Scourge Survivor Series Bundle

Jade loves her life as a fae enforcer for her world's elite policing agency. She
commands the element of fire and the gift of healing and is a well-loved
instructor at the Haven Academy of the Gifted. Then, Castian, the god of fae
gods, sends her on an emissary mission to reinstate a race of exiled Elves.

Galan dreamed of leaving the village of the Highborne Elves his entire life but with
his people exiled, where could he go? Then, on the first day of his rite of passage
ritual, he crosses paths with a red-haired, smart-mouthed temptress. He has
never encountered anyone like Jade—he has never encountered anyone outside his
Highborne people.

Although Galan's antiquated views on women offend Jade to her heated core, when ancient
enemies seize their chance to strike at the Highbornes, Jade helps him navigate
worlds he knows nothing about—the magical Realm of the Fair and, stranger
still—the modern streets of Toronto.

Gun versus wand.

Lexi and I saw the standoff escalating beyond the
crush of half-naked, leather-clad bodies on the dance floor. The patrons of the
tavern, human and not, ceased shimmying to the techno-rock of the house band
and drew wands and daggers in every direction.

“Let us through people.” Raising my palms, I
called my powers. “Castian, come to me.” A surge of arcane energy lifted my
hair as my affinity awoke. “Down!” I shielded Lexi and avoided the white-gold
energy bolt zinging past our heads. It hit the mirrored wall over the bar,
bursting into a shower of sparks and jagged shards.

A shot rang out. Shit.

Magic buzzed and crackled in the air like a bug-light
in August. I threw out some heat to part the remaining sea of bodies. Ignoring
the sneers of rubberneckers, we pushed through, and my sister and I joined the
altercation.

A scruffy, brute of a man sporting a bandana stood,
gun poised, staring straight into the wand-tip of one of the Academy of
Affinities’ fifth-year wizardry students.

“Problem, gentlemen?” I asked, easing into their
circle.

With shoulders rigid and wand steady, the student,
Nash Blackpaw, focused straight ahead. “Jade, this asshole thinks he’s dragging
my friend back to the Modern Realm.”

I assessed the native girl shielded behind his back.
She looked shaken but unharmed.

“I don’t think,” the brute hissed. “This is a family
matter. Jade, is it?”

Pushing down the urge to wipe the amused sneer off the
bastard’s face, I remained professional. “Jade is what friends and students
call me. You can call me Blaze. That is my official nom de guerre.”

I held up my wrist and revealed my Talon brand. Cold,
sharp eyes narrowed on my copper skin as the trademark golden hawk of a Talon
enforcer appeared. “Sir, you are armed with intent to do harm on Haven grounds.
This entire mountain is a sanctuary. According to Fae law, the girl is welcome
to claim refuge here.”

“Screw the laws,” he spat, shifting the business end of
the gun toward me. “Fae laws force our race to live in the Modern Realm—force
us to hide who we are as if we’re worth less than those fucking humans.
The gods won’t care about one worthless runaway. Tell your boy here to lower
his wand, and we’re gone.”

Catching Lexi’s eye, I glanced toward the girl, and my
sister dissolved into the crowd.

“Again, that’s a no.” The muzzle of the gun
pointed at my chest at an almost point-blank range. My skin tingled warmly. I
pushed back my temper. “I know how you must feel—”

“You know nothing,” he snapped, spittle flying.
“You are human.”

With his full attention on me, I wove more persuasion
into my words. “As a Talon enforcer, I ensure the laws of both realms are
upheld. You smuggled a gun from the Modern Realm onto sanctuary grounds.
There’s no chance you’re leaving with the girl. The Portal Gates were sealed
for the summer solstice, and you have things to answer for. Your only option
here is to lower your weapon.”

My suggestion had the barrel wavering, but he clutched
the grip with both hands to stabilize it. His jaw clenched as his index finger
tightened on the trigger. I gave another push of energy, and when I thought I
was at my limit, I pushed further. Perspiration beaded across his furrowed
brow. I held on. Needles of pain ran through my jaw as I clenched my teeth.
After another minute, the Glock clattered to the tavern floor.

He lunged.

My feet left the ground as his shoulder caught my
cheek. Something solid connected with my ribs, and I hit the dance floor in an awkward
half-twist. My back met the wood plank right before my head bounced. White
splotches burst in front of my eyes when the brute’s staggering weight lifted,
and two Were-lion bouncers took control.

One snatched the weapon and shoved it into the waistband
of his jeans. His litter-mate grabbed the guy’s thick arms and wrenched them
back until I expected to hear the snap of bone. Rumbling like a storm cloud,
the pair of Weres cable-tied the guy’s hands and signaled to everyone that the
show was over.

“And a good night was had by all.” Lexi rolled her
eyes and offered me a hand up. “You good, girlfriend?”

I nodded, wiping blood from my cheek as the crowd
dispersed. Once the band resumed, everyone went right back to their evening.

“Remove his bandana, or he’ll shift.” The native girl
peered from behind Lexi, then squealed as the brute surged.

“Are you snitching little bitch,” he snapped.

Lexi drew the knife from her thigh sheath, and the
lion tightened his hold on our now-squirming, cursing prisoner. When the tie of
the bandana was severed, the glamour—the illusion which made it appear as if
his cloak were nothing more than a piece of cloth—shattered. What looked to be
a worn black cloth-covered in flames and a rebel flag dissolved, leaving Lexi
holding a floor-length fur pelt.

“Finfolk?” Lexi asked.