What kind of sick, twisted person made a fifteen year old a prize in a bloodthirsty game for creatures straight out of a nightmare? The answer came easily. Shade. Her father’s debt collector. The overseer of the Games. A winged incubus with a wicked streak. Wicked in more ways than one. Over five hundred years old, he was a notorious womanizer. Well, most incubi were. They got their power from sex. They needed it to live. Other than that, they had no weakness. Immortal, like much of the supernatural world, they could only be killed by beheading. But good luck getting through their thick skin. Shade, from what she’d heard, was devastatingly handsome. All the easier to lure women in. The incubi didn’t need to kill their victim to get the burst of power, they only had to pleasure them, which made the incubi popular bed conquests. Shade had a reputation for being a generous lover, but a ruthless villain when it came to the business of making money. And violence made a hell of a lot of money.
