Page 62 of Bewitching Her Monsters
19
NOT AGAIN
JADE
It pisses me off. I miss Arran and Beast. How can they have gotten under my skin so quickly?
I remind myself over and over, like a mantra:I don’t need the peen.
A casual hookup might be perfect for now.
But shockingly, Arran seems interested in more. He looks like the type who would prefer a young, sexy underwear model on his arm rather than a middle-aged, curvy homebody.
He claims he wants an actual relationship with me?
However, I don’t know if I can ever truly trust someone again. How can I let someone inside my heart after the way Rob treated me?
Deciding to go to bed early since I haven’t been sleeping enough with these strange nightmares, I crawl into bed. A sense of foreboding weighs heavily on me.
That’s never a good sign. I definitely believe in my intuition. I’ve had too many confirmed instances to ignore it.
Anxiety rises in me, and I know my life is going to be turned upside down soon.
Exhaustion finally takes me after laying awake for too long.
And I have another mysterious dream…
The guy from the bar, with the ice-blue eyes and smoldering gaze, stands in front of me. We are in a cheap motel room with two queen beds. A outdated table lamp casts a dim light around the shabby room.
The place is a mess. It has blankets tossed about. Random stuff, like food packages and weapons, covers all the tables and dressers. Discarded, torn clothes are piled on the bed.
“We can’t stay holed up here much longer,” Mr. Blue Eyes says. “They’ll narrow down our positions soon enough.”
“I know what we need to do, Calder,” my male avatar grumbles. “But we have to wait for Maxum to show up again. He’s the only one who has a secret safe house. Everywhere else has been compromised.”
“If he hasn’t returned from the Underworld by now, he might never,” Calder says. He looks worried and runs his hands through his auburn hair nervously.
“No. Maxum will make it,” I stroke his face, soothing him. “He’s smarter than any of the shitheads there.”
“If he doesn’t come soon, we should go after him.” Calder gestures with his hand at one of the beds. “Flint is almost recovered.”
Hidden in the bulk, I see a massive arm poking out from what I assumed was only a pile of sheets and blankets. His figure was so still, I didn’t realize it was a person. From the strange light skin coloring, I assume it’s their friend, the one I imagine is a gargoyle. And I had seen him frozen like a statue in my last dream.
Flint—that’s a funny name for me to come up with for a being made of stone. The subconscious works in weird ways.
“His recovery took longer than Maxum thought. The witches are getting stronger as we are getting weaker,” Calder says.
“No. We are just noticing how weak we’ve become,” my avatar says. “The spells that once would have barely bothered us are now easily knocking us down.”
“How are you holding up?” Calder asks, reaching out for me before quickly pulling back. For some reason, he doesn’t feel comfortable touching me… but at some point, he has been able to freely touch. Maybe they are no longer together romantically. But I can feel our heart-wrenching ache to reconnect.
My muscular arm reaches out and captures Calder by the back of the neck. I draw him closer until our lips are only an inch apart. This close, I see the hot blue flames in his irises. Calder is not ice at all, even if he often displays a cold exterior.
He is barely contained passion and a powder keg ready to go off. The blue is not of ice but of the hottest kind of fire.
“As much as I would like to fuck you, I’m not sure you can handle me right now,” I say and lace my fingers into the back of his auburn hair, fisting it.
He groans and bucks his hips into mine. His hard cock is apparent as he grinds into me, seeking relief.
