There’s a smokin’ hot dead guy locked in my garden shed. That part’s bad enough. But now, he’s trying to get out...Growing up, my father always told me that I’d come to a bad end, just like my mom did when I was a kid. Hearing that kind of shit when you’re little eventually gets to a girl, but I can’t say I ever expected my "bad end" to involve an angry vampire with a severe case of iron deficiency and a panty-melting English accent.

Lorelei Clay isn’t like other people. She isn’t even like other supernaturals. Her specialties are the nightmares of the living, communication with the dead, and cooking bacon until it’s golden brown and perfectly crispy—no magic required.

"What are you wearing under this dress?" he asked, his mouth brushing hers, the words whisper-soft. Not what she expected him to say. "E-excuse me?" His teeth sank into her lower lip, making her yelp. "Focus." On what? The demon club? The humans dying downstairs? The fact that you're a f--king vampire? Where should I begin? He sighed, his forehead falling to hers. "Astasiya, we have very little time to sort this before the Conclave. I need you to work with me. Both our lives depend on it. What are you wearing?"

Once upon a time, a handsome prince asked the academy wallflower to the ball. She was blinded by the stars in her own eyes and the pitter-patter of her lonely heart. Little did she know this prince was no prince at all, but a villain disguised behind a charming smile.

I hunt demons. I don’t work for them. And I promised my mom one thing before she was murdered: Under no circumstances would I ever go near the high demons. But I’ll break that promise over and over again if it helps me avenge her death. When my only lead turns to ash in the middle of demon territory, I’m suddenly a dead witch walking. Violence in Samael’s club is an automatic death sentence…unless he can use you. And it turns out that the most powerful demon in the country has a use for little ol’ me.