be perfect. It was not that he needed any more magical power . . . after all, he was already the most talented mage he knew, short of that drunken and Dreaming wreck of a Prince, Terenil, in Los Angeles. He suspected that he could take even Lord Perenor in a fight, though that opportunity had never presented itself. But eventually, when Perenor was no longer useful to him . . .
You could never have too much, that was Nataniel's philosophy. True, he was the Prince of this Unseelie Court, as well as a very rich owner of some of the best businesses and property in Las Vegas. Not to mention a powerful mage and skilled swordsman, with more human money and political influence than he could spend. But you could ­always want more. Always.

She was standing on a grassy hillside, seeing the stars above, the moonlight shining down upon her. Someone stood beside her, a guy with long dark hair and wild eyes. To her eyes, he glowed like a torch, bright with life and power. Around them swirled the creatures of night, living shadows that flickered and laughed silently. She held back a scream, feeling their hatred and their hunger. They wanted her, and the guy, in a way that chilled her blood. It took everything she had just to stand there, when she could feel them drifting closer and closer