Page 20 of Bewitching Her Monsters
“Because I don’t look like I can read?” I deadpan.
“Oh, geeze, no!” She covers her mouth in embarrassment. “I just… I write romance. You don’t really seem like you would be into that.”
“Because I don’t look like I enjoy romance?” I joke but continue my serious tone.
She turns bright red now. “No! Oh, man, I’m turning this conversation into a shitshow. It’s just… my audience is ninety-nine percent women, so I don’t expect you to have heard of me or the genre I write.”
“Is it… what do they call it?” I ask. “Steamy?”
Her eyebrows rise with surprise that I know something about romance books. “Uh. Yes, there aredetailedand explicit scenes.” Her aura tightens around her body, and she seems agitated.
Why is she nervous now?
“I didn’t know you would be ashamed of your writing,” I offer. “We can move on from this subject.”
“I’m not ashamed of my work,” she says, straightening up. “I just don’t talk about it with people I only met five seconds before. And being a guy, I thought maybe you’d belittle me somehow.”
“Does that happen a lot?” An urge to rip body parts off anyone who has mocked her rushes through my system. What is this protective instinct about?
“Well, I’ve had all kinds of responses. I’ve had guys hit on me and tell me they can help with inspiration, then send unsolicited dick pics.”
I figure out that reference on my own—modern-day flashing. From this day forward, these dicks will now be burnt sausages.
Jade sighs and wrings her hands.
“But it sounds like there is something else?” I prompt.
“My ex tried to make me stop writing. He was jealous of imaginary guys.”
“Truly?” I shake my head.
Humans are so strange.
“It doesn’t matter. You don’t want to hear about my ex.” She brushes it off and changes the subject. “So, what do you do?”
I don’t tell her I don’t have to work for a living. She doesn’t need to know about my finances or that I’m basically a soldier in the brewing war with her kind. So I go with a version of the truth of what I do in my spare time. “I run a disadvantaged youth outreach program.”
“No shit.” Jade grins. “That’s awesome. How does that work?”
“I help high-risk teens to develop coping skills for life.” More like teaching them to control their magic and training them in self-defensive combat magic to protect themselves. But she doesn’t need to know that either.
“I imagine that would be so rewarding,” she says, impressed with my pursuits. “I volunteer at the animal shelter, walking dogs, petting cats, and stuff. But I’m not great with people.”
“Really?” I give her a look of disbelief. “You seem like you would be. I mean, you don’t appear uncomfortable around me. And I don’t necessarily put people at ease.”
She frowns as she takes that in. “Yeah. For some strange reason, I feel okay being around you, even though you look like you might break me in two. But I’m definitely not a fan of crowds.”
I could split her in two… with my cock.Nope, stop it. Bad dick.
We walk for a few minutes in comfortable silence.
In my mind, I go over what she’s said so far. My senses didn’t detect any lies about her feeling okay around me. Which is funny. If anything, her instincts should tell her to run—far, far away.
We get to the restaurant that’s located just past the bar where she watched us last night. In the parking lot, I see Flint and Calder sitting in Calder’s vintage 1962 Rambler. I step faster to block Jade’s view of them and point down the street. “Looks like it’s not too busy at the Spud House this morning. That should put you at ease.”
She hums her agreement, and we cross the road.
My senses tingle. Someone is watching. I want to shrug it off as it’s only my friend’s attention, but I know better. I’m familiar with the weight and texture of their gaze. Maybe her witch associates are now preparing to kill me.
