Page 54 of Bewitching Her Monsters

Me: “He was eating my taco like it was his interview for his dream job.”

Mere: Proof of dick?

They want pics. Not really. Well, Ihopeshe doesn’t want me to send pics of my boyfriend’s dick. Boyfriend? Can I call him that? Are we dating now?

Does Mere want a ransom’s style ‘proof of life’ picture with a dick next to a newspaper with the date showing to prove this is a current penis situation?

Me: Do you mean a picture to prove my hunky boyfriend is real? Not his actual dick, right?

Darnette: These things are not mutually exclusive.

Bekka: Send us whatever you got.

I laugh and close the app when I smell coffee brewing. I walk out to see a shirtless Arran scrambling some eggs. My heart pounds in my clit. Nobody has ever made me breakfast before, and definitely not looking as good as he does.

Can I keep him as my human hostage?

Do I have it in me to be a sugar mama? I’d need to write a few more books a year, and then I should be able to afford to pay for his membership to whatever magic gym he goes to.

Arran turns around and gives me a brilliant smile that instantly makes my clit, I mean, my heart pound too hard. He might be the death of me.

But damn, I could get used to this. Forget fucking. If he does the dishes, I think I might spontaneously orgasm.

He returns his focus to his cooking as I walk over to him. I spot scars barely visible on his back. They look more like scratches. For a second, I worry I scratched him that hard. But no, when I get closer, I see they are old, faint lines. It appears as if he were sliced several times with a knife. Did one of his bodyguard jobs get ugly? Was he tortured?

Ignorant of my wild ride down imagination lane, he says, “I hope an omelet is okay.”

“Perfect.” I get out two mugs from the cabinet and set them down to fill them up. “Do you take anything in yours?”

“No coffee for me, thanks.” He smiles and grates some cheese for the omelet.

“All for me?” I nod approvingly.

But I’ll switch to my ‘writing’ tea for the rest of the day. It’s time to channel all this craziness into my book.

17

WALK OF PITY

ARRAN

Icannot believe I was able to lick her pretty cunt and keep my beast at bay. Jade is a miracle. What if she is a cure for my curse that I’ve been looking for?

But I’m worried I will press my luck if I go any further with our explorations. I can’t test my theory that she might help me control my monstrous curse.

Not yet.

Not until she understands what she is.

What I am.

I’ve been awake all this morning, basking in the bliss of having her naked flesh on mine.

I worry she had another unpleasant dream—if her grunts and whines were any indications. But just as I was ready to wake her or dare to call Osen’s name, she settled in my arms.

I wonder if his soul still lingers around her, or if he has passed on through the veil.

Yet, I’m no longer here for Osen.

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