Page 360 of The Spider Queen
And my eyes…
They flashed bright, golden yellow.
“No,” I whispered in sheer disbelief. “No, no, no.”
I turned around to get a look at my back. Black nubs poked out of the skin of my shoulder blades.
Whirling, I gripped the sink and willed my reflection back to normal. The glass rippled, and suddenly I was looking at my human face. But the moment I stopped thinking about projecting normalcy, my reflection reverted back to the visage of a beast.
I threw my shirt back on and lowered my eyes, not wanting to see the monster I was becoming.
Something inside of me slid into place when I realized I couldn’t fight it, fight him. More importantly, I didn’t want to.
The reason it had taken me so long to feel lust and love and vulnerability and heartache was because I’d been waiting for him.
Lucifer.
My perfect match.
Devil. Fallen angel. Prince.
Would I ever understand why he had tried to take over Heaven? Why he’d never be satisfied with what he had?
Would I be enough for him for all eternity, or would he want another?
At the moment, I couldn’t really worry about the emotion behind it all.
I was transforming.
The nausea and the chills set in sometime around dawn. I collapsed onto the bed and stayed there. I pulled the blanket over my eyes, trying to keep the sun off me. Whenever a ray caressed my skin, it felt like I was burning from the inside out.
My back itched where the nubs continued to grow. Late that evening, I felt them tear through my body.
Wings, black and webbed, expanded from my back.
As soon as my wings sprouted, the chills and nausea ceased. I ripped off the covers and stalked to the bathroom. With a deep breath, I looked into the mirror.
I was terrifying.
A monster.
I’d never felt more beautiful or alive.
My stomach made the most obvious hunger noise. A growl and a moan combined. My shirt was in tatters and I hadn’t showered. But even if I somehow managed to shower in the tiny bathroom with my new set of wings, how was I supposed to go out in public looking the way I did?
I sat on the edge of my bed and thought about my only option. I snuck down to my shop to the backroom and used the landline to call Herron. Luckily there was no foot traffic for me to terrify.
“Stella? Do you have any idea what time it is?”
“Yes. I’m sorry, but—”
“What’s wrong with your voice?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you sound different. Like your voice sounds…I don’t know. Musical.”
“Musical?” I frowned.
