Page 17 of Bewitching Her Monsters
Instead of fucking up Arran’s brains with a mind dive, I mouth the words:“What are you doing in there?”
His head flicks in the direction of the witch’s room.
Yeah, no shit, asshole.
I wave him closer again so that even with a low voice, we both can talk through the glass window because of our exceptional hearing.
He trots up to the window and shifts to his human form. With how I’m crouched down at his waist level, I get an eyeful of wolf shifter dick.
Ugh. I can’t deal with his crap right now.
I glower up at him and say in a low voice, “What the fuck are you doing?”
He squats down and answers, “Investigating.” The bastard has the audacity to look perturbed with me.
Out of anyone in our group last night, I’d have thought he’d be the last to willingly infiltrate a witch’s home. And he’s probably the last one who should. I’m surprised that he hasn’t turned into his true beast and attacked her.
But I suppose he hasn’t learned his lesson yet. He will, when either this woman or some other mortal magic weaver kills him.
I don’t sense any wards around her house, but I’m tempted to risk being zapped just so I can storm in there and wring Arran’s damned neck for being so reckless.
“Does she have you under a spell?” I ask. “Trapped?”
He shakes his head but looks unsure. “I think she really believes I’m a dog.”
I picked that up too. I didn’t dive into her mind. But from what I was able to pick up from her on the surface, she doesn’t seem to know his true nature.
However, I don’t trust a casual assessment. She could be skilled at blocking her thoughts and be able to project only innocent ones.
Although the few stray thoughts I caught on the surface might not be categorized as entirelyinnocent. She seems to be attracted to my physique—not that I blame her. Most find my body pleasing. Even without my glamour to make me appear human, I look almost the same.
But I need my glamour because without it, I have crimson skin, horns, and some other special bits that must be hidden from norms and witches.
She might not be so inclined to fuck me if she saw the actual complete package.
Wait! Why do I care if she wants to fuck me?
I shouldn’t be sliding down this line of thinking.
But this crazy witch who invited a wolf into her home intrigues me. Even if she doesn’t get that he’s a shifter, Arran is a fucking huge beast of a dire wolf. And she just let him in andprotectedhim. From me.
The witch doesn’t appear to be dumb, so why is she behaving this way? She allowed herself to be caught spying on us last night. She invited Arran inside. And now she is going on a brunch date with me.
What’s up with this woman?
I have to know. Hence, the date…
I hear the floor creak as she moves out of the bathroom to likely get dressed. Arran shifts and sits down to appear casual, waiting for her to return. I quickly return to the spot on the far side of the small porch and attempt to appear calm.
However, I’m anything but relaxed. I’ve lost my best friend and occasional lover, and this woman is already under my skin and inside my head.
I sense an insignificant amount of power coming off her. I wonder what sort of affinity this witch has. Is she a green witch—tied to nature and the elements? Is she into potions? Or is she more powerful than I understand and is able to hide it from me?
I have to stay alert.
The witch flings open the front door with her eyes wide, looking upset.
I hate to say that my first instinct is to protect her. I remind myself that she’s likely my enemy.
