When I find my sister, Ivy Viverna thought grimly as she flew through the cold night air, I am going to kill her with my bare hands.

This was, unfortunately, a distinct possibility. As a wyvern shifter, Ivy was the most venomous creature on Earth. And thanks to her unusually powerful inner animal, she was always venomous. Even in human form.

At the best of times, Ivy’s briefest touch would give someone an instant, agonizing rash. This was most definitely not the best of times. If she’d been in human form now, the storm of fear and anger currently churning in her gut would have had deadly poison sweating from the palms of her hands.

As it was, she had to be careful to keep her sharp-toothed jaws clamped tightly shut. She couldn’t risk any of the boiling acid rising in her throat dripping out over the buildings and streets below.

Spit. Kill. Destroy. Her inner wyvern was a blaze of fury in her soul, urging her to rip apart the entire city of Brighton until she found her sister. Rescue! Defend!

Ivy shook her horned head, trying to suppress her beast’s snarls. Wyverns were the smallest of all the draconic breeds, but like all dragons they had a bone-deep need to hoard treasure, and an equally deep instinct to defend it. Anyone who stole from a dragon soon regretted it—briefly.

Ivy’s treasure wasn’t cold gold or unfeeling gems, though. Her treasure was flesh and blood. Her flesh and blood.

Her sister.

Other dragons have it easy. Their treasures don’t skip merrily away while their backs are turned. At least she left a note this time.

The note had been written in purple glittery pen. Hope’s messy handwriting, always ridiculously girly, had sprouted heart-dotted i’s and extravagantly curling loops of excitement. The exclamation mark situation had gone critical.

Got a ride to the party!!!! See you there?? If not, don’t wait up!!!! Love you!!!!!!

Hope had signed her name with a little smiley face in the o.

Ivy could murder her little sister sometimes.

Well, technically she could murder Hope all the time. She had to work very, very hard to make sure that she didn’t.

And right now, Hope sure as hell wasn’t helping.

Ivy narrowed her eyes, trying to pick out the apartment block she sought. She wasn’t used to flying over Brighton, and it was hard to recognize neighborhoods from the air. She tried to spend as much time in human form as possible. The less she reminded other shifters of her existence, the better.

One building caught her eye. It rose at least ten floors higher than any of the structures around it, thrusting up into the air defiantly. It had a wide, flat roof terrace, illuminated by dozens of red LEDs. The bright lights marked out a wide circle bisected by a cross, something like a helicopter landing pad.

This landing pad wasn’t intended for human machines, though.

That has to be it.

Beating her emerald green wings hard, Ivy landed in the circle. She dug her talons into the graveled surface of the roof terrace, finding her balance before folding her wings. Unlike larger dragons, wyverns had two legs, not four. She was built for speed in the air rather than agility on land.

Her arrival hadn’t gone unnoticed. Two hulking brutes straightened up from where they’d been lounging on either side of the open door leading into the building. They were both dressed in artfully ripped designer jeans and leather jackets that strained across their broad shoulders. Ivy’s shifter senses prickled at the unmistakable aura of feral energy exuding from them.

Ivy’s long, scorpion-barbed tail instinctively curved above her back, ready to strike as the two shifters sauntered forward. She hissed in warning.

The two men stopped in their tracks, eying her arched tail warily. “Shit,” the smaller of them muttered. “I told Gaze this was a bad idea.”

“Take a chill pill, freak,” the other man said to Ivy. A snarling wolf-head tattoo on the side of his neck marked him as a member of the Bad Dogs, a local pack with a particularly vicious reputation. “You may think you’re a big deal, but if you start something you’re sure as hell going to regret it.”

Ivy let her scaled lips wrinkle back from her foot-long fangs. Acid dripped from her jaws, sizzling as it hit the ground. She had the pleasure of seeing both men flinch.

*Stay back, puppies,* Ivy said telepathically. *I can obliterate you with a single breath. Now where is my sister?*

She had the unmistakable sensation of her mental demand bouncing unheard off the men’s skulls. Shifters could generally only talk in animal form to others of the same general type—cats to cats, wolves to wolves, and so on. It was one of the reasons packs and crews usually tended to be formed of similar types of shifter.

As a wyvern, Ivy herself was a mythic shifter, one of the rarest of all the shifter groups. Although Britain had an unusually high population of mythic shifters, they were still uncommon. It wasn’t too surprising that neither of the men could hear her.

Ivy concentrated, pushing her wyvern’s endless anger down to the bottom of her soul. Her scales tingled as she shrank back into her human skin.

Both men’s taut shoulders relaxed. Ivy was no lightweight, but in this form both men had at least six inches and a hundred pounds of muscle on her. They clearly thought they now had the advantage.

They were idiots.

“Huh,” the shorter man muttered, staring at her curiously. “It’s just a girl.”

Ivy aimed her sharpest scowl at him, yanking off one of her gloves. “Who can still kill you with my little finger. Stay right there.”

“Like either of us would want to touch you even if you weren’t a monster,” the tattooed man sneered, his eyes flicking dismissively down Ivy’s curves. “Anyway, you got an invite. That means you’re safe…for now.”

“I’m not here for the party.” Ivy’s fist clenched on her glove, her bare hand still raised and ready. “I just want my sister. Go get her.”

He jerked his thumb at the half-open door behind him. “Go get her yourself.”

Ivy switched her glare to the smaller man, but he just shoved his hands in his pockets, leaning casually back against the wall. It was clear neither of the men was going to move a muscle. No doubt they were under orders from their alpha to make sure she went inside.

Ivy bit back a curse. When the mysterious party invitation had arrived last week, she’d known it had to be some sort of trap. No one invited a wyvern to a Christmas party. Not even an all-shifter Christmas party. She’d told Hope it was a trap.

And her stupid, stupid sister had happily bounced straight into it, and now Ivy had no choice but to take the bait.

Lifting her chin, she strode between the two men, heading for the doorway into the apartment complex. It led to a stairwell, the bannisters decorated with twining boughs of holly. Festive music and laughing voices drifted up from the penthouse apartment below.

Ivy grimaced, but jammed her hand back into her glove. Much as her wyvern screamed that she needed to be ready to defend herself, she could hardly walk into a crowded room with bare skin exposed. Her entire body was venomous, and she couldn’t risk hurting anyone.

Tugging at the sleeves of her thick denim jacket to make sure every inch of her arms were safely covered, she headed down the stairs. The sounds of revelry got louder, making her wyvern’s hackles rise. Her inner beast was on hyper-alert, its protective fury making Ivy’s stomach churn. She was unpleasantly aware of a wet stickiness starting to fill her gloves. In her agitated state, her venom would be deadly enough to kill instantly.

She had to find Hope and get out fast. And pray that no one tried to get in her way.

Taking a deep breath, Ivy pasted her very best I-give-zero-shits-about-anything-especially-you expression onto her face. Then she strode into the party.

Thankfully, it was loud and raucous enough that her appearance didn’t immediately attract attention. A couple of nearby Bad Dogs gave her a professional once-over, but didn’t move in her direction. Ivy had a moment to scan the room.

Her sense of unease deepened.

What the hell is this?

The luxurious, open-plan penthouse was packed with a wild assortment of shifters. Ivy picked out the distinctive heads of the Smile Time crew, their hair shaved and dyed into spots and stripes to match their inner hyenas. She was pretty sure that the trio of women in slinky, short dresses shaking their asses on the dance floor were snake shifters from the Cold Blood gang. And if the pack of red-headed men in the corner yelping encouragement as one of their number attempted a keg stand weren’t foxes from the Urban Vermin pack, then Ivy herself was a bunny.

Regardless of species, every shifter in the room had one thing in common. They were all members of some of the less-domesticated—and less law-abiding—groups in shifter society.

Exactly the sort of shifters that she’d sworn she’d never associate with again.

“Ivy! Ivyyyyyy!”

Ivy winced at the familiar, ear-splitting shriek. When Hope was excited—which was way more often than any sane person should be—she could reach a pitch high enough to stun bats.

“‘Scuse me, coming through.” Hope’s running commentary cut through the crowd at waist-level as her wheelchair shunted startled shifters aside. “Beep beep! Pardon me—oh, I’m so sorry! Was that your foot?”

A massive hyena shifter swore viciously, clutching at his leg as he rounded on his unexpected assailant. “Why you little-“

“Sister,” Ivy finished for him, stepping forward. She met his angry gaze coolly. “My little sister.”

The hyena’s eyes widened as he took in her green-streaked hair. Ivy had deliberately adopted the dyed, asymmetric haircut in order to stand out. It helped to have a distinguishing feature that other shifters could use to describe her to each other.

The wide, acid green stripe in her dark hair was her own version of a wasp’s black-and-yellow warning: Don’t mess with me.

The hyena shifter swallowed his growl, his face paling. Like most shifters in Brighton, he’d obviously heard about her. Without another word, he hobbled away.

“Sorry again!” Hope called after the retreating thug. “Can I get you a—oh, you’re gone. Well, I guess you have shifter healing anyway.” Hope swiveled her wheelchair round to face Ivy, a beaming grin splitting her thin face. “Ivy! You came!”

“Briefly,” Ivy growled. She reached for the handlebars of Hope’s wheelchair. “We’re leaving. Now.”

Hope spun her wheelchair out of reach with a practiced flick, evading Ivy’s grasp. “Nuh-uh. There’s someone here that you have absolutely got to meet.”

She’s seventeen years old, Ivy thought in despair. And she still has all the survival instincts of a toddler on a sugar high.

“For once in your life, listen to me,” Ivy hissed, her hands sweating in her gloves. “We have to get out of here. Can’t you see what sort of people these are?”

Hope lifted her chin, her mouth setting in a stubborn line. Despite the fact that Hope was blonde, thin, and beautiful, for a moment it was uncannily like looking into a mirror.

“Yes, I can. They’re people who have to cope with powerful, dangerous inner animals, in a world that’s not made for them. People shunned and feared even by other shifters, just because they’re different.” Hope folded her thin arms across her chest. “Remind you of anyone?”

Ivy clenched her fists, matching her sister’s glare. “I’m not like them!”

“But you could be,” said a deep, amused voice from behind Hope.

A tall, broad-shouldered man sauntered out of the crowd. He was wearing tailored black dress pants and a fine white shirt, the top few buttons undone to show off a hint of the deep crease between his hard pecs. Wrap-around designer sunglasses hid his eyes.

“Gaze!” Hope squealed, clapping her hands. “Ivy, this is who I wanted you to meet! Gaze, look, this is my sister!”

“So glad you could join my little party after all, Ivy Viverna.” The man flashed brilliantly white teeth at her. “I’m Gaze.”

“Never heard of you,” Ivy said, eyeballing the distance to the nearest exit.

The man chuckled, not looking in the least offended. “Then I’ve been doing my job right. But in any case, I’ve heard of you. I’ve been looking for an opportunity to meet you for quite some time.”

Out of his sight, Hope was silently mouthing something that looked suspiciously like the words your, true, and mate. She was practically bouncing in her wheelchair, her green eyes alight with excitement.

Ivy repressed the urge to groan out loud. Of all the disastrous attempts Hope had made to set her up, this definitely ranked somewhere in the top five.

For all she knew, of course, Gaze could be her one true mate. Shifters typically didn’t recognize their mate until they made eye contact, and Gaze’s eyes were completely concealed.

Not that it mattered. Finding her true mate was top on Ivy’s list of Things Not To Do. What would be the point, when they could never touch?

Gaze, for his part, seemed to be fascinated by her. His chin dipped a little, as if he was taking her in from head to toe. Even hidden behind his sunglasses, she could feel the heat of his appraisal.

“You are an elusive woman, Ivy. But I very much hope to be seeing more of you in future.” His voice dropped to low, thrilling murmur. “We have so much in common.”

“Yeah, no.” Ivy sidled closer to Hope, trying not to be too obvious about it. “I don’t think so. We’re leaving now.”

“But you’ve only just got here.” Gaze rested a hand on the back of Hope’s wheelchair, and Ivy swallowed the possessive snarl that rose in her throat. “And Hope doesn’t want to leave yet, do you, sweetheart?”

“No way! I haven’t even danced yet, and Betty promised to introduce me to her whole pack!”

Betty? Who the hell is Betty?

Before Ivy could ask, Hope did a transparently fake double-take. “Oh look, there they are now!” She pointed across the room at a group of teens in black leather lurking in a corner. “I’ll just leave you guys to it, shall I? I’m sure you’ll have tons to talk about!”

“Hope!” Ivy made a grab for her, but Hope was too fast. She zoomed away, heedless of the shifters she scattered.

“Can I offer you a drink?” Without waiting for a response, Gaze turned on his heel, starting to stroll away.

Ivy had no choice but to follow. The milling partygoers moved aside for Gaze a lot more willingly than they had for Hope. Even the toughest, most brutal-looking gang members gave way to him with respectful murmurs.

Who is this man?

Ivy couldn’t even tell what sort of shifter he was. With the scents of so many different kinds mingling in the air, mixed in with the fumes of mulled wine and the tang of evergreen boughs, it was impossible to get a good whiff of him.

His easy dominance told her one thing, though. Despite the powerful creatures all around—hyenas, vipers, even the hellhounds of the Bad Dogs—Gaze was the most dangerous person in the room.

“Who are you?” she asked warily, as he led her to the gleaming kitchen area of the vast open-plan penthouse.

“A broker, of sorts. I make connections. Bring people together for mutual benefit.” Gaze extracted a bottle of champagne from one of the many ice buckets clustered on the black marble counter. He let out a deep chuckle as he poured. “And you could call this a staff party. All the shifters here are…private contractors, shall we say, who do business with me. Very profitable business, I might add.“

Ice ran down Ivy’s spine. “Let me guess. That business isn’t exactly legal.”

Gaze smiled behind his sunglasses, pushing a glass of champagne across the counter toward her. “I’m sure you’ll appreciate that I can’t discuss past jobs. But I do maintain a small, very exclusive list of clients, who pay well for quiet solutions to delicate problems. And they would pay extremely well for someone of your particular talents.”

Ivy knew exactly how much unscrupulous people would pay for what she could do. She’d carry the shame of that until her dying day.

Never again.

She swallowed the acid rising in her throat. Much as she wanted to spit in Gaze’s face and tell him where he could stick his offer, she was standing on his territory. Surrounded by his people.

Who were also surrounding Hope.

It took all her control not to look round at her sister. Ivy picked up the champagne glass, taking a sip as cover for her furiously racing thoughts.

Have to play this cool. Make him think he’s got me interested.

“I know how much I’m worth,” she said. “Why should I let you take a cut?”

“Because I can provide what your previous employer didn’t.” Gaze leaned back, resting his elbows against the countertop. Ivy was pretty sure he knew exactly how well the posture showed off the hard swells of his biceps. “Protection. I know your previous experiences with this line of work, Ivy. You were, if I may be so blunt, appallingly wasted by Killian Tiernach. You nearly went to prison because of his mistakes.”

“Yeah, well,” Ivy muttered, the shame of the memory heating her cheeks. “He did. I don’t want to risk getting into that sort of trouble again.”

“I would never ask you to.” Gaze’s voice dropped to that deep, seductive murmur again. “A unique treasure such as yourself should never be put at risk. I would treat you as you deserved.”

Which, apparently, is from three feet away, Ivy thought with dark humor. For all his flirtatious manner, Gaze was being very careful to stay out of arm's reach.

Just like everyone did.

Ivy leaned a little closer, as though his attempt to charm her was working. To his credit, Gaze didn’t flinch, although his broad shoulders tensed.

“You’ve got my attention,” Ivy said. Under the excuse of turning to gesture at the luxurious apartment, she scanned the party for Hope. “You’re clearly doing well for yourself, and I could do with some cash. What sort of—oh, crap.”

One of Gaze’s hands shot up, touching the frame of his sunglasses. “Something wrong?”

“No. Just my irritating sister picking the worst possible moment to interrupt, as usual.” Ivy faked a grimace, putting her champagne down. “She needs me to take her to the bathroom. Where is it?”

Gaze dropped his hand again. “Just down the hall. But I’m sure I could get someone—“

“I’ll be right back,” Ivy called over her shoulder, already striding away.

Hope was deep in conversation with her fellow teens in the corner, but she broke off at Ivy’s approach. “Well?” she demanded eagerly, swiveling round. “Did you like him? Is he—“

“He wants to offer me a job.” Ivy took hold of the handlebars of Hope’s wheelchair. “We’re going to discuss the details after I’ve taken you to the bathroom.”

“What?” Hope said, as Ivy briskly wheeled her through the crowd. “I—“

“Need to go right now, I know.” Ivy desperately prayed Gaze wasn’t one of the sorts of shifters that had supernaturally good hearing. “Come on, let’s make this fast. I want to get back to the party.”

As Ivy had hoped, that finally clued her sister in that something was badly wrong. Miracle of miracles, for once Hope actually shut up.

Under the pretext of opening the door, Ivy bent level with Hope’s ear. “How’d you get up here?”

“Elevator,” Hope whispered back. “It’s that way. What’s going on?”

“Tell you once we’re out.”

Miracle of miracles, the hallway was empty. Ivy jabbed at the elevator call button with a shaking hand. Her venom sweated into her gloves as the machine crawled upward agonizingly slowly.

Come on, come on!

She breathed deeply, trying to calm herself. She had to reduce the concentration of her venom, so that her touch would paralyze rather than kill. There was no way that a crime boss like Gaze would have left all the exits unguarded. If she couldn’t rush Hope past whatever thugs he had stationed in the lobby, she’d be forced to fight.

There was one line she’d never crossed. No matter what other terrible things she’d done, what mistakes she’d made…she’d never killed.

She’d sworn she never would.

“It’s okay, Ivy,” Hope whispered as the elevator binged at last, doors sliding open. “Everything’s going to be fine. Just breathe.”

“Leaving so soon, Ivy Viverna?”

Ivy’s hammering heart lurched. Thrusting Hope into the elevator, she spun on her heel. Gaze stood at the end of the corridor, calmly surveying her through his dark lenses. A pair of monstrous dogs padded at his side, their coal-black backs level with his waist. A hot, baleful orange light burned in the dogs’ throats, behind their snarling fangs.

Hellhounds!

“Hope, go!” Ivy yelled, jerking off her gloves.

“Not without you!” From the sounds of the doors trying and failing to close, Hope must have been holding the Door Open button.

Once, just once, Ivy wished that Hope would do as she was told. She didn’t dare take her eyes off Gaze and the hellhounds. She kept her hands raised and ready, deadly venom gleaming on her palms.

“Stay back,” she warned, fighting not to show how she was shaking. “Or I’ll show you what I can do.”

She could only pray that he wouldn’t take her up on the offer.

“I would, in fact, very much like to see your skills.” Gaze’s hand went to his sunglasses, sliding them down his nose. “But first, I’ll show you mine.”

He looked straight at her.

The force of his eyes took her breath away. They were red, red as blood, from edge to edge. No pupil, no white. Nothing but crimson, filling her vision, swallowing her whole.

Ivy couldn’t look away. A strange fire filled her blood, like nothing she’d ever known. In all the world, there was nothing but him, and her.

Holy crap. He really is my mate!

Then, as the burning heat in her veins continued to rise, Ivy realized that her one true mate probably shouldn’t set her aflame with pain.

“I did say we had much in common, Ivy,” Gaze murmured. His mouth curved in slight, strangely wistful smile. “Wyverns are nearly as rare as basilisks.”

“Hey, asshole!” Hope yelled. “Think fast!”

Something pink and glittery hurtled past Ivy’s shoulder. Gaze’s eyes flickered, instinctively tracking the motion.

Ivy was never, ever going to complain about Hope’s terrible taste in handbags again. Her paralysis broke the instant Gaze was distracted. Before the basilisk could capture her again with his stare, she squeezed her own eyes tight shut.

“Hope, go!” Ivy shouted, and gave herself up to her wyvern.

It surged up from her soul in an emerald storm of teeth and rage. The corridor would have been too small for a proper dragon to shift, but when her wings were folded, Ivy was only the size of a large horse.

Still keeping her eyes closed, she braced herself on her folded wing-joints, and breathed out a blast of acid. Her wyvern wanted to melt the flesh from her enemy’s bones, but she held her full strength in check.

Even a mild dose of her acid was still enough to hurt. Yelps of pain echoed down the corridor. She hoped she’d gotten the basilisk, but she didn’t dare open her eyes to check.

To her eternal relief, she heard the elevator doors slide shut behind her. Hope was finally on her way to safety.

Ivy blindly breathed out another covering blast of acid, half-spreading her wings to make sure no one was trying to sneak past. No yells this time, so she guessed Gaze and his shifters must have retreated.

The elevator binged, counting down floors as it descended. Ivy frantically tried to remember how tall the apartment building was. It would surely only take a few minutes for the elevator to reach the lobby.

Got to find a window. Fly down to meet Hope, get her to safety—

Something crashed into her, knocking her head over tail backward. She slammed into the wall, her attacker a cold, hard weight on top of her. She was only poisonous to the touch in human form; in wyvern form, her armored scales covered her venomous skin.

Powerful coils wrapped around her body. They squeezed, trying to crush the life out of her. It took all her willpower not to open her eyes.

Spit! Strike! Kill!

Completely disoriented, Ivy unleashed a blast of acid—not the diluted form she’d used before, but her full, steel-melting strength. Her unseen assailant let go of her, slithering away as she blindly whipped her head from side to side.

Walls sizzled, melting under her deadly breath. Sparks showered over her scales as the acid ate through electricity cables. The whole building shook as the power went out. The music still emanating from the party abruptly went dead.

And in the sudden hush, Ivy heard the deep, metallic groan of the elevator cable giving way.