Not everyone could sense another’s magic, but strong supernaturals could. The more powerful you were, the more completely you were hooked into the magic that was everywhere. You could sense other supernaturals—especially strong ones—easily. For me, the strongest magic hit all my senses instead of just one or two. This guy lit up all six, my dragon sense included.
His magic smelled like the forest, crisp and clean, but sounded like pounding ocean waves or roaring wind. It tasted of dark chocolate. I rubbed my tongue against the roof of my mouth as I took in the silver gray aura that surrounded him.
I couldn’t pinpoint if he was a shifter or one of the Magica. Both? I shivered. Half-bloods were rare, but scary strong considering that they could draw from both being magic—the shifter side—and doing magic—the Magica side.
But it was the feel of his power that was really unusual. It felt good. Really good. Like a massage or a bubble bath or an amazing kiss. It freaked me out. The worst was my dragon sense, though. My dragon sense could only find things of value. And it tugged me toward this guy like he was a treasure chest full of gold.
He was valuable.
To me? That was nuts. But the pull was there, that familiar sense of being dragged toward something I wanted.
But I did not want him. The idea that part of me wanted something my brain didn’t agree with was no good.
I’d only felt power that strong once, from the memory of the man we’d run from. And everything about his magic had been dark. It’d smelled and tasted like rot and felt like being stabbed with a thin knife. It wasn’t like this guy’s magic. But power that strong made me nervous. His magic alone was dangerous. If I used mine around him, he was strong enough to sense it. He might even figure out what I was.
“Care to explain what you’re doing lurking outside my door?” I asked, keeping my knives at the ready.
How’d he get past the locked door downstairs?
“Waiting for you,” he said. His voice had a hint of gravel to it, but in a pleasant way. A sexy way, but I didn’t want to explore that until I was sure he wasn’t here to kill me. Combined with the chiseled planes of his face and his athletic physique, he was the complete package.
He looked like a super model, but not quite the pretty kind. The kind that was a bit rough around the edges, with strong hands and chiseled features. He could model designer flannel as easily as suits. His dark hair and eyes would look amazing with either, but it was his lips that I had to drag my stupid gaze from.
He towered over my five-foot-seven-inch height. Six three, at least, I mused, sizing him up for a potential showdown. If it came down to it, I’d have to run. Between his magic and his strength, I wouldn’t stand a chance.
“How’d you get in?” I asked, deciding to play nice and hoping this didn’t go south. Perhaps he had a legit reason to be here, but the pessimist inside me said otherwise.
“You shouldn’t leave your door unlocked.”
“It wasn’t.”
“Then I got lucky.”
“And by luck, you mean magic.”
He shrugged one big shoulder and nodded.
“But you didn’t use it to get into my place?” I asked. I tried to calm my racing heart, hoping his shifter senses couldn’t pick it up. I didn’t think he’d be able to find my troves even if he had gotten in—they were well hidden behind false walls—but I didn’t like the possibility.
The corner of his mouth hiked up in a devastating smile. “That’d be just rude.”
An exasperated puff of air escaped me. I shouldn’t have been thinking about how hot or funny this guy was…but I couldn’t help it. “Yeah, totally. This little bit of B&E”—I pointed to the stairs—“is totally cool.”
He grinned again, looking too charming and sexy for my own good. This guy was killing me. “You’re the expert, given your line of work.”
“What do you know about me? And who are you?”
“I know you’re Cassiopeia Clereaux, the best treasure hunter in Magic’s Bend.”
“Cass,” I said. Only Del and Nix could call me Cassiopeia. I chose Cleraux, my last name, because it sounded good with Cass. It wasn’t Irish, but I couldn’t remember if I liked my life back there. “Why don’t you tell me who you are?”
“Aidan Merrick.”
“Oh hell,” I breathed. I’d thought his power felt strange. “The Origin.”
“That name’s a bit much, don’t you think?”
“Is it true? Can you shift into anything?” I didn’t know much about shifter lore, but according to rumor, the Origin was the descendent of the original alpha. The first shifter—a griffon or a dragon, depending on who you talk to. There was one born every generation, and he or she had the power to shift into any animal at will.
“You’d have to get to know me better to find out. That’s not really first date information.”
My heart fluttered. “This isn’t a date.”
“It could be.”
“I thought you were here about a job.”