Page 74 of Inflamed By an Incubus

Because the thought that Fenix was telling her the truth and she wasn’t human had her feeling more off-balance than ever, even as it had some things making far too much sense—like the fact she had started to feel she was different.

That something was wrong with her.

Her dreams came back to her. Fire. Always fire. It never hurt her. It warmed her. Comforted her.

Just as the sight of Fenix had whenever he had appeared in her dreams.

And Archer had always left her feeling afraid.

And lost.

Lost.

That single word seemed to sum up how she felt a lot of the time. When she was alone on the roof of Archangel HQ watching the sunset. When she was in her apartment and found her thoughts drifting. When she woke from one of those dreams.

She felt lost.

And as if she had forgotten something vital.

It was always there, just beyond her reach, impossible to grasp and bring into focus.

Was this what she had forgotten?

That she was a phoenix shifter?

“Impossible,” she muttered, unwilling to believe it. Her life had been taking strange enough turns as it was. Believing she was a phoenix shifter was one step too close to crazy for her liking.

She tensed and whirled when she swore someone was behind her.

Her eyes widened when the two elves and the blonde witch appeared a split-second later.

“You sensed them. It’s a phoenix thing. You have incredibly acute senses for things like this.” Fenix’s deep voice rolled over her like a warm wave, had her heating right down to her bones as her tension faded.

Another strange thing. She should be afraid of these people, fearing for her life.

But she wasn’t.

Some insane part of her didn’t view them as a threat.

Because she was a mystical shifter? One so powerful that they weren’t a threat to her?

She barked out a laugh at that, caught the look in the shorter elf’s eyes that said she was losing it, and shook her head as she turned in a slow circle, taking in her surroundings.

A mansion in the middle of nowhere.

Scottish if she had to guess based on the colour of the stone and the design. Pitched roofs placed side by side that formed a jagged line and decorative pointed finials that gave it a gothic look, together with bay windows and an entrance set into the building beyond a stone arch. Definitely Scottish. The mountains made her think Highlands.

Incubi couldn’t teleport to Hell without the use of the portals, which meant there was either one nearby or this place was close to the underground fae town in Fort William.

“I don’t like that look.” The blonde witch raised her hand and light burst from it, shot into the air and fell in the shape of a dome as it flickered and died. “There, now she can’t go for a run beyond the walls. The grounds are plenty big enough for you to get your cardio.”

The witch slid a look at Fenix.

“You didn’t tell me this place had spells on it.”

He gave her an unimpressed look in return. “You didn’t ask. Your little spell better not have messed with the ones already in place.”

She shook her head, causing her ash-blonde waves to brush the black shoulders of her dress. “Not at all. Merely supplemental. Nice work though. Someone local do it?”

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