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The mark should have killed me. Instead, it made me a target.
My magic has always caused problems. They call it death’s kiss. The witches avoid me. The fae despise me. Mages plot behind my back. Demons think we’re kindred. And the local pack? They can’t decide whether I’m a threat to contain or a problem to eliminate.
I put my reputation to use, hunting rogue supernaturals, retrieving cursed relics, and taking the dangerous jobs no one else will touch. My magic’s unpredictable, my clients are shady, and the werewolf Alpha I keep offending can’t decide whether to kill me or protect me.
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