Samael

I’m a hedge witch. I make teas that cure migraines, I grow enchanted lavender, and I try to keep my head down. I do *not* dabble in Void magic. But when a simple warding spell goes disastrously wrong and threatens to swallow my entire neighborhood into an abyssal dimension, I have to do the unthinkable: summon a demon to fix it. Enter Samael. He’s arrogant, infuriatingly sarcastic, and entirely too attractive for my own sanity. He fixes the tear, but his payment isn't my soul—at least, not entirely. He wants to bind our souls together for one month and crash on my couch. Now, I have a brooding, impossibly powerful demon eating my snacks and criticizing my decor. But when the Magisterium’s lethal bounty hunters track the Void signature to my door, my annoying roommate shows his true colors. He isn't just a powerful demon; he's a lethal weapon. And for some reason, he’s decided that I am *his* to protect. It started with a cracked teapot and a pinch of dried nightshade. It was supposed to be a standard mending incantation, a little domestic magic to seal the ceramic. Instead, my chaotic magic latched onto a ley line tremor, tearing a jagged, bleeding hole right through the fabric of reality in the middle of my kitchen. The cold of the Void seeped in, freezing my hanging ferns instantly. I had minutes before the anomaly expanded and sucked my entire zip code into a dimension of eternal suffering. I needed raw, concentrated dark magic to counteract the pull. I didn't have time to be careful. I didn't have time to read the warnings. I grabbed chalk, drew a summoning circle on my hardwood floor, and pulled on the darkest thread of magic I could find.