Extraits

CHAPTER 1

In the forest outside Hotemet Castle, I nursed a small, silver flask. In the amber morning light, Hazel and Elan walked by my side.

Just three fae out for a walk among the oaks. Two of us pretending to be demons.

I scanned the forest, my chest tightening as I thought of Johnny. I’d buried his scrawny angel ass in a shallow grave out here, but angels were immortal. I had no idea how long it would take him to recover. At any minute, he could come bounding out of the soil, hunting for me with murder on his mind.

I’d just be keeping that particular image to myself for now. No reason to spoil our evening stroll.

“I like it here.” Hazel chomped into the cheese and onion pasty she’d snagged from the kitchen, the crumbs flaking over her black clothes. “We get to go outside and talk to each other and stuff.”

Elan frowned. “And you couldn’t in the dragon lair?”

“Nope.” Hazel’s mop of black curls tumbled over her shoulders. Like me, she was glamoured as a succubus, which meant that wisps of shimmering magic lifted from her body in steamy tendrils.

Warm light washed over Elan’s pale skin and gaunt features. He grabbed the flask, taking a sip of Irish coffee—spiked with just the right amount of scotch.

Don’t judge. Things had been stressful lately.

Another spray of crumbs over Hazel’s clothes. “And the dragon food wasn’t this good,” she said through a mouthful of pie. “They ate a lot of sheep. Not flavored or anything. Just sheep they caught and then roasted in their fire-breath.”

I finished the last bite of my own pie. “I guess that would make sense.” I really didn’t want to talk about dragon shifters, or think about them, or know what I might find on their menu. “Since they’re giant, disgusting lizard people.”

In her leather outfit, Hazel looked so much older than the last time I’d seen her—older than a sixteen-year-old should look, and I was pretty sure she’d spiked her own flask of coffee with the scotch.

But considering she’d spent a year among the dragons, I supposed a few changes were to be expected.

Our feet crunched over leaves and twigs as we walked.

Smiling, Hazel nudged Elan with her elbow. “You know what you remind me of? A starving egret.”

“Hazel!” I snapped. The dragons certainly hadn’t taught her any manners.

Hazel widened her dark eyes. “What? It’s not an insult. It’s just because of the paleness, and the thinness, and the haunted look in his eyes. As if he’d spent years in captivity eating frogs.”