How can this insignificant human wield such power over me?
Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe she isn’t human. Maybe she’s targeting me.
Wrakhs have tried to control me with their magic before but never succeeded.
Have they finally found a spell that would bring me to heel?
No other supernatural creature knows what I truly am, but like attracts like, and their monster can sense mine, which has caused some dangerous encounters.
I need her to be something I understand. Something I can break, discard, and forget, like every other fleeting obsession.
But this? This isn’t that.
Everything in me—everything in this goddamn universe—is screaming that it’s something more.
While I shower and prepare for a night of reading, drinking, and brooding, I conclude I need more information about this woman to gauge how much of a threat she really is.
I fucking need her to be a threat.
I can handle threats.
It’s the other option that makes my skin crawl.
After my shower, I throw on my grey sweatpants and head back to the living room, collapsing in my chair. I lean back and close my eyes, sending a silent prayer to the universe that this little female might let a monster into her bed.
I don’t think I’ve ever been obsessed with anything before, which is probably for the best.
Because this obsession?
It festers in my mind like a cancerous god, chewing through reason cell by cell.
For a second, I almost feel bad for her.
She has no fucking clue what’s coming.
But what really scares me is … neither do I.
Ezra
The night won’t end. I pace like a caged animal, my teeth bared, choking on feelings I shouldn’t fucking have.
I roll my neck, dropping my shoulders, but the tension still lingers, strung tight since I saw her on my fucking street.
I need to get out of here and burn off some energy before I do something stupid.
Even though my clothes can shift with me, I remove the sweatpants hanging low on my hips. No matter what I transform into, I can feel the fabric of my human clothes under my animal skin, which is uncomfortable and restrictive.
I stand naked on my porch, exhale, and shiver as my body twists into something wild.
My tattoos tingle, shimmering with pops of color, as my gaze snags on the white-tailed deer grazing in a field of wildflowers, inked just above my knee.
And for some goddamn reason, it makes me think of the little human.
The shadows fold around me, bleeding beneath my skin like ink on old parchment.
My frustration dulls, slipping into something quieter.
The shadows know me.
