It’s almost as if she knows, somewhere deep in her soul, that Louie isn’t exactly a normal dog.
When the hellhound springs into the dark, I drift closer, helpless against her pull.
She’s leaning over the porch railing with a dreamy look on her face, staring at the night sky. Her beauty is mesmerizing as the moonlight reflects off her freckled skin and her coppery hair waves in the autumn wind. Once again, Aurora seems lost in her thoughts, leaving me curious about what occupies her mind.
The thing that links us pulls a little tighter, and something in my body shifts.
Damn it!They react to my thoughts and stalk toward her. When I call them back, I’m surprised to see the Irish wolfhound with the deer antlers, the Cù Fèidh. It’s an interesting amalgamation, something I’ve never seen before.
That night at the bookshop, my shadow reached out for her. I didn’t summon it. I didn’t think. And yet they twisted into woodland creatures and danced on the wall, each little beast a pathetic attempt to please her.
When I’m wearing the flesh suit, it takes a ridiculous amount of focus to pull my shadow beyond my body. Every movement has always been controlled.
But with Aurora, they didn’t wait for me. Something in them already belonged to her.
They twist in her orbit, the same way I do.
And when I got angry, when I put her in danger, it wasn’t the playful pieces that rose to protect her. It was the oldest part, the core of my shadow, that split off and chose the Cù Fèidh as her protector.
In that tense moment at the shop, she thought the shadow beast was my rage come to life.
But she was wrong.
The Cù Fèidh manifested to protect her … from me.
There’s something uniquely fucked-up in knowing your own body would happily turn on you and shred you down to bone if it meant shielding her.
To avoid harm, I tempered my anger before the creature attacked. I’m confident in my ability to fight, but to fight a piece of myself? I’m not sure I’d win.
I shiver as the beast returns to my body, making me feel whole again. When my gaze shifts back to Aurora, she’s staring straight at me even though I know she can’t see me hiding within the shadows. She whispers my name so softly the wind almost steals it before it reaches me.
My name on her lips makes me whimper, need sinking its claws in.
A tremor rolls through my shadows, raking across my gut—devouring the sound, savoring it like I do.
Just when I step forward, ready to go to her, Aurora turns, storms through the door, and slams it shut behind her.
About a minute later, a pickup truck turns into her driveway.
Fucking Jameson.
Finding out who Aurora was going on a date with was easy. Small towns talk, and Hettie and Candy talk the loudest. Hettie flirts. Candy glares. But they gave me what I needed.
The pig hauls his bulk out of the car, checks his reflection like he’s God’s gift, then struts up to her house. Minutes later, they leave through the front door, chatting and laughing.
Motherfucker.
That’s supposed to be me.
The shadows lash out, a barely contained, rage-filled, flickering snarl of ink.
They can’t stand this asshole either.
However, when he places his hand on the small of her back and she pulls away, a tiny part of me rejoices. The traitorous shadow bastards snap, recoiling so hard they shake the trees around me, scattering bright-colored leaves in a noisy, not-at-all subtle betrayal.
“Brilliant,” I mutter. “Lovely work, you twitchy little fucks.”
Even the dark turns toward her, like sunflowers reaching for light. Even me.
