Eve paled slightly, her eyes dark. She drew an unsteady breath. “Thanks, that’s helpful.”
“That’s it? This scary demon head screams your name, and that’s it?”
She shrugged. “You need to get control of your magic, though. Your signature is off the charts.”
I glared at her. “You’re changing the subject.”
“Well, we need to talk about it. But we don’t need to talk about my deal. Not now.”
“Fine.” I knew when to stop poking.
“Eve’s right.” Mac waved a hand in front of her face. “It’s like I’m lying in a freaking lavender field.”
I winced. “I know.”
All supernaturals had magical signatures—as many as five, each corresponding with one of the five senses. Powerful supernaturals had all of them, and, apparently, I was one of those. According to my friends, my magic smelled like lavender and tasted like oranges. Sounded like roaring wind and looked like a silver glow.
“Seriously, mate.” Mac said. “Everyone in Guild City has to keep their signatures on lockdown or the Council of Guilds gets a bee in their bonnet.”
“You do not want their bonnets disturbed.” Eve met my gaze. “And your magic is…”
“Weird?” I asked.
“I was going to say different,” Eve said. “There’s something about it. And considering how serious the Council is about keeping us secret from the humans, they’re not going to like the fact that you’re just letting it all hang out there.”
Damn it, this was bad. “Do you have more suppressor potion?”
“I do, and it’s all yours, but I don’t think it’s going to work.” Eve frowned apologetically. “You’ve taken too much already, and your system is used to it.”
“You’re going to have to think about joining a Guild, too,” Mac said. “Like, soon.”
“But which one?” Guild City was made up of various magical guilds, each representing one of the main magical species—fae, shifters, witches, and seers, among others.
“Whichever will have you, I guess.” Mac shrugged.
I didn’t like the idea of that, but if I wanted to stay here, I’d have to do it. Mac was a member of the Seers’ Guild, and Eve belonged to the Fae Guild, though neither lived in her guild’s headquarters.
“I’ll figure it out,” I said. “Soon.”
“It had better be, or—”
The bell to Eve’s shop jingled, and I turned.
The Devil of Darkvale stepped into the little shop, his lean, muscular form filling the door. I fought dueling instincts. Part of me wanted to step toward him. Part of me wanted to turn and run.
I stayed frozen.
In a moment, I took all of him in. The firelight scent of his magic blasted though the hodgepodge of aromas in Eve’s shop. I liked the way he smelled, but I was careful not to inhale too much.
As usual, he was impeccably dressed. He looked like a spy, an unstoppable James Bond in a bespoke suit. It was damned unfair that men’s dresswear was easy to move in and made the wearer look hot as hell.
He stood in the doorway, still as a statue. His sharp cheekbones and strong jaw could have been carved from granite, but his lips were full, the only part of him that looked soft. Even his silver eyes were hard as they surveyed us.
He was still ice, but I knew the heat underneath.
It would burn me—and not in a good way.
Where was the man who had bitten me?