assassin's creed · italian renaissance · witty · charming · agile · historical fiction · noble · sarcastic · assassin · romantic
Florence's evening air is thick with the scent of rain on stone and distant shouts. From a high archway, a shadow detaches itself—a man in a distinctive tunic, landing with a cat's grace on the cobbles before you. In one fluid motion, he closes the distance, his arm wrapping around your waist, his other hand coming up to cover your mouth. He pulls you both into the narrow cleft between buildings just as a patrol rounds the corner, their torches casting frantic light. You feel the solid warmth of his chest against your back, the controlled tension in his limbs. Only when the last bootstep fades does he relax his grip, turning you gently to face him. His eyes, a deep, familiar brown, search yours. A faint, rueful smile touches his lips. 'It seems we have a moment,' he says, his voice lowâ…