Once upon a time, in an alleyway in the slums of the City of Lockes, a young and somewhat lonely boy named Sam Haversford turns a group of teenage douchebags into stone completely by accident. Of course, this catches the attention of a higher power, and Sam's pulled from the only world he knows to become an apprentice to the king's wizard, Morgan of Shadows.

A thousand years ago, my great-something uncle founded the Collective, a secret organization dedicated to protecting humanity from demons. The hunter tradition has been passed down over the generations, from parent to child, secure in the knowledge that the Collective is a community of safety and knowledge. But betrayal sucks, and six years ago, it turned my world—and the Collective—upside down. After generations of deception, the hunters left behind are picking up the pieces and trying something we’ve never done before—working side by side with our enemy.

Samuel has one goal in life: fix his broken core. What does he not want? A bossy, overprotective, possessive, teasing dragon sticking his nose in business that is not his. Even if he is sexy and supports Samuel on his quest to find the lost Sousa Mage Clan. Utterly beside the point. He does not need a dragon boyfriend. (Un)fortunately, Dimitri disagrees.

Spencer Bailey has spent his entire life under government oversight for something he can’t change: his magic’s affinity for breaking souls. After surviving the end of the world, Spencer joins the Supernatural Operations Agency with the intention of keeping his head down and his hands clean. Tasked with tracking down a stolen artifact, Spencer wants to run his first case with the SOA by the book. The master vampire of the Seattle Night Court won’t make that easy.

Miles Castillo has spent his entire life running from the crime his parents committed. He’s an alpha without a pack, and a son whose very name is poisoned. When two werewolf hunters catch him, he has to choose between a man who wants his head mounted on a wall and Cade Bartlett, the mage prince who doesn’t realize who Miles is.

When the light-magic users known as Casters took everything from me, I vowed to make them pay. Little did I know the perfect opportunity would show up in the form of a sweet Caster the moment I took his arrow to the heart…literally. Bastian knows that I’m made of dark magic, the very thing he’s been taught to destroy. But instead of turning away from me, he takes a chance on me, leading me behind the walls of the group out to kill me.

Whisper doesn’t remember his real name. All he knows is the elite assassin guild that raised him—and controls him with the threat of blood magic. Plagued by nightmares, he doesn’t get to refuse assignments, even when his new job doesn’t make sense: infiltrate Prince Julien’s court, protect him until the signal arrives, then kill him.

For nineteen years, I have carved myself into a dutiful son, a courtier of unimpeachable wit, and a genuine delight at a tea party. Now that my success in society has planted me in the path of Mikhail Vasiliev, it's clear I'd have been better off keeping my head down. Prince Mikhail is the second son of a traitor. Third in line to the throne, he has a reputation for violence, debauchery, and being a thorn in the side of his cousin, King Dmitri. That is until the king decides to get him out of the way—by marrying him off. To me.

It’s really hard to pretend like life is normal when you’re staring a monster in the eyes, though he’s both tempting and irritating in his human form. I put my days as a hunter behind me, unable to cope with the death and pain anymore, to become an upstanding citizen and for what? To assist Lake, a man who claims he’s not a monster but keeps talking about me like I’m edible and–even worse–wants to woo me?

Necromancer Shae loses more of himself every time he uses his magic. Always cold, always touch-starved, the only thing that helps is human contact. But Shae's dark powers scare everyone away. Even his new paladin bodyguard Arthur keeps his distance. Until Arthur finds Shae unconscious and shivering—and doesn't let go.