PROLOGUE
RUNE
The sizzle and spark of magic dances along my skin, making my tattoos glow in a way that only other magic users can see. It’s the mage equivalent of waving a big dick around. The intricate designs that shine like blue embers, snaking up and down my arms and wrapping around my fingers are proof that the ambient magic in the air is drawn directly to me. There are definitely other magic users here tonight, and there’s no doubt that they’re noticing.
I tug a little harder on the energy and power shimmering all around me and conjure a slight breeze to ruffle the long locks of my hair. A little well-placed drama and flair never hurt anyone.
Some nights I prefer a human bar, where I can lie low without any demons or fae sizing me up, licking their chops as they imagine all the ways they can use my magic or my ass. But other nights it’s the lascivious, objectifying energy that I crave. And tonight is one of those.
It’s been months since I last came by Full Moon. Not since I was being chased and harassed by that merry band of moronsowned by some demon with big horns and an even bigger ego. So, if I do a quick glance around as I make my way up to the bar, it’s only because I’m making sure they’ve held up their end of the bargain to leave me alone. It would be unbearably obnoxious to find that big, bald, overly muscled gargoyle leering at me from some dark corner of the bar.
I don’t even remember his name.
Atlas.
… or something. Who knows.
And the only reason he’s crossed my mind at all since that mess with the dragon and the cursed amulet was resolved is because there’s a very small part of me that’s curious about whether what they say about gargoyle…ahem… anatomy is true.
But no gargoyles here tonight. At least not from what I can tell. Definitely no Atlas, if that’s even his name.
What Idosee is a wolf shifter who’s practically drooling over me at the end of the bar. It might be fun with the full moon only a few days away. I’ve only been here five minutes though, and I’m nowhere near ready to commit to my entertainment for the night. So, I return the wolf’s gaze with a noncommittal smile to let him know it’s a maybe, then snag an empty barstool.
The bartender is a tiny woman with pink hair styled in a pixie cut and a row of piercings along her bottom lip. Without the supernatural sense of smell that shifters and the other morebeastlycreatures enjoy, I can only guess what she is. A witch, maybe? An actual pixie? Could be a demon with a hell of a glamour, but even when I squint, I can’t see the telltale shimmer. It doesn’t really matter; I’m just being nosy anyway.
She tilts her head and arches an eyebrow in a wordless prompt for me to go ahead and order.
“Something strong.”
“Coming right up,” she purrs with an accent I can’t place.
While I wait, I scan the bar again, looking for someone to fuck or anyone in possession of a magical object that’s too dangerous to be in circulation. An orgasm or a righteous robbery, I’m not picky, but neither’s catching my eye at the moment.
The bartender returns, setting a shot glass in front of me full of a glowing purple liquid with a distinct smell of magic, even to my unimpressive nose. It fizzes when I pick it up.
“Salut,” I murmur, holding it up in her direction before downing it in a single gulp.
It burns on its way down my throat and goes straight to my head. The room starts to spin before I can even set the glass back down, and I wobble in my seat.
She giggles. “You did say you wanted strong.”
I wheeze a laugh, the burn still lingering in my throat and on my tongue. “I did.”
“Another?” She arches that pencil-thin eyebrow again.
I hesitate for just a second. But fuck it, what’s the harm in getting wasted every once in a while? I have a place right around the block, and maybe another drink will lower my standards enough that someone in here will be appealing tonight. The wolf is still an option, but they do tend to be rather slobbery, and this close to the full moon, a knot is almost guaranteed. I wince at the memory of how long it took my ass to heal the last time I went down that road.
Another disadvantage to being a human mage. Sure, I can make a healing salve, but nothing beats the freaky healing powers some other supes have. The bartender sets another shot in front of me, and I down it just as fast, sputtering a cough this time, and gripping the bar top with my free hand to keep myself from falling off my stool.
“What do I owe you?” I rasp, reaching for my wallet.
She smiles again and waves dismissively. “On the house.”
I frown. Is she hitting on me? I typically prefer men, but I’m not opposed to a woman every now and again… assuming she even is a woman. You can’t always be sure about these things, of course. If she is trying to get in my pants, she’s playing coy, flitting away right after she tells me there’s no charge.
Weird. I’m not going to complain about free drinks though.
Now that my brain feels nice and fuzzy and my body is relaxed enough that the caress of magic is starting to feel…sensual, I swivel in my seat toreallyconsider my options.
