He was hewn from cruelty and violence.He felt nothing, he was nothing.He was wild, untamed, a shadow, a hand of death, a law unto himself. He had never known love. He had never felt love.Except…For the amaranth flower. Perfect, undying, beautiful. The only soft thing in his hardened world. The only thing he had ever held in reverence, and the only thing to ever offer him solace.He had never faltered in his assignments as an assassin. His hand had never wavered. But that was before he’d been ordered to kidnap her. A woman of unique disposition, undaunted in the face of her adversity. A woman bearing the same name as the immortal flower he so cherished.She could be his greatest downfall…or his greatest treasure.