Page 42 of Pleasured By the Panther
But every so often, she caught someone giving her a strange look—long… assessing…almost startled. Even Hanna frowned once, tugging her mother aside.
“Mom… are you sure you’re okay?” she asked softly.
“Yes, sweetheart.” Miranda forced a smile. “I’m fine. Just trying to help.”
Still, Hanna’s eyes lingered, thoughtful and a little wide, before she was whisked away again by her bridesmaids.
When the final rush was done, Miranda retreated upstairs to change herself. She opened the garment bag she’d brought home from the Monstrum Mother Ship, her fingers brushing the soft material the Spider Monstrum had woven for her.
The gowns shimmered faintly in the light, clinging and draping in all the right ways. She chose a deep forest-green one, slipping it over her head. The fabric hugged her curves, flowing over her hips and pooling around her ankles.
She smoothed it down, then caught sight of herself in the full-length mirror—and froze.
Her breath caught in her throat. What she saw couldn’t be right—it just couldn’t.
The woman staring back at her looked…younger. Not drastically—not enough to be impossible—but enough to make her heart pound and to explain all the strange looks she’d been getting all afternoon.
The silver streaks that had threaded her hair for years were gone—replaced with thick, gleaming auburn that shone like fire in the lamplight. It was the color it had been in her thirties, before stress and time had dimmed it.
Her gaze darted lower. The fine web of lines at the corners of her eyes—the little creases around her mouth—were softened and smoothed. In fact, they were barely there. Her breasts, cradled by the dress’s bodice, looked firmer and higher than they had been in decades.
“What in the world…?” she whispered, touching her face. “What happened to me?”
The hair could have passed for an expensive dye job, and the rest might have been from a good spa facial and maybe a hidden push-up bra. But she knew better. This was more. This was… impossible.
Her thoughts whirled back to Korrath, to his deep voice rumbling in her ear. You’re rejuvenating at an accelerated pace.
“Oh God,” Miranda breathed, gripping the edge of the dresser. Could it really be because of the big Monstrum? Because of what they’d done together?
Before she could think further, she heard someone calling,
“Hurry up! The ceremony’s about to start!”
Miranda shoved the thought down, grabbed her clutch, and hurried to the chapel.
She would have to worry about her strangely rejuvenated face and body later. For now, it was time for the wedding.
32
MIRANDA
The music swelled, sweet and solemn, as Hanna stepped into the aisle on her father’s arm. Miranda’s chest ached at the sight—her baby, radiant in white lace, her face glowing with happiness.
She forced herself to focus on that, on Hanna, on the moment. But when Martin turned to walk back to his seat after giving their daughter away, his eyes flicked to Miranda. He stopped, just for a heartbeat, staring at her with a double take of pure shock.
She lifted her chin and looked away.
Don’t you dare notice him. Don’t give him the pleasure.
Besides, she had bigger problems.
Because as soon as she sat down in the pew, with no more wedding tasks to distract her, she realized something was wrong…very wrong.
Her nipples were tingling, tightening painfully against the fabric of her dress. Heat coiled low in her belly, spreading and making her thighs press together. Her pussy was wet—so wet she shifted uncomfortably, terrified someone might somehow see. What if she left a wet spot on the spider-silk dress? And right in the middle of the wedding?
God, not now! Not here.
A wave of heat flushed through her, prickling over her skin, making her heart race. She tugged at the neckline of her gown, desperate for air.
