Page 3 of Shadowkissed

Instead, I tilt my head, flashing a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. “You want a dance that bad? Go book it like everyone else.”

“I’m not like everyone else.”

Yeah. No shit.

Before I can snap back, the air twists again.

Cold. Malicious. Familiar.

A whisper curls down my spine like a finger:Mine, little fae.

I flinch.

The guy’s head snaps around. His body moves on instinct, stepping between me and the darkness pooling at the alley’s mouth.

“What the hell is that?” he growls.

“Trouble,” I breathe, eyes wide before slipping back inside.

2

DANTE

The shadows vanish like breath on glass. One second they're snarling at the corners of the alley, thick with menace, and the next they're gone—sucked back into the void they slithered out of.

And I’m left alone in the dark.

No—not alone.

I turn, breath sharp in my lungs, ready to ask if she’s okay, what the hell that was, if she even knows how close she came to?—

But she’s gone too.

Figures.

I step forward, scanning the alley. No scent trail. No rustle of movement. Just the faintest shimmer of magic clinging to the brick wall where she leaned a second ago. A subtle pulse of something ancient and bitter-sweet, like a lullaby with a blade tucked inside.

Shit. She moved fast.

She’s supernatural, that’s for sure. But something I don’t think I’ve encountered before.

She looked like a mirage wrapped in a secret. The tattoos, the eyes, the way the air bent around her skin. And I walked right into it like an idiot with a hard-on and no sense of self-preservation.

I run a hand down my jaw, flexing my fingers to push the tension out of my knuckles. The beast inside me still claws at the bars of its cage, riled up, all teeth and heat. Not because of the threat. That I could handle.

Her?

That’s a different danger entirely.

What the fuck was that?

I’ve dealt with magical creatures before, not shifters, but others with abilities that is more than animalistic. But there was something different about her. Something, ethereal. Maybe I just haven’t had enough sleep, or maybe she’s something more than just a supernatural dancer. And the dark mist? It’s as if she were scared of it, knew what it was…

My mind goes back to thinking about the way her body moved inside of the club and my pulse skips again, and I curse under my breath. I’ve got a mission. A rogue wolf, a string of dead civvies, and a trail that led me straight to this club. I’m not here for some dancer with violet eyes and shadow-thin clothes and a spine like tempered steel.

But she’s in my head now. And worse, in my gut. Something about her… itpulls.

"Focus," I mutter, dragging in a breath.

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