Page 32 of By the Moonbeam and the Mist
“What’s wrong?” He was murmuring the words into my neck now, sucking on patches of my skin in a downward trail.
“I just…” I tried to lean back even more, realizing I was straddling him on a random bed—with both our clothes still on, thank the God of the Cosmos. “I need a break for a second.” Or maybe for more than a second.
Finally, the Shifter removed his mouth long enough to look at me.
“Are you fucking kidding?” His golden face crinkled into something ugly. “You’re not getting cold feet on me, are you?”
Thatput the fire out between my legs. I scrambled off his lap and slipped onto the floor, not even bothering to turn to face him.
“So what if I am? I’m allowed to change my mind.”
I made to go, but a bubbling movement caught the corner of my eye. I turned just in time to see the Shifter shrink back into his regular self—a slug-shaped boy with a neck that seemed to melt from his head to his rounded shoulders—and pop up onto his own feet.
“Oh, no, no, no.” He actually laughed, though the sound did nothing to warm the room. “You came tomyhouse, sweetheart. You pressed your ass againstmydick when we were dancing out there.”
I backed up a step, too stunned to so much as scowl. I remembered dancing, remembered having fun, but that didn’t mean…
“I just need a couple of pumps,” the Shifter said, “and then—”
“Not interested anymore,” I spat, and rushed for the door, my hand jerking at the doorknob…
His flabby arm lengthened itself into something long and noodle-like, his hand shooting past me to palm the door shut.
For a splinter of time, I blinked and thought I saw him: the silhouette of Coen Steeler gathering in the corner of the room. Raw, warm power seemed to ripple off him as he stepped forward, murder etched all over his face.
I didn’t wait long enough to blink again. I just whipped my crescent knife from the sheath beneath my rumpled dress, raised it high above my head, and brought the blade back down.
Right through the Shifter’s hand still pressed against the door.
He howled in agony, and his hand snapped back toward him—or, most of it did.
The three fingers I’d sliced off at the tips thudded to the carpet in puddles of their own blood.
When I turned back to that corner, breathing heavily, the silhouette of Coen Steeler was gone. As was that electric, murderous power that had emanated from it.
“You bitch!” the sluggish boy wailed, cradling his dripping hand. “You ruined me! You hurt me! I’m going to tell the Good Council!”
For a second, my blood froze in my veins at the thought. The last thing I needed was more of the Good Council in my life.
Then I remembered that Dyonisia had given me this knife sheath. Surely, she wouldn’t punish me for using it…even if I hadn’t cut into quite the right target.
“You’re a big Shifter,” I said, my voice shaking. “You can grow it back.”
Without waiting for a response, I opened the door and whisked away.
CHAPTER
13
Are you okay?
The dark, fathomless presence filled my mind the moment I stumbled out of the Shifter house—still no sign of Emelle or Lander—and out onto Bascite Boulevard. All the houses had calmed down now, but I couldn’t tell what time it was. Not when a heavy film of clouds slathered the sky and sent warm rain streaking down all around me.
Oh, so youwerewatching all that like a creeper, then, I spat into my own mind, each of my footsteps splashing angrily through puddles of water as I staggered home.I was beginning to wonder if I’d imagined you standing in the corner.
Not that I knew how Steeler had done it. Because how the hell didMind Manipulatingmake someone invisible? Unless he’d commanded both the Shifter and me to simply… unsee him.
At that thought, I made a full circle in the middle of the road, squinting through the rain for any signs of someone stalking me.
