I'm at a bar trying to poison a mark like the professional I am when I see him.
Straight from Tartarus, they say the shadow dragon called Legion has slayed entire armies single-handedly, and the intense way he looks at me suggests every rumor I've heard about him is true.
I should be terrified. Instead, I'm drawn like a moth to a flame.
The moment he touches me, everything changes.
Suddenly, my skin is the poison. One touch is enough to kill a man, which is exactly what I do before I realize what Legion has done to me.
I vow to make him pay.
The pull I feel toward him is a beacon-or a leash-but he's not the easy mark I expected.
To my utter horror, I go from hunter to captive.
If I want to earn my freedom, I'll have to give him the one thing he demands: me.