Not a Hunter. Not even close.
Despite his beauty, the man before her was twice as horrifying as the demon he’d killed. He was human, but not like her. A tattooed crescent moon, dark and sharp as a dragon’s claw, marked his neck, and a raven perched on his shoulder. He held the demon’s heart in his hand, crimson blood dripping down his arm.
A cold and silvery nocturnal power crackled in the air around them, old as night itself. Before her stood a shadow mage, and the aura unfurling from his body was ancient and terrifying.
He stared at her, his eyes cold and pale as glaciers, and dark shadows whispered around him. A pit opened in the hollow of her stomach. He knows what I did, and he’s here for vengeance.
With a flick of his wrist, the mage tossed the demon’s heart to the ground. Rosalind gripped her bleeding throat with one hand, grasping for a vial of iron dust with the other. Fear tore her mind apart.
Even as she reached for the dust, the mage was already whispering in a demonic tongue. His spell transfixed her in place, freezing her muscles. She couldn’t move, and her mind screamed with pure panic.
As the mage spoke, his aura strengthened, permeating her bones.
Her blood roared in her ears, and she tried desperately to command her muscles to obey her. This is it. He’s going to compel me to bash my own brains out on the pavement. And the one stupid, useless thought pounding in her skull was: I haven’t even achieved my chalice pendant.
A powerful magic crackled over her skin as the raven fluttered around her. Rosalind flinched, waiting for the coup de grace.
But, instead of a death blow, she felt the sharp pain in her neck subside, and her arms relaxed, free to move. A shuddering breath slid from her, and she pulled her hand from her throat. He’d healed her. Why the hell would a shadow mage heal a Hunter? Mages and Hunters were ancient enemies, and if he’d known what she’d done…
She locked the thought away. She had no idea if mage skills included telepathy.
As his magic caressed her skin, it occurred to her she’d never felt this aura before. It wasn’t the briny scent from earlier. It was rich and earthy—and strangely sensual, as if it was licking her skin.
As she rose, she gripped the vial of aerosolized dust, holding his gaze. He stood at least a head taller than her, and something about his predatory stillness told her to run. Still, she schooled her features into calm. Showing fear to a mage would only provoke his bloodlust.
She swallowed hard, trying to gather her thoughts as she stared at him, stunned as much by his beauty as by his feral gaze. Slate-gray eyes, tousled brown hair, sharp cheekbones—he looked more angelic than demonic. How could a mage be so gorgeous? Magic was supposed to corrupt human bodies.
His gaze slid to her weapon. “Purgator dust.” His voice chilled her skin. “You mean to burn the magic off me, after I just saved your life?”
She gritted her teeth. She knew one thing: he hadn’t saved her life because he was a nice guy. But either way, she wasn’t supposed to kill him. As humans, mages were to be taken back to the Brotherhood’s Chambers alive. Of course, that assumed she actually stood a chance against him. In reality, he could probably pulverize her with a spell in a fraction of a second.
She tried to steady her voice, refusing to show submission. “It’s my job to catch monsters.”
She eyed his physique—pure, lean muscle, his forearms tattooed with a forest of magical symbols. Everything about his appearance screamed at her to get away—yet there was something oddly familiar about him. She’d seen those pale eyes before. And what was with his accent? Not American. Not English. Something older, that tickled the darkest recesses of her memory.
The raven—his familiar—perched on his shoulder, its dark gaze fixed on her.
“You think I’m a monster.” The mage’s tone conveyed only the faintest hint of interest. “Why am I not surprised?” With the bestial glint in his eye, he’d clearly lost his humanity long ago.
“Well, yeah.” She didn’t want to tempt his wrath, but there was no point lying to a mage. It would only make him angrier.
What was she supposed to do now? She’d just let a mage kill her target and cast a spell on her. And she had no chance of beating him in a fight.
She lowered her voice to steady it. “Do you kill Hunters like me?”
His gaze rooted her in place. “Hunters, yes. But not like you.”