Page 12 of Shadowkissed

My head snaps toward him. “What do you mean?”

“Somethingoldruns in his blood. Guardian magic. Wards, maybe. Bones laced with oath-forged silver. I’ve only sensed that kind of power once or twice since the Veil cracked.It’s rare. Much like you.”

“Shit,” I breathe.

Now everything makes more sense—and less at the same time.

“Stay away from him, Liora,” Thorne says finally. “Not because you’re afraid. But because if you don’t, Seraphiel will tear the veil open again just to take you back and civilization isn’t going to handle it well. They barely did with the little glimpse they have gotten.”

“I won’t go back,” I whisper.

“You say that now. But the deeper the bond goes, the harder it’ll be to cut.”

He rises, vanishing into mist before I can argue.

And I’m left there, under the trees, staring at my glowing tattoos, my soul aching with something I don’t want to name. Because the truth is I don’t want to stay away. I want to find him.

A part of me feels like he may be the answer I didn’t know I was looking for.

6

DANTE

Ilook up that day at the sky and see the darkness looming over, leftover storm from the night before. And I can feel it. Another storm is on its way.

Not the kind that makes the sky black and floods the subways—though, hell, that wouldn’t surprise me either. This one seems to creep under your skin, makes the air taste metallic.

I can feel it in my bones. In the way the hairs on the back of my neck refuse to settle. In how my instincts—old, buried deep—keep whispering the same thing over and over.

She’s not done with you.

And neither is whatever’s watching, like that black mist last night.

I push open the rusted side door of the PEACE facility tucked between a bodega and an abandoned meatpacking plant in Brooklyn. There’s no signage, just a biometric lock, a runic ward, and a camera that tracks like it’s judging you.

I tap the access rune stitched into my wristband. The door clicks open.

Inside smells like someone tried to scrub the paranormal off the walls and gave up halfway. The fluorescents hum overhead. I hate this place.

“Still brooding like a noir detective or you gonna say hi, wolfman?”

I glance left.

Rosa’s behind the check-in desk, leaning back in a cracked pleather chair, eating a powdered donut like it’s a damn gourmet croissant. Her eyes are cat-sharp, blue as glacier ice, and her skin is that Greek-olive color women crave. Half-leopard, half-bitch. I like her.

Barely.

“Hi, Rosa,” I mutter. “Need access to R&D.”

“Of course you do.” She licks sugar off her thumb. “What’re we chasing today? Another rogue shifter with a grudge? A vampire cult in Bushwick? Please say it’s witches. I need some chaos in my life.”

“Not witches,” I grunt, stepping past the scanner. “Something worse.”

Her smirk drops just a little. “Worse than witches? Impressive. Should I notify containment?”

“No. Just point me to Tamsin.”

She whistles low. “Going straight for the top, huh?”

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