Holy Smoke By Gin Griffith

 Paranormal Romance/Romantasy

Date Published: 02/06/2024

DEMONS DON'T DO LOVE...

Lust and lies? Now those, Jovi can handle.

But falling for a demon hunter like Nash Rogan?

Really dumb move for a succubus on the run.

 

ROGAN'S NO FOOL...

But he's acting like one. Breaking rules, spilling secrets—touching her.

He lives in the shadows. But the more Jovi lights him up, the less he wants to go back to the dark.

 

Sparks fly when Jovi and Rogan are forced to flee—and fight—as an unwilling duo in HOLY SMOKE, the first in the HELLBOUND series by Gin Griffith.

 

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Excerpt

This little firebug was pissing him off.  
Nash Rogan narrowed his eyes at the pink-haired pyromage sitting across from him. She quirked a brow and crossed her legs, revealing a whole lot of sleek, pale thigh. A black combat boot bounced irritably.  
“What is your name?” Rogan repeated.  
“Who wants to know?” Her voice was high, clear. Cartoonish. It should not have been sexy.  
She blew an enormous bubble with her purple chewing gum. It popped. A fake grape scent drifted across the desk. She smiled. 
Rogan ground his molars. “As I said, my name is Agent Rogan. But we’re talking about you. And how you just set someone on fire.” 
Pale blue eyes flashed. She leaned forward and stabbed a finger at him. “That asshole put his hands on me. I told him to back off, and he didn’t.” She hesitated. “But I am sorry.” She relaxed deliberately back in her chair. The lines of her body softened, melting into a series of lush curves. She caught her lower lip briefly between her teeth. Lashes fanned high cheekbones. “It won’t happen again.”  
She was good.  
“I’m sure.” Rogan studied her. Luminous skin, sharp, dainty features, all that bubblegum pink hair falling to a small waist. Nobody looked good under these harsh overhead lights, but this little mage shone like a damn pearl. “Look, I saw what happened. It was self-defense.” Lucky for her, he’d been walking past that alley at precisely the right moment. He’d heard her protests, saw the guy’s meaty frame cornering her against the brick wall. Right before she’d lit him up like a bonfire. “And you didn’t kill him. He’s badly burned, but he’ll live.” 
“Great. So, can I go?”  
Full of remorse, wasn’t she? Rogan looked pointedly at her left wrist. “Where’s your trackband?” 
She folded her arms. 
Right. Rogan came around the desk and gently grasped her elbow. Ignoring her spluttered protests and the fact that her skin felt like heated silk beneath his fingers, he steered her firmly out of the interrogation room. 
Magical Law Enforcement was a hive of activity, even at this hour. Agents bustled back and forth, their royal blue uniforms vivid against the bright white corridor. The glowing blue threads of Vortech security wires ran the length of the walls, pulsing gently. MLE headquarters was famous for its marriage of magic and human tech. 
Rogan led his little captive past the holding cells, ignoring the catcalls of the junkies and drunks. “You’ll be fitted with a standard-issue MLE trackband registered to your name. If you refuse to provide one, you’ll be registered as Jane Doe.” It had been a while since he’d brought in an unregistered mage, but the script flowed effortlessly. “Should you perform aggressive magic, your trackband will alert authorities, at which time MLE agents will arrive on scene. You will be charged in accordance with the severity of the offense.” He nodded at another agent, who leaped aside as they passed. 
Near the end of the hall, a glass door labeled Registration came into view. The pyromage spotted it and planted her boots on the shiny white tile, causing Rogan to bump into her tight little backside. He jerked his hips back, gritted his teeth, and pushed her through the door.