Page 102 of Every Shade of Shadow

What a strange way to phrase it.

“Yes,” I whisper back, “I feel it too.”

A welcome shiver runs down the side of my body at the promise in his words.

I blink open my eyes as awareness seeps back in. For a disorienting moment, I'm not sure where I am or who I'm with.

My cheeks burn as snippets of our encounter flash through my mind. The slide of his cock into my slick entrance. The ecstasy of being filled and filling. His gravelly whispers, mine, as I claimed him…or me.

This can't be real. I must be dreaming, caught in some bizarre fantasy my subconscious conjured.

Soon I’m going to wake up back in NY, the Sherrif pounding on the door to kick me out.

But no. The lingering soreness between my legs and the stickiness coating my thighs is too visceral to be a figment of my imagination.

I suddenly feel sick.

He reaches out, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear. I flinch at the intimacy of his touch. “Lingering effects from the spell. They will pass.”

I thought the teleportation was bad enough.

I nod, reaching for my head.

"Regretting your decision?" he asks, a hint of mockery in his tone. "You wanted to explore the depths of desire," he continues. "To experience pleasures that defy mortal comprehension. We have only just begun to scratch the surface, I’m afraid."

Have we? What’s to say this whole thing isn’t an elaborate way for him to use me for his own twisted pleasure? Maybe any so-called power I feel is simply something he has manifested to string me along to what horrible purpose I do not know.

It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been duped.

That said, his words kindle a spark of interest despite my mortification. I know he's right—having tasted such level of euphoria he’s laid out before me, I crave more.

I’ve become an addict.

I want the needle, the pipe, his big fat fucking cock killing me.

I look away, conflicted by the warring impulses inside me. Curiosity wars with propriety, passion with reason.

I’m seriously fucked up.

Darkwood tilts my chin up, gazing into my eyes. "Do not fight who you are becoming, Annabelle. Embrace it."

His lips find mine, awakening that now familiar hunger. I melt into the kiss, doubts fading as I give myself over to sensation. To him.

When we break apart, things seem clearer, more measured.

Yet even now the contours of my body feel strange again, feminine curves having replaced hard muscle, that welcome weight between my legs gone.

Darkwood clears his throat, a hint of color touching his pale cheeks. "I apologize if I take too many liberties. This kind of magic…it can be intoxicating."

Something new swells inside me, stirs the shadows.

"Give in to it," he rasps, lifting his hand and shifting his fingers. His eyes are dark with desire, gazing at me with a raw intensity that bares his very soul. "Let the shadows take you. Let go."

I feel sick, horribly nauseous again as my head thumps.

I cling to him, trembling on the edge of something vast and overpowering, waiting to claim me.

Darkwood's hands glide up to frame my face, his touch indescribably tender. "Yes," he whispers. "That’s it. Let go."

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