Page 3 of The Veil of Blood and Magic

I hand her the knife. “Stick it in the groin next time.”

Lera takes the blade, eyes wide as she nods. She’s a quarter pixie, but mainly mortal, so I don’t fault her for not being able to fight the man off. He was three times her size.

“Lucky you were walking by and heard me,” she says, smiling up at me. “And you look ten times more intimidating than me, which clearly made him listen. Maybe I should go for black fishnets and armored corsets too,” she teases.

I grin back, and she flinches, shifting to look down at her leg.

“Bastard,” she says as more blood trails from her wounds.

The sweet smell swarms my senses, making my fangs throb before they snap out.

Fuck.

Lera gasps, and recoils. She gazes at my fangs in horror before racing out of the room like I just snapped at her neck.

“Sorry!” I try to call out to her, but she’s already gone. “And you’re welcome,” I say quietly, then ignore the bolt of shame slicing through my chest.

Never fails. The second anyone figures out what I am—or at least,halfof what I am—they’re gone. Doesn’t matter if I’ve just saved them, complimented them, or fed them, they only see a monster.

Thanks to the Collector.

Ever since he betrayed the four ruling families of the continent two decades ago, wiping out an entire species in one ruthless and strategic coo. The remaining families and other magical beings took up arms against him in an effort to hold onto the world as they knew it—one filled with a coexistence between all kind.

His power and armies were too extensive though, the Collector alone had the ability to shift into a ferocious, almost unkillable creature capable of wiping out thousands in an instant. It was a bloody battle that the opposing side lost, a war he coined The Great Purge because his brutal attack on one specific magical family sparked everything after.

The Collector gave all of them an option—submit to his rule and abide by his laws and live. Refuse and die.

So many submitted for a chance at survival, but the world as they knew it changed that day. The Collector views anyone other than his own kind—shifters—as lesser or as a threat, and he’s ensured that his acolytes spout falsities about my kind so that everyone lives in fear of us. And it’s not just my kind, but so many others live in a constant state of fear of being singled out by him and wiped off the map like he did the Enchantresses all those years ago. The fear of being rooted out of existence has made so many flee into hiding, fearful of drawing attention or being caught with the wrong kind of being.

Anger consumes me, burning the shame to ash as I make my way back toward the stage. I earn a glare from Aruk. The band of bards he employs plucks their instruments in an agitated way, playing my requested music for the night on a loop as the now-frustrated crowd awaits the next performance.

I climb the stage, trying to ignore the lingering sting of Lera’s rejection. I’d just saved her from a horrible situation, did she really think I would demand her blood as a form of payment?

Yes, that’s exactly what she thought. Because that’s what almost everyone thinks about creatures like me.

And they don’t know the half of it.

I force myself to remember that a life of connection and true friendship isn’t in the cards for me.

Except Six.

The mysterious male who popped into my life a year ago, sending notes in the form of magical tattoos that appear randomly on my body, signifying him as my Matched—a mate granted by the goddess Aletha herself. A legend so rare I never thought it would happen to me. Not to mention, because of my nature, I can never have justonesingular partner, but a Matched…that’s not something you can ignore.

And Six is mine.

We’ve never met, but thanks to our connection, we can communicate through the magical bond, mentally constructing notes that appear like golden script anywhere on each other’s bodies we choose.

I glance down at my arm, the urge to write to Six storming through my bones. He’s been a constant the past year, but, just like withThe Red Lion, I’ve become too comfortable with his mysterious notes.

It’s better for me to spend my time alone.

Giving someone your trust only grants them power over you. I learned that the hard way.

And love? Love is even worse, or so I hear. No one has ever gotten close enough to love me before. Not really. Not since my family was murdered.

I feel my mask slipping back into place as I reach the final step onto the stage.

Survival and the promise of revenge has been my sole purpose since I was a youngling. Do what I must, take what I need, and move on until I’m ready to face the Collector once and for all.

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