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      KENSINGTON BOOKS

       www.kensingtonbooks.com

      KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by

      Kensington Publishing Corp.

       119 West 40th Street

       New York, NY 10018

      Copyright © 2010 by Richelle Mead

      All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

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      Special book excerpts or customized printings can also be created to fit specific needs. For details, write or phone the office of the Kensington Sales Manager: Attn.: Sales Department. Kensington Publishing Corp., 119 West 40th Street, New York, NY 10018. Phone: 1-800-221-2647.

      Zebra and the Z logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

      First Kensington Books Trade Paperback Printing: April 2010

      First Zebra Books Mass-Market Paperback Printing: September 2016

      ISBN-13: 978-1-4201-0555-1

      ISBN-10: 1-4201-0555-8

      eISBN-13: 978-0-7582-5817-5

      eISBN-10: 0-7582-5817-8

      For my brother Scott, who always let his little sister

       watch Flash Gordon and Star Wars with him

      Contents

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      Chapter 17

      Chapter 18

      Chapter 19

      Chapter 20

      Chapter 21

      Chapter 22

      Chapter 23

      Chapter 24

      Chapter 25

      Chapter 1

      I was drunk.

      I wasn’t entirely sure when it had happened, but I suspected it had occurred around the time my friend Doug had bet me I couldn’t take down three vodka gimlets faster than he could. He’d promised to take my weekend shift at work if I won, and I was going to do his stock duty for a week if he won.

      When we’d finished, it looked like I wasn’t going to be working next weekend.

      “How did you out-drink him?” my friend Hugh wanted to know. “He’s twice your size.”

      Through the crowd of people crammed into my condo, I peered at the closed bathroom door, behind which Doug had disappeared. “He had stomach flu this week. I’m guessing that doesn’t go so well with vodka.”

      Hugh raised an eyebrow. “Why the fuck would anyone take a bet like that after having the flu?”

      I shrugged. “Because he’s Doug.”

      Hoping Doug would be okay, I scanned the rest of my party with the pleased air of a queen sizing up her kingdom. I’d moved into this place back in July and had been long overdue for a housewarming party. When Halloween had finally rolled around, combining the two events had seemed like a pretty reasonable solution. Consequently, my guests tonight were clad in an array of costumes, everything from elaborate Renaissance fair quality garb to the slackers who’d simply thrown on a witch’s hat.

      Me, I was dressed as Little Bo Peep—well, that is, I was dressed the way Little Bo Peep would if she was a stripper and/or a shameless strumpet. My frilly blue skirt stopped just above the halfway point on my thighs, and my puff-sleeved white blouse was so low-cut that I had to be careful when leaning over. The crowning achievement—literally—was my curly mane of flaxen blond hair, neatly arranged into two pigtails tied with little blue bows. It looked perfect, absolutely indistinguishable from the real thing because…well, it was real.

      Shape-shifting always came in handy as a succubus, but for Halloween, it was golden. I always had the best costumes because I really could turn into anything I wanted. Of course, I had to keep it within reason. Too much of a change would raise the suspicions of the humans around me. But for a hair change? Yeah. Shape-shifting was pretty convenient.

      Someone touched my elbow. I turned, and my smug enthusiasm dimmed a little when I saw who it was: Roman, my sociopathic roommate.

      “I think someone’s getting sick in the bathroom,” he told me. Roman was a nephilim, half-angel and half-human, with soft black hair and sea-green eyes. If not for the fact he occasionally went on immortal killing sprees and had me on his hit list, he would have been a pretty good catch.

      “Yeah,” I said. “It’s Doug. He lost a vodka challenge.”

      Roman grimaced. He wore devil horns and a red cape. The irony wasn’t lost on me. “Hope he’s got good aim. I don’t want to clean that up.”

      “What, you don’t do housework either?” asked Hugh. He’d recently

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