And now, something ancient stirs.
I want her scent in my lungs. Her heartbeat in my teeth.
The need pulses through me, savage and unrelenting, louder with every step.
I was built for this. For her.
Being close to the little goddess was … strange. Every living thing gives off an energy vibration. Humans call it an aura. And human energy? It all feels the same. Even the so-called “sensitive” ones barely register a difference.
But Aurora’s energy? It’s too human. Too fucking perfect. So solid, it almost feels rehearsed, like something wearing humanity like I wear a face.
Something isn’t right.
My instincts are never wrong. Human energy means human. So why the hell am I questioning what I felt when I was near her?
The memory of her freckled skin against my shadow makes me shiver. But I force the reaction down. I must remain focused. Be vigilant. I must make sure the human gets home without incident.
A few moments later, Aurora stumbles out of the bar, looking shaken, flushed, and grumbling softly to herself. I follow her home, slipping through the shadows, the predator in me locked onto her. Her scent winds through my lungs, thick with warmth and something untamed.
Something I need.
The more I breathe her in, the more my restraint unravels.
When she stops to look around, I melt deeper into the shadows. This woman—thishuman—has almost made me reveal myself more than once. All because of the way her body calls to mine.
While I sit in the shadows, I scan the area.
No one, man or monster, lurks in the darkness tonight.
Good. I can turn my focus back to her.
She grumbles about a new kink, and I chuckle in the shadows, proud to be her monster.
Of course I can read her. Perfectly.
Although I suppose the scene in her book helped a little.
If she thinks anyone would turn down a request from her, she’s delusional. Aurora has no bloody clue how powerful she is. Men and women would fall to their knees, begging for the chance to please her.
Me included.
What I wouldn’t give to indulge every single one of her fantasies. My red handprint on her perfect, round ass. Her body tied up, writhing,beggingme to let her come. Maybe the little human would be interested in voyeurism.
Would she like to watch?
Or would she like to be watched?
Mine.
The word carves itself onto my mind, bloody and absolute.
It doesn’t matter if I worship her like a god, fuck her into madness, or consume her like a monster—she belongs to me.
No one else deserves to touch her.
No one else is fucking allowed.
If I caught anyone laying their hands on her flawless skin or running their hands through that shiny, coppery hair, I wouldn’t hesitate. I’d rip them limb from limb, burn their remains on an ancient pyre, and let the wind carry their ashes to places forgotten by time.
