Sparring with the demon held the same out-of-control thrill as dancing at the edge of a cliff or standing outside in a thunderstorm, and Calladia was enough of an adrenaline junkie to crave more. She’d always been drawn to danger. Tension thrummed between them like a plucked string. What would happen if she seized that thread and made something out of it, the way she wove magic from twine? The cliff edge—and madness—beckoned.
