I like my monsters like my coffee—strong, hot, and not trying to kill me. I’m done with hunting down supernatural criminals. Fighting for my life everyday gets old. So, career change. Social worker for supernaturals is a way to use my skills in a no risk environment. Right? Wrong. It turns out the last witch in my role was slaughtered by a lycanthrope—and the prime suspect is my client who happens to be pure, forbidden deliciousness. Totally irrelevant. I get paid to support the vulnerable, not lust after them. Or assume they’re guilty unless proven innocent. But the cops are outgunned. The wizards are morally bankrupt. And the lycans are concealing information. There’s someone powerful, clever, and armed with inside knowledge who’s getting rich running drugs. Someone lurking behind a network of faeries and lycanthropes. Someone corrupt enough to kill to keep their secrets. I’m a witch. I’m not going down without a fight.

I follow the rules when they’re fair, but since when has love ever been fair? There’s a power vacuum triggering issues between the magi and vampires that’s threatening to unleash a nightmare. Vampires, witches, and fae I can fight. That’s all in a day’s work. But my enemies’ choice of weapon is the most terrifying of all—love. I’m paid to guide the magickal members of our community. I won't have an obsession-fuelled team of witches running an abusive, Cupid-esque racket. And I definitely won’t let my client be drawn back into their horrific web. One thing’s for sure, love has a dark underside, and it's coming for my client—but first, it’ll have to go through me.