Page 102 of Bewitching Her Monsters
“Will you show me who you really are?” Jade adjusts as she leans against the wall, as if to brace herself.
I remove my shirt so she’ll see my markings first—ease her into this.
The red lines cover my entire torso and arms.
Her eyes widen as she stares.
I nervously wait for her to respond to my markings. They are sacred to my people, and I don’t want her to hate it.
Fuck. Am I falling for her?
“Do they have meaning?” Her hand lifts as if she wants to touch them.
“Sacred markings of my spirit. They appear magically when I have a significant experience. It’s written in my flesh.”
“That’s amazing,” she says with awe.
I sit down on the bed and offer my hand. When Jade slips her hand in mine, I place it on my forearm so she knows she can touch me.
She smiles. “You are so warm.” Her eyes catch on the broken, jagged lines in the center of my chest. “This shows how you’ve lost ones you loved.”
She gets it—me.
I take her finger and run it over one particularly fresh-looking line. “This is Osen’s death.”
Tears well up in her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I know you meant a lot to each other.”
“You’ve seen some of it?”
“I didn’t mean to invade. I didn’t see much. However, I saw this isn’t your true form. I saw horns in one of the memories, but it was dark.”
“Don’t be afraid,” I say and shift, showing off my deep red skin and curled horns.
This crazy woman, who just discovered the magical world, doesn’t look the least bit afraid. She looks entranced by me.
Is it horrible that I’m disappointed that I didn’t startle her a little?
Her hungry gaze makes up for it though. She licks her lips as she eyes my horns.
I unfurl my bat-like wings, and she squeals with joy.
She squeals… what the actual fuck?
“Wings!” she claps happily.
Might as well see if she can deal with the rest of it. She’s going to see it in a few minutes, anyway.
I yank down my pants and reveal my tail wrapped around my waist and my already throbbing, hard dick.
“A tail!” She bites her lips in anticipation, the crazy witch. “And your cock is…”
Arran bursts back into the room, his skin rippling with a barely contained shift.
“Oh, Arran, come here.” She holds her hand out to him, inviting him to be part of this. “How do we help you handle what’s going on?”
“If you touch him, I need to be touching you at the same time.”
“But you’re okay with him touching me?” she asks, because it is an interesting distinction.
