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Or was the correct thing to jump back into my clothes? Especially because he was pretty much completely clothed still.
I didn’t know the right answer, so I went ahead and rushed to slip on my panties and my shirt before he made his way back out.
His gaze moved over me, but whatever he was thinking was still behind that blank mask he’d settled on his face.
“Since you’re better, I am heading out. Figure you’re not working today?” he asked, coming over toward me, but only to gather the notes he’d been taking while I’d been sleeping off my migraine.
“I, ah, no. I called out.”
“Alright. So, I will meet you tomorrow night then? At the library?” he added.
“Yeah. I mean, no.”
“Which is it?” he asked, brows knitting as he took another step back, and I was trying like hell not to let that space mean something to me. And failing miserably. Especially because his expression was still so blank.
“I just meant… you could come here later for a meeting. If you want,” I rushed to add. “Order in take-out and go over any questions you have,” I said. “Or not. That’s totally fine if you prefer the library.”
Although it might crush me a little bit.
“Ah,” he said, reaching up to rub a hand across the back of his neck. “Yeah. That’ll work. See you later,” he said, turning and making his way toward the door.
The slam of it, I swear I felt it in my heart.
“Oh, my God. Get a grip,” I grumbled at myself as I snatched up my pants and made my way toward the bathroom to avoid getting a UTI from the sex.
It was in that bathroom that I felt something weird.
A sort of raw feeling on my hips.
“What the hell…” I said as I looked at myself in the full-length mirror on the back of my bathroom door, pulling my shirt up and my panties down to see what was causing the sensation.
And there they were.
Five scratch marks with little punctures at the tips.
Punctures?
I tried to convince myself that it was just that Bael desperately needed a nail trim, even though my memory was like a steel trap, and I knew exactly what those nails had looked like. Short, smooth.
But it was the only explanation for those marks, right?
CHAPTER TEN
Bael
What the fuck was that?
I was no good guy back home.
I fucked. And I fucked a lot.
But never, fucking ever, did I start to go through a damnedChangewhen I was fucking.
There was no denying, though, that was exactly what had happened as I felt Charlotte’s tight pussy squeeze my cock.
My fingertips elongated to talons.
The aching in my temples said my horns had started to peek out.
