Page 91 of Bewitching Her Monsters

“You didn’t save me for my sake but for your own,” I say, and it feels like venom dripping from my mouth.

“Yes. I benefitted, because I’m trapped in your body. But I didn’t want you to die. Not when I could help.”

“Sure,” I say, not wholly believing him. “What about your buddies?” I demand.

“You mean Arran?” Osen sighs. “I’m afraid he really likes you. He would have let me die to save you.”

“You’re just saying that.” I stand up and want to get away from him, but I’m not in control here. Osen is.

He moves in front of me, the shape of his face clear. He slips one arm around my waist, and another moves up to cup my cheek. “I’m not lying, not about my motives, and definitely not about Arran. I sort of wish I were.”

“Because you love him?” My heart slightly softens to his plight.

“Yes.”

“But he can’t want me.”

“I’m afraid we both want you. I suspect the others do, too.” His lips brush over mine. “Iwant more of you, little witch.”

He kisses me. I realize this is the first time. He did almost everything else but this. As if this simple act was sacred to him. It makes sense. This is more than sex. This is intimacy.

A warming wave rushes through me. I sense him, his soul. Osen’s telling me the truth. He wants me. He cares, even if he doesn’t want to.

“We have this time together,” I say, snaking my arms around his waist.

“Yes, but you’re about to wake, and it will have to wait.” He holds me tightly to his shadowy but firm chest. “Until next time, my sweet, fuckable little witch.”

* * *

The light of day streams in and makes me curse as if I’m a sun-shy vampire.

“Do vampires exist?” I wonder aloud as I throw my hands up to cover my eyes as the nuclear-level amount of sunlight shouts at me.

“That’s a weird waking thought, and yes they do,” Arran sounds amused. “Except they aren’t what humans have made them up to be. Although they have fangs, love drinking magical blood, and are fast.”

I try to sit up and look around, but honestly, my body isn’t having it. I’m exhausted.

“Water?” Arran asks, coming to sit on the edge of the bed to inspect me.

“My throat feels like a dehydrated bitch, so yeah,” I practically croak, my voice sounding as rough as I feel.

Arran slides his muscular arm behind my upper back and lifts me enough as he places a glass of water to my lips.

My hand automatically clasps over the glass, and I touch his warm fingers. Another lightning bolt of energy hits me with our touch. My heart pounds in response to his proximity. I don’t know if what his interest in me is real, but my feelings for him definitely are.

I pull back to let him know I’ve had enough water.

He gently rests my head on the pillow and sets the half-empty glass down.

I study the fairly stark room instead of looking at my sexy-as-fuck-maybe-boyfriend. Things just feel awkward now. I don’t know what last night’s news means for my future.

Our future.

Do I have a future? Or will one of his buddies kill me because I was born a witch and because Rob used me?

“Where am I?”

“My room, in our safe house.” He tucks me in, tapping the blanket edges around my hips. He’s nervous too.

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