Page 33 of Forbid Me

The urge to shift, to tear through the constraints holding me back, grew with every snip of hair, every pull of teeth. My panther snarled inside of me. It raged, its fury threatening to consume me. I felt the spell's hold on me beginning to weaken, the edges fraying as my beast pushed against it.

The hairs on the back of my neck rose. I was now in the sight of one of the predators. Through the paralysis, I couldn't move, but I could scent him—a lion shifter. The smell transported me back to my youth, to that emaciated lion that had almost ended me. He had been in his natural form, but this one in front of me walked on two legs with a glossy mane of vanity.

Still, I saw the beast in his eyes. It was no match for me as a man or a beast. If circumstances were different, if this was a fair fight, I could take him down with one hand tied behind my back.

My muscles twitched involuntarily, a sign of the fierce battle raging within me as both the man and the panther struggled against the magical constraints. The lion shifter noticed the slight movements. His confidence faltered for a moment as he hesitated.

The memory of the lion from my past, its hunger-filled eyes as it looked at me, not as an adversary but as food, fueled my determination.That and the knowledge that Stella was unprotected somewhere near was enough to get the fingers of my other hand twitching.

The lion shifter's hesitation was brief, showing he wasn't stupid. Spells could be broken, and I was close to figuring out how to break out of this one. And then a few things happened in succession.

A heard a gasp from behind me. It was just a slight intake of breath. As tuned into her as I was, I knew that it was Stella.

The lion shifter reached for my arm. With another burst of will, I shoved at the spell and managed to turn my hand. My claw caught the fleshy part of his wrist right at a nice juicy vein.

The last thing that happened went over my head. Literally.

A loud crash echoed from the water, drawing everyone's attention. A dark horse emerged from the river. The horse's black coat glistened in the moonlight. Water droplets cascaded off its powerful body.

"Kelpie," cried the witch. She appeared from behind me with Stella close on her heels.

The kelpie was like something out of a myth or a fever dream. The floorboards creaked and cracked as the horse landed on the starboard area of the ship. The pirates, so menacing just moments before, halted in their tracks. Their expressions shifted from aggression to confusion and then fear. As if under a spell, one by one, they dropped their victims. Then they turned and started walking toward, and then off the plank.

The splashing into the Mississippi River was a steady drumbeat, like a bell tolling the hour of death. It struck twelve times: once for each pirate.

The horse reared up. Its hoofs were high enough in the air to smash down on my head. But when it landed, it was not on my head, and it was not as a horse.

The moment the kelpie transformed, it was like witnessing a force of nature take on human form. Her shift from the majesticbeast to a woman was seamless. Her eyes crackled with the energy of a storm, alive and commanding. And she was completely naked.

Moving with an otherworldly grace and power, the woman pulled metal chopsticks from her hair with a flourish like a swordsman unsheathing his weapons.

"Let them go." The kelpie's voice was like lightning in a bottle.

Instead of doing as she was told, the witch smirked. I felt the binds of the spell tightening on the places I'd gotten loose.

"You came out of the portal," said the witch.

The kelpie said nothing.

"You have a lot to learn about how things are run here, Tartarian."

"Not interested in any lessons from people who treat water like it's a garbage can."

"This whole planet is a garbage can."

"For the last time, let them go, bitch."

"I'm a witch."

"I said what I said."

"Give me the girl." The bitch pointed at Stella. "And I'll be out of your horse hair."

"Doesn't look like she wants to go."

The two were at a standoff. The witch's finger twitched as she grabbed for Stella. But the kelpie was too quick for her.

The metal chopsticks, once benign accessories nestled in her hair, became extensions of her will, gleaming like twin swords in the faint light. The air around her crackled with anticipation, charged with the imminent release of energy. Then, with a flourish that seemed both rehearsed and instinctive, she thrust the chopsticks forward, directing her focus onto the witch.

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