A forbidden scent. A prophecy bleeding in moonlight. A city where monsters hunt monsters.

I am the Conclave’s deadliest enforcer, slipping between shadows and teeth. She is the alpha-witch who crashes my territory, blazing with secrets and wild magic. I know I should rip her apart, but fate poisons my veins the second I catch her scent.

Assassins crash the gala, and suddenly I am her shield and her sin.

We run through blood-soaked catacombs, chained by ancient hunger. Her spark coils beneath my skin, fusing magic and murder in every stolen breath. My control fractures every time I touch her—one bed, no mercy, and no escape.

Enemies sharpen their blades, the prophecy claws up our bones, and betrayal slithers from the one place I let my guard down.

The city’s power runs red and honey-sweet, but hell’s on our heels. I am the storm her magic summoned. She is the fire I can’t extinguish. When blood calls blood, either I become her ruin or her salvation.