Page 34

I nodded, and she opened the book beside her, running her finger down one page, then the next, and seeing her do that had me thinking of how it felt when she did the same to my shoulder. I fucking shivered, more goose bumps lifting all over me. My dick felt heavy and hot as fuck, which was not okay. This was Jasmine. Willow’s sweet, little cousin. How the fuck was I hard when I was sitting in a circle surrounded by the souls of the people I’d fucking murdered? How was that possible?

I quickly reached down and adjusted myself when she slid the book out of the way. Yes, she was beautiful and sweet and funny and at times feisty. Yes, there was this fucking weird connection between us, but still, this was messed up even for me.

Then shit only got worse when she placed her hand on my shoulder and started drawing the sigils on my skin. I could feel the heat of her body, where she touched my shoulder was searing hot, and her breath, warm and sweet, brushed the side of my neck as she whispered a spell. The usual urge to pull away, to not let anyone touch me, reared up, but a different, stronger urge to rub against her, to nuzzle, to curl up with her in a confined space and share body heat, was even stronger.

My fox wanted to herd her to our den, to my room, I could feel it. He wanted to press against her and protect her. I breathed deep as she moved to the next shoulder, telling him to calm the fuck down, but his tail just wagged harder, and he pressed closer. I needed to get my dick under control before she started on the sigils that would run down my chest.

She touched my jaw. I jumped.

“Sorry. I just need you to tilt your head to the side.”

I did, and she drew a sigil on the side of my neck, then on the other. Her breath tickled my ear as she whispered that same spell over and over, and I bit back a fucking moan. I was in sensation overload.

No one had touched me this much since before I was possessed. When I fucked, I made it clear I didn’t want them touching me or I just made them grip the headboard or lifted their arms above them to make sure of it. Every touch from Jasmine was fucking unravelling me, it was pleasure-pain. Agony and ecstasy. The fox wanted more; the male whose hands had held people down, who’d cut and tore and tortured, whose face and chest and arms had been sprayed with their blood and gore wanted to push her away in horror, in shame and guilt.

I gritted my teeth and stayed where I was.

“Can you lie on your stomach?” Jaz asked.

I quickly did as she said and squeezed my eyes closed, letting the images I tried to lock away come forward. My dick went soft in an instant, and I released a shuddery breath. I heard the rustle of pages as she referred to her book again, then she carried on drawing, working her way down my spine.

“Can you…I’ll need you to lower your jeans a bit for me, so I can do the last two.”

“Right.” I rolled to my side, undid my jeans, and rolled back.

Jasmine tugged them down, and I dragged in a shaky-as-fuck breath, all the gruesome images in my head washed away again in an instant as every bit of my focus went to her hands on my lower back as she drew a sigil right above my ass crack.

“Just the chest sigils to go,” she said, her voice overly bright. “I’ll need you to roll to your back.”

Fuck. I wasn’t hard, hard, but I sure as fuck wasn’t soft either. I rolled over and she handed me the clippers.

“How far down are we talking?” I asked.

She bit her lip and motioned to my groin. “To the top of your… I’ll need to do one on…uh, your…” She motioned to my dick. “On the base.”

“And I can’t do it?” I asked desperately.

She shook her head, her face growing darker. “I’m sorry. It has to be my voice, my spell, and since it’s me you want inking the rest of the sigils, then it will have to be me who does them all, or the barrier I’ve created will have a broken link.”

I nodded, and my heart was hammering in my fucking chest. Plenty of females had seen my dick. What was my problem? Having a semi wasn’t ideal, but I was a shifter, I wasn’t exactly shy. Still, my breath was shaky as fuck as I shoved my jeans lower and quickly used the clippers to manscape. I just kind of shaved to the base of my cock, then tried to gather the hair and shove it in my pocket because this had to be bad enough for Jasmine without her getting one of my pubes in her eye or mouth or fucking breathing one down her throat while she was bent over me.

I handed the clippers to her and lay back, trying to think about anything but Jasmine’s hands on me, the sound of her voice as she spelled, the warmth of her breath on my abs as she made her way down my body.

I thought about Mrs. Baumé in the cold room. She needed embalming in the morning. Her family was coming in to dress her in the afternoon, her daughter wanted to do her mom’s makeup. The viewing was the next day.

Jaz’s hand touched the skin below my belly button, and I stilled, all thoughts of Mrs. Baumé flying from my head as every one of my instincts zoned back on Jasmine and what she was doing, the sound of her voice, her breath. Goddammit, her breath on my skin was fucking with me the most.

My dick wasn’t semi-hard anymore, it was hard as steel. I’d angled it down, and now it hurt like a motherfucker. I didn’t dare look. I knew what I’d see, a clear outline of my hard-on along my thigh, trying to burst through my jeans.

She drew the sigil just above the base. I breathed deeply. She already thought I was a slimeball, and I was lying here, reaffirming that for her right now. I winced.

“Ren?”

Her voice softly calling my name had me jolting. “Yeah?”

“Like I said earlier, placement is um, really important.” There was a pause. “You’re ah…angled to the side, this last sigil needs to be in the center.”

Could this get any worse? I didn’t think so. We were at peak worst, this had to be the summit. There was nothing else I could do but reach down, shove my hand in my jeans, grip my hard cock, and reposition it. “I’m so fucking sorry, Jaz. You must think I’m the biggest fucking creep.” She made a sound of denial, but what else could she think? I had to give her some honesty. I couldn’t let her leave thinking I was some slimy fucking perv. “I…I don’t do touch if I can help it, not anymore. I’m not…used to being touched like this. My senses are all over the place. I’m in stimulus overload, and it’s making my body react intensely, and in a way it wouldn’t usually. I normally have a fuck of a lot more control than this.”