Chapter 1

Chapter

One

LILITH

L ilith Silverwing moved swiftly through the dense forest, her steps silent and deliberate. She was eager to return to the fae realm, to taste the crisp air of her home and feel the magic hum under her skin. The forest path ahead was illuminated only by slivers of moonlight breaking through the thick canopy above, casting long shadows on the ground. She could sense the presence of the portal just ahead, a shimmer of energy on the edge of her awareness, calling her back. After weeks of battling rogue vampires and exiled fae, she was ready for some time off.

But fate had other plans.

The air shifted suddenly, thickening with malice, and Lilith's instincts flared to life. She stopped abruptly, her violet eyes narrowing as her hand instinctively gripped the hilt of her enchanted blade. Shadows coalesced in the trees, darker than the natural night, their forms twisting and contorting until they solidified into grotesque figures.

Demons.

Lilith cursed under her breath. She had sensed them too late.

From the shadows, a hulking demon lord emerged, flanked by a small group of snarling minions. His skin was the color of ash, marred by glowing crimson runes, and his eyes burned with the fire of the damned. His massive horns curved forward, framing a face twisted in cruel amusement.

"Lilith Silverwing," the demon lord purred, his voice like gravel scraping across stone. "I was told you might come this way."

"And here I thought demons couldn't think for themselves," Lilith shot back, her tone cool and measured, despite the thundering pulse in her chest. She slowly drew her sword, the blade gleaming with silver-blue light, its magic thrumming in her grip.

The demon's smile widened. "I don't need to think to kill you."

Two of the minions lunged first, claws outstretched and fangs bared. Lilith twisted out of their reach, her blade arcing through the air as she spun, slicing through one demon's chest with lethal precision. Dark blood sprayed, sizzling as it hit the ground. The other demon came at her from behind, but Lilith was faster. She pivoted, driving her sword into the demon's gut before twisting it and yanking it free.

The demon lord laughed, a sound that made the trees tremble. "You've got fight in you, little fae. But you're outmatched."

He was right. Lilith could feel the burden of fatigue slowing her movements, her body aching from weeks of battle and unrest. But she wouldn't give in, not yet, not ever.

Lilith's sword felt heavier with every swing, her muscles burning with exhaustion. Weeks of fighting rogue supernaturals had taken their toll, and now, facing a demon lord and his minions, every movement felt sluggish, her limbs crying for rest. But rest wasn't an option—not with death staring her in the face.

The demon lord grinned, a cruel glint in his fiery eyes as he stalked toward her, his ash-colored skin glowing with infernal runes. "Tired, little fae?" he taunted, his deep, gravelly voice sending chills down her spine. "I can see it in your eyes. You have nothing left to give."

Lilith didn't respond—she couldn't afford to. Her chest heaved with shallow breaths, and the ache in her side from a bruise she'd taken earlier throbbed in sync with her racing heartbeat. Her vision blurred at the edges, a telltale sign her magic reserves were running dangerously low. She adjusted her grip on the hilt of her blade, the familiar hum of its enchantment faltering, as if even the magic within it was worn out from overuse.

More of the demon lord's minions lunged, grotesque snarls ripping from their throats. Lilith moved purely on instinct, parrying the first clawed swipe with a clumsy block. Her sword slashed downward, cutting across the second demon's chest, but the strike lacked its usual precision. Dark blood sprayed in an arc, hissing as it hit the forest floor.

Too slow.

A second too late, she felt sharp claws rake across her shoulder. Pain bloomed, hot and angry, but she gritted her teeth and twisted, her blade arcing toward the minion. The demon gurgled as her sword sank deep into its side, and with a sharp jerk, she tore it free, sending the creature crumpling to the ground in a steaming heap.

Lilith stumbled, her boot catching on a root hidden beneath the undergrowth. The small misstep sent her heart racing, panic threatening to close in. She couldn't afford mistakes—not now. The demon lord was still advancing, and she could feel her magic sputtering inside her like a candle about to burn out.

The demon lord chuckled, a low, menacing sound that reverberated through the clearing. "You've fought well enough, fae, but we both know you're finished."

He swung a massive, clawed hand toward her, and she barely managed to raise her sword in time. The impact sent a jolt of pain up her arms, the force of it nearly ripping the blade from her grasp. Her boots skidded against the damp earth, and she collided with a tree, the rough bark biting into her back.

A gasp escaped her lips, the air knocked from her lungs. Her knees buckled, and for a moment, she slumped against the tree, every fiber of her being screaming at her to stop—to give in. But she couldn't. She wouldn't.

The demon lord loomed over her, his hulking frame casting a suffocating shadow. "Stay down," he rumbled, lifting his hand for the final blow. "It's over."

Lilith's vision darkened around the edges, her grip on her sword slipping. Her body begged her to surrender, to let the darkness pull her under. But deep inside, a spark of defiance flared—small, but enough. She had come too far, fought too long to die here.

Growling, she forced her legs to move, stumbling back to her feet just as the demon's claws arced toward her. She ducked beneath the swing, her movements unsteady but effective. Gathering what little magic she had left, she infused her blade with a flicker of power—just enough.

"Not yet," she whispered, her voice raw and breathless.

With a sharp cry, she drove her sword upward, the blade sinking into the demon lord's chest. The enchanted steel shimmered weakly, but it was enough to pierce through his thick hide. His eyes widened in shock, a guttural roar of rage and pain ripping from his throat as her magic spread through him like wildfire.

The demon lord writhed, his body disintegrating in a burst of flame and smoke, leaving behind nothing but scorched earth and the scent of sulfur.

Lilith swayed on her feet, every muscle trembling with exhaustion. Her magic was gone, her strength depleted, and the world tilted dangerously around her. She fell to one knee, her sword slipping from her grasp as she fought to catch her breath.

The fight was over; she'd won but just barely. Lilith was breathless and battered. Her magic was nearly spent, and every muscle in her body screamed in protest. The forest was silent now, save for the ragged sound of her breathing. Lilith closed her eyes, hoping for just a moment's peace—a chance to gather herself. But then the shimmering light of the High Council's summons appeared before her, glowing with an irritating persistence.

She let out a groan, knowing full well that the summons would not wait.

There was never any rest—not for someone like her.

With a wave of her hand, she answered the call, her form disappearing from the forest and reappearing in the grand hall of the Council. The high, arched ceilings were draped in vines of glowing flowers, and the air buzzed with raw, untamed magic. But there was no comfort in the beauty of the place. The faces of the Council were as cold as stone.

"Lilith Silverwing," the lead councilor intoned, his voice devoid of warmth. "You are ordered to New Orleans."

Lilith's head snapped up, confusion flashing across her features. "New Orleans? Why?"

The councilor's eyes narrowed. "The Duvall sisters have been unresponsive to our summons to return to the fae realm. You are ordered to either apprehend and return them here or kill them. The Council doesn't care which."

Lilith's stomach tightened. The Duvall sisters were infamous—four powerful fae/human hybrids who had appointed themselves demon-hunters and protectors of the Crescent City. The Council had tried to entice them back to the fae realm or capture them for years with no success.

"And if I refuse?" Lilith asked, knowing the answer but needing to hear it.

"There is no refusal," the councilor said sharply. "You will go, or we will strip you of your magic and banish you to the human realm."

Her heart clenched at the threat. Stripped of her magic, she would be nothing but a shadow of herself—a fae without power was less than mortal. She clenched her fists, knowing she had no choice.

"I'll leave immediately," she said, her voice tight.

The councilor gave a curt nod, dismissing her as easily as one would dismiss a servant. Lilith's form flickered once again as she vanished from the grand hall, her mind already shifting to the job at hand.

T he humid air of New Orleans clung to Lilith's skin like a second layer as she stepped out of the cab and onto the cracked sidewalk in front of a small, boutique hotel. The city was alive with energy, the magical pulse of the place unlike any she had ever felt. It thrummed beneath her feet, whispering ancient secrets in the dark. The French Quarter loomed ahead, filled with its vibrant music, drunken tourists, and, somewhere hidden within, the Duvall sisters.

Lilith's instincts told her the Duvalls wouldn't be hard to track. Their magic left a distinct signature, and they took little care to hide it. If one was sensitive to such things, it left a trail in the air she could almost taste. She entered the small, boutique hotel, her mind already focused on the hunt.

There would be no rest until the Duvall sisters were either captured or dead.

Lilith left her hotel room and moved through the narrow, cobblestone streets of the French Quarter, her senses on edge. The air was thick with humidity and the mingling smells of spilled alcohol, food, and a hint of magic. The cacophony of jazz music spilled out of every bar, mingling with raucous laughter and the calls of tourists, making her wince. Every note, every human emotion was amplified to her fae senses, grating against her like nails on glass.

She longed for the ordered halls of the fae realm, where the magic was clean, refined, and harmonious. Here, the air was chaos. It tasted of wild magic—untamed and unpredictable. But beneath that chaos, she felt something more distinct. Savannah Duvall's signature water magic pulsed ahead, like embers sparking in the night, guiding Lilith closer to the fae she was sent to hunt.

Her muscles tensed as she turned a corner, her focus narrowing in on the trace of magic that left a faint trail of humidity in the air. But the moment she rounded the corner, her body collided with something solid—immovable, like a stone wall. Except this wall was warm, alive, and very much alpha male.

She stumbled back, instinctively reaching for the hilt of her blade, but she froze as she looked up, her gaze locking onto a pair of piercing golden eyes. The man before her towered over her, his broad chest barely contained by the tight shirt he wore. His skin was sun-bronzed, and his muscles rippled with a raw, animalistic power. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and the sharp line of his jaw clenched as he looked down at her with equal surprise and caution.

She knew immediately who he was, and the visceral reaction she had to him only added to her sense of annoyance and discontent. This was the last fucking thing she needed.

Ronan Rousseau. One of the last of the sabretooth tiger-shifters.

Lilith's heart pounded, her pulse quickening—not just from the collision, but from the sheer force of his presence. Shifters were rare, and sabretooth tiger-shifters even more so. Ronan was supposed to be a myth, a relic of an ancient time when his kind roamed the earth freely. She had heard whispers of him, but to see him in person… he was unlike anything she had imagined.

"Watch where you're going, fae," Ronan growled, his deep voice vibrating through her bones. His tone held no warmth, just the low rumble of distrust and disdain.

Who was he to hold her and her kind in disdain? At least she wasn't half beast. Lilith straightened, her hand still hovering near her blade, her violet eyes narrowing. "You're in my way, shifter."

His lips quirked in a half-grin, half-leer, though his golden eyes remained cold, studying her as if weighing whether or not she was a threat. The air between them crackled, not just with tension but something else—something primal and unexpected. Lilith could feel it, a pull deep in her chest, and it infuriated her. She didn't have time for distractions, especially not a shifter with a reputation for playing by his own rules.

For a long moment, neither of them moved, their bodies mere inches apart, the heat from him brushing against her like the sun's warmth. Her fae senses were alive, acutely aware of every small shift in his posture, every beat of his heart. She could feel the wild magic inside him, the animal waiting just below the surface, barely leashed. And yet, beneath the tension, there was something else—something almost magnetic.

Ronan's eyes darkened as if he felt it too. His gaze flicked down briefly to her lips before returning to her eyes, the silent challenge clear between them.

She clenched her jaw, pushing back against the strange sensation. She was a warrior of the fae realm, and she had an assignment to complete. Nothing, and certainly no shifter, would distract her from it.

Before either could say another word, the sharp crackle of some kind of other world portal echoed through the night.

Both Lilith and Ronan whipped around, their attention snapping to the source of the sound. At the far end of the alley, a shimmering portal appeared, glowing with a soft, golden light. Standing at its edge was Savannah Duvall, the youngest of the Duvall sisters. Her short, spiky, blue hair ruffled in the soft breeze created by the portal. What the hell was she doing here?

"Savannah!" Lilith called out, her voice cutting through the noise, but it was too late.

Savannah's gaze met Lilith's for only a split second—fear and defiance in equal measure—before she stepped backward into the portal, vanishing into the ether. The portal closed with a soft hiss, leaving behind nothing but the lingering scent of jasmine and the fading shimmer of her magic.

"Damn it!" Lilith cursed, her fingers tightening around the hilt of her blade as frustration surged through her.

Ronan growled low beside her, his gaze fixed on the spot where the portal had been. "You're after them too, aren't you?"

Lilith shot him a glare, her temper flaring. "Stay out of this, shifter. This isn't your fight."

"Could've fooled me," Ronan said, his voice calm but laced with danger. "Seems like I'm right in the middle of it."

Lilith's chest heaved as she struggled to rein in her frustration. She needed to focus. Savannah might be gone, but Phoenix was still close. Lilith could still feel her magic pulsing, faint but unmistakable. She needed to move, now. But as she turned to leave, she felt Ronan's presence still looming beside her.

"Why are you here, Ronan?" she asked, not looking at him but feeling his gaze burning into her.

"You think the Duvalls are just your problem, fae?" he replied, stepping closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "They've been stirring up all kinds of trouble in New Orleans; they've become too bold, and it's putting everyone at risk—including me."

Lilith inhaled sharply, her irritation mixing with that unwanted spark of attraction. She hated that he had a point, hated even more that a part of her was intrigued by his presence.

"Fine," she muttered, her eyes flicking to him. "But don't think this means we're allies."

Ronan grinned, a dark, predatory gleam in his eyes. "I wouldn't dream of it."

Without another word, Lilith turned and stalked down the alley, following the remnants of Phoenix's magic. Ronan watched her for a moment before falling into step behind her, his movements silent and smooth, like the predator he was.

The hunt was on, and neither of them could afford to lose.

But as Lilith's heart raced and her mind focused on the task at hand, she couldn't shake the feeling that Ronan Rousseau was about to make things far more complicated than she had ever anticipated.