I snap the whip again and again, each crack accompanied by a surge of power from deep within me.
“Back!” I shout, putting all my will behind the command. “Back to your own realm!”
The tentacles retreat, sliding back through the portal inch by reluctant inch.
Clutching the whip tightly and uttering a series of pleas and curses in my head, I somehow manage to close the passage. The purple light dims. With a soft pop like a bubble bursting, the passage closes completely, leaving nothing but empty air where it had been.
Well… that didn’t go exactly as planned.
Exhaustion slams into me, pulling me down onto the bed in a heap. After a moment, I sense Harper’s presence hovering over me. Cracking open my eyes, I find him standing rigidly, back in human form, his gaze locked on me.
“What?” I croak out, “Got a tentacle stuck on my face or something?”
His mouth opens and closes a few times, but no words come out. He sounds like he’s choking on his own tongue. “You, I… watching you…”
“Did I scare you that badly?”
“I saw you,” he finally manages to say.
“Yeah, you had a front-row seat to my devious dark magic show.”
“No, I mean... I Recognized you.”
“As you should. We met a few days ago.” Is it possible that our little monster encounter fried his brain?
“Not like that,” Harper says. “I Recognized you... You’re my mate.”
Brain Damage
Dodger
I gape at the detective, waiting for some explanation. Foranotherexplanation besides the insane one. We’re mates? No way.
Harper meets my stare evenly, not taking it back. There has to be more, like that he was kidding, had just escaped from an insane asylum, or his werewolf senses were seriously malfunctioning, mistaking everything, including that lamp over there, for his destined mate.
Instead, he continues to stare at me, an unnerving intensity in his golden gaze.
“What?” I finally manage to croak out.
“You heard me.”
“I must’ve heard wrong.”
His gaze feels different from usual. We’ve only known each other for a few days, yet I’ve memorized his favorite expressions—the sharp look that screams ‘shut up’ or the narrowed stare demanding a straight answer. Now he’s staring like he’s seeing me in a new light. No! No new lights. He should see me in exactly the same light as before, as a colossal pain in the ass.
“You’re my mate,” Harper repeats. It doesn’t make more sense the second time around.
“Like... a very good friend?” I ask hopefully, mentally crossing my fingers.
“No. I Recognized you.” His face morphs into a familiar scowl. “Why would I think we’re very good friends? I don’t have brain damage.”
A strangled laugh bubbles up from my throat. “Okay, us being friends is a stretch but notoutright insane, unlike what you just suggested. There has to be some explanation.”
“There is an explanation. We’re mates.”
