Prologue
Salem
‘You’re too unstable, Salem. I’m sorry, but the assassin’s academy has decided to indefinitely cancel your employment here.’ The words replay in my mind as I walk over to Peach’s Bakery. I need to cheer myself up after hearing that I won’t be given any more assignments.
Ever.
Which separates me from my triplet brothers, leaving me the odd one out. They’re on an assignment right now, and I have FOMO.
It fucking sucks.
Killing is the only thing I’m good at, and I’m going to be doing it whether or not they pay me. Why can’t they see that? I’m an asset, not a fucking liability. No one can get the job done like I can. In fact, I almost killed the director who gave me the news. The only reason I didn’t is because I knew that Sage and Silver would be pissed.
I’m different from my siblings.
Darker. Wilder. More twisted.
I don’t often feel remorse, and I don’t care about people outside of my circle, which is pretty much only my brothers and sister. Everyone else can get fucked.
Opening the door to the bakery, I close my eyes as the sweet smell of sugar hits my nose. The bakery is huge with rows and rows of treats vying for my taste buds. I stop when I see a strawberry cheesecake, my favorite, but getting one from here would feel like betraying my sister. She makes them for me, and it’s our thing.
A cherry one catches my eye, and I’m about to call out when a woman steps out from the back.
Not just any woman.
My woman.
My mate.
The pull to her is unlike anything I’ve ever felt, magic and the mating bond sizzling between us. She’s a shifter with long, thick red hair, and the cutest splatter of freckles on her nose. She has a curvy body that I won’t have to be careful with when I fuck her and heart-shaped lips that I want to see wrapped around my cock.
She’s fucking phenomenal, the best baker in the kingdom, and man, I love to eat. I’ll start with her pussy and then move to one of those little cherry cheesecakes.
“Peach?” I rasp, and she lifts her head, her green eyes the color of emeralds widening. Magic pulses between us, pulling us together like two magnets. This female was made for me, and I was made for her. She steps around the counter and walks over to me, reaching up to touch my face.
Her fingers graze the scar on my cheek, but I don’t see any revulsion on her face. “You’re intimidatingly tall,” she murmurs, tilting her head so far back I almost want to offer her a step stool, and my lips twitch.
A grin spreads across my face, sharp and a little wicked. I watch Peach crane her neck, barely reaching my chest.
“Well…” I murmur, letting the words roll off my tongue, smooth and teasing. “The view from up here is spectacular.”
I’m not someone who likes to be touched much, but I find myself wanting her hands on me. When she goes to remove her hand from my face, I hold it in place with my big palm covering hers.
Her lip twitches, and she tilts her head to the side, studying me. “What is your name, mate of mine?”
“Salem,” I tell her, kissing her fingers before sucking one into my mouth.
Too soon? Maybe, but I’m not known for being subtle.
She must recognize my name because her posture immediately shifts, disbelief giving way to a mix of wrath and disgust. Her eyebrows nearly hit her hairline as she steps back. I’m instantly cold, the warmth of her pressed against me gone, leaving a hollow ache I didn’t expect.
I don’t like it.
“Salem?” she whispers, her voice catching. “The same Salem who tortured my brother, Jagger?”
Ah, fuck.
“Get out of here, Salem,” she demands, and I frown.
