Page 8

Roman’s face twisted with a scowl. “You’re a Selkie.” He flung the mask over his shoulder. With a baring of teeth, he growled, “What are you doing working a Gray Zone?”

“None of your business.”

He tightened his shadows around her wrists and ankles, splaying her limbs like a starfish. “No one talks to me like that.” She was a doll on strings, and no doll was going to mouth him off like this.

“Looks like I just did.”

“What do you want?”

“I wanted that Hound.” Those brilliant green eyes flicked to the beheaded monster. The color was so bright and clear, her face so unthreatening, it was hard to picture this girl wearing the black of the Sight. A part of him wanted to see it—this pretty face with black eyes instead of green.

“Why not hunt your own?” Yveswich had more than enough Hounds to go around. Why was she insisting on pestering him?

She winced, her fingers spreading as the whips of his shadows flexed, digging into her pale flesh like wires. By the time she answered him, Roman had already figured it out. “I’m not strong enough,” she muttered.

He smirked. Not strong enough, nor big enough to handle a Hound. What was she, five feet fuck-all? Pathetic little thing. Soft, too, by the looks of her, not nearly enough muscle on her frame to justify her occupation as a Darkslayer. Which meant—

There was only one slayer in the city who couldn’t take down a Hound on her own.

“You’re Shay.”

She tensed, her stony expression lit up by a flash of lightning. A mist of rain started to fall, dampening Roman’s dark hair.

“The ‘miserable little wallflower’, they call you. The ‘baby seal of the Riptide’.” Those were the nicer of the nicknames she’d earned. As the newest member of the Riptide, Shay Cousens had very few friends—aside from her sister, but siblings didn’t count, not in the way that mattered. If anything, they were seen as a crutch—an undeserved boost to the top. As the eldest of three brothers, Roman knew that better than anyone.

Shay Cousens was an outcast.

Kind of like him, if he cared to admit it.

“I’ve heard a lot about you too, Roman Devlin.”

Fuck, the way she said his name made him feel…weird. Like his skin was suddenly too tight.

Her ginger lashes dipped as her eyes skirted down his body. The longer she looked at him, the quicker her heart moved. “Some say you’re a sadist,” she went on. “Others claim it’s a front—that you’re not as unstable as you pretend to be.”

“What do you believe?”

“I believe it’s a bit of both.” When her attention returned to his face, she angled her head like a bird, not seeming to care that his shadows were still forming a noose around her throat. “How do you plan on killing me, Shadows?”

Roman’s jaw flexed as he watched a raindrop roll down her cheek.

Something about the way she’d voiced her question sounded more like an invitation than the kind of fearful inquiry a victim might ask her perpetrator. Was he in charge here, or was she?

He’d never had to ask himself that question before.

Roman gave her a cold smile. “I’m not going to kill you.” No—for her, he had something much worse in mind than an easy kill. The shadows pinning her to the wall unraveled. “I’m going to send you back to the Riptide empty-handed.” Back to the tyrant known as Athene Cousens empty-handed.

For a moment, Roman kept the shadows that were around her throat in place, listening to her heart stutter. Watched her choke, gag—just for a second. He was into that—breath-play. The kinkier the better. And maybe he was just plain fucking horny tonight, but he swore this bunny liked it too.

Roman reined in the last of his power, the tendrils of darkness melting into the alley.

The Selkie dropped and stumbled forward. She planted her palm on the wet ground to push herself back up, keeping her bright eyes on him all the while. Her breathing was shallow and rapid. Almost too rapid.

Was she faking it—her fear? It would be a first.

No, there was a definite skip in her pulse—hard to fake. That, and her aura had taken on a malleable feel that frequently accompanied submission. And auras never lied. Not without the aid of an illicit drug, anyway, and his intuition told him she wasn’t on any.

“If I catch you anywhere near a Gray Zone again, seal pup, I will skin you alive. Understand?”