His cold blue eyes settled on his prey. He has always been beautiful to me but watching him hunt was something else. The deer raises its neck from the grass as though sensing something. They say you can tell the moment right before you die.

“It's too far,” I whisper to him.

It's an impossible shot. He was one of the best shots I knew but it was far...even for him.

“Shh...” he responds.

He doesn't talk. He's never been the one for talking. His muscles flex. His arm used to be slimmer and toned but now it is more muscular than anything. He rubs the sweat out of his eye. He rests flat on the ground with his rifle in his hand. He clutches the stock like it's the shaft of his penis right before an orgasm. He's gentle but firm with it. He has a way of making love to his weapons. I fall in love with him over and over when I see him in his element.

He takes his time. He breathes.

“You're not going to make it,” I state... “You've been chasing this for hours. Let’s just kill one of those rabbits.”

He would be obsessed with a target once he had it in mind. This is the biggest deer I've seen in my life. It's strong. It's aggressive. We can't get too close without it hearing and this shot is way too far.

He ignores me. He looks in the scope again.

He adjusts the sight.

He takes a deep breath and then does the weirdest thing. He CLOSES his eyes. Then he fires.

“Holy shit,” I say getting up when I notice that the deer has gone down, “You got it.”

He just nods. He doesn't celebrate or even smile. That would probably be too much to ask for nowadays. He just nods silently and goes to collect his trophy. I follow him. He'll need help dragging the thing back to the cabin, even though he'd never ask me for help. It doesn't matter to me. I'll follow him. I'll follow him to hell and back, twice if need be. I'd do it willingly. I loved this man.


I'm sitting in the kitchen thinking how far we've gotten. Urge has gone to shower and I'm in the cabin blasting music from a few years ago. I don't even know what is current because my boyfriend doesn't want a television in the house. I don't care how loud I blast my music. There is no one around for miles. It's just like how he likes it. He isn't much of the talker and I get so bored sometimes I end up talking to myself. It doesn't matter though. I wouldn't trade in my silent killer for the world. I'm thinking about him. He's been Adrian Peters, John Williams, Samuel Johnson and so many other names. Those weren't his real names though. His real name was the name that was given to him when he became the weapon he is today.

His real name is Codename: Urge.

I'm blasting old music and trying to make the best out of a can beans and venison. Urge doesn't want us going to town too often. When we go to the local store we had enough weaponry to make you think we were going on a two-man mission to wipe out Isis in the middle of Raqqa. He was always prepared.

I hear something. A change in the breeze. A slight crack in the wood. My hand goes up in the next few seconds out of instinct.

I catch something.

It's a knife that was thrown at me. Urge's hunting knife.

“Really?” I ask.

“Good with knives as always Codename Desire,” he tells me, “If I was someone trying to kill you though catching the knife wouldn't be enough. You have instincts to catch it you should have the same instincts to throw it back.”

“I knew it was you,” I respond.

“That's not the point.”

I turn around and focus on the venison. I'm kind of annoyed. I understand his point. His point was that I should be prepared. It's been 3 years. 3 fucking years since we have been running from the shadows of our past lives. We are both still in our 20s but we're much more mature than anyone our age. The things we've experienced makes us feel so much older. I'm trying not to seem irritated with him. I know he just wants to keep us safe but that doesn't matter. I'm tired.

“The point is that I know it's you. It's always you. There is never anyone around...ever...” I respond shaking my head.

“You're upset?”

He walks up behind me. Urge is sexy to say the least. He doesn't have a shirt on. His body was as perfect as the first day that I met him. Not a single flaw. He had a long torso that made him look way taller than he probably was. He was taller than me but not that much. He has a strong V and a skinny waist. He has on some running pants and they show off his extremely sexy big butt. I swear he has an 8 pack which I used to tease him about because I never thought it was really possible. The thing that makes him so special though are his eyes. His skin is the color of coffee with the consistency of a milk chocolate. It's so smooth.

His blue eyes are what makes Urge special though.

“I'm fine,” I tell him

I don't know what comes over me but I just pick up the slab of venison and stab the fuck out of it. I hated that I was so good with a knife. That was my “specialty”.

“Turn around.”

“Urge not now.”

Urge ignores my request. He turns me around and starts to choke me. He chokes me until I start to struggle to breathe and as he does it he whispers, “Defend yourself.”

I kick him in his shin. His grip doesn't loosen. I grab the pot with the venison and throw it in his face. The hot temperature causes him to jump back finally. We both end up in Wu Shu stances. He goes into his Tiger stance that he always seems to prefer when he fights against me. It's a stance where he squats on one leg until the thigh is next to the ground and extends the other leg out to the side.

I choose another.

“Crane again?” he asks, “You need a more aggressive stance.”

The crane stance is more evasive, rarely offense oriented. It's subtle and graceful. It's normal we get into these stances. These are our personalities.

“Can't we just have dinner like a normal couple for once without breaking things?” I plead.

His answer comes in a powerful punch, “No.”

He starts to barrage me with his tiger claw striking with his arms over and over by spreading the thumb and fingers and bending them slightly downwards. He's aiming for my eyes, throat, and ribs. I keep him at a distance and use my long legs as way to push him back and evade his attacks as long as possible hoping that he'd get tired. I don't know why I think that. Urge never gets tired. I attempt to go on the offensive and overwhelm him with rapid hand strikes using circular motions to keep him off balance. It doesn't work. He grabs my leg throws me to the ground and stares at me like I'm a toy that he's getting bored of playing with.

Hand to hand combat is his specialty. Just like guns. He knows that. I know that. I never stood a real chance. I turn to my knives.

I have to get to my knives.

He notices me staring at them.

“You feeling lucky?” he asks me when he sees what my focus is on.

I attempt to jump across the island at that moment. I don't make it far. He catches me in midair and throws me back into a glass curio. The curio breaks but luckily I don't cut myself. I'm pissed. I really liked the goddam curio. I should have known it wouldn't have lasted around him.

“You fucked up now,” I tell him.

He looks on the ground and notices that I've picked up a shard of glass. It isn't a knife, but it's close enough. I am more comfortable with it. I see Urge look at me. His beautiful blue eyes focus a little more. He knows I'm much more dangerous with a knife.

I go on the offensive. I use six angle attacks starting with a forward thrust coming straight at Urge. None of them get to him but he's so defensive that he leaves me an opening! I take a deep breath and swing my arm with the shard of glass with a reverse diagonal strike coming at a 45-degree angle. Urge isn't prepared to block me.

He laughs realizing that I stopped just short.

“Do it,” he says, “I deserved it.”

“I'm not going to cut you Urge.”

“I'll heal. Cut me. You deserve the blood,” he responds.

Urge says things like that sometimes. It's clear that he still thinks like an Assassin. Even after three years of not working as one he still thinks like one. We were trained by a group of people who called themselves the Assembly. The Assembly kidnapped kids. Numerous kids. So many innocent lives were taken by these people. They trained them to be killers. Let's just say not everyone made it through training. Only the strongest survived. If I hadn't recognized my affinity with knives I would have been dead long ago.

I had a life before I was taken though. I was happy before I was taken. Urge wasn't so lucky. All he knew was the Assembly. His father, Tom, was the man who started the Assembly.

He was born into it.

“You've lost,” I tell him, “I'm not going to cut you.”

I don't see Urge's leg when he reaches it forward sweeps me off my feet and catches the shard of glass before it falls to the ground, “Never hesitate again, Desire.”

I'm pissed. I get up, “That's not fair.”

“Life isn't fair Desire,” Urge says.

He sucks at reading people. He sucks at seeing I don't enjoy sparring in the middle of my kitchen. I hate it in fact. I REALLY loved that fucking curio. Being that he was raised in the Assembly his social skills were lacking to say the least. In the past 3 years I've helped him. He's better than the stone faced killer that I met growing up. But there is only so much that I can do alone.

“Stop calling me Desire,” I respond.

“That's who you are to me. Codename or not. That's who we are. Besides I like it. It reminds me of something.”


Urge is standing there looking at me. He is so strong and powerful. He is so dangerous. He's incredibly sexy. He seems so unaware of it too. When he drops his pants in the next few seconds I know that it's out of love and him wanting to express that. He isn't trying to be sexy or anything, but he naturally is. I stare at his long, pulsating dick. A good sparring match always seems to get him horny for some reason.

“It reminds me that you are my only Desire...”

Urge scoops me up in his arms and places me on the kitchen island. As a cook, I hate having sex in the kitchen but honestly I can't wait. I want him so bad right now. His tongue enters my mouth and he kisses me for a long period of time. Every time his lips touch mine they are quaking with love. I could never doubt the love he has for me.

He kisses my neck after that tasting me as though I'm the best food in the world.

Then he lays me flat on my back and my legs up in the air. He leans down and starts to lick my asshole. His tongue rolls in a slow striking motion like he's fighting. Even when he's having sex he's training. It feels so good how strong and aggressive he is though. After licking me he puts his dick in. He does it slow.

He puts it all the way in and brings it all the way out and moans slowly, “Fuck...”

I know why he pulls out. He doesn't expect to feel the way he feels. Every time we have sex it's like the first time.

“Damn,” I tell him.

He does it again. He puts his dick inside me. This time he puts it all the way in and keeps it there. I watch him close his eyes. I watch as his muscles tighten. He bites on his lips feeling me. Watching him experience me like this is enough to almost make me want to cum. I let out a deep moan letting him know his girth is appreciated. He starts to stroke. He has an amazing stroke game, maybe because as an assassin he has to learn to control every inch of his body on command.

He caters to me during sex. He always does. He touches me. He kisses me. He doesn't forget me. He whispers things in my ear.

“I'll kill for you Desire.”

For an assassin that is the deepest sort of love. Urge fucks me, deeper, harder. We both moan on top of one another screaming, biting, fighting, loving, pulling, tasting, striking and making sure that we never separate.

By the time we are done we collapse into one another. I'm wet with his semen and he's breathing hard, finally showing that he's tired. He's not too tired to pick me up and take me to the bedroom. He cleans me off and we lay in bed we share together.

“I love you Urge,” I tell him.

“I'll love you forever,” he responds.


Urge has a nightmare that night. He wakes up in a cold sweat. The sweat is dripping down his muscles. He wakes up and reaches for the gun he keeps under his pillow. There's another one under the night stand. There is a katana above the frame of the bedroom, two shotguns under the bed and a closet full of other weapons he has just in case the enemy gets past all that.

That's the problem. After three years...I've forgotten exactly who the hell the enemy is.

“It's just a dream,” I tell him, grabbing onto his dripping wet body, “Come back to sleep baby.”

I worry about him. My blue eyed killer has these dreams often. He looks over at me. He licks his lips. He's still holding onto the gun.

“I saw him. I saw Tom. What if he's still alive?”

“Baby it was a dream. Tom is dead. We killed him. Remember? We escaped the Assembly years ago.”

“We are still in danger...” he responds.

I grab him and pull him back, “No we aren't.”

I look on my side of the bedroom and pull out a piece of paper. I hand it to him. He looks at the paper for a minute, gun still in hand and still sweating. Even in the darkness the frame hits him in a certain way making him look like some sort of beautiful perfect model.

“What's this?” he asks.

“I got an offer. This place in Pleasantville approved me for a house,” I explain to Urge, “We can rejoin society. We can stop hiding. We can stop running.”

My heart is beating so fast watching my boyfriend look at the acceptance letter. I'd never in my life been so nervous over a reaction. There are pictures of the house. I made sure to include them. It's a white house, just like I always wanted. It's beautiful.


“It's a safe community. Quiet. I talked to the lady.”

“You TALKED to someone?”

“Don't get mad,” I respond, “It was just a quick call. She told me about the community. It sounds so perfect. There are good jobs there too. I can cook. You can start your own business. Maybe we can...even get married...”

I wanted a real life. I wanted to see people again. I wanted to be a part of society again. Urge looks at the piece of paper and then he does the unthinkable right in front of me. He rips it all up. It's just a paper. I realize that but at the same time it hurts. It feels like he is ripping up some dream that I have at this moment.

“You aren't a regular person,” he tells me, “You're an assassin. You want me to trade in guns for what? A suit and tie?”

“You could open a fucking gun shop! I don't fucking know Urge,” I respond, “Anything...”

“And you will cook. And what we'll have a son. No. How about two sons?”

I'm not sure if he's being sarcastic or not. The idea of having kids with Urge is something that is making me smile inside. For years I thought about it. Were we going to adopt? Were we going to get a surrogate? What were their names going to be?

The idea of it all just makes me smile inside. This is what I always wanted. This was who I was.

“I want kids.”

“My father had two sons too. He trained us to be to be killers. That wasn't enough for him. He decided to train more killers. He decided to get more kids. What the fuck could I possibly teach my son? I've never thrown a baseball in my life. I've thrown grenades though. Maybe I can teach our kid how to throw a fucking grenade.”

“Stop being a smart ass. You promised me.”

“We aren't safe. They'll come looking for us,” he responds, “We aren't the only assassins Tom trained, remember? They'll find us if we aren't careful.”

“No they won't,” I argue, “You set them free. You saved them.”

“Not everyone liked the fact that I killed Tom. A lot of those kids he trained were loyal to him.”

Urge was set in stone with this. I'm realizing looking at him that there is no getting through to him. I look on the floor where he left my dream torn into so many pieces. He left my dream in ripped up pieces of paper on the fucking ground. I loved Urge to death. I loved him more than life. And for three years I put him above myself.

For three years I had made sure that I was patient with him. I knew that it would be a transitional period. We wouldn't just hop right into being regular people. A transition wouldn't have been a problem. The problem is there was no such transition happening. Urge was the same person that he was when I met him. He was the same person I'd fallen in love with. He was the silent killer. The problem is turning the silent blue eyed killer into a house husband. He was still the Black Prince Assassin.

And I am breaking down. I'm crying.

I'm crying at the ripped up pieces of paper and I don't know why I'm on the floor struggling to piece them together.

“You promised me this,” I told him pointing at the piece of paper, “You promised me this dream...”

I'm not crying because I want Urge to show emotion as well. I know that he won't show emotion. He doesn't understand things like tears. They don't really make sense to him. He looks at me as though slightly confused at my reaction. He doesn't get it. To him this is the smart and calculating thing to do. The safe thing to do is run and hide.

“I promised to keep you safe too,” he responds, “And that's what I'm going to focus on right now Desire.”

“That's not my name. My name is Jonathan Grey.”

I'd almost forgotten the name. It was the name that I was born with before Urge's father kidnapped me and took me to the Assembly. It was the name that I knew before I'd become Desire: The Blade Assassin. I walk out of the room. I go sleep in the living room away from Urge. Urge doesn't come to check on me for the rest of the night. He leaves me be. At least that is one good thing about him being out of touch with his emotions. He's able to know when it's time to just give someone space.

Jonathan Grey.

I go to sleep muttering it over and over. That's who I wanted to be. I wanted to be Jonathan Grey. Jonathan Grey. Jonathan Grey.


“Wake up Desire. We're going hunting,” Urge says.

It's early in the morning. He normally doesn't wake me up this early. I don't think he went back to sleep after our argument last night. Urge doesn't show that emotion but he wears it. I don't understand it a lot of the time. I know I was the reason he is up this early. I know him well enough to know that he was up all last night trying to figure out a way to make things right with me. He isn't going to address my emotion though. Urge doesn't understand that part. He is going to use his brain and try to solve the issue that we had yesterday.

Maybe that's why I agree to go hunting with him.

We are silent for a few hours. Urge can hunt anything but he likes to be patient. He always wants the best. Sometimes we walk for hours until he finds something worth killing. It seems harder and harder for him to find something worth killing these days.

Soon he settles for a rabbit. He silently cuts at it, stabbing it over and over when he catches it. I can tell he's putting out his frustration on the thing.

“It's dead baby,” I tell him.

He doesn't reply. The instinct of a killer is so strong in him that I don't even think he realizes what he just did. Urge stares down at the rabbit. He looks up at me. Damn the guy is so beautiful. It is so hard to be mad at him.

“I'm sorry I made you upset,” he finally says, “I love you. Desire.”

Normally that would be enough. This wasn't the first argument that we've had. He'd look at me with those beautiful blue eyes and renew his love to me. And I loved him back. I loved him more than anything in the fucking world. I'd just look at him and fall in love all over again. I'd just imagine our kids having those beautiful blue eyes. I'd imagine how I'd never be able to say no to them because they had their daddy's eyes.

And those eyes. Man, those eyes. They were the window to my soul. My baby's got the brightest eyes I've ever seen. I can't refuse those eyes. It feels like he stole the sky and saved it in those eyes, just to give to me for the rest of my life. And I want to lose myself in those eyes again. But this time it's a little different.

“Do you understand why I'm upset Urge? I understand you don't like it but does it make sense why I cried yesterday?” I ask him.

He sighs. I can tell he struggles with the emotion.

“You think we're safe enough to live with people.”

That is his thinking. That is probably why he looked so confused last night. I look at him and cross my arms. Sometimes it seems like Urge is the smartest man in the world and other times he seems like a little child needing to understand the simplest thing. He tries so hard but sometimes he just doesn't get it.

“That's not why I cried Urge. I cried because I want something more and I don't give a fuck if I'm safe or not, because I want to feel alive.”

He pauses.

He looks confused again. He squints as he looks up at me, “I feel alive when I'm with you. It's the only time I've ever felt alive. I don't...I don't get it. Don't I make you feel alive?”

I get him. He's a simple man. He doesn't need a lot to find happiness. As long as I'm safe Urge is happy. As long as I'm OK Urge is happy.

“It's not enough,” I explain to him, “I know it's not smart. Sometimes people do things that aren't smart to make them happy. You know? And I love you more than life. Maybe that is the problem. Maybe I look at you and think about everything that you and I could have together and it's why I get so depressed.”

“You are depressed?” he asked me, “I didn't know that...”

“Now you know.”

Urge looks down. He's thinking. He's focusing. He's staring at the corpse of this rabbit as though looking for answers.

“We'll go into town. I'll kidnap a doctor. It shouldn't be so hard. One of those therapists. You know? The kind you used to tell me about back in the day. That'll work right? That will fix you. Once we have him tied up, he can help you with your depression. Maybe even get some drugs. We'll have to kill him afterwards though...”

The sad thing is I know that Urge is completely serious. Maybe if he had more time to think he would have come up with a better idea but I can see him tinkering in his own head trying to find a way to make me happy. I know that's what he wants. I know he wants to make me happy but primarily he wants to keep me safe. So right now Urge is stuck somewhere in the middle where he doesn't understand that he'll have to give up keeping me safe in order to make me happy.

“Urge...” I start off.

I am about to explain to him that kidnapping and killing a therapist would probably not be the best idea. I can't use morals to really explain it to Urge. We've both killed before. Urge has killed more people than he could probably count. Life doesn't mean much to him. It was going to be hard to think of a logical reason to say this wasn't a good idea.

“Shh...” he says.


“Someone's close,” Urge says.

I listen. He's right. Someone is in the woods with us. We know the sound patterns of animals. After being in the woods so long we've gotten used to all of them. This sound pattern was different. Urge takes off before I do. Today he has his bow and arrow in his hand. It's a compound bow with octane quivers, wrist sling, alloy peeps, a stabilizer and a string loop. It probably would be just as effective on humans as it would be on game.

Urge is fast. He's faster than me but I am able to keep up. I've forgotten the sense of true urgency. Running through the woods we are more like ancient ninja then hunters. We are black shadows when we descend on a group of men in the woods they don't even expect it.

“Who sent you?” Urge asks.

“HOLY SHIT!” one of the men say.

There of three of them. They have on backpacks. They don't see Urge until it's too late. Urge has his bow pointing at the biggest one. He has specifically maneuvered himself close to the others in strategic striking position. I stand behind them peering at them making sure to take them out if they make any quick moves. I have a hunting knife in my hand but trust me...that is all I need.

“Didn't see you guys coming,” another one of the men says letting out a nervous laughter.

“That was the point,” Urge states, “Who sent you?”

“Who sent us? What? We are just camping...”

I look at their backpacks. They have things with them that seem like they would just be camping in the woods. Urge isn't lowering his weapon though. I can count on two hands how many people we've seen in the last three years and mostly that was on our terms.

“Take your wallets out, drop them on the ground and take two steps back,” Urge instructs them.

“Excuse me?” the guy asks, “Who are you? These are public woods. We aren't trespassing or anything. What the fuck.”

“Hey man,” I interrupt, “I know you probably don't want to seem afraid in front of your friends. I understand you may not want to be disrespected. But I'm warning you...it won't matter in the end. I would listen to what he says. For your own good.”

I'm trying to save him. I'm trying to help him.

The men look at me. They look back at Urge. Urge wasn't really a bow and arrow guy. He'd gotten much better however. Regardless he wouldn't miss from this distance. He just wouldn't.

They drop their wallets. Urge signals over to me. I walk over to get their wallets. I read their names. I see the photos of their Ids.

“They seem legit,” I tell Urge.

“They can be forged,” Urge tells me.

“Or they can be legit...” I argue.

Urge doesn't take his eyes off of the men. The brave man who was disagreeing seems to want to disagree a little bit more for whatever reason. Maybe my warning didn't ring true.

“Listen you seem like the reasonable one. We are just here camping. We don't want any trouble. Can you just let us leave and we'll go somewhere else? There is no shortage of places to camp...”

“Don't speak to him again,” Urge tells the man.

“I'll speak to whoever I want,” the man says.

That's when he does something so stupid. If only he knew not how protective Urge was of me he wouldn't have taken a step towards me. It was a small step but it was a step too much. Urge shoots the arrow right into his forehead. That step just so happened to be the last step.

Before his friends can react Urge jumps into between them. He takes out an arrow stabs it in the throat and eye of one of the boys and snaps the neck of the other man as he lunges forward maybe in some haphazard attempt to run. All three men die within a matter of two seconds.

Their bodies lay in a circle below us.

I'm speechless. For the first time ever I'm the silent one.

Urge looks over at me, “I know what you are about to say. I had no choice, Desire. They were around the right age of assassins from the Assembly. These are some of the most remote woods out here. The chances of them finding us were low. The probability wasn't right. They had to die.”

He is searching them.

“They had no weapons did they?”

I know the answer to my own questions a few seconds later. Urge doesn't find any weapons on them. He finds bear mace and he throws it over in the grass.

“It doesn't matter. Remember Codename Love? He went undercover often. They could have been trying to infiltrate us until it was right to attack.”

“Or they could have been camping...” I reply shaking my head.

There is a silence. Urge had killed before. He'd killed innocent people before. I'd moved on from it because I felt like I was the same as him. We were the same kind of person. We were killers. Seeing how quickly Urge killed these men felt different though. It wasn’t sadness or disgust. It wasn't shame or embarrassment or regret even. For the first time I felt disappointed in Urge.

He must feel me staring at the back of his neck. He must feel the disappointment I have in him. He feels uncomfortable at that moment.

“Go back to the cabin. Start packing your things. We are going to have to find a new remote place to live. We can't risk the fact that we've been found.”

God forbid I fucked with Urge's plan to keep me safe. I stare at the back of his head and I'm shaking my head. But regardless of how much I shake my head I say, “Ok.”

I turn back around.

“Wait...” he stops me.


“ I had to. You asked me earlier if I understood why you cried. I tried to understand. I really did. I want you to try to understand me too. I want you to try to understand why I did what I did just now. I love you and I couldn't take the risk. You understand, don't you?”

“Yes I understand.”

“I love you Desire.”

I loved him too. That was the problem. The other problem is that I didn't want to be Codename Desire anymore. I was depressed. Codename Desire wanted to die but Jonathan Grey wanted to live again.

I go back to the cabin while Urge is getting rid of the bodies.

I pack my things like Urge asked me to.

And I leave...alone.

To read the next chapter in advance go to www.crushedcrown.com