almost fifty.
“Maximus , you must cross the river now. The Praetorian
Guard won’t follow anyone but you. And you need to ensure the Tyet of Isis
doesn’t fall into Octavian’s traitorous hands.”
“Maxentius—”
“The Emperor is dead,” Quinton shouted, his horse rearing up
as a ball of fire hit the ground near the bridge. “The battle is lost. You must
go now. Crispian and I shall meet you at the Porta Flaminia as planned.”
He hesitated and looked over his shoulder at the chaos
behind him. The cohorts he’d ordered to fall back and cross the river were
doing just as he’d instructed. But in all the chaos that reigned, Maximus
doubted many of them would survive the crossing. With a sharp nod at the
Tribune, he steered his horse down the riverbank and into the water. The Tyet
of Isis was the last thing he was worried about at the moment. Praise the gods
he’d convinced Maxentius to let him hide the precious box. At least it was safe
for the moment.
Another fireball shot through the air to land directly on
the rickety bridge. The sickly smell of burning flesh and death clung to him
like sweat. Steeling himself to look back in Quinton’s direction, he saw his
young Tribune’s horse without its rider. He started to go back, when another
fireball landed directly on top of the animal.
Too late to help his friend. The only thing Maximus could do
was reach the south bank and retreat to the Porta Flaminia. From there he’d be
able to take stock of what was left of Maxentius’s army and what sort of terms
he could secure for the men. Shrieks of agony and terror filled the air as he
urged his stallion into deeper water. All around him, men struggled to swim
their way to the opposite shore amidst a growing number of bodies in the water.
Although tired, Maximus's large horse carried him safely to
the south bank of the river. Here the chaos was muted. Whether out of years of
habit or orders, the men who’d survived the crossing had fallen into rows of
four men across as they trudged their way along the Via Flaminia back to Rome.
The road that led to Cass and Demetri. They were his
sanctuary from all this death and destruction. Vesta help him if anything
happened to either of them. A shout off to his left made him turn his head, and
he saw Crispian riding toward him. The man saluted as he pulled his horse to a
halt then grasped his arm in greeting.
“Praise the gods you’re still alive. When I saw Quinton
fall, I was certain you had joined him in the Elysium Fields.”
“I am apparently harder to kill than most.” They were words
he’d repeated to Cass time and again, but this would be the last time he
intended to say them to her.
This was his last battle. He was through. It wasn’t just the
defeat they’d suffered here, it was the unnecessary carnage.
Alrighty
folks, that’s it. Go forth and grab Assassin’s
Honor by Monica Burns. You won’t be disappointed. And if you don’t have
time to read it just yet, buy it, display it on your bookshelf, and drool at
the handsome half-naked man on the front.
Until
Next Time,
Jaye
Shields
