“If Monsters are real, Meggy,”he said, the night he handed me my first pistol,“then you gotta be tough enough to go for their throats.”
So I learned.
I trained.
And now, I hunt the things the rest of the world pretends don’t exist.
The creatures who hide in shadows and small towns with names like Arrhythmia.
Sure, I learned that not all Supes are bad guys.
But I like to reserve that judgement for after I meet them, preferable before they attack me—which for some reason they all do.
Only something tells methis placemight not be like the others.
I don’t know if it’s the way the wind whispers secrets or the fact that I’ve already passed two broom-riding Witches and a literal skeleton walking a poodle on Main Street.
But I can feel it in my bones.
This town doesn’t need me to protect it from Monsters.
Because it’s all Monsters.
And somehow, I think that might be the point.
Which means my assignment just got a whole lot more complicated.
Chapter3
Owen
Right now I’m staring at the letter Agent DiNapoli just handed me from the Division of Paranormal Creatures & Activity, and I swear I can’t tell if it’s in English, Demonspeak, Emoticons, or just plain scribbles.
I don’t know if it’s her apple cinnamon scent that’s driving me crazy—sweet, warm, and real—or just the proximity.
How many square feet is this office anyway?
“Well?”she asks, snapping my focus back to reality.
“Well, uh, what do you want me to do with this?”I ask, my tone flat as a busted tire, while simultaneously trying not to drool on the female.
“Well, maybe start by using it as a bib, Fido.”
She hands me a tissue.
Fuck’s sake.
I am drooling.
I scrub a hand down my face and over my beard like that’ll erase the fact my inner Wolf just had a full-body meltdown the moment she walked in.
Short, curvy, bossy as hell—she smells like sun-warmed apples and burnt cinnamon, and every word out of her mouth is a trap I’m five seconds from falling into.
“Listen up, Agent,” I growl, trying like hell to find my footing in this shitstorm of sass and pheromones.“I don’t have time for all that attitude.”
“Sass?”she shoots back, one perfect brow arching like I just insulted her favorite uncle and her skincare routine in one breath.
Her tone is all mock surprise, but there’s a glint in her eye I don’t like—correction, I do like.Way too much.
