Page 11 of Cowboy Devil's Embrace

I wasn’t a child anymore. Wasn’t afraid of my own shadow, for fuck’s sake.

I rolled my eyes.

Whatever it was that made me feel so heavy, I was sure my Jersey Devil side could fix it.

I just needed to go for a little run or flight after dinner. If I ever made it inside, that was.

“Quit being ridiculous,” I growled to myself and slammed my foot down, taking that first step a little harder than I intended.

“Fuck!” I yelped, feeling as though I’d been hit by a lightning bolt when I finally got inside.

My chest was heaving, and stars danced in front of my eyes. What the fuck was happening to me?

I didn’t necessarily believe in fate, but I had a feeling I’d just sealed mine.

Even stronger was the feeling swimming in my gut that there was simply no getting away from this place now.

My Devil had claimed it. I looked down at my reddening skin and struggled to hold on to my human form.

Shit. Shit. SHIT.

What did this mean? What was I supposed to do here? Who was I supposed to be?

My pulse raced, and I felt out of breath, like a racehorse stuck on a never-ending track. All those questions circled my head, and about a thousand more batted at me like lashes from the whip of an unseen rider.

“I think that’s for you,” Mrs. O’Hare said, interrupting whatever panic I was stuck in.

She nodded at a large box sitting on a small wooden table against the wall. The box was apparently addressed to me.

I frowned and tugged on the simple twine and picked up the card. Gritting my teeth as I recognized Grandmother’s handwriting, I read the thing.

Thought you might need this. Wear it in good health, and remember, don’t fuck this up.

-Your loving Grandmother

Rolling my eyes, I lifted the tissue paper, my eyebrows almost disappearing under the locks of dark hair that fell across my forehead.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I murmured as I lifted the gift. “A fucking cowboy hat?”

Mrs. O’Hare barked a loud laugh, and the old Witch even snorted.

“Mount up, Boss Man. You got work to do,” Mrs. O’Hare said, still laughing as she went back to her inspection of the kitchen.

I knew she was kidding, but the second I touched that hat, I felt something zip down my spine.

Another lightning bolt, only smaller this time.

I walked to the hall mirror and placed the thing on my head.

It didn’t look bad.

It was different, of course, but it wasn’t necessarily a negative.

My formerly lax life of a millionaire had lost most of its luster, and this,well, this was new. And new had potential. New was exciting.

No, the hat didn’t look bad sitting on top of my head.

It didn’t look bad at all.

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