Page 60 of Feral Possession

Fifteen

Marcus strolled along the manicured courtyard, filling his lungs with the cool night air. Inside the mansion, the walls of his childhood home had closed in, urging him to escape. They’d had the same effect on him as a child.

Outside, the shadows soothed him, welcoming him as one of their own. The throbbing ache in his injured knee faded. New energy hummed in his tired muscles. In the distance, an owl hooted, declaring its territory. Night creatures stirred, preparing for a midnight hunt.

Moonlight glowed overhead. On the pathway, his shadow stretched across the stones. The dark silhouette called to him, stirring something deep inside. He reached out and—to his disgust—his shadow floated up from the ground, forming a black mist around his hand. He flicked his fingers, tossing it to the ground, where it returned to its former shape.

He clenched his fist. This ability wasn’t his but the demon’s. “Back, beast,” he commanded. “You’re not welcome here.”

“Liar,” snarled a voice from deep within his conscience.

So much for the peace and quiet. He figured the silence wouldn’t last. After the episode in the security room, he’d locked the bastard down tight, not giving the creature an inch. The prick could push through his boundaries all he wanted. One more day and he’d be rid of it, one way or another.

Marcus’s lungs expanded, pulling in the fragrant scent of roses mixed with something warm and tantalizing. He canted his head, picking up the sound of laughter.

“Hey, that tickles.” Dove’s voice carried to his ears.

Was she out here with someone? Perhaps a member of Mr. Higgin’s crew? Some grimy landscaper with a perfect, undamaged body and too eager hands? Anger hummed in his veins. His vision clouded with a red haze.

Shadows swirled around his ankles as he stormed into the rose garden. The sight that greeted him locked him in place, his anger fizzling. Dove was alone. On her head was an ivy crown. The belt on her robe had come untied. Loose fabric fluttered against her back like wings. Her lace-trimmed shift was cut low, framing the rounded swells of her breasts. The hem stopped mid-thigh, her long legs shapely and lean. His body stirred at the sight.

She was beautiful. Like a mystical woodland creature from a fairy tale. She leapt, cupping her hands together. “Gotcha.” Light blinked between her fingers, and she opened her hand. In her palm was a flickering firefly. She beamed at her prize, laughing when the little bug took flight, buzzing into the night. “Twelve down, eight more to go. It’s a shame I don’t have a jar.”

She crouched, a predatory gleam in her eyes, stalking her prey. His body hardened, his blood warming. He liked to watch this woodland goddess on her hunt. Her innocence called to him, invited him to draw closer. Unlike the other women he’d encountered, there was nothing manipulative or cunning about his Chosen. Her simplicity had him utterly mystified. She held little back. Childlike exuberance in everything she did. He imagined she’d be just as passionate, as eager to explore in all things.

“Gotcha.” She captured yet another glowing bug.

“How do you know it isn’t the same one?”

“Ah!” Dove startled, spinning around and grabbing her chest. Her firefly buzzed away. “By the fates, you gave me a heart attack.” She exhaled in a rush, shoulders slumping.

“Apologies.” He winced. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” He reached for a hood that wasn’t there, his cowl left behind in his room. Of course she was startled. His face was the stuff of nightmares. He drew back, sliding deeper into the shadows. “I’ll leave you to your game.”

“No.” She rushed to his side, capturing his hand much as she had her fireflies. “Don’t go. It’s more fun to play with a partner. Bet you I can catch ten before you.”

He peered down at her shining face, unable to resist the imploring expression she offered him. He’d never chased fireflies, not even as a child. There was always too much studying and training to be done. For some reason, she took his silence as agreement.

“Ready, set, go,” she said in a rush before darting away.

“What is the point of this game?” He folded his arms, watching her snag her first bug.

“It’s fun,” she declared, leaping to reach a flickering light over her head. Her unhindered breasts bounced with the exertion. The thin silk clung to her pert nipples. His mouth went dry.

“You look”—enchanting—“ridiculous.” She moved like a dancer, lithe and expressive. I could watch her for hours. He winced. Where did that thought come from? “Demon?”

Silence.

The thought was his own. Was he truly at a point where he couldn’t differentiate his own thoughts from the spirits?

“Three,” she called out, distracting him from his worries. “Better hurry, slowpoke.”

Her mocking tone poked at his competitive nature. He’d show her slowpoke. With predatory eyes, he catalogued several targets. Then, with a burst of supernatural speed, collected them all. He sped to a stop directly in front of her.

“Oh my gosh!” She grabbed her heaving chest. “Where the heck did you come from?”

He smirked and held out his upturned fists to her, then slowly unfurled his fingers. In his palms were ten fireflies. Dove’s open-mouthed stare was all the reward he needed. Their glowing bodies illuminated her awestruck face.

“But you… but that’s…” She planted her hands on her hips, trying to look angry, though her smile gave her away. “You cheated.”

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