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“Return to your farm work, humans,” the leader said, his laughter finally evaporating. “Report directly to the mighty leader if you hear any more rumors about the dark elf.”
I raise a thumbs-up to the orc while continuously rubbing my cheek, a look of lame defeat on my face. They all leave while Jenna follows them out, apologizing for the scene they had to observe. The second she closes the door and leans up against it, the lonely, wronged-woman look on her face snaps off like a helmet’s visor falling into place.
“It’s Jenna,” I say, working my jaw. “I knew it was Jenna.”
Jenna brings her hands to her blouse and immediately buttons it. I repress a sigh, hoping to have gotten a closer peek at those incredible melons before they hid behind the curtain again.
“They’re pathetic creatures,” Jenna said plainly.
She is quick-witted with her insults, but she is clever, and that makes her even more endearing. I shoot her a smirk, but she instantly looks away and goes into the living room to begin rearranging the mess the orcs made.
“I think you need to tell me who you really are,” Jenna said as she placed the drawers in their slots and the newspapers on the coffee table. “Because dark elves can’t suddenly turn into humans, last time I checked.”
I placed my hands behind my back, and I watched her clean. At first, I think she is distracting, her body swaying back and forth in its captivating thickness and strength, but then I realized that she was somehow directly linked to my loss of abilities.
“My name is indeed Verrin, and I am a soz’garoth demon. I work in the king’s court, and I am highly skilled in the art of sorcery. Or what you humans more commonly like to call it … magic.”
Jenna stands, holding a pile of clothing, and fixes her glare on me. I hold it for a moment, cherishing it, then continue.
“I really don’t know why I was brought here. All I can remember is being in my chambers, and then suddenly, I am on a bed. Your bed, I suppose.” I cock an eyebrow at her. The sultry thought of being near her body unclothed makes my skin tingle in ways that don’t involve any kind of known divination.
But she remains still, unaffected by my words or suggestive looks. So far, she is immune to my charms.
“Nevertheless,” I continue, holding her stare in mine, “it is vital I find my way back, somehow. In order to do that, I need us to figure out what kind of magic brought me here. Do you think you can do that for me?”
I watch as her chest rises and falls, and I feel a deep longing in my loins for that patch of flesh that is her cleavage. She looks away only when dropping the clothing onto the couch, then crosses her arms over that breathtaking chest.
I have never seen eyes that deep green in my life, not even in the demon world. If I didn’t know any better, I would think that she, too, had some enchantress blood in her lineage.
“I don’t know of any magic around here,” Jenna said finally. “But there is someone who might. His name is Mr. Malaki. He’s the man who sold me the statue.”
Finally, we are getting somewhere.
I take a step closer to her, my hands still behind my back, and I consider her. She narrows her eyes, a flicker of a scowl crosses her expression, but reverts into a bemused smirk. It is entrancing beyond comprehension.
“And where exactly would we find this wizard?” I ask in a voice that becomes unconsciously sensual.
Jenna’s scoff was back again, and she picked up the clothing, pushing past me to return to the bedroom I had woken in.
Her scent engulfed me, and I let out a groan. Thankfully, she was too far away to notice.
“We can ask around at the tavern in town. Actually, it might be better if I go alone. The orcs already have a mark on my head as it is.”
As she walked away, it wasn’t just her scent that nearly knocked me to my feet. My human skin started to melt off of me, my palms the first place I noticed. My hands tremble as I gaze down, the shriveling mess a whole new problem to deal with.
I clear my throat and follow her down the hallway. As I get closer, the skin returns to normal, flattening out, and my hypothesis is proven correct.
She turned back after plopping the clothing on the bed, noticing how close I was standing, yet she didn’t glower or grimace. I breathe in deeply, catching that lingering cinnamon, wishing I was burying my face in that neck.
I lift a hand to my face, hiding something stirring inside that I don’t quite understand.
“It might be safer if we both go,” I say, non-defensively. “I cannot endure much more time in this place.”
Jenna isn’t offended, but something passes through her eyes like a comet in a velvet sky. I try not to let it take me away from my mission, but it makes me shiver.
EIGHT
JENNA
