Islam the book shut with a groan.
I’ve been reading for hours, and it feels as if I’ve barely made a dent in the book. A pulsating ache has erupted behind my eyes, growing and growing with each consecutive second.
So far, I’ve only been able to read about a few supernatural creatures—witches and shifters, the two most obvious ones. I know, innately, that I won’t find the answers I’m searching for in those sections, but it doesn’t hurt to start from the beginning. After all, my mother was a powerful witch, and my fathers are shifters.
Or at least, I think they are.
I bite down on my lower lip and stare intently at the book, willing it to divulge all of its secrets.
As if she can sense that I stopped reading—and maybe she can—the door to the room opens, and Soraya steps inside, still dressed in a ratty sweatshirt and faded sweatpants. She makes a beeline to the closet and pulls it open, scouring the contents until she finds what she’s looking for.
“Interesting book, isn’t it?” Her voice is deceptively conversational as she pulls out a skin-tight black dress with a swooping neckline.
“It would be more interesting if you told me what the point of reading it is,” I grumble.
“Whatever do you mean?” She cants her head to the side, causing strands of fiery hair to cascade over one shoulder.
Nothing I say will get her to open up. I don’t know if it’s because she fears retaliation from the witches for helping me or if there’s some other reason. Either way, I know I’m kicking a dead horse.
I clutch the book to my chest and rise from the bed, stretching out my taut muscles. I’ve been sitting still for way too long, and my body has paid the price.
“What time is it?”
“Almost dinner time,” Soraya answers as she replaces the black dress and pulls out a green one.
She purses her lips then returns that one as well.
“It’s been that long?” A knot manifests in my throat.
Ansel has probably been worried sick about me. I should’ve demanded to see him earlier.
“You’ll need to attend dinner,” Soraya tells me as she pulls out a second black dress, this one with a slit up the side and spaghetti straps. “All coven members are required to attend.”
“I’m not a coven member,” I point out with a scoff.
More like a prisoner.
A wave of white-hot anger sweeps through me at the reminder of Delaney’s duplicity. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted the bitch, but I did so anyway.
Though, at the same time, a part of me is grateful for the training. I can still remember the raw, unencumbered power flowing through me, threatening to burn me alive. I don’t ever want to feel that out of control again.
“Here. This will look great on you.” Soraya tosses me the black dress before grabbing a different dress for herself—this one also black.
Without a word, she pulls her sweatshirt over her head and tosses it to the side, not seeming to care that she’s wearing absolutely nothing underneath it.
“Oh my god, Soraya!” I spin around as she moves her hands to the drawstring of her sweatpants.
“You’ve never seen a pair of tits before?” the Maiden drawls, sarcasm heavy in her voice. “I thought shifters were all about casual nudity.”
“I just learned about shifters a few weeks ago, if that,” I snap. “And yes, I’ve seen tits before. Mine. No, I don’t want to see yours.”
“Is it because one of my nipples is larger than the other?” Soraya asks, her voice deadpan, and dammit, I actually crack a smile at that.
Maybe Soraya isn’t as bad as I initially thought. She kind of reminds me of…Desiree.
At the thought of my closest girlfriend, a pang reverberates through me. I miss her.
“Shut up and get dressed,” I say, listening to the shuffle of fabric.
