But she couldn’t have that. She had to go back to helping him get free. Only when she did, he held up a hand. “Okay, I feel like maybe you can cope with this now, so I’m just gonna—” he said, then instead of ending the sentence he smacked the dashboard with one fist. Like he was trying to prompt something into happening.
Because hewas.
Because the car wasn’t really a car at all.
Of course it wasn’t—she’d seen it wasn’t the moment she laid eyes on that weird stereo. It was some kind of supernatural thing, that could apparently change shape the moment he demanded it. And god, the shape it changed into. For a moment she actually thought she saw it grow legs where the wheels had been. Spidery yet sturdy legs, that unfolded and found their footing on thedirt. Then they stretched, and the entire front of the car lurched upward.
She put out her hands to hold on.
But found she had nothing to hold on to.
The dashboard was gone, replaced by a seething mass of black nothingness. Like melted plastic, she thought—only of course it wasn’t plastic at all. It was alive, in a way that made her scramble back in her seat. Or, at least, shetriedto scramble back in her seat. She went for it, and almost plunged into what should have been the back of the car. “Hey,asshole,” she heard Jack bellow, and for a second thought he meant her, that she’d done something wrong.
And then some part of the not-really-car seemed to curve around her.
Itcaughther before she could fall, and set her back into a rapidly re-forming seat.Because Jack was talking to it, not to you, her brain said. Ridiculously, she thought. But it was also somehow completely true. “That’s more like it,” he said, as it finished settling her in to what now almost looked like a truck again. And a better truck than it had been before, too. It plumped a cushion under her butt, and gave her an armrest where one hadn’t existed.
Then, just for good measure, it actually seemed to straighten her skirt and smooth her hair. One of her shoes had come off; it slipped it back on with spindly fingers. Actual fingers that dissolved into the floor the moment the job was done. Nightmarish, she wanted to call it. Hell, anyone else in the world probably would have.
But apparently she wasn’t just anyone anymore.
Because all she could think was:
I have never felt more like a princess in my whole life.
Like this was the scene in the movie where woodland creatures made a dress for her, and tidied her up and fixed her hair. She almost expected to look back and find a bow there. Completelysilly, really. But she knew it was how she truly felt. She could tell, because when she looked at Jack, the happiness on her face was reflected in his. He looked almost overwhelmed to see her delight.
Though nothing beat his expression when they got back to his.
Because she got out first, near desperate to see if his cabin was a similar thing to the truck. Head full of the various items that had seemed to change in there—like the couch, and the soft furnishings, and sometimes even maybe the walls. A million questions already on her lips, just waiting to be fired at him.
And he clearly wasn’t expecting her to turn and ask any of them.
She did it and he lurched backward, immediately, hands up. Shoulders going down, body hunching, as if he could somehow make himself smaller that way. Like he expected her to be terrified, seeing him at his full height, and didn’t want her to be.
Though she could see why. He had to be well over seven feet, maybe even eight. The top of her head barely came up to his stomach. And he wasn’t just tall, either, oh no. He was bulky, burly, fit to bursting with muscle and sinew and great glorious slabs of meat. His thighs were thick; his stomach was a drum.
It was all she could do not to gasp.
If he’d lost all his clothes instead of some, she probably would have.
But oh, it wasn’t in the bad way. It was the good way. The very good way. The way that made her think of what this beast had done to her barely a few hours ago.God, no wonder he managed to make me come, he’s a demon full of every sexy trick in the book, she thought, and knew it showed on her face.
Not fear. Not agony.
Just breathless awe and depthless desire.
And she almost saw his heart swell to see it. It filled his face, this new-but-the-same face, and so poignantly she couldn’t resist.She went up on tiptoe and lifted a hand, and touched that lovely expression with her fingertips. Soft, soft, as the whole world seemed to stop around them.
The cicadas fell silent.
The breeze dropped.
Even the scenery around them melted away, until all that existed was the night, and the soft warmth of it enveloping them, and her gentle touch as his eyes drifted closed to feel it.
THEY SAT INthe kitchen, across the table from each other. Only the table wasn’t a table anymore. It had feet now, and they tried to scamper every now and then. He had to tell them to knock it off, just like he had with his truck. While she sat there, wondering how often things like that happened around her without her knowing.
“The answer is more than I want to tell you,” he said, when he saw her considering—like he could read her mind. Which, for all she knew, he could. She had to reassure herself by remembering how many things he clearly had no idea about, and could have discovered via telepathy if he’d been able to.
