“Which one is it?”
“That one.” Gunnar extends his hand and points to the farthest building on the right side. It looks the worst. The high windows are nothing but shards sticking up and out like crocodile teeth. There are even slats of wood missing high up on the building. Would they really use a place like this for something so important?
I step forward, but Grim braces his arm across my chest, stopping me. “Nemean, shift,” he demands.
Calix doesn’t argue, instead, he strips out of his shirt and tosses it onto the hood of the car the witch is sitting in. I storm over in his direction and get into his space, forcing him to take a step back. I don’t stop until we’re behind the car and he’s out of the witch’s sight.
Calix looks down at me, his brow furrowed. Then he looks at the car and a smile blooms on his lips, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he inches a little closer and reaches for the fly of his pants. His nostrils flare as he drags in a deep breath.
He finishes stripping quickly and puts his jeans on the trunk of the car before giving me a wink. I stuff my hands under my arms and narrow my eyes at him. I don’t like that I was just a possessive bitch, and he knew it.
Calix takes a few steps away from me, he’s completely nude and looking pretty fucking good. He lowers his chin the slightest bit and it changes the features of his face, shifting from the hot motorcycle riding man, to something much more predatory, and fuck me if it doesn’t make him even more appealing.
I watch Calix closely to witness his shift, curious if the process will be slow and subtle like it is when Gunnar hulks out or different. “You know I like an audience,” he comments, while taking one more step backward. I nod my head, still waiting.
Calix’s tawny skin seems to glow from within. I squint my eyes as a wave of golden light bellows out of him, and in its wake, I see a fully-formed, huge-ass lion with a golden mane, standing where Calix was. The small light show, which happened in a matter of microseconds, is the only evidence of his shift.
“Wow.” I don’t hide the awe in my voice as I take a step closer to him. My hand is already lifted, reaching out to touch him, not concerned in the least that he would hurt me.
“Wait.” Gunnar steps forward. “His mane—stay away from his mane.”
I let out a small snort. “I touch the baddies all the time, Kitten, I’m not worried.” Calix steps back and turns to the side, as if he’s presenting me with a safer option to touch. His flank is a golden bronze and looks smooth as silk.
Go ahead, Dami,I hear in my thoughts, and my eyes bounce up to meet Calix’s.
“I am.” I set my fingers into his fur and I’m surprised at how coarse it feels compared to how soft it looks.
You heard that?Calix’s words filter through my mind.
“Yes, shush.” I bring up my other hand and stroke over Calix’s side. “This is amazing.” I hover my hand over his mane and let golden strands dance through my fingers.
“Okay, enough show and tell. Let’s get this handled.” Gunnar crosses his arms over his chest.
“Don’t get pissy, Kitten. I like your freaky teeth, too.” I step back and ball my hands up. He’s right, though; I shouldn’t have let myself get so distracted when I don’t know what’s happening to Aeson, or if she’s even here.
I’ll go ahead and see if there’s anyone else around,Calix tells me, and I repeat his words to the others.
“I’m not really picking up anyone around here, but it could be the witches working wards. I never even realize they’re there until I stumble into them. I might need to be closer to sense them,” I admit, feeling a little useless.
“I’ll meet you inside,” Grim tells Calix, as I feel him open a portal. Before I have a chance to ask to go in with him, he’s gone, leaving me alone with Gunnar and the witch in the car.
“Handy little trick you two have,” I mutter dejectedly.
“Don’t get pissy, Dami. I can think of several times your ability to kill someone without even touching them would be a nice trade-off.”
I can’t help but feel a little flattered, even though Gunnar is mocking me a bit. “I’m pretty badass,” I agree with him.
Gunnar lets out a little chuckle, and he casts a sideways glance at me. “Do you really like my teeth?” He sounds unsure, like he thinks I might have been teasing.
“Hell yes, I do!” I turn to face him. “You don’t know how many times I’ve wished that I could make my outside look like how I felt on the inside.” Gunnar tilts his head and examines me. I feel like I’ve just given too much away, but I don’t really regret it either.
Almost everyone I grew up around, the monsters I consider my friends, my family, all looked so different from me. All still beautiful, but they looked how I felt I should look: scary and unapproachable. Instead, I’m stuck in this human-looking body that doesn’t always seem to fit right. I imagine it feels much like an adopted kid would feel when he looks at his family and can’t find his red hair or any other markers that would make him feel like he belongs with them.
A loud roar splits the night air. “Think that’s our sign?”
Gunnar reaches down and takes a hold of my hand. “There’s no doubt that your beauty has edges, Damiana. One look is all it takes to be ensnared. Most are just too captivated to heed the warnings.” He releases my hand and gives me a nod to walk ahead of him. “I’ll stay with the witch, make sure she doesn’t try to escape. Whatever’s in there, you could handle alone, but holler if you need me.”
Gunnar’s words and his faith in me makes a funny feeling erupt just below my ribs in the center of my stomach. “I’ll be right back,” I whisper, then turn away to head toward the building, but stop and retreat back to his side. Without any warning, I lean up on my toes and wrap my arms around Gunnar’s neck and hug him. It’s a little foreign, but when his arms come around my back, I lean further into him and a calmness settles over me.
