As the week progressed, I became more excited about going out with Adley.The City of Iliria was nagging at the back of my mind, conjuring all sorts of magic-laden images. Winged beasts that Zack would never stop chattering about, withered crone’s selling old curses—the stories Adley told me were endless. Even Ally seemed excited to go to Obsidian, who rarely showed an emotion other than melancholy.An entire city where magic existed within the walls and streets, and even in the very people who lived there.I had visited Adley every day this week, venturing through my closet doors after training had left me weak and sporting a throbbing headache.The morning after my first day of training, I awoke to a crisp note placed on my pillow. I tried not to think too hard about how the Game Master had placed it here, as I read the steady script with foggy eyes.Darling, Rachel.I regret to inform you that I’ll be preoccupied this we

“Well don’t go looking around for him!” Adley hissed, nudging me so that I returned my eyes to her face. “You won’t find him that way. He was born in the shadows, Rachel. If you want to find him, you’re going to have to lure him out.”It was hard to focus on her words when the pale eyeshadow she wore changed colors as the flashing lights hit the tops of her high cheekbones. It made the various blues in her eyes dance and churn like an actual ocean. The thought brought a lopsided grin to my face.Her eyes narrowed at the Citrine in my hands, which I gingerly lifted to my lips as though it contained all of life’s hidden mysteries.“Where did you get that? I didn’t order us thirds.” She frowned, swatting my hand away as I tried to smooth the scowl from her face.The muscular figure of one of the bartenders flashed in my peripherals, dark hair with a crimson streak. His boyish grin seemed white

My mouth was dry and my skin unbearably hot. I wasn’t sure if it were the erotic scene unfolding in front of me, or the Game Master’s raspy words, but I was surprisingly grateful that he restrained me. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to resist the pull…which made me wonder if he felt it as well.Instead of trying to pull away, I fell backwards, stumbling into the front of him.I could tell I had surprised him with the way his hand released my wrists, falling to my hips to steady me.I spun on my heel, the friction between my legs sending a jolt of pleasure up my spine. The unmistakable hardness I had felt against my backside, no matter how brief, was proof that he was affected too.I had turned the Game Master on.Now I understood the look in his eyes, the way his pupils grew, and the bold shade of navy darkened.“When I touch you, it’s going to be in my own body. I won’t allow another male’s

A symphony of deafening drums pounded away in my head, accompanied by the occasional clash of cymbals and screech of an out of tune violin. My headache had taken on a life of its own, undoubtedly transformed by the magic I had gorged myself on last night.Only two times in my life have I ever had alcohol, and neither held the addicting rush of magic. Years ago, Aidan and I had ventured into his dad’s basement fridge, snagging a case of beer in the hopes of getting drunk. Neither of considered the fact that we had already shifted a year prior, and that a dozen foul tasting drinks weren’t going to affect us. I knew from television and books that hangovers were awful, but a magically induced hangover--it was even worse.The only consolation to the throbbing in my head and ears, was the delicious scent that surrounded me. It was embedded in the blankets and sheets that were wrapped around my torso, and even in my hair. It was dark and rich, but also carried hea

I wanted Apollo’s kind words to change how I felt about Dain. Really, I did. It was clear he cared about him, and there had been times where I thought the two acted like brothers. Only after swallowing bile and fermented guilt, was I able to see that they had an odd sort of friendship. It wasn’t his fault his king was so unbelievably annoying. Dain believed the way to my heart was to pester the living hell out of me. He seemed determined to push my boundaries, elated regardless of how I fought back. When he passed through the solid stone wall just an hour after Apollo managed to hang that gaudy painting, I let out another shriek. It was like he turned to mist and smoke, pouring through the wall as he reformed instantly. Even the painting of Apollo, which had moved several times within the confines of its frame, jolted at my outburst. My own scream pierced my ears, renewing the headache that had nearly faded into obscurity. Never in my