3. Zev

Chapter 3

Zev

" W hat are you looking for?" Jagger asks from where he sits on the trunk of a fallen tree, a small fire crackling before him.

I peel back Jagger's vest, still draped over the sleeping succubus where she lays next to me. I scan her bare arms, brow furrowed.

"I swore I saw a flash of gold on her skin," I answer, covering her up again and moving to sit on the trunk next to him.

"A tattoo or a mark?"

"I was hoping for one or the other," I answer, wanting any indicator of what else she might be, because she seems much stronger than a succubus, at least from what I've read about them. I've never met one before. I studying her sleeping form over the flames. She's beautiful, there's no denying that, and fierce.

And she damn well knows it too. She used it to her advantage during our private dance session, working her body over mine in a way that made things stir inside me that haven't awakened in years.

"Why?" Jagger asks.

"To give us a clue as to what she really is."

Jagger sighs and strums a few notes on his guitar, the instrument as much an extension of him as my sword is to me. "You really believe she's more than just a succubus?" he asks, plucking the strings. "Those are rare enough as it is," he continues. "So many were lost in The Great Purge. I never thought we'd come across one."

I nod, eyes on her. After the Collector took out one of the four major families in power, he'd targeted succubi and incubi due to their influential powers. He'd never managed to capture one for his collection, so the bounty for one was high.

Of course, after The Great Purge, he'd given everyone a chance to submit, to live, as long as any with magical capabilities submitted to getting a license with restrictions on when and how they could use it, with severe repercussions if anyone used unlicensed magic. So many agreed after too many lives were lost, but most half-bloods and below lived in hiding, never wanting to draw attention.

Likely how she's survived as long.

Which made her all the more valuable.

The Collector will pay handsomely for a rare find like her.

"She's something more," I finally say, shifting on the tree to look at him. "Can't you feel it?" Even now, while she's asleep under my spell, I can feel something clawing at my magic, trying to rip it to shreds. That's more than the seductive allure of a full-blood succubus.

Jagger slides his fingers over his strings, eyes on her over the fire. His lips purse as he closes his eyes. He hums a little, an unconscious tick he has due to the nature of his power. He nods before opening his eyes again. "You're right," he says. "There's something else there. It's probably why I couldn't hold her mind very long. She has mental shielding the likes of which I've never seen. Even better than yours."

I cock a brow and let out a contemplative grunt.

"She's powerful," Jagger continues. "Watching her tear up the core would be enough to tell me that."

Heat streaks through my veins at the memory of her cutting down the collector core. Goddess, she moved like smoke and sliced smoother than silk. It was mesmerizing, and that was without her even using a drop of her inherent influence power.

"What do you think she is?"

I shake my head, fingering the necklace that hangs just beneath the base of my throat. I twirl the golden star between my thumb and forefinger, the mechanisms of the necklace allowing the internal piece of the shape to move in endless circles.

"I'm not sure," I admit. And I fucking hate not knowing what we're dealing with. "A monster," I continue. "But what kind?"

I'm more speaking to myself than to Jagger, who's used to it. We've been inseparable since our early days at the Drifter Academy, and though I'll never admit it to him, he's a brother to me. We've been on countless missions together, living and breathing monsters, tracking, hunting, and securing them. All in the hopes to finally gain what the Collector holds over our heads. Because there isn't a drifter alive who isn't in debt to the Collector in some way or another—though, some of us enjoy the bounty hunter role more than others. Jagger and I see the job as a way to work off the debt, but I can't deny I enjoy the hunt. I just wish we could do it like they did in the days before The Great Purge, when drifters only hunted malicious monsters dead set on ripping through innocent lives. Back then drifters worked on their own terms, for the good of the townships or royal families that hired them, with nothing at stake but our own lives.

"She could be the one," I say, never taking my eyes off of her. I can't stop watching her, waiting for whatever power she has to claw through my spell. For her to wake up and bare those pretty little fangs at me again.

Just the thought of it has my cock twitching.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

She's a target. A bounty. Nothing more.

Maybe it's because it's been ages since I've been surprised. Ages since I've been impressed or stumped by any creature, mortal or monster. And when we caught wind of her curious scent at the tavern, I never thought she'd be the trouble she is.

We're missing something. I'm sure of it.

And I hate the anticipation humming beneath my skin, excited and hungry to find out exactly what.

"She'll fight us the entire way," he says.

"Are you afraid?"

"No," he says, strumming his guitar. "But it's a long road to Lingate and we'll have to hand her over in pristine condition. With the fight she put up at the tavern…it won't be easy."

"Nothing worth it ever is."

"Do you think she's worth it?" Jagger asks, his voice dipping into an almost pitying tone.

I flash him a warning glare. I don't want his pity.

He glares right back, not rescinding his question.

"If she gets me what I lost?" I ask. "Then whatever trouble she brings with her will be worth it."

Jagger nods, like he was expecting my answer, and plays a few more notes on his guitar. The forest where we made our little camp swallows the notes, giving the place an eerie feel that fits my nerves. Sleep will be impossible for me tonight. Not while I still don't know what we're dealing with.

"I've had your back since we were two younglings who didn't know the proper end of a sword," Jagger says. "So I'm with you, but playing with this sort of fire will probably get us killed."

"You are afraid of the little succubus." I smirk at him.

He gives me a vulgar gesture. "You know that's not what I meant, asshole. She took out several cores like they were nothing. I'd be an idiot to underestimate her, not to mention the trouble that will rain down on us once other crews get wind of what we have. It's a risk," he continues. "A life or death one."

I wet my lips, returning my focus to the blood-sucker.

"I know," I finally admit. "But if risking death is what it takes to get what I want, then so be it."