“I am such a fucking creep right now,” I scold myself.
And I don’t feel a single ounce closer to the creature inside me.
“Should I bark a little? Give a hard growl to work myself up?” My brows scrunch as I realize how far I am down this rabbit hole I’m suddenly crawling naked through. “Why am I talking to myself? Because if I’m going to be a weirdo, I should do it wholeheartedly?”
That’s true . . .
In perfect creeper fashion, I curl my lips and give a tiny groan of a growl. It’s a self-conscious thing, though. A thing that says, ‘Goddess, you’re so far outside the social norm that no one wants you at the party, so you’re lurking above them with not a scrap of clothes on as you bark out your frustrations about the world.’
I shove a sigh from my lungs and push my hand through my hair.
I am a fucking mess.
But I will do this! Tonight. Right now!
Without a second thought, I throw my head back hard and fling my hands out at my sides like an offering to Goddess Moon. The howl that screams from my throat is so animalistic, it sets off actual animals in the forest to the east.
A crow cries out to me. Canines bark in unison as a group, as a pack, as a family. Owls, wolves, hellhounds, even the slithering hiss of a snake scratches at the heightened sense of my hearing, and I can tell it’s working. The sweat at the back of my neck, and the sharp teeth scraping my lips are all good signs that it’s working!
It’s—
“What the fuck are you doing? Why are you naked? Are you jerking yourself up here? What the fuck, Cersia!”
Annnddd the moment’s gone.
With zero tension or hope in my body, my neck drops, and I hang my head in hard disappointment and anger.
“Zilo. I’m a little busy at the moment.” With a small pouting stop of my foot, the words cut from my mouth, and I refuse to look at the fuck puppy behind me.
“Doing what? Is this one of those moon rites? A witch thing? Did your pack do shit like this, because we don’t do that here. Can you please get your clothes on? You’re distracting.”
I’m going to kill him. That’s the solution. I’ll kill him, and then it’ll trigger my beast out, and then we’ll all be happy.
Happy.
Happy.
Happy.
Clothes are being shoved in my face, and when I finally glare up at him, he’s not looking at me. His head’s tilted away in a strange sort of awkwardness.
“Why—why aren’t you looking at me?” I finally ask with confusion choking my throat.
“Just put the shirt on, for fuck’s sake.”
I blink.
He continues to look at the brickwork of the ground. Yes. He does make it look fascinating. The most interesting slab of brick shit he’s ever laid eyes on...
“You—you think I’m sexy.”
“No.”
“I think you do, Zilo.” I turn to him fully and press my palms to the nice curves of my hips.
“Then you’d be wrong.” Still no looking. Still the most adorable awkwardness I’ve ever seen from this alphahole of a man.
“Then look at me.”
