Page 115 of Healing Her Lions


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“What the fuck?” I whisper. I look down at my body and I am wearing one of my mates' shirts. I look back up at the person with my face and my jaw drops.

She’s wearing a beautiful red dress that is showcased in a body that is mine.

“I thought this would be less scary,” her musical voice rings out.

“What?” My eyes haven’t blinked.

“You are a beautiful woman,” she compliments and slides her hand down her stomach. Or I do.

“I am very confused,” I say carefully. “What are you?”

“I’m your lion.” She smiles my smile.

“I…” I shake my head. “I’m a lion?”

“Almost.”

“Where are we?” My eyes dart away—still a white room.

“Nowhere and everywhere.” She fluffs her hair.

“That tells me nothing, and stop messing with my hair,” I snark. I rub my head. “I don’t like this. I don’t like talking to myself.” She raises her eyebrows. “You know what I mean,” I cry.

“Sorry,” she cringes. “This isn’t working how I thought it would.”

A second later there is a lion standing inches from my face. I squeal and fall on my ass. “What the fuck?”

“Better?” she asks.

I put my hand to my heart. “Much,” I growl. I eye her and sit up. She is pretty. Her coat is the same color as my hair.

“Thank you.” The words bounce around my head.

“How did you do that?” I whisper.

“It’s easy. We are the same.”

“This is—” I don’t know what this is. “You are my lion?”

“Yes.”

“Can you talk out loud?”

“Sure,” she says.

I press my palms to my cheeks. “How is this possible?”

“It’s magic,” she says simply.

I blink. “I guess I’m not supposed to understand.”

“It just is.” She gives me a lion smile.

“Are my mates alright?” They must be worried.

“They are anxious, but they are fine.”

“Why am I here?” It’s still odd to have her speaking in my mind, but I’m getting used to it.

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