I'm at a bar trying to poison a mark like the professional I am when I see him. Straight from Tartarus, they say the shadow dragon called Legion has slayed entire armies single-handedly, and the intense way he looks at me suggests every rumor I've heard about him is true. I should be terrified. Instead, I'm drawn like a moth to a flame. The moment he touches me, everything changes. Suddenly, my skin is the poison. One touch is enough to kill a man, which is exactly what I do before I realize what Legion has done to me. I vow to make him pay. The pull I feel toward him is a beacon-or a leash-but he's not the easy mark I expected. To my utter horror, I go from hunter to captive. If I want to earn my freedom, I'll have to give him the one thing he demands: me.